If the Maharajas Express was the fancy, gastronomic entree, then Kindred Spirit is humble, farm-to-table fare. We arrived here late last night after disembarking at the train station in Kerala and taking a bumpy hour-long van ride to the sanctuary.
We each have a round freestanding hut with a thatched grass roof. Inside is a bed on a bamboo frame with a mosquito net and not much else – definitely no minibar. I love it.
It’s mid-morning, but Markus has been filming for hours already. I’d woken to the sound of the tap running in the bathroom next door. I’d lain in bed imagining Markus’s large form folded over the tiny clay sink as he brushed his perfect teeth with bottled water.
I bet he cares for his teeth the same way he cares for animals. The same way he seems to care for me.
Once awake, I’d tossed and turned but couldn’t get back to sleep. Hardly surprising given the events of the last thirty-six hours. The thing about Markus’s admission about financing our entire trip was that it didn’t seem like he was boasting or grandstanding. Not like the Markus who had flowers delivered to me at his own house. In a way, his generosity didn’t seem like the biggest deal – it felt as natural as handing me a coffee.
Yesterday, after waking at dawn to the first light streaming through my window, I’d wondered if I should pack and get off the train at the next stop. But I’d decided to stay – to test the mood. And we’d had fun. The majority of the day was spent playing board games with Markus in the Rajah Club lounge carriage. We learnt how to play Ludo while drinking more red wine, our hands occasionally brushing while moving our playing tokens across the board.
It’s midday when I finally emerge from my hut to find the sun high in the sky. It’s different from the dust-blotted sun of Mumbai, with a clear, mellow glow. The sanctuary is a nature-lover’s delight. I’m yet to sight an elephant, but I can already understand Markus’s passion for Kindred Spirit. Here, you can spend your days interacting with elephants, playing, feeding and bathing them. Ride down the river in a bamboo raft, or simply float away in a tube without a care in the world. Go trekking on endless trails that lead to secret waterfalls and beautiful vistas and, at the end of the day, gather around the fire pit while gazing up at a sky full of stars. A hidden paradise so remote that it is inaccessible by car – we’d been collected from the main road on motorbikes, our luggage and radio equipment travelling behind us in their own private convoy.
But with all of this wonderful seclusion, I am worried about the lack of broadcast facilities. Cedric has been assured that the sanctuary is equipped with a modern education centre with fast wifi, but considering I don’t even have power in my hut I’m having difficulty picturing it. It would be remiss of me not to go and check it out ahead of our scheduled interview in a couple of hours.
I walk to the bamboo entrance. It’s unattended. We’ve been advised to only travel chaperoned.
‘Hello?’ I call out.
There’s no response. I hesitate for a moment before deciding to continue on unaccompanied towards the lights flashing in the distance. They blink in time with the swaying palm trees.
I find myself enjoying the quiet stroll, until the trodden grass path comes to an abrupt end, and I’m faced with a wall of reeds two metres high. I swat away a mozzie as I push my way through the wilderness, batting it down with dramatic scissor-chop hand movements. Thank goodness I’m in my activewear and not in any of Naomi’s fancy threads. I conquer the last of the grass and emerge into a flatter, savannah-like landscape of rolling grasslands, scattered shrubs and a few isolated palm trees. I’ve completely lost sight of the lights, but I must be close now.
I step out into the clearing and straight into an elephant.
‘Shit.’
My forehead hits its swaying backside with a giant thud. Its butt is thick, leathery and hairy. The coarse hairs prick at my cheek. I freeze. I’m sure I stop breathing for a moment. This creature is huge. I don’t know whether to run for my life or remain completely still. My head throbs where I’ve made contact with its wrinkly butt. Luckily, the elephant isn’t the least bit interested in me and continues moving steadily in the opposite direction, completely unfazed.
Phew. That was a close call.
I hurry towards the middle of the clearing.
‘Out of the way, girl!’ a gruff voice yells.
I’ve been so focused on my elephant encounter that I haven’t even noticed the small group of people standing two-hundred metres away. They’re dressed in khaki and huddled around cameras. Markus is standing in front of the cameras.
‘Did you hear me? Move!’ A man wielding a boom mic is screaming at me. There must be more elephants headed this way. I look around, frantically seeking refuge.
‘Where should I go?’ I yell back, heart pumping in my chest. Is this how I’m going to die?
‘I don’t care, lady. Scram!’ There’s no mistaking his tone. He doesn’t give two shits about me or my safety.
‘You’re in the shot, Rosie.’ Markus’s voice is panicked and slightly raised, but he’s not yelling.
The boom-mic man looks from my desperate expression back to Markus. His face blooms red and he presses his free hand to his temple. ‘Is this your little girlfriend, Markus? Explains a few things, doesn’t it? Distracted much?’ he spits.
‘Markus is not –’
‘Rosie’s just –’
Markus and I respond simultaneously, but boom-mic guy cuts us off.
‘Whatever. I really don’t give a shit. All I know is that we’ve been here for hours, and I’ve gotten fuck all. Just get out of here!’ There’s fire in his eyes.
‘Ah, oh . . . y–yes.’ I drop to the ground and crawl to the periphery near where the main group is standing. I stand and brush the dirt off my knees. No one acknowledges my presence.
‘Markus & Elephant. Take TWENTY-SEVEN.’
‘G’day, Dr Markus Abrahams here, coming to you live from – ah – India. We’re – ah – down here – ah – at the Kindred Spirit Elephant Conservation Centre and I’m going to take you to – ah – see some of the beautiful animals.’ I think he’s paused more than he’s spoken. And he does a strange pointy finger dancing action while he speaks. He’s like a Wiggle in khaki. It’s difficult to watch.
Boom-mic guy looks furious. Still, the camera keeps rolling.
‘Markus & Pup – sorry, I mean, Markus & Elephant – are proud supporters of the elephant conservation project.’ Again with the weird finger.
‘Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut!’ boom-mic man yells.
Markus’s eyes bulge in terror.
I break away from the group and shuffle over to the lone palm tree, pressing myself against its trunk. I don’t want to be responsible for fuelling any further fury.
‘I’m sorry, Rick. I really am trying.’ Markus’s voice rattles. His face is bright red.
Even from my new vantage point under the tree, I can see beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. I have a sudden urge to rush over and give him a hug. Instead, a woman in a khaki skirt hurries forward with a make-up compact and starts dabbing at his face.
‘Maybe we could bring in the elephants now? I think that would help put me at ease a little.’ Markus says as the woman blots around his mouth.
‘I’ve already told you, Markus. I don’t want those damn creatures in shot until you bloody well know what you’re doing. At this rate you’re not going to get within a foot of them all week. I’ll green screen them in if I have to!’ Rick’s threat seems legit.
Markus looks miserable. ‘I understand. I’m sure I can improve. In fact, I know I can. Should we take it from the top?’
‘Fourteen shoot days. Fourteen sunrises. That’s all we have. Are you getting that through your extremely attractive but extremely thick head? You’ve successfully wasted one. You better not burn another.’ Rick isn’t pulling any punches.
‘I won’t.’ Markus hangs his head.
I wish I could call Markus over and remind him of how much his fans love him and all the exposure he’s giving the sanctuary. A few days ago, I never would have admitted that to him, but it seems the craziness of India has wiped our slate completely clean.
‘Maybe it’s the jet lag?’
Shit, shit, shit. I did not mean to say that out loud.
Rick swings around to face me. He looks at me like I’m a piece of loo paper stuck to his shoe.
‘Get the girlfriend out of here. Nowwwwwwww!’ he bellows.
I half expect two burly men to emerge from the bushes, scoop me up and drag me off set with arms and legs kicking. Instead, a slight man with a moustache and clipboard approaches.
‘You heard Rick. You have to leave.’
I’m about to fall into step with my escort when Markus speaks up again.
‘Rosie’s my radio co-host. She’s here to record the show with me. You guys know about that. It’s in my contract.’
It’s sweet of Markus to defend my honour, but not at all wise considering the precarious position he’s currently in. I can tell by the twisting of Rick’s face that it’s time to make myself scarce.
I mouth ‘good luck’ to Markus and then head off in what I hope is the direction of the education centre-slash-radio studio, with one eye on the lookout for elephant butts.