Saturday, March 27, 2010

A comedy of errors

Its a cold four in the morning and its all dark. The lonely beam of the headlights of the car illuminates the way. The road is empty and we are making decent speed. The scenery is still cloaked in darkness and I expect no interruptions. And time passes. A pale pink makes its lazy way over the horizon. The bright green of the paddy fields slowly come into view jarring me out of my drowsiness. And the next moment I bring the car to a screeching halt in the middle of the road.

There is a man walking in front of me. Perhaps in his late middle ages. He is briskly swinging his arms as he ambles forth. From his posture, it appears that this is his morning exercise to stimulate his bowels. Very well. My only wish is that he wouldn't do it in the middle of the road. We pass the man by, who now appears to be searching for a suitable shrub to crouch behind.

Villages pass us by. Its early morning now. The bus-stops by the side of the road are slowly filling with people. A bullock cart or two is visible off the road. So much of the scenery is visible when you are travelling at 10 kph. A very pleasant morning. Keeping company next to us was, it seemed a rather impatient driver in a minibus. The small overloaded tempo blocking his path didn't seem to care. The poor tempo was trying to overtake another small tempo travelling at 9. It was understandable that it took a whole five minutes for that to be successful. And the road was open. Nagarahole awaited us.

The stay was good and the return seemed better. It was late evening on a Sunday. The roads were calm enough and the wind seemed cool enough. Ramanagara was reached in good time. A really good dinner later, we set off behind a long line of lorries. The one behind the others was eager to get ahead and so we stuck behind him. After passing about three lorries, the driver put the indicator to the left. He was assumed to be overtaking from the left and we promptly moved left. But, he had other things in mind. He was simply moving to the left as the rules said he was supposed to. We should have realised this when his indicator actually worked. We were let down by the PB registered lorry. We were in turn passed by about eight cars.

Driving on Mysore road or the SH 17 was done and it was time to head home. Early enough to catch a decent sleep before work tomorrow.

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