Returning to the airport

We drove back to the airport, and again the meter did not run. Finally, I said to the driver, “Now for God’s sake, tell me how much you want! Do not charge me too much. First, look at Mother Kali’s picture, look at Sri Ramakrishna’s picture.”

He said, “Oh, I will never deceive you.”

I said, “No, you will never deceive me! You started our trip with deception.”

It was all in Bengali, so there was no problem.

He gave me the total: “Three hundred fifty rupees.”

I said, “Impossible! Three hundred fifty rupees!”

He said, “Yes, yes, I charge 350 rupees.”

Then I said, “I will give you 300 rupees and no more.” So I gave him 300 rupees. I knew it could not be more than 150 rupees or maximum 200; 300 was absurd.

Then with folded hands he said, “What about my son?”

“What about your son?”

“My son needs your blessings.”

I said, “I am blessing him.”

He said, “No, with money. He is studying at school; he needs your money.”

I said, “That is great.” Then my stupid or compassionate heart had to come forward. My stupidity and my compassion are absolute synonyms; there is no difference. I said, “All right, I am giving you a hundred rupees for your son. I wish your son well. Let him become a good student.”

In my pocket I had kept about 500 rupees. I saw that I had used most of the money to buy books, so I had only 90 rupees instead of a hundred-rupee note left. I counted the rupees and said, “I am sorry. I told you 100 but I can only give you 90.”

He immediately objected, “Oh no, you said you would give me 100 rupees.” I said, “I have 90 rupees.” I did not want to take out my main wallet from my money bag. I wanted to use only the money that I had kept inside my pocket to spend buying books. This was my fate. I said, “I have 90 rupees. What is the difference? I am giving 90 rupees instead of 100 rupees.”

No, he wanted 100.

Then I became furious. I said, “Now look here, the time has come for me to call in the police. Enough!”

Immediately he brought my bags out of the car, took the money and disappeared. When I went inside the terminal, I asked a guard, “How much do they charge usually to go to College Street and come back?”

The guard said, “A hundred and twenty. But if you are kind, you can give them 140. Otherwise, it costs maximum 120.”

I told him I had paid 390. Then in Bengali he used a foul tongue, saying what a bad fellow this taxi driver was. What made me sad was not the man’s deception, but the fact that Mother Kali’s picture and Sri Ramakrishna’s picture were both in his taxi, framed and garlanded with fresh jasmine flowers. If he could behave like that, as a spiritual person, what could you expect from others? That taxi was my choice. There were three or four cars and I made the selection. Indeed, I found the right person!