Usually, autorickshaw rides are nothing but a mundane form of commute from point A to point B. Not so for Jothi Viknesh. No one ever gave a more glamorous makeover to the humble autorickshaw than Viknesh, 32, whose electric three-wheeler has taken him on a mighty spin around the country. Starting from Bengaluru on December 5, last year, he has covered 17,000km across 20 states. Named after his hope of creating a new world record for the longest journey in an electric autorickshaw—for which he has to cover another 2,000km—the vehicle, HOPE, is fuelled by Viknesh’s energy and enthusiasm.
In July, the flashy rickshaw and its driver made it to the Khardung La Pass (18,380ft above sea level) in Leh—which was a test of endurance for both the man and the machine. But it is the message that resonates stronger—“Pollution free India”—something the fitness trainer and Zumba instructor firmly believes in. Viknesh has been documenting his adventure on the YouTube channel ‘India on 3 wheels’, the same way he did for his bike trip in 2016 and another eight-month-long trip documenting the various folk art forms and festivals in Karnataka.
His travel hacks help him cut costs substantially. “I hold free workshops for people whose voluntary contributions help fund my travel,” says Viknesh. “Last time, I had only Rs20,000 with me. I raised Rs6.5 lakh during the [Karnataka] trip. This time, too, I have been holding workshops at schools and showing children the art forms I have documented. I teach them culture through dance. People keep supporting me and inviting me to their homes for meals.” He uses Google Maps to find free stay, food and discounts. The travel groups that he is part of on Facebook volunteer to host and help him in various ways.
Originally from Tamil Nadu, Viknesh moved around a lot in his childhood as his father worked in the Central Police. While his parents stay in Chennai, he moved to Bengaluru 12 years ago to pursue his passion for fitness and dance, even as he completed his post-graduation in immunology and microbiology. While his father disapproves of his chosen profession, his mother has been his staunchest supporter and occasional travel companion. “She accompanied me for a week from Vizag to Siliguri on a car trip,” he says.
With electric vehicles being the new kid on the block, one of the biggest challenges is to find charging points, says Viknesh. Another one is the difficulty of navigating tough terrains. “I took up the challenge as I have always been intrigued by people who travelled 30 to 40 years ago without the aid of any infrastructure or technology,” he says. “I handicapped myself with this electric auto. In eight months, I have not even once charged it at a designated charging station. I charged it at homes, restaurants, petrol pumps and even paan shops. All you need is a three pin (16 amps) to charge it. I learnt to ask people for help.” Once in the northeast, he recalls plugging it in the generator of a tunnel. It takes four hours to charge the rickshaw, which has a mileage of 120km to 130km on the plains and 70km to 80km on the mountains. “People understand when I ask for food and water,” he says. “But when I ask for a charging point, they assume it is for my mobile phone and are reluctant when I reveal it is for my rickshaw. Sometimes I have to go to 30 different places before someone agrees to let me charge.” So far, the rickshaw has survived some dangerous natural calamities like the floods in Assam, snowstorms in Arunachal Pradesh, an earthquake in Tripura and a landslide in Kargil.
Travelling light is key, says Viknesh, who only carries 10 to 15 sets of warm clothes, boots, shoes, a tent, a sleeping bag, an emergency stove, action cameras, a drone and an Insta360 camera. Staying fit has also been a challenge. In the last eight months, he has been sick twice with an upset stomach, twice with fever and once suffered a slipped disc in Siliguri. He had to stay back for a week to undergo physiotherapy and electrotherapy. The doctor advised him against travelling by rickshaw, but he quietly set off to Kashmir the following morning. “The wrong food can make you sick,” he says. “So, I usually prefer to eat at homes. I avoid eating in smaller and local eateries that might not be hygienic. I carry peanut butter and buy fresh bread, which is a safe bet.”
He has also had some strange experiences. “[When I fell sick in Nagaland] a host told me I should have come the previous day as he could have treated me with dog meat,” he says with a laugh. “I told him I was a dog lover and could not imagine eating a dog.”
Once, he walked 15km to reach the headhunters’ village in Nagaland, as there was no motorable road. The villagers mistook him for a drug dealer. Another time, militants in Nagaland suspected he was a spy and held him at gunpoint. He had to show them his travel videos. “I convinced them that no spy would come in a flashy auto like mine,” he says. To bond with the locals, he carries a guitar with him even though he does not play. “I give it to those who can play it and sing,” he says. When he is not riding, he watches web series on OTT platforms, catches up on news or “chills like how the locals chill”. “What I have learnt is that every region and class in India has a different way of life,” he says. “I learnt, for instance, that people in the northeast go fishing only once in six months, as they store the catch for a long time. I also learnt about different farming methods and crop patterns.” He might be travel weary and weatherbeaten, but he is determined to spread positivity wherever he goes. His ‘HOPE’ is taking him far and wide.