Children United!: Motoring in India

Charity Children United! works with a congregation of Sisters based in India to help them build and run schools, orphanages, children's hostels and creches in the country.

Trustee Julie Foster writes regularly for The Hunsbury Herald about her experiences in the country.

Here she reveals one of the more challenging parts of her job - driving around India...

Motoring in India:

Greetings from India! I have been visiting India for the past 20 years, for a charity I set up called Children United!
We work with a group of Sisters (Nuns) and help them in their work with the poor. We link schools here in the UK to ones in India. I visit the various projects - schools, orphanages, children’s hostels, crèches and women’s refuges and take photos and films to show the schools and groups in the UK exactly how their money has been spent.
Now with impending old age and a dodgy knee, I tend towards the luxury of taxis rather than the buses I used to use when younger and fitter. I have just been in the worst taxi ever and having the prospect of at least a four-hour wait for a Sister, I thought I would compose a guide to motoring in southern India.

BUSES come in two categories - luxury and standard. Both tend to be very old and battered and filthy both inside and out. Luxury coaches tend to be longer-distance and only stop at main towns.
The others stop every few hundred yards or so. Luxury buses have upholstered seats (still filthy) while bench seats are on the standard buses. The only glass is in the front windscreen but the other ‘windows’ have bars over them, so there is no chance of getting out in an emergency.
Each seat holds three and there are frequent seat changes as decency dictates that I cannot sit next to a man, so if there is a spare seat and the wife is sitting next to the window, she and her husband must swap so I can sit next to the wife.
I have my destination written both in English and the local language, and on arriving at a bus stand, find an extremely smart gentleman dressed in khaki uniform (usually a retired police officer), bow politely and say ‘Carli Vanicom’ (good morning) and show him where I want to go to.
He will summon some minion, who will take me to the correct bus stand. I have even been escorted onto the bus before anyone else and one man flicked his handkerchief over the seat to ‘dust’ it for me. The conductor is instructed to tell me when I have reached my destination.
Otherwise, in order to get a seat, pass over the crowds a piece of luggage or even clothing and someone will put it on a seat, thus ‘saving’ it for you. If seated and a lady with a baby or small child gets on the bus, you take the baby from her.
I really enjoyed this until half-an-hour into a six-hour journey one baby ‘wee’d’ on me! It is a really cheap way to travel, horrible if you are standing squashed in the aisle although I am taller than most so can breathe, unlike those hanging out of the doors in the dust. It is rather scary when you see the driver starting the engine by touching two wires together!

MOTORBIKES: Privately owned cars are rarely seen in the poor rural areas where I go, but if you are quite well-off, then the family vehicle will be a motorbike.
Also there are lots of ‘Honda Melody’ type motorcycles for rich ladies and even some school girls, made by Suzuki as well as Honda. The most popular type of motorbike is the Royal Enfield and these are the preferred motorbikes of all Parish Priests. Whole families will ride on the motorbike. So Dad will drive with one or two children between him and the handlebars. Mum will be at the back, riding side-saddle with the baby on her lap and there may be a child or two, squashed between her and Dad.
When my friend’s sister got married, their brother would collect me each day on his motorbike. Saris and motorbikes are not compatible! So I have to ride ‘side-saddle’ and make sure that I am sitting on the parts of my sari that would otherwise be blowing about in the wind.
Again, decency dictates that I cannot be in bodily contact with the man. So I have to maintain a gap between us - that’s very difficult. When there is nothing else to hold onto, as happened once, I threw modesty to the wind and put my hands on his shoulders. After all, I am a married woman and treated with great respect, so hope my good reputation did not disappear as we drove along.
Some Sisters have motorcycles, especially community nurses/midwives who have to travel to many remote villages to visit their patients/hold clinics etc. Sr. Shiny offered to take me to one of her outlying villages on her motorcycle. So with bike fully laden, we set off. I later told her that in the UK we have to wear helmets; yes, she also was supposed to wear one. Yes, she also was supposed to take a proficiency test but hadn’t. Yes, she also was supposed to have insurance, but why did she need insurance when she had God to protect her?

LORRIES: Most are either Tata or Ashok Leyland make, all are brightly painted and have various slogans. ‘Sound Horn’ is always there as you have to blow your horn whenever overtaking anything or going around a corner.
Other advice includes ‘Rash Driving Reduces Life,’ ‘Avoid Drunk And Drive,’ ‘One Family, One Child,’ and ‘Be Clean, Be Green.’
Unnerving journeys include being behind a lorry-load of bullocks, about eight of them, all tied together so that their rear ends were facing me. I was in an auto (rickshaw) with about two meters of air only between me and their bottoms. Thankfully none of them needed to relieve themselves!
I have also followed a lorry carrying an elephant; this is considered very lucky but it didn’t feel so, as again his rear was facing me!
One of the strangest sights is a moving haystack. A lorry is so loaded that the straw nearly reaches the ground, so from the back and side the vehicle cannot be seen at all.
Lorries tend to be kept in good repair as they are the owner’s livelihood and must last for many, many years. However, some repair methods are rather different to ours. For example, if you have a leak in your radiator, simply place one small boy on the side of your lorry, standing on the corner of the front bumper. Have another small boy in the cab with you who has several containers of water. He will fill a jug with water, pass to the boy outside who will pour in the water to top up the rad. They had not heard of Radseal, although I did suggest an egg-white or two as a possible solution.

AUTOS or auto-rickshaws to give them their full names. Also known as tic-tics and seen throughout Asia. A small two-stroke engine motorcycle with a fabric covered cab on the back. Very cheap, but not suitable for long journeys or in very hilly areas.
How many Sisters (Nuns) can you get into the back of an auto? Answer - eight. No, it’s not a joke. After midnight Mass on a New Year’s Eve (or rather 2.30am by the time it had finished,) it was minus two degrees but it felt much colder as I was only dressed in a sari and sandals. There were no taxis around so we all squeezed into the one auto. Thankfully it was all down-hill as there was no way it would cope with the merest uphill slope.

TAXIS: The most commonly used are the big Ambassador Novas, but smaller foreign cars are occasionally seen. Again the quality and condition vary greatly, but the best thing is that the Sisters use taxis owned by former pupils or fathers of present pupils. So you are charged a fair price, taken door to door and have your luggage carried for you.
At Kodai Kanal, one Dad wanted to take me down the mountain to Batlagundu as he had a brand new car. Said car duly arrived, sparklingly new and I made the appropriate noises - it was the nicest and best taxi I had ever seen etc. I usually sit in the front, as I am not a good traveller and I was astounded to see seat belts fitted - the first time I had seen them in India. The belt unreeled beautifully, only to find that there was no clasp to fit it into! The driver chided me, asking why I wanted to wear a seat-belt? The Sisters were praying for me, so a seat belt was unnecessary.

CARS: Usually only the big Ambassador Nova taxis are seen. On a recent drive through Kerala (the most prosperous state in India,) I saw cars by Suzuki, Honda, Maruti, Fiat, Renault, Seat, Chevrolet, Mitsubishi and Hyundai.
If you own such a car, there are now workshops offering computerised wheel alignment and such like. Adverts in Kerala (on huge boards next to the road) included “What if the heavens open today?” showing a Volkswagon car, extolling the virtues of ESP. Most manufacturers concentrate on showing how economical their vehicles are, with 23 km/litre the best I have seen. Petrol is 60.69 rupees/litre and diesel 40.73 rupees/litre, so that’s £1/litre and 66p/litre - expensive!
Also appearing now are little Piaggio trucks, open backed with what seems little carrying capacity, but very nippy and well suited to the roads here.
Car repair garages are very difficult to see as everything, including the mechanics, are totally covered in oil and dirt and absolutely black. The opposite to this is the workshop that is totally white. Everything, including the men and boys who are working there, are covered in a thick white dust, which drifts around the surrounding area. Their trade? Asbestos sheeting, which they will cut to size for you using an ordinary saw.
Exhaust blowing? Go to the major roundabout in the town. On said roundabout will be a man with oxy-acetylene welding equipment. Your exhaust will be removed and a small boy will dodge the traffic and get the pipe or box to the man who will then weld on a patch or patches to repair. Exhaust will be refitted and you can go on your way.
Rear suspension gone? Go to a scrap yard and purchase a rear seat squab. Place on top of the rear seat already in your car and your passengers in the back will be totally cushioned against pot-holes. Downside to this repair? Concussion due to constantly hitting head on roof.
The taxi I have just travelled in? Hardly a square inch of bodywork that was not damaged and some gaping holes. When I got into the (filthy!) front seat I could see a line of daylight between the sill and the floor. ‘Floor’ is an exaggeration as my seat was not actually attached to anything, although a plank of wood was involved somehow. The oil warning light was on, but the rest of the dash just had holes in it, where the other instruments should have been. Lots of wiring showing everywhere.
Nice happy friendly driver but he didn’t shut up all the time we were travelling, even though he knew I did not understand a word he was saying. The roads here are particularly bad, due to recent flooding, so for the first half-hour he did not get out of second gear. However, when we reached good roads, he still didn’t go above second gear - the others obviously didn’t work!

This piece was written a few weeks ago and I recently had another long journey and again decided to go in a taxi, as going by bus would involve six or seven bus changes and I had too much luggage to cope with that.

The taxi arrived and I was astonished. A brand new Toyota (sorry didn’t notice which model in my state of shock,) in metallic ice blue with 3600km on the clock. It still had the plastic on the seats and had AIR CONDITIONING, electric windows and door mirrors, CD player and even an air freshener.
Let me just repeat AIR CONDITIONING as you cannot begin to understand what that meant to me. It is hot here, usually very hot. During the daytime, especially between 11.30am and 4pm, it can be extremely hot, going down to merely ‘hot’ at night.
Two places I visit, Munnar and Kodai Kanal are high up in mountains, so they are much cooler, but down on the plains you just have to put up with the heat. So I had the prospect of a seven-hour journey in an air-conditioned car. Bliss!
The driver seemed to be a very nice chap - very friendly but quite young to have such a new car. Unfortunately he drove like a young driver. His foot was either hard down on the accelerator or hard down on the brake. So, despite always taking a travel sickness pill, I had to ask him to stop so I could be sick within about three miles of leaving the convent!
Part of our journey took us onto a motorway! I had never been on one before in India and was very impressed. We travelled about 70 miles on it and it varied between two and three lanes each way.

So... things seen on a motorway that you do not see on motorways in the UK:
1. Crossroads. At most towns there would be vehicles crossing the motorway, dodging the oncoming traffic.
2. Cows, either led by people or wandering in a line on their own, going to be milked, or as is quite normal throughout India, just sitting in the road.
3. Goats and donkeys.
4. A ‘crocodile line’ of small children going to school.
5. A group of men playing cards.
6. Groups of men just chatting.
7. Ladies, wearing high visibility jackets, sweeping newly laid parts of the road with grass brushes.
8. Ladies carrying kerbstones on their heads, wearing yellow hard hats with flat tops!
9. Everyone uses their mobile phone while driving. Phone calls here are so cheap that everyone can afford a mobile phone. A five minute call costs 10 paise. There are 100 paise in one rupee and 70 rupees to the pound. So that makes a call cost about a tenth of a penny. However seeing a man riding a motorbike, texting, was quite a sight!

Things seen coming straight towards us that were on the wrong side of the ‘crash barrier‘. (Crash barrier is actually narrow raised section with bushes planted on it.):

1. A bus; actually several buses. One with no suspension on the near-side and people hanging off the side of the bus having to crouch so as not to touch their feet on the ground. I guess the bus was going at least 30mph.
2. A JCB.
3. A small boy riding an adult’s bike coming towards us in the ‘fast’ lane.
4. An ambulance.

I then noticed that a lorry had a spare tyre that was totally bald. So I started to check the other lorries. The next three also had bald tyres, but the next two didn’t. They didn’t have a spare tyre. There are lots of weighbridges for lorries, but I guess they do not have MOT’s, either for lorries or cars. (Or buses, or any vehicles I suspect.)
I wondered about safety checks on aeroplanes. I flew from Madurai to Bangalore as it only cost £52 and saved me two days on a bus. At the airport there were the usual big jets but also a funny-looking one with props. Yes, I ended up going on that one! I did take notes - it was an ATR 72 500 and piloted by a LADY captain!
I have not seen any ‘old’ cars or vehicles. Neither have I ever seen any ‘proper’ trains, only diesel ones pulling up to 30 carriages. There are ‘proper’ trains in the mountains near our orphanages at Munnar and Kodai Kanal (there were some TV programmes last year about them,) so perhaps one year I can visit our projects and Gervais can ride up and down mountains on steam trains to his heart’s content.