The year 2019 has brought me more personal growth and change than any other year I can remember. As the year winds to a close and I try to interpret the colorful painting of my transformation, brushstrokes from all areas of life blend together. In some parts of the painting, the fellowship’s brushstrokes are clearly apparent. In other areas, foreground colors obscure the GSBF brush’s presence. But the whole painting has been influenced in style, form, and shade by my fellowship experience. Over the past nine months, GSBF hasn’t directly changed my career plans, my view of social entrepreneurship, my spiritual beliefs, or my identity. But it has influenced all those areas in ways I may never fully understand. Let me explain. My fall 2018 study abroad experience in Bologna, Italy was my first time outside of North America, and I thoroughly enjoyed the freedom and novelty of exploring Europe. However, I didn’t feel much of a sense of purpose or community while in Bologna. The constantly-novel outer environment of Europe was enticing, but my inner landscape of beliefs remained relatively constant. When I returned to the familiar Santa Clara scene at the beginning of this year, a rumbling inner earthquake began to shake the beliefs and relationships I held dear. The mainstream culture of my protestant Christian upbringing felt foreign, and I questioned whether I was critically thinking about my beliefs or just apathetically skating by. This doubt extended into my personal life and professional ambitions as well. Was I pursuing growth in my relationships and career plans? Or was I taking the easy path to fit in? As I navigated these big questions, I knew deep down that GSBF was right for me. My temporary doubts about whether it would negatively affect my odds of landing a competitive business job faded away as I convinced myself to dive into the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Besides, the professors did keep using the term “junior consultants,” and I was considering consulting as a potential post-grad career option. I knew that I was passionate about creating social change through business, as well as connecting people to meaningful careers. But where to start? I had worked on marketing, design, and video-making projects in my previous internships, but I didn’t know if I liked that the tech design field was so detail-oriented. Late in spring quarter, I did a few informational interviews with recent Santa Clara graduates who had worked in consulting. One guy I talked to had also considered roles in product management and consulting, and chosen consulting because of the variety and big-picture thinking opportunities it provided. I felt like a first job in consulting would allow me to learn quickly about the way the business world worked so that I could move forward with valuable knowledge, experience, and opportunities. Three aspects of our summer project helped confirm that I wanted to work in consulting. First, our goal was to help Three Wheels United scale into New Delhi through a combination of market research, customer experience recommendations, and whatever other ideas came to mind. There were few formal boundaries or guidelines for the project. And I absolutely loved it. I love taking unruly, seemingly-boundless problems and working to frame, contextualize, research and solve them. Whiteboards, post-its, interview notes, process diagrams, PowerPoints… love it. I also enjoyed that our work involved multiple levels of collaboration. I got to work with end customers (auto drivers), a client (TWU staff), and an internal team (Rachael)—like a professional consulting engagement. Balanced with alone time to think, these social aspects made the work more meaningful and connected to Finally, I enjoyed being on a steep learning curve for the entirety of our summer. Rachael and I traveled to a new city almost every week, many with different geography, languages and cultural attitudes. I didn’t even know what an auto rickshaw was before the fellowship. Nearly every day, I would encounter something unexpected. Sure, the travel eventually got tiring, but the changing external environments helped me learn quickly and build a diverse array of experiences to inform the final product of our work. After arriving home, I was even more certain than before that I wanted to start my career in some sort of general business consulting. Here’s why. Most post-grad business jobs require tangible hard skills like data analysis, video-making, coding, or sales. Although I had dabbled in many different areas, I had avoided specializing in one. The types of work that I find meaningful are often found in more senior leadership positions: setting the vision for a team, telling a compelling story, or helping someone think about their problem in a new way. By taking a career in consulting, I could work on higher-level problems and hone a broad range of technical and social skills. Instead of specializing in a skill like data analysis, I can eventually focus on an industry (such as education, technology or energy) or project type (such as sustainability, change management, process improvement, or customer marketing). This path sounds much more exciting than “paying my dues” while starting at Excel for 8 hours every day. In the month before school started, I had calls with over 20 Santa Clara alumni working in consulting or product management (mostly at Accenture, Deloitte and LinkedIn). I was genuinely excited by the possibility of spending a couple of years working at any of these companies, both for the work itself and for the myriad of doors that a generalist career at a well-known company can open in the future. I expected to work hard attending on-campus recruiting events in the fall, but I also applied on a whim for an associate consultant role at Bain & Company, a prestigious management consulting firm that doesn’t recruit from Santa Clara. To my surprise, I got a first-round phone interview. The interview process moved quickly from there, and during our Week 2 GSBF class, I received a call that I had gotten the job. I was thrilled, and I accepted the offer later that week. This role was exactly what I had hoped for, and after speaking to over a dozen people from the company, I was convinced that it would be a perfect launching board for wherever I wanted to go next. I recognize the enormous privilege I’ve been given to participate in the fellowship and now get this job, and I feel a responsibility to use the power I’ve been given to participate in the creation of a better world. Although it will be thrilling to work in a fast-paced environment with bright people, earn a big paycheck, and quickly learn about the business world, I’m under no illusions that my role will be particularly impactful. Bain advertises its pro-bono work, social impact projects, and strong ethical code, but all the major management consulting companies basically help big companies get bigger. Although I’m inspired by social entrepreneurs and their bottom-up change-making movements, I don’t think that social enterprises will anytime soon have the scale to create the big changes our world needs to provide human rights or address the climate crisis. I believe that all businesses—the whole economic system—must evolve to consider social justice in every decision. Social enterprises can provide a model that corporations can fund and emulate, but every government and corporation in the world needs to prioritize justice along with income. In my career, I realize that the biggest impact I'll ever have may happen because of a question I raise in a meeting that shifts a company’s policy, or a change that I enact from a leadership position when I’m 60. Or maybe after a few years in the corporate world, I’ll become bored or disillusioned and shift to a mission-driven startup. Who knows! One advantage of the consulting path is just how many doors will remain open. My vision for integrating social entrepreneurship principles within corporations has parallels in my life: personal, professional, relational, and spiritual. There’s a Bible verse where Jesus says, “You won’t be able to say, ‘Here it is!’ or ‘It’s over there!’ For the Kingdom of God is already within you.” It’s a beautiful call for integration and unity. I don’t want businesses pointing to their corporate social responsibility, I want them to integrate social responsibility into their guiding principles. I don’t want people pointing to nature only when they’re in a forest, I want them to recognize their connection to the earth at every moment. I don’t want to point to an hour of volunteering or charitable donation as proof that I’m a good person, I want all my work to flow from a deep calling. I want my values to be integrated with all my actions, work and relationships, not just here or there.
What if we really believed that everything we needed for happiness, unity, and authentic living was already inside us? Not that we are independent, not that we should stop growing, not that the world is just. But that under layers of our ego and pride and desire to be special and superior lies a true self that is inherently good, connected, and eager to serve. As I have come to believe this more and more this year, my experience preparing for India, working in India, and reflecting on India has been a consistent thread. More than any lesson plan, assignment, or even in-field research activity, the aspect of GSBF that has impacted me the most is the people. I have deepened friendships with other fellows, networked with CEO’s and board members, learned from the professors, and grown immensely from collaborating with Rachael. I’m optimistic our deliverables will be useful to Three Wheels United, but the moments of deep connection, shared laughs, difficult discussions and reflection have made the experience valuable in ways that can’t be measured. Late in fall quarter, Thane surprised the class with some unconventional career advice. “Many of you may feel nervous about having so many options and decisions to make about your careers. But you shouldn’t worry so much, and here’s why,” he started. The class thought they knew what was coming next. “Whatever decision you make,” Thane said, “you’ll never be able to undo it. It will be permanent and unchangeable.” The class sat stunned, much more anxious than before. “Like this fellowship,” Thane continued, “you’ve done it, and now it will forever be a part of you. Each step in your career will open new doors and close others, and you’ll be a different person as a result.” Although this was not the common adage of “you can always change paths,” it is equally as true. And perhaps it’s even more valuable to be at peace with each step of your journey, content with where you’re at, and conscious of the person you’re becoming. At my core, I’m greedy. Successful impact-focused career, deep relationships, good health, good food, enough sleep, inner peace, world peace… I want it all. But to be healthy and sincere, all this striving must come from a place of deep enough-ness. Of being grateful for this stage in the journey at this moment. Of knowing that an inherent connection to humanity, the planet, and God is already within me. So there’s no going back, only continued becoming. But as I hold the painting of my last nine months in one hand, I hold a paintbrush in the other, ready for the next brushstroke.
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"Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver." - Ayn Rand I scrolled through pictures from India on my phone last night, reminiscing over the lush landscapes and shimmering smiles from my summer. It feels so long ago, I thought to myself. The time since returning from India has now eclipsed the length of the India trip itself, and the photos, notes, friendships, and memories are all that remain. But I’ll never lose what I gained halfway across the world, because my summer in India participated in the molding and shaping of my mind and character. One strength of Indian culture is how it prioritizes reflection and healing. The religious and historical roots of the country remind frazzled moderners that there’s more going on here if they slow down and rest. What are the thoughts and memories that have stuck with me? Below I’ll share three stories of interactions with drivers that made me reflect on meaningful work, the role of money, and how I can live out my vocation every day. A Tale of Two Families In one of our final weeks in Bangalore, Rachel and I visited the homes of two drivers who had taken Three Wheels United loans. The first driver we visited, Jagadeesh, shared an incredibly inspiring story of how owning his auto through Three Wheels United had changed his life. After paying off his loan, he could afford to lease a nicer house and send his kids to private schools. His wife Lakshmi Devi no longer had to work and could manage the household and take care of the children. Before driving an auto, Jagadeesh worked in a garment factory earning only $100 per month. After driving an auto, he tripled his income, paid off loans, and supported his family to live a more comfortable life. He told us, “Driving is really tough, but I decided I wanted to earn every day and pay off the loan early. I had health problems and pain. But I didn’t go to the doctor. I went to a government hospital and didn’t spend more for a private doctor.” We conducted the interview in Jagadeesh’s home—a comfortable apartment in a middle-class area. Bananas, cookies, and crackers were served. Jagadeesh proudly displayed his family’s photo album and spoke of how his daughter’s grades were in the top 1% of her 10th-grade class. I was astounded by how Jagadeesh planned for the future and made sacrifices to improve the life of his family. He told us, “Now I’m totally happy, but I have a dream. I want to buy or construct my own home. Now we’re focusing on our children’s education. Maybe after they finish school and have jobs we can own a home.” No other driver we spoke with shared such lofty dreams. Jagadeesh was the success that Three Wheels United and all social enterprises want to recreate. With a glimmer of opportunity, he took life by the reigns, pulled himself up by his own bootstraps, and now lives a comfortable life. Rachael and I expected another story of triumph in the second household we visited—after all, this apartment looked even nicer than the first. But before we could launch into our questions, the driver Mohammed began telling our translator Chandini about his health troubles. A heart attack several months ago had prevented him from driving, and thousands of dollars in health bills were piling up. He was forced to take a larger loan and had paused repaying his auto loan, which was now managed by a bank. We very quickly ran out of questions. Asking, “How has Three Wheels United positively impacted your life?” would have been wrong… it hadn’t. We finished our chai, wished him good health, and departed. Although two triumphant stories might have been best for our video for the company, the juxtaposition of hope and struggle provided an accurate picture of the real world. Without health insurance, many poor and lower-middle-class people in India must choose between foregoing care and racking up bills they can’t pay. Hearing both stories on the same day helped me realize how a loan can be the spark that starts a family on a path to prosperity or the rock that anchors them under crippling debt. As I reflected on the day, I realized that money was deeply intertwined in the life stories of these drivers—and that my life wasn’t much different. Our society often shies away from honest conversations about money, so I’ll try to address it head-on. Money is either an embellished tree shaving or a number on a screen, but it determines our reality, environment, and life experience. How much of your day do you spend thinking about money? Earning it, spending it, worrying about it, hoarding it, giving it away? In India, money was often on my mind. Three Wheels United exists to “financially empower” rickshaw drivers by helping them increase their incomes, so interviews naturally involved learning how drivers spent, earned, and thought about their money. Money determines who lives in gated communities and who lives in slums. Money determines whose kids go to excellent private schools and whose kids go to public schools. Money determines how much time parents spend with their families. Money determines where you allocate your mental energy. But, as Ayn Rand wrote, money is a tool. It will drive you to new places, but never replace the you that’s driving. In India, I never had to worry about money thanks to the generosity of Miller Center donors. Most of my thoughts about money were amazement that things were so inexpensive. On that day interviewing drivers, I woke up in a comfortable hotel, took a private taxi to the driver’s house, and took a break for a nice lunch. Because of money, I was visiting these drivers' reality, but I was separate. Notes on Poverty When discussing poverty, it’s important to avoid generalizations. I expected to see more poverty in India than I did. I was surprised by the quality of drivers’ homes and surprised that many drivers could send their kids to private schools where they could learn English. Without data or experience, many of my assumptions about life in India were flat-out incorrect. I learned that 5% of India’s population is categorized as “extremely poor” compared with 44% in Nigeria.* Although India struggles with high unemployment, an often-dysfunctional government, high rates of depression, and deep rural poverty, I was surprised to find that many areas of the country looked similar to the United States. Soul Poverty The term “poverty” often implies economic poverty, but emotional, relational, and spiritual poverty can be equally as important and are often unrelated. In a poor neighborhood in Chennai, families lived close together in concrete apartments. Chennai faced a devastating water crisis this past summer, and tap water was often turned off. When Rachael and I visited a driver’s apartment, I noticed that despite the clear economic and resource challenges these families faced, the women gathered water and cooked together and the children played happily in the street. I barely knew my neighbors growing up, but on this street, everyone did life together in community. Economic poverty certainly didn’t lead to relational poverty. The driver we visited in that Chennai neighborhood, Shivashankar, had a fascinating story. Five years ago, Shivashankar was running a successful clothing shop. Then a flood hit Chennai, wiping out over $7,000 of merchandise and bankrupting his business. Recovering afterward was difficult, and Shivashankar sold clothing in a small cart on the street before taking up auto driving. His well-off cousin had secured a loan to repay the lost merchandise, and Shivashankar was still paying half of his monthly income towards the loan. Although he enjoyed driving, Shivashankar felt he could do more with his career. His wife Parameshwary was taking courses in tailoring, and the two planned to restart their clothing business once the merchandise loan was repaid. Shivashankar told us that with driving, your income was directly tied to your working hours. But the same hours invested in scaling a business could lead to growth and higher income. Once again, money was determining the course of a life. And although Shivashankar had chosen to become a driver, he saw it as a stepping stone to regain his footing, not as a career. Follow Your Heart
On one hand, drivers were generally happy with their work. Taxi driving is an independent and self-motivated job. You work when you want, and you get paid for your work. Drivers told us that they enjoyed being their own boss and having the flexibility to pick their kids up from school or attend family events. Some drivers described driving almost like playing a video game—after riding on rickshaws in Bangalore I certainly understood what they meant. Rickshaw drivers chose to drive to be in the metaphorical and literal driver’s seat of their lives. At the same time, rickshaw drivers live on the edge like many U.S. gig-economy workers. Any number of random events can devastate their stability: increased competition hurts wages, Uber hurts wages, traffic hurts wages, random construction or job market fluctuations hurt wages. Most drivers earn enough for a lower-middle-class life, but long hours on heavily-polluted roads take their toll. Yet even as the long hours of a workday transfigure into the long years of a career behind the wheel, beauty can be found in the seasons and simplicity of a driver’s life. A story from our first week in Bangalore illustrates a beautiful perspective from a long-time driver. AhmedRachael and I rode to work with a man named Ahmed who had been driving in Bangalore for 40 years. Ahmed had seen the city before it became an international outsourcing hub in the 1990s. He had seen Bangalore triple in size and become home to some of India’s best colleges, biggest companies, and busiest streets. Ahmed earned just $8 per day despite working 12-14 hours. He spoke an incredible five languages and had picked up English solely from his years of driving. He told us about his eight children and how the eldest was attending university. Ahmed told us, “This is one of the longest conversations I’ve had with any of my passengers. Most people don’t want to talk. You are very nice people.” I realized that the greatest gift we could give any driver—anyone—was seeing them, and showing them that their story matters. As we shook Ahmed’s hand and waved goodbye, Ahmed’s eyes glimmered. He not only understood the landscape and history of his city, he understood the landscape of his soul. Momentary Vocation Our conversation with Ahmed gave me a new appreciation for how small moments of connection can infuse meaning into the grind of a day behind the wheel. This lesson rings true everywhere. Every person I encounter presents an opportunity to connect. An opportunity to break through the illusory veil of separation and share presence. Although socioeconomic status may stratify the type of work we do or the places we do it, meaning and connection can be found anywhere. Ahmed was more than just a driver, he was a historian, a friend, and a guide along hundreds of thousands of journeys. Martin Luther King said, “If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry.” A life of meaning is built of millions of tiny moments—moments of embracing the call to create, connect and serve. In my personal vocation, I feel called to careers and causes that connect people to economic opportunity. I’m fascinated with the idea of meaningful work—of getting paid to do something you love that adds value to the world. Economic opportunity is the often precursor of increased freedom, stability, and time for meaningful relationships. But no one sits on their deathbed and says, “Geez, I sure wish someone had provided me with more economic opportunity.” Money is a tool in living the life we’re called to live. My experience in India with Three Wheels United helped solidify my passion for helping entrepreneurs tackle their biggest problems, and for using business tools to positively impact society.
But paradoxically, the closer I get to realizing my big-picture vocation, the more I see that it’s the small moments that imbue my work with joy and meaning. Even in my street-sweeper moments of walking to class, writing an essay, cooking a meal, or spending time with friends, I can create and connect. As my last year of college begins to accelerate, I will try to prioritize conversations like the ones I described with Jagadeesh, Mohammed, Shivashankar, and Ahmed. Taking steps toward my career mission, I’ll remember to pursue my momentary vocation. On our last morning in India, Rachael and I flagged down an auto rickshaw to commute to the office. A young man named Raj Mahan picked us up, and we zoomed off. On the back of his seat, we noticed a plaque stating that he was a Three Wheels United driver. What were the chances!? Out of over 160,000 autos in the city, we had randomly found a driver affiliated with our company. We briefly chatted with Raj Mahan, then he turned up some dance music on his speakers. In a summer full of unexpected surprises, this one on the final morning hardly seemed out of the ordinary. In the office that day, Rachael and I presented our findings to the Three Wheels United management team. Lively conversation sprung up about how to best serve drivers and structure a loan product for the New Delhi market. Afterwards, we were given a chocolate cake to celebrate the end of our summer. Later that evening, Rachael and I took an Indian bread-making class, learning how to make chapati and paratha from scratch. Around midnight, we left for the airport, and suddenly eight weeks of work, play, and travel had ended. This final day contained many of the elements that made the summer in India so special. Serendipitous encounters, intriguing business conversations, joyful friendships, cultural learning experiences. Observations from traveling informed our work, and our work led us into a wide variety of new places. In the past two weeks since returning to California, I’ve answered the question “How was India?” quite a few times, so I’ve been thinking about how I explain my summer. Capturing the heartfelt conversations, canceled plans, picturesque landscapes, friendly auto drivers, bland sick days, noisy cities, and hilarious coincidences in a few sentences is simply impossible. But after reflecting and sharing for the past couple weeks, a few themes have emerged. So, to satisfy this article’s social-media-ready title, here are the eight lessons I learned from working, exploring, and living in India. 1. India is naturally and culturally beautiful and diverseOne scorching day in Chennai, Rachael and I visited the home of Muthuvel, a driver participating in an electric vehicle pilot with Three Wheels United. We were warmly welcomed into a small apartment and offered mango juice. I was sitting on a bed, and was told three times to take a nap. After continually refusing out of politeness, I obliged (a nap did sound pretty nice). Five minutes later, two heaping plates of vegetable fried rice were brought into the room. Although piping hot and spicy fried rice on a 100 degree humid day shortly after breakfast didn’t sound particularly appetizing, the message was clear: we were welcome. Everywhere we went, Indians welcomed us with open arms and proud hearts. As home to more than 1/6th of the world’s population, India contains an astounding range of languages, geographies, and people groups. Of the three major cities Rachael and I visited (Bangalore, Chennai and New Delhi), each has a different primary language. India is home to foggy mountains, lush rainforests, dry deserts, rocky hills, and rolling farmlands. Any descriptor of the people or country is likely to be partially correct and vastly insufficient. But underlying the India’s diversity is a sense of tradition, healing, time, and spirituality that infuses meaning into the bustle of life. I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to see, feel, and absorb this eclectic energy. 2. Consulting process: Observations to insights to recommendations I was a bit worried entering the summer that my experience would be overly focused on research and less on “consulting” than I had hoped. But my worries quickly disappeared when I realized that research and interviewing were deeply connected to creating consulting deliverables for Three Wheels United. The process looked like a funnel. Notes from our 102 interviews were condensed from five handwritten notebooks into 60 typed pages, then into a 6-slide presentation and handful of deliverables focusing on market research, management practices, partnership strategies, customer experience, and promoting electric vehicles. The value that Rachael and I brought was in spotting, filtering, organizing, and curating concrete ideas amid the expansive landscape of our experience. This process helped me confirm that I want to work in some form of business consulting after graduation. 3. Juxtaposition of modern and old, rich and poor What comes to mind when the average American thinks of India? Naan? The Taj Mahal? Yoga? Slums? The real India is much more complex than any of these stereotypes. I saw modern office skyscrapers bordering tent houses. I would often walk out of an elegant restaurant, then trip over a big rock or wobble on a precarious bit of sidewalk. The lake near Three Wheels United’s office was a beautiful oasis and featured an excellent walking path, but half of it bordered a moat of trash and sewage. The influences of colonization, the caste system, a young government, poverty, global development, and rapid urbanization have all helped shape this patchwork of lifestyles and infrastructures. A few notes in hopes of further complicating any stereotypes. First, I visited primarily cities and tourist areas, so I don’t have the whole picture. I expected to see more slums than I did, but poverty is certainly a prevalent challenge in both urban and rural settings. Second, I was continually surprised by the quality of the homes of the auto drivers we visited, most of whom earned $8-$12 a day. One area in Chennai that was labeled a “slum” was a street full of 4-story apartments. Small, but homey. I think suburban U.S. neighborhoods have a lot to learn from the tight-knit community fostered by families on this street. Third, the hopes, dreams, and values of everyone we met were so relatable. The infrastructure of a city is much different than the hearts of the humans living within it. 5. Self-knowledge: mental and physical health while traveling Traveling to three different regions of the country for work enabled lots of fun weekend trips in touristy and picturesque areas. In our 8 weeks, Rachael and I visited 10 cities and took 6 flights, 4 overnight busses and a train. In a span of 43 nights, I slept in 22 different places. One week, Monday night was spent in a hut with a mosquito net, Tuesday night was spent sitting in a bus, and Wednesday night was spent in one of the nicest hotels of my life that served a complimentary dessert with a welcome message written in frosting. I loved it, I chose it, it was exhausting, and it was an excellent learning opportunity.
6. Collaboration on steroids: working and traveling with Rachael When choosing a project for the fellowship, I primarily looked at the company descriptions and project proposals. Little did I know how much other factors like culture and collaboration would contribute to my experience. The largest source of growth for me was from constantly working, traveling, and spending time with Rachael. After attending a project-based high school, and taking dozens of business classes at Santa Clara, I’ve easily done more than 100 group projects in the past eight years. But this summer took collaboration to a whole new level, one that future work projects are unlikely to match. Rachael and I climbed a steep learning curve: figuring out how to interview together, support each other in tough times, make decisions, discuss what we were observing, have fun, plan our travel, give space for alone time, shape our deliverables, make new friends, and respond to unexpected setbacks. It wasn’t always easy, but I’m so thankful for the fresh perspectives, funny surprises, and deep friendship we built throughout the summer. 7. Electric vehicle adoption: Perception, infrastructure, incentives Which came first: the electric rickshaw or the charging station? It’s a chicken-and-egg problem. One fascinating element of my project with Three Wheels United was learning about the current state of electric vehicles (EVs) in India. Because of the heavy pollution, everyone in India intuitively understands that EVs will dominate the future. But, like a drive through traffic in Bangalore, the journey to EV adoption is chaotic. The Indian government has vowed to make all new vehicles electric by 2030, but it does little to walk the talk. Economic accessibility, charging infrastructure, and range anxiety are the primary barriers. But, there’s certainly hope. Dozens of companies including Uber, Ola, Mahindra, Sun Mobility, and our very own Three Wheels United are working towards electrifying transport, starting with two and three-wheelers. At the end of the day, people respond to incentives. It’s up to private companies and governments to collectively make choosing electric vehicles logical and easy. 8. Home and away: I can do this again During a weekend in a charming mountain town in the Himalayan foothills, I had an idea while sitting in a café. What if I were to come back here and stay for a couple weeks, working or learning, traveling, and spending time with friends and loved ones? What if I could take a few months off between jobs, or spend a while working remotely while exploring a new region at a comfortable pace? It’s a privileged option for sure, but one more attainable than I had previously imagined, especially in cheap countries like India. As I feel the pressures of getting a buttoned-up job with a big-name firm and working tirelessly for an imaginary American dream, I want to actively choose my path based on first principles of my values. In describing my feelings about travel to friends, I often used this line: “The more you travel, the more you want to travel. But also, the more you travel, the more you appreciate home.” Both are true for me. The comforts, opportunities, climate, and lifestyle of California feel like home. But, travel opens new dimensions of the human experience that my routine in my college or hometown bubbles keeps hidden. I value travel, and I value home. In my last week in Bangalore, a man gave me this metaphor:
“Imagine a vegetable garden. Over the past few months, you have been collecting vegetables of all different shapes, sizes, and varieties. Now as you go back home, you will have the opportunity to use what you’ve gathered to make a soup—to integrate what you’ve learned into your life, work, relationships, and decisions. It might take a few tries to get the flavor right, but you have the ingredients you need to begin.” My vegetables from the summer took the form of spontaneous friendships, illuminating interviews, comforting nature, stressful challenges, relaxing reflection, deep conversations, and new ways of seeing the world. I’m incredibly thankful for the experience, and for all the doors it has opened in my soul and future. Now I’m home, and it’s time to start making my soup. What makes someone trustworthy? Trust forms the connective tissue of our world, allowing wisdom, friendship, goods and services to flow. If you ask someone why they bought a certain car, they’ll likely tell you about the fabulous features, sleek design or affordable price. But in all purchases, just like in new friendships or jobs, people make decisions based on trust. Throughout my summer working with Three Wheels United (TWU) in cities across India, the theme of trust continually surfaces. When TWU first entered the small city of Chitradurga, they put months of effort into speaking with auto rickshaw drivers about their loan product. Drivers were skeptical—why should they believe these unproven newcomers promising lower-interest loans? Ultimately, TWU succeeded because their talented team convinced 20 drivers to take the leap and accept loans. Positive reviews quickly spread throughout the tight-knit community, and soon TWU was well-known for their affordable loans and compassionate people. After several months when drivers saw friends benefitting from TWU loans, trust was established and business blossomed. Three Wheels United is beginning to fund a new model called the Mahindra Treo—a sleek blue and white rickshaw. Rachael and I interviewed one of the first owners of this vehicle, and within minutes, over a dozen drivers and curious onlookers were examining the vehicle (it was a bit like a marketing event, TWU loan agents were passing out business cards and taking phone numbers). I was fascinated by why this driver, Anjanappa, had chosen to be a trailblazer and purchase this new vehicle. Bangalore is largely lacking charging stations, a huge roadblock for electric vehicle ownership. Yet, he trusted both the vehicle and TWU. Trust was an issue in getting passengers as well. Almost all the auto rickshaws in Bangalore are green and yellow, so many passengers mistook the Treo for a government vehicle, unaware they could hail it for a ride. The lesson here: making the change we seek requires trust, and trust requires experience, visibility and time. When we see others leading the way, we’re more likely to follow. On one of our final days in Bangalore, Rachael and I got dinner with Ashwin, a high-level consultant who helped lead and advise TWU for several months. Ashwin said that in India, even more than in other countries, business deals are primarily driven by trust. That’s why Cedrick, TWU’s CEO, spends so many hours every day on the phone with partners, potential investors, banks, and a wide variety of connections. His job is to talk: to share TWU’s story and build a community of trust that can help TWU achieve its mission. Ashwin shared another quotable line: “visibility drives the ability to realize a story.” TWU’s story of helping auto drivers upgrade their lives through ownership of electric vehicles currently requires buy-in from a community of investors, showcases, and international programs. It’s a cycle. As outsiders trust Three Wheels to progress in achieving its mission, Three Wheels gains the ability to achieve that very mission. Trust is the enabling ingredient for scale and impact. I have also discovered the importance of trust this summer in how Rachael and I have grown in working with each other and the TWU team. Through many hundreds of hours and a whole range of emotions, experiences, moods, and moments, trust has been sewn that allows us to more freely ask, discuss, work, play and move through India together. And as we have learned the stories of the employees we work with—Chandini’s quest to be seen with dignity, Swati’s becoming a parent, Rosemary’s move across the world—we have created friendships that are both meaningful and productive.
A countless number of serendipitous surprises have resulted from the trust Rachael and I have formed with guides, co-workers, drivers and employees. Like the hostel worker in Pondicherry who recommended the Spanish surfing brothers and several incredible restaurants. Or the hotel manager in the Andaman Islands who convinced us to go diving. Or the numerous auto drivers who weren’t trying to scam us, but to point us in the right direction. We’ve spent whole days with drivers who gained our trust, one comment, recommendation, or smile at a time. Trust grows from the first handshake, the warm smile, the subconscious body language, the tone of voice, the intentions. You’ll need to build trust for every new activity that involves other people. For getting a new job, for selling your product or service, for reading your article, for eating your cooking, for making friends, for accepting your application, for giving you money, time or effort. And the only way to build trust is one drop at a time, with dependability and dignity. To share your story, lead with vulnerability, and ask someone to join in your mission. I'm overflowing with unpublished blog snippets, so today you get a 4-in-1. In reverse chronological order, here are some of my musings on the past several weeks in Delhi, Dharamshala, and Bangalore. Positive and negative transformation The first driver we visited Saturday, Jagadeesh, shared an incredibly inspiring story of how owning his auto through Three Wheels United had changed his life. After paying off his loan, he could afford to lease a nicer house and send his kids to private school. His wife no longer had to work and could manage the household. Before driving an auto, Jagadeesh worked in a garment factory earning only $100 per month. After driving an auto, he could triple or quadruple his income, pay off loans and support his family in living a more comfortable life. In the group of over 300 drivers taking loans, he worked relentlessly to pay extra each month and finish his loan a year early. I was astounded by how future-focused and diligent he was about providing for his family. We wrote down poster-worthy quotes about how TWU had changed his life. We expected another story of triumph in the second household we visited… after all, this house looked even nicer than the first. But before we could launch into interview questions, the driver Mohammed began telling our translator Chandini about his health troubles. A heart attack several months ago prevented him from driving, and thousands of dollars in health bills were piling up. He was forced to take a larger loan, and had paused the process of repaying his auto loan, which was now managed by a bank. We very quickly ran out of questions to ask; we finished our chai, wished him good health, and left quietly. Although two triumphant stories might have been best for our video for the company, the juxtaposition of hope and struggle provided a much more accurate picture of life. Without health insurance, many poor and lower-middle class people in India must choose between foregoing care and racking up bills they can’t pay. Learning both stories in the same day helped me realize how a loan can be the spark that starts a family on a path to prosperity, or the rock that anchors them under crippling debt. Chasing that Feeling I knew I loved cauliflower before, but this cauliflower, this hotel’s “Gobi Manchurian” was out of this world. The next day at lunch, and the day after that, I ordered it again at different places. But it wasn’t the same. This keeps happening with other foods, like the cheese naan. I love to chase the feelings of yesterday, but I can’t, they’re fleeting. There’s only now. Never returning I haven’t slept in the same bed for more than three nights in over a month. Eight different hostels or hotels, and a couple overnight busses (including one that I’m sitting on right now… at least there are beds!). Returning home to Davis to my own bed in my own room will certainly be nice. But is it really my room anymore, or just a guest room? I would even appreciate the slightly-less-comfortable bed in Santa Clara. But am I switching rooms there? I can’t remember. In this country of India where no bed is my own but every city is my oyster, I’m only going out, but never returning to something, somewhere, someone. I always have shelter thanks to booking.com, but never a home. Some might call it freedom, and it is! It’s a dream! When everything’s changing on the outside, I’m forced to reckon with the true me that’s inside. But it’s also exhausting to only go out and never come back. To always adjust, adapt, and plan for the new going-out of tomorrow. Productivity, creative output, and health suffer. Emotions, discovery, and opportunity thrive. When I get “home home,” one of the big agenda items of the next 4-8 months will be to find a new home for after graduation—a home city, a home apartment, a home company who pays for the (likely enormous) cost of the first two homes. A thrilling challenge, but a bit stressful. For now, I’ll just enjoy the ride, keep going, and trust that I’ll spend plenty of my life returning. Beyond the FogWhen we meet someone new, they often look like this. We see just a few feet before an impassable fog clouds our view of the horizon. When we first encounter a new environment, when we try to know what our future holds, when we don’t have the information we need to proceed, our vision is clouded. But as we share time, conversation—perhaps chai—the fog begins to lift. Subtleties of personality, stories of becoming, and a shared comfort emerge. At the right time, in the right space, I believe everyone looks like the image above. One of great joys of life is knowing another human in their sunset. To see them thriving, to see them as they were made to be.
And if you haven’t seen someone in their sunset, remember the beauty likely hiding behind the haze of separation between you. One question, one moment, one shared emotion or experience at a time, the fog will lift, and you both can appreciate each other in full beauty. “Chitradurga feels like the opposite of stressful,” Rachael said as we walked to our hotel in the small city of Chitradurga alongside gorgeous rocky hills. Three Wheels United has thrived in this town, offering loans to hundreds of drivers for better autos. Life in Chitradurga had a special feeling that I was trying to name. My little pamphlet written by the founders of a spiritual commune called Auroville from our previous weekend trip shed some insight, saying that children can know inner truth by “what puts them at ease, and that which is uneasy.” That got me thinking, what puts me at ease? What puts me into the flow of contentment from which joy springs? Nature is a great place to start, with lush trees and rumbling waters and proud rocks. On the final morning of our stay in Chitradurga, I ran in the backcountry paths behind our hotel. Beyond some dirt biking roads, I found a sort of bird park—a set of trails and lookout points. Though I didn’t see any birds, the views of the valley captivated me and pushed me further into the hills. I paused to take a panorama before returning. Where else do I find ease? Being in community or with friends often brings ease. Little metal cups of sweet coffee are served every at every Indian house or office. As each person in the room sips from their tiny cup, a sense of unity emerges between me, Rachael, our translator, the driver, their family, and in a way, all of India. Every cup of coffee is identical: sweet, brewed with love, made from the same instant coffee mix. Aren’t we all. A few sips and the drink is gone, but now we’re at ease. Is ease all easy? Certainly not. Plenty of difficult activities can produce this ease—creative projects, tiring travel, or a tough hike are a few examples. After finishing a piece of writing, a sense of accomplishment motivates me to take on new projects. After a long day exploring a new city, reminiscing and relaxing brings smiles. After a tough workout, I breathe more deeply. These experiences can bring ease, but only if they are approached with an honest effort and energetic spirit. There’s also an ease that can be chosen amidst waiting or an unmet desire… with a longing for a changed relationship, a nostalgic look back through photos, a lostness in the vastness of unanswered questions. I often want what I want now, but this impatience lifts me out of ease. Whether my desires are met, ease is available if I shed the invisible chains of my to-do list or to-be list and fully submerge myself into the moment. Don’t confuse ease with slowness. I could probably benefit from slowing down sometimes, but what I’m looking for isn’t less activity, but intentional activity in its proper place at its proper pace. To write and walk and eat and talk with rhythm. The ease I’m talking about finds a home in the moment. A home that may be broken down and leaking, weighed down by loss or pain, but still profoundly peaceful and always enough. Ease asks you to leave your shoes on the doormat and welcomes you inside, says my home is yours. So find ease, let it in, seek it out, smile and breathe when it comes. Whether this moment is painful, incomplete, joyful, peaceful, or bland, be at ease with yourself and your world for a moment today. …but a sick person has only one” – Indian proverb Note: This took place early in the week of July 1. I've been back up and running since then! Coming down with a fever after a busy weekend wasn’t particularly fun, though fortunately the timing worked out alright with our travel schedule (in Chennai now). As I lay in bed, staring aimlessly around the hotel room for most of the day, I had two profound realizations. The first was that the decorative grate on the window was missing a small piece, an observation that would never have happened without hours of leisure time in my unfortunate state. The second was a deeper questioning caused by this pause in the whirlwind of the past two weeks—a time that has sped by faster than an Indian auto on an open stretch of road. Staring at the ceiling, doing absolutely nothing, the absurdity of this whole situation hit me. What am I doing? I’m laying here in a bed in Chennai, India. But really, I have no idea where I am. I drowsily hopped into a plane from Bangalore yesterday, then a car, then this hotel and haven’t left since. And I’m here in India why? Oh yeah, to talk to auto rickshaw drivers. Just to talk to them? What value will my summer produce for the company? And the whole reason I’m laying here able to receive anything I could ever imagine wanting is because of a 2x3 inch plastic card that contains an essentially unlimited store of money from some wealthy donor? What’s going on? What am I accomplishing? When my brain deemed doing nothing to once again be boring, I scrolled though Instagram. Everyone else’s life seemed exciting: 21st birthdays, honeymoons, vacations, dream internships. But wait, I thought, that’s probably what everyone else thinks when I post something about India. It’s always easier to wish for other people’s Instagram lives than their internal lives. And even amid these doubts, I had plenty reason to smile. I know that this experience is what I signed up for, that I spoke energetically about how India would grow me as a person from my Santa Clara comforts, that all the difficult moments of this year have been important parts of the journey. Already in 15 short days, India has stretched and grown me to be a more observant, flexible and empathetic person. Drivers, employees and everyone I’ve met has been so happy to share their life and culture with me. This summer is truly a gift, and has already been so fun and meaningful. I got hungry and remembered that room service was well within my power. I ordered chicken nuggets, veggie spring rolls and watermelon juice. A few days later, I was back up and running, embracing the Chennai heat. As the quote in the title suggests, nothing helps you appreciate the vitality of being healthy like the monotony of being sick.
What does a normal day look like in India? Besides lots of time driving and talking with rickshaw drivers, very little has stayed consistent. Here are a few snapshots from the second week in Bangalore. Monday (6/24) Breakfast? Our new hotel feels more like home. The staff (like any preschooler’s mom) is quite intent on ensuring that you eat breakfast. I go on a morning walk and re-enter the warm, lemon-scented lobby. “Breakfast?” the receptionist asks. “I will,” I reply. Never have I ever forgotten about breakfast, then been spurred to action by someone’s reminder. I go back to the room and get a call on the shrill room phone. “Will you come for breakfast?” “Yes.” I’m usually at breakfast a little earlier than Rachael, and I never failed to receive a, “Will Madame come to breakfast?” question from the omelet man. Rest assured, I have eaten breakfast today. Black Market 101 India has a large informal economy, and Rachael and I have now experienced it firsthand. Our homey hotel doesn’t have a gym, but fortunately there is one 50 feet down the street. We walked in to try to get a week-long membership. The young lady at the desk showed us the first floor of exercise machines, and the second floor of weights. She then took us to the third-floor yoga studio, which was approximately 120 degrees. “We close at the end of the month,” she informed us. No problem, we were leaving at the end of the month. “Can you give us a deal?” I asked. “Normally we have a higher price, but we can do 100 rupees ($1.30) per day since we’re closing soon,” she replied. Perfect. I instinctually started heading down the stairs to get out of the heat, expecting us to return to the desk below to complete the deal. “No, wait,” the lady timidly said. “There are people below and we don’t want them to see and learn about your special deal.” Ohhhhhhh I see. I handed over the cash, sweating. “Don’t tell anyone!” she reminded us, waving her hands. We promised. We spent the workday Monday visiting Three Wheels United (TWU) field offices, small hubs where community organizers and collection agents worked from, in different areas of Bangalore. The women at these offices gave us valuable information on the different types of driver groups and the process for finding new drivers. Everyone was incredibly friendly and willing to speak with us. Tuesday, “I have dreams for my children” Our translator and TWU employee Chandini lives next to an auto driver’s family, and we spent all of Tuesday with this family. Bireash, a 36-year-old driver, lived with his wife Shobha, and 12 and 13-year-old kids Nikhil and Rachana. We visited their cozy home and spoke with them about their daily life, challenges and hopes for the future. Bireash woke up at 5am every day to spend several hours at the gym before beginning his 8am-11pm workday. Although the family only earned about 1,000 rupees ($15) per day, he paid for each of his kids to attend relatively expensive private schools. “I am not educated myself, but I have dreams for my children,” he told us. After dropping the kids off at school in the morning, Bireash would drive until 3pm when school got out. Meanwhile, Shobha would spend the morning cleaning the house and preparing the pani puri street food for later in the afternoon. After an hour of rest, Bireash and Shobha would wheel out their cart to a nearby road and sell pani puri from 5-9pm. Bireash drove for a couple hours afterwards as well, getting to bed around midnight. Rachael and I spent the day driving around the neighborhood, filming, listening, and playing with the kids. Watching the couple set up the pani puri stand was a colorful (and delicious) highlight. I made a video from our footage, check it out below. Wednesday, “These are my role models.” Chandini, our taxi driver Charu, and I (Rachael unfortunately got sick but recovered quickly) visited several auto stands throughout the city to speak with random drivers. I wanted to learn how drivers made decisions about financing their vehicles, what challenges they faced, and what they enjoyed about their work. In about ten conversations, common themes emerged. Similar to the statistics we received before entering India, about half of drivers own their vehicles, and half rent. Most drivers who own vehicles get loans from private financiers which offer high interest (about $1,200 total interest on a $2500 loan) but give loans to almost anyone without requiring much documentation or collateral. Drivers complain about traffic (longer drives, less passengers, less income), police fines, and Uber & Ola (ride sharing apps that take a cut of each ride and increase competition). However, despite low income and long hours, every driver said they enjoyed their work. Why? Freedom. I heard… “I don’t salute to anyone.” “If I want to take a rest in the middle of the day, I can.” “My family’s Hindu god temple is 100km away, and we can drive there every year in my auto.” Many drivers chose their job over other service or manufacturing work because of the autonomy it offered them. Others can't imagine life any other way. One driver, Sashikumar, spoke excellent English and willingly shared his experiences. His daughter was getting an MBA from a college in Bangalore, and his wife worked in a garment factory. Sashikumar’s auto had three beautiful paintings. Mother Teresa and Abdul Kalam (Indian scientist and president) were on the front, and actor Rajinikanth looked out from the back. “These are my role models,” he told me. The paintings were done by his friend, and each cost several days wages. Now he gets to see these beautiful paintings in his windshield every day. Thursday, Our second Bangalore hotel was very close to both the TWU office and Ulsoor Lake, a sanctuary of calm in the bustling city. The path by the lake provided an excellent destination for my morning walks. Thursday was a slower day at work: we caught up on note taking and went out to lunch. In the afternoon, we met with a TWU employee to learn more about how the company is streamlining its process for qualified drivers to get new loans. In the span of five minutes, we also completely shifted our plan for the next week, deciding to go to Chennai (an hour flight) instead of Chitradurga (a few hours’ drive) because of a special press conference happening in Chennai the following week. Friday, This too is sacred Three Wheels United and several other companies and NGO’s started a driver cooperative several years ago as a place to help drivers learn from each other, take small loans from the group, and be in community. On Friday around midday, a ceremony was held for the opening of an office space for the group. We attended along with several other TWU employees, and were happy to find our community organizer friends from Monday there as well. I was expecting some speech or announcements to be made about the new office, but instead, the whole ceremony was a Hindu blessing. A small alter with a picture of a Hindu god, a large banana leaf, and flowers sat on the ground, and a combination of blessings, chants, scents and flowers were introduced. The audience participated some as well, putting the red dot on their foreheads and doing several other ritualistic motions. Rachael and I were a bit hesitant to join in, but everyone was very calm, informal, and inviting. Several people were filming, and the leader guy was reading off his phone. Later in the ceremony, each person received a few flowers, which we put by the alter. I felt honored and grateful to experience the ceremony. The message was clear: the work we’re doing here holds significance. There’s no divine separation between work and temple. Driving a rickshaw or being in this community matters, and is connected to a greater purpose. We’re opening a new office, creating something new, and this creation is very good. That ended the work week, but only started the action. Rachael and I traveled to the nearby town of Mysore with Brooke VanSant, part of Santa Clara’s Global Fellows program (different program, similar names, often confused). We found an auto driver Babu who spent his whole day with us, serving as our informal tour guide for some local hits off the beaten path. He was truly a beautiful man, speaking proudly of his city and even letting us briefly try driving the auto on the country roads. We saw palaces and temples, ornate wooden elephants and real elephants, artists and aroma therapists, ate splendidly, and took a yoga class the next morning (Babu got up early to take us). Here are a few pictures. The first three days in Bangalore, India are complete. Rachael and I have acclimated smoothly, learned how to navigate the city, and already had several impromptu conversations with rickshaw drivers. Just as expected, the food is swell, the weather warm but mild, and people are generally kind and helpful. Our biggest day one learning was how to cross a street. The city (country?) isn’t huge on crosswalks, lanes, or traffic laws. You just wait for a small gap and make a run for it, preferably with a nearby stranger. There is no jaywalking, only walking. What I didn’t expect is how much time I would spend thinking about money. How should I spend it? What does it mean to rickshaw drivers? How does it influence social interactions? Would the world be a better place if money didn’t exist? The primary mission of Three Wheels United, the host company, is to raise the incomes of rickshaw drivers by loaning them money to own their vehicles. Economic stability allows drivers to spend less time worrying about their next meal, and more time providing for their family. So naturally, our whole experience is centered around money. Who has it, where it’s being spent, and how to help drivers earn more (without scamming clueless Americans). I’ll give a bit of background before diving into the stories. First, Miller Center for Social Entrepreneurship is incredibly kind to us fellows; we receive a debit card to purchase everything we need while in the field. Hotels, food, transportation, all of it. Spending someone else’s money carries a different psychology than spending your own as a college student. (“Hey, let’s just get both appetizers!” “It doesn’t matter that we spend $4 instead of $2 on this rickshaw ride!”) Both Rachael and I are naturally pretty frugal, but it’s a freeing change to not analyze every dollar. On a broader scale, we both feel a certain responsibility to savor and learn from this experience. Second, the exchange rate in India is quite favorable, about 65 rupees per dollar. A main course at a restaurant might cost 300 or 400 rupees, or about $5 or $6. A 15-minute rickshaw ride costs about 70 rupees on a ride-sharing app. Most items are generally about one-third the price they would be in the U.S. We get to stay in a hotel with the breakfast pictured below. (Yes, it’s heaven) 1. “Only one store” Our first rickshaw experience came after visiting the botanical gardens, a pretty park to the south of our hotel. A man seemed quite eager to drive us, and we told him we wanted to visit the Bangalore palace. He didn’t speak the clearest English, but we eventually agreed he would take us there. He was saying something about gas or a store, but we made it clear that it was the palace that we desired. He fired up the engine, and zoomed around a roundabout. About 30 seconds later, he pulled into a clothing store, and told us that we had to go in and shop. We weren’t thrilled, but walked in and out of the store. He wouldn’t take us further, so we handed him 50 rupees and left. We later learned that the stores would give drivers gas tickets if they brought customers there that bought something. Later that night, we visited Commercial Street, an overwhelming neighborhood of shops (mostly clothing, mostly selling the same stuff). After finding a fruit peeler (for mangos) and eating dinner, we wanted a ride to the nearby MG Road area. A driver excitedly approached us and asked us where we wanted to go. “No stores,” Rachael firmly told him as we hopped in. He paused. “Only one store,” he responded. Was he planning to take us to more than one!!?!?!?!@? We walked the half mile on a noisy street instead, more out of spite than necessity. Our final driver of the night was much kinder. “I am not like that,” he said of the store-crazed drivers. 2. “Keep the change” Day two featured several more rickshaw rides, the first one to work. Our current hotel is about two miles from the hotel, a sizeable ride in morning traffic. One of the previous day’s rickshaw drivers was waiting outside the hotel and asked us where we wanted to go. We agreed to no stores, and offered 150 rupees. “300,” he responded. “It’s very far.” Fine. Later that day, we realized how badly we had been ripped off. Rosemary (our primary TWU connection, a late 20’s American leading the company’s business development) informed us that a ride that distance should be around 60-80 rupees, potentially a bit more for us being foreigners. How should we feel? Bad for getting ripped off? Good for supporting the local economy? Bad for wasting someone else’s money? Good for getting to work on the first day? Who knows!?! One of the funny parts about money is how emotions don’t scale with amounts. The injustice of being charged an extra $2 somehow outweighed that we accidentally booked the hotel for an extra night before we arrived, a disproportionately greater cost. Losing $2 and $2000 feels surprisingly similar. Emotions trump logic. After several hours of relaxed chatting in the office, Rachael and I were ready for an ethnographic adventure (aimlessly wandering around the city). We found a little “auto stand” (spot where rickshaw drivers wait) and asked if anyone spoke English. A younger guy said yes, and we asked him to take us to another neighborhood a good 45 minutes away. We agreed on 300 again, and sped off. We proceeded to have an excellent conversation with this man Niyatnath, learning all sorts of details about his life. He was 38, lived with his wife, two kids and eight other extended family members, had driven a rickshaw for six years and could make about 1400-1800 ($20-$27) for a long 12-hour day. We learned about his whole working career, his family’s jobs, when they went to the market, why he quit being a mechanic, and all the costs of renting his vehicle. After arriving at our destination, we gave him an extra dollar for his kindness and insight. Keep the change. 3. “It’s gone” Now in a new neighborhood called Jayanagar, we shopped around and paced the streets. I was looking for a new wallet, as my current one was tiny and couldn’t hold much cash. This wallet is only the second I’ve ever owned. The first lasted many years but was lost on the train right before flying to Europe last fall. I bought my current small one in Italy, and have kept it since. Rachael saw a little sponge she liked from a street vendor, and bought it for about 30 cents. We walked a few feet down the street, then she froze. She checked a pocket in her backpack. “I think I just got pickpocketed,” she said. It was certainly possible since the area was moderately crowded. She rummaged in her backpack and found her phone. Good. “Is your computer there?” Yes. Ok, here we go, I thought. Procedure. First. Text Spencer (Miller Center worker). Rachael sent the message. Next. Call bank to cancel card. I tried to call but it didn’t go through. We remained calm and amiable, but it was quite stressful. She looked again in her backpack in different pockets. Found it! … wheeeewwwwwwww. That was a close call. Text: “Never mind Spencer whoops.” Deep breath. Overall, the episode made us sufficiently paranoid enough to be careful. And threw some stressful conflict into the relationship, which we handled swimmingly. We continued onward, and I bought a new wallet from a street vendor for a whopping $3. Rachael found one too. Against all odds, we exited Jayanagar with two more wallets than we entered with. We celebrated at a mind-blowingly good restaurant in another hip area of town called Indiranagar. Cheers. 4. “I love driving” After dinner, we tried the Ola app (like Uber) to get us back to the hotel. Our driver was taking forever and his map pin wasn’t moving, so we cancelled and wandered around looking for a rickshaw. In Jayanagar, we had asked about 10 drivers if they spoke English and had no success. But here, the first driver we found happened to speak English. He worked for an Australian company and drove on nights and weekends to make some extra money. He told us he started work at 3:30 am, then finished at 1pm. He would nap in the afternoon, drive from 7pm-1am and do it again the next day. But what really stood out was his love for driving. “Some people spend Friday or Saturday watching television, I drive rickshaws instead,” he told us. I can see the appeal of rickshaw driving. It’s a bit like a video game: weaving in and out of traffic, squeezing between cars, sending friendly honks to each moped driver you nearly hit, revving the engine in any clear stretch of road. For this man, driving wasn’t a chore or even a necessity. It was his passion. He wasn’t out to scam tourists, he used the meter on his vehicle most of the time to offer reasonable prices. He did strategically drive near bars on weekend nights to earn more from drunk people, a method that allowed him to earn much more than some other drivers. But his love for driving was what shone through most clearly. Our experiences with money often feel transactional and extractive. The drivers see me as a tall American opportunity to make an extra dollar, and I pay them for their services. But each day, Rachael and I have gotten into long and fruitful conversations with drivers where we learn about them as people.
This morning on the way to work, we rode with a man Ahmed who had been driving for 40 years (!!!). He spoke of how much Bangalore had changed in that time, about his eight children, and about differences in university in India and the U.S. He earned just $8 per day despite working 12-14 hours. He spoke an incredible five languages, and had picked up English solely from his years of driving. Ahmed told us, “This is one of the longest conversations I’ve had with any rider. Most people don’t want to talk. You are very nice people.” I realized that the greatest gift we can give any driver is allowing them to be seen, and to feel that their story matters. We had agreed on a price of 150 rupees beforehand (about double what we could have paid), and as we exited the vehicle, Ahmed tried to give us back 50. He no longer saw us as a means to an end, and felt bad for the inflated rate. We of course refused this beautiful man’s request, and shook his hand before leaving to work. Money matters, it’s everywhere, and it will inform our whole summer of work. But the human connections and stories are what truly count. |
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