About Tahir Shah: Tahir Shah is an Anglo-Afghan Indian author, journalist and documentary maker. He lives in Casablanca, Morocco.
The taste for glory can make ordinary men behave in extraordinary ways.
The forest did not tolerate frailty of body or mind. Show your weakness, and it would consume you without hesitation.
Previous journeys had taught me the danger of taking too much stuff.
I was no longer troubled when he pulled out a machete in a crowded bar, tried to pick up schoolgirls, or threatened to scalp us, then rip off our heads and scoop out our brains.
The inertia of a jungle village is a dangerous thing. Before you know it your whole life has slipped by and you are still waiting there.
There comes a stage at which a man would rather die cleanly by a bullet than by the unknown terror of the phantom in the forest.
As I see the world, there's one element that's even more corrosive than missionaries: tourists. It's not that I feel above them in any way, but that the very places they patronize are destroyed by their affection.
On a harsh expedition, there's no space for anyone who does not intend to finish.
The rain of Madre de Dios is similar to that of the Amazon, but there is a petrifying aspect to it, as if it seeks to wound rather than to nurture.
The only thing they valued higher than ammunition were Man United footballs.
A man who embarks on a journey must know when to end it.
On a hard jungle journey nothing is so important as having a team you can trust.
Previous journeys in search of treasure have taught me that a zigzag strategy is the best way to get ahead.
Any man who has ever led an army, an expedition, or a group of Boy Scouts has sadism in his bones.
Experience has taught me the power of trophies. You may have every knick-knack and useless contraption ever devised, but while they weigh you down, a simple trophy can go a long, long way.
The last thing we wanted was for the Machiguenga to be sad again. Sadness appeared to bring out their violence.
I struggled to think pure thoughts, as Hector sucked out my psyche with his eyes.
Back at the guest house I tried to acclimatise. A travel-worn adventurer had once told me that leaning with one's head dangling over the end of a bed was the best way to achieve this. It was while I was in this position, the blood rushing to my templ...
The ancient paused for a moment, as if his strength were failing. Yet I sensed that there was more to tell. Looking deep into my eyes, he whispered: 'The Gond kingdoms have fallen, their people live dispersed in poverty: the teak trees and the jungle...
In some peculiar way, indeed, the rules were now beginning to seem quite logical. It was then I knew that I had been in India long enough.
The very fact that a Frenchman was prepared, after tow minutes of conversation, to be so friendly towards anyone, especially one who had come from England, made me restless.
