I am rickshaw-driver and populary known as 'rickshawala' i our part of the world. That is the name by which I am called. Sometimes passengers shorten my title and call out 'Hello, rickshaw', as if I am vehicle that I ply. But I know what they mean and at once rush to their service. I can't afford to have any false sense of vanity either.
I am poor but not miserable. I suffer poverty but no unhappiness. I feel proud to earn my living by the honest sweat of my brow. I thank my star that I am not a thief.
I drive a three-wheeled vehicle that you call 'rickshaw'. I don't own my carriage yet but hope to buy one in the near future. Nonetheless I love the 'rickshaw' that gives me an honourable living. I love it with the care of a father and always ply with caution and tenderness. I keep it neat and tidy and protect it from rain and sun.
Shall I tell you a bit of my daily life? Yes, let me tell you. You may find it somewhat interesting. I rise quite early in the morning, eat my poor but pleasant breakfast, and go out with my three-wheeled car. At times I have to paddle a long way off before I get a passenger. As the sun rises higher and higher, my trouble increases. How difficult it is, after all to drive along several maunds of weight with no stronger things than two human legs. And often I have to run for miles without any income. But on the whole my income is good. After meeting the dues of the cruel, I am left enough to feed my family except on rare occasions when natural calamities disturb my work. Usually I work from morning to sunset, with a break in the midday for lunch. Generally after a long trip, I rest for a while and take some repast.
I have a home - a small but loving home whereI live with my loving wife and beloved children. When I go out in the morning, my children see me off at the door. When I return home in the evening, they receive me on the adjacent road. They rusg out of my small cottage as soon as they hear the sound of my bell. As I go in with them, my loving wife receives me with a smile and then sits by me fanning off my fatigue. Shortly afterwards we all eat our dinner together and go to bed rather early.
But on top of all my joys I have a permanent fear which robs me of much of the relish of life. I have no security. I am now young and energetic and can keep off starvation by the powet of my muscles. But what will happen when I grow old? Who will feed my children if I fall sick or die of an acciedent? Whenever I think of these problems, I find no reply. But I depend on God and believe firmly that He will give me and my family the protection we deserve.
The life of a rickshaw driver is full of sorrows and sufferings. He can't enjoy peace. He isn't held in due respect. We should have soft feeling for him so that he can lead a decent life with dignity.
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