"Hey, where are you? I'm at the pickup spot," Arjun Sharma said into his phone, scanning the crowded Bandra street from his Maruti 800. No passenger in sight.
"Wait a sec, I'm coming down," a woman's voice replied, sounding young and pleasant.
Arjun leaned back, checking the Ola app. His first ride of the day, and he needed 25 to hit the Midlife Mastery System's ₹10,000 bonus. Just get through this, he thought, still buzzing from yesterday's ₹3,000 haul, every rupee his thanks to the system's no-commission perk.
Five minutes passed. Arjun's patience thinned. He called again. "I'm here," he said.
"Ugh, wait a bit, I'm almost there! Stop rushing me!" the woman snapped, her tone now sharp.
You make me wait on a sweaty Mumbai road, and I can't rush you? Arjun fumed. He'd driven 10 minutes to get here, waited five more. Five more minutes, then I cancel. Too many cancellations could limit his orders, so he held on for his first ride.
At 15 minutes, a woman in her mid-thirties appeared, holding a Corgi on a leash. The dog, decked out in a tiny collar, looked pampered. It reminded Arjun of the Corgi Meera, his "psycho" ex-wife, had doted on, spending more on its food than on him. That dog ran off a year ago, and Arjun had secretly celebrated.
"I'm here!" the woman said into her phone, then glared at Arjun. "You can't wait 15 minutes? The last driver waited 20 and didn't complain!"
She opened the back door, plopping onto the seat with the Corgi. "I was bathing Brownie upstairs, okay? That's why I'm late."
"No dogs in my car," Arjun said firmly.
"What kind of driver are you? No patience, no pets—this is a first!" she shot back, her voice like a machine gun. "Brownie's cleaner than you, eats better than you! Just drive, you're getting paid."
Arjun, 45 and too tired for this, bit his tongue. Finish this order, get rid of her. Priya, his 20-year-old daughter just starting college, needed ₹2,000 for books, and Meera wouldn't contribute a paisa. He couldn't afford to argue.
"Passenger aboard, navigation started," the app announced. "To reach Linking Road, proceed via Hill Road."
"Two hundred meters, turn left onto Hill Road."
The woman, Anjali, scrolled her phone while Brownie yipped. Arjun, eager to drop her off, pushed the Maruti to 60 km/h—fast for Mumbai's cramped streets.
"What's that smell?" Arjun asked, wrinkling his nose. A fresh, warm stench hit him.
"No smell! Slow down, you're driving like a maniac!" Anjali barked.
Unable to pinpoint it, Arjun cracked the window. The Mumbai breeze cleared the odor. In the rearview, Brownie sat upright, Anjali petting its head, even kissing its snout. Arjun's stomach turned. What kind of hobby is this? Meera used to kiss their Corgi, too, spending thousands while he got scraps.
"Arriving at Linking Road. Remind passengers to take belongings and check traffic before exiting," the app chimed.
Arjun stopped at the busy Linking Road intersection. The stench returned, stronger. It started when she got in, he realized.
Anjali scooped up Brownie and opened the door, letting the dog hop out. She shot Arjun a glare, clearly planning a bad review. "Ma'am, you smell that?" he asked.
Her eyes darted away. "What smell? You're the weird one!" She turned to leave.
Arjun stepped out and checked the back seat. His heart sank—two steaming piles of dog poop sat where Brownie had been. That's the smell.
"Ma'am, hold on!" he shouted, chasing her.
Anjali, clutching Brownie, sped up, avoiding his gaze. But Arjun, 1.85 meters and long-legged despite his middle-aged bulk, caught up quickly. "Explain why your dog's poop is in my car."
"What nonsense! Brownie's a good boy, he wouldn't do that! Move, I'm meeting a friend!" Anjali snapped.
Arjun blocked her path. "Clean it up, or you're not leaving."
Anjali dropped to the ground, clutching Brownie and yelling, "Help! He's bullying a woman! Restricting my freedom!"
Arjun braced for a mob, but Mumbai's passersby barely glanced over. A few curious ones approached. "What's going on?" a man asked.
Anjali, seizing the moment, wailed, "This driver won't let me go for no reason! Help me!"
Arjun stayed calm. He grabbed Brownie's leash and placed a foot lightly on it, keeping the dog still. "Clean the poop in my car, or pay for it."
The crowd murmured. "Her dog pooped in his car and she's running?" one said. "Shameless!" another added. "Make her pay, bhai!"
Anjali, seeing the crowd side with Arjun, panicked. "What do you want?"
"Pay for the car wash," Arjun said, his foot still on the leash as Brownie whimpered.
"₹200, fine?" she offered.
Arjun pressed slightly harder, his 100 kg frame making the Corgi yowl. "₹1,000."
"₹1,000, okay!" Anjali cried, fumbling for her phone. She transferred the money via UPI, the app pinging: ₹1,000 credited.
Arjun released the leash and returned to his Maruti. The Midlife Mastery System buzzed: ₹200 credited for Linking Road ride. Full amount retained. Task Progress: 8/25 rides for ₹10,000 bonus. Between the fare and the car wash, he'd made ₹1,200 on one ride. Not bad, he thought, cleaning the seat with a rag from the trunk. Meera's chaos was behind him, and Mumbai's streets were his new start.