Rishikesh, Planes & Astral-Travelling Brahmacharis — Part 2

We arrived at Dehradun Airport, and I met K, my French friend at the luggage belt. We headed outside and tried to book an Uber but had no luck. After a bit of fumbling, we decided to sit down and explore our options, keep trying for a rideshare or just pay a bit more for a regular taxi.

As we sat down, she suddenly jumped up, yelling.

“What happened?”

A bird had shat directly on her head. I started laughing and said, “That’s good luck!”

She wasn’t impressed.

She handed me a napkin, and I helped clean it off for her. That was the sign: we were getting a taxi.

We both went halves and jumped in. The driver seemed like a sweet, gentle man your typical calm Indian uncle energy. We set off.

The drive started fine. We chatted about life. K lived in Paris and was travelling through India solo. Really nice person.

Then BANG.

A car suddenly crashed into us from the side.

We were okay, but the impact was solid.

Our driver stepped out slowly to check the damage… and then his entire demeanour snapped.

He stormed over, ripped off the other car’s side mirror, and started punching the driver through the open window.

The other driver reversed and sped off.

Our driver ran back, jumped in, and floored it.

I looked at K. She looked at me.

“What the fuck is going on?” I said.

We sped through traffic for a minute before we hit a jam. Total gridlock. Saturday night chaos.

Then I heard a sound behind us yelling.

I turned.

The other driver was sprinting towards our car, completely unhinged.

He started kicking the car, slamming fists against the side, trying to smash anything he could.

Then he jumped on the bonnet and began raining punches on the windshield.

And what does our driver do?

He drives off with the guy still on the bonnet.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.

Eventually, the car stopped and the two men started belting each other on the side of the road.

At one point, the other guy stepped back and looked like he was reaching for something a weapon, maybe a gun.

K screamed.

I ducked down.

Just then,

the police arrived.

Perfect timing.

After some shouting, one of the officers jumped into the passenger seat of our car.

We drove a little down the road and pulled over. The driver and the cop got out.

And then… nothing.

We sat there for an hour. Just parked on the roadside.

No explanation.

No idea what was happening.

And then mid-crisis K looks at me and says:

“So… what are your hobbies?”

I burst out laughing.

“Umm… reading, gym, walking my collie.”

She laughed.

“I like drinking wine and eating cheese with my friends.”

“How French of you,” I said.

A guy came over to my side of the car and knocked on the window. I opened it.

“Can I get a lift into Rishikesh?”

“Look man… not the best time right now. We’re not from here. I don’t know what’s going on. Probably best you find another ride.”

He understood and walked away.

Eventually, the driver came back to the car, smiling like nothing had happened.

“All good!” he said. “I only had to pay a 2,000 rupee fine!”

We were back on the road.

We finally made it into Rishikesh and dropped my friend at her hostel.

She checked in and we said goodbye.

Now I had to get to my accommodation which turned out to be further away.

And nobody wanted to take me.

Traffic was jammed. Drivers kept refusing. One guy tried to charge me four times the price, thinking I was desperate.

I wasn’t.

I held firm. How weak do you have to be to take advantage of someone like that?

I had 5% battery left. I didn’t want to bother K, but I had no choice.

I messaged her:

Hey, my phone’s about to die. Can I just use yours quickly to sort things out?”

She came outside with an English friend.

We all sat together for a bit, had a laugh.

The hostel staff overheard everything and offered me a room.

I accepted.

I’d stay here for a few nights.