Decades have past since I sat in an auto-driving class watching a film of a first-person view of a driver on a busy city street. I had to be alert for other vehicles and pedestrians who might flash into my view. This helped me get a driver’s license, but it didn’t prepare me for India.

 I could master defeating my grandchildren in Mario Cart more easily than taking the wheel in Mumbai, Delhi, Agra, Kochi and other vehicular deathtraps I survived earlier this week.

I regretfully did not video any of these scenes because I was paralyzed with fear from what I saw. Which was: trucks (big, medium and small); buses (big and bigger); SUVs (like the one I was in); autos (medium and small); auto rickshaws (aka tuk-tuks both gas and electric); motorcycles, mopeds, bicycles; scooters; pedestrians; cows; goats; dogs and cats. This mass of moving objects converged on my vehicle from every direction, wherever we went, at perilous pace, filling every centimeter of narrow or wide roads almost none of which were adorned with traffic lights or signs. Everybody moved, as if choreographed by Fosse, with confidence, aggression, awareness and trust.

No driver was better at it than my guy Hari Singh, who made the usual five-and-a-half-hour drive from Delhi to Agra one hour ahead of schedule. Away from the driver’s seat, I’d describe him as kind and meek. In the driver’s seat, he was Gene Hackman in The French Connection.

I learned more from Hari. Several times during our 24 hours together in the SUV, he left and moved into the company of strangers. Yet they treated each other as old friends, sharing information or laughs or both.

The conclusion I came to is that the driving situation serves as a metaphor for life in India.

The country is one-third the size of the United States. But 1 billion more people live in India than the U.S. The people of India must push to get ahead in every aspect of life. But the people of India know they are in this together and live in harmony.

Additionally, the 29 states of India have vastly different dialects and cultures. Kerala, the state with the city of Kochi, has a Communist government that can boast of no illiteracy with 100% of its children in schools and very little unemployment because the government provides.

I can’t designate myself as an expert after a few drives, but I saw less poverty and begging than I expected while I did see countless small shops with excellent looking vegetables, fruits and other products.

The growth of India was apparent throughout Mumbai, where old small buildings being torn down and replaced with large modern ones. Slums, like the one in Slum Dog Millionaire, are being bought up by some of India’s tycoons. The purpose is to replace them with taller living structures in a community setting. The bottom floors will go to those displaced and the higher floors to the more prosperous.  

Bonnie, who went to Bengaluru for business, reported the city has become as mega-haven for high tech. Even the road through farmland from Delhi to Agra was dotted with big-business building projects.

Frankly, I was surprised by the economic picture I took in. The acts of kindness that abounded didn’t surprise me.

Deepa, who is Bonnie’s wonderful friend, arranged my trip. Her friends, Sadhana, Sandeep and their daughter Anaira, schlepped me around Mumbai. With her brother Tushar and his wife Rupal, we went to an Indian restaurant that served more than a dozen small-bite items and dips for naan, roti and pooris (Indian breads). Several times, my new friends physically blockaded waiters from putting spicy items on my tray.

Deepa arranged for Manisha, a lovely super-intelligent physician-to-be, to guide my journey. She also educated me on Indian life and customs that included a passionate lecture on the nuances of cricket.

Manisha arranged for me to borrow rupees from her father Satish, when my ATM card wouldn’t work. Satish left work to meet us on the road to Agra so we wouldn’t lose time. He also brought along with a homemade lunch of rice and soup prepared by his wife.

Manisha arranged for her uncle Krishna Kumar to come with us to the Taj Mahal and get to the gates of the Taj through many narrow streets filled with people, vehicles, cows and dogs.

Krishna Kumar arranged for his best friend, Dawala, to meet us at the gate for our sunrise tour of the Taj. Dawala came on his day off as a guard at the palace grounds. He led us to the perfect locations for sunrise pictures. He took the pictures in which I and the Taj were the subjects. He also gave me my first motorcycle ride.

When I flew from Agra to Delhi to meet up with Bonnie and the Nautica in Kochi, the original flight left late. I missed the connection and while the IndiGo Airline people bumbled, I chatted with a family of three vacationers from the UK.

With my phone not able to make connections, the father suggested I use his to connect with Bonnie using What’s App. It worked and saved the day. The next morning he took the time to text on What’s App to ask if I reached Kochi.

The food in India might be too spicy for me. But the sweetness of the people rubs off on all who to visit.