THE PUPPETEERS OF PALEM (19 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven

2001

T
he golden hands of Aravind’s black wristwatch dial pointed to eleven o’ clock. The four of them sat slumped in the four corners of the room, as though they were avoiding one another. It was a hot, breezeless day. All their faces were awash with a film of sweat.

Aravind licked his lips and said in a reminiscing voice, just loud enough for the others to hear, ‘He was alive when I left him.’ He frowned at Avadhani, who was sitting to his right, staring at his walking stick. ‘He was alive.’

‘His skull was smashed in, boy. Smashed in.’

‘He was not like that when I left him. He attacked me with a rock, and when I hit him, it was only a small scratch. I dressed his wound myself.’

Sarayu asked, ‘Why did he attack you?’

‘He…he thought I was the one who killed Ramana,’ said Aravind incredulously. Then, in a lower, softer voice, he said, ‘Do you all believe that too?’

Chanti gulped and looked away. Sarayu answered the question with another. ‘And why did you hit him?’

‘I was trying to defend myself, Sarayu,’ said Aravind ominously. When no one said anything in return, he stood up and said, ‘Look, if I had wanted to kill him, would I have come to get help? Would I have taken Thatha
along to show him what I have done?’

‘You could have done it as a double bluff,’ Chanti said. ‘You knew you had killed him, or you knew that the blow you’d given him was strong enough to kill him. But to direct suspicion away from yourself…’

‘Oh shut up, Chanti,’ Aravind spat. ‘You and your ridiculous theories. Where were
you
this morning anyway?’

Chanti suddenly sprang off the wall and stood straight. ‘Me? I was at the school. Thatha
sent us there.’

‘You and Sarayu were together all along?’

‘No, er… Sarayu… had to go somewhere.’

Aravind’s eyes widened and a grin appeared on his face. ‘So I suppose no one saw you at the school either.’

Chanti inclined his head. His eyes darted from left to right. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But I was at the school.’

‘With no one present there to confirm that for you,’ Aravind added. ‘Maybe you took a walk by the Shivalayam while you were at it? Maybe you saw Chotu lying there by the well with the rock in his hand—’

Chanti looked up and shook his head, ‘No… No!’

Aravind shrugged. ‘How do we know? And how do we know you did not kill Ramana?’

‘I did not!’

Aravind turned to Sarayu. ‘And you? Where did
you
go? Where were you this morning?’

Sarayu said, ‘I have nothing to hide. I was with Seeta.’

A flash of suspicion shone in his eyes. ‘Seeta?’

‘Yes, remember the girl we used to play with when we were kids? She has this hideous monstrosity of a face and—’

‘I know who Seeta is,’ he cut in.

‘Oh,’ Sarayu said, shrugging. ‘I was with her. We were… catching up.’

‘Anyone that can confirm that for us?’

Sarayu smiled sweetly at Aravind. ‘Of course, Aravind. I just told you I was with Seeta all morning. You could ask
her
and she will confirm it for you.’

‘I will,’ Aravind said, looking straight at her. ‘I
will
ask her.’

From his corner, Avadhani discreetly cleared his throat. ‘Children,’ he said, ‘you should not be fighting amongst yourselves. I told you to be
united
with each other.’ He coughed with his mouth closed, and his skinny shoulders jerked up and down.

Just then, like on the previous day, they saw a mass of people in clean white clothes walking by the house. One of them stopped by the gate and beckoned to them frantically, waving his arms and shouting and screeching. ‘Come!’ he said. ‘Avadhanayya, come!’

They were at the head of the crowd, at Seeta’s front door. The door was fully open and the morning sun flooded in. Just out of sight, hidden in the shadows somewhere, sprawled on the floor, was Seeta. Only a dim outline of her half-clad body was visible. Her arm was thrown into the rectangular window of light offered by the door. Her palm faced upwards and her fingers were limp. Around her finger was wrapped a thread, an old five-paise coin suspended from the thread. From her wrist, a thin, solid red line trailed down onto the floor and dissolved in the mud.

Aravind looked at Sarayu, who was standing next to him. ‘You said you came to meet her?’

‘I…I did. I didn’t—’

‘You did or you didn’t?’

‘I did. I… I
was
here. But I didn’t think she would—’

Aravind turned and made his way through the crowd. Sarayu followed him. ‘Aravind, wait! Listen to what I have to say. Oh god.’

Chanti followed at a distance as they made their way away from the crowd. When they were a fair distance away, they stopped.

‘So much for asking her to confirm your story, huh?’ Aravind said, holding his hair in his hands and looking up at the sky. ‘God!’

‘Aravind, please,’ Sarayu said, reaching out for him. ‘Please don’t be upset.’

‘Upset!’ he laughed stupidly. ‘Why would I be upset? Now tell me, Sarayu, why did you kill her?’

‘I did not!’

‘So you’re saying you did not visit her?’

‘I did! But I did not kill her.’ She took a step closer to him and held the sleeve of his shirt in both her hands. ‘You have to believe me. You
have
to.’

He pulled his arm away. ‘Have to, huh? Have to!’ His speech came in short, sharp bursts. ‘Tell me. You! Tell me why I must believe you could not have killed her. You… you
bitch
!’

Chanti looked on, blinking, gulping, licking his lips, biting his tongue.

‘I deserve it,’ Sarayu said slowly. ‘I deserve your abuses, Aravind. I deserve anything you give me. But I did not kill her. I am not a killer.’

‘So says everyone. But she…
she
was not like that. She did not just…
say
things.’ An edge of grief crept into his voice and the words rippled out, one at a time.

Sarayu reached out and held his shirt once again. ‘I am the same. Absolutely the same. I am… I am better.’

He turned to face her, first in anger, then in growing amazement. ‘You… you killed her, and you killed him too. You killed all of them.’

She shrank back, her hands shot up to cover her mouth. She shook her head.

‘Oh, no, don’t play the poor girl card on me now,’ Aravind said, his face contorting into an expression of uncontrolled fury. ‘You killed Ramana on the way here. You killed Seeta this morning. And once you killed him, you went to the well and killed Chotu. Yes, you killed all of them.’

‘No! No… how could I?’

‘How could you?’ Aravind held her by the hair and pulled her to him for a closer look. ‘How could you? I saw your face when you saw Ramana’s body. I saw your face when your
father
died. You liked it, didn’t you? You liked killing them all.’

Chanti came running to them now. ‘Hey, wait.’ He freed her from his grip and pushed him away. ‘Wait! We don’t know for sure. We don’t
know
for sure.’

‘Oh, you fool,
look
at her face!’

‘Yes, look at my face!’ Sarayu raised herself to her full height and faced them both. But her eyes were fastened on Aravind. ‘Have you ever seen this face? Ever? Have you ever seen me looking at you?’ She walked towards him as she spoke. ‘Have you ever, in all the times we spent together, looked into my eyes for
one
moment? If you had, maybe you would have seen what I really am. Maybe you would have seen the love I have for you. You would have
noticed
me once instead of just letting your eyes slip by and calling me a murderer!’

They both stood, staring.

‘Surprised?’ she continued. ‘Surprised? Of course you are. What do you know about women—about
real
women? You are the son of a filthy man, and you will always be in love with filth—with dirtiness, with ugliness. When a real woman wants you, how will you know?
You
… you don’t deserve me!

‘Why would I kill Ramana, you pathetic oaf? Why would I kill Chotu? How did I know that Ramana would be at the school? How did I know that Chotu was sitting there by the well with his head smashed in and all alone? Are you even thinking straight? Are you?’

Aravind slunk backwards as she advanced towards him. Chanti stood rooted to the spot, staring at her with an open mouth. Every once in a while, his tongue would come out and rasp against his dry lips. Every once in a while, he would blink. His face showed no emotion, as though he were in a trance.

For a moment, it seemed like Sarayu would pick Aravind up by his collar and toss him against the tree, but the harried sound of a walking stick came from behind her. She stopped.

‘What is going on here,’ Avadhani demanded. ‘I told you to watch out for one another, not
fight
.’ He looked at Sarayu. ‘What are you doing? Why is your hair so dirty?’ He hurried over to Aravind and looked closely at his face. Then his features softened and he whispered, ‘Boy, Seeta is nothing in all of this. She is
nothing
. Don’t think about her. Think about what is to happen ahead.’

Aravind started to say something, but Avadhani held up his hand. ‘Shh, stop talking. Let’s walk back to the house without a word. Not a word! We will speak once we get home.’ He looked at Chanti and slapped him full on his cheek. ‘Wake up, boy! This is not the time to lose your mind.’

He turned and started walking away, beckoning to them over his shoulder. ‘Come. Not a word! Yes, we will speak… once we get home.’

She had loved
him
!

All along, all this while, she had loved
him
.

Had she, though? She had always looked at him with that… that look in her eye. Was it nothing then? Had he just imagined it?

Yes, hadn’t he stood by and listened to her profess her love for Aravind just now? And that too after
he
had stepped in and stopped Aravind from striking her. He had faced up to him for her and she had just walked on by and knelt before Aravind.

He felt sorry for Aravind. How stupid was he, really? How could any sane man choose Seeta over Sarayu? He remembered the needle pricks on his arm. Yes, that had to be the reason. No thinking man would look away like he had when Sarayu offered herself to him.

He held the knife in his hand and flicked his wrist. An old, familiar feeling returned to him. Back on the banks of Ellamma Cheruvu, he used to flip stones over the lake with a flick of his wrist just like this. He had lost practice, but the muscles in his fingers remembered. They held the knife with
just
the right amount of pressure. And with each nonchalant flip, they remembered more.

There was also a flower… Yes, a giant, yellow, sun-lit flower with a long, green stem that disappeared somewhere below, petals that spread in both directions, so close to his eyes that they brushed against his lashes when he blinked. And above the flower, chin propped up by hands and head tilted playfully to one side, was her face.

He had first seen that expression on her face when he had given her the first flower. She had asked, ‘What is this, you idiot?’

‘This… I brought this for you… our backyard… just bloomed today… for you.’

Her head had tilted then and she had smiled. After taking the flower from him and ruffling his hair, she had said to Aravind, ‘See, have
you
ever done something like this?’

Back then, he had thought she was chiding Aravind, that
he
had won in her eyes while Aravind had lost, that
he
had done something to make her happy, and that based on these things she said, if she had to choose between them, she would choose him because he had done all that Aravind had not done.

But now, as the afternoon sun broke through a hole in the tiled roof and glinted off the knife’s edge, he understood what she had
really
meant. It was not the fact that Aravind had failed her expectations that was important; it was why she had expectations of Aravind in the first place. Everything he did for her, he now remembered, Sarayu had thrown at Aravind, asking him what he had done for her, daring him to match Chanti.

He had once given her a pink sweater that an old aunt bought for him. She had taken it and cast a side-long glance at Aravind, while her fingers played in Chanti’s hair.

He had once bought her a doll from the fair. She had taken it and raised her brow at Aravind, as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

All of these had been precious memories for him; each time he saw Sarayu challenge Aravind, he had thought that
he
was the winner. Every time he brought her a gift, his heart used to yearn for her to compare him with Aravind, and he used to revel in the quiet confidence that
he
would beat all those vying for her affection.

The light from the knife hit his eyes, and he closed them. Today, the illusion had broken. Today, the face on top of the flower, the playful, tilted face of an angel smiled with the perverse glee of a clown who had pulled a nasty trick. It was a smile of contempt. It was a smile of condescension and mockery.