Towards the Within

by Reece Willis

  It wasn't raining in the morning, but it must have been all night. Our beds and luggage were soaked. Some sections of the Main Bazaar were flooded, reeking of raw sewage where people waded shin deep in the murky brown water. A car or two drove through, but autos didn’t stand a chance. It was the cycle-rickshaw wallahs that the gods smiled on the most as they merrily peddled by, seats filled with paying customers.

  At the top of the road we flagged down an auto to Connaught Place for breakfast and split up afterwards, agreeing to meet later at the hotel. I changed some money and went back to the Main Bazaar to see Harish and the guys. By this time the flood water had receded. Sandbags were removed, shutters were up and it was business as usual. I passed along the Bazaar without a worry in the world, confident in my step, handling each tout and every stare without a problem. I thought how intimidated I was when I first arrived in India, how scared this area had made me feel. Now I loved Delhi and revelled in its chaos. I felt at one with the crowds and moved with ease around the rickshaws and cart pullers, arriving at Harish’s hotel in no time at all. My upbeat mood was met by a sullen Ashoka.

  ‘Good morning Ashoka, you're looking very dapper today. How are you?’ I tested with a beaming grin. I was beginning to find the challenge of his grumpiness more and more enjoyable. He ignored me and turned away. ‘Is Harish around?’

  ‘Harish is away for one month on business,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Oh, okay, thanks.’ I looked down the hallway in hope I might catch a glimpse of any of the others, but saw no one.

  I turned the first corner into the alley and collided with Harish. ‘Mr Sam, haha, you are being back, what luck I am having today. First rain come and now I am seeing you. Please, are you having time to spend with me? Let me be making you good lunch.’

  ‘Ashoka told me you were away on business.’ Ashoka was quick to leave as we crossed the threshold.

  ‘No,’ Harish said with a frown, ‘I am here, as you can see.’

  I followed him up the stairs to the rooftop and sat by the refrigerator. ‘I came along last night, but there were no rooms available.’

  ‘No rooms? We have at least five rooms available. I think you are talking with Ashoka, no? He is being such menace to my hotel, letting only Indian guest stay. Much trouble for me. Because I am having to cook, I am not seeing what is happening downstair.’

  From under the shelter he poured the chai as heavy rain began to fall. Within seconds the stairwell door flung open. Nitin and Anil ran out dressed only in their shorts. Nitin sprinted over, nearly slipped and gave me a wet hug. He ran out from under the shelter, laid down with Anil and the pair pretended to swim on the ground.

  ‘Have they lost their minds?’ I shouted above the din of the downpour.

  ‘Haha, maybe, Mr Sam. We are having this fun because monsoon has finally come. They are enjoying rain very much. I think I would be joining them too if I have not lunch to make.’

  Nitin and Anil danced, splashed their feet and sang until Harish cut them off in mid verse for lunch. We sat in a circle as the two boys dried off.

  'I am now running tour business from hotel,' said Harish. 'I am arranging good bus journeys for tourist. I am hoping it will bring much western traveller to hotel, but I am most concerned about Ashoka. What to do?’

  ‘I’m looking to get to Jaipur as soon as possible. Can you help?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, of course, why not? I will be giving you very best price. In fact, there is one bus leaving at five thirty this afternoon if you are liking to go.’

  ‘That'd be great. This food is delicious by the way, what is it?’ I asked, cheeks filled like a hamster.

  ‘Ah, this is special dog curry,’ he replied. ‘I am very glad you are liking.’

  I stopped chewing. My face dropped as did the rice from my fingers. ‘Dog curry, really?’

  ‘Yes, why, are you not liking?’ He appeared upset, wounded eyes paining his face, but then he raised a reassuring grin, ‘Of course not, my friend. This is murg makkai; made with good chicken. No dog. We have two room of Punjabi guest this week, so I am making Punjabi food for them.’ Harish translated the dog curry story to the boys, who in turn exploded into laughter and slapped me on the back for my gullibility.

  I confirmed my return for the bus at five and made my way back to the hotel. Standing at the door to our room I searched my pockets for the padlock key only to realise I’d been stupid enough to leave it in the room. I pinned a note on the door for Kurt to meet me on the roof of Harish’s. He did so an hour later. Borrowing a screwdriver, I prised the lock from the door and packed my things saying farewell to Kurt for five days. Insecurity trickled through me at the prospect of travelling alone again, but I was also excited by the future unknown.

  Harish accompanied me to the top of the Main Bazaar and said goodbye as we reached a crowd of Indian holidaymakers. I found my seat at the back of the coach and glanced out of the window, noticing an Indian girl in her late teens talking to a white girl of the same age who had her back to me. They hugged and the westerner turned to board the bus. For a moment, everything seemed to blur around her as she made her way slowly along the aisle. Her walnut coloured hair, straight to her shoulders, shone in the half light of the interior, framing her face and her Mediterranean blue eyes. She stopped by the empty seat beside me. 'Is this taken?'

  'No, all yours,' I answered, and she settled in, placing her holdall on her lap. After a minute or so of silence I extended my hand, ‘Hi, I’m Sam.’

  She shook it gently and smiled, ‘Kate.’

  ‘So, you’re off to Jaipur then?’

  ‘It would seem so. I’m doing the whole Golden Triangle thing; you know, Delhi, Jaipur, Agra. Have you been to Jaipur before?’

  ‘No, first time for me. And you?’

  ‘No. This is only my second day in India.’

  ‘How are you finding it all?’

  ‘India? It’s all been a bit overwhelming so far.’ I glanced away briefly as she smiled, too timid to retain eye contact. ‘I’m supposed to be travelling with my friend who is visiting her family in Delhi, but her father became ill just before I arrived. So, I thought I’d give them some time to themselves. How long have you been in India?’

  The bus juddered to life and bullied its way into the rush-hour traffic and I told her my story so far.

  'So, Kate, where are you from? You're English, right?'

  'Canterbury. In Kent.'

  'No way, really? I live about twenty miles away from there.'

  'Haha, I bet you say that to all the girls.'

  I laughed, 'No, honestly, I know Canterbury really well. Let's face it, it's the only decent place for shopping for miles.'

  'Absolutely,' she smiled.

  She was nineteen and about to commence a Business Management degree at Kent University when she went home. We spoke about our favourite books, music and films, having most in common – it was as if we’d known each other our entire lives, finding it effortless to converse.

  'Have you sorted out your accommodation in Jaipur yet?’ I asked.

  ‘Sort of. My friend recommended a hotel. I just need to find it. And you?’

  ‘No, I just turn up and hope for the best.’

  ‘Well maybe you can come with me to my hotel and see if there’s a room there for you too. To be honest, I’m quite worried about what to do when I get off the bus.’

  I was relieved she asked. I didn't fancy scurrying around all night looking for a place to stay myself. ‘Yeah, no worries,' I replied casually.

  The driver overtook on a blind bend and a set of headlights careered towards us, missing us at the last second. I shut my eyes tight and clutched the railing of the seat in front. When I opened them again I turned to see her looking at me, smiling and calm, almost oblivious to the dangers of the road, as if she were sitting in her living room.

  'Aren’t you worried?' I asked.

  ‘The driving? No, not really. There’s nothing I can do about it. Besides, when it’s y
our time to go, it’s your time to go.’

  Just before ten we arrived in Jaipur. Climbing down from the coach into the dry evening heat we grabbed our luggage and negotiated one of the many auto-rickshaws in wait. We were taken to our hotel without quibble and the driver asked if his services would be required the next day. I asked him to come back at nine the next morning.

  There were two rooms available: one with air conditioning, television, double bed and en-suite bathroom; the other with a ceiling fan, single bed and a keyhole latrine. I requested the lesser of the two.

  ‘I wouldn’t have minded your room, you know,’ she said at her doorway.

  ‘I’ve got no problems with mine, honestly,’ I replied. 'Well it was nice to have met you.'

  'You too', she said and unlocked the door.

  ‘Do you have any plans tomorrow?’ I chanced.

  ‘I was going to see some of the sights I guess. I’m here for maybe two or three nights.’

  My blood began to race, my mouth became dry, ‘Well, um, if you’re at a loose end, maybe we could meet up at some point?’ I bumbled.

  ‘How about we see Jaipur together? Maybe we could hire that rickshaw guy for the day. You seem to know your stuff. I have no idea what I'd be looking for anyway.’

  ‘Cool, yeah, right, okay. I’ll have a think where we can go and give you a knock at about ten to nine?’

  ‘OK, great.' She smiled and then closed the door.

  For a moment, I stood lingering in her perfume before making my way a little light headed to my room.

  22

  Double checking the last of my notes, I placed the folded pieces of paper in my pocket and checked myself in the mirror. I didn’t have my best clothes with me, but had opted for the smartest trousers and shirt I could find. My hair was a mess, in desperate need of a cut and my futile attempt at styling it was interrupted by a light tap at the door. Kate stood in the hallway, a turquoise salwar kameez complimenting her pearl skin. ‘Hi Sam, are you ready to go?’

  ‘Yep, all set. You look amazing by the way.'

  ‘Thanks, that’s very sweet of you.’

  Our rickshaw wallah was studying his offside mirror, pressing his thin moustache into place with a finger as we approached. ‘So, where's a good place for breakfast?’ I asked, catching him a little by surprise. Immediately he turned and smiled.

  ‘Ah, good morning, sir. Breakfast? Yes, I will take you.’ Just two minutes along the same road he came to a stop outside a busy café. I agreed a reasonable price for the day and asked his name. ‘Jameel,’ he replied. ‘I will wait for you here. You will recognise my rickshaw, I am sure.’ His English was good and his rickshaw was unmistakable; striking yellow and black with an Islamic crescent and star either side of the seating area.

  I took the lead and found us a table, a waiter in tow.

  Kate ran her finger down the menu, 'Um, banana pancakes and a cup of Earl Grey tea please.'

  I let out a short laugh.

  'What?' she laughed back.

  'I don't know; it was the whole “a cup of Earl Grey tea” thing. It was sweet. Your pronunciation of the English language is lovely, perfect in fact. I wish everyone spoke as well as you do in England.'

  'Uh okay, thank you?'

  The waiter bounced gently on his tip-toes.

  'Oh sorry, I'll have…' I glanced at the menu, 'The same as my friend here please.'

  'Very good, sir,' he said and pitter-pattered away to the kitchen.

  ‘So, where are we going today?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought we could start off with a tour of Amber Fort, get some lunch and then this afternoon maybe a visit to City Palace?’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  As she looked out to life on the street, I found it difficult to take my eyes from her. I couldn't remember ever being so struck by a girl. She turned and broke my gaze, 'Sam?'

  'Huh?' The waiter hovered behind me arms balancing our breakfast. 'Oh sorry, thank you,' I said, and moved aside, allowing him room to place our food down. He squeezed back and responded to a raised hand in a sea of heads.

  'I'm sure you'd love Manali,' I said. 'Especially around breakfast time; eating honey porridge and drinking fresh apple juice all the while breathing in the fresh air of the mountains.' I suddenly realised how much I sounded like Ruben or Jack.

  'Sounds idyllic. I'm kind of using this as a trial for the possibility of a longer trip next year, maybe two months or so in the summer holidays. We'll see how it goes though.'

  'India again?'

  'I was hoping so, maybe a trip to Manali and on to, um where did you say you were going? Leh was it?'

  'Yeah, the road up there is meant to be amazing.'

  'Leh, yes. But I'm not sure I'll do the whole thing alone, maybe with a friend trustworthy and willing enough.'

  She caught the waiter's attention, 'Could we have the bill, please?' I reached for my wallet to pay, but she held her palm up, 'No, allow me, please, it's the least I can do.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Of course.'

  Sharp eyed Jameel started his engine as we rose from the table. I asked if he'd take us to Amber Fort. 'Yes, of course. But maybe first I take you to Jal Mahal. It is on the way. Very romantic,’ he assured us with a cheeky grin. ‘Jal Mahal was built in 1734. It was once a hunting lodge, but now it is flooded by Man Sagar Lake exposing top floors only.’

  Set against a backdrop of rugged hills the elegant palace appeared to float on the dark water of the lake, displaying a near perfect mirror image of the cream coloured walls lined with archways, each corner marked by an octagonal tower and elegant cupola.

  'It's such a shame it's been abandoned like this,' Kate said as she adjusted her hair slightly.

  I tilted my head, 'I don't know, I quite like it. It looks haunted, as if the walls long for the return of idle court gossip or the brag of a recent hunt.'

  'It does feel ghostly; I imagine more so on a misty morning. It's very beautiful.'

  The city dwindled into the simple village life of Amber. A slower pace, people milled about the muddy streets as if the outside world ceased to exist. Nearing the top of a steep slope, Jameel brought the auto to a stop. I got out and pretended to tie my shoelace and memorised the notes I wrote earlier hoping to impress Kate. I met her at an arched gateway where we left Jameel.

  Walking through, I quoted what I’d rehearsed, ‘The town of Amber was the capital of the Rajput Kingdom from 1037 until 1727 when it shifted to Jaipur. Amber Fort was constructed in 1592 by Raja Man Singh.’

  ‘Wow, you know your history. Very impressive,’ she remarked.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, picking up confidence in my step.

  ‘Did you know it all before you wrote it on those pieces of paper?’

  I looked away, flushed, ‘I, uh, kind of researched it from the guidebook last night.’

  ‘It’s very sweet you went to all that effort. Thank you.’

  Hand-painted elephants were ferrying tourists to a higher level of the fort. ‘Would you like to take one?’ I asked.

  ‘An elephant ride? Not for me thanks. I’m quite happy to walk, unless you want to?’

  The tourists swayed from side to side, looking more anxious than happy. ‘The expression on those passengers’ faces says it all. I think I’ll give it a miss,' I chuckled.

  We wandered the luxurious courtyards and audience halls in comfortable silence except for the occasional comment on the geometrical patterned archways or elaborate ceilings. From a cool pavilion, we stepped into the blazing sunshine of a courtyard where a group of restless langurs were squabbling and the scent of fresh flowers whispered the dry breeze.

  'Have you travelled anywhere like India before?' she enquired.

  'I nearly did a couple of years ago. I knew a South African guy who worked a few months at a time in the UK just to save enough money to go backpacking. He asked me if I wanted to go with him on his next adventure; he was planning to spend six months in an Israeli Kibbutz and after
that I’m not sure.’

  'Sounds exciting!'

  ‘I told him I’d think about it, but inside the thought terrified me. What if things went wrong and we were miles from anywhere? Or we ran out of money? He was very much the kind of guy that lived for the moment, whereas I was quite the opposite.'

  ‘So, you just decided not to go?’

  I gazed below to an island in the waters of Maota Lake, 'I met a girl and that was that. The decision was kind of taken out of my hands.' We retraced our steps through the complex to the exit. 'I regretted it for a while. A few months later I was browsing a copy of National Geographic in a doctor's waiting room. There was an article about what people had compared to others. Photos showed average families sitting outside their homes, possessions displayed out before them. I was particularly struck by the Bhutanese family who lived in a primitive tree house and had next to nothing. I wished then I was with my friend seeing a world like that for myself.'

  'But you're doing it now? Look how much you've seen and done already.'

  'I know and I haven't regretted a second.' I smiled, 'I'm hungry, are you ready for lunch?'

  Jameel was snoring, slouched in the front seat of his rickshaw. I tapped gently on the side. He swatted an invisible fly and murmured, 'Taken, not free.' I tapped again. This time he woke with a start, ‘Oh my God, I have fallen asleep. I am so very sorry sir, madam.’

  ‘No worries, Jameel. I’m Kate and this is Sam. Please, none of this sir, madam, nonsense.’

  ‘Thank you most kindly, Miss Kate. It is so hot. It is making me a little tired.’

  ‘Can you take us into the city for lunch? Somewhere we can get a pizza maybe?’

  He knew the perfect place – a newly opened chain restaurant, 'Very good air-cool,' he said.

  Halfway through sharing a pizza with all the trimmings, Kate asked, 'So, the girl you met after your friend left for Israel, did it last long?'

  'About eighteen months. We broke up at the beginning of this year. It ran its natural course and we went our separate ways. Another reason I came to India I guess.' I was in a state of bliss and wasn't in the mood for Saskia's doom and gloom. I could count the serious relationships I'd had on one hand, and all had ended badly. I turned the focus and question back to her. 'Is there anyone special waiting for you at home?'