by Javi Reddy
“You have a chance to make life easier for your loved ones. You can relieve them of all this stress. Wouldn’t it be nice to give your dad and everyone else some sort of peace of mind? Do the right thing, my boy.”
Jay’s disgust at the man in front of him was complete when he believed the doctor belonged in an infomercial rather than a medical centre. Jay began to daydream about Amritha, again. It was a nice way for his mind to wander off. He thought of the two of them alone. He tried to decipher how she managed to get her hair to smell the way it did and in his thoughts there was no chaos. Just music. The ballad of the Bharatanatyam diamond sparkling in his tired mind. He thought about her soft hands delicately touching his shoulder. His daydream was cut short, when his father’s heavy hand weighed down on the back of his head.
Preega was on a mission to thwart his dreams. He and this cheese-ball of a doctor in front of him. Jay bet his breath smelt of tinned tuna. He didn’t say anything to either of them. He desperately sought to keep his composure and avoid any sort of aggravation that would make this already painful afternoon, even more unbearable.
Jay looked around the room to see the many certificates hanging proudly on Dr Pillai’s wall. A tinge of intimidation briefly plagued him. Questioning such a reputable doctor, no matter how infuriating and intolerable the man was, made him feel childish and arrogant. Preega noticed him catching a glimpse of the doctor’s awards.
“Dr Pillai has studied hard to get where he is today. His hard work has paid off. Do you see why I want you to get your studies done? I want you to prosper,” he pointed to the wall as he rambled on.
“All these prestigious qualifications aren’t the only thing that contributes to his integrity and intelligence. He has years of experience with patients. Like myself, he just wants what’s best for you.”
“I’m not a normal patient. Dr Pillai, is just a G.P., after all.”
Dr Pillai prepared himself to speak, but Preega raised his hand as a means for the doctor to halt. “You’re taking your meds regularly, aren’t you? So, there needn’t be many concerns about you physically. I’m just worried about your mental state.”
“Then, get me a psychiatrist.”
“Listen,” Preega said as calmly as possible, grinding his teeth, “Dr Pillai has a reputation of building up good relationships with patients. Give it a chance. Give him a chance.”
Jay wanted to scream right into his father’s face. He thought of Amritha’s gentle gaze. A raging scream within him withered away. What would she think of him if he ever lost it? She barely knew him the way he wanted her to know him.
“Let him speak,” Jay pointed at Dr Pillai.
“Jay,” Dr Pillai began again, “let me explain things to you properly. You have a rare type of epilepsy. Hyponatremia-induced, to be specific.”
He realised that he now had Jay’s attention. “In your case, heading the ball isn’t the major problem when playing football. Hyponatremia is the dilution of sodium in the body, which can result from drinking too much water on a regular basis.”
He took off his glasses to wipe them with a miniature-sized yellow cloth.
“Sportsmen, like yourself, lose a lot of water and electrolytes when they’re playing. That means hyponatremia along with a sort of water intoxication can easily take place. All because you’re dehydrated and you’re drinking loads of water without the necessary electrolytes. Now, being realistic, we can’t expect you to go through games that put such strain on your body without you taking in any fluids. It means…”
“It means you think it’s better if I give up playing altogether?”
“It doesn’t have to be a permanent break. Young man, the electrolyte imbalance results in the swelling of tissues which puts pressure on the brain and nerves. Normally, players wouldn’t really be threatened by something like this, but an epileptic can be endangered because the swelling can heighten the chance of seizures and in some severe cases, people have become comatose.”
Jay knew that he had a point, but it didn’t make him despise the doc’s face any less.
“Now, do you see why we’re trying to look out of for you, Jay?” the doctor said. Jay fiddled with his fingers.
“I need a minute to get some air.”
Outside, on a balcony of one of the medical centre’s wing, Jay looked over Rosebank. He felt betrayed by its beauty. Its magic no longer seemed to run through the streets. He was angry at it for no real reason when he knew it was his body, his brain, which had let him down. The plug was loose and the electricity that surged through him and made him what he was, was slowly becoming a fleeting force. Where to from here?
He had to start by going back in, shake the doctor’s hand like a man and move on. Would Amritha be drawn to a boy with no talent? He dragged his feet back into the doctor’s room and felt nauseous when he opened the door. There was Preega, handing the doctor a big, brown envelope from which he was counting out wads of R200 notes. Jay choked up but still managed to speak.
“Doesn’t medical aid cover bribes?”
“Now listen, son…”
“You had me, you know that? You really had me.”
He left the room without closing the door. Without knowing who or where to go. How can you trust the world out there if you cannot trust your own father?
27 September 2013. 4:58 PM
“You know, I’m beginning to think at times that your dad was worse than Berlusconi.”
“Berlusconi loved his son.”
James took out the flask again. Jay didn’t comment this time. “So, hyper—whatever you call it, was a bunch of bull?”
“Either that, or the envelope was filled with money for a medical charity event.”
“Is my sarcasm actually growing on you?”
James took a larger sip than before.
“I’m hungry,” Jay said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a proper meal.”
“Believe it or not, I’m a pretty decent chef. Well, I haven’t poisoned anyone yet.”
Jay paused, as though, he might regret what he was about to say later. “Spend the evening here then. You can cook us something.”
“There’s nothing decent in your fridge.”
He glared at James.
“Well, then, you’d better hurry up and get to the shops and subtly this time, try not to break too many suits’ necks on your way out.”
It wasn’t his full boyish grin, but his lips moved slightly to the side.
“Put that flask down and get going. Let’s see what dish you can serve up other than sarcasm.”
19 September 2013. 5:05 PM
Amritha hadn’t heard Vinny for about an hour. The last thing audible to her was the shutting of a door above. She peered up once more, to the slight glint above her. She had scanned the room several times and felt her way around like a blind child. There was no door at ground level. It had seemed that Vinny made his entrance from above. How exactly, she could not figure out. She had heard stairs before but where were they?
She focused on the glint. With her legs still shackled, her arms would have to do it all. She’d found a few bricks lying around but realised quickly that they were too heavy to hoist that far up, towards the glint. Instead, she used the brick to bang on the shackles. Her feet began to bleed, but the thin red streams that made their way to the earthy surface did not deter her. She banged harder. She did not fear breaking any bones. All that terrified her was remaining in this hell.
The shackles did not seem like they would give way easily. The brick broke into smaller pieces. She took a smaller piece and flung it above. It was well short of the glint. She took a deep breath and told herself to concentrate this time. She picked up the next piece, far more determined and focused.
She cleared her mind as she often did, prior to her dances. She threw the brick as a shot-put athlete would with a power she had somehow managed to summon. Her follow through action ensured the brick travelled as far as possible. It hit the middle of the glint as plan
ned. But there was no cracking sound. Nothing shattered. It was hopeless. She picked up another brick and threw it at the target, this time out of frustration. The brick did not reach as far up as the glint, but it hit something and there was a clinking sound.
She made her way to the wall and noticed that a steel chain had dropped from above. It was still connected up top from where it had fallen down. She thought she could pull herself all the way up to the top. She knew, however, that with the weight of the shackles, it would take a monumental effort to get there. Could she afford that in her current physical condition?
She had to try. She began to pull herself up, but it was futile. The weight was too much for her. She could not scale the wall even with the help of the chain. As she was ready to lower herself back to the ground, she heard something heavy hurtling towards her. She had seconds to react. She instinctively dove to the side as a large metal crate-like carrier crashed to the ground.
Dust swirled around her. She was inches away from being crushed. Her weight and the shackles had managed to bring down the carrier. She limped towards it to inspect it. The only damage to it was a slight dent on its surface. There was a device attached to the side. A wheel with a chain strapped around it. It was the sound that she heard every time Vinny entered. After fiddling with the chain, she managed to rope it back into the groove of the wheel’s border. She got onto the carrier, placed her hand on the handle attached to the wheel and said a little prayer to herself in Hindi. She began to turn the handle, and the carrier moved up slowly. It was holding up. She was almost at the summit when the carrier began to make queasy noises. It would only be a matter of time before it plunged to the ground and this time, she would perhaps not be so lucky.
Quickly, she wrapped the other loose chain which she had originally used around her arms. She was so close to the glint that she could almost touch it. The carrier jerked violently and halted immediately. The chains, holding it up, groaned and threatened to give in. And then, they did. The carrier hurtled to the ground and crashed. It split down the middle.
Amritha hung in mid-air, her arms grasping the chain and her shackles begging her to make the fall. I will not fall. I will not fall. Jay would not fall, she thought. She had to make one last effort. She had to pull herself up, even though she hadn’t managed it earlier. She closed her eyes for a second. She thought of being in his arms again. If she got to him, he would never let her go. She pulled up. She thought of his courage in adversity and his will to right the mistakes he’d made.
Painfully, she inched up. She wanted to kiss him, even if it was the last thing she’d ever do. She screamed aloud and pulled harder. She had never pushed her physical barrier this far. She thought of Jay Chetty. She had never pushed her emotional barrier that far. When she opened her eyes, she had made it to the top.
Chapter 14
19 September 2013. 5:17 PM
Amritha sat atop the darkened prison, gazing down the wall, her shackles sadistically still gripping her ankles. Cautiously, she rubbed her hand over the glass in front of her. The glint had come from a circular window pane. The brick that had hit it had barely caused a scratch. The glass was protected with an extremely thick crimson glazed finish.
She gripped the window handle with every ounce of her strength, pried it open, and crawled through. The darkness of her prison soon turned into absolute light as she tip-toed across a ledge on the other side of the window. The air on this side was fresher and her eyes took some time to adjust to the brightness. She was still indoors.
Large rectangular lights hung from the ceiling. It was still fairly warm here but nothing compared to the heat she’d faced in the cruel furnace on the other side. There was another carrier on this side of the ledge. She got onto it and began to work the wheel handle. The carrier lowered her down effortlessly, without any jerking or screeching.
The earthy surface below was fairly grassy with hints of plants here and there—a welcoming meadow to Amritha. She grazed her fingers through the grass before letting her chafed feet rub into the soil. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a row of large cylindrical steel containers with steam emanating from them. She climbed up one of the cylinder railings. Inside laid a bubbling, light green liquid that, at times, ferociously hissed at her.
“Want a sip?”
The voice belonged to a child, the innocence in his tone creeping up on her. She stood as still as possible before eventually making her way back down the railing. The little boy walked over to her. He was shorter than her, yet seemed to be already developing muscles in his arms and legs. He wore black shorts and a white t-shirt and his feet were bare.
“Try some. You’ll be strong.”
He held a steel bowl in his hands, blowing into it to cool it before taking a long hard sip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked towards Amritha. She moved in closer.
“Uh-uh! Naughty, naughty. You can’t sample the cake if you don’t want to come to the party.” Vinny gripped Amritha’s hand and the bowl dropped to the ground. He pressed the tip of his AK into her cheek. “You must excuse Sipho over here. He always seems to be too welcoming. It’s something we’ll have to work on. I’m sure after he makes his first kill, he’ll become a better person.”
Without looking, he commanded the little boy: “Run along now.”
Sipho vanished without hesitation.
“I must admit your whole trapeze artist stunt was very, very impressive. I saw you from the time you got onto the carrier on the other side. It’s nice to let the hamsters out the cage now and then, to see if they’re capable of running anywhere but on the wheel. I was right about you—you have potential.”
She breathed in and out. In and out, refusing to say anything. “Do you know what’s in those pots?”
He picked up a rhino horn that lay on a table next to him. It gleamed in the light as he stroked it leisurely. Amritha could not conceal her disgust.
“Don’t pull your face. I’m changing lives. Altering worlds.”
“By ruining the lives of endangered species? You’re not special. You’re just another common poacher.”
“Shut up, witch!”
He pointed the gun in her direction.
“I am not common. I am the difference. I am the power that you rich, spoilt idiots think you have.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, foolish girl. You think I’m using poaching to gain wealth? My kids, my beautiful army, will show you the future.”
He lowered the gun.
"I was just like them once. Poor, overlooked and powerless. My father was a Portuguese cotton farmer—a simple man who yearned for a greater life. When he moved to Lebanon to start a small clothing business, he fell in love with both the country and my mother. His business did well enough for him to support my mother who was then able to quit her job as a waitress in a local seafood restaurant.
"But Lebanon had always been a divided country. Politics, religion, outside influence; they all helped burn our land down from within. People couldn’t see that you could be a Christian in the north or a Muslim in the south and you’d still have the same DNA that could be related to your Phoenician heritage. The fools just saw reasons to hate each other. I was not part of a particular religious belief, but that wasn’t the real threat to me.
“Greedy men who had fought each other to rule over the country only cared about their upper-class selves and not about those who worked so hard for everything. They increased taxes on everything, but my father would not bow to their greed and extortion. They often came to his shop and beat him up. But still, he would not pay. One day, they torched the shop, and my mother was burnt alive in it. I managed to escape, and I ran into the streets just in time to watch them put a bullet in my father’s head.”
“So, why do you use violence then, if it brought you so much pain?”
“Violence didn’t bring me pain. It liberated me. The rich sit back and get the poor to pull the trigger. And that�
�s the problem- we think they’re in control. I will pull the trigger on anything that comes in my way.”
Amritha dropped to the ground. Her legs could no longer hold the rest of her body up.
"I love China. You know why? A few years ago, the trade between China and Africa was over 15 billion US dollars. And you didn’t have to be some pampered, well-educated pip-squeak to get into it. I got in. Infrastructure, oil, telecommunications. Business was booming. I started off making a name for myself in the smaller fields like agriculture and clothing.
“I remained loyal to my father’s skills until I built up more to become the man I really wanted to be. I make good money because I have a knack for ‘making things happen’. In the Black Market or wherever else I need to be. But I don’t need the cash. It doesn’t drive me. Being in control is what matters. And this is a case in point.” He held the rhino horn pendant strung around his neck.
“Carve them or grind them, you can dissolve them into boiling water to treat many ailments.”
“Is that medically proven?”
“It’s about demand, that’s all. And the demand is always high. Find a superstitious continent and go to work. Once your audience believes that the horn can be used as an aphrodisiac or can cure cancer, you’re in the driving seat. Rule number 1: it’s not about wealth; it’s about power. If you have the latter, the former will follow.”
“But what’s in those cylinders? What are you giving those innocent kids?”
“What am I giving them? I feed them, I clothe them. I give them purpose.” He wet his upper lip with his tongue.
"The so-called lower class, the kids with the real talent will no longer have to suffer, living on the streets, thanks to failed leadership across Africa. They will have a life with me, a life where they matter.
“Those cylinders are just a supplement that brings out the real talent hidden within them. To take control of a life they did not know they could have. I will give them that life, moulding them from start to finish. We’re a small army now, but we’ll grow. Think of the number of homeless kids out there. An army whose size is unstoppable.”