The Meter Please

After lunch yesterday I decided to leave the dust and crowds of Commercial Street and retreat to the apartment. Satisfied from my doughnut and sauce experiment, I ducked out of the restaurant and bee-lined it for a group of idle rickshaws.

Every rickshaw in Bangalore has a meter but finding a driver willing to use his can be a challenge. Most drivers ask where I want to go, give me a good look up and down, and quote me a price for the trip that is at least five times what the metered rate would be.

I have developed a suite of techniques for identifying honest drivers and if needed, persuading the cheats to turn the meter on. Yesterday I was sure I spotted the right man for the job from a half a block away.

This driver had a traffic cop lounging in his back seat for a moment’s respite from the sun. I strolled over, asked if he was working and he immediately shot back, “where do you want to go?” It didn’t come out quite like that but bear with me.

I responded, “Richmond Town—the Johnson Market.” Without batting an eyelash, he responded, “100 rupees.” I was almost surprised by his response but I have been in India just long enough to know better.

The two and half kilometer trip over to Commercial Street from my place had cost me 24 rupees, or just over 50 cents. I laughed, peered past the driver and made eye contact with the cop. Speaking to the driver but looking at the cop, I said, “we both know it costs 25 rupees to get over there; use the meter and you have my fare.”

All I got was a shrug from the cop and an accented reply of “100 rupees from the driver.” It’s common knowledge here that the vast majority of cops are corrupt but I will give this guy the benefit of the doubt and just call him lazy. Anyway, shaking my head, I walked off, flagged down another driver and began the process anew.

My new driver was a straight shooter, a meter guy, and 15 minutes later, after we pulled up to the apartment, I gave him his 25 rupees and handed him another 20 more.