25 February, 2025: A Pilgrimage

set in Luxor, Egypt

I am leaving the Luxor temple, and I know I ought to be appreciating the sites I’m seeing, but I can’t help but think about the Maha Kumbh happening in India right now. I come from a very Hindu family. Our origins are in India but we’re all Indian by way of Guyana. That’s its own long story, but the point is that everyone on my social media is talking about the Kumbh Mela, and how important it is to bathe in the banks of the Ganga by Allahabad right now if you’re Hindu.

Not that what I’m actually seeing isn’t that cool or important. The city of Luxur literally has an enormous temple complex right in its centre. The sand brick walls feel like they’ll fall apart in front of you at any moment, and yet despite the crumbling look of everything the statues of the kings look pristine and calm as they tower over you. It’s impressive that such an ornate structure was able to survive so long, especially considering how polluted and crowded modern Luxor is. Overall it’s a thing I feel very blessed and privileged to witness, considering how few people of my background travel this far, and I’m glad as a whole to be in Egypt.

Anyways I’ve finished this leg of my tourism. I leave the plaza area not sure what I’m going to do. I’m mostly thinking of heading back to my hotel and looking at the pics and videos of the Maha Kumbh. It’s the day when all the planets are aligned, it’s a day that only takes place once every 144 years. It’s a day I’m missing unless I want to spend a lot of money to hop from Cairo to Delhi. And that makes no sense because the mela is just a few days away from ending.

A guy stops me before I head out. He has a horse attached to a carriage next to him and is carrying a poster with pictures of all the sites of the city. He notices I’m not local very quickly. He starts asking me despite the fact I’ve shown zero interest in anything related to further tourism, ’Habibi, what price?’

‘No, no,’ I say curtly. I’m used to having to talk like this here, because otherwise everyone will try to find any way imaginable to get extra money from you.

Still he smiles at me, and I smile at him. He’s cute. He’s got a long and angular face, about the same skin tone and features as mine, but with tight short curls for hair. I can make out the shape of his groin from his jellabiya. There’s nothing really between it and the cloth. The indent of what I think I’m seeing looks quite big.

He notices where I am looking and says, ‘You are a good looking boy.’

‘Thanks,’ I say in response.

‘Come with me. I will give discount.’

I playfully reply, ’If a ride is what you’re looking for, my hotel over there.’

He laughs. I don’t know if he understands what I mean, given how he is speaking English. Still he repeats. ‘Come, come, take horse ride. We will go together. For you it is free.’

Well, I’ll never say no to a free adventure with a hot man. I get into his carriage, noticing another man who was probably there along. He gets on top of the horse, and the other guy gets into the carriage, with me. He doesn’t say much as we leave Luxor together, but I can make out his eyes are all over me. It’s not just that he’s scanning my face. He’s practically ravaging it with his gaze.

‘You are too handsome habibi.’

‘I think you’re handsome too,’ I confess. I scoot a little bit closer to him, but he merely observes it. It’s only when we get out of the city that he gathers the courage to put his hand on my knee. How he rubs it. It’s like he’s giving me a massage, and despite the pants I’m wearing I can feel the imprints of his finger directly on my skin. I’m getting hard and I can’t help it. Seeing how excited I’m getting he rushes in to kiss me.

I kiss him back and he doesn’t like it. He moves away as my tongues goes into his mouth. He bites my nipple through my shirt. I tell him to not play rough. He starts to put his finger into my pants, but towards my ass. I tell him I’m not a bottom. I don’t think he’s understanding. He’s trying to finger me and I try to move myself in another position so that’s not what happens.

As I fidget I notice how much the country changes. The buildings around us look completely underdeveloped. Some look like brick buildings that were partially built. Others look like hovels in the dust that people just live in. There are a lot of dirt roads. There’s at least a lot of greenery in the area between the neighbourhoods and the river. Date palms hang over the alfalfa fields, the grass almost appears to be climbing towards the riverbank as it clings in clusters to the land. There aren’t that many people around. I guess that’s why he feels so confident, particularly as we go even further from that village, and we’re just in the alfalfa field.

It’s all so much like India. Not that I’ve ever been, but I’ve seen the pictures. In Allahabad I imagine it to be far more crowded, I imagine there to be a lot of people. There’d probably be a lot of people bathing. I wonder what it’d be like to be in the Ganges It’s probably extremely polluted, yet something about dipping in it has to make you feel clean.

It’d be nice to be there, just like in a certain way, it’d be nice if I could just teleport home.

The carriage stops. The guy who was riding the horse gets off to take a piss. I get a good look at him. He’s actually cuter than the guy who propositioned me. He has a very clean shaven and boyish face. His eyes look meditative and self-reflexive. He has almost the look of a Greek thinker. We lock eyes, and I see that as he’s holding his dick and trying to piss he’s getting hard.

‘You suck him,’ the guy on the carriage says.

To be honest I wouldn’t mind doing so, and I get off.

As I reach towards the part of the field where he is peeing and he turns to me, I’m about to kneel, so I can take his dick into his mouth.

That’s when I see he has a knife in his other hand.

And that’s when the other guy comes down too.

‘Your money, your backpack, give it now.’

I look all around me. There’s no one else in the field except us two. While the guy from the carriage has no weapon in his hands, his look scares me more than the other guy. At least the guy with the knife looks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I can make out he doesn’t want to hurt me. He seems soft based on the aura he is giving.

The guy from the carriage, though, I can tell he likes what he’s doing. He has an extremely pleased look in his eyes. More than the one with the weapon, he looks like the kind who would kill and like it. He’s the one who scares me, and the way he’s barking at me doesn’t help either

‘Your money, your everything, now!’

I look at this guy, I look at the one with the knife, and I can’t imagine this ending well. Even if I give them all my stuff there’s no chance they’re letting me go. They’re probably going to rape me. I feel like the one with the angry eyes will enjoy it, while the one with the knife really wants to have sex or even a moment of intimacy, but is too naive or different in his understanding of the world to know how to get there with me in a more civil manner.

Regardless, I’m not getting out of here unscathed. I might even be killed and left to rot in the fields.

The voice in my head tells me to do only one thing. Run. And that’s why I do it. I’m out of the carriage anyways and I know the way back through the dirt road. But if I took the dirt road, it’d be easy for them to follow me. That’s why I run into the field. It’s a crazy thought the moment I step into it. The field is muddy and the water comes up to my knees. I’m going to get my pants and shoes horribly dirty. At the same time survival comes first. That guy is shouting at me. He’s telling me something not even in English. It has to be in Arabic or some local language. Still I’m not looking back. I’m just running. And I run and I run and I run, in random directions, in some confusing and roundabout way, so that they aren’t able to find me.

At some point I reach the bank of the river. I look around not knowing where to go. I look back and I see that no one is there. Are they on my tail? Are they going to find me? I don’t hear any one coming. I’m completely alone. There’s no animals at the riverbank either. There is no one and nothing.

What in the world have I done? I’m in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how to get back to my hotel. I don’t even know the name of the location as to where I am. Why did I take that carriage? Why did I let that boy trick me?

I ought to be panicking. I ought to be angry with myself.

But I see the river and I see the water and it calms me. I try to focus on my breathing. I try to notice my heartbeat. It’s getting slower and slower. I’m safe. Nothing is going to happen to me.

At the end of the day does it really matter whether I’m here or in Guyana, India or anywhere in the world? What makes one river sacred over another? The Nile is supposed to be an important river too.

I’m wet anyways and so I take my steps into the water. I clasp my hands in a moment of prayer. I chant some of the shlokas that my parents taught me. I don’t know if they are what I’m supposed to say in this context, but I’m not in the Ganga, I’m in the Nile.

I feel safe, I feel at ease, I feel grateful for surviving a horrid situation. I thank the universe and the divine and the stars. I know my constellations were aligned right now.

My eyes are closed, but I open them, remembering where I am. A man in a white jellabiya is on the other side of the river staring at me. I smile at him, but he doesn’t know what to make of it.

I sense he has placed here in this moment to help me.

I cross. I feel lighter knowing that I’ve prayed. I will ask him to take me back to Luxor, and even if he doesn’t understand how to do so, I’ll be alright.

It doesn’t matter what land I’m in. As long as I have faith in the path that has been divined for me, I will always be safe.