Towards the Within

by Reece Willis

  ‘A bottle of Indian Bagpiper whiskey I bought for my dad a couple of weeks ago, I’m sure I packed it. Either the other guys are winding me up or I left it at the last hotel. Not like me to leave things behind, especially something like that. Oh well, shall we head out for a bit?’

  Jack took me to a hole-in-the-wall chemist along the Main Bazaar where I bought some red pills from a man who sat boxed in with shelves of pharmaceutical paraphernalia. I was surprised at how easy it all was and pondered the alternative had we not met our new friends. If Aiden or I fell ill, the only thing we would have successfully done was panic.

  ‘They should keep you going for a few days. If you’re still unwell after that, you should think about seeing a doctor,’ Jack advised me.

  I popped the pills over breakfast in the thali house which was sweltering despite the overhead fans. The overwhelming heat was the thing I’d struggled with the most since arriving in Delhi. Today felt like the hottest day so far. I mentioned as much to Jack. ‘It’s warm all right mate,’ he said. ‘Harish told me this morning it could climb to one hundred and ten Fahrenheit today.’ It was hard to comprehend such a temperature being so used to unpredictable British summers that came along a little too often.

  Outside, we flagged down a cycle-rickshaw. Jack instructed the wallah to take us to the Red Fort in Old Delhi.

  ‘The Red Fort was constructed in the mid seventeenth century by the fifth Moghul Emperor Shah Jahan,’ Jack said. ‘It housed the emperors of the Moghul dynasty for nearly two hundred years.’

  Our progress was slow as we emerged into a built-up area where narrow lanes and avenues swarmed with people, hand-drawn carts, cattle and heavy traffic. Dark, cramped alleyways were illuminated by shops selling glittering gold and silver, enamels and colourful carpets, bright saris and salwar kameez and a variety of garlands and turbans for weddings and festivals.

  ‘This is the walled city of Old Delhi,' Jack shouted above the din. 'It was also built by Shah Jahan who shifted the Moghul capital from Agra. See that over there?’ Jack pointed to the far end of the street to a sandstone building with three white domes and tall minarets either side, ‘That’s the Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque, again, built by Shah Jahan.'

  ‘This Shah Jahan guy sounded pretty powerful,’ I said to Jack as we broke away from the crowds, travelling freely alongside the impenetrable vermilion walls of the fort.

  ‘Absolutely mate. There are some amazing buildings all over northern India that were built under Moghul reign. The most incredible of course is the Taj Mahal. You've got to try and see it if you get a chance.’

  Stretching out for as far as the eye could see, the fortress walls, punctuated every so often with bastions and turrets, seemed to go on for miles. We drew to a halt outside Lahore Gate which dwarfed all those that walked beneath its grand archway. Jack handled the souvenir salesman with ease, laughing and joking, making it look all too easy. Through the gateway, we ambled along a small bazaar selling handmade handicrafts and sparkling jewellery and came out into a spacious courtyard with gardens and avenues filled with ornate fountains, lavish stone pavilions and halls of public and private audience. Beneath a tree, we took shade and relaxed for a while sharing stories of our lives in England.

  I found out that Jack was a primary school supply teacher. He loved his job and enjoyed coming back from a trip and furnishing the imagination of the children with his tales.

  ‘I wouldn’t swap it for the world. The kids’ faces light up when I tell them about my travels.’

  A honeymooning Indian couple sheepishly approached us and asked if we would take their photograph. They also asked if they could take a picture of Jack and I to show their family of the new friends they made from England. It was endearing to say the least.

  No sooner had we left the fort, we were surrounded by three young boys calling after us, ‘Rupee, rupee, school pen, school pen.’

  From his pocket, Jack pulled a handful of coins and gave them to the boys, ‘Here you go lads, knock yourself out,’ he chuckled. ‘Come on mate, let’s grab that auto over there or we’ll be here all day. They’ll follow us all the way back to the hotel.’

  We entered the room to a haze of charas which made me feel stoned within minutes. We talked of our afternoon and smoked a few chillums and soon, I felt my eyes dropping and my head accepting the comfort of my pillow. It was dark when I woke and the room was empty. The need to visit the bathroom came on instantly. Delhi belly or not, whatever it was had me hugging and squatting the keyhole again and again. The pain in my stomach was becoming unbearable and I left the bathroom staggering and clutching the door frame with weakness.

  Hoping to find the others, I went to the rooftop. Harish was sat on an upturned bucket cooling by the fan. He was smoking a thin brown leafed cigarette called a beedi whilst Nitin busied himself at the stove. In his usual professional and charming manner, Harish stood and offered me his seat, along with a cup of his lovely chai. I asked if he had seen my friends. He hadn’t.

  ‘Very, very hot,’ he said tilting his hand left and right. ‘Despite storm, still no rain fall on Paharganj. Everyone in Delhi is waiting for birth of this year’s monsoon. Soon I am hoping much rain will come and save us from this dreadful heat. Then, I will be most happy. You join us for dinner? I am making very nice dish.’

  I happily accepted the offer. Nitin grinned and mimed a cigarette. I gave him two. I talked to him in English and he tried to converse with me in Hindi, but neither of us could understand one another. I tucked in to Harish’s vegetable curry despite my nausea, amazed at how easily it went down, mopping the plate clean as Harish and Nitin musically rolled off conversation to each other.

  Harish turned to me, ‘Oh, Mr Sam, please forgive us. Hindi must sound very strange to your ears. Nitin is finding English very odd too. Please tell us, how are we sounding to you?’

  ‘How are you sounding? I guess it sounds like you're speaking extremely fast.’ I tried to replicate how I heard them, ‘Berigiaweregerafalawalla. Something like that I guess.’

  Harish’s smile fell and his mouth dropped open. Rice dropped from his fingers and the two them stared at me in what seemed an everlasting silence. A new sickness stabbed away at my stomach, one of dread that I might have offended them in some way. Harish confirmed my fears, ‘You have just insulted my family and call Nitin’s uncle, son of smelly goat.’

  I was mortified, ‘I’m so sorry, I really didn’t know what I was saying.’

  Nitin looked at Harish, eyebrow cocked. Harish whispered something to him and Nitin sprayed rice everywhere with laughter, then rolled onto his back, nearly choking. Harish placed his hand on my shoulder and chuckled much to my relief, ‘Mr Sam, please be forgiving me, I am only having joke with you.’

  ‘Harigedoeywahdoeywah,’ Nitin giggled, tears now streaming his face.

  ‘What did he say?’ I asked Harish.

  ‘I am not having any idea. Nitin is telling me he is speaking English Hindi.’

  I had numerous encounters with the bathroom throughout the night and decided to spend the next day in the room to recuperate. It seemed the most sensible thing to do given that I wasn’t getting any better.

  It was Aiden’s twentieth birthday and he was in high spirits. I gave him a card from me and one from his mother that she left in my care before we left. Things between us were good again.

  ‘I got the tickets to Naini Tal. Glen found a great place, 175 rupees each. How are you feeling?’ I answered that I was starting to feel better. He offered me a cigarette but I declined with a hand wave and smile.

  ‘I’ll get you the fare money,’ I said, reaching for my backpack.

  ‘No, it’s on me mate, all paid for.’ He sat on the end of the bed and lit up.

  ‘Cheers, that’s really good of you.’ I leant back against the wall to line myself up with the air-conditioning unit. ‘It’s been good today, just like old times again.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about all that. The last few days have
all been a bit strange for me. I think I’ve found it hard to adjust.’

  I’d been acting out the part accepting this new life and hadn't given a thought to how Aiden must have been dealing with it all.

  The next morning, Jack and I left the others asleep while we slipped out for breakfast. I was feeling much better. The five guys were flying home that evening and Aiden and I would be on our own. I mentioned how we were getting along again.

  ‘Yeah, we had a few gentle words with him,’ Jack said. ‘He realised he was being out of order towards you, hence the apology.’

  ‘Whatever you said, it did the trick, thanks.’

  Jack went in search of another bottle of whisky for his father and I changed some money in the bank. The room was empty when I returned. Scattered across the floor was all my stuff, but no sign of my backpack. I picked everything up and stacked it neatly on the bed and sat trying to figure out what had happened. I didn’t have to wait too long before Aiden returned with the answer.

  ‘Do you know what happened to my backpack?’ I asked.

  ‘Stored it,’ he replied.

  ‘Stored it? But why? And where?’

  ‘In storage lockers, two rupees a day. I took the cash from your money-belt along with the fair to Naini Tal while you were out earlier.’

  ‘Why did you do that? What am I supposed to do now? Where will I put all my stuff? This is a joke, right?’ He ignored my barrage of questions. ‘How am I supposed to travel India with just this?’ I pointed to the pathetic rucksack, ‘It has bloody balloons on it. It doesn’t look like it’s going to last another day.'

  Walking towards the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder at me, ‘I’m not getting into this now. You’ll see it’s for the best in the long run. We leave for Naini Tal tonight, make sure you’re packed and ready.’ Before I had time to respond or even mention the gift of the bus ticket, he added, ‘And one other thing, as you and Jack have been spending so much time together, I told the others you didn’t like them.’ With that, he slammed the door behind him.

  This was utter madness. Had he taken complete leave of his senses? I recalled his words and actions over and over. It felt like a bad dream, a side effect from the pills maybe or too much charas still lingering in my head, but I could only wish that was the case as I stared at my pile of clothes and the irritating coloured balloons. Once I repacked my belongings into the bulging rucksack, I realised how much I’d have to leave behind: a sleeping bag, a pair of jeans, two pairs of trousers, three shirts, a light sweater and jacket. I’d paid over one hundred pounds for that backpack, it was perfect for the trip. I would have rather lightened that than use the nasty nylon replacement. At least the backpacks could be retrieved later, which was some consolation.

  I settled the bill with Harish and offered a one-hundred-rupee tip which at first, he flatly refused. I insisted, ‘You guys have been so good to us and I’ve had a great time on the roof. Please accept and then maybe when we return to Delhi you can look after us again.’ Humbly, he took the money and we shook hands goodbye.

  ‘Just about to get some drinks, do you want one?’ Paul asked as I approached our room.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’ I walked with him to reception. ‘You know I like you guys, right?’

  He cocked his eyebrow, ‘Uh yeah, what’s on your mind Sam?’ He placed the order and as we waited I explained what Aiden had said. ‘Don’t worry yourself, mate. We know you wouldn’t have said anything like that. We deliberately paired you up with Jack because we knew you would have more in common with him. He’s really into his buildings and history, and all that boring stuff, like you.’ Taking the bottles, we ascended the stairs. ‘We thought Aiden might be a bit of a handful, and he was, he disappeared eight times on us. We visited the same places as you and Jack, the only difference was keeping up with Aiden.’ We paused at the door and I thanked him for everything. ‘It was our pleasure mate, we had a really good time. Now tell me something, is Aiden really on three months leave from the SAS?’

  I smiled, ‘No, but let’s pretend I didn’t tell you that.’

  He winked, ‘Your secret's safe with me.’

  Aiden was friendly enough as we all enjoyed our last chillum session together. I spent the afternoon and evening observing the special bond between the five friends. They’d taught us so much and I was thankful that Aiden grabbed Glen’s attention at the tourist office.

  Geared up with our ridiculous rucksacks, we said our last goodbyes to the guys as night fell on Paharganj. At 9pm, we boarded a modern coach and took to our seats. I tried to engage in conversation with Aiden, but all I received was short, sharp answers. For the most part he ignored me. His eyes were heavy and when he stood, he staggered. There was also a strong smell of alcohol on his breath. From his rucksack, he removed a small vial of pills and a bottle of Bagpiper whisky, half full.

  My heart sank, ‘Where did you get that whisky?’ I asked. He ignored me, so I asked again.

  ‘Jack gave it to me,’ he lied.

  ‘After all they did for us, how could you steal from them? That was a gift for Jack’s dad.’

  ‘Yeah, well it’s a gift for me now,’ he snapped. He showed no remorse, but instead laughed as he knocked back a couple of Valiums with several large gulps of whisky. He’d been smoking copious amounts of charas all day and his behaviour was erratic. ‘Bring it on,’ he yelled to the bewildered faces sharing the coach and swung the Bagpiper above his head.

  The bus roared to life and joined a busy highway bound for Naini Tal. I gripped the handrail and my eyes widened with fear as we flew towards blinding headlights, overtaking at ridiculous speeds. Terrified of the roller coaster ride from hell, I looked to my left and saw the devil himself staring wildly back at me.

  7

  A chain of mountains emerged from behind a veil of mist, the sun peeking over the summits, illuminating the landscape below. The open windows let in a cool breeze, brushing my cheek and carrying away the staleness of a night spent in the confines of the bus. Everyone was quiet. I looked around at the other passengers, many of whom were still in blissful slumber before turning back to see us pass a giant’s staircase of maize terraces and a turquoise lake. Closing my eyes, I absorbed an overdue feeling of serenity.

  Sunlight flooded the coach and the central walkway where Aiden lay, his head resting on a folded shirt that bore evidence of his night-time drooling. Dried vomit stained his clothes and he was missing a boot. I was assisted in moving him back to his seat where he sat slumped, snoring and grunting, the dry cracked blood on the left side of his face a heavy reminder of the last seven hours.

  The driver expertly steered the vehicle around the tight bends that snaked up the hillside, pausing every so often to allow other vehicles the opportunity to pass. As the coach ascended a steep hill, a group of men armed with ropes and straps looped around their shoulders gave chase. The brakes let out a sigh, the doors swished open and the engine spluttered to a stop. I shook Aiden to wake him as the porters flocked the doorway shouting, ‘Yes, yes, I take your luggage.’

  ‘Where are we?’ Aiden came to and wiped the sleep from his eyes and dribble from his chin. He looked down at his lap where he’d wet himself, looked to the ceiling and back to his lap, ‘How did that happen?’

  I helped him to his feet, ‘Come on, we need to get off.’

  He followed me to the exit, not taking too kindly to the porters as he stepped down from the vehicle. ‘Piss off you bloody idiots, can’t you see I can manage perfectly well by myself? Hey, is that my shoe? Why have you numpties tied up my shoe?’

  I made numerous apologies on Aiden’s behalf while he untied his boot from the ladder attached to the back of the bus. Luckily these good people were incredibly gracious. We started walking without saying a word to each other. It was an uncomfortable silence that didn’t belong amid the scenery surrounding us. To our left was a spectacular lake nestled amongst snowless mountains, glinting under the sun’s early morning rays. Brightly painted boats
moored along the shore would no doubt later be carrying visitors on a scenic excursion across the water. Were we still in India? It was hard to believe. It was more reminiscent of the Lake District in England than what we’d become accustomed to over the last week. Aiden and I arrived at a small café opening its shutters to greet the morning and took a seat at one of the tables outside. I ordered two rounds of tea and toast; a small start at soaking up the evening’s sins.

  ‘Do you remember any of last night?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you?’ Aiden placed his feet on the table, rested his hands behind his head and leant back in his chair.

  ‘Oh yes, I remember.’ How could I forget?

  ‘Well go on then, you’re obviously dying to tell me.’

  ‘Where shall I start? How about the empty bottle of Bagpiper you threw from the bus window or you dancing on the seat while swinging your shirt in the air shouting “I’m the King of the world”?’

  ‘Yeah, that sounds familiar,’ Aiden smirked.

  ‘Later we pulled over to a rest stop and deciding you didn’t want your meal, you hurled the plate like a Frisbee and hit a dog. You threw up over a waiter and stormed off, tripped over your untied shoelaces and hit your head on the corner of the table.’

  ‘You lost me now, mate,’ Aiden began eating a slice of toast, but ended up just pulling it apart and spreading the fragments around his plate.

  ‘You took off your boot, threw it at the bus and then hurled a string of insults at a nice man who tried to help you.’ His dismissive attitude started to anger me and I could hear my voice tremble. ‘After throwing up again, you proceeded to the back of the bus to tie your boot to the ladder. You then climbed onto the roof and started singing at the top of your voice, The Good Ship Lollipop.’

  Aiden nearly choked on his tea with laughter, ‘Good boy, didn’t I do well? Got any headache tablets?’

  ‘No. It took all my efforts to calm you down, apologise to the other passengers and convince the driver you were in a fit state to travel. Finally, you collapsed in the walkway, mumbled something about the SAS and passed out.’