Surviving A Mumbai Taxi Ride

Normally, when someone you don’t know grabs your suitcase and rips it from your clenched fist you would assume you are being robbed – but not in Mumbai. There it is simply a transaction between you, the unsuspecting tourist, and your eager and willing taxi driver. For once you release your grip on your bag you are thrown into a world of chaos that only a steely nerve and an under-the-breath prayer will see you out the end of still alive and (quite literally) kicking.

My first Mumbai taxi ride is certainly one I’ll never forget. Strolling from the airport into the Indian heat we were greeted by what seemed like thousands of people wanting to help us with our bags, and taxis lined up as far as the eye could see. Once we pre-paid our fare we were handed over to our driver, which is when the fun began.

Before I could even take in what was happening our suitcases were being hauled on top of the car with ropes flying everywhere in an effort to secure them…I took one look at Mike, and we both cracked up laughing. ‘What the hell have we gotten ourselves into’ I was thinking…and at that point I had no idea what was to come!

Jumping into the back seat it soon became apparent that there were different meanings in India for the words ‘Air Conditioning’ (‘We’ll open the window, but it sure won’t be cold!’) and ‘Seat belts’ (‘Arm straps we can do, but good luck finding the buckle!’) but once I had come to terms with hurtling down a five lane motorway weaving in between such obstacles as elephants, scooters and trucks, I was comfortable in the fact that should we have an accident, I’m probably going to end up through the windscreen and into the path of an oncoming car. (Mental note: When you become comfortable with this fact, it’s probably time for a professional opinion regarding your mental health)

The funny this was, I never really got used to there being no seatbelt buckles, and with every entry into an Indian taxi, there I was reaching for something that I knew wouldn’t be there….call it habit or maybe just wishful thinking,  but I was never able to figure out why I put myself through the knowing disappointment time and time again. This was a constant source of amusement for Mike, but perhaps not my insurance company, were they to ever find out.

But while the Mumbai taxi ride may not be covered in your ‘extreme sports insurance policy’, it’s one hell of an experience. The drivers are often entertaining, and love to chat to you about cricket, India and where you’re from. They are good for the soul too – by the end of my India trip I was no longer anxious in the back seat, but loving every minute of feeling the warm wind in my hair and the lack of seatbelt at my chest.

If you’re thinking about embarking on such a pursuit in the future then my advice would be to relax and enjoy the ride – there’s not many countries where you’ll ever get to overtake an elephant, so just be happy you don’t have that pesky seatbelt holding you back from leaning out the window to take a picture. Just be sure when you get home to return to your seatbelt-wearing ways or risk a hefty fine – it’s not India after all, so I doubt you’ll have an elephant to lay the blame on whilst driving down the M4 into London. That, and take your own buckle – it may be the last one you see in a while.

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