The Retribution

by Shankar Kashyap

“Oh. It’s you, Prem! No, there is no trouble.” Bro appeared a bit peeved at this turn of events. And in a whisper to the new guy in the hoodie, “This is one of my wards and I am trying to help him.”

  Prem walked up to Bro and looked at Lenny closely. Lenny was getting increasingly agitated by this time. He appeared to be visibly in pain.

  “Come on Bro, we go to the house now.” He mumbled this time as he struggled to open the passenger door of the BMW. “You are wasting time.”

  His voice was getting increasingly garbled.

  “Come on Bro, we will take you to the house.” Prem said taking Bro by the elbow leading him towards the other side of the alleyway. “I don’t think you are safe with him on your own in his state. He could do anything to you.” He whispered.

  “It is Ok Prem. I can handle him.” Bro protested. But by that time he was already half way down the alley way towards the road and the second guy hemmed him in. Prem was a burly weight lifter type of guy and when he held someone by hand, he did not move. The second one was leading Lenny along holding on to his other arm. The third guy, short and squat, looked around and followed them in silence. They led the two men towards a six seater black Ford car parked in the darkness at the end of the alleyway.

  Lenny had not seen the car just a few minutes ago when he entered the alley. The fourth guy, a lean tall chap, had his head bent down and did not get into the car as they drove away. The drive to the house on Harrison road was in silence. Lenny was mumbling and seem to be getting incoherent by the minute. There was drool at the corner of his mouth and his head lolled to one side on to the shoulder of the short, squat guy sitting next to. All three were young Asian men, Bro had seen them several times before at the temple. He seemed to know them quite well.

  Their car stopped as they entered Harrison road and Prem got out to speak to a couple of guys standing in the corner. There was a quite a bit of agitated whispering going on between them before they got back into the car.

  “They will bring your car over to the house.” Prem said. “Give them your keys.”

  Bro was getting a bit uneasy and fidgety now. But there was nothing he could do. He handed over the keys of his car over to one of the young men in the corner.

  They stopped at the end of a terrace of houses and the short squat guy got out and briskly walked away. He could move fast for a fat guy. He stopped at the corner, looked around and disappeared out of sight. Bro was struggling trying to keep Lenny from falling over on the back seat. They knew the house and did not need any directions from Bro. It was a nondescript house towards the end of a row of terrace houses, very similar to thousands of houses dotted around the city of Leicester. Harrison road belonged to the enclave around the hub of Belgrave road shopping precinct. Well known for its Indian shops and eateries, the enclave was a sort of a ghetto for all Asians.

  At this time of the night, there was no one in sight as the car cruised down the road to stop in front of the house. Bro got down as soon as the car stopped and opened the front door with his keys. Prem got out of the driver’s side and was standing next to him before he could get the keys out of his jacket. He could move very fast for a big guy. The other two got out quickly and helped Lenny out of the car. He appeared to be in a daze by this time and staggered as he struggled out of the car. The three men bundled Lenny and almost carried him into the house.

  The cold October air seem to wake Lenny up a little and straightened himself up.

  “Good, we are at the bloody house finally.” He mumbled rather incoherently. “Give me the bloody stuff. You promised.”

  His eyes could not focus. He tried to clutch at Bro’s jacket. He was looking at no one in particular when he said that. Finally he collapsed on the dirty green sofa in the sitting room. It was all a bit too much for him by then. He could still see that great black monstrous cat every time he closed his eyes. The three men looked at each other and Prem nodded his head ever so slightly. The third guy was going around drawing the curtains to cover the windows. It was unnerving to see him move his short fat bulk around so quietly. Bro was too busy racking his head as to how to get out the situation. Prem saw his predicament and smiled.

  “Don’t worry Bro. We know what he wants. Give it to him. Otherwise he will keep going like this and wake up the neighbours.”

  It was nearly two in the morning by that time. Bro looked at Prem for a long time and visibly relaxed.

  “I have to help the poor man.” He turned to Lenny and said, “Wait here. I will get it for you.”

  He went upstairs to one of the bedrooms. The three could hear Bro moving around upstairs, pulling draws, closing doors and a lock being opened and shut. Sound of steps coming down the stairs hurt his head. He returned after a couple of minutes with a little brown paper packet. Lenny was suddenly awake at the sound of the packet being unwrapped. He appeared to know what happened next as he stood up, walked into the dining room and sat at the dining table. The two were busy at the dining table for a few minutes and they could see a puff of smoke coming from the dining room. The tinkling sound of glass breaking was loud in the stillness of the night. The three men just stood there not saying a word. Prem wrinkled his nose at the stinking smell coming out of the dining room. Bro led Lenny back into the sitting room and sat him on the big green sofa. He was a lot quieter now and his eyes had a glazed look on them.

  Lenny looked at the three men and said,

  “Who are they? What are they doing here?”

  “They are friends, Lenny.” Bro said, “Nothing for you to worry about. You just chill and relax. You are with me now, you are safe. Everything will be fine.”

  Lenny was not so sure, but he could not be bothered to argue.

  “If you say so, Bro.”

  He curled up on the sofa and was fast asleep before anyone could say anything. He could not remember how long slept for. He was woken up by a loud thudding sound. The two men were speaking in Hindi amongst themselves and Lenny could not understand them. The drugs were kicking in now and he was losing focus. He had to concentrate to hear what they were saying. There was a lot of gesticulating and whispering. They seemed to be arguing among themselves. He still could not understand what was going on. He thought ‘something is not right here. Why is Bro on the floor? Why have I got a knife in my hand?’

  His mind started to wander and he felt himself floating in the air. He was at peace with himself. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Everything became black. Bro was right, this was the special stuff. He was so happy. He was at one with the world. He felt powerful and knew he could do anything he wanted. He was in a colourful world of his own. There were no fears and no demons where he was right then. That nasty cat he saw in the morning dare not come here. He would slaughter him if he does. And there was no one to tell him that he was dead or alive. He was alive. He never felt as full of life as he did right then. He never knew there were so many colours before. His breathing became shallow and he was soon snoring away happily on the settee.

  He was woken again by another loud noise. This time, it was a door being slammed shut. The room was dark and filled with smoke. He couldn’t see properly and the room was spinning. ‘Wow, someone stop the room from spinning please,’ he thought. He tried to stand up and fell down promptly on the floor. His legs were like jelly. He laid down there for while trying to focus his eyes. ‘Why is my legs not moving? Wow, this junk Bro gave me is strong stuff.’ He squinted his eyes to see what was going on. ‘Is the house on fire?’ he thought. ‘Oh my God, yes, the house is on fire. I better get out.’ The harder he tried more difficult it was for him to move his legs. He couldn’t remember how long he laid there on the floor. He must have dozed off again. The smell of burning plastic woke him this time. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up on the floor. He could finally start to see what was going on.

  There was no one in the room. Panic started to set in and Lenny managed to stand up and stagger towards the door. There was something blocking it. It was the single sofa, wh
ich was belching out smoke. The smoke irritated his eyes and they started to water. ‘Which idiot blocked the door with the sofa?’ he thought. ‘Oh my god. It is really on fire! I better get out of here!’ He tried to shift the sofa, but could not budge it. There was someone leaning against the wall near the window.

  “You better get up. The place is on fire.” When the figure did not move, he said, “Didn’t you hear me? Come on let’s get out of here!”

  No movement. He leaned forward to take a closer look. He was shocked at what he saw. The guy on the floor had his eyes wide open and staring at him. It was unblinking. There was froth at the mouth and thick syrupy liquid at the corner of his mouth had trickled down to his neck. He just turned and ran to the dining room and the back door. He staggered out of the back door into the alley. It was still dark and it had started to drizzle.

  It did not seem to affect him as he staggered through the alleyway out towards Harrison road. He realised he still had the knife in his right hand as he reached Belgrave Road. He looked down at the knife under the street light. The blade was covered in thick dark stuff, sticky and slimy. The bright lights did not hurt his eyes as much as before. He threw the knife into the rubbish bin that was placed at the side of a restaurant and looked around to see if anyone had seen him. He stared at his hands, which were sticky and wet. He wiped them on his trousers and looked around to see if anyone saw him. There was not a soul in sight. He took a deep breath and started to walk as fast as he could towards the Mowmacre hill. The sound of a dust bin lorry trundling down the road was reassuring somehow.

  Mombasas

  He was big and very dark. His hands were huge as he took Dev’s hand and led him to the back of his room. He had a very soft and gentle voice for such a big man.

  “Come on son. Don’t be afraid. You have been a very good boy, haven’t you?”

  He said as he led the little boy to a small door behind the desk. Dev was apprehensive as he thought the door was not big enough to let the big man through.

  “Yes, Brother Francis,” he said.

  “Come inside, I have something exciting to show you.”

  Dev’s eyes lit up. He came from a poor priestly family and with money being scarce he never got anything exciting. There was a small enclave of Hindus in outskirts of Mombasa Island who had chipped in and converted an old church hall into a temple. Most of them were shopkeepers and businessmen who depended on the goodwill of the Gods in the temple for their salvation. His father, Ramcharan, was the priest of the temple and he wanted Dev and his two brothers to do well and become professionals adults - like doctors or engineers. Nearly half the family income went on the school fees. But, Dev’s father wanted them to have a “convent education” and he had enrolled them into the local Jesuit school, much to the mortification of his family back in Gujarat, India. Dev remembered the first day his father had made him stand in front foot well of the scooter with Kishen , his elder brother riding at the back as they were taken to the “convent school” in bright blue and white uniforms with a dark blue tie. The faded blue Lambretta scooter was his father’s pride and joy. The battered old scooter was a gift to him from one of the devotees of the temple. It would break down almost every week and spend time in Suleiman’s garage round the corner. Suleiman was another immigrant from Pakistan who made a living looking after all the expat’s vehicles. He would tell Ramcharan ‘there is still a lot left in her.’ He spent so much time tinkering with the scooter that his mother, Meera Ben would complain, “You are married to that scooter and not me.”

  His neighbours were openly jealous of Ramcharan getting admissions for his boys at the local Jesuit school. “They will have the children converted in no time.” Dev’s grandmother back in Gujarat had grumbled when she had found out.

  Dev followed Brother Francis into the little room at the back of his office, which was also the bedroom and kitchen. Brother Mombasa went to the cupboard and took a lollipop out of a box and held it out to little Dev. The room was quite dark with just a small window set high up on the wall. Dev could only see the white teeth in the Kenyan’s face and the lollypop in his hand. He hesitated a moment before putting his hand out to grab it.

  “Go on, take it. There is more if you want.” Brother said as Dev took the lollipop into his hand. Brother held Dev’s hand and led him round to his bed at the corner and sat down.

  “Thank you.” Dev said in his small squeaky voice.

  “Come and sit with me.” Brother said. “I can get you lots of sweeties if you want.”

  Dev was still not sure as he climbed on to the bed and sat at the edge of the bed. His feet could not quite reach the floor and he dangled his legs out as he stared at the lollipop. Brother slid across and put his enormous arms around Dev’s shoulder.

  “You can come here as often as you wish, you know son and help yourself to sweeties.” Brother continued with the same grin on his face. Dev was busy unwrapping the lollipop as Brother Francis lifted Dev and sat him on his lap.

  “This is more comfortable, isn’t it?” Brother said. Dev was too busy with the lollipop to bother. “It is very hot today. I will take my smock off, I think.”

  He sat Dev back on the bed and stood up to take the white smock off. He only had boxer shorts and a vest underneath as he sat down again on the bed.

  “Come and sit on my lap.” Brother said looking closely at Dev. “I have something to show you.”

  As Dev sidled over, Brother picked him up and sat him on his lap. Dev was too busy sucking at his lollipop to realise what was happening as Brother took Dev’s right hand and put it on his huge lap. Dev thought it was strange to feel something very hard and took his hand off in surprise. As Brother tried to take his hand again, there was a noise outside. Someone was knocking on the door of his office.

  “Who is that?” he put Dev down quickly and put his smock back on. “ I am coming. Please wait.”

  There was no panic in his voice and no urgency in his movements as he led Dev out of his bedroom and to the door.

  “You take care now, son.” Brother said to Dev as he opened the door. “You come back after school tomorrow and I will help you with your maths.”

  That was the start of a Dev’s regular trips to Brother Francis’s office to ‘get help for Maths.’ Dev’s father was thrilled to see that Brother Francis was giving Dev extra help. ‘There is no stopping Dev now. He will be a big engineer when he grows up’ were his words to Dev’s mother. He used to show off Dev to the community as the ‘brainy one in the family’ much to the anguish of the other little boys in the congregation.

  “Brother Francis is giving Dev extra tuition for free because he is so bright,” he would tell them.

  All those middle aged women visiting the temple used to come and pinch his cheeks and say,“Oooh! He is a sweetie and brainy at the same time!!”

  Dev and his ‘extra tuition with Brother Francis’ was big news in the dull lives of all those housewives.

  Dev soon realised that he was not the only one getting ‘special lessons’ from Brother Francis. His friend Peter Ngyo was getting the same sort of attention. Dev would feel jealous whenever he saw Peter walking to the back office. He had a special friendship with Peter. They had been friends for a couple of years and the two of them would spend a lot of time together. They played cricket at the back of Peter’s house as they had both been told that they were not good enough to play for the local team. They would go down to the beach in Peter’s father’s car whenever they could to watch the big ships going in and out of Kilindini harbour. Dev enjoyed the car drive as much as the beach itself. He would sit at the back his face glued to the window watching the city go by. The street on the way to the beach had many Indian shops displaying colourful dresses and clothing for all kind. In the evenings the loudspeakers would be blaring out Hindi songs from the latest blockbuster in Bombay. The battered old Morris Minor, a left over from the colonial days, was the pride and joy of Peter’s father. The two boys would spend half a day on w
eekends cleaning the car with soap and water. Peter’s grandfather would watch them clean the car and would give them some old bees wax at the end to get a polish. Dev prided himself at getting the best shine from the chrome bumpers of the car where he could see his own reflection.

  Their treat would be the ride to the beach. His father could not afford a car with his meagre salary at the temple. They would play for hours on the white sands of the beach collecting shells and building castles. They would strip naked and dive into the warm waters of the beach and swim until tired. Both of them enjoyed drying each other out after a dip in the sea.

  Soon the trips to Brother Francis’ room at the back of school became regular and they would often go together. Dev was not sure whether he liked it or not to start with. But once Peter started to go with him, he began to enjoy the trips and would look forward to them. He did not understand exactly what was happening at first. Brother Francis would take Dev’s clothes off him – ‘it’s too hot to be wearing anything now.’ He would take his clothes off too. Brother would strip himself first and strip the little boy slowly taking his time. He would lead Dev to do things, which was strange in the beginning. Dev’s apprehension soon gave way to curiosity replaced by amusement and finally began to enjoy the visits. He always came out of the room with some present or other. Mostly chocolates or biscuits, “brought all the way from England” as Brother Francis would say. “You don’t need to tell your parents what we do here. It will be our little secret.” He would wink and touch his big sweaty nose. Sometimes, it would be a set of colouring pencils or books. He could not understand was why the other kids were jealous of him. He would stand next to Brother Francis holding his hand, chest stuck out proudly during morning prayers at the school.

  Some of the older kids would bully him and there were more than one occasion when he was beaten up in the schoolyard. Ramcharan had come into school to meet the Headmaster to complain. The culprits were never found and no one was punished to the utter dismay of Dev’s parents. He would go to Brother Francis’s room and cry himself to sleep on his lap.