Tempo Rollercoaster or Gambling in the Taxino

Aya can have her tempos, for I prefer to gamble at the taxino.

To play at the taxino you only need possess an extremely basic knowledge of the Nepali language – a few numbers and a stock protest phrase (you’ll see what I mean) should suffice – and some passable acting skills. The game begins when you want to go somewhere, but cannot be bothered to deal with the aggravation of public transportation. At this point, you eye up the taxis in your vicinity looking for a suitable opponent. Once chosen, you make your opening gambit and the game begins.

For an opening salvo, you could do a lot worse than dipping your head and saying “Namaste dai” (Hello Brother!). This shows a modicum of cultural awareness, and thus may go someway towards encouraging more lenient opponents to go easy on you. After this you should immediately say your destination, followed by the word “koti?” (how much?). Then begins the next step of the game, in which you both try to guess the fare for the journey you are proposing.

Be prepared for the opposing player to pull a face and mutter something – he’s probably pleading about the price of petrol, the state of traffic, or the number of kids he has: you simply need to pretend to understand whatever he is saying, and nod appropriately. He will then give you his opening guess. This guess is simply a marker, and a good player will respond to it with vomit-inducing theatrics that would be a more appropriate response to news that the CA has declared eating momos a violation of bikas, or that the Nepali constitution has still not been written after three years (ok, maybe not the second one). Even the most reasonable price must be greeted as though it is the climax of King Lear: this is all part of playing a good strategy. Then, using your extremely basic Nepali, you offer your counter guess, which will generally be a good 100 to 150 rupees lower than what the driver said. A really good player (like I sometimes am) will not budge from this price. Here is where you throw in the stock phrase you have learnt in Nepali. At the moment I am working with “But [enter destination here] is quite close brother” or “I am a student” (the second one is unsurprisingly less successful). This is simply a softening-up tactic. Ultimately, whether you succeed in sticking to your first guess or not depends on how you play your end game…

Of course, the driver will revise his original guess, and what comes next is a battle of wits. If you have faith in the estimate you have given (as you should), you must call the bluff of the cabbie and say “meter ma janus” (lets go on the meter). This represents an ultimatum for the driver: either accept my offer or we’ll let the meter decide how much the trip costs. As such, this can be something of a gamble. But cabbies dislike the gamble (and like pocketing your money), and again, your opponent may shoot off a load of Nepali at you, probably saying that tomorrow is an inauspicious day and the world might end so he wants to live it up on this final night. Respond with a slightly dismissive shrug, feigning understanding, and repeat “meter ma janus.” If he accepts your guess is good, he will agree to your price, the game is over and you win – you correctly guessed the price of the journey. However, the gamble comes as the driver may decide to go on the meter, and it is a lottery whether or not he has doctored his meter to run faster (and was thus bluffing YOU all along). Often, the meter is fine, and the real price will end up somewhere between the guesses made (generally nearer your one). But when that meter does run fast, there is not much to be done but hold your hands up and accept defeat by a worthy opponent.

Tempo-riding may offer something of the thrill of the roller coaster, but it is at the taxino that the poker-faced egos battle it out for the sake of pride.