Abhi was clearly relishing the ice cream and Bond’s escapades. I do enjoy a good Bond movie once in a while, but as far as I'm concerned, Sean Connery was the first and last Bond. So I turned the greater part of my attention to ice cream and ate it with a sprinkling of fancy gadgets and Roger Moore's polished daredevil antics.
It was the perfect way to end a tiring day.
After some time, I thanked Abhi and retired to bed early because I wanted to leave for Bengaluru by 6:30 next morning.
I had slept well, but when the alarm rang at 5:30, my head was still foggy, my calves and lower back ached, my stomach felt queasy, and my body just did not feel strong enough to start the day. A seven-hour sleep had proved insufficient to recover from the previous day’s journey.
Even though I’m totally off medication for my health issues, I get tired easily and need more than average time to recuperate. That’s one reason, along with a love of solitude, why I prefer to travel solo. It’s difficult for me to know in advance when I’ll need more rest. Travelling alone just makes it easier to change plans on the fly to accommodate my health.
I went back to sleep for an hour more.
It was about 7:30 by the time I washed, changed, and stepped out to start for Bangalore.
An hour’s delay wasn’t that big a deal. Bengaluru was about nine hours from Belagavi. Even if it took me two more hours due to stops and traffic, I’d still reach Pyramid Valley, my destination, by 6:30 in the evening.
Energised by the extra rest, I walked down in good spirits, loaded the car, and turned on the ignition.
Click. Click. Click. The ignition gave a dead click. Neither did the engine crank, nor did it fire.
The battery was dead. Totally dead.
A jumper cable would have helped. Damn! Why hadn’t I bought one? Before leaving Pune, I had purchased a portable machine to fill air in the tyres, but I forgot to buy a jumper cable. Lesson learned: batteries go dead at the most unexpected times. Never travel without a jumper cable.
I called Abhi to ask him if he had one. He didn’t. Neither did the neighbours, but being the gracious host that he was, he came down to help me start the car by pushing it. We took turns pushing the car, but after two rounds up and down the road, the car still refused to start.
Meanwhile, unknown to me, a gentleman on his daily morning walk was watching our struggle. He took pity and volunteered to help. The three of us tried for fifteen more minutes, but the car was adamant and we were panting.
It didn’t look like a push was going to start the car, so we pushed the luggage-loaded car to the side of the road. There was no option but to wait until one of the local mechanics opened their garage.
I thanked the unknown gentleman who had generously given his time and energy.
“No, no, you are a guest. It was my duty to help,” he said cheerfully, trying to make me feel less guilty.
I couldn't say anything, so I just folded my hands in gratitude.
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