I stirred and burrowed under the covers. And then I was wide awake.
The phone Genie gave me last night was ringing. An iPhone. How the hell did one turn it on?
“Change and come here for tea,” Genie said.
“Yes, Boss.” I said to the dead phone, when I'd mastered my groggy self. It seemed like it was going to be a day filled with orders and marching.
Next door, Fish were getting ready for their trip. Nobby took the first sip of my tea and Donny, the elf, was dressed in a pair of long pants and a half sleeved shirt of pale peach with small white flowers. It was the tiniest shirt I’d ever seen. I was wondering if there was a factory manufacturing elf clothes, when a small spatter of water hit my left eye.
My annoyance left me quickly. My love, Dimitri, was trying to get my attention. “I want to visit the markets,” he said.
“Okay. Why are we whispering?”
“The others shot down the idea.”
“Why?”
“They want to drink martinis in Pub Street.”
Pub Street was the hub of activity in this tiny town of Siem Reap. Only, according to the net, Siem Reap was Cambodia's second largest city. I was amused when I saw how big the population of Cambodia was. Sixteen million – less than Mumbai's.
“Most of the reduced numbers of Cambodians is probably because of Pol Pot's murderous activities. You’ll see,” Dimitri said.
“Is that a theory or a fact?”
“I think fact, but let’s hope we meet people who know more than us on this trip.”
“I thought you didn't know we were coming to Cambodia.”
“I didn’t. But none of us slept last night. We were researching places to see.”
I looked at Genie. He looked fresh. I doubt any loud fracas in the fish tank would have woken him.
“What about you, Donny? Anything you want to see in particular?” I turned to my little friend.
“The temples. A local market maybe. I want to try the local food... and maybe one of those fried insects.”
Genie stood up. I shoved a biscuit into my mouth, swallowed my tea and followed him out.
******
“What are we looking for?” I asked Genie. I was whispering because I was mesmerized by the sunrise unfolding in front of me. The truck had stopped and I didn’t want the truck driver to feel offended, or know that I didn’t know where we were going. Finally the driver turned the truck around and went back to a small side road.
When we left the hotel, I asked Genie why we were racing in the pre-dawn dark in a rackety truck. There was a short grunt. It was clear Genie was still making up his mind about what to tell me. Or he was playing me. Probably the latter.
When the morning began to shine bright Genie put a cap on my head even though we were sitting inside the truck. “It will turn hot soon.”
He gave us all water and we bumped along at a steady clip by a greyish river. The red road ahead looked dusty and men stood by the side, near the water, swimming, throwing nets in, or just looking about.
“What’s this place, Genie? And if you stay silent I may murder you!”
Genie laughed. He took my hand and tucked it under his arm. “Sorry for that, my dear. The river is Kampong Phluk and further ahead is the Tonlé Sap lake. Most of these guys are fishing. And those boats take you around the villages.” He pointed at some small blue boats, that looked like the ferries bobbing on the water near the Gateway of India.
Last night I trawled the net for information. I knew there was a village on stilts on this river. At first the river and road seemed empty but further down the dirt road Genie waved.
“You know those people?” I turned to look at him.
“Yes.”
“How come?”
“I lived near here for some time.”
A 1,000 questions gathered in my gullet. “Er, what? How come?” I said.
“I was a conduit... of sorts. I did a lot of business here. Not a good idea for you to know more.”
“Why not?”
“You won’t be able to sleep at night.”
“Bullshit.”
Genie laughed. I ploughed on. “Your past is unlikely to come back and bite you in the bum.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Genie’s face closed immediately and he turned to look out of the window.
I stayed silent too. Why was I so curious about Genie's past. Why couldn’t he tell me. We were good friends, shared a home – platonically – yet I felt pushed away.
Suddenly I screamed in fright. The truck had run over a deep crater and I had almost hit the windshield. I felt a pain in my chest and some softer body parts because Genie's muscular arm had stopped me from sailing through the windshield. Fish swore and poor Donny was on the floor. I picked him up and ran my hands over his frail, small body.
“I’m fine,” he said weakly. “Just a little winded.” I glared at the driver, Dara, who chewed a piece of gum and then looked away.
“Dara didn’t see the crater.” Genie said. He leaned out of the window and looked behind the truck. “There were stones and dried leaves on the pothole. Strange.”
We slowed and stopped near the side of the road and suddenly there were a number of men surrounding the truck. The sense of fear I felt evaporated when Genie jumped off and hugged some of them. A small child was thrust at him and it turned away, reaching out to its father and wailing. Genie laughed and handed back the child. He spoke to the men but gestured at me to stay in the truck.
A while later, we watched the men take away the boxes from the back of the truck. There was another round of handshakes and Genie got in.
Further along we stopped and climbed into a large multi-coloured boat swaying reluctantly at the side of the river, tethered to a boat whose nose was wedged into the soft river earth. Genie helped me in. He handed me the children and he and several others slowly filled the capacious boat with the rest of the boxes.
As soon as we were on our way, I flopped into the seat next to him. “What’s in the boxes, Genie?”
“Provisions.”
“For what?”
“For whom. It’s for the villagers.”
“Er, friends of yours?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to ask more, but I started taking photographs and videos. Genie plucked my phone from my hand and tucked it into his pants and grinned. I glared at his bulging pocket – it was a place my hand was unlikely to go. Once, he had grabbed my phone, because I hadn’t been listening to him, and put it into his jeans pocket. In a furious rage I had made a grab for it. The matter did not end well. I still blush at the memory.
“Sweetheart, you're missing out. Just watch and take it all in,” Genie said. “Be Fish today.” Indeed, Fish were quiet and rapt.
“Do you think we should let them into the water?”
Fish looked at Genie hopefully. “No. They’d never be able to keep up.”
Looking at the water threshing past our motor boat, I was inclined to agree.
Wooden shacks on very tall stilts soon loomed into view. They looked dank, grubby and basic. There were clotheslines hung across their ceilings and I saw one fan spin slowly. I saw people looking at us from above. There was no curiosity. Just a kind of resignation. Some were cooking and others looking after fishing nets. There seemed to be groups that were either scavengers or transporting things for sale. It seemed they were all ekeing a precarious living.
“You lived here?” I asked Genie.
“Yes.”
“Do you mean you hid here?”
Silence.
‘You were a fugitive here?’ might have sounded better. I tried again, “What are we doing here, Genie?”
“I’m showing you around the floating village. You’ll meet some of my friends. Their English is basic, so smile and nod and be friendly. They’re poor and marginalised. Have a good look around. But stay near me, all of you, okay?”
We soon stopped at a large structure on stilts. It was a restaurant with a thatched roof, but no walls. Many foreign tourists were already sitting at its tables. Below, in the water, were ladies manning large canoes. They were taking tourists deeper into the river. They paddled slowly between the tall water-resistant river trees.
“How deep is the water, Genie? And where are those women taking the tourists?”
“That’s about six feet deep or more. They’ll take you through a submerged forest. Come on. Get in.”
I squeaked in shock when he lifted me and dangled me into the canoe below. He handed the menagerie to me and the lady of the canoe, wearing a wide straw hat and flower-print pink blouse and long meklah-looking skirt, slowly used her long pole to jettison us through the spaces between the trees.
I turned to see G already seated at a table with several men, sipping a beer. He raised his glass at us and smiled.
I turned to look around at the trees and foliage that was half in and out of the water. I heard frogs, birds and other species rustling in the trees. I looked up at the sky through the canopy of treetops and branches. This was amazing. I leaned to run my hand in the water and the boat tilted precariously to my right.
“Stop that! Sit straight!” Gregory ordered, suddenly anxious.
“If you fell in, you’d be able to swim!” I said, my fear overcome by my surprise.
“Yes, but we don’t know what’s lurking in the water!” Penaaz said.
“Didn’t you see the crocodile in the cage at the restaurant?” Pervez said.
“I thought it was dead!” There had been a toddler playing next to the large cage, standing up, its fingers looped into the cage's wire mesh to help it keep its balance.
“Silly woman. Crocodiles just lie that way to conserve energy or catch prey off guard.”
“Shhhhhhh! You're killing the experience!”
We continued through the forest and I shook the boat every now and then for fun. It left Fish frustrated, and close to biting me.
We passed other tourists and each time the lady canoe paddlers neared each other, they conversed until the canoe passed them by. Mostly it was a joke, because they usually smiled or laughed once and sustained the smile.
They gently shoved at the sides of the trees to move their boats along. We moved through the submerged forest for about an hour. It was the longest ever I’d heard the Fish being silent. I had to change that. It was unnatural.
“Do you think you'd ever want to return to Mumbai after this?” Donny said in a whisper in the marshy silence. His mouth was half open and he was staring around him in wonder.
“When I need to poop, I’ll know for sure,” I chuckled.
There were groans from Fish and I heard, among other things, “disgusting”, “juvenile”, “childish”, “undergrown adult”, “mumble, mumble person.” I lived for these moments. It surprised me that Fish couldn’t take a joke.
We were jolted back to the present. No! The boat ride on the cool, sheltered water was over. Genie was standing above us, watching, a smile on his face, his hands in his pockets, oblivious to his friends standing behind him or their conversation.
He helped us out of the canoe, folded his hands and thanked, in Cambodian, our lady captain and hustled us into our boat, which was now emptied of its cargo.
But we didn’t go back from where we came. “We’re going to the lake now. Just watch," he said.
Pretty soon it came into view. It felt like the sea. Almost like the Brahmaputra, but with no land in sight. Or rather a thin sliver of it in the distance.
I held out my hand and Genie reluctantly returned my phone. I tried to get shots of the sunlight shimmering on the water. We moved at a steady clip and at some meaningless point turned around and made our way back.
There was no conversation on our return. It had been, in a way, a profound experience. But when we hit the main road, I could see Dimitri trying to make eye contact. I nodded. I’d check with the hotel staff about the markets and come to an arrangement with Genie.
We had 10 days. Day 1 had been super. I hadn’t thought of the past or the future. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the moment.
******
The phone Genie gave me last night was ringing. An iPhone. How the hell did one turn it on?
“Change and come here for tea,” Genie said.
“Yes, Boss.” I said to the dead phone, when I'd mastered my groggy self. It seemed like it was going to be a day filled with orders and marching.
Next door, Fish were getting ready for their trip. Nobby took the first sip of my tea and Donny, the elf, was dressed in a pair of long pants and a half sleeved shirt of pale peach with small white flowers. It was the tiniest shirt I’d ever seen. I was wondering if there was a factory manufacturing elf clothes, when a small spatter of water hit my left eye.
My annoyance left me quickly. My love, Dimitri, was trying to get my attention. “I want to visit the markets,” he said.
“Okay. Why are we whispering?”
“The others shot down the idea.”
“Why?”
“They want to drink martinis in Pub Street.”
Pub Street was the hub of activity in this tiny town of Siem Reap. Only, according to the net, Siem Reap was Cambodia's second largest city. I was amused when I saw how big the population of Cambodia was. Sixteen million – less than Mumbai's.
“Most of the reduced numbers of Cambodians is probably because of Pol Pot's murderous activities. You’ll see,” Dimitri said.
“Is that a theory or a fact?”
“I think fact, but let’s hope we meet people who know more than us on this trip.”
“I thought you didn't know we were coming to Cambodia.”
“I didn’t. But none of us slept last night. We were researching places to see.”
I looked at Genie. He looked fresh. I doubt any loud fracas in the fish tank would have woken him.
“What about you, Donny? Anything you want to see in particular?” I turned to my little friend.
“The temples. A local market maybe. I want to try the local food... and maybe one of those fried insects.”
Genie stood up. I shoved a biscuit into my mouth, swallowed my tea and followed him out.
******
(This is a fictional series surrounding the narrator, a single woman living in a distant suburb of Mumbai, Genie, her former manservant, previously a thug and now a world traveller, a group of Fish, who formerly lived with the narrator, and Donny, a visiting elf.
They are travelling through Cambodia, a place very close to Genie's heart.)******
“What are we looking for?” I asked Genie. I was whispering because I was mesmerized by the sunrise unfolding in front of me. The truck had stopped and I didn’t want the truck driver to feel offended, or know that I didn’t know where we were going. Finally the driver turned the truck around and went back to a small side road.
When we left the hotel, I asked Genie why we were racing in the pre-dawn dark in a rackety truck. There was a short grunt. It was clear Genie was still making up his mind about what to tell me. Or he was playing me. Probably the latter.
When the morning began to shine bright Genie put a cap on my head even though we were sitting inside the truck. “It will turn hot soon.”
He gave us all water and we bumped along at a steady clip by a greyish river. The red road ahead looked dusty and men stood by the side, near the water, swimming, throwing nets in, or just looking about.
“What’s this place, Genie? And if you stay silent I may murder you!”
Genie laughed. He took my hand and tucked it under his arm. “Sorry for that, my dear. The river is Kampong Phluk and further ahead is the Tonlé Sap lake. Most of these guys are fishing. And those boats take you around the villages.” He pointed at some small blue boats, that looked like the ferries bobbing on the water near the Gateway of India.
 |
| Scenes near Kampong Phluk. (Photos: A. Peter) |
Last night I trawled the net for information. I knew there was a village on stilts on this river. At first the river and road seemed empty but further down the dirt road Genie waved.
“You know those people?” I turned to look at him.
“Yes.”
“How come?”
“I lived near here for some time.”
A 1,000 questions gathered in my gullet. “Er, what? How come?” I said.
“I was a conduit... of sorts. I did a lot of business here. Not a good idea for you to know more.”
“Why not?”
“You won’t be able to sleep at night.”
“Bullshit.”
Genie laughed. I ploughed on. “Your past is unlikely to come back and bite you in the bum.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Genie’s face closed immediately and he turned to look out of the window.
I stayed silent too. Why was I so curious about Genie's past. Why couldn’t he tell me. We were good friends, shared a home – platonically – yet I felt pushed away.
Suddenly I screamed in fright. The truck had run over a deep crater and I had almost hit the windshield. I felt a pain in my chest and some softer body parts because Genie's muscular arm had stopped me from sailing through the windshield. Fish swore and poor Donny was on the floor. I picked him up and ran my hands over his frail, small body.
“I’m fine,” he said weakly. “Just a little winded.” I glared at the driver, Dara, who chewed a piece of gum and then looked away.
“Dara didn’t see the crater.” Genie said. He leaned out of the window and looked behind the truck. “There were stones and dried leaves on the pothole. Strange.”
We slowed and stopped near the side of the road and suddenly there were a number of men surrounding the truck. The sense of fear I felt evaporated when Genie jumped off and hugged some of them. A small child was thrust at him and it turned away, reaching out to its father and wailing. Genie laughed and handed back the child. He spoke to the men but gestured at me to stay in the truck.
A while later, we watched the men take away the boxes from the back of the truck. There was another round of handshakes and Genie got in.
Further along we stopped and climbed into a large multi-coloured boat swaying reluctantly at the side of the river, tethered to a boat whose nose was wedged into the soft river earth. Genie helped me in. He handed me the children and he and several others slowly filled the capacious boat with the rest of the boxes.
As soon as we were on our way, I flopped into the seat next to him. “What’s in the boxes, Genie?”
“Provisions.”
“For what?”
“For whom. It’s for the villagers.”
“Er, friends of yours?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to ask more, but I started taking photographs and videos. Genie plucked my phone from my hand and tucked it into his pants and grinned. I glared at his bulging pocket – it was a place my hand was unlikely to go. Once, he had grabbed my phone, because I hadn’t been listening to him, and put it into his jeans pocket. In a furious rage I had made a grab for it. The matter did not end well. I still blush at the memory.
“Sweetheart, you're missing out. Just watch and take it all in,” Genie said. “Be Fish today.” Indeed, Fish were quiet and rapt.
“Do you think we should let them into the water?”
Fish looked at Genie hopefully. “No. They’d never be able to keep up.”
Looking at the water threshing past our motor boat, I was inclined to agree.
Wooden shacks on very tall stilts soon loomed into view. They looked dank, grubby and basic. There were clotheslines hung across their ceilings and I saw one fan spin slowly. I saw people looking at us from above. There was no curiosity. Just a kind of resignation. Some were cooking and others looking after fishing nets. There seemed to be groups that were either scavengers or transporting things for sale. It seemed they were all ekeing a precarious living.
“You lived here?” I asked Genie.
“Yes.”
“Do you mean you hid here?”
Silence.
‘You were a fugitive here?’ might have sounded better. I tried again, “What are we doing here, Genie?”
“I’m showing you around the floating village. You’ll meet some of my friends. Their English is basic, so smile and nod and be friendly. They’re poor and marginalised. Have a good look around. But stay near me, all of you, okay?”
We soon stopped at a large structure on stilts. It was a restaurant with a thatched roof, but no walls. Many foreign tourists were already sitting at its tables. Below, in the water, were ladies manning large canoes. They were taking tourists deeper into the river. They paddled slowly between the tall water-resistant river trees.
“How deep is the water, Genie? And where are those women taking the tourists?”
“That’s about six feet deep or more. They’ll take you through a submerged forest. Come on. Get in.”
I squeaked in shock when he lifted me and dangled me into the canoe below. He handed the menagerie to me and the lady of the canoe, wearing a wide straw hat and flower-print pink blouse and long meklah-looking skirt, slowly used her long pole to jettison us through the spaces between the trees.
 |
| Navigating the floating forest. Tourists ahoy! (Photos: A. Peter) |
I turned to see G already seated at a table with several men, sipping a beer. He raised his glass at us and smiled.
I turned to look around at the trees and foliage that was half in and out of the water. I heard frogs, birds and other species rustling in the trees. I looked up at the sky through the canopy of treetops and branches. This was amazing. I leaned to run my hand in the water and the boat tilted precariously to my right.
“Stop that! Sit straight!” Gregory ordered, suddenly anxious.
“If you fell in, you’d be able to swim!” I said, my fear overcome by my surprise.
“Yes, but we don’t know what’s lurking in the water!” Penaaz said.
“Didn’t you see the crocodile in the cage at the restaurant?” Pervez said.
“I thought it was dead!” There had been a toddler playing next to the large cage, standing up, its fingers looped into the cage's wire mesh to help it keep its balance.
“Silly woman. Crocodiles just lie that way to conserve energy or catch prey off guard.”
“Shhhhhhh! You're killing the experience!”
We continued through the forest and I shook the boat every now and then for fun. It left Fish frustrated, and close to biting me.
We passed other tourists and each time the lady canoe paddlers neared each other, they conversed until the canoe passed them by. Mostly it was a joke, because they usually smiled or laughed once and sustained the smile.
 |
| Canoe lady gives Genie a gift. (Photo: A. Peter) |
They gently shoved at the sides of the trees to move their boats along. We moved through the submerged forest for about an hour. It was the longest ever I’d heard the Fish being silent. I had to change that. It was unnatural.
“Do you think you'd ever want to return to Mumbai after this?” Donny said in a whisper in the marshy silence. His mouth was half open and he was staring around him in wonder.
“When I need to poop, I’ll know for sure,” I chuckled.
There were groans from Fish and I heard, among other things, “disgusting”, “juvenile”, “childish”, “undergrown adult”, “mumble, mumble person.” I lived for these moments. It surprised me that Fish couldn’t take a joke.
We were jolted back to the present. No! The boat ride on the cool, sheltered water was over. Genie was standing above us, watching, a smile on his face, his hands in his pockets, oblivious to his friends standing behind him or their conversation.
He helped us out of the canoe, folded his hands and thanked, in Cambodian, our lady captain and hustled us into our boat, which was now emptied of its cargo.
But we didn’t go back from where we came. “We’re going to the lake now. Just watch," he said.
Pretty soon it came into view. It felt like the sea. Almost like the Brahmaputra, but with no land in sight. Or rather a thin sliver of it in the distance.
I held out my hand and Genie reluctantly returned my phone. I tried to get shots of the sunlight shimmering on the water. We moved at a steady clip and at some meaningless point turned around and made our way back.
There was no conversation on our return. It had been, in a way, a profound experience. But when we hit the main road, I could see Dimitri trying to make eye contact. I nodded. I’d check with the hotel staff about the markets and come to an arrangement with Genie.
We had 10 days. Day 1 had been super. I hadn’t thought of the past or the future. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the moment.
******
Brahmaputra and shots of the sun shimmering in the water - I have a wide grin on my face reading and typing this.
ReplyDelete"Bullshit." - So typically you, including the no-exclamation mark-fullstop only expression in your voice.
Fish not having a sense of humour was funny.
😀
ReplyDeleteFish behaving unlike themselves
Delete