Mysore

Kannada

Hindi

Noor Jahan, one of the city’s most recognisable female auto drivers, will open her driving school in the city this week, a dream she has nurtured for 16 yearsWhen will Noor Jahan’s driving school open? “This week,” says the 35-year-old auto driver, after whining about how her ears are “hurting” from the question. “I want it to open immediately. I want it to open more than anybody else. I have four men and three women lined up for admission already,” she says, like a child. “All the permissions and facilities are now in place, I just want to decorate it well for the inauguration. We will run the driving school from our home and will train students in a ground of two acres nearby,” she says, sipping her coffee. Okay, then.Her impatience is understandable. The driving school is a “dream” – Noor Jahan Driving School – she has held since 2002, when she first hit the city roads, a year after her fourth pregnancy. Ever since, the mother of two boys and two girls has been a source of inspiration for other women in City Market alongRoad, where she stays, and has been a talking point for passengers she has ferried around in her auto thatdistinctly flashes her name.Jahan grew up with a lot of male friends and wanted to ride and drive like them. Later, her husband Suleman, a driver for a private firm, asked her to consider driving for livelihood, and her mother gifted her an auto. She has loved being out on the roads since. Scooter, auto, taxi, minivan and bus, she can steer them all. “Today, we have one bike, one car, one auto, one tempo traveller at home,” the fourth-standard dropout shares, with a smile.“My husband and I will teach the students between our jobs, along with our eldest son. With this school,I want to secure the future for my children. Why should they have to go out and look for jobs, when they can run this?” she asks, switching fromtoIn these last 16 years, Jahan has taught almost 200 people how to ride two-, three-, and four-wheelers, and out of this only 62 have been men. The rest have been women between 18 and 50 years of age, which by itself is an impressive number. Jahan drives for Ola from 7am to 11am and then 5pm to 9pm every day, and packs in the afternoon hours with private assignments and vehicle training. “I come home only to catch up on my sleep. My husband and my children help in cooking and running the house,” she admits with a laugh, as she goes on to add, “This is the age when I can push the limits of my body and earn a living. Earlier I used to start at 5am but now I get up at 6am. Blame my body ache for that. But I just hate wasting time.” Fortunately, all her hard work has paid off. “Four years ago, I bought a tempo traveller for `5.5lakh from my savings and gifted it to my husband, and now we both have invested `1.5lakh to open this school,” she says. The pride in her eyes are hard to miss.What kind of students does she get, and why do they come to her, of all places? “These are mostly people who run small businesses from their homes. They sell clothes, fruits, other things, or are coolies. So if they know how to ride or drive, they can go to the market to buy material and deliver products to clients, rather than having to rely on others,” she says, claiming that she can make you scooter-ready in two days.Forty-two of her female students, Jahan has heard, have decided to take the road less travelled – to become an autorickshaw driver, just like her. “Soon, you will see more women autorickshaw drivers in the city. They have got their driving licenses and are now waiting for their autos to be delivered to them.”Does that mean Bengaluru autos will become safer – free of aggression, mugging and sexual assaults? “I would like that to happen, but I have no control over their behaviour once they leave my school,” she says. Incidentally, “the government recommends women drivers to ply only till 6.30pm for their own safety”, Jahan tells us; so female commuters must still watch out, she adds in.But how does she get to ride till 9pm then? “I am an old hand. Also, all auto drivers in and around my area are friends. I have nothing to fear,” Jahan says with a chuckle. Still, she keeps an a bamboo stick under her seat. “In the early days, male drivers used to ridicule me and even tore my auto cover and punctured my tyres a few times. Then they got used to me. Till date I have never had to wield the stick against anybody but I will do it if I need to,” she says. (Did we just spot her winking?) “Carry yourself fearlessly,” is the diminutive driver’s advice to women.Jahan is also particular about character building. “Always go by the meter, I tell my students, and neverask for money over and above the displayed fare. I never have. But I have earned Rs 300-Rs 400 in tips becauseof my honest service. Be polite to passengers and apologise if you are at fault. But if the passenger is wrong, don’t give in. Pick up a bit of all languages on the job; it will only help you,” says Jahan, who can converse in Hindi, Kannada and Tamil. As for refusing rides to certain areas, she leaves it up to an individual and the situation.Jahan signs off saying, “I want my students and commuters to respect this profession, as I do.” Hopefully her school will help do just that.