Chapter 14 - One night

There wasn’t a soul in sight that night. The moon like an impish child peaked between the clouds and the lonely, tortuous path was illuminated at once. The shadow of a brick wall fell sharply on the pathway as if to bar someone about to cross the way. A cat walked upon the brick wall and nimbly jumped across onto a corrugated tin roof. It climbed up the sloping roof and scaled the walls of a neighboring house. It stopped there to lick its paws and suddenly froze in fright. There in front of the cat was a shadowy man. Moments later red clouds came and covered the moon again. All shadows merged and the pathway was dark and unbarred again. The cat with his green eyes that can see through the veil of shadows, watched the man nimbly slide down the corrugated roof, hop onto the brick wall and jump down to the pathway. He looked back at the cat with his shadowy eyes and carefully scanned his surroundings to see if anyone else had seen him.

The houses slept on the shoulders of each other like a bunch of weary travelers huddled in a train together. They had their arms around each other. Some snored, others nodded their heads as the train jerked from side to side. Lights from the onlooking stations may blink throughout the night but the weary travelers can sleep through all that. The streetlights yawned and dizzy insects went around in concentric circles around the light. Occasionally the wind would shake the creaky doors and windows and sneak in through the gaps to make ghostly noises. A little child would stare with big eyes and then be reassured by his mother’s protective arms. Through the dusty windows he would see a shadowy man pass by like a dream. The child would close his eyes and dream about the shadowy man.

As he walked down the pathway, his footsteps left no footprint. The muddy puddle bore no imprint as he walked by, nor did the mud linger on to the soles of his old shoes. Even the pathway turned a blind eye to this passing shadow. There at the end of pathway the familiar old house with its mossy walls greeted him with a how are you. He reached out for the doorbell but stopped with a start. From his breast pocket he took out a cigarette and from his trouser pocket a lighter. As he lit his cigarette he watched the smoke billow in the distance. Red flames and billowy smoke. Then the faint echo of a siren. Some more red flames some more billowy smoke. He climbed up a mossy wall to take a closer look. There he crouched like an animal cringing with cold and puffed at his cigarette. The mossy door of the old house creaked open and a familiar figure appeared. She leaned against a wall and faced towards where she knew he would be.

“Dada, will you eat?”
He puffed at the cigarette and whispered a smoky no. He couldn’t look away from the red flames and the billowy smoke. In him surged a red flame and through him blew the smoke. He had his arms around his knees and he held himself lest he fall apart. The sinews of his hands bulged and his muscles grew tense from inner strain. His face was sharp and bony and his hair was dense and curly. As he crouched on a wall he looked like a coiled spring, ready to leap up towards the sky. His ears twitched at the distant sound of approaching commotion. He gave one last puff and tossed up the cigarette with a flick of his finger and watched it flip-flop in the sky like a diver from a diving board. In the distance the smoke billowed up to the red clouds in the sky. He came down from the wall, pushed Kamala in and locked the door.
“Is he asleep?” he asked.
“Yes”
He walked in like a shadow; he forever seemed to float. His feet barely touched anything, not the mosaic floor, not the old carpet. He walked over to the sleeping man’s door and latched him inside.
“I know something is wrong”, said Kamala.
“Shhh”
He walked up to the cot by the window and lay down on it waiting for what was to happen. Nothing happened for a while and all was silent in the room but for his eyes that sparkled in the dark.

In the distance the cat on the wall by the corrugated tin roof sat licking his paws. The pathway stood barred by the shadow of the wall for the moon was in sight again. They walked in one by one at first and then they crammed together. The cat craned his neck and watched them all in stunned silence. A few lights flickered awake in the houses that slopped over each other’s shoulders. They hastily extinguished themselves and pretended to be asleep. Then men poured in and collected themselves into every available space. They gushed in like water into the narrow pathway. The looked like one another. Each had a stick in his hand, some had torches too. Each had a snarl on his face, some had a snicker too. Each swelled with passion like a summer cyclone in the sea. They walked passed the shadowy barrier like it was never there. Their steps smudged the muddy puddles. They dragged the mud along and smeared the pathway with mud. Their footsteps left an imprint, their footsteps even sounded like footsteps. They spoke to each other in whispers. But with so much whispering they sounded like the howling wind. They didn’t have much to say, but they muttered to each other the same words over and over again. Each time they spoke the words, the words grew on them, and so they spoke some more. They blew in howling all the way to the mossy walls and the mossy door. They looked at each other’s face and nodded in agreement. They gathered themselves and arranged themselves like moss on a wall. Then they looked at the billowy smoke and something surged in them. So they knocked on the mossy door. But nobody replied so they knocked some more. Soon the knocking grew more persistent. They knocked more fervently and the door shook from side to side. It rattled and groaned like a rebellious youth being knocked about. The men joined their voices and in unison spoke out his name, “Sunil, Sunil, Sunil”. They said much more and mixed whatever they said with expletives for effect.

The door creaked open reluctantly. Darkness escaped through the opening door. So they strained their eyes and saw nothing inside until she appeared into the moonlight. They looked like they would shove her aside and barge into the house. But she didn’t notice that for she couldn’t see them, at least not with her eyes. But she sensed the swaying sticks and the bad intent. She opened the door wide open, barred their way and looked questioningly at them.
“Move away Kamala. Give him to us.”
“Why, what has he done?” she replied boldly.
“He set it on fire, that’s what he did the scoundrel”, one of them shouted back.
Kamala shook her head, and said, “But he has been here all along.”
But they pushed her aside and found him standing there waiting for them.
“I am coming out”, he said in his deep voice and walked out into the open outside. They surveyed him, held him with their eyes. He stepped forward, pushed away gently the men who crowded towards him and folded his arms defiantly. His tall dark figure stood starkly stationary, so poignantly immobile, like the hand of clock that has just struck the hour and decided to move no more. They stepped sideways, moved in sequence and soon they had surrounded him like roman numerals surround the hands of a clock. They stood like that for a while until one of them chanced to look at the billowy smoke in the distance and felt impelled by something inside him.
He screwed his eyes fiercely, forced himself within reach of Sunil and bit his words as he spoke them.
“You. You are done for. I will have your blood you bastard”, he said.
Without warning Sunil smote him on the face, and shook him with his blow. Blood splattered from his nose and he began to cough. Sunil held him by his collar and said,
“Watch your words with me.”
For sometime Sunil stood there holding his collar as blood dripped down from his nose and upper lip. They all stood around him watching his clenched fist that was ready to beat the bleeding man again.
Then someone struck Sunil on his head with a stick. Sunil held his head with both his hands and there fell upon him a deluge of sticks from all directions. They fell on him with synchronicity, as if the men had rehearsed every blow. As one stick was lifted from him another took its place. Sunil fell on the ground covering his head. They kicked him now with their muddy boots. When he lay flat on the ground they stamped him like one would a vermin.

Kamala rushed in to shield him from his blows. But they slapped her and pushed her away. The old man of the house beat violently at his locked door. Tears came to his old eyes as he imagined what was happening outside. But just as he had begun to yell for help, the commotion had stopped. Kamala came and opened the latch and he ran outside in panic to see what was going on. There on the ground lay a motionless Sunil. He had his head covered with his hands. He lay on his side with his knees against his chest, all wrapped up like an earthworm impaled by wanton boys. To a side his assailants stood in formation and in front of them stood Manoj waving his hands and requesting them to calm down.
“He was with me, guys, I swear! I took him out for a couple of drinks. He didn’t do it?” said Manoj.
He shook his head vigorously, and appealed to them with his open palms. They whispered among themselves, like leaves would rustle in the wind. One of them came forward and said, “He came and threatened Mr. Mehta today. Of course he did it!” Then he pointed his finger at Sunil who was still lying down and repeated loudly, “Of course he did it.” This stirred the others and they all began to swell with renewed passion and say, “Yes, yes he did it.”
Manoj folded his hands into a namaste and pleaded, “Calm down, please. Let me speak. The truth is he was with me this evening. I didn’t leave him out of my sight. That’s all.”
Manoj shook his head vigorously again and said, “I can’t say anything more. No I can’t. This is all I have to say. Look how he lies lifeless there on the ground. Now if you want to still beat him more, go ahead. I just wanted tell you the truth. I can’t do anything. No I can’t. You do what you want.”
For sometime they didn’t know what to do. They stared at each other’s blank faces, wondering what to do next. The old man knelt next to Sunil and shook him slowly. Kamala sat on the ground with her back on the muddy wall.
Manoj waved his hand at them and resumed, “Look now. Are you sated, or do you want to see more? Do us a favor now and go home? Leave us to our misery.”
One of them turned away to leave. Another followed. Soon they all turned to go down the narrow pathway, past the muddy puddle and the huddled houses. Red clouds followed the men and covered the moon on their way. The dark pathway lay unbarred and they walked out in a file leaving their imprints on the ground.
“Sunil are you alright, my son. Kamala get some water”, said the old man.
Sunil sat up, his face was bruised, his body was bloodied and there was mud all over him. In the distance the billowy smoke had begun to die down, like a cigarette on it’s last puff about to be stubbed into an ashtray. Manoj came over to him and pointed towards the dying smoke.
“So this is what you did tonight”, he said.
Sunil smiled and looked directly at Manoj with his shining eyes. “Of course not! I was out with you.” Then he began to laugh.

Back inside the mossy doors, they sat in a huddle. Sunil sat eating his dinner of chapattis and vegetables and the old man sat with cotton wool, attending to the bruises on Sunil face.
“Tough guy, just look at yourself. Your face is a swollen lump. What’s the point of all this Sunil? I am sure he is insured. Besides he won’t take this lying down. You’ll have the police chasing you like dogs now. What’s the point really? ”
Sunil pretended not to hear him and gobbled the chapatti down. There was a lump around his left eye and he scratched it softly. The old man blurted, “Don’t touch it, you blockhead.”
Then suddenly he turned to Manoj and said, “You won’t understand, Manoj, you won’t understand.”
Manoj turned to look at Kamala. She sat quietly on Sunil’s side. He wondered if she understood anything.