Chapter 5: Past and Present Collide

6

"Could it be that girl from the red sports car?" Kabir suddenly blurted out, making Old Mehra go pale.

His words fell like a coconut cracking open, sending shivers through us all. Old Mehra’s mouth fell open, his face draining of colour.

"Stop talking nonsense!" Old Mehra snapped at his son and daughter, then turned to me, a bit embarrassed. "Sorry you had to see this, Bhaiya Rao."

He gave me an apologetic look, the way fathers do when their kids act up in front of guests.

"It’s nothing. Running into these things in the middle of the night, it’s natural for your imagination to run wild," I replied.

I offered a reassuring smile, shifting my grip on the steering wheel, remembering all the stories I’d heard from fellow truckers at dhabas along the Mumbai–Pune highway.

"Bhaiya Rao, what are you hauling so late at night? You handle the truck really well," Old Mehra changed the subject.

His tone was a little forced, but grateful for the distraction.

"Not much cargo. I’m in the hills looking for someone."

I tapped the dashboard, letting the vibration settle my nerves.

"Looking for someone?" Old Mehra sounded surprised. "Why drive a big truck? Isn’t that inconvenient?"

His eyebrows shot up, confusion mixing with curiosity.

"It’s inconvenient, but it’s safe."

A half-smile played on my lips, thinking of all the times my lorry had saved me from both men and spirits alike on lonely roads.

I smiled. "I’ve been driving big trucks for over ten years. I’m more comfortable with this than a small car."

I straightened my back, almost proud. This truck was like a second home—filled with the smell of old incense sticks, the clatter of steel tiffin boxes, and the echoes of so many journeys.

"Bhaiya Rao’s driving skills are solid," Anjali interjected, glaring at Old Mehra, "much better than yours."

A quick jab, but her tone was light, trying to break the tension. Old Mehra pursed his lips, pretending to sulk.

Old Mehra fell silent. Anjali looked at me again. "Bhaiya Rao, do you have relatives in these hills?"

She asked with genuine curiosity, maybe hoping for a more comforting topic.

"I’m not looking for relatives. I’m here for a client, to find her friend."

There was a pause as the family exchanged glances. It was unusual, perhaps even suspicious, but the trust between strangers on a dark highway is sometimes built on simple, honest words.