We had to wake up early in the morning for our long trip to Amboseli. I could hardly move out of my bed—it was too cold. Never had I imagined that Africa could be this cold.
The last breakfast at Savela Lodge was as exciting as the others. These buffets were as amazing as the game drives themselves. We had an array of selections—a bakery section, soup section, African delicacies, Indian delicacies, and the pastry section… Yummm. The smell of the morning buffet in that cold weather, and looking outside at the green lawns and cottages through the glass façade, had made a home in my memory. And Rani made sure she tasted each and every dish on display—which only meant she would overeat.
We also met the other staff from Martin’s team. He was going to drive us and guide us for the rest of the trip. His name was John, a tall, muscular man who I was sure would be able to protect us if we were attacked by any animal. But that confidence soon faded when we hit the street and I started asking him my curiosity-filled questions.
“Why are safari trips called game drives? What game do we play?” I asked John from the seat behind.
John, who could easily see me in the rear-view mirror, kept turning his head almost sixty degrees to answer.
“Historically, wild animals were called ‘game’. Early safaris were hunting trips, so when people drove out to look for game, the trip was called a ‘game drive’. Even though safaris today are for photography and conservation, the name stayed.”
I was curious to ask a few more questions, but Mom pinched me from behind and whispered in Hindi, “Don’t disturb him. He is turning back to answer you. It’s not safe.”
So again, it wasn’t my fault, but I was silenced.
Soon everyone else was silenced too—by slumber. Rani’s midnight theatrics had left everyone needing more sleep. I watched for a long time as their heads tilted and bobbed from side to side with the movement of the car, and eventually, I too drifted into a deep sleep.
It was the longest road journey, taking more than five hours to reach Amboseli National Park, and another half hour to enter it and get to our resort. But before we reached the resort, we passed some abandoned cottages—old brick structures, ruined and collapsing. John told us there had been a huge flood a few years back, and all these resorts were destroyed. The water monster had left nothing behind for humans to survive there.
“Nature has its own way of driving humans away,” said my dad.
“But it looks like one of those scary movies, doesn’t it?” Rani added.
“Yes, it’s a scene straight out of a film. A ghost town,” said Rashi Aunty.
We felt a little disappointed by the foggy weather because it covered more than half of the famous Mount Kilimanjaro, which we had been so eager to see. Still, we crossed our fingers—if not today, then tomorrow—hoping the clouds would clear.
As soon as we reached our resort, Serene Safari Lodge, we were instantly enchanted by its interiors. It looked like a tribal tree house, and our rooms seemed straight out of the Hobbit movies—not underground, but like charming mud cottages decorated with unique art and wooden furniture. The place felt magical, and I couldn’t wait to unpack, change, and get ready for the massive lunch waiting for us.
By now, Rani and I were as trained as the adults in the rules of the buffet. We grabbed our plates and queued at the pasta station—me for red pasta, Rani for her white. But as soon as we sat down, Rani realized she didn’t like her white pasta and wanted to try the red one. She could have gone back in line, but since I hadn’t started eating yet, the elders asked me to hand over my plate to her and go fetch another one for myself.
My Rani-related anxiety and frustration flared up again. By the time I went back for pasta, the counter had already closed—we had reached the resort past lunchtime. I returned with an angry, sullen face, ready to growl at Rani, only to be told I had to sit and eat the white pasta instead.
I kept up my grumpy act throughout lunch, but the truth was… even the white pasta was delicious. I just couldn’t admit it.
After lunch, we went on another game drive. In Amboseli, the most famous and abundant animals were the massive elephants—we saw them everywhere. Soon, large herds of zebras and wildebeests appeared, grazing peacefully across the plains.
I couldn’t help but wonder how the ugly wildebeests felt among the beautiful zebras. Or maybe they didn’t feel anything at all, since both were just food for the lions.
We spotted dozens of birds along the way, and just as the sun began to set, we returned to the resort for evening tea. The lawn in front of the restaurant sat atop a grassy plateau, overlooking a wide, endless expanse of forest—it felt like we were perched on the edge of the world.
As we sat by the fence, watching the sky turn grey just after sunset—the adults sipping tea and coffee while Rani and I wandered around—we noticed a massive elephant just a few trees away, outside the compound. It was calmly munching on leaves, its long tusks gleaming in the fading light.
We started snapping photos, and Rani liked one of mine so much that she begged me to send it to her parents’ phone. I told her I’d send it later, but she was adamant.
I glared at her again. “Give me the phone. I’ll transfer it myself,” Rani said.
“Never again!” I shot back.
“Don’t bring that up, Sunny! I was just trying to help!” she said, frowning.
Yes—that reminded me why I had hated Rani in the first place. A year ago, when she and her parents stayed with us for a movie-and-dinner night, she had played games on Mom’s phone. At the same time, a friend of mine—someone I wasn’t speaking to then—texted asking for help with math homework. Rani, who knew him but didn’t know we had fought, went to my study table, took pictures of my math notebook (homework I had worked hard on), and sent them to him.
I had never been more furious. When I saw the messages, I pushed her off the chair, yelled at her, shouted at Mom, and ended up crying myself.
No matter how much they said, “She didn’t know! She was just trying to help!” it didn’t matter. My homework had reached someone I hated.
So no, I didn’t care about Rani’s intentions anymore.
I handed Mom’s phone back. Rani went to talk to her father, and then—suddenly—the power went out. Rani screamed, as usual.
“Shut up! You’ll scare the elephant away!” I snapped.
“Wow! Look at the moon—it’s like the old days,” Mom said, looking up. We followed her gaze. It was truly mesmerizing.
“But this could be risky,” said Rashi Aunty. “Doesn’t it mean the electric cables that keep animals away might have lost power too?”
Before her fear could spread, the lights flickered back on. I rolled my eyes, thinking, as mother, as daughter.
I liked Uncle Ravi the most, so I sat beside him and listened as he told stories to me and Rani.
After dinner, we quickly headed to bed. Tomorrow would be our last day.
Before drifting off, I remembered I hadn’t really been good to Rani that day.
But didn’t I sacrifice my red pasta for her? I thought.
Still, to keep my life safe with double-step verification, I selected the elephant photos she liked and sent them to Rashi Aunty’s phone. Good deed done.
But the night was far from over. Around 3:30 a.m., multiple phones rang in every room—calls from reception.
We bolted upright as Dad answered.
The power cut had indeed allowed a wild animal into the area. Staff had spotted two beige-colored animals that looked like lions.
They instructed us to keep all doors and windows closed and to turn off lights if possible.
We followed instructions instantly. The main door was secure, but the large sliding glass door with the net covering worried us—it could be easily broken. Dad and Mom quickly lined up small furniture and suitcases against it.
“Mom, it could jump over them,” I whispered, shaking.
Just then, Uncle Ravi called Dad. He told us to stay inside the bathroom—the window was too small for an animal to enter. So we did, switching off all lights and locking ourselves inside the large bathroom.
“I can’t believe this is happening. Do you really think there’s a lion in the resort?” Mom whispered as we huddled together on the cold tiled floor.
“They aren’t sure yet. Staff will check soon. We’re safe inside, so don’t worry,” Dad assured.
“I’m scared, Dad,” I admitted. Sitting on a bathroom floor in the middle of a forest, knowing a lion might be outside, was the scariest thing I’d ever experienced.
“It’s okay, dear. It’s safe here—we’re just being cautious,” Mom said. She held me close, and I could feel her heart pounding too. Dad wrapped his arm around us. For a moment, it felt like this closeness wouldn’t have happened without this situation. If we survived unscathed, this might become the highlight of the trip. My parents hardly cuddle me anymore.
An hour later, when the sun was up, the phone rang again. Staff confirmed there was nothing in the resort. It could have been monkeys. They had checked every corner—the resort was clear.
We were exhausted, so breakfast was extended until noon. We slept until 9 a.m., still shaken from the stress of the night.
By 10 a.m., we gathered at the buffet. Everyone was talking about the incident, laughing at how it had united us—just like national news does.
The sun was out, and we were relieved. Kilimanjaro would be visible today, the clouds promised to clear by lunch, and we were especially excited because lunch was planned on a hilltop overlooking the park and the mountain itself.
It seemed the worst was over. But little did we know… in a few hours, our vehicle would break down, and we’d be stranded in a ghost town.
The worst was yet to come.
Read Episode 1: Episode 1 : The Insufferable Rani
Read Episode 2: Episode 2: The Journey begins
Read Episode 3: Episode 3: The Day of Felines
Read Episode 4: Episode 4: The Masai Village and Lake Naivasha