Splintered Lives (7 page)

I had arranged to meet his plane from Kathmandu at the little airport at Pokhara. I was waiting on a wooden bench when someone called out to close the door because when the plane lands on the dry runway it fills the airport waiting room with choking dust.
 
But the plane didn’t land on the runway; it crashed into the trees alongside it.
 
The fuel ignited and the plane became a blazing inferno. There are no survivors.
 
The noise is harrowing as the flames lap the little plane and the smoke chokes the people waiting to take the journey back to Kathmandu.
 
There is much confusion as a small local fire engine arrives to try to put out the fire.
 
By this time the word has got around and Sahida and her family arrive at the site.
 
We can’t believe what we are seeing and the horror of the crash hits us and tears pour from our eyes. One of the firemen is fighting for his breath, as the smoke has overcome him.
 
Dr Menon gets to him quickly and with the help of the contents of his black bag that Sahida brings from the car he alleviates the man’s discomfort and helps him to board the small ambulance that has arrived, by this time.
 
There is a small hospital in Pokhara where Dr Menon sees to his patients and although it is very basic, the doctor does the best he can with the lean facilities there.

The Menons know of Taj and my involvement and they are supportive of my grief as we stay at the airport, all of us dazed.
 
The firemen have now doused the flames but the task of bringing out the bodies has begun. Relatives of the locals who were expected on the plane have now arrived, as well as, tour guides who were expecting clients arriving also on the plane. Their clients being mostly young backpackers who were here to trek up the mountains.
 
There were also a few mature people who were booked into the Fishtail Lodge.

There is chaos everywhere, the harrowing grieving of all the people, the sights and smells of burning flesh, the acid fumes caused by the aviation fuel, now obliterate the beauty of the landscape, and a great plume of smoke is reaching up to an unseen sky.

Taj’s parents take me back to their house.
 
I am very confused about the Hindu religion and I don’t understand what will happen now.
 
They are very kind to me although they are dealing with their own loss of a son.
 

They give me the room I have used before and I curl up in bed in the foetus position and shake with shock and grief.
 
Everything feels unfamiliar.
  

I am in a dream world and nothing is as it should be.
 
I begin to long for my own family, my mother and dad who have been there for me, all my life.
 
Their love for my sister and myself has been constant, all our lives.
 
My unhappiness is inconsolable; I need someone to hold me because I feel so alone.
 
I feel an arm around my shoulder and feel the warmth of another human being.
 
Sahida has slipped into bed with me and she wraps me in her arms, and we cry together for what seems like the whole night.
 

Dr Menon gently holds us and says we must have some medication so that we will get some rest.
 
He has already seen to his wife and other daughter and they have now settled down.
 
We take the tablets and eventually fall into a drugged sleep.

Chapter 9

I awake on my own and the sun is high in the sky. I must have slept for many hours.
  
I am very confused about what will happen next.
 
I know a little of the Hindu religion, the little Taj has told me about.
 
I try to remember the incarnation and the Karma, the actions and consequences of one life being carried to the next.
 
When I was on holiday in Thailand the guide had pointed out a poor shack by the river and a grand villa next door. He told us this story of incarnation, saying that the man that lived in the villa must have lived a good and gracious life, whilst the shack owner had led a bad one.
 
I thought the Thais were Buddhists.
 
Perhaps they share some of the same principles.
 
Samsara is the process of birth and rebirth continuing for life after life.
 
I know that the Hindus believe in cremation and for that matter, so do my parents and I; it is a cleaner way of disposing of the dead.
 
I am so confused and miserable I don’t want to leave my bed.
 
I lie there and try to remember what Taj had told me about his beliefs.
 
I remember that a pyre is where the body is burned but Taj is already burned.
 
I remember that most Hindus like their ashes to be cast into the River Ganges, but that river is so far away. What is going to happen?

There is a gentle knock on the door and Mrs Menon brings me a cup of tea.

“Have a bit of toast with the tea and you will feel better.” She says with a look of great sadness on her face.

“I will, thank you.” I reply and then I feel so thoughtless that all the family feel exactly as I do, and I am languishing in bed whilst they are coping by doing everyday things.

After drinking the tea and eating one bite of the toast, I shower and dress and join the others in the sitting room.

The cremation has to be arranged, Taj will be placed on a pyre and his ashes scattered on the river Bagmati.
 
This river eventually flows into the river Ganges, the holiest river for the Hindu people
  

All Pokhara is devastated by the tragedy and some of the families have also lost love ones.
 
There are foreign tourists and back-packers lost and officials are involved in informing the next of kin.
 
I need to let my family know and I try to find a way to contact Mark, who may be able to get back to me soon.

A guide in the village knows the route that Mark and his friends have taken.
 
By taking a different path he can perhaps waylay them, meeting them at a point where they will be able to retrace their steps back to Pokhara.

The strangeness of the time, the sadness of the place makes me long for Mark to be with me.
 
I know that he is a sensitive boy, who will support me.

Sahida tells me the school is closed for a day or two, until the cremations of all the victims are completed.
 
I try to keep myself busy helping the Menon family but I know that soon I will have to return to my cottage in the village.

I don’t know how I survived the day of the cremation of Taj.
 
I did not understand what was happening but I followed Sahida across the river from the Pashupatinath Temple with all the other women of the funeral party. The Temple is only open for the men and I was told that the priest said that one of the central aims of Hinduism is the stability and the welfare of the world.
 
The four stages of man, the student, the householder, the forest recluse and the wandering holy man, had been cut off for Taj, as he was a young man who had not completed the first two.
 
He said some other words I did not understand; in fact I didn’t understand any of it and felt my legs go from under me as I fainted.

Mrs Menon took my arm and gently let me to the car and helped me into it.
 
I was glad to get away from the funeral rites, as I felt afraid and uneasy.
 
I also felt nauseous. She gave me a drink of water she had in the car and I told her I was fine and for her to go back to the River, where the ceremony was being held.
 
I sat quietly in the car and thought that the dead live on in all of us.
 
I remember my grandmother dying and yet I thought of her all the time because I loved her.
 
Taj will live on in me, a conjoined love always present, I know that he will live within me, all the days of my life.

After the ceremony I asked Dr Menon if he would take me back to my cottage in the village.
 
I felt I was an embarrassment to them and I wanted to be alone.
 
I sneaked in to the door and curled myself up on the bed. I felt as if I had done something wrong.
 
I remember the night of Mark’s party and the bleakness of the forever I shall have to face now, without my lover.
 
I miss the smile upon his face; I miss the love and care he always showed to me, I miss the laughter and the committed love he gave to me.
 
How will I live on in this world without him?

Chapter 10

Mark has been contacted and he is here knocking at my door. I crawl out of bed and he hugs me as he enters the room.

“My God Sarah what has happened to you, I’ve never seen you look so ill.” He says.

“I haven’t slept or eaten since Taj’s funeral and I feel so dreadful that I just want to die.” I sob.

Mark holds me close and pats my back gently, trying to console me.
 
I think this is not right; I should not be putting my eighteen-year-old Mark through this.
 

I wipe my eyes and try to smile. “I bet you are hungry after the trek, I’ll make us a meal and a hot drink.”

He agrees and we get the paltry supplies together. There is a bit of smoked meat and with vegetables and herbs from the terrace we have the makings of some soup.
 
Mark brews a pot of tea and I start peeling and preparing the vegetables for the soup.

“I couldn’t believe what I heard about the crash, I had no idea that Taj would be on the plane.” Mark said as he brewed the tea.

“I don’t know if you knew but Taj and I were very close.
 
We loved each other.”

I tell Mark.

“I know, I could see how it was between both of you, when we were here before our trek.” He replies

He had left his friends to come to me because he didn’t want to spoil their holiday.

They had wanted to return with him but he felt that they would have been too much for me to cope with, at this bad time.
 
He was right; I just needed someone of my own family.

The day after Mark’s arrival, Julian from V.S.O., contacted me to say that he was sending a replacement for my job and Joe would bring her the following day and that I was to have some leave with them in Kathmandu.
 
I didn’t want to leave Pokhara.
 
Mark and I had been a walk around the lake and had called in to see the Menons.
 
They were coping by doing the ordinary things they always did, Dr Menon was back in his practice and Mrs Menon was consoling herself by talking of reincarnation, Samsara and Karma.
 
When I left I felt so alone, as I could not enter this strange world of Hinduism.

Mark took my hand and said,” I will come with you to Kathmandu and stay with you until my friends reach there for our flight home.”

I was glad of Mark’s support and Julian and Sue’s quiet company.
 
I fretted when I was alone and I felt really ill.
 
The loss of the presence of Taj, as my lover and my friend, devastated me.
 
I could not envisage a life without him.
 
I want to go back to Pokhara because my times with Taj have mostly been there.
 
I want to feel his presence around me; I want to be in my little cottage where some of his things have been left; a shaver, a comb and his boots for walking.
  
I need to be alone for a bit but I know if I go there I shall have to start my job again because there is not room for my replacement teacher and myself.

It is Mark’s time to return home.
 
Keith and Jack have arrived back from their trek and I see them off at the airport at Kathmandu.