Thus began the day…!!

           Wee hours of the day. We were nearing Kempegowda bus stand on our journey back from Kollur Mookambika Temple. We as a family are a regular at this Devi temple. We were four of us this time as usual, my roommate substituting my sister who is away with her husband. We have had the most serene Devi darshan and the most pitiful bus journey. I had talked to the Cab driver who was waiting for us at the bus stand. Three years in Bangalore and still the city’s main bus stand is an alien place. We never really had to frequent the place which according to us was as far away as Timbuktu. So hiring a cab was the safest bet.      

           We were just descending the steps of the Bus. Same old scene. Swarm of rickshaw drivers mobbing us…‘Auto madam’ mantras of all annoying frequencies reverberating in the atmosphere… Our strong denials failing to ring a bell… We dodging to escape from the eye of the storm… Determined few still following us….Have seen it all. We found a corner little away from the mayhem and I started making my call to the cab driver. He knew kannada. I didn’t . I knew hindi (I think so). He didn’t. As far as I understood, he was waiting in some other corner of the bus stand and was shouting a bakery’s name which none of us had a clue about. I told him a landmark rite in front of us and asked him to come there. But adamant he was, insisted that we with our entire luggage wade through the bullying rickshaw men and the erratic buses to find him in his chariot. I hate to do it, but belted him like a despicable school teacher in all the hindi I knew. I took break in between the call and shouted at a rickshaw guy as well who wanted to clear the confusion and take us home in his limo. Guess the driver came to senses after that, agreed to come. I avoided looking at my dad when this drama was unfolding. Being the epitome of patience he is, would despise me for bad-mouthing fellow human beings.

 

             I had to talk to the driver few more times before he could find us. I felt he was in a very serious state of hysteria every time we talked. Finally when he found us, he was reluctant to pull over, wanted us to make it to the center of the road and jump inside the car. After many gestures from all four of us, he pulled over and opened the boot for us. All of us made constipated looks at each other and got into the vehicle.
           
            He paid back for the yelling by driving as rash as he could. Broke traffic signals. Honked like crazy. Oversped. When he thought he has done enough in retaliation, on hearing us mumble, he asked in tamil if we knew tamil(which is closer to our mother tongue). Had he asked this a while earlier, it would have saved the day for both of us. On reaching home, my father showered his benevolence on him, paid him twenty bucks more than what he asked for, reinforcing justice should be done with the driver at least this way. I decided if they don’t know my language they better be out of my contact list. Not that cab service anymore. And I better keep a watch on my motor mouth. Nevertheless all is well that ends well. Yeah it did end well…save the conscience prick I felt for a while.