The Hindustani’s

A Lavani adventure across India…in an auto rickshaw

  • These three 💜

    These three lighting up talking to a young cousin. So much love 💜
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  • Bye Panchgani

    Early morning vibes…

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  • Floating

    Sometimes you just have to ditch the rickshas!
    We got some quality grounding (or maybe we were metaphysically floating!) at the Maha Laxmi Shakti Peeth in Kolhapur. It helps when you put flowers in your hair.
    And then got some actual air time!
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  • Pit Stop

    Sometimes you need to help yourself to some ice cream.
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  • Jump In!

    After seeing a group of people on the side of the road with towels, we slammed our breaks and jumped in!
    Appx location- Kodniwadi, Karnataka

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  • #3

    Third time a cop has pulled us over!
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  • Uniforms

    Janita finally got her ‘uniform’. She feels complete. ✌🏽
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  • Out of Gas!

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  • Reunited

    After eight days apart, our adventurous team was reunited today in Goa!
    Some moments from today:
    -hitting ‘high speeds’ as the trip from Udupi to Goa was relatively flat and developed the whole way.
    -stopped by the police ‘randomly’ twice!
    -Aneri earned three new grey hairs within the span of minutes due to 1) dogs, 2) a bus, and 3) running out of gas. (Things do come in threes, right?)
    -Rohan may wear lungis forever. Saavan has already dubbed him ‘Mr Lungi Lavani’
    -Janita has learned of the details of what it takes to care for a German Shepherd in Goa. Oh, and she can probably also manage the Goan Taxi Mafia.
    -Mira eats like a toddler. Get the girl a napkin!
    -Sunil hasn’t changed out of his ‘uniform’ yet 😬
    Tomorrow is another big driving day, heading to Kohlapur!
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  • The Cows

    A fellow Rickshaw Run team posted this poem he wrote on our internal WhatsApp Geoup. Too good not to share:
    A Missive to the Cows of India – Lords of the Lane Dear Sacred Moo-vement, We write to you with deep reverence and mild confusion. In a land where horns are louder than temple bells, where trucks, rickshaws, and scooters play daily games of chicken at 80km/h, where even the pedestrians are in a sprint—you, oh holy bovine, bring the entire circus to a stop. There you are, strolling the superhighways, chewing your cud in the middle of six lanes like you’re on a spiritual pilgrimage to the median strip. And what happens? Silence. Stillness. Respect. No horns. No engines revving. Just vehicles tiptoeing past you at 2km/h, as if sneaking out of bed at 3am not to wake the cow-shaped gods. You don’t just cross roads—you part traffic like holy waters, reminding us all that in the chaos of India, true power is calm, slow, and occasionally covered in dust. Namaste, noble moo. You truly are top of the traffic pyramid. With hoof-hearted admiration, Team Namastecation (Still waiting for the courage to honk)

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