White Knights
- Part 2 -

By N. Bobo Meitei *

All turn awry in his high school drop out mind except the expensive clothes which fasten him and wrap him up the turmoil within. The melee in the sky by now has started hammering forcing the stiff stern looking many to take shelter under the hand held shields.

They walk under the hand held shields laughing aloud, virtually bringing themselves on the brink to burst into a balloon which has been pumped with excessive air, inside their foppish attires.

The exalting view of people passing by arouses him and transports him back to his senses, vying to follow their mood he saunters on the concrete Victorian road.

Changing his steps from saunter to quick pace he struggles to pace against his many flashbacks troubling his mind constantly, amid all the flashbacks he struggle to muster his sobered courage hastily, his mind arrives at the point where he can in a decisive state of mind , recalling what people have reckoned about the retreat in the Far East.

The thought of that allows him to gather a smile of his once shattered face and with quickened pace he almost flies home. Running between the mahogany furniture he reaches his kempt bedroom to grab the suitcase and his passport.

Although he is not dole unlike his many friends there is the regular monthly payment bestow to him by his aristocratic mother, which will make his trip rather comfortable.

What has been hastily resolved has not been communicated with his mother, amid packing up and dialing the travel agents the thought of communicating with her mother visits him with mixed results.

Deep down he knows his mother's repulsive contempt for Asia and its creepy culture albeit the historical grandeur she harbours in her pre-colonial mind. Regardless of her sardonic thought, somehow, he means to make the confession to her expecting her to yield to it, given that as an exclusive retreat from his crisis-ridden life in England.

How nostalgic things would be the, however, thought of being in England patronizes his every shuddering moment so the question of holding out the trip certainly appears out of question.

When evening comes the prolonged confession is finally presented, his mother receives it with a sardonic expression. She nods her coiffure-laden head asking her son to leave her for a moment only to deliver her answer in a matter of few minutes.

Her answer is quite clear. "You have the permission to leave. However, you have to submit yourself to the oath that, under no circumstances, any Siamese lady should not become a part of the long-elevated family." To which he reluctantly nods his head, as if saying "yes mother"

Few days before all is arranged and reliable sources have been gathered to ascertain his stay there rather engaging with the native of the land. Feasibility of being a decent English teacher makes his mind anxious, as preparation he begins rummaging through some pedagogical materials amid unstoppable scanning of Lonely Planet book. Stories and jobs posted on jobsites draw him closer to the field which he intends to take up, virtually making his already stiff figure stiffer.

Quick phone calls are made asking his chummy friends to attend his lager-soaked go away party at his crumbling castle. "To Siam" they cling their glasses and exercise their enormous power in washing down the cold night with ale.

Accompanied by hangover he packs up hurriedly with the hurry to catch a cab after bidding hasty adieu to those slouching on the couch rubbing their half open eyes. Some faintly raise their hands, some muttering inaudible phrases, scarcely acknowledging the journey is started. Head sticking out through the rolled down window he scream " I love you fellows."

At the airport people heading for unknown destinations welcome him, flocking in , agreeably following the crowd , in a while, he finally gets to the counter where the grumpy immigration officer puts a stamp among the Europeans and American stamps.

On board the sight of the smiling attendants invigorates him and challenges the drowsiness within him, waking him incidentally at the same time granting the liberty to picture what things are like out there where he will be in few hours.

The rustling steps of everlasting happy ladies instigates the desire to have an advanced conversation to get his mind on the real picture which he will savor, however, his effort is watered down their wordless smiles almost indicating " we don't talk much. We only communicate by doing or by sign language."

Considering that what he has experienced so far represents a small portion of the country he has been craving. One of the ladies smiles constantly only convincing him that she was born with that facial expression. Pondering in perplexity at the queer side of the world he has been confronting, which by now appears little over the top.

What he has pictured on board turns out to be something ubiquitous, which he tells himself soon after witnessing the smiling effeminate staffs at the grandiose newly built scandalous airport.

Having collected his luggage he follows the directing information where he can get a cab. Smiling they, cabbies, approach him asking if he wants to go to places which he has heard of.

One of them asks if he wants to go to " Patpong or Sukhumvit" to which a white gentleman, who, from his appearance, has been in the country since the flood giggles, with his uncontrollable giggle he walks up just to greet " Welcome to Bangkok. Good luck dude!" Wondering why a stranger has welcomed him he gets into the taxi telling the cabbie the mispronounced place.

The special ability of the taxi driver to notice the vehicles as well as other vehicles whizzing pass without any hassle astoundingly creates the unconscious " whoa! " in his mouth.

And to his astonishment the taxi driver releases imperceptible smiles muttering something in his language, only to be interrupted by his beeping Nokia phone. Nokia phone glues on his ear, hands on the steering wheel he steers through the traffic to transport the just-arrived British nawab to the place he seeks.

Helplessly wearing the appearance of a new white boy in town he asks how much he owes the driver. "It's 1000 Bahts" says the driver. Bundle of new notes in his hands he sends the convertible calculation to his mind to calculate how much it would be in Pound sterling.

"Hardly 15 Pounds, eh?" he tells himself and hands out the money without hesitation.

A tall lady speaking in big voice hollers out " Sawadee Ka." Glancing at him from head to toe at the same time maintaining the unceasing smile she helps him with the luggage till the counter where another muscular lady adorned with long straight hair flirting with her pointy chest, happily explains the rates.

" Few Pounds for a night, isn't much, hum!" he thinks at the same time sending out a handsome expression indicating his agreement.

To be continued ....