Friday, May 29, 2015

Night Ride


It took Rahul twenty five minutes to get to the car door from the front door of his house, which was hardly twenty five meters.

‘It’s only four hours to Mumbai and I will come next week before going to US’ was all that he was repeating again and again, but his family would not understand and with all the learning’s from the soap operas it had become more difficult to make them understand.

Everyone was crying for different reasons. The most difficult of all was Bunty aunty. She had an expression as if Rahul was walking into some devils mouth and would never come back again, between all the sobbing and consoling Rahul could hear fragments of her

‘Beta you can leave early morning, it’s not ….beta you can leave early morning’

‘How can he drive in night, on that road?’

Rahul gave a thought and turned to Bunty Aunty and asked

‘What is wrong with the road?’

Everyone looked at her for an intelligent answer, some knew what was coming.

‘That road is not safe at night, I have heard stories’ she turned to Rahul’s Mother as if she required some backing when She did not get any support, she continued

‘There are stories of ghost, that road is not safe I am telling you’

Even Rahul’s uneducated grandmother laughed and with the embarrassment and again the set of byes Rahul set of for Mumbai on that unsafe road.

It was actually late when he started. But as it was only four hours journey and he had to be in the US embassy the next day for some paper work he decided to start at night.

The watch on his right hand stuck 12 when he made the engine of his car live.

He has also heard some stories about what Bunty Aunty was mentioning. The route was simple, broad and crowed and with many stops in between so no point in giving it an another thought, with this Rahul gave his half crying half asleep parents the last look and pressed his foot on the escalator.

It was November and the temperature was pleasant Rahul switched off the AC and rolled down the car window to let the cool breeze come in. He enjoyed it.

When you are alone you get first horny ideas and then unpleasant ideas and then at last loneliness fills. As soon as he was out of the road tax booth and on the highway, he opened his shirt; he drove the car couple of miles and wore his shirt back when he understood the awkwardness of his idea. The next thought haunted him was that of the ghost stories and now as he continued thinking of the stories, Bunty Aunty’s face kept popping up in his mind with her warnings and at 1:20 at night her warning seems so scary.

The traffic was less than usual, which raised more doubts in Rahul’s mind. He looked at front no sign of car. He looked at the rear side, still no sign. It was pitch black as black it can be on a deserted highway.  His heart started to beat faster. He wished he had stayed. He brushed the ideas and laughed at his own stupidity. What was he thinking?

Then it happened. Rahul got a jerk and then the second one and then a noise as if some snake hissed inside the bonnet and then the car came to a sudden halt.

Rahul hit his head three times on the steering wheel and got down from the car. The smoke came right into his lungs when he opened the bonnet. He moved back.

It took him a minute to realize that there are no cars on the road in his visible spectrum and another minute to realize what shit was he into. He kicked the car with full energy and as if the car’s feelings got hurt by it, it vent out more smoke.

It was surprising and funny and that Rahul has heard many times that his friends have stuck whole night waiting and now this has happened to him as well. He laughed. He was angry. He was frustrated. He was scared.

He waited for another five minutes, this was only he could wait outside; there was no sign of car. He cursed and crawled inside the car. The cold breeze which he was enjoying five minutes back, turned into some mystical source of noises from some another world and his imagination not letting him down gave him more horrific ideas of the sources of the sounds.

 He rolled the windows up, locked the car and sat in silence looking everywhere for any sign of life. He remembered as a kid how is used to get scared of dark. The kid in him came back. He could no longer look around and the dark was becoming darker.

He tried to close his eyes, which added to the darkness. He tried to put his head on the steering wheels and promised himself to remain like that as long as the help comes. He could not.

He does not know when he fell asleep, as he had lost the track of time. He woke up by a gentle knock on the car door. He jumped back, only to realize that an old man is standing near his car. He looked around, no sign of other vehicle. He looked at the old man again. He was still there. He was holding a large bag and signaling him to come out.

Rahul came out. Before he could ask about him the old man said.

‘I live nearby I can help you with the car’

He had a very harsh voice and thick black hair, not suiting his age. With his muscular body structure and a big hump on his back, he looked nothing more than poor villager to Rahul and he did not give any further thought on it. At least he was not alone now.

The old man walked towards the car engine and submerged himself into it. Rahul paid less attention. The power nap had left him sleepier.

It was five minutes later the old man emerged from the engine and came to Rahul.

‘The job is done sahib’ he said proudly.

Rahul did not believe him. He went to the driver’s side and started the engine. It worked.

‘Very good, thanks, take this’ he turned, took out his wallet and handed the old man a 100 RS note

It fell to the ground. Rahul bend to the ground to pick it up.

‘Don’t worry about it sahib, I will pick it up’ the old man said and gestured that he should go and he will take care of the note.

‘Today is my birthday also’ he said shyly.

Rahul congratulated him, looked at his strange face again, said thanks, sat in the car and started it. What a relief he thought.

He looked from the rear mirror, the man was becoming smaller and smaller, until he vanished out of the sight. 

Rahul could hardly sleep for two hours, as he had plenty of pending things to finish. He quickly got up and after a quicker shower, he went to collect the newspaper from the front door with coffee mug in one hand he opened the newspaper. The coffee mug and the newspaper fell simultaneously from his hands.

The newspaper and picture of the man was get wet slowly with the spilled coffee. It was a picture of an old man, the same man who helped Rahul the last night underneath a headline which read.

110 birth anniversary of Sudhakar shetty.

2 comments:

  1. Your non-fiction books sound interesting. I write about the oddities of life in our community on an island off the Croatian coast, and I'd like to exchange reviews with my latest book. Notes From a Very Small Island.
    My mail is ivanaplus@hotmail.com.
    Regards,
    Anthony Stancomb.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi Vapstories, How do I contact You, please share your email ?

    ReplyDelete