While in Rome...

Never before have I felt so stressed on a trip. The corona virus pandemic struck the world into a fearful frenzy. When we left for the trip, it didn't seem so serious. By the end of the trip, matters had worsened. A self-imposed "Janta Curfew" was to be enforced on 22nd March from 7am to 9pm - the day I was to reach Mumbai by 6am. The curfew was strict and I didn't want to be caught and reprimanded by the police.

Looking at the deserted roads, the meager local transport and the uncertainty of train schedule (not to mention news reports), I was almost driven to panic.

While in the autorickshaw, the driver posed another stressful question - "purane Indore jana hai ki naye me?"

I replied meekly that I had no clue where. I posed a brave front and told him he should know train details since he is a local. He grunted something that I didn't understand. Either way, my stress levels were rising.

When we reached the "old Indore station", every other person was wearing a mask, except me. The train was already at the platform but was empty. I sat on the platform for half an hour and then boarded the train. The train was stripped off its curtains and upholstery. It smelt of cleansing agents. An almost hospital-like environment was created.

I squirmed through the night, tossing and turning, wondering and worrying about how safely or easily I will get home. The trainn was racing and we arrived at the station 15 minutes earlier. The station was deserted and the effort to rent a cab was futile.

I stepped out of the station and found several rickshaws and a couple of cabs that were being taken by the second. Out the crowd of drivers emerged a guy who seemed like a leader of the lot.

He asked me in Hindi where I wanted to go and I instinctively replied in Marathi. He checked with his crew and I conversed a little more with him in Marathi about how the day will pan out for him cos of the Janta Curfew.

He suddenly got a customer and left. My heart sank. I wasn't going to get anywhere and the clock was ticking. Just as I turned back towards the station and hoped to get a local train, he called out to me.

He, then, went on to convince an extremely hesitant rickshaw driver to drop me home. After what seemed like eternity, the rickshaw driver agreed.

I was relieved and thanked the "leader" for helping me out.

Modestly, he said, "I came back to make sure that you get a vehicle cos you belong here. (presumed since I spoke Marathi..not my native language)."

So it does work...'to be a Roman while in Rome'...