Never make dramatic wishes like, “I would rather die than…” — I learned that the hard way. I had kept saying, “I would rather die than go on a trip with Rani,” and, as fate would have it, it felt like we might not make it to Kenya alive.
Just as we were about to land in Nairobi, our airplane was tossed and shaken by turbulence. Like always, Rani was clinging to her mother like a terrified little monkey. I tried to stay calm, but silently began taking back all those “I’d rather die” wishes. Instead, I found myself praying: “Dear God, if we make it to Kenya alive, I promise to do at least one good deed on this trip… and I’ll try to be nice to Rani.”
As if in answer to my prayers, the dark clouds soon parted. The plane hovered steadily over the city and landed on the rough tarmac without further scare.
Our Kenya trip had been booked through a tour agency called Earthwings Tours and Safaris. Their owner, Martin, was waiting for us at the airport, surrounded by a group of female staff holding placards with travelers’ names. One of them read, “Sunny and Rainy.” I burst out laughing. Rani frowned at the spelling of her name.
“Isn’t it kind of perfect?” I said. “I’m Sunny — pleasant and bright. You’re Rainy — always gloomy and crying.”
“No, I am Rani, which means ‘Queen!’” she answered.
“Oh, you mean Drama Queen!” I replied, and jumped ahead of the strolling luggage—just as my legs got caught in the castors and I slipped to the ground.
I fell with a thud, flat on my back. Luckily, my backpack cushioned the fall, so it didn’t hurt much. Mummy picked me up, and Daddy asked if I was okay. I was—but in my mind, I knew exactly why this had happened.
I had been mean to Rani, and I’d promised God I’d be nice to her.
“Oh no,” I thought, “this means I really have to be nice to her!”
We all hopped into the large Land Cruiser that Martin had brought. It was early morning, and we entered the city of Nairobi. It didn’t look like the metro cities of big countries, but more like small towns in India. We saw many Indian hotel names and banners of Indian companies.
I sat at the far back of the car, digging out snack bars from the bottom of my bag and checking if my toy gadgets had survived the fall. Apart from one squashed Pringles box, everything was fine.
Wanting to get my “good deed of the day” over with—to avoid further accidents—I decided to offer Rani a chocolate bar. I was ready to see a sparkle of surprise on her face, but she just looked at it and said, “No, I want chips.”
I had only two packets of chips—we couldn’t pack much. One was broken, and the other was perfect. No way was I giving her the good one. So I handed over the damaged box, hoping she wouldn’t mind. But her frown said it all.
Mom gave me the look and said, “Sunny, give her the other one.”
“It’s fine, Tara,” said Rashi Aunty. “It’s the same chips in both. Let it be.”
She opened the crushed box for Rani, who took one look at the shattered chips and said, “Look, he gave me the ruined one.”
“It’s okay, Rani, just eat it. It tastes the same.”
Rani made a face but ate it anyway. I realized this wouldn’t count as a good deed, so I’d have to think of something else.
The adults chatted about the weather and business in Kenya with Martin. Rani looked out at the colourful city passing by, and soon we saw the Great Rift Valley like a giant gorge beside the road. We stopped for breakfast at a café overlooking it and had sandwiches, pancakes, and omelettes. The elders had coffee. I saw Daddy sneak out for a cigarette—something he thought he was hiding from me and Mom.
After eating, I went to the loo. It stank—just like small Indian hotels. I held my breath, but my brain refused to pee unless I breathed. Maybe if I were a girl, I could have covered my nose with my palms. But poor us, we have to aim right. Women think only they have issues.
Back in the car, we wished the long road trip would end soon. Masai Mara was our first destination—still over three hours away. We relaxed into the sturdy leather seats and chatted about the animals we hoped to spot: the Big Five—Lion, Leopard, African Elephant, Buffalo, and Rhinoceros.
“What’s so special about buffalos, Papa? We see them daily at Nana’s village,” said Rani.
I had the same question.
“Oh, these aren’t regular buffaloes,” said Martin. “They’re Cape buffaloes. Very dangerous. Among all African animals, they cause more hunter deaths than any other of the Big Five. That’s why they’re also called Black Death.”
“Interesting!” said Uncle Ravi.
“So if a lion and a buffalo fight, who wins?” I asked.
“It depends,” said Martin. “If a group of lions attack one buffalo, they usually win. But if it’s one-on-one, a buffalo can win too. They weigh more and are very strong.”
“Oh yes!” Uncle Ravi added. “There’s a video—Battle at Kruger! A buffalo herd fights back, chases the lions, and rescues a calf!” He searched for it on YouTube and showed it to us.
We were now sure they weren’t regular buffaloes.
By afternoon, the view changed from city to countryside. Green plains and hills, maize fields, acacia trees, huts, cattle, roadside shops—it was beautiful. School kids waved at our car, and Dad and Uncle Ravi waved back.
“Such cute kids!” Dad said.
“Yes, they’re cute,” I muttered. “If I wave at elders, I get scolded.”
Rani had fallen asleep, head hanging like a rag doll. Her mom held her to keep her from falling.
I thought, If I wave at the next bunch of kids, maybe that’ll count as a good deed.
But I waited… and waited… the green scenery blurred like watercolor… and I dozed off too.
Someone shook me awake. The car was parked beside others on a gravel road. A wooden sign read “Ashnil Mara Camp.”
“Sunny, while you slept, we saw zebras, giraffes, and elephants!” said Rani with a sly smile.
I was hurt. Why didn’t they wake me? But my parents said, “You’ll see many more soon. You were fast asleep.”
“Now come, lunch is ready.”
Ashnil Mara Camp was delightful. Snaking pathways led to cottages nestled in the forest. Near the reception was a lawn overlooking the Mara River. While the adults checked in, Rani and I walked to the river deck.
“Look! A crocodile!” she said.
“Oh yes! And is that an elephant?” I asked.
“Nope, that’s a hippo,” said a staff member, handing us wet towels and drinks.
We went to the riverfront restaurant for lunch. It had cozy wood flooring, cane lights, lily pools, and a buffet full of options. As usual, I had only pasta. Rani, being a copycat, also got pasta but filled her plate with pastries too. The adults were thrilled to find an Indian section with roti and bhindi. We ate well and returned to our tent cottage to rest.
Now, I was alone with my mother and father. As we entered, we realised it was a tent — a large tent with handcrafted details and accessories. Mom did not let me sit to untie my shoelaces. She made me and Daddy wait at the door till she was done recording a video of the entire room — first from the left to the right, then right to left — as if things changed with the direction.
Then we were allowed to enter. I went straight to the wooden lounge chair, untied my shoes, and went to pee. Then I washed my hands and jumped on the cozy mattress. Mom and Dad were tired too, so they freshened up and snuggled inside — Mom to my left and Dad to my right.
“Okay, no talking for an hour. We need to get ready for the evening safari after. So close your eyes and rest for a while,” said Dad.
While Dad closed his eyes — and I could hear him snoring after a while — Mom just lay there, connecting her phone to the WiFi. Once it got connected, she posted a story on her Instagram. She saw I was awake and watching, so she turned it off quickly and asked me to shut my eyes and sleep.
In my sleep, I could feel the ground moving, as if I was still in the car — the snores of my parents working like car engine sounds, and the music from the cellphone like a distant symphony — till the ringing phone actually drew me out of sleep. I saw it was Ravi Uncle calling my dad’s phone. I shook my dad, still snoring, to wake up and take the phone.
It was already 4:45 p.m. and the Mehras were ready to go for the evening safari. My family was still in bed. So my father quickly woke up, and finding my mom asleep, he went straight to the closet space where his jacket hung. I pretended to be asleep but saw him dig out a cigarette again, which he took outside the door and came back a few minutes later — with a smoky smell from his body. And suddenly he said aloud,
“We are late, Tara! Come on, just hop into the jumpers and let’s go for a drive casually for today.”
My mom, waking up and realizing the time, hurried to freshen up and hopped into her jumpers and wore her shoes. Then she dressed me up as fast as she could, but when we reached the Land Cruiser, it was already 5:30 p.m.
“If nothing, you can at least see the beautiful sunset,” said Martin, as he rode the cruiser out of the resort.
Luckily, he got a call on his phone from a fellow staff member who was also driving — and got the location of a spot where a lion and a lioness had been spotted. So he drove fast and took us straight at the spot dense with savanna grasses. The car roof above was pushed open, and we all stood up on the seats to look outside.
And it was windy and cold. My ears burned, so I put my earmuffs on. And soon, there were a dozen jeeps and cars in sight, parked around something hidden between the tall grasses. As our car neared, we could see it too — camouflaged in the same shade as its body, the beige and yellow leathered skin of a lioness. She sat there, seemingly harmless and yet authoritative. And soon, there was a lion walking elegantly towards her from some distance. Its brown mane looked shaggy, and its eyes pierced into the cameras.
“Won’t he jump at us, Martin?” asked Rani.
“No, dear. You are safe inside the car. But if you tease it or step outside, you can be in danger,” he said.
Although the lions were close, I took out my binoculars and watched the two up close. The large eyes looked as if they had applied kohl.
The adults were busy marveling at the lion and taking photographs.
“Mom, ladies usually have long hair and men don’t. But why is it the opposite with lions?” Rani asked.
“Animals are different from us, beta!” was all Aunty could say.
Apparently, none of the adults knew the answer.
At length, when we had watched the wild animals enough — and they didn’t move enough to give us more poses for the photographs — we moved away from the spot, and as the sunset approached, we headed back to the resort.
On the way, we saw some giraffes — they looked stunning — and on the road itself, a hyena ran by. I had read about hyenas in a story from my literature book. Then the savanna grassland turned slightly more golden and gleaming. The red and orange of the sun burst like a half-done yolk on a hot pan and smothered the sky. We watched the sunset. I finally discovered this is what we all had to paint in the drawing classes — something I had never seen in person.
Again, some pictures.
Then we drove fast to the resort, where it was chilly cold. We went to the lounge deck straight across the reception and took some evening hot beverages and settled around a freshly lit bonfire. It was an amazing ambience. There was soft music playing from across the bar. There was a screen open and an African man in traditional Masai attire was explaining to everyone about the Big Five.
During dinner, I tried other things too, other than pasta. There was a local dish called Ugali, and some mushrooms. And I tasted all the pastries and desserts available.
In the middle of dinner, we suddenly heard a loud cry from a crowd, and all of a sudden, I was on high alert.
Did some animal enter the resort?
Do we need to run?
But soon we saw the queue of dancers — the Masai tribe — in Masai attire, doing their customary dance and blowing the cow horn. They danced around each table and welcomed us to their land with smiles and acceptance — Masai Mara. It was fun to watch them, and Dad told us we would also visit their village on the third day.
In the end, we went our ways through the serpentine pathways branching towards each individual tent. We had to sleep early tonight, as we had to leave early for the safari the next day, and it would be a hectic long day. So everyone went to bed soon.
But I had to do one good deed.
So, having no other option, I sneaked to the wash area, which had open closet rails where my father’s jacket hung. I took out his box of cigarettes and hid it inside Mom’s makeup box — inside the medicine pouch — because it was not used much.
Mom had done this often, because she disliked Dad’s habit of smoking; and Dad mostly smoked away from Mom, hiding and sneaking away, so he would probably think it was Mom who took it away.
When they take away my remote-controlled cars so that I can focus on studies, they call it a good deed. So, if I take away what can cause cancer — so that my Daddy lives longer — it should be a good deed too, right?
Let’s wait this night and find out.
Good night.
Read Episode 1: Episode 1 : The Insufferable Rani