No Pain Like This Body

by Harold Sonny Ladoo

  “Well Hoodlee had a big sapodilla tree in he yard. One day he de sittin down under de sapodilla tree and grindin he cut­lass on a stone. Next ting he see is a old creole woman walk in he yard. She head was white white. She was so old dat she waswalkin kind of bend like. Hoodlee see she, but he just sid­down under dat tree and play he eh see she. De creole woman come and stand up right in front Hoodlee. So Hoodlee raise he head and ask de woman, Wot you want mam?’

  “`Me want a black neck fowl to buy.’

  “Hoodlee get up. He watch de woman from head to foot. `Oright mam. Me give you one fowl.’

  “So Hoodlee hold de fowl. De creole woman give him one shillin. Hoodlee tell de woman he eh want de shillin.

  “’Tank you,’ de woman say.

  “So de woman gone. But wen night come, Hoodlee was in trobble. He was bustin he head tinkin which part he see dat woman befo. Hoodlee tink and tink till he fall asleep. But eh. Hoodlee de never see dat woman befo. Next mornin Hoodlee get up early like hell to grind he cutlass again. Wen he bend down to sharpen de cutlass, he see one shillin in de ground. Now Hoodlee feel good. He take up de money and put it in he house. Den he gone to work. De next mornin he find anodder shillin by the sapodilla tree. So he say to heself, dat maybe de creole woman de drop two shillin by mistake. De next mornin Hoodlee find anodder shillin. Hoodlee take de shillin and gone back inside he house. Hoodlee say he not workin again. One shillin a day was enuff to keep him livin, because dat time Hoodlee eh de have no wife.

  “Wen John Sharp de whiteman not seein Hoodlee comm to work, de whiteman make up he mind to come and see why Hoodlee not workin. So wen de whiteman come Hoodlee tell de whiteman dat he sick. He eh tell de whiteman notten about dat money he was gettin. De whiteman de vex like hell, but he eh beat up Hoodlee. John Sharp just leff Hoodlee alone.

  “But Hoodlee eh de have long again to collect dat jumbie money. One night he gone to sleep. He wake up in de night because he de only hearin tunder outside. Hoodlee watch good. He see he house door open. A whiteman walk inside de house. Now Hoodlee ass was cuttin nail. In dem days white people de bad like hell. White people used to beat people wid wip inside dey own house. So Hoodlee de tinkin dat John Sharp de come to beat him. So Hoodlee start to beg, ‘Massa Sahib, me eh do notten. I go come to work Massa Sahib . . .

  “De whiteman walk up to Hoodlee. He had a handbag and a long black wip in he hand. He put he hand in de bag and take out a big chunk of gold. He offer de gold to Hoodlee. Hoodlee tremble like a leaf. ‘Me eh want gold!’ Hoodlee tell de whiteman.

  “De whiteman offer Hoodlee dat gold three times. But Hoodlee eh take de gold. De whiteman take de gold and put it back in de handbag. Den de whiteman take de wip and he crack about fifty good lash in Hoodlee ass. Den de whiteman gone outside and crack dat wip so hard dat Hoodlee whole house de shake up. Next day Hoodlee gone to Bound Coolie Estate. He ask John Sharp if he de come and beat him last night. But it was not John Sharp who beat Hoodlee. Was a spirit dat beat Hoodlee. Dat was the last Hoodlee ever find money under dat sapodilla tree.”

  Nanna called Pa into the backyard. Nanny was still boiling coffee. “Ay!” Nanna said. Nanny almost fell inside the fire.

  “Wot you want to talk about oldman?” Pa asked seriously.

  Nanny offered Pa a cup of coffee. He refused it.

  “I want to talk about de funeral,” Nanna said.

  “Talk. I lissenin.”

  And Nanna: “Now de priest go need some tings in de mornin. You have to go to Tolaville for plenty tings. Fust you have to get some good cattle butter. Den you have to get one yard of cotton. Den you have to get lohoban, gogool, camphor, and some white rice. And white merino to bury Rama wid. Den you have to buy one coffin in Tolaville. Den after dat you have to go in de Warden Office and get de death certificate. Dat is all you have to do.”

  Pa was serious. “Oldman! You dorta feel I kill de boy. Well me eh Join notten. You want to bury him in coffin, den you buy coffin and bury him.”

  “But Rama is you chile man. He dead. Dis is de last you coud do for him. You go and get dese tings I tell you to get. Control youself man.”

  Pa was mad like a bull. “Kiss me ass oldman! You see about buryin him. I not takin me foot outa dis house.”

  “Well give me de money to bury him.”

  “Kiss me ass!” Pa said as he went back into the house to lis­ten to the stories.

  Then Nanny: “Dat man not goin to bury dat chile. How much money you have?”

  Nanna dipped his hands into his pockets. He didn’t have much money; it was his money that bought the rum, ciga­rettes, biscuits and coffee to keep up the wake. He counted the money. “I only have ten dollars.”

  “It not have no more money in we house home?”

  Nanna said that there was no more money.

  “Well,” Nanny said, “buy de merino and de pants to bury Rama. Den buy de tings for de Pandit to do he work. You just have to leff dat coffin.”

  Nanna thought a little.

  “I coud beg de carpenter in Rajput Road to come and make de coffin. He coud break de ricebox and make de coffin. I go tell him dat I go pay him wen I get pay.”

  “Well dat good. Try and see wot you coud do oldman,” Nanny said.

  Nanna harnessed the horse cart and hurried down Tola Trace.

  The cocks were crowing co kee yo ko! co kee yo ko! co kee yo ko! all over the village. When the priest heard the cocks crowing, he jumped up. “Time to say some prayers for Rama.” Pulling out his Ramayana, he went by the ricebox.

  “Get a Iota and some mango leaf.”

  “Oright Baba,” Pulbassia said.

  The priest took a mango leaf and sprinkled some water over Rama. Then he gave the mango leaf to Pulbassia. He took some flour and made a cross on the ground. The priest closed his eyes and recited some holy verses. Some of the vil­lagers who were sober enough recited too. The hymn was long and strange. A strange silence came into the house. With closed eyes the priest recited on and on. Then he opened his eyes. “Gimme some flowers.”

  Pulbassia ran out in the yard and got some wild flowers. She handed them to the Pandit. “You want anyting else Baba?” she asked.

  “Not right now.”

  The priest took the flowers and placed them on the sheet over Rama’s chest. He closed his eyes and prayed for Rama’s soul. His hands trembled as he prayed, and his body shook, and his voice was soft and powerful.

  Pa stood next to the priest, but he didn’t close his eyes. He looked at Rama all the time. While the priest was praying Pa bent down and kissed Rama on his forehead. Then he took his shirt and wiped Rama’s face. Then he stood up and closed his eyes and prayed.

  The village women stood around. Some of them were cry­ing. Jasso wiped her eyes and said, “Look at de poor chile.”

  And Soomintra the wife of Sankar said, “It hard to bring a chile so big and den see it dead.”

  “All of we have to dead one day,” Pulbassia declared. Nanny was drooping in the backyard. The chants of the priest woke her up. She rubbed her eyes. She listened. They were reading the sermon for the child by the ricebox. Nanny got up and ran from the backyard. She came and stood next to Pa. Nanny’s face was old and full of wrinkles. Tears rolled out of her sunken eyes and fell on the ground. She listened to the chants.

  Sunaree and Panday were asleep on two ricebags near the tapia wall; their mouths were open. A few cockroaches were walking over their bodies.

  “Look how dem poor chirens sleepin,” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said.

  “Oh God! Dis world have trobble I tell you,” Pulbassia cried out. Then she went by the tapia wall. She took two floursacks and covered Sunaree and Panday. Panday opened his eyes a little. “Sleep son,” Pulbassia said. Panday closed his eyes and sank down on the bags again.

  Then the priest tied some red strings arou
nd Rama’s wrists to keep away the evil spirits. Putting a little flour on Rama’s forehead, the priest called on the Aryan gods to look after the child. His voice was full of sadness, and the chants went up into the morning air as a special plea to God.

  There was life in Tola. There was life in the wind as it left the corners of the sky and swept the face of the earth; there was life in the dawn that was coming with gold in its mouth; there was love in the night birds that made strange noises beyond the river; there was love in the people as their hearts reached up to the sky and their souls mixed with the void.

  “Look at me grandchile!” Nanny screamed.

  “Wot you go do?” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said. “Wot you go do woman? We born and we have to dead.” “But he is a chile.”

  “Everyting born on dis earth have to dead,” the priest said. “De Hindu Bible say dat even de gods have to dead.”

  And Jasso: “Baba wen I dead I want you to do me work.” “Oright beti.”

  The priest read some more. The villagers wept as they lis­tened. When the reading was over, the priest said, “Put de chile in de house.”

  Pa and Jadoo held the ricebags on which Rama was lying. They picked him up and carried him inside the bedroom. Jadoo came outside but Pa remained with Rama. Pa sat and stared at the child as if he was expecting Rama to get up and talk to him. But Rama just rested on the ricebags. “Come outside Babwah.” Pa heard the priest calling him. Pa didn’t move. He sat and stared into Rama’s face.

  The priest gripped his shoulders. “De boy done dead. Worryin not goin to help Babwah.”

  Pa and the priest walked away from Rama.

  VII

  SUNAREE AND PANDAY heard hoosh hash hoosh hash see saw see . . . They heard it inside their ears; they woke up.

  The carpenter from Rajput Road was sawing board to make Rama’s coffin. He had a yellow pencil stuck to his right ear. Jadoo and Pulbassia were holding the board across a wooden bench. Benwa and Pa stood with folded arms and looked on.

  Sunaree and Panday got up. They went inside the kitchen. Soomintra the wife of Sankar was standing near to Ma. Ma was folded up in a corner; she was crying. Her mouth was open. There was a full bottle of rum sitting next to her. Many empty bottles were scattered on the ground. Nanna, Nanny and Jasso were there; leaning against the tapia wall.

  “Nanny!” Sunaree called.

  “Wot you want?”

  “We just get up.”

  “All you hungry?”

  “Yeh. Yeh Nanny, me and Panday hungry hungry.”

  Nanny gave them some biscuits and black coffee. Sunaree took hers, but Panday refused his again. He said that Rama was dead; Rama came inside the house and pissed in the coffee; he was not going to drink the coffee.

  “Drink de coffee boy,” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said. “Me eh want none,” Panday declared.

  “Boy eat dat food!” Nanna shouted.

  “Oright Nanna.”

  While they were eating Panday said to Sunaree, “You see wot I tell you. You see good. Rama smart like hell I tell you. He not by dat ricebox now. He get up in de night and hide away in dat riceland. He runnin whole night in dat wadder. But he better hide good from dem snakes. He runnin like a mule in dat wadder. But wen you see dem snakes get vex in dat wadder dey go eat he ass.”

  “Where Rama gone Nanny?” Sunaree asked.

  “Rama not gone one place. He just lyin down in dat house. He goin to bury dis mornin.”

  “O God! O God!” Ma bawled out.

  She tried to stand up. She fell buffon the ground. Nanny and Soomintra the wife of Sankar dragged her into a corner.

  And Ma: “Where me Panday and Sunaree is? Dem too small to know wot happen in dis house.”

  Panday said, “Ma you drink rum and playin in you ass!” Ma was getting on; bawling and swearing and getting on. Pa came inside the kitchen. “Keep dat bitch quiet!”

  “But she chile dead,” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said. “Yeh. De chile dead, but she eh have to get on like a ass!” Pa walked out of the kitchen.

  The village priest was asleep on some ricebags. He was snoring like a bull. Flies settled on his face. Now and then he lifted his hands and drove them away.

  “Bisnath Saddhu!” Benwa called.

  The priest rubbed his eyes. “Wot you want?”

  Before Benwa could say anything the one-legged villager said, “He is a modderass chamar and he playin Brahmin. Bisnath Saddhu is not a priest. He fadder used to mind pigs in Jangli Tola. He modderass chamar come to Tola playin holy.”

  And Pulbassia laughed and said, “Yeh One Foot. Give him in he ass!”

  Bisnath Saddhu the village priest said, “Shut you one foot tail! I not from Jangli Tola. Me fadder and me come from de Punjab.”

  “Punjab me ass Punjab!” Pulbassia shouted. “You son of a bitch Baba all you used to mind hog in Jangli Tola.”

  “Who say dat?”

  “Me Pulbassia.”

  The priest sat up, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, yawned and said, “I de born a Brahmin.”

  Bisnath Saddhu stood up. He was dressed in white, but his gown was dirty. He looked like a bird, but uglier than a white bird. Without even worrying about Pulbassia he walked up to the village carpenter.

  “Sitaram Baba,” the village carpenter said.

  “Sitaram. How de box comin?”

  “It comin good Baba.”

  The carpenter showed the holy man a crate. He sat down and sang bhajans. Then he called Pa. They talked a little about the funeral. Pa told him that everything was all right.

  It was after nine when Nanna reached with the horse cart from Tolaville. The horse was trotting and the wheels threw dirt in all directions. The cart sang:

  grang grang grang!

  grang grang grang!

  grang grang grang!

  Nanna left the horse by the cashew tree and walked into the yard. Then he came into the house with a brown paper bag. “Sitaram Baba,” he said, as he handed the paper bag to the priest.

  The holy man peeped into the bag. “Oright,” he said. Nanna left the priest and went into the kitchen.

  Ma was still drunk inside the kitchen. She walked to the fireside. Then she fell.

  Nanna, Nanny and Soomintra the wife of Sankar held her and dragged her into a corner.

  “Wot de ass all you doin?”

  “Now stop talkin like dat!” Nanny shouted at Ma.

  And Ma: “O God! My head hurtin me. Where Panday is? De rain fallin and dat rain wettin dem chirens. De modderass man is dey fadder. He runnin dem in dat rain. Look at dis house.”

  “Shut you ass nuh woman!” Madrassi Jasso shouted.

  “Watch you mout Jasso!” Nanny said. “Is me dorta you talkin to. I is she modder and all you kinda Madrassi bitches and dogs cant talk to me dorta so.”

  Pulbassia ran inside the kitchen. “Wot happen?”

  “De drunk bitch makin trobble!” Madrassi Jasso said.

  And Ma: “De man runnin de chile in dat rain. De mod­derass man drinkin rum . . . “

  Pa ran inside the kitchen. “Shut you kiss me ass mout! You drunkard bitch! You son in de house and befo you try to do someting, you drinkin rum. I go hit you one kick and break you kiss me ass back! You chamar modderass you!”

  And Ma: “Now you want to kill me! O God de man want to kill me. He kill me son and now he want to kill me . . . “

  “De man not doin you one kiss me ass ting!” Pulbassia said.

  Benwa came into the kitchen. He said to Pa, “Babwah leff de woman alone!”

  “I go beat she ass!” Pa shouted.

  And stick-fighter Benwa got mad. His face became red. “Now Babwah if you beat dat woman I go put so much lix in you ass! If you want to fight, den fight me!” />
  Jadoo came inside the kitchen too. He and Pa were very good friends. Jadoo just folded his arms and looked at Benwa. Benwa went on talking. And when Benwa finished, Jadoo said, “Benwa dis is de man house. If you want to fight him, you cant hit him in front of me.”

  And Benwa: “Me eh want to hit him at a wake! But Jadoo watch me good. Me eh want one hundred mens to stand up behine me befo I go in battle you know! I . . . “

  “All you behave all you self,” Sankar the husband of Soom­intra said.

  The village priest came running inside the kitchen. “All you come outside and leff de womens in de kitchen.”

  They listened to the priest. Pa, Jadoo and Benwa came back by the village carpenter.

  “Time to get de prayers goin,” the priest said.

  Pa, Nanna, Sunaree, Panday, Jadoo and Benwa and some of the women went inside the bedroom. Rama was lying on a white flourbag sheet. A deeya was burning by his feet, another was lighting by his head. The priest stood by Rama’s head and recited some mantras from the Puranas and the Mahabharat. He recited as if he was quarrelling with God and quarrelling with the child; his voice sounded as if he was hungry or dying or something; his voice was heavy and it grated crat crat crat as if he had a cold; his breath was stinking so much that some of the villagers turned their faces away; a long line of spit came out of his mouth as a fat whitish cord; and the flies went buzz buzz trying hard to get inside his dirty mouth. When he heard his voice long enough, he stopped the recitation. He took the Iota and sprinkled some water on Rama. “All you bathe him now.”

  Nanna went outside. He took a bucket and went by the rainwater barrel. Then he came inside the bedroom with the water. The priest said a few holy words over the water as if the water was dirty as his mouth. Now that the water was blessed Nanna removed the flourbag sheet that covered Rama’s naked body. Rama was stiff as a piece of stick and bluish all over. There was a long cut running from his neck to the end of his belly; the cut was sewed up tightly. Just as Nanna was about to bathe Rama, the one-legged villager said, “Wait! He modder have to bathe him fast.”