<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Tech & Thoughts]]></title><description><![CDATA[Tech & Thoughts]]></description><link>https://akshay3thakur.hashnode.dev</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Wed, 23 Sep 2026 05:51:47 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://akshay3thakur.hashnode.dev/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><language><![CDATA[en]]></language><ttl>60</ttl><item><title><![CDATA[The Auto That Felt Like a Living Room: What I Learned from Chennai’s Annadurai]]></title><description><![CDATA[Some lessons don’t arrive in classrooms or conference halls. They turn up on random evenings, in random places, through people you never expected. For me, it was a 45-minute auto ride in Chennai with a man named Annadurai.
When a routine ride becomes...]]></description><link>https://akshay3thakur.hashnode.dev/the-auto-that-felt-like-a-living-room</link><guid isPermaLink="true">https://akshay3thakur.hashnode.dev/the-auto-that-felt-like-a-living-room</guid><category><![CDATA[humanstories]]></category><category><![CDATA[#Hospitality]]></category><category><![CDATA[Customer Experience]]></category><category><![CDATA[customer service]]></category><category><![CDATA[chennai]]></category><category><![CDATA[learning]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[Akshay Thakur]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 06 Dec 2025 07:15:19 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://cdn.hashnode.com/res/hashnode/image/upload/v1765004309533/57e18eff-ea70-41da-87ad-cf75330947da.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Some lessons don’t arrive in classrooms or conference halls. They turn up on random evenings, in random places, through people you never expected. For me, it was a 45-minute auto ride in Chennai with a man named Annadurai.</p>
<p><strong>When a routine ride becomes something else</strong></p>
<p>It was late, and five friends and I hopped into a shared auto from Navallur to Kelambakkam. At first glance, something felt different. His auto didn’t look like a vehicle; it looked like a little lounge on three wheels.</p>
<p>There was an iPad mounted on the dashboard. A set of magazines neatly arranged. A mini-fridge stocked with cold drinks and chocolates. A small TV. Wi-Fi. Even a laptop resting on a stand. Everything inside was clean, organised and surprisingly warm.<br />And the best part — all the refreshments were free. No upselling. No conditions. Just kindness.  </p>
<p><img src="https://cdn.hashnode.com/res/hashnode/image/upload/v1765269985631/285e4002-54f3-49eb-bd66-a0f92a2729e5.jpeg" alt class="image--center mx-auto" /></p>
<p><img src="https://cdn.hashnode.com/res/hashnode/image/upload/v1765269946602/866c7487-9f9f-43d9-9ed4-7bef6453e6a1.jpeg" alt class="image--center mx-auto" /></p>
<p><strong>A moment that changed the mood</strong></p>
<p>Halfway through the ride, a woman realised she didn’t have change. Before she could worry, he simply smiled and said, “It’s okay.” No irritation. No passive-aggressive stare. Just a gesture so natural that it softened the entire vehicle.</p>
<p>Sometimes it’s the smallest actions that reset your day.</p>
<p><strong>Who he truly is</strong></p>
<p>Curiosity got the better of me, so I asked him about his story. That’s when the ride shifted again.</p>
<p>The man casually driving us through OMR traffic has spoken at Amazon. At Microsoft. At NASSCOM. At TEDx. He has stood in front of thousands of people, sharing his thoughts on service, discipline and kindness. And yet, the next day, he goes back to his auto because that’s where his joy lives — meeting new people, talking, listening, and giving them a good experience.</p>
<p>When I asked for his favourite quote, he said, “Atithi Devo Bhava.”<br />He didn’t say it like a slogan; he lived it.</p>
<p>What struck me wasn’t the iPad or the fridge or the magazines. It was his attitude. His calm. His way of making strangers feel welcome without trying too hard. You can teach customer service in slides and scripts, but you can feel it instantly when someone embodies it. He didn’t “serve customers.” He respected people.  </p>
<p><img src="https://cdn.hashnode.com/res/hashnode/image/upload/v1765270025983/cc67c925-97cd-45a7-a8f6-6ac25b0dd501.jpeg" alt class="image--center mx-auto" /></p>
<h2 id="heading-what-this-ride-taught-me"><strong>What this ride taught me</strong></h2>
<p>By the end of the journey, the lesson was clear and simple:</p>
<p><strong>Wisdom doesn’t need a title. Impact doesn’t need a stage. You can learn from anyone if you’re paying attention.</strong></p>
<p>Here are the four things I’m taking forward:</p>
<ul>
<li><p><strong>Small gestures ripple far.</strong> A waived-off fare changed the whole energy of that ride.</p>
</li>
<li><p><strong>Presence is underrated.</strong> He was fully there; not distracted, not rushing.</p>
</li>
<li><p><strong>Experience lives in practice, not position.</strong> Anyone can give lectures; not everyone lives their lecture daily.</p>
</li>
<li><p><strong>Respect costs nothing.</strong> But it transforms every interaction.</p>
</li>
</ul>
<h2 id="heading-why-stories-like-these-matter"><strong>Why stories like these matter</strong></h2>
<p>We hear a lot of cynicism about everyday interactions , rude drivers, unhelpful staff, transactional behaviour. And yet, there are people like Annadurai quietly reminding us that kindness doesn’t need to be rare.</p>
<p>Sometimes the best kind of professionalism is simply being human.</p>
<p>I left that auto with more than a pleasant ride. I left with a reminder to keep my eyes open. The world is full of people who can teach you something meaningful in the most unexpected ways.</p>
<p>If you ever get a chance to meet him, take the ride. You won’t forget it.</p>
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