The Temple Detour

Harini’s driver missed a turn near Jayanagar and apologised before she had fully noticed. He continued safely rather than making a sudden correction, then said he would check the permitted route from a suitable stopping place.

Harini had been on her way to meet her cousin for lunch. The reservation was flexible. Her own mood, after several work messages before noon, had become less so.

They stopped properly near a quiet lane with a small temple farther along the pavement. The driver, Vishwanath, checked the route while stationary. Harini looked at her phone and saw another message beginning just one quick thing.

She put the phone away.

“Would you mind a short pause?” she asked. “If waiting here is okay.”

Vishwanath confirmed that the parking arrangement was suitable for a brief stop and that the entrance remained clear. Harini stepped out safely and walked along the pavement to the temple.

Inside, she stood quietly for a few minutes. There was no dramatic revelation, no promise that the road would reorganise itself, and no requirement that her minor inconvenience become a grand spiritual test. She simply appreciated a moment in which nobody expected an immediate reply.

When she returned, Vishwanath had the route ready.

“Prayed to reach on time?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“To accept what’s happening.”

He considered this.

“Useful for this trip.”

They both laughed. Harini fastened her seat belt, and they continued at a calm pace. The detour remained a detour. The missed turn had not become correct through positive thinking. It simply no longer needed to carry the weight of her entire morning.

Her cousin, Meenal, called. Harini answered quietly from the back seat and explained the delay. Meenal said she had arrived early and was reading. There was no crisis. The table, apparently, had not begun evaluating their family’s punctuality.

Harini apologised and said she would update her when close. She did not ask Vishwanath to hurry or add unnecessary horns to a road already containing several people’s urgent opinions.

At the next slow stretch, the driver mentioned that passengers sometimes became upset about a missed turn even when the correction was straightforward. He understood the frustration, he said, but clear directions were easier to handle than simultaneous complaints.

Harini agreed. She also appreciated that he had acknowledged the mistake and explained the next step rather than pretending the longer route was a special feature.

The conversation ended there. Neither needed to convert it into a lecture. They watched the road, the trees and a woman carrying flowers from a shop, each part of the neighbourhood proceeding according to its own day.

At the restaurant, Harini arrived later than planned but much calmer than she might have been. She thanked Vishwanath for handling the correction safely and walked inside.

Meenal looked up from her book. “You look peaceful.”

“Small detour.”

“That normally has the opposite effect.”

Harini told her about the stop and the prayer. Meenal laughed, then put away the book and ordered lunch. They spent the meal talking properly rather than spending the first twenty minutes rehearsing everything that had gone wrong before arrival.

That evening, a colleague asked whether Harini had seen the quick message sent before lunch. She said she had, and that the answer would arrive the next working morning.

Meenal later asked what exactly she had prayed for. Harini said patience. Her cousin looked impressed until Harini admitted she had initially hoped patience might come with an estimated arrival time. “Express delivery?” Meenal asked. “Preferably.” They laughed over the menus. The restaurant had run out of one dish, and Harini chose another without treating the kitchen as the second wrong turn of her afternoon. Meenal quietly called that progress.

The colleague replied that this was fine.

Harini smiled. Some journeys improved when the road stayed exactly the same and the passenger stopped trying to carry every demand at once.

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.