by Reece Willis
‘No, you’re all right, thanks. Right now, I can’t even imagine working in England again. In fact, this is the first time I’ve thought about my job since I left.’
‘Oh okay, I’ll let them know.’
‘Listen mum, I’m running out of money, I’ll phone you again soon.’
‘Okay darling, take care. I love you.’
‘You too.’
I walked slowly, not caring where the road took me. I hoped the trail I found leading into the top of Dhungri forest would swallow me up, and to an extent the density of the wood did just that.
‘Hello mister.’ Three Tibetan boys had crept up and were now standing dirty faced in front of me. ‘Take picture, take picture,’ they called out.
One climbed on to the other's shoulders, stood and somehow assisted the third boy as he scrambled up on to the second boy's shoulders. For a few moments, they balanced, arms out, looking like a strange totem pole until they came crashing down to the grass in a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Somehow this beautiful country had a way of frustrating the life out of me, but could also warm my heart like nothing else.
‘Baksheesh,’ they said, holding out their hands. I laughed and gave each of them five rupees each before they ran off chuckling.
Back at the house, I found Kurt and Tyler in the living area. Neria and Sophie were both in their rooms packing. Neria had lost her travellers cheques so the two of them were heading to Delhi to try and replace them. They hoped to return in a couple of days.
'We need to return the bikes today,' said Kurt. 'Tyler and I were going to go out for one last ride. Do you want to join us?'
'Yeah Okay. Where are we going?'
'Naggar Castle is worth a visit,' replied Tyler. 'It's not too far.'
Perched upon a hill, Naggar Castle overlooked the forested mountains of the Kullu Valley. The timber and stone castle was built in the early seventeenth century by the King of Himachal, Raja Jagat Singh. It was now a hotel and a quaint little café within the grounds was the perfect place for us to relax for a couple of hours. We sat quietly for the first half an hour, each of us staring out at the mountains that loom over the little villages below. I was the first to break the silence by asking the guys what they knew about the Tibetan folk in Manali. They told me that many towns throughout northern India were places of exile for Tibetans following the invasion of their country by China. India had granted sanctuary to Tibetans so they may continue their culture undisturbed. 'It is most common to find Tibetans in mountainous regions such as Himachal Pradesh, Ladakh and Sikkim,' said Kurt.
'There are refugee camps in Delhi and other larger Indian cities too,' added Tyler.
Kurt then continued to explain how the fourteenth Dalai Lama took refuge in Dharamsala, three hundred kilometres west of Manali, in 1959.
‘It was there that the government of Tibet in Exile was set up to rehabilitate Tibetan refugees and restore freedom and happiness in Tibet.’
‘I think the girls plan to go to Dharamsala next. How about you, Kurt?’ I asked, already knowing that this was the end of Tyler’s trip and he was heading home when we all left Manali.
‘Leh I think; I would like to see Leh again. It is beautiful and the road up there is out of this world. Why don’t you come with me? I am sure you would love it.’
Honoured by Kurt's offer and delighted to continue my trip with a friend rather than on my own, I answered instinctively without hesitation.
'Definitely. It sounds amazing.'
I set about making morning Bournvita for everyone and left a glass at Kurt’s door with a knock. Tyler’s door was ajar. He placed the book he was reading down and invited me in. I sat on a blue cushion on the floor opposite him as he took a dark varnished wooden box from beneath his bed. Inside was a chillum, a brown rag and a circular flattened disc of charas. He prepared a smoke and passed it on.
‘You’ve come fully prepared,’ I laughed, pointing at the box.
‘For everything,’ he replied, taking the pipe from me.
I asked him what he was doing before India. ‘I lived in Japan for five years. Went out there with fifty dollars in my pocket and a camera over my shoulder and made money taking people’s portraits.’
‘Wow, that’s pretty impressive. Not sure if I’d have the guts to do that.’ I took a sip of my drink, allowing the steam to soften my skin.
‘You’re here, aren’t you? Not many people would have the guts to just pack up their lives and do what you’ve done so far.’
I considered his words for a moment, ‘More luck than bravery I think. Who knows where I would have been had I not met you and Kurt.’
‘Hey man, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a lot stronger than you think; you just have to believe in yourself a bit more.’ He went about making another chillum and opened the window to relieve the room of incense and charas smoke. ‘So, you're going to Leh? If you get a chance, you should visit the south too. There’s a place called Hampi, it’s like something out of the Flintstones; incredible rock boulders, awesome place. And Goa, you've got to go to Goa. Find Arambol Beach, it’s so quiet with hardly any tourists; white sands and fishing boats, so idyllic. Watch out for smoking pot in Goa though, plain clothes cops pose as dealers and target travellers. Harsh, dude.’
Kurt came in waving the smoke away with his hand, ‘Hey guys, breakfast at Pete’s?’
‘Sure,’ I said, offering the chillum to him. ‘Who’s Pete?’
‘I do not smoke, thank you. Pete is Pete, you will see.’ Kurt looked over at Tyler and they smiled knowingly at each other.
At the bottom of the hill, just before the Mall, an alleyway led off to the right between two buildings. Above a doorway next to a wall with a huge spiral of colours, hung a sign announcing, Pete’s Café. In a shaded area of the café an old Indian man with a long grey beard and wild straggly hair was playing chess with a westerner. On seeing us he excused himself and walked over to where we were standing. Draped over his skinny frame was a tweed blazer with a tie dyed t-shirt beneath, ‘Hello, my friends, please take seat. What can I get you gentlemen?’ he asked in a husky voice.
‘Hi Pete, how are you? Three bowls of porridge please, one chai and two bhang lassis,’ Tyler requested, and looked to us in confirmation.
‘I am okay, thank you. It is good to see you again. I have met you both before, on different time though. But you, you are new to my eyes,’ Pete said, holding out his hand to me.
‘Sam, nice to meet you,’ I replied, extending my hand.
He withdrew his without shaking, placed his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers and then placed his hands together in a namaste. He let out a hearty laugh followed by severe coughing. ‘My health not as good as once was,’ he said, trying to recompose himself.
We took a seat in the garden. Breakfast was served and I noticed the lassi had strange particles in it, ‘Tyler, what is this stuff?’ I asked, eyeing the liquid with suspicion.
‘Try it and tell me,’ he replied, grinning mischievously. I’d seen this type of grin before. Kids at school gave me the same grin right before I was led into something I would later regret. However, on this occasion Tyler was drinking the lassi too. I took a good long gulp. There was something very familiar about it. I analysed the after taste, trying to determine the answer.
Whatever it was kicked in fast. It was as if I'd left my body temporarily and was watching us from a distance. A sense of wellbeing consumed me, followed by slight nausea. Pins and needles cramped my head and I had to steady myself against the table as I came back down to earth.
‘Got any ideas yet?’ I could just make out Tyler's voice, but it was muffled.
'You are liking my bhang lassi then?’ Pete laughed, exposing the only two teeth on his bottom gum. I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger.
Tyler and Kurt returned from paying the bill. This was the moment I dreaded – getting up. It wouldn’t have been a problem had my legs felt like they were still ther
e, but they seemed to have taken a complete leave of absence. Kurt laughed, helping me out of my chair, ‘See, you will drink Pete’s bhang lassi.’
I had to sit on a wall to catch my breath with a perfume of fresh marijuana filling my nose. A little time passed, although it felt like a lifetime, and I began to regain my senses. My friends escorted me out into the street.
‘Check out that trailing rickshaw, guys.' My attention quickly turned to a passing sadhu who looked puzzled by my close inspection of his fabulous beard. Kurt was quick to apologise and gave a hefty donation.
‘Come on, dude,’ Tyler laughed. I ambled back up the hill, staring at anything and everything while Kurt and Tyler did their very best to stay in time with me. We came to a tree set back from the road with ibex horns and knives sticking into it and many more metallic objects such as swords and tridents strewn at the base.
‘Uh guys, someone really hates that tree,’ I remarked, transfixed.
Kurt laughed, ‘This tree is dedicated to Ghatokach, the son of Hadimba and Bhima. These are offerings made by villagers.’
I noticed something else on my left I hadn’t noticed before; a small temple perched on a large boulder amongst the apple trees. Bhang lassi may have made me the most stoned I’d ever felt, but my perception was now top notch. I was led away into Dhungri Forest where Kurt and Tyler sat me on some rocks while they paid their respects to Hadimba at the temple. When they returned I was lying on the floor gazing up at the trees muttering, ‘Heavy leaves, man.’
Apart from an afternoon visit to the Green Forest Café where I consumed ten vegetable momos to myself, I spent most the day back at the house flat on my back in my room listening to music. Later in the evening, by which time I'd made a full recovery, I was introduced to a friend of Tyler’s. Floyd was from Germany and had been having problems with his back. ‘A little bird told me you are really good at massage. I mentioned it to Floyd and he asked if you wouldn’t mind,’ Tyler said.
‘Of course not, lovely to meet you Floyd,’ I said.
‘I’ve been climbing recently and have pulled a few muscles I think.’
After a forty-minute session in Tyler's room Floyd stood, stretched and thanked me over and over. ‘That feels amazing, my friend, you’ve done wonders. Please take this.’ He gave me two hundred rupees.
‘Oh no, please, don't worry about it. Any friend of Tyler’s is a friend of mine.’
He insisted, ‘Please, it would make me feel better if you accepted. And then, if I have any problems in the future, I can call on you again.’
After Floyd left, Tyler came to see me, ‘You can make some serious money out here. You’ve got real talent. Use it.’
Over the next few days Kurt, Tyler and I spent quite a lot of time around the house. We meditated and learnt some Tae Kwon Do from Kurt, although he found Tyler and I very frustrating, not taking it seriously and squawking like Bruce Lee. Tyler taught us some yoga which we practised in the orchards. One morning I mentioned I was becoming quite concerned about my finances, saying I wasn’t sure how much time I would have left in India. Tyler reinforced the idea that I should charge for my massage services. ‘Put some posters up around Leh. There are so many trekkers there, you should do well.’ I held it in mind, not having a better alternative in sight.
‘Sam, you have not been to the actual town of Vashisht yet, have you?’ Kurt asked.
‘I’ve been close to it when we took the bikes back and when I took the girl back to her hotel from the party, but never into the village itself, no.’
‘Then today we will go. Tyler, are you coming too?’
‘Na, you guys go ahead. I’ve got laundry to do and I’ve got to go to the post office.’
Kurt and I took an auto to The Mall where he picked up three bottles of beer before taking the same rickshaw to Vashisht. The ancient village reminded me very much of Old Manali. A grassy pathway led us into an avenue of aged timber buildings and newer white concrete hotels and restaurants. Opposite an ornate wooden temple, we had lunch.
Kurt took me away from the village on what became a very rewarding hike. Gigantic rock faces with powerful waterfalls gushing down to the Beas to our right and on our left, a horizon of snow fringed mountains. We climbed into the hills to overlook the Himalayas and were casually walking along when Kurt suddenly grabbed me by the shoulder and ordered me to stop where I was and keep still. He pointed a few inches away at a section of scaly skin moving stealthily through the undergrowth. ‘Snake,’ he whispered. ‘Maybe a cobra or viper, either way it may be extremely dangerous. They are very fast and very agile, so stay still and let it pass.’ I didn’t need to be told twice. I was totally fixed to the spot, eyeing the reptile with caution. It slithered away and when we were sure it was gone we made tracks from the area.
We found a place where the bough of a tree made a good seat to relax, providing a perfect view of the valley. Kurt withdrew a bottle of beer from his shoulder bag and offered it to me. ‘Not for me, thanks mate,’ I said, and pulled out a bottle of water. There we sat for a good couple of hours, chatting about life, our travels, Manali and the friends we had made.
'So, are you ready to fly home?' he asked.
The question came out of the blue and caught me by surprise, 'England? Not for a while yet I hope. Why do you ask?'
'So, Manali is everything you wished for? I will not have to buy your ticket back to Delhi then?'
I cottoned on, 'Ha ha, no. You were so right about this place, thank you. Since I've been here I've thought about little else but the moment I'm in, absorbing every minute with hardly a thought about the past or future.'
'Ah yes, we can only live in this moment and try to make the most of it. You never know what fate has in store around each corner.'
The more Kurt drank, the more relaxed he became, and the more philosophical his conversation, 'We are all one you know, all connected somehow in the fabric of time. By chance strangers may unconsciously know each other's past and dictate their destiny.'
'What?' I laughed as he took to standing, swaying and looking out to a veil of mist hovering the peaks.
'Even the clouds evaporate and regenerate over us, following us through life, witnessing our presence and journey on this earth.' He rambled some more, making less and less sense and by the end of the third bottle, he stumbled back into the seat of the bough. 'My, this beer is stronger than I thought.' He readjusted himself, 'I have a little headache, I'm just going to close my eyes for a moment.'
He looked like a child asleep, curled in the foetal position, but the snoring that emanated from him could have been that of an elephant. It gave me time to think about what he said and how I came to be here with him now. I looked back to Dehra Dun and the hotel room and thought once again about my youth. I felt a sudden pang of anger towards my stepfather. All the years of being alone in my room while I saw the rest of the world go on as normal around me. While I was restricted to one measly meal a day – no breakfast or lunch – he ate like a king. While he spent money on new cars, kitted out the home with all the latest mod cons, and even bought himself a speedboat, I was left with nothing. No toys or books, no TV set nor a radio. After endless days of intense bullying at school, black and bruised, all my father did was turn away as if I didn’t exist. Better to be out of sight and out of mind, than a problem to deal with.
Pulling myself back to the here and now, I gazed ahead to the light and shade swaying across the surface of the mountains. I glanced over to Kurt, my friend, my brother. The angst dissolved into sorrow, slipped below the surface, and like oil and water, security floated above the darkness.
I let him be for an hour or so. When he awoke, bleary eyed, he smiled and said, ‘Let’s get something to eat. It is an hour's walk back to the village and the sun is lowering. We would never find our way back down again in the dark.’
We climbed down from the tree and as we did so a small white dog appeared from the undergrowth. The little fellow accompanied us back to Vashisht. ‘I’ve s
een so many dogs in a bad way in India,’ I said. ‘It’s so sad to see them in such a sorry state.’ I stopped to make a fuss of him.
‘Yes, very sad indeed. These feral dogs are known as pi dogs. Some can be friendly, but others can be hostile. Most are riddled with fleas, scabies and mange, and some even have rabies. This one looks fine though. We shall call him Springer for the spring in his step.’ Kurt, as I, was quite taken by him. When we reached the village, the pooch stopped, looked at us as if to say goodbye, and trotted off the way he came. On a rooftop overlooking the hills we took our evening meal. The sun set and the peaks shaded, creating scenes of absolute serenity.
20
Neria and Sophie arrived back from Delhi with new travellers’ cheques.
‘How did the police go?’ I enquired.
‘Lucky I reported it with the Manali police first otherwise I'm sure it would have been a completely different story altogether,’ Neria replied.
‘We spoke to a couple of guys earlier in the Mall,’ Sophie said. ‘There’s a full moon party tonight a couple of miles outside Vashisht. You guys are up for it, right?’ She was directing this more towards Kurt and Tyler than me, but we all confirmed our places anyway. I had been mistaken for thinking a little time and distance would have washed any awkwardness away between Sophie and me. She was still as frosty as she had been before she left for Delhi. I could understand her being upset and embarrassed the morning after I had rejected her, but I’d thought she was mature enough to have gotten over it by now.
Two rickshaws took us into Vashisht where we walked along the same pathway out of the village Kurt and I travelled a few days prior. An hour on and the five of us diverted away from the road, crossed a suspension bridge and into a dark forest. Dance music filtered through the trees and little by little a large area of light appeared, figures dancing in time to the beat. A guy at the gate took one hundred rupees each from us and issued a small brown card with Full Moon Party, Manali – 6pm-9am written upon it and with what looked like a red thumbprint stamped in the centre.