Nagaland (continued)

(http://inschoolandlearningwell.blogspot.com/2008/07/nagaland.html)
CONTINUED...


After waiting for about 10 minutes I got a little bit antsy. In the distance I noticed there was one shop still open from where I could pay to call Honang. With my companion still complaining loudly about just waiting for Honang I set off towards the shop. This subdued the still unnamed man in black who followed me.

“Do you see him?” he asked.

I kept walking. From the phone booth I dialed Honang’s number. Ring, ring—beep, beep, beep. The number was busy.

I hung up frustrated, looked around, but still no Honang in sight. I saw lightning flash off in the distance.

“What happened?” He asked.

“It was busy,” I said. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

After a minute of tense silence, I spoke, “How much would it be for you to take an autorickshaw from here to your home.”

“Ehhh… 20-30 Rupees.”

“That’s all?” I thought to myself. I then realized how tight our man’s finances must have been. “Ok, no problem. I’ll pay for it.” This diffused his tension quite a bit, but with a storm brewing in the distance and shady looking men on their Honda Heroes who were becoming more and more curious about our presence, I turned around to try Honang on the payphone again, but found the shop closing.



[A Honda Hero]


The phone was my golden ticket to get me off these Dimapur streets and away from the clutches of John Carpenter's boogey-men floating around in my imagination; I knew I’d have to reach Honang to get out of this situation.

“Sir, I really need to use the phone to call my friend.”

“Just wait, he’ll come meet you soon, I’m sure.”

“No sir, he was supposed to meet me 15 minutes ago (an exaggeration) and I’m not sure where he is.”

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

“Delhi,” I said, trying not to draw any extra attention to myself.

He looked at me for a minute, maybe trying to place my accent. He looked out at the empty streets. And in a moment of generosity (or was it pity?) he took out his own mobile and said “Oh, ok. What is the number?”

I gave the shopkeeper the number and he called Honang. The shopkeeper told Honang where we were (Honang had been waiting at the Stadium; I had gotten impatient and left before he arrived) and a few minutes later he pulled up in front of the shop.

I thanked the shopkeeper for his help and greeted Honang. Honang looked at the man in black, confused. I explained he was a friend and flagged down an autorickshaw. While the man with no name had said the auto ride would only be about 30 Rs., the auto driver said it would be 100 Rs. for the trip.

I thought the man in black might have smoothly baited me into agreeing to pay for his (expensive) ride home, but quickly realized that he had probably never taken an auto home from here and did not know what the cost would be.

So I paid the auto driver and the short man in black jumped into the back seat, smiling for the first time that night. “Thank you, I hope we’ll meet again,” he said.

“Yes, me too… though next time I hope it’ll be during the day.”

The auto took off and I jumped in Honang’s car-- finally safe from barking dogs, shifty-eyed Honda heroes, and my own imagination.

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