“You see these hands friend?” he shouted back, waving his hand in front of me. I kept my eyes on the road for him.
“Clean hands. No cheating.”
I nodded. As another rickshaw cut in front of us he jammed his thumb onto the horn. It coughed an old cough . The other rickshaw coughed back.
“If I am cheating, God will see” he shouted, pointing to one of the gods that sat enshrined above his head.
“So you wait until he blinks?” I said.
He looked in his mirror. I caught his big smile.
“No no brother. Clean hands,” he said, lifting them off the handlebars and shaking them, “I am the best rickshaw driver in India!”
I belived that he probably was.