i had just had a little skype chat with my brother who was about to turn thirty. the connection was shoddy but it was good to see him - little glimpse fashion - nonetheless. coming out of the cyber i quickened my steps for i saw that the lake was being flecked by raindrops. i quickly climbed up the twisty road for twenty minutes or so then turned into the woods and scrambled up to the top of the ledge where i am sleeping.
i have been here in nainital for 5 or 6 days now. the wonderful withdrawn rocktop campspot has invited me to linger, as well as the aesthetically pleasing landscape surrounding the lake - the town nestled in the valley, creeping up the hills at the edges, and the dark old deodar conifers clothing the slopes, between which stately homes can be glimpsed at stately intervals. some of the stately homes have signs in the gardens saying: No entry. Trespassers will be prosecuted. something about the mediterranean twisting roads and the alpine coniferous slopes and the stately homes bring back a lot of european memories to me. nainital is a very desirable holiday destination for indian tourists, but curiously almost no westerners come. when i am walking along the lakeside mall road my passage will be followed by the curiosity of dark-eyed young couples and families and groups of friends holiday-making.
the dark clouds and flecked lake ended up not coming to very much, but i was glad of my foreplanning in stringing up the plastic sheet between two trees in order to keep essential things dry: sleeping bag and books. i had grown used to having the rocktopspot all to my own, reached after several minutes of barely a little footpath climbing steeply uphill between the bushes, and the final scrambling section which involves pulling myself up by roots and hanging branches to arrive at the ledge, there to cook over a fire at night and to stretch naked in the new morning sun.
i had grown used to having the place to myself. imagine my surprise then when i ducked my head under the tarp and beheld a little monkey sitting placidy on my sleeping bag. he turned from contemplating the rain to look up at me and then, as if he had entirely expected my return, he went back to surveying the rain falling outside. i stared at him in disbelief for a while before removing my rucksack and settling down next to him. i decided that if he was completely unconcerned by my presence, then i too would be unconcerned by his. or at least i would pretend to be. i sat and looked out at the last few raidrops dripping from the trees and saw the sunlight beginning to push through the clouds. i stole glances at him every so often from the corner of my eye. he was very still and placid. after a while i got some bananas from my bag and broke one off, offering it to him with raised eyebrows. it seemed that was the cue he had been waiting for, for he quickly grabbed it and, deftly snapping off the stalk, he had it gobbled it up in a matter of seconds, getting his fingers sticky in the process. he watched my fingers intently as i slowly finished my banana, then he fixed me with his intense black eyes, his black little face ringed by a ring of white fur. i returned the same steady gaze then slowly held out my open palm to him and he, slowly too, stretched out his hand and slowly clasped his little fingers round mine. rough and sticky and a little tickly they were. "what communication is possible between us?" i thought out loud and almost whispered it to the monkey and, as if this were another cue, the monkey sprang for the bananas and dragged the whole bunch off with him, quick as a flash, and disappeared into the trees.
after some time he returned and nervously handed me a rumpled piece of paper upon which the words were scrawled "My name is Ramesh", with spidery arabesques curling from the R and the h. overleaf was the question: "And what is your good name?"
i looked up suspiciously at the monkey, who by now was prowling around restlessly. "hey, who wrote this?" i called out, to which the monkey paid scant attention,. he threw nervous glances in my direction from time to time, but otherwise treated my presence with indifference. what kind of human-handed roguish monkey tricks are you up to? i peered down the cliff from all angles, expecting to see the human accomplice hiding somewhere. i had become very suspicious and sensed sinister spirits all around me. the next minute the monkey was at my side holding out timidly another piece of paper upon which the questions were posed: "you are from which country Sir?", and overleaf: "are you married?"
"am i married?" i blurted out slowly, incredulously. what kind of monkey-driven mind would conceive...
this is becoming curiouser and curiouser, i thought... this has become a regular little story. whatever will happen next? the narrator then made his presence felt in my mind, and i could not suppress flashing him a roguish smile. perhaps you be an omniscient narrator? i bethought myself. maybe omniscient... who knows?
some new excitement had gripped ramesh by this point and he was lithely ascending the cliff above the ledge. from the top he looked round and fixed me with his pokey black eyes before disappearing out of view. something in the flick of his head seemed to beckon me to follow him. in any case, i was gripped by curiosity, and though i had never ventured up this wall - deeming it too sheer - i found it was actually easily scalable with care. at the top the slope eased off, but even so, i was panting hard to keep up with the bounding monkey. even so, i paid scant attention, and my legs propelled me forward with thrill-filled eagerness.
i came to a forest trail and there saw ramesh a little ahead, looking alertly into the woods. at that point hooves could be heard approaching, then from round the bend came four horses trotting sedately, with riders astraddle and each one led by a young man. it looked like a family out on an excursion. the first guide gave me a wide tooth-missing smile but the woman perched on the horse regarded me with seeming displeasure, surrounded by her amply streaming orange sari. the man only flashed me a cold expressionless glance in passing. the young boy called out something excitedly as he passed while the young girl was putting all of her concentration on remaining balanced on her horse.
after their passage it took me a while to locate ramesh, but eventually i spied him quite far into the woods, making his way across some boulders. when i caught up with him he was jumping nimbly from rock to moss-covered rock, stopping now and again to look round at me. the sun was beaming brightly now, and sent shimmering rays through the leaves which quivered and danced and scattered bright green light all around. ramesh had somehow reached the top of a big boulder (which looked pretty inaccessible to me) and there he sat preening himself studiously in the sun. "this place binds spells", i said, and set about climbing a big nearby tree, whose lowest branches could be reached by standing on a rock. "in short, it is spell-binding." the highest branches reached up into the sunny blue sky and from there i looked down and saw little ramesh squatting on his boulder, blithe and unconcerned.
i do not know how much time passed but gradually i became conscious of the energy flowing through the tree and flowing into my tightly gripping hands, filling me with buzzing vital energy. the air was filled with the sweet heady chirping of birds. i closed my eyes and said: "thank you birds, for keeping me alive."
after a while i observed an old man threading his way among the boulders, shuffling along and stooping now and again to pick up a fallen branch and tuck it under his arm. mostly it was thin little twiggy branches he collected, for even this far from town the forest floor had already been meticulously scoured for firewood. meanwhile the sky had grown overcast and raindrops began to fall again. the old man shuffled his way to beneath my tree where he rearranged a smallish boulder and there sat down, and seemingly began the contemplation of his shoes. i observed him noiselessly for a while, then called down to him "may you be forever happy!", employing the language of the birds, thus: caawooooah, caawoooooaah, caawooooo. he showed no signs of having heard and instead picked himself up and picked his bundle of sticks up and shuffled back the direction he had come, in spite of the drizzle, falling steadily by now. there was no sign of ramesh; he seemed to have gone off on his own, following some trail of his imagination. then, looking further into the forest, i caught sight of the white walls of a building with a pyramid-shaped roof and climbed down to investigate.
it was a little-frequented hindu temple, by the looks of it. it provided scant protection from the rain, but all the same, i snuck under the cover of the overhanging roof and peered warily through the metal railings to see the gaudily-dressed statue of the warrior god shiva, gorily daubed with bright red dye and surrounded by spiky tridents. his platform was scattered with spent insense sticks, spent matches and grains of dry rice - left there as offerings. some chants to shiva went through my head - Om namashivaaya, om namashiva-aya, om namashiva-aya, om namashivaya - then, cautioulsy rather than instinctively, i bowed my head to the statue before giving the temple bell a ring and making to move off.
then i perceived a little man rising from his crouched position in a nearby storage shed and coming towards me with a respectful bow. "shiva temple", he said to me, indicating the shiva temple. "yes. shiva temple", i agreed, acknowledging the alter i had just left. after a pause he inquired, "you hindu?" "well, i'm..... no, i'm....... i would like to recognise....... i was brought up a christian", i concluded, wondering if he really thought i might be a hindu, me with my white skin. to be a hindu is a birth inheritance, it is to be born to hindu parents, it is to follow the footsteps of those parents, it is to follow a tradition, to continue a cultural practice. these thoughts were cast aside when he asked i where going now? the woods are lovely, dark and damp, but i have to get back to my camp. i revealed to him that i was sleeping outside, a little distance above nainital. he had to seek confirmation: "outside?"
"yes, outside", i said
"you have no dar?", he inquired
"what is dar?", i asked
he looked somewhat taken aback.
i sought confirmation of his gesture by giving a sharp intake of breath and opening my eyes wide.
"yes, yes, this", he confirmed and thus i learned the hindi word for fear.
"fear of what?" i asked.
he rolled his head around in an expansive, all-inclusive gesture, and then specified: "lions, snakes..."
he began as if he were beginning a big list but then trailed off, and i smiled and looked upwards and, putting my hands together, said: "God will protect me".
he instantly found this funny, but i was deadly serious.
later that night i was stirred from my slumber by the sound of raindrop bullets pelting on the plastic sheet. i dimly registered that a downpour was in full progress, but i liked the sound and i was lulled by the sound until i also heard a squeaky mechanical sound, like some squeaky breaks squeaking from afar. i sleepily began to grow used to it, but as it began to grow louder i grew more curious and then i sat up and looked out to the dark forest streaming with rain and there became aware of the dim outline of a dog, whining in the most pitiable woebegone whimper i ever heard. i shone my torchlight on him and beheld his pitiable poverty-stricken eyes, full of his own shame, while he incessantly emitted his high-pitched miserable whimper. i regarded his wretchedness from the soft cosy warmth of my down sleeping bag and addressed him thus:
"aye, it a drizzly one tonight ey? you could be doing with a bit of shelter right now i bet, you lonely despised pariah dog, the lowest of the low. outcaste you, everyone kicks you aside but i'll give you some dry space, here, come on doggy, in you come....what do you mean with those eyes? come on, stop all this woebegonnery! what, you don't understand? allora ti parlo in itaiano, sicuro che capisci il tono della mia voce se non il senso delle parole. vedi, io sono tutto amabile guarda, non ti faro nessun male. vieni qua dentro cane. qua si sta bene...ma non capisci? sono amabile, ti lo giuro. sono sicuro che anche tu lo puoi sentire. vieeeni qua dentro.
no? preferisci restare li fuori sotto la pioggia? va be' resta li allora, ma sappi che io ti sto a invitare. io so bene che non sei abituato a accetare i gesti di gentilezza da parte degli umani ma.....cane pazzo..
"sotto il palazzo c'e un cane pazzo
te' pazzo cane, questo pezzo di pane"
viene pazzo cane, che anch'io sono pazzo. dai, siamo due pazzi a stare al riparo della pioggia insieme.
bo'; fai come vuoi",
and i turned over and left him there to be pelted by the cold rain all night - "you're not going to get a wink of sleep like that, i assure you" - then later in the night i saw that he had crept close enough to allow at least his head to remain dry. in the early morning i saw that he was entirely underneath the plastic, curled up by my side. and when it had become fully light i looked round to see that he had gone.
i have been here in nainital for 5 or 6 days now. the wonderful withdrawn rocktop campspot has invited me to linger, as well as the aesthetically pleasing landscape surrounding the lake - the town nestled in the valley, creeping up the hills at the edges, and the dark old deodar conifers clothing the slopes, between which stately homes can be glimpsed at stately intervals. some of the stately homes have signs in the gardens saying: No entry. Trespassers will be prosecuted. something about the mediterranean twisting roads and the alpine coniferous slopes and the stately homes bring back a lot of european memories to me. nainital is a very desirable holiday destination for indian tourists, but curiously almost no westerners come. when i am walking along the lakeside mall road my passage will be followed by the curiosity of dark-eyed young couples and families and groups of friends holiday-making.
the dark clouds and flecked lake ended up not coming to very much, but i was glad of my foreplanning in stringing up the plastic sheet between two trees in order to keep essential things dry: sleeping bag and books. i had grown used to having the rocktopspot all to my own, reached after several minutes of barely a little footpath climbing steeply uphill between the bushes, and the final scrambling section which involves pulling myself up by roots and hanging branches to arrive at the ledge, there to cook over a fire at night and to stretch naked in the new morning sun.
i had grown used to having the place to myself. imagine my surprise then when i ducked my head under the tarp and beheld a little monkey sitting placidy on my sleeping bag. he turned from contemplating the rain to look up at me and then, as if he had entirely expected my return, he went back to surveying the rain falling outside. i stared at him in disbelief for a while before removing my rucksack and settling down next to him. i decided that if he was completely unconcerned by my presence, then i too would be unconcerned by his. or at least i would pretend to be. i sat and looked out at the last few raidrops dripping from the trees and saw the sunlight beginning to push through the clouds. i stole glances at him every so often from the corner of my eye. he was very still and placid. after a while i got some bananas from my bag and broke one off, offering it to him with raised eyebrows. it seemed that was the cue he had been waiting for, for he quickly grabbed it and, deftly snapping off the stalk, he had it gobbled it up in a matter of seconds, getting his fingers sticky in the process. he watched my fingers intently as i slowly finished my banana, then he fixed me with his intense black eyes, his black little face ringed by a ring of white fur. i returned the same steady gaze then slowly held out my open palm to him and he, slowly too, stretched out his hand and slowly clasped his little fingers round mine. rough and sticky and a little tickly they were. "what communication is possible between us?" i thought out loud and almost whispered it to the monkey and, as if this were another cue, the monkey sprang for the bananas and dragged the whole bunch off with him, quick as a flash, and disappeared into the trees.
after some time he returned and nervously handed me a rumpled piece of paper upon which the words were scrawled "My name is Ramesh", with spidery arabesques curling from the R and the h. overleaf was the question: "And what is your good name?"
i looked up suspiciously at the monkey, who by now was prowling around restlessly. "hey, who wrote this?" i called out, to which the monkey paid scant attention,. he threw nervous glances in my direction from time to time, but otherwise treated my presence with indifference. what kind of human-handed roguish monkey tricks are you up to? i peered down the cliff from all angles, expecting to see the human accomplice hiding somewhere. i had become very suspicious and sensed sinister spirits all around me. the next minute the monkey was at my side holding out timidly another piece of paper upon which the questions were posed: "you are from which country Sir?", and overleaf: "are you married?"
"am i married?" i blurted out slowly, incredulously. what kind of monkey-driven mind would conceive...
this is becoming curiouser and curiouser, i thought... this has become a regular little story. whatever will happen next? the narrator then made his presence felt in my mind, and i could not suppress flashing him a roguish smile. perhaps you be an omniscient narrator? i bethought myself. maybe omniscient... who knows?
some new excitement had gripped ramesh by this point and he was lithely ascending the cliff above the ledge. from the top he looked round and fixed me with his pokey black eyes before disappearing out of view. something in the flick of his head seemed to beckon me to follow him. in any case, i was gripped by curiosity, and though i had never ventured up this wall - deeming it too sheer - i found it was actually easily scalable with care. at the top the slope eased off, but even so, i was panting hard to keep up with the bounding monkey. even so, i paid scant attention, and my legs propelled me forward with thrill-filled eagerness.
i came to a forest trail and there saw ramesh a little ahead, looking alertly into the woods. at that point hooves could be heard approaching, then from round the bend came four horses trotting sedately, with riders astraddle and each one led by a young man. it looked like a family out on an excursion. the first guide gave me a wide tooth-missing smile but the woman perched on the horse regarded me with seeming displeasure, surrounded by her amply streaming orange sari. the man only flashed me a cold expressionless glance in passing. the young boy called out something excitedly as he passed while the young girl was putting all of her concentration on remaining balanced on her horse.
after their passage it took me a while to locate ramesh, but eventually i spied him quite far into the woods, making his way across some boulders. when i caught up with him he was jumping nimbly from rock to moss-covered rock, stopping now and again to look round at me. the sun was beaming brightly now, and sent shimmering rays through the leaves which quivered and danced and scattered bright green light all around. ramesh had somehow reached the top of a big boulder (which looked pretty inaccessible to me) and there he sat preening himself studiously in the sun. "this place binds spells", i said, and set about climbing a big nearby tree, whose lowest branches could be reached by standing on a rock. "in short, it is spell-binding." the highest branches reached up into the sunny blue sky and from there i looked down and saw little ramesh squatting on his boulder, blithe and unconcerned.
i do not know how much time passed but gradually i became conscious of the energy flowing through the tree and flowing into my tightly gripping hands, filling me with buzzing vital energy. the air was filled with the sweet heady chirping of birds. i closed my eyes and said: "thank you birds, for keeping me alive."
after a while i observed an old man threading his way among the boulders, shuffling along and stooping now and again to pick up a fallen branch and tuck it under his arm. mostly it was thin little twiggy branches he collected, for even this far from town the forest floor had already been meticulously scoured for firewood. meanwhile the sky had grown overcast and raindrops began to fall again. the old man shuffled his way to beneath my tree where he rearranged a smallish boulder and there sat down, and seemingly began the contemplation of his shoes. i observed him noiselessly for a while, then called down to him "may you be forever happy!", employing the language of the birds, thus: caawooooah, caawoooooaah, caawooooo. he showed no signs of having heard and instead picked himself up and picked his bundle of sticks up and shuffled back the direction he had come, in spite of the drizzle, falling steadily by now. there was no sign of ramesh; he seemed to have gone off on his own, following some trail of his imagination. then, looking further into the forest, i caught sight of the white walls of a building with a pyramid-shaped roof and climbed down to investigate.
it was a little-frequented hindu temple, by the looks of it. it provided scant protection from the rain, but all the same, i snuck under the cover of the overhanging roof and peered warily through the metal railings to see the gaudily-dressed statue of the warrior god shiva, gorily daubed with bright red dye and surrounded by spiky tridents. his platform was scattered with spent insense sticks, spent matches and grains of dry rice - left there as offerings. some chants to shiva went through my head - Om namashivaaya, om namashiva-aya, om namashiva-aya, om namashivaya - then, cautioulsy rather than instinctively, i bowed my head to the statue before giving the temple bell a ring and making to move off.
then i perceived a little man rising from his crouched position in a nearby storage shed and coming towards me with a respectful bow. "shiva temple", he said to me, indicating the shiva temple. "yes. shiva temple", i agreed, acknowledging the alter i had just left. after a pause he inquired, "you hindu?" "well, i'm..... no, i'm....... i would like to recognise....... i was brought up a christian", i concluded, wondering if he really thought i might be a hindu, me with my white skin. to be a hindu is a birth inheritance, it is to be born to hindu parents, it is to follow the footsteps of those parents, it is to follow a tradition, to continue a cultural practice. these thoughts were cast aside when he asked i where going now? the woods are lovely, dark and damp, but i have to get back to my camp. i revealed to him that i was sleeping outside, a little distance above nainital. he had to seek confirmation: "outside?"
"yes, outside", i said
"you have no dar?", he inquired
"what is dar?", i asked
he looked somewhat taken aback.
i sought confirmation of his gesture by giving a sharp intake of breath and opening my eyes wide.
"yes, yes, this", he confirmed and thus i learned the hindi word for fear.
"fear of what?" i asked.
he rolled his head around in an expansive, all-inclusive gesture, and then specified: "lions, snakes..."
he began as if he were beginning a big list but then trailed off, and i smiled and looked upwards and, putting my hands together, said: "God will protect me".
he instantly found this funny, but i was deadly serious.
later that night i was stirred from my slumber by the sound of raindrop bullets pelting on the plastic sheet. i dimly registered that a downpour was in full progress, but i liked the sound and i was lulled by the sound until i also heard a squeaky mechanical sound, like some squeaky breaks squeaking from afar. i sleepily began to grow used to it, but as it began to grow louder i grew more curious and then i sat up and looked out to the dark forest streaming with rain and there became aware of the dim outline of a dog, whining in the most pitiable woebegone whimper i ever heard. i shone my torchlight on him and beheld his pitiable poverty-stricken eyes, full of his own shame, while he incessantly emitted his high-pitched miserable whimper. i regarded his wretchedness from the soft cosy warmth of my down sleeping bag and addressed him thus:
"aye, it a drizzly one tonight ey? you could be doing with a bit of shelter right now i bet, you lonely despised pariah dog, the lowest of the low. outcaste you, everyone kicks you aside but i'll give you some dry space, here, come on doggy, in you come....what do you mean with those eyes? come on, stop all this woebegonnery! what, you don't understand? allora ti parlo in itaiano, sicuro che capisci il tono della mia voce se non il senso delle parole. vedi, io sono tutto amabile guarda, non ti faro nessun male. vieni qua dentro cane. qua si sta bene...ma non capisci? sono amabile, ti lo giuro. sono sicuro che anche tu lo puoi sentire. vieeeni qua dentro.
no? preferisci restare li fuori sotto la pioggia? va be' resta li allora, ma sappi che io ti sto a invitare. io so bene che non sei abituato a accetare i gesti di gentilezza da parte degli umani ma.....cane pazzo..
"sotto il palazzo c'e un cane pazzo
te' pazzo cane, questo pezzo di pane"
viene pazzo cane, che anch'io sono pazzo. dai, siamo due pazzi a stare al riparo della pioggia insieme.
bo'; fai come vuoi",
and i turned over and left him there to be pelted by the cold rain all night - "you're not going to get a wink of sleep like that, i assure you" - then later in the night i saw that he had crept close enough to allow at least his head to remain dry. in the early morning i saw that he was entirely underneath the plastic, curled up by my side. and when it had become fully light i looked round to see that he had gone.
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