Mr Kapasi's Taxi

Flash fiction

“Where to, madam?” Mr Kapasi enquired, tilting his head uncomfortably over his shoulder to speak to the woman who had clambered into the back of his taxi.

He anticipated several possible routes to take as a change from his usual pick up point and was taken aback at her forthright response.

“Just outside the next village. I’ll tell you where to stop when we are nearly there. Go straight down the main road and turn left at the first crossroads.”

Her words had a level of directness that Mr Kapasi had not expected. He turned to face the dusty windscreen again and caught a glimpse of the middle-aged coloured woman in the rearview mirror. He began to guide the taxi into the stream of motley, slow-moving vehicles and focused on the road ahead, narrowly avoiding a large truck overflowing with sugar cane.

“First time here?” Mr Kapasi almost automatically asked his passenger, hoping to take the scenic and slightly more expensive route for those who were new to town.

“No.” Her single-word reply spoke volumes to him. “And I know exactly where I want to go and how to get there.”

Mr Kapasi nodded in reply to the bluntness of the emotionless reply and half-whispered to himself “I bet you do.”

As the traffic eased a little he took another glance at his passenger in the rearview mirror. She sat bolt upright in the back seat, looking neither left nor right, her hands lightly clasped in her lap. Their eyes met briefly and it was Mr Kapasi who looked away first. They overtook a group of boys on bicycles, the baskets laden with vegetables.

“They’re probably going to the same place as you” Mr Kapasi called over his shoulder, trying to make a little light conversation to ease the short journey.

His passenger did not reply, but glanced at the boys, wondering if one of them was her son. Mr Kapasi wondered where they had got the vegetables from but felt reluctant to pursue his attempts at conversation. His instincts told him that small talk was not an avenue to pursue.

“Almost there now” he announced as the sign for the village appeared in the dusty distance, not expecting much of an answer. Without leaning forward, she instructed him to pull over as she eased her heavy frame from the middle of the back seat and prepared to get out. Mr Kapasi wondered if there would be much of a tip. Hard to read this one, he thought, and he was not surprised when she handed him the exact amount that was on the meter, and nothing more. She looked him directly in the eye as if in challenge, and turned away to complete her journey alone and on foot.

“Thank you, madam,” he called through the open window as she walked away, but her back did not reply.