The concept of motorcycle pilots – as the motorcycle taxi riders are called in Goa – started during the Portuguese regime in Goa in the capital city of Panjim. “At that time,” recollects octogenarian Bothelo, “There used to be three pilots who used to ferry Portuguese soldiers around.”
Historians recollect, the first pilots used BSA and BMW bikes, and a few elderly still recollect Abdul as being one of those enigmatic guys, “trying to reach everyone in time”.
The population grew and the pilots de-centralised after Liberation, with each village tinto gradually having its own motorcycle stand. If one missed the bus, the pilot furiously rode behind to catch up with the bus or drop the client to his destination.
The motorcycle pilot was baptised motorcycle taxi in 1981 when the government started issuing permits and all bikes had yellow-black registration plates. But, today, business is dwindling.
“I get around three or four customers alighting from the trains and more business on the way back after having dropped my customer. Business is not that good with the presence of rent-a-bikes,” says Ramesh, as he takes shelter from the rain at Margao’s Konkan Railway Station.
“We pilots are famous all over India and that is why we do not have to solicit customers. Most come directly to us and even try to negotiate fares. Ladies do not shy away,” he confesses.
“I normally prefer to hire a pilot after shopping in Mapusa because I reach faster and my regular driver places my bags all over the bike, including over him and rides me home safely,” professes Pooja who lives in Vagator.
After locals, foreign tourists were first to bond with pilots leaving behind love stories that are purely emotional. “I fell in love with an Italian in the 80s,” recollects Pocket (name changed on request). “Since neither of us could write in English, we used to record what we felt and couriered our tapes to each other,” he recounts with nostalgia.
“In those days, each empty cassette cost Rs 100. When I received her cassette, I used to carry my player to a remote place and listen to what she said. Then, I would record my messages to her and courier the cassette,” explains Pocket.
“There was a time when we were around 40 to 50 pilots in Anjuna. With rent-a-bikes, we are just a handful and business is down. That is why you can hardly see anyone around today,” says Shyam as he sips tea at a mobile cart in Anjuna.
If pilots are turning uncommon in the coastal belts, they are scarce at village tintos too, with customers looking at pilots as the last resort instead of the first. “I have a driver who does all my errands for me. He does my shopping, does my banking. He is my man Friday,” admits Olga, who lives all by herself in a village, with all her children abroad.
Pilots find themselves busy when trains arrive and interstate busses reach their destinations early in the morning. “Most tourists who arrive by bus prefer to use us as they hardly carry any luggage and we are the fastest to take them to their place of rest,” says Alex at the Mapusa bus stand.
Pilots step in where no taxi or auto rickshaw could venture primarily because of the opacity involved – a bike slithering to private places off public glare. If the first pilots, during the Portuguese era, helped take the soldiers to places considered red, today’s pilots are seeing red because their industry is feeling suffocated.
Still, a pilot today is the best bet to your destination because he involuntarily wears the badge of Goan hospitality.