by Benyamin
It didn’t rain the next day. I went early to Port Louis and sat at my favourite table.
For a moment, I got it wrong, with the thought that it was my first visit since the shooting, till I remembered that I’d come again the next day. On seeing me, the coffee shop owner came to chat. ‘It’s been a long time. You’ve not been around?’
‘I’d gone to the mainland.’
‘Oh, did you?’ He was curious. ‘You go there often?’
‘Yeah, I went to college on the mainland.’
‘What’s this mainland like? Is it bigger than our Diego? How’s the weather? Does it have more water than Diego? Is it true that there are lots of trees there?’ A barrage of questions.
‘One has to experience the mainland, one can’t describe it.’
‘Oh, is that so? I’ve never been anywhere other than this island,’ he said a little sadly. ‘My fate is to see nothing, know nothing, and die in this coffee shop.’
Jesintha arrived.
‘Hello, why did you want to meet me all of a sudden?’ She pulled up a chair and sat facing me.
‘That’s easy to figure out.’
‘When I got some free time yesterday, I guessed a lot of possibilities—from a crush you suddenly felt on me to a financial emergency. Now tell me which one it is.’
The shop owner served us the coffee. ‘The next time you go to the mainland, please let me know. I’ll also come. I want to see the world,’ he said to me.
‘Did you go to Senthil’s house a few days ago?’ I asked Jesintha.
‘So, that’s the matter. I was wondering where you got my number from. Anpu gave it to you, didn’t she?’
‘Why? Shouldn’t she have given it to me?’
‘Why are you like this? All your negative questions! It’s boring, okay. You are like a girl sulking!’
I sat quietly for a while.
‘How can you fool those nice people?’ I asked.
‘Fool them? I don’t understand.’ Her face had turned dark.
‘How can you pretend in front of them when you know what had actually happened?’
‘Oh, I see. Let me ask the same question to you. You’ve also been to that house a couple of times. Why didn’t you tell them everything?’
I was silent.
‘They’re yet to come to terms with the shock of the death. They console themselves, calling it fate. In the midst of all that, should I go and tell them that their son was murdered?’ Her voice got louder.
‘Shh. Shh. Softly. Keep it between us.’
‘Why softly? Everyone in this area knows that someone was shot dead here. But the Public Security has another story. What can we do?’
‘Don’t you know how it happened?’ I asked in a sceptical tone.
‘I know as much as you know. Probably less. That day, you were in a better position to see it happening. I was facing the opposite side.’
‘I can’t believe it! You just stood there watching a classmate and a neighbour dying in front of you. When the Public Security came to question us, you stopped me from giving an account of what had happened. You’re lying to me. You know everything.’
‘Who am I to know everything? God? Yes, it’s true, Senthil was my classmate and my neighbour. But when he got shot that day, do you know how many years it had been since I’d seen him last? After seventh standard at St. Joseph’s, I left for Sri Lanka. You know that. I hadn’t seen him since. You calculate how many years it has been! I grew up. He also grew up. I don’t know what he had become in those years we didn’t meet. I don’t know what excellence he had achieved to get shot dead on the street. Though I recognized him when I saw him, my intuition told me to be cautious. It’s an ability only women have. A protection that saves us from landing in trouble. We are cautious about everything. You guys don’t understand it. It’s thanks to that same intuition I stopped you from being a witness. I was right, wasn’t I? Look at the Public Security’s reaction! They have destroyed the entire case. For whose sake? I don’t know. But they have done it for someone. If you had given a witness statement, I’m not sure you’d have been sitting here in front of me now.’
I had nothing to say. No argument.
‘It’s my policy to take care of myself before poking my nose into another’s business. You can call it selfishness. I don’t mind. But that’s how it works in this world. I want to enjoy my life. This policy has taken me from a shack at Cherar Peruntheruvu to a flat at Cornish. If I knew anything related to Senthil’s death, and if I had something to hide, like you suspect, why would I have told you that it was Senthil? You would have never come to know. Right? Do you know that the day after the incident, I went to his house. I thought the body must have been sent home. I’d gone to attend his funeral. But when I went there, his family had no clue that he was dead. How could I have told them what I saw? It was awful! And when I went the next time, they all believed that Senthil had died of a heart attack. I kept thinking of telling Anpu the truth every time I visited. But I couldn’t. If you see that as deceit, I’ve nothing to say.’
I sat unable to look at her face, toying with the empty cup.
‘I’m already late for office. Call me when you want to meet again. I’ll always be available at this number. See you.’ She slipped on her shades and left.
Smart girl, I told myself. Whether you are right or wrong, you’ve succeeded in convincing me. That’s smartness. This world is for people like you. It’s not surprising that you have a fancy flat at Cornish while I continue to stay at the house of my ancestors.
Realization
I REACHED HOME to find the family in the midst of celebrations. Momma came and hugged me as soon as she saw me. Lucky you, said Chettathi. Papa, oddly, was sipping his drink in the front room. Some great moment of glory—but I had no clue what it was. I stood there like a fool till Papa offered me a drink. I declined because I was afraid that there had been some progress in Momma’s and Chettathi’s interest in Melvin. But fortunately, that was not the matter.
‘The visa papers are ready for your Australia trip,’ Papa said, patting my shoulder. A shiver passed through my spine. ‘It’s just formalities left now. Go to the embassy for a formal interview, and get the visa stamped on your passport. That’s all.’
I made no reply. Actually, there should have been a tirade of words from me. But the turn of events had left me speechless. Papa had mentioned it to me only once or twice. I had not realized how serious he was about it. I got up silently and went to my room.
After a while, Papa came to my room. I turned my back, facing the other side.
‘You were always like this when you were sulking. How true it is that habits don’t change however much a man grows up!’ Papa said, sitting on my bed.
I dragged the blanket over my face. After I did it, I realized that it was another feature of my childhood tantrums.
‘After a certain age, we should consciously rid ourselves of some habits,’ Papa said. ‘Especially if that helps us, the family and society.’
‘I don’t want to listen to old philosophy. I am being kicked out of this house and deported from this island. Isn’t that what all of you want?’
‘Don’t act like a fourth-rate dramatist. I expect a better response from you. It’s for your future, a bright future. Don’t you have a dream? The dream of writing a great Malayalam novel. A novel that will be read by the world. To realize that dream, you’ve to sacrifice some things. All great deeds demand that. Has anyone conquered the Himalayas walking on a red carpet? Anyone?’
‘If I go away from here, will talent flow into me? Will words fly towards me?’ I asked, fuming.
‘I’m not saying that. But your perspective will expand. Your visions will widen. Every great writer in the world has written their great works after leaving their hometown. I’ll tell you of my experience too. The person I was before Paris, was transformed after my time in the city. Our small dreams grow into big ones. That’s probably the only advantage of an expatriate life. Con
sider your case. Did you give any thought to becoming a novelist before you went to the mainland? I don’t think so. Life there altered your dreams. Changed your aims. That’s what I’m saying. It’ll add new depths to your novel. Those that you wouldn’t even be able to think of now. If you stay back, your life will fade into anonymity. You’re old enough to think for yourself. My advice will only irritate you, so I’m leaving. You have one night to make a decision. A night to choose who you want to be. All those who became nothing in life would have also had a similar night. They must have spent the rest of their lives regretting the decision they took on that crucial night. There is nothing worse in this earth than a life filled with self-contempt. All those who succeeded in this world have also had a similar night. Remember that.’
Papa’s words echoed in my mind long after he left. Why was I keen on staying back? Of what use was it to me? What misfortune could befall me if I leave Diego? What would I gain? How did my family benefit from deporting me? But wasn’t that a figment of my imagination? An argument to fight a decision taken without my approval. What else could it be? Nothing remained on this island to hold me back. For a man of my age, it should have been a binding love affair that was keeping me back. But there was no such affair. What else? Attachment to the family? No. Friends from whom I couldn’t part? No. Fun gatherings? No. Convivial evenings? No. What else? Perhaps the only reason to stay back was the mystery of Senthil’s death. The curiosity to know the answers and to chase after them. But wasn’t it childish to say I’ll be satisfied only if I can find out the motives and the people responsible for his death and its cover-up, like in a detective novel? Suppose I find out someday, can I even raise a finger against them? What support will the law and the government give me? Nothing. There was a community of people immersed in fraud and forgery. They were beyond all law. Their rules were not ours. I wouldn’t be able to do anything against them. Senthil’s death was a murder, but it had not been committed by gangsters or militants or underworld goons. It had been perpetrated by people ensconced within the walls of our legal system. I cannot do a thing. Finding them could be the gravest mistake to make. To realize that it was a mistake was the real worth of that restless night.
I decided: Tomorrow, I’ll go to the Australian Embassy and get my visa done.
Papers
IT IS NOT dreams or choices that decide the fate of a man, but his circumstances. Or else, how could my boat ride to the Australian Embassy end up at the Oothukkuli jetty near Cherar Peruntheruvu?
When I got ready in the morning and said I was leaving for the embassy, everyone’s jaws dropped.
Papa couldn’t believe my overnight transformation. He congratulated me. ‘Now, I’m convinced that you are good at taking the right decisions. You’ll succeed. Wherever you go, you won’t figure in the list of losers.’
The appointment was at 10.30 a.m. ‘No big deal. They won’t ask anything that you can’t answer. I’ve arranged for everything. This house is waiting for some good news.’
I was halfway to the embassy when the call came.
It was Anpu. ‘I need to meet you urgently.’
‘Why, Anpu? What news?’
‘I’ll tell you when you come. Will you come?’
‘Is it that urgent?’
‘A bit.’
‘Okay, I’ll be there.’
Anpu needed me. I turned the boat to Cherar Peruntheruvu.
When I reached Senthil’s house, Anpu and her father were at the door waiting for me. Seeing that, I became more anxious. ‘What happened, Anpu?’
‘Two men came from Senthil’s office. They brought a lot of papers and asked me to sign them. They’ll come later today to pick them up.’
‘Appa has some doubts. So, he told them that he needs to show the papers to someone before signing them,’ said Anpu.
‘Not just someone, kanna. Someone whom I can trust. There is no one in this street like that. I don’t even like my relatives. Illiterate morons. That’s why I made Anpu call you.’
I went through the papers. Some relieving orders from Senthil’s office. Two or three documents from the Public Security. Death certificate from the hospital. And a notary declaration saying there was no suspicion of anything out of the ordinary in Senthil’s death.
‘Who brought all these?’
‘I don’t know. When I asked, they said they were from Senthil’s office. Is there any problem?’
‘No, nothing. I was just asking.’
‘Then shall I sign them?’
I hesitated for a moment. There was something dodgy going on. How smartly they were plugging the loopholes. The family is the last voice left, and they want to silence it too. These papers would do that. But what reason could I give to stop them from signing?
‘Appa, I’m happy that you trust me and have asked me to verify these papers. But I don’t have the expertise. However, I can help you out. Please give me two days. I’ll show these to someone and return them to you.’
‘They said they would come today,’ Anpu said.
‘I’ll tell them to come after two days, right, kanna?’ her father intervened.
‘Yes. Please also get the details of who they are.’
‘Okay, kanna.’
‘I’m leaving then,’ I said, folding the papers.
‘Ayyo no, please have some coffee.’ Anpu stopped me.
‘No. I had coffee before I left home.’
‘That’s okay. You can also have the coffee I make.’ She ran into the kitchen.
I couldn’t resist the offer. I waited for her to return.
Senthil’s mother brought the coffee. I had nothing to say to her. Her face was still damp with tears. I knew that it would only get worse if I asked anything. As I feared, tears flowed down her cheeks soon enough. She wiped them with her sari and went back inside.
4
Archipelago
SITTING IN SALIM’S vehicle, I enthusiastically called the Thursday Market and announced the adventurous Interpol heroism which got us the third part of The Book of Forefathers. How? How? Each member of the assembly was eager to know. I mollified them with the promise of a detailed account when we met.
I read the text twice before I reached home, watching out for the hint of a phone number or an email ID or a postal address. The secret message had been deciphered by others the last time, and I was keen to crack it myself this time. How can I not have an investigative mind; after all, I am a writer! It is to me that Andrapper had sent his autobiography. Wouldn’t I have had to find out these details on my own if there had been no Thursday Market? How would I have done it then? These thoughts were driving my search. But it was a tough nut to crack! There were no hints this time, or I couldn’t find any. I’d have to rely again on the Thursday Market.
By the time we reached, each and every one of them had caught the Cultural Ambulance and gathered at my house. Hearing Salim’s vehicle, Nibu rushed out to me, grabbed the papers and ran inside. ‘See, the one who did not want to waste time on this now wants to read it first,’ quipped Biju. ‘Then Biju can read it the last,’ replied Anil. ‘I’ll be the first,’ Nibu insisted. Then, following a consensus, Nibu handed the text to Mashu who read it aloud. After that, Salim recounted the heroic tale of how we got hold of the papers. Towards the end, all of them laughed their guts out at Salu’s antics. They also had fun at the expense of ‘Interpol Benyamin’.
‘The devil’s arrived, now get ready to tackle it,’ declared Biju. But nobody could find anything in the text. They had drawn a blank, as I had.
To break the silence, Mashu, like in the past, took out the checklist. ‘Author’s name?’
‘Since his brother’s name is Jeff, he could be Steve,’ guessed Anil.
‘Could be Jeff and Jerry too,’ Biju said.
‘What’s wrong with Jeff and Justin?’ was Nibu’s contention.
‘His current name is P.C. Andrapper!’ announced Baldy.
‘PC?’ asked Salim.
‘Pachu Chuang Tz
u Andrapper.’
‘Who are the fresh faces introduced in this segment?’
‘Only Dr Iqbal. The rest are all reappearances.’
‘Then he is our leading man. Let’s think about how we can find him,’ Nibu said.
‘That’ll never happen. In the story, Andrapper has shown contempt for him. Dr Iqbal is not the one,’ Salim said.
‘Who’s the one then?’ Nibu got angry.
‘Find out!’
‘What’s this, an Agatha Christie novel, to go on looking for clues?’
‘Whether it’s a detective story or not, we’ll have to find out,’ Mashu said. ‘Let’s take it as a challenge. For now, let’s take the Cultural Ambulance and return to our homes instead of wasting time daydreaming. All of you mull over it. Next Thursday, come with your heads filled with your guesses, queries and findings. Benyamin will scan these pages and send them to all of us tomorrow. Okay?’
We all agreed with Mashu. After drinking the coffee made by my wife, all of them left, winding up the assembly.
Next Thursday, we gathered earlier than usual. Mashu called us to order: ‘All right, like I said last week, let’s get to know the Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes in each of you!’
We looked at each other to see who’ll go first.
‘Let our author begin,’ Biju suggested.
‘I went through the three parts in detail,’ I said. ‘I can’t find anything new. Pass!’
‘I took the same old route: Orkut,’ Anil said. ‘I found Chuang Tzu’s profile. There’s no photo of him, just that of a flower. The posts are restricted from public view. Locked. I sent a message, but haven’t got a reply yet.’
‘I read Kanyabhogasooktham four times. And forwarded it to four girls,’ said Nattapranthan. ‘I’ve sent a scrap to Chuang Tzu asking for its full version. While doing that I found a profile of Melvin—his probable girlfriend—and sent a friend request. She hasn’t accepted it. If she likes my bald head, we are saved.’
