Child of the Maharajah

“Helloooo! Hellllooooo! Hellllooo!!!!”

At first I think it’s a cat. The sound has a meow quality to it. But then I see a dark curly head popping out of the sunroof of a parked car.

            It’s a kid, not a cat. And a little one at that!

            Weird day. Weird wind blowing furiously, hot and angry. Red Flag Warning. COVID 19 surges overrunning the hospitals. Only a small percentage of ICU beds left in the Bay Area.

            Yet, still I walk. Like I’ve said before, what else can I do?

            The kid continues to call out to me. His little voice floating through the dry winds. I’m across the street. Keeping my distance. Yet he’s undaunted: “Heeellloooo! Hellloooo!”

          

  The car is parked in front of the Maharajah Residence. Of course, the Maharajah Residence of Richmond is a little different than the one in India. The Taj Mahal it ain’t. Yet there is a royal presence to it, Richmond Style. Two-story imposing grey rectangular structure with “Maharajah Residence” written on a plaque over the front door.  A heavy, burgundy front door adorned with bright flowers and wiry sculptures. There is no front yard, only a driveway fronting the 3-car garage. For months, I’ve been walking past it, noting the imposing edifice of this palace, but have never seen anyone there. Not out front taking in trash cans. (Oh, I’m betting the Maharajah of Richmond probably has servants to do this!) Not anyone getting in or getting out of the parked cars, which are a blend of nondescript understated wealth---Nissans, Lexus, Mercedes….

            Till today, with the child.

            No one else is around. The kid is just standing up on the front seat of the white Lexus, poking his head out the sunroof. His hellos don’t ring of distress, but merely of greeting.

            But where are its parents?

            Of course, the car has tinted windows when I slow my pace and try to see if anyone is in the car with the kid. I don’t see anyone.

            The kid continues to greet me.

            “Hellloooo! Helllooo!”

            He’s a stuck record. Finally, I respond, “Hello!”

            He stops his mantra and grins at me. I wave at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing out here by himself. Is his mom inside just gathering her purse, keys, and other stuff before heading off on some errand? Yet with the Surge, today is the first day of the new enforced restrictions. No one is supposed to be out unless it’s essential.

            I’m out. But my walk is essential!

            Should I go over and investigate? See if the child is okay?

            He seems fine. Grinning broadly at me.

            Maybe he’s got COVID and the Maharajah is keeping him quarantined in the Lexus? This doesn’t seem likely, but hell, these are strange times.

            But would the son of royalty be banned to a quarantine in a car on the streets of Richmond? Wouldn’t he have his own private palace to quarantine in, with servants in beautiful masks and plenty of streaming entertainment and video games?

            Who knows? Once again, I encounter a small situation on my walk that I’ll never know the answer to. Yet the child by himself does seem wrong.

            What can I do?

            I could go over and ask the child where his parents are. But he’s a little kid. The only word he may know is ‘Hello’. Or I could knock on the door and see if anyone is home and are they aware that the child is out in the car by himself. Maybe he’s an escapee?

            This seems unlikely too. Like I said, he’s little. And, I’m afraid. Of COVID. What a world we live in now, where we won’t even knock on someone’s front dear for fear of death!

            I’m assuming the keys aren’t in the ignition! A flash of some highly inappropriate car commercial pops into my brain. Two kids are in separate cars, racing and sideways driving. I don’t know how this will sell cars, but it struck me as highly wrong. Kids driving cars. Isn’t that a bit, I dunno, STUPID!!!!????

            I have to think that this kid hasn’t the keys to the vehicle. Or if he did, he’s too little to figure out how to operate the car. That he’s just hanging out waiting for his mom to gather her stuff to take him with her for some essential errand.

            I walk on.

            “Goodbye…goodbye…goodbye!”

            He does know more than one word. Hello. Goodbye. What more do you need?

            Especially during a pandemic. These two words kinda cover it.

            Unless you want to include Apocalypse.

            “GOODBYE!” I wave, tromping on. His voice floats after me, “HElllooooo! Hellooo! Goodbye…Goodbye…..”

            I cross Esmond and it fades away, the wind gusts in my face, and I walk on.