The George Town rickshaw challenge

The author rides the iconic three-wheeled vehicle through narrow bylanes in one of Chennai’s most fascinating neighbourhoods

August 23, 2016 05:02 pm | Updated October 18, 2016 12:40 pm IST - Chennai

A cycle rickshaw on NSC Bose Road Photo: R. Ravindran

A cycle rickshaw on NSC Bose Road Photo: R. Ravindran

‘Clack, clack, clackety clack’: This is how a cycle rickshaw’s horn sounds in George Town. The deeper you go, the narrower the streets get in this part of town. And the narrower they get, the more fascinating they are. But be warned, your feet might give up long before you do. How then are you supposed to experience one of Chennai’s oldest existing neighbourhoods? Take a cycle rickshaw, of course. There are around 2,000 in the area, and they are fast being replaced by autos. If you’re lucky, you might get a chatty driver who’s more interesting than the place itself.

It’s almost 1 p.m. and R. Murugesan dusts the bright yellow seat of his rickshaw with a towel. He’s tired and wants to go home. But one ride, just one and he’ll be off to eat and sleep in his one-roomed home in Vyasarpadi. We hop on. The ride begins at the foot of the Adam Building on NSC Bose Road.

The rickshaw trundles into Govindappa Naicken Street in which, despite the heat, sprightly shoppers walk about. A wrinkled old load-man lugs a wooden cart laden with square bundles: “Side, side,” he calls out, as walkers part to give way to his sweaty form. Kasi Chetty Street that bursts with plastic-ware, an Irani tea shop, The Madras Hing Trading Co.... the rickshaw comes to a halt as it attempts to merge into the chaos of Audiappa Naicken Street.

A cycle rickshaw on NSC Bose Road Photo: R. Ravindran

Murugesan wipes his brow and pulls at the metal brake above the front wheel. “I’m from Jayankondam,” he says. “It’s been 40 years since I started riding the rickshaw. I was initially a rickshaw puller. But then, I don’t remember which year — Kalaignar was the Chief Minister then — all of us made the switch to cycle rickshaws.” The traffic shows no sign of letting up and Murugesan elbows his way into the knotted-up mass of bikes and autos. We miraculously make it to the other side unscathed — it’s as though the rickshaw’s made of rubber.

The 54-year-old turns into Godown Street that houses a colourful mess of textile shops. “I eat at a military hotel every day. It’s meat that gives me the energy to keep pedalling all day. I’m heading straight for lunch once I drop you,” he adds enthusiastically. The man makes a quick U-turn at the Flower Bazaar Police Station and pedals past the grubby statute of King George V, after whom the locality is named.

Murugesan brings us back to NSC Bose Road, where we take another rickshaw and head towards Mint Street. A little further into the ride, we realise that the driver is quite old, and that to him, every pedal requires monumental effort. To make us feel even worse, the man hops off the rickshaw and pulls it by hand on a bumpy stretch.

A cycle rickshaw in George Town Photo: R. Ravindran

His name is B. Gurusamy and he is 65 years old. In the 20 minutes on his rickshaw, he shows us a new side to George Town — one which is warm and kind; whose inhabitants work hard without batting an eyelid. “Murugesan was drunk,” he sighs. “This is a problem with a lot of rickshaw drivers.” Dry fruit shops with glass cases filled with curvy cashews, shops that boast imitation jewellery too glittery to be real… we then pass a wedding hall, at the entrance of which members of the ‘Thangam Johny Band’ lounge after a performance. In smart white pants and shirts, the men look tired next to their decorated band van.

Most of Gurusamy’s friends have turned auto drivers and riders of meen body vandi (fishcart). “But I don’t have the means, and now I’m too old to make the switch,” he says. “This is my last year as a rickshaw driver. I’m planning to sell plastic ware soon.”

Suddenly, an onslaught of fragrances hits us: We are at Nyniappa Naicken Street that’s lined with shops dealing with chemicals used in perfumery. Is that sandalwood? It’s lavender! Rose with a tinge of… lemon-grass. It gets even headier when the incense shops enter the picture. The tail end of the street has shops dealing with stainless steel and brass ware. A sharp left turn and Gurusamy takes us into Evening Bazaar, where straw mats stand stiff.

It’s time for a change in the route and Gurusamy deposits us at Rattan Bazaar. But the man wouldn’t let us take any random rickshaw. “Wait, wait,” he says. “Take that one.” He walks us to a youngster’s rickshaw and says, “He’s a good boy. He doesn’t drink and will take you to your destination safely.” Saying so, Gurusamy prayerfully touches the hundred-rupee note he earned to his eyes.

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