Indraneel Majumdar: Watch the eyelids

Those days, I used to travel to Mumbai every week for work. Every Monday, I used to call for a car. A faceless lady used to take my bookings and send a car from an agency. We are talking pre-Uber days and that might sound pre-historic and times of Kumar Sanu to a few but no, it was 2008.

The cars were nice and the drivers were okay. Well, okay should be taken with a pinch of salt, jeera and rock salt. You know what I mean. They just passed muster. Early morning drivers in Pune have a unique problem. They don’t go to sleep. A wink. A nap. I am not speaking about such things. I am talking about proper sleep. Good quality eight-hour sleep. That doesn’t happen with them. Why, you may ask. There’s no answer to this question. It’s like why does it rain in Pune on a sunny day. Same. No answer. It’s just that the weather is what it is. Go sit in Lavasa and twiddle thumbs if you don’t like it. So, drivers are sleepless. A bit. No, correct that. A lot.

That morning, a decent car arrived five minutes behind schedule with a few war cries from my end to make sure that the guy knew that he had to come and did come to the right address on time.

Mid-summer morning. Early morning haze on the Expressway. We set off at a good speed. I sensed all was not right near the Pune side toll gates to the Expressway. The driver was drinking a lot of water. Classic sign of dehydration after empty stomach drinking session the earlier night. Oh man! This man was going to push accelerator pedals for the next two hours.

We crossed the toll gate and I advised him to get on the side and wash his face. He looked at me as if I was Nilu Phule and was a cranky old man. I wasn’t. I was more like Arshad Warsi in a polyester suit. Looking like a carpet seller. He had to respect me or at least what I said.

He got out and started scrubbing himself with water. He finished. I was hovering behind him. I asked him to wash himself more. He did. Thankfully. We trooped back to the car. Warsi and driver!

I edged to the edge of my seat and sat peeking at his profiled face as he drove the car watching out for droopy eyelids. I knew it would come. It came. Just as we brushed past Lonavala, I yelled. Eyelids opened and he adjusted himself in his seat, revived himself and mumbled an excuse about a trip to Nashik the earlier evening.

Nonsense.

No Nashik trip or anything like that. Our man was firmly ensconced in some room doing the tipple with a friend or two till the wee hours. I firmly sat with my Warsi face near his ears. Watching the eyelids. I don’t drive and so I couldn’t shove him off the driver’s seat. This was the next best option. There was traffic all around us and so even if I had yell beside his ear I had to be careful so that in panic he wouldn’t wade into another lane and crash. You get the picture, I think.

The dance continued for a while. Finally, we were on the slope towards the plains near Khalapur were the Panvel side toll gate would be when he just nodded violently. I was watching his eyes. They were open and yet he nodded. I immediately shook him awake and asked him to put the indicator and to take the car to the side. How did that happen? Eyes wide awake and yet the brain had gone to sleep. My Warsi face also couldn’t help it!!

I made him do push-ups on the side of the road till he was sweating. I made him perspire till he was breathless. Then I gave him a little water. I did not allow him to pee. No relaxation till he got me to my destination. We went through the toll gates.

At Kharghar, I took him to the railway station. Dumped him and the car there and took the train to Mahalaxmi. I was done with the guy. I called up the faceless lady and gave a mouthful. She was extremely sorry. They all are.

Next time when you hire a car and you see puffy eyelids, remember me.

Indraneel Majumdar
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