Rising Heat, page 10
‘Who’s asking you to leave it here like this? We have only been asking you to remove it.’
‘What we have said so far is what it is. We are not going to sit and chat with you. There is no need for it either. We will not allow it here. Just take it away.’
The women in the crowd began to yell too. But they made no move to remove the corpse. The colony people still harboured a baseless belief that they could somehow convince the villagers, and tried talking to individuals while thinking of other ways to convince them. If fifty of the colony residents forced their way through, the villagers would have relented. But the villagers resisted with so much rage that even if they managed to inter the body there, it seemed as though they would dig it out and chop it up into pieces. Lacking the courage to go against the villagers and bury the corpse, the people from the colony began to disperse little by little.
Veeran, who dashed to the spot pedalling with one leg, dropped his cycle right on the spot and stood leaning on a staff. His imperial moustache was throbbing. There were deep lines on his forehead. He callously brushed aside his long hair. He reached the front of the crowd with four long strides and asked loudly, ‘Who the hell is that?’ He then went up to the hearse with the help of his staff and crossed over the body.
‘Dei . . . take away the damn body . . . take it away, da. The colony people have crossed the line. If you all try to show your prowess here, I will nip you all, leaving no trace behind. Didn’t you rogues get together and beat up Sevathaan the other day? He is lying in the hospital right now. You think there is no one to question your actions? He may be from the opposite party but you think we will keep quiet if he gets beaten up? If anyone here has it in him, come forward and show me what you have got.’
His folksy moustache twitched. He pouted his lips and spoke sonorously, chewing on the words, almost to the extent of not letting them out and spraying his saliva generously with his words. There was absolute silence following his speech. Not even the sound of breathing from any direction challenged that. The village landlord muttered something to himself and spat on the ground.
Veeran narrated loudly and elaborately the story of how Sevathaan had gone into the colony the week before and got beaten up. Admittedly, Sevathaan, in his intoxicated state, went knocking on the door of a house in the colony where a lady happened to be alone that night. When the frightened lady didn’t open the door for him, he put his hand through the window and knocked over a few things, all the while yelling and using words he shouldn’t have used. The lady was so scared she couldn’t even scream. The next day he was found after work with bloodied wounds in one of the unoccupied houses in the colony. Even he didn’t know who beat him up. When he opened his eyes in the hospital, he simply cried, ‘It’s dark, it’s dark!’ One of his legs was fractured and bandaged. His hand was smashed. His head had a gash as deep as a finger. Putting aside what he did to deserve it, the fact that some person from the colony who belonged to some unknown place hit a fellow villager was not acceptable.
‘That bastard of a bus driver . . . If a nubile girl from the colony dresses up a little and walks by the road, regardless of who she is, that fellow will stop for her. But if it were the girls from the village, he doesn’t even slow down. These dogs have to be beaten into shape first.’
Then Veeran went on to talk about his valorous and unparalleled efforts to get the bus to stop for the village girls. The village landlord couldn’t tolerate it any longer.
‘Stop now. Let’s talk about what needs to be done instead of simply wasting time talking about irrelevant stories.’
‘Let him talk. The temerity of the colony people also needs to be subjugated. Otherwise these incidents will only keep increasing.’
Thatha, who came directly from the liquor shop, redid his komanam and straightened it before walking up to the hearse.
‘Dei . . . are you going to remove this body now or not?’
The other team had now gotten a little cautious. They spoke in a polite manner.
‘Where should we bury it?’
‘Well, isn’t the lake available in plenty? Burn it on the banks.’
‘Water will get into the grave, sir.’
‘Adada . . . will your father melt in the water? Who cares what happens to a corpse. Just go now.’
‘How can we let go like that?’
‘Why are we still talking about this? Now, are you going to lift this hearse or should we carry it and leave it on the other side of the road?’
A young lad who had been patiently waiting and listening to all that was said hurried to the front. The sun shone sharply on his face.
‘Do you dare put it there? Let me see just how you would even touch it. The only talking then will be by the police, be careful.’
That pushed Thatha to the edge of his patience. He roared out loud. ‘You fuckers! Why are we even talking to them any more? Come, grab this now!’
He kicked the hearse with his foot. The corpse rolled over and lay stomach down. Veeran shoved the barren corpse with his staff. There was a lot of commotion. ‘Aiyo, aiyo!’ A lot of cries of despair. They finally got hold of the body and rushed to the banks of the lake to bury it there.
After everything was over, the police showed up too. Fifteen prominent people from the village, including Appa, Thatha and Veeran, were taken to the police station. Their annoyance at the people of the colony was further exacerbated now that they had dragged them to the police station, along with their anger and enmity. These were faceless enemies. Every house and every stone was a fiend.
Murali tapped the ash from the cigarette with his little finger and blew smoke upwards into the sky. He asked, after a long period of silence, ‘Shall we go to see Billa?’
‘Will we get tickets now?’
Kathirvel never said no when it came to movies. He immediately delved into what needed to be done next to make it happen. Gopal was entirely oblivious to what was being discussed and stood leaning against the wall, engrossed in his own thoughts. The boy protested. ‘Let’s not go,’ he said. ‘We have a maths test on Monday. I haven’t studied for it at all. Otherwise Paramasivam will burn us to ashes with his looks.’
Paramasivam was the maths teacher. He made no allowances for the fact that the boys were in twelfth standard and had no qualms insulting them in front of everyone else. He would even twist their ears. All through his class, the boys sat trembling with fear.
‘He acts as though he is a greatly successful man. Just watch if I don’t ask him some disparaging questions one of these days . . .’
‘Okay, okay, stop. I know all about how your fearless words last only as long as we aren’t anywhere close to him.’
‘You get lost! You are so scared of him that you need to pee every time you see him. Funny that you should be mocking me . . .’
Gopal finally broke his silence. ‘Let’s go to see Billa, da.’
‘The hallowed words have been uttered. What else do we need? Let’s go!’
‘That wasn’t a prediction by Dhanappaswamy that it needs to be true, was it?’
Dhanappaswamy was a samiyaar, a godman, who had come to the colony. He was available only two days a week, travelled only in a car, and had a large following. And all his predictions had been famously coming true apparently.
‘Should we go see him one of these days?’
‘Let’s go to see Billa now.’
‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s go to the matinee show.’
A gentle darkness began to swallow them. Winged termites began to swarm around the temple plinth. Mosquitoes were biting sharply. A Swega moped went past them. It was Sevathaan.
‘Look! A “billa” just went by us.’
Gopal laughed uncontrollably, his outstretched arm pointing at Sevathaan. He guffawed in spurts and sounded like the puffs of smoke when an oil engine was being started. The boy found it annoying. And he felt a tad bit of anger at the tip of his nose.
‘Why are you calling that guy “billa”, da?’
‘Then what else would you call a lecherous loafer?’
Gopal laughed again. The boy’s face was completely ashen. His speech was getting more passionate.
‘Be careful with what you say. Don’t think that you can get away with saying anything about my fellow villager and that I will keep quiet and put up with it.’ He wagged a finger in his face as if to warn him. Gopal made a gesture of wiping his warning on his groin and laughed again. Murali joined him too.
‘Isn’t he quite the fellow villager? The one that entered the colony and got beat up? Just because he has a Swega moped now, he’s now considered a model man?’
‘He has now become the owner of a liquor shop too. He is definitely a model man!’
The two of them mocking Sevathaan spiked the boy’s anger like a sprinkle of chilli powder. Yes, he is a bad man. So what? Ever since he returned from the hospital after getting beaten up in the colony he has been behaving himself. How dare these worthless fools talk about him? he thought to himself.
Sevathaan had two acres of land up the road. He had built a house on it and sold it for one lakh rupees. With that he bought himself a vehicle. He renovated his house a little and became a partner at the liquor shop.
‘These are but alms from Thalaivar,’ he would say.
If anyone went to him seeking help, he did as much as he could. Of course, he would also make sure that he gained something from it. ‘Could a honey harvester be expected to not lick his arm?’ And then there were the laws of politics, of course. On Thalaivar’s birthday, he provided liquor for free. The men and women from Aalkudi would get drunk and roll all over the road that day. ‘The great Thalaivar has come to us in the form of Sevathaan,’ they’d say. Regardless, no matter how good or bad he was, what right did the colony folks have to talk about him? the boy thought to himself and a force took over him.
‘Do not talk about him. I will get really angry. Mind your business,’ he warned them.
‘Let’s see how bad your anger is. Come, show us a little of your anger,’ Kathirvel teased him. He cracked the knuckle of his pointer finger right in his face. ‘Dei, we were here on the plinth of his village’s temple. He may even break our bones.’
By now the boy was completely exasperated. ‘Of course, this is our village’s temple. Why should we be okay with you using it?’
‘Temples are common to all, da.’
‘How can they be common to all? How can the temple that has been with us for generations suddenly also belong to the plate-lickers who arrived yesterday?’
He spilt his words quickly. That year when they celebrated the annual festival day, they didn’t collect any funds from the people who lived in the colony—because if they did, they could claim rights to the temple later. They would have to be consulted for any planning related to the temple. And one of them could even become the village landlord. And the whole village would have to listen to him with reverence. ‘If you include strangers that’s what you will get.’
Gopal spoke. ‘You don’t want to tax us. If we gave you the money as a donation you will accept it, won’t you?’
‘Look, they have installed a nice large donation box in bronze. Look at how big the lock is. If the colony folks put their donation money in there, you won’t have any problems taking that money, would you?’
Murali contorted his body and did a little dance. The boy glowered at his face and said, stretching his voice, ‘Of course! If we include you in this and a problem arises tomorrow, you all will shut yourselves in your homes. Not only that, you will shut the windows and draw the curtains over them. Just a little hissing sound and that’s enough to scare the whole bunch of you. You all are like a flock of crows that fly around crowing. Will anyone trust you enough to include you in any activity?’
‘Look now, don’t keep saying things. Screw this temple. We will build a thousand temples, da. Wait and watch how we conduct the kumbabhishekam and open one in the month of Thai.’
‘You all will? Sure . . .’
‘We will launch “Arul Nayagan Thai pongal entertainment team” and even conduct competitions. If you have the guts, have your villagers send in a team to compete.’
With the rush from laying out such an elaborate plan, Kathirvel lit up a cigarette. Gopal grabbed it from him in a hurry and took a drag too. The smoke went around in a circle with an air of something being accomplished. The boy did not know how to retort. In the midst of the silence that ensued, he said, ‘Let us see how you conduct it. You are a bunch of useless fellows who are all words and no action. Don’t we know about you guys?’
‘We need the words to set a purpose and achieve it. You watch, we will send an appeal to the government to take over this temple. Then your tails will all be cut off.’
‘Let’s see which government fellow will dare take over the temple. We will chop him up while his blood is still throbbing through his veins. You don’t know about us.’
‘Oh yes, we do! You are a bunch which doesn’t have a penny to buy even a coconut but will have a pound to push your weight around. You are all a bunch of misers.’
‘Dei, stop talking about my people.’
‘You are the one who started it.’
‘Okay, enough is enough, you fellows. Let’s talk about something else.’ A fed-up Murali intervened and spoke like a peacemaker. Gopal got up, stood on the road and tied his lungi high.
‘So what if we talk about your people? I will stand in the middle of the road and shout out loud about them. Did you not call my folks plate-lickers?’
‘Go ahead and shout! I will still call you imbeciles all the same.’
‘Don’t we know about you people. Aren’t you all but a heartless bunch that kicked a corpse that was brought to the cemetery.’
‘Yes, we will kick. We will hit. And if any one of you come by that side again, we will chop you up too. Why should we allow you in our cemetery? Why don’t you go ask the government for one if you want one? Or better yet, bury them inside your homes. Or cut them up into pieces and eat them if you want to.’
Loafing rascals! You dare speak about my people! If you who have come running away from some other place to live here have so much arrogance, then think about how much we, who have lived on this land for generations, must feel? thought the boy, wanting to grab Gopal’s neck and rip his jugular out.
‘Okay, if you don’t want to share the cemetery with the people in the colony, then that should apply to everyone in the colony. Why would you allow people who belong to your sect alone even if they live in the colony? They too have come from other places, have they not?’
‘Yeah, they are from their sect, right? They are a fanatic herd.’
At that instant, the boy’s ability to speak was blocked by his rage. He wanted to drag and kick them both. What could he do to stump them? What should he say? He couldn’t think straight. But there was no way he was not going to stand up for his village.
‘We will do that and whatever else we want. How is it your problem?’
‘Since all his people sold their land recently and are suddenly rich with that money, they are acting like this, I say.’
‘Dei . . . you are but a loafing mongrel who has come from some unknown land and you think you can talk about us? I will chop up your balls. And your father’s too.’
He caught Murali’s hair in a bunch and circled him around. He ripped apart his shirt and destroyed it. Gopal and Kathirvel pulled the two apart. For a while, no one said anything. They each felt a little guilt in their hearts. The boy heaved like a dog that was tired from chasing a cat. Murali fixed his ruffled hair and said, ‘Let what happened be. Going forward, let’s not talk about such things amongst us.’
They walked away without a dent in their kinship even though they had flung words at each other.
Chapter 7
Murali, who was walking along the edge of the road, slowed down with his cycle and fell back, and gestured to the boy to do so too. The boy let Gopal and Kathirvel walk ahead and fell back too. The potholes on the road that the cyclists were spread across threatened to make them stumble.
‘Are you both going to talk about something secretly? Include us too, da! Otherwise we will meddle.’
‘Better yet, are you guys going to “write with a pen”?’ Gopal said and burst out laughing. For a few days now, Gopal had been going over the top. Thangarasu was their physics teacher who was recently married. He took tuition classes on the upper floor of his house, in a room that served as his bedroom as well. When Gopal went over for tuition in the evenings, he would look around intently. One day, he unravelled the wicker mat that was tucked away in a corner. A curly strand of hair fell from it. He picked it up with a little stick and showed it around to everyone else, chuckling the whole time. All the boys clamoured to see that strand of hair, as if they had never seen one. As if they could see their teacher’s first night pan out in front of them. The boy grabbed Gopal’s shirt, pulled him close and asked disconcertedly, ‘Why this obscenity?’
Gopal pulled back his shirt calmly and said, ‘Do you know anything about all this? Did you not read the series by Kamala Viswanathan in Saani?’
‘No, I didn’t, but what is the connection here?’
‘In that series, they identify the murderer with a strand of hair from “that” part of a woman. All this is science, da.’
This made him want to read that series. But he simply said, ‘The type of science that makes me want to vomit,’ and walked away. This was how Gopal displayed his taste, through these sorts of little things. Lately, they were all he talked about. Sometimes, even if the boy wanted to listen to him, he got bored. He ignored Gopal’s comment and fell back with Murali. They waited until the two in the front were but a dot, far away, and then Murali halted his cycle. While they both relieved themselves behind a tamarind tree, Murali asked him, ‘Does your Annan drink?’
The way Murali asked the question seemed a little loaded. Why was he asking this question, the boy wondered. When they had gone to Vimala Theatre to watch movies, the boy had pointed to his brother and said, ‘This is my older brother.’ That was it. Murali might have seen him maybe three times in all. Now he was asking about him out of the blue. That too a question about drinking. Not comprehending the situation fully, he asked Murali, ‘Why do you ask, da?’
