Those who study Indian tourism all claim that the antics of today's touts far exceed those of his predecessor, who was content to merely drop off his unsuspecting passengers at a subpar eatery owned by one of his own relatives, or take them to a store where he earned a commission on whatever they purchased.
In between bouts of arguing with the driver, I wondered what had made today's touts so much more daring.
Fortunately, halfway through the journey, I found this letter - obviously a first draft - crumpled and bobbing around in the spacious back set, like a marble in a sea of felt. The first paragraph of the letter had been cleaned up significantly (perhaps by the talented Lalaji) but I took the liberty of translating the later portion into English. It answered my questions - and then some.
My friend Lalaji he is writing this letter. He is speaking the excellent English since he works as an exclusive guide for the foreigners only in our most fine city of Agra, the city of the most beautiful. He says that you must be visiting Agra and you should ask for himself at the station, who will give you such a fine fine tour of this city that even if you come much much later you will be saying his name to everyone you know.
I am writing to you because I saw you on Television the other day, and I felt at once a connection. I could see it in your eyes, which are the eyes of someone very wise. I know, Kalmadiji, that the newspapers have been saying very bad things about you. Three weeks ago I drove a newspaper person, and he said many bad things about you. He even said this phrase - f*** Kalmadi - that I tell you only for your own knowledge, sir. I would never say such a thing except for your knowledge. Sir, I remember when Indira Gandhi was prime minister, sir. She was very unpopular, but at least nobody ever wanted to f*** her.
Sir, I hope these things are not troubling you. I am writing to you even though I, Hussain, am only a humble cab driver in a very small city, even if that city is the most beautiful in all of India. You see, I think you should know that I consider you to be my guruji, even more than the man who first taught me my driving.
My father was a farmer in Bihar, sir. I too wanted to become a farmer like my father. But then my friend Lalaji, who is also fluent in English and does the guiding, he told me that I should come instead to Agra to work as a driver for the foreigners. There is a great much money in the foreigners, he said, so much that even Rs. 1000 is like Rs. 2 to them! He said that a foreigner does not care if something is Rs. 1000, even if that something is something so small as a chappati. He said the foreigners will pay Rs. 1000 even for a burned chappati with no pickle, because sir they do not know that a chappati should not be burned!
Sir, at first I was much troubled by what Lalaji said. After all, I did not want to go so far from home only to serve burned chappatis to people who did not speak my language. But Lalaji, he told me that driving is not like making chappatis. He said, "no, no, bakoof - you will drive the goras, not feed them!" He even said he would teach me to speak some English.
So one day I told my mother I was leaving home. My mother was most disturbed, she began to wail, she said "what will become of me, you are my only son!" But once I told her about the foreigners who will pay Rs. 1000 for a burned chappati, even she was most interested to come to Agra. You see, sir, she has never seen the famous Taj Mahal, because of the expense. Who will go so far just to pay to look at something? This is what Jayaji at the tea store would say is a bad business.
I came to Agra, sir, and found that there were indeed many foreigners there. Sir, I have seen foreign ladies with yellow hair in the movies, but this was the first time I was seeing them. They walk around like men! They even argue like men. And this is not all. Now, because there are foreigners, sometimes even our own Indian girls have begun to walk and talk like men!
My first months in Agra were most difficult, sir. I told Lalaji I would go home. But Lalaji said his friend would help me get a car, because his friend knew several people in the police. This was a nice change. Sir, the police in Agra are very nice, not like the police in Delhi, I hear. In Agra, my best friend is a policeman! His name is Kaku. Sometimes, the foreigners do not trust me when I tell them things. So then I just smile at Kaku, who smiles at them, and he says that I am telling the truth. And the foreigners believe him, because of his policeman's uniform. Sometimes, of course, I go to Kaku's house and his wife screams at me and his father hits me. But then I give him some money and everything is fine! See, even policemen have demanding fathers!
I must say that my driving is most excellent, but if I were to do something else, I would be a policeman! As my foreign guests would say, that is the life.
Slowly by slowly, Kaku and Lalaji have been showing me how the driving is to be done. When the foreigners come I am supposed to tell them the Taj Mahal is closed. The Taj Mahal is never closed, sir, you will understand. But this is - what do you call it? - a friendly untruth. Sir, I read in the papers that the foreigners are very angry because you told them some friendly untruths about the costs of toilet rolls. But what is the problem for the foreigners, who will pay Rs. 1000 for a burned chappati? Sir, an untruth is sometimes friendly. I know this. I didn't always know this, but Kaku is the one who taught me this.
I am most friendly when I tell the foreigners that the Taj Mahal is closed, but that I will take them to a place that they will like better. They are not from Agra, so I am helping them, I say. Then I take them over to a place, where Kaku's friends are standing guard. And we tell the foreigner that they must pay for water bottle and shoe covers. Sometimes, the foreigners do not trust me. But then Kaku's friends tell them that we are telling the truth. See, the foreigners trust Kaku's friends because Kaku's friends are policemen, too, just like Kaku!
The foreigners go and see the monument, sir, which is most beautiful. Afterwards, the guard at the boot house, who is the most excellent Farid, he says that the foreigner must pay for his boots back. Farid is a very nice man, too. He does not ask the Indians for this, sir, because he knows that we are all Indians together. But the foreigners do not mind, it is only Rs. 50. That is less than a dollar to them, sir!
Farid is the one who taught me about dollars. He told me that when a gora is born, his parents give him thousands and thousands of dollars. Then the President of America gives him more. In America, there are dollars everywhere, just like in India there are Rupees nowhere. Houses are made out of dollars, and even one dollar is worth thousands and thousands of rupees. In England there are no dollars, but there are Pounds. And in Espain, there are Euros. Pounds and Euros are also worth lots of Rupees, about a lakh of Rupees each, and foreigners have lakhs of Pounds and Euros. (You might wonder why I am boring you with these details sir. I have also heard from my newspaper man that some of your friends have trouble with these conversions, and sometimes convert things wrongly by mistake. Farid says to tell you that he will come to Delhi, sir, and give you his services at cost to convert between Pounds and Euros and Dollars and Rupees. Farid will give you a most excellent rate, and even the foreigners will not know how he is managing to give such a good rate.)
Anyway, when I take the foreigners to the Taj Mahal, I leave them in the road at a place about a kilometre away. Then I park in the lot owned by Kaku's friend Sushil, who is not a policeman but who is a jeweler. And my friend Arthu, who is waiting in his cycle rickshaw, or one of his many friends will take the foreigners to the Taj Mahal gate. At the gate he will offer to wait, but really he will come back later. Meanwhile, I will sit with Sushil in his shop, where he is helping choose jewelry for his sister's wedding. He says it will be the best wedding in the village ever. Sir, he has to make lots of money for his sister's wedding. Times are so bad that he has to charge the foreigners 50 per cent more on everything. Sometimes, the foreigners are so troubled by these prices, they don't even pay them! Imagine, a foreigner not paying! Perhaps that is not hard for you to imagine, Sir, since I hear none of the foreigners are paying to sit in the Commonwealth Games.
Arthu will bring the foreigner back to me and ask them for Rs. 100. This is a good price. I remember one time a foreign man was very concerned about this price, and his wife said to him, "That's less than the price of a McDonald's burger! This guy probably has ten kids and no way to feed them." Afterwards we all laughed about this, because everyone knows that even the best aloo tikki in Agra costs only Rs. 20, and a burger is no more than a tikki with bread. Only the foreigners do not know this.
Sometimes, sir, the foreigners see me and Arthu talking and realize that we are friends. Once, one became very angry and wanted to know why I didn't tell him the correct things. He told me I was being "dishonest." Sir, if you can imagine that! When I am only helping him see Agra, he called me dishonest. Just because I didn't tell him that the Taj Mahal was next to the Agra Fort. So I said, "Sir, I forgot." But he was most upset by this. I see, Kalmadiji, that you had some problem because you paid money to someone and then helpfully forgot about it. Helpful forgetting is a most common problem for us drivers in Agra, sir. I did not know that it happened also to fine people like yourself.
Of course, sometimes the foreigners become very upset. One time, a foreigner even called me a thief! Mr. Gora, I wanted to say, one is only a thief if the other person knows you are thieving from them. By this logic, sir, you yourself are not thieving from the Indian public at all! I want you to know that I, Hussain the Driver, do not think you are a thief, even if that other gora on the TV seems to think you are. Goras are all the same. They are happy to say we are thieves, even though they live in houses made out of things like Dollars and Pounds and our houses aren't even made out of Rupees but just woods and concretes.
Anyway, sir, I do not mind if you are charging some extra to the Indian taxpayer. Kaku has a friend who is a most good accountant - even better than Farid - and he fixes my taxes every year. He is such a good accountant, sir, that he makes my taxes disappear! There are very rich men who pay him a lot of money to avoid paying it to the tax collector, sir, but this accountant does this for me for free because otherwise Kaku's father, who was also a police inspector before Kaku inherited the job, will hit him also. He is a most ferocious hitter, Kaku's father, on account of being a former police inspector. He is a good enough hitter that he should play in IPL, we sometimes joke. He is always sending us for sixes.
Anyway, sir, now I am having fond memories so I will tell you good night. Sir, I wanted to tell you one more thing, and this is the reason I say you are my guruji. Now that the Commonwealth Games have started, you have brought so many foreigners to Agra, sir! Some of them come in buses, but others come alone. When they come for cars, we tell them that the Taj Mahal is closed so that the Games delegates can have a private viewing. The foreigners always believe this!
Sir, I notice that you have closed most of Delhi so that foreigners can have a private viewing. This is most wise, sir, but not necessary. You could just tell the people that Delhi is closed and they will stay away. People will believe anything you tell them. That, sir, I have learned from you.
Yours respectfully,
Hussain the Driver in Agra
A little PSs: I have sent you this letter of my own free will sir, because you are my guruji. But sir, the regular post was closed so I sent it instead with the Camel Post, which is a most expensive option we have here in Agra. Anyway, sir, the cost of sending you this letter was most great. And since I am going to Sushil's sister's wedding, sir, I am needing all my monies. Perhaps you could send me some small amount, like Rs. 2000? This is less than the cost, but for you, guruji, I am giving a low-low rate.
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