Now I was in a real quandary. I had no clue why the headlights weren’t working. Could it have anything to do with jumpstarting the car in the morning? It was unlikely, but that guy had pointed to the circuit breaker and he had tried to tell me something that I wasn’t able to hear.
I pulled over to the side to call him, but no one answered. I tried a few more times, but no luck. Maybe he was in traffic and couldn’t hear the phone. Since I was already running late, I did not want to waste any more time.
I wondered if I should look for a mechanic close by, but ruled out that option quickly. It didn’t feel like a good idea. I was in an unknown place and it was beginning to get dark. I don’t want to generalise, but I had heard stories of how unknown highway mechanics could deliberately mess up your car. I wasn’t sure how true those stories were, but it did not feel prudent to take a chance at this hour.
For a moment, I grudgingly thought it might be best to check into a decent hotel and go to Pyramid Valley the next morning. Perhaps the hotel guys could call a trusted mechanic and get the lights fixed.
I was still parked on the curb when I noticed that the left-most lane of the highway was full of massive trucks. They drove slowly and steadily, with each truck maintaining a steady distance from the next. These guys also had very powerful headlights and, being large trucks, their headlights were well over the hood of my car.
I drove slowly on the curb alongside a truck and then curved right to place my car between him and the next truck. The road ahead was perfectly illuminated by the lights of the truck behind me. I did not know where these guys were going, but looking at the size of the trucks, they were certainly going long distance.
An idea started hatching in my mind. I could drive slowly with the truckers illuminating my path until I needed to take an exit into the city. Once I entered the city, I could either look for a good mechanic or buy a bunch of powerful flashlights and duct tape them to the bonnet.
For some strange reason, this patchy idea helped me feel calm. Even though I had prepared myself to take a stopover in Tumkur, I was not happy with the idea. I had left Belagavi to reach Pyramid Valley, and that was where I wanted to be. The jugaad-inspired flashlight idea gave me hope. I switched on the music and drove under the wings of the truckers at 50 Kmh in the slow lane.
With my mind calm and the car moving slowly, I replayed the conversation with the battery guy in my mind. He had pointed to the “circuit breaker”. I remembered that much clearly. Maybe that’s where the problem was. I felt like I should stop and at least take a look under the bonnet. I don’t know much about cars, but if the problem was obvious, then I just might be able to fix it.
By this time, I was also beginning to get hungry. I had skipped lunch to save time. A cup of tea on the highway was all I had consumed after breakfast.
About fifteen minutes later, I noticed a Kamat Upachar restaurant on my left and pulled into the parking lot. It was a good place for dinner. However, I wanted to check the circuit breaker first. I unlatched the bonnet and stepped out to open it, but the engine was way too hot. It was impossible to put my fingers inside. I emptied a bottle of water on the bonnet and decided to have my dinner while it cooled down.
It was only when I sat inside Kamat Upachar that I realised how exhausted and famished I was. After placing the order of an onion uttapam and filter coffee, I put my head down on the table and closed my eyes to get some much-needed rest.
The waiter returned after about twenty minutes, giving me enough time to rest. The uttapam was huge. It smelled delicious. And, as I soon found out, it was delicious.
A good uttapam and filter coffee can bring any tired person back to life. Nothing in the world is better than this simple caffeinated beverage and fried, onion-filled pancake.
I walked back to my car and put my hand on the bonnet, which had cooled down enough to open it. Armed with a good flashlight, I examined the circuit breaker. It was the white plastic box on the side. And there it was. The culprit in plain sight was an unhooked wire dangling below the white box. I found out later that the battery guy had removed the wire to prevent another short circuit. This is exactly what he had tried to tell me when the auto-rickshaws roared past us in Belagavi. It seemed he had also told me to connect the wire whenever I needed the lights and to disconnect it when I didn’t.
I would have saved myself a lot of stress if I had asked him to repeat the part I wasn’t able to hear. But then again — no stress; no fun. No fun; no travelogue.
I reached Pyramid Valley at 10:30 PM. To my relief, Sharmaji was seated on a chair in front of a desk between the rooms.
Pyramid Valley has a special parking lot. Guests are not supposed to park near the room, but Sharmaji made an exception, seeing how tired I was. He not only let me park in the tiny lane leading to my room, he also helped me with the bags. One more angel. One more gem of a person.
I had booked a room in Pyramid Valley for two days, so there wasn’t any rush to wake up early. I wanted to sleep for nothing less than twelve hours.
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