The Mumbai monsoon hummed, waves crashing near Juhu Beach, louder than any alarm. Arjun Sharma woke at 7 a.m. sharp, groaning at the racket. Nature's louder than Meera's tantrums, he thought, grinning.
In the bathroom, his toiletries cluttered the sink—Priya had her own. Arjun's bald spot gleamed under the bulb. He ran a hand over it, chuckling. Feels smooth, but the sides are still thick. A shorter woman wouldn't notice from close up, but from afar, the shine betrayed him. Shave it? Nah, I'll comb it over, he decided, ignoring his urge to pluck stray hairs. His face, oily and round, screamed middle-aged uncle. No makeover yet, he shrugged.
Priya, 20 and just starting college, was still asleep, likely till noon. Her longest summer break before Mumbai University, she lived like a Bandra influencer—out all day, snacking on vada pav. Arjun didn't bother waking her; past attempts failed. Breakfast for one it is.
He fried an egg from his village parents' chickens, then boiled filtered water—Mumbai's taps demanded it. Tossing in poha with onions, green chilies, and a squeeze of lemon, he added a pinch of salt, turmeric, and mustard seeds. No soft, soulless poha for him—crisp was king. Sipping chai, he scrolled YouTube Shorts, but "Bhai Breakup" hadn't posted. Another rant about his ex soon, Arjun hoped, checking news instead.
By 8 a.m., he was out, locking the Andheri flat quietly. The road, damp from last night's rain, shimmered under Mumbai's humid heat. Rain or not, it's a furnace, he thought. His Maruti 800, was ready for a full day's Ola hustle. Let's see what I earn today.
From 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., Arjun aimed for ₹2,000–₹2,500, but the Midlife Mastery System's no-commission perk promised more. Other drivers, slogging 12 hours, made ~₹500 after cuts. Arjun, with doubled fares, eyed ₹800–₹1,000. He opened the Ola app, accepting citywide orders.
The first ride came fast—a 20 km trip to Colaba, a passenger just 1 km away. Arjun reached him in five minutes, a middle-aged man his age, heading to visit family. "Your son's in the Finance Department?" the man asked, bored after 30 minutes.
"Got married early," Arjun said. "Born in '80. You?"
"Same, '80. My daughter's starting university."
"Which one?"
"Waiting for results, maybe by August," Arjun said, thinking of Priya.
The man's son worked at Mumbai's Finance Department—great pay, promotion potential. He's chilling while I drive, Arjun thought, a bit jealous. The ride earned ₹516 (doubled fare), a solid start.
The next order, a 30 km haul to CSIA airport, came instantly. The system's hooking me up, Arjun grinned. Another driver might get two long rides daily; he had two before lunch. A 48 km trip from CSIA to Khar's NMIMS University, a woman passenger, netted ₹740 in 50 minutes. By noon, 10 rides averaged ₹220 each, totaling ₹2,200.
Over a plate of chicken fry at a roadside stall, Arjun rested, then resumed at 1:30 p.m. The afternoon was golden—long, lucrative rides piled up, outpacing the morning. By 6 p.m., he'd earned ₹3,400, including a final ride home. Who says Ola's not profitable? he thought, checking his account: ₹3,400 for the day. With the Midlife Mastery System, he was unstoppable.
Parked near Shivaji Park, Arjun was about to head home when Radhika, yesterday's snarky sales manager, messaged on WhatsApp: Pick me up at Marine Drive.
No "please"? Arjun scoffed. Not her driver. He ignored it.
Radhika: Saw my message? Come on.
Arjun, curious despite himself, replied: You're so charming, I'm tempted.
Radhika: You're 45, divorced, and cocky? Good luck finding a wife.
Arjun laughed. What's with this woman? Radhika: How long to get here?
Arjun: Place an Ola order, I'll pick you up.
Radhika: Crazy? I'll UPI you after.
Arjun: ₹50, then.
To his surprise, she sent ₹50 via UPI. Why not? Let's see this drama queen. Arjun drove to Marine Drive, earning a quick ₹50 while satisfying his curiosity.
He spotted Radhika waving, early 30s, dressed in a ₹12,000 MANGO outfit and and a costly L bag—Meera's kind of splurge. She resembled a TV actress, maybe Sriti Jha, but her attitude dimmed her charm. Fancy, but no Priya, he thought.
"Radhika?" he asked, noting his plate: MH-02-XXXX.
"Yeah," she said, climbing in. Later, she vented to her roommate: "Men are nuts! A 28-year-old with a flat and a Skoda rejected me at 36. And this 45-year-old driver thinks he's a catch!"
Arjun cashed out ₹3,400 via UPI, smiling at his balance: "SBI: ₹3,400 credited. Balance: ₹19,850." From ₹16,600, plus ₹3,400 and Radhika's ₹50, he was thriving. Meera's "psycho" chaos—screaming over spilled chai—was gone. With Priya's college covered and the Midlife Mastery System fueling his hustle, Arjun felt alive, ready for tomorrow's rides.