The three wheeled demons of Mumbai roads are a peculiar species. Like freshwater crocodiles are most dangerous when fought in the water, these black and yellow speeders are nearly impossible to snare in the rain. They seem to revel in the power that this hazy downpour affords them, so they sit safely in their clunky mobile shelters and start toying with their would be prey – us.
The game begins as you stand there patiently, soaked in and battered by the thunderous showers, looking only for a way home. Through the curtain of water you spot a 4 inch guiding light, the beacon of hope; your knight with a shining meter. You stick your hand out in a desperate attempt to grab his attention and notice the sphere turn in your direction, like the Eye of Sauron focusing on the One Ring. Then, with scientific precision, the driver begins his approach. You are now the probable prey and for the next few seconds, he literally steers your fate. He’ll first slow down to test the depths of your desperation. Take a step ahead and he’ll immediately reroute his trajectory to a safer gap, in accordance with O.V.
Over the years every badge-toting chariot rider in this city has learnt to measure the Optimum Velocity at which to approach a pedestrian. O.V. uses a complex formula to calculate the ideal speed and distance of an auto from a potential client and, like a twisted Watson and Krick method, it comes into play during cloudburst. Accurately derived by the driver within moments of taking stock of a situation, it’s a sublime process that considers things like the number of probable clients, the quality of the road, the gender of the client, the measure of rain, the quality of the vehicle itself, the temper of the driver’s wife, etc. Though the exact number of variables isn’t properly known, what is known is that it allows for two decisions to be made by the driver at a moment's notice. In this city’s unforgiving monsoon, Optimum Velocity is an auto driver’s greatest weapon.
It allows him to come tantalizingly close to you, just close enough to be able to hear you yell out your destination over the storm beating on his tarpaulin. If he wants to go the same place you wish to, by some miracle, then O.V. lets him to come to an absolute standstill long enough for you to board. If, however, he doesn’t agree with your point of view all he needs to manage is a flick of the wrist and suddenly he’s gone. So you’re again left standing in the middle of the flooded street, with that momentary hope lying tattered in the rain, praying for a more benevolent three-wheeled saviour to come along.
