Rickshaakaaran Rangachari - The auto-rickshaw driver at Kanchipuram

This was sometime in 2001, I think, if I am not mistaken. Could be 2002, also. Anyways, me and the family, we had gone to visit Tirumala-Tirupati, on a pilgrimage, and had completed a very hasty darshan of Lord Venkateswara. We returned to the Lodge at Tirupati, where the service is always as usual, something not to write about, over the many years that I have visited and stayed in. But, that is another story. We could have stayed at Tirupati for the three additional days that we had planned on, but the family wanted to move. It was always so, because all the relatives at Tirupati, were on my side of the family!

The Tirumala-Tirupati slopes at Alipiri

If you would even drop a pebble, but faintly in Tirupati, the ripples would bring forth nearly 200 relatives, and that was something that the missus was not keen on. And of course, the service at the Lodge was not something to write home about, which the daughter was not happy about. So we decided to move to Kanchipuram, and take the extra days available, to see the temples and the town. And of course, the missus thought would be a good reason to shop for the magical Kanchipuram silk sarees. This was a mystery, if at all, but that again, is a different story.

We hired a private taxi that needed to have a permit to drive into Tamil Nadu from Tirupati in Andhra Pradesh. There were bookings already made at the Tourism Department's Hotel Tamil Nadu at Kanchipuram. As was the usual, the missus and the daughter got ready much later than was their usual, and we reached Kanchipuram only by night, and were soon lost searching for the Hotel Tamil Nadu. Most rickshaw drivers, known as 'Rickshaakaarans' in Tamil Nadu, did not know the Hotel, or as my missus put it, simply did not want to help.

The Kanchipuram town area at night 

near the Sri Ekambaranathar Temple

And then we got a kind soul on a motorbike, who heard us ask for the guest house, and said that we could follow him for he was headed that way, or something like that, for he said, "Come behind me, Saar, I am going that way only". Must have been just about right, for me and the driver of the private taxi, that we understood in the edge of time, as we know it. For the bike driver was instantly away, driving and weaving through the logic of small-town traffic in India. One moment, he was there, and the other moment, he was making his way through traffic.

We need not have worried, for one can have tremendous faith in the greatest leveller of all, India's town traffic. You can go, but you cannot go go. And there he was, but surely, waiting for a small traffic jam to clear up. A rickshaw driver was arguing with another rickshaw driver who was arguing with a banana hawker who was refusing to budge and give the extra leeway for traffic to move through.

We caught up with the kind soul on the motorbike and began to follow him as he weaved his way through the traffic jam. Two other vehicles picked up on the idea and so we had about some four-wheelers and several 2-wheelers using the vehicle horn liberally, lending themselves to a totally nonmusical cacophony of sound that built up in a crescendo. Suddenly the kind soul on the motorbike was through the traffic jam, and so were we.

Our driver was quite skillful, I must admit, or he must have been totally used to such situations. He took us out of the location and then we were driving alongside an elevated railway track and seemed to go out of the city and back in and out again, and were suddenly at the Hotel Tamil Nadu. The kind soul on the motorbike waved to us and kept on driving and went his way.

The road to Hotel Tamil Nadu at Kanchipuram

We had been apprehensive about checking in at a government run lodge, named as a hotel, based entirely on reservations done on a long-distance basis. However, to my utter surprise, the staff at the Hotel Tamil Nadu were extremely courteous, helpful and fast. They confirmed our reservations and got us inside our rooms immediately. So much for that... I had to build up this story to get you the background on the approach to our main character about whom I want to write up about here...

After the family had settled in, and we had had an urgently put together dinner, since we were past the guest house mess-hall dining hours, I met up with the reception clerk to discuss the logistics of going around Kanchipuram. The private taxi had proceeded on its return journey to Tirupati and we had to make arrangements of our own in the city for the next four days. I was usually very wary about traveling on auto-rickshaws, especially in Tamil Nadu, having faced several worthy debate-champions in Chennai.

Hotel Tamil Nadu at Kanchipuram

The reception clerk at the desk introduced me to the room-attendent, a very senior citizen like individual, dressed in khakhi, who was very courteous and heard me out. He said that he would arrange for a rickshaw driver, who is usually available from early dawn, since people would like to visit the temples early in the morning. He would talk it over with the rickshaw driver at night, tonight, and ask him to be with us for the next four days. As for payment, he said we could fix it up for the full day, at about Rs. 40 per hour, and he would be able to take the entire family with him, if I could sit up front with the driver.

Wow, I thought. That settles much of my worries, for we were five of us, and I was wondering if we would need to hire a four-wheeler. But how would the old gent be able to confirm the details tonight, I asked him. "No problem, saar..." he replied, "the rickshaakaaran, driver paiyan (= boy) is my son, and he is always here to drop me in the morning for my shift. He knows the entire city, and he will not fool you or harass you. Guarantee, mine, Saar."

With such an iron-clad assurance, and such a reasonable per-hour rate, I thought, why not. The next day morning, by 7.30 am we were all ready, through with our breakfast at the Guest House Mess, and waiting for our very own rickshaakaaran. The rickshaw was not to be seen at the porch, and I kept looking out for it. A youngish smartly dressed gentleman, about early 30s, was also pacing around the reception area. Watching me looking out of the porch, he came up to me and said in a totally non-typical but faintly south Indian Tamil accent in English, "Saar, are you the Bombay party, Saar? You are waiting for the auto Saar?"

I nodded. He put out his hand for a firm handshake, and said, "Myself, Saar, Mishter Ramesh Rangachari. My father met you, Saar, yesterday night, at Reception. I will be with you and family for four days. How are you, Saar? Please to meet you, Saar. I am fine, Saar." Wow, awesome, I thought, to myself. This guy can go on and on in English. I can move about in Kanchipuram without hassles. I would have no problem even if Mr. Rangachari would charge me more than Rs. 40 per hour. I just nodded that I was fine, and I pointed out my family, and asked if I could sit in the front seat with him.

It was his turn to nod his head, vigorously, like any true Indian, faithful to the motions and movements of all Indians worldwide, with a 7,000 year tradition behind us of nodding in a manner that can confound the rest of the world, all put together.

Driving through Kanchipuram in an autorickshaw

So, there we went. Four of us on the passenger's seat and myself, seated next to Rickshaakaaran Rangachari. We set off from the guest house and bumped our way through unmetalled roads, potholes and metalled roads that were worse off than the unmetalled ones. The rickshaw roof was just that bit lower to prevent me from sitting up straight. My head had to be tilted inwards so that it would not protrude out of the vehicle.

I had to tilt my head towards Rangachari while he had to tilt his head towards me and the right hand side rear-view mirror. He actually had to twist himself to see the road ahead in the front windshield. I however had the wonderful privilege of getting the complete odour-blast from his unique brand of coconut hair oil. I felt the smell actually separating itself from his hair and could almost see the scent-waves jetting inside my nose that was right up his thick black oiled hair.

I asked Rangachari as to which oil did he use. Naturally he had to give a very longish speech that was interspersed with comments about where we were headed, the restaurants, shopping, temples and the government in Chennai, the State Capital, and the Kanchipuram municipality. The reason the subsequent speech by Rangachari is extremely long, while driving his rickshaw through the streets of Kanchipuram, is that it was extremely long. He kept talking non-stop and driving and talking. All he had waited for in his life, seemingly, was my question. As you will see from his answer, the issue of his heavily scented hair oil was entirely a non-issue for him.

"Yes, saar, this is puyar (= pure) coconut oyal (= oil) saar, but spechal (= special) coconut oyal, saar. We get direct from oyal mill saar and they mix jasmine flower in oyal, and we get good scent. Old flower, more straang (= strong) smell saar and will stay full day very good smell. Say namaskaar, amma (= the missus, seated on the passenger seat), paapa (= the daughter seated with the missus), there is puliyar (= Ganesha) temple going bye. Say namaskaar very fast, paapa. See it is gone. Saar do not worry about oyal, I will get you full bottle for you, spechal, at afternoon, at less price."

Handloom silk shops at Kanchipuram

"See amma, this is new saree sale shops. Paapa, do you want to buy any spechal shalwar kurta, silk shalwar pieces for stitch up in Chennai Mumbai, enna paapa? (= what say, young girl?) Amma are you wanting to purchase sarees for festival or for marriage?"

"Saar silk shirt also available but you buy spechal silk dhoti for puja. This is new Coimbatore hotel, saar, we will come back after temple for breakfast. Big big big idli saar. You cannot eat more than two idli at Coimbatore hotel. This is not udupi hotel saar. All udupi hotel not real south Indian hotel. People all over India are fooled. Udupi is not even in Tamil Nadu. Did you know that Paapa?"

"No problem also if you want to eat punjabi chinese for breakfast. My friend, Selvaraj has spechal full-day punjabi chinese north Indian hotel near Kamakshi Amman temple, next to flower shops lane, and you can always get hot hot breakfast and tiffin even at lunch, evening and dinner. There you see saar is international bank ATM if you want to take out money. It came up four years ago. We used to wait outside the ATM for six months when it came first to Kanchipuram. It was great fun. Two or three people only would go to ATM each day in first month. In six months it was only about five to ten people every day."

Banana vendor at Kanchipuram Temple

"SURESH SAAR, THAMBI (= younger brother)", he shouted out of the rickshaw at a banana vendor, who waved in return, "Suresh is my classmate. Selvaraj also classmate. But Suresh is having to take father's banana cart. He sells at good spot, here, this is important signal, and good place to sell banana. Suresh appa (= Suresh's father) sold banana at same spot for many years. Now Suresh is selling. That ATM saar, was good place also. Selvaraj, myself, Suresh, Kunnikannan, also classmate, we stand outside ATM for six months."

"This is famous Gandhi silk house. Not Mahatma Gandhi. He never purchase silk house in Kanchipuram. This is Muniswamy Gandhi, he is really Naicker, no actually he is Balija Naidu, but from Satyavedu, in Chittoor, in Andhra Pradesh. Before it was namba naadu (= our land), in Madras State, now in Andhrakaaran (= Andhra people) land. Some Naidus change name, you know in Tamil Nadu. But Muniswamy father and Muniswamy brother, they take name Gandhi. Now they have Gandhi silk house. See that shop next to Gandhi silk house? That is good soda, masala soda, ginger soda and colour soda shop. All soda is made behind shop. We will go there in evening, saar, when amma and paapa go to saree shop. We will go, also periappa (= elder father, uncle) and take masala spechal soda."

Sri Vaikunta Perumal Temple at Kanchipuram

"Saar, we are now near Vaikunta Perumal Temple area. We will go straight to temple. We will stop rickshaa here, and we will walk to other temple gate through temple. Gopalachami Saar will be there now. He is father of Krishna, my classmate. He will not ask us to stand in queue. We from ATM, remember ATM saar, international Bank ATM, we waited till people took money. They got fresh, new very new rupee notes."

"Yes, paapa, very good rupee notes. Not folded at all. Very clean. We exchange the notes with people taking money from ATM. We give same money in return. Everyone knows me, Selvaraj, Krishna, Kunnikannan, Suresh, Sunil and also Coimbatore hotel head waiter now. We bring ATM new notes to Krishna's father, Gopalachami Saar. This is good newspaper kadai (= shop), saar. Periappa, do you want Hindu or Times of India paper, or Indian Express? you ahve to say fast. Okay we will come back from Vaikunta Perumal temple."

"You know, all devotees come to prayer at Vaikunta Perumal temple. Gopalachami saar give new rupee notes in 500 or 1000 bundles and devotees take for giving in hundi (= donation box). They want to give new notes. Very good na, saar, but only six months. Now everyone bring money in cloth bag or plastic bag and put directly without opening. We stopped going to ATM for new notes. Now we are near temple, saar. I will stop rickshaa here, there is good shade, and this poo-kadai (= a flower shop) maami (= aunty) will take care of vehicle. We can leave slippers here but sand and stone in Vaikunta Perumal temple outside compound very hot. We will remove slippers on other side, ok?"

The Sri Vaikunta Perumal Temple and the adjacent mosque.

Sharing a common compound wall and temple tank.

He took a break from talking non-stop while we alighted from the rickshaw. The Vaikunta Perumal temple seemed like a page out of ancient history, sitting there, in its own blissful serenity. There were about 6-10 pilgrims, awaiting their turn to offer prayers. Surprisingly, and most fascinating, there was a mosque sharing a compound wall, and perhaps also sharing the temple tank. There were pigeons fluttering about on the mosque and perched in its crannies. The temple an the mosque looked equally well-maintained, clean, peaceful, silent and serene.

The paved pathway was running down within a splendidly maintained lawn. Our man, Rangachari, preferred to walk on the grass rather than the pathway, while we walked in our footwear, until we reached the main cuboid-like entrance, which was an imposing six-pillared stone structure. We left our footwear outside this entrance and walked into ancient spiritual history.

I dared not ask Rangachari about the whereabouts of his slippers. I had noticed that he did not have any slippers even when he drove the autorickshaw. An oldish looking gentleman recognised Rangachari, and they chatted together, while we moved around in the open hallway of the temple. The most amazing aspect, as I would like to repeat, was the peaceful serenity and cleanliness. This was totally unlike most other temples or pilgrimage locations that I was familiar with.

We returned from our prayers while Rangachari continued chatting with the elderly gentleman. They knew each other well, considering the familiarity. In spite of their prolonged discussion, they seemed to speak in a low tone, respectful of the premises. While the family went around the temple, on a parikrama, I watched quietly, amazed. Rangachari was listening, mostly during his conversation, and not talking non-stop. He seemed to have a different personality, away from his autorickshaw. He was an entirely different person.

The family returned soon, and the daughter was impatient. She wanted us to go to a restaurant. The missus seemed to be happy at the daughter's request. I was waiting for Rangachari to get away from his discussion and return to the autorickshaw. A quick look outside the temple could make us perceive that there were no restaurants nearby. The elderly gentleman seemed to have been watching us for he was facing us while Rangachari had his back to us. The gentleman tapped Rangachari on his shoulder with affection and gestured for him to return to the autorickshaw.

The amazing historical treasure in 

Sri Vaikunta Perumal Temple in Kanchipuram

Rangachari bowed respectfully and touched the elderly gentleman's feet and received his blessings. Having done so, he seemed to change abruptly. He straightened, smiled, and came over to my father, and took over the carry bags containing flowers, coconuts and water bottles and walked briskly on the lawn to get to his rickshaw. I was sad, for the visit was very short, and the temple was amazing. This was a place that I would have to return to. There was amazing history here, tremendous religious convergence, splendid architecture, truly spiritual bliss in the iconography, and a peaceful moment of rituals.

We were back in the rickshaw, with the missus, daughter and my father in the rear seat, and me soaking up the coconut oil scents from Rangachari's hair, while seated with him on the front seat. The daughter said something to the missus, and the missus spoke in Tamil to Rangachari, asking for him to take us to a restaurant. I immediately sensed that it was a mistake, for it was enough to get Rangachari started up again.

"Amma, tiffen is very good at Coimbatore Hotel. Also, good toilet there. But, please pick up tissue paper napkins if you want to go to toilet. Hot tiffen there. Real soft dosas and we will ask for tomato chutney, ok? Paapa? Do you want to eat Chinese tiffen? If you ask them, they will give you that 2-minute noodles. But, that we should eat at my friend's cart in the evening. It will be colder. Now, my friend's cart is closed. It is very hot in the pavement. In day, he is selling soda water at Kamakshi Amman temple street."

Sri Kamakshi Amman Temple and Street in Kanchipuram

I do not think he had for even a moment considered if we wanted to go to the Coimbatore Hotel. He was sure that we wanted to have tiffen at the place. I wondered about when we had decided that he would also have tiffen with us. I guessed it was probably safer and better that he joined us inside the restaurant. The daughter was very picky in her choice of the restaurants where we would go to. She had not been particularly inclined to agree with us in coming to Kanchipuram when she realised that she would have to be choosy with our food.

Rangachari continued chatting with the missus, while driving the rickshaw, and without turning back to see who he was talking to. "The tiffen here at all good hotels in Kanchipuram in the morning is very good. You have to eat it in the early mornings only. But, now, you should know which hotel will make new sambar and chutney. Other hotels keep adding water and heating it again and again. On big pooja day, all hotels make more food. On slow day like today, they make less food. Only some of us know where to eat good food at any time on any day in Kanchipuram."

I glanced back at the rear seat. The family was smarter. They were not listening to Rangachari at all. The missus seemed to be napping. The daughter was looking out of the vehicle. My father was praying, chanting, reciting to himself. Rangachari was chatting, complacent, unaware that nobody was listening to him. Except for me, of course. I had no option. I had to listen to him. He was totally, like totally totally, talking into my ear. The voice was resonating deep somewhere within my brain.

I lost track of his chatter somewhere when he began to discuss about the choice between white coconut chutney, orange coconut chutney and green coconut chutney. Somewhere during that discussion, he added 'red coconut chutney'. He seemed to be deriving some logic in explaining his choices. I vaguely remember that he explained that orange coconut chutney was used to fool pilgrims in some hotels. Some used tomato without red chillies, to get only the colour right, while some used the red chilli in excessive quantities to hide the stale tomatoes that they may have used. Granted that it may have been true, I did wonder of the reason why a rickshaw driver would have such knowledge.

Prominent restaurants at Kanchipuram

My father spoke suddenly and commented that it was essential to have a specifically accurate balance of tomatoes, red chillies and shredded and grated coconut, with coconut milk. Rangachari was visibly happy to have someone discuss with him in such a qualified manner. To me, it was a continuing puzzle. Why did these two men, Rangachari, and my father, have so much detailed knowledge about "red coconut chutney"? I did not have to ask the question to Rangachari, for he was soon scrambling to explain in greater detail.

"Ille (= No), Periappa. The secret is in frying the red chillies properly before mixing it with the tomato paste. Some of these footpath carts are masters in giving you good hot pungent red coconut chutney with dosa or idlis. But, the big hotels are not good. They only heat the red chilli, and they do not fry the red chilli. It is very evil, what they do. My amma, she is very good cook. But even she is like big hotel. But, my father's mother, she is now very old woman. She scolds my mother very badly for good coconut chutney. There are very strict rules for coconut chutney in my house."

I had to get in on this very intriguing culinary discussion but we had arrived at a tiffen restaurant that Rangachari had been referring to as "Coimbatore Hotel". The restaurant that we arrived at was certainly not named as "Coimbatore Hotel". It was not a great looking place, and did not seem to have a big brand name or whatever. There were at least two other seemingly better restaurants nearby. But, Rangachari seemed to have faith in this one.

Everybody at the restaurant seemed to know Rangachari. He  greeted everyone, very politely, with calls of affection to each one, "Machchaan (= brother-in-law), Thambi (= younger brother), Swami (= great one)" and then, in the same breath, he spoke to the missus and the daughter, "Ange (= There), that is the toilet. You can go there. It is very clean." He said this in a very loud voice, for everyone to hear. The daughter looked shocked, while the missus looked like it was a very normal statement. Nobody seemed to have realised the embarassment from the statement. Rangachari looked totally happy that he had done a good deed.

An insider's view to the outside from 

within an autorickshaw at Kanchipuram

He led me, no, actually nudged me to a table in a cool corner of the restaurant, away from the heat at the front sections from the street. An elderly waiter came up to the desk, and I gestured for him to get me the menu card. The elderly waiter looked at me impassively. He had seen me, had seen the gesture for the menu card, and he had understood it. But, he was not going to do anything about getting me the menu card. He gestured to a young lad who came up with five steel glasses and plonked them noisily on the table.

Rangachari spoke, without asking me or my father, "Moorthy Mama (= Uncle), get two bottles of very cold mineral water. Bring it here and show me the seal before you open them. And, bring me and Periappa, two glasses of buttermilk. Salty. Not sweet. It is too hot for us out there. There, Amma and Paapa are back from the toilet. Good place, na, Amma? Clean toilet? Good. Sit down. Moorthy Mama will get s tiffen here. Pappa, this water is good, it is, mineral water from Himalayas. Not like our canal water with sulphur and chemicals. Do not drink the water. Anywhere, Pappa if you cannot take bath in the water, if soap does not wash, if you can feel the water's weight when you wash your hands, do not drink the water."

This guy was like a scientist, I thought. He knew everything about water. He was also a culinary expert. Knew everything about coconut chutneys. History expert. Temple architecture. Spiritual networker. Knew everyone in the temples. Maybe this was the case with all rickshaw drivers in Kanchipuram. But, why did that idiotic looking Moorthy Mama not bring the menu? I had to ask Rangachari. And why did he call him 'Mama'? How did a waiter in a hotel become his uncle? I ought to know, I thought.

Rangachari was away again, in answer, while also placing our breakfast order, and networking, all at the same time, in the same conversation. He replied, "Yes, Saar, this man, Moorthy Mama, is actually my sister's husband. But he is so old, much older than my sister that he is like my uncle. Hey, Moorthy Mama, get us all mixed plate breakfast. Something of everything that is good now, and hot."

Mixed-up assortment breakfast tiffin at Kanchipuram

2 Idlis, 1 Medu Vada, small portion of Upma, Sambar and Chutney

"Also, bring all types of chutneys that is good, and not got rotten by now. Do not reheat the chutney if it has gone bad. I will immediately find out, you foolish man. Go. Go away and get our breakfast. Do not stand there. See, Saar, he only understands that way. If I speak politely to him, he will suddenly start behaving like my brother-in-law and may ask me to clean the tables. My father is kind to him and that is why he is still alive. But, the breakfast tiffin will be good. I do not know what good items will be left but Moorthy Mama knows only how to bring good tiffin plates. He will bring good breakfast tiffin.He does not work with rice plate or lunch. He is not good at giving good food. He hides hotel food because he thinks people visiting this place will eat too much food. He is not entirely all right inside his head. My father and I are surprised. See, he was like that boy when he came to this hotel, owned by my father's uncle. He was only cleaning tables, and always running away from school."

"See, here he is, back with our breakfast tiffin. It will be different from Hotel Tamil Nadu. My father told me what you had all eaten. That is why we come here to Coimbatore Hotel. Here I can ask them to bring as I want, different items, small size, and mixing all in one plate, so you will eat what you did not eat in morning. Moorthy Mama knows what to bring. See, here is small portion of everything. Easy for you to eat. OK. Go away, Moorthy Mama. Go far away. These good people have to eat peacefully. How can they eat if you stand with your drunk elephant moustache hiding your face near them? Go away. Tell that paiyan, your boy, to assist here."

I was stunned. Rangachari was being rude while speaking in his very polite voice. It was a very low gentle, pleasant voice, unlike when he was talking in the rickshaw. He was being very rude at someone who was obviously a very close relative to him. Damn it, he was his sister's husband. We managed to enjoy the rest of the tiffin by tuning out Rangachari who seemed to somehow be able to keep eating, talking, gesturing and waving to people he knew at the restaurant. He knew some of the other customers also, and they seemed happy, genuinely happy to see him and waved back at him. His brother-in-law, the strang looking thick moustachioed 'Moorthy Mama' was standing silently in one corner. Nobody noticed him. He was standing, silent, like one of the items of furniture inside the restaurant.

We walked away from the restaurant. I was quite embarassed at the manner in which Rangachari had spoken to the weird brother-in-law, ‘Moorthy Mama’. It seemed strange that the tall and silent ‘Moorthy Mama’ had allowed all the insults without any reaction. To me, he seemed like a silent, conspiring and homicidal type of villain, the sort who could threaten suicide at any moment, or if not allowed to do so, would kill someone, the very moment. Rangachari was not bothered by the strange behaviour of his ‘Moorthy Mama’, and accompanied us in a happy and joyous mood. The auto-rickshaw had been parked below a ‘No-Parking’ sign, and the Traffic Police had not picked it up. I did not want to ask Rangachari about his logic, because I had seen the tow-away van moving about, and yet, it had not towed this rickshaw.

Rangachari was not inhibited by my caution, naturally. He seemed quite eager to explain his theory of the universe, or at least his corner on it, and did speak out in detail about how his auto-rickshaw was never picked up by the Traffic Police in Kanchipuram. The distance from the ‘Coimbatore Hotel’ to the auto-rickshaw might not have been more than fifty metres, but to me, on that hot sultry afternoon in Kanchipuram, and judging by the extensive discourse by Rangachari, it must have been at least two kilometres.

“Saar, see that, my rickshaw, they no touch the vehicle. The traffic police, they catch all vehicles parked wrongly and in wrong place and with wrong plates and all that. So, I decided, I am Rangachari, no? I will show them how I am. I always park in very wrong style, with wrong angle and all that, below ‘No Parking’ board only. Ask me why, saar, ask me. Ok. I will tell you. The traffic police fellows they think this vehicle is parked outside ‘No Parking’ board, and they say that this driver must be connected. This driver is very bold and parking purposely below wrong place. He know that we will tow away and take away vehicle immediately in temple town.”

“But even then, he is doing wrongly only. He is parking so in bad angle below the ‘No Parking’ board and he is going away. So all top traffic police boss and corporator must be knowing him. Or, he must be related to Mayor or MLA or someone. And they see only my auto-rickshaw always parked in wrong place always, every day, every morning and afternoon. So they are very careful and take care not to pick up or take away my rickshaw. They do not know whom is driving this rickshaw. I am Rangachari and I am from Kanchipuram. This is my town. These traffic police are all from outside places, and they come here to make money. So I am showing how smart I am.”

“Saar, these Traffic Police are very smart. But, they have not met Rangachari from Kanchipuram. Rickshaakaaran Rangachari is very different, Saar. Ask all temples and in all hotels in this town. They know Rickshaakaaran Rangachari. You are very happy, no? I am with you, and you are enjoying your visit to my place. Leave it to me, Saar. You will enjoy Kanchipuram totally. This is wonderful place. All temples are wonderful. Food is wonderful. And all people here are wonderful. You will love Kanchipuram of Rickshaakaaran Rangachari.”