The ubiquitous auto rickshaw back home is slowly losing favour with commuters while the dial-a-cab service gains ground. And I can see why.
The auto rickshaw drivers seem to be a disgruntled lot. As soon as you approach one, be ready to receive a flat refusal. You name your destination and watch their face for a reaction. Sometimes there is a long pause as they weigh the pros and cons. One would think you were asking them to go into enemy territory. After much thought and bated breath (that of the passenger) they might agree. Or they could wait till you finish a lengthy description of where exactly you want to go before saying they are not ready to take you there.
Your response depends on how desperate you are. Sometimes, as you walk away, they shout out a fixed price, which has nothing to do with the meter. Are you man or woman enough to walk away from an offer that you want to refuse? Or will you try and save face by asking why the driver can’t go by the meter? I would advise you not to go down that road. I speak from bitter experience. I did that once and all I got was a take it or leave it response. Walking off in a huff, I boarded a dusty bus which took a circuitous route which happened to be nowhere near my destination. So, I got off the bus and had to go through the experience all over again with another auto rickshaw driver who seemed even more uncooperative than the last.
That’s when I decided that if I had to resort to this form of public transport again, I would settle for the fixed price and save myself the aggravation of trying to convince the driver that the meter was there for a purpose — to be used.
Now that one can dial a cab it makes things so much simpler. But sometimes, one has to wait for a while. So, if you are in a hurry, you have no choice but to try and flag down a motorised rickshaw. And that is exactly what I was forced to do during my recent holiday home. As soon as I approached a line of these vehicles, a driver asked where I wanted to go. When I said the name of the street, he quoted a price. Without further ado, I sat down, absolutely sure that this time the ride was going to be a smooth one. However, halfway through the journey, I was asked the name of the street again. When I repeated the name, I was told that I had not said that earlier. Baffled by this turnaround, I began to argue that I had certainly said that name. Next I was told that the street had another name. This was said in such an accusing tone that my hackles began to rise.
The argument turned heated and soon I did exactly as he hoped I might do. I asked him to stop and got off and walked the rest of the way. Burning with anger and indignation, I arrived at my friend’s place looking very hot and bothered.
I am convinced that my journeys in an auto rickshaw are jinxed. I recollect an incident many years ago when I sat in one such vehicle. The driver, for some inexplicable reason, said he was only prepared to take left turns! Sometimes I wonder if there’s something about me that attracts the loonies.
Speaking of rickshaws, the cycle variety seems to have disappeared altogether in cities. I hardly see any more of these. Back in the day they were the cheapest mode of transport.
Next time I go home I shall opt for the dial-a-cab service in order to avoid the frustration of haggling and refusal.
