The lunatic is on the path

Last night at 3am as I began the five minute, pitch black rocky uphill trek to my guesthouse, I saw there was a light on the ground. I said “hello, everything ok?” and I heard a yes so I said “ok, goodnight.” Then I heard a “no, it’s not ok.”

So I went and sat and discovered an English woman in her forties or fifties sitting on the ground by the path. She asked if I would like to smoke a joint with her. I said no, but I would sit with her if she wanted. I asked her what was up. She said, “I’ve just realized I’m a cunt.”

Now, on rested reflection, it’s easy to see that such a statement pretty much sums a person up: crying for attention, self-loathing, depression, confusion. And I guess it’s safe to say that I can’t help a person like this…but what to do, I’m always attracted to weirdos.

She continued to garble some stuff about being a bad person and having a bad life etc…and I sat with her quietly admiring the stars and listening to the distant sound of a Swiss instrument called the Hang reverberating through the valley.

Then she called to an Indian guy and this old, small local guy appeared from somewhere in the dark. She said he was her friend and was helping her. And they began walking up the path. I sat for a minute trying to figure out just what was going on. And then I continued up myself and when I caught them up she continued to talk her weirdness, “I’m always doing this. I’m a bad person. I just wanted a good life and I’ve had a shit life. I’m a cunt!”

I tried to light a cigarette for her. She didn’t seem interested in smoking it. She didn’t seem capable of smoking it.

I talked with her a while and she decided she wanted to go down the path again and she climbed onto the back of the Indian guy and continued down the path. The whole thing seemed too weird so I stayed and listened to see if everything was ok. I was suspicious that he might have got her in this state or might be trying to take advantage of her condition. Either way, she was in a really bad way and I was more concerned that if was trying to help her he just might not quite understand what was required.

I listened and sure enough I heard her shout “no, leave me alone, I don’t want this.”

So, I ran back to my guesthouse, dropped off my guitar and found my torch so I could see what was going on. Then I caught them up, and just as I was a few metres behind I saw her fall from the side of the path into quite a deep ditch filled with large stones.

What the fuck!

I took her hand and helped her out. She was shaking, her eyes were going nuts. I put my shawl around her and held her tightly. On examination, she seemed to have escaped the fall with just bruises on her arms and legs but she was now really in a bad way.

So to recap. It’s 3am, pitch black, I’m with a suicidal, stoned, middle-aged, manically depressed English woman, an Indian guy who seems to have little grasp of the situation and we’re on an isolated, steep, rocky path and this woman seems to have no idea where she lives.

“Is it up or down?” I ask hopefully. “Up”, she says and after some calming we begin the ascent. It also turns out she has no shoes.

One of the guesthouses has a light on so I suggest we stop there. Three Russian guys are sitting out on the porch and thankfully one of them isn’t completely stoned. I apologise for bringing this madness into their world and ask them to help if they can.

I sit her down, give her water and we ask if she’s taken any drugs. Everyone else seems convinced that she’s on a bad trip. I wasn’t convinced. She says no drugs, just a couple of joints (which, fair enough, isn’t going to help someone this fucked up). And she at some point mentioned medication.

The sober Russian dude suggests we take her to a doctor. I felt it was best just to get her to a bed, but she seemed ok about the idea of a doctor so we walked again. All the way down the path. She was clinging onto me like it was for life and all the time mumbling nonsensical stuff about wanting to kill herself and her son and how she is always doing stuff like this. We walked her all the way into town – a good twenty five minute walk at that speed, and all on uneven steep steps.

We woke up a doctor who, despite having the excuse of being bleary-eyed, was frankly useless. He suggested we take her to her guesthouse. I pointed out that there was no way in cold hell that I was going to put her or myself through the return uphill journey, especially as she didn’t even know where she stayed.

So we woke up a guy at the nearest hotel and asked for a room. We put her in a bed, covered her in blankets and I told her that today was bad but tomorrow the world will be smiling for her. She wanted the Indian guy to stay with her and he agreed. I wasn’t feeling a hundred percent happy about this but I felt fairly sure that he was actually trying to help her, and not, you know, trying to rape her. It happens.

I made her close her eyes and breathe deeply and I turned the light off and we left the room. Myself and the Russian guy went downstairs and decided that given the time of day and the situation, we had done as much as possible to help this woman.

And then, just to really help us out the guy from the hotel (same bleary-eyed excuse) told us that she needed to fill the guestbook with passport details and pay for the (very expensive) room now. With seriously fraying patience I suggested that maybe he doesn’t fucking try that now and it can wait til morning. Proper morning with sunlight and everything. He refused. I told him that she was now his problem so if she wanted to throw her out, he was welcome to, but I’d like to see him try.

Then she appeared saying “are you sure the world will be smiling tomorrow?” Yes of course I told her, wondering if the world would ever look like it was smiling when you’ve been this low. Thankfully she was able to produce her passport and money for the room. And then she went back upstairs. I heard the Indian guy talk to the hotel guy in Hindi about commission. Cheeky fucker. He wanted money because he took her to this place. Ahh, whatever. Not my problem. I'm not gonna start haggling about the price on her behalf at 4am.

Myself and the Russian guy told the hotel guy to look after her (he had the money now so he was happy) and we stepped outside to make the long walk back up to our rooms.

I got home at 5.30am. And this afternoon, having managed to drag myself from my bed, I was telling this story to some friends and it turns out that she has a habit of doing stuff like this and essentially she is in trouble and needs to be sent home to see a doctor.

Well, I guess I did my bit. But someone like this should not be let loose in India.

Eugh!

Anyway, in other news, I have some new photos online from Roi’s camera, mostly of the bike trip and a few of Ben’s party the other night.

My arms are covered in Henna tattoos at the moment. Ben’s sister is very disarming and skilful with this stuff.

And I think I will organise a concert for next week.

Big love to all. x

I'm not crazy. Phew.