The van makes a left turn at the end of the street and picks up speed. I see a row of hotels flash by. And then the intersections; and then the flyover that I take everyday during my morning taxi ride (the memory of which feels unreal now). The few things that I am familiar with around my hotel, the power laundry operated by the guy from Chennai, the 24/7 market where I sometimes buy things, the tall building with those big Islamic arches, lit green from inside - they all rush past the van. The familiar flyover has now veered away to the right. We have left it behind.
It’s like everything with which I have a temporary connection is wrenched away. I am on a unfamiliar road, I don't know where it goes.
The city seems empty. Some brightly lit shops, a couple of showrooms, a strip mall that seems half in darkness. No people. A couple of cars hurtle towards us… and then they are gone speeding away behind us.
It’s been… what, five minutes? 10 minutes? I seem to have lost touch with time – it all feels like a dream (a nightmare). In reality, I see myself sitting in this van, surrounded by these strangers, speaking a strange language in a strange land, smelling of sweat and diesel. Some part of my mind refuses to accept it (I want to just force yourself to open my eyes and look around. May be I will see the familiar room, the morning sunlight stealing in through the drapes, a newspaper at the door). But that's not what I am seeing. My eyes are open – and they are staring ahead. A big green colored road sign with white lettering goes by. It is in Arabic. All I see are arrows pointing different ways – an intersection. Then it’s behind us. There are pools of light from the high lampposts, few and far in between. Ghostly buildings between them. No a soul in sight. The van keeps moving.
My hands are getting cold- is it the delayed shock or is it really this cold? I bring up my hands to my face. Against my cheek, my palms feel like they belong to someone else. This is a not a nightmare, it’s worse than that… it’s real.
Now the van is traveling very fast. The van has left the smaller roads behind and it’s flying over a broad, black ribbon of a road. There's no tossing and twisting. But my mind is doing all the tossing. It’s churning - and is returning to the same thoughts again and again. Did I make a mistake getting into the van? Could I have avoided this somehow? May be I should have run upstairs and banged on my colleague’s door. May be I should have run to the road and jumped into a taxi, or flagged down a passing vehicle. May be I should have refused to go along. May be I should have shouted, screamed, threatened, made a scene... anything but walk into this, this whatever this is.
It's useless thinking about all that now. Who would have thought? It all happened so suddenly, so fast. For a moment, I see myself standing in front of the hotel, feeling the cold wind on my face, being refreshed by it, thinking normal thoughts (the meetings tomorrow, the mails I need to send, and oh, I need to pick up my clothes from the laundry shop). I see me being normal, FEELING normal. Two minutes, that is all! In two minutes time, I would have turned around, nodded a goodnight to Ali, taken the elevator, gone back up to my room in the second floor... and probably watched some news channel I would not understand till I fell asleep. All well. All normal.
Except it wasn't.
Who would have thought something like this could happen? Strange and scary things always happened to others... not to us. We read about strange and scary things in the newspapers, but they don’t happen to us. Bad things always happen to others.
Except they don’t.
Thoughts... crazy thoughts, fearful thoughts. One thought among them keeps eating into me, relentlessly... who are these people and what do they want? Who are these people and why have they come after me? Why? Why? Why am I being... abducted! ABDUCTED! Kidnapped. The word feels like punch to the stomach. It weighs on me like a mountain. I find it difficult to control my breathing. Kidnapped (by who?). Abducted (for what?).
My head spins, and I feel a mild nausea coming on. I close my eyes, I try to breathe. I try to keep my focus on my breathing... in and out, in and out. (Who are these people? I try to push the thought away for I can’t answer it). I realize it's cold inside the dark van. All windows are up... still it's cold. My hands are getting slightly clammy.
I open my eyes. Long-beard is holding on to his stick and staring ahead. To my left, beak-nose looks like he is asleep. His eyes are closed. But as I look at him, he opens his eyes, he looks at me and says something... just one word, in a low voice. In Arabic. May be he said... well, I don't know what he said... I just turn my head and stare ahead. I am now thinking about what he said, not the word itself, but how he said it. Like a whispered curse, more like a thought than a word. More like...
The nausea is getting worse, but I don't want to say anything. I try to control it (breathe in, breathe out). Is it a reaction to what's happening, or is it the smell inside (sweat and diesel)? It’s cold inside, but it is also airless. Its suffocating. I want to tell them to stop the van... open the windows... let me out for a minute into the open.
But I say nothing. I take a deep breath, tighten my stomach and swallow hard. But I say nothing.
I try to pull my thoughts together, to get them organized. Within seconds, they are all boiling inside my head again, pell-mell, helter-skelter.
I take one more deep breath, this time it is slow and loud.
Then the man in the front, the one next to the driver, turns back and looks at me.
It’s like everything with which I have a temporary connection is wrenched away. I am on a unfamiliar road, I don't know where it goes.
The city seems empty. Some brightly lit shops, a couple of showrooms, a strip mall that seems half in darkness. No people. A couple of cars hurtle towards us… and then they are gone speeding away behind us.
It’s been… what, five minutes? 10 minutes? I seem to have lost touch with time – it all feels like a dream (a nightmare). In reality, I see myself sitting in this van, surrounded by these strangers, speaking a strange language in a strange land, smelling of sweat and diesel. Some part of my mind refuses to accept it (I want to just force yourself to open my eyes and look around. May be I will see the familiar room, the morning sunlight stealing in through the drapes, a newspaper at the door). But that's not what I am seeing. My eyes are open – and they are staring ahead. A big green colored road sign with white lettering goes by. It is in Arabic. All I see are arrows pointing different ways – an intersection. Then it’s behind us. There are pools of light from the high lampposts, few and far in between. Ghostly buildings between them. No a soul in sight. The van keeps moving.
My hands are getting cold- is it the delayed shock or is it really this cold? I bring up my hands to my face. Against my cheek, my palms feel like they belong to someone else. This is a not a nightmare, it’s worse than that… it’s real.
Now the van is traveling very fast. The van has left the smaller roads behind and it’s flying over a broad, black ribbon of a road. There's no tossing and twisting. But my mind is doing all the tossing. It’s churning - and is returning to the same thoughts again and again. Did I make a mistake getting into the van? Could I have avoided this somehow? May be I should have run upstairs and banged on my colleague’s door. May be I should have run to the road and jumped into a taxi, or flagged down a passing vehicle. May be I should have refused to go along. May be I should have shouted, screamed, threatened, made a scene... anything but walk into this, this whatever this is.
It's useless thinking about all that now. Who would have thought? It all happened so suddenly, so fast. For a moment, I see myself standing in front of the hotel, feeling the cold wind on my face, being refreshed by it, thinking normal thoughts (the meetings tomorrow, the mails I need to send, and oh, I need to pick up my clothes from the laundry shop). I see me being normal, FEELING normal. Two minutes, that is all! In two minutes time, I would have turned around, nodded a goodnight to Ali, taken the elevator, gone back up to my room in the second floor... and probably watched some news channel I would not understand till I fell asleep. All well. All normal.
Except it wasn't.
Who would have thought something like this could happen? Strange and scary things always happened to others... not to us. We read about strange and scary things in the newspapers, but they don’t happen to us. Bad things always happen to others.
Except they don’t.
Thoughts... crazy thoughts, fearful thoughts. One thought among them keeps eating into me, relentlessly... who are these people and what do they want? Who are these people and why have they come after me? Why? Why? Why am I being... abducted! ABDUCTED! Kidnapped. The word feels like punch to the stomach. It weighs on me like a mountain. I find it difficult to control my breathing. Kidnapped (by who?). Abducted (for what?).
My head spins, and I feel a mild nausea coming on. I close my eyes, I try to breathe. I try to keep my focus on my breathing... in and out, in and out. (Who are these people? I try to push the thought away for I can’t answer it). I realize it's cold inside the dark van. All windows are up... still it's cold. My hands are getting slightly clammy.
I open my eyes. Long-beard is holding on to his stick and staring ahead. To my left, beak-nose looks like he is asleep. His eyes are closed. But as I look at him, he opens his eyes, he looks at me and says something... just one word, in a low voice. In Arabic. May be he said... well, I don't know what he said... I just turn my head and stare ahead. I am now thinking about what he said, not the word itself, but how he said it. Like a whispered curse, more like a thought than a word. More like...
The nausea is getting worse, but I don't want to say anything. I try to control it (breathe in, breathe out). Is it a reaction to what's happening, or is it the smell inside (sweat and diesel)? It’s cold inside, but it is also airless. Its suffocating. I want to tell them to stop the van... open the windows... let me out for a minute into the open.
But I say nothing. I take a deep breath, tighten my stomach and swallow hard. But I say nothing.
I try to pull my thoughts together, to get them organized. Within seconds, they are all boiling inside my head again, pell-mell, helter-skelter.
I take one more deep breath, this time it is slow and loud.
Then the man in the front, the one next to the driver, turns back and looks at me.
