Taxiwallas

Taxiwallas everywhere are a voluble lot.

When I was going from the airport to my host's place in Delhi, I got a particularly garrulous guy. It's surprising how similar his assessment of the problems plaguing society is to the assessment that a well-educated middle class person might make.

"Nobody follows rules," he complains, pointing at a couple of jaywalkers who are crossing the road when they should be using a subway crossing at a busy traffic circle. "And even if the police catch them, they get away with a bribe".

The driver of the taxi in Vizag echoes the same sentiments when he has to swerve to avoid a motorcycle speeding on the wrong side of the road. "Nobody follows rules," he fumes. "On top of that, he has the gall to argue with me."

But talking freely with the taxiwallas opens you up to expectations of a tip over and above the pre-paid rate. My Vizag taxiwalla has a faintly disappointed look when I say "Thanks" and start lugging my luggage up the stairs.