Towards the Within

by Reece Willis

  We’d noticed Ruben had a shoulder bag for day to day items and Aiden suggested we go out and find two similar for ourselves. An auto-rickshaw ride later and we arrived at a small street market where stalls sold everything from exotic fruits and fresh vegetables to bootleg videos and electrical goods. Searching around, all we could find were two small rucksacks with brightly printed images on. One had a motorbike, which Aiden instantly laid claim to, leaving me the one with multi-coloured balloons.

  As we were about to leave an elderly man sidled up beside us. Although he said very little, it was evident he was in need. He held the ulcerated stumps at the end of his wrists towards me in request for money. I stopped and gave him twenty rupees. Nodding his thanks, he left me to catch up with Aiden who smiled all knowingly, ‘You’re far too soft with these people. If you keep giving your money away like that, you’ll be the one begging before too long.’ I understood what he was saying, but it was hard to just walk on by. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘half of these guys will be part of a begging ring and it’s the guy at the top that makes all the money.’ If that was the case, then maybe the guy would get an easier time from his boss today.

  At the hotel, I took a shower and heard Aiden call through the door, ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going downstairs to get some drinks.’ When I came out ten minutes later, he hadn’t returned. Another thirty minutes passed, still no sign. One hour turned into two and I was losing patience with his disappearing acts. I searched the hotel and looked out of the doorway to the street, but he was nowhere to be seen. On the third hour, I thought about having a walk outside. I put my hand on the door handle, only to have it turned from the other side. A breezy Aiden ambled in.

  ‘Where have you been?' I asked. 'You said you were only going to get some drinks.’

  He sprawled on the bed and put his hands behind his head, ‘The hotel didn’t have any so I went out for a walk and bumped into Ruben. We went to a place that sold fruit juice and sat watching the world go by. He asked after you by the way.’

  ‘You could have come back and told me, I was getting worried something bad might have happened.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. I walked too far to come back.’ He got up and went to the bathroom, ‘It’s so hot out there, I’m gonna take a shower.’

  The door closed behind him and the shower sprinkled on.

  Half an hour later he came out, laid down and fell asleep. Unsure what else to do, I updated my journal, read a little about Manali in the guidebook and ended up falling asleep myself. When I woke, Aiden had gone. There was a note on his bed, 'Gone to restaurant. See you there.'

  In the restaurant, I found Aiden with Don and Ruben, the three of them gathered around a table talking. Ruben pulled out a chair and invited me to join them, but Aiden was quick to intervene, ‘Oh Sam, I was just about to suggest we all go out for a walk.’

  ‘It’s getting late and we have to be up early for the bus,’ Ruben said, looking tired. Aiden persisted and out of politeness, Don and Ruben eventually agreed.

  Walking into the night, we turned left onto the main road. All around was still, aside from the odd passing vehicle or the occasional rustle of a street dweller bedding down for the night. Ruben and I spoke about photography as we walked in the shadow of the other two. I only had a small compact camera and I told Ruben how much I liked his Canon SLR. ‘Maybe you could return one day with a better camera,’ he said. ‘You can capture some amazing sights in India.’

  Lost in conversation, Ruben and I weren’t paying attention to where Aiden was taking us. It was only when we saw the road narrowing into an alleyway that we realised we must have strayed from the main road into a series of back streets. We came to a stop at a dead end and gathered under the haunting glow of a street lamp. Tied nearby, a horse shining in sweat stood with its snout covered in a grubby feed bag. The creature was so skinny it looked as if a thin layer of brown velvet had been draped over its skeleton. Ruben was about to suggest an alternative route, when Aiden spotted an alley to the right of an apartment block and dashed off, shouting, ‘This way guys, follow me.’

  Ruben took chase, calling after him, ‘Aiden wait, I know this area, it can be quite dangerous this time of night. I’m sure I know a safer way back.’

  Don and I tried to keep up, but we lost them in a series of tight bends. We continued walking a darkening street until something thudded into my lower back and I stumbled to the ground. I looked up and saw the face of a young Indian man staring down at me as he walked past.

  Don was quick to my side and helped me to my feet, ‘Are you okay, Sam?’

  I checked my back for any blood, worried that I’d been stabbed, ‘Yeah, I’m okay I think. What happened? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ He pointed to the man I’d seen, ‘That guy came up behind us and punched you.’ Don looked left and right, ‘We need to get away from here. There’s some men coming this way and they don’t look too friend…’ A small rock slammed into his right cheek causing him to fall back into a pile of refuse. I pulled him up as he held his face.

  ‘Shit, Don, are you alright?’ Are you okay to walk?’ He put his arm around my shoulder as I assisted him, desperately shuffling and looking for a way out. Behind us three men drew closer.

  The path we took led to an open square with a road ahead and two lanes leading off either side. We stopped, wondering which way to turn. The man who assaulted me reappeared from a doorway and pushed an abandoned steel cart in front of us to block our way forward. Without the aid of street lighting we could hardly see a thing. I turned to the left and then to the right, only to discover we’d been flanked on all sides. Fear shot through me and my legs began to tremble. The four men closed in, backing us up against the cart.

  ‘Money now or we will kill you,’ one of them said. From the back of his trousers he produced a rusted carving knife and held it against my throat. I squinted, inhaling his stale sweat and alcohol breath on my face. Don offered his wallet without hesitation. It was snatched away by one of the others.

  ‘Now you,’ the man said, and backed off slightly, still pointing the blade to my throat. ‘Hand over your money or I will cut you open.’

  My hands pushed into my pocket, and as I was about to lift out my wallet, I heard a shout from somewhere in the darkness ahead, ‘Hey, leave them alone, the police are right behind us.’

  The men turned, looked at each other, said something and sprinted out of view to the lane left of us.

  ‘Are you guys okay?’ Ruben asked as Aiden came running up beside him.

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Where did you two go?’ I didn’t care for the answer; I was just glad they were here.

  Ruben scanned the shadows, ‘There’s no time to talk. We should leave now. They might come back with some friends. Follow me.’

  Keeping close to Ruben, we checked over our shoulders every few minutes in case we were being followed. We continued at a steady pace through the maze of lanes and eventually reached the safety of the main road again. Ruben suggested we take refuge in New Delhi Railway Station for a while, giving us chance to cool down and get our heads together.

  ‘Did you really call the police?’ I asked Ruben.

  ‘No, I only said that to scare them off.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we go to the police station and report them anyway?’

  ‘Did you get a good look at their faces?’

  Don and I looked at each other, ‘Not really, it was too dark,’ I replied.

  ‘That’s all the police will be interested in. Without a description, it would be hopeless. I am still happy to go, but bear in mind, we could be in there for hours.’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough for one night, how about you?’ Don turned to me and I agreed.

  Ruben inspected his face, ‘Are you hurt badly? We can try and find a doctor.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, nothing a little ice and sleep won’t sort out. At least they didn’t damage my glasses. There wasn’t much money in my wallet, so that’s good
.’

  Under the low bridge near the station, with used needles at their feet, heroin addicts congregated and glanced up at us with deceased eyes as we passed by.

  ‘Were you scared?’ Aiden asked.

  ‘Of course I was bloody scared. What happened to you?’ Adrenaline still consumed me and my patience with him was wearing thin.

  ‘I don’t know. I got lost. Luckily, Ruben found me and then we found you.’

  Inside the foyer of the railway station, a dozen or so people snoozed beside their belongings as they awaited a train. Shuffling to a stop at Ruben’s feet, a crippled beggar looked up at him. Ruben placed a note in the man’s shirt pocket and he pulled himself away using his hands inside worn sandals as a replacement for his lifeless legs. We sauntered along the platform and mused about the last couple of hours until we thought it was safe enough to leave.

  We escorted Don back to his hotel and headed back to ours.

  ‘Goodnight guys. See you at 6.30,’ Ruben said and closed his door.

  3

  ‘Sam, wake up.’ I opened my eyes to see Aiden's face hovering over me in the dark. He nudged me, ‘Sam, are you awake?’

  ‘I am now.’ My lower back throbbed, my mouth was dry and my stomach was gurgling. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Huh? Oh, hold on.’ He leant over to the bedside cabinet, ‘3.30. I really need to talk to you about Ruben.’

  ‘Can’t this wait until later?’ I turned away, unable to resist the hold sleep had over me.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s strange how we met him?’ Begrudgingly I slipped back. ‘Remember the Do Not Befriend Strangers banner in the restaurant when we first met Ruben, and how he tore away the Do Not part? What if he did that on purpose?’

  ‘You woke me up for that, seriously?’ He got up and switched on the light. ‘Bloody hell mate, are you kidding me?’ I shielded my eyes with my arm to cover the fluorescent sting, ‘What’s got into you?’

  ‘I remembered something someone told me before I left England. I’d completely forgotten until now. He said, “Watch out for the Thuggees.” I asked him what he meant and he explained that Thuggees are a group of assassins that travel across India befriending tourists and gaining their confidence, only to hang them when they least expect it. They then rob them and bury the bodies, all in the honour of Kali, the Hindu goddess of death. What if Ruben is a Thuggee?’

  As bizarre as it sounded, he had my attention. I sat up, ‘Ruben seems a decent enough guy and he certainly doesn’t strike me as a crazed serial killer. On the contrary, he comes across quite normal. I really like him.’

  ‘Yeah, he does seem like a nice guy, but what if it’s all been a cover up?’ Aiden began pacing the confines of the room. ‘He appeared to know his way around the area you and Don were attacked in like the back of his hand.’

  ‘He probably knows his way around because of his job. Anyway, it was you that suggested we take a walk at night, and it was you that led the way. If you’re saying we were set up, how is that possible?’

  ‘Before you came to the restaurant yesterday evening, Ruben was saying how great Delhi is at night, especially for photography. He said we should go out for a walk one evening. I just chose the night.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s all a coincidence? I just don’t pick up any bad vibes from him.’ I took a sip of flat cola and lit a cigarette.

  ‘What if I’m right though? What if last night was a failed attempt at murdering us? What if we get to Manali and there are more of them waiting there for us?’ He sat down on the end of the bed, ‘I’m not travelling with him. I’m not going to risk my life over this, Sam.’

  It was all sounding rather sinister. The prospect of being murdered decreased my confidence in travelling with Ruben. Despite being unconvinced by what Aiden was saying, there was a slim chance he was right and he was adamant about not going to Manali. We made the decision to get our things together and check-out of the hotel before Ruben woke up. We’d find another hotel and go to Jaipur or Agra as originally planned. I scribbled a note on the back of a postcard I had bought from the Qutub Minar:

  Dear Ruben,

  Thanks so much for everything. Unfortunately, we have changed our plans and will not be travelling to Manali after all. It’s been a pleasure knowing you. Good luck on your travels and keep safe.

  Best regards,

  Sam and Aiden

  I didn’t tell Aiden about the note. I let him lead the way down the stairwell and past Ruben’s room. When he was out of sight, I slid the card underneath the door and caught up with him in reception. The clock on the wall read 05.27am.

  The backpacks were heavier than I remembered, even with the disbursement of contents in the rucksacks strapped to our chests, and our guitars felt cumbersome by our sides. Arakashan Road was quiet, which was to be expected at that time of the morning, but in our current mindset it felt eerily so. We were scared; that at any moment we might bump into the assailants from last night or that Ruben might appear from the shadows. Aiden had spooked me and by the time we approached the top of the road, I was a quivering wreck.

  ‘Yes, come, rickshaw,’ a gruff voice shouted from our left and I’m sure I squealed with fright.

  We’d never ridden in an auto with our entire luggage before. It was an infeasible idea. Fortunately, one of the many skills a rickshaw driver possessed was to make the seemingly impossible possible. Within seconds we were cemented into place, unable to breathe, but nonetheless the driver was a genius.

  Delhi was waking, opening its eyes in a soft haze, a mist that made everything silhouette at a distance. Ghostly shapes emerged on the roadside. Food vendors echoed their morning pitch, beggars lurked in shadows for sparkles of hope, people soaped away the night heat from their bodies, cows and stray dogs scoured the earth for whatever they could find. The city gradually came to life as the unforgiving sun announced another day.

  We were shown to a guest house where a young man introduced us to a room where cobwebs hung from the ceiling and cracks split the panes in the windows. The bed sheets were stained a dirty yellow with spots of blood speckling the pillows and swastikas decorated the walls, which gave us the final thumbs up to leave.

  My fingers frantically turned the pages of the guidebook, ‘Ah, here.’ I pointed to a line of text, ‘The Government Tourist Office in Janpath. They’re bound to help.’

  The driver leant over the metal bar that separated the cab from where we sat, ‘Government Tourist Office open at 10.30, it now 6.15. I know other tourist office open, I take you.’

  Ten minutes later we were delivered to Ajanta Tours, a shop set back from the road on a gravel driveway. Plastered on the windows were pictures of white cars and posters of the Taj Mahal. Our driver enthusiastically ushered us through the door and the owner sprang to attention, ‘Hello, my friends. Please take a seat, lift the weight from your feet, have some chai. What is your country?’

  Turning down the offer of tea, Aiden got straight to the point, ‘Can you help us find a hotel or a bus to Jaipur?’

  ‘I cannot help you with a hotel, but I can offer very best in luxury cars for all your travelling needs,’ he grinned, confident he was on the cusp of a sale. ‘Excellent Hindustan Ambassador, very good air-cool, very nice car, only seventy dollars a day with driver.’ As far from our budget as we were from home, we thanked him and left.

  Our driver propelled us from one hotel to another, unofficial tourist office after unofficial tourist office in a bid to gain as much commission as possible. He must have fared well, despite our lack of interest in his choices. It was all too familiar and a fruitless pursuit. We paid him the three hundred rupees he demanded and alighted.

  Apart from the odd vehicle soaring past every now and then, the road we stood in was deserted. The guidebook maps and information may have been correct, but there were no street signs and it was impossible at ground level to figure out where we were or where to go. To the best of our knowledge we were somewhere near Janpath, but the government
tourist office was a long way from opening.

  A motorcycle rumbled alongside us and the rider called out, ‘Boys, you must leave this area at once. Find yourselves a hotel away from here. Government elections, bomb blasts, you are prime targets for terrorists.’

  Our need to find accommodation had escalated and I couldn’t help wondering if we would have been better travelling with Ruben after all. On spotting a hotel up ahead we looked at each other in relief, but as we neared, the manager appeared waving his arms, ‘I am sorry, but you cannot stay here. It is too unsafe. Please, let me pay for a rickshaw to take you somewhere else.’ Aiden declined the offer, stating he didn’t want another tour of the city’s downtrodden hotels.

  We weren’t used to pacing such a long way with this much weight and the further we walked, the hotter it became. We were both fit, but agreed what we were carrying was far too heavy. Stopping beneath a bridge to cool down, we took off our packs and slouched against the wall as traffic echoed around the curve of the underside of the bridge, beeping even more at the sight of us. The guitars weighed next to nothing, the rucksacks the same. It didn’t take long for Aiden to find out what the problem was: two steel support bars hidden in pockets on the inside of our backpacks. He ditched them on the roadside, making our luggage that much lighter.

  ‘We’re going to have to find a hotel soon, we can’t go on like this. I’m getting really thirsty,’ I said. ‘Let me have a look at the guidebook a minute, I want to show you something.’

  I opened the book on the floor and turned to the section entitled, Travel Away from Delhi, and pointed out the rail fares. Aiden studied the words and raised his eyebrows when he saw that a train to Agra cost sixty-two rupees, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before? All this bloody screwing around and you didn’t think to mention it?’