Filter Coffee did its magic and my relationship with the map lady was restored. Her voice boomed in the car again.
“Continue straight…”
We were both happy that we were getting on well with each other, but in that joy, she became over-zealous and did some rerouting magic. It seemed she had found a shorter route. I saw the horizontal rerouting-bar at the bottom of my mobile screen progressing as the map lady changed the route to take me through a supposed shortcut. I thought she meant well, but in retrospect, I’m not so sure. I wonder if algorithms can hold grudges. Not right now, but the thought of a smart-ass techie creating AI algorithms that hold grudges is quite unpleasant. And looking at the way AI seems to creep into every aspect of human life, I can only keep my fingers crossed.
For a moment, I thought I should stop to ask a “real dependable human” for the best route to Tiruvannamalai. However, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Being alone in an unknown place where I did not speak the language made me hesitate. I didn’t want to show that I was lost.
I pulled over onto the side of the road to examine the map software. I didn’t know which road it was taking me through, but I could see it led to Tiruvannamalai. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to trust the map lady and follow her directions without risking another quarrel. And so I meekly followed her directions, going straight when she said and taking turns at her behest.
Soon I was off the highway on a small dusty road with cars, busses, bikes, and small tempos. On the left were a few shops scattered far and wide, with lots of open countryside behind them. The small tempo ahead rattled as it negotiated the traffic and potholes on the road. Seated at the back of the uncovered tempo were two women, one man, and two kids. The women wore colourful pink and green saris and the man wore a white lungi and a blue t-shirt. I don’t remember what the kids were wearing, but I remember they were asleep. They were trying to get some rest — at least whatever rest was possible under the afternoon sun in tropical India.
After a few more kilometres, the map lady asked me to take a turn onto a road that soon became a narrow, one and half lane road that passed through a village. However, there was something strange about this village. There were small houses on the left and fields on the right, but not a single human in sight. Well, there was one. Just one. An old woman with a pile of sticks on her head. Maybe everyone was indoors because of the afternoon heat. I don’t know. It was just weird to see a town so utterly deserted in India.
My mobile signal was also flaky and the map lady announced “GPS signal lost…” a few times. All I knew was that the road led to Tiruvannamalai and so I drove on with faith in my heart and a prayer on my lips.
Much to my relief, this one-and-a-half-lane road did come to an end. I was once again on a small highway bustling with life. I prefer solitude and am always on the lookout for places that are a little away from civilization, but this was one of the few times when I welcomed bustling human activity with eagerness and relief.
After a few kilometres on this highway, the road quality started deteriorated. At first, there were small potholes, which later became large potholes, and after some time there were only potholes and no road. I felt like I was in a boat, tossed around by the waves of a stormy ocean. Fortunately, the storm didn’t last too long, and I was soon on mostly flat land without my car having to endure any tyre damage. I drove ahead on this unfamiliar road until I spotted a familiar name: Chengam.
Chengam is a large town just before Tiruvannamalai. I heaved a sigh of relief. Wow! I was almost there. It was a beautiful feeling that filled me with renewed energy, despite the heat.
At 4:45 PM, I saw, at a distance, the wonderful “Arunachala” hill. This modest hill is of great prominence in Hindu mythology, with two very famous legends of Lord Shiva associated with it. It’s also the hill where Ramana Maharishi spent the greater part of his life after arriving in Tiruvannamalai. It is said that he refused to leave Arunachala and did not step away from the hill even once after taking up residence there.
I had finally reached my destination!
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