A ride with Rama

Short Story

Jan 28, 2026

“Hello, where to?” The driver says.

“Fable hotel,” Stever says.

“Very good,” the driver says.

The landscape blurs, as the driver declares silently, that he will get us to our hotel faster than any other driver. The worn mala rolls firmly between my fingers. An escape carved from Tulsi wood, Krishna, Love, wow, on my wrist with the gentle weight of wind.

Ram Ram Ram Ram

Ram

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McDonald’s McDonald’s McDonald’s, wait what?

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“Are you locals? Are you visiting?” The driver says.

“Visiting,” Stever says

“First time in Melbourne,” I say.

“Are you planning on visiting any other cities while here?” The driver says.

“No, just gonna sink into this one, a short vacation before school starts,” I say.

“Very nice,” the driver says.

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Accidental eye contact in the mirror sends cringe through my body.

I love unibrows on men.

I should grow one.

Yeah, maybe.

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Ram Ram

“Here on the left, you see the private planes, many lined up, used to be kangaroos all in a field there,” The driver says.

“Where did they go?” I say.

I hope they didn’t kill them. I hope they rehomed them. They aren’t a pair of shoes.

“They sent them south,” The driver says.

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I wonder if he knows I am chanting Ram. I wonder if he is a devotee too. Maybe he is Chanting Ram and the eye contact was on purpose.

The possibility lingers, and I am aware of how much I want it to be true.

“Do you like formula one?” The driver asked.

“What?” I say leaning forward.

“Formula one, they are racing here this month” The driver says.

“Oh cool cool,” I say.

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“Do you like the city?” Stever says.

“Oh very much, yes. The driving is difficult, I’ll show you in a bit, but I love the city. I used to live in Adelaide but found it very boring, but the city is amazing.”

“How long have you lived here?” Stever says.

“Just a year and a half, but I lived in Adelaide for a while but I grew up in Pakistan,” The driver says.

Oh Pakistan I am so bad at telling races.

“It is going to be 104 degrees in celsius in two days, you’ll be able to experience all four seasons in one day while you’re here,”

“Oh good we don’t have many seasons in Maui,” I say.

“Really?” The driver says.

“Yeah it’s a tropical temperate and even place,” Stever says.

“There is a rainy season but it’s always the same temperature,” I say.

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“What do you do in the city?” I asked.

“Musuems and eat, my love, Italian and Thai food. If your foodies there are a lot of good places to eat,” The driver says.

Stever and I patted our bellies.

“We love food,” Stever says.

“Do you like any sports?” The driver asked.

I look at Stever.

“I like doing the running, but not really watching any other ones. What about you?”

“Have you heard of cricket?”

“Yeah it’s popular everywhere but the US,” Stever says.

“I like baseball and of course football but we call it soccer in America,” Stever says.

“Oh, the balls they use in Fifa are made in my home town, even though our team is terribly placed, 100 something. “ The driver says.

“At least your balls are good,” Stever says.

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“Look, a ferris wheel,” Stever says.

“Oh wow!” I say.

“We probably won’t ride it but wow,” Stever says.

“Probbaly not,” I say.

The taxi keeps moving. The ferris wheel slides out of view, reflected briefly in the glass before it disappears.

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“Look at that church,” Stever says

“Wow gorgeous,” I say.

Churches are like ski lifts with pretty windows. The view from a church is higher than any mountain, though I am not a mountain climber, more of a causal hiker, but still the sentiment is true, I think, churches are places on stilts, built from devotion.

The driver brakes hard, the taxi jolting as my knee knocks against the door, and the thought folds itself away.

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“There are many temples and churches here. Do you have a particular faith? ” The driver says.

I looked to Stever

“A mix,” I say.

“Hindu and Christian, but we believe that each religion has a path to God in it,” Stever says

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“What about you?” I say.

“Muslim” the driver says.

“Are there a lot of Muslims here? Do you have a mosque and community?” Stever says.

“Yes, no, yes, there are a few Muslims in the city three or two, the city is mostly atheists,” the driver says.

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“Here we are,” the driver says.

“Thank you,” Stever and I say at the same time.

“Make the most of your time here,” the driver says.

Ram Ram

Alexander Sabo

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