Sometimes the most unexpected stories happen on the ordinary days.
What started as a routine drive to Bangalore became an experience our family will never forget, and it taught me two important lessons.
We were driving to Bangalore. A flyover construction project was in progress near the Thoppur forest area, forcing all vehicles onto a temporary service road. If you haven't heard of the famous Thoppur Ghat, It was one of those chaotic stretches near Thoppur Ghat - heavy traffic, ongoing elevated flyover construction, patchy mobile signal, and a road known for its steep descents and sharp curves.
The traffic map was glowing deep red, showing a 30-minute delay ahead. Usually, I sit in the front passenger seat. But that day was different.
My son had a fever. He was exhausted, restless, and struggling to sleep. So I moved to the back seat beside him, hoping to comfort him and help him rest during the drive.
A few minutes later, I noticed a strong, pungent smell.
"What's that smell?" I asked my husband.
"It's probably from the road," he replied and I went back to focusing on my son.
Then came the honking from a lorry driver.
Not once. Not twice. But Continuously, An annoying one!
The kind of honking that immediately makes you think, "Okay, what mistake did we make?"
If you have driven in India, you know that a horn is rarely used for an actual emergency.
Most of the time, honking is simply a driver's way of expressing impatience or irritation.
My husband, like many others (and I suspect many men), seems to have multiple personalities while driving.
Most of the time, he is calm. But the moment another vehicle tries to overtake from the wrong side, or someone manages to touch his wrong nerve, a completely different personality takes over.
It's as if an Ajith Kumar racing character suddenly wakes up inside him. Suddenly, it is no longer a family drive. One speeds up. The other refuses to give way. It becomes the final lap of a Formula 1 championship.
So when the lorry driver kept honking behind us, my first thought was not danger.
I casually asked my husband, "What did you do to the lorry driver this time?"
What happened next was scary then we could imagine.
Suddenly, we saw smoke. At first, it appeared near the road. Then more smoke. Then even more.
The service road was narrow. Cars surrounded us on both sides. In typical Indian traffic, vehicles seemed to occupy every available inch of space.
The lorry driver somehow managed to overtake us.
As he passed, he shouted urgently through his window:
"Smoke! Smoke!"
The smoke was coming from our vehicle.
Everything changed instantly. Now it felt dangerous.
I don't know whether movies conditioned me, but the moment I saw the smoke, my mind immediately jumped to all the worst-case scenarios.
Get my son to safety. I looked to the right to open car door. No space.
I looked to the left. Still no space.
Cars everywhere. The smoke was getting thicker.
I lowered the window, preparing myself for the possibility of jumping out with my son if things got worse.
By then, the smoke had become so dense that it was beginning to obscure the windshield.
My son and I managed to get out through a small gap between the vehicles.
My husband couldn't stop abruptly in the middle of the road, as traffic was moving around us from every direction.
I got down blocked the approaching vehicles and guided him toward the left side so he could safely pull over and park the car.
Finally, we halted and we got out of the car without fully understanding what had just happened.
Behind us was a massive cloud of smoke. We all stood there, staring at it, coughing as the harsh smell of smoke filled the air.
As we stood there staring at the smoke, a bus slowly passed behind us.
Painted across the back was a large image of Lord Murugan, his hand raised in blessing.
I have never been particularly religious. Yet, over the past few months, I kept hearing about Lord Murugan from different people. Somehow, that led us to visit one of his Arupadai Veedu temples, and it hadn't even been a week since we had returned.
Standing there beside the road, coughing and staring at a cloud of smoke, I couldn't help but wonder if that bus appearing at that exact moment meant something.
Maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe it was a reminder that life can change in the blink of an eye.
We needed help. Roadside assistance. Insurance. Anyone.
I grabbed my phone and saw that it had only 3% battery left. Within moments, it died.
By then, it was around 7:00 in the evening, and darkness had already settled in.
My husband tried calling roadside assistance. The calls weren't connecting.
We searched through the car's papers, looking for insurance details and roadside assistance numbers. We Googled support numbers. showroom support. Insurance contacts. No luck.
My son, who was already down with a fever, looked at me and said,
"Amma, can you make me sit somewhere? My legs are hurting, and the noise from the road is giving me a headache."
Hundreds of vehicles passed by.
But not a single one stopped.
To be Continued...
