by Benyamin
‘My Chettathi is crazy,’ I said. ‘Alexy is in Seychelles. Bilal is in Australia, you told me that, right? Do you remember our da Vinci Vinod? He is running a taxi boat now. I met him yesterday.’
I made it a point not to talk about Senthil or Jesintha. Not getting any reaction from Anita, I turned to look at her face. She had her eyes fixed on me. I saw a shadow of jealousy on her face. It seemed as though she’d been struck by my Chettathi’s words. To change the topic, I turned my attention to Melvin.
Melvin appeared somewhat reserved. She limited herself to just replying to my queries. She was one of the recent recruits from Kerala. The ministry had allotted some of them a villa close to Anita’s house. She opened up a bit when I asked her about her job at the Accident and Emergency section.
‘It’s a sad place. One is shocked to see that there are so many patients in such a small place. The same with accidents. Stand there for a while and we know how lucky we all are.’
‘I’m planning to do a study on accidents in Diego. Just out of curiosity. Can you help me out with some details?’ I had an inspired moment.
‘You’ll get all that you need if you ask any office staff. They have full records in their system.’
‘I don’t need official records. What I want to know is about the experiences of people working there. How do you face the various patients and accidents and experiences? Do you think you can tell me about that?’
‘Why not? There are people in my villa who have been working here for years. They will have lots to say.’
‘Anita, please. You should help me with this. I want to meet them one day.’
‘That’s fine. You let me know.’
After dropping Chettathi home, I drove Anita and Melvin to their bay. From there, Anita pointed out her house to me and invited me to drop in. I promised her that I’d visit someday soon. She told me to chuck the formality and to come for sure. ‘I’ll come. I’ll have to come,’ I said while leaving. She might have misunderstood it, as she could not have got what I actually meant.
Scrapbook
AFTER A LONG while, I logged into my Orkut account. There were four friends’ ‘requests’ pending. The first was from one Sajeesh, who had been with me at MG College, Thiruvananthapuram. He was now working with a newspaper. Two were juniors from school. They were running a computer shop somewhere in Diego. The fourth was a request from my classmate, Rahim. There was a sudden joy seeing him after ages, although on the computer screen. At last, other than Alexy, someone had come searching for me. I went through his profile. He was working as an engineer at a construction company in South Korea.
Our class. Twenty students. Since I began the search, I’d found seven of them: Alexy, Jesintha, Senthil, Anita, Vinod, Jyoti, and now, Rahim. Eight including me. Anita said Bilal was in Australia. If I took that on faith, he’d be the ninth one. Though he had left in Class V! There were still ten left. Hidden in unknown corners of the world in unknown forms: Babu, Supriya, Leena, Seyfu, Daniel D’Silva, Little Anita and four others whose names I couldn’t recollect. I might see all of them someday, somewhere. Or at least come to know where they were.
I opened my Orkut scrapbook. Many people from various walks of life had posted greetings. I saw many faces there that I hadn’t seen for years. Alexy and Rahim had each commented once. Alexy’s was just a casual post. In the first few days, he had written regularly. About friends. About class. With queries about Diego. And I had replied with enthusiasm. Then it slowed down. As if there was nothing more left to say, and I realized that ten years of life could be written in just ten lines. Then, once in a while, a random comment. That’s it. Alexy and I had reached that stage.
Rahim’s comment had greetings as well as inquiries about me. I replied. Two lines about my life. The happy news of meeting Anita, Jesintha and Vinod. The tragedy of Senthil’s death. That was the content of my response.
He was online, so we began to chat. It was shocking. He didn’t ask about anyone whom I’d mentioned in my post. ‘Do you remember that chick?’ he asked, about Anpu.
I wasn’t shocked or surprised that he remembered Anpu when I spoke about Senthil. People recollect the past in different ways. But not a single word about the deceased Senthil; no queries about any of our classmates; he had gone straight to Anpu!
I wrote a brief reply that I had met her a few days ago.
He grilled me about Anpu. Many of his questions were beyond that of casual interest in a classmate’s sister. Not only that, I didn’t know why he was asking all these questions during our first conversation in more than a decade.
Then he moved on from Anpu to the rest of the girls in our class. Anita, Leena, Supriya, Jyoti . . . All his comments were about their figure. It was annoying. Luckily, before he could bug me with further queries, he went offline. But just before that, Rahim said something useful. That Bilal is in Diego on a visit; he also gave me his phone number. I called Bilal without delay. Bilal himself answered. It took a while for him to identify me. Understandable—ten years is a long time. But even after he recognized me, Bilal’s response was cold. I thought he’d be excited to hear from an old classmate. Instead, when I suggested we meet before he returned to Australia, he was noncommittal. He said something vague about next week, if he was free. Though I was upset by his response, I tried to recoup by telling him about the Orkut community I had started, and how I’d found Alexy and Rahim there. He said he wasn’t interested in such things. I didn’t give up. I said I met Anita, Jyoti and Jesintha. Oh, okay, good, was his reply. As my last shot, I told him of Senthil’s demise. That’s sad, what was the disease that caused it, he asked. I panicked for a moment. Heart attack, I replied. He ridiculed the sorry state of third-world citizens who hogged without any concern for their health. After that I just didn’t wish to drag on the conversation.
Changing times and changed circumstances result in new relationships. New friendships are made, and old ones alienated. They wither away. That was how I explained away Bilal’s response. I was content with my explanation. Until some days later, when I got a mail from Paris.
Gift
THE NEXT DAY, I woke up with the plan to meet Anita and Melvin. I called Anita in the morning to fix up a time, but she didn’t pick up her phone. I decided to try her number after a while, and entered the bathroom for a shower when Momma yelled from outside that I had a visitor.
Who could have come to visit me so early in the morning? Momma said it was a visitor, but nothing about whether it was a man or a woman. Who could it be? I was sure it was someone Momma hadn’t seen before. A row of faces flashed past me of all the people who could visit me and whom I wanted to meet someday. Among them were Anita, Anpu, Leena and Jyoti. And Vijay Mullikratnam, Vinod and Jesintha. Also Alexy, Bilal and Rahim. Senthil’s Appa and Amma, and even Senthil’s murderer, who could have come to confess to me. When I finally went downstairs, it was none of them—it was Johnny. I hadn’t expected to see him, so I was surprised. Johnny gave me a hug. ‘I’d been planning for days to come and meet you. Sorry that it took so much time.’ He then stepped out to go back to the boat, and returned carrying a wrapped gift. ‘Something small from me. I know it’s nothing for you. But just for my pleasure.’
I didn’t understand what was going on.
‘I knew it,’ he continued, ‘if I tell you something, it will be done. Do you know how many people in the department I’d approached to get it done? How many people I’d paid? Nobody did a thing. It was my luck to see you there. I knew the influence the Andrappers still have in the government. A hundred thanks to your kind heart. I got my promotion papers last week.’
Now I understood what it was about. But Johnny had mistakenly assumed that his promotion was the result of my recommendation. I let it be. I needed to get certain things done by him. It was a mystery as to how he got a promotion when he wasn’t in line for it. Who was the unknown god who, in my name, had helped him?
‘Johnny, can you help me with something?’
; ‘What kind of a question is that? Who else am I going to help? What do you want, tell me.’
‘The incident I told you that day, the murder? We need to look again to see if we can get any details of it in the medical records.’
‘You haven’t let go of that?’
‘Things are getting more complicated. I can’t let it be, Johnny. You know, the Public Security is saying that his death was due to a cardiac arrest?’
‘Oh, I see. By the way, I had inquired in the department on why it was missing in the medical records. They explained that it was a clerical error.’
‘What have they recorded as the cause of death?’
‘I didn’t notice that. I’ll have to check.’
‘Then we should check it today.’
‘Why? If the Public Security says the cause of death is cardiac arrest, the medical records will show the same. No doubt about that.’
‘I know. But still, we should check. I need some more information.’
After finishing the coffee that Momma had brought, I accompanied Johnny to the hospital. It was clear to me that he wasn’t keen on it. He kept making excuses to avoid me but I was shamelessly stubborn. I made him check each and every record in the office computer of Accident and Emergency. There were no records of Senthil anywhere. Johnny was surprised by their absence. Suddenly, another idea struck me. I asked him to check Senthil’s name not just in City Hospital records, but also in all other hospital lists of Diego. That worked. After a lengthy search, Senthil’s file appeared on the screen. As we had anticipated, his death was recorded as a cardiac arrest. According to the file, Senthil was not admitted at City Hospital, but at Pentasia North Health Centre. Even the mortuary in which his body had been kept was mentioned as being of that centre. That meant Senthil’s body was never brought to City Hospital. I was shocked. But these were not the important details I wanted. I was looking for the names and details of the doctors and nurses who were on duty that day at City Hospital’s Accident and Emergency department. I got them. That was all I wanted.
On my way out, Johnny accompanied me till the verandah. ‘What’s your plan now?’
‘I need to find these people. To know where Senthil was actually admitted.’
He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, ‘I don’t know if I can advise an Andrapper. But that’s not the matter. As far as I’ve understood, some big shots are involved in this case. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have turned out like this. My advice is that you let it go.’
‘That means at least you admit that Senthil’s death was a murder, right?’
‘My question is how does it benefit you and me to get involved in this?’
‘Benefit? There’s no benefit. I just want to know the truth.’
‘What’ll you do with the truth? Cook and eat it?’
‘At least to convince myself that what I’d witnessed was the truth . . .’
‘I don’t want to argue with you. If this is of any use at all to either of us, I’ll help you! But if it isn’t, please let me go. Even if I got a promotion because of you, please don’t bother me again.’
‘No, I won’t bother you.’
Once I was outside the hospital, I took out my notes. The details of the staff of Pentasia North Health Centre were of no use now. Those whom I needed to meet were the staff of Accident and Emergency. There were more than twenty nurses. Anita or Melvin would know at least one of them. I called Anita.
Feast
AS WE HAD previously arranged, I reached Anita’s place the next morning. On hearing the boat, Anita ran up to the jetty. Her house was really close to the bay. She took me inside, holding my hands. I’d never got such a warm and joyous reception from anyone before. I’d heard stories from my grandmother about that kind of welcome at our relatives’ houses in Alappuzha. These days, greetings are hollow smiles with eyes still glued to the television.
I met the children whom she had showed me in the photograph, and her maid. Wilson had left for work. Since I had expected to find the children at home, I’d stopped at a toy store to buy a spiderman and barbie, and some chocolates. The children were delighted. Though Anita scolded me about the gifts, her face said they made her happy too. I was rarely good at such small courtesies, so I felt proud at having got it right this time.
Anita had prepared a big feast to welcome me: boiled appam, fried banana, half-boiled egg, puffed rice, kuzhalappam, jackfruit chips, biscuits and coffee. There was food enough to feed some ten men. Yet she said, ‘When you called me yesterday, I was at work and so I couldn’t make anything after coming home.’
I ate as much as I could. I even asked for a second cup of coffee. I chatted with the children as I ate. They behaved as if they had known me for a long time. They climbed all over me and their mischief continued despite Anita’s chiding. They took my mobile. My boat’s key. Took off my sunglasses. And my wallet. They were surprised to see their photo in it. Anita, too.
‘You still have it?’ Anita asked. ‘I just gave the photo to you in the joy of seeing you . . .’
‘This is the best gift I’ve ever got on this island. You think I’ll throw it away?’
Though she didn’t say anything in response, I saw another glint of delight in her eyes.
After the feast, we left the children with the maid, and went to Melvin’s house. It was more of a palace than a house. I was wondering who had built such a big house in that area. Over twenty hospital staffers lived there on rent. But to whom could the owner have rented it if he hadn’t got such a group of tenants?
‘What is your investigation about?’ Anita asked while we were waiting for Melvin.
‘It’s about accidental deaths in Diego. About how many people die in boat accidents, fire accidents, falling from heights, electrical accidents . . . the total toll, how they die—such details.’
‘Shouldn’t you get that from the Public Security office? What will you get from these nurses?’
‘If I wanted only statistics, the Public Security would have been a better option. But what I really want is the experience of the people who directly interact with the accident victims. Doctors, nurses, those in ambulance-boats, yes, even the public security officers . . .’
‘Are you mad? Instead of getting married and having a peaceful life with your wife and kids . . .’
‘That’s true. But what to do? The one whom I wanted to marry is now the wife of someone else. So, I’m not considering marriage now.’
‘Eh, who is that, the unlucky girl who didn’t get you?’
‘Whoever it was, is gone. What’s the point of going over it now?’
‘You should try again. If she knows about you, she might leave her husband and come to you.’
‘If someone calls you like that, will you go?’ I was expecting an answer from Anita but Melvin’s entry into the room cut short the conversation.
It was well near noon, but Melvin looked like she had just got up. She confirmed it, saying, ‘I’d dozed off.’ The queue of residents that followed her down the stairs showed that it wasn’t just her, the rest of them, too, had got up just then.
‘Are we a little early?’ I asked.
‘This is our routine. If you hadn’t come, we may have slept till noon. Sometimes we wake up only around evening. I’ll make some coffee for us.’
‘Ayyo, no way. I already had a big feast,’ I stopped her.
‘He’s kidding, Melvin. It’s his first visit, but I couldn’t make him anything. I was on duty yesterday,’ Anita whined.
Meanwhile, another resident joined us.
‘This is Mercy. She’s from Kollam. Been here for years. Will be of use to Anita-chechi’s friend,’ Melvin introduced her to us. She gave us a sleepy smile and sat near Melvin.
‘We need coffee for sure.’ Melvin left us with Mercy and went inside.
‘What’s the investigation about?’ Mercy asked.
I repeated my explanation to her, line by line.
Mercy recalled a boat accident that had killed
more than sixty-four people and a fire at a four-storey building that had taken the lives of thirty-three Tamil workers. She condemned the incompetence of the Accident and Emergency department that could not handle even small situations like these.
By then, Melvin came back with the coffee. I casually asked her about random things. As someone new on the staff, she wasn’t aware of many things. I asked her to share a moving experience related to accident deaths. She narrated how once, in her hometown, she had to nurse a friend who had jumped in front of a train, and how another girl—a bus accident victim—had jumped up from the hospital bed saying she was fine and then fell dead.
While we were talking, two more women came down the stairs. Jaya and Sudha. Mercy introduced them. They pitched in with their anecdotes when they figured out we were talking about accidents. I didn’t have to repeat my lies. While talking about deaths caused by accidents, Jaya raised an important point. In Diego, a land of water, incidents related to water were very few. So were boat accidents. Most of the deaths were due to electrocutions or fire accidents.
‘It’s surprising,’ Anita said. ‘In this land of water, more deaths are caused by fire, which can be doused with water. Eda, this is another topic you can explore. By the way, what’s the scene with murders?’
