by Benyamin
There was nothing exciting in Senthil’s USB. Most of the files were Tamil song collections. The only thing that confused me was that many of the songs were the same, but saved in different names. I couldn’t figure out why. Then there were some nude photos, downloaded from porn sites. Another I couldn’t figure out was a file of gossip about Tamil actresses. I read a couple of items out of curiosity:
Actress Archana who eloped from her shooting location at around 10 a.m. on 10 May 2008, in an Innova with tinted glass windows, was seen today at two shopping malls in the city with young star Faisal Bava from Hyderabad. There are reports that they spent quality time together at Hotel Park Plaza, and that they got into an argument with some people who tried to click photos of the couple in the hotel’s parking lot. According to reports, someone named Rajeev had their photos and a record of their conversation on his phone. He is willing to share the photos with anyone interested, Rajeev told Sex Hot News.
Hotgirl.com has confirmed that the person who was seen two nights ago near Pondicherry Arrival Globe under suspicious circumstances is none other than renowned Tamil actress Vinaya. She had gone there to meet Senthil, an extra artist in the Tamil film industry. The two eloped to Chennai. Vinaya sent him to Chennai Silks to buy clothes, which were later handed over to her mother’s driver, Lakshmana, who was waiting at the parking bay. Then the duo discreetly booked a room at Hotel Park Plaza and spent almost two hours there. Vinaya’s ex-lover, Veeramani, who somehow came to know of it, reached the hotel and demanded that he, too, get time to spend with her. But according to sources, they couldn’t reach an agreement. So, Vinaya escaped from Veeramani, dropped Senthil at the Pondy boat jetty and went to her house. She is relieved that nobody has yet heard of the tussle between Senthil and Veeramani. The rumour is that the couple will not be together again.
There was lots of such low-grade gossip, most of it apparently about B-list actresses and actors. I’d not heard any of those names before, probably because I don’t really keep track of Tamil cinema. But many of the names came up again and again.
My image of Senthil was changing from that of a highly intelligent government officer to an introverted psychopath. Until then, I had been under the impression that he must have been killed while attempting to blow the whistle on some malpractice in the government. But after looking at the contents of the USB, I was sure that such a disturbed person couldn’t be a whistle-blower. I doubted his intentions in visiting Pondicherry so often. Anpu had quipped that he had a lover there. I felt his love was for the bodies of the red-light district. His lust was evident in the nude pictures and the voyeuristic gossip.
I also went through all the papers I had taken from the bag. Most of them were related to films. I got two more hints that reinforced my suspicions. His credit card had mostly been used to register with and use pornography sites. He had even tried to start such sites, as was evident from the copies of letters he had sent to Europe. There was also a list of the sites he frequented. I tried some of those websites, most of which were banned in Diego. I didn’t know how he had managed to browse them. He must have had some technology to break the firewall.
I drew two possible conclusions: Senthil was either a psychopath with sexual anxiety, or he was a pimp or an agent for these sites!
Hero
THE NEXT DAY, I went to the old coffee shop with the intention of meeting Abdul Majid. The shop owner complained that I hadn’t kept my word of taking him to the mainland. I promised that I’d take him the next time.
When Majid brought my coffee, I whispered to him, ‘We have to talk. That case is still pending.’
‘Let’s meet at noon,’ he said and gave me his phone number.
Just as I finished my coffee, Jesintha appeared in front of me. I was meeting her after a long time. She had gained weight, I felt, and told her so.
‘You’ve lost weight, that’s why you think I’ve put on some! What happened to you?’ she asked.
‘I was in the mainland. I got back just a few days ago.’
‘Oh, I see. You are lucky. You can go anywhere you want at any time. For people like me, to go on a trip, I’ve to apply for leave first. And my husband has to get leave. The entire family has to get leave. Only then can the trip happen.’
‘You’re married?’ That was news to me.
‘Why do you ask? Do I look like I can’t settle down? I’m twenty-eight now.’
‘Ayyo, no, no, I didn’t mean anything like that. I’ve only seen you with your friends, that’s why . . .’
‘Like everything else in life, I’ve a theory about married life too. I don’t think that I should end friendships just because I’m married. With men or women. The human mind and soul have a lot of needs. A family is not a one-stop supermarket for all of them. In fact, it is only as big as a small shop. We can’t insist that we get everything from there. Some things, we have to go out and get. My husband knows that. I haven’t changed the ways of my life after marriage. When I have to go out with friends, I go out with them.’
Suddenly I remembered Bilal’s mail. ‘Bilal said he saw you in Paris. Were you there?’ I asked, looking into her eyes.
‘Me? Paris? He must have been dreaming! I’ve also seen that city only in a dream,’ she said without flinching.
‘He must have been mistaken, leave it.’
‘Why did you go to the mainland?’ she asked, as if to change the topic.
‘A girl had died here recently, in a boat accident. Did you hear about it? I’d gone with her body.’
‘Was that nurse your friend?’
‘Yes, she was close to me.’
‘So, what I heard is true.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Never mind that. The rumours are that the girl had committed suicide. You know anything about that?’
‘Suicide? Melvin? Don’t spout nonsense!’
‘I’m mentioning something that I heard on the streets of Diego. Why are you getting angry?’
‘What have you been hearing?’ I was in distress.
‘That she got into some deals here. Then she got pregnant, and so she jumped from the rooftop.’
‘I’ll slap you on the face if you talk about dead people in such a manner,’ I almost got up to slap her.
‘If you want to slap me, then you’ll have to slap everyone in Diego. There are at least five other versions of the story of her death.’
I felt like I had experienced a blow. ‘None of them are true, Jesintha. Nobody knew her like I did. She was a sweet, very sweet girl. Don’t say such things about her.’
‘I won’t talk. But Diego will talk. It’s not the people’s fault. If they don’t have a story, what will they do? They’ll make up new stories and keep repeating them. Anyway, you be careful. In one of those stories, you are the hero.’
‘Me?’
‘Don’t get angry. It’s just something that I heard. Not what I believe. It is said that the nurse was the lover of the Andrapper son, and the mistress of the Andrapper father.’
Those were the last words I heard from Jesintha. Like a dead tree shuddering in a storm, I got up and left the coffee shop. I barely heard her calling out from behind.
Oh god, what was this society doing to Melvin? Making an accident a suicide. Making up a dirty story to support it. Then spreading it with pleasure. Do they get excited only when a woman dies? Senthil was shot dead in public. Nobody had a story about that death. Nobody had any doubts. Nobody had even heard of it. That was just a cardiac arrest!
My boat went and stopped at the jetty near Anita’s house. I felt like I had to meet her. In such a situation, only her words could have soothed me a little. She had been terribly affected by Melvin’s death. She would understand my state of mind.
The gate was open. When I rang the bell, she opened the door. A wan smile welcomed me. But she was not the same Anita I knew—in an instance, I deciphered that she was not pleased with my visit. Perhaps the stories had reached her ears too?
I s
tepped in without waiting for an invitation. Neither of us said anything for about two minutes.
‘You are not at work today?’ I finally broke the silence.
‘I have a lot of leave left. So, I took a day off. Do you want tea or something?’
‘No, I just had some coffee.’ When I said that, I remembered the sumptuous reception I got on my first visit. ‘I returned from the mainland only yesterday. Everything went well,’ I said.
‘What do you mean by “well”? Was it her wedding or what?’ Anita burst into flames.
I was dumbstruck. Shouldn’t I have said that? How else could I describe a funeral that was well organized? Were there better words to describe it? Had my language failed me? That conversation hit an abrupt end. To overcome that, I took up a magazine and began flipping the pages. Pentasia This Month. It had a news item that Mohandas Purameri’s novel, Archipelago, was going to be published in Kerala. A wave of self-contempt swept through me.
I got up after a while.
‘Please don’t come here again to see me. I don’t like it,’ she said while I was leaving.
I wanted to know the reason. But before I could ask, she shut the door. Like a refugee kicked out of the last camp of hope, I left.
Oh god, why was the world so cruel? Why were even my dear ones treating me badly? Why couldn’t they understand me? Why didn’t they know how their behaviour affected me? Just because I’m a man, how could they think I was heartless and incapable of feeling sorrow?
God, oh my dear god, why have you abandoned me?
Memories
I KNEW THAT alcohol would aggravate my sorrows rather than relieve them. But still, I headed straight to a wine shop. My greatest regret was that I didn’t have a friend who would dive with me into the depths of my bared soul. That is when alcohol becomes your friend. Standing in its shadow, I could talk to myself as a friend would to me. The ‘other’ who would listen to me patiently, absorb my sorrows, lend an ear to my complaints, understand my helplessness, and endorse my innocence. If I had a friend with whom I could unload my pain, I wouldn’t have gone to a bar.
When I finally reached home in a drunken state, I found Papa waiting. I fell at his feet.
‘I’m a failed writer. I couldn’t concentrate on my writing. I wasted days chasing after useless things. Please pardon me. I didn’t listen to anything you suggested. I want to go to France. I want to study there. I want to dream big there. Finish my novel. I want to forget everything else.’
He helped me reach my room and put me to sleep. That night, both of us slept in the same bed.
The next morning, before leaving for work, Papa came to my room. ‘I hope yesterday it wasn’t just the alcohol speaking. Do you really want to go to France?’
‘No, it wasn’t just the booze. I want to go. I’m fed up of Diego!’
‘Okay, then I’ll get your papers ready. You said you’ve a friend there, right? Contact him and arrange for your stay.’
I emailed Bilal without delay, asking about the opportunities in France, requesting his help on accommodation. He got back to me within a couple of hours: ‘You just have to come. Leave the rest to me.’
That night, Papa came with some application forms. I signed wherever he pointed. He wanted a set of copies of my certificates. I gave those to him. He asked for some passportsize photos. I gave those too.
Even then, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure if I’d be going to France. But something happened that sealed my decision. On my way back from the travel agency in Pentasia, I met Vinod on the road. I had last met him at the Public Security office. By the time I came out of Stephen uncle’s office where he had scolded me for going to him about such a trivial matter, he had gone missing. I was seeing Vinod for the first time after that day. He ran bang into me, but looked at me as if I was a stranger. He wouldn’t respond to my questions. He even acted as though he had forgotten his nickname, da Vinci.
That was when a woman, either his wife or sister, ran up to him and held his hand. ‘What happened to him?’ I asked her.
‘Who are you?’ She looked scared.
‘We studied together, at St. Joseph’s.’
‘One day he left the house, saying he was going to the Public Security office. Then for some ten or twenty days, there was no news. We searched for him everywhere. Then we found him lying at our doorstep. Someone had dumped him there at night. Since then, he’s been like this. He doesn’t remember anything. Has no memories. Bastards. They have killed my brother’s brains. Anything can happen in this hell. Who is there to ask?’ She guided Vinod away.
A country where anyone can say anything about anyone. A country where anyone can do anything to anyone. A country where no one is answerable to anyone. Our own Diego Garcia. I didn’t have to live in such a place. This wasn’t the Diego of my dreams.
After two weeks, I got a call from the French Embassy. I went to attend the interview with an open mind. Four, just four questions. Then I was told to come the next day and get the visa stamped on my passport.
I made all the preparations for the journey. I had even booked my tickets. I was not aware that I was gearing myself up for a trip that would get cancelled, like the trip to Australia. It was that afternoon that I got an unexpected call. It was from Meljo.
‘It’s Melvin-chechi’s forty-first-day memorial this Sunday. For us, it’s a family get-together. Appachan wants you to be here. You should come two days in advance. I hope you can come. Can you?’
Fearing that the Diego rumours may have reached Valyedathu Veedu, I had not called them. But this call meant they hadn’t heard anything. God, please let them never get to hear any such rumours! And in case they had already heard some stories, they’d suspect me more if I didn’t go.
I didn’t know what to say. I was supposed to fly to Paris on Monday. A trip to the mainland would take at least three days. Either I had to refuse going to the mainland, or postpone flying to Paris. When I thought of Melvin’s parents, and Meljo and Merin, declining their invitation seemed like a sin. Nothing would happen if I delayed my Paris visit. Nobody was waiting for me there. But the mainland was not like that. My mind decided that I should go to the mainland. It would be impossible to convince my parents. ‘This is an excuse he has found to cancel the Paris plan,’ Papa would sit with a whisky and murmur. Momma would sob, and Chettan would shout. It would all take a while to cool down. Whatever I said, nobody would believe me. So, without telling anyone, I postponed the Paris ticket by another week. I booked a ticket to the mainland. At around 10.30 on Friday morning, I told Chettathi that I was going to the mainland and would be back soon. Before Momma or Chettathi could come up with any questions, I left for the St. Louis airport. To avoid calls, I had already switched off my mobile phone.
The flight was via Sri Lanka. It had two hours of transit there. I reached Thiruvananthapuram by evening. I tried to contact Srikumar as soon as I landed, but I couldn’t reach him. I had planned to go to Ernakulam and meet him. But because that didn’t work out, I stayed that night in the capital and left the next morning.
I found myself in Udayamperoor once again.
7
The Impersonation
BEFORE SALIM RETURNED from Mauritius, we had a Thursday Market, to read and discuss the part we had got from Anpu.
‘Now we don’t have to be lenient to Meljo. He’s a top-class liar. Christy Andrapper didn’t just visit Valyedathu Veedu for a funeral. He had a relationship of the heart with the daughter of the house. And still Meljo said he didn’t know Christy,’ Anil said.
‘He must have forgotten our last phone call. It’s time for another try. Does anyone have a better idea than posing as a reporter of a newspaper, weekly . . .?’ Nibu asked.
‘I’ve an idea.’ Mashu got up. ‘Call him as if you’re the relative of some nurse who was with Melvin. He can’t ignore that.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Anil said.
‘Then we should prepare our plan well in advance. But we shouldn’t stamm
er during the call,’ Motta suggested.
Anil and Nibu made up a clear plan there and then. They narrated it to Mashu in detail. Accordingly, he called Meljo. All of us gathered around him with bated breath.
‘Hello, is it Mr Meljo?’
‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Sudhish. Is it Meljo . . .?’
‘One minute. I’ll pass the phone to him.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Meljo, my name is Sudhish. I’m calling from Kollam. I landed from Diego yesterday. Your sister lived there, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘I knew Melvin. I’d been to her hostel. My cousin Sudha was with her. They were staying together.’
‘Oh, Sudha-chechi. I’ve heard my sister talk about her.’
‘Yeah. Sudha gave me this number, saying I should give you a call.’
‘But none of them have called us even once. We lost our sister, and they lost a friend. Now what’s there to say?
‘It’s not that. What would they talk after calling? Ask you to stay calm? Can fate be mellowed down with words . . .?’ Mashu asked.
‘Fate! That’s it. What else can it be . . . Seems like it’s chasing us down. Soon after our sister, we lost our Appachan too.’
‘Oh, Appachan? When was that?’
‘It’s been some two months now. He was very normal. A minor chest pain. But he didn’t tell anyone. And then, gone before reaching the hospital.’
‘Sorry to hear that. None of us here knew about this.’
‘That’s fine. Some things we have to face. There is no other way.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’ Mashu’s voice had started trembling. Nibu gestured to him to keep going.
‘What do you do in Diego, Mr Sudhish?’
‘I teach at a school there. At St. Joseph’s, Seleucia.’
‘Have you been there for long?’
‘No, just five years.’