India was truly magnificent...


It was beautiful, littered with sights and sounds, bright colours and really interesting people...



inSpiring...

...and really weird road signs...



The journey to Shah's family took us over two weeks on land. They lived in Kabul. We made a few friends on our way there...






This is a picture of me and Shah's father--Haji Ayub Afridi.


The moment he saw me he asked, "Where are you from?" and i related to him the story which i had related to you up till now. And he said, "Is you mother's name [so and so]?"

I stared at him in amazement. "Yes i said. How do you know?"

"She was my half-sister. We had the same father, but different mothers. Your mother's mother was from Mumbai, my father married her there on one of his business trips. So, it seem's that fate has brought you back to your family?"

I nodded in amazement. "Yes, and that makes you my uncle?"

He smiled and said, "Uncle, and son-in-law my young man. Have you met my daughter Sooraya?"

And with that, began another episodic chapter of my life...

I was ashore on board a raft for three days and three nights and welcomed the sight of land. However, i did not expect the land to be inhabited. Obviously i was surprised to find someone else amidst the lush greenery of the island...


We became fast friends...




And he, a loyal ally in times of need...



His name was Sergeant Shah, and served the British Royal Navy. That was until his ship veered off course during a particularly bad thunderstorm and finally shipwrecked on this island. All the men on board died. He was the only survivor. He told me he came from a very rich family from Kabul. His father was a enterprising "businessman" and had strong connections with important people in Central Asia and also the Indian sub-continent.

I told him of my most unfortunate circumstances and how i could not return to either Singapore or the Riau Islands. We shared a common bond the two of us. Two lost men, brought together on the same island by some force of fate. For awhile, life was good.

The Sergeant offered me shelter at the house he built.


There were lots of fruits to eat when we got hungry.


And of course, when you have to go, you have to go...


After a very long time together on the island i started to crave once again for the communal life. Being with another man on a remote island wasn't as communal as you would think. I decided that if the Sergeant's father had connections back at home--important connections, then I wouldn't mind asking for help. But the only way back was to return to Singapore and take a ship Northwest to Mumbai.

So, we got ourselves some disguise as Arab merchants...



The one on the left is me.

Hence, began our arduous journey towards freedom...

I had to flee to neighbouring islands of Riau. Of course by then i had mastered the Malay language. I also picked up a variety of languages including Arabic, English, Dutch, the various Chinese Dialects, Urdu, and even Sanskrit and some Swahili.

In any case, i was warmly welcomed by the Malays in Riau and was taken in by the family of a young man of my age by the name of Wan Darus. For three months i made the island my home. Accustomed with Malay culture and able to speak Malay fluently, i had no problems fitting in. This is a picture of us sitting down and having a meal.


Unfortunately, in the still of the night, Wan Darus and the rest of the men on the Island had to be called upon by the Sultan of Riau to fight against the imperial Dutch. Before he left, he entrusted me to keep an eye out for his young, expecting wife. "My brother, please take care of her and the baby, especially should anything happen to me while I am away. If i do, then pray that i die a hero."


And so he went away.

Weeks passed and the baby was delivered. She was lovely, beautiful like her mother.


Despite the fact that my feelings for this young girl was steadily increasing, i could not by any means break the trust of the man i had considered to be a brother. However, people soon began to take notice. And of course, there had to be the peeping womenfolk...


It seemed to me then that i was not the only one with intentions over her. One fine day, the Datuk Bendahara, the ruling chief of the village decided to "pay a visit" to her, adding on to her misery...

I returned to her house the same evening and in truly dramatic fashion, four men sprang out of nowhere, took hold of me and and dragged me to the beach. Very soon things got out of hand and i was made to pay for my "crime", but not before she was made to pay for her's.




I was facing certain death. In an unlikely moment of distraction, i freed myself from the guard and ran as fast as i could to the port and swam to safety on to a nearby island. From that day on, i learnt a valuable lesson, to always stay on step ahead of the devil...

Yes people, this is me doing my fair share of campaigning for the civil rights of refugees.

You see, i was born a refugee myself. Well, some sort. Back when Singapore was just founded, my parents (who eloped, because my father was this rich Indian merchant yet fell in love with a "commoner", who is my mother) sailed the seas in search for a brighter future for us all. My father's family had disowned him. However, my parents believed great things were to come for me, this first born.

She dreamed she was delivered of a tennis-ball, which the devil (who, to her great surprise, acted the part of a midwife) struck so forcibly with a racket that it disappeared in an instant; and she was for some time inconsolable for the lost of her offspring; when, all on a sudden, she beheld it return with equal violence, and enter the earth, beneath her feet, whence immediately sprang up a goodly tree covered with blossoms, the scent of which operated so strongly on her nerves that she awoke. The attentive sage, after some deliberation, assured my parents, that their firstborn would be a great traveller; that he would undergo many dangers and difficulties, and at last return to his native land, where he would flourish in happiness and reputation. How truly this was foretold will appear in the sequel.

Sadly my mother died soon after and my father was driven mad with grief!

Here's pictures of him to prove that i'm not lying...




You thought i was kidding weren't you??

Well anyway, with my father being in the mental condition he was in, i had to learn my trade in order for us to survive. At a very young age, I learnt to pick pockets. Very soon, I caught the eye of the most fearsome man on the streets. I was adopted by him and within a few years became his right-hand man.

We were very feared indeed.


My job was to go round collecting money in place of the protection we would offer. However, there were some complications during the process of one. One man was killed and i was forced to flee. And that was truly the start of some strange yet amazingly wonderful adventures i would have..