by Reece Willis
‘So, what exactly does karma mean?’ I asked.
He laughed, ‘You ask a lot of questions. Karma is a cycle of cause and effect. For instance, what you did yesterday will affect what you do today, what you do today will affect what happens to you tomorrow; and so it goes on. Basically, if you’re bad today, it will come around and bite you on the ass at some point in the future. There is no escaping karma. Whatever is thrown at you in life, always handle it with dignity and honesty, and be good to your fellow man. I’m inclined to go along with it all myself. I feel like I’ve gained a lot from adopting it into my life.’
I left Sean at his door and thanked him for a nice evening. He was flying home in the early hours and I wished him a safe journey.
I wasn't sure how to get to Paharganj Police Station, so I hailed a cycle rickshaw. From the bright morning sun, I stepped into a large dimly lit room. In the right-hand corner behind a desk was a man in a khaki uniform and beret. I asked him if I could report a theft. He didn’t look up, but continued writing without answering me. I asked again and was ignored again. I sat down next to the desk and he stopped what he was doing to look up at me. I stood, asked again, but he returned to his writing.
Maybe I wasn’t being polite enough, ‘Namaste,’ I said. ‘Please can you help me?’
‘No English,’ he snapped, his eyes not leaving his writing pad. This was going to make things difficult.
As I returned to my seat to ponder for a moment, a lady walked in and spoke to the officer in Hindi, I presumed. When she concluded her affairs, I asked if she would be so kind as to translate for me. They conversed for a couple of minutes and the policeman looked at me and then disappeared into a room behind the desk. The lady told me she’d relayed the information.
I sat for a further hour getting nowhere fast. People came and went and I tried to report the theft to two other officers, but they told me I had to talk to the original officer I had attempted to report it to earlier, but he'd left the station half an hour ago. Nobody seemed the slightest bit bothered that I was sitting here twiddling my thumbs. The room became increasingly hot as the sun heated the building. The original officer later returned and I tried once again to speak to him, but to no avail. A colleague joined him and they talked in between looking at me and laughing, before they walked off down a corridor. If it wasn’t for my desperate situation, I would have left hours ago. Without my travellers’ cheques, my time in India would be shortened considerably.
The unhelpful policeman came back and sat at his desk and Jack’s words came into my head. ‘Baksheesh!’ I blurted out. Had I really just attempted to bribe a police officer? Surely, I hadn't been that stupid. Apparently, I had. He stopped what he was doing and threw me a stare that locked me up in an Indian prison for the rest of my life.
‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ All this time he could speak perfectly good English?
‘Um, well, um, uh, no,’ my voice trembled. ‘I was just offering a gesture of goodwill for your time.’
He picked up a tough bamboo lathi and pointed it at me, ‘I am a good officer. I do not take bribes. Come with me at once.’ I followed him into a small room with a desk and chair either side. He instructed me to sit and left the room with my fate in his hands. Twenty minutes later, with paperwork under his arm, he returned and sat opposite me.
‘What are you wanting?’ To be returned to my country safely. To not be attacked by a psychopath in the middle of the night in a dingy cell. I froze and said nothing. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked the pale shaking foreigner.
‘To report a theft,’ I answered and quickly added, ‘Please accept my apologies if I caused any offence. I sometimes get Hindi words mixed up.’ I was riddled with fear and he could see it.
‘You should have reported theft as soon as you arrived.’ I did! ‘When is this theft taking place?’ Relieved he’d overlooked the baksheesh mishap, I explained the missing cheques and stated that I simply wished to receive a document to take to the American Express office. ‘As cheques were missing in Naini Tal, you need to go there and report to police, it is not possible here.’ My spirits declined ever further. Go all the way to Naini Tal and back to Delhi again?
‘They were taken in Delhi,’ I exclaimed. ‘I discovered them missing in Naini Tal. Please sir, is there nothing you can do?’ What could I do to escape this city?
He slid a form across the table and looked me in the eye, ‘Write answers on paper. You understand this is very time consuming?’ I held his stare and confirmed the hidden meaning by a nod of the head.
The officer passed a pen and I filled out my details on the theft report. He stamped a small rectangular document, ripped it from the book and handed it to me. I was just about to take it when he pulled it back and with the other hand, rubbed his fingers and thumb together.
‘’How much?’ I asked, not really wishing to know the answer.
‘One thousand rupees.’ He frowned as I showed my wallet with only five hundred rupees in. ‘Give money now, bring the rest tomorrow.’ He leant forward as I handed him the cash, ‘If you do not come, I will find you.’ I got up and he pointed to the door, ‘Cello.’ My look of concern turned to puzzlement. Cello? He raised his voice and waved his hand at the door, ‘Cello. Go, go!’
‘Oh right, of course,’ I said, as he followed behind me.
He ushered me to the main entrance and as I was about to leave, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, ‘Tomorrow.’ With that, he slapped my back and lifted his voice in a jolly manner, ‘Thank you for using our services. Have a good day, sir.’
I was glad to be out of there and feel the scorching Delhi sunshine on my skin, hear all the noises and view the chaotic traffic on the road where I stood. Not so glad however to see the mangled taxi parked outside the police station with a blood stained steering wheel crumpled into the seat where a driver once sat. I rode an auto to Connaught Place where I found the appropriate office within the Amex building. It took another hour to receive my new cheques leaving me no time to go in search of a guidebook. I still had to get something to eat, pack and get to the coach pick up point. I said my goodbyes to Harish and his team and returned to Connaught Place for 7.30pm.
Once seated on the bus, the conductor came along and requested an extra fifty rupees luggage fee. He told me he could not guarantee the safety of my bag and guitar if I didn't pay. Fifty rupees lighter, I sat back in my seat and awaited departure. An hour later and the coach still hadn’t moved. The conductor came to my seat again and this time demanded one hundred rupees for air-conditioning. I explained I didn’t need air-conditioning, but he told me it was compulsory. I noticed I was the only westerner on board, and the only one who had to pay these ridiculous charges. Hoping it would be an end to being fleeced, I gave in and paid. The air-con didn’t work and the driving was hair-raising. The exact same stench that Prakash produced on the road down to Delhi returned. I asked the lady beside me if she could smell the same. She said it was the smell of raw sewage from outside. So, it wasn’t Prakash after all.
After another gruelling journey, the swirling roads of Naini Tal came into view and the porters began their morning chase. I flexed my biceps upon leaving the vehicle, telling them with a smile I could manage by myself. At the summit of the hill, I was surprised to see a familiar face.
‘Hello stranger,’ I said as he viewed the lake.
He smiled a warm toothless grin, ‘Namaste Mr Sam. I am enjoying very much beauty of Naini Tal. Come, we go for chai.’
We commenced the slow pace to the café and Mr Shah picked the same table where Aiden and I sat when we first arrived. He took the same seat as Aiden opposite me.
He drank his tea, ‘Mr Sam, how are you liking Naini Tal? Lake is bring you luck, yes?’
I thought of the weird dream in which I was drowning, ‘Yes, it’s been lovely here Mr Shah, the boat ride was wonderful.’
‘If no boat, great swim you are having.’ He looked at me with a knowing smile. ‘Mr S
am, you are learning much from India, not everything what it seem, eh?’ He chuckled, slowly stood and grabbed his walking stick hanging from the table. Stepping to the roadside, he turned before leaving, ‘Go your own way Mr Sam, see how far you get.’ Speechless and numbed by his words, I drank my chai, paid the bill and walked with my head in a daze to Mallital. On Sean’s advice, I’d decided to revisit the Corbett National Park, properly this time. I stole one last look at the tear drop lake, knowing this is where my journey alone would truly begin.
11
Wherever I turned everything looked the same, nothing to distinguish my route only daunting stares tracking my every move as I tried to navigate my way to the bus station. I'd been dropped in the middle of Ramnagar where the communication barrier was shut tight. The accumulating crowd offered no assistance only hand-covered giggles at my misfortunes. I wondered if I was the first white face they had seen, so interested were they in my journey around their town. Perhaps they couldn’t fathom why I was wandering around in circles in the blistering midday sun. If only one of them could have understood the two words ‘bus’ and ‘Dhikala’ to point me in the right direction. ‘Come on Sam, it’s a small town, you can you find your way out of this,’ I said to myself. I wished that were true, but I was utterly useless.
Met with yet another dead end, the shadow of people behind me stopped. A goat walked to where I stood, urinated in front of me and trotted off. From somewhere nearby I heard the familiar blast of a musical horn and I was filled with hope. I parted the group of locals and began to jog along the streets until I came to a main road. Looking right I saw a beaten up old bus and breathed a sigh of relief. I picked up pace, running as fast as I could and came alongside the vehicle. My fingers grasped the doorway and I pulled myself in, gasping air and dripping sweat onto the floor.
‘Dhikala?’ I panted on the verge of collapse.
‘Naini Tal,’ the driver replied with a frown.
I turned to alight the bus, but misjudged the steps. While the bus picked up pace, instead of making a quick exit back on to the street, I twisted my ankle and fell to the ground.
‘Ooh, that looks nasty. Are you all right?’ A figure stood in front of me eclipsing the bright sunlight. She crouched down and I could just make out her face, sweet and kind. Smiling, she took a sip from the bottle of Fanta held loosely in her hand. ‘Shall we get that cut sorted out before it gets infected?’ I looked down at my knee and saw the result of my fall. With her help, I got to my feet and hobbled around the corner of a building where she sat me in the shade next to a man in his late teens with short brown hair, stubble and spectacles.
‘David, be a dear and retrieve some iodine and antibacterial ointment from my pack, oh and a small bandage.’
‘Yes of course.’ He fished the items from the rucksack by his feet.
‘Oh, silly me, we will need some water too. Would you like to finish my drink? I’ve only just started it.’ She held the bottle of Fanta towards me, ‘Hold on, let me get you a new straw.’
Reaching over to her rucksack she removed a bottle of water and a packet of straws. I took the drink and as I put the straw to my mouth I realised how thirsty I was. In no time at all I was slurping the last drops.
David returned with a towel, laid it on the floor and placed the items down.
‘Now, let’s get this cleaned up then. This is going to sting a little,’ she said. Squeezing her hands into a pair of disposable medical gloves, she pulled up the left leg of my knee length shorts, washed away the excess grit and blood and dried my leg with an antiseptic wipe. She then applied the iodine and I yelped pathetically. ‘Oh honestly, you men are so dramatic. David is exactly the same.’
‘Ah, but what would you do without us hunters and gatherers?’ David replied.
She chuckled, ‘How long have you got?’
‘Thanks so much, that was really kind of you,’ I said as a bandage was set. ‘I'm Sam, by the way.'
'It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Imogen and David is my brother. We’re twins.'
'So how come you guys are in Ramnagar? I mean it’s a bit out of the way, isn’t it?’
David looked over from repacking his things, ‘We’re on our way to the Dhikala dormitories in Corbett National Park.'
‘I was hoping to do the same, but after I arrived from Naini Tal I went looking for the place to pick up the Dhikala bus and got hopelessly lost.’
‘Well, lucky Imogen found you. You’re in the right place now and the bus should be along any minute.’
David fastened his backpack and Imogen came around the corner from returning her bottle. She pulled her pack onto her shoulders as a bus came into view, ‘There’s our bus now. Do you need a hand getting on?’
‘No, I should be fine, thanks.’
I followed the pair to the bus and sat in front of them with my holdall on my lap and guitar between my legs.
Imogen took her long auburn hair from a pony tail and let it fall to her slim shoulders, ‘How wonderful you’re coming with us, Sam. Today you must rest though and then tomorrow we can go and find some tigers together. We came last year and had a lovely time. Dhikala is only about fifty kilometres from here, so it shouldn’t take long.’
From our conversations, I discovered they were both studying at Bath University in England and were coming to the end of their two week visit to India. As we spoke, a young Indian boy poked his head between the twins from the seat behind. ‘My name is Dinesh. What are your names and countries please?’ David pointed to himself, Imogen and I and answered the boy’s questions. ‘It is very nice to be meeting with you. I am speaking very good English, yes?’ he asked with a wide grin.
‘Yes,’ Imogen replied, ‘Very good indeed, Dinesh. Where did you learn such fine English?’
‘I am learning from school and also, I am learning from my father. I am hoping to one day be a doctor. Are you going to Jim Corbett Park also?’
‘Yes, we are. We’re very much looking forward to it. How old are you Dinesh?’ Imogen took a packet of boiled sweets from the pocket of her rucksack and handed one to us all.
Dinesh tackled the candy with his tongue, ‘I am eleven years of age, but soon I am being twelve. My father is owner of two textile companies. I have come to park with just my mother and brother at this time. I am looking for very big tiger.’
The bus drew up at a small building and we alighted, taking our things inside. I paid the entrance fee and to stay for three nights, which came to only 275 rupees. Another bus soon pulled up and took us on a short journey into the park itself, leaving us with a magnificent view of flat grasslands leading to a stunning backdrop of the lesser Himalayas. Only bird song could be heard, no traffic or crowds. Never had I seen such a large area of open space. Imogen broke my trance as she stood beside me, ‘Simply amazing, isn’t it?’
‘Truly. It’s all so beautiful. I’m expecting to wake at any moment.’
‘Yes, you’re right, a beautiful dream, one that I have dreamt for a year. Now I’m here again, living the reality in all its glory. Shall we go to the dormitories?’
We met David at the doorway. Inside the small shaded room were four, three-tiered simple bunk beds without linen. We laid claim to our unit: myself on top, David in the middle and Imogen on the bottom.
‘Are you hungry Sam?’ David asked. ‘The cafeteria here isn’t too bad at all.’
A pathway led from the dormitories to the restaurant. On route, we met Dinesh and his family. ‘We are staying in log cabins. Tomorrow morning, I am taking elephant ride with my brother Deepak. We will be looking for many tiger.’ We smiled at Dinesh’s enthusiasm as we entered the cafeteria.
The clattering of dishes and cutlery shattered the silence of the world outside. The twins and I found three empty seats at a table and chose dahi aloo, a Punjabi dish of potatoes simmered in curd sauce, complemented with hot naan bread. David and Imogen had pre-booked a jeep into the jungle the following morning and asked if I would like to share. I confirmed m
y place immediately.
‘If it’s okay with you two, I’m going to read in the dorm.’ David veered right towards the dormitories, leaving Imogen and I looking out to the warm apricot of early sunset.
‘Shall we sit down, Sam?’ Relaxing at a wooden slatted table we breathed in the pure evening air. Above us, sitting on the branch of an old withered tree, a black faced langur monkey pruned its silver fur. Ahead, the sky reddened, lending the horizon of peaks a deep russet tone and the land a sandy beige.
I climbed down from the top bunk and fumbled around in the dark to get dressed. A blast of cold water in the insect infested showers woke me fully before I met the others. We positioned ourselves in the Jeep and entered a dense sal forest with the morning sun rising over the hills behind us. The driver took it easy as an occasional deer ambled across the road. The air was filled with the sound of wildlife greeting the morning; birds, monkeys and barking deer, all making their presence known. It was as if we’d ventured into another world, observers of a wild kingdom where humans had no place. Slowing down, we were asked by the driver for our silence as he pointed to a large clearing on our left. Ten or so metres away, a herd of wild elephant and their young passed, trumpeting and breaking fallen branches as they stomped by.
David carried a list of birds and delightfully ticked off peacocks, woodpeckers, kingfishers, parakeets and eagles as he sighted each one. Briefly stopping at the edge of a cliff, our guide revealed two motionless fish-eating gharial crocodiles on the banks of the Ramnagar River below. One had its long, thin jaws wide open, while the other balanced a white bird on its back. Imogen, who was seated to my right, leant over and placed her hand on my leg, ‘Sam, can you see them? Here, use our binoculars to take a closer look.’ They made even more of a spectacular sight magnified.