So then the day has finally arrived. I
have chosen my steed(s) – two beautifully painted tiger-ricks doubly dipped in
glow-in-the-dark paint from the UK. “Tiger, tiger burning bright” – yes Mr.
Blake, we will be.
Yesterday was the first time I clapped
my eyes on my team mates – Mr Sean Curnow and Ms Ginnie Carlier and Mr Luke
Ellyard and Mrs Rachel Ellyard from teams ‘Glow Baby Glow’ and ‘Glow Hard or
Glow Home’. I have to say the moment I saw them, a warm feeling rose in the
very cockles of my heart and the thought flashed in my head – “These were
friends I could rely on.” I even felt like rubbing against their legs and
rolling over for a tummy rub, but since the local cat was in the vicinity
decided not to degrade myself thus. One has a reputation to keep.
Yesterday was when all the Richshaw
Runners decided to trample all over (in the name of dancing) that posh hotel in
town - Pinewood. I wasn’t taken to the party for some reason. I would have
sulked if I wasn’t so excited about leaving Shillong this morning. I even heard
that there were some streakers, though no steaks. At which point my interest
waned somewhat.
But this morning on the dot 8 a.m.
there was Mr. Matt himself, urging Sean and Ginnie to seat me on their roof
rack, there was Ginnie very pretty in a sari (or was it Rachel? - the excitement of the launch has made things a bit hazy) hugging me to her bosom (I actually
blushed, but hopefully no one noticed underneath all my fur). At the grand launch,
I was formally introduced to all the guests and the 150 Runners, and even
though my name was totally mispronounced I was mighty pleased to say the least.
And then…with the tooting of horns, the
waving of flags, the break down of rickshaws, the further tooting of horns, the
posing for pictures, the hopping out for ‘good luck handshakes’ our very merry
and violently colourful procession began the precipitous path down to Guwahati.
My heart did a few violent thuds I must admit,
specially when our steed avoided about 14 head-on collisions with large and
very unstable trucks, but I’ll have to admit that the way down was perceptibly
better than the climb up last time. Though in this case, the danger was that we
were being helped along by gravity and other bits of physics so maybe went
downhill a tad faster than we should have. But no harm done – my hair may have
been raised, but it stayed on. Can’t say this last was that much of a good
thing given the sweltering heat of the plains, but one can’t have it all I
suppose.
When we got to the Ginger hotel in
Guwahati my team mates spent quite a bit of time complaining, as their
expectations had been falsely spiked by some deceptive photography on the hotel
website. As for me, I couldn’t care less. I cheerfully put away the two plates
of chicken tikka masala that Ginnie and Rachel refused to eat as it might
affect their waistline, and tucked myself in for a nice snooze on the sofa. I
noticed that Sean and Luke were now referring to me as Sher Khan instead of
well, my own name – but since ‘Khan’ did refer to royalty I decided to go with
it. I was just pleased I’d gotten off that rickshaw for the night – the one
they called ‘Shit Can’ to rhyme with my name. And I am sure that they were just
as pleased.
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