Terra Firma

The old blue car moved along eating up mile upon mile of highway.

The driver slouched behind the wheel, his right elbow resting comfortably on the car window, fingers steadying the wheel but not gripping it, tapping in time to the music on the radio. His left hand gripped the wheel at almost the top, but even that grip was relaxed, almost lazy. His hazed eyes were hidden behind the aviator sunglasses. His white beard, trimmed to compensate for the bald pate.

The highway road stretched the length of the country-side and he was driving south from the low-lands of the West Coast. The Elephant-head Mountain stretched before him, running north to south, like an impenetrable barrier. But the Driver knew better; that the highway found its winding way through the rear end pass across the state, ending into the mighty Indian Ocean. There by the sea, on the semi-arid terrain was a place a few souls called home. But the draw there for the Hanish was the rich and bountiful patch of land he owned. As a music enthusiast, he experimented a lot with various styles and the unending possibilities of sound and silence. He had played with an assortment of bands in local towns and cities but, drawn to classical piano and the new innovative sounds coming out of some of the western studios, had decided to do something in a village, south of the Vindhyas. After all, he had reasoned the weather to be pleasant and the surroundings greener too.

The car was uncluttered. With nothing more than a laptop and a duffel bag containing a few changes of clothes that took up not more than a feet of the back seat and a CD album, some fast food in blister pack bags and beverage cups littered the floor. On the seat beside him was a vernacular daily, a copy of a news magazine and a couple of piano CD's. As the car cruised further into the mountains the ‘Big’ radio station he had been listening to started to crackle and break up. He steadied the wheel with a couple of fingers only and loaded a CD into the player. The car was filled with the sound of U2, singing elevation.

Just south of the small town there were a couple of hitchhikers along the road. The first two were a grubby looking pair of men which Hanish barely looked at. But his eyes were drawn to the slim girlish figure standing alone clutching a small pack to her side almost as though it were a teddy bear. The wind was blowing her slight curly hair, wildly. For some unknown reason, she held a crocheted close-fitting soft pink cap. She wore a pair of flared, faded and somewhat tattered blue jeans and a kurti that was a loose-fitting long sleeved soft khadi fabric in olive green. He whistled under his breath as he pulled over to pick her up. 'She's just a kid.' he thought, 'They just get younger.'

She seemed to struggle to pull open the passenger door and he was again struck by how young and fragile she looked. She put her bag on the seat between them and managed a shy smile at him before her eyes slid self-consciously to her hands in her lap. "Thanks." she said in a near whisper.

Hanish put the car back into gear and glanced over his shoulder before accelerating back onto the highway. He glanced sidelong at his passenger, wondering what she was running away from. "How far you going?" he asked.
"Nagercoil." she murmured softly, still only one word.

Hanish chuckled lightly to himself. "Great," he told her, "I'm headed there too, you're in luck."

"Thanks." she whispered again.

Hanish concentrated more on his driving now as the road wound it's way through some of the most spectacular scenery on the country, the highway clung to mountainsides and traversed through busy traffic and wound through paddy fields. He cast occasional surreptitious looks at the girl beside him. She, for her part, was absolutely silent but her eyes watched the passing scenery with something akin to reverence.

The U2 CD ended and Hanish reached for the other album on the seat beside him. He held it out towards the girl and she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"Put that on will you." he said with a grin. She glanced at the CD and smiled shyly. She fumbled a bit with the CD player but managed to get the CD in. The sounds of Santoor filled the car. Though he was still watching the road, he smiled as he noticed that she was tapping her fingers in time to the music.

"You like?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said softly, another one-word answer.

"Good." he replied. "Shivkumar Sharma is pretty good, he reminds me of mountains – Kashmir, in fact. By the way, I'm Hanish."

She glanced briefly at him and lapsed into silence, her eyes again falling to study the papers and magazines between them. When a few moments went by without a word from her, Hanish tried again.

"I'm Hanish." he repeated softly, "What's your name, kid?"

Her fingers brushed the magazine cover nervously before she finally spoke, "I'm River," she answered, "and I'm not a kid."

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as the car negotiated an especially tight turn with a dizzying drop off on his left, but all the same he'd noticed her fingers had passed over a headline which read The River is Crying. He smiled to himself.

"Okay River, pleased to meet you." he told her. "So what takes you to Nagercoil?"

"You do." she said, with a sarcastic tone.

Hanish laughed deeply and heartily. She had spirit and speed, for sure, he thought, maybe after all she was old enough to be out on the road. She laughed nervously too as though relieved he had not become angry at her sarcasm.
The car sped on, eating up more miles of road. Past the green paddy fields, Hanish began to feel hungry and tired. 'Time for a break,' he thought, then almost guiltily he wondered how long it had been since River had eaten anything.

"We'll be in about twenty minutes," he told her, "I need to get diesel, and I'm getting something to bite, okay?"

"Okay," she said, still watching the ever changing scenery as they sped along.
When he slid from the car at the fuel station, she clung to her backpack and watched him with something akin to fear in her eyes. He wondered again just what she was running from or perhaps it was running to. He made a half-hearted effort to clean the highway dust and squished moths off the windshield and when he started on her side of the glass he waved and winked at her through the window and was pleased when she relaxed a little and stuck out her tongue at him.