School run, the harder way

We have a great driver Raju, who can get us anywhere we need to, even into Old Delhi (even though he doesn't like it). But sometimes Rod and I need to be in two different places at the same time, and not even Raju can manage that. That's when we use an auto rickshaw, or tuc tuc. Yesterday was one of those days. Keir had to be collected from school at 2.15, and Rod needed to be in Gurgaon at 3. As the school is much, much closer to our place than Gurgaon is, I pulled the auto straw.

At 1.40 I walked down to the market to find a rickshaw. It's never hard to find one there, but you never know how good the driver's English will be. You also don't know how good a driver the rickshaw guy will be, but the state of his vehicle can give you a few clues on that front. It's a good idea not to make eye contact with any driver with a really battered rickshaw! Luckily the first rickshaw who offered me a ride had all 3 of its wheels, an non cracked windshield and only a few holes in its upholstery. Fingers crossed he would understand where I needed to go. Toes crossed he would know how to get there! I show him my school ID badge, which says in big letters "The British School". I say, clearly, "The British School, Chanakyapuri". The badge also gives the street address, but that's not going to be much help. The driver isn't going to be able to read much English (because if he did, he wouldn't be a rickshaw driver), and even if he did, he wouldn't use a map to get there, because Indian drivers are unlike men anywhere else in the world. They actually like stopping to ask for directions! I know, freaky! The driver nods, to indicate he knows where I want to go. I've done this enough to know that the nod doesn't actually mean he does know where I want him to go, but he thinks he can get me close enough so that I'll pay him. I ask him how much to get to the school, wait 10 minutes and then bring me back to Hauz Khas. He repeats "British School" and thinks, because all auto rickshaws have meters, but none of them work. Fees for hiring an auto are not determined by distance covered, nor time of day. They're determined by how much the driver thinks he can get out of you, before you go and try your luck with the next auto in the queue. My guy decides 150 rupees (£2, $3.20 USD, $3.60 AUD) is the tipping point. This would be exhorbitant if I wasn't white, but the journey's cost me 200 rupees in the past, so I take it.

We set off in the right direction (so far, so good), and after a short while he asks me "which Embassy?" Now Chanakyapuri is home to many of the Embassies and High Commissions, so it's not a bad assumption I'm going to an Embassy. Except that less than 5 minutes ago I told him "The British School", and he repeated it back to me. I say clearly, again, "The British School", and add "near the American Embassy", in case it helps. The driver keeps driving, and soon we are heading up Africa Avenue, and into Chanakyapuri. We turn into Satya Marg and the wide streets of Diplomatic Delhi. We come to a roundabout. The driver enters the roundabout and stops in the middle. I yell and point, "straight ahead", because I'm not too keen on being stationary in an open sided, three wheeled vehicle in the middle of a roundabout. The driver goes straight ahead. We come to the next roundabout. Because I didn't want to play sitting duck again, I tell him straight ahead as he enters the roundabout. He makes a noise which I take to mean he doesn't believe me, but he does what I say anyway. When we get to the next roundabout, I say straight ahead. He hesitates, and the penny drops. "Ah, British School", he says, no differently to I have been saying it, and he has been repeating it back to me all along, and takes me to the school gate. I get out and ask him to wait while I go collect my son. I know he will wait for me, because I'm not going to give him any money yet.

I get Keir and he is so excited to be going home in an auto. The driver smiles as he climbs in and Keir wishes him Namaste (hello). The driver grins even wider and asks Keir if he speaks Hindi. He replies, Han ji (yes Sir). The driver turns to me and asks if I speak Hindi. I reply chota (little). We set off back to Hauz Khas. As we get back to the market I direct the driver to our house. I get him to stop outside D59, and Keir thanks him in Hindi (Dhanyavad) while I get out the fare. The driver asks me "do you live in Delhi?". I reply, "I live here", and point to the house. He looks confused, and repeats "do you live in Delhi?". I'm confused, because I would have thought the fact that I collected my son from school and directed him back to our house, telling him it was my house, were enough clues. Maybe they aren't, so I point to the house again, and repeat "I live here". Just in case we still aren't clear, I leave. Quickly.