No Pain Like This Body

by Harold Sonny Ladoo

  “But he modder drunk!” Pa shouted.

  “She still have to bathe de chile,” Sankar the husband of Soomintra said.

  Sankar was a mystic from Gam Gam Tola. The village priest didn’t like the way Sankar was siding with the one-legged villager.

  “If he modder drunk, den she cant bathe him,” the priest said.

  “You is a chamar Baba! You not know you ass from you elbow!” the one-legged man shouted.

  “I is a Brahmin!” the priest bawled out.

  Pa took a piece of white cloth. He fingered it a little, then he dipped it splunkf inside the water. The cloth went took took took as the water wetted it. Pa wiped Rama’s face and hands; he wiped slow. When he was satisfied, he passed the cloth to Sunaree. She was afraid to wipe Rama, so she merely touched his feet and passed the cloth to Panday. He was afraid. He just held the cloth and stared at Rama.

  “Wipe him fast!” Pa shouted.

  Panday just touched Rama’s face with the cloth and handed it to Nanna.

  Nanna kneeled down on the earthen floor. He took his time and wiped Rama. Then he turned him over and wiped his back as well.

  “Good now. Put on he clothes.”

  Nanna had some trouble putting on the white merino for Rama; his hands were stiff like copper wire; Nanna had to bend them; bend them as if he was bending a piece of crappo board; bending the hands as if he was going to break them crax! But Nanna had no trouble to get the pants on him. Then Nanny handed him a small black comb. He took it and combed Rama’s hair in a side part. Then Nanna put on a pair of white socks for him, and sprinkled a phial of essence on his face.

  The priest called out to the carpenter, “De box ready?” “Yeh.”

  “Make sure de foots face de trace. Dis chile have to leff dis house for good.”

  “Oright.”

  Then they came out of the bedroom, but Sunaree and Nanny remained inside the house with Rama. Then Sunaree said, “But Nanny.”

  “Wot you want?”

  “Wen dey bury Rama in dat bellin ground, de Devil goin to ride him in de night.”

  “No. Rama goin right by God. Wen chirens dead, dey does go by God.”

  “So wot de Devil goin to do?”

  “Dat Devil cant do notten. God goin to come down from dat sky. As soon as it get dark, God goin to come in dat ceme­try and carry Rama to live in dat sky.”

  “And dat is because he done dead.”

  “Yeh,” Nanny said.

  “Den I want to dead too Nanny.”

  “Hush you mout, chile!”

  The priest and the villagers came back inside the bedroom. The holy man sang some bhajans. Then Pa and Jadoo picked up Rama and carried him outside.

  “Put de chile in de box one time,” the priest said.

  They put Rama inside the box. Nanny threw the black comb inside the box with him. Then the priest winked and said, “Now is arti time.”

  Nanna brought a Iota of water and handed it to the holy man. There were a few mango leaves floating in the water. Then Nanna went outside and got a taria. He held it in his hands. Nanny placed a block of camphor in the brassware and lighted it. The priest recited the sermon in Hindi as he sprin­kled water on Rama. Nanna passed the taria to Pa; he passed it over Rama five times, then he handed it to Sunaree. Then Panday did the arti and gave the taria to Nanny.

  The two villagers who were sent to dig the grave walked in the house. They had mud all over their clothes.

  “Oright. Time for de burial,” the priest said.

  The priest and the villagers were becoming impatient; they were kicking their feet in the air like goats and scratching their bellies and grumbling.

  “Take de chile in de yard.”

  “Oright Baba,” Pa said.

  The villagers carried Rama in the yard. Jadoo went by the cashew tree and got the horse cart. He brought the cart in front of the house.

  “Put de chile on de cart now.”

  But they couldn’t put Rama on the cart. Stick-fighter Benwa took his shirt and flung it in the yard. “He modder have to do de arti.”

  “But she kiss me ass modder drunk!” Pa shouted at Benwa. “Dowlat!”

  “Yeh Benwa!” Nanna answered from inside the kitchen. “Bring she out to do de arti.”

  Nanna and Nanny dragged Ma out of the kitchen. Soom­intra the wife of Sankar went and helped them. Ma didn’t even make an effort to get up, so they just dragged her through the mud in the yard and brought her to the box.

  “Stand up!” Nanna said.

  Nanny and Soomintra the wife of Sankar held her up. “O God me chile! Look how he dead. He fadder runnin him in dat rain. God you know . . . “

  “Shut you modderass!” Pa shouted.

  And Benwa: “Babwah if you touch dat woman today I go beat you! Let de woman cry over she chile.”

  The heavy clouds were moving in the sky and the thunder was beginning to shake Tola. The eyes of God were moving up and down in the sky and the lightning winked zip zip at the earth.

  “Let she do de arti fast,” the priest said coldly. “De rain goin to come.”

  Ma did the arti. Then she dropped the taria and held on to the box; she was holding on and getting on.

  “Take she inside now!” Benwa said.

  Nanna and Nanny dragged her back into the kitchen. Pa and Jadoo lifted the coffin and placed it on the cart. Nanny remained with Ma in the kitchen, but Nanna came back and sat on the cart. The priest sprinkled some water on the coffin again and said, “Drive now.”

  “Oright,” Nanna said.

  The villagers and Pa and Sunaree and Panday and the priest walked behind the cart; sometimes the cart went plops plops as the wheels went inside the deep holes. Each time the box tried to fall off the cart, the villagers pushed it back on the cart with their dirty hands. The trace was full of bam­boo and basmatia grass, but the horse trampled over them chich chich chich, and the villagers walked sich sich behind the cart; they walked northward to Tola cemetery. When the cart reached the main road, Nanna drove the cart westward down to Karan Settlement.

  “Stop here!”

  The priest sprinkled some water on Rama, then he sprin­kled some on the road. “Drive now!”

  Nanna drove the horse cart until he reached the small trace that led into the cemetery. He turned the horse to the north and carried the body in the cemetery.

  “It didnt take long to come dem two miles,” Pulbassia said.

  “Dat is true,” Madrassi Jasso declared.

  Tola cemetery looked dismal even in daylight. Almost the whole cemetery was buried under tall bamboo grass. Huge immortelle trees and tall googloo trees grew on the northern side. There was a big tomb in the centre of the cemetery; KARAN was written on it.

  The coffin was placed on the bamboo grass near the grave. The priest chanted softly. The villagers were sad and they were crying and getting on; Pulbassia was blowing her nose and saying, “A little chile like dis dead,” and Madrassi Jasso said, “Look at de poor chile,” and Nanna said, “He done dead aready,” and the priest as if not listening to the villagers went on with the death sermon.

  Benwa took a piece of camphor and went down inside the grave. He lighted it and came outside. Then he took another piece and lighted it on the northern side of the hole.

  The priest called on the Aryan gods and commanded them to look down at Rama; so Rama was dead, but the gods were looking down at him; looking down and smiling.

  “Nail up de box now!”

  Nanna, Sunaree and Panday started to cry hard hard, but it meant nothing to anyone. The village women dried their eyes and looked on. The carpenter drove the nails tap tap tap tap, and Rama was shut in. They tied up the box with ropes and lowered it inside the grave. Then the people threw dirt bup bup inside the grave. The
n Benwa took a shovel and Pa took a fork; they covered the grave up properly.

  “Wen all you leff de bellin ground dont look behine all you backs,” the priest said.

  VIII

  BALRAJ WAS OUT of Tolaville Hospital. His face was pale but he was feeling well. He dragged his hands in the water wash wash. Sunaree held the ricebag and Panday carried the cutlass. The cutlass was sharper than a razor grass so Panday had to be careful.

  “Me eh know where dem crappo fish gone,” Balraj said. “Just one week I stay in dat haspital and all dem crappo fish gone. Dey dead and gone just like dat.”

  “Dem crappo fish dead because Rama eat dem,” Panday said.

  “You hush you mout Panday. Rama done dead. Rat eat him in Tolaville haspital.”

  “Rama belly open like I tell you. He have a long cut in he belly. Rama hidin in dat wadder because he fraid Pa beat him.”

  “I tell you he dead and he still in dat haspital dead house. Rat eatin him.”

  “But last night I hear dem dogs barkin in de village. Dey barkin and goin wow wow wow whole night. Dem dogs run­nin him all over de place.”

  Balraj stood up. He wiped his face with his dirty hands. A chunk of mud stuck to his right cheek. He looked up and saw the black clouds moving in the sky. The clouds were mad like; they ran into each other like mad bulls. Thunder rolled, but it rolled far far away; it rolled beyond the forest where the jumbies lived; it rolled over the mountains far away. The wind was blowing hard and cold. Leaves fell from the barahar tree and the wind dragged them inside the water. The leaves sailed like brown paper boats as they sailed in the riceland. Panday was crying in the water; he was crying easy easy. Balraj looked back.

  “Wot happen Panday?”

  But Panday didn’t answer. He just stood in the water and cried.

  “Wot you want Panday?” Sunaree asked.

  Panday didn’t answer; he just went on crying.

  “Let we go under de barahar tree,” Balraj said.

  The barahar tree was on the south-eastern side of the rice-

  land. Balraj walked in front. Sunaree and Panday were just behind him. They were barefooted; they felt the grass pulling their toes. They walked southward through the riceland until they reached the long mango tree. Then they came out of the water and walked northward on the high land to the barahar tree.

  The barahar tree was tall. Taller than a grass house but not taller than a mango or a carat tree. There were plenty leaves on the barahar tree; some of the leaves were thick and green, but some of the leaves were dry. Some of the branches were low, but not low enough to touch the ground. There were a lot of dry leaves scattered around the tree.

  “Push away dem dry leaves wid de bag,” Balraj told Sunaree.

  “Why?

  “Maybe it have skopians in dem leaves.”

  Sunaree took the wet bag and swept the leaves away.

  Then Balraj remembered something. He grabbed Sunaree. “You bitch! You kill dem crappo fish in dat bag.”

  “You pullin me hair Balraj!”

  Balraj pushed her away. He peeped into the ricebag. He couldn’t see anything. He held the bag and shook it. Perhaps some tadpoles fell but he couldn’t see them; the tadpoles were black and the sky was black; the tadpoles were black and the earth was black. “You kill dem crappo fish. You know I want to put dem crappo fish in dat hole I dig by dat coconut tree. Now dese crappo fish dead and gone.”

  Sunaree sat down under the barahar tree; her back rested against the heavy trunk. Panday sat on the ground and started to cry again; he was crying as if a jumbie was holding him. Balraj sat on the ground and said, “Cryin not goin to help. Rama done dead. Rat eatin him in dat dead house. So you stop cryin now.”

  “But Rama have a cut in he belly I tell you. He hidin in dat wadder from Pa. He goin to drownd in dat wadder Balraj.”

  “Rama not have no cut in he belly. He just dead. Dat is all.”

  “But me and Sunaree see de cut. It have a long long cut in he belly.”

  “All you not see notten. Dat haspital does smell like pee. Like cow pee I say. Dat night wen Nanna carry me and Rama in dat haspital was de fast time I see dat haspital. Wen we reach de haspital de creole wardman say, ‘Me God! Look at de state of dese coolie chirens!’ I tell all you. Huh. Dat nurse had on a blue dress. De creole nurse tell de wardman to put Rama on a long cot. De creole wardman put Rama on top of dat cot. But Rama de really playin in he ass. He just lie down on de cot and shut he eye. He de playin dead. So de nurse scratch she head and say, ‘But dis chile sick bad.’ Nanna de fraid like hell I tell all you. All you not see notten. De nurse and de wardman de busy like hell. Me and Nanna was watchin good. De nurse open a box like and take out one long injection. Den de wardman turn Rama over and de nurse push de long needle in he ass. Rama de playin man I tell all you. Dat needle went in he ass, and he didn’t even bawl. Den de wardman get a kinda ting wid wheels. He roll it by de nurse. De ting had bicycle wheels, but dem wheels de flat like widdout air. Wen de ting was rollin it de goin chooi chooi chooi as a jumbie was bawlin. So dey put Rama in dat ting and roll him inside dat haspital.”

  Balraj took a long pause, swallowed some spit and contin­ued. “Den was my turn. I tell de nurse dat skopian bite me just as how skopian bite Rama. So she make me lie down on de cot like. I de watchin dat nurse; watchin she real good. I was fraid like hell. Look nuh, I see dat nurse open dat box like and take out dat needle again. I start to get on wen I see dat needle. But dat wardman hold on to me. Den dat nurse push dat nee­dle in me ass. I bawl out. Den de wardman put me on dat ting wid de wheels and roll me chooi chooi chooi to a bed in de haspital. I de feelin sick like hell. All you eh see notten, I say.”

  “Den why Rama runnin in dat wadder whole night?” Panday asked.

  And Balraj: “You too stupid Panday! Rama dead. I know de night he dead. He was in dat bed next to me. Rama never even talk to me in dat haspital. I say to me self dat if he is me little bredder and he not talkin to me, den I not talkin to him too. Dat night was oright. De next day was oright. But in de night, early in de mornin he dead. Just befo he dead he sid­down on dat bed. I say to me self dat he goin to talk to me. But he eh talk a word. He siddown on de bed, den he turn up he eyes, den he trow up and dead. Rama de coward too bad. He de fraid like ass I tell all you. Rama dead and dat nurse eh de know one ass. Dat nurse de tired. She de sittin by de table in de ward and sleepin. A old creole man in de ward call out and tell de nurse dat Rama dead. Wen de nurse hear dat Rama dead, she jump up as if she had a spirit in she ass.”

  “You eh de fraid little bit?” Sunaree asked.

  And he: “Me name is Balraj! Me eh fraid notten. Den de wardman and de nurse wrap Rama up in a white sheet. Den de wardman bring de Ling wid de wheel and carry Rama in de dead house.”

  Sunaree doubted him. Balraj was lying because Rama died; Nanna took a horse cart and brought Rama to Tola Trace; then there was the wake . . .

  “All you cant fool me,” Balraj said. “By dat haspital have big big rats. I see dem rats wid me own eyes. I tell all you dat Rama still in dat dead house in Tolaville. Rat eatin him. Nanna never bring Rama home. I never see Nanna bring dat boy on no horse cart. So Rama still in dat dead house. Rat still eatin him.”

  Sunaree and Panday protested loudly. They informed him how Nanna brought Rama from Tolaville in the night; he brought him on a horse cart. All the villagers saw him by the ricebox, they declared.

  “All you stupid!” Balraj shouted. “All you cant fool me. I tell all you dat Rama still in dat dead house in Tolaville.”

  There was a long pause. The thunder rolled far away; far far beyond the mountains. Panday stood up.

  Then Panday told his story. Balraj and Sunaree listened. He said Rama was living in the water. He drowned in the rice-land because he had a long cut in his belly. Rama was buried in the water. The water
snakes were searching for him, trying hard to find him. The snakes were biting the mud with their long teeth and looking for Rama, because they wanted to eat him. The snakes were not moving by guess; they had friends, the scorpions. The scorpions stung Rama; Rama went to Tolaville Hospital and died, then Nanna went and brought him home. Rama was buried in the cemetery, but in the night he came out of the hole because he was hungry. Then he went inside the riceland because he was afraid of Pa. The scorpions couldn’t come in the water to look for him; they couldn’t swim. So Rama was living in the riceland; the snakes couldn’t find him because they didn’t know he was hiding in the water. Rama felt lonely in the cemetery and he was hungry too, so he came out. It was dark when he came out of the grave. But he couldn’t come home just like that. He had to hide; hide from Pa and the villagers. At first he hid in the sugarcane fields, but the birds made strange noises. He was afraid of the birds; he thought they were going to eat him, because they were big big birds with long black wings. The birds were really jumbies; the souls of people who were dead. And Rama was lying down by the ricebox and listening to the stories the villagers told.

  So when he came out of the grave he knew that the birds were jumbies who were going to eat him inside the sugarcane fields, so he came out of the cane fields. He tried walking home through the village, but he was afraid. The man in Jangli Tola took a cutlass and chopped Jadoo. Then Rama started to run, but the pariah dogs saw him and started chas­ing him. The pariah dogs were not really dogs. They were evil spirits that lived under the silkcotton trees in Sancho Estate; they were running him down to eat him. So Jadoo ran and ran from the dogs. Rama thought about coming home. But he couldn’t come home. Ma was drinking rum and getting on and Pa was telling the villagers how he was going to beat him with the leather belt. Rama ran in the yard, but the dogs and the jumbies were behind him. He tried hiding by the lime tree but it wasn’t safe enough. The evil spirits chased him. He ran inside the riceland. The long water snakes were dreaming; they didn’t know when he came inside the water. The evil spir­its were afraid to come inside the water; they were afraid of the snakes, but they stood on the riceland bank and quarreled hard hard. The spirits made so much noise that the scorpions woke up. The scorpions listened. They heard the spirits cursing and getting on. At first the scorpions were afraid of the spirits; they thought the spirits came to kill them. So the scorpions took their young ones and started running away; running and going deeper inside the forest. But the scorpions’ young ones began to cry, and some of them were coughing. The evil spirits listened. So one of the evil spirits called out to the scorpions and asked them why they were running away. The scorpions said that they were afraid of the spirits. Then the jumbies told the scorpions that they were not going to eat them. The scorpions became brave. They came out of the bushes and talked to the spirits. The spirits told them how Rama was hiding in the water. The scorpions became mad with rage; they remembered how they stung Rama inside the ricebox. So the spirits went away into the forest. The scorpi­ons stood on the riceland bank. They couldn’t go inside the water, because the snakes were their enemies. The scorpions stood on the riceland bank and called and called and called, because the snakes were asleep. Then the snakes heard the scorpions. They answered. The female snakes told their hus­bands to be careful; the snakes told their husbands how a man chopped Jadoo in Jangli Tola in the night. But the male snakes only laughed at their wives, because they were not afraid of spirits and scorpions. The rain was drizzling; the male snakes didn’t want to get wet; they wanted to cut some banana leaves, but they were afraid of their wives. Then the priest of the snakes told them that perhaps the scorpions were planning to kill them with a cutlass. The snakes believed the priest, so they told the scorpions to go away. But the scorpions told them that Rama was hiding inside the water. But the priest didn’t believe that. He told one of the old snakes to go and hear what the scorpions had to say. The old snake grumbled as he went to the riceland bank. The scorpions were crying and telling the old snake how Rama was hiding in the water. The old snake ran back to the deep holes. He was blowing when he reached the holes. At first the snakes thought that the scorpi­ons had beaten the old snake on the riceland bank; they were preparing to run out of the water and kill the scorpions. But the old snake told them that Rama was hiding in the water. The snakes knew that Rama was a harden child; he used to play in the water all the time. So the snakes began to search for Rama, but they didn’t know that he had a long cut in his belly; they didn’t know that he was buried in the mud . . .