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You don’t back many winners, but when you do, they pay good odds

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I fell asleep at 8:30 local time. Half pissed, well, to be honest maybe three quarters. I woke up early, around the same time as the sun began to punch through the fog. The blue skies did their best to reveal their purity but the white haze had its measure. Leaving the sun a warm yet gentle orange. I walked to the supermarket at the end of Makar Lane where my apartment was. Wanted a coffee but it was too difficult so I bought a Red Bull no sugar for $2. Sat down and wrote. Wrote what ever you read yesterday. I felt good and content but the air I breathed was still a little chaotic. I wanted to watch the cricket. I've found out that this is a football state so makes sense it’s been difficult to find coverage. Like trying to find a Rugby match in Melbourne. There was a sports bar called the Spirited Eleven. I had averaged 30k steps a day the last two days and decided to get a tuk-tuk. I walked for a while with my bag packed with whatever I needed. I hailed a tuk-tuk and showed him the place. It was a 15-minute drive and two hour walk. When I showed him my phone he told me with gestures that he cannot see. That was enough to say don’t worry about it. I walked a little further and got an offer from another Green Tuk-tuk. I showed him the address. The language barrier was strong. He told me 300R, $6 and I said OK. I sat in the back and he handed me a brochure of the scenes we were going to see. I tried to tell him I just want to go to this sports bar to watch the cricket and knew the vibrations I was murmuring weren’t translating in his little old Indian ears. I said “please stop, its ok, I will walk” as he kept driving,

“Its ok thank you. I will get out” I said a few times, with my body halfway out the built-up motorbike. He got the gesture and I think he was alright about it, who knows. I just decided to walk. The walk had plenty of turns and I haven’t got a local sim card yet. Telstra charges $10 a day to use the phone. 1GB. So I had to keep turning it from aeroplane mode and back on to make sure I knew where I was going. Through one of the turns I could see Krishna in his blue manifestation behind the chariot of two white horses. With Arjuna in the back. In painted concrete on the entrance of a mosque. My natural curiosity made me enter. I walked in and a ceremony was beginning. I took my shoes off and entered. Put my phone and wallet in my bag and put it down. I stood amongst a group who seemed to be praying/meditating towards a door. I did the same. Tapping into my body to see if I could feel a pull. Which I have before at a Buddhist temple at home. Yes, that’s the word, temple. Not mosque. Or maybe I don’t know. The doors to the nucleus of the temple opened. A man with a kind smile and knowledgeable eyes sat at a table outside the door to the left.

“Can I go in?” I asked,

“sure” he said in perfect English, “just take your top off”

“Can I leave my bag here?”

“Yeah, just leave it there”

I put it down and walked in topless. Looking alright after a few days of walking and not many meals. I did a lap of this cylinder covered in Hindu drawings and shapes. People lived there. I was scared I was walking on the grounds I wasn’t worthy of. But having just enough knowledge of the religion I know that didn’t make sense. I smiled and tried to stay respectful. Everyone only did one lap so I did too. Then we sat at the door of this cylinder. It opened and you could see candles burning within. Someone was in there. Someone important. I closed my eyes and again tapped into myself. But life has been quite swirly lately, I was just an ego looking at an ego with the mind talking sceptically. With my eyes closed I felt a splash over my body that caused me to open them. A little fat man was at the door of the cylinder and threw water over us. I was blessed. I walked out and was disappointed the enlightened didn’t feel my presence. Didn’t understand I was very important in the spiritual world. I spoke to the man out the front a little longer, he told me his nephew was in Sydney and then I put my shoes and socks back on and left. The walk was very long. I kicked a soccer ball for a few minutes with a young boy and then spoke to his dad. I asked them about cricket and they smiled and said that he is a Ronaldo fan.

“What about Messi?” I asked,

“I am Messi” said his older and chubbier brother,

“siuuuu” I said to the little boy, and he did the Ronaldo celebration.

I continued and followed the path that Google Maps laid out for me. I crossed a pipe over a creek like I was Huckleberry Finn.

After two hours and 15 thousand steps I got to where I was trying to go. To find out it didn’t exist. I sat on the steps with a smile and copped it on the chin. Then I realised it may be a little further up. and it was. I walked into the sports bar and like the place I sat in yesterday it was pitch black with deep house playing. Empty other than Yabdul who was working there. I asked him if he can put the cricket on and he could. I sat in the highly air-conditioned room and watched the Aussies drop like flies and lose the first test by an innings. The Kingfishers were nice and I had a few litres of them. I paid the bill and the beer in my stomach gave me some confidence. Leaving back into the light I looked for my headphones in my bag but couldn’t find them. I must have left them at home. The walk made me weary and I started to feel some anger beneath my skin. As a westerner its hard not to take every beep personal. I was thirsty and tired and my legs were heavy. But I kept walking, sweating from the brow. I opened maps and realised I was walking the wrong way and added a few kms to my trip. I could have gotten a Tuk-tuk but the experiences from the morning left a bad taste in my mouth and I was hell bent on walking. I stopped at a supermarket and bought a bottle of water. As I sat in line two people pushed in front of me. Now I was dealing with my own anger. My own creation. I walked gingerly home. Went to a fancy place for dinner. Because of the minimum wage every place has a lot of workers. I even saw an atm with a worker. the convenience was annoying me because everything was. As I sat in the restaurant which was also pitch black and very cold. And empty. Every time I made eye contact they would come up to me. When I opened the cocktail menu he walked up and said, “cocktail sir, very tasty” and it was cute. I knew it was my own issues. If you can just hold that shit you muster up within, when it passes the good times are a lot more pure. I was kind and mirrored their politeness. Walked home and fell asleep at 8:30 again.

I had decided today, to have a rest day, on the legs. I've got to slowly burn this candle to leave some wax to keep the flame alight for six months. I wanted to watch the VOLK fight. The little aussie who was moving up a weight class in the UFC to fight the champion. To get a double belt. I was going to stream it and watch it in the apartment. I walked to the supermarket at the end of the lane. Four litre bottles of water, a tin of coffee and another red bull. I got home and boiled some water and made the coffee. The wifi was down. I messaged Tommy on the WhatsApp.

“Router down bro. Someone coming at 11. Sunday. no one is working”

“No worries mate”

I tried to find my headphones in the apartment and they weren’t there. I had lost them. It really hurt me. In India I have learnt that silence is a noise. That music is a place. a garden in the mind to relax and find yourself again.

I booked an uber to a place I had seen the the other day. Sat in the fancy hotel and the wifi buffered so I couldn’t watch it anyway. fuck me I'm rambling on.

I felt a little away from myself. all over the shop actually. Although I'm traveling alone I had spent a lot of time on my phone. in the group chats. Talking to people from home. Within the collective consciousness. I couldn’t blame the travel for my restlessness. I couldn’t blame sleep. I couldn’t blame comfort. it was my own routine that was getting to me.

The lady kept smiling at me, she told me I look like a Bollywood actor. I was chuffed and googled him to see what he looked like. His name is Mohanlal. When I saw what he looked like I was humbled and found it funny. I left there after a good meal and went to the beach. I took my shoes off and meditated on the sand. A bird shat on me. They say its good luck. I found peace through meditation about the headphones. They were $300 Sony’s; noise cancellations and I don’t love many materials but gee I loved these bad boys. I found solace in the thought that they were a donation to someone. That they found the hands of someone deserving. Maybe more appreciated in those poverty-stricken ears than mine. I cleaned the shit off my thigh and walked off. Walked through the sand and felt the earth tell me I'm alright. I had my phone and wallet in my bag. I walked into the water to my knees. Watching the eagles and ravens circle above. I could see the elation in the faces of those around me. Filming the breaking water as if it’s the first time they’ve seen the ocean. I wanted to take a photo of them. I searched in my bag and my heart dropped further. I couldn’t find my phone. I put it on the sand and took its insides apart. And there they were, my headphones, nestled in a peculiar pocket. I had never been so happy. I then found my phone. I took a photo of my fellow brown friends and I was the Bollywood actor expressing joy in a scene. I walked to a bar that sat on the skirts of the sea. A man a few tables down had a guitar. He could tell by my aura that I was Australian. He walked over to me with his guitar,

“Excuse me sir, do you know angus stone?”

“Not personally brother, but have been told I have a similar presence, although I'm much more equipped in the field of literature”

“Can you please play a song on my guitar sir”

I took a deep breath and said “sure”

When I felt the hallowed-out wood in my hands it felt an extension of my body. My first strum found all the chords the world was looking for and I was now nothing but a vessel for the lord.

“LITTLE DIDDY, BOUT JACK AND DIANE… TWO LITTLE KIDS GROWING UP, IN THE HEART LAND”

as I sang the crowds surged towards me. My fingers had their own existence. My wrist was a passage from above and my voice made the Arabic Sea feel small.

“OH YEAH, LIFE GOES ONNNN”

Now the crowd was large and people started to offer me money. I began to glow. Those without money offered me objects. I refused all with carelessness and gratitude. Those with money, knowing it is not something that makes me tick started to offer me Goats. Then a man offered his son.

I just kept singing. Even the ants stopped in their tracks. The king fishers coldened beneath the humid atmosphere. I was blue Krishna holding the guitar as the reigns of his chariot.

in India, my friends. Everything is a quest. Everything is a challenge. You don’t back many winners, but when you do they pay good odds. and you sit with a smile, next to the humble horse who is grateful you believed in him.

I handed the man back his guitar and he didn’t have words to thank me. Luckily I didn’t need them my friends. amen.

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