A Beautiful Lie (12 page)

‘You are your bapuji’s son, Bilal.’

‘But it’s not realistic, Doctorji,’ I whispered, hating the fact that I appeared to be betraying my bapuji.

‘What isn’t realistic?’

‘To believe life will always work itself out. That whatever will be, will be, and it’s best not to worry and to just let things happen,’ I replied.

‘But if that’s what you believe, Bilal, if that’s your character . . .’

‘If it is, then it’s best to change. I don’t want to be a dreamer all my life. I’d rather live in the real world with everyone else,’ I said, hardly daring to look at him.

‘Sometimes, Bilal, the real world is ugly,’ replied Doctorji.

‘Maybe, but at least it’s real,’ I said.

Chapter 22

Entering the village, we were approached by ­children who ran alongside the cart. I waved the thick, heavy book I’d chosen to read at them and they cheered in anticipation. Beaming at their enthusiasm, I jumped off the cart, surrounded by children. Doctorji pulled into his usual place in front of a disused hut. As he went off to meet with the village leaders, I was inundated with questions about the ‘big town’ but eventually I managed to extract myself and went to look for Doctorji. I found him standing near a ­gathering of men. Walking over, I could sense a tenseness in the way he stood and out of the corner of my eye I could see that there was a heated debate going on with a few looks being sent Doctorji’s way.

‘Doctorji, is something the matter?’

Doctorji hadn’t realised I was standing next to him and he quickly shook his head.
Too quickly
.

‘No, no, everything’s fine. They’re just discussing where they want us to start.’

That’s a lie
, I thought. Watching the agitated group, it was clear that there were two sides. One for and one against.
Against what?

I could sense Doctorji becoming more anxious. His whole body was still and although he looked as if he was admiring the blue sky, his attention was solely on the conversation going on not ten yards from us.

Finally, the group came to some kind of resolution and a short, elderly man signalled to Doctorji that he could begin his work. I moved towards the cart to unload some of the medicine we’d brought with us.

While unloading the cart, Doctorji leant in close and whispered in my ear, ‘Something’s not right. I’m not sure what’s happened but as soon as we’re finished, we’re leaving. Assemble the children and begin your story now. It might provide us with a little goodwill just in case.’

‘In case of what?’ I asked, alarmed.

‘Just in case,’ was all that Doctorji would say and he strode off to the crowd of people who were waiting impatiently.

Anxiously, I walked towards the groups of children and asked them to gather around a clearing near the well at the edge of the village.
There was a good crowd of mostly younger children sitting patiently in front of me in the bright afternoon light. The men of the village were still gathered together and were talking less animatedly but still sending wary glances from time to time towards Doctorji. Making myself as comfortable as possible, I looked at the eager faces and cleared my throat.

‘Today, I thought I’d read you the story of Aladdin and his magic lamp . . .’

Upon finishing the story, some of the young ones cheered and asked for another, but just then two men strode to where I was sitting and stopped in front of me.

‘Come with us,’ they said quietly.

‘Where to?’ I asked, nervous at their rigid stance and the look in their eyes.

‘Just come. Doctorji is waiting for you. Come.’

I picked up my book but they signalled for me to leave it. A little girl – who always sat in the front row of any story I told – stood up and took the book from me.

‘I’ll look after it for you. You can have it back later,’ she said and held the book close to her chest.

Smiling, I nodded at her, muttered thanks and stepped into line with the two men away from the silent ring of children.

We approached the disused hut where we had left our cart and stopped outside. They signalled for me to enter. I walked in and heard the door shut behind me followed by the thud of a heavy wooden bar being put into place. Doctorji sat in the corner on a sack of rice. His face was still but I could see thunderclouds in his eyes and something else – fear.

‘Doctorji, what’s going on?’

Doctorji stood up and began pacing the room. He approached the door and listened. Satisfied there was no one on the other side, he sat back down.

‘Bilal, this is what we spoke of. The peace has been broken and we are far from home. After completing my duties and distributing the medicine, the village elders – well, mostly young men from what I could see – marched me here. They asked if I was a spy sent by the Muslims to count their number and take vital information back to the massing hordes who are waiting to attack.’

Finally, the danger of the situation hit me and I sat down opposite Doctorji with my head in my hands.

‘Why would they think that? I mean, we’ve been coming here for years. You’ve been coming here even longer than me. How could they think that?’

Doctorji stood up and began pacing again.

‘There have been riots and looting in many places. A relative of one of the villagers arrived at the same time we did and told all the village elders some of the stories of violence around the country. Most of the people here aren’t convinced by them and spoke out but the young men seem to hold sway here. Fuelled by the relative’s terrible stories, they managed to convince everybody that it was in the interests of the village to hold us.’

Doctorji looked straight at me and stopped pacing, aware that it was making me nervous watching him prowl back and forth.

‘But what are they going to do with us now? We’re not spies. When are they going to let us go? I have to get back to Bapuji!’ I cried. Panicking, my stomach cramped, making me bend over in pain. Doctorji came to my side.

‘Stomach cramps again? We have to stay calm, Bilal. This is probably all just talk. Once the villagers realise that they’re overreacting, we can get back home. Relax your stomach and stop clenching your teeth. Take a deep breath and let your body relax. We’ll be fine, we just have to be patient.’

Leaning back, I tried to breathe slowly. What could they possibly do to us? We hadn’t done anything wrong. We were trying to help by bringing people medicine. I shut my eyes.
We just have to be patient. But what are we waiting for?

Chapter 23

The hours crawled by as I watched Doctorji pace around the hut. Many years ago, the market town committee had decided to set up a scheme to aid the local villages by providing them with better medicine. Doctorji had volunteered to administer to the villagers and take what little medicine the market town was able to spare. In all that time, we had always been treated with the utmost respect. Often the villagers would ask us to stay another day because they seldom had visitors. I laughed out loud at the thought of these gentle villagers, who always thought of Doctorji’s more modern methods and medicine as strange, wanting to kill us. I noticed Doctorji had stopped pacing and was staring at me, clearly startled at my laughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ Doctorji asked.

‘The thought of these villagers trying to do us harm. It just doesn’t make sense. What could they possibly do to us?’

It was getting dark now. The little barred window let in a beam of moonlight outlining the tracks Doctorji’s pacing had created on the floor. It was a strange and beautiful pattern in a figure of eight. I chuckled again.
Typical
, I thought. It was just like Doctorji to pace nervously but still maintain a well-ordered pattern. I went to the window and looked out. The moonlight had bathed everything in a silver light and shadows jumped at every turn.

‘It’s not worth thinking about what they could do to us, Bilal. These are strange times. Difficult times. People aren’t behaving how they normally would so we can’t depend on them to behave rationally.’

Doctorji began pacing again as I tried to make sense of what he had said. I stood up and began to pace in the opposite direction.

As the night wore on, I thought of all the terrible things the villagers could do to us. The many ways in which they could harm or kill us. My pacing intensified until I caught up with Doctorji and almost clipped his ankles. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he held me firmly. As we locked eyes, I noticed for the first time the deep lines around his eyes, like little incisions made with a scalpel.

With a grating sound, we suddenly heard the bar being lifted. We froze. Doctorji motioned for me to sit down away from the door and stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips. Two young men walked in with scarves wrapped around their faces. They stopped, whispered something to one another then advanced.

‘Now look,’ said Doctorji, ‘I’ve been coming here for eight years and never have I been treated in this –’

Without warning, the larger of the men slapped Doctorji hard in the face while the other one punched him in the stomach.

‘Shut your mouth, you dog! How stupid do you think we are?’

Stunned, it took me a minute to realise what was going on. I watched in horror as the shorter man produced a stick and raised it high in the air.
Yelling, I jumped at him and, taking him by surprise, we both went down in a heap. After the initial surprise, the man recovered and pinned my arms.

‘Look, boy, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to take this stick to your head. Understand?’

Reluctantly, I stopped struggling. Moving off me slowly and pointing the stick at me, he nodded at the other man.

‘We just want to ask some questions. After that we’ll let you go.’

Doctorji was now sitting up but still looked winded. Sucking in deep breaths of air, he held up his hand and agreed. ‘Ask your questions,’ he wheezed.

‘Who sent you?’ asked the larger man.

‘I told you, we were sent by the market town committee. Like always.’

The two men looked at each other, puzzled, and shrugged.

‘Have the Muslims overrun your town? Is that what you’re trying to tell us?’ demanded the smaller man.

‘No, of course not, ’ said Doctorji. ‘What I’m saying is that –’

The smaller man swung the stick in a vicious arc and connected with Doctorji’s nose. I threw myself at him again, grabbing hold of his stick, but he was ready for me this time and, holding my neck with his free hand, he threw me to the ground. The bigger man moved towards me and pinned me against the floor.

‘We know you’re a doctor – some of the villagers here even think you’re a good man – but you don’t fool me.
Just tell us how many people there are waiting to attack us so that we can make the necessary arrangements. You’d be saving a lot of bloodshed. Think of that.’

His nose streaming with blood, Doctorji sat upright and tilted his head back.

‘Does it matter what I say, boy? You’ve already made up your mind about why we’re here. I’ve been coming here for eight years to provide medicine and aid for the people of the village. But I’ve never seen you here before, either of you. What are you? Political agitators?’

‘You don’t have to worry about who we are.’

‘No, you’re right, I don’t. Because in six months or a year or however long it takes, I’ll come back here. The villagers will look at me with guilt but you won’t be here, will you? You’ll be gone, feeding off the next frenzy in the next town.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying, old man. The villagers asked us to come. We’re here to help them find out the truth.’

Bringing his head down and staring at both men, Doctorji smiled, the blood streaming down his nose colouring his mouth and teeth, making him look frightening in the moonlight.

‘Son, my donkey knows more about the truth than you do.’

The men looked at one another and then advanced on Doctorji. The big man also produced a stick and both began to pound him as he curled up into a little ball. Shouting for help, I jumped on the big man’s back but he lifted me off and hit me hard in the face, the force of it flinging me on to the floor. I tried to stand up but the smaller man kicked me in the stomach. Helpless, I watched as Doctorji took the beating without a sound. It was only after they’d stopped that I realised I’d been screaming enough for both of us.

Stepping over me, they pulled open the heavy door and turned round.

‘Look, we tried to help you by giving you a chance but there are others who’ll be here in the morning who aren’t so forgiving.’

Holding my stomach, I watched as they left, slamming the door shut and replacing the bar across it. Doctorji had dragged himself upright. I crawled over to him on all fours and leant heavily against a sack of rice.

‘Are you all right, Doctorji?’

‘No broken bones. I think that was just the warm-up act, though – the real thugs will be here by morning,’ said Doctorji, slowly moving the tip of his nose and wincing.

‘Can’t you just lie to me?’ I asked.

‘Lie? About what?’ he replied incredulously.

‘About what could happen. Tell me everything will be OK.’