11 rupees

Something strange happened to me.

This was like any other day—swinging from one train to another, scrambling for autos, and heading to college after a one-hour-and-thirty-minute journey, with continuous music in my ears and the sun beating down on my head. (Don’t worry, I won’t even start about the heat—that would be a different essay to God altogether.)

Finally, after getting down at my station, I walked out of the half-constructed set-station, alongside auto-walas and crows, all moving at the same pace—while auto uncles stood ready to trample you without a second thought rather than actually taking you to your destination. After getting rejected by two autos and questioning my entire point of pursuing this degree when the world would eventually end, I heard a voice behind me:

“Kaha jaana hai, beta?”

Another auto uncle. Not in the usual uniform, though. Not thinking much about it, I told him my destination (my college, five minutes away). He gave me the yes, chalo nod, and so I hopped in, thanking all the stars.

Thirty seconds in, I realized—I had no cash.

"Bhaiya, aapke paas GPay hai?" (A phrase I say at least five times a day.) Baba, if you’re reading this—sorry, I will carry cash. Now, moving on.

The man heard me, looked into the rearview mirror, and said nothing. I repeated myself. He mumbled something and went quiet.

It dawned on me—he was slightly drunk.

And there it came—news headlines flashing in my head, stories from cities to towns, everything that had happened to victims. To top it off, he took a different route because BMC has apparently decided that roads look incomplete unless they have blackhole-sized craters in them.

I repeated myself, louder this time, moving closer to the edge, ready to jump and say goodbye to my nice jeans. (But hey—life is more important.) I told him to drop me off since I had no cash.

"Please, madam, chup ho jao ab," he said—loudly, I must say—and continued mumbling about how hot the weather was.

That drop in my stomach. That static in my head.I knew what could happen next, or i didn't at all-Would they say I was careless? That I should have known better? That I should have taken another auto? Waited longer? Walked? But even walking wasn’t safe, was it? But it’s not even dark-

My wet fingers dug into my bag strap, calculating, recalculating my options.Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. But my body didn’t listen. My body had already decided. The thud of my heartbeat filled my ears, drowning out the engine noise, the honks, the city itself.

I went blank for a good twenty seconds before I finally saw the signal near my college. He asked me, "Kaha utarna hai aapko"

Get down? He was letting me go?

That was my first thought. Of course he would, was the thought that followed. Terribly confused, I asked, "Bhaiya, kisika number hai jaha send kar du paise?"

He just looked at me and smiled.

"Baad mein de dena, beta. Aap bacche jaise hi toh ho."

But my body didn’t believe it. Not yet. My limbs stayed locked in place, my brain refused to switch off its alarms. Paranoia doesn’t just evaporate. It lingers, seeps into your bones, sits in your gut long after the danger has passed. My whole nervous system turned to look at me from inside. What do we do, Shila? Freak out? Feel sad? Feel guilty?

What just happened?

I quickly took out my pink owl purse. Eleven rupees. I had eleven rupees in change.

I said, "Please, bhaiya, yeh rakh lo."

The man looked troubled, but he smiled and quietly accepted the eleven rupees. I thanked him and crossed the road.

There’s so much I could take from those eight minutes and eleven rupees. The dangers haven’t decreased; if anything, they’ve only grown. Our first instincts have completely changed.

The world has shaped us, taught us—day by day—to fear, to be scared, to be vigilant, to be angry. So how are we supposed to react when something like this happens? We barely remember kindness. A hundred other bad experiences take over, like a floodgate breaking and washing an entire city away.

 It unsettled me—not just the fear, but the aftertaste of something else. Something unfamiliar, something I struggled to name.

But could it be true that goodness might—just might—have increased a bit too? Just by one slightly drunk auto uncle at a time?