I have a road accident. Thrice yesterday.
I leave Manyata Tech Park with my new driver, a young, scrawny guy, who has gaunt-saucer eyes. I am not comfortable hiring him in the first place, but what should my rejection criteria be?

Young?

Scrawny?

Gaunt?

Saucer-eyes?

None make logical sense. So, we hire him. He drives ok. He is careful and respectful. Occasionally. I find him weird. For instance, he stops 300 meters short of my destination, and asks if I want to go there today itself?

I am psyched. But, not able to interpret these signals.

Yesterday, he decides to drive fast. Very fast. He stops at insignificant turns, and turns back and asks,

‘Should I turn here?’

His vacant eyes now glint with a strange gleam in them.

I am now worried. I try to guide him.

Suddenly, he steps on the gas and takes a freeway which I have never seen before. Now, he is muttering to himself.

I ask him where he is headed. He says, ‘Indiranagar’.

My blood freezes. I have to go in the opposite direction. I yell at him to turn back. Alok calls and talks to him
to figure out what is wrong. We are confused.

He turns back and starts speeding in the opposite direction now. I ask him to slow down.

He turns to me and starts a garbled story about his family, which is completely irrelevant at this point. I am getting more and more worried.

I look out frantically, trying to spot familiar sights. I see none.

Then, it seems we are in the right direction.

I get on to a phone call. Quite deliberately. It is to ensure I am not yelling at him and making him more nervous.

But, that proves to be a bad decision.

He speeds into an unknown village and bangs the car into a pole. He is muttering to himself all the time. He is also rolling down the window and fighting with people on the road.

I am petrified.

I try to guide him back to the main road, not quite able to figure out anything myself.

Soon, we are on the main road, but I sense, now in the other opposite direction. Alok tries to intervene on the phone again. I call my colleagues and tell them too.

Then, is the moment when I see a road I know well. It is way off the route that we should have been on but I don’t care. I decide to guide him at every turn. He resists taking the turn I recommend. I am firm.

He gives me the strange, vacant gleam again and steps on the gas.

We are on CMH road, which is crowded with evening traffic, but he continues to speed. I ask him to slow down. He mutters,

‘I am slow….’

I clutch my seat and keep looking out of the window, paralysed with fear.

We reach Domlur. He is still speeding.

I yell,

‘Will you slow down or not?’

He mutters,

‘I am slow…’

We enter Koramangala escaping several near misses. So far luck has been in his favour. But, it runs out now. He brushes past a car coming from the opposite side, in deep, grating scrape. The people in the other car yell, but do not get out to settle it. Maybe, they are in a hurry.

I yell again,

‘Slow down…’

He now replies,

‘I will NOT slow down..’

My palms turn cold. I want to jump out of the car. I wait for the signal, so that I can just jump out.

He jumps the signal. He is racing like a mad man on a narrow Koramangala street.

I see a young boy on a bike ahead of us. We are still racing.

We hit the bike with force that is huge, but, thankfully, broken by a speed breaker.

The boy goes flying in the air and lands on his back.

My driver gets out of the car and runs as fast as he can. Some passers-by try to chase him but he gets away. A crowd surrounds me. They are yelling.

I look for the boy. Is he ok?

He gets up and walks to the side. He is standing. I whisper,

‘Thank God’

My first instinct is to call Alok. I fish my phone out with trembling hands. The battery has gone. I ask a lady who has come to the scene for her phone and punch his number.

My heart sinks. I now remember Alok’s phone is not working. And I don’t remember the other number he has.

I panic. People are not closing in on me and yelling. Some are asking questions. Some are giving suggestions. Some are just contributing by means of supplying body odour.

Then, one person walks in and shoes them away. He organizes some people to move the car to the side. He then figures out my problem and tries to see if his battery fits in my phone. He also talks to the boy who is hurt and
suggests immediate medical check up. The boy is reluctant. He first wants to settle scores with me. The good Samaritan tries to drill some sense in the boy, but maybe, he is angry, scared and confused. He starts saying rude things to me.

The good Samaritan turns to me and says,

‘These stupid North Indians. They have come to our state, eat our food, drink our water and then behave like this
with us’.

I reply, mustering my best Kannada accent,

‘Aiyyo, you are so right, saar!’

I wonder if I should have added ‘Raghavendra’ and made it ‘Aiyyo Raghavendra’ to make it more authentic.
Good Samaritan drives me to Alok’s office and coordinates a talks with the cops, the boy and his friends who have arrived now. He is warm, empathetic, knows how to calm people.

Alok is lucky to have him around. Left to him, this is how he copes with the boys’ anger.

‘How could you hire a driver like that?’, the boys ask 4-5 times over, obviously, venting their anger that needs to be managed.

Alok replies, his unruffled self, ‘How many times will you ask this question when there is no answer?’

Alok takes the boy to Hosmat. Docs take an X-Ray…all is well, no injuries.

Phew! Things are resolved at the Adugodi Police Station, Ranjay joins in with a few verbal punches of his own, to complete the drama.

I am still shaking. What a day!

Post Script –We find later, that the driver is a habitual substance-abuser.

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