Read Online JOHNNY GONE DOWN by Karan Bajaj - Free Book Online Page B

weren’t for him, I would still be sitting on the bank, cursing my fate, staring at the pieces of bone that were now my left wrist and obsessively rubbing away the dried, caked blood that stuck to my body like another layer of skin.
    The voices grew louder as I approached the clearing cautiously, hiding behind bushes and tall grass.
    They were speaking in Khmer, I suddenly realized. Why were they speaking in Khmer when this was the Thai border? The realization, when it struck, almost knocked me to the ground.
    I had completely misjudged the coordinates. I had always been bad at reading maps.
    Instead of walking to Thailand, I had probably walked in the opposite direction, to the northern end of Cambodia. I was probably back where I had started. I felt every bit of hope and life drain away from me.
    The voices became louder and I saw three healthy looking men approaching the bush behind which I stood.
    I didn’t try to hide. I didn’t try to run. I hadnothing left to fight for any more. It was over. I had tried my best, but it wasn’t good enough.
    The men spotted me and shouted in angry voices.
    Maybe it was for the best, I thought. Who knew what horrors awaited me in Thailand?
    They came running towards me.
    Peaceful, unresisting, I allowed myself to fall, glad that it was finally over.

    Monochromatic, multi-hued colours, lights going in and out, an array of bald men parading in orange robes, no hunger pangs, no overpowering thirst. This is heaven, I thought - except for the excruciating pain in my arm. I drifted away, peaceful despite the pain.

    More colours, the sweet smell of incense, a reassuring, low-pitched chant, cool and calm, no hunger, no thirst. Just the pain, no longer throbbing, but dull, aching, and grey. Please make it go away, God, and I will be completely at peace.
    ‘Can you hear me?’
    I woke up with a start. A bald white angel with golden eyebrows dressed in splendid orange-brown robes was sitting next to me. God, the Almighty. Deliverance.
    His calm face broke into a smile. ‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked in English with a strong American accent.
    I was alive, I thought abstractly. This wasn’t heaven but it would do just fine. ‘Where am I?’ I asked, my head still throbbing.
    ‘You are in a monastery in Thailand,’ he said kindly.
    But I wasn’t supposed to be here, I thought. My guide had led me back to Cambodia.
    ‘Where is he?’ I asked.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The man who was with me.’
    ‘They found you alone.’
    I drifted away again.

    ‘Where am I?’
    I was alive and conscious, lying on a wooden bed in a small, well-lit room with light blue walls. The bald American in orange robes was sitting next to me.
    ‘You are in a Buddhist monastery in the Rong Glua village on the Thai side of the border,’ he said.
    I was trying to process this information when a sudden pain shot through my left arm. I reached out to grab it with my right hand. My hand hit the wooden bed.
    ‘The doctors had to amputate your arm,’ hesaid gently. ‘Gangrene had set in from the elbow down.’
    I stared at him in disbelief. Just how long would this nightmare last, I wondered. It was a bloody vacation, goddamit. I knew I had made a mistake. But how long would I have to pay for it? My arm, I thought, my arm. No basketball, no soccer, no NASA. I was a cripple. Tears stung my eyes.
    ‘I can’t even begin to imagine how terrible you feel.’ He leaned forward and held my right hand. ‘But if it makes you feel any better, you are lucky to be alive.’
    I looked at him, tall, broad-shouldered and erect in his flowing monk’s robes, both arms intact - and hated him.
    ‘We weren’t confident that you’d make it when the villagers at the border brought you here a month ago. You had lost a lot of blood, your body was badly bruised and cut, and you looked like a skeleton. They thought you were dead until you started mumbling. They brought you here because you spoke English and didn’t look Cambodian. The