30 rupees

It’s rare to have to actively seek out a rickshaw; most of the time the drivers recognise foreigners and quickly drive alongside them, honking tdulu duludu!. No drivers are chasing me now; they are busy fanning themselves and hiding from the heat in their rickshaws outside National Handloom a couple of steps away.

The first rickshaw driver I meet is cleaning his rickshaw, but when he sees me he acts like he’s ready to go. I’ve learned to find out the exact price before bargaining, and today Smita told me it’s Rs 30 from the FSD office to the MSS centre at Paota circle. I deliver this piece of information to the rickshaw driver in Hindi. “Meere Jain Mandir ja rehi hai.”

He doesn’t get it—darn it, I thought my Hindi accent was decent enough!—so I have to give him the slip of paper with the address written on it in Hindi. After some heated discussion with another rickshaw driver that involves a lot of gesticulating, he nods. He knows where it is now.

“Kittene ka hai?” I ask.

I don’t know if they actually understood that, but because it was obvious I was asking how much the ride would cost, the man replies, “Fifty.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Thirty,” I counter.

“Thirty? Noooo. Forty. Indian price, Madam!”

They always use that line, and I’m always sceptical. “C’mon, I know it’s supposed to be thirty. I’m not paying forty.”

Even if the driver didn’t understand all I was saying, he got the gist of it. The man makes a weak, last ditch effort. “Thirty-five?”

“Nehi,” I reply, and am about to walk off to the next rickshaw in line when the first driver goes, “Okay, okay. Come!” So I follow him to his rickshaw and he drives me to Paota circle.

When I pay him and get off, the rickshaw driver smiles nicely at me and gives me my rs 20 change. I can see the hint of a smile when I thank him.

I can never get over the fact that despite how heatedly I bargain with them, the rickshaw drivers are always friendly once the ride is over. Maybe it’s because I’m giving the money; maybe it’s still more than what the locals pay. I’d like to think, though, that rickshaw drivers are genuinely good natured people despite the harsh reality of their lives.