Share Auto Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

Riding shotgun in the share auto
At an odd afternoon hour
I soon become the driver's confidant
After the few passengers
Fetching lunch for the patients
Have got down at the hospital
We halt at each bus stop
Without attracting any new patrons
All those waiting seem to be waiting
For the green board long hauls
Headed for the distant suburbs
All the short-distance travellers
Seemed to have vanished
'Must have taken that bus'
He points to the cut service
Moving before us, filling the road
'He has robbed us
Of our fare! '
I join him, running down the competition:
Half in jest, he says
'I cannot believe people
Could be so thrifty
As to forgo the comfort
Of my vehicle
For a bus which stops at every stop
Takes twice the time
And cannot take shorter routes
To avoid signals! '
His dialect reveals he is
From the drought-prone south
A migrant like me
Not far from my native town
Come looking for greener pastures
In the big city
There is some distance to go
For me to get down
For his sake
I badly want the vehicle
To fill up before then - -
The southerner finds it funny
To be expecting a full trip
At this lean hour
Still calls out happily
To the undecided
At the next stop:
'You can get down
At the temple signal
Walk to the depot! '
Two more join us
At the next stop
We are now full
As I get down clumsily
Footwear falling off
He calls out solicitously
Using the respectful suffix
Of our parts
For the elderly