I went to work grudgingly, as you do with said hangover. I did some work. We left early, happily. I got the bus home and I didn’t have to hang off it. Wonderful mid-afternoon bus. Back at Adarsh Heights I lay on my bed for too long and time galloped past me and I ended up having to rush a shower and trot to buy some rum and snacks for the journey. As I reached Hyderabad Central Station at Nampally everyone was waiting. But it was OK. Forty minutes to go.
Sleeper trains are fast becoming one of my favourite things in India. It sounds inconsequential and perhaps shows a depressing state of affairs in this writer’s mind, but gazing (forwards, always forwards, always on the way somewhere) through a window whilst travelling is possibly one of my most favourite things in the world. Sleeper trains taken before sunset are perfect for this. On the way to Bangalore two (three?) weeks previous I sat cross legged at 1:30AM, staring out from my window seat, sipping at my rum, as a lightning storm went about its business on the horizon and above the stars gleamed brighter than I had ever seen them. It was truly breathtaking.
This trip was slightly different. One, we were going somewhere amazing (I’ve still not forgiven Bangalore for my Sugar Kane Juice experience), and Two I didn’t have a window seat. This was completely of my own doing of course. In a sleeper train there are rows of booths in a rectangle, three beds on two sides and two beds on the end (they fold out very cleverly). The lower beds have windows. Stefan asked me very nicely if it was OK if he had the lower bed, after I had set my heart on it without telling anyone (oh how often does this happen). He said it was completely no problem if not. He even asked me specifically (obviously seeing my heartbroken face). “No, of course not, it’s fine!” Yes I would absolutely love it but don’t want to cause trouble or resentment. “You sure?” “Yeah seriously I’ll take the middle bunk.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
To compensate I took my mp3 player and went to stand next to the open door of the train. The doors are always open for some reason. One little slip.
It was gorgeous. The sun was setting, not magnificently, but red enough to eerily light up rural Andhra Pradesh and then Karnataka. As the sky darkened lights appeared and disappeared as the sheer size of emptiness in between the cities was wholly emphasised. At some point some skyscrapers appeared on the horizon with huge orange lights. On the map there were no cities or towns. This confused us somewhat, with the conclusion being that it was clearly an alien colony that no-one could really be bothered to deal with because it’s India, and you know, things often don’t get dealt with.
I went back and talked a little and read some of my book. It’s by William Burroughs and is called Naked Lunch and I love the way he addressed me as Gentle Reader before embarking on the most revolting and disturbing scene I’ve ever had the pleasure to imagine from pure text. Brilliant:
“Who can shit on a fallen adversary who, dying, eats the shit and screams with joy?”
Then we all went to sleep. Me on my middle bunk. As it was, if I turned my head at an acute angle I could see out of the top inch of the window. I laid and watched the stars for a while. I sipped some rum in its black plastic bag to help me sleep a bit. I listened to Steralfur and Hjartao Hamast and Olsen Olsen. Then I went to sleep.
We reached Hospet at 6:20AM. We got the Autorickshaw and reached our destination, Hampi, beautiful Hampi, about half an hour later. I won’t harp on about it, apart from the fact that it is my favourite place in India so far. We travelled around the centuries old city by moped (no I had never driven one before). We saw monkeys and elephant (yes singular). At some point I realised I didn’t have any way of getting the Preston Wolves score. I panic. This was the longest period (two days) of not knowing the Wolves score since I was TWELVE YEARS OLD. We sat on top of the world. I hurt my foot on said moped. (It looks sort of funny now. By funny I mean infected. I hope they don’t have to chop it off). Despite it being a ‘dry’ city our nice guest house friend brought us some ‘special juice’ which was very strong. Anything is possible. We laid next to the river gazing at the stars drinking whiskey. We got quite drunk. We drove mopeds with hangover number two. We flew through the jungle. I bought an amazing T shirt and some Goa Trance. I might not ever wear it. We left Hampi at 9PM Sunday.
We got back into Nampally at about 10AM Monday morning. I said my farewells and walked very quickly home, convinced we’d have lost, the spell was broken, confidence gone. No way could we have another victory, let alone away from home at 3rd place Preston. Get back to Adarsh Heights. Turn on internet. The rest is history.
I love you, Chris Iwelumo.
