Rajnesh shook his head. “Oh no, we’re Shaki’s henchmen.”
“Who is Shaki?”
Number Two had enough of this. With his one good hand he grabbed Sherie’s hair and pulled her head back ruthlessly. “Enough with the small talk! Where are the others?”
“Ouch! I have no idea! Get off of me, you monkey!”
Rajnesh did not like how Number Two was treating her. His idea of a gangster’s life did not include mistreating women. On the other hand he knew they had to press Sherie for information.
“Listen up” Rajnesh ordered. “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. We don’t really care if Bábaa gets hold of you or not. We’re working for Shaki, and he’s after Bear. So, you tell us where the others are and we’ll let you go. Deal?”
Sherie gave Rajnesh a scrutinising look. “And how do I know you won’t screw me over?”
Rajnesh tried a trustworthy smile. “I promise, and I have never broken my promise yet.”
It would be too flattering a suggestion to assume Sherie needed to think hard about this. It only took her a split second to opt for her freedom and above all her life, and against her ex-travel companions. In fact, hadn’t they just split up in a squabble? Had any one of them ran after her, consoled her or tried to make her change her mind? Had she heard anything like: ‘Sherie, come back, he didn’t mean it like that...?’ No! They mistrusted her. All right, she would give them ample reason for that. After all she had learned one thing in the slums of Bombay—to first and foremost take care of herself.
“Okay then, I know the way from up the road. Get in, I’ll show you.”
Sherie had them turn the car around and they drove back. Very soon she recognised the small dirt track where a couple of hours ago she and Bear, together with the others, had turned off to look for a campsite. It was not very far from here. Number Two reached for his inside pocket and pulled out his gun. The track wound itself through barren shrubbery.
“There it is, right up ahead!” Sherie suddenly shouted as the glow of the campfire appeared in the distance. Number One stalled the car and switched off the lights.
They got out. Number Two hissed, “You’re coming with me!” He cocked his gun and pushed Sherie along in front of him. They sneaked towards the campfire in single file.
Was Sherie troubled by a bad conscience? Not really. Such a stirring of emotions, stemming from a set of moral values, never really applied to the harsh realities, which presented themselves in ordinary slum life. In other words, she didn’t give a monkey’s fart as long as she escaped unscathed. Maybe it was not very nice of her, but, hey, nature had a cruel streak.
They had almost reached the fire. Number One signalled to Rajnesh and Sherie to stay hidden in the bushes. He made a sign to Number Two, then with a threatening “Don’t move!” they jumped out from their cover and onto the campground.
As a matter of fact nobody moved, although this was due to the fact that there was no one there who could have done so. The fire was still burning, but the three foreigners had left, together with their motorbikes.
Number One shook his head disapprovingly, shoving some sand over the embers with his shoe. “Foreigners... every child knows to put out a camp fire before you leave. Completely irresponsible!”
Number Two tucked away his gun. “Looks like, the girl will continue to be our guest.”
6. Himalayas / ca. 50 miles north-east of Manali, in the disputed zone between India and China
The terrace in front oft the big prayer hall offered a spectacular view into the valley below outstretched at the foot of the monastery. The sun was just about to climb over the crest of the high mountains in the East. The warm rays were welcome after the night in the ice-cold mountain air. Even though the snow was yet to come and the valley green in summer it still got freezing cold at this altitude.
The old monk dressed in a dark red robe stood at the stone railing watching the swallows gliding around just above ground as if foreboding bad weather. The wizened face of the old man who had seen so many new days approaching the valley, was darkened with apprehensions. Something was different today. It disturbed the time-honoured routine inside the monastery’s walls. Some change was bound to happen. For half of the night he had been standing here asking the stars for guidance. However the stars as well as the flight of the swallows were telling him the same thing.
“Good morning,” a man wearing a plain homespun dhoti greeted him.
“Good morning, master!” the old man bowed.
Joining him at the railing, the man sucked the fresh morning air deep inside his lungs. “You look worried, my friend. What is it, that is bothering you?”
“It is nothing, master!” the monk replied, but his features betrayed him.
The man looked at him with an inscrutable air.
Finally the monk gave a sigh. “I’ve been up all night. I have read the stars, hoping it would not be true. I have meditated upon it and read the flight of the swallows...” He pointed at the birds screeching around their heads. Master...I am afraid the time has come!”
The man’s face remained completely devoid of expression. Nothing betrayed his thoughts.
“Are you sure?” the man said calmly.
“I have reviewed it over and over. The auspicious time has come. The prophecy is about to be fulfilled!”
The man not answering turned around and looked beyond the valley into the distance.
“So he will be on his way already...” he eventually said in a low voice and the old monk nodded.
7. Rajasthan / Pushkar
Some sneaky rays of the rising sun were seeping through the cracks between the window blinds and awoke Gerd. He lolled about contentedly and, smacking his lips, turned around—only to look into Bear’s face, who was lying next to him, snoring quietly and still in deep slumber. He jerked back involuntarily hitting his back against Arthur, who was wide-awake, lying on his back doing his breathing exercises. Instantly he remembered that all three were sharing a double bed. Bear wanted to economise…if he was going to be overruled by Arthur and Gerd in matters of the hotel, at least had insisted, that they all shared one room together—even if there was only one bed. Although Gerd had objected to that, without money he did not have much of a say in this.
Sliding out of bed his naked feet sank into the deep and sticky carpet. Just thinking about what kind of small and not so small animate beings would be scrimmaging therein made his flesh crawl. A mere glance at the floor was enough to speculate about the carpet’s expansive biotope. Home of countless known and still unknown micro-creatures feeding on the left overs and dead skin cells of the hotel guests who had ever stayed in this hotel room and which quite obviously had not been cleaned for eons either. Tip toeing in long strides—avoiding ground contact as much as possible—Gerd traversed the room to get to his shoes. Eventually, a final jump and he had reached his slippers, which he so carelessly had abandoned the night before. Relieved he slipped them on…only to jerk the left shoe off with a panicky scream tossing it against the wall.
Bear jumped up in surprise. “What’s the matter?”
Disgusted Gerd pointed at the floor. “There... there is something inside!” As if to prove his point the biggest cockroach that Gerd had ever seen, was crawling out of his shoe and disappeared into the thicket of the carpet.
Arthur sat up and shivered in disgust. “Uäääh! See, that’s why I’ve been lying awake in bed for half an hour and didn’t get up! Even missing out on my morning gymnastics.”
Bear fell back into his pillow with a sigh and murmured somewhat comatose: “Got to shake ’em out, in the mornings you have to always shake out your shoes!” and tried to get back to sleep.
Gerd picked up his dust-covered slippers, inspected them carefully and put them back on again. “What am I doing here, exactly?” he groaned, “Why
do I have to race across India on a motorbike looking like a freak, stay in a shabby hotel room, paid for by two other freaks?
How come I am not at home with my wife? Or in my office? Or on the golf course? Why, can somebody please explain that to me?”
“Well,” Arthur said, “I assume it’s got something to do with you having been fired and your wife wants you dead. Also...”
“All right, all right!” interrupted Gerd, “it was a rhetorical question!”
He pushed open the wooden window shutters and instantly the room was flooded with bright morning light. Bear pulled the blanket over his head in protest, whereas Gerd leaned over the balustrade taking in the view that was unfolding beneath the window. Maybe the room was not up to standard but the view was breath taking. The small hotel was situated directly at the Pushkar Lake, one of the holiest places for Hindus. Every morning pilgrims from all over the country were climbing down the Ghats down to the shore to make a flower sacrifice and to wash themselves clean from any sins in the holy waters. ‘Pushkar’ was the name for ‘Lotus Blossom’, which according to legend was how the lake had been created after the Hindu God Brahma had dropped one such right here at this place.
Womenfolk fully clad in colourful saris were gliding into the water, old haggard looking men wearing nothing but a loincloth and a bowl for their rituals clasped between their fingers were standing on the steps and prayed. Millions of pigeons were fluttering in the sky above and in the background the gleaming whitewashed houses of Pushkar ascended in even rows up from the lakeshore.
To call this view ‘picturesque’ would have been the understatement of the century.
“Eeek, that is gross!” Arthur squealed behind Gerd.
Expecting another monster cockroach Gerd swirled around. Arthur was still sitting on the bed. In his lap there was the pile of pornographic pictures that Sherie had lost. Arthur looked at them with a mixture of curiosity, fascination and disgust.
“Look at that!” he said grinning, “this fat banker guy is wearing diapers! What’s that? Pampers double D?”
All of a sudden Gerd remembered his own adventure with Sherie. Could it be that the wench had taken pictures…? He rushed over to the bed and grabbed the pile. “We should burn those pictures! All these people have been conned. Imagine if some criminal got hold of these!”
“I don’t care...” Arthur was still looking at the picture of the guy in diapers he was holding in his hand and said thoughtfully. “Funny isn’t it. So fleshy and round, without any hair and those diapers... did you ever notice that old bankers remarkably look like babies—and babies like old bankers, for that matter?”
Gerd snatched the photo from Arthur. “You’re getting philosophical now, or what? The poor sod was probably drugged…” Gerd froze. He knew that man in the diapers. He knew him quite well, actually. It was no other but Doctor Alberich Seligheim, CEO of his company and his ex boss—to be exact. In disbelief he stared at the picture. He resisted the impulse to tear the picture into shreds and feverishly started to look for more ‘compromising evidence’.
What a delight to recognise so many familiar and well-known faces, unexpected, so far from home, to say the least. Many of Gerd’s colleagues, business partners, chaps from the golf and tennis clubs, even some well known peons of politics and business were had assembled in shameless concord. Here some pictures of a well known Member of Parliament, advantageously befitted in a pink ballet tutu, in an arranged sex act with a giant anteater—there the CEO of a big food retail chain, stark naked except one big chandelier protruding from his behind. And finally... Gerd had to gasp for air, trying not to give himself away—him in an unspeakable téte-á-téte with numerous rodents. Sweet Jeesus! Sherie really knew her business—her creativity seemed to know no boundaries.
“Now what, are we going to burn this stuff or not?” Arthur wanted to know.
“Are you crazy?” A malicious smile appeared on Gerd’s face. “Absolutely not!”
“And what if some gangster gets hold of these?”
“In that case...” Gerd said with a diabolic grin shoving the photos back into the envelope, “... all hell breaks loose!”
After Bear had reminded his fellow travellers, a bit late perhaps, that also the shirts ought to be shaken out before putting them on and after the collective screaming that had ensued, followed by hectic taking-shirt-off-shaking-shirt-screaming, after all that they were finally ready to continue their journey.
As they left the hotel the sun had already risen over the mountain ridge and was shining warm into their faces. All three strolled along the lakeshore savouring the peacefulness (at least for Indian standards) of the place. Monkeys were fooling about on walls and rooftops.
Everywhere small fires were burning, either for sacrifice or to prepare the morning tea. The smoke of innumerably cooking fires was weaving a thin fog, which hang over the whole town like a veil.
“What I really would like to know”, Arthur thoughtfully accosted Gerd while they were passing along the street.
“What’s that?”
“What’s it about, your Ice Capade?”
“Just so that you can laugh at me again? Forget it, Mini Mouse!” Gerd taunted him in reference to his ridiculous hairband.
Arthur tried his sad dog look. “Oh please, please, please...”
Gerd remained unmoved. “I said, forget it. I should never have brought it up!”
“Suit yourself!” Arthur, not being the kind of person who would muster enough patience to get what he wanted, shrugged his shoulders. “How about, let’s go for breakfast then?” He widely circumnavigated a huge cowpat lying in the middle of the road. “No need to indulge.
Some toast, jam and coffee will do fine by me!”
“Oh yes, and some bacon and eggs!” Gerd added.
Bear smiled, shaking his head. “How about some orange juice?”
“Sure, why not if it’s freshly squeezed!”
Confronted with such blatant intercultural culinary naivety Bear could do nothing but chuckle. “Off you go, good luck with your quest. Mind you, if you don’t get used to the idea of chapatti and cardamom rice pretty soon, you’ll be in for a severe disappointment...”
Arthur and Gerd moaned simultaneously. “Rice” Arthur sighed, “I am sick of rice!”
“I was dreaming about pizza last night,” Gerd swooned, “with a thick layer of salami, tomatoes and extra cheese running over the edge of the crust. And so searing hot that afterwards your palate is shredded!”
Bear grinned: “Yup, happens to most people after a few days. You wake up surprised that just thinking about a slice of pizza gives you a hard-on!”
“I can see myself even kicking Sherie out of my bed for a fine Quattro-Stagione!” Arthur guffawed.
Bear and Gerd abruptly stopped in their tracks. Mentioning Sherie’s name meant violating an unspoken rule. Since last night’s quarrel they had tried to avoid thinking about their travelling companion at all cost. They had become a group during the last couple of days and now that Sherie was no longer there, even Gerd missed her. Secretly he was a little ashamed to have let it come to that. Probably, she did not actually have his wallet. But it was too late now. The fact she had taken the grass was proof enough that she was serious about it and she wanted to end it.
In silence all three walked along until they reached a wall of a building were their motorbikes were parked.
“Excuse me, maybe you are going to Jaipur?” a polite voice behind them asked.
All three turned around. In front of them stood a middle-aged Indian wearing nothing but a white surgical mask. He was as naked as a newborn baby. Much to Gerd’s and Arthur’s surprise nobody seemed to care. Even Bear suddenly became quite solemn; folding his hands together he greeted the naked man in the appropriate Indian fashion. “Namaste, how can we help?”
&nb
sp; Arthur and Gerd were baffled. Mouths wide open their eyes wandered between Bear and the naked man both of whom were engaged in polite conversation.
Arthur hectically tugged at Bear’s arm, engaged in pleasant chitchat, he ignored Arthur’s attempt to get his attention.
Behind Bear’s back Gerd bent over to Arthur and whispered chuckling: “Check it out, a sexually frustrated dentist!”
At this Arthur cracked up which earned him a severe look from Bear, who apologised to his strange vis-à-vis and took his fellow travellers aside.
“Pull yourselves together, will you” he hissed sharply, “this is a holy man.”
“Interesting!” Gerd answered still giggling, “we have lots of that kind of holy men at home in the city park!”
“Maybe they don’t have any money for work wear for street cleaners in India?” Arthur joked, referring to the duster the naked man was holding in his hand sweeping the street in front of every step he took.
Confronted by such blatant ignorance Bear could only shake his head pityingly.
“This man is a Jain. Jainism is a religion. Every living being is holy to them, that is why they wear a mask in order not to accidentally swallow a fly and they sweep the ground before them not to step on anything alive!”
“Aha” Gerd said “and why is he flaunting his wares? Is that part of the religion too, or is that supposed to be an invitation?”
“The man is some sort of saint. He decided to renounce everything superfluous—including his clothes!”
“But don’t you go to jail for something like that here in India, I thought they were very strict on morals and terrible prudish!” Bear smiled knowingly. “India is a wonderful country. The people maybe bureaucratic and prude, but when it comes to religion they might be the most tolerant people on the planet. If it serves following your faith, you can do almost anything you like. Run around naked, smoke Hashish in public, killing goats by biting through their throats, and so on and so forth...”
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