The blows stop. I’m lying on the ground, my mouth is full of blood, which I hope is Fatlu’s. Something slimy I’ve spat on the ground, then I see Somraj, who does not believe in direct or violent action, who trusts that law will flower into justice, walk forward and place himself in front of Fatlu Inspector.
“You are a disgrace,” Somraj says, and slaps Fatlu across the face.
The sticks blur around Somraj, they come crashing from all directions. I see him fall, his white spotless kurta turning red, many of them are standing around him with the sticks flailing. In this way my dream comes true, the one where sticks descended on Somraj, and afterwards crows flew down upon his lifeless corpse. The thought comes to me, it’s not his body that is dying, it’s his heart. Lying hearing the thud of police sticks beating Somraj, I don’t know what will happen to us. Maybe they’ll kill us here and now, or drag us to their cells to finish us. So many die in the cells. What will it be like to die? Can it be worse than this horrible life? I am not afraid, just curious. Then a thing happens that no one could have predicted.
From nowhere a tide of ragged people surges over the police and sweeps them away. Thousands have come, they have heard of the fight at the factory and the plight of the Jyotinagar folk and they have come from the Nutcracker and Blue Moon and beyond, from Phuta Maqbara and Mira Colony, from Khabbarkhana and Qazi Camp, even from Chowk, the people have dropped what they were doing and run to our aid and the cursed police are gone. As they run for their trucks, they are forced to crouch behind their shields because the road is lined with crowds who want their blood, never have I seen such fury. One man, he’s ragged, thin his ribs are like furrows ploughed in his flesh, no strength can he have for portering or load-lifting, but so filled with anger is his weak body that he has ripped a paving stone from out of the earth and flung it at the pandus. Now it’s their turn to drop, it’s their blood that stains the earth. Let them bleed, cunts, no stomach have they for this fight. One thing it’s when people are unarmed, defenceless, but these newcomers are armed, the despair of twenty years has turned to rage, in some hands I see knives and swords gleaming. That’s when I know that this will not end here. This day is not over yet.
People from the Claw find us and wipe the blood from us and bring us back to Somraj’s house. How long were we in the factory, I don’t know, it must have been hours, for the sun is setting, it is below the rooftops, the sky is streaked red like it too is wearing blood-soaked bandages. Somraj Pandit is beaten sore, but refusing to go and lie down, his daughter is fretting over him, it’s now I learn she’s had no news from the old city.
“Animal,” she says. “You were there. How is Zafar. Tell me is he alive? Tell me he’s all right.”
I do not know what to tell her. The day is over, the time when they could have saved their lives is gone, the tent has become a shroud for Zafar and Farouq. Gone they are, right when most needed, for the power of nothing is unleashed and must be directed or it will achieve nothing but destruction and death. They are gone. I would rather she heard this news from anyone but me.
“You haven’t been to see him?”
“Zafar forbade me,” she says simply. “I have to respect his wish. Besides, I told him I wouldn’t be there, that I could not bear to watch him die.”
Oh no, Nisha. I have the gift and I know the truth, you’ve been hoping that Zafar will hang on, will not let go until he has seen you. So you did not go and do not go, hoping to stretch out his life a little further.
“Go now,” I say. “Quickly. Find an auto.” But it’s too late and I am thinking that the streets are not safe. Distant uproars can be heard, police sirens too. Soon the army will be called, like they were on that night, when the politicians made them take thousands of bodies and throw them in the Chameli River.
“If Zafar dies, I will take care of you Nisha. I will marry you.”
“Please don’t talk like that. He will not die.”
“I love you, Nisha. I always have. You are everything to me.”
“Poor loyal Animal, I can never marry you.” She starts sobbing and I go to put my arms round her. She accepts the hug, but then says, “Animal, you must go to Ma. We don’t know what may happen on this night.”
In the street outside her clinic I come across Elli, pale as a ghost she’s. “My god,” she says, “what happened to you? Come inside.”
Well, I guess I am looking pretty bad, there are lumps all over my head, one eye is nearly closed plus my kakadus are stained with blood. The ache from these wounds is nothing compared to the ache in my heart. About Zafar and Farouq I don’t want to think. In place of the anger there’s a kind of numbness, a palace of desolation is my soul, not the kind of place I would choose to live, this world does not seem a good place to be, but I will go into Elli’s clinic one last time because she should know what I think of her.
“Animal?” she asks, leading me towards her office, “are you hurt bad?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What happened?” she asks, again all caring concern.
This numbness I’m feeling, it’s like volcanoes on the tele, outside they’re black and dead, but inside red lakes are seething. I can’t be polite to Elli.
“Don’t you fucking know? Your friends cancelled the hearing.”
“So you’ve heard too.” She sighs. “It’s all over town that I’m a traitor. People think I’ve lied to them, Hanif and Huriya stopped Aliya coming to the clinic. Everything’s just collapsed.”
“Elli,” says I, “I don’t know what game you are playing, nor why Somraj and Zafar want to protect you, but it’s me, Animal, you’re dealing with now. I saw you in the garden of Jehannum, kissing the Kampani lawyer and he’s told you you’ve done a great job and can go home. So I guess you’ll soon be off and forget us Khaufpuris and the promises you made about straightening my back and marrying Pandit Somraj, all so many lies…”
“No,” she cries. “No. Not lies.”
At this the red rage jolts up into my throat. “Fishguts I’m, Elli, to believe I could ever walk upright, but to poison the hopes of a man like Somraj, how could you do that? I saw him today being beaten, all the life had gone from his eyes. No one else might say this to you, Elli doctress, so hear it from me. You say the world is made of promises, but you are no better than the politicians who lie with every word they speak, or your master the filthy Kampani itself, I curse the day I met you plus I can tell you this, no matter how sick people are here, we are better off without your sort, so hurry up, fuck off back to Amrika, the land where people like you belong.”
“Stop, please.” She’s crying. “How can you think such things of me?”
“What should I think? Zafar and Farouq are dead.”
“Dead? Oh god, oh no!” and she’s relapsed into such grief, what acting, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.
“For all of this we can thank your friends.”
She screams, “They are not my friends! I hate that Kampani. I fucking hate them. I hate them worse than you do.”