Ride back home

I live 26 kilometres away from my workplace. This isn’t too big a distance for those who own cars. But, for those who take an auto, it is Rs 500 a day to and fro.
It started out to be just another ride back home after work. I hired an auto, and its driver said, “I will charge you a bit more since I will have to drive through huge traffic.” I agreed.
Halfway through, he started chatting. He said, “I’m sorry about Delhi’s state. Although I’ve been here for only a month-and-a-half, I feel this city is going nowh ere.”
I was taken aback, not because the city is a great place to live in, but because I was curious to know which other city, according to him, was better than the Capital. He continued, “Despite new roads and flyovers, there are traffic jams everywhere. Look at the buses. They are packed to capacity, just tailormade for pickpocketing and molestation.” This time, I sp oke, “Where do you come from?” “Mumbai,” he said. “And there is no standing system in buses in Mumbai,” he added.
“I really wanted to see Delhi, but I'm sorry about it’s state. Women in Delhi are not safe,” he went on. In Mumbai, it is a common norm to give martial arts training to women and they are better prepared to tackle such issues, he felt.
And, then came the shocker, “I’m not an auto driver by profession. I teach dance-drama and fine arts at a place. My friends told me that driving autos in Delhi is very profitable.” I wanted to know his name, but I had reached my destination. “Ma’am, please give me Rs 10 mo re than the metre reading,” he said.
I gave the money without asking any more questions. At least, there was a ‘please’ in his request. A true blue Delhi autowallah would have charged me the earth and still would have been disgustingly rude, I thought.