by Irfan Master
Sitting down next to him, I put my arm around his shoulder.
‘Nothing. It wasn’t your fault, Manjeet. You did nothing wrong.’
‘Bilal’s right. You managed to escape and that’s the main thing,’ said Saleem.
‘But they would have killed me if I hadn’t . . . They saw my turban and came at me calling me terrible things. I even recognised some of them . . . What else could I have done . . . ?’ Manjeet asked again, imploring me to give him an answer he could bear to hear.
I could think of nothing to say. Manjeet had killed a man but he was still my friend. I wanted to help him, to say the right words that would make it better for him. Instead all I could do was sit with my arm around him while he quietly wept.
Smoke was still thick in the air as we sat on the rooftop in silence, each of us with our own terrible thoughts. It wasn’t long until we heard the wails begin around the town.
Standing up, Manjeet looked at us with glazed eyes and, mumbling to himself, moved towards the stairs. Without looking back, he disappeared before we could stop him.
Saleem looked over the side of the building.
‘He looks like he’s going home,’ said Saleem to no one in particular. Turning to me, he sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’d better be getting home too. My ma will be worrying.’
‘Yes, we should all go home, I suppose,’ I replied absent-mindedly.
Moving over to Chota, Saleem lifted him to his feet and made to shift him.
‘I’ll see you both later,’ I said.
‘I’ll try to get out tonight if I can,’ replied Saleem, still holding on to a dazed-looking Chota.
‘Saleem . . .’ I began.
‘Yes, I know, we’ll talk later. Get home now. If your bapuji’s woken up he’ll be wondering where you are.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘We’ll meet later,’ said Saleem, propping up Chota and disappearing through the doorway.
I watched them stumble down the stairs.
Chapter 38
The next day, we all sat on the rooftop looking at the deathly quiet market. A vague memory nudged at me and I remembered seeing in encyclopedias photos of animal carcasses, bits of torn flesh still clinging on to the remains of jutting bones. Closing my eyes, I dredged up what the encyclopedia said next. After the predators had had their fill, next came the scavengers, the laughing hyenas. Well, the predators had been and the carcass of our town was revealed for all to see. Looking up at the sky, I saw clouds gathering. What’s next? The scavengers. I’d never heard a hyena laugh but I’d seen pictures of a pack and knew it would be an ugly thing.
Looking around the rooftop, I could sense that we were no longer the same group we had once been.
Manjeet sat with his back to the market, avoiding looking over at the cemetery, perhaps in the hope that if he didn’t see it he could learn to forget the Aseel fight and the fire. Turbaned head bowed, I noticed that the bright orange material had lost its glow.
Chota sat in his usual place, feet dangling over the edge. Even though everything had changed, Chota refused to.
Saleem sat the furthest away from me. I wanted to go and sit next to him. To ask him whether something was wrong. For him to tell me what was on his mind. But I was tired. Weary of bearing my own secret and unwilling to shoulder his. If I’d known what I know now, I’d have walked over, sat next to him and, putting my arm around him, spoken with him. Perhaps we would have laughed together one last time. But the moment passed. I didn’t know then that I would never see Saleem again.
Chapter 39
There were two things about myself I had begun to hate. Not the usual things. I didn’t want to be taller or good-looking or better at cricket. But there were two things I wished I had never been born with.
Firstly, my awareness of others. How many times had I been having a perfectly good time only for it to be ruined by my acute sense of the people around me? Often, I would sit and tune into facial gestures, hand movements and the subtle flicker of eyes and mouths. Some days, I didn’t even feel I was really there as I sat among friends or family but rather that I was acting as a conduit for everyone else’s feelings. My second hated thing was my ‘skill’ for spotting what’s not said. The words behind the words. This was my speciality. And that’s when premonition takes over. Premonition. It was a word I’d learnt recently. Premonition was the dull ache in my stomach, the pain behind my eyes, the overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen but only I could feel it. And on this day I realised something. That these two are related.
As I walked to Saleem’s house, I imagined asking Doctorji to use his scalpel to cut out my two defining character traits. I felt Doctorji making the first cut and flipping the top of my head open and saw my brain revealed. It would all be clearly marked for safe removal. Just like that, Doctorji could remove those two hated cousins and flip my scalp back on. And I would be free. Free of always sensing everything around me, free to live each day without worrying that something bad was going to happen. Free to just be.
Shaking my head to clear this vision, I took a deep breath and continued towards Saleem’s house. Houses in this area were built almost on top of one another but it was unnaturally quiet. A solitary old woman sat on her haunches to the side of her house, washing clothes. I stopped to watch her as she slapped the cloth against a raised stone. She was scrubbing it to death. Flinging it aside, she picked up another piece of material. A white saree. Raising it over her head ready to slap it against that hard rock, she stopped as she brought it down and held it close to her chest. As she held the bunched-up material, I saw the white saree was streaked with red.
Approaching the clearing where Saleem’s house stood, I felt the leaden weight of my thoughts. Why did I come? I knew what I’d find but I still came. Why? Because I have to know. I always need to know. No matter how bad it becomes, I have to see it for myself.
I walked through the door. There was nobody there. Saleem and his family were gone.
They’d left little behind. A few pots, an old broken charpoi and a few bolts of dusty-blue material leaning against the far wall. This was Saleem’s secret. He had known weeks ago that his family was preparing to leave but he had hidden it from me. Thinking back, I could remember all the times he’d tried to tell me but I’d been distracted.
I walked out to the yard towards the well and the end of the path. We had spent the summers here, doling out water to the surrounding houses and soaking each other to keep cool. It’s where we had sat and done our schoolwork, lounging in the shade of the peepul tree. Looking up at the tree, I narrowed my eyes to see if our little den was still intact. Climbing up, I scrambled through the branches and there it was, made of bamboo we’d lashed together with bits of twine and string. Dropping down to my knees, I crawled into the box-shaped den and looked out on to the small yard. Curling into a tight ball, I pushed my face into the musty straw. A part of my mind wondered if anybody could hear me crying but it was a stupid thought. I knew there was nobody left to hear.
Chapter 40
A pigeon shot up into the sky. Somebody is coming. I shimmied up the two-storey building opposite our house, clambered on to the roof and looked down on to the maze of houses. I saw Chota a few streets away on our rooftop lookout, waving his arms at me. Waving back, I tried to spot who was angling their way towards our house. Whoever it was had picked a good time to come – it was almost dark and the streets were barely lit. There! A flash of white, the figure moving fast, flitting in and out of the streets. There again! Whoever it was knew these streets well enough to navigate at speed. Chota was still waving his arms around frantically, making odd gestures and pointing at me. What is he doing?
Making my way quickly back down the side of the building, I went to stand outside our house. It didn’t matter who it was, I’d deal with them. I looked down the dark street and waited, narrowing my eyes. A hand on my shoulder made me spin round in surprise.
‘How’s it going, litt
le brother?’
‘What –’ I began to splutter.
‘Shh! Before you start jabbering, let’s get in. I made sure nobody followed me here and even if they tried, I’d have lost them by now. Come on,’ Bhai said, stepping inside the house before I could stop him.
Following him in, I grabbed him by the arm.
‘What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come here and bring your troubles with you,’ I said, keeping my voice low.
‘No, you decided that I wouldn’t come here. I never agreed to any such thing. Now, stop getting angry and calm down. I just want a quick word with the old man,’ Bhai replied, taking a step forward.
Holding my hands out in front of me, I stood in front of him.
‘No. Bapuji’s sleeping and if you want to talk to him about moving away then you’d best leave. He doesn’t need to hear that and neither do I.’
My brother took a step back and lit a cigarette.
‘It’s getting serious out there, Bilal. How long do you think you can stay here before a mob finds you and flushes you out? How long?’ he demanded, waving his cigarette in the air.
‘It doesn’t matter how long. We’re not going anywhere. This is our home and this is where Bapuji is . . .’ I faltered.
‘Say it. This is where Bapuji is going to die,’ Bhai said. ‘And die not knowing the truth,’ he whispered, pointing a nicotine-stained finger at me.
‘What would you know about the truth anyway? What truth do you represent, Bhai? Smashing somebody’s head in with a stick isn’t any kind of truth I recognise. Is that the truth you want me to tell Bapuji about? I’ve seen what’s going on with my own eyes. If that’s the truth, I don’t want it,’ I said, spitting out the words.
‘Don’t talk to me with that holier than thou attitude, Bilal. Do you think that you’re some kind of angel of righteousness? That you’re above the blood and dirt the rest of us have to live in? You’re not. You’ve just found another way to stare this horror in the face. You’re just the same as us, the same as me. This lie is your hell, just as the truth out there is mine.’
Bhai’s words were like little razors cutting me in different ways. I saw myself in my mind’s eye, stockstill, mouth open, stunned at my brother’s words. He was standing there, dark eyes blazing like hot coals, his mouth making terrible shapes. Realising what he’d just said, he held up his hand but no words came out. I wanted to go to him, to hold my bhai and tell him it would be OK and that we’d be fine. But I couldn’t. Although there were only a few yards between us, they felt like a canyon, and we were standing on either side looking at each other over the divide. The fissure was too wide and too deep and the bridge across was burning.
Feeling tears stinging my cheeks, I brushed at my face and sucked in deep gulps of air.
‘You’re right. All that you say is true.’ My voice was barely a whisper. I pointed to the other room. ‘Go ahead. Bapuji deserves to know but I can’t tell him. I’ve carried around this lie for what feels like an eternity. Do me a favour and put us both out of our misery . . .’ I dipped my head and moved away from the entrance.
My brother took a step forward then stopped. Do it, please, Bhai. Do it. I could sense his mind racing. He took another step and walked into the other room.
When Bhai emerged, his face was ashen and his eyes were no longer blazing but were dull embers. He grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me towards him, our foreheads touching. When I was a little boy, he’d lean towards me and I’d automatically stop what I was doing and touch my forehead against his. Attached to one another like two magnets, we’d both laugh. This time there was no laughter but we both smiled a little. Letting go, he walked quickly out of the house and slipped into the alley. I watched him go, a white shape flitting in and out of the darkness.
When I couldn’t see my brother any more, I sat on my stool next to Bapuji’s bed. Muttering in his sleep, he turned and opened his eyes.
‘Bilal, I just dreamt your brother came to see me.’
I pulled the cover tightly over him.
‘It was only a dream, Bapuji,’ I replied.
‘I thought it might be. He just sat here and stroked my head for a long while. Then he leant in close and whispered into my ear.’
‘What did he say?’ I asked resignedly.
‘He said he was sorry,’ replied Bapuji.
‘That’s all he said?’ I asked.
‘That’s it. What do you think he was sorry about? I tried to stop him to explain but he left,’ said Bapuji.
‘I don’t know, Bapuji, but I’m glad he came,’ I replied.
‘Me too, Bilal,’ sighed Bapuji drowsily, ‘me too.’
Chapter 41
He saw me. I’m sure of it. Clutching the medicine to my chest, I froze. The streets were deserted now and only mobs roamed the alleys, burning people in their homes. I’d finally managed to make Rajahwallah open his door and give me some medicine when I’d been seen.
I ducked into an alley. What is that? A set of feet shuffled nearer. Somebody’s found me. If he keeps coming in this direction, he’ll practically fall over me. I have to move. Now. Taking a deep breath, I threw myself forward and began to run without looking back. Hearing a yell, I put my head down and started to sprint. I knew these streets well enough. I’ll lose him in the tangle of alleys sooner or later. I took a left turn then a right then left again, trying to create some distance between us.
But he stayed with me, shouting things. ‘Run as fast as you can, little rat, but I’ll still catch you.’
I know that voice! Desperate now, I entered a maze of streets and feinted to go right but spun and sprinted left in the hope of losing him. Running down a dark set of alleys, I emerged and couldn’t hear footsteps following me. In front of me were four alleys leading in different directions. Stopping and sucking in a deep gulp of air, I heard footsteps from the alley behind. Choose, Bilal! Taking a left, I sprinted down a long alley so narrow I had to shuffle sideways, slapping the wall with my hands to propel me forward. I shot out at the end into a square space and on all four sides were high walls. Running to one side, I looked up. Too high! I was trapped. I flattened myself against the wall. Has he seen me go this way? Sliding down the wall, I pulled my knees in and held them with my hands. I waited.
Seconds later he hurtled through the little opening and pulled up sharply. Seeing me in the corner, he smiled.
‘Almost, little rat,’ he said, panting. ‘You almost lost me but I grew up around these streets.’ Straightening, he took a step towards me.
I stood up.
‘What do you want with me?’ I asked quietly.
‘With you? Nothing. I want nothing with you or from you, little rat. What I want to do is remove you from the face of this earth, you Muslim scum,’ he hissed, almost spitting out his words. ‘You see, I know your brother and he’s hurt my brothers. He’s escaped me a few times already. When I heard he had a little brother, well, I knew it was a gift from the guru.’ He took another step forward. Producing a little bottle from his pocket, he looked at me and smiled. ‘You know what this is, little rat? It’s oil.’ Digging into his pockets, he produced matches. ‘And you know what these are, don’t you?’
Taking a step back, I looked at him in horror. Even after all I’d seen and heard, this was beyond anything I had expected.
‘You’re going to burn, little rat, and I’m going to hear you scream. Then I’ll go after your brother and burn him too,’ he said. Coming closer, he flicked oil on to me, dousing my shirt completely. Then he began to laugh, match in hand.
‘Don’t do it,’ said a voice from the opening to the square.
We both turned to see Manjeet stride towards us.
‘I’d never have found this place if you hadn’t dropped your kara at the entrance,’ Manjeet said, producing a silver bangle.
The boy with the match looked at Manjeet in confusion.
‘Sat Sri Akaal, brother, what are you doing here?’ asked the boy.
Manjeet looked at me then back at the boy, and took another step. He was a lot taller than the other boy.
‘He’s my friend,’ said Manjeet quietly. ‘Put your matches away and leave. He’s not part of your fight.’
‘But he’s Muslim scum and his brother has hurt many of ours. This would be sweet revenge.’
‘No, leave here now,’ repeated Manjeet, taking another step to stand right in front of the boy.
Scowling, the boy retreated and growled, ‘And what if I don’t?’
Manjeet stood perfectly still and pinned the boy with a look. ‘If you don’t leave here right this minute, I’ll take that bottle and douse your face with it and burn it off. Just your face. I swear on the guru, I will.’
The hand that was holding the match trembled as he glared at Manjeet. Reluctantly the boy put down his match.
‘I know your brothers,’ the boy said. ‘What will they think when I tell them of this?’
‘Tell them. You think they’ll side with you? I’d be surprised if they didn’t rip the beard off your face, you thug,’ said Manjeet angrily, throwing the kara at his feet. ‘Now get out of here before I get really angry.’
The boy stepped around Manjeet, giving him a wide berth. Scowling at me once more, he disappeared from sight.
Manjeet turned to me and sighed. ‘Are you OK?’
I doubled over and vomited. Groaning, I leant against the wall to steady myself. Holding my stomach, I blinked tears away from my eyes.
‘No, not really, but I’m glad to see you, Manjeet,’ I replied breathlessly.
Slowly recovering myself, I stood up straight and looked at Manjeet. Neither of us said anything and an uncomfortable silence settled.