VM Weber | ವಿ ಎಂ ವೆಬರ್On the miserable road from Bengaluru to Kudla, there was a stretch where the lanes towards Kudla were closed, and the lanes towards Bengaluru were made two-way. I overtook an auto-rickshaw. As I tried to move to the left, another auto in front of me suddenly braked because the driver was unsure whether to move into the closed lane. I had to brake immediately, and the auto I had just overtaken had to brake as well. The driver honked angrily.
I stayed focused on the auto in front of me. When it started moving, I moved too, but the road was in terrible condition, so I drove very slowly. The auto driver behind me quickly caught up and began shouting. My brother told me to lower the window.
The auto driver was yelling at me in Hindi, but my brother responded in Tulu, explaining that I was stuck because the driver in front of us had suddenly braked. The auto driver, now less angry, complained in Tulu that I should have at least acknowledged his honking and waved as a gesture of apology. My brother agreed and explained that we were too focused on the vehicle ahead.
The driver continued, saying, “It’s true that people brake suddenly, but you should realize that your car could cause much more damage to my rickshaw—and to me—than the other way around.” He added that while he wouldn’t escalate the matter, if a Muslim driver were in his place, they might have gathered a mob and made our situation much worse.
My brother acknowledged this, apologized again, and assured him we understood. After some back-and-forth, the auto driver eventually left.