Not a soul knew who had done it. At last police remembered the woman in the burqa. The hotel staff were questioned, but none of them knew who she was. One or two had seen her with her broom. She spoke to no one. Soon after the start of the meeting this same woman left the place and went away down the hill. Nobody paid her any attention, all that witnesses could say of her was that she was tall, plus carried herself like one who knew what she was about.
This mystery woman who had killed off the Kampani’s deal, this heroine, for so she was in the kingdom of the poor, how did she so completely vanish? All the city wanted to know, plus many beyond in Amrika. Intelligence wallahs were crawling all over the bastis.
“Never will they find her,” I cry. “See the Nutcracker, how the houses lean together, open in and out of one another, where better to hide something than in a labyrinth with no doors? Cops enter here, she’s gone that way, secret police arrive there, she’s back here, and which police-wallah, secret, or dead secret, will dare to twitch aside the veil of a respectable Hindu lady or ask a Muslim woman to remove her burqa? Never are they going to find her, not if they search a thousand years.” I’ve begun laughing. “In just this way did Ma escape from Père Bernard.”
“It was not Ma,” says Zafar sharply. “Animal, whatever other name may come to your mind, don’t say it.”
Farouq says, “Animal, there’s another thing you must not mention. Police are asking how the fire in the factory started. Don’t ever say you were in there.” From his pocket he gets something and hands it to me. “We found this inside the factory.”
It’s my old Zippo, charred black, twisted by fire.
I’m staring at my Zippo, wondering how it could have dropped inside the factory, then it dawns. “But are you thinking that I started the fire? I could not have, I had lost my Zippo, I did not have it with me, I swear. I know this for sure, because when I was in the forest, when I burned the Khã…” And that’s when doubt struck, plus horror, for I could recall the datura playing tricks, laughing at me.
“We’ve told no one. If you have any sense, neither will you.”
“You thought that’s why I ran away.” I’m remembering that little silence, after they’d asked me this.
“We don’t think anything,” says Zafar. “You lost it, it wasn’t you, that’s that.”
As the auto approaches the edge of the city there is a way off to the right which leads to the Nutcracker. This is where I’ve assumed we will go first, but when we reach the place the auto carries on past.
“Why this way? Are you not taking me back to my place? I have to see Ma.”
“Tonight at least,” says Zafar, “you will stay with me.”
“But why? Ma will be worrying.”
“I’ll explain everything when we get back. You need a bath, sleep, when you wake up tomorrow, then we’ll talk.”
Then it strikes me that whenever I mention Ma there’s this little pause, and they change the subject.
“Zafar! Please tell me! Where is Ma? What’s happened to her?”
So at last comes out the tale which I myself could have supplied had I not willed myself to blindness.
“Animal, Ma did not leave the basti. She was in there till the end, helping other people get out, cover up their eyes. She did not protect herself against the gas, plus people who saw her said she was singing, she took the gas deep in her lungs.”
“But she is okay?” I cry in a voice to my own ears like a child’s.
Farouq shakes his head. “Sorry, mate.”
Zafar says, “People are saying she and Huriya Bi were heroines, saints, some are talking of erecting a statue to them. Where did they find such courage, I’ll never know.”
“So Huriya makes two,” says I, with tears arriving. “Who’s the third?”
But already I know what they are going to tell me. When Ma went into the basti she headed straight to the house of Huriya to warn them that if they stayed they would die. Already the air smelt of burning chillies, people were coughing. Huriya refused to let Ma go alone, she took a loving leave of her husband Hanif and their little Aliya, then she went with Ma. Many people witnessed this, dozens told how Ma and Huriya moved ahead of the cloud, warning people to get out. They were last seen heading towards the factory. Those who heard reported that Ma was calling out in loud, clear and perfect Khaufpuri.
“The third is old Hanif, isn’t it? He stayed with Aliya, he would not have left her.” Then’s left only to wonder how all the grief and pity in the world can force their way out of two eyes.
“Farouq,” I say at last, “you asked why I went to the jungle and I would not tell you, but I will now though it’ll enable you to tease me forever.”
Then between the double disgrace of sobs and snot out it all comes, how I had tried to comfort Nisha and made that clumsy offer of marriage, which she scorned, how I had said it was because I was an animal, how she got angry with me. “Better it would have been, friends, had you not found me, for I don’t think I can bear to go on being an animal in a world of human beings.”
Whatever reply I might have expected, it wasn’t what I got, which was two pairs of arms about me, while Farouq’s in one ear whispered, “Animal, I swear I will never be rotten to you again,” and in the other Zafar’s saying, “Animal, my brother, you are a human being. A full and true human being.”
“Why are you saying this?” I’ve snivelled.
Says Zafar, “Fool.” With that he’s pressed his lips to my head and all three of us are in tears.
It’s now we arrive at the level crossing near the start of the Nutcracker, the one where the railway line runs past the factory, where I carried Aliya on my back. Our auto’s waiting at the closed barrier. We are on the left side of the road. On our right a big truck comes and blocks the other side. The long train goes through, 2652, Sampark Kranti Express. When it has passed we see that behind the further barrier a crush of autos, bhutt-bhutt-pigs, buses etcetera is also fully blocking the road. The two barriers lift, both sides stare at each other, then all rush forward at once until we are firmly stuck in a muddle of horns and curses.
Says Zafar, “Welcome home.”
So I got it back, my familiar life, I have it back. Everything the same, yet everything changed. After staying three days with Zafar I returned to the tower where I’d lived with Ma. Time passed, the travellers returned from Amrika, in due course I danced at their weddings. All live together now in Pandit-ji’s house, I still have my lunch there every day.
Eyes, what else can I tell you? Life goes on. It will take time, so we’re told, to appoint a new judge in the case, the hearing’s again been postponed, the Kampani’s still trying to find ways to avoid appearing, but Zafar is confident we’ll get them in the end. There is still sickness all over Khaufpur, hundreds come daily to Elli doctress’s clinic. Abdul Saliq stands at the Pir Gate telling the low-souled to fuck off and die, Farouq’s still a pain in the arse, Chunaram has various new scams, Faqri’s doing good business, the factory is still there, blackened by fire it’s, but the grass is growing again, and the charred jungle is pushing out green shoots. Moons play hide and seek in the pipework of the poison-khana, still the foreign jarnaliss come.
Three weeks ago, a fat package arrived, covered in blue and red Amrikan stamps it was, and addressed to Animal, Esquire c/o Elli at the clinic. Inside were many forms, plus a letter with good news for me, money has been found, my operation is booked. Elli was delighted, a huge hug she gave me and said that soon I won’t know myself. Zafar says he’ll help me to get a passport, in a couple of months I’ll leave for Amrika. Elli and Nisha will accompany me. All I have to do is sign a paper.