"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.
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