Hailing an Auto-rickshaw for Dummies

What is at once the most endearing and yet equally reviled symbol of India? Why the autorickshaw, of course. The cute, little yellow 3-wheeled contraption fascinates much of the Western world, yet local Indians complain endlessly about the ever-increasing fares and the general predilection of auto-wallahs (auto guys) to cheat you like a Bernie Madoff ponzi scheme. Luckily for you I have included a fail-proof method for hailing an autorickshaw in Chennai. Read on or scroll to the bottom if you are really desperate.

I was originally planning on commuting to the hospital by motorcycle but this was almost immediately shot down by my entire family both in the U.S. and India. When my relatives in India threatened to hire a private car daily I quickly settled for taking an autorickshaw instead. I could still sense their uneasiness. How bad could it really be? I had lived in South Africa for a year by myself, bought a car there, taught myself how to drive stick, and even maneuvered away from charging elephants...

Let me review some of my experiences from the first two weeks. First off the guys couldn't understand a single word I was saying, whether it was in Tamil or in English (cover blown immediately). My accent was apparently that bad. I knew the target price (100-120 rupees, approx $2-$2.50) yet still asked them what their fare would be. My goal was to use this as a gauge for how foreign/how much of a sucker I appeared. I was routinely asked to pay 170-200 rupees for the 6.5 km to Apollo Hospital. The government set price of 5-6 rupees/km would come to about 40 rupees max. Locals are generally willing to pay around +/- 10 rupees/km depending on the time of day and route. I clearly looked like a guy ready to be taken for a ride.

A lot of roads are one-way in Chennai due to construction for a new rail system. The autorickshaw drivers use this as a ploy to ask for extravagant prices. After offering 100-120 rupees for a return journey I was told that this was the price "back in 1986, 1987, 1988." Interestingly, I only paid 110 rupees the previous day. I'm pretty sure I could get someone to pull me the whole distance on an original style rickshaw for half that price back then.

Now as an aside I should comment on relative pricing as a Westerner. While the actual difference between $2 and $3 is very little for me, the fact remains that they charge as much as 10 times the standard price because they think they can. Even for locals they try to gauge how wealthy a person is and in general how much a person is willing to pay. They will make every effort (regardless of how many twists of the truth it takes) to extract as much money as possible. With this in mind it becomes a matter of principle to avoid becoming a "victim." I have never seen a "working" meter and each auto driver sets his own price as he sees fit. While I joke about the exorbitant prices I certainly wouldn't be opposed to paying the higher price if it was uniformly employed. Just imagine if you were jumping on a bus in the U.S. and before sitting down the driver sized you up and decided on a price between $2 and $15 for you to pay (even though you know it costs $1.50).

I think I'll save my descriptions of the roads/traffic in India for another post. Let me just say that I breathe a sigh of relief at least once a day after escaping yet another death defying stunt.

Below is a dialogue from a book my friend Matt is using to learn Tamil. It's humorous but at the same time very accurate. I have had almost the exact same conversation with auto drivers several times already.

From: "Colloquial Tamil: The Complete Course for Beginners" by R.E. Asher & E. Annamalai

AUTO DRIVER: enge pooriinga?

MURUGAN: rayilvee stationnukku.

AUTO DRIVER: ukkaarunga. nuuru ruubaa ku∂unga.

MURUGAN: enna? nuuru ruubaayaa? pattu kiloomiittardaan

irukkum. miittar poo∂u.

AUTO DRIVER: miittar rippeer, saar.

MURUGAN: aattookkaaranga ellaarum ip∂idaan solriinga.

janangale eemaatturiinga.

AUTO DRIVER: petrool littar muppadu ruubaaykki vikkidu.

pooliskaarangalukku maamuul ku∂ukkanum.

MURUGAN: sari, sari. embadu ruuba ku∂ukkireen. poo.

AUTO DRIVER: Where are you going?

MURUGAN: To the railway station.

AUTO DRIVER: Sit down. Give me a hundred rupees.

MURUGAN: What? A hundred rupees? It’s only ten kilometres.

Set the meter.

AUTO DRIVER: The meter’s under repair, sir.

MURUGAN: All you auto drivers say this. You cheat people.

AUTO DRIVER: Petrol costs thirty rupees a litre. We have to give

bribes to the police.

MURUGAN: OK, OK. I’ll give eighty rupees. Go.

And now what you've all been waiting for...

Hailing an Auto-rickshaw for Dummies

Rule 1: ALWAYS bargain.

Rule 2: Pretend to be a local (if you’re White you are probably S.O.L…please skip to the final rule)

Rule 3: If you are not a local, pretend to be from another state in India (tip #1: Instead of saying “yes” say “ahh” and learn to do the Indian head-bobble nod)

Rule 4: Never hail an autorickshaw from an auto stand.

Rule 5: Act like you know what the fare is

Rule 6: If you have no idea what the fare is, divide the given fare by 1.5 to 2 (depending on how well you hide your foreignness) and make an offer.

Rule 7: Always lowball (you will almost certainly still be offering more than the government fare of 5-6 rupees per km). Try to meet at a price somewhere between the autokarren (auto-guy) high price and your “lowball” offer.

Rule 8: If you don’t agree with the price, walk away (physically). Surprisingly effective.

Rule 9: If all else fails, point and yell “eemaatturiinga! po da nai!” (cheater! Get out of here, you dog!) to voice your displeasure. Now run away before you get stabbed.

Rule 10: Know that no matter what you do, you will still be cheated (even the locals admit this).

Back to the Homeland (not Africa this time)

It has been a while since we danced but I have once again picked up my pen. Don't get too excited though, as I only write when I'm on an adventure and yet I am usually too engrossed in my adventures to write extensively or in a timely fashion.

4th year of med school has flown by. Sub-internships followed by applications, personal statements, and interviews accompanied by extensive travel. The last few rotations were painful but finally the end is looming near. This is both good and bad I might add. Closer to being a real doctor (as opposed to a glorified scut monkey that is a medical student) but also closer to the reality/pressure of the responsibilities of an MD.

I stacked my 4th year rotations and even managed to squeeze in most of my interviews without taking many months off during the year. This was all in an attempt to end medical school with a grand adventure. I had at one point or another applied for and/or scheduled rotations and travel in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and the dangerous refugee camps of the Burma/Thailand border. After hearing that my grandmother was sick in India I changed my schedule instead to include a Infectious Disease rotation in Chennai. From there it slowly morphed into a tour of the Indian subcontinent. I convinced 3 of my childhood friends to join me for 2 weeks in Kerala's rainforests/backwaters, Delhi/Agra/Taj Mahal & my cousin's wedding in Chennai. I then joked with another college friend (currently residing in New Delhi) about climbing in the Himalayas and he promptly set up a month long foray into Nepal with a trek to Everest's base camp.

This schedule is probably a tad ambitious but I've always espoused the philosophy (which some look at with disdain) that there is no point in living if you're not continually pushing yourself to your limits. The next 3 months should hopefully continue to expand my horizons.

Last U.S. rotation. check. Rank list complete. check. 7 round trip flights booked. check. Learning how to hail an auto-rickshaw without getting swindled. Priceless.