The Highway

The deserted road shimmered in the moonlit night. A blue Innova darted on the newly built express highway from Delhi to Jaipur. The SUV was travelling at 100 Kms per hour and the driver was a young woman in her mid-twenties. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back and her large smiling eyes sparkled as she hummed softly to the song playing on the car stereo. 

Mahima Thakur was a successful corporate lawyer living in Delhi. She was travelling to Jaipur to attend her best friend’s wedding. The journey from Delhi to Jaipur took around five and a half hours; Mahima had decided to drive by herself to Jaipur in the night to beat the traffic. It was early November and the characteristic North Indian winter had not yet set in, making the drive pleasant. She cruised along the smooth highway reflecting on the day’s events. However, her train of thought was brutally interrupted by a woman appearing from nowhere in the middle of the road. She stamped on the brakes. The Innova swirled before screeching to a halt.  

It took a few minutes for the initial shock to be replaced with anger, and Mahima stormed out of the car.

“Are you mad? You could have been killed!” shrieked Mahima, marching towards the woman. The woman in her thirties probably belonged to a nearby village. She wore a pink sari and sported a large vermillion dot on the forehead. She looked frail and lost. As Mahima inched closer, she realised that the woman had been crying. Mahima’s anger dissipated at the sight of the poor woman.

“Are you hurt? Why are you crying?” Mahima probed calmly.

“Help me, Madam. I am looking for my son,” said the woman with pleading eyes.

Mahima was taken aback by the woman’s request. She looked around; they were in the middle of a deserted road with not a soul in sight. It was past midnight, and Mahima did not remember passing a village in the last half an hour. Her eyes returned to the poor woman’s face trying to comprehend the situation. 

 “Why are you looking for your son here? You are obviously very far from your home,” said Mahima.

“Madam, I live in the village down this road. When my son did not return home in the evening from play, I went searching for him. My search took me outside the village towards the highway and I have since been walking and searching for him. It has been hours but ...” The woman’s voice trailed as she burst into tears.

Mahima felt sad for the woman but was thankful that the woman had not been hurt.

“How old is your son?” asked Mahima.

“He is ten years old,” replied the troubled woman.

“Did you ask around in the village because he seems too young to wander off so far all by himself ...” Mahima had barely finished her sentence when she saw a young boy of around ten years old, standing a few meters behind the woman, smiling and waving. His face was bright, and he had an angelic look. He seemed to be bathed in the silver hue of a moonbeam.

“I think I have found your son. He is standing behind you,” Mahima said with a smile.

“Really! Where?” The woman spoke turning with a jerk. “Where? Where, Madam?” She continued with her search.

“He is right there! What is his name?” Mahima asked surprisingly. The woman was looking right at the boy and yet pretending to see no one. Mahima wondered if she was blind.

“His name is Bhola. Where is he? I cannot see him,” the woman said impatiently.

Mahima was certain that the woman suffered from poor eyesight. She pointed towards the boy and called out his name. “Bhola, come closer. Your mother is worried about you.” The boy kept smiling but did not move. The woman began walking in the direction Mahima had pointed. The young boy turned abruptly and ran down the road.

“Wait, wait ...” Mahima ran after the boy, but by the time she reached the spot, the boy had disappeared into thin air.

The woman came up to Mahima speaking excitedly. “Madam, where is my boy? You said you saw him.”

“Yes, he was here just now. I think we should call the police. It is dangerous for a child to be out here alone,” said Mahima, walking slowly across the deserted road towards her car to get her phone. The woman began sobbing convulsively. 

Suddenly a furious gust of wind rustled through the trees that flanked the highway. Mahima pulled at her jacket and looked up to the sky. The moon hid behind dark clouds, and the black sky appeared menacing. 

“We will find your son. Don’t worry. He could not have gone far.” Mahima consoled the woman but a nagging thought gnawed at her. She wondered why the boy had run away instead of being happy to see his mother. Besides, he did not seem lost or scared which was unusual for a child in such circumstances. Mahima gave the woman some water and made her sit in the car. The woman looked pale and anxious. Mahima had barely reached for her phone when she saw a man with a torch headed towards them.

As the man drew closer, the woman come out of the car. “That is my husband,” the woman declared running towards him. She met him a little distance away, shortly, the man approached Mahima alone. The man was in his thirties too. He was short and stout and had a thick moustache.  

“Thank you, Madam, for helping my wife.” He spoke gratefully in a heavy village accent.

“Do not mention it. I am glad she is not hurt, but you must immediately call the police to search for your son. This place is unsafe for a child to be alone,” Mahima spoke with deep concern.

“My son? I lost my son a year back to a car accident at this very spot. My wife has never been able to get over his death and often leaves the house in the night to look for him. She believes he is still alive. I am sorry for the trouble it caused you,” the man said apologetically.  

The man’s words sent a chill through Mahima although her palms were moist with perspiration. She could not believe what she had just heard. ‘Who was the boy she had seen?’ She wondered. Suddenly she felt her head spinning.

“This is not a safe place for you, Madam. You must drive away. I will take care of my wife,” said the man.

Mahima’s thinking became muddled. Without a word, she stumbled towards the car. Her heart was pounding and she felt short of breath. She fumbled for her keys, started the car and sped towards Jaipur. She was numb with fear and drove in a daze.

A few hours later, as she entered Jaipur, Mahima was relieved to see the morning daylight. It was still early and the city had not yet awakened. The stillness of the early morning calmed her nerves and the soothing warmth seemed to pull her out of her stupor. She switched on the car stereo, the energetic voice of the radio jockey served as a palliative against fear.

An hour later, she reached her best friend Nilima’s sprawling bungalow and was welcomed by her friend at the gate.

“I was so worried about you. Why did you have to drive at night? I told you it is not safe,” said Nilima. Mahima hugged her warmly, still a little shaky.

“You know there is this family on the highway. A couple with a ten-year-old boy who robs people driving at night,” Nilima said. 

Nilima ‘s words felt like a painful punch that jolted Mahima. “What did you say? A couple with a boy?” Mahima found herself echoing Nilima’s words as the previous night’s incident flashed before her eyes.

“Yes ... we all avoid travelling in the night or at least never stop on the highway. Why? Did something happen?” Nilima asked, watching Mahima’s face change colour. 

“Just a minute.” Mahima rushed towards the back of the car to check her belongings. She unlocked her suitcase and opened the jewellery box kept inside; it was empty. She had been robbed.