BENGALURU: Sundaresan, forget the book launch. You’ve to go to Mysore.”
“But Sumati, if I don’t”
“If you don’t what? I’ll get Kamlesh to cover the book launch. Not like it’s a famous author. On the other hand, G K Ramamurti died half an hour ago. I want you to cover the funeral.”
“You want me to what? I can’t believe this Sumati! I couldn’t stand that fellow’s writing - you know that. The government showered awards on him as if he was the only Kannada writer. You’ve heard of Durbala, right? His “famous” 1976 novel? In the last forty years, it has sold-can you guess-how many copies? Five hundred and eighty. That’s it. And it fetched him thirty-six awards! Forget about the numbers, I’ve read that book and it’s a load of crap.”
“Sundaresan, I didn’t call you here to get your expert literary opinion. I called you to send you on an errand.”
“What happened to the great Mysuru Maharathi, Mr Ko Thi Shivanna?”
“Our Mysore correspondent was sacked three days ago. You should really keep up with the news, I tell you!”
“But by the time I take a train-”
“No need. I’ve arranged for a cab. Get the details from Seema. This conversation is over.”
Twenty minutes later, I found myself in a white Toyota Etios. The driver was in his late fifties, smartly dressed - from the little I could see of him from my seat at the back - and spoke English in a better accent than I did.
“What kind of music do you like?” he asked. “Any kind is ok so long as the volume is low.”
For the next three hours, the car was filled with all kinds of music - from jazz to ghazal, from classic rock to Kishore Kumar. I’d been lost in my mobile phone till we reached Maddur. Seema texted me that I’d have to stay back in Mysore. She booked a lousy room for me in a lodge near St Philomena’s. I’d have to take the train early the next morning. I shoved the mobile phone into my pocket in dismay.
The driver stopped the car at Maddur Tiffany’s and disappeared for fifteen minutes. I stayed put in the car. Before I realised it, we were on the highway again, zipping past smaller vehicles.
It was only after we entered Mysore that we spoke again.
“Where exactly do you have to go?” he asked. “M G Road. Near J S S Hospital. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, yes, I’ve been there before. In fact it’s quite close to my hotel.” “Your hotel?” “Yes, I’m staying at the Radisson Blu.”
“What?”
“Yes, most people are surprised. I’m an ex-serviceman. I love driving so I take my car out when I want to travel. I charge a rupee less than market price and I go on one-way trips. I’ll spend a few days chilling at the hotel before heading back home.”
