Samsaara : Devadoot

Kidnapped

The next evening, I took a bus from close to where I dwell to the ferry wharf where I had been called to meet Arshad and his boss. The weight of the bag that I carried was less physically but it was heavy mentally. I held on tightly to the bag throughout the journey to avoid getting robbed. On hindsight, my fidgety body language would have attracted more attention from crooks.

On reaching the ferry wharf intact, with the bag safe, I heaved a sigh of relief. I saw bright lights on the ships and barges inside the water while everything else was dark all around. The calming sound of the sea water ebbing and surging was misleading. The smell of the salty sea spray mingled with the rancid odour of drying fish and rotting sea weed filled the air. I sensed some movement behind me. Before I could turn around someone grabbed me from behind and covered my face with a jute bag. Someone snatched the duffel bag from my hands as I struggled. I heard a few voices, one of them was familiar, it was Arshad's. I stopped fighting back when I heard his voice.

"Calm down, we are just taking you to the Don," said Arshad.

One of them held my forearm and led me through the sparsely grown mangrove. Within a minute or so of walking I heard an engine stuttering, and could smell the diesel spiked with kerosene. I heard the sound of a few foot falls on some type of metal.

"Ouch!" I yelped as I banged my shin bone on the edge of some cold metal. They pulled me upwards and I complied. They made me sit on some damp cold surface and I kept hearing people shuffling around me. I felt my seat swaying, coupled with the sound of water sloshing under my feet. I realised I was on a motor boat. I heard the throttle increase and felt the moist breeze against my hands. There was no talking on the boat as we kept moving in the water. After about 20 minutes (but felt like a lot longer) I heard Arshad's voice, "Take your mask off, we have arrived."

On opening my eyes, I saw that I was near the coast, but surrounded by tall mangroves, and the boat had been tied to one of the three huge salt crusted logs of wood upon which a platform was built. A rope ladder was swaying back and forth in the sea breeze. The bamboo crossbars creaked against the wet rope on the ladders as Arshad's men climbed up one by one. I kept my hands inside my pockets to avoid the cold damp winds.