Towards the Within

by Reece Willis

  ‘Chill mate. Why are you so worked up?’

  I rose from my chair, ‘For goodness sake Aiden, can't you see how irresponsible you are?’

  ‘You sound like my mother. Surely you can see the funny side?’

  ‘There is no funny side. You could've got us into serious trouble. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’ Exhausted from lack of sleep and Aiden’s antics, my patience was being stretched to the limit.

  ‘You wouldn’t last five minutes here without me. So, stop your whining and drink your tea.’

  ‘Is that so? Well, you know what? I think I would be better off without you.’

  ‘Go your own way then, see how far you get.’

  ‘Fine, I will.’ I picked up my rucksack and stormed away from the table, but my dramatic exit was hampered as one of the bag straps caught on the chair. As I pulled it and attempted to hoist it over my shoulders it ripped and a large hole appeared, causing the contents to spill out on to the ground. Hands shaking, I tried to gather everything together, including myself.

  This was ridiculous, he was right, I couldn’t travel by myself. What was I thinking? I turned to sort it all out only to find Aiden gone; just an empty glass and chair as a reminder of his presence. I looked along the road, but he was nowhere to be seen. I attempted to figure out where I would've gone if I was Aiden and realised I’d never been able to work out what went through that crazy head of his. I had no idea where he was. The hills had so many paths leading to so many buildings. I scanned the maze of lanes tucked into the tall trees, but saw no sign of him. With an armful of my belongings clutched to my chest, I concluded it would be more prudent to search for him later.

  8

  There were no obvious hotel signs, no rickshaws, not even a wandering cow or a passing beggar. Of the few cars that went by, none resembled a taxi and the occasional pedestrian I encountered didn’t speak any English. My stomach was in knots and my arms and pockets were bulging with my stuff. I stopped to catch my breath and gain a sense of my surroundings. A set of stone steps ahead of me led up into the hills. I started to climb and at the midway point found a guest house overlooking the lake. Without attempting to haggle I handed over two hundred and seventy rupees. The hotel keeper helped me with my things and left me in the room with my guitar and a pile of clothes, my useless rucksack slung into the corner.

  There were two windows: one at the front with a partially obscured view of the lake and one small frosted window at the back next to the bathroom. An old wooden chair proved useful as I sorted through my belongings, which left the slightly hard, but comfortable bed clear for me to relax. I assumed Aiden would turn up again, maybe at the café or where we left the bus. But what if he didn’t? He had taken the guidebook and had forced me to strip back to the point I had very few clothes and useful items with me. This time yesterday I was surrounded by so many friendly people that could help me, but now I felt the harsh reality of being alone and I didn’t have a clue what to do. It was an all too familiar feeling.

  When I was fifteen I went to a party where I met a girl called Sandra. We began talking and found we had a lot in common. She loved the idea of working and travelling abroad. Escaping to another country appealed to me too and over the next few days we decided to throw caution to the wind and begin our adventure in Ostend. I had stayed there many times with my grandparents so I knew the town well and I had a friend who lived and worked there. Our plan was to find work and earn enough money to travel on to another country. I skipped school and we jumped a train to Dover where we took the next available ferry to Belgium. As soon as we got there, things went downhill very quickly. The friend I knew had moved to another part of town and suddenly the idea of tracking him down became an unrealistic task. That left us with plan B, my grandparents' house, but my mum had of course already been in touch and they were not pleased with what I had done to say the least. My grandfather turned us away and ordered me to go home.

  With next to no money and out of ideas, Sandra and I rolled into a huge argument and she left. I wandered the streets for three hours trying to think of a way I could still make this adventure work, but in the end, I admitted defeat and returned to the ferry terminal where I managed to persuade the harbour master to arrange travel for me back to England. Upon arriving in Dover, I was met by the authorities and put in a jail cell for eight hours. The following morning a social worker took me to a children’s home, which is where I stayed for the next nine months. All my expedition had achieved was to give my father the excuse he needed to have me placed into care. My dream of travelling the world was over.

  It had been a long night on the bus and I needed some rest and a shower before I went out looking for Aiden again. Like the air around me, the water was cold and I came out shivering. I took two red pills to curb the nausea that still lingered and lay down on the bed. After dozing for a couple of hours I felt able to venture outside. My plan was to retrace my steps and look for Aiden as well as try and find a place that sold backpacks. Locking the door behind me, I descended the steps leading to the main road. There was no trace of Aiden at the café or where the bus had stopped. I felt a light tap on my shoulder and my heart soared, but my hopes diminished as I turned to find an elderly Indian gentleman in a beige woolly hat, maroon trousers and matching cardigan, grinning back at me.

  ‘Sir, you are looking lost. My name is Mr Shah, I live long time in Naini Tal.’

  ‘Hello Mr Shah, I’m Sam.’

  ‘Very nice to be meeting you, Mr Sam. I am knowing Naini Tal very good. Please walk with me.’ I was suspicious given my time in Delhi, but desperate too. We ambled along the road and he informed me of the area, ‘Tal is lake, two-mile circumference. Has seven mountain above. Tallest is Naina, over 2600 metres high. When Shiva's wife Parvati die, he drag her body across country and parts of body fall away. Lake said to be eye of Parvati. This end is Tallital, north end is Mallital.’ Although Mr Shah’s facts were interesting, I still had to find Aiden and a backpack. Right now, I needed some answers.

  ‘Pardon me, Mr Shah, but could you help me please?’

  We stopped, ‘Yes, of course. How I help?’ Rubbing the bristles of his short white beard, he smiled a toothless grin.

  ‘Have you seen anyone looking like me recently?’

  ‘No, only you,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Then maybe you could tell me where I could buy a backpack?’ I asked as we resumed our stroll.

  ‘Backback?’ he replied. I mimed the motions of lifting a backpack over my shoulders. ‘Bag, ah yes, you mean bag.’ We came to a stop at the café where I left Aiden and Mr Shah pointed north along the road, ‘Follow road topside, there you find many shop. You will get good bag. Now, stay for chai.’

  ‘You’ve been very helpful Mr Shah, thanks for the offer, but I really must get going. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

  I turned to leave, ‘Mr Sam, take boat ride before leaving Naini Tal. Very enjoyable. It bring you much luck. Goodbye, Mr Sam,’ he said and returned the way we came.

  All I could find as I browsed the shops was a fake leather holdall, not ideal, but an improvement on what I currently possessed. I made the purchase and then looked for a bookshop, but the only one I found didn’t sell guidebooks. Back at the hotel I sat in the chair and considered my options. Should I fly home? Should I carry on alone? Where would I go? Manali? Agra? The thought of travelling by myself was daunting; I never imagined the trip without Aiden. I lit a cigarette, dropped my head and sighed.

  The sound of loud coughing, clearing of the throat and spitting brought me out of my thoughts. I tried to close the open window by the bathroom, but it was jammed. It was now late afternoon and warmer than it had been earlier. Instead of listening to the same repetitive noises, I decided to take Mr Shah’s advice and go on a boat trip. I walked the length of the road until I came across a line of moored paddle boats and a group of eight men talking amongst themselves. As soon as they latched eyes onto me, they surrounded me with shouts of
, ‘Best ride with me,’ and ‘This boat cheapest price.’ Shoving each other to gain my business, two pushed their way forward. After a minute or so of yelling and jostling, I told them I would decide by the toss of a coin. From my pocket, I removed a fifty paise coin: heads – the older man with the heavy beard; tails – the young man with a hint of a moustache.

  I rested the silver on the side of my index finger and placed my thumbnail beneath. The loud chatter around me subsided, all attention now on my hand. The coin flipped into the air, peaked, and upon its descent I swiped it to the top of my hand with a clap. The crowd moved in closer, bending forward over the covered coin. I paused and slowly revealed the answer. The older man let out a whoop of delight and threw his arms into the air, much to the younger man’s disappointment.

  I was ushered into a Venetian styled boat where I took a seat on the wooden bench. In the background voices were raised and an argument broke out between the young man and one of his colleagues. Fists flew in all directions and the young man walked away with a bloodied nose and battered pride – all this because of my fare? I felt awful for the guy as I was paddled out by the smiling winner. It was out of peak season and there were no other tourists around, so I guessed times must have been tough.

  Despite the shaky start, Mr Shah was right; this was just what I needed. Conversation with the boatman was stunted due to his lack of English so instead I used the quiet to contemplate my situation. I was tempted to stay in Naini Tal for a few days after which time Aiden would hopefully have got his head together and we could then reconnect and continue our trip. I almost forgot my worries as I relaxed into the sound of the oars dipping in and being pulled against the cool blue water. The beautiful jade hills soared above, densely studded in places with quaint villas and hotels. The vista was nothing short of spectacular and I could understand why Indian honeymooners chose Naini Tal as a romantic getaway.

  The ride finally came to an end just as the sun dipped behind a mountain. I found it sad that I had nobody to share the memories of the afternoon with and I went looking for somewhere to make a telephone call.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi mum, it’s Sam. How's things?’

  ‘Sam, how are you? I’m fine, don’t you worry about me. Are you still in Delhi?’ Hearing my mother’s voice upset me as I felt the pull of homesickness.

  ‘I’m okay, well sort of, I’m not with Aiden any more. We had an argument. I’m now in a place called Naini Tal, east of Delhi. I haven’t seen him for about twelve hours now.’

  ‘Oh darling, what are you going to do? Please come home where you’re safe.’

  Suddenly it all caught up with me. Tears filled my eyes and I looked away from the staring shopkeeper. For a moment, I considered her offer, but then declined, ‘I'm going to try and do this on my own.’ I could hardly believe what I was saying and with so much resolution. ‘I have to give this all I've got, mum. If I leave now, I'll probably never return and will always be left wondering.’

  ‘Okay, you know you can always come home.’

  ‘I know. Listen, I’ve got to go now, this is costing me a small fortune. I’ll call again when I can.’ I wiped my cheeks clear of tears in preparation of returning the receiver back to the shop owner.

  ‘Take good care of yourself.’

  ‘I will. Bye mum.'

  ‘Goodbye sweetheart.’

  The line fell silent. I looked up, gob-smacked at the cost. As I exhaled smoke from cigarette into the night sky, I gave a description of Aiden to the shopkeeper and asked if he’d seen him.

  ‘Yes, I am thinking I know him, very bad man. He took Gold Flake cigarettes without paying, afternoon time. He called me very bad names. Are you knowing him?’ I wish I never asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Please accept my apologies, allow me to reimburse you.’ I gave him the money and quickly moved on in search of something to eat. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop enquiring after Aiden.

  Beside an empty restaurant was a tourist office. Inside, boards advertised travel around northern India. Apart from Delhi, I didn’t recognise any of the destinations, except for one – the Jim Corbett National Park which I’d seen in the guidebook. The price and the exciting pictures of snarling tigers was enough to convince me to buy a day excursion leaving tomorrow. Next door in the restaurant I took a seat at a grimy table. There was nobody in there apart from me, the waiter and the cook. Jack’s advice about empty restaurants echoed in my head, ‘If there’s nobody eating in these places, you’ve got to ask yourself why.’ I was feeling ill; I was tired and I didn’t have the energy to hunt for somewhere else. I settled back and placed an order of plain rice. If I kept it simple, there'd be less chance of becoming sicker than I already was.

  Taking a mouthful of the rice, I swallowed, but it instantly returned the way it came. Panicked, I held my hand over my mouth as my eyes darted around for some sign of a bathroom. The waiter saw my dilemma and pointed to the back of the room. I made a dash behind a curtain, found a sink and hurled. Taking a moment to compose myself, I splashed my face with cold water, but I only wish I went straight back to my table as I stared at the shit covered latrine, which to my horror was just a metre away from the shared kitchen. Flies were everywhere, crawling all over a large bowl of rice, no doubt the same as I'd eaten. I paid the bill and left in haste for my hotel.

  I fell to the bed and lay in darkness with my head swimming and my stomach churning. The pressure of my money belts wasn’t helping matters. I got up, switched on the light and removed them, placing them on the bed. I had three ways of carrying money: a red nylon pocket wallet to carry everyday money (usually five hundred rupees or less); a denim money belt that contained the rest of my Indian notes, and a waterproof money belt that held my passport, emergency address details, travellers’ cheques and the airport tax for my return journey to England. I counted the notes, then unzipped the waterproof money belt and removed the items. There were no travellers’ cheques. I searched my luggage, the room, my pockets – nothing. I’d always had my money belts with me, apart from yesterday when I went out with Jack, where they were tucked away in my backpack. Aiden must have taken the cheques when he took the money for the storage lockers and bus tickets. What was I going to do now?

  The hotel manager was watching cricket on a black and white television set as I approached the counter, ‘Excuse me, is there an American Express office nearby?’

  His body turned in the swivel chair and a few seconds later his head followed, his eyes reluctant to leave the screen, ‘American Express, that will be doing nicely,’ he giggled, mimicking the TV advert.

  ‘Thanks for that. Is there an office nearby?’ I asked again, not in the mood for humour.

  ‘No near here, you must go Delhi. There you will find office.’ His eyes returned to the screen and I thanked him, mortified by his answer. I returned to my room as he shouted obscenities at the television. The thought of returning to Delhi so soon didn’t thrill me at all, but I’d think about that tomorrow. I had had enough for one day and wanted nothing more than a few hours’ sleep.

  9

  My arms flapped frantically against the freezing water desperate to keep me afloat. A sail boat glided by, sending me deep beneath the waves. Just when my lungs couldn’t take any more I surfaced, splashing the lake in sheer panic. I looked around for some sign of hope and spotted a figure in the moonlight of the water’s edge. The blurry face came into focus and my spirits soared, ‘Jack, is that you? Thank god. Please Jack, help me.’

  ‘Bloody hell, mate, I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I? Hang tight, I’ll go and get some help.’ He turned and disappeared into the hills.

  Somebody else was walking slowly along the road. He paused and scanned the lake, ‘Mr Sam, is that you? Lake is bring you luck, yes? If no boat, great swim you are having.’ The hunched figure was accompanied by a dog who pawed the lake at a bobbing tennis ball. The man waved his stick, but resumed walking, fading into the darkness.

&nbs
p; ‘No, wait, Mr Shah come back.’ My mind was in turmoil, my heart fit to burst. Every single muscle worked overtime to keep my head from going under.

  Jack reappeared clutching a red lifebuoy, ‘Sam, don’t worry, I’ve brought the best, mate.’ Two figures emerged running in slow motion; Pamela Anderson dressed in a red sari and beside her, wearing a red turban and lungi, was David Hasselhoff.

  I heard coughing and spitting and looked around for someone else in the water. It got louder and louder and the lake disappeared. My eyes opened and I was in my room, sprawled across the bed. The coughing continued. It was dark. I fumbled around for my watch and saw it was 6.06am. Marching over to the window, I tried to close it, but couldn’t. It must have been raining last night, the handle was wet and my hands slipped. I fell back, landing in a heap on the floor. Good morning Naini Tal.

  Still feeling angry over what Aiden had done, I charged towards the travel agents unable to believe what I was about to do. The shop assistant was happy to take my money for a coach ticket back to New Delhi departing that evening. 'Thanks a lot Aiden,' I mumbled as I left.

  It was an hour before the bus left for Corbett. I decided to grab some breakfast at the restaurant around the corner on recommendation by the shopkeeper. A masala omelette and a couple of glasses of chai made me feel slightly human again. I spent the rest of the time admiring the scenery and trying to calm my agitated thoughts. Naini Tal was quite different from Delhi. It was spacious and clean, quiet with not too many touts or beggars. There wasn’t a sense of urgency from the town folk that emanated in the big city.

  It took just under two hours to reach Ramnagar; the small town that acted as a gateway to the National Park. We were driven slowly into the reserve, shards of light beaming through a canopy of sisu trees. The tour guide stood at the front of the bus and began speaking in Hindi, before translating into English, ‘You are now in Jim Corbett National Park. Here you see many species of bird and deer, include barking deer, hog dear, sambar and chital. Also, see in park, langur monkey, rhesus monkey, peacock, wild boar, monitor lizard, crocodile, elephant, panther, jackal and tiger. Park built in 1936 by British man Jim Corbett who was very great hunter of many tiger. Later, Mr Corbett found he have interest in studying tiger and became photographer of endangered animal and set up this reserve. In India tiger population very low. Here, tiger protected from hunting.’