Going For a Ride in the Car

by Teri Gerritz

Most of our trip in India is by private car. Peter and I are the only passengers and at times a guide joins the driver. We sit in the back. We have our place. A driver is your protector, He navigates roads and road conditions that make any obstacle course you’ve played on any simulation or video game look like child’s play that you’d have to play blindfolded with one hand behind your back to have it resemble any fair type of competition, As previously stated everyone and everything “shares” the road from animals with and without attached contraptions to people walking or attached to any use of wheels that were invented in every period of history.

On top of this, anyone who has ever traveled with Peter knows that he likes to use the time for anything but interacting with you or the scenery. On this trip he was watching 16 2hr acupuncture lectures. Ergo I was not to interact with his holiness the doctor. Luckily the driver on our Buddha loop was friendly , contrasting with the army like demeanor or invisibility perhaps due to language of our other drivers. He invited me to sit in the front seat. Of course, I leaped at the opportunity.

He pointed out great sites like the mango tree climbers who make 35-40 trips /day up and down the trees that can be 30ft high. Unfortunately some spaced out macho motorcyclist didn’t observe and banged into us. This was after the previously peaceful wonderful day in Bodhgaya where we were full of monks and spirituality. It was in a village and we were the outsiders, sort of like wearing blue in a red zone, but without guns. Peter agreed to back up the driver if need be. He humbly stated he could take out 17 of them. We agreed with the driver it wasn’t his fault. He had some words with the motorcyclist that we couldn’t understand and got back in the car. No one was hurt and we continued but the motorcyclist pursued us and we got stuck on a bridge together. The motorcyclist came up to the car and started harassing the driver. The driver asked Peter to step out with him and Peter did and stood in true Enforcer form. He thought our driver was at fault , probably out of embarrassment , anger , guilt, fear at having to tell the family he had hurt their motorcycle and if he couldn’t fix it not having the money to do so. Mind you most families feel lucky to own a bike. I’m sure to his way of thinking man in car rich… just like they see us as money cows. Anyway, he pushed the driver slightly and in true fashion Peter gave him that look and said stop. He tried to get into Peter’s space and touched him but Peter let him know in Body Language that he was fearless. Of course the young men from his village were supporting and egging him on. All I could think to do was lock my door, meditate on taking in anger and sending out peacefulness and take a picture. An elder got the young man to get on his bike and we drove away. When it was safe our driver stopped to assess the damage. He had to drive and stop at several village markets before finding glue, screws and a screw driver so he could fix the damaged fender and brake lights while we visited an old brick jail where some king was shackled by chains underground by his power hungry son who probably didn’t want him spending money on temples for the Buddha… Someone has to non-compete with Peter’s knowledge of history and who better than a BS history major from the 60’s like me. We complimented our driver on his great repair job and Peter wrote a dramatic account of the incident and our drivers bravery from the perspective of Dr. Gerritz and American Law.

Meanwhile I fed my voyeurism and natural interest in how people get their needs met by asking questions of the driver, listening, looking and adding facts I learned from guides and the one or two Indian businessmen who would talk to you. I haven’t seen an American since I left Delhi and only saw the one I knew there.(Another story) the other whites have been French and 1 italian and a Canadian. Je comprend mais je parle “franish” a language of my own made up of any word in any form I can remember of either language. The following is a picture of information I got from several days on the “road”

If I were reincarnated as the hindu believe and married to a tour car driver this is what my life might be like. Trust me in India, except maybe in the biggest cities, if you are a woman you want to get married. In most places I was afraid to go out on my own and in Patna, Peter was so glad to have us escorted to the internet place that was at most two blocks away. Now this is in boring reporting form according to the sage but I’m too lazy to change it. To story form. I leave it up to you. It wasn’t part of my dowry.

Our driver and his wife were born in different villages near Varanasi on the Ganges River about 30 years ago to a a family of 4 brothers and 1 sister. . His parents died when he was young and he was raised by an uncle. 1 brother made the move to New Delhi. The rest live in villages near by. He was married, arranged of course, when he was 15 and his wife was of similar age or a year younger and he got his mother’s house. They had their first child about 3 years later. If a women does not produce a child in that time span a man may divorce her.

He learned some English at school for a year or two and then has learned from the tourists he drives around. His whole family reads and writes. He has worked as a car driver for the tour company for five years which he likes and makes it possible for him to only have one job. Note only about 20% of the men and 1% of the women drive. Before that he worked as a truck driver which is a very hard and much poorer paying job. When he works as a driver during tourist season of October thru March he doesn’t have much time with his family. But between June to August he spends much time with them. On the road he can become lonely and sleeps in his car. Last night he had a treat, the driver of the Chinese tourists’ bus who was also from Varanasi but unknown to him. invited him to sleep on the bus. So he not only got companionship but a better place to sleep. They are of course dependent on our tips as well as salary. Yesterday, after the accident , we gave him a 200 rupee bonus for surviving a day that all I saw was accidents for the first time along the road. This because we were mainly in a poor, small, rural areas where they can’t afford road police.

He feels comfortable in his house made of grass which is in many ways more breathable than brick and I think prettier looking. He repairs it about every two years. In a really bad monsoon it will leak a little. His wife can cook inside and they have an inside well that goes down 85 feet. He has two rooms; one for sleeping and one for the rest of the family activities. The bathroom is outside of the house. I do not know if it is just for his family or shared. They use kerosene for their lighting. There seems to be a shared electricity pole from which he takes 1 wire and pays about 300 rupees a month(Divide by 42 to get dollars; hint form retired math loving teacher). They can use it for a few hours a day. They have a black and white TV. His children who he buys treats for when on the road aged 12, 10, and 8 , are two boys and a girl, and he will not have more children because it is too expensive, watch cartoons. He can afford to send them to convent school for 300 rupee a month. These schools are better and have smaller classes. As a family they go to the movies every 2-3 months. Family movies are several hours long and are shown 4 times each day in 3 hour blocks. They usually will see the same show twice and then talk about it for quite a while afterwards. He owns a bicycle. If the family wants to go into the city or visit family at another village they take the bus. I am not sure if it is a bus where they can sit together or one where the men climb on top and the women and children ride inside.
His wife owns 3 sari’s; two for daily wear and a finer one for festivals, celebrations. Daily saris need to be replaced yearly and a fine one will last 5-6 years. They are Hindu and he only likes Indian food. He does not drink and said that is done mainly by foolish young men and people in the cities. He doesn’t play cards like I have sen the men doing in shops along the road but he does buy a lottery ticket. As a child he was too busy to play stick ball and other games. He is small in stature very soft spoken and outgoing and judging by his teeth perhaps chews in private. He is very protective of us. He helped us walk to the internet café in Patna. To drive here you have to be very clever and alert. He knows how to fix things when they are broken. They have a small pet dog and a parrot. They have a small garden with a few flowers, herbs, and vegetables but his wife goes to market daily and has the people she buys from. She is a homemaker.

He has a good life and has done well for himself. He is in this band that does better than the farmers but is not quite the new middle class. Because he works for the travel company he has a cell phone of his own to use. The car he returns to them when he is not driving for them.

I find it all beautiful but am ready to return with this knowledge to my current reincarnation and be thankful for the time, place and culture that I live in. I will however revisit my possessions and downsize and share with others.