Tuk – Tuk Blues…

Last week, I was returning from work with two of my colleagues who were going along the same route. After endless rounds of waiting and getting disappointed, we finally piled into an auto rickshaw who insisted that we take the route suggested by him as opposed to the one I had been travelling for the past one year which has been without doubt proven to be the shortest and easiest. So this guy finally consents to take my suggestion, but at the first possible opportunity, takes a detour and stops in the middle of nowhere saying that his vehicle has broken down. He drops us right there (and it was raining heavily too!) without even offering to find an alternative, and when we looked back he has disappeared with his auto that was not fit to move a few seconds back!

I have had some very strange incidents involving the autos in Bangalore, including one where the driver literally threw me out because I asked him to go a little faster; but this last one was really the limit!

I believe every city defines its uniqueness through a complicated maze of transportation secret codes that you need to crack to ensure that you have a peaceful existence there. Now the trick here is that what seems to be the easiest form of transport would also be the most painful. Which brings me back to my topic.

I have lived in Bangalore a.k.a The Garden city cum Silicon Valley of India, for the last six years. Long enough for me to crack the transportation code, you would think. Not so. Let me give you an idea about the general scene. Bangalore is very positive about private transportation. So positive that every Tanvir, Das and Hari owns a vehicle here that steadily adds on to the cacophony. As for me, I don’t own a vehicle, not as yet. I have thought about it, and I am pretty sure that the reason I am not going to buy a two-wheeler is that I don’t want to get wet in the glorious-but-completely-unpredictable-English-like- weather in Bangalore. And I am also pretty sure that the reason I don’t (read can’t) own a car is because I don’t want to waste my hard-earned money on a machine I am not even sure I can control (don’t get me wrong, I do have a license)! Let’s just say, when I own a car, I would Iike it scratch – free..Needless to say, the idea of hiring a driver is not just laughable, but unaffordable.

And did I forget to mention that there are no taxis in Bangalore?

And so, if you are one of those self-important people like me who believe that after four years of slogging in the corporate world, you deserve to have a decent, exclusive, comfort-ridden ride to and from work; you have to opt for the next best thing. Enter the auto rickshaws of Bangalore. Exclusive, yes. Comfortable – no. See the irony?

There are various ways of describing what has been India’s great invention and contribution to the world (I see that the rest of the world has cleverly stayed away from them). But the breed in Bangalore are a class apart. Truly. I mean, they are completely unlike the auto drivers in Mumbai who are very professional and friendly at the same time (they are my favourites); but they are also not like the ones in Chennai (the ultimate Rickshaw passenger’s nightmare come true!). But they are atleast predictable in Chennai. You know and expect them to haggle, not to use meters and sometimes not have meters installed at all, but they hardly ever refuse service to anyone.

It’s the sheer variety and predictability of the Bangalore auto wallahs that makes them so fascinatingly interesting. The vast majority of them are very picky about their passengers, and even more so about the destination. They don’t just drop you anywhere you want to go. You tell them to go to Koramangala, a distance of 4 kilometers from my place, they don’t. You ask them if they would drop you at Whitefield, a distance of 18 kilometers, they refuse yet again.

The worst are those who refuse service to you, and give a facial expression to go with it, something I have now come to recognize as the worm look. “Eww..how can you live in BTM Layout; I would not go there in the next nine years!!” Based on all my past experience, I am fairly confident those are the exact words behind the worm look. I have always wondered where they are all off to, with their empty vehicles. My colleague seems to think there is some kind of parallel Bangalore that they are all heading to; I am starting to think that’s a possibility.

Now, next in line are those who will offer to drop you wherever you want to go (finally!), but they do have a list of conditions. First, those who do not run their meter, and start haggling for money straightaway. Then there are the kinds who switch their meter on, but demand an extra 20 bucks over the fare. I don’t know why they like 20 a lot, but that’s where they all start. And when you refuse, it comes down to 10. I have had some asking me for an extra 5! It’s almost like when they extract a rupee more than what they deserve, they feel obliged to go through the unpleasant business of transporting you somewhere. The reasons for demanding extra fare are varied but all equally illogical:

“Heavy traffic on the road” (like we are somehow responsible for the traffic clogging, and have to be penalized for it!)

“No return ride available” (I am still trying to figure this one out, since I live in one of the busiest and crowded localities in south Bangalore. Not that ensuring them business is my duty, in the first place.)

And my personal favourite,

“It’s raining” (Bangalore is officially the only place on earth where commuters are designated as rain Gods!”)

Now, you have managed to ward off all the obstacles above, you finally get into an auto whose owner has agreed to drop you anywhere, unconditionally. Seven times out of ten, his meter is faulty. Okay, there is no scientifically researched basis for my statistical revelation, but I am willing to bet that it’s true.

Agreed, there are a few, very few, professional, honest auto guys plying in the city. The trick is to spot them. With the rest, well, there’s not much you can do. I have tried various levels of cajoling, coaxing, requesting, asserting and demanding, even got inspired to learn Kannada; but there’s nothing you can guarantee will do the job – securing a fair and hassle-free Auto rickshaw ride.

I have always believed hiring an auto in Chennai is a lesson in negotiation. Well, in Bangalore, it’s a lesson in human study! Happy tuk- tuking!