Tikkipala (41 page)

When Mr Dar heard that the Raja had built homes for the tribal people he wrote an angry letter, accusing Anoo of meddling and trespass.

‘But it was you, yourself,' the Raja wrote back, ‘who told me that if I wanted to offer help to the tribal people I should do it myself. I have your letter here. And also you have only bought the permit to fell the timber. The land does not belong to you.
Why don't you meet me up there in the high jungle? We could discuss the matter and you would be able to see the situation for yourself.'

Mr Dar kept looking at the Raja's letter for a long time after he had finished reading. Then he told one of his managers, ‘Perhaps we will gain some benefits out of the housing of these tribal people. I understand that this Raja of Bidwar has provided these people with a shop and that they are beginning to desire possessions. Now they will be needing money to purchase so this is a good time to offer employment to the younger tribal persons, who so far have not been motivated with spending. It will be profitable because since they are ignorant of the world, these tribals will agree to work for wages far below the norm and also perhaps we can set an arrak shop up there. I will be interested to see these tribal people spending their earnings on making themselves drunk.'

The manager felt shocked but all the same said, ‘This is a very good suggestion, sir. Not only will we be teaching these people of the benefits of civilisation but also encouraging them to get off their fat arses and do some proper work. In a very short time, thanks to you, we will have transformed these unfortunate people and enabled them to take their proper places in the human race.'

A year earlier Father Gomez had read in the papers about the naked tribal people who had been discovered by the timber company. His heart had filled with hope and love, because here was a group of souls as pure and innocent as children. Such people, in their isolation, could have done no sin, but unless Father Gomez could get to them to baptise them and teach them the word of Jesus, they would spend eternity in Limbo. For the sake of these poor ignorant ones, Father left his comfortable diocese in Goa, and came to live in a breeze block hut in the high jungle.

Daily Father Gomez walked among his people, telling them of the loving God and of Jesus who had died to save them. ‘Give up your superstitious ways,' he told them. ‘Give no more sacrifice to your false goddess, but offer yourselves and your worship to the true God.'

‘How do you know this is the true one?' asked the elders.

‘Because the Bible tells us,' said Father Gomez. ‘But, because your people have no holy book you cannot know the truth.'

The people looked very puzzled and one old woman tried to tell the priest, ‘We have spoken the truth from one generation to another for ten thousand years.'

Father Gomez shook his head and smiled kindly.

‘Have you seen your God?' asked the elders.

‘No,' said Father Gomez. ‘But if you pray, you can feel him in your heart.'

‘Where did He come from?' asked another.

Father smiled yet more kindly. ‘God does not come from anywhere. He always was and always will be.'

One old woman said gently, ‘We have created Tikki. She is real, but it seems to us that you have only invented your God in your heart and mind.'

Father Gomez felt his face go red. ‘It is because you cannot see or understand Him that He is God.'

The elders shook their heads. ‘We can see Tikki. We can hear Tikki. We can smell Tikki. We can feel Tikki coming,' they said. ‘So we know she is there, but we are not sure about this God of yours.'

Father Gomez saw that he would have a lot of work to do with these poor people, and that perhaps after all their souls were already sinful.

A new problem had arisen for the thags. The Raja had sent, ahead of the wedding party, great lorry loads of ingredients and equipment, as well as instructions for the arrangements.

Again they met. ‘We had not thought of this. How are we to accomplish both the cooking-cleaning work and also our duty to Kali?' But then they began to see that perhaps this was the answer to their total problem. If they were all seen to be working at the palace, a small number could be stationed to stop the seventh car.

They began to feel jubilant again.

Although the thags had been instructed to prepare the palace, Devi, her father and Maw were to arrive the day before the ceremony, to oversee the preparations. Mala, Srila and Queenie would have liked to come too, but when the sleeping arrangements were described, they decided to wait till beds, bedding and proper food arrangements arrived.

The statue in Bidwar was by now so small that it could only be seen by the most powerful microscope. ‘Now what?' he said to Maw. After all this reduction had been Maw's suggestion.

For some reason the question made Maw angry. ‘You Coarseones don't understand anything,' he shouted.

Queenie had expected problems when she announced that Nirmal was to travel to his wedding in her car with her.

‘He is bound to try to bring his filthy statue and I shall make certain that this is left behind.'

‘You needn't worry about this statue,' Devi told her. ‘The new one is so small you can't even see it anymore.'

‘How perfectly ridiculous,' sniffed Queenie. ‘What is the point of a statue one cannot see?'

It was the custom that the bridegroom arrived for his wedding on a horse, but since this was clearly impossible, considering the distance, it was decided Nirmal should travel instead in the car that Queenie was giving her grandson for a wedding present.

When Queenie arrived in her limousine to take him to choose his gift, a small and battered Triumph Herald, covered in graffiti, stood parked in the Bidwar Palace drive, with Nirmal waiting in the driver's seat. ‘What do you think?' he beamed, leaning from the window and waving. ‘I have been painting designs over it since the morning.'

‘Have you forgotten that I am buying you a wedding car?' cried Queenie.

‘No. I remembered,' smiled Nirmal serenely. ‘So I bought this.' He gave the outside of the door an affectionate slap. ‘I told them you would be coming to pay for it today.'

‘This is not the kind of car I meant,' cried Queenie. ‘How can you arrive at your own wedding in this wreck?'

‘It's not a wreck. It's a wonderful car.' Nirmal was hurt.

‘Look, get out of there at once,' commanded Queenie. ‘There is no way you can drive four hundred miles in such a car. I am going to buy you a brand new imported BMW.'

Nirmal gripped the steering wheel of his car as though he expected her to snatch it away from him. ‘I really prefer this one, grandmother,' he said.

‘It is not a question of what you prefer.' Queenie felt as though she was already losing. ‘And also,' she added, changing from cross to piteous, ‘It was arranged that you and I should travel together and you can't expect me to journey in that thing.'

‘I can't see what's wrong with it.'

‘I refuse to subject myself to such a humiliation,' said Queenie.

‘Then why don't you go in your car and I'll go in mine?' said Nirmal hopefully.

‘Because I have told my driver he can have a week off, because I have arranged for my car to go for servicing, and because I thought you and I would be travelling in something safe and comfortable.'

As soon as the Raja's car arrived at the hill palace, the day before the wedding, Maw leapt out and announced that he was going up to the high jungle in one of the timber lorries.

He is avoiding the wedding, thought Devi, and felt relieved for lately Maw's presence was embarrassing her more and more. The thought of him there at her wedding to Nirmal had become intolerable for she could not look at Maw without being reminded of the intimacy that had taken between them. And even more, that she was carrying his child.

‘He is so unpredictable,' the Raja said, as the timber lorry bearing Maw vanished up the road in a cloud of red dust. ‘You never know what his reaction will be to anything. One would have thought he would enjoy being present at your wedding, for he has always been like a younger brother to you.'

Devi felt her face grow hot and she looked away. Her father was right. Maw's reactions were always unexpected. For some time she had thought that Maw was in love with her and had felt anxious when she told him she was marrying Nirmal, but
Maw had reacted with enthusiasm and not at all like a man who was jealous or upset. On the morning after ‘the mistake' as Devi now thought of it, she had been shy to catch his eye, but he had reacted as though nothing had happened between them, saying ‘good morning' as usual, asking her politely what she was going to do that day. It was as if the thing had never happened, or that he had forgotten about it. And ever since he had never referred to the event either by word or gesture.

But she was pregnant. Did he know? Did he guess? Did he even care? These thoughts, for some reason, made her feel afraid. What kind of child was this, that was growing in her womb?

The thags had made their plans carefully. The lads employed to stop each seventh car had never been seen by any of the Raja family, so no matter what happened, would not be recognised or connected with the servants of the palace. ‘Make sure the fate of the captured car is not witnessed by occupants of the others,' the waiting thags were warned. ‘Although, because they have come so far, they will undoubtedly be spread out, so the risk is not so great.'

‘How many wedding cars do you think there will be?' the palace thags murmured to each other as they chopped meat, peeled vegetables, rolled chapattees purees. At least two hundred, it was thought, for no Raja would have fewer guests than that to his only daughter's wedding. They did sums. A shiver of delighted expectation ran among them as they polished floors, cooked curries, arranged flowers, laid carpets, raked lawns and whispered to each other, ‘Tomorrow the hundreds of guests will start arriving and we will become true thags again. We will once more enjoy our ancient skills.' Those working in the palace were only sorry that they had to be there and not reaping riches and offering the sacrifices to Kali.

Maw reached the high jungle and whistled. Slowly his people came out to meet him, first from the huts and houses, then out of the forest. Even the children, whose cheeks had grown fat and red with hamburgers and chips, felt the throbbing of his whistle vibrate inside their hearts and began to get strange hankering memories of the high life in the trees again.

Father Gomez was having a worrying conversation with an official from Sita Timbers. He had been trying to persuade his congregation to help him build a church.

‘What is a church?' the people had asked.

‘It is the place in which we meet God,' explained Father Gomez. ‘I will make a plan of it and tomorrow we will start the building.'

But this conversation had reached the ears of Mr Dar and a Sita Timber lawyer had been sent to put a stop to it. ‘Mr Dar forbids you to build church here. All the land is required for the logging work.'

But you have already permitted these huts,' said the priest.

‘This is labour accommodation. Mr Dar does not wish his labourers to waste their time in religious activities, however,' the lawyer said.

Just at that moment Father Gomez looked out of his window and saw a tall young tribal man that he did not recognise. The youth, who was dressed in jeans, base ball cap and t-shirt, was surrounded by the tribal people who were listening to him avidly. Father could no longer concentrate on the words of the lawyer, he was filled with alarm and felt full of fear that, at this early tender stage, this fellow was converting the tribal people away from Christianity. For what else could this fellow be saying, that
engrossed these tribal people so? They were listening intently, though when Father Gomez talked to them about Jesus, he could not keep their attention for five minutes.

At the first possible moment Father Gomez rushed out. These things must be nipped firmly and swiftly in the bud. He had heard of other priests who had not taken action soon enough, and before you knew it, there were pictures of the goddess Kali hanging next to the Sacred Heart.

Maw looked surprised at the sight of the priest rushing up, black robes flying, beretta bouncing.

‘How dare you! Go away from here. I claim these souls as mine,' shouted Father Gomez.

Maw asked his people, in their own tongue, ‘Who is he?'

The people answered, smiling, ‘He believes all sorts of childish things and you do not have to take him seriously, but we get some good things from him like blankets, chocolate, beer, slippers for our feet, if we listen to his rubbish.'

‘These are innocent people and I don't want them corrupted,' cried Father Gomez.

He wished he had learnt the language of these people. It would not, he thought, have been too difficult, considering how primitive they were. Their language could not consist of too many words, he thought. He would start learning it the very next day.

‘These things he gives you are worthless compared to what he takes from you,' said Maw while Father Gomez tweaked at his sleeve asking, ‘What are you saying? What are they saying?'

‘At last, after twenty years, we are to be able to offer sacrifice to Kali again,' the thags murmured on the morning of the wedding as they waited for the arrival of the guests. Their hearts began beating faster with excitement, their hands to tremble on the pudding spoons and broom handles as they visualised their thag brothers down below waiting for the slow arrival of the wedding cars. Their fathers and their grandfathers had often told them how, in the old days, a party of travellers would be stopped on the road and invited to sit and eat with the thags. How the potential victims would be given cool drink and fine food and, when the victims were relaxed and replete, the thags would say, ‘We are sure you and your madam have beautiful voices. We expect you sing far better than any one of us.' When people sing they raise their chins and expose their throats. And then the thags would swiftly wrap a silken rumal round the flattered, challenged victims necks, and strangle them.