The Wedding Drums

by Marilyn Rodwell

  ‘My mother died,’ Sumati answered for her father. ‘Pa, what are you saying? You had your eye on Amina’s mother?’

  ‘All I’m saying is that she is a woman, and I am a man. And she cooks like your mother. Huh! That man didn’t appreciate what he had.’

  ‘What, are you saying that he was unfaithful to his wife?’ This was a shock to Narine.

  ‘I saw him with so many women, every time I went up to Point Fortin. How he looked at the women in his shop. Touching them and putting gold chains around their neck. Bracelets on their arms. And . . . ’

  ‘Pa, do you know what you are saying?’ Sumati interrupted, alarmed.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ Roopchand said to his daughter. ‘Even though he thought I was.’

  ‘He said that?’ Narine asked.

  ‘He didn’t have to say it.’

  Once on his own again, Narine wrote down all his findings and studied them when he returned to the room he shared with Etwar.

  Etwar spoke to his sister about what he had noticed in Narine’s notebook about their father and the women.

  ‘I couldn’t help taking a look at what he had written,’ Etwar defended himself. ‘It was right there. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how I found out. What are you going to do about it? You must have known this rumour was going around.’

  Amina stared at him, speechless.

  ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ he asked. ‘You know what a spiteful man Roopchand is? He threatened to kill Daya, that’s why she killed herself first.’

  ‘Maybe you should tell Uncle Narine about that.’

  ‘I will. And in the meantime, best you keep your mouth shut before you upset Ma and spread bad rumours about Pa.’

  Amina told Sumati what Roopchand had said regarding her father, and reminded her friend that Roopchand was likely to be unreliable and biased, based on how he had blamed and assaulted her when Sumati ran away from home. Sumati agreed, but wasn’t convinced.

  ‘You only believe him because he’s your father,’ Amina said hotly.

  ‘It’s not that, honestly. It’s the way he said it,’ Sumati tried to explain.

  ‘So you think my father deserved to get his neck slashed because he was decent to his female customers? Surely you can’t be that stupid.’

  Touching women was Sumati’s big point. They squabbled before Amina understood why her friend was so incensed. Later, Amina spoke to Narine, telling him everything she knew and remembered which could be of use.

  ‘I must go home and see my family in Port of Spain,’ he told her. ‘It’s been almost a week. They might think I’m dead somewhere.’

  The family were sorry to see him go and hoped to see him again soon. But it was almost as if they were suffering another loss.

  On his way back from Port of Spain, Narine spent some time in Point Fortin to see Sankar’s shop, explore the location, and to generally find out what people knew in the area. He walked up and down, visiting places like the bank, the general stores next door, the small attorney at law office on the corner of the street. In effect, he was doing the job of the police, but he felt it was essential for the sake of his late brother, the family, and himself. It was clear that family were struggling not to fall apart, and despite what Roopchand had said about Sankar, he seemed a little too interested in Devinia to be reliable. By the time he returned to Granville, Narine had discovered something quite interesting.

  The following day Narine headed straight down to Roopchand’s house to speak to Sumati, but Roopchand was at home.

  ‘Are you well?’ he asked the man.

  ‘No. I was laid off work some time ago,’ Roopchand replied.

  ‘That would explain it then,’ Narine nodded. ‘Can we talk frankly?’

  ‘Everything is frankly. You think I lie?’

  ‘No, but it explains why you might be in Point Fortin during the day.’

  ‘I go there sometimes. What of it?’

  ‘And you were there in Point Fortin, at the scene of the murder, Mr Balgobin . . . the day of the murder?’

  ‘Are you conducting some kind of investigation?’ Roopchand stood tall and menacing. ‘What kind of neighbour are you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m only visiting my sister-in-law and her family. I might have forgotten to tell you. You see, Sankar was my brother, and he was murdered. And I know you were there on the day, looking into the shop window.’

  ‘How you know that?’ Roopchand raised his voice.

  ‘You must tell me the truth so that the police can eliminate you from their enquiries.’

  ‘The police don’t know a damn thing! You are trying to trick me with your big English-talk?’

  ‘Look, I am a lawyer, and my intention is to find out the truth. Now you can tell me the truth, or you can go to jail for it if the police get hold of you.’

  ‘A lawyer?’ Roopchand began to perspire visibly and mumble as he pulled at a bench and sat down heavily.

  ‘I was looking to buy a piece of jewellery for my daughter. She was getting married.’

  Hearing the raised voices, Sumati came out of the bedroom. ‘I was already married, Pa, so that can’t be true. And why didn’t you tell me about work?’

  Roopchand dropped his head, embarrassed. ‘Truth is, I got laid off. Sankar promised to help me out.’

  ‘Why?’ Sumati asked. ‘You and he weren’t friends.’

  ‘He owed me,’ Roopchand said. ‘That’s why.’

  Sumati stood dumbfounded and Narine stood silent; both were waiting for him to continue. But just then, Amina arrived after school to visit Sumati.

  ‘Shh!’ Sumati told the men. ‘Stop talking.’

  ‘That’s not going to work,’ Narine said. ‘The girl is entitled to hear whatever your father has to say.’

  ‘I expect she is,’ Roopchand said. ‘She should know what kind of man she was calling Pa all these years.’

  ‘Why are you talking about my father like that?’ Amina asked. ‘What has he ever done to you?’

  ‘He owed me money!’ Roopchand yelled at Amina.

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ Amina said to Roopchand. ‘You are the most unfair man I know. I feel sorry for Sumati.’

  ‘You don’t know your father,’ the man shouted. ‘I had to keep reminding him to pay me.’

  ‘Pay you? Why? Were you blackmailing my father because you were jealous of his business? You never liked him! And now you’re accusing him about touching the women in his shop. He sold to them. They bought from him. That is why he was polite to them.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Was it you who killed him?’

  ‘Amina!’ Sumati cried. ‘Stop it! My father is not a murderer.’

  ‘Really? He threatened to kill your mother. And he tried to kill my father only a few months ago. I saw him – you did too.’

  ‘We said we would never talk about that,’ Sumati whispered. ‘We promised we wouldn’t.’

  ‘But my father was murdered, so that promise can be broken.’

  ‘Speak, Mr Balgobin,’ Narine said fiercely. ‘Your case is not looking too good. Why were you blackmailing my brother, and what is my niece talking about?’

  ‘She’s lying,’ Roopchand blurted out. ‘What she doesn’t know is that Sankar tried to kill me that day by the well. What was I to do?’

  ‘I saw you holding my father’s head below the water,’ Amina said, outraged. ‘You only stopped when we threw a mango at you.’

  ‘That was you?’ he said, looking surprised.

  ‘You thought the mango flew so far from the tree by itself?’ Amina was livid.

  ‘So, Mr Balgobin, you admit it?’ Narine said.

  ‘Yes, but this was after he hit me across the back with a cricket bat first.’

  ‘We never saw that, did we, Sumati?’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ Sumati said.

  ‘Why would my brother do that?’ Narine asked. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Because he didn’t want me to tell anybody the truth.’

  ‘The t
ruth?’ Amina asked.

  Roopchand went quiet.

  ‘Mr Balgobin?’ Narine prompted him. ‘Something is not adding up. Is it true that you might have been asking for more money which is why my brother hit you, as you say? When was the blackmail going to stop? And why was he helping you financially in the first place? Was it his kindness you couldn’t understand? It seems to me that there is a lot about humanity that you don’t understand.’

  ‘Just shut your lawyer mouth and stop giving me the bigshot, Indian-white-man talk. You are even worse than your brother.’ Roopchand’s eyes were flashing. ‘You can do nothing to me. You are not the police.’

  ‘Very well, if you want them to take over from me,’ Narine countered, ‘I’m happy to let them. I’m trying to help you here, believe it or not. You will be looking at a good fourteen-year sentence for blackmail in addition to life imprisonment for murder.’

  ‘You are forcing my hand,’ Roopchand said wretchedly. ‘I don’t want to do this.’

  ‘Whatever it is, you have already done worse, man!’ Narine said, losing patience.

  ‘Daya told me something. Something terrible.’ His voice broke. ‘It was my fault. I got angry with her and slapped her. I wish I hadn’t.’

  ‘Told you what?’

  Roopchand began sobbing so loudly that Narine sent Amina to bring him a cup of water.’

  ‘Whatever it is, man, it’s not worth going to jail for more years than you have to,’ Narine reasoned with him. ‘Did you kill my brother?’

  ‘No.’ Amidst his tears, the man choked out, ‘She’s not mine. My little daughter. The baby. Sumati – she is not my flesh and blood. Her mother told me Sankar was the father.’

  Later that evening, Narine returned to the house with Amina, after he had managed to calm her down and stop her from battering Roopchand across the head, first with a tea towel, and then with the enamel cup. All her thoughts were about how her mother would take this second terrible blow. As they walked home, Narine said Devinia should be told before she heard through rumour. And she would get to know through the legal process anyhow, as she would be called as a witness to ascertain the amount given and how the blackmail took place. Roopchand had already admitted it, with them as witnesses.

  Devinia had finished cooking some roti and pumpkin talkarie, with a roast tomato chokha as a special treat. When they arrived home, she didn’t fail to notice her daughter’s tear-stained angry face, but Amina said nothing to her mother at that point. Only that Roopchand had done his worst now and would be going to jail for the murder of her father. This shocked the woman deeply. It was then that Narine took a deep breath and repeated what Roopchand had accused Sankar of.

  Devinia was embarrassed but not devastated by this revelation, as they had feared. ‘Yes, Sankar told me long ago,’ she said.

  ‘You knew, Ma?’ Amina breathed.’

  ‘After he told me about the child, he said he felt he could only do his best by helping them with money,’ Devinia said. ‘They had to keep it secret otherwise it would have destroyed both families. I agreed. Do you know how I suffered to be Daya’s friend?’

  ‘But how, Ma? How could you talk to Daya every day like you did?’

  ‘It happened before I was sent to live with your father. I was married at five years old, but I came to live with him when I was eleven. He was twenty years old, and well . . . he had needs. He told me about her soon after I came to live here. He never touched me for a long time because I was too young. I was pleased. He promised he would have nothing to do with them – with Daya – again. By then, she had got married to Roopchand. She was a very pretty woman. I was only eleven, but I understood what had happened. I knew I was a child, not yet formed into a woman.’

  ‘But did you know that Roopchand was blackmailing him?’

  Devinia sighed. ‘Roopchand always had problems with his job. Your father had more money than we needed, and he had a child with the man’s wife. It was only fair. I don’t know why it had to come to blackmail though. Your father should have given him enough to prevent that. It’s not easy looking after another man’s child, day in day out. Especially as Sumati was the way she was.’

  ‘You mean because she was good-looking and every man that saw her wanted to get inside her knickers?’

  ‘Amina! Wash your mouth out!’ Devinia yelled.

  ‘It’s true. She has already paid the price of her good looks. Both of them – Daya and Sumati. It’s not my mouth that needs washing out, it’s everybody’s mind. Nothing is fair in this world. Nobody talks about the bad things that happen to girls and women. Because talking about it is rude? And the bad things that men do – is right?’

  ‘No. But it happened long ago. He’s dead now, poor man, so why go over it now?’

  ‘Not just dead. Pa was murdered.’

  ‘You know something?’ Narine intervened. ‘Roopchand is not looking like a guilty man. The only reason he was reticent was because of the nature of what he had to divulge. He didn’t want to hurt Sumati or you. He and your father had a pact. They sealed it with money.’

  ‘Blackmail!’ Amina said scornfully.

  ‘Not according to your mother. Your father agreed.’

  Etwar stood in the background silently listening. The first they realised he was there, was when he spoke up. ‘She is one of us,’ he declared. ‘Sumati is our sister. Pa has gone, but we have Sumati now, and her babies. We have to think about how to support them in any way we can. I have a niece and a nephew. You too, Amina.’

  Amina was too annoyed to suddenly be happy, but she had to admit that her brother made sense. Etwar was a master at being pragmatic, becoming more like his father than either her or her mother.

  Later, brother and sister talked well into the night, until their mother shouted through the walls to blow out the lamp and go to sleep. That night Etwar slept in Amina’s room at the bottom of her bed. In whispers, they carried on talking about how they missed their father. Etwar persuaded Amina to look at the positive things that had happened. Not only had they discovered their uncle, but also a sister who was already a good friend, and her children, their niece and nephew. But Amina had something on her mind and she was not about to let Roopchand off that easily.

  The next day, after Narine left Granville, she went up to Rajnath’s house to persuade him to help her. Together they left Granville that morning and caught the bus to San Fernando. There was one last thing to do, before this story was over.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Rajnath and Amina got to San Fernando police station by midday that day. She had a plan, and he readily agreed, still furious at the ill treatment his Uncle Amrit and Dillip had meted out to Sumati and Farouk during their stay there. Between them, Amina and Rajnath wanted Amrit and Dillip to rot in jail, to get their just deserts.

  ‘The last time, the police laughed at me,’ Amina said.

  ‘They’re in on it,’ Rajnath told her. ‘I sent them a letter, but nothing’s happened. Uncle Amrit must’ve bribed them.’

  ‘Also, I’ve seen the police going inside rooms with the girls too, at your uncle’s place. But maybe if we tell them what Uncle Narine found out, they will listen to us. He has photographs of Roopchand looking through my father’s shop window.’

  ‘Proves nothing.’ Rajnath shrugged.

  ‘It proves he was there,’ she argued, ‘a suspect. And he admitted to being there that same day.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. I know Roopchand has a temper, and that is how he behaves. He doesn’t have the words to use, so he uses his fists.’

  ‘Are you sticking up for Roopchand?’ Amina asked disbelievingly.

  ‘We need the truth,’ Rajnath said, ‘not a scapegoat.’

  As they were waiting for an officer, Narine arrived unexpectedly. ‘Well, well! What are you two doing here?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘I have some news. I have found evidence that keeps Roopchand out of the picture.’ Amina’s face dropped. ‘As you know, I felt he was telling the truth, and that he d
idn’t kill your father. Now I have photographic evidence from the same studio that is working on a picture book of the town, Point Fortin. The photograph has caught two other figures. One is carrying a machete.’

  ‘A lot of people carry machetes,’ Rajnath said dismissively.

  ‘In the town? Would they walk along the shops with it, dressed in smart clothes?’

  ‘Depends on where they were going,’ Rajnath replied.

  Rajnath and Amina accompanied Narine to the police interview where the pictures were produced. It was the first time they had seen them. But these were two photographs that had been taken separately on the two days before Sankar died. It was evident who the men were.

  ‘Now, officer,’ Narine said. ‘You and these young people all recognise at least one person in both photographs. The question is, what was that person who such a long way from home, doing in Point Fortin town centre with a machete?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ the officer said. ‘But we are going to look into it.’

  ‘Before you go looking into it,’ Narine told him, ‘remember these people are not farmers or market gardeners. They have a hotel business and a shop that sells mostly imported goods. And we have evidence of other criminal activities on the premises. I will not be taking this very lightly, nor will my partner. Mr Amrit Dass and his son Dillip Dass have been responsible for a huge number of criminal activities for a good few years now, and will feel the hand of the law very soon. Not forgetting that my father-in-law is a High Court judge who is respected within his profession.’ He gave the policeman a warning glare.

  Narine and Rajnath went to sign some papers, leaving Amina alone in the waiting room at the police station. When Rajnath returned, he was shocked to find her lying on the asphalt road outside with blood pouring from a head wound.

  ‘What happened?’ Rajnath cried, as he stooped over her. But before she could reply, he too suffered a blow to the head and tumbled over in front the building. Dillip stood nearby, hurling drunken abuse at them both. Amrit tried to lead his son away, but Dillip fought him off too. Narine arrived in time to hear what was being said.