I’ve always wanted to drive. That desire started when I was young, watching my dad drive his jeep like a pro. He was effortless behind the wheel, and I was in awe. Someday, I’ll write a post just about his driving skills.

But back then, I never thought I’d be able to learn in my dad’s jeep. It felt too big for me, like it belonged to a different world. I believed I wasn’t built to drive large vehicles, and so the dream stayed quietly tucked away.

In college, most of my friends knew how to drive. Some of them would pick me up or drop me off, and I admired their independence. It was more than just getting from one place to another. Driving seemed like a symbol of freedom and style.

I grew up in boarding school and never owned a vehicle. Learning to drive was never an option, but the desire never left me. Years later, when I doing my UG in Coimbatore, I noticed the driving license test was being conducted right outside my hostel. That gave me the push I needed to join a driving school. I got my license in 2006 but never truly used it. I remained a passenger, still admiring those who could drive with ease and confidence, quietly wishing that one day I would be able to do the same.

And then one day, the universe listened.

One evening, I was on a call with my friend Gautham. Somehow, we ended up talking about driving, and I began listing my fears, what if I caused an accident? What if my short legs couldn’t reach the clutch properly? What if I lost control?

He listened patiently and then gave me the nudge I didn’t know I needed. “Your dad has a Major jeep, right? And it’s a four-wheel drive. Try driving in 4WD mode. It moves slow, and you won’t feel overwhelmed by speed.” He explained the basics and reassured me that I’d be fine. That conversation gave me just enough confidence to try.

Motivated, I told my dad that I wanted to learn properly this time and was thinking of joining a driving school. He was in a good mood that evening and said, “No need. I’ll ask someone to come home and teach you.” That same night, my brother informed me that Subramanian Anna would be coming at 5:30 in the morning for my first lesson. I was both excited and nervous.

I still remember giving him a small gurudakshina as a sign of respect before we started. From day one, he was patient and calm. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper. He was someone who let silence guide the lesson and corrections land gently.

I learnt to drive in a manual car that had no hill assist. I still remember him patiently teaching me how to use the half clutch in hilly areas. He trained me to stop on an incline and start again without letting the vehicle roll back even slightly. The entrance to our house is on a slope, and he would make me practice there repeatedly using the half clutch until I got the hang of it. I remember failing fourteen times in a row. I was ready to cry. I told him I’d try again some other day, but he simply said, “If you can’t, who can? Keep trying.” To help me overcome my fear of big vehicles, he even made me drive a tempo. Slowly, my confidence grew.

My mother often jokes that driving is the only thing I’ve ever completed and stuck with. I tend to stop doing things that don’t hold my interest — tailoring, baking, you name it. I’ve gone to classes and never followed through. But maybe, just maybe, if I meet another teacher like Subramanian Anna in those areas, I might pick them up again too.

Each day, he would take me on different routes, and that’s how I got to see parts of Attapady I had never visited before. Those drives became more than just practice. It became little journeys of discovery.

Today, I drive on my own. And I want to tell every woman out there that learning to drive gives you a sense of freedom that’s hard to describe. It’s empowering, it’s exhilarating, and it changes how you see the world. If I can drive, honestly, anyone can.

In just two days, a brand-new addition is joining our family. A bigger vehicle, the XUV 700. And this time, I am ready.