Last adventure

LAST ADVENTURE

It was one dawn in autumn of 1978 India, the door of the second youngest male of the Khu household creaked open and his disturbingly lanky and dark figure emerged, with a small backpack tightly clutched to his chest. The streak of dawn painted the sky, the sun was itching to rise from behind the hills and the stark white temple of the Khu household looked exquisitely beautiful against the hilly background with its marbled floors.

The young lad tiptoed across the long corridor, hiding behind the huge round pillars at the drop of every dry bamboo leaf blade in the courtyard. Just as he was about to come out from behind one of the pillars, the door right across the corridor flung open. He hid immediately while holding his breath. From the door walked out a lady with white hair dressed in pale white clothing, she was the head of the Khu household, full of wisdom and daring. She slowly headed for the temple as she stepped out of the corridor. The young lad took a breath and released a deep sigh as he imagined what would happen after his return. Apart from her, there were five other elders who would punish him for his misdeeds and no less the wrath of his mother.

But then what more glorifying than recounting the painstaking adventure for a 17-year-old to his playmates and his envious elders who never dared to go against the elders of the household. However, for this 17-year-old, born in a valley surrounded by 9 ranges of hills, what he never anticipated was that these nine ranges that protected him was no easy feat.

He quickly went to the door across the corridor and slipped in a note for the head of the family. Then he quickly headed for the humongous green gate that guarded the Khu campus. The temple bell rang as he closed the gate behind him. Even with the bell ringing, the old lady could hear the clank of the gate.

“Sher.”, she said under her breath and shook her head.

After a few moments of prayer she went to her room to find the slip under her door.

“Maya!Maya!”, she shouted for the house help as she was too old to reach for the note on the ground.

The note read, ‘I am heading for Lakshadweep. I will be back soon.’

“My Sher…”, she cried with the note tightly clutched to her chest.

Sher had always been an adventurous kid by blood and guided by his ever-curious mind. By 10-year-old he was hard to contain in the house as he went out looking for new things. By the age of twelve he had tried his hand on earning money which turned out to be a successful feat. By 15 he had dug up old grave for some archaeological event, travelled miles with skulls and pots 100 of years old. His thirst for adventure eventually broke his arm which destroyed his dream to join the army and serve the country.

Surrounded by nine ranges and limited to the outside world, no trains or proper road there were only a few hopes sprouting here and there for young lads like him. He was taking a bet to find hope, to find a dream to live once again.

THE SET-OFF

After a fifteen-minute walk Sher was at the transport facility. If he was lucky enough a goods carriage truck would carry him to his next destination at half the cost and time of a public transport. Looking at his dark and fragile figure no one was willing to take him for fear of getting sick on the way.

“Hey you!”, an old man leaning against a truck shouted.

“Don’t go with him.”, the person with whom Sher was bargaining warned.

“Why?”, Sher asked after taking a look at the guy who shouted.

“Can’t you see he is a drunkard.”, the man warned and left.

Sher took another look at the man. He looked rowdy with his eyes seeming to look far away in a distance. Sher thought this was his only chance or else he would have to go home to face the wrath of his family. How humiliating it would be if they found out he failed to even grab a truck. Sher on approaching asked the man to take him to the neighboring state, where his penfriend would be waiting to depart on a train to reach the southern most part of the country.

The trip as planned would cover almost over three thousand kilometres, travelling from the most northeast side of the country to the most southern side of the country. The hardest part of the trip for Sher was crossing the nine ranges that surrounded his hometown.

The old man who drove the truck was kind enough to offer him some water and snacks.

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Two hours after they left the transport facility Sher felt sick as the truck rounded every corner of the foothill. The sickening feeling increased and in a short time he felt he had been suffering for a whole day.

“Here.”, the old man handed him a plastic bag.

“What is this for?”, Sher asked confused.

“In case you puke.”, the old man replied as he turned another corner of the road.

Right around the next corner Sher pulled open the bag and threw up. That was the worst he had felt. They have not even crossed the first range of hills but the old man offered to make a stop at the next village to take some rest.

After much struggle they could finally see a bunch of rooftops at a distance. Sher with relief could finally look around him. The hill ranges looked beautiful yet daunting as the break of twilight nears.

“Do not say anything alright?”, the old man said and slowly stopped the truck by the side of the foothill.

Everything happened too fast for Sher to understand what was happening. A group of men in camouflage clothes, with masked faces and rifles in their hand jumped out from the woods of the foothill. The old man got down from the truck on his own then one of the masked men put his head in a black cloth bag and tied it loosely. Sher felt more confused as the old man was not one bit reluctant.

Sher shrieked in fear as his side of the door suddenly flung open. He shrank away from the man in fear. Many thoughts ran in his head and he hoped they were not trafficker. In defence he kicked the man away.

“Old man, is this how you cooperate?”, the masked man grumbled.

“He is a kid. Knows nothing.”, the old man said from under the cloth bag.

“Come out or I will shoot you.”, the masked man threatened Sher.

Sher looked around, he looked at the village ahead in longing.

“No one is coming to help you, young lad.”, the masked man said as he looked at the village.

After a rough walk uphill, dragged by the group of men, Sher wished he had gone home right after he was warned not to follow the old man. What bad was it to feel humiliated in front of his family, much better than being dragged into unknown danger. Sher could at least see through the black cloth that it was getting dark, the birds chirped, the bats started to take flight with ire screech above their heads.

They were locked into an empty kutcha room with their mask on and hands tied to their back. Sher stood in a place still in shock, not able to move. The old man with a deep relaxed sigh settled down on the floor.

“Nothing will happen. They just want money. We will be free when they get what they want.”, the old man said to Sher.

“Money…they want money from…whom?”, Sher tried to calm down and analysed the situation.

“The truck owner of course, we are just drivers.”, the old man replied.

“How long will it take? Tomorrow?”, Sher asked hopefully which made the old man burst out in hysteric laughter.

“One month if we are lucky.”, the old man said.

His reply put Sher in shock and he knew the old man was not joking. He just could not register that this was happening to him. He had heard stories back home where people in such situations tried to run off but was shot to death. Anyone who tried to escape did not survive.

“Don’t worry. I will get you out in less than three days.”, the old man promised with a serious tone.

“What if we get caught.”, Sher panicked visibly.

“Do you think, for a person as old as me this is my first time here? I have sneaked out several times during those captures.”, he explained.

“You sneaked out?”, Sher was dumbfounded, “And you came back here again? Why?”

“Why do you think. If I actually did escape I will never be able drive again. I would be blacklisted and killed anytime one of them see me on this highway.”

“Then why do you want to get me out?”, Sher asked recovering some hope.

“Because this is my last trip.”, the old man said with a nostalgic voice.

It was at dawn the very next day, Sher was woken up to realise his hands were untied and his cloth bag removed.

“Let’s go.”, the old man pulled him up from the cold floor. “I need you to run with me a fast as possible. Remember to not run straight and not towards the road.”

Without giving time to even prepare the old man kicked the wall down with four hard blows. The hole was enough for them to crawl out. As soon as they were out, they start running across the hill, towards the village.

“Bastards!”, the kidnappers woke at the sound and immediately ran after them with their rifles in hand.

Blood pumped dangerously as Sher ran, trying not to fall or slam into the giant trees. He looked over his shoulder to see his enemy run after them in a distance with their rifles pointed at him. His blood ran cold and he regretted not choosing to return home that day.

“Don’t look back. Don’t run straight!”, the old man shouted.

A drunk man among the kidnappers started shooting aimlessly towards them. Frightened by the sound Sher stumbles to the ground.

“Don’t stop, get up!”, the old man shouted amid the loud shooting.

Sher managed to get back on his feet and ran-in zig zag across the hill. The village in the distance way the only ray of hope that got him on his feet but at the same time it felt like a long-lost dream under the sound of the bullets.

“Ah!”, the old man shouted and collapsed to the floor.

Sher slowed down and looked over his shoulder to see the old man on the ground. He was shot.

“Run!”, the old man mouthed to Sher.

Sher looked at the old man and then at the bunch of drunk kidnappers at a distance, he froze at his feet. Nothing was going in his mind, all he knew was that his feet led him to the old man.

“Run!”, the old man shouted with his last strength.

From the direction of the village a loud siren is heard and people with sticks, stones and swords was seen approaching.

“Fall back!”, the kidnappers decided to escape at the sudden change of situation.

The old man passed away after few hours due to lack of medication. He had no family and asked to be cremated at the village. Had it not been his request to take his ashes along on the journey to the island and spread his remains across the sea, Sher would have given up from the devastating shock.

SECOND ENCOUNTER

Sher departed the village on another carriage truck with a driver and two other mates. Other than sharing food neither did he speak nor move, all he did was clutch onto the jar of ashes.

After two days and nights of continuous travel they finally crossed the sixth range. They stopped at a village to present some offerings to the hill deity praying for a safe travel ahead. Few men of the tribe, barely dressed, only with a piece of cloth covering the front pubic part stared at them, who were all dressed in shirts and pants. Sher wondered what must be in their head and how hilarious it would be if right after praying for a safe journey you get into an accident.

Well, that was exactly what happened. A few minutes away from the village, the truck Sher was travelling in was hit by a landslide. Luckily enough the landslide hit only the back of the truck creating only minor dents.

“You cannot travel with us anymore.”, the driver informed Sher.

“Why?”, Sher was confused

“The village head said it is bad luck to carry ashes. You can come if you leave the jar behind.”

Without a second thought Sher decides to part ways.

Seeing his dilemma, a village lady offers to drop him off at the next town on her donkey cart. There he can catch a truck or bus to reach the next state smoothly.

LAST ADVENTURE

That was how Sher met his penfriend, Dus, as promised in the neighboring state. From there they departed on a train to reach the southern state. His penfriend shared the weight of his painstaking journey. There is a saying that humans can get used to anything. The two friends also shared joyous moments in between tears and consolation.

The journey was filled with several discoveries of delicacies and the infamous hard boiled eggs and tea offered on train journeys.  

After reaching the southern state they boarded the ferry named MV DHASTA to the island, full of colorful corals and blue waved. The long awaited destination was finally reached however the scenic beauty spoke different words to them.

For Dus it was a dream come true, the colorful beauty welcomed him with frolic and the warm breeze whispered a thousand joyous wishes. His heart filled with hopes and dreams as he stood to watch the never-ending ocean from the shores of the island.

For Sher is was a promise and a reminder of the painstaking journey to unravel the unknown. The ocean waved swept away hope and at the same time brought in more. Where was his hope to recount the adventure, where was his glory and where was his adventure? Only time will tell.

Sher stood at the seashore, looking at the vast endless sea surrounding the island. The sea seemed to wake a little at the break of dawn. In some time the shore would be bustling with people again. Sher opened the jar carefully and started pouring the ashes into the ocean. His hands become sweaty and hot tears ran down his dark bony cheeks.

“This was your last adventure. Hope it was worth it.”, he whispered to the ocean breeze hoping it will carry the message to his spirits in the ocean.