The Last Hippy of “Hippy Island”
We were having palak and roti at Jez's cave on Hampi
island and what a treat it was. The palak (spinach) such a rich dark
green and ‘baba roti’ which tasted much better than a normal
chapatti made with proper wholemeal flour. It was brilliant. I'd been
a bit drained from climbing all morning so was hungry but now felt
hugely better as the ‘baba power’ from the feast started to
refuel my wasted muscles. “Full power” was all I could say in
between stuffing my face on this super-meal from baba heaven.
Jez and I had known each other for 15 years. I knew him
only briefly in Newcastle as we shared some of the same friends but
in my first year in India I seemed to meet him everywhere. First, in
Hampi, we sat around at Cosmic Cave for days on end just drinking
chai and talking. Then, a few months later after a ten-day trek
through Zanskar in the high mountains of Ladakh, I got to a remote
and tiny village. Who was sitting there in a chai shop eating momos?
Jez, of course.
At that time, he had been over a year in India but
still looked and acted like a westerner even though he confessed to
me then that he was desperate to stay in the sub-continent for
longer. He always struck me as a very spiritually aware person.
Indian culture made allowances for him as there is such a strong
tradition of acceptance of foreigners as well as wild ascetics like
naga babas. He seemed so happy with his life and relieved to have
made the break. India was his real life now. He already spoke in
Hindi and couldn't return to his own culture and what he saw as the
soulless, materialistic and mundane existence of England.
It was another couple of years before I met him again
and I'd been travelling around Asia working in Singapore and Japan
but not Jez. He hadn't even left the country (except Nepal) and
looked more like an Indian sage than someone from Newcastle upon
Tyne. He really looked and dressed like a sadhu with his long
dreadlocks and holy markings and had done a superb job on one of the
old Rishi caves of Rishimuk. He had completely flattened the floor
and finished it with the highest quality of local cow dung, then put
in a perfect doonie - a beautifully designed and very holy fireplace.
A few good holy markings on the walls and some pictures of his
deities and the place looked amazing. I was really jealous but for me
it was not possible to keep just one cave as I needed to stay more
mobile to explore and climb.
He really loved that particular cave in the shadow of
the imposing Rishimuk Hill. It's a legendary mountain in Hinduism
made so by Rama and Hanuman. He is the much loved monkey god of India
who was actually born here. When they went to Lanka to save Sita from
the Demons Rakshasa army and the fierce Ravanna, Hanuman was there to
save the day. Nowadays, the story, called the Ramayana, is the most
popular and loved in India. ‘Rishi’ is another name for seer,
saddhu or sage, someone who has chosen a spiritual path renouncing
all worldly goods. In the years that followed, Jez came back to that
same cave every year. It was as though he had become the Rishi of
Rishimuk. Every year I would always come to visit him a few times in
that cave.
Suicide – or murder?
That day in January we were sitting in Jez's cave as
usual, eating and drinking chai, but today the subject we were
thinking about was our friend Robbi. He was an artist from New
Zealand who liked Hampi so much that he had stayed for the last 20
years or so. With no valid passport or visa, he had never left India
making just enough money from his paintings and printed t-shirts. He
kept the crash pads for us and was a friend for all the climbers who
came through. He always seemed fairly happy and everybody liked him.
It was perfect as his house was really close to the rocks and he had
an Indian wife and two kids which meant he was always there.
He was not there now though as his dead body had just
been recovered from Cosmic Cave just the week before I arrived. Many
stories were going around as to the cause of his death but they
mostly came back to suicide by jumping from the top of the high bit
of Cosmic Cave. Nobody could prove such a thing, of course, and the
more people I spoke to the more it seemed that this was not the case
as the body was in the wrong position and place for this to have
happened. The problem was that his body had been discovered a full
five days after he was last seen walking across the island. That’s
a long time in Hampi heat and his body was so decomposed and eaten by
termites that the people who carried it down had to have a stiff
drink first to do it but still vomited, mostly due to the smell.
So what actually happened? Poison, snake bite, overdose,
murder, suicide? I posed the question to Jez and he made a long
‘sssssss’ sound and shook his head slowly. It meant he didn't
know either and he didn’t write anything. But in my own heart and
mind I thought that he wouldn't have committed suicide. He loved his
life and family too much. I was confused.
It was in that moment when Jez and I were sitting
quietly feeling a bit sad when Jez picked up the small sketch book
that Robbi's grieving wife had given to me. It had been empty even
though I'd meant to use it for climbing maps so I'd left it with
Robbi the year before but now it wasn't empty. On the first page,
Robbi had done a colourful sketch of a beautiful balanced boulder we
call the ‘Dali stone’ that we climb on sometimes and the words
underneath…
‘SEE, LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL’
I looked at Jez, "so if life is beautiful why
choose to end it?" I said. Jez was staring at the picture for a
very long time then he took the pen and turned to the next page. It
was empty. He wrote these words.....
Dear Robbi, I'm still here but you have gone, to a
better place where you belong.
It actually sent a shiver down my spine so I put the
book away and tried to change the subject. Jez didn’t speak anymore
as six years before he had taken a vow of silence as part of his
meditation. It’s something a lot of people do for a 12 year period
to get over the constant ‘inner dialogue’ which spoils the
concentration of meditation. He didn’t mind if you spoke though and
always acknowledged what you were saying. Today, as I hadn’t seen
him for a while, he seemed happy with me just wittering on most of
time. It was always obvious when he’d had enough and it was time to
leave. I started to talk about a great area of rocks that I’d
discovered in the ‘wild area’. Because of his enthusiasm and hand
gestures it was obvious that Jez wanted to come with us next time as
he felt like having some time away from his own cave. He didn’t
climb but I was just imagining the tasty baba snacks and chai in the
cave between climbing sessions. It would be great for everybody.
Jez was always happy with good vibes and could hardly
get on your nerves as he didn’t speak. If he REALLY wanted to say
something he would write it down which was not that often. I promised
to collect him on the way to the wild area and he agreed that when I
did he would be ready to go in ten minutes. Perfect! I said goodbye
and wandered off across the island. I loved visiting Jez in his cave
but this would be the last time.
Bandit and killer
Born in a nearby town to Hampi, Nagendra had been a
trouble-maker all his life and could not return to his home town
since they had tied him to a tree and taken turns beating him for six
hours. It was then he started going to rob foreigners as he found it
was easier and more lucrative. His classic trick was to hide behind a
boulder then surprise his victim with a handful of chilli powder in
the eyes then hit them on the head with a coconut knife. By that
time, most tourists would just let go of their bag and away he would
go. But his strength was his ability to hide and once he disappeared
behind Matunga Hill nobody had a chance to get him.
The locals told me, "Nobody knows the rocks like
this man." It was a daunting thought but I didn't worry too much
as he always seemed to strike on the Hampi side and never crossed the
Tungabadra river which is border of jurisdiction for the Bellary
district police. At that time, I had a room in Jungli village away
from touristy Hampi island or Hampi village and was mostly miles away
in the ‘wild area’ developing bouldering areas so I wouldn't meet
him anyway. More to the point, I never carried my valuables with me
so there wasn’t much to steal. When they eventually caught up with
him it was not in the rocks but in a town 60km away spending stolen
money. He was given only three years as the witnesses had all left
the country already (tourists) or were dead - an Indian woman’s
body was found in one of the caves behind Matunga Hill where he used
to hide. On 21st
January, he was released once again but nobody knew or was warned
about it.
Exploring the wild area
It was time to go, me and a friend called Squib from
the Isle of Man decided to leave and go for a few days to a wild new
bouldering area beyond Jungli village. We had to walk out there with
a week’s worth of food but were late and disorganised with the
shopping and planning. Eventually, it was after sunset when we
finally got going. It was only coming through Sanapur, the last
village, that I remembered Jez. Damn it! He really wanted to come and
I'd never seen him so keen about anything. Too late. At that moment,
it would have been a huge detour to get him so I kept quiet thinking
that if I reminded him Squib would force us to go back and collect
him. I was a bit stressed but kept walking into the full moon night
feeling a bit guilty that we had been so forgetful in the beginning.
It was a superb few days in the rocks with both of us
finding quality climbs and enjoying the perfect unspoilt area miles
away from all the rice paddy, villages and tourist ghettos. There,
it’s just rocks, monkeys and trees everywhere. It’s very
refreshing but when you have to come back it can be hard and this
time it was even harder. I was feeling amazing on the walk back with
energy zipping through my body with every barefoot step, avoiding
thorns and spikes with ease.
It was after Sanapur, on the way through the island,
that a bad feeling hit me first. For some reason, the energy of the
place felt terrible at that moment. I tried to put it down to the
fact that we had been away for a while but it was even worse than
normal. We rested at Vijaynagar guest house where there seemed to be
a huge argument starting up between an American friend and the owner
Rangaia, also a friend, about money that had gone missing. Why did we
have to come back to all this? I looked at Squib and he felt the same
thing, but still nobody told us any news. He collapsed in a hammock
and I crossed the river in search of energising treats. I went direct
to the juice shop and met Chris Sharma, Nate Gold, Katie and the
super-hero American climbing film team. I wanted to ask them about
quality boulders they had done or found but, before I had the chance,
they told me the news. An English sadhu guy has been stabbed near
Rishimuk they said. “Is it Jez?" I asked. "I think so,"
said Chris, "did you know that guy?" He said.
Death and reality
On the 25th,
somebody or two people had followed Jez to his cave at Rishimuk. The
next thing anyone knew was when, in the middle of the night, Jez
managed to stagger down from his cave to the next habited place,
which was Meera’s cave house(a Belgian female saddhu who had lived
there for donkey’s years) with a huge wound to his neck. He was
actually able to speak a few words at that moment and told Meera he’d
been attacked and after a struggle had lost his baba belt with 3000
rupees (less than £50) in it. At that time, he was bleeding very
heavily and in a terrible state. Meera did her best to help him and
they got to Bellary hospital but he needed a good doctor and surgery
really quick. They didn’t have any money with them and it had
seemed like he didn’t get a proper doctor or surgery to save his
life.
He died the next night.
I cringed to think that maybe he didn’t get treatment
because of money but so many people had told me in the past about
Bellary General Hospital. You don’t go there to get better, they
said, you go there and die.
It seemed ironic and wrong that with all the tourists
and so much money hanging around Hampi and the island he chose Jez
who had less than anybody. That’s if it was actually him. But even
though I was almost sure, other people had doubts. It was only three
or four days later that it all struck me, not about Jez but about
Nagendra and the future but for a very good reason.
After climbing on the island, I wandered up to Cosmic
Cave at sunset where I met Peter and we were chatting especially
about Jez and the whole story. He was also sad about Jez but wasn't
at all worried for himself or family and seemed sure it would not
happen again anyway. It was just then talking to Peter that I really
felt it.... the truth of the matter. The opposite of his view. That
it would indeed happen again as it has every other time Nagendra has
been released as he just keeps on going until capture. He can’t
stop. If Jez’s murder was not his doing then surely he'd know he
would be blamed instantly if he did any other violent crimes.
I explained to Peter but he was having none of it, it
was a one-off event and he was sure about it. We sat and watched the
sunset before he wandered off back down so I sat alone for a while
staring across the boulder fields towards Rishimuk. As always, from
wherever I am, the sight of Rishimuk helps me relax but I had an
uneasy feeling and sore feet from walking around the rocks barefoot.
Bent on revenge
It was when I start to wander down across the plateau,
looking always up at the mountain of boulders where he stays that I
got it. The glimpse of him just as he hides behind a boulder. I'm
being watched from about 50 metres away. I've never been watched like
this before and I've never had this strong feeling before that I felt
at that moment because I knew that it was him. I just knew it was
Nagendra so started to think really fast. At that moment, I am
without any knife or stick whereas he has a big knife. He also
carries a small sharp knife and maybe has his friend with him also. I
can’t go after him now as there will be too much risk. Then I look
up again and get another glimpse of his dark-coloured form quickly
going to hide behind a different boulder a little further away to the
left. It seemed like he wasn't going to risk going for me then but I
started to walk really quickly towards the other side of the plateau
until I was on the last bit down to the road.
I didn't stop and kept going to the other side of the
river until I was in the small street where my room is. He is staying
in the caves just a few hundred metres from Jez in the same
ridge/hill but he didn’t kill him? I just couldn’t believe it.
Who was telling me this nonsense? I was really psyched now! The whole
thing had just become very real and close and the adrenalin was
flowing! I was thinking about how we would trap him in the rocks and
which type of weapons I would have for the strike.
Death strikes again
Then I’m back in Hampi and suddenly it’s my friend
Rakesh standing in front of me, tugging at my arm. He's saying, "Pil,
please come and help. I not understand what to do." I had that
feeling again and knew that something was very wrong but I just
stared at him for a moment speechless. "Please Pil, you’re
English very good you will find what happens" he says then he
was pulling me into his hotel on down the corridor and I saw a few
Indians with their very worried faces milling around door of the
last room. Rakesh just pushed them out of the way and pulled me
quickly inside the room.
On the floor but with her head propped up was a girl but
her eyes were open and blank and there were red lines on her neck.
She was freshly dead already, I could tell. She looked young and
Japanese or Korean. This is nothing to do with Nagendra as I’ve
just seen him but sitting on the bed is another foreigner and he is
American. I start talking to him and he explained, "She was just
hanging by her neck from the door frame when I got back," he
said, "I'd only been gone ten minutes."
When I really thought about it, looking at his emotions
at that moment and the height of the door frame, I didn’t think it
was suicide. We agreed that it was too late to save her and I turned
to Rakesh who was still fussing and gibbering about ambulances and
police so I told him not to bother about the ambulance as it was too
late. The American guy seemed happy that I was there at that moment
as the Indians had been not helping his state of mind with a panicky
vibe going on around the hotel but then something occurred to me. The
police would most surely arrive soon and if I was here like this I
would be involved in the whole blah blah investigation. I asked him
if he was okay one last time then I was out of there and down the
road. Just in time. Five minutes later, the cops were there and a
huge crowd of Indian onlookers had massed at the front of the guest
house all holding their necks, pointing to the room and talking
excitedly.
Plotting the payback
It was all becoming a bit much for one day. First,
seeing what I was sure was Nagendra skulking around probably looking
for targets. Then, five minutes later, that dead girl in the room.
What type of freaky coincidence day is this, I thought? I went on the
roof and tried to calm down. Even though I had been the first other
foreigner at the scene, I couldn't afford to get involved in that
hanging suicide/murder thing as I was much more concerned about
Nagendra and who would be his next victim.
Even though I knew Jez was on a spiritual path and
probably not a ‘deadly revenge’ type of person himself I felt
like one now. I was very upset about his murder, pumped up and wanted
revenge. I wanted to catch him even if it meant killing him. He
certainly wouldn’t surrender quietly and would use his weapons
against me. I knew Squib would help but he was unsure about the
outcome and possible repercussions if somebody ended up dead. But I
knew we would have to catch him actually in the act of a violent
robbery. Squib also wasn’t as sure as me that Nagendra was
responsible for the murder as there were doubts floating around
Hanumanali (the closest village to Jez and Meera.) Anyway, we should
have to catch him red-handed first of all.
My mind was working overtime as now I KNOW
he is there on the island right now just 1 km away waiting for the
right moment to strike. But when he goes in to the cave system of the
mountain it would be insane to go after him. He knows every tunnel so
it would be a simple job for him to kill anyone who follows him in
there. The trap must be out on the plateau for it to work but there
must be some bait. A rich-looking, weak-looking girl tourist who is
loaded with cameras and cash would be perfect. But who will do that?
She would have to be very brave. I knew an English girl who would
have done it as she was a friend of Jez but she wasn’t in Hampi
anymore.
In the morning, I go to big town Hospet 12km away and
get myself equipped with some excellent weapons. I get a strong thick
bamboo stick fitted with a sharpened spike and nails on one end and
thick for beating with just a couple of nails on the other and a
separate smaller but much sharpened coconut knife. I was fully
psyched and really pleased with the stick. It was perfect and would
give me a good chance against the knife-wielding maniac. Just have to
get the bait and make the plan.
Nagendra strikes again
But things were running a bit faster than the plan. It
was already too late. Even as I arrived at my room in Hampi, an
Indian is telling me, "I think something has happened on the
other side of the river." I got that same sinking feeling again
but couldn't get any details so I just locked my room and set off
across the river.
The first person I saw on the other side was my friend
the large and rather jovial Rangaia, the boss of Vijaynagagar hotel,
and he is full of the news. "Nagendra strike today!" he
booms. Then he's holding one hand flat and making chopping sawing
motions into it with the other hand, "Morning time strike!"
He bellowed, sounding his normal loud jolly self which was not really
in keeping with what he was trying to tell me. It came in bursts of
short phrases but I was putting it all together. "Israeli girl
fighting," he continues, "Israeli girl very strong!” He
looked at me for some response. "Very best army training, even
for ladies!", I explained to him. Then I asked, "Did she
beat up and catch the Nagendra?" I was hopeful for a second. "Oh
no, Pil, not like that, he is going to her without knife and grabbing
her from behind thinking she is only a mere woman so she throws him
off but when he takes his knife and goes to her she is grabbing the
knife blade.” He repeats his chopping, sawing motions this time
speaking slowly and more seriously, "Knife is hand cutting,
fingers offside hanging, bag and money losing!" It was getting
worse all the time, "450 dollars and very nicest camera taking",
he exclaims matter of factly as if that was really the most important
thing.
It was ten times what he got from Jez and he would
almost certainly disappear for a few days now with that much. I felt
bad, like I had missed a good chance. The Israeli girl would now kick
up a huge storm in the police station and lodge a serious complaint.
Something was going to happen and from a higher level. The next day
everything changed and the chances for us to catch him were
drastically reduced.
Shit is fan hitting
So I had been right and now what would happen? Huge
amounts of police everywhere on the island looking tough, waving
sticks around, demanding free food and drink from every restaurant
and arresting people for things they don't have. When word started to
get around all the tourists were leaving also. One day I saw the
police at the top of the ridge where you can enter the complex of
caves inside the hill where he was staying. They were firing rifle
shots into the mountain blindly and pointlessly as they were too
scared to go inside. He was probably in some unknown bar/restaurant a
hundred km away by now I figured. He’d have to be crazy to stay in
the same hill when everybody knew he was there even if they were too
scared to actually climb into the cave system.
Now the slippery Nagendra would always know where his
pursuers were. Standing on the highest rock in white shirts or green
uniforms shouting at any passing tourist or climber, "Don't come
there! Very danger! Go back!", "We will search the rocks
and most definitely catch him!", one of them told me. I wished
it was true but calculated that it was a virtual impossibility for
this motley crew of fat, red-eyed bumblees to get anywhere near him
never mind catch him and impossible for us to have a plan without
them getting involved in it. It would be a huge mistake and probably
dangerous to be involved in any plan with them. They wouldn’t allow
it anyway. Too risky for them.
Sex energy
It seemed only right he would strike climbers sooner or
later as they are such easy targets. It’s like this, put down bag,
walk 20 metres away, turn back on bag, face the rock and concentrate
100% on that small area in front of your face. Too easy and so it as
to be at the Cosmic Cave. Four climbers all together staring at the
same piece of rock only a few metres away from where they left their
bags and he outwitted all of them in a few seconds collecting two of
their rucsacs and escaping. They were jumping around like mad with
thier sticks between the bushes and boulders beneath the dark North
facing side of Cosmic cave but couldn't even spot him. One of them
had some ‘sex energy’ pills inside the sac and he may have liked
these a lot and taken some before the next strike.
On a day when there were 40 or 50 police people
supposedly looking for him on the island and Hampi, he caught a
German woman near the top of Hanuman temple hill. She wouldn't let go
of her precious video camera so he repeatedly smashed her face with a
big piece of granite. He was masturbating at the same time as beating
her but she was screaming and people came running from the temple.
She didn't lose her camera but she did lose some teeth and he escaped
again. Then he actually got caught at the far end of Hampi bazaar. As
he was being marched back towards the main temple and police station
he squirmed out of their grasp and ran for it. He quickly got to the
rocks and none of the 'out of shape' police had a chance. The ultra
slippery Nagendra escaped again.
I was right, of course. It would be a long time with
many victims and for the rest of my stay in Hampi I adopted the
mentality of the psychopath himself. That is, super paranoid, just
trying to look after myself and people walking with me outside in the
rocks. That's all and NOTHING else matters.
After
all, I just want to climb rocks. It’s not my job to catch murderers
or psychopaths even for a 5000 rupees reward. I was avoiding Hampi
Island anyway where he had been living as it was crawling with
police. I didn't feel afraid for myself as I got the feeling like he
wasn't going to attempt a strike on me for some reason (maybe the
special stick). But it was the hot season now and the climbers were
drifting away so I was mostly alone in the rocks and all the time
looking, looking, looking.
Squib’s
story
Jezz
was the first person I'd met living a true 'baba' life. He'd taught
me yoga, yet never uttered a single word. I remember always feeling
better when I was in his company as anyone who met him would – his
energy and positivity were contagious. He was a genuine man, living
an honest, simple and spiritual life, which demanded respect. He also
made the best chapatis I ever ate. But what has happened? We had
heard mixed stories, Pil and I, since coming back from a trip in the
rocks.
“Gangavati
Hospital, alive but serious, some sort of accident”
“On
his way to Bellary Hospital, has been attacked”
“Dead,
murdered”
But
which was it?
Shivani,
a rich Indian lady who lived nearby, gave the correct version as
compassionately as she could. Jezz was dead. It was hard to believe.
We had planned to take him into the rocks on our last trip but a
last-minute decision to walk in the cool of night, under a full moon,
had changed the plans.
So
off to Bellary, in a Jeep full of red-eyed, bamboo-carrying police
with none of Jezz's good vibes. I was glad Meera, his cave neighbour,
was with us. Collecting his body, cremating him and bringing his
ashes back to put in the holy Tungabadra River where his 'home' was,
that was the plan. But I wasn't prepared for what that entailed.
Firstly,
collect his body. At the mortuary, I was beckoned into a room full of
small square doors. They opened one and pulled out the tray. There
lay Jezz, or at least his empty body, eyes open but dull, staring at
nothing. His chest had been split open, from his neck to his navel
with less than delicate surgical tools and coarsely stitched back up
like a rice sack. A few lengthy seconds passed as I just stared,
trying to catch his gaze. But he wasn't there. I tried to close his
eyes, but it was too late for that – he'd been dead too long and
his muscles had stiffened. We put him into a body bag, picked him up
and put him into the back of the already full jeep with us.
Next,
take him to the crematorium. But what's that – the electric burner
is broken. OK, so old style. We must go and find some wood to buy
from the other side of town. I never realised how much wood you need
to burn a body. Resilient things bones.
Back
across town, through the bustling streets to the crematorium, a bleak
concrete-walled compound on the dry, dirty outskirts of a dry, dirty
town. Some graves of non-Hindus in random order filled one corner,
headstones haphazard, half collapsed. This is not going to be Jezz's
resting place of that I am sure.
The
wood is stacked up. Four of us place him on top, his eyes still open,
looking nowhere. We perform some sort of ritual, appropriate for
someone living a saddhu life. I'm following instructions in a daze,
circling his body, smashing clay pots and making 'puja' with
coconuts, flowers and incense. I light the kerosene-soaked kindling.
The flames rise and lick around his body. I watch his hair begin to
catch but then my vision is blurred, tears distorting my sight. I
hadn't felt them coming, but now there's a steady flow down my
cheeks. No-one seems to understand why. It's like they all know
something I don't. That this isn't a sad occasion, that he has gone
to a better place. But the gulf that divides our cultures, stops me
from being able to understand this. How can this possibly not be sad?
Such a pure soul so brutally extinguished.
As
the hours pass and the flames slowly eat his body, I understand why
we bought so much wood.
The
red-eyed police are getting bored now. They've drank all the chai
they can and want to leave.
But
the job's only half done. His skull, pelvis, spine – I can still
see them all. “We're not leaving yet, not until it's finished.” I
don't give them an option and they're not happy about it.
More
wood, more burning. Some more hours pass.
There's
a lowly worker whose job it is to stoke the flames. He can see my
pain. He seems to understand. He sees my concern and won't stop until
it's finished but it's getting dark now and we have to go. Ashes, or
at least bits of bones from each of his shakras, are put into a tin
and given to me. The rest of him will continue to burn until only
ashes remain. The worker has promised me that and I trust him.
We
set off, but I get the Jeep to stop as we're heading to the gates and
run back to the worker. I can feel many red eyes following me. We
duck behind the flames, out of sight, and I give all the money I have
with me. More than Jezz was murdered for and some months’ wages, no
doubt. He'd never been anywhere outside of Bellary before he'd told
me earlier. I never wanted to step foot in Bellary ever again.
“Go
somewhere new, take your family”, I told him. He looked frightened.
“Tell them 50 rupees only giving,” he said. I nodded. “Make
sure it's finished,” He nodded.
He
would, I knew it.
Some
of Jezz's good energy had been passed on. He would have liked that.
The
journey back was a blur, but the next day, with the correct Brahmin
and holy man present, myself and Pil said goodbye to Jezz as his
remains were cast into the river, close by his home in the rocks,
which he loved so much.
