Yellow Lights of Death

by Benyamin

  ‘Look, dear friend, unlike what you think, there is no big secret about this house. Valyedathu Veedu is an open book. Everyone in this area knows we do Mariam Seva here. People come here for it. It is a gift handed to us by tradition. Thaikkattamma comes to our prayer room and blesses us. We share the fruits of the blessings with others. There is no dark secret in that. And it’s not a crime in India.’

  ‘Then let me ask openly. What was the celebration that took place that night? We know that that’s not the way how a girl in the family is offered to Thaikkattamma. Then what was that ceremony about?’ Anil was persistent.

  ‘Ha ha ha . . . that’s what I, too, don’t know,’ Meljo burst into laughter. ‘Such a celebration never happened here that night. How can I say what it was when such a thing never took place? Even otherwise, less than forty-one days since my sister’s death, how could we have a celebration? He must have been hallucinating. That’s why I call this one a Book of Lies.’

  ‘Okay. So everything except that celebration is true. But after he left that day, has he never contacted you? He had promised to come back, he had promised to marry your younger sister, he was about to be adopted by the family . . . Didn’t you search for him?’

  ‘Look, friend, I told you at the beginning of our conversation that he is a fraud. After listening to all these stories, I still stand firm on that. He had left promising to come back. That was not a promise given to me, but his word to Appachan, who cared for him a lot. But he never returned. Or called. He once wrote me a letter giving the reasons—that he was living in fear and that the police would catch him any time. I believed for a long time that he was right. Then I came to know that he was lying and that he was walking about freely in Diego. Many people who saw him there called up and informed me.’

  ‘Who had seen him there? Can you give us one name? We want to contact the person,’ I said.

  ‘Why are you so sure that he is not there?’

  ‘Meljo, one of our friends had gone to Diego as part of our search. The Andrapper house had been closed for a long time, that’s what we came to know through him. It’s not a rumour, we have an eyewitness.’

  ‘Your friend must have got it wrong. Sudhish, a teacher from Diego, who came on leave recently, also told me that he had met Andrapper not long ago.’ We didn’t know what to say. Meljo was talking about Sudhish’s prank call! If we reveal it, we could get into trouble, and so we kept mum.

  ‘There is more proof. Recently, someone called me from some weekly saying they had got a story from him. Similarly many more called, saying that they knew Andrapper.’

  That had to do with Anil’s prank call! That too we couldn’t reveal.

  ‘Okay, Meljo, we trust you. Do you have the letter that he wrote saying he was afraid and that the police was after him?’

  ‘No. I lost that a long time back.’

  ‘That means you have nothing with you to give us which could lead to Christy, right?’

  ‘What will you do after finding him? What you wanted was his novel. That you got. Let him get lost now.’

  ‘We can pacify ourselves like that. Our relation with him was through a story. But you two were not like that. Wasn’t he a part of this house, one who would have become husband to your sister? Shouldn’t you be helping us in finding out what happened to him?

  ‘Relation! We don’t have any relation. Valyedathu Veedu doesn’t have to make a relationship with such a pathetic family.’

  ‘On what evidence are you saying this?’

  ‘On the evidence of his confession . . .’

  ‘We don’t get you.’

  ‘I was thinking of never showing it to anyone. That he and the history of his family should perish without anyone knowing about them. But he betrayed my sister’s love. He betrayed this family and its privacy. So why should I protect him? Let everyone know about the great Andrapper house. This is the best revenge I çan take on him.’

  Meljo got up and went inside. After some minutes, he returned with an envelope. ‘This he had sent me. Read it and tell me who is right and who is wrong. Aren’t you a writer? You should not only read this, but also write about it. Let everyone know about his history. You can keep this. We don’t need any holy leftovers of Andrapper here. And nobody should ever come here again mentioning his name!’

  Meljo got up. That was a hint that we shouldn’t hang around.

  ‘When you leave, please take the cash on that plate. Valyedathu Veedu has failed to get your wish granted,’ Meljo said. Then he turned quickly and stomped inside.

  Like Adam who was thrown out of Eden, we stood there baffled for some time. Then knowing it was useless, we slowly stepped out.

  During the return journey, I started reading the chapter of the Andrapper biography that Meljo gave.

  Park Plaza

  WHEN I REACHED Nedumbassery, I came to know that the flight was delayed by two hours. To wait was the only option. It landed another half an hour after the estimated time. Before taking off, there was a half-an-hour wait at the runway for reasons unknown. Finally when it reached the Chennai airport, the Sri Lankan flight had already been one hour in the air. I tried to fight with the manager at the airport, hoping at least to get a hotel arranged to stay. But it didn’t work out. He said he was helpless. ‘We don’t have any connection with Kingfisher. Their delay is not our mistake.’ The only saving grace was that I managed to book a ticket for the next day. Now I had to find a hotel to spend the night in Chennai. When I took a prepaid taxi and asked the driver to drop me at a decent hotel, he took me to Hotel Park Plaza in Egmore. Not a bad one. So, that night, quite unexpectedly, I slept in Chennai.

  Next morning, an idea struck me. The gossip items in the USB found from Senthil’s bag had some mention of this Park Plaza. That was the first thing that came to my mind when I woke up. I’ve no clue how I’d thought of it at that particular moment. It just occurred, that’s all. But why would I have thought of it at all? Was it predestined that my flight would get delayed, that I would miss the Sri Lankan plane, a taxi would take me to this hotel, and that I would remember Senthil the moment I woke up? I wouldn’t call it sixth sense, but intuition it certainly was. As if there was some relationship between Senthil and this hotel.

  For a long time, I was immersed in these thoughts. The boy who came with coffee was a simple guy. I asked him about breakfast. We talked a bit—about his job, the hotel, its staff. I found out that there was a Malayali at the reception in the shift that would start at 9 a.m. When I went down to have the complementary breakfast, I casually went to the reception and got pally with him. Manoj Thomas. From Balussery. Suddenly, I remembered our Sseri mashu. Sseri sseri, Balussery . . . When I said I was from Diego, he got excited. One of his uncles apparently works with Diego’s airport service. He also wanted to go to Diego. By telling him that Diego has a lot of opportunities in the hotel business, that I’ve a lot of friends there, and that I can easily find him a job, I completely bought him. But I need a small favour, I said, and he agreed without any qualms. After going to my room, I called up the reception. I introduced myself as an officer from Diego’s vigilance department. I told Manoj not to speak about this conversation to anyone.

  ‘Can anyone stay here in a fake name?’ That was my first question.

  ‘No, especially since there are terrorist issues, it’s mandatory to take a photocopy of the identity card before we give anyone a room. It’s a strict order from the Chennai Police.’

  ‘So do you keep details of everyone who has stayed here?’

  ‘Yes, at least for three years. After security issues popped up, that too became compulsory.’

  ‘Okay, then what’s the way to know if one Senthil from Diego used to stay here regularly?’

  ‘That I can’t tell you. It’s management policy.’

  ‘What policy? I won’t be telling anyone else. This is just between us,’ I gave him my word, but that too didn’t work.

  ‘Okay, not for free. In return, I promise you a well-p
aying job at a nice hotel in Diego. How about that?’

  Poor guy. He fell for that.

  ‘What’s the issue? Was he a criminal there?’ Manoj asked.

  ‘Ey. Some swindling of government finances. That’s all. A small vigilance inquiry. No big deal.’

  ‘Sure I won’t be in any trouble?’

  ‘What trouble . . .? Nothing of that sort. Why should Manoj be scared of some issue in Diego?’

  He half-heartedly agreed to let me call him after ten minutes. But I didn’t have to; he called me. ‘No, nobody in that name has stayed here in the past three years.’

  ‘You must be saying it without checking,’ I tested him out.

  ‘No, no. Everything is in the computer. It just takes a three-minute search,’ he confirmed.

  I was sad that my intuitions were all going wrong.

  ‘Then, please see if anyone from Diego had recently stayed here?’ I decided to try one last time.

  ‘Let me see.’ After another five minutes, he called again. ‘Not recently. But one Faisal Bava had stayed here. Many times.’

  ‘You must be having his photo ID. What’s the way to get that?’

  ‘I don’t think I would be able to get it for you. From reception, everything gets shifted to the office. A lot of files would have to be searched.’

  ‘Can’t that happen if you want to?

  ‘Difficult. I don’t have any duty at the office.’

  ‘No, but Manoj knows how to get it done, whom to contact.’

  ‘The office has a peon. I’ll have to tell him.’

  ‘Not just tell him, also offer Rs 1000.’

  ‘But I can’t get it done soon.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll be here for two more days. Within that time, please.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I then remembered I had to reschedule the Sri Lankan ticket. I took a shower and went downstairs.

  ‘Sri Lankan Airways has three offices in Chennai,’ Manoj said at the reception. ‘Kodambakkam, Nungambakkam, and the airport office at Meenambakkam. From here, the closest will be Nungambakkam.’

  ‘Can you please arrange a taxi for me?’

  ‘Why not!’

  By the time I flipped the pages of the newspapers at the reception, the taxi had come.

  It was my first time in Chennai. I felt suffocated by the city’s crowd and traffic. I realized how peaceful Diego was. ‘Sir, should I take you to some tourist place too?’ the taxi guy asked on the road. It was then that I realized that possibility. What will I do for two days? Even thinking of getting into this crowded mess scared me. I should escape out of this town. There is no need to return today. But I didn’t want to go to memorials, parks, beaches and museums, all of which will be crowded. Where else will I go . . .? Somewhere that could turn useful. Suddenly, Pondicherry came to my mind. A place frequented by Senthil. In Anpu’s words, to meet his lover. No, I wouldn’t follow that trail. How about visiting the house of the coffee shop guy, Abdul Majid. There is no better way than that to know more about Senthil. Since the morning, Senthil has been with me, as if he won’t go till I find his secret. Why else will I remember Majid now? Fortunately, I had his number saved in my mobile phone. I called him. He recognized me easily.

  ‘I’m going to Pondicherry now. How can I meet your Amma and Appa?’

  ‘Pondicherry . . .? You . . . You’ll meet Amma and Appa?’ he asked as if he had got a shock. ‘You don’t have to go all the way to Pondicherry, it’s before that. Ask for Kottakuppam Juma Masjid. Ten houses from there, near Yasar’s shop. Nobody will know my name. Appa’s name is Sadur. Ask anyone. They’ll know. 27 Shalai Street. Kottakuppam post. Villupuram district. Tamil Nadu, 605104. That’s my house address.’

  All of it came out in one breath.

  After collecting the new ticket from the airlines, we left for Pondicherry.

  Pondicherry

  WHILE PASSING THROUGH the arid landscape of Tamil Nadu on our way to Pondicherry, I was mulling over how generations travelled from one land to another. Quite unexpectedly, I was going to another ancestral place of mine. I’d never thought of a Pondicherry trip. But some twists of fate were leading me there. If the flight had not got delayed, if the taxi guy had not taken me to Hotel Park Plaza, if this guy had not asked me at the start of this journey if I would like to go to some tourist place, if I had not then remembered about Pondicherry—then this trip would not have happened. Even when I said Pondicherry, it was not in my mind that this is an ancestral place of mine. I remembered it midway through the drive. This was such a predestined journey. A destiny that I have to be there at every place that my forefathers had been to.

  Had my ancestors, who at some period lived in a small street in Lisbon, ever thought of the roads their future generations would be taking? A journey that started in Lisbon to Kochi, then via land to Pondicherry, now rests at Diego. Will this be the final stop . . .? Everyone, at some point, would think that he is at the last point of his journey. In my case, whatever be the pressure of circumstances, I could never thinking of moving away from Diego. Wherever I go, that’ll be for a maximum of two years. Then I have to return. I was born and brought up in Diego. I can’t leave it for any other place. But now when I think of it, it’s all just a romantic feeling. No land belongs to anyone. People move from one place to another. One flows towards favourable circumstances. Even someone as adamant as me might also go. Or my children will go. Or their children. Every baggage of thoughts is temporary. Generations should flow from place to place like a river. Nostalgia doesn’t work. My ancestors had realized it. They might have seen every place as a temporary base. When new opportunities came up, they left the old ones and moved forward. No relations chained them to any land. Otherwise, how could Andrew Pereira have moved out of a big city like Lisbon and migrated to a small town like Kochi? Would Hormis Andrapper have abandoned a great granary in Pondicherry and set sail to the marshland of Diego? They must have dreamt of the returns from the new lands. Success is only for those who travel to tomorrow’s lands. The Andrapper dynasty knew that.

  I felt like calling home. Momma must be worried that there was no news from me. I was supposed to go to France today. They didn’t know that I rescheduled the ticket. They might suspect that I’ve run away this time too. The repercussions of which I’ve to face when I return.

  When I called, Momma was furious. ‘Where the hell are you . . .?’

  ‘Chennai. Your Madras. From there, I’m slowly moving in a black Scorpio to the dreamland of our ancestors—Pondicherry. Within minutes, I’ll reach the land of promises. Momma, what should I get you from here? Gems? Pearl? Emerald? Tusks? Pepper? Karinthali . . .?’

  ‘Wherever you are, just come back here fast. There are some issues here.’ When Momma said that, she was close to tears. There was a shadow of fear in her voice.

  ‘What issues, Momma?’ I panicked. ‘Is Valyapapan all right?’ ‘Will tell you when you return. Take the next flight and come. Don’t delay it.’ Before I could ask anything more, she disconnected the phone.

  I couldn’t continue the journey after that. The fear and worry in Momma’s voice had shaken me. Momma is usually not a feeble heart. This must be some big issue. I asked the driver to return. ‘Why now? We are almost there, it’s only a short while from here,’ he said. I didn’t listen. In one minute, Pondicherry had disappeared from my mind. Somehow or the other, I wanted to reach home.

  After reaching the hotel, I checked out immediately. When Manoj asked, I said I’d got an urgent call from the office and that I would be back in a week. There was a Mali flight in the afternoon via Diego. Though there was no seat available, due to a last-minute cancellation, I could get on it.

  I knew the boat guy who took me from the airport to home. Other than the regular small talk, he didn’t ask me anything. From his conversations, I didn’t feel like some big tragedy that could get public attention had taken place at my home. Otherwise, he would have talked about it. Could it have been Momma’s drama to make me
return? I was suspicious.

  But when I stepped into the house, I realized that something unusual had indeed happened there. This was not the house familiar to me. It had become dead silent. I could feel the heat of a tragedy from it. Every house has a character. Its movement, light, sound, behaviour . . . Even a small change can be felt by the residents. Before anyone tells them. Only they will understand it.

  Momma held my hand and made me sit on the sofa. She didn’t say anything for a long time. I didn’t ask anything either. But my mind was preparing itself to listen to a tragic piece of news.

  ‘Your Papa . . .’ Momma only said that much.

  A splinter passed through me. I stared at her face. Is he dead? That was the meaning of the stare. I guess she understood it.

  ‘Papa has been missing for the past few days.’

  ‘Missing . . .?’

  ‘Yeah. The day you left, he came rushing in around the afternoon, packed up some necessary things in a suitcase. “There are some issues. I’m moving away for a while. Don’t look for me.” That’s all he said. Then no news.’

  ‘Didn’t you ask what the issue was?’

  ‘I asked, but he didn’t tell. I’d never seen him so frightened.’

  ‘And you guys haven’t looked for him anywhere?’

  ‘Your Chettan has been trying for the past three days. Nobody knows anything. Some say it’s about some money dealings at the office. I don’t know what to do or whom to ask. I’m really scared, da.’

  I, too, had no idea what to do. Fate was taking me through some life moments which I’d never experienced or thought of. Some moments to which I hadn’t learnt how to react. The moments that make me distinct from other people.

  I went to Valyapapan’s room. He was lying under a blanket, unusually.

  ‘What happened?’ I went near him.

  ‘Not well, feeling cold.’ His voice revealed the fever.

  ‘Should I get some medicine?’

  ‘No, it’s okay. I just had a chukku kappi. It’ll be fine.’