The Retired KSRTC Driver Who Now Drives Stories
A year ago, I wrote about an unforgettable Uber auto ride in Trivandrum. That story, titled “When We Met the Auto Anna of Thiruvananthapuram,” brought me messages from strangers and smiles from friends who said it reminded them of their own such encounters.
Today, I had another one of those rides.
Today’s trip wasn’t just another Uber booking. It turned into a ride through the life of a man in his seventies—navigating both the streets of Trivandrum and the evolving tides of technology and society with a rare sense of humility and charm.
He wasn't particularly tech-savvy, he admitted with a smile, but still managed to operate the Uber app with surprising confidence. While he did take a couple of wrong turns and seemed slightly unsure of the location, his warmth made up for it. I walked toward him to make things easier, and that small gesture brought a genuine spark of happiness to his face. “Ee Uber kandu pidichavane sammathikkanam,” he said—“We must appreciate the one who came up with Uber.”
Even though he pays Rs. 33 every day to use the platform and knows the company earns millions, he is grateful for the support it gives him. “Uber ensures a return trip wherever I go,” he said. “And after 6 PM, I only take short rides—it suits me well.”
What stood out was how he viewed his profession. To him, driving an auto isn’t just about earning—it's a form of public service. “When someone asks for a ride, you're not supposed to say no,” he said with quiet conviction, as if repeating a code of ethics. That sense of commitment was admirable.
Get Varun Geethamony’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Hailing from Trivandrum, he had worked with the Kerala State Road Transport Corporation before retiring. Even post-retirement, his service continued—he spent over a decade driving children to the SMV Government School. “It’s such a good school,” he told me with a tinge of sadness, “but people are choosing private institutions these days. Only a few kids remain there now.”
After his time at SMV, he began full-time auto driving. But he’s still a family man, still a father. Somewhere mid-ride, he casually asked about my relationship status. When I said I was single, he smiled and said he was also looking for a girl for his son, who now works in Dubai. Then, half jokingly, he said, “Maybe I’ll find someone for you too!”
He went on to share his worries about modern relationships—how many seem to break down after just a few years and a couple of children. He spoke about a recent passenger—a woman working in a government department—who had been cheated by a man maintaining multiple relationships. His words were filled with concern, but also with the wisdom of someone who’s watched life from the front seat.
At one point, he glanced at me and asked, “Isn’t the Chief Minister coming back on the 16th?” I said I thought so. With a playful glint in his eye, he chuckled, “Ever since he reached Texas, it’s been raining there continuously. Trump must be pleading with him to return to Kerala!” It was classic Malayali satire—light, sharp, and good-humored.
As we neared my destination, he wished me all the best for my work, and also, again, for finding someone who “suits me well.” Before I got out, he asked, like a concerned father, “Do you have some snacks or a water bottle for your journey?” We took a quick selfie, and he saved my number—“in case I come across someone for you too,” he laughed.
Over the years, I’ve taken countless auto rides. Most blur into routine. But once in a while, you meet someone whose words stay with you—whose life and kindness leave a quiet mark on your heart. This was one such ride.
