by Damien Leith
‘Two hours.’ He pointed. ‘We go down first, and then all the way back up.’
I shook my head. So close, yet so far away! The network of forest was so dense that there was no definition of contours; the lower levels of the valley were indistinguishable, camouflaged. I imagined a huge bridge across the valley. That would save some steps!
We started off once again, a light drizzle now encouraging the leeches to emerge. They seemed to sneak up on you when you least expected it. Walking along you’d suddenly feel a slight tingle at a point on your body and on investigation you were guaranteed to find one—generally stuck tight to your skin with one end buried deep into your flesh, sucking blood relentlessly. They never seemed to bother Mani though; then again they hardly went near him. I too had been quite lucky but with the arrival of rain it was becoming clear that leeches had a fondness for Irish blood.
But as much as leeches made things difficult, the drizzle was also quite pleasant—like the gentle rain, back home in Ireland.
I thought about sitting in the living room looking out the window one day when I was about sixteen, gazing into the backyard. It was midday, but it could as easily have been close to nightfall, the way the cloud cover had extinguished the sun’s light. Rain was gently tip-tapping on the window.
‘What a terrible day,’ Dad suddenly said as he entered the room.
I looked up, embarrassed to see him. ‘I don’t think we’ve had a summer this year,’ I said.
Dad had the newspaper in his hand. He sat down on the couch close to me and we were silent for the next few minutes.
Eventually I said, ‘Sorry about last night!’
Dad had been waiting for me to say it all day and perhaps that was why he had come into the room. The previous night he had caught me mid-ritual. I hadn’t noticed him come into my room because I had my eyes closed—but when I opened them I was paralysed by the expression on his face.
‘Do you do this often?’ he’d said, dismayed.
I had been trying desperately to complete a prayer for about ten minutes. Had Dad witnessed it all?
‘No!’ I became angry and defensive.
‘So what’s going on then? You’ve been standing there for ages doing the same thing over and over again! Talk to me—tell me what this is all about! Is this another outbreak of your OCD?’
Dad was always such a caring father, but on that day I wasn’t having it.
‘Forget it, Dad, there’s nothing wrong. Mind your own business. Just mind your own business!’ And I’d stormed out like a spoilt kid. So here he was, acknowledging my apology with a gentle grin and presumably still wondering what madness possessed his son. But he said nothing. I had hurt him, I knew.
After about forty-five minutes’ walking we reached the centre of the valley. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ I exclaimed.
A gentle stream meandered slowly beneath a broken old bridge and all around towered trees of every shape and size. Under their canopy, it was as though we’d entered a forgotten place; deathly still but, in a strange way, peaceful.
‘Phew, we got down here fast enough,’ I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
‘But now come the hard part.’ Mani pointed a finger towards the track, which began again on the other side of the bridge. It was dramatically steep. Before long both of us were reduced to an uninspired pace. With that came the monotony. Then, as always, came the thoughts.
I bet they’re really pissed off.
Frustrated by this guilt creeping up on me again, I shook my head, hoping that the thought would subside and crawl back to where it had come from. It didn’t.
Up and leaving like that, without any reason. They must have been worried sick.
I fought back, rubbing my fingers abrasively over each other, getting horribly upset.
I’ve told you, I’m not thinking about this. There was nothing else for me to do at the time. If I stayed, God knows what could have happened!
I paused and then continued, vexed.
No, that’s a load of crap. Nothing would ever have happened. I would have done myself in before hurting anyone else. I’m not talking about this bullshit any more. I called home when I was in India and everyone’s cool, they understand.
I tried to distract myself by concentrating on each step on the muddy trail. The rain that had threatened since we set off had increased from drizzle to a light shower and the cool evening air was settling in fast. Even though I was sweating from the climb, the rainfall was icy and I was shivering as I walked. But we’d advanced about halfway up the incline already. That’s when we heard the roar.
‘Where did that come from?’ I whispered, catching up with Mani’s stock-still form. A second roar echoed in the distance and both of us swung around.
‘Over there!’ Mani pointed fearfully towards the opposite side of the steep valley which we had just ascended. ‘Very hard to see.’
There was just a wallpaper of trees. Suddenly a slight movement caught my eye. It was in a clearing about twenty minutes’ walk behind us.
‘It’s…’ Mani squinted into the distance. ‘It’s Akio!’ He instantly became alarmed. ‘Can you see? It’s Akio.’
‘No way—is it?’ My heart began to thump as I tried to identify the figure standing in the centre of the clearing. It was a man alright, but he had his back to me. ‘Turn around,’ I cried. ‘Let me see who you are.’
‘We should stay quiet,’ warned Mani.
But as though he’d heard, the man turned suddenly, erratically; it was Akio. Instinctively I leapt out of view, concealing myself behind a tree, avoiding the gaze which Akio fixed in our direction.
‘Oh shit,’ I whispered. ‘He’s in danger.’ Clearly Akio was in trouble, he didn’t even have his backpack any longer.
‘Must be the Maoist,’ replied Mani. ‘I think we must go away from here. I think we go fast!’
Mani couldn’t conceal his fear, but now I couldn’t hide my curiosity. Crawling to an area of greater cover I gazed down once more, watching Akio’s every movement. He’d started running again, his small form barely visible as it zigzagged in and out of clearings and down the mountainside.
‘Come, Sean!’ Mani tugged hard on my arm. ‘We must go. We stay and maybe Maoist come for us too.’
These words jolted me into action. The Maoists were the last people that I wanted to meet again.
Mani led the way—much faster than in all the time I’d known him. The track was slippery, wet and forever uphill. We powered on as if we had all the energy in the world and only a short time to use it. Every few metres I would look back, partly out of worry for myself, but mainly out of concern for Akio.
The stupid idiot, I thought, walking frantically. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut and give them some fucking money. Selfish bastard! He’d made life difficult for everybody.
I began to drop back a little from Mani. Suddenly we entered another clearing and I was compelled to stop for another look. At first there was nothing to see. Then, from out of nowhere, three people dashed into view and back into the depths of the forest. They were moving fast and weren’t too far behind us.
Please Holy God, please protect Mam, Dad…
I began reciting aloud, the words running from my mouth on their own as I searched for another glimpse of Akio.
…and please protect Mani and me and—
Akio’s name came into my mind, a clawing requirement to include him or the prayer wouldn’t be correct and therefore he’d be in even greater danger than he already faced. I was angry with him, though. I had to include him but I didn’t want to; my praying couldn’t help him, he’d brought this on himself.
How could you possibly wish him harm? If something happens to him it’s all your fault. Dear Holy God…
I tried to push the hostility to the back of my mind, then suddenly Akio appeared again and I was distracted from the prayer without Akio’s name being successfully included.
He had come out into a patch of open space through which
I could see the bridge we’d passed over earlier. He looked confused and frightened. It seemed as though he was deciding what to do next, where to run or where to hide—but he was deciding too slowly. From behind him, the three men emerged into view. A barrage of frantic prayers bludgeoned my mind. I wanted to yell out to Akio—Run! But no words left my mouth. My mind was too occupied to release my tongue for anything other than prayers.
Mani shouted at me, ‘Come, Sean, you must hurry, you in big danger.’
His words startled me, broke me away from my thoughts. I didn’t move though, I was glued to the spot. What was taking place in the valley a little way below was too terrifying detach myself from.
The three men circled Akio, each brandishing weapons, each poised and moving aggressively. The first blow landed hard across Akio’s face, throwing him almost weightlessly to the ground. I was too far away to see for certain, but something made me think that the first to deliver a punch was Raja.
Akio began to scramble to his feet, his hands pressed hard against his bloody face, his body looking weak and vulnerable.
Dear Holy God, please protect…dear Holy God please protect Mam, Dad…dear Holy God…Say Akio, say Akio…Get it right!
I started over and over again. New additions always had to be placed at the end of the prayer—but since I wasn’t getting that far without having to start again, each new start was becoming more frantic, more desperate, and I still hadn’t included Akio.
A swift hard kick from one of the other men toppled again with ease. His body squirmed. Clearly he was in excruciating pain.
Dear Holy God.
I started reciting loudly, closing my eyes tightly, eliminating any distractions, anything that might prevent me from completing the prayer and helping Akio!
‘Come!’
I leapt back startled again. Mani had returned to get me.
‘They’re going to kill Akio!’ I pointed to the clearing below. ‘Shit! Where has he gone?’ I scanned in every direction. ‘They’ve all disappeared, where are they?’
‘Come, we must run. I think maybe soon bang bang!’
Just as Mani finished speaking there was a loud blast, swiftly followed by two more.
‘Gunshots?’ I cried.
Mani nodded.
‘For Godsake! Do you think he’s dead?’
‘I think so,’ he replied. ‘Maybe! We must run, I think they looking for us too!’
Panic-driven, I jumped once again to my feet. My hands were shaking feverishly and for a moment I didn’t know what to do. Mani grabbed hold of me and once again dragged me in the direction of Tadapani village.
The next hour followed in a blur of fear, exhaustion, confusion and anxiety. Each step no longer felt like agony, it felt like escape, with no option of turning back. Mani walked rapidly, flushed red, the sound of his heavy breathing accompanying each impatient step. He looked more like a machine than a man hauling a backpack on his shoulders.
I pounded behind in a daze. Still none of the prayers were reaching completion and my mind told me that I was to blame for what had happened to Akio. I knew it was ridiculous to be thinking like that but, as always, the grinding guilt outweighed any form of rational thinking.
Dear Holy God…Fuck! It’s my fault, it’s my fault.
‘Tadapani,’ Mani gasped as he pointed up ahead.
It was like somebody had just turned on the light in an otherwise darkened room and suddenly everything became clear again. We were close to collapse, but seeing Tadapani lifted our spirits and we focused on reaching the end. As we surfaced from the confines of the forest into the open space of the village, the rain fell more heavily than it had all afternoon.
Finally we reached the sheltered decking of the Everest Lodge. Mani threw the backpack to one side and himself alongside it. Lying flat on his back, he struggled to catch his breath, until at last his panting settled to a steady wheeze. I remained standing for a short while, reminded of gym, at school, where we were always told it was best to calm your breathing while still standing—a strange way to be thinking after the ordeal of the day. Finally I stretched out beside Mani.
‘How are you feeling?’ I mumbled at last.
Mani remained silent for a while, his mind some place else. Finally he answered, ‘Mani not so bad, tired I think. Sad also.’
‘I can’t believe what happened to Akio. It was—’
Mani interrupted me. ‘Tonight we eat and then sleep, not stay awake for long. Maoist might come here tonight, safer for us to sleep, maybe Maoist not see us.’
Poor Mani. He was pale in the face, he was worried and he was sick. And I worried for his livelihood. Would the Maoists hold him responsible? Would he be able to take future treks through this country?
‘Do you think Akio is dead?’
‘If he has luck like Mani, yes!’
He rose to his feet and disappeared through a door at the end of the creaky decking. I remained alone, deep in my thoughts, surprisingly comforted now by the sound of the rainfall.
Dear Holy God…
I spoke slowly, aloud, pronouncing each word precisely and with definition.
…please protect Mam, Dad, John, Sarah and Sam, Benji and Rusty, all my friends and relatives, Mani and…
I couldn’t do it.
‘Shit!’ I roared aloud in anger. ‘Damn you, Akio. Damn, damn, damn. Akio is your name, Akio. How hard is that to say? Holy God, if Akio’s not dead, look after him for fucksake and while you’re doing it, give me a fucking break.’
I couldn’t contain my anger. If my emotion had had a physical form, I would have drawn it out and punched it there and then. But I couldn’t. And no sooner had the words parted from my lips than came the guilt.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. If Akio is still alive I’ve probably just ruined any chance he has left.
Dear Holy God, sorry about that, sorry for cursing, please protect…
It was no use and I was too exhausted. I closed my eyes and concentrated only on the sound of the rainfall. From out on the street it sounded like a continuous hum; from somewhere nearby the lodge it sounded like a beat, tapping gently on some steely surface; and from behind it was a single drop every three seconds or so. Above, the trees rocked in the wind, and in the distance the gush of a river could be heard.
Without noticing, I drifted off to sleep.
9. A bump in the night
‘Okay, wake-up time, no sleeping here.’
My eyes opened and I left behind what had seemed to be a perfect sleep. It was nightfall and Mani was standing over me, dangling a room key. I wondered who might have seen me sleeping out here on the open deck.
‘You are room number three. There is no water and no electric. It is better that we eat and then sleep right after.’
I followed Mani to the end of the decking where a door led to the dining area. This was a dark room, uncomfortably cold, where a few scattered candles flickered dimly. A stubble-faced teenage boy emerged from an area unknown and, after I ordered, vanished again.
The bleakness of the restaurant was heightened by the shadows that were cast across the walls; I could have sworn I saw Akio’s face among the many different shapes that danced there.
Dear Holy God…
My praying hadn’t stopped; the horror of what had happened was only starting to set in.
He must be dead. The poor guy! I just can’t believe it. This isn’t the holiday I planned. I never signed up for this.
What if the Maoists are still trying to find me.
The food soon arrived, set down by a very pregnant woman who breathed heavily as she moved. She didn’t engage in conversation and I was once again left alone to my thoughts.
Why would the Maoists be bothered with me? I had paid the stupid donation, I had done what they wanted. I spooned the dal bhat into my mouth and remembered punching Raja. Did he hold a grudge? The food slid down my throat in a thick uncooked lump. It was tasteless and cold. I’d meant to hit him, to get things back into
some kind of order. He was going to kill Akio—
I frowned. Well, maybe he did!
Dear Holy God—I wish I was home!
As raw and unpleasant as my dinner was, I ate it all. There was nothing else to do in this room, and I was resigned to having an early night. I wanted an early night. What is it: fight or flight? I wanted to curl up and let this nightmare pass right by.
Reluctantly I rose up from the table and went outside to the deck. It was darker now and raining, and the boards creaked under my feet. At room number three I fumbled with the key. It was hard to see and I became increasingly jumpy. Finally the key drove into the lock and the door quickly flung open, startling me. I darted defensively in every direction—but there was nothing there. Uneasily, I entered, unable to shake the feeling that I was being watched as I’d headed for the room.
Shutting the bedroom door, I threw myself down upon the wafer-thin mattress with a thud. I don’t know why I expected the bed to be softer. I closed my eyes tightly. Best to keep them closed.
‘You awake?’ Serena’s voice. It was the early hours of the morning and moments earlier she had been fast asleep by my side. The fan in our Goan beach hut purred above and in the distance the sea washed into shore in a constant rhythm.
‘Yes,’ I replied, wondering what had woken her.
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Are you worried?’
‘I can’t click off,’ I replied. ‘And the darkness of this room is playing tricks with my head.’
Serena put her arm around me and nestled closely alongside.
‘Okay,’ she said sleepily, ‘let’s make a deal. We’re not allowed to think of anything or say anything for the next five minutes. Not one thing. Deal?’
I thought for a second. ‘Deal.’ I cleared my mind of all thoughts and worries. I don’t think I lasted more than one minute.
I went unconscious.
Think of nothing. Don’t think about Akio, don’t think about Ireland. Think of nothing. Here we go!
How long was I asleep? I didn’t know but a gentle knock on the door disturbed me. Had I dreamt it?
