Rabi's Goan Express

Bryn was expecting that ping of light to hit her pupils and bring her into her hangover, but she was delighted to feel the unexpected pleasure of sunlight on her eyes - no sign of light sensitivity, no sign of pain. The car battery that is usually attached to each of her temples charging a vodka-infused migraine also was absent - just a rested, clear head, and, to her surprise, a euphoric feeling.

Great I’m still drunk

She stared at the bottom of the top sleeper bunk above her on the train - maroon and paint chipped, with a yellow-stained white curtain drawn across, offering the minimum requirement of privacy on this overnight Goa bound train from Mumbai. She tried recollecting how the night had ended in Mumbai: there was her birthday dinner at Tanatan, then cocktails at AER, and from there it got cloudy with hand rolled cigarettes and most likely an argument with Beau.

He's still sleeping above me. What did we fight about? How did we get to the station so successfully? I thought we booked a private cabin on this train…this rotted bunk must be his punishment for me…

Elbowing herself up to peer out the window she noticed she was wearing the most luxurious white linen jumpsuit, the threads soft, no sewing seams, and it seemed to flutter in the wind although her window was shut. She focused her eyes on the landscape outside and gasped. A rolling, lush jungle was cascading down mountains ribboned with sparkling waterfalls, that spilled into terraced pools and lakes shimmering with amethyst colors. The sky was sherbet orange with pink clouds, and the tall, blue grass was whipped by the train as it sped along. She cranked the window open and warm jasmine scented air plumed through her bunk and washed her in euphoria again.

Oh, India - sometimes you really are quite pleasant. I can’t believe I’m not hungover, I barely remember anything after cocktails. Time to kick Beau up and see if we can’t salvage this trip - hope I didn’t hurt his ego too bad.

She gave the bottom bunk a playful upside down stomp to hopefully awaken her new lover. Her drunken euphoria was creating a greedy idea of perhaps sneaking in some physical affirmations for her this morning - her usual way of apologizing to men after crushing them. There was no answer from the top bunk and now that she thought of it - there was no sound at all, which was uncharacteristically eerie on a train from Mumbai to Goa. No chai-wallah, no rampant children, no sound of Hindi sparkling the air with its guttural intonations. There was just a soft rattle of the train and the wind.

Just as her panic began to set in and force her to whip the curtain back, she saw a leathery hand with gold rings reach into her bunk and softly shake her foot.

“Wake up! Wake up Princess - it’s time, it’s time for tea and breakfast, wake up and follow me, you must, now!”

The curtain drew back and she was frozen in shock as the most magical looking man she’d ever seen stood before her. He was wearing a long white dhoti kurta, gold pants, and no shoes. He was elderly, with a bright orange beard that contrasted his purple-brown skin. He was bald, which made his blue/grey eyes bounce back her - smiling eyes that begged her to get up and awaken.

There was nobody else in her cabin, just her. Beau was gone. The man continued to wiggle her foot.

Let go of me! Who are you, where is everybody? Excuse me? There was a man sleeping above me, where is he?

“Don't worry princess, I’ll explain everything - you’ve been on quite the journey. I am so happy you are on my train! This is a very special train, very important you are here. You are miss VIP! I have tea and breakfast at the front of the train for you. I will wait there - take your time to get to the front of the train, I will be waiting for you. Haha, silly Princess, always wanting answers. They will come.”

Bryn was paralyzed by her shock at the man, but when she turned away to gather her thoughts and take a breath out the window, he vanished and she was left alone again in the cabin. She stood up and to her surprise there was no wobble to the train, no shaking - it was so smooth and she could still see the purple and pink waterfalls on the mountains, and the lush greenery of the jungle beyond the train. She peered up ahead through the windows of each cabin and saw the man at least 6 cars ahead of her.

So strange. Where is Beau - did I get on the wrong train by accident? Was I that drunk last night? What the hell is going on? Where is my stuff? I wish Beau was here, I wonder if he made it to Goa without me.

Beau. Her usual cocktail spot in Vancouver had a new bartender, and as he slung her martinis she knew he would be hers - her new pincushion for all her pins. She wooed him with her wealth, her confidence, her beauty - and he offered his youth, his body, and his naivety. She had convinced Beau to come on a luxurious three week trip to India with her to celebrate her 45th birthday, and him, being struck by her mature sexual prowess and her outwardly demeanour, felt like saying yes would be an experience not to miss. He’d get laid and travel, and she’d have somebody to confirm her every thought. It was her classic move these days since her divorce from Rye. Young blood always cures a heart that breaks itself.

Rye. I wonder what he would say about me getting on the wrong train. This train feels like a cult train. What am I even wearing? Poor Rye, I miss him right now - he’d know what to do.

As she made her way to the front of the train, cabin by cabin, she grew more into a state of panic as they were all empty.

There is nobody else here! Wait, there is something poking out of that bunker up ahead…a person!

But it wasn’t. As she got closer she realized it was a green silk scarf with gold trim. It was expensive and thin from wear, and slightly damp with a petrichor, wet cement smell to it. As she picked it up, her stomach dropped. It was her scarf. Years ago she had thrown it into the rain after seeing something that angered her beyond comprehension. A tantrum she threw by herself standing in Water Street. She had seen something and decided to throw this beautiful scarf onto the wet road - the scarf her husband Rye had given her.

What is this doing here? Why is it covered in Vancouver rain? Where am I?

Instinctually she tied it around her neck and continued on to meet the man - it seemed like the only task she could complete. The scarf felt like it weighed twenty pounds around her neck and her heart hurt instantly. She put both hands on either side of the compartment and took some deep breaths but continued on through the cabin. She could see the old man in the next one ahead - he was seated at a round table that was covered in white cloth and upon it sat several clay pots of chai, some light coloured pastries, a bowl of lime and onions, and two omelettes.

“Ahh princess, you have found me here - did you find your scarf? Seems to me you lost it long ago, so happy you have it now, yes? Come come, sit and have some breakfast, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Who are you?

“Have some tea first, and sit down, princess. I will tell you a story.”

Bryn pulled out the stool in front of her and sat down across from the grey eyed man with the orange beard. The pink and orange light from outside made prisms in the cabin air and they danced on his kind brown face, making her trust him. For some reason looking outside made her feel better - they were definitely in India. She had been on this train long ago, almost twenty years ago. The exact route from Mumbai to Goa and the landscape was familiar enough but it was hard to tell - the world moves and destroys itself so quickly these days that she accepted her scenery and focused on Rabi.

“My name is Rabi, but you may call me what you need to. This is my train and I am with such pleasure to have you as a guest. I have had countless guests, but never too many, and always we get where we go, for as you see, the ride must be as long as it needs to be. That is the hardest part of being a special train guest; nobody knows in the beginning how long they want to ride.”

What do you mean as long as it needs to be?

She asked as she picked up a pastry and began eating ravenously. She wasn't starving but the taste was so perfect that she couldn't get enough. She suddenly became aware that she wasn't chewing. A habit she had picked up working for the last decade and a half in her busy marketing executive job - eating on the go, not eating, throwing it up, eating too much again, starving for a few days, eating at her desk, while driving, while walking. She rarely sat at her expensive dining room table, she only really drank at restaurants. This act of sitting with Rabi and eating breakfast was no exception. There was no honouring the meal.

“This breakfast is your symbol for one of the biggest regrets you have in your life, Princess. Can you taste it? Chew slowly. Please, have the tea. Taste this regret and I’ll tell you a story.”

“One day a cat and a fox were in the woods deciding what games to play for that day. Suddenly they heard sounds of the hunter, and the cat, knowing that trees are always there for hiding, ran up a tree and was safe. The fox, being proud and a show off, decided to tempt danger and try many other tricks to escape. His goal was not safety at that moment, his goal was to hide better than a cat. The fox tried under a bush but the hunter saw him, the fox tried to hide in the river, but the hunter saw him, the fox tried to go under a rock, but the hunter saw him. Desperate and tired from all this work, the fox decided to follow his friend up the tree, but the hunter knew this was the last trick in the book, and the fox was captured and killed.”

That’s an awful story, Rabi - what is the point of telling me fables? I’d like some real answers to how we got here. I need to get back to my boyfriend, Beau, and I need to get on the train to Goa. This is all pleasant and sweet, and you do have a beautiful train, but I’m very tired, and I’m very confused.

“Haha! You are not tired and confused, Princess. You are the fox! I can tell from the way you eat, and from the sadness on your scarf. You’ve been the fox for a long time. Is this not one of your biggest regrets?”

What?

“Working too hard on all your tricks to outsmart all the cats! You did lose everything in the end this way. You are Princess Fox now, haha! How is your tea?.”

She brought the clay pot to her lips and was instantly transported to a remote room of her heart. The tea was neither warm nor cool, neither sweet nor bitter. It was as it was. The first tea. It completed her mouth, yet broke her heart.

As Bryn took another sip, a scene unfolded in her mind. The scarf felt heavy around her neck as she fell into the past. Her ex-husband Rye had given that to her for her 40th birthday - it was wrapped waiting on their entryway table in their condo with a card that just had a heart drawn into it. Their marriage had been rough for a while - she was constantly working and then constantly lying about missing other people’s lives, birthdays, funerals, even dates with her own husband.

She was supposed to be going to Rye’s restaurant opening this night - despite her love of nightlife, she rarely attended his events and barely supported his own success. He was quiet and more gentle than her and usually forgiving of her absences. She had been entertaining clients, getting drunk, letting her zest suck them in, ignoring everything around her except her bag of tricks. At the last minute, she made an excuse and ran to Rye's restaurant only to find it closed. When she peered into the window she saw two figures kissing. It was her husband Rye and his hostess. She had thrown the scarf into the street and filed for divorce the next week. Rye didn’t want a divorce, but she had been scorned and could not accept any fault. She had worked herself out of her marriage. She should have stayed on the tree with the cat but she was captured.

The train jolted violently and she was thrown from her chair and fell to the ground. The train shook and lurched from side to side. She looked up and Rabi was gone. She got on her hands and knees and grabbed hold of the cabin seats and looked out the window with horror. Train cars, smashed and on fire, lay on their sides by the tracks as her train slowed to pass by. Rescue crews and a crowd were on the banks trying desperately to reach those trapped inside. As they cruised past this crash scene, she felt a hand on her shoulder and when she turned, Beau was standing in front of her, scorched and missing limbs. She ran from him in terror, ripping open cabin doors and running back down towards the back of the train. She saw a sign for the lavatory and rushed inside, sliding the door behind her and falling down to the floor.

Where am I? Oh my God - was that our train? Oh my god…

Managing to get herself to the sink she splashed a few drops of water onto her face and tried to take some deep breaths.

It’s a dream, Bryn.

Calming herself with this thought she felt some acceptance wash over her. As she walked towards the door of the bathroom she glimpsed at the ground underneath the steel footpads of the toilet - usually you can see the tracks as they roll by, covered in excrement, an almost endearing feature of India’s train system - but, to her surprise, there were no tracks. No beams, no steel, no pins - just lush grasses. As she looked closer she noticed that it was alfalfa grass.

Surely it doesn't grow underneath Indian trains.

Balancing on her hands and knees she slipped her hand into the hole in the floor and grabbed at the grasses and brought it to her face.

So strange. It smells like…no, I can’t say that word. Not yet - this dream isn’t for her.

There was a knock on the door and Rabi popped his head in,

“Ahh princess, you have found your next clue to where you are going! Sorry about the rumbling during our breakfast, we seemed to have hit a speed bump, a speed bump of answers, haha!”

The train back there, the one on fire, it crashed? Should we go back and help, Rabi? I thought I saw somebody…

“You most certainly did! But don’t worry Princess, we only go to good places - but, you still need to decide how long to go. Bring those plants with you, I have lunch waiting for us at the back of the train.”

Bryn looked down into the hole again and saw the familiar purple flowers, the blue spears and green stalks. Picking up her handful she went to follow Rabi again but just like this morning - he was gone.

This guy. This train. I want to wake up. This can’t be happening.

She desperately wanted to wake up from this train nightmare. She was exhausted, but still felt oddly euphoric. Bryn walked through the empty cabins, and glancing outside she noticed the landscape was shifting. The orange and pink sky slowly started to turn a reddish orange and the heat was noticeable. She noticed less jungle and spotted more thinly spread trees, brambly and tangled with a shrubby undergrowth. Spots of sand dusted between the swaths of trees started to appear. Women in red saris were carrying large clay urns, and there were tall smokestacks on the horizon. It looked oddly familiar, like the landscapes of Rajasthan she had traveled so long ago. Red was the colour of that land. Confused by the changing landscape, she knew she had to find Rabi to ask if they changed directions during the rumble at breakfast.

The next cabin’s door was jammed shut and she couldn't open it with the ease as the other compartments. The doorknob was loose and it was failing to turn but she could hear noises on the other side of the door.

Let me in!

No answer - she began to cry at the door locked in front of her. She could hear music playing and voices laughing. With fist clenched with determination she pounded on the cabin door. The red sari women outside of the train were pointing and laughing and the sand was kicked up in storms miles away behind them. It was a scene of panic, of mockery, and she hated it. She hated the train, hated Rabi for his tricks, and she hated herself for getting too drunk and wandering upon this mysterious train. With every pound of her fists she wanted to be on the Goan beach, sipping on something smooth and admiring Beau.

Let me in, let me in, , let me in, let…me…in.

Her voice became softer as she fell to her knees, slowly giving up. Suddenly the door opened and she glanced up to a most familiar scene. Bryn found herself not in a train cabin, but in a room that smelled of stale wine and beer, cameo extra mild cigarettes, and country music playing on a radio by a hospital bed. Clothes were strewn everywhere and it reeked like sex and medicines. The train compartment was a horrific amalgamation of a hospital and room holding the remnants of a one night stand in its stale, sad air.

She knew what this room was. She knew who it represented. Bitterness crept into her heart as she stood and defiantly walked to the end of the cabin and kicked the door open to find Rabi on the back of the train on a sun deck, sitting at a table for two spread with fruits, juices, and fresh clay pots of tea.

“Ahh Princess, so soon you are leaving this memory? No wandering through the memory lane for you on this one? Such a shame, but like I said, the time on the train is up to you. Come come, sit and have some lunch and I’ll tell you a story.”

“A Lion once loved a beautiful daughter of a farmer and wanted to marry her, but her father was afraid of the lion and wouldn’t allow the union unless the lion agreed to remove his claws and teeth. The lion was so in love that it ripped out its talons and teeth and approached the farmer again. The farmer was now not afraid of the lion and drove the lion away with his club in triumph.”

Rabi, what is this story about?

“Ahaha! Drink your tea silly princess and you will remember…”

Again, like breakfast, Bryn sipped her tea - the sweet, perfect tea and her flashback was horrid. She was eight, and she stood outside her mother’s room, banging on the door for she heard voices and music. She knew something was wrong since her father was away and the man’s voice inside her mothers bedroom could not be his. Her banging on the door persisted until her mother ripped open the door and slapped her in the face proclaiming she was just listening to the radio and she should go back to sleep. Bryn never forgave her mother for this, and as Bryn grew older she understood what happened that night and even as her mother lay dying from cancer years later, Bryn never showed her mother the love she had for her. Even after her mother had ripped out her own heart, done everything she could for Bryn, and now begged for her mercy on her deathbed. Bryn remembers feeling like her own cruelty was for her mother’s own good. As her mother, now no threat to Bryn, emaciated and in her last hours, asked for her hand, Bryn could not return the love.

As soon as Bryn put the clay pot of tea down, the train jolted again and the fruits tumbled off the train. Bryn was thrown to the floor. She hit her head and when she stood up and grabbed the railing, the horrific scene returned: a train, derailed and on fire in the jungle. People screaming, trying to help those trapped. As the train hurdled past the gruesome scene, she saw a familiar sight…herself, body broken, bloodied, and most certainly dead.

Her breath stopped.

She stared at her lifeless body in the rubble.

Oh my god, I’m dead. This is death. This is heaven? This train! We must have derailed in the night while we were sleeping - well - I passed out drunk. Oh my god - where is Rabi?

With that thought she saw a steel ladder to her left that led to the roof of the train, but before she grabbed the railing she felt a cold rush of air rip through her hair, saw the train slowly incline as if it were climbing a mountain, and saw the sandy red scene of Rajasthan slip away slowly to reveal snow capped peaks.

She climbed the ladder and made it to the roof of the train, which had now picked up ferocious speed to climb the mountain that loomed in front of them. Rabi was waiting in the middle of the cars, he was perched on a blanket with more tea, and was smoking something. Bryn easily walked along the roof even though the train was climbing at breakneck speed.

“Hello Hello Princess Fox, Princess Farmer, would you like to know what else you are the princess of? I have one more story for you to see before you decide to get off the train.”

Rabi?

“Yes?”

I’m dead, aren’t I?

“Haha! So smart Princess - do you really feel you have solved the mystery of your death? Or are you more interested in solving the mystery of life?”

I’m not sure, I don’t feel in control.

“That is what train riding is about, about what life is…no? Come come, I have one more story for you.”

Bryn sat down on the printed blanket and fingered its tassels while Rabi spoke. Again, she brought the tea to her lips as his voice sang…

“A plain crow once sat in a tree and was perfectly content until one day, it saw a swan. So perfect was the swan the crow thought the swan must be the happiest bird in the world. He said to the swan, "You're perfect," to which the swan replied, “Perhaps, but have you seen a parrot? They have two colors, they are the happiest birds in the world.”

And so the crow flew to where the parrots were and said, "You lucky parrots, how colourful and pretty you are, you must be the happiest birds in the world". The parrots cawed and said, “NO! You must see the Peacock, they have more colors than we - the peacocks are the happiest birds in the world!”

And so the crow flew to the zoo to visit the peacock and said, "You are stunning, Peacock - how happy you must be. When people see me, they shoo me away and call me a pest". The Peacock looked at the crow and said, “My beauty traps me in the zoo - you, the crow are the only bird that is free. How happy you must be.”

As he finished speaking, Bryn sipped her tea and saw that they were on the Ladakh steppe, on their way to the mysterious city of Leh, sandwiched between China and Pakistan, where she had gone some many years ago. The only colours in this land are brown, white and blue. The sky, impossibly cerulean, and the brown steppe are only flecked with the white of the Himalayas. It’s bleak and empty, but full of the secrets of the world. With each step she felt that same feeling - her heart, heavy, sinking to it's depths.

In the distance, she saw a 12 story building - her office in Vancouver, standing alone on the eerie plateau. As she peered at this lonely structure on the vast emptiness of the steppe she saw a figure, toeing the edge of the building - contemplating jumping. Again, her heart became heavy at the memory and she sunk into the shadows of her past once more as the cold wind of the Himalayas made her green scarf dance.

Two weeks after her divorce and her mothers death, she climbed the stairs of her office tower, opened the fire escape door, and made her way to the edge. Her toes curled around the lip of the roof as she saw the hustle of Vancouver below her. Arms outstretched and tears rolling out of the corners of eyes, face to the sky, a sky that seems so blue and cerulean that day, with icy caps of the Coastal Mountains in the distance. A moment before her plunge, Bryn remembered a huge gust of icy Pacific wind knocked her down to the floor of the roof. And she had returned to her desk that afternoon, her determination defeated by something as light as air.

Bryn screamed at Rabi to divert the train towards the building - Rabi laughed and said, “It is yours to steer my sweet princess. Always has been.” The train gradually lifted off the sandy ground and began climbing through the air, circling the building, getting closer to the figure on the roof. When the train whistled as close as it could, Bryn stood on the edge of the train, eyes closed with fear, toes curled with anticipation, and jumped - knocking the figure down onto the roof. When she opened her eyes, the figure was gone. She let out a cry of pure anguish and remorse, love and hope, compassion for herself and hatred all at the same time. A wail of a life not well lived, not honoured. She was stuck in limbo, with a strange man and a train, taking her on a cross country tour of the darkest corners of her heart. It was unbearable.

“Ah, Princess Fox, Princess Farmer, Princess Crow - so…you have solved the mystery?”

Why would you take me here? What’s the point of saving myself from jumping only to die in a wretched train anyways? What’s the point?

“It is important to remember Princess, always enjoy the train ride, no? Don’t be the Fox and overwork yourself for tricks, don’t be the farmer and push love away from fear, don’t be the crow and seek happiness outside yourself - you must enjoy the ride! As I told you, nobody knows in the beginning how long their journey will be. But you must answer me now, Princess - would you like to get off or come back on the train? We have more to see, and more tea to drink, haha!”

Rabi outstretched his hand and smiled at her from the steps of the train, his kurta billowing in the wind as he hovered about her, suspended in the ethereal landscape.

Bryn stood and walked towards Rabi and the mysterious train, the wind of the mountains circling her, lifting her towards him, her hand started to reach for his, the taste of that perfect tea was already on her lips, her foot touched the step and -

***

“BABE GET UP! We’re there - fuck, you were hammered last night, good thing we got this private cabin, you were talking in your sleep, it was crazy. The chai-wallah dude is coming this way down the train, you want tea?”

Bryn woke with a pounding headache, nausea in her throat, and her eyesight was impaired from the daylight.

Their cabin door opened and the chai-wallah came inside with his urn of tea and served them in clay pots. Bryn outstretched her shaky hand, discombobulated from the intense dream last night. She looked up and saw that a kind man, with gold rings and an orange beard was handing her the morning’s first tea. His blue grey eyes winked at her, and as he handed her the clay pot said, “Good morning Princess.” With that, he disappeared down the cabin, a gold trimmed green scarf trailing behind him.