The Rat Eater

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The Rat Eater Page 7

by Anand Ranganathan


  ‘Leave it with me for a few days. Meanwhile, inform the doctor saab—the Thakur one, not that Pandey. Pandits are shaky at these things—no moustache, point two-two.’

  ‘Yes of course, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘Also, contact the sarkari. Get him to start preparing the subsidy papers. Make sure we get a hefty sum for all our troubles.’

  ‘Yes, as soon as possible, Badey Thakur.’

  Badey Thakur turned philosophical. ‘This Emergency is good, I tell you. Trains are running on time, villages are prospering, population is coming down. Talk Less, Work More.’

  ‘Indeed, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘Alright, now enough of this serious business. Arey Baldev, what’s going on? Is there something planned or not?’

  Baldev hurried over. ‘Yes Father, upon your command.’

  ‘Yes yes, bhai, I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘Yes Father, at once.’

  Baldev turned his attention to the boys. ‘Hey, you lot. Look up. Face the panchas. Start with your jaat, your name, your age, your...’

  ‘I said, Baldev.’

  ‘Yes, Father?’

  ‘Ask them to also tell us how many brothers and sisters they have, and their names. Kyon, Mahender Singhji? Make a note of their names. We’ll get twenty volunteers straight away.’

  ‘Ji, Badey Thakur. Excellent idea. Shubh kaam mein deri kyon.’

  ‘Haan then, bhai, Baldev, resume.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Baldev paced the rostrum with renewed urgency. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, head looking up, he roared at the line of pathetic little boys, a few of whom looked as though they’d faint any moment.

  ‘You, your name is Kalki, no? You start first. Your jaat, name, age, and how many brothers and sisters you have. I said, start.’

  Kalki shuffled nervously but managed to somehow overcome his terror. ‘R-respected Badey Thakurji. I am a musahur. My name is Kalki. I am ten years old. I have nine sisters, all elder to me. Their names are Mala, Sarla, Bimla, Bela, Ganga, Jamna, Devki, Nandi and Kamla.’

  ‘Next.’

  ‘Respected Badey Thakurji. I am a musahur. My name is Chander. I am twelve. I have four brothers and six sisters. All sisters are elder to us. My four brothers are Ravinder, Dharmendar, Lokender and Inder. My six sisters are Bindiya, Parvati, Santoshi, Sharda, Gopi and Kajri.’

  ‘These ones…are these your brothers, Chander?’

  ‘Ji, Badey Thakurji.’

  ‘Mahender Singhji, have you noted down all the names?’

  ‘Yes, Badey Thakur. Just one thing—if that Kalki there is the youngest as he said, and ten, then according to me all his sisters should qualify for the voluntary programme.’

  ‘Yes why not. They are old enough.’

  ‘And the six sisters of this lot; they should, too.’

  ‘Yes, of course. So, how many on the list already?’

  ‘Ten, and eleven, and two parents for each—that’s twenty-five, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘How many musahur families did you say there are, belonging to our village?’

  ‘Twenty-four, Badey Thakur.’

  Badey Thakur was exultant. ‘Wah. Achaa, now listen. Once we are done here, take Baldev and Ranbir down to their end of the village and get all the names on paper. Tell them Badey Thakur has arranged for free medicines and mosquito nets. And get that Thakur doctor by this evening and put a tent up near the dispensary.’

  ‘Ji, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘Well, good. Haan bhai, Baldev. Is this going to take till tomorrow?’

  ‘Er, no Father…now listen up, boys. You have to play a game, nothing much. You will compete with each other for these—Panditji, please show them—these four rats with stones tied to their tails. The rats will be thrown into this well...’

  ‘No-no…Baldev. Not our well, never. Rats are still fine, but these musahurs? Have you lost it, boy?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Father, after the entertainment the water will be purified with gaumutr, as Panditji here assures me.’

  Badey Thakur looked suspiciously at the pandit.

  ‘Pandat?’

  ‘Ji Badey Thakur, there is nothing the gaumutr cannot purify.’

  ‘Good. Continue, Baldev.’

  Baldev rolled up his kurta sleeve. It slid down. He rolled it up again. ‘Haan, so as soon as you hear the gun, you jump into the well. Don’t worry—Misraji here tells me it is only forty feet deep. And the water is only nine feet. For the first round, we’ll drop four rats for you five boys. The boy with the most number of dead rats to his credit at the end of four rounds will be the winner. We will also bet on you. Badey Thakur himself will decide the odds. If you please, Badey Thakur?’

  ‘Well, Baldev, what a roundabout way of entertainment, hain. You sure have put some thought into it.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘You want me to set the odds?’

  ‘Yes, Father, if you please.’

  Badey Thakur scratched his cheek thoughtfully. ‘Let me see now. Open your mouths, all of you.’

  The boys did so.

  ‘Good teeth, good teeth. Show you hands. Yes, rough alright. Hmm, I say ninety paise on Kalki, eighty on Chander and the rest…well, they look quite hopeless—make them all fifty paise.’

  Baldev was ecstatic. ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘Now hurry up. This is taking too much time.’

  Baldev nodded and looked up at the audience. There was a faint smile on his face, the smile of a confident ringmaster.

  ‘Alright, brothers and sisters. Now’s the time to place some nice bets...You there, yes, you. You, too? Certainly…Panditji, you? Certainly…on Kalki? Yes…and you, Mahender Singhji? On Chander? Seven rupees? Yes, you too sir, why not? Wait, sir…just a minute, let me note it down…Yes of course, and you too…’

  Like cows at a cattle auction, the boys stood rooted and wide-eyed, the muscles on their bodies twitching involuntarily, failing even to dislodge the humble fly. Because they had no idea what was happening, what a bet was, what ‘odds’ were, their fear was not total. The bliss of the unknown protected them. But the signs were all of horror, and more.

  Chander nudged Kalki with his elbow. ‘Kalki, I think I can’t feel my legs already.’

  ‘Oh God, Chander, what’s all this? I can’t believe Bholaji would put us up to it.’

  ‘What do we do, Kalki? Shall we make a run for it? I mean, we could...’

  ‘Forget it, Chander. These people here—they’ll chase and lynch us. And how can we even get through them?’

  ‘What was that thing about naming our sisters?’

  ‘Beats me. Some kind of threat, perhaps. Listen Chander, we just have to do it, understand? You understand?’

  The boys began to drift away from each other a little. The youngest among them, Lokender, all of five, noticed a rivulet winding its way slowly from its source towards his two little feet. He hadn’t even realised or felt the wetness over his legs, but now that he was aware, he forgot about the more pressing matter of life and death and began to worry instead about the ridicule his action may bring. He inched his foot out and rubbed the little pool in front of him into the mud.

  Badey Thakur was getting restless. ‘Enough now, Baldev. Stop all bets and get on with it.’

  ‘Er, yes, Father. At your command, we can start the proceedings…how many bets, Panditji?’

  ‘117, Chotey Thakur. Many have placed multiple bets.’

  Baldev was rapturous. ‘Good. Alright boys, to the parapet now. Bhola will help you. Bhola?’

  ‘Ji Chotey Thakur, at once. Come, you lot.’

  Kalki saw his chance. ‘Bholaji, wait till my father gets hold of you.’

  ‘Shut up, Kalki. Quiet. This is no time for talk. Even my head is on the block, you understand? Now get going and stand alongside, yes, good. Chotey Thakur, they are ready.’

  ‘Good. The rats now. Panditji?’

  ‘Ji, here, Chotey Thakur.’

  ‘Yes, show them to
the crowd and throw them in the well one by one.’

  ‘Ji Chotey Thakur…there.’

  ‘Great. Now listen up, you boys. Keep an eye out for the signal. You’ll hear the gun go off for every round. Father, if you could please…’

  ‘Yes yes.’ Badey Thakur snatched the Enfield from Gajraj and raised it in the air, barrels pointing at the sun god. He fired.

  ‘Alright boys, you heard the gun. Now go, go, go!’

  The boys plunged one after the other into the well, making five distinct splashes.

  Baldev rushed to the parapet and pulled himself up using Bhola’s hand. He looked into the darkness and began his commentary, egged on by the rapturous crowd.

  ‘They are in, they are all in, brothers and sisters. Looks like one of them—I think it was Lokender, the youngest—fell right on top of Chander’s head...There’s a mad scramble, I tell you. This is great...’

  ‘Baldev, a bit louder—the crowd must know what’s happening to their money.’

  ‘Yes, Father…brothers and sisters, I can see the boys now…’

  Meanwhile, down below:

  ‘Chander?’

  ‘Kaal-Kalki? Hain-Haan-uunhh!’

  ‘Sorry! Hain-uunhh. Couldn’t help it, Dharmender—you didn’t spread out fast enough…where’s Chander? Lokender?’

  ‘Hain-uunhh. Hain-Haan-uunhh!’

  ‘Chand...Chander?’

  ‘Kalki, I am here. Where’s Lokender? My brother, where is he?’

  ‘Don’t panic, don’t panic. Listen, not much time, Chander, only four rats are in here. Means one of us will have to go without them—me. You understand? Let’s do it. You must, for your brothers. Come, on the count of three.’

  ‘Alright...’

  While up above:

  ‘Yes, brothers and sisters…Lots of thrashing…they look dazed…Lots of crying, too. Hey you, hear me down there? What’s the story? They are there, the three of them. No Chander, no Kalki. This is too much. I can’t believe my eyes. C’mon Kalki, you rat. C’mon Chander! Do it, you bastard...you can do it! Get my money, you musahur. Double it. Triple it! Get it. Get the rat...’

  Badey Thakur was thrilled. ‘Why, Mahender Singhji, this seems to have gotten the crowd excited. Look at them shouting and screaming. I tell you, the secret is always money. Get money involved and see them bastards wallow. They didn’t sound as excited when I told these of my plan to buy three new tractors, did they?’

  ‘No, they didn’t, Badey Thakur. Your boy seems to have hit the bullseye with this invention of his.’

  ‘He sure has, my good boy. I tell you, blood is after all blood, Mahender Singhji.’

  ‘It sure is, sure is, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘Now, let’s listen in…what’s the latest, Baldev? Louder. Louder, boy.’

  But what Baldev couldn’t bring to his shouting and screaming spectators was the tragedy that was unfolding deep within the darkness of the Thakur well.

  ‘H-e-l-p.’

  ‘Is that you Chander? C-h-a-n-d-e-r? We haven’t much time. Listen carefully to me now.’

  ‘We are all going to die, Kalki. Hain-Hain-uunnhhh, Haan-uunhh, haan-unh!’

  ‘Listen to me, Chander, I can feel the rats. All four of them. The stones, I have felt them. Go under when I say. Then watch me carefully, don’t leave sight of my hands. Take the rats. Put them in your brothers’ hands. You understand? We haven’t much time.’

  Baldev did not stop with the commentary. ‘Brothers and sisters. Kalki has gone under. Dharmender is thrashing his arms wildly…oye can you hear me in there? Stop that, you idiot. I can’t see anything with all this sloshing. Wait. One of them is not moving…limp…completely limp…floating…mouth open…bloody nose…Lokender. But he is clutching a rat. He’s gone, I think. Here comes Kalki…empty-handed…clutching air. Wah. What a game we have here. Bhola! I said, Bhola…throw in the rope. Get those bastards out.’

  Inside the well, events had taken a terrible turn.

  ‘No, Lokender, no. Lokender, open your eyes, Lokender, please, please, Lokender, look at me, I am Chander, your brother! Talk to him, Kalki!’

  ‘I’ll kill Baldev, I promise, Chander. I’ll kill the bastard. I’ll kill them all.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, Kalki. Listen to me. We have got to save Dharmender and Ravinder. We are next in line, don’t you understand? Don’t you understand ? Take the rat from Lokender. What is done is done. Three more rounds, do you understand? Take his rat…draw his fingers open…oh my brother, my Lokender…’

  ‘Listen, Chander, don’t be stupid. We can’t go on, just can’t. Sooner or later, we are all going to die in here. We have got to think of something. Listen. I have an idea. The moment we climb out, we try to somehow...’

  ‘They’ll kill us. No, Kalki.’

  ‘Listen, Chander. There is no choice, don’t you understand? If we stay here, we’ll all get killed. Think. It’s our best chance.’

  ‘I don’t know, Kalki, I don’t.’

  ‘Listen, for God’s sake.’

  Baldev was getting restless. ‘Hey, you. What are you murmuring in there? Shut up and climb up. Bhola!’

  Bhola, with the permanent stoop he had acquired with the passage of time from having to always walk crouched in front of the upper castes of the village, now came bumping over.

  ‘Yes, at once, Chotey Thakur…come on, boys…yes, that’s it. Now tie that rope around, er, Lokender, tie it around him, I said. That’ll do. Now come up slowly…there…put him down. You four stand in line here…Chotey Thakur? Done.’

  ‘Good. Bhola, get the body removed. I really should...’

  A squeak interrupted Baldev.

  ‘Chotey Thakur?’

  ‘Why, is that you, Kalki? Can you still speak? Even after this shameful performance? Yes, what is it?’

  ‘You’ll have to come and stand on the ledge here and see it. It’s very big, Chotey Thakur.’

  ‘What? What? Wait, I am coming…’

  Baldev struggled up the parapet, his excitement getting the better of him.

  ‘Yes, now what is it you wanted to show me…’

  ‘This, you bastard.’

  Badey Thakur saw it happen right before his eyes. For a few moments it was as though the world stood still.

  ‘My son, my son. Baldev!’

  Mahender Singhji rushed to the well, screaming in disbelief.

  ‘Oh God. What has he done, the musahur. Badey Thakur, this way. Arey, Pratap, Judev, Raana, catch the bastard. Here, take Badey Thakur’s gun. Let him not get away. Come, Thakur saab, here, use this stick to get up the ledge. Can you see Baldev?’

  ‘Arey Baldev? Baldev, my son, can you hear me? Mahender Singhji, I can’t see anything. I can’t see him. Baldev? Say something, son. Mahender Singhji, get someone in there, quickly. Someone get him out, maybe he has fainted. He can’t swim…oh God, he can’t swim.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Badey Thakur...Arey Jaswant? You get in here.’

  Jaswant dragged his feet. ‘Me? But Father...’

  ‘Yes, you. You good-for-nothing. Take the rope and go in…now.’

  Badey Thakur watched Jaswant being lowered into the well. He clutched the hookah stem and brandished it as though it were a sword.

  ‘I want him. I want that bastard Kalki alive, Mahender Singhji. Don’t let anyone dare kill him...there he is, running away.’

  ‘Yes, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘My dear son. What harm did he ever do to anyone? He was only entertaining us.’

  ‘Yes, Badey Thakur.’

  ‘Now listen, Mahender. You gather a party and run over to his basti. Lock everyone of them up. Set them all on fire, you hear me? All of them. Forget the nasbandhi-vasbandhi. Just get all of them.’

  ‘Ji, Badey Thakur—on my Thakur blood. I will shoot myself in the chest if there is a single musahur left alive by tonight.’

  ‘Jump in, Jaswant, what are you waiting for? Let go of the rope...my son, my dear Baldev…he moved! He moved, Mahender Singhji, he move
d, I swear he did.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Badey Thakur; so, so sorry.’

  Badey Thakur, his head shaking with rage, tears flowing freely from his bloodshot eyes, looked up and screamed, a terrifying roar, unheard ever before.

  ‘Kalki. Today is the end of your world as you know it! Either you will live to see tomorrow or I will! It is the end of your world!’

  ‘It is, Badey Thakur. It is.’

  ‘He moved, Mahender Singhji, he moved. Baldev moved.’

  What is the probability that you will be born a human being in your next life? How do you know you are a human being in this life? By the work you do, the money you earn, or the people who avoid you? There is no birth and there is no death. There is only suffering for those who cannot see a tribhangi in a bhangi, atmagyanam in gyanam.

  What is the probability that the woman sitting opposite to you in the train is a goddess? Her legs are a little apart, her hair is all over the place, her eyes are bloodshot and there is Agni sitting next to her combing her hair in all her glory and fearlessness. Bloody Mary or Ma Kali?

  Mimamsa. Swachhata. Bhiksha. Bhakti. Gyanam. Jigyasa. Daivikam. Netritva. Kaushalam.

  Mala. Sarla. Bimla. Bela. Ganga. Jamna. Devki. Nandi. Kamla.

  Mottled. Scarred. Broken. Blemished. Gnawed. Jarring. Defective. Negligible. Killing.

  Jholi kab bharegi?

  A long, long time ago, Greeks and Indians sat opposite each other, legs folded, asses on ankles. The kerchief was dropped and the qawwali commenced.

  Calliope. Mimamsa.

  Clio. Swachhata.

  Euterpe. Bhiksha.

  Erato. Bhakti.

  Melpomene. Gyanam.

  Polyhymnia. Jigyasa.

  Terpsichore. Daivikam.

  Thalia. Netritva.

  Urania. Kaushalam.

  Ennéa Moúses. Navarasa.

  Ennéa Spóroi. Navadhanya.

  Ennéa Planítes. Navagraha.

  For every Greek rejoinder there was an Indian retort and vice versa. The clash of two civilisations was going to end in a tie. And then, an Invisible Man entered the arena. No one could see him, only feel his presence.

  The Ring of Gyges, cried the Greeks.

  Atman, replied the Indians.

  But what is atman? Is it karma? And is karma a precise mathematical calculation of crime and punishment, credit and debit, male and female? Is it a natural process of seasons following each other as night follows day follows night, or is it an assembly line? The unnatural is for the unwise and the different, the dirty, the diseased is for those without drishti?

 

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