Tikkipala (34 page)

‘Where do you go? What do you do?' Devi sometimes asked him, then talked of things incomprehensible to him like robbers and sexually transmitted diseases.

He could not tell her what he really did because the Coarseones had no words for it.

He had tried to explain once, ‘Remake myself. Rebuild my cells. Remould my soul,' and she had looked as though she had understood him for a moment, but then she said, ‘Oh, you mean something like the gym,' and he realised she had not understood anything at all.

People in the town of Parwal woke up one day to find that there was no rice in the shops. No one could understand it, for there had never been any indication that the rice crops of the surrounding villages had failed. In the long queues that began
forming at the rice depots, people speculated about where the rice had gone. ‘The Pakistanis have bought it all up to starve us into giving them Kashmir,' some said. Others said they knew for a fact that someone rich from Delhi had cornered the crop to push the rice price up. ‘No, no,' said others. ‘This is a government plot to control the population of our country, for it is well known that malnourished people are less fertile.' Whatever reason for the lack of the rice, it provoked fury. Because no one knew who was really responsible, everyone began to suspect everyone else. Shop keepers were targeted and accused of hoarding. The houses of the rich were stoned because it was suspected that they alone had access to rice. Lorry drivers were pulled from their cabs and beaten up because someone had said they were secretly smuggling rice out of the district.

To the policemen, sent to investigate the matter, the peasant farmers would say, ‘There was a hail storm and our crop is totally destroyed.' Or ‘We took it all to town and sold it and after that we know no more.' Or ‘The rats ate all of it, we are starving too.' The suspicions of the police were not allayed, however, for the peasants did not look any more starving than they ever had. It was clear they were selling their rice still, but no one could find to whom. Something else odd was happening too. The arrak makers, who had traditionally been a ragged scrawny crew of underdogs, suddenly began buying bicycles and transistor radios. The third strange event was the disappearance of the prostitutes. One day you could go into the area of the town where they congregated and pick and choose among a hundred pretty or less pretty girls. You could get a transvestite for five rupees, and a hijra for only a little more. But, as though overnight, the area was empty and the prostitutes all gone. The women of Parwal rejoiced at first, saying, ‘At last our government has done something about the cleaning up of our town and the forcing of morality onto our husbands,' but when
weeks went by and still the prostitutes did not return, wives began to suffer from sore thighs and feel tired for constantly having their sleep interrupted. They started to wish the prostitutes were back again.

‘The day that anyone finds out who has bought your rice you will not be eating anything, not even a roti, for you will have a gap in your throat where the food goes down,' the thags threatened the peasant farmers and the prostitutes, ‘If one word of this leaks out, even though your cunts work as well as ever, the top half of you will be stopped forever by a tightened rumal.' And to the makers of rice arrak, ‘If it is discovered that you are betraying us, not only will all your new found prosperity vanish but you and your families will vanish also.'

The thags of Parwal were experts at secrecy and for a thousand years had managed to live by murdering travellers and carrying away their possessions, with no one having any idea even of their existence, so silencing a group of people who were gaining so much benefit was no problem at all. The thags had become social benefactors and felt proud of it. In a time of scarcity and lack of employment they had not only helped a lot of people but also secured a good and dignified living for themselves. And after a long time they once again were able to make respectable offerings to the goddess Kali, who, since the re-routing of the road, had been much deprived.

The hill palace of Parwal had been turned into an arrak shop, brothel and car dismantling workshop. The smells that Devi had imposed upon the palace, polish and jungle flowers, swiftly were overwhelmed by the sour and heady ones of rice liquor brewing, and the fishy one of sex.

The labourers and lorry drivers of the timber company had been alarmed at first to be forced to stop by dropped trees half way between the high jungle and the hill palace, and even more terrified to find themselves confronted with people who at first sight had looked like bandits. But quickly the thags had reassured the drivers, flashing gold toothed grins, that they were only being offered a night of sex and arrak in the palace.

At first some of the drivers had been suspicious. ‘But why should you be concerned about our comfort?'

‘We are followers of goddess Kali and therefore have an old tradition that offers hospitality to passing travellers,' smiled the thags. ‘But also we have good females and arrak on tap, and you can pay rupees for these things and that will be our reward.'

The thags only resorted to their ancient tradition of strangling lured travellers with a rumal when it was considered sufficiently profitable. The drivers and labourers of the timber company who drove regularly back and forth were not at risk, being looked upon as milking cows and, as the thags told each other, ‘we do not kill our cow but keeping feeding it and thus availing ourselves of a constant supply.' But when a big official or manager returned from carrying out an inspection, or a government officer stayed at the palace on his way back from a snooping mission, then the thags would find it both sensible and profitable to strangle him before removing his valuable property such as wallet, watch and cuff links. There was never any problem about concealing these killings, for such persons who had usually come from big cities such as Delhi or Bombay considered themselves such a cut above the tree choppers and lorry drivers that they refused always to associate with minor people, and insisted on being served in a separate room where their cavortings and imbibings could be carried out in private. These pumped up fellows were sufficiently unpopular with the working
people of the timber company, that even when there were suspicions about their disappearance, no one ever voiced them. It was usually quite a long time before the absence of the missing people was discovered, during which their cars were swiftly and efficiently reduced to saleable parts in the thag mechanic's workshop.

At first it would be thought that the victims had been delayed up in the hills, or had had a break down on the return journey or some such thing. It was only when a month or so had passed that people would be sent to look for the missing official or minister and anxiety started to set in. But these people had travelled a long way, through wild country in which there would have been not more than a couple of cars a day. Perhaps highway men had captured the missing person, killed him, taken his valuables and dismantled the car so thoroughly that no part of it remained. They had to travel through forests infested with wild animals and open plains controlled by gangs of bandits. Anything, it was thought, could have happened to them and although their grieving friends and families put out advertisements and offered rewards, no trace of any of the missing people was ever found. Sometimes, in fact, the police even suggested to the grieving families that their missing relative had used the chance to run away. ‘Perhaps he has found some woman and gone off with her. Or committed some crime and hopes to evade detection.' A rumour went round that there were man-eating tigers on the road to the high jungle and that the unfortunate missing ones had lost their lives to these. Shikaris came from all over the world, obtained permits, set up tents in the high jungle and went out daily in the hopes of bagging a tiger in the wild. Although no man-eater was ever found, a couple of wealthy hunters who had come all the way from the USA vanished too, a few days after leaving the high jungle, and were not seen again.

The subtle ones had been walking for a week. Their bodies ached for they were not young men and women with strong muscles. Their stomachs had lost the art of surviving without food, or going without water. They had no fatty tissue on their bodies to live off. Their naked feet were cracked and bleeding. One grandfather died and his body was left for jackals on the way.

They reached the peaks of mountains and looked from side to side, but wherever they looked they saw the tree cutters coming. They struggled down to valleys and tried to wade through water in case there should be good jungle on the other side. They had lost their hunting tools but sometimes they captured baby hares and fledgling birds and ate them raw.

‘We should go back,' said one old lady. ‘Our people are done for and there is nothing for us in these jungles now.' She had left a dozen grandchildren behind her and even one great grandchild. By now even the Coarseones' clearing seemed preferable to this kind of slow dying.

The Raja had at first found Maw's presence rather irritating and had kept saying things like, ‘What's he here for? How long is he going to stay?', but as time passed he had come to respect and even to feel fond of Maw, to look upon his almost as a son. In fact, really, he thought, looking at Maw across his table, now that the boy has grown up, wears decent clothes, and has had an education, even though he has a tribal background, he may well have a good future ahead of him. His only drawback, thought the Raja, was that the boy refused to cut his hair. Several times the Raja had tried to persuade him to take it off. ‘Then you will be indistinguishable from any of the boys of our society.' But Maw, calmly and firmly, had refused to part with his
hair, which, when let loose, fell down to his ankles and was so thick that his baseball cap balanced on top and could not be pulled over it. ‘I may need it,' was Maw's only explanation.

‘For what?' protested the Raja. ‘You no longer live in the jungle, dear boy. Let me call the barber in.'

‘No,' said Maw.

Now, at the end of lunch, as Maw started to rise, the Raja said, ‘Wait a moment, Maw, my boy, I would like a word with you. Have you thought what you want to do with your life?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Maw swiftly. The Raja felt pleased if a little surprised at the speed and certainty of this reply. Although Maw had done well in most his school subjects, especially science, he had never seemed totally committed to anything.

‘Will you tell me what it is that you plan to do?'

Maw gazed at the Raja dreamily for a while. Then he drew in a deep breath and said, ‘I have work to do among my people in the high jungle.'

‘I am asking you what you plan to do with your life. What will you do after you have been to visit your people?'

‘That will be the end,' said Maw.

The Raja let out a laugh. ‘You need not worry about your tribe any longer, Maw. I have provided them with everything they need, food, clean water and now I have even had little houses made for them so that when the monsoon comes they will have shelter. We have set up a shop so that they may buy buckets, cloth, knives, that kind of thing. You will be delighted with the improvement in their living conditions if you
go to see them now. Next month we are even setting up a school and every child between five and fifteen will receive an education. Also,' he leant forward with beaming eyes, ‘I have put a fund aside to pay for any children who show promise. They will be put though university at my company's expense. And this is connected with what I want to talk to you about.' He smiled more broadly and patted Maw on the hand. Maw gazed at him. The Raja could not read his expression. ‘How would you like to work for us? I have spoken to the directors of my company and they think you would make a good manager.'

‘Thank you,' said Maw graciously. ‘But I do not have the time.'

The Raja blinked then frowned. ‘I find your lack of co-operation somewhat insulting. Do you not feel that you are abusing my hospitality?'

Maw watched him calmly, without appearing either ashamed or afraid. After a while, when Maw still said nothing, the Raja snapped, ‘Well? What do you have to say for yourself?'

‘I am sorry,' said Maw.

‘And grateful? Aren't you grateful for all we have done for you? For all I have done for your people?'

‘I am sorry,' said Maw again.

The Raja waited for something more, but Maw just sat very still and expressionless.

‘Come on, let him go, Dad,' said Devi, coming in. ‘He's supposed to be coming to the club with me for a game of squash and a swim after.'

‘Yes, good idea,' smiled the Raja. Since coming back from Bengal, she had not seemed happy. Several times he had asked her, ‘Are you alright, darling? Is something troubling you?' It was as if she was always thinking of something else. It
was, he thought, as though she was in love. Ridiculous, but that was the silly idea that came to him.

She would shake her head. ‘I'm fine, really.'

‘Your grandmother has been asking for you. Why don't you go to visit her any more, she wants to know?'

Devi shrugged, thought to herself ‘because she can see into my mind', but said, ‘I'll go. Has it really been a long time?'

Anoo was not reassured. Usually Devi returned from her lecture tours elated. ‘Go to the club. It'll do you good,' he said now. ‘Maw doesn't deserve anything, but all right, go!'

Devi was drenched in sweat when they had finished playing, but when she went to shower, the water had packed up. She decided to have a drink at the bar and shower when she got home. As she entered the lounge, wearing shorts and an aerobic top, a towel round her neck and her water bottle in her hand, the head bearer stopped her, saying cautiously, ‘Memsahib, you are not wearing the permitted dress.'

‘Sorry, sorry, Raj,' she laughed. ‘I promise I'll put a skirt on next time,' and continued on, the bearer following her and saying, ‘But Memsahib…but Memsahib…'