Penrose office to Tūrangi private car — Rishav's special occasion

December can be a funny month. The heat's properly settled in, and everything feels a bit slower, a bit more stretched out. People are either winding down or gearing up for the big end-of-year events. I was heading out to collect a client down in Penrose, an office pickup – usually means business, but it was a Sunday and the place was pretty quiet, save for a few people still having to be there. I pulled up, and Rishav K. was waiting just inside the lobby, looking sharp in a light linen shirt, a small, neat suitcase by his feet.

He was heading south, all the way to Tūrangi. A wedding, he’d mentioned briefly when he booked. Not his wedding, he clarified as we got underway, but a very important family one. Someone he hadn’t seen in years was getting married, and he’d flown in from Fiji specifically for it. He carried a small gift bag, wrapped in brightly coloured paper that definitely wasn't standard New Zealand wrapping.

We navigated the usual Sunday calm of the southern motorway out of Auckland, slipping past Sylvia Park and heading towards the Bombay Hills. Rishav was quiet for the most part, looking out at the passing green farmland. He seemed more contemplative than nervous, though there was a definite anticipation about him. We stopped at a small service centre just past Hamilton for a coffee and a stretch. He bought a small bag of Jaffas, a familiar comfort, and I saw him bite into one, eyes closing for a second as if recalling a childhood memory. He told me he worked in software development, based in Suva. It was a long way from the tropical islands, heading inland to a town I knew was closer to the geothermal heart of the North Island.

The landscape started to change as we moved past Cambridge, the hills becoming more pronounced, the air feeling a little different – drier, perhaps. We passed through Tirau with its corrugated iron sheep, and then continued south on SH1. I decided to take the slightly longer, but often more scenic, route via State Highway 5, turning off towards Rotorua and then south through Reporoa, as the direct route to Tūrangi via Taupō could get surprisingly busy with holiday traffic even late in the afternoon. The road wound through farmland and patches of pine forest. Rishav pointed out a particularly striking pohutukawa tree flowering profusely on a ridge, its vibrant red a stark contrast to the green hills. It reminded him of home, he said, where the trees bloomed at Christmas.

As we got closer to Taupō, the conversation drifted to the wedding itself. He spoke about his grandmother, who he hadn’t seen since he was a child, and how she was the one getting married again. It was quite an occasion. He’d packed a new suit and was looking forward to seeing the whole family, cousins he’d only met on video calls, aunts and uncles who were now older than he was when he last saw them. It was a reunion as much as a wedding. He mentioned he’d arrived a couple of days early to help with some of the preparations, doing bits and pieces that needed doing around the venue.

We reached Taupō in the late afternoon, the vast lake shimmering under the lowering sun. We didn't stop for long, just a quick check of the fuel gauge and a decision to press on the final stretch to Tūrangi. The last leg of the journey, along the lake's eastern edge and then inland towards the Tongariro National Park, felt quieter. The light was fading, casting long shadows. Rishav was looking more relaxed now, the anticipation replaced by a calm readiness. He thanked me as we pulled up to his accommodation in Tūrangi, a modest place near the river. He mentioned he had an early start the next morning for the wedding festivities. I unloaded his small suitcase, wished him a wonderful time, and watched him head inside, the little gift bag clutched in his hand, ready for the family reunion he’d travelled so far to attend.