FROM MAN TO MANEATER

KIGALI MOUNTAIN, UTTARAKHAND All three of them looked up at the sky. It looked like Mother Nature's’ break was over and the fury was returning, this time stronger. Huge flashes of lightning streaked the sky and the bang of thunder sounded like freight trains all colliding with one another. The rain came down hard, bringing visibility to near zero. They had crossed 150 feet of the ledge when they heard the disturbing rumbling sound once again. Kandu smelt it in seconds. “Sirji, Mudslide,” Kandu yelled, frantically. “We need to get to the entrance of the cave before the mudslide hits us. There is no other option.” The earth shifted uncontrollably under them and trembled. Rocks moved sideways, throwing all three of them off balance. Luckily, they all threw themselves against the rock face and held on tightly. They heard a loud gush of shifting and moving mud—symbolizing the mudslide, moving slowly down the mountain. “Sirji, jaldi. Run,” yelled a terrified Kandu. The three of them strode quickly for the next fifty feet toward the curve on the ledge, from where they could finally see the entrance of the cave. The rumbling gush got louder. Alan yelled, “Sir, we have to make a run for it or we will be crushed by the mud.” The Visitor replied, “Okay, let’s go for it.” Alan stepped up his pace, but his immediate next step was on a slippery rock. He yelled loudly, “Goddamnit”—as he lost his balance, fell down, and rolled helplessly toward the drop. The Visitor, who had razor-quick reflexes, dropped the rope in a split second, to avoid being dragged by Alan. That quick moment of thinking saved his life. Alan’s legs flew over the drop, and he let out a huge shout, but his strong arms held on to one of the rocks. His legs, however, were hanging over the ledge in thin air. Kandu, however, was slower to react. He did not let the rope go. When Alan fell down, he dragged Kandu with him. Kandu screamed, “Sirji.” He was now thrown over the drop, hanging on to dear life with both hands to the rope that was tied around Alan’s waist. The Visitor at once lay down and held Alan’s hands with both of his to try and pull him up. The Visitor was strong; however, Alan was a big man to be pulled up. To make matters worse, Kandu was hanging off Alan and kicking his legs wildly. “Sirji, please pull us up.” The Visitor shouted as he pulled Alan with all his strength, “Come on buddy, and don’t give up on me now. Pull your goddamn fat ass up on the ledge.” He was enraged at the thought of losing Alan, as if Arif’s death wasn’t enough for one night. Alan could easily have swung his legs over the ledge if he was alone, but with Kandu’s weight weighing him down, it was impossible. Kandu continued wailing, “Please, Sirji, mujhe bacha lo.” The Visitor grunted loudly, as he pulled on Alan’s arms - progress was painfully slow. Alan cursed at Kandu, “Don’t swing yourself, man, be still.” It was hopeless. There simply was not enough time. Alan looked up and said calmly, “Sir, go into the cave and save yourself. You only have a few seconds.” The Visitor looked up the mountain and could make out the dark outline of a huge mass of earth almost upon them. The Visitor had no choice. He would gladly have given his life to save a friend, but he was also practical. He got up, strode quickly on the ledge for the last couple of feet, and ran into the entrance and shelter of the cave. With a loud gush, tons of mud poured down on the narrow ledge and continued down the mountain. The Visitor only had time to hear the screams of both Alan and Kandu as they fell to their deaths. The entire entrance of the cave was covered by thick mud in a matter of seconds. Then, once again, there was only silence. The Visitor sat down on a rock for a minute to collect his thoughts. He was in despair now. He had lost his two loyal henchmen, who were also his friends, in a matter of one night and he could do nothing to save them. Once again, the Visitor thought of Martha, Alan’s girlfriend, waiting in Delray Beach, for him to return. They, too, had talked about getting married, raising a family, and retiring, sipping margaritas, as they watched sunsets on the beach. Life was horribly unfair at times. Was he guilty for their deaths? Should he be punished? The Visitor thought sadly about Kandu. He had taken an instant liking to the guide. Had it only been five hours since he had first met Kandu at the phone booth in Malpa? He felt he had known Kandu for years. Kandu, smiling, always saying “Sirji” with respect, and ultimately, fulfilling his end of the bargain. The Visitor got up. He had to complete what he came for. Besides, there was nowhere else to go. There was no way out of the cave, as the entrance was completely covered with mud. The cave was dimly lit, with straw torches hanging off the walls, flickering gently. A stairway made of rock led down from the entrance to what looked like the “Great Hall”. It was a large open area with a small dark passage leading further and deeper into the cave. The Visitor slowly walked down the rock-stairs into the Great Hall. At the far end of the hall, he could make out a figure in meditation. He walked slowly toward the figure. The man was a sage, a sadhu. His eyes were closed and he was chanting hymns and shlokas in Sanskrit. As soon as the Visitor approached him, he opened his eyes. The sage asked the Visitor, “Who are you?” The Visitor looked into the eyes of the sage with conviction and replied slowly, “My parents named me Vishvamitra, but I am now known as the ManEater.” ----