Setting off in the morning, I wondered towards the nearest cluster of auto-rickshaws, which was about a ten minute walk, with someone who worked at the hotel where I was staying. He told me very politely he would try to get me a ride into the city which was about 5km away. Trusting his hindi better than mine I stepped up into the auto-rickshaw and started my journey.
In Ayodhya the auto-rickshaws act more like buses than cars. They are shared by as many as can fit, dropping passengers off when requested by a loud shout or a hard hit of the vehicle’s side, in place of the standard bell one may find on a bus. It was endearing. I was seeing new faces and new parts of India. Whenever the vehicle stopped it started to shake, and my whole body seemed to shake along with it, which, in small doses, was strangely enjoyable. I started to think that I didn’t really mind even if I was going in the wrong direction, because I was just enjoying it for what it was.
Ironically enough, I was going in completely the wrong direction. A quick check of google maps, showed me I was in Faizabad (about 8km away from Ayodhya). With a quick grin I found another rickshaw. I said loudly and clearly AYODHYA, and twenty minutes and twenty rupees later, I was in the city.
Learning.