Tokey the Rickshaw Driver

As a short follow-up to the previous post, I should caveat that the taxi / rickshaw dynamic is not the same everywhere. For instance, Bangalore’s taxi fleet is new, metered and professionally run. Similarly, the auto-rickshaws in Delhi are of a different breed than those in Mumbai; far less inclined to use the meter and aggressive in invoking the commencement of “night rates”, essentially extracting double the daily meter rate if you bargain hard. I had by far my most interesting rick ride one evening in Delhi from Connaught Place to Prithviraj Road where I was staying. After negotiating an acceptable price I hopped in a rick driven by an older gentleman, with the characteristic betel stained teeth of the Indian street. Clearly a wizened veteran of the tourist transport business, he quizzed me in broken English on where I was from and how long I was staying in India. I answered him politely and our dialog continued. Moving beyond the formalities he asked me if I liked to smoke. Somewhat unsure about his exact meaning but sure that the answer was no regardless, I declined his invitation. Then sure enough he whips out a cigar-sized joint and lights it up as we whizzed along. I protested, but his English evidently did not extend to domain of things he didn’t want to hear. We were already well outside the tourist area, so with no prospect of finding another rick this late and an untenable walk, I was stuck with Tokey the ancient rickshaw driver. To his credit Tokey’s driving was not noticeably affected as we whirled around Sir Edwin Lutyen’s, maniacal maze of traffic circles. From his adept multitasking ballet of puff, cough, ash, steer one could discern that clearly this was not his first time mixing business and leisure. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at my destination, both a little light-headed but intact nonetheless, and with yet another interesting story for the folks back at home.