Pune has the most motorcycles (also called scooters and
two-wheelers) in all of India. They are everywhere, with men straddling the
seat, and women in saris sitting sidesaddle with incredible balance. Even on
the highways, I often see a two-wheeler with a whole family of four sitting
astride. Remarkably nimble and
useful for the stop and go flow of traffic, the motorcycle is ideal for the
streets of Pune. However, riding one is grounds for serious punishment by the
Alliance authorities.
So, we use rickshaws to get anywhere of distance. A
three-wheeled, hunchbacked vehicle, the auto rickshaw is a strange beast. With
its driver’s seat in the front, the back bench is used for the one, two, or
three passengers, or perhaps the eight schoolchildren who cram in any which
way. If you are lucky, your rickshaw has all three mirrors a car would have,
although it is more than likely that at least one of the side mirrors will be tilted
at such an angle as to allow a clearer view of our pale faces than of the
traffic behind. And on the left hand side, between you and the driver lies the
meter.
Alternately a weapon of justice wielded by meter-card
carrying individuals and a device used to legitimize scams, the meter keeps
track of how far you have traveled and what the corresponding fare is. For the
first kilometer, the meter stays at 1.0. That way, any short distance ride will
cost 11 rupees (1.0 x 10 +1). After the first kilometer, it ticks away the
tenths of kilometers and your fare goes up by 1 rupee per extra tick. Staying
still for prolonged periods of time, such as at traffic lights, also will cause
the meter to go up, but only very occasionally.
Presumably such a uniform billing system would destroy plans
to get the most out of naïve travelers or clueless Americans. Instead, it only
makes said plans more subtle. Since I have been here, I have caught on to the
most common scams employed by rickshaw drivers to make a few extra bucks.
The first is obvious, a refusal to use the meter, leading to
a long haggle over what the price should be. Most effectively used in the
pouring rain (the one time the city has had true rain this season happened to
be our first Sunday as we were shopping at Pantaloons), or on busy nights in
peak traffic with no other rickshaws around, this rip-off technique leads to
more upfront arguing, but a mutually satisfactory end of us getting home and
them making a little extra money.
Another technique is the keeping of change in a different
pocket. Rupee coins seem to be a particularly rare breed here. Often, bills are
in terms of round numbers so only bills (with ten being the smallest common
bill) are necessary. But rickshaw fares often fall in those in between areas
that require one or two rupee coins. As a result, when your fare is 33 rupees
(as ours is to school), you often do not have exact change.
And finally there is manipulation of the meter system.
Again, there are two options. The first happened just this morning as Liz and I
were sleepily getting into our rickshaw after quite a confusing routine of
forgetting our keys and then her phone. She noticed soon after we were on our
way that the meter had ticked past 1.0 kilometers much sooner than it usually
does. We quickly figured out that
the driver must have had the meter started before we got in, allowing the meter
to count the time he stood still waiting for a passenger to push the fare up
slightly. The second meter
manipulation is what I like to call, “the winding way”. The meter counts out
distance traveled, not what the closest route from point of entry to intended
destination actually is. As a
result, taking the long way costs you more money. Just last Friday, I had a
driver try to drive the complete opposite way down a one way street to up the
fare. Luckily, at that point I knew the general route home and told him to
stop, yelling when he originally ignored me, got out and found a more honest
(maybe more afraid of foreigners causing a scene) fellow to take me on my way.
Although assuredly not an inclusive guide, this post
hopefully gives you an explanation of why even getting from one place to
another in this city can be fraught with emotion and leave me drained. Even
when dealing with great drivers, I have to be on guard simply because I’ve had
so many bad experiences. After a long day, I just want to get home. And I’d
like to do it in 33 rupees please.
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