Chapter 9 — Home
And thus begins Chapter Nine.
The final chapter.
Now, children.
I had been reunited with civilization.
Then
my pack.
Axe.
Sharky.
Hug.
Slap.
Slap.
Everything restored to its proper place.
The council nods.
And eventually,
we returned to the hotel prison.
Mattresses on the floor.
Decorative air conditioner.
Fan still completing the same rotation it had begun the previous afternoon.
Forbidden bathroom continuing to radiate evil.
Home.
The council sighs.
Temporary home.
We smoked a joint.
Naturally.
After everything that had happened,
University Nuo possessed exactly one emotional processing mechanism.
The council already knows.
Yes.
That.
And then
sleep.
But children,
Axe and Sharky had learned something.
The council leans forward.
They had discovered that if University Nuo was permitted to sleep freely,
there existed a non zero chance he would wake up
in another district.
Possibly on agricultural transportation.
The council nods.
Precautions were required.
So they took
a pair of socks.
The council pauses.
Socks?
Socks.
Children.
Not rope.
Not handcuffs.
Not some sophisticated restraint system.
University engineering.
One sock.
My wrist.
Axe’s wrist.
Tie.
The council stares.
Second sock.
My foot.
Sharky’s foot.
Tie.
The council erupts.
PRISONER SECURED.
Children.
I was tethered.
One side:
girlfriend.
Other side:
dealer.
No escape.
No unexplained bovine expedition.
No midnight wandering.
The earliest Unbegun had been placed under house arrest using hosiery.
The council applauds.
I protested.
Of course I protested.
“This is ridiculous.”
Probably.
“You can’t tie me up.”
Possibly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Almost certainly.
The council raises an eyebrow.
Credibility?
None.
Because while I complained
children
secretly?
Relief.
Actual relief.
I had spent the entire day alone.
Lost.
Scared.
Unable to contact anyone.
Walking roads I didn’t know.
Trusting strangers.
Trying to find a city.
Then accidentally searching for myself.
The council grows quiet.
And now,
for the first time since waking to that moo,
I knew exactly where I would be when I opened my eyes again.
Right there.
Between Axe and Sharky.
Because I was physically attached to both of them.
The council smiles.
Security system:
primitive.
Effectiveness:
absolute.
So eventually
sleep.
No cow.
No mystery transportation.
No rural Karnataka.
No search party.
Just darkness.
Then
morning.
The council opens one eye.
I woke.
Still there.
Success.
Children.
A miracle.
And then I noticed my position.
To my left
Axe.
Curled against me.
Arms around me.
Fast asleep.
To my right
Sharky.
Also curled against me.
Also hugging me.
The council pauses.
Again?
Again.
Children.
Human pillow protocol had activated for the second time in this wandering.
One girlfriend.
One dealer.
One Nuo in the middle.
The council contemplates the visual.
An unusual sandwich.
Accurate.
I lay there for a while.
Probably unable to move much anyway because of the sock based containment system.
And somehow
it felt good.
Safe.
The council grows quiet.
After the previous day,
safe was nice.
Eventually,
everyone woke.
Socks removed.
Prisoner released.
The council records:
NO ESCAPE ATTEMPT.
We got up.
Final day.
Because by evening,
the festival would end.
We would leave Bangalore.
Return to university.
And collect the entire reason we had agreed to come.
Three glorious weeks of attendance.
The council cheers.
But first
mandatory joint.
The council groans.
Children.
Routine remained routine.
We smoked.
Then headed back toward the festival.
And something unusual happened.
The council leans forward.
For once
we decided to watch films.
The council gasps.
At the film festival?!
Yes.
Children.
Cultural participation.
Character growth?
No.
Resource depletion.
The council collapses.
Pot was running low.
Alcohol required money.
Money was also running low.
The available entertainment economy had become restrictive.
And suddenly,
cinema
which was already included
looked appealing.
The council nods.
Free entertainment wins.
We entered a theatre.
Found seats.
All the way in the back.
Strategic.
The film began.
The council leans forward hopefully.
And?
Children.
I would love to tell you that after everything I had experienced,
I finally watched a film.
That cinema reached me.
That art spoke.
That University Nuo sat quietly and discovered some masterpiece.
No.
The council sighs.
Axe and I made out.
For basically the entire film.
The council collapses.
And Sharky?
Slept.
The council writes:
FILM ONE.
NUO: OCCUPIED.
AXE: OCCUPIED.
SHARKY: UNCONSCIOUS.
CINEMA: IGNORED.
Children.
We emerged from the theatre having absorbed
approximately zero culture.
Then
another film.
The council looks hopeful despite knowing better.
Same thing.
Make out session.
Sharky nap.
The council gives up.
Consistency.
Exactly.
Some people attend festivals to discover filmmakers.
We discovered that the back row was comfortable.
The council laughs.
Eventually,
however
time.
The festival ended.
The faculty gathered everyone.
Students regrouped.
Passes became irrelevant.
The great cinema adventure drew to a close.
And we boarded the bus.
Children.
Look at us now.
Tired.
Exhausted.
And
sober.
The council gasps.
A rare condition.
No joints left worth celebrating.
No rum.
No energy.
Just three depleted university students climbing back into the same metal box that had brought us here.
And this time
there was no Window Seat War.
The council looks disappointed.
No Rock Paper Scissors?
No.
No threats from Axe?
No.
No heroic resistance?
Children.
We were too tired for politics.
Someone took the window.
Maybe Axe.
Maybe me.
Maybe Sharky.
The Archive has deleted this critically important constitutional detail.
And frankly,
none of us cared.
I sat.
Closed my eyes.
And
Fast Travel.
The council nods.
Properly this time.
No mysterious detours.
No cows.
No waking in an unnamed place.
Just
darkness.
Then university.
The council applauds.
Successful route completion.
I woke.
Bus stopped.
Familiar ground.
We got off.
And eventually,
me,
Axe,
and Sharky headed back to my apartment.
Children.
The trip was over.
No grand ceremony.
No dramatic final shot.
Just three tired idiots returning to normal life.
The council looks toward the attendance register.
But there was one reward still waiting.
Three weeks.
Attendance.
The council erupts.
We got it.
Every glorious day.
Our entire noble expedition had worked.
We had travelled to Bangalore.
Participated in a film festival.
Technically.
Watched
portions of films.
Also technically.
And returned academically richer.
By three weeks.
The council applauds.
Mission accomplished.
That was why we went.
That was what University Nuo wanted.
Attendance.
Nothing more.
And yet
children
I got something else.
Something I didn’t understand then.
The council grows quiet.
A glimpse.
Not into Bangalore.
Not really.
I barely remember the city.
Not into cinema.
Certainly not.
The films are almost entirely gone.
What survived was something stranger.
The feeling.
The council listens.
Waking somewhere unknown.
Being terrified.
Having nobody to follow.
Walking anyway.
Smoking behind a haystack like a paranoid criminal.
Finding a dog.
Sitting beside a road because I had had enough.
Accepting a ride from a stranger.
Crossing roads in the back of a strange hybrid vehicle.
Finding my way back with no map.
Then somehow
somehow
joining my own search party.
The council laughs softly.
Eleven years later,
it is absurd.
But beneath the absurdity
something had happened.
A seed.
The council leans forward.
Maybe it was planted when I left the film festival
and chose a road simply because it felt right.
Maybe at Liquid.
Maybe when I woke to the moo.
Maybe when I stood alone in rural Karnataka
and realized nobody was coming to tell me what to do next.
Maybe when I discovered that being lost did not automatically mean being doomed.
Maybe when a stranger stopped.
Maybe when a dog walked beside me.
Maybe when I made it back.
The council nods.
I don’t know.
Origins rarely come labelled.
They do not announce:
IMPORTANT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT OCCURRING.
They simply happen.
Then eleven years pass.
And one day you look backward
and finally recognize the shape.
Children.
By the time I returned to my apartment,
University Nuo did not think:
I have discovered wandering.
Absolutely not.
He did not think:
Today I learned independence.
No.
He did not think:
Perhaps this experience will define the way I move through the world for the next decade.
Children.
He probably didn’t think anything that profound in his entire semester.
The council laughs.
But I remember the feeling when I got home.
That survived.
Clearer than the names.
Clearer than the roads.
Clearer than the films.
I remember thinking about what had happened.
And the conclusion was not:
Holy shit.
That was terrifying.
Though it was.
Not:
I handled that well.
Debatable.
Not:
That was hilarious.
Children.
Searching for myself was definitely hilarious.
But the thought that stayed was simpler.
That was wild.
The council smiles.
That was fun.
And then
quietly
I should do this again someday.
The council falls silent.
There.
Perhaps.
The first spark.
Years before Goa.
Before Laia.
Before Bongo’s collar travelled anywhere.
Before Kodaikanal.
Before Kasol turned movement into medicine.
Before Rishikesh taught stillness.
Before Varkala proved curiosity was enough.
There was Bangalore.
A university trip I didn’t choose.
A film festival I barely watched.
An attendance shortage.
A dealer.
A girlfriend.
A pub called Liquid.
A cow powered vehicle.
A dog.
A Hybrid.
A search party.
And one stupid college kid
who came home thinking:
I should do this again.
The council nods slowly.
Not:
I should get lost again.
Important distinction.
Though with me,
history would challenge that boundary repeatedly.
The council laughs.
Just
go somewhere.
See what happens.
Children.
Maybe that was the seed.
Maybe not.
Perhaps another file waits even deeper in memory.
An earlier road.
An older disaster.
Some forgotten journey that will one day surface and overthrow Bangalore exactly as Bangalore overthrew Goa.
The council looks nervously at the Archive.
Possible.
Memory is treacherous.
But until then
this is where the chronology begins.
Not with wisdom.
Not with grief.
Not even with choice.
With attendance shortage.
The council smiles.
Beautiful.
The first known Wandering of the Unbegun
began because three junkies wanted three weeks of academic credit.
And ended with one of them realizing,
without understanding the importance of it,
that the unknown could be fun.
Even when it frightened him.
Even when he had no idea where he was going.
Even when the road began with
“Moooo.”
The council erupts one final time.
Thus concludes Chapter Nine.
The Sock Restraint System.
The Human Pillow: Reprise.
The Accidental Film Festival Participation.
The Final Fast Travel.
The Three Weeks Attendance.
And The Seed.
Children.
We went to Bangalore because we were failing attendance.
We came back with attendance restored.
So technically
complete success.
But buried somewhere beneath the pubs,
the joints,
the make out sessions,
the dead phone,
the fear,
the cows,
and the legendary act of searching for myself
something else returned with me.
A tiny appetite for the road.
Not yet hunger.
Not yet need.
Just curiosity.
A thought.
A possibility.
That was wild.
That was fun.
I should do this again someday.
And so ends the Sixth Wandering of the Unbegun.
The earliest Wandering currently remembered.
Bangalore.
Until memory betrays me again.
