Wake-y Wake-y

My recent shift to South Bangalore was a tailing after my change in job, this time with a software company, as befits every North Indian immigrant to Bangalore. Ever since I came to B’lore whether I work for an IT-Company was a question frequently posed after I had painstakingly finished explaining to the person that I was not a student, hadn’t studied engineering or knew the first thing about software or programming. I guess it was karma; served me right for sneering at the adamant and isolable questioning of turmeric stain-faced ladies.
A neophyte in the area, I head for Kormangala to satisfy my ravenousness and purchasing compulsions. I embarked on one such expedition last weekend for a quick lunch. Owing to the long distances I am getting used to travelling of late, as soon as I sit into the auto, I bring out my earphones and ‘turn it up loud’ on my iPod in futile efforts to muffle the traffic noises. As I ruffled through my bag, I noticed my auto driver’s head fall freely downwards, and then back in place looking at the road. I thought I had hallucinated and waited with abated breath to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. It happened, again. And again. I could not take my eyes off the road anymore. Suddenly I was watching out for every vehicle in front of us and turned my head both ways when the auto came to a crossing junction. Alongside, I kept a watchful eye on the driver who kept nodding off with frequency, but was neither blurry eyed nor sleepy-looking.
I was stupid enough to be unable to question him if he was nodding off as I though he might have a condition where his head flopped around without his knowledge. And with my recent experiences of over-talkative drivers - Ride Home & Listening Sorts – I had no patience to listen to another long drawn story. So behind my dark glasses, I kept an unfaltering eye on the auto driver. I don’t think he was aware of my dedicated attention, as I noticed him leering at every woman we passed on the road, whether single or with a man. This further angered me.
I heaved a sigh of relief when I reached my destination – Dal Roti – and bad mood melted with their piping hot gulab jamuns.