Broken Past

my muscles turning them stiff and then, floppy like Jell-O. I stumbled but caught myself, only to stumble again. As I tripped over my feet, I braced for my inevitable fall. I seemed to bounce off

mess! Timidly, I opened one eye and looked around me. I sighed with relief when I noticed I was completely alone. I pushed myself on my back and then sat up. I brought my kne

lf. What a stupid, stupid thing to do. I turned to look around me, trying to get a sense of where I was. The middle of nowhere, or so it seemed. No

le or person to pass this way and ask for directions? Should I call my hotel and have them send someone? A great idea, except I had run so far from where I was that I

nctioning, I still had some time before I was to meet with the agent. I checked my

ackground, I could see patches of blue. Perhaps that was all that was left of the original paint job on the bus. The windows were closed and dusty so much so that I could barely see inside! Scratches, much like those on my arms, covered the bus – from its

of the bus wasn't the only part that was lacking maintenance. As the door flung open,

itely at him as I noted his appearance. His dark skin, almost the same shade as the soil, his mousy dark brown hair, yellowed teeth, and dirty fingernails. He wore a faded white shirt; I think it w

hat wasn't bad enough, I hadn't a clue how to get back to the rest-house. Did these seemingly endless mountain roads have names? If they did, I hadn't the foggiest clue! I never asked. Did the market I went by earlier have a name or did people just call it a market? It must have a name, how else

a hopelessly

. The locals wouldn't be fluent in English! I had no idea how to get back, and I was co

d patience, I simply tr

e bundle he held in his hand and stretched it towards me. I dug in my bag for my wall

the ticket and took a look at it. On it was written in bold, the number 10. Aside from that, there was a line running around t

ite note. When I offered it to him, he took it and made no move to provide me with change. Assumin

urning from school. They had identical white tunics over white pants, and a seemingly unnecessary white cloth of sorts draped around their necks. Later, I would come to learn that this particular outfit was called a salwar kameez and that the fabric wrapped around their

otted a familiar place like the market or the rest-house street, I could simply ask the driver t

een to unlock it and then found my way towards my least used app, the calendar. I had a vague idea of how to set not

keeping one eye on the

al guidebook (

ap (if I get

English dictionary

elephone num

n case of an emergency. I would practically be alone. As a current paying guest, the hotel would worry if I didn't return today. But once I moved into my new ho

ization that I was truly, completely, and utterly alone. How would I go about making friends? Me, of a

nd to see if anyone had caught my indiscretion. Fortuna

We rounded another bend, and I looked at a tea-stall, in shock. There was perhaps two feet of space on the outer end of the curve? And the tea-stall sat on that. A tin shack, for lack of a better description. Not even a proper solid building! And in it,

d another bend, and I turned in my seat, looking out t

. Another few bends flew past, and suddenly I was excited. I thought this street looked familiar. I kept my eyes peeled for something definitive, and soon, I saw the beginning of the market

efore turning his eyes back to the road. Not long after, he found a bus st

ith my stomach. I sat at an empty table and spread the map open. I pulled out my phone, a pen, a notebook and began dialing the agent's number. In our conversation, between sips of hot coffee, I asked him for direc

spelled them wrong. I turned the map upside down and then round and round trying to make some sense of

e gas station locations. The Golf Course was clear as daylight. But which direction took me back to the tourist rest-house? Pin

s that the one I was staying at? I looked up, and there was another on Monal, and a third on Himandri. I picked up my phone again and

hotel had told me that I was most likely sitting at a restaurant in Sadar Bazar, bazar being the Hindi word for a

lay West of the army cantonment area. That sh

on

ned that there was a huge post office nearby. Perhaps I could simply ask to be taken to the post office and then make my way to th

H

ng to see the waiter. Perhaps he thought I needed a coffee refill

cra