Rickshaw Babies

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Originally uploaded by Bangla, Biryanis and Badminton.

I love rickshawallahs. I love the way they know exactly where their wheels are, as if they were an extension of their own body. I love the way they make the front wheel go into the pothole so that the back two wheels miss it altogether, thus making their ride a bumpy one, but yours nice and smooth (as far as these things go). I love the way they can predict the traffic. I love the look of concentration on their faces when they’re riding, and the smile you get at the end of the trip. I love their patience when dealing with my clumsy directions. I love the way they put a plastic sheet over you when it’s raining and they put the hood up for you when it’s too sunny (although they are designed for shorter people than me, so it really hurts when you go over a bump and hit your head on the wooden bits).

My love for rickshawallahs is growing every day.

Having said this, it is heartbreaking to see a 10- or 11-year-old boy pulling a rickshaw. Often whole families will get on a rickshaw, and even the “fully grown” rickshawallahs are already pulling four or five times their weight. It is wrong for so many reasons. But then again, it pays the bills. Sort of.