by Gwee Li Sui
HENRY: I did not have this planned. But surely you’ll agree that spontaneity is the soul of travel.
MARGARET: It’s ghastly.
HENRY: It’s justice served. And those men certainly deserved it.
MARGARET: Men? There’s more than one?
HENRY: More than forty, in fact, who will meet their end by firing squad.
MARGARET: But why?
HENRY: High treason, Margaret.
MARGARET: But why must we go?
HENRY: If you have to change, I think the one with the lace collar is a sensible choice.
MARGARET: Henry, there is nothing sensible about attending this… murder in broad daylight.
HENRY: I don’t suppose it will be a long-drawn-out affair. I’m certain that everyone would, in fact, prefer that it be done with swiftly so that we can all get on with our business.
MARGARET: I’m sorry, Henry, but I would rather stay indoors.
HENRY: Briggin’s bringing his wife.
MARGARET: I might very well faint if I’m there.
HENRY: It mystifies me how women can claim to faint at the sight of blood when their monthly occurrences should have accustomed them to it by now. You disappoint me, Margaret.
MARGARET: Henry, please.
HENRY: One would think that the wife of a plantation manager would have a stronger stomach for such things. You’ve seen me deliver lashings to the men. And I’ve certainly drawn blood before.
MARGARET: Those men lived.
HENRY: They lived because they did not run amok in the streets shooting at British officers and civilians. An eye for an eye, Margaret. You’ve read your Bible. Tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.
MARGARET: But in Matthew…
HENRY: What is in Matthew?
MARGARET: I have it here. [Searches for a copy of the Bible in her trunk.] Here… “You have heard that it hath been said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you not to resist evil: but, if one strike thee on thy right cheek, turn to him also the other. And, if a man will contend with thee in judgment, and take away thy coat, let go thy cloak also unto him.”
HENRY: I don’t think Matthew was referring to mutineers, Margaret. Give them your cheek, and they’ll rip off your face.
There is a knock on the door. HENRY opens it.
JOHN: Mr. H. W. Comber?
HENRY: Yes.
JOHN: I’ve come from the office of Mr. A. J. Briggins.
HENRY: Yes, your boss said you’d be here. Come in. This is my wife, Margaret Ann Comber.
JOHN: John Tessensohn.
MARGARET: Delighted to meet you.
HENRY: Tessensohn. That’s Dutch, isn’t it?
JOHN: Eurasian. My parents are from Malacca.
HENRY: Margaret’s Eurasian as well. British with a smidgen of Chinese blood on her mother’s side.
MARGARET: My mother is Chinese, actually.
HENRY: But who could tell? Certainly not your father.
MARGARET: My mother was very Anglicised.
HENRY: And more Catholic than my own mother. Carries a rosary everywhere.
JOHN: Mr. Briggins told me that you’re a planter.
HENRY: Bradwall Estate. In Negri Sembilan.
MARGARET: We travelled here by rail.
JOHN: If you’re ready, I could call for a gharry to take us there.
HENRY: Is it very far?
JOHN: It’s at Outram Road, where the Sepoy Lines are. We could get there in under an hour.
HENRY: So, Margaret, are we ready to go?
MARGARET: Actually, John, I might be feeling under the weather.
HENRY: The problem here, John, is that my wife believes that our merry band of mutineers should go unpunished.
MARGARET: I said no such thing.
HENRY: So perhaps you could school her on the kinds of wickedness these men were capable of.
JOHN: Well, it was one of the worst riots we’d ever seen in Singapore. Forty-seven people killed within seven days.
HENRY: Mutineers were all Indians, weren’t they?
JOHN: Yes. Sepoys from the 5th Light Infantry.
HENRY: Fuelled by drink, no doubt.
JOHN: I don’t think so. They were all Mohammedans.
HENRY: I’ll tell you something about Indians and drink. When we drink, we obtain a flush. It’s nature’s way of telling us that we’ve had too much. A tip-off to our friends to stop topping up our glasses. But the Indians don’t have that. And that is because nature has failed to endow their skins with this translucency which for us is a reliable warning signal. And thus they continue to drink until they reach one of two states: stupor or rage.
MARGARET: But you can see it in their eyes. They get bloodshot.
HENRY [ignoring MARGARET]: The thing about these Indians is that they’re sneaky. God knows where they find the time between all the rubber tapping that they’re supposed to do, but they somehow manage to brew their own toddy. Have you ever tried toddy before?
JOHN: I’m afraid not.
HENRY: Then let me tell you that it’s fermented palm wine and that it’s the foulest liquid imaginable to man. But it does the job for them, and I know that, when I hear some cries or crashing in the night, it’s because the toddy’s dissolving the final remnants of what separates them from animals. And that is why, in my estate, I’ve laid down the law. No drinking on the premises after 10:30 p.m.
JOHN: But why at such an odd time?
HENRY: Because that’s the time I take my gin and tonic out on the verandah.
MARGARET: I don’t know why you’re talking about drinking when John’s already told us that the mutineers weren’t drunk.
HENRY: So Margaret is still seeking to be satisfied on the actual causes of the mutiny. Could you indulge her, John?
JOHN: Some believe it was due to German instigation. Some of the sepoys were guarding some German prisoners-of-war at Tanglin barracks, and these Germans encouraged their warders to revolt. There were also rumours being spread that the sepoys were going to be deployed by the British to fight against Turkey.
HENRY: And was there any truth to the rumours?
JOHN: Not at all. Britain had declared war on Turkey, but the 5th Light Infantry were going to be sent to Hong Kong.
MARGARET: But why were they so anxious about fighting against the Turkish?
HENRY: Because they’re all Mohammedans, my dear Margaret. It would be like sending them to war against their own brothers. These people are torn between two empires basically. The British and the Ottoman.
MARGARET: What I don’t understand is why we have to use Indian troops. Why can’t we use our own British soldiers for our own defence?
HENRY: I hardly think that any self-respecting Englishman would be enticed by the kinds of salaries they’re getting.
MARGARET: So why don’t we pay more for British soldiers?
HENRY: The same reason why I don’t pay more to get the locals to work in my estate. Because it wouldn’t make sense.
MARGARET: You mean it wouldn’t make business sense.
HENRY: It’s the only sense that matters these days, isn’t it?
MARGARET: So they’re not lazy then.
HENRY: Who’s not lazy?
MARGARET: The Malays. You keep saying they’re too lazy to tap rubber, but actually it’s because they won’t take what you’re offering to pay them.
JOHN: Well, there’s rice also. The labourers need food. If the Malays start tapping rubber, then who’s going to tend to the rice fields?
HENRY: You see, Margaret, every race has its part to play. And, if they play it well, there’s no need for awful things like public executions.
MARGARET: And our part is to witness such things? Why is it that we call the Asiatics barbaric when we visit on them such violent spectacles?
HENRY: I see now how your mixed blood is interfering with your good judgment. I must note that it doesn’t seem to bother John in the least.
JOHN: Well, I don’t rea
lly consider myself an Asiatic…
MARGARET: But are you a Christian, John? And have you read Matthew Chapter 5, Verse 38? It is not my loyalty to the Asiatic that impels me thus, Henry, it is my loyalty to Christ. And, in the name of our Lord and Saviour, I urge you gentlemen please to desist from this most gruesome errand.
HENRY: Margaret, even as we speak right now our country is at war with the Central Powers. Empires are destroyed from the edges like a piece of paper consumed by fire. We at the fringes of Empire have a duty to stamp out the flames before they reach the centre. Every mutineer we shoot today is a loud and unmistakable warning to a thousand other would-be mutineers. This is how you rule, and there are no two ways about it. So either you come with us and face the reality of war and Empire or you secret yourself in this room and finger the new trinket I have latched around your neck. But you will not use the Good Book to chain us to your will.
Pause.
MARGARET: I cannot go, Henry.
HENRY: Suit yourself, Margaret.
HENRY and JOHN exit. MARGARET goes to the telephone and makes a call.
MARGARET: Yes. This is Room 33. Can you send the bellboy up please? The one called Dawood.
MARGARET opens up her Bible and tries to read it. She is unable to concentrate and closes it. There is a knock on the door.
MARGARET: Dawood. Please come in.
DAWOOD: Is there problem, memsahib?
MARGARET: No. Come in. Close the door.
DAWOOD: You need help?
MARGARET: Just close the door. Please.
DAWOOD closes the door, reluctantly.
MARGARET: I couldn’t keep him, Dawood.
DAWOOD: Keep what, memsahib?
MARGARET: My husband. I’ve seen him beat the coolies at the estate. I know he’s gone not out of duty but pleasure.
DAWOOD: Where he gone, memsahib?
MARGARET: You know they’re going to kill the sepoys today?
DAWOOD: Yes.
MARGARET: And how do you feel? They’re your people.
DAWOOD: They bad people, memsahib.
MARGARET: Do you think they deserve to die?
DAWOOD: Bad people must punish.
MARGARET: But if they asked you to be the one to punish them, would you do it?
DAWOOD: Me, memsahib?
MARGARET: If they put the rifle in your hand and asked you to shoot the sepoys, would you?
Silence.
MARGARET: Do you like working here, Dawood?
DAWOOD: Singapore good, memsahib. Singapore people good. Treat me good.
MARGARET: You don’t have to say what you think I want to hear.
DAWOOD: I don’t know, memsahib.
MARGARET: You don’t know whether you like working here?
DAWOOD: I don’t know what you want to hear.
MARGARET: Would you like to tell me a secret?
DAWOOD: I don’t understand, memsahib.
MARGARET: Tell me something. In Urdu. I don’t understand a single word of Urdu. So you’ll be telling me a secret, but you’ll get to keep it a secret at the same time.
DAWOOD: What secret?
MARGARET: Anything.
DAWOOD [in Urdu]: If they ever gave me that rifle, I will turn around and shoot every white face in the crowd.
MARGARET: I believe you.
DAWOOD: You understand, memsahib?
MARGARET: Just know that I believe you. And would you like to hear my secret?
Silence.
MARGARET: I’m afraid that I’ve married…
MARGARET smiles. She takes off her necklace.
MARGARET: I want you to have this.
DAWOOD: Memsahib, no.
MARGARET: Please Dawood, it’s for you.
DAWOOD: No. They will say I thief.
MARGARET: It’s yours.
DAWOOD: Nobody know you give to me.
MARGARET goes to the desk and takes out paper from the drawer and pen. She writes.
MARGARET: “I, Margaret Ann Comber nee Wickham, hereby make a present of a gold necklace to Dawood…” What is your full name?
DAWOOD: Dawood Kassim.
MARGARET: “…Kassim. This is my token of gratitude for his excellent counsel and advice.” My signature. 25 February 1915. Keep this letter, Dawood, in case there’s any trouble.
DAWOOD: Memsahib.
MARGARET: Take it.
DAWOOD [in Urdu]: Bahut bahut shukria.
MARGARET: Is that another secret?
DAWOOD: No. It means thank you very much.
MARGARET: And how do you say “I’m sorry”?
DAWOOD: Maf karna.
MARGARET: Could you help me call for a gharry?
DAWOOD: Of course, memsahib. Where are you going?
MARGARET: Outram Road. The Sepoy Lines.
DAWOOD: Now, memsahib?
MARGARET: Yes please.
DAWOOD: Thank you, memsahib.
MARGARET: Dawood. Maf karna.
அதே நீதி
எழுதியவர்: புதுமைதாசன்
சார்ல்ஸ்
அந்தோணி
ஞானம்
ரீட்டா
டேவிட்
சிறையதிகாரி
பாதிரியார்
காட்சி: 1
டேவிட் என்பவனைக் கொலை செய்த குற்றத்திற்காக மரணதண்டனை விதிக்கப்பட்ட சார்ல்ஸ், தண்டனை நிறைவேறவிருக்கும் நாளை எதிர்நோக்கிச் சிறையில் காத்திருக்கிறான்.
சார்ல்ஸ் [தனக்குள்]: ம்... ஒரே நாள்! மாதக்கணக்கில் காத்திருந்த அந்த ஒரே நாள்... இன்றுதான்!.. இன்னும் சில மணி நேரத்தில் அந்த ஒரே நாளின் ஆயுளும் முடிந்துவிடும்; என் ஆயுளும் முடிந்துவிடும்!.. எந்த நீதிக்காக அந்தக் கொடியவனைக் கொலை செய்தேனோ, அதே நீதி இன்று எனக்குக் கிடைக்கப் போகிறது... பொழுது புலரும் முன்... அந்த அமைதியான வைகறையில் அந்தத் தூக்குக்கயிறு என் கழுத்தை அணைத்து இறுக்கிவிடும். என் உயிரும் பறவைபோல் பறந்துபோய்விடும்!.. ம்... அன்று அந்த நீதிபதி எனக்குத் தண்டனை விதித்தபோது என்ன சொன்னார்?.. ‘ஆயிரத்துத் தொள்ளாயிரத்து நாற்பத்து மூன்றாம் ஆண்டு, ஏப்ரல் மாதம், இருபத்திரண்டாம் தேதி, டேவிட் என்பவரைக் கொலை செய்த குற்றத்திற்காகச் சார்ல்ஸ் எனப் பெயரிய சார்ல்ஸ் அந்தோணி என்பவருக்கு மரண தண்டனை விதிக்கிறேன்’...ம்... நான் செய்த கொலைக்காக எனக்கு மரண தண்டனை விதித்து நீதியை நிலைநிறுத்தினார் நீதிபதி. அவர் அன்று அளித்த தீர்ப்பை இன்று நிறைவேற்றப்போகிறான் தூக்கிலிடப்போகிறவன். தூக்கிலிடுமாறு தண்டனை விதிப்பதும் தூக்கிலிடுவதும் கொலைகளாகக் கருதப்படுவத�
�ல்லை... அவை சட்டத்தின் பெயரால் செய்யப்படுகின்றன. ஆனால், தனக்கிருக்கும் செல்வாக்கால் தண்டனையிலிருந்து தப்பித்துக்கொள்ளும் ஒருவனை என்னைப் போன்ற தனியார் கொன்றால் அது சட்டத்திற்குப் புறம்பான கொலையாகிவிடுகிறது... ம்... ஆறிலும் சாவு; நூறிலும் சாவு என்கின்றனர்... எனக்கு இந்த இரண்டிற்கும் இடைப்பட்ட இருபத்தெட்டிலேயே சாவு கதவைத் தட்டுகிறது.. [விரக்திச் சிரிப்பு] ம்... சாவில்தான் எத்தனை வகை?... பிறக்கும்போதே இறப்பு... நஞ்சினால் சாவு... மாடியிலிருந்து குதித்து மாள்வது... வாகனத்தில் அடிபட்டுச் சாவது.. மார்படைப்பால் மரணம்... எனக்கு?.. தூக்கினால் மரணம். ஒருவனைக் கொன்றதால் நான் கொலைஞனானேன்... இன்னும் சில மணி நேரத்தில் என்னைத் தூக்கிலிட்டுக் கொல்லப்போகிறானே, அவன்?..
சிறைக்கதவு திறக்கப்படுகிறது. சார்ல்ஸைக் காணச் சிறையதிகாரி வருகிறார்.
சிறையதிகாரி [வந்துகொண்டே]: சார்ல்ஸ்..
சார்ல்ஸ்: சிறையதிகாரியா?.. என்ன?..
சிறையதிகாரி: எப்படியிருக்கிறாய் என்று பார்க்க வந்தேன்...
சார்ல்ஸ்: சாவின் வரவுக்காகக் காத்திருக்கிறேன்...
சிறையதிகாரி: மரண தண்டனை விதிக்கப்பட்டு இந்தச் சிறையில் பல மாதங்களாக இருந்து வரும் நீ நல்லவனாகவே நடந்துகொண்டிருக்கிறாய். ம்... என்ன செய்வது? எல்லாம் ஊழ்வினைப்படிதான் நடக்கும்...
