Little Men - The E Book (21 page)

“There are no taxis,” Tony said, voicing the thoughts of them all. “Let’s just go back to San Antonio.”

Simon was glad he’d said it.

“Fucking right, mate,” he said.

Charles felt dejected, although he’d been expecting it. He looked down at his feet. But there was a glimmer of hope.

“How?” he said. The others looked at him.

“There’s nothing around here. No taxis, nothing. How are we going to get back to San Antonio?” The three men looked around themselves. There was no obvious answer.

It was close to nine o’clock on a Tuesday evening. They stood for a few moments, hushed. The entrance to the beach was bathed in a beautiful orange light as the sun made its final descent in the far distance. The three men’s attention turned from their predicament to the astounding natural spectacle unfolding before their eyes. They sat on the loose gravel and just watched in silent awe at the magnificent, majestic splendour, the rocky landscape framed the vision perfectly as if it were God’s own theatre. They stared, shielding their eyes from the intense light, until the brilliant orange disc disappeared completely under the still Balearic ocean. In the distance the hippies cheered. Charles felt like crying.

The extreme heat had subsided, but it was still very warm. There were no cars in sight. The only buildings had long since closed for the day, with their metal shutters down.

Eventually, Charlie spoke.

“At least if we walk to San Juan we might find a taxi.” It was at least logical, and Simon and Tony had to admire his enthusiasm. They partly understood the kid’s thirst for adventure, to break free from his miserable childhood. He was, for the first time, making decisions and thinking for himself. They could see in Charles’s face that it felt good. Plus, the only road sign they could see pointed towards San Juan.

In silence they set off up the narrow, sloping road. The track had been carved two-foot deep into the red earth. All around them were brilliant shades of green, trees and plants scorched in the sun, but thriving nonetheless. Apart from the concrete roadway the trail looked almost completely untouched by human civilisation. Not a single vehicle passed the three men as they trekked slowly onwards, the gradient unrelentingly steep.

They remained quiet, unsure of each other perhaps. They knew they had to keep going now. What other choice was there? Daylight was fading fast. The men subconsciously stepped up their pace. They were soaked in sweat, such was the humidity of the midsummer’s evening.

None of them had a watch, but Charles guessed they’d been walking a good hour, maybe even two, almost completely in uncomfortable silence. Only Charles, it seemed, was enjoying himself. Only Charles appreciated the sense of freedom, the impromptu journeying into the unknown on some chaotic, half-baked idea of a mission.

Eventually, in complete darkness, the men reached a junction. On closer inspection they realised it was a four-way crossroads.

“Look!” yelled Charles excitedly. He pointed to a faded road sign, almost indistinguishable in the gloom. ‘San Juan - 1’ it read, and pointed left. Simon looked at Tony. He had a look of despair, even panic. Although they didn’t know each other well, Simon could tell it was not his normal persona. He was usually a tough man, could handle himself, but faced with the prospect of another kilometre’s uphill trek he looked like he was going to fall apart.

The road became even steeper as they soldiered on. They reached a main road. Surely it couldn’t be much further? There was a basic-looking filling station to their right, but it was closed, of course, with its lights off.

Again, a sign informed them that San Juan was to their left, up yet another steep, winding road.

Exhausted, they reached the village. There were no signs of activity. A few cars were dotted around, some houses, a few shops. But it was devoid of human life, there was not a soul on the streets. The three men scoured the area for vehicles, but there was nothing that even slightly resembled a taxi.

“If you see someone with a car, tell ‘em I’ll pay ‘em whatever they want just to get us the fuck out of here!” Simon said, with panic in his voice.

They approached the largest building in the street. It resembled a church, but it was painted completely white. It looked like it had been maintained better than some of the other buildings they could see. It had obviously been decorated recently, even in the darkness the dazzling white stood out. While the surrounding structures looked a little ramshackle and dilapidated, this building was made of solid stone and stood proudly in the centre of the tiny village, its brilliant white façade dominating the dusty roads. And it was the only building they could see that had its interior lights on.

In desperation, the intrepid threesome approached the edifice. It was completely detached from its neighbouring structures, which meant they could walk either side of it. Only what looked like a garden at the rear was fenced off. Warily, the men crept around the side of the building, trying to find a window low enough for them to look into. They were all too high. In the gloom they noticed a door made of brown wood. Again the tourists looked at each other for answers.

“Shall we knock?” Tony said.

Simon looked blank. He was petrified but didn’t want the others to see it.

“It doesn’t look very inviting,” he said eventually. Charles stayed quiet.

“Go on, Charlie,” said Tony. “This was your idea. You can get us out of here!” For the first time, there was a note of aggression in Tony’s voice.

“Well…I…errr. I…” Charles couldn’t think of a response. He was a geeky teenager not used to standing up for himself. He sensed correctly that Tony could be formidable when angry.

“Off you pop,” said Simon, matter-of-factly. He was glad Tony had taken charge of the situation, and it seemed like good sense to force Charles to try to sort things out, given the circumstances.

Charles gingerly approached the door. Tony and Simon backed off, crouching down into the wild grass and bushes next to the building. Charles knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried banging a little harder.

“Push the door!” he heard Tony whisper from the darkness. Charles pushed. The door opened. Orange light from the interior illuminated the front of his body, making him squint. He had the urge to turn and run, but he couldn’t. Very timidly he entered the building, holding the door ajar for fear of it slamming and locking himself inside.

Charles blinked and looked around. A quite incredible sight met his eyes. It was like a dream. A huge, oval hall packed full of people. They wore bright loose-fitting robes of orange and maroon. Some of them were naked, all barefoot. The people were all shapes and sizes. Most sat or squatted on the flat stone floor. And there were strange noises. A kind of low, deep humming sound. Some appeared to be talking in hushed tones, while others seemed to be breathing heavily and growling as they sat facing each other on cushions, cross-legged. At one end of the room was a raised marble platform with people sitting on chairs. Two huge black women, also dressed in maroon, sat facing each other next to a stand with a microphone assembly.

Above their heads was an enormous colour photograph in a wooden frame. The picture depicted a portrait of an elderly Asian gentleman with grey-white hair and a beard so long the picture was not large enough to display it fully. The man was half-smiling, with a warm, kindly look in his deep brown eyes.

Charles had never seen anything like it before. He gazed up at the old man and struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. His mouth lolled open in wonder. Suddenly his attention turned to a loud noise at the far end of the room. The low, continuous hum was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched shouting.

“Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!” Two men were yelling at each other. They were jumping up and down waving their arms in the air in a bizarre dance like a pair of demented baboons. It looked utterly uncoordinated and haphazard to Charles as he stared, agog.

One of the women on the platform noticed the teenager. She gestured to her companion who turned around. They both faced Charles and smiled.

“Come here, my child,” one of them said, beckoning him. Charles trembled. He looked behind him. The heavy door had slammed shut. “Do not be afraid,” the lady said.

Charles walked slowly towards her. Some of the men and women sitting on the floor had noticed him and stared as he slowly inched towards the platform. He reached where the woman sat. She was huge, her giant breasts sagged unevenly over the rolls of fat on her stomach. She wore loose-fitting and faded maroon robes. She had a trinket of beads around her neck and Charles noticed a picture of the bearded guy set in a stone attached to the necklace lying against her dark-brown skin. Her hair was wild, but she smiled warmly, exposing brilliant white teeth.

Charles glanced to his left. Much of the huge crowd had now noticed him and were looking on with wide-eyed amusement. The noise died down slightly. Charles realised he ought to say something.

“I… er, we… erm… I’m a bit lost! I need to get back to San Antonio.”

The woman spoke with a foreign accent.

“You come to the right place, friend. Many here are lost!” A few people chuckled. “What your name, boy?”

“Er, Charles.”

“Ahh, I am Ma Deva Lula. This is Ma Prem Jill.” There was an embarrassed silence. Then, another figure entered the stage. It was Mike! He now looked completely at home. His vivid orange robes that had looked so incongruous the previous night allowed him to blend into these new surroundings perfectly. Everyone around him looked exactly the same. Slightly unkempt, but healthy and tanned, a stark contrast to Charles’s black clothes and ashen, white skin.

“Charles!” he exclaimed in his well-spoken English accent. “What on earth are you doing here, my friend?”

“Well… erm… last night. You know, we thought, that thing you gave us… it was powerful! And…”

Mike laughed. “You want some more! I’m not surprised, my friend. You did well to find me.”

Mike felt very flattered and impressed that the young kid had made the effort to find him, and had done so in such a short space of time on this island, largely inhabited by the confused and dispossessed. Mike led him to a secluded corner of the hall.

“You’re probably wondering what all this is about.” Charles nodded. Mike hadn’t failed to notice the look of utter bewilderment on his face.

“We are the Neo-sannyas, disciples of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh.” Mike gestured towards the giant picture of the Asian man. “We work for him. He is the blessed one… yet he is… persecuted…” Mike looked sad and distant for a second.

“I seek to recruit new followers, believers, those of good heart. Men like you, my dear friend!”

Mike smiled again, his brilliant blue eyes shone. Charles, not for the first time, looked downright frightened.

“Come, come. Do not fear, my friend. There is nothing but love in this room. We follow no direct path. We seek only liberation and enlightenment.”

Charles looked around him. No-one he could see looked even slightly aggressive. He relaxed a little.

“Here, take one of these.” Mike handed Charles an orange and white capsule.

“Is that…?”

“Yes, my friend.” Charles swallowed the tablet.

Tony and Simon crouched together in the darkness. The door had closed a long time ago. There was no sign of Charles.

“Where the fuck is he?” Tony said.

“We can’t stay here.” The two men crept to the other side of the building. The windows were still too high for them to see into.

“Give me a bunk-up,” said Simon. Tony clasped his hands together, and Simon lifted his leg. Both quickly realised the procedure was not quite so easy for two full-grown adults. They had last tried it as ten-year-olds when they were into climbing trees.

After much swearing, Simon managed to clamber high enough to look into one of the windows of the building. He tried to grip the ancient brickwork, but it was no good. The height and angle of the window made it impossible to see what was going on inside. The two men slumped on the grass with their backs to the wall, beaten by the exhaustion of the evening’s events.

Had they been able to see into the ashram, Tony and Simon would have seen a very different Charles Caxton to the one who had left them less than an hour ago. Mike had found him some orange robes. He now stood, facing the picture of Bhagwan, his eyes bulged out of their sockets and flickered wildly, distorting his vision. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He glanced over at Mike.

“Follow the crowd!” he said. “Life is now and here!” Most of the sannyasins now stood, aware of a new recruit into their ranks.

“This is dynamic meditation,” Mike yelled excitedly. “We are looking for a single essence. Something that transcends any type of categorisation. You must forget past, present, future, ego and self in order to connect with one state.”

Charles tried to listen as the powerful chemicals vied for control in his brain. He felt rush after rush of pure euphoria, again the intense urge to dance engulfed him. He looked around. Clusters of men and women were doing the same, breathing deeply through their noses, then waving their hands wildly above their heads. Charles felt completely at ease with this and his surroundings. Mike stood next to him, yelling the favourite quotes of his leader.

“Never obey anyone's command unless it is coming from within you also. You must live in an egoless state of at-one-ness with the inner laws of life!” Charles felt it.

“Think about the whole, the interdependent cycle of things in existence. Everything depends on everything else. Nothing is absolutely independent or can be. We are parts, very small parts, cogs in a wheel!”

“Cogs in a wheel…” Charles repeated, slurring as he waved his arms in front of himself deliriously. Then, the chanting again. “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!” Charles mimicked those around him. The drug had taken hold of him completely. It felt perfectly natural to be behaving so utterly bizarrely, a way so entirely removed from the monotonous routines of everyday life.

“Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!”

Eventually someone shouted, “Stop!” Charles sat down, out of breath and sweating, with a huge grin on his face. Mike smiled at him, utterly wired. Charles closed his eyes. Mike was wittering something about God and Jesus Christ. Charles thought of his stepfather. If only he could see him now! What would he make of it? Charles knew he was experiencing something cosmic, something utterly outlandish and other-worldly. Something he didn’t understand and something his narrow-minded family would never in a million years comprehend. Charles couldn’t make sense of it himself, or anything at all for that matter. He slumped on the floor as a feeling of utter bliss swept over him.