The Onus of Karma

by Rudra Krishna

  Rama sat down on the terrace, and reassessed the situation. He had to use the wife somehow. The light went out, plunging the room in darkness. Rama waited a few more minutes. A door stood three feet from the window; he realized it probably led to her bedroom. He decided to go in and talk to her. It was a desperate plan, but he had no option other than trying to somehow turn her against her husband.

  Suddenly, the door opened, almost hitting Rama. He moved away and pressed himself against the wall, trying to stay in the shadows. The lady came out and stood on the terrace, mournfully looking out into the night. In her nightclothes, Rama could see her figure clearly. Rama stood perhaps a second too long, during which time the lady seemed to have sensed that she was not alone, for she turned around suddenly, and Rama barely had time to leap across the terrace to where she stood and muffle her surprised cry, which came out as a tiny squeak.

  ‘Please don’t be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you. I swear!’ Rama whispered. ‘I’m going to walk you into the bedroom and shut the door before I remove my hand. But if you try to shout or call for help, I will break your neck. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

  ‘I am sorry if I scared you,’ he began once they were inside the room. ‘Your husband and brother-in-law are involved in a conspiracy which has led to the murder of many innocent people.’

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘My name is Ramaswami Aiyar,’ he replied. ‘I am a policeman.’

  ‘What can I do for you, Mr Aiyar?’ she asked. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to betray my husband.’

  ‘I don’t know much about English culture, but I am fairly certain that it is not normal to abuse your wife. No, he is not a good husband, and you have no reason to be loyal to him. I’m not asking you to do anything. Just allow me to play the part of justice, and try to stop any more outrages from happening.’

  She studied him closely for a few minutes. Though only twenty-two years old, his face already showed lines of experience and his features were quite gaunt. He had not shaved for several days, so his face bore stubble, and his long hair was untied. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a white shirt, untucked and open his chest, and the blue diamond earrings in his ears glowed from within, lighting up his face.

  When their eyes met, he said, ‘Your husband and his brother are both part of a conspiracy to steal something that is very sacred to my people. My father has been killed for it. I want to find out all that I can and bring the criminals to justice.’

  Her eyes widened in innocent fear as she haltingly replied, ‘He … he’s certainly no saint. And your story explains his frequent absences and his late night visitors. I will help you, Mr Aiyar, not because I have any abiding interest in your cause, but because I hate my husband.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Morris. Please, tell me which room he and his brother will be in.’

  ‘They’ll both be in his study now. You can stay here till they go to their rooms.’

  Rama looked at her in surprise. ‘Thank you,’ he said after a minute. ‘Where are their rooms?’

  ‘My husband’s room is at the front of the house, looking out over the driveway. Take a left from my door, turn right at the end; his is the only room on that corridor. The wing that you reach if you went straight on down that balcony past his door is his brother’s apartment. The children are on the wing to my right. Please leave them out of this.’

  Rama looked at her levelly. ‘I told you before, I’m only here to stop evil.’

  Her eyes never left his. Rama understood the mute appeal in them; he reached out to take her hands in his. The door burst open. They were still standing in front of the French window leading onto the balcony, straight in front of the door that led out onto the inner balcony in the first floor. Through this entrance, the brigadier general strode in, his muscular frame looking even more formidable in silhouette. He took in the scene and in one second arrived at the inevitable, completely erroneous conclusion.

  ‘You bloody whore,’ he snarled. ‘A lover, eh?’

  The officer rushed at him, bellowing in rage. Rama side-stepped and brought his hand down in a chop to the back of his opponent’s neck. As the man dropped to his knees, Rama jammed his knee into the base of his spine and held his head in a headlock.

  ‘How did you connect me to the chakra?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Morris asked, through clenched teeth. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Rama tightened his grip. ‘Ramaswami Aiyar. I thought you knew me.’

  The information seemed to put out the brigadier general, for he stopped struggling and tensed.

  Rama repeated his question, ‘How did you connect me to the chakra?’

  ‘Go to hell, Aiyar,’ he snarled between gasps. ‘You had better kill me before you leave this house, or I will make sure you die a slow, horrible death, just like your parents.’

  Rama tensed up.

  ‘Parents? Who killed them?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know? Do you know, your mother was raped before she was tied up and burnt alive? I wish I had been there, I might have been able to give you a more detailed description.’

  Before he knew what he was doing, Rama snapped the brigadier general’s neck. As the body went limp in his arms, he realized he was nowhere nearer to finding out what had happened and who all were involved. He dropped the lifeless body and turned around to face James Morris’ widow.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ he whispered. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Roberta,’ she whispered. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry about your parents.’

  Rama looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to say this. Roberta asked, ‘What do you need to do now?’

  ‘I need to speak to his younger brother. Maybe beat the truth out of him. I need to find out where the leak is and fix it before too many people come looking for the chakra.’

  ‘What is this chakra?’

  Rama looked up, uncertain. He had said too much. Slowly, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I can’t divulge a lot of things. There’s a certain wheel that’s sacred to the Hindus, but worth a lot to anyone greedy enough to use it to his advantage. It has been hidden away for centuries and your husband and his brother are part of a conspiracy to find this chakra, no doubt to misuse it. My family has been guarding it for over two thousand years now, and they’ve died in the line of this accursed duty.’

  Roberta Morris processed all this quietly. She had suspected that her husband was up to something but she had no idea what it was. She had no idea what sort of information could be useful to him. The only thing she could think of was her husband’s study.

  ‘I suggest that you look in my husband’s desk, quickly. I will have to raise an alarm soon.’

  ‘Where is the desk?’

  ‘Downstairs. Come with me.’

  She led him to the study and pointed him to a locked drawer. Rama picked up a poker from the fireplace and hit the latch repeatedly till the drawer fell open. Inside were some letters from a person called Trolley. Rama quickly scanned them but found no mention of the Sri chakra. They were letters from a lawyer, stating that James Morris’ uncle had died, and left his vast fortune to charity, but nothing to either of his nephews. There were some other letters from Massey & Co. informing James Morris that his estate had been auctioned for nine hundred pounds, and that he still had debts amounting to three thousand pounds.

  Finding nothing useful, Rama turned to Roberta and said, ‘There’s nothing here. I will find Ronald Morris.’

  ‘Will you come back after you talk to Ronald?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Roberta, I won’t.’

  Roberta Morris looked away for a moment as she regained her composure. She turned back to him and looking at him with steely eyes, said, ‘Goodbye, Mr Aiyar. Your wife is a very lucky woman.’

  Rama only said, ‘Thank you. Goodbye.’ And, turning on his heels, he walked out of the room.

  He ran up the stairs, and soon arrived
at the door he had been told led into Ronald Morris’ apartments and, stopping outside, he considered what his course of action should be. If he had read Ronald Morris right, he was willing to wager that he would be more worried for his own safety rather than feel either anger or grief at his brother’s death.

  Kicking the door open, Rama entered the room just as Ronald Morris walked towards the door, a glass in hand, clad in his socks, shorts and a white shirt, with his bow untied. Rama lost no time in going straight up to him and punching him as hard as he could on the nose. As the bone shattered and blood started spurting out, Rama grabbed him by the neck and pushed him down on the ground, lying on top of the other man, holding his neck in a headlock before shouting, ‘One chance, Ronald Morris, and then I will kill you like I killed your brother. Who leaked all the information about the wheel’s whereabouts to you?’

  ‘Shankara had told one of his students, who wrote it down. Someone found that piece of writing and sold it to us,’ Ronald Morris blurted out. He lay on the floor, terrified and certain that Rama would kill him if he didn’t talk.

  ‘Who is “us”?’ Rama asked. ‘Who else is involved in this?’

  ‘Hastings. Warren Hastings. He is the man who told us what to do. He is the one who sent those dacoits to your district to draw you out. He knew you’d pursue the case if he told you it had something to do with the Sri chakra.’

  ‘Why is it so important for me to get involved?’

  ‘Because your parents would not talk, and you’re the last in the line who knows the secret.’

  Squeezing harder on Morris’s neck, he asked, ‘Who killed my parents?’

  ‘Hastings! I promise you we … I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Where is Hastings now?’

  ‘Madras. I don’t know when he goes back to Bengal. Please, let me go … I’ll make up a story for the authorities that won’t involve you at all. No one will look for you.’

  Rama looked down at the snivelling man. He didn’t want to kill him, but he didn’t know if he could trust him. If Morris did not keep his word, the whole British army would be hunting for him. Slackening his hold around Morris’s neck, Rama asked, ‘And you will stay out of this business from now on?’

  ‘Of course I will!’ exclaimed Morris, almost joyfully. Rama was going to let him live. He relaxed; it was the last thing he ever did. His shoulders had barely dropped when Rama twisted his neck sideways, snapping the spinal cord.

  There was only one thing to do now. He had to go to Madras, to Warren Hastings.

  six

  He had run all the way home without once looking back. How would he face Ekambaram’s daughter, his friend Padma?

  He stood outside his house, not knowing how to go in, what he would say. He imagined the disappointment on his grandmother’s face. Just then he heard a gasp from one of the windows. There was nowhere he could run now, Paati had already seen him. The door would open in a second, and he would have to tell her he had failed.

  Periamma stood at the door, covering her mouth in shock. For a second, Rama was at a loss to understand why she looked so terrified, until he looked down at himself and realized he was covered in blood. He quickly said to his grandmother, ‘It’s not my blood, Paati. Don’t worry.’

  ‘What happened, Rama?’ she asked, hurrying forward, running her hands over his body to make sure he was fine. ‘Are the others all right?’

  ‘Appa and Dhanapal are okay but …’

  ‘Was Ekambaram hurt?’ she asked quietly. ‘Will he be all right?’

  ‘Ekambaram is dead. He’s dead because of me!’ Rama cried, burying his face in his hands. He told her of the fight on the banks between halting sobs. ‘He died trying to save my life,’ he finished.

  ‘It is the first time you have been in a real fight, Rama. You can’t blame yourself.’

  Rama looked up at his grandmother, ‘I have fought before, Paati. I’m a good sword-fighter.’

  ‘Sparring among friends with wooden swords is not the same as a real fight, Rama,’ his grandmother replied. ‘I was wrong to send you. You are too young and inexperienced.’

  But Rama would not be placated. Periamma pulled some water out of the well and made him take a bath. When he calmed down a little, she went inside to warm some food for him. Rama gobbled down the rice, ghee and kozhambu she laid out for him in the kitchen.

  ‘What is it, Paati? What is worrying you?’ he asked when he saw her looking at him anxiously.

  His grandmother shook her head, as if snapping out of a reverie, and said in an almost annoyed tone, ‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’

  ‘About what happened tonight?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied with a gentle smile. ‘I was so scared when I saw you! Did your father say anything about what he was doing next?’

  ‘I think he told Dhanapal that they needed to change the plan.’

  His grandmother sat up suddenly.

  ‘Did he say what?’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything, Paati, I ran home.’

  His grandmother became thoughtful. Rama finished his meal in silence and went out back to throw away the used leaf.

  As he turned to go inside, he remembered the two blue stones wrapped in his veshti. He showed them to his grandmother. ‘Paati, I found something in the forest as I was returning home. I think you’d like them.’

  His grandmother turned around and got up.

  ‘Come into the courtyard,’ she said. ‘The light is better there.’

  Rama followed her inside, shutting the door behind him, and handed her the stones.

  ‘What are they?’ she asked.

  ‘I found them on the riverbank where we fought.’

  ‘They look like blue diamonds. I’ll examine them tomorrow; the light of these lamps is not enough. Go to bed now, and remember, you know absolutely nothing about what happened tonight. There will be a lot of noise tomorrow, but nobody will know that you were a part of it, and I want to keep it that way.’

  ‘Why, Paati?’ Rama asked her, ‘What difference does it make?’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to know about the chakra. I want you to completely forget all this till the time when you will need to remember. I didn’t want you to bear the burden of this secret, but I’ll be dead soon, and in time your father will die too, and for us to completely let the secret slip away is to fail in our duty to protect it. When your father comes back he’ll tell you where he hid the chakra. I want you to remember that and guard the secret all your life, till it is time to tell your descendants.’

  Rama merely replied, ‘All right Paati, I’ll remember to forget it. Goodnight.’

  The next morning Rama was awakened by the sounds of distressed wailing. He ran outside to find Ekambaram’s wife and daughter, Padma, sitting on the thinnai outside the house and sobbing, while his grandmother consoled them.

  Rama ran back indoors. He stood near the kitchen, grappling with his confusion, when someone put an arm on his shoulder. He turned around to see his grandmother looking at him with great sorrow.

  ‘There, there, my child,’ she said, taking him into her arms. ‘It was meant to happen, and no amount of regret will bring him back. Now be brave—I must go outside and be with that poor woman.’

  And letting go of Rama, she turned and went back outside.

  Rama went about his morning ablutions in silence. When he went into the courtyard, he saw an even larger crowd had collected, and his grandmother was addressing them. Ekambaram’s wife, who had calmed down, sat in front of his grandmother listening with rapt attention.

  ‘… which I know is no consolation to anyone,’ Paati was saying. ‘What we must do right now is calm ourselves and remember that my son has gone to Madras to get help from the British. Our enemy’s enemy must be our friend, if only for a brief while.’

  The villagers kept quiet. Periamma was a sensible woman, and she was right. The British had no interest in their little village, but they definitely wouldn’t want Haider Ali to come too clo
se to Madras.

  ‘Muthu and Velu, prepare the funeral arrangements for Ekambaram. Talk to the Vettiyaan right away.’

  And holding her arms out for Ekambaram’s wife to join her, Periamma descended from the thinnai and went towards the village.

  Some days later, as Rama approached his house, he saw Chakkarai, the village jeweller, sitting with his grandmother inside the house. She was examining something under the light while Chakkarai talked animatedly. Rama greeted the jeweller and was about to go on inside when his grandmother said, ‘Wait, Rama. All right, Chakkarai, you can go now.’

  ‘Thank you, Periamma. I hope Periamma is happy with my work?’ the plump little jeweller asked as he got up.

  ‘Yes, I am. You’ve surpassed yourself.’

  The man turned and gave Rama a big oily smile, and then he was gone. Rama waited while his grandmother, who was still examining the object in her hands said, ‘Come here, child. I have something for you.’

  She held out a pair of earrings—two blue diamonds set in a gold frame. Rama gasped in awe at their beauty.

  ‘Let’s put them on. I want to see how they look on you,’ she screwed the studs into Rama’s earlobes. ‘There. They look beautiful! Now go on and play. Mohan has been pining away without you.’

  She watched, an indulgent look on her face, as Rama ran into his mother’s room to examine himself in the mirror. He came running out a minute later and threw his arms around his grandmother’s neck.

  ‘They look beautiful, Paati. Thank you.’

  ‘Yes they do, my Tharuppukal Ramaswami!’

  Ten days later, Appayya Dikshitar and Dhanapal returned. Soon after Rama was sent to Kanchipuram, to study in the Kanchi Kamakoti Peetam’s Veda Pathashala. No one spoke to him about the expedition. They all seemed to have forgotten he was next in line.

  seven

  ‘Come on, Ayya, we need to find some shelter for the night.’