Chapter Six: Enter the Wingman

Our carrier parks around the corner from where the maddening crowds are gathered although we can see the other one with my cousins and mum's younger brother (with the image of his gold tooth still hanging over me), drive nonchalantly directly into them - I squirm in my seat as I expect to see someone get splattered but thankfully, that does not happen.

I suddenly notice that the carrier they are in has a red light on the roof like an ambulance would have and as the driver attempts to park up near the cargo bay entrance, he starts honking his horn and switches the light and siren on to make some room - it is only then it hits me that the third carrier didn't just happen to have a red light like an ambulance, it was an ambulance!

How I could have missed that at the airport is any one's guess but stands to reason that we needed someway to allow mum to travel with us to her little village outside of Dhaka (the capital city in which we had landed) and we certainly couldn't have her riding in a converted scooter-taxi!!

If anything, the flashing light and siren intrigues onlookers even more and despite airport security being present, the crowd keeps on growing and surrounding the ambulance like some B-movie zombie horror flick.

The door to the ambulance opens and mum's younger brother starts shouting god only knows what profanity, to the crowd to move out of his way which is only obvious from the expression on his face and the way his arms swing about wildly as we are too far away to hear him, but there is no movement from the onlookers...with the image of zombies now in mind though, I chuckle to myself as I imagine him chewing a cigar and then jumping out into them with a chainsaw.

Dad looks at me disapprovingly for my inappropriate chuckling which I completely ignore but my sister strikes me in the ribs with her elbow to reinforce dad's authority and I take reign of my wandering mind.

Feeling bad for my misdemeanour, I decide to do something more constructive instead of sitting around daydreaming and make moves to get out of the carrier; despite my dislike of him, I plan how I can by-pass the crowd to go over and give mum's younger brother, the Zombie-slayer, a hand before things got out of control leaving little or no room for us to get mum into the ambulance.

As I scramble across my sister, dad is trying to speak to me perhaps asking me to stay where I am and to let the experts handle it but I am all fired-up now and his comments fall on deaf ears as I slide open the door and let what feels like hellfire into our icy cold cabin. I am once again taken aback by the sheer intensity of the heat but only for a moment, and then make my way round the carrier on my way to attempt to provide some crowd control.

I am focused, driven with a single-mindedness probably common with people going into war and start marching towards the ambulance - my anger starts taking control again, "Why won't people just leave us the fuck alone??!" my mind screams.

But suddenly, as I am about to practically headbutt my way through, my thoughts are rudely interrupted by a very American gravelly voice shouting over, "Not changed a bit eh, Jason? You really gotta learn to chill man...".

Certainly this could not be my conscience talking as if anything, he tends to have almost a Stephen Fry-esque demeanour to him or so I like to think, so I look round.

White as a ghost and as tall as a pygmy with jet black hippy-styled goatie and pony-tailed hair to match, Tanvir is standing next to his suped up and somewhat battered Ford Escort which is parked next to our carrier. A childhood friend from when mum and dad decided my sister and I should learn about our heritage and culture and brought us to live in Bangladesh between the mid-eighties to the early nineties, Tanvir (or Tanny for short), had always been my wingman when I was in trouble - and this time was no different.

Even though I had probably spoken to him twice since last time I visited the country (although the birth of Facebook meant we touched base more often than that online), when I knew I was going to be coming to Bangladesh, I knew I wanted Tanny to help me through the impending onslaught that was going to be laid down before me and when I called, without hesitating a second, he agreed to drop everything and ride with me; so here he was!

"Jason? Do you have to call me that - even now? We're like 30 dude!" I shout back as I turn and head towards him as he starts walking towards me, "I really don't want anyone knowing that my childhood idol was Jason Donovan so much so that I tried dying my hair blond, memorised all of his songs and demanded everyone calls me Jason!"

We both begin to laugh like we did when we were kids and as we get close enough, Tanny grins and then sticks up his hand in a high five motion but I grab him and give him a man-hug - the type where you try to ensure only the arms manage to pat each other's back - but after only 2 seconds, the pretentiousness of trying to be macho eludes me and before I know it, I start to whimper and the hug gets stronger.

Tanny's grip gets tighter as I cry as if he thinks I'm going to collapse and to be fair, under the strain of the last few days and now the excruciating heat, I almost feel as though I will.

"I knew there was something homo-erotic about you guys - I just knew it! Ahhh, young love!" my sister shouts out laughingly as she hangs out of an open window in the carrier whilst subtly wiping tears from her eyes having watched the whole thing through the darkened windows.

We both look up at her and then at each other and almost jump back from our hug as we start laughing. However, this breaks the tension and brings me back to reality and the need to maintain a stiff upper lip if I am to get through this which included less crying, less laughing and more action!

I let go of Tanny and though I try to make general chit chat, he knows me all too well that my mind is elsewhere and asks to to shut up and ushers me back in the direction from which I came - towards the crowd, "I forgot my shield and helmet but my truncheon's available man," Tanny says pointing at his groin, "although I could just light up a huge wad of weed and offer it around - perhaps they'd rather get high?"

I grin for a second and then still my face again and turn to give Tanny a cold stare and he knows that now was not the time to start our never ending debate over the pros and cons of cannabis use! Mum had died, I was a lawyer, we were stressed and this was not a headline I wanted the media to start splashing across pages instead of details of mum's life and times - Does Mr Khan Junior Smoke Weed?.

By the time we reach the ambulance having pushed and shoved our way through the crowd, I notice that the gates to the cargo bay are open and mum's younger brother is leading a procession of men made up of my lanky cousins along with some of the security team, struggling under the sheer weight of mum's coffin wrapped and tied in hessian, with dad and my uncle walking along side the custom's official who is completing some forms. How on earth dad got there before me is beyond me but I think to myself sheepishly, "In all the commotion, dad's sorted everything!"

Or so I thought!

The cameramen and news crew noticing mum's arrival charge towards her passed Tanny and I, and the sudden excitement almost leads to the men dropping her but mum's younger brother manages to get underneath to balance the weight.

His face is now like thunder as he starts shouting about the incompetence of my poor cousins and the helpers in almost dropping mum, his head folded over and chin touching his chest as sweat drips off him. My cousins and the other men say nothing and freeze as they look around like scared lemurs at the cameras and reporters, having never seen anything like this and hoping the situation will sort itself out.

There is now hardly any room to get to the open door of the ambulance and though dad is visibly annoyed at the surge of people flooding the area, my uncle takes him aside indicating that it would be best for him to go back to his carrier and wait rather than get involved with making way or facing the media until he was ready to do so; luckily no one except family had quite identified who mum's husband and children were so they seemed more interested in mum rather than pester dad.

As I watch dad being safely lead away, Tanny and I look at each other and immediately jump to the aid of mum's younger brother.

Though Tanny is too short to help with carrying mum as the coffin rests on our shoulders and his only reach the height of our chests, I urge him to act as the battering ram for us by staying at the front and clearing the path so Tanny does just that asking as politely as possible for him, for the media and onlookers to "get out of the fucking way!"

Mum's younger brother feels more reassured with our arrival and though he is still focused, there is a huge grin on his face and his gold tooth keeps sparkling at me.

"Nice work dude! Just keep doing what you're doing and stand at the front! Kick ass if you need to so myself, and the rest of us including...Goldie here," I say nodding my head in the direction of mum's younger brother,"can get mum to the fucking ambulance - sorry for the swearing mum!"

We wade through the chaos as questions are being thrown at us left, right and centre - where were we from in England, where were we going, how did mum die, were her immediate family here, etc. etc. etc. - but Tanny keeps them at bay with a simple "No comment - now move!" and somehow we manage to get mum into the ambulance and Tanny, Goldie, myself and my cousins get on board with her whilst the security guys stay outside and shut the door behind them.

We all take a breath as the air conditioning in the ambulance cools us down but the noise still going on outside is immense so it is hard to relax.

Whilst the media hounds seem to have lost interest for now as they quite obviously are making their way to their vehicles to follow us, the ambulance is constantly being banged and knocked by the other people wanting to just be nosey and see what all the commotion is about or for the more perceptive, try and beg for money from us seeing as we can afford a private ambulance for our dearly departed so must be loaded!

"We really need to get going" I shout, being drowned out by the banging on the car as well as the sound of the vents blowing cold air and the siren that has been blaring the whole time.

Goldie gets some rope out from under the bench mum has been placed on and though I cannot hear him completely, I can tell from his movements that he wants to tie mum's coffin down to secure her in place; Tanny and I swiftly oblige and give him a hand as my cousins look on still aghast from the madness that had ensued and is still taking place!

As we finish the last knot, Tanny turns to me, "Man, we need to get you guys and auntie out of here - I need to get my car!" then in his best Arnie impression he goes on, "I'll be back!" and slides the door open and jumps out as Goldie asks the driver to start up the engine.

As the ambulance tries to push its way through the hoards, horn being repeatedly blown but having little or no effect, all five of us including the driver breath sighs of relief or maybe exasperation even, as I mutter "Welcome to Bangladesh huh?"

My cousins burst out laughing as does Goldie who thanks me for coming to his aid, "and I also want to thank...thank...errr, that weird looking hippy guy?" he pauses,"...who on earth was he by the way?" he asks suddenly realising he has no idea who Tanny was or where he had come from.

Before I can say anything, despite all the noise, we hear an engine of another car revving away with some extremely loud Metallica tune playing - looking out I see Tanny hanging out of his window, hair set lose and floating around like seaweed, "Move outta the way - mad man coming through! Oh yeeeeeaah!" and the sheer surprise of his look let alone arrival, actually works and making like Moses, Tanny manages to part the sea...albeit a sea of people so not quite same on the miraculous scale...with my dad and sister following him in their carrier.

As my cousins and Goldie stare out at the lunatic I am proud to call friend, I answer Goldie's original question with a smile and a nod, "He's my Wingman, Goldie - he's my Wingman."