Six Suspects

The bus dropped them in front of the Bhole Nath Temple in Mehrauli. 'This is where I have arranged for our stay,' said Ashok, 'courtesy of Mr Singhania, a very rich businessman who is on the temple's board.'

Eketi was impressed by the temple complex. He was even more impressed by Ashok's suite, which was usually reserved for visiting saints. Spacious and well-furnished, it had marble flooring and a bathroom with gold-plated fittings. Eketi himself was not staying in such luxury. He had been banished to an outhouse, to an empty shack next to the sweeper's quarters. It was just a bare room, without even a bed.

As Eketi put his canvas bag on the floor, the aroma of food drifted in through the open door and made his mouth water. Breakfast was being prepared in the neighbouring kholi.

He stepped out of his shack and found himself in a garden. The temple was just stirring to life, but already he could see a fair number of worshippers inside the sanctum sanctorum. A girl was sitting all alone on a wooden bench under a beautiful tree. Even though her back was towards him, she sensed his presence immediately and attempted to get up.

'No, please don't go,' he said hastily.

She sat down again, covering her face with her right palm. Only her black eyes were visible through the finger-wrapped chrysalis of her face.

'Why are you hiding your face?' he asked.

'Because I don't like talking to people.'

He sat down next to her. 'Neither do I.'

There was an awkward silence between them till the girl spoke again. 'Why don't you go away, like the others?'

'Why should I go away?'

'Because I look like this.' She turned towards him suddenly, removing her palm from her face.

Eketi saw that she had pockmarks all over her cheeks and the lower half of her face was disfigured by a harelip. He understood her game instantly. She was trying to frighten him off with her ugliness. 'That's all?' he laughed.

'You are a strange one. What's your name?' she asked.

'They call me by many names. Blackie, cannibal, bastard…'

'Why?'

'Because I am different from them.'

'That you are,' she said and lapsed into silence again. Sunlight dappled the garden through the dense foliage of the papaya trees which ringed the edges. A magnificent orange bird fluttered close to the bench. Eketi made a cooing sound from deep within his throat and the bird hopped on to his outstretched hand. He held the bird and gently put it in the girl's lap.

'Is this a trick?' the girl asked.

'No. Birds are our friends.'

'Where are you from?' she asked, releasing the bird.

'I am Jiba Korwa from Jharkhand.'

'Jharkhand? Isn't that the new State? But so far away.'

'I am actually from even further. But that is a long story. What is your name?'

'Champi,' she replied.

'Champi. That's a nice name. What does it mean?'

'I don't really know. It is just a name.'

'Then you should change it to Chilome.'

'Why?'

'In our language, chilome means "moon". You are as beautiful as the moon.'

'Ja, hut,' Champi said and blushed. After a while she spoke again. 'You know, you're the first outsider who has spoken to me in a year.'

'And you are the first girl I have spoken to since leaving my island.'

' Island? What island?'

'Kujelli!' Eketi thumped his head. At the same time a shrill voice came from inside the first outhouse. 'Champi! Beti, breakfast is ready!'

'Mother is calling me,' said Champi and stood up. She walked with her right arm outstretched, treading a path which had been seared into her brain through endless repetition. It was only then that Eketi realized that the girl was blind.

Ashok took him to see Vicky Rai's farmhouse after lunch. They went through the Sanjay Gandhi slum, a warren of narrow, dark alleyways containing a conglomeration of small, squalid huts held together by bamboo poles and tattered burlap bags, their roofs an ugly patchwork of tarpaulin, plastic sheets, pieces of metal, old clothes – anything the owners could lay their hands on – and weighed down with rocks as protection against the wind. A group of men wearing pathan suits lazed in the open while their women filled pots of water from a municipal tap or chopped vegetables. Naked children caked in dust played with mangy dogs. Piles of rubbish and animal waste littered the ground like dead leaves. The smell of wood smoke and dung cooking fires drifted in the air.

Eketi tugged at Ashok's sleeve. 'Do people really live in these huts?'

Ashok stared at him irritably. 'Of course they do. Have you never been to a slum?'

Eketi shook his head slowly. 'Even birds make better nests on our island.'

Almost directly opposite the slum stood Number Six. Set behind high metal gates, it was a triple-storey marble mansion, towering over the neighbourhood like a permanent taunt. Behind the mansion the fluted sandstone minaret of the Qutub Minar peeked out, barely a kilometre away.

Crossing the road to take a closer look at the farmhouse, Ashok and Eketi came to the rust-coloured boundary wall, fifteen feet high and topped by barbed wire. 'How will we ever manage to enter this place?' the tribal wondered. 'Even Eketi cannot climb this wall.'

'We will. Don't worry,' Ashok assured him as they passed the main gate, which had at least six guards in police uniforms. They rounded a corner and turned left towards the northern end of the property. They came across a service entrance which appeared to be unguarded. Ashok tried the door, only to find it firmly locked from inside. The barbed-wire-topped boundary wall stretched for another five hundred metres and had no cavities, gaps or fractures which could be exploited. It was only when they were circling the rear boundary that Ashok saw something which made him pause. Tucked inside the cement wall was a small brown metal door, probably some kind of pedestrian entrance. It didn't appear to be in use as the paint had flaked off and the edges were rusted. Ashok tried the rusty metal handle, but the door did not open. In fact, there was so little give that it appeared not only to be locked but also boarded up from the inside. He stepped back and surveyed his surroundings. Behind him was a clump of eucalyptus trees and then a thorny jungle, full of acacia bushes. The brambles made the entire area behind Number Six not only uninhabitable but also virtually inaccessible. 'If only we could get this door to open,' he said wistfully.

'Eketi can open this door by getting inside the boundary wall,' the tribal remarked.

'But how will you get inside the boundary wall?'

'Through this,' Eketi said, tapping the tall eucalyptus tree.

'But the branches of this tree don't extend over the wall. How will you do it?'

'I will show you,' Eketi said and began sliding up the trunk of the eucalyptus tree. Within seconds he had reached the top. Catching hold of a sturdy branch, he began pulling it down with his weight till it became taut as a slingshot. Then kicking the trunk with his feet, he launched himself like a human arrow at the branches and foliage of a jamun tree jutting over the boundary wall. As a horrified Ashok watched, he flew through the air and landed on top of the jamun tree. From there it was child's play for him to make his way to the ground. A minute later the rusted metal gate creaked open.

'You know you are mad, don't you?' Ashok shook his head as he entered the door. The tribal grinned, unmindful of the numerous cuts and scratches on his body.

The welfare officer was in a state of mild euphoria as he took his first few steps inside the grounds of Number 6. He couldn't believe that within hours of arriving in Delhi he was actually inside the farmhouse. The sound of flowing water entered his ears, together with the mechanical hum of a lawnmower. He glimpsed a gardener busy shaving the grass on the lawn, barely a hundred feet away, and was about to duck behind a tree when he realized that the natural darkness of the wooded area would make it impossible for anyone on the lawn to detect him. From where he stood, the layout of the entire complex was clearly visible and once the gardener had moved further away he pointed out the main features to Eketi – the three-storey mansion in the distance, the Olympic-sized pool, the gazebo, and the small temple in the right-hand corner of the lawn. 'That is where the ingetayi is. I am absolutely certain,' he told Eketi.