The Backpacker

Few instances can match the excitement of seeing the famed Komodo Dragons right in front of your eyes. The giant lizards with their snake-like tongue dripping with poisonous, bacteria infected saliva, though not pretty to look at, were defnitely awe-inspiring. My small group of Latvians and I went click, click, and click...and the dragons, probably used to these alien sounds, didnt mind too much. Instead, with the swish of their long tail, made their way into the forest, lost to sight.  Our guide was excited. We werent. We hadnt had enough of the dragons....I kept my camera rolling, hoping to catch any movement, anything.

The guide egged us on, telling us we would surely see more of them near the watering hole! Surely he wasnt lying, but the watering hole can be reached only after marching in a single file, long and hard, through brushes, skipping over rocks, sweating under the blue sky visible through the huge palm trees dotting the landscape.

But I held on. Maybe, maybe the ferocious dragon that I had focused my attention on, would appear...in another minute...maybe...and voila, it did. He (I am assuming it to be a male), turned his beautiful head in my direction. Even looking through the video screen, I was mesmerized. He seemed close...I stepped back a little, only to remember that I had zoomed in...!

He held his head in place...staring into the camera, then rolled out his long, snake-like tongue....

I fled.

Only later when I saw the pictures Peteris had shot of me filming the dragon, did I realise that I hadnt been too far away from the lizard. He could have had me in one stride! We walked in a single file, led by a ranger carrying a long, sturdy, Y shaped stick. This, he explained, was to stop any dragon if they decided to attack....they Y end of the stick would lock their front lgs (same as how they use a similar stick to capture snakes), while we could make our escape.    

I marched ahead, with the rest of the group, the boys stayed on the boat to look after our belongings.

From the quay to the guest house was quite a walk and hours after being tossed aboust on the sea, walking felt good...We arrived at the Rangers office, a wooden affair. The office itself sstood on stils, the reasons for which I learnt of later. There was a coffe shop which stood on stilts and no other building as far as I could see. These two wooden structres completed the "building area"on the
Rinca Island.

We were rquired to fill out our names in the ancient register. I put in Indian next to the name in the nationality column and the ranger who happened to be peering over my shoulder did a jig. His next question surprised me.
"You Indian?"
Yes.

"You come from India? Direct?

I didnt understand. "Yes"

You not living in Europe?? Sure?

I was sure. "No"

That seemed to make him happier. The Latvians and Mathais were by now very interested in the goings on.
"No Indian come here from India. One lady come from UK, Indian, but she not go to India ever."

oh, alright", i managed, not sure where he was getting to.

"Welcome, welcome, Indian...you first Indian lady come here...alone!"

I didnt know how to react to that one. Before I could feel proud of the fact, he came up with another, completely different question. He had been looking closely at my name...he read out loud...
Anjaly...

Kuchi kuchi hota hai...you know Shah Rukh Khan????

With that everything changed. I am sure Mathias had been meaning to ask me that question too, but with difficulty that a guide faces, he refrained from asking me that question. Apparently he took his job very seriously. But the Ranger had, in some way, removed the last bit of guide-tourist formality and paved the way for a friendly relationship.

The Latvians, sensed that something was defnitely brewing, something exciting and threw in some friendly laughter. When we set out to the see the dragons, we had all become friends. Amanda who understood most of what was going on, shared the info with her family. Without actually speaking to each other, all of us were now bonded.

We moved ahead. The dragons waited. But I sensed that the Ranger, now bored with seeing the dragons for the last 16 years, would rather speak to me about India and SRK and learn some Hindi from me, but he held his peace. He send me off with the rest of the group, with words of caution.

"Dragon very dangerous"...they bite. Very poison.

I gathered that he wanted me back in one piece so that he could take up our little conversation further!

We were lucky. For the dragons were close. Before we went out deep into the islands, we saw our dragons.

Three of them. One was fast asleep under a tree and didnt move despite the noise from our group....the other put up a show for us.

"We bring them from inside," a young man, who lead our group voluntered. "we throw pieces of meat to drag them out. some tourists cant walk much and they see dragon here..."

Fair enough. People braved the odds and came to Rinca Island to see the dragons, but few have left without actually seeing any of them.

After hours of sailing, Rinca Island came into view. 'Numb and stoned' Mathias got us all excited (after some more coffee) with stories of Komodos and wished that we were lucky enough to find the dragons easily. We pulled up to the quay that jutted out into the lagoon created between two islands close to each other. We were no more on the open sea, but suddenly found ourself surrounded by thick mangrove forests. We alighted and were swamped with mosquitoes. Mathias has warned us about the mosquitoes, but it didnt prepare us for the ...... seemed like the mosquitoes, the size of spiders, were wrecking vengence. They were out for blood! I may have not been prepared for the sun, but I was for the mosquitoes...having had the good sense to start on anti-malarial tablets two weeks before I began my journey to Indonesia. 

We began our voyage! Mathias, three young boys who formed the 'crew', the Latvian family and I were going to be  stuck to each other for the next few days, through rain and storm and Komodos... The morning was clear, the sea calm and anticipation high. The wooden boat, that like its furniture on board had seen better days, took off, amidst the roar of the engine. We settled down on the wooden benches, placed around the wooden table (which was to serve as the 'dining' table). Mathias began his narration but finding no interested audience, quickly shut up and began to look around for coffee. Ever since I stepped on Indonesian soil several days before, I had come to change my idea about coffee. I now belived that if coffee was to have a decent place among Indonesian beverage, then it had to be really strong, black and bitter...not like the Bintang, but worse.

I sat on the bow, sipping the bitter concotion, getting used to the boat's rythm, balancing myself quite well while Amanda and her mother applied sun tan lotion. I found that particularly interesting. I was convinced that brown skin never tanned and the sun couldnt affect it in any way. I managed to smile to myself too and then busied myself with the scenary unfolding infront of me. This was going to be fun, so long as there was coffee, the boat moved over the waters and skies remained clear, I could handle the churning and the rolling.

I am a water person!