Cab guy calls me.
“Madam, please swalpa walk and come forward, if not I’ll have to take 2 U-to pick u up…full traffic…20 minutes…”
So I trudge along for 500m, lugging laptop and lunch dabba, and reach the car, parked left near a footpath, ahead of a bustling bus stand, horns honking impatiently behind. Skid to the door and try to open it.
That’s when I meet her.
Clearly descended from royalty, judging from the regal indifference to the disheveled vagabond rattling at the car handle. Lost in her own kindle wonderland. Perhaps taking stock of her heirlooms. Not for her, these common courtesies and car doors. Not for her, these piddly notions of shifting to the other side. No sirree. Peasants may brave the traffic- side door, and if they get flattened by an oncoming BMTC, well, that’s just their peasant-ly luck.
The driver fruitlessly reaches over, and tried to open the door. Horns honk. Buses rumble.
She rummages in her bag, perhaps to throw some change at the crazy person who for some reason just won’t leave, and is now banging at her window! Tch tch.
Seconds tick by. Driver manages to open door. I stand there.
Queen Bengaluru’s posterior is firmly still planted on the seat.
After an appropriately aristocratic pause, H.H. Lady Olashare the Third slides to the other side.
I dive in, bag and all, and just sort of…stare at her divine magnificence, as she utters these words.
“Issshh….. Eshtu time waste aayithu anna… Almost 5 mins… ”
Epilogue: Just 450 meters later, her ride ends.