1. en-ashram-N/G
2. 02-03-2025
4. Tweet

The boat dropped me off at an unexpected location. It wasn’t until the boat gained speed that I realized the mistake. I was about to call out but held back because the boat already went quite far. Trying to stop it would be futile.

It was a bare place. As far as I could see, there were no neighborhoods along my side, but there was a neatly laid-out small town on the other side of the river. I could see a steeple soared above the rooftops. The faint outlines of electric poles and wires in the town gave an indication of the direction of nearby roads. The orderly rows of trees stood in sharp contrast with the wilderness on my side. None of the houses I could see faced the river.

The absence of any soul in sight was reason enough for me to panic. “Don’t panic!” I assured myself. “Somebody will show up.” With somebody’s help I would cross over to the town and find my way to Ottawa to get home. I tried to stay positive but a sense of helplessness unsettled me: “I am lost in the middle of nowhere!”

I gazed into the distance along the riverbank. In an uncanny silence, I could hear the murmur of the water, punctuated by bird song. A dragonfly emerged from the water and landed gracefully on a hazelnut leaf behind me. A rabbit darted into a patch of wild strawberries. High above, a seagull glided across the river and then perched atop the bell tower of the town.  I would have imagined the whole town was asleep if I didn’t hear a buzz. I was sure it was coming from the town. Maybe an engine was started somewhere.

But the sound was moving in my direction, slowly breaking the silence. After a few moments, I discovered it was coming from a camp boat, likely heading to the town for supplies. So, if I had walked east, I could have reached a campground where I could seek help. Now help is on its way. I felt happy that I had not panicked about getting lost. 
But my hope was dashed the next moment. The boat veered away from my side of the river. As it drew nearer, I frantically waved my hands and shouted at the top of my lung. But the driver, a hefty man with long, blonde hair, either did not notice me or intentionally ignored me.

As I was wondering if I should despair now or if I should start walking towards the campground, I heard a faint sound of another camp boat. I walked towards the water and waved my hands. The driver cut out the engine, but stopped the boat at a cautious distance. He got up from the seat, and I could see his tanned face. He shouted, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve lost my boat,” I shouted back.

As I uttered the last word, I fumbled because just as I was about to finish my sentence, I was caught in ambivalence. I wanted to say “I’ve lost my way.” But as my lips parted, I was interrupted by the thought that I had come out of nowhere, that to use the word “way” would be to make a fool of myself. So, my lips shrank inward and spat out the word “boat”. Even in the moment of ambivalence, I was amazed at how fast our brains could shift gears.

“I need a ride to get to the other side. I want to go to the town.” 

He replied, “OK”, started the engine and then turned away towards the town.

“Moron!” I murmured.

There must be something wrong with these people. Two boats in a row turned me down. None of them wanted to help me. It wasn’t a big favor, just a short ride. It wouldn’t cost them anything, and they wouldn’t have to go out of their way.

I sat down on the grass. It was getting warmer. A sense of loneliness began to settle in me. The eternal calmness of the water began to trouble me. A fear that would manifest only in the darkness overwhelmed me. Even a sight of a dangerous animal would rid me of fear. 

Another sound of a boat engine! One of the two boats was probably returning to the camp. I looked in the direction of the town but did not see any. Soon the sound became louder and the direction clearer. It was another camper. This time the camper responded to my call and came towards me. He listened to my request and said he could give me a ride. He asked me to take off my shirt and then tap on my front and hip pockets and around my waist. He asked me to turn around so he could clearly see my back. He was taking all measures to ensure that I was not carrying a gun, that I had no secret plan to hijack his boat. Then he said I would have to pay for the ride. 

“How much?” I asked.

“How much do you have?” 

I searched my pockets. These last few days I did not really need money and so completely forgot its value. I pulled out all the bills I had in my pocket and held it out for him to see. 

“How much?” He asked. 

In the quiet that followed the fading sound of the boat, his booming voice startled me. I got scared. For a moment, I thought I would not take his help. There was something sinister in his tone. He was ordering me to do unreasonable things. I let the silence return to the sound of the river. When it did, I said coolly, “$120.” 

“That will do,” he started the engine and brought the boat closer.

It was too much for a few minutes' ride. But what good would that money be if I was stuck here? He could use it to buy things, maybe more beer, but it would be useless to me if I couldn't get to the town. So, I gave him the money and he let me on board.

His white hand was covered with blue and black tattoos, which sharply contrasted with his florid face. He took out a kitchen knife and placed it near the handwheel. I thought that extra caution towards me was unnecessary because he was much stronger than me. While maneuvering the boat, he said, “I am David, by the way. Where are you from?”

I replied with a somewhat nervous smile, “Ottawa.”

He let out a cynical laugh and gave me a sideways glance. “I'm not asking where you want to go. I am asking where you are from.” He spoke slowly this time, emphasizing each syllable as if speaking to someone whose English is limited.

“There were two guys yesterday – they looked like you, talked like you – is there a secret border crossing somewhere around here? You can tell me, I'm not an immigration police guy!” He laughed again, fiddling with the knife in one hand. I remained quiet. 

As we got closer to the bank, David cut the engine. But he was too late or the depth near the bank was too shallow. The boat stopped with a jolt and got stuck in the white sand. The bump almost threw me overboard. I set foot on the wet sand and David got busy in pulling the boat out of the sand. I did not want to help. He was a crook; he robbed me. 

He shoved the boat. The boat moved but his cell phone fell out of his pocket. So, he held the boat back to pick up the phone. I was sure the phone got water damage. Looking down, I saw a baseball bat lying underwater near the boat. With a quick reflection, I nimbly picked it up and the next moment impulsively hit him on his butt. With a pang he tumbled miserably onto the beach. He scrambled to get up. I hit him two more times. He fell flat on his stomach and lay quietly. I picked up the phone, grabbed my money out of his pocket and headed to the town. 

Everything was quiet again.

A small crosswalk took me inside a neighbourhood. It was as quiet as the wilderness across the river. Absentmindedly, I circled a crescent road several times before discovering the opening to a main road, which led to a strip mall. The mall was closed and nobody was in sight.

I walked to the mall to look for a telephone booth to find a telephone number for taxi. It is hard these days to find a roadside phone booth. There was one in the mall where a yellow page was hanging. I found a taxi company and called it from the mugged cell phone. I held my breath. A soft voice answered, “Good morning! Riverside Cab.”

It was still morning, then. I could have checked the time on the cell phone. I gave the receptionist as much precise description of my location as possible and then ditched the phone in the garbage bin. But I fumbled when the taxi arrived and the cabbie asked me my destination. The unexpected events of the past couple of hours caused so much confusion in me that I even lost the sense of direction. My confusion annoyed the cabbie to whom the world is nothing but precisely arranged addresses. He turned around to size me up with his big blue eyes. Was he suspecting that I had no money to pay my fare? I checked my pocket. My dollars were still in there. Did he suspect I had knocked down a jerk on the beach? 

Before I could finish that thought, I heard police sirens. “Damn! I’m screwed. The police are coming after me.” But the police cars didn’t stop. As they passed, I saw a car come from behind them, then another, and another. Next, I saw joggers, a biker, a mom pushing a stroller. They all appeared together as if the police had just lifted a curfew. So, this is not a sleepy town. It just rose late.  

To strike up a conversation with the cabbie, I asked, “How is your day so far?”

“None of your business,” came the reply.

I was puzzled. Did I ask a wrong question? I started feeling jittery with the silence as if a mosquito was buzzing near my ears without biting me. So, I gave another try. I said, “People seem to be lazy today. They haven’t come out yet.

“Yes, they have work to do…they are not on government assistance!”

“What?” What’s the matter with this guy? Had I hired him before and had an argument about tips or something? Maybe he didn’t have his breakfast or coffee. So, I wanted to be nice to him.

“Do you want to stop for coffee?”

But it was a lonely regional road where there were no cafes. Nonetheless, he pulled over. Without looking behind he said in the same grumpy voice, “I’ll stop here if it pleases you.”

“Why here?” I laughed nervously.

“Can you get out of the car?”

The guy must have gone crazy. Why should I get off here? “Take me to my place or I’ll call the police.” I regretted saying that because I had no phone to call. He was watching me in the mirror. Seeing me not acting, he got out of the car, opened my door and grabbed me by the collar. My seat belt wasn’t fastened. So, he easily pulled me out, took out my money, dragged me about a meter and flung me to the roadside ditch. 

He lazily walked into the car. I scrambled to my feet to go after him. But he already got into the car. I picked up a rock and hurled it at him. It landed on the rear windshield and deflected. I am sure it made a nice crack. I was satisfied with my work, but it certainly made the cabbie mad. He did not come out; instead, he was backing up the car towards me. But this time he was out of luck. Neither he nor I noticed that a truck was approaching from behind towards us. I heard the screeching of tires but the truck stopped after hitting the taxi, which rolled into the ditch. I was about to run to the car to help the cabbie out when I saw the truck driver come out, visibly shaken and talking on his cell phone. He must have called the police. 

When I finally arrived in Ottawa and stood outside Eggspectation, a cozy restaurant on Bank Street, feeling drained and exhausted, the afternoon sun melted into the horizon, casting a warm pink glow over the sky. I looked up, and in that moment, I knew it was time to head home.

Rashed Nabi,
Ottawa.

1. en-ashram-N/G
2. 02-03-2025
4. Tweet