"Dream, Dream, Dream! Conduct these dreams into thoughts, and then transform them into action."
- Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam
11 Sep 2025
In most Indian towns, getting from one place to another is just a matter of flagging down an auto or booking a cab on an app. But in Chirmiri, a coal-rich town tucked away in the green hills of Chhattisgarh, the story is completely different. Here, there are no taxis, no autos, and no Ola or Uber. Instead, the entire town depends on a unique culture of generosity. Stand by the roadside, raise your hand, and soon enough, someone will stop and offer you a lift. Whether it’s a Jeep driver, a motorcyclist, or a neighbor passing by, you will never be left stranded. For the people of Chirmiri, this is not a favor; it is a way of life.
Chirmiri’s transport story begins with its geography. The city is spread across eight hilly zones, such as Podi, Haldibari, Domn Hill, Bada Bazaar, and Gehlapani. Each zone is separated by steep slopes, thick forests, and winding roads. Distances range between one and seven kilometers, but the tough terrain makes them feel much longer. Over the years, several attempts were made to bring in public transport. Auto-rickshaws couldn’t handle the sharp climbs. City buses, introduced under a government project, stopped running within a few years because the roads damaged them beyond repair. Even a decade-long contract failed. In this vacuum, the people of Chirmiri created their own answer. They made lifting each other part of daily travel. Geography may have closed one door, but community spirit opened another.
If there’s one vehicle that defines Chirmiri’s roads, it is the jeep. Strong, steady, and perfectly suited to rocky, uneven terrain, jeeps became the town’s workhorses. Older residents recall a time when very few coal workers even had scooters. Families often walked long distances or depended on colleagues with jeeps to reach the collieries. Slowly, helping each other with rides became more common. Soon, it was not just colleagues; it was anyone who needed help. Today, jeeps are still the backbone of Chirmiri’s traffic. Whether it’s taking schoolchildren to classes, helping an elderly woman reach the market, or giving a young student a ride to tuition, jeeps carry more than passengers; they carry the spirit of the city.
For outsiders, it may be surprising that a modern Indian city functions without autos or taxis. But for locals, lifts are about more than just convenience. They are about trust, equality, and community. Anyone rich or poor, young or old, can stand by the roadside and receive the same kindness. A college student may ride with a shopkeeper, a housewife with a coal mine supervisor, or a stranger with a neighbor. This everyday exchange keeps the social fabric tightly knit. In a world where people often live isolated lives, Chirmiri shows how daily travel can actually bring people closer.
Free lifts are not unheard of in India. In times of crisis such as floods, festivals, or public strikes, auto drivers and volunteers in cities like Pune, Varanasi, or Guwahati have offered rides without charge. But these moments are temporary, exceptional acts of kindness. Chirmiri is different. Here, this practice is not an exception; it is the foundation of daily life. It is possibly the only city in India where formal public transport has completely failed, yet the community has thrived through its own system.
At its heart, Chirmiri’s story is not about transport; it is about humanity in motion. The city has shown that when people look out for each other, they can build systems that are sustainable, practical, and deeply humane. Chirmiri may not appear on maps as a bustling metro or a global hub, but it has something far rarer: a tradition that turns travel into connection. For the rest of us, Chirmiri is a lesson in community, a place where transport is not powered by fuel alone but by trust, kindness, and the belief that no one should be left behind.