Outlaw in India

by Philip Roy

  “I told him to stay outside already,” I said. “I just want a fuse.”

  The man frowned furiously, left his counter and went out to the boy. I started after him, to make sure he wouldn’t hurt the boy. To my surprise, he put a smile on his face and invited him inside his shop very graciously. I was confused. As they passed me, the man spoke to me sternly but I couldn’t hear him. “I can’t hear,” I said, pointing to my ear.

  He stared dumbly for a second, then grabbed a pen and paper from the counter and scribbled something on it and raised it to my face. It read, “We are all God’s children.” Then he frowned at me again. Oh boy.

  Chapter Six

  I LEFT THE ELECTRICIAN’S shop with three valuable things: a fuse for the sub (actually two); the boy’s name written on a piece of paper (it was Radji); and a valuable lesson—not to let the actions of others teach me how to act, especially when their actions are unkind. It wasn’t a lesson wasted on me.

  I was so happy to learn Radji’s name. It amazed me what a difference it made knowing a person’s name. No wonder we all had names. It wasn’t just so that we could tell each other apart; a name gave someone an identity, a whole personality. It was something we each owned, and no one could take it away from us. If someone refused to recognize our name, they were in a way trying to deny our right to exist. I found that fascinating.

  We went down a few more streets and I enjoyed looking in the shop windows because the shops were so different from shops in Canada, where most things were now sold in huge department stores and malls. Here you would find little shops that sold just one thing, such as hoses, or vacuum cleaners, or notebooks, or spices. The spice shops were wonderful. You always knew when you were approaching a spice shop because you would smell it first, although sometimes you couldn’t because of the garbage and open sewers that created some pretty awful smells. In India it was either feast or famine for your nose.

  And then we came upon a chess shop and Radji stopped and stared in the window. There were glass chess sets, metal ones, stone ones, wooden ones and plastic ones. Radji stared in wonder. He was hooked already. He pulled the bill I had given him out of his pocket and stared at it. I peeked at the price tags on the chess sets. They were way too much money for him. He said something and put his money back. I wished I knew what he had said.

  A little while later we saw a small department store that sold a little bit of everything, even groceries. Radji seemed very keen to go in.

  “Is there something you want to buy?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay, let’s try.”

  So, we climbed the steps and started in. But a big man with a big round face took a close look at Radji, and Radji dropped his head and wouldn’t look up. The man shook his head sharply and pointed us out. I felt like punching him in his big round face. But we went out. Then we found another store and tried again but the same thing happened. Then we tried again and again, but every time Radji had to look somebody in the face he would drop his eyes, turn red and look as if he had just stolen someone’s wallet and been caught. I had been taught always to look people in the eye, but this was something Radji simply couldn’t do. Not only his face looked guilty; his whole body did. His shoulders fell forward and his hands went flat against his sides and he looked as if he wanted to curl up into a ball. Again, it made me think of a small dog in a pack of bigger dogs. I had seen smaller dogs dominate bigger dogs, but they had to be really confident to do it. Radji didn’t seem to have a scrap of confidence. Combined with bare feet and rags for clothes it wasn’t hard to tell that he was an Untouchable.

  But then I learned something else about Radji, something really interesting: he never seemed to get discouraged. He knew they weren’t going to let him in but he never stopped trying. After a while I became more interested in watching Radji’s calm reaction to getting refused than I was in watching the anger and disapproval of the shop clerks. And then, I had an idea. I went into a shop and bought a pair of plain white sneakers, a long-sleeved top, a pair of sunglasses and a small hat in one shop. All together it cost me about $1.75 in Canadian money. I suggested to Radji that he put the things on and see what would happen. So he did. At the next shop, they didn’t even look at him; they just let him in. He looked kind of funny to me but he was happy to have the disguise.

  When he came out of the store he was carrying a tube of cream that looked like toothpaste. I was curious. What did he want so badly that he would go to so much trouble for it? “What’s that?” I asked. He handed me the tube and I looked at it but still didn’t understand. Then he pointed to a poster on the window of the department store. I stared at it but it took awhile for me to understand what it was. Then my face fell. It was a skin-whitening cream. The poster guaranteed that your skin would lighten in colour by three degrees in just a few weeks of using this cream. The poster showed a ruler with three inches highlighted. It also featured a happy Indian family laughing and playing together. Their skin was white.

  Radji didn’t waste time putting the cream on his skin. He did it right away. He covered his arms, legs, face, belly, hands and feet. He asked me to help him with his back. I thought it was crazy but I didn’t want to tell him that. I carried his hat, shoes, shirt and sunglasses. He stopped to look at his reflection in shop windows all the way back to the ferry. “I don’t think it works that fast,” I said.

  While we waited for the ferry I looked at the local newspapers. There were some in Hindi and some in English—the two official languages of India. I bought an English one and sat on the bank to read it. I was surprised to see the same advertisement for Radji’s skin cream on the back of the paper. I was even more surprised to find a picture of two navy ships at sea and a caption that read, “Navy Still Searching for Sunken Sub.” I read the article with fascination. They thought they had located the sunken submarine by sonar but when they sent divers down it turned out to be an old sunken barge. Now they believed the sub had only been crippled by their attack and probably went a short distance before it sank for good. There had been no more sightings of it, but the navy was staying vigilant. Wow! I also read that, although the Indian navy did have a submarine, it was being refitted and would not be taking part in this search. That was good to know. As we rode the ferry back to Kochi, I saw two navy patrol boats heading out to sea. Boy, would we ever have to be careful leaving here.

  On the other side of the ferry there was a small pizzeria, so I bought a pizza and we ate it on the way back to the warehouse. It was so good. Seaweed dropped in and he and Hollie shared the crusts. I didn’t think Radji saw anything on the way back but the skin of his arms and legs because he kept checking them constantly. A few times he showed his arm to me with a questioning look on his face. I just shrugged. I knew he was hoping that if he just whitened his skin his whole life would change. I didn’t know how to tell him that it was quite a bit more complicated than that. The advertisements made you think it wasn’t. Of course Radji hadn’t read them because he couldn’t read. I asked him if he could and he shook his head. But he could understand the pictures. I wondered what he was really looking for, white skin, or a happy family?

  Back at the sub I replaced the fuse and we had power once again. Yay! It was quite a testament to Ziegfried’s construction that we had been attacked by the Indian navy and suffered only a blown fuse. I couldn’t wait to share that with him, and with Sheba, who was like a mother to me (and a queen to Ziegfried), and whose home was my home when we weren’t at sea. But of course I had to wait for my hearing to improve enough to use the short-wave radio. I also wanted to call my sister, Angel. They would be worried about me. Then it occurred to me—maybe I could get Radji to talk for me, just to let everyone know I was okay.

  First we played chess. I had never seen anybody study the board so intensely. Radji stared at every character is if he were expecting them to start moving by themselves. And whenever I made a move, he studied my face closely to figure out why. I thought maybe I should tell him it was just a game.
But it seemed to mean a lot more to him than that. My grandfather had taught me how to play, and he followed the principle of “showing no quarter,” which meant he never let me win. He said I would learn faster that way, and whenever I did win, it would be a true win. Now, I always beat my grandfather in chess (mostly because he doesn’t like to take risks) and I show him no quarter. Ziegfried is an expert player and I play with him whenever I feel like taking a beating. He is absolutely merciless and I never last more than ten moves. My only strategy is to try to distract him, as in the time I asked him the difference between a water buffalo and a bison.

  “What?” he said.

  “The difference between a water buffalo and a bison.”

  “Just a minute.” He twisted his mouth to one side. “Horns.”

  “What?”

  “A water buffalo has longer horns. Checkmate!”

  But Radji was only ten, and I was sixteen. Still, I felt I should tell him that I would give him no quarter, and then explain what it meant. And so I did. Then he said something to me, and I tried really hard to read his lips. I’m pretty sure he said, “I won’t give you any either.”

  He learned very quickly. He played as if it were life and death, and yet when he lost, over and over and over again, he didn’t get discouraged. He only wanted to play more.

  Before bed I turned on the short-wave radio and attempted to call Ziegfried. Radji sat beside me as I spoke into the transmitter. I asked him to listen for a deep man’s voice. The man would say my name—Al. I started speaking, explaining that I could talk but not hear, and that my friend, Radji, would listen for me. Radji listened intensely, but for a long time there was nothing. I think he would have stayed up all night trying but I was getting tired. Suddenly his face lit up and I saw him speak into the transmitter. “Is it Ziegfried?” I asked. Radji asked, then nodded. So, I started talking again and explained that I had an infection in my ears but was taking drops for it and it would clear up very soon. Everything else was fine. I hoped everyone at home was great, and would he please contact my sister for me and explain why I hadn’t called? Radji listened to Ziegfried’s response, then spoke back to him again and smiled. I could tell he was excited to speak into the short-wave, and I was grateful for his help. Going without hearing was extremely inconvenient, and I would be glad when it returned. By then, I would be ready to leave Kochi. That would mean saying goodbye to Radji though, and I wasn’t looking forward to that. But that was the way Hollie, Seaweed and I travelled—we met people, made friends, and moved on. It was what we were used to. What I couldn’t know, of course, was what it might mean to Radji.

  Chapter Seven

  THE EARDROPS WORKED pretty well. After just a few days I could hear loud sounds, but not quiet ones. Each day my hearing got better. I started to hear Radji, without understanding him yet. He sounded like a baby goat, he spoke so quietly. But I heard him shout once, when he took my knight in chess. He didn’t know at the time that it was a trap to get his queen. I thought I detected a little frustration in him when I took his queen, but maybe I was just imagining it because that’s how I would have felt. It didn’t feel right to be so ruthless with him. He must have thought I was mean. On the other hand, watching how quickly he learned to play chess made me think that he could probably learn to do anything because he was so determined and patient. Each day he put on his skin cream and rubbed it in carefully. Then he shoved his arms under my nose with a questioning look on his face. I looked closely at his skin. It seemed a little bit whiter to me, although it was also kind of blotchy. It didn’t look as though it was going to last. I nodded and shrugged. “I guess it’s working.” He grinned with pride.

  We spent a few more days walking around Kochi and Ernakulum, and I stocked up on fresh groceries. I bought potatoes, onions, carrots, squash, oranges, bananas and pineapple. I also bought as much yogurt as I could fit into my little fridge, and some that I froze. I had started making lassies with bananas and with cinnamon. I also bought a bunch of fried fish and squeezed it into my freezer.

  Finally the time came for us to leave. I managed to open one of the windows of the warehouse and coax Seaweed in, then shut it. I prepared everything so that we could leave in the middle of the night. I planned to pedal out of the channel, then surface and head out to sea on engine power with the lights on so that we would resemble a small boat in the dark and on radar. If we were spotted I would dive as deeply as possible and pedal as I had done before. Then I would find a ship to hide beneath, but this time I would look at it first.

  It was difficult to say goodbye to Radji. We had become good friends in a short time, even though he was only ten and even though I had hardly heard him speak. I thought he was a wonderful person, and I told him so. He surprised me by how well he accepted that we were leaving, because I knew he had also become very fond of Hollie. He never cried. Or if he did, I didn’t see it. It was dark when we were ready to leave. Seaweed and Hollie were settled in their spots around the observation window. I went back inside the warehouse with Radji to say goodbye at his sleeping place in the wall; that way he wouldn’t have to make his way back there alone in the dark. I gave him a hug and told him, “Never let anyone stand in the way of your dreams. No one! That is what I believe and that is how I live my life.” I couldn’t see his eyes clearly but he nodded his head with conviction, and I knew that he understood me. As a parting gift, I gave him my chess set. He hugged me again. Then I left.

  I made my way carefully back through the warehouse to the boathouse, then climbed into the sub, shut the hatch and submerged. I felt awful inside. I missed Radji already. I didn’t know what kind of life he was going to have. He deserved so much more than he had, but I couldn’t give it to him. I certainly couldn’t take him with me; it was way too dangerous, especially around here, especially right now. And so I left, as I knew I had to. But I felt sad.

  I pedalled out of the boathouse, rose to periscope depth, turned to port and pedalled out of the channel. When we turned the corner I came in close to shore, near where the ferries docked, surfaced in the dark, started the engine and headed out to sea. For anyone watching on radar we would probably look like a boat heading out early to fish. I put our lights on too. You would have to come pretty close to know we were a submarine. And if you did, we would disappear.

  Seaweed was sitting perfectly still and was probably asleep. Hollie was chewing his rope, which normally I could hear but couldn’t right now. The ringing in my ears was almost gone though. It just felt like they needed a good cleaning. Suddenly, Hollie jumped up and ran back into the stern. It didn’t surprise me; it was a game of hide-and-seek he had played with Radji. Radji would sneak off and hide in the stern and Hollie would find him. Hollie loved it.

  “I’m sorry, Hollie. Radji’s not here anymore.”

  But Hollie persisted. I got up and went into the stern. “He’s not here. See?” I opened the door to the engine compartment. Hollie took a look, then stared at me, disappointed. “I’m sorry. He’s not here.” I threw his ball into the bow and he went after it. I returned to the control panel and watched the radar screen.

  As before, there was lots of traffic. But this time I wasn’t looking for a place to hide or wait, I wanted to get out of here. Maybe the safest thing was to keep pretending to be a sailboat. But it was painfully slow. Besides, the sun would be up soon and we’d have to submerge then anyway. I bet the navy was keeping an eye on the water with helicopters. They would spot us easily if we were anywhere near the surface. I decided to crank up our engine speed now to twenty knots and sail as far as we could before we’d have to go under and slow down.

  With the hatch open, and even with the engine running, I would normally have heard a helicopter in the air above us. But now I couldn’t. If there was one, I would never know. And there was one! I only found out because I had climbed the portal to pee over the side. I saw the lights in the sky and I saw a floodlight almost tracing our wake. “No!” I yelled, and climbed in, pulled the hatch down
and sealed it, then ran for the controls and hit the dive switch.

  Had they seen us? I didn’t know. Maybe. They must have known we were there if they were out at night with their search lights on. Man, they were taking this search really seriously. Now I couldn’t risk sailing even on battery power. I’d have to go down deep and pedal. Shoot!

  So, I submerged to three hundred feet and climbed up on the bike. I kept sonar on to know where we were going and make sure we didn’t run into the bottom. At least I knew there wouldn’t be a submarine after us. And there hadn’t been any ships close enough to pick up our sonar when we went down, so I felt confident we were hidden enough to use it. I sighed. We were going so slowly now. But at least we were going. As much as I liked Kochi, I didn’t want to be stuck there forever. I felt badly for Radji though. I wondered if he had gone to sleep in his little hiding spot in the wall. Then Hollie jumped up and went into the stern again. He wanted to play that game.

  “I can’t play now, Hollie, I have to pedal.”

  But he wouldn’t give up. He came back and stood beside me and stared at me.

  “He’s not there,” I said. But Hollie kept staring. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” I jumped off the bike and followed Hollie into the stern. This time he stood at the compartment where we kept our root vegetables. It was the one compartment we didn’t heat. I opened the door and turned on the light. “See? There’s nothing here but bags of potatoes and carrots and onions.” But Hollie went to the pile of potato bags and barked. “You’re being silly, Hollie, barking at potatoes.” And then I saw a foot sticking out beneath one bag, and I recognized the white sneaker. It was Radji.