Shut up and Drive

(Pic from: http://rickshawchallenge.com/blog/)

It’s official, auto drivers have become the bane of my life. I’ve spent three patient months trying to understand but they are an alien breed to me. You think you’ll get there for 40 rupees. They want 80. But then there’s the 100% mark up to factor in. It’s the skin tax. A local friend told me his wife, having lived here for 25 odd years still pays it.

You think if you speak Hindi you might get say, a discounted 50% skin tax. They think you’re cute. The next question is inevitably, “Shaddi-shudda hai?” No I’m not married but I am sane. I don’t know this in Hindi so the last time this happened I ended up married with 10 children.

I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not anymore, it’s war. No more ‘Yes your medicine costs 200 rupees’ knowing I’ll get asked at the end to pay for it. Note to self: learn Hindi for: ‘I won’t be paying for that’.

Most people in my office use Indian Sign Language and English. Everyone in Delhi speaks some English. My Hindi improves slowly due to lack of use. I’m from the UK too, I like pavements and walking. Neither are seen as necessary in Delhi so I have to get in an auto now and again. When I do, I find myself putting on the don’t-mess-with-me-face. It doesn’t work. Within thirty seconds it’s ‘where are you from?’ Reply in Hindi, they think I’m cute, they ask if I’m married. See second paragraph. The first few times I played along. Once I got assaulted. Well he did that thing that boys used to do in the playground at school to make you feel sick. They shake your hand then wiggle their index finger on your palm as an indication they want to have sex. I nearly threw up on the spot and the driver couldn’t stop laughing at my face which had ‘No!!!’ written all over it.

In the UK we chat to our taxi drivers. We talk shit and banter. We swap stories. They tell you about the celebrities they had in their cab last week. Not here. Not that Bollywood celebs would be seen dead in an auto anyway. It’s no more Hindi practice in autos now. It’s no more Mr Nice Guy. Charge me skin tax? You can shut up and drive.