Pandu the Dabbawalla and other simple short stories

by

Kersie Khambatta

1

Pandu the Dabbawalla and other simple short storiesKersie Khambatta

© Kersie Khambatta, 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Ebook production 2016

ISBN: 1523365463ISBN 13: 9781523365463Library of Congress Control Number: XXXXX (If applicable)LCCN Imprint Name: City and State (If applicable)

About the author...........page 165

2

Table of Contents

Pages

Pandu the Dabbawalla 4-10 Catch the bull by the horn 11-15 Seat 13 16-20 Justice 21-23 Deflated IV drip 24-27 The white farmer 28-35 The loser 36-43 Ferrari Spider 44-50 Oh so wild a region 51-59 King Postie 60-67 The bartender 68-80 Cooking an egg 81-84 Do cars have teeth? 85-91 The mobile phone and me 92-94 Cannabis and worse 95-108 Foxie 109-113 Stick em up! 114-117 Culture shock 118-121 Silverback 122-129 Bushfire 130-137 The rip and the orca 138-140 White river 141-149 Flashing police lights missing 150-164

3

Pandu the Dabbawalla

Pandu perched precariously on the narrow, steel strip of the rocking, rolling compartment, the wind buffeting his ears, the noisy crowd pushing from behind. He clung like a monkey to the centre pole, the long wooden box, full of metal lunch-tiffin boxes at his feet.

The creaking, swaying train packed with commuters (some on the roof) ground to a halt, sparks flying. The mass of humanity on the platform rumbled with eagerness to get in and grab a seat. It was a free-for-all, a rugby match, between those wanting to get in, and the ones inside struggling to get out. Pandu jumped onto the platform, before the train had stopped completely, and slid the box onto the neatly rolled-up cloth on his head.

“Pull! Push! Fight! You idiots!” he screamed at the other dabbawallas who were caught in the melee.

Then they started walking towards the overbridge, weaving in and out of the hawkers and the beggars.

“Oey! Oey! Side! Side!”

4

The dabbawallas stick together. They work together. They rely on each other. They are a brotherhood.

They came to a zebra crossing. The loads swayed dangerously. Cars, taxis, buses honked continuously. The crowd surged through the line of bumpers. Tempers rose to boiling point. The heat was intense. The noise deafening. The exhaust choking.

Pandu was half-way across, when he heard a loud curse, and turned as much as he could with the load on his head.

Dhondu, the young, new dabbawalla, had awkwardly clipped the side of a luxury car driven by a chauffeur in a spotless, white uniform.

“You dog! You pig! See what you have done to my master’s car! I’ll …….! I’ll beat you up! I’ll………kill you………..”

The dabbawallas called to each other above the din. Everyone stopped, lowered their loads onto the ground, and jostled their way to the action. Horns blew still more loudly and furiously. Doors flew open, drivers grabbed those ahead of them, and pushed them aside.

A lone policeman, with a lathi, tried to restore order, but soon realised that it was hopeless and dangerous, and discreetly disappeared.

It was now a free-for-all.

Dabbawallas v. Drivers.

There were now nearly five main contestants, trying to bash each other up.

An enterprising young man, wearing a faded, blue T-shirt and dirty, baggy trousers, went around inviting people to place bets. He took names, and wrote the amounts in a small notebook, with

5

a big smile on his brown face. People seemed to trust him with the money.

The drivers outnumbered the dabbawallas, and the latter were getting a pasting. The bystanders cheered the dabbawallas. Dhondu was bleeding from a blow to the right side of his face, and Pandu tried to shield him with his body, while dragging him out of the fight.

Someone screamed:- “Cops! Cops! Run! Run.”

They waded in from all sides, lathis strapped to their hands, sparing none.

The bet collector tried to slip away. He was spotted, and there was a rush to get him. He was chased by the crowd. They caught up with him, and ripped his clothes, trying to get their money back. He was left a bloody mess.

***

Rohit Shah had just come out of a very stressful meeting with his boss. It had dragged on and on.

“ Idiot! Useless fellow. Who gave you a degree, eh? You are only fit to be a peon!”

Rohit felt drained. Tears were streaming into his eyes. He fled to the toilet. He felt useless, depressed. His wife said he was useless. His boss had just said the same thing. His seven-year old daughter treated him like dirt.

He shuffled back to his desk, and sat staring blankly in the air, behind a small mountain of files.

Pandu walked in with the tiffin. Rohit looked at the clock, and exploded:-

“It is two! Is this the time to bring my lunch? You,….You idiot! Useless fellow……….. You’re fired!”

6

“But, sahib,……there was some fighting…..my friend was hurt…….”

“I don’t care! You are a liar! You must have gone for …….”

Rohit’s red, angry face, and raised voice, frightened Pandu. The office staff had stopped whatever they were doing, and were looking at him.

“Sahib, please……it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Out! Here’s your money. Get out! I’ll take the box home.”

Pandu reversed fast out of the office, trembling at this sudden outburst and turn of events.

***

He did the remaining deliveries and pick-ups like a zombie, and headed towards the station. He sat on the platform, his hands on his head, looking a picture of despair.

Someone gently tapped his shoulder. He looked up.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he snapped.

“You were in the fight of the dabbawallas. I saw you.”

“So? Get lost! Leave me alone!”

“You look like you need help. Maybe I can.....”

“I’ve been having a bad day. You are only making it worse.”

“Okay. Okay. I won’t trouble you…….by the way, you waiting for the fast train to Borivili?”

“Yes. I am. So? How does that concern you, eh?”

“The train’s coming in now.”

Pandu pushed up with his hands, slid the load onto his head, and stumbled towards the train, which was coming slowly to a halt. He

7

pushed his way in, and managed to get a seat at the far end of the compartment.

He did not go to the bogie reserved for dabbawallas.

He wanted to be alone. He had his dark thoughts for company.

The whistle blew, the train jerked forward, with commuters on the platform sprinting to catch it, but some were left behind as it gathered speed.

“Oh ho! So you did manage to catch it.”

“You again! Can’t you just leave me alone.”

“You need help, man…………I love helping people.”

“I need money…..money….”

“Money is not everything in life, man.”

“Don’t lecture me! Go away. Leave me alone!”

Pandu turned his face away, and stared out of the window. He looked at the grey sky, the drab, dirty shanty huts, the half-naked children, the lean, vicious, scavenger dogs, ….and sighed deeply.

An hour later he got down at the last stop, and headed home.

“Where were you? Why so late? I want fifty rupees now to buy veges,” demanded his wife.

“Don’t have fifty, Maya. Lost my old customer. Gave me only thirty, and kicked me out of his office.”

“He kicked you out, eh! Why? Aaaaa………What did you do?”

“Take the thirty, and leave me alone. I’ve had a bad day.”

“You think I’ve had a good day, eh? eh? you…..you.....”

8

Pandu backed out. She had been throwing tantrums from the time the doctor told her she could never have children. This was about six months ago. She loved children. She took out all her frustration on him.

He walked up the street, head low, back bent, into the train station. He didn’t know what to do. He felt hungry, and bought some ‘pani-puri’ with the coins left in his pocket, and ate it listlessly.

It was dark now, and he sat on one of the hard, wooden benches. Trains thundered in and out every few minutes. Then the frequency became less. The big, black clock hanging over his head showed midnight. He stretched out on the bench, and closed his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep, for when he woke, it was nearly dawn. Something had jerked him awake.

He heard a soft sound. A baby crying.

He realised that it came from behind the bench.

He was shocked to see a baby lying in a wicker basket. He looked around for the mother, but there was no one in sight. It was the only hour in the day when there were no commuters. The baby cried again. He couldn’t just leave it there. It would be cruel of him to do so. He was a kind man.

He picked up the basket, and walked around the station, but it was deserted.

He took the baby home.

9

He knocked on the door as gently as he could, fearing the renewed wrath of his wife. She didn’t respond. He called out her name. No sound from inside the house.

He knocked again and again. The baby cried loudly.

The door flew open. His wife burst out angrily, but stopped short abruptly. Her mouth flew open in astonishment when she saw the baby.

“What....what...is this? Where did you get the baby from?”

But before he could answer, she got down on her knees, hugged the baby, and carried it inside, while softly cooing to it, and muttering to herself:- “Yoho....Bhagwan.....you have given me a baby.......I wanted a baby.......you have given me a baby.......thank you, Bhagwan, ......thank you.....”.

Pandu smiled to himself, heaved a deep sigh of relief, shook his head from side to side, and walked into the house.

10

Catch the bull by the horn

“Hey you guys…ready?”

I was clinging to the top of the mussel bar which stands ten metres high in the centre of a cobbled square surrounded by cafes and restaurants.

I am a quiet, reserved man. Why was I there, looking down at the amused faces and outstretched arms of strangers? If they decided to walk away, I would be dead meat. There were others impatiently waiting for me to vacate. I had to take the plunge.

I closed my eyes, imagined I was jumping into a swimming pool, and dived. I am no lightweight. The impact of my hurtling body caused many of them to fall flat on their backs. But I was alive! No broken bones. No bruises.

They pulled me to my feet, and the young man with the weather-beaten face and the crooked smile gave me back my camera. I had asked him to take a photo of me plunging.

“Good shot.” he announced triumphantly. “You show your wife. She be proud of you.” I didn’t tell him that I had lost my wife two

11

years ago, and it was possibly loneliness that made me do such crazy things. I thanked him, and walked away.

Champagne and Sangria splashed down on the wild crowd. An egg war broke out between two opposing teams on either side of the narrow street. Flour bombs burst everywhere. Tomato sauce and mustard stains were accepted by the gallants as medals, the bigger the better.

Someone deliberately dug his elbow into my ribs, and I doubled over, but was pushed along.

Where were they heading? What was going on? A senorita with dark, long hair and a red, flowery dress caught my hand suddenly, and flashed a brilliant smile.

“You tourist?” she asked in a soft, sweet voice. “Come.”

We sailed along in the current. There were red-cheeked, chubby children perched on the shoulders of their parents, reminding me of parrots on pirates.

One of the brats slyly kicked me as he passed by. I made a rude face at him, and he pushed out his tongue.

Then I heard bellowing. So that’s what it was!

The running of the bulls.

The El Enciero.

“You no have newspaper?”

She was clearly worried. “They beat you. You touch bulls.”

She dragged me into a small, wayside stall, and bought a newspaper. Of course, I paid for it. She then folded it like a sausage, and thrust it into my hands.

12

“You run with bulls. You touch them newspaper. You no put hand on bull. No allowed.”

The street was so narrow, ten men wouldn’t have been able to walk abreast.

Sudden silence.

Then a huge roar.

“They come! Run!” she screamed in my ear, turning me around the way we had come.

A mass of tightly-packed bodies ran frantically. The children were passed over into arms dangling from low balconies.

The women darted into doorways, which closed behind them.

She said “Good luck,” propelled me forward, and disappeared. That was the last I saw of her.There was only one way for me to go. Faster and faster we went. Round bends and up slopes. My daily run in Hyde Park had paid off.

I kept up with my companions. I couldn’t look around to see how many of us were there. All I was aware of was deep panting. Then I heard snorts and thundering hooves.

People in the houses were yelling and cheering. They were pointing to me and saying something I couldn’t understand.

The ground was shaking with the charge of the maddened bulls. They were now close.

Very close.

My heart pounded in my chest. I could see them from the corner of my eyes. They were only metres behind, and catching up fast. I could feel the immense power in their heaving, sweating bodies, and evil horns.

13

Ahead lay a long straight,……… and no escape!

A nudge from behind; I lurched, staggered, nearly lost balance, but luckily recovered… to carry on.

Then a sharp horn glanced my right side, and I clutched at it instinctively. I just held on to it, like I had to the mussel bar. It felt as hard.

I was lifted into the air. I hung on tighter. The beast tried to dislodge me. It shook its massive, square head violently, all the while galloping madly.

That bull had only one horn! I couldn’t see another.

The other animals were lagging behind. The leader carried me along like I was an empty sack.

The runners ahead entered a vast arena, with no exit. The crowd had been waiting patiently for the show, and when they saw me carried along by the one-horned bull, there was stunned silence.

No shouting, no cheering.

Just silence.Riders on big black horses galloped into the inner circle. They wedged each bull between the horses, and slowed the pace gradually. The bulls were winded. Their heavy bodies are not made for distance running.

A thick-set man on a horse extended his arm, and I grasped it like a drowning sailor clutches a floating straw. He lifted me onto his stallion, and we rode towards the stands.

The crowd was standing now. They were screaming.

The band played, while I walked up the red carpet. The King smiled at me kindly, and shook my hand warmly.

He pinned a medal on me,…….a medal for bravery.

14

Ah well, that’s when the doorbell rang sharply, and my sleepy eyes opened slowly to a cold, grey, damp London morning.

***

15

Seat 13

The young flight attendant with bright eyes and a demure smile walked slowly down the aisle, her high heels sinking into the soft carpet.

Each time she came to that spot, a vague fear she could not understand, swelled up in her.

The passenger who had been wheeled in, had a bald spot on the top of his head, a beak-like nose, bushy eyebrows, fierce eyes, and was dressed in black. He now sat bolt upright in seat 13 with a deep scowl.

She looked at him, at the seat number, and felt uneasy.

He had with him a young, thin, sickly-looking lad with dark skin, wearing a bright, red shirt with Superman on it.

“Cabin crew, arm the doors,.... arm the doors, please,...... ready for take-off,” came the captain’s authoritative voice.

The plane lifted off at a steep angle.

The seatbelt sign was switched off.

16

When she brought in the trays, she deliberately walked behind her colleague, but found that she was the one who had to serve him. He drummed loudly with his fingers, in a menacing way, on the arm of the seat.

“Name?” he demanded, pointing at her very rudely.

It was the first time someone had asked her that.

Regulations were clear. She didn’t have to reply, so she did not.

“Take this to the captain,….now!” he thundered. He caught her hand roughly, and pressed a crumpled piece of paper into it.

The captain didn’t change expression when he read it.

“Which seat?” he asked softly.

“13” she replied.

“Go back,” he said, “Carry on as normal.”

He was standing now, looking very agitated, supporting himself with one hand holding the seat in front of him, the other waving what looked like a hand grenade. He was shouting at the top of his harsh voice. The boy chewed gum.

Women screamed, children cried ….passengers jostled each other in the scramble to get away from seat 13.

The captain alerted Sacramento airport.

The senior officer at the airport was fuming, firing off questions:- “How did the grenade slip past the metal detector? Who…who is responsible? How can this ever happen?”

17

The wheelchair had not been through the metal-detector arch. The passenger had passed without screening.

Now a plane-load of passengers, and five crew were in grave danger.

The captain left the controls with the co-pilot, and walked in, saying in a strong voice:- “Calm down, please. Calm down. Don’t panic. Everything’s under control.”

But the man was raving- “I’ll blow you up! I’ll blow you up!”

The captain asked the man gently but firmly:- “What do you want?”

“They ruin my life! The dogs! No compensation…..I kill everybody.”

The captain radioed the man’s seat number to ground control, and they found out who he was, that he had become an invalid after suffering an unfortunate accident as a worker in a government ammunition factory, that he had been denied compensation on grounds which were not quite clear, that he was very bitter and angry, and that the boy next to him was his only son.

A passenger sitting way up front, talked into his mobile phone giving a running commentary on what was happening in the plane, and national TV and radio broadcasted it to the nation.

The captain went back to the cockpit, locked the door, and announced:- “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing shortly. Please be seated, and put on your seat-belts. Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

The well-trained cabin crew swiftly shepherded the passengers back to their seats, while the man continued screaming threats.

18

Red fire-trucks and white ambulances raced along on the tarmac, with flashing lights, as the huge aircraft touched down with a bump, and braked slowly, engines whining.

It parked at a disused runway, and all went quiet.

A deep male voice came over the air, and the angry man with the grenade stopped shouting, and listened.

He demanded a phone, and talked fast with his hand cupped over the mouthpiece.

Later, a stout man, of medium height, with a mop of white hair, wearing shiny leather shoes, came in. He went straight to seat 13.

The passengers sat frozen.

Then the doors were opened, and there was a rush to get off the plane.

The cabin-crew left after the last of the passengers. The captain and the cockpit crew followed.

Heavily-armed police surrounded the aircraft, but kept out of sight.

Long-range cameras clicked as the angry man, the stout man, and the boy emerged at the top of the landing stairs.

The angry man waved, like he was a visiting dignitary. He then struggled slowly down, one step at a time, sat heavily in a waiting wheelchair, and they then went towards the airport.

19

Suddenly he turned the chair full-circle, propelled it back furiously, and hurled the grenade viciously into the open door of the deserted plane.

The stout man pulled the boy along as he ran desperately away from the plane.

The massive blast blew the roof of the plane upwards, and metal pieces rained onto the tarmac. The wheelchair got a direct hit.

The young flight attendant watched horrified from a safe distance as a seat flew up in an arc through the gaping hole in the roof of the plane, and crashed onto the grass verge a few metres from where she stood.

It was seat 13.

20

Justice

“My wife interrupted me,...then my son did, …and now you interrupt me…….one more word from you,….. and in you go!” he shouted.

His round face looked like a red balloon about to explode. His lips twitched. His eyes bulged. The half-glasses on his nose were poised like a skydiver at the edge of a tall cliff.

He pointed dramatically to the dreaded door which swallowed the victims of his wrath. The door that led to the cells, ‘the dungeon’, as everyone called it.

Not a whisper in the courtroom.

This was the time when his diabetes and blood-pressure ran races.

The lawyer’s hands were trembling. He was sweating. Words in retaliation formed in his dry mouth, but wouldn’t come out. He had silently suffered many insults from this judge. So had others.

But he knew the law of contempt, that strange thing that let the man on the bench insult those in court. The judge had been on

21

the bench too long. But his judgments were sound. He had never been overturned by the higher courts.

He ran his court like a military camp.

“But…sir…”

“Mr. Updike…sir…you heard me. One word more …and both you and your client go that way.” The black-sleeved arm kept pointing like a policeman directing traffic down a one-way street. “I will take an adjournment now.” He stormed out.

Then the dam of sound burst. Lawyers, court-staff, court-security, clients, all talked at once. They spilled out into the corridor, and the courtyard.

Something had to be done. The tantrums were getting out of control. But who would bell the cat?

“How long do we have to tolerate this?”

“This is utterly unacceptable.”

“His judgments are good, but the way…someone should tell him.”

“Maybe he needs anger management himself.”

An urgent meeting was called in the lawyers’ room the next day. The young women lawyers were very agitated.

They had suffered a lot. Suggestions were offered, but rejected.

They feared revenge if a complaint was made to the higher authorities.

“They know this is happening. Why don’t they do something?” were the words most heard.

22

Then suddenly a tired, shaky voice rose above the uproar.

“I will bell the cat.”

Heads swung around sharply.

It was Gregory Blake, the old, wise lawyer, who had been there for decades. Many a young lawyer had eagerly taken his advice. They all treated him with great respect.

“I’m now seventy-five. I retire at the end of the year. I’ll see the judge in chambers. I have nothing to lose. I will speak to him.”

Of course they all jumped at the idea.

He went to the chambers of the fiery judge. Surprisingly, the latter got out of his chair, and greeted him warmly.

They chatted for nearly half an hour. The judge spoke freely of his poor health, and personal problems.

Later the judge went on extended leave.

Then, a month later, the lawyers saw the weekly list, with the same judge back on.

Tension and worry grew on their faces.

“All stand for HIS HONOUR the Judge!”

He walked briskly in, with a broad smile, and a “Good morning all.”

They were stunned. He had never done that before.He was a changed man.Now they no longer call him ‘The mad judge’.

He is a ‘fine judge’!

23

Deflated IV drip

Ibuprofen, paracetamol, tramadol.

My head whirls. There is sharp pain in my left lower back. The pain bites hard. Dr. Andrew can’t make out what it is. He wants a urine test and a blood test.

He wants an ultrasound done. But why? There is nothing wrong with my hearing. I can clearly hear the sparrows chirping outside.

I drive from radiology lab to radiology lab, but they are all closed for the New Year. My pain doesn’t take a holiday. So what do I do now? I go to the public hospital to implore them to take an ultrasound, and send the result to the doctor.

But at eleven o’clock they admit me as an in-patient. They dump me on a hospital bed and take urine and blood samples. Then a rough, large nurse ruthlessly jabs a needle into my right arm, and connects me to an I.V. drip.

I mumble under my breath:-“Hey! Hey! This is unlawful detention!” The nurse gives me an ugly look, and walks away.

Then they take me to the short-stay emergency room. Actually it is part of a larger room.

24

I want to go to the toilet. How can I? The drip chains me to the bed. I ask a nurse what I should do.

She simply says, “Take the drip with you to the toilet.”

I do that. I can’t hold on much longer.

But the process of pulling and pushing the contraption into the small cubicle results in the tube separating from the needle. The I.V liquid gushes onto the floor.

Oh no! A big puddle. It is spreading. I cannot put the tube back, with the liquid pouring out. I have to stop this. The toilet bowl! I pour the contents of the bag into the toilet. I go back sheepishly to my bed. The nurse comes to check the contents of the drip bag. She frowns. The bag has shrivelled. I look the other way. She looks at me suspiciously, and takes the deflated thing away.

The pain grows and grows. It is four o’clock. I haven’t eaten anything at all the whole day. I ask the nurse at the counter whether I can eat before the ultrasound is taken, and she says:- “No”.

I become grumpier and grumpier. The ward doctor comes to say goodbye as his shift is over. I ask him whether I can eat, and he says:- “Yes.”

I tell him:-“But the nurse said no.”

“I am the doctor, and I say yes.”

So yes it is. I eat a packet of chips my wife brought me from the cafeteria.

I feel really restless. At last someone comes to wheel me to the scanning room. I tell her that I can walk, but she orders me to lie

25

down. I add that this is the first time in my adult life that I have ever been wheeled. She doesn’t even smile.

I hop onto another bed, and that goes into a big machine.

“Hold your breath.”

“Breathe.”

It’s over. I heave a sigh of relief.

I am wheeled back to the room.

Time drags on.

The boredom is broken when they bring in a skinny, elderly man to the room, and lift him onto the bed on my right. The accompanying doctor holds up a pen, and asks him whether he can see it.

“Yep.”

“Did you fall in the bathroom?”

“Yep.”

“Are you diabetic?”

“Yep.”

“You are from Durban, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Seen a springbok?”

“Yep.”

“Do you play cricket?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t you say anything but ‘yep’?”

26

“Yep.”

Silence.

Then a bellow like a buffalo with a mighty headache shatters the silence.

I feel worse. The thought of spending an entire night with this! When will they let me go home? A nurse assures me that the doctor has been paged, and is coming.

When?

Shall I just slink away!

The doctor is apologetic. He declares that I have a small stone in my kidney.

“Can’t you just take it out?”

“No. It’s too small. Take plenty of fluids, and it will pass.”

“But what about the pain, doctor?”

“Take painkillers. I will prescribe them for you”.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. You can go now.”

Freedom at last!

I exit with the speed of a bullet train.

***

27

The white farmer

The still night air carried the sound clearly. Low voices whispering in Sindebele.

A shiver ran down Hendrik’s spine.

“Adeline!” he whispered, “Keep the dogs quiet. I’ll get the guns.”

They were two big, shaggy bush dogs, as fierce as wolves, but trained well. They growled softly, but did not bark. Adeline pressed her hands on their mouths. Their backs were arched with anger, and their lips curled back, showing sharp, white fangs.

Hendrik snatched the fully-loaded semi-automatic guns from their rests, gave one to Adeline, and crept to the window with the other at the ready.

“Are the children asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Press the bell,” said Hendrik. It was to alert the servants in the outhouse.

28

Adeline did that, and spoke to them rapidly in Shona over the intercom.

“They know,” she said, “They heard.”

Hendrik peered out of the window, but it was pitch black.

A tense wait. Minutes passed. Nothing. The dogs seemed to relax a bit.

“Gone. Ask the servants what they feel.”

Adeline spoke to them, and they said the same thing.

“Go up, and sleep in the children’s room. Keep the gun with you. I’ll bed down here for the rest of the night. The dogs will guard.”

The next morning, when they let the dogs out, they rushed to the back of the house and barked furiously at something there.

It was a dry, human skull perched on a stout two-foot high pole.

“Witchcraft,” cried Hendrik, “That’s a warning!”

Ludwig, their nearest neighbour, ten kilometres away in the direction of Harare, called an emergency meeting of the farmers.

The farmers were angry, but afraid.

“They came in the night. There were quite a few of them.”

“Yes, they came here too.”

“They mean trouble. Big trouble. They want our farms. They want us to go.”

“But we’ve been here for generations. This is our home. We

have nowhere to go.”

“The big chief says ‘go’.”

29

“No, we fight. We stay.”

“We can’t fight all of them. There are too many. They will kill us.”

“Ask the British to help us.”

“They say they can’t interfere in the internal affairs of a country.”

“But they can send a secret task force, can’t they?”

“Maybe,…but, nothing’s certain.”

“How about the United Nations? The Security Council?”

“We’d be dead by the time they got together.”

“But we have to do something…we just have to!”

The meeting ended in raised voices, high tempers, wild

suggestions, but no direction. Some were packed up, ready to

leave. Others were holding out, but not confident. Two days later, a

fast-moving cloud of dust whirled towards Hendrik’s house.

The battered jeep stopped, and a lean, dark scowling man in army uniform stepped out arrogantly, followed by others.

“Well…well…still here, eh?” he growled, “we told you to leave, didn’t we?”

“We are not leaving,” said Hendrik firmly, “This is our land. We’ve been here for three generations.”

“It’s not now. The law says it belongs to the people. And so it will.”

“What law? The law is what…” Hendrik bit his lip, and stopped mid-sentence just in time, for the scowl on the officer’s face deepened, and his hand inched down to the revolver at his hip.

30

“Three days is what you get! You leave. Clear?” he turned

abruptly, and was gone.

Adeline was sobbing softly.

“They’ll kill us! They’ll behead us! We got to go!”

“Go where?” sighed Hendrik.

“Anywhere. Anywhere. We got to leave. They’ll come back.”

They spent practically the whole night talking. Hendrik wanted his wife and children to leave, himself opting to stay and fight for the farm. But she refused to go without him.

“ I know it will break your heart to leave the land of your forefathers, but there is no choice” cried Adeline, “we must go…we must leave at midnight. We’ll take Mbango with us. He’ll guide us across the border. He’s the best. The others will go back to their villages.”

“You go with the children. I stay, and fight.” he said stubbornly.

“No…no…you can’t fight the mob…they are out of control. Rabble! The army actually helps them loot and kill.”

That very night there emerged on the horizon, about twenty kilometres away, a bright, red glow which lit the dark sky, and struck terror into them.

“Fire! It’s a blazing fire! They’ve torched a farm-house. They want blood. Hurry! Hurry!”

The children were bundled up in warm clothes.

“Mum, dad, where are we going? I’m scared!”

“Sh…sh…Quiet. It’s all right. It’s okay. We are just going for a long walk, that’s all. To see the lion cubs.”

31

“Okay. That’s fun.”

The dogs loped alongside, their ears twitching, tails between their legs; they sniffed the air nervously.

Suddenly, a piercing, trumpeting sound startled them.

“Elephant” said Mbango quietly.

There were huge, dark shapes ahead.

They took a wide detour.

Now the narrow track wound through dense bush, and they had to stumble along, single file.

The children, being only eight and five, were exhausted, and could walk no more.

Hendrik carried one on his back, while Mbango took the other.

About two hours later, they stopped for a brief rest. Adeline staggered towards a rock, and collapsed with fatigue. But the rock became a long shape, which hissed furiously, and reared up, lunging at her. The dogs threw themselves at it, saving her by inches. It twisted around viciously, and bit one dog.They killed it after a fast, furious fight.

Mbango tried to suck the poison out of the dog’s wound, but it died a painful death.

They quickly buried the dead dog.

They now had to climb over the steep mountain-range, to head to the river on the other side. The river was the natural border between countries.

They struggled higher and higher.

“They know. They follow us,” said Mbango, “We go fast. No rest.”

32

Hendrik had to pull his wife along. She was exhausted, out of breath, disoriented.

“Leave me!” she pleaded, “I’m slowing you down. Go… go…save the children.”

“Never!” snapped Hendrik. “You come even if I have to carry you too.”

The children were hysterical, crying, “Mummy…mummy.” They sensed something was very wrong.

The weak light of dawn revealed what they had dreaded. The pursuit! The cold-blooded hunters far away, coming nearer.

The descent was more difficult than the climb, because they slipped constantly on the wet grass.

Mbango realized that they would never reach the river in time, to cross it before the hunters got to them. He had grown up with the family; he wasn’t going to see them killed.

He helped them along, then stopped abruptly.

“You go that way, fast!” he commanded, raising a muscular arm and pointing, “There be a boat I keep near water. Row hard. They no follow to other side. I trick them.”

There was no time to think, no time to argue.

Hendrik realized that Mbango, the ever-faithful Mbango, was going to decoy the hunters away from them. They hugged him, tears in their eyes, knowing that he would willingly sacrifice himself to save them. The frenzied mob would torture and kill him mercilessly, when they closed in, and found him alone.

33

He slipped away silently, one hand raised in farewell. That was the picture of him which would be imprinted on their minds forever.

They hurried on as best they could, stumbling, falling, crawling. They heard shouts, angry shouts, and knew that Mbango had led the hunters in the other direction.

They found the boat, and fell into it, with the dog.

Hendrik hurriedly pushed it away from the shore, and rowed desperately, while huge, dark, shiny bodies with bulging eyes slipped into the water after them. Hippos. They had to get to the other side before the massive beasts overturned them.

“Keep your hands in! Keep the dog down!” shouted Hendrik.

But the boat was not in a good condition, and soon sprung a leak, slowing them down. Water lapped at their ankles.

They were metres away from the opposite shore, when suddenly the mob emerged from the trees, screaming. They hurled their spears and arrows at them. Adeline saw Mbango in their clutches, and shuddered with terror.

“They’ve got him. They’ll kill him!”

Hendrik stopped rowing, and turned around. Just then an arrow pierced his shoulder, and he groaned with pain.

“Grab the oar!” he cried. “Row with me,…row…faster…faster…”

Slowly the opposite shore crept closer. The pursuers were frustrated by lack of a boat, and the presence of the hippos, swimming with their glassy eyes staring above the muddy water.

Now shouts came from the shore they were heading to.

34

But there was no threat, no menace. The boat was pulled in by friendly, helping hands.

They were safe at last.

They looked back sadly across the water, at the land they would never see again, and the black treasure lost forever!

***

35

The loser

Rohit Shah sat with hands on his head in the small, dark, dingy office, with one wobbly table, and two round, wooden chairs.

The rusted fan whirled madly, but made no impact on the stifling

heat. He sweated profusely.

There was a large glass on the table, half empty.

“Hey, Rohit! What’s wrong?”

No answer. “Rohit,…..Rohit……it’s me!” “Leave me alone! Go

away!”

“No, …..Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? There has to be something.”

“I told you it’s nothing. Just feeling tired, that’s all. Now go.”

“Look, don’t try to fool me. I know you too well. What is it, eh?”

He slowly looked up.

“I’ve lost two lakh rupees,” he lamented. “What! What! Have you

been gambling?”

36

“I don’t gamble.”

“Then what?”

“Will you stop saying, ‘what’! It makes me mad!”

“Ok. Ok. Tell me. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“I will feel better if God gives me money.”

“God helps those who help themselves.”

“Don’t lecture me.”

He picked up the glass, with a fierce look in his eyes.

Sundeep gently took the glass away.

“Come” he coaxed, “We will go for lunch. I know you love puri-batata.”

There were a lot of customers in the Udipi restaurant. The din could be heard in the alley as they approached. The food was cheap and plentiful.

They sat on iron chairs which were so uncomfortable that nobody felt like staying after the meal was over. That ensured a fast turnover.

“Now,…..eat,...and ……..then talk.”

The puris were delicious.

They sipped hot Kashmiri tea.

Sundeep listened intently to his friend.

He wanted to help him.

But how?

37

A fat man with a protruding tummy, wearing a white, starched dhoti, half-way down his waist, rolled in.

“Hey Sundeep!” he bellowed, charged up, and crashed a large hand on Sundeep’s slender shoulder, causing him to wince.

He pulled up a chair uninvited, and lowered his bulk into it.

“This is Chimpu,” introduced Sundeep reluctantly.

They indulged in small talk for a while, and then suddenly an idea struck Sundeep.

“Chimpu is a well-known broker in the stock exchange. He makes a lot of money”, whispered Sundeep to Rohit.

Rohit didn’t pay much attention.

“Give me your card, Chimpu,” said Sundeep as they parted ways. “We will come to your office next week. We want some shares.”

“Good. Good. Yeah. There is an IPO of Reliance Kismet coming up. They will be gold, man, gold. Trust me. Will talk to you when you come.”

Sundeep took Rohit to Chimpu’s office a few days later.

The big man overflowed out of the swivel-chair. He ordered his old peon:-“Get three cups of tea. Go.”

“Reliance Kismet. It’s great. Fifty rupees a share. Value for money, yar. You have to be quick. Thousands applying. Will be oversubscribed. You book with me; you get ten thousand shares straight. Hey? How’s that?”

38

Rohit thought the man must be a cricket fan.

“But I don’t have the money,” he wailed.

“No problem. I lend it to you.”

“Why not buy them yourself?”

“Not allowed. Brokers not allowed. I get commission only.”

“Will the shares grow?” asked Sundeep.

“Are yar! Reliance Kismet? You mad? Your kismet will change. You become a multi-millionaire. Like that fellow in Kaun banega crorepati.”

“Do they have a factory? What do they make? Do they sell to China?”

“No factory. No need. They invest. Money grows. Share grows. They give large dividends. Every year. What more you want, eh?”

“Your chance, Rohit! Your fortune will change,” prompted Sundeep.

“Hu...m......”

“I’ll lend you money. No worry, man. Just sign. My lawyer’s office tomorrow at 10. Here’s the address.”

Sundeep and Rohit took the lift to the posh office. They sat awkwardly at reception, watching smartly-dressed men and women scurrying to and fro. The dainty statue of Laxmi, the Goddess of Wealth, looked at them with an indulgent half-smile.

“Come on in,” said a woman in her late-fifties, extending her gold-bangled arm.

39

The room had a fabulous view, overlooking the sea. The furniture was very expensive-looking. The telephone sitting on the vast table looked like it was made of gold.

She read their thoughts. “Yes, it is pure gold. Imported from Belgium.”

“Now” she said, “sign here. Here. And here. And here.”

Rohit signed the papers, lost in his own thoughts. She slid them out of his hands before he could read a line.

They were shown to the door with a wide smile.

They waited for the money. It never came.

“Shares will come. I tell you. Trust me, yar.” said Chimpu.

But.....nothing.

“I told you shares will come,” he screamed angrily, when they went to see him again.

They back-tracked fast out of his office. His bloated face was purple with anger. He looked like he was about to get a fit!

They followed the share issue in the newspapers. It was over-subscribed ten times.

Rohit got a standard letter in the post saying that he had been allotted the shares.

That gave him confidence.

He went almost twice a week to the share-bazaar, to watch the enormous, electronic board on the first floor. Sometimes Sundeep went with him. They saw the figures climb.

The company, however, did not declare a dividend.

Rohit was disheartened. He badly needed money.

40

His health declined.

It took him a month to build up courage to go to Chimpu again.

He pleaded with Sundeep to come with him. He was too petrified to go alone.

Chimpu glared at them.

“What you want, eh? You got the letter, eh? What more you want, eh? Eh?”

“No money…..coming……..”

“What money? What money? Shares not money.”

“Dividend money……..”

“The company not declared dividend.”

“But…but…you……..”

“You say one word,……. I recover my loan!”

They just stood there, tongue-tied.

Then suddenly he lowered his voice. “You go to my lawyer again. Sign more documents.You don’t sign,…..you regret. I have inside information about company. My brother-in-law works there.”

Rohit and Sundeep went to the same lawyers’ office again. This time they were offered cokes to drink, while they waited. They sat patiently for an hour, before they were invited into the same room by the same person.

Rohit signed the papers, and meekly asked:- “Please can you give me copies of what I have signed?”

41

“Sure. Sure.” she beamed, “We’ll send them to you by post. No time to make copies right now. Too busy.”

Rohit checked the post every day. He didn’t get anything.

They gathered courage to go to Chimpu again.

This time they didn’t even get inside the door of his office, because the burly guard there pushed them out.

They stumbled out into the street.

“News! News! Latest news!” the paper-boy screamed.

“What is it?” Sundeep asked.

“Here,…..only one rupee……Read the latest…… Reliance Kismet…”

They practically tore the newspaper out of his hand, and retreated to a corner to read it.

“Reliance Kismet shares jet up. Company signs agreement with Global Manufacturing. Deal of the decade.”

“Rohit!….. Rohit!….,” stammered Sundeep excitedly, “Your shares have shot up. You will be a crorepati now.”

They hugged each other with joy.

“Now, the company will surely declare a good dividend. Your worries are over.”

Rohit waited for the dividend cheque.

Two weeks later, a letter arrived bearing the envelope of Reliance Kismet.

He tore it open.

42

“This is to confirm that all your shares in our company have been transferred to the buyer in accordance with your written instructions, and your holding is now nil.” said the letter.

Rohit stood there shocked!

He felt weak and faint. He walked with the crowd, not knowing where he was going.

“News….news……latest news” the paper-boy shouted.

Rohit bought the Times of India, and read:- “Top share broker arrested……Chimpu Patel. Insider trading.”

He realised too late that Chimpu had defrauded him, and that he must have transferred the shares to his benami.

There was no justice.

Chimpu would do some time in jail, get the best treatment money could buy, with meals delivered to him, and enjoy home leave with his family.

Rohit thought of the statue of Laxmi, the goddess of wealth. He saw her enigmatic smile.

The tears fell thick and fast.

***

43

Ferrari Spider

Hey…mum…I’ve got a Ferrari Spider.” Nathan bounded up.

“What’s a Ferrari Spider? I don’t want no creepy-crawlies in my

house!” “Mum… Oh…..mum……..you don’t know what a Ferrari

is?”

“No! What?”

“It’s a super-car, mum. It’s great! Come see. I’ll take you for a ride. Come, mum…..come on.”

“I’m cooking. Can’t come now. Go.”

“Turn the stove off. Come!”

“Okay,....okay. Give me a minute.”

Anna closed the stove, and stepped out, wiping her hands on her

apron. She was surprised when she saw it. “This is a costly car!

Where you get it from, eh?”

“ I’m so excited!”

“I asked you where you get it from, didn’t I?”

.“No, mum, no! I haven’t stolen it.”

“Cause if you have, I’ll skin you,….I will….”

44

“It belongs to my friend.”

“Your friend give you, eh? You sure you not lying to me, eh?”

“No mum no. I wouldn’t ever do that. I swear!”

His father had died (from cancer) ten years ago. His mother had struggled through the years.

They rented in a high-density area in Sydney. He was the only

child. His friends were rich.

He had dreamed of a Ferrari Spider.

He wanted money.

He would borrow.

He went to the nearest Westpac branch, and demanded to see the manager. The receptionist at the counter was not impressed. She asked him what he wanted. He said:-“Money. I’ve come to borrow money.”

She gave him a quick, ugly look, but waved him to the sofa.

He crossed his legs confidently.

After a while, a smartly-dressed woman, with heavy make-up, and grey hair, old enough to be his mother, came up to him, introduced herself politely, and invited him into her cabin.

He felt a wee bit nervous. A vague feeling that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it would.

“Now, what can we do for you, sir?”

“I want to borrow two hundred thousand dollars.”

She winced for the fraction of a second, but kept a straight face. She was superbly trained.

45

“Sure. But we lend on security, you know.”

“What’s security?”

She raised her eyebrows. This fellow was too young.

“People have houses, cars, they pledge as security for a loan. Do you own a house?”

“Nope, I live with my mum.”

“Well then, let’s see. Do you have an income?”

“Na.”

She was hungry,……and this stupid boy was keeping her from her lunch.

“Not working?”

“Nah. I just finished school.”

“Well then, you can get a student loan from the government, to go to University.”

“Nope. No way. I don’t want to go to University. I want a Ferrari.”

“A Ferrari? Those cost a lot, you know! We don’t lend money to buy Ferraris.”

“I’ll try elsewhere then.”

He got up abruptly, hot under the collar.

He quickly walked out. He could feel her glaring at his back.

He went home dejected.

He felt sorry for himself. He wanted that Ferrari.

He decided to ask one of his very rich friends for the money. He had tons of it.

46

That fellow lived in a mansion, with a swimming pool.

“Hey mate! I want to buy a Ferrari. Can you lend me the money?”

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“ Fine. That’s no problem. How are you going to repay it, eh? And when?”

“Well, say, in about a year’s time. I will earn the money.”

“You going to earn two hundred thousand dollars in a year? How?”

“I don’t know how. But I’ll do it.”

“Well then…..let’s see. Let me think……..will you work for me, eh? Do what I say?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what.”

“Okay. I’ll ring you in a day or two.”

The call did come.

“Sunday morning. Be at the international airport at 9am,… stand just outside the Air France counter. Take a suitcase with a few clothes. Someone will come to you. Just do what he says. And,….. get me a couple of passport-sized photos. You will be given a passport.”

“But am I going overseas? I’ve got to tell my mum.”

“Tell her what you want. Just be there. You’ll be back in a couple of days. Your trip will be paid for.”

What was he going to tell his mum?

47

He told her that he was going on a short trip overseas with friends. She was not too concerned. She had her own problems.

But he did not go with anyone. He went alone. He was given a return ticket to New Caledonia, a packet to carry, warned not to open it, and ordered to hand it over to a person who would collect it from him at the destination, after a pre-arranged greeting.

It was the first time in his life that he went out of Australia. He quite enjoyed it.

He spent the next many months going, all expenses paid, to different places he had never even heard about. Not to large countries, or big cities.

Always to small airports, with little or no security.

His friend let him keep the Ferrari overnight.

He could not wait for sun-rise. He took it for a drive while it was still fairly dark, wanting to go fast on empty roads.

He did not at first notice the flashing lights in the rear-view mirror, so lost was he in his own thoughts. Then he heard the wailing siren, and stopped.

“Ah ha, son, nice car. Pretty expensive, eh?” asked the tall, elderly, uniformed cop.

“Yes, sir.”

“ Got a driving licence?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give me the keys. Just sit quietly while I check the registration.”

He was scared. Why had he been pulled up?

48

“This car has been registered to some else. Not in your name. Mind telling me who the owner is?”

He hesitated. He was not sure whether he would be doing the right thing by telling the officer who the car belonged to. But then he decided that the officer must already know that, so he did tell him.

“You just drive quietly ahead of me to the address of the owner. I want to find out whether he gave you permission to take the car.”

“Yes sir.”

They parked in the driveway, and the officer knocked softly on the door. It was opened slightly, and then banged shut abruptly.

The officer called for back-up. But a loud screech of tyres from the rear of the house proclaimed that someone there did not want to talk to the police.

He was taken to the police station, and interviewed by plain-clothes detectives. They knew all about his overseas trips. They had the hard evidence of his involvement.

They had not taken him in, as they wanted the big fish.

They produced him before the court, and he was given bail.

Weeks later, they took him to the police station, showed him a familiar face through a one-way glass, and asked him to identify him. He had no choice but to do so. They knew anyway.

The stern lady judge looked down at him, cleared her throat, and said:- “You have pleaded guilty. You have broken the law. That is a crime. You have to be punished. The evidence produced before me shows that there are others who are clearly the main culprits. They will get a more severe punishment if they plead guilty or are found guilty. I would have sentenced you to a term of imprisonment, but for your young age, and your lack of previous

49

convictions. I have come to the conclusion, on hearing both prosecution and defence, that in your case, a sentence of home detention is the least restrictive outcome, considering the deterrence aspect, and the mitigating factors. I hereby sentence you to a term of nine months home detention, at your mother’s house, which has been found suitable by probation for electronic monitoring. There will be the usual post-detention conditions. Lastly, let me tell you this, young man,……..a fool and his Ferrari are soon parted! You may stand down!”

50

Oh so wild a region

She was tired, famished and footsore.

She exploded with a curse in Sylheti.

She pushed the ‘japi’ back on her head, and adjusted the large, wicker basket slung over her bent back.

It was a rainy-sunshine day, hot and humid.

The koel sang lustily.

The peak tea-leaf growing season in Assam is June to August.

The tea leaves have to be plucked at the right time.

And, this was it.

Pluck, pluck, pluck.

Day after day of plucking.

No rest.

Back-breaking labour.

51

Laxmi’s husband, Vijai, worked in the Withering shed.

They lived in a small cottage made of mud, with a straw roof which leaked constantly, even though they had it covered with long pieces of thick plastic. Heavy stones stopped the plastic from being blown away.

Manu and Kavita Choudhary, who owned the tea plantation, lived in a luxurious, sprawling bungalow with a swimming pool, and television sets even in the bathrooms. High, ornate, iron gates opened on to a winding driveway that led to the large, open-fronted mansion bordered with a deep veranda. They invited people regularly to poolside parties, where huge quantities of expensive food and wine were served by servants smartly dressed in red-and-white uniforms.

Manu was tall, angular, clean-shaven, with smooth, dark hair, a florid complexion, a deceptively-genial manner, and a high-pitched voice. Kavita was an unfit, fifty-something woman, fat, short, and waddled like a duck. Her hair was dyed.

The plantation was huge.

It was an industry.

The green tea leaves were brought to the factory twice a day (sometimes thrice) and thinly spread on Hessian cloth placed over wire mesh racks in the Withering shed.

Vijai started work at six in the morning, and finished at seven in the evening. He worked seven days a week. No holidays. He had to be there even when he was sick.

The workers were so busy, one day, that they scarcely noticed a solid, squarely-built man, with weathered features, a carefully-curled moustache, big ears, shaggy eyebrows, and skin as rough as the bark of a jungle-tree, loitering casually in the fields.

52

He boarded at the village of Jambola near Pilchar. He was a city-man from Kolkata, and his business was stirring up plantation workers. He called himself a Unionist. His name was Daya, but people called him ‘Shaitan’.

He went to the fields, and spoke to the workers.

“Hey, you!….. You….you…..You are crushed,….. you are down. You need to fight!” he growled belligerently.

“Fight? ……Fight what? …….Why fight?”

“Fight those rich, filthy, arrogant, banyas living in the palace there.” he pointed a thick finger. “They are killing you.”

The workers were not fighters. They could not understand what he was saying. They turned their backs on him, and went on plucking.

He followed them doggedly through the fields. He came to their houses. He did not leave them.

“Why are you after us? Who are you? We have never seen you before, eh? Go away!”

He did, but returned a few days later, with bags of rice and flour.

“Here take this.” he said abruptly. “You have little to eat.”

They were confused.

They were simple folk.

They whispered amongst themselves.

“He’s okay! See, he brought us food. Our children are hungry,” some said.

53

Manu and Kavita never went into the fields. They travelled overseas ever so often, leaving the manager in charge.

The manager, Chandra, was careful to ensure that the money rolled in, and the profits never fell. He had a job. He was paid one hundred thousand a year. He bought a Land-Rover, and a Harley-Davidson motorbike. He loved motorbikes, and roared to Kolkata once every month, leaving the assistant manager in charge. The assistant manager was a drunkard, and he depended on the assistant, assistant manager.

Shaitan befriended the assistant, assistant manager.

The assistant, assistant manager took him to the mansion of his employers, when they were not there, and Shaitan fumed at seeing the luxury and the opulence. He was a Naxalite who passionately believed that the rich must roast in hell.

He went to the poor workers, and described graphically what he had seen.

“They milk you!……. They rob you!….. They become richer and richer at your expense…… They trample on you!” he thundered.

He fanned discontent among the workers.

He nurtured hate.

The timid workers became bolder.

He brought them fiery, local brew.

He sat with them after work,……and they drank.

“Drink!” he commanded. “Yo ho ho!”

54

He swayed as he lumbered to his feet, after drinking steadily for two hours, and telling them stories of Naxalite raids on remote estates which had been plundered.

“Follow me, my countrymen!” he yelled, “I’ll show you what is happening.”

There was a lavish party going on at that time, and the noise carried far. Thousands of tiny lights were garlanded through the trees of the garden, and lavish flower arrangements had been positioned either side of a long walkway through the grounds. An oak-panelled hall had been laid out with rows of straight-backed chairs. Smartly-dressed women flicked the scarves of their salwar-kameez back round their shoulders from where they had slipped down onto brown forearms.

The workers, anger overcoming fear, followed Shaitan as he stumbled towards the mansion, with a half-full bottle in his hands, from which he took a long swig from time to time.

The hosts and the guests at the party were blissfully unaware of the storm coming towards them, led by a deadly Naxalite.

Shaitan came to a lurching stop, his face drawn, his eyes red-rimmed over dark pouches.

The workers saw the flash cars; the drivers lounging nearby with plastic plates full of food.

The roar of anger startled the drivers. They rolled their eyes in terror.

They panicked when they saw this massive, fierce man, leading a

densely-packed crowd. They tumbled into the cars, and raced

away, with no thought for their masters left behind.

55

Manu and Kavita were at the long, buffet table, eating hot pakoras, when a male servant rushed up to them.

“Sahib….Memsahib…….the workers, …….they come….,”he

stammered.

“What?…..What is it?” demanded Kavita impatiently. “The workers,

……madam…..they come….”

“ Why have they come?. What do they want? They can’t come

here!” “They are shouting…..angry….

chanting……..murdabad…….”

Manu and Kavita put down their plates, and went out. They were

shocked!

Utter chaos! Shouting! Screaming!

The guests were pushing, shoving, falling over each other, in a

panic to get away. “Run….run….to the cars…..”

But the cars had vanished! The night was dark and still.

The women were sobbing; stumbling in their expensive, high-heeled shoes.

The men ran in all directions in a desperate attempt to flee the mob that was advancing upon them menacingly.

The workers followed Shaitan like a tidal wave.

“Quick, ……Manu,……quick….get the rifle……,”screamed Kavita.

Manu reacted fast, and got a loaded rifle. It was a repeater that could fire a dozen rounds at a time without reloading.

56

But the bounce, the confidence, the arrogance had gone. His heart was beating overtime; he tried to show a calmness he did not feel.

Kavita cowered behind him, pleading with the mob to stop.

“What do you want? What is it?” croaked Manu.

All the guests had fled, and so had the servants.

Manu and Kavita faced the crowd, who were baying for their blood, like a pack of hounds on a hare hunt.

Shaitan stopped in his tracks suddenly, his face a mask of fury. He saw the long, scary rifle pointed straight at his heart. He was a coward. He realised that, as the leader, he would be the first to get shot.

He melted back into the crowd, and egged them on from behind.

The crowd hesitated.

They glared at the rifle.

“Back,….. Manu,….. back,” whispered Kavita.

They inched back one step at a time, till they came to the nearest room. They darted into it, and locked the doors.

“I’ll……… call……… the police,” stammered Kavita.

“Nearest police-station……….. half-hour away,” lamented Manu.

“They …….will not dare,……. the rifle! We will hold them…… till…….. police arrive.”

“Where are the servants?”

“Fled,……the cowards,….. left us!”

The drunken workers chanted abuse and threats.

57

“Death!…. Death!……Kill them!”

“Burn the house down!”

Shaitan egged them on.

They set the house on fire, and bolted the doors on the outside.

The fire caught rapidly, and the dense smoke made it very hard for Manu and Kavita to breathe. They got wet towels, and put them over their faces.

Kavita was hysterical. She sobbed loudly. Manu took her into his arms; tried to comfort her as best he could.

They shouted, begged and pleaded with the crowd to let them go, but the roar of the flames drowned their voices.

The house burned to ashes.

The crowd slipped away.

The horror of what they had done dawned on them.

The fierce glare of headlights, the shrill screech of brakes announced the arrival of the police. They froze in horror! They could not believe their eyes!

The fire brigade came after that, but there was no fire to put out. It had destroyed everything.

The officers searched the remains, but found only ashes.

The police commissioner arrived to oversee the investigation. He ordered that the culprits be found, and caught forthwith.

“They must be punished!” he barked angrily, “It is cold-blooded murder!”

The workers cowered in terror in their huts.

58

Detectives went systematically from house to house, asking searching questions.

No one admitted anything.

The police could not arrest and charge all the workers for the crime. They consulted their panel of senior lawyers, and were advised that there had to be solid evidence for the charges of arson and murder to stick.

The guests and the drivers were also questioned.

Shaitan was identified by description as the leader.

The police brought in sniffer dogs to try and track him, but the dogs couldn’t find any scent to follow.

The detectives contacted the Kolkata police for help.

They in turn alerted the airport authorities and the Customs.

Interpol was notified.

There was outrage throughout the country.

The Opposition in Parliament demanded the resignation of the Police Minister. He however refused to step down, saying that the police were doing their best, and though they knew that the workers were involved in the crime, there wasn’t sufficient evidence to charge any particular individual. It was a mob action. The Minister disclosed that there had been a leader, and they were trying to find him. He would be charged with murder, if found. The Minister reluctantly admitted that that person had contacts in high places, and had probably skipped the country, by the time the net had been spread.

The Devil had disappeared!

59

King Postie

Manuel Mandy sat patiently on his red cycle at the light-controlled railway intersection, his left toes touching the ground, deep in thought, waiting for the train to pass. He was sunburnt. He wore a red, cycle helmet, and running shoes. He was shy by nature. His top lip folded down over the bottom one. He kept pulling at his left ear in a nervous manner. His eyes took on an intent, concentrated gaze, and wrinkles appeared at their corners. His dad had died five years ago, electrocuted at the dairy factory where he used to work. That was why Manual never became a dairy farmer, though this was dairy-farming country.

He lived in a small brick house, with a garden overgrown with weeds, in the countryside, where housing was cheap. He played backyard cricket with his twelve-year old son, who was thin, quiet, serious and solitary, with sad, brown eyes. His wife had left him for a travelling salesman. She had been working at the flower shop, and was charmed by him. She eloped, leaving their son. Manuel didn’t know where she was. There had been no contact for the last more than three years.

He gripped the handle-bars of the cycle tightly. The train would thunder past, the barriers would fly open, and he would pedal on into the sleepy, rural town of Morirura with a petrol station, a few

60

shops, a MacDonald’s, a children’s play-ground, a post shop, and a shabby police station with only one officer.

The big postal van from the city dropped the local post to him at his house, on its way to the next town, and he then distributed it among the residents, before reporting at the post shop after he had done that.

The postmaster was old, bent, wore dark-rimmed glasses, and had a shrill voice. He was kind and gentle, and every time he said something starting with an S, he spoke with a slight lisp. He always asked Manuel to attend to the counter, after he had finished his round.

The train normally rattled past at high speed, but, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that it was coming quite slowly today. A piercing whistle jolted him, and he turned his head towards it.

The engine had a flower garland, and a cardboard tied to its nose which read:- “Happy 30th Manuel”! The engine driver was leaning out, smiling broadly, waving. The engine crawled past him, and in each of the carriages people were waving. The guard was his friend Otto, who he had known for years. Otto leaned out as far as he could, and threw a bouquet of flowers at Manuel, who nearly fell off his cycle, trying to catch it in a reflex motion. Otto would have shaken Manuel’s hand if he could, but he couldn’t. The train slowly faded away into the distance, leaving Manuel quite dazed and confused.

He could not understand what this was all about.

He pedalled on to the first house.

Eggy Weggy lived alone. Her grown-up children had left. Her husband had died, and she was very lonely. She leaned on her

61

letter box each morning, waiting for the red cycle. The rest of her day was the same, dull and monotonous, as she and her black, green-eyed cat sat on the verandah of her ivy-covered cottage, and watched the world go by.

But today she stood there with a wide smile, and a red rose in her pale, thin, weathered hands. It was the biggest, healthiest rose from her well-tended garden. She had wrapped the stem in a glossy paper wrap, and a card stuck out from it.

“Hearty congratulations, Manuel!” she exclaimed in a lilting voice, as she pressed the rose into his hands.

“But,…..but…what is this all about?” he asked.

“It’s your 30th anniversary, Manuel. Don’t you know that?”

“My 30th …….anniversary! What……. anniversary?” He hadn’t been married for thirty years, and in any case everyone knew that his wife had left him. It wasn’t his thirtieth birthday either, because that had long gone!

“Manual,…oh Manuel! Don’t you know? It is to the day, today, when you started your rounds in this town as a postie thirty years ago! We are proud of you! Very proud! May you continue to do so for another thirty years, ….though I will not be around to felicitate you then.”

“Thank you, Eggy! Thank you so much! I really appreciate this! Is it really thirty years since I started? ” He spoke fast, with wild waving of his hands, and frequent pull of his left ear. “I must move now. Mr. Good will be waiting.”

Manuel cycled on to the next house. Junn Tiny was on the top rung of a ladder, replacing the bulb over his front entrance. “Hey, Hey, Manuel. Wait! Wait for me!” he said in a loud voice. He was tall, strong, with broad shoulders, and had a limp in his right leg, a legacy of his time in the British Army in World War 2. He nearly fell off, in his haste to come down. He caught the ladder deftly,

62

and lowered it to the ground. He darted indoors, while Manuel leaned his cycle against the front gate.

He came out again, and pressed a bottle into Manuel’s hands. “Here, this is a small present from us, Nisha and I, to you. It’s good premium wine we have saved for a long time. Take it. You deserve it.”

“But….but…..Mr. Tiny, I don’t! I’m just a lowly postie. You keep it and drink it with your dear wife, maybe on her birthday.” But Junn gave him a bear hug, which made him wince. He thanked him, and moved on.He stopped at the next house, and the next, and got the same reception.

When he came near the steps of the town hall, he braked sharply, at seeing a roaring crowd outside. They were waving and cheering, and shouting his name. The mayor of the town, Mr. Beadle, had a large face, a round chin, beady eyes, and baggy trousers. He had a booming voice, which saved the town from renting a loudspeaker at public meetings.

“Manuel,” he thundered, “We are waiting for you! You are on the dot, as usual! Come.”

Manuel got off his cycle, and someone obligingly leaned it for him against a pole. He climbed the steps in a daze.

“Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys,” said the pompous mayor, who snatched this opportunity to further his popularity. “As you all know, this is the king among posties, the King Postie. Year after year, in rain and in shine, he has served our community selflessly. He is an icon. We look forward to his arrival each morning. We set our watches by him. He has never failed us! It is time, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, to honour this fine man. Step forward, Manuel. The town salutes you. Please accept this as a token of our affection and gratitude.”

63

Manuel’s hands shook slightly, as he accepted the plaque with his name on it. Then a pretty, little girl, with pony-tails, wearing a pleated, light blue dress, came shyly up to him, gently pushed forward by her doting mother, and presented him with a lovely bunch of red roses.

“These are thirty roses, one for each year of your long, dedicated service. Congratulations!” said the mayor, smiling broadly. He gloated in the excellent publicity, the recognition, the fame. Maybe, next year, he could stand for national elections, and become a minister. The cameras were clicking. His photo in the Herald!

“Speech, Manuel, speech!”, they cried.

He had never spoken in public. He was a man of few words.

They coaxed him. They patted his back.

“Er……er……I……I….don’t know what……to……to…..say. Thank you very much. This………..” He couldn’t mouth any more words. His face had become red, and beads of perspiration had appeared on his brow.

They gave him thunderous applause. The women hugged him, and the men shook his hand vigorously. The children gaped at him. They thought it was his birthday. One over-fed boy asked his mother, “Mom, will I get a red cycle on my birthday?”

His mum replied, “Shoosh!”

They waved him goodbye, and he continued on.

He came nearly to the end of his daily round.

It was then that he saw that the garden gate of the house with the sign “Beware of dog” was open. He knew the dog that lived there. He had seen it many times before, always behind the

64

closed gate. Someone must have accidently left it open. The dog was a bad-tempered, bull-terrier cross, who growled and barked at him every time he passed. He always ignored it.

Today it rushed at him, and bit his leg. The owner came running out, caught it by the collar, and dragged it inside.

“So sorry, Manuel,” she apologized profusely, “The children must have left the gate open. So sorry! So very sorry.”

“It’s all right, M’am. It’s o.k.”

He cycled on.

But, unknown to Manuel, this incident had been seen by an animal control officer, who was on that street, in response to another incident.

A few days later, Manuel was summoned to the local District Court.

He was scared. He had never been to court before.

He saw a bald, young man in a suit, with a badge that read:- “Duty lawyer.”

“Excuse me, sir, can you help me? I’ve been summoned here, but I don’t know what it is about. I haven’t done anything wrong!,” he pleaded.

The duty lawyer told him politely to wait, while he made inquiries.

“You have been summoned as a witness in a dog attack incident. You are the victim, and you will have to give evidence before the judge,” the lawyer told him. “Don’t worry. The judge is not an animal-lover. She will order the dog to be destroyed. You are a postie, aren’t you? The dog won’t worry you again.”

“But…..but……..” blurted Manuel.

65

The duty lawyer turned away from him, to speak to someone else in the packed foyer. There was a lot of noise, people talking, laughing loudly, children playing. The burly Court Security Officer in a black, tight uniform, which made him look larger, glared at everyone, with his arms folded. That was what was expected of him. He was in charge of law and order there, and he wanted people to know that.

An hour or so later, a man walking with a distinct limp, wearing a badge that read “Court attendant,” called his name, and told him to get into the courtroom fast, “The judge is waiting! Didn’t you hear your name!” he snarled.

Manuel slid in, past the crowd near the door to the courtroom. He didn’t know where to stand, what to do.

“Are you Manuel Mandy?” demanded the lean, bent, robed judge, in a stern voice, over half-rimmed reading glasses worn low on her long, hooked nose.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Come forward. The defendant here has been charged by the Council with keeping a dangerous dog which escaped, and bit you. She will be punished, if found guilty, and the dog destroyed, unless there are special circumstances.”

Someone at the back said something rude, aloud.

The judge looked up sharply, with a scowl, and tried to spot the person who had disturbed her.

“Silence!” bellowed the court attendant.

“What have you to say?” the judge asked Manuel abruptly.

“Ma’am, I….I…….don’t want…the…dog destroyed!”

“I take that decision. Not you! Did it bite you or not? Answer that!”

66

“No ma’am.”

“Eh? What’s that? Are you saying that the dog did not bite you? The prosecutor says it did.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Madam Prosecutor, what do you say to that?”

“Ma’am, the dog control officer says it did.”

“Did he see it bite the man?”

“He’s not sure, ma’m.”

“Well then. He cannot give evidence on that, can he! Do you have any other witness?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well then. Do you have anything to submit, before I decide.”

“No, ma’am,” the prosecutor stammered.

“Well then. Case dismissed! The defendant’s free to go. Next !”

Manuel stumbled outside, not sure what to do now.

The defendant hugged him tightly in the foyer, and squealed with delight:- “Thank you so much. Thank you! Thank you! You saved my darling dog’s life! How can I ever repay you? He really is a gentle dog, even though he looks fierce.”

“It’s okay” said Manuel, trying desperately to wriggle out of her embrace, as people were watching them.

“You are a king among posties. You are King Postie. God bless you.”

***

67

The bartender

“What is the most evil thing in the world?” he almost shouted.

He was a short man with a big, round belly and an angry face. He had a thick mop of greasy, black hair.

The whole class looked startled. There was a long, stony silence.

“Answer me! Now!” he insisted.

The rusted fan creaked. The pigeon on the window-sill cooed loudly, nodding as it walked up and down, like a man deep in thought.

“Shoo…you mindless bird” he hissed irritably, his dark, bushy eyebrows closing like a level-crossing gate, “Now,…. you…..tell me what is the most evil thing in the world!”

“A dragon?” a voice asked from the back of the room.

“No! No! No! There is no such thing as a dragon!” he barked..

“Satan!” the same voice said quickly.

“There is no Satan. All of you are useless,…..useless! Can no one answer?” he asked, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.

68

No one did.

“It is drink, you fools! Do you not know that?” said he in a voice like thunder.

“Coke!” someone said slyly..

He looked as if he was about to have a fit. His face became red, and he flailed his arms about like windmills in a storm.

“I will fail the whole lot of you! Can’t answer a simple question!”

“What is it, sir?” a boy on the first bench asked timidly.

“Alcohol! That’s what it is,” he said triumphantly.

“Oh,” exclaimed the whole class together.

“Alcohol! Yes, alcohol!” he repeated.

Sharmila sat quietly, digesting what he had said. She was leanly-built, fairly tall, chocolate skin, and had bright, intelligent eyes which were like mirrors to her thoughts. She burst out abruptly:- “Sir, I want to be a bartender!”

He was horrified ! “Young lady, do you know what you are saying? Do you know what a bartender is? Do you even know what a bartender does?”

“Serves drinks,” she replied casually.

That infuriated him more. He got off the stage, and walked towards her, with a deep scowl on his face.

For a moment she thought he had come down to strike her. She cringed.

He stood over her. “Tell me again what you said.”

“I want to be a bartender”.

“You cannot be a bartender. You are a woman”, he thundered.

69

“I can! I will!” she answered bravely.

He took a deep breath, calmed down a little, and said:- “Women cannot be bartenders. It is not safe. Suppose you are attacked by a drunk?”

“Sir, no one will dare!”

He wiped the perspiration off his brow. He was getting nowhere with this silly, immature, obstinate young girl.

The bell rang, and the class sprinted for the doors.

He was left alone in the room with Sharmila. She just sat there, lost in thought. He wanted to convince her, but he had to go.

Sharmila finished her studies.

Her father, Ram, sat at the head of the dining table. Her mother hovered with the dishes. Her elder sister was by her side. They were a close family, and very fond of each other.

The conversation drifted to the important topic of Sharmila’s academic future.

“So, my child,” asked Ram, “what are your plans?”

“What do you mean, Dad?” countered Sharmila.

“Come on now. You know what I mean. Do you want to study law or medicine? I don’t mind either.”

Sharmila shifted in her seat, looked at her father, but did not answer.

“Sharmila!” said her mother gently. “Answer your father. He has asked you a question. What do you want to do?”

70

Sharmila avoided looking at her parents. She felt her sister’s steady gaze on her. She knew she had to answer, but tried to avoid it, as she knew what the reaction would be.

“I want to be a bartender!” she said in a whisper.

“What!” they reacted almost together.

There was a stunned silence.

She averted her eyes, as they all stared at her.

Her father recovered first, and asked:-“Shammi, my child, did I hear you right? Did you say you wanted to become a bartender? Do you know what a bartender is?”

“Yes.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“A bartender serves drinks in a pub.”

“But…..but…you are a girl! That is a man’s job.”

“I still want to be a bartender. I have always wanted to.”

“But, why? For God’s sake, why? What is wrong with being a lawyer or a doctor?”

“Nothing wrong. But I don’t want to be a lawyer or a doctor.”

“Okay. All right. So, why don’t you become an accountant? You could earn lots, and an accountant commands respect.”

“I don’t want to be an accountant, dad. I want to be a bartender.”

Ram looked at his wife, seeking her help.

She didn’t know what to say, so taken aback was she.

“Anyway…….anyway,” she mumbled, “let’s talk about this tomorrow. Let her sleep on it.”

71

But tomorrow came and went. They tried their best to make her change her mind, but she would not. She remained adamant. She googled courses and qualifications for bartenders, and found a couple of them.

She enrolled for a certificate in bartending course.

She found that she was the only female in the class. The boys looked at her as if she had come from the moon. But they were not rude to her.

She stood first in the exam at the end of the course.

Her parents and sister did attend the graduation, though they still could not come to terms with her decision to become a bartender.

“Are you going to work in a bar well past midnight?” asked her father anxiously. “And how are you going to come home at that hour ?”

“I will drive home, Dad. I will be okay, Dad. Please don’t worry.”

“But you don’t know how to drive! You don’t own a car.”

“I will learn. I’ll buy a second-hand car on hire purchase. I’ll give my first earnings as a deposit.”

Her father sighed. He realised that she would not budge.

“Okay, I’ll help you then. Nothing I say will make you change your mind! I’ll give you the deposit money, and money for driving lessons, as a gift to you from Mum and me.”

“Oh, Dad! Dad! Thank you so much!” she hugged him, and he responded with a light kiss on her cheek.

She took driving lessons, and lessons in self-defence.

Then she started looking for a job.

72

‘Dragon Fire’ in High Street asked her to come for a week, as a trial. They said that she would not get a man’s wage.

That did not deter her, and she joined. Her hours of work were from 6pm to 1am.

The owner liked her work, and later made her permanent.

There was a tall, bearded, well-built bouncer at the door, and things went well.

But on the very day the bouncer was absent, a few rough-looking men in their twenties pushed their way in, though the place was already crowded, and would not leave, though asked politely to do so. They stood at the counter, argued and swore loudly. It was obvious that they had already had one too many.

The regulars were annoyed. The bad boys passed rude and improper remarks on Sharmila.

A patron got angry, and said:- “Hey you guys! Stop that! Leave her alone.”

There were raised voices then, other regulars joined in, and things became ugly. Punches were thrown.

Sharmila called the police.

The place was strewn with broken glass, and there was blood on the tables by the time the police stormed in. They arrested the trouble-makers, handcuffed them, took them away, and shut the doors for the night.

The police interviewed her the next morning, and took a statement from her. She had seen everything very clearly from behind the counter. The police told her that the bad boys were from a local gang.

She went to work as usual the next day.

73

After shut-down, she drove along her normal route home. The roads were empty. She braked to stop at the first traffic light, but the brake pedal went in, and the car would not stop. She swerved in panic, and struggled to engage a lower gear. The car skidded, slowed down as the lower gear engaged, and stopped just a metre away from the compound wall of a house. She shook with fright. The brakes had failed! How? They were working perfectly when she went to work from home!

She called her father, and waited for him in the car, after locking all doors. Her father picked her up, and took her home, leaving her car by the side of the road.

Her father sent his mechanic the next day to pick up the car. He did, and reported back that the brakes had been tampered with. She filed a complaint with the police, and decided to park the car in future as close as possible to the bar, so that the bouncer could keep an eye on it.

The culprits were charged with assault, wilful damage and disorderly behaviour in a public place, and appeared in court.

The duty lawyer went to see them in the court cells, and made legal-aid applications for them, and asked for a date from the judge for the legal-aid applications to be processed, and lawyers assigned to them.

The judge adjourned the case for that purpose, and kept them in custody till applications for bail could be made on their behalf.

The Public Defence Service was assigned to the main accused. The other two were represented by private lawyers on legal-aid. Applications for bail were made on the next court date, and the police prosecutor opposed granting of bail on various legal grounds.

74

The police prosecutor was a lawyer employed by the police. He had five years’ legal experience, and was very competent. He had prepared written grounds of opposition to bail, and the judge had read them before coming in to court.

“How do your clients plead?” asked the judge sternly, looking over his half-glasses, at defence counsel.

“Not-guilty, Your Honour,” said the public defence counsel.

“Not-guilty, Your Honour,” echoed the private lawyers.

“Very well then,” said the judge.

“Sorry, Your Honour, my client elects trial by jury,” said the public defence lawyer.

“Your Honour,” echoed the private lawyers, “the same for our clients.”

The judge was not pleased. There was a massive back-log for jury trials. “What is the position as far as remand status is concerned?”

The police prosecutor jumped up. “Bail is strongly opposed, Your Honour,” he pointed out.

“Are defence counsel making bail applications?” asked the judge.

“Yes, Your Honour,” replied all three defence counsel, almost in one breath.

“Advance the bail applications, then,” ordered the judge, “I have read the bail opposition.”

“My client is a young man………”started the public defence counsel.

“That is not a ground,” said the judge sharply. “This is a serious assault. What is your next submission? It had better be good.”

75

“Your Honour. Your Honour, my client denies that he assaulted anyone. In fact he says that he himself was assaulted!”

“Is there a witness to that?” asked the judge angrily.

“Your Honour…..Your Honour….it is for prosecution to prove the case beyond reasonable doubt.”

“Don’t you go teaching me the law, young man. You are arguing a bail application, and not making an argument at a jury trial.”

“Your Honour, I have further submissions….”

“Well, get on with it! There are a lot of people waiting.”

“Your Honour, a jury trial will not be heard till at least a year or more, and it is unjust to keep the defendants in custody till then. They are innocent, Your Honour.”

“Is that your only ground? I am not in charge of administration. You can take that up with the Ministry of Justice, if you like.”

“Your Honour, the defendants have addresses they can go to, and a curfew can be imposed as a bail condition. I speak also on behalf of my learned friends, the other defence counsel.”

“Anything else, before I decide?”

“The defendants give an assurance, Your Honour, that they will not offend while on bail.”

“Anything else?”

“No, Your Honour.”

“Well then……..bail declined for all the defendants. I will give my reasons later. Case set down for call-over on 19th November at 2.15pm.”

Defence counsel filed appeals from the refusal of bail, but that was dismissed by the High Court.

76

The accused spent more than a year in remand prison, by the time the jury trial came up for hearing.

Sharmila was summoned as a prosecution witness.

She went to the court-house at 9 am, and sat in a corner of the drab, dirty foyer. The seats were uncomfortable, and the place was dreary and unwelcoming. Someone with a noisy machine was blowing leaves off the roof.

People started drifting in. She saw a man with a big, round belly enter the foyer. She recognized him as her teacher, the one who had been shocked when she had said in class that she wanted to be a bartender. He did not appear to have seen her, or maybe he did not recognize her.

The court attendant called out:- “Jury service people, please come into courtroom 2.”

A uniformed police officer called out her name, and took her into a small waiting room.

“You know why you are here, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied softly. She was very nervous.

“Wait here till the Crown Solicitor comes. He will talk to you.”

The Crown Solicitor had that superior air about him. He wore an expensive, dark suit, and a black gown. He strutted about like a peacock. He lectured her on what she was supposed to do and say.

“The jury will be empanelled soon, and then it will take a couple of hours or so before your turn as a witness comes. The court attendant will call you in. You will give your evidence truthfully, you understand, or you will be charged with perjury! You must speak slowly and clearly. Any questions?”

77

“No sir,” she said in a whisper.

When her turn came, she entered the courtroom nervously, and looked up at the judge on the elevated platform. She had never been to court before, and the panic was rising in her.

It was a lady judge with half-glasses, looking down at her. She wore a stern expression.

A fat woman sitting below the judge waddled up to her, and asked:-“Do you want to swear on the bible, or take an oath?”

She didn’t know what that meant.

“Pardon?”

“I said…..do you want to swear on the bible, or take an oath?”

She was not a Christian, so she answered that she would take an oath, whatever that meant.

“Do you swear that whatever you say in evidence will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“Yes,” she said in a soft voice.

“Speak up, please,” commanded the judge, “We have to hear what you say. Bring the accused in now.”

She saw the teacher sitting in the jury box, staring at her. He was apparently the foreman of the jury, because he was addressed by the judge and the lawyers as such.

She couldn’t make out whether he had recognized her. Maybe she looked different, as many years had passed.

The Crown Solicitor asked her to tell the judge and jury what she had seen that day. She started out hesitatingly, but gathered strength as she recollected what had happened. She was asked to identify the accused as being the persons responsible for the

78

assault and the criminal behaviour. The Crown Solicitor assured her that though now she could see the accused, they could not see her, and as such she should not hesitate in the identification. She took a deep breath. Then she pointed. She was very clear and confident in the identification.

She was cross-examined at length, and in great detail, by the defence lawyers. She stuck to what she had said, and could not be shaken.

After her evidence was over, she was exhausted. The accused were taken out of the room, and the judge said:-“Thank you. You are free to go now.”

The Police officer walked her out. He took her to the small waiting room, where he asked her if she was okay, and would like a coffee. She said she did, and he brought her a steaming cup.

He said she would have to wait till the case was over, since they could recall her, if the need arose. She was not comfortable with that, but she knew she had no choice. She wondered why the officer asked her to wait, when the judge said she was free to go. But she did not want to argue with him.

She waited the whole day. She was thoroughly bored. Towards late evening, the Crown Solicitor came up to her, and said: “Your wait will soon be over. The jury have reached a verdict. I will now go and hear it. ”

He came back in ten minutes with a huge smile on his handsome face, and proclaimed proudly:- “Guilty. All of them. On all counts! They are now remanded in custody, to be sentenced next month.”

He shook her hand vigorously, and thanked her.

She was then allowed to go.

79

She walked out of the courthouse in a daze. She had parked her car a short distance away, near the supermarket, as there was time-parking near the courthouse, and she didn’t want to get a parking ticket.

It was getting dark. She turned the key in the car door, and suddenly felt someone coming close.

She whirled around in terror. Then she saw him. It was the teacher. He was panting, and his voice came in gasps.

“I know you! You are the girl in my class who wanted to be a bartender. Did you not recognize me?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I did. But you were on the jury, sir. I couldn’t………”

“I know……I know….you did well. We passed a unanimous verdict of guilty. We saw that you were telling the truth. Well-done, girl! Well-done.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“I was very angry when you told me in class years ago that you wanted to be a bartender, but now……… good on you! Those rascals will be in jail for a long time……..where they fully deserve to be. I commend you. Well-done!! I wish you well. Bye,” he said.

He then turned around abruptly, and walked out of her life.

***

80

Cooking an egg

At 74, a person doesn’t like learning new things.

But I did.

I learnt to cook.

I had never even turned a stove on. I didn’t know how to.

They used matchsticks in my time.

But I learnt that you don’t do that anymore.

I tried the modern stove. No go. No flame. I turned the switch frantically on and off, on and off. Nothing happened!

What was wrong? I bent my back, and straightened it.

Oh gosh…. I hadn’t turned the power on. No wonder there wasn’t any flame.

All right then.

What next?

81

I found the pan, and put it on the blue flame.

Smelt something burning. The smoke alarm went off.

I ran out of the house. But I did switch the power off.

The house did not burn down. The fire engines did not come.

So back I crept into the kitchen. I left the door open, and the smoke sneaked out.

Ahha…I’ll make a scrambled egg.

But how? I went onto the internet, and found a website that showed how to make a scrambled egg.

It said you need an egg to start with. I frankly hadn’t thought of that.

So I took out an egg from the refrigerator, and tried to break it into the pan.

But the egg stubbornly stuck in the shell.

I tried again. It spread itself on the bench-top in protest. I had to clean up the smelly mess.

The next egg looked nice in the pan. A blob of gold in a pond of white.

What now?

The recipe said that I needed cooking oil. Where was the cooking oil? Couldn’t find it.

82

So.... off to the supermarket,....... and round and round the aisles.

I had to ask for help.

“Excuse me, where can I find cooking oil?”

“What kind? There are lots of different brands.”

“Oh any! As long as it can cook an egg.”

“Of course it can. Any oil can. Try canola oil. Here!”

I’m back now with a bottle of canola oil.

Do I have to put the whole bottle in? The recipe doesn’t say.

I’ll pour half, just to be on the safe side.

So I do.

Now all I can see is a sea of slithering stuff.

No gold.

Doesn’t matter!

I light the stove. The liquid in the pan starts bursting into bubbles.

I turn the stove off.

Now I am ready to enjoy my first egg!

I empty the contents of the pan onto my plate.

83

My first egg! My first egg!

Hey,...wait a minute. Where is the salt and pepper?

I can’t eat a scrambled egg without salt and pepper.

So back to the supermarket!

***

84

Do cars have teeth?

The brand new Mitsubishi Lancer GSR was an eye-catching sight in bright purple.

My son and I were admiring it, when a smart, young man in a white, starched shirt, grey trousers, and a fine tie appeared from nowhere. He smiled broadly. His teeth were sparkling white. You couldn’t fail to notice that.

“It has a 2 litre MIVC engine, 6 speed Sport Mode automatic, 16 inch alloys, rear spoiler, 5 star ANCAP rating with front, side and curtain airbags, ABS braking, privacy glass, climate air conditioning, fog lights, Bluetooth, and a reversing camera.” he declared proudly. He seemed to have memorised that, so fast did he spit it out.

We could not understand what that meant, least of all, what Bluetooth was.

“Do cars have teeth?”, my son Satish asked innocently. He is 12.

The man seemed annoyed, but he kept his composure.

“ Bluetooth is a device that lets you talk on a mobile phone, hands-free, while driving.”

85

“Oh, I see. Dad, would you like that?”

“Yes. Yes. But let’s look inside, see what colour the upholstery is.”

It was black. We opened the back door, and sat on the smooth, leather seats.

Quite comfortable.

“Why don’t you come into the lounge?” he invited.

We followed him.

“Come!” he said to Satish, “The kid’s movie lounge is great fun. You can choose from our large DVD collection.”

Satish waded into the DVDs, while I stood at the door, wondering what to do.

“Please make yourself comfortable, sir. I have something urgent,……I’ll be back.”

He left.

Satish was delighted. He put a Batman movie, while I wandered aimlessly round the room. I made myself a cup of hot, black coffee, and took a cheese sandwich from the fridge. I then sat on the sofa, and watched the movie myself, with nothing else to do.

Batman despatched all the bad characters, and emerged triumphant. Satish then picked up Spiderman, and we watched that too.

I glanced at my watch, and realised, with a start, that we had been there for two hours. I got restless, and peered into the showroom. I could not see the young man. In fact, there was nobody there. I went around, looking at the Kias, the Fords,

86

Audis, the Jeep, the Dodge, the Cherry and the Great Wall. I thought the Great Wall was in China.

“ Satish!” I called, “ come on out. We have to go now.”

“Wait, Dad, please wait, the movie is nearly over.”

I sighed, and went to the toilet.

Then I sat down heavily on the sofa again. The newspaper was on the side-table, and I read it from page to page. This very car dealership had a glossy, twenty-one page pull-out in the newspaper. It was a new dealership, promising excellent customer service. I wasn’t impressed.

I jumped up in fright, when a woman suddenly said:-“ You all right, sir? Can I get you something to drink, tea, coffee?” I looked at her blankly. Where had she come from?

“No thanks, I just had coffee. I am waiting for the man who said he was going to show us the cars. That was two hours ago!”

“Oh,…I’m so sorry, sir. Now who can that be? We have a staff of eleven, so I will have to find out who it is.”

“Ok,” I grunted.

She went out, and I picked up a car magazine.

I read that too, and yet no sign of anyone. Now I was really getting restless, while Satish was happily seeing another movie. “Dad,” he said. “This is great. There are so many movies here. It’s like a video library.”

“We didn’t come here to see movies!” I snapped. “Come on now. Stop it!”

“ Ok. Just five minutes, Dad.”

I paced like a hungry tiger in the zoo.

87

Then I saw someone in the mirror, and whirled around.

“Oh hello, sir. May I help you?” He was a tall, broad, bearded man with a solemn expression. He shifted from foot to foot, and wiped his face with a clean handkerchief.

“Yes, about time. Where is the salesman who attended us? He asked us two hours ago to wait here.”

“Oh, so sorry, sir! That’s not good! Did he say his name, sir?”

“No he didn’t. Just find him, will you? Now! Right now!

“Sure, sir, sure. No worries, sir. Can you describe him?”

“Look, I can’t describe him. He looked like a salesman, okay! For God’s sake, man, get on with it. We can’t sit here all day.”

“Fine, sir, fine. No problem. No problem at all, sir. I’ll find him, sir. Please help yourself to a coffee, sir.”

I felt like throwing coffee at him, but he had disappeared.

Now, I needed something to cool me down, so I opened the fridge again, and helped myself to a cold coke.

I kept looking at my watch every five minutes.

Now I felt irritated at the sight of my son smugly curled up on the sofa, watching one movie after another, not bothered about anything else. I felt like dragging him out of there. But I couldn’t do that, because someone might accuse me of child abuse!

I stormed out of the room,……. and collided with the man who had seen us when we came there.

He groaned loudly, as if in pain. That scared me, and I rushed to him saying,. “Are you hurt? I’m sorry,……sorry…..”.

88

He didn’t say anything. Just groaned again. I guided him to the nearest sofa, and gently made him sit down. He lowered his head into his hands, and sighed deeply. He didn’t say a word. I was getting worried. “ Are you hurt? Talk to me. Say something.”

He looked down at the floor. I got more worried. I rushed out for help, and dashed madly round and round the cars, trying to find someone, calling out for help all the time. No one answered; I saw no one. Just row on row of cars. I rushed back to the room, and stopped suddenly. The sofa was empty! He had gone.

I thought I heard voices, but wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what to do.

Satish just sat there placidly in front of the screen, completely engrossed in his movie.

“Satish. Satish. What shall I do? I banged into someone. He may be hurt.”

“Eh? What? What are you talking about, Dad? There’s no one here.”

“He was here, I swear. But….but….he’s gone now.”

“Dad, I think you are imagining things. Now, please let me finish my movie. It’s really exciting.”

I thought I heard the fire alarm.

“Satish, the building’s on fire!” I yelled.

“Oh Dad! There’s no fire. That was in the movie,” he replied calmly.

I felt deflated. I collapsed onto the couch, and closed my eyes.

My hands were shaking slightly. “Oh God,” I muttered, “this is too much.”

89

Ten minutes later, in walked the young salesman I had banged into.

“You ok? “I asked him anxiously.

“I’m fine, sir. Why do you ask? Please follow me.”

Satish was about to see yet another DVD, when he caught my eye, and put it back. He came with me reluctantly.

We went into a large, well-furnished room.

She introduced herself as the Manager. She was smartly dressed, and had a pleasant voice. “Please help yourself,” she said softly, pointing to the refreshments on the table, “my name is Doris.”

Satish shoved the fries into his mouth. She smiled at him.

Then she put some printed papers in front of me, and gave me a pen.

“Please sign here,” she said. “What is this?” I blurted.

“Oh just the usual papers,” she replied. “ You won’t have to worry for the next thirty-six months.”

I signed mechanically.

She picked up a set of keys, and asked us to follow her.

She walked slowly through the showroom, to the purple Mitsubishi parked at the front entrance.

Satish shouted in joy:- “Dad, it’s beautiful. Mum will love it.”

“It’s been serviced and registered,” she said, “the next three services, and a year’s road assistance are free. You’ll find that it is a very reliable car.”

90

“But….but……,” was all I could manage to blurt out.

She held the keys out in her hand; Satish grabbed them, and climbed into the front passenger seat, saying “Come on Dad. Come on. Let’s go home. Take Mum for a drive.”

She smiled and waved as we drove off.

I thought I saw her wink slyly to the young salesman!

***

91

The mobile phone and me

It came by courier in a pale, green box.

It was a Samsung, Touch and stay connected, Galaxy 5 GT-15503T.

I opened it, grinning like a Cheshire cat. (By the way,.....do cats grin?)

The user manual has all the instructions. It says remove the back cover. But the back cover refused to come off. I tugged, and pulled. I sank my teeth into it.

The manual says :- “Be careful not to damage your fingernails when you remove the back cover.”

My fingernails broke after an hour’s effort. (I had to put band-aid on three of them).

Then “Insert the battery. Replace the back cover.”

Ok. Done.

“Before using the device for the first time, you must charge the battery.” I did that too. I timed the charge, and sat patiently admiring the shiny instrument for three long hours.

Then, another two hours trying to get to know the device.

92

The earpiece, the touch screen, the 4 way navigation key, the Back/Google Search key, the power/end key, the mouthpiece, the volume key, multifunction jack, the menu/home key, the dial key,………how can such a small instrument have so many keys!

My, my. My fingers are too broad for the key pad. I keep on

overflowing into the neighbour. Tap Tap and hold. Scroll. Drag

and drop (I dropped the phone, and ………..chipped it!). Double

tap.

“Use the task manager.”

I rang Telecom, and asked to speak to the task manager.

“Sorry sir. The manager is on holiday. May I help you?”

“The manual says,... use the task manager, ...er...”

I hung up.

“Select a wallpaper for the idle screen.”

So I went to Bunnings, to select the wallpaper. My favourite colour

is blue. “Activate animation for switching windows.”

I took the phone to the open window.

“Download applications from Android Market.” I couldn’t find the Android market from the yellow pages.

“Copy and paste text.”

I got the gum ready.

“Learn how to capture and view photos and videos.”

I captured the table and chairs upside down.

93

“Activate location services to use with Google maps.”

I got my tattered map out of the cupboard.

“Bluetooth”.

Wonder what that is. I must remember to ask my dentist next

time.

Having done all that, I still wasn’t able to use the phone.

Now what?

It’s an expensive instrument.

What do I do?

I took it to the local Telecom retail store.

The young man with the funny face and long hair looked at me like I was the hobbit.

I give up!

Can someone please write an instruction book:- “Mobile phone user instructions for dummies.”

***

94

Cannabis and worse

Fresh from her nap, she decided to prepare lunch.

“I want butter chicken,” he demanded, pacing back and forth. His face was expressionless.

“Butter chicken eh?….. on $300 a week benefit?,……..you fool,…. you idiot!” screamed Kaila, choking back tears. “ Get out of my sight…you….you…..”

Untonian was taken aback. “Cool it,…….cool it…..” he said.

He backed out, slamming the door behind him, just as the plate crashed against it. He walked out into the street.

There had been endless quarrels, tantrums, shouting, screaming…..always about money. There wasn’t enough money. She was on the domestic purposes benefit. He was living with her, but that had been kept a tight secret from social welfare. Otherwise even that money would have dried up.

The job market was tight. All his desperate efforts to get a job had failed. He was willing to take any job. Anything. Even a cleaning or labouring job. He had worked briefly as a carpenter’s assistant. But the builders wanted qualified and experienced

95

carpenters at building sites, given the new regulations introduced by the government.

His clothes were shabby; he had not shaved for days. He could not afford a razor or a blade.

He was a loner. He had no friends. His family lived in Australia. They couldn’t, and wouldn’t, send him money, because they didn’t have any to spare.

He shuffled slowly down the street, hands deep in his pockets, head held low like a tired pack-horse. He mumbled incoherently to himself.

He didn’t see the boy coming quickly round the bend, and accidently shouldered him to the ground.

“My bunny! …..my bunny……. running away…catch him…..”shrieked the boy frantically.

Untonian saw, from the corner of his eye, a small, brown animal hopping away, and instinctively gave chase. The boy and he ran as fast as they could, along streets and open spaces till they managed to catch the tiny creature. The boy cuddled it fondly, and said gratefully:- “Hey… ta……ta….”

The bunny was light-brown, with large ears, and a delicate mouth. It closed its eyes contentedly, happy in its master’s hands.

“What’s your name?” Untonian asked the boy.

“Jamie,” he said. He was lean, with a face sprinkled with freckles, a small nose, black hair, and he wore glasses. “What’s yours?”

“Untonian.”

“Un…..what?”

96

“You deaf, eh? Not heard what I said?……”

“Ok….ok…cool it, man….My bunny’s name is Brownie. Want to hold him?”

Untonian took it in his rough hands. It felt soft and furry. He tapped its quivering, little, black nose, and it turned its face away.

“I’ll show you where I live,” said Jamie, “Come over and play with Brownie.”

Jamie lived in an old, brick-and-tile, two-bedroom house in a run-down locality, with his drunkard father, his over-bearing, fat, loud-mouthed mother, and his three young brothers and two sisters. There was no paint on the walls, very little furniture, just one bathroom, and a toilet which was for ever getting blocked. The two, fierce-looking, pit-bull terriers in the enclosed backyard growled, snarled, and barked. Strangers kept a safe distance.

The bunny had a comfortable hutch on the front lawn.

“Hey mate,” asked Untonian “What does your pa do?”

“Drink,” replied Jamie, spitting viciously.

“Not working?”

“Nah!”

“You, mate? What you do?” asked Untonian.

“On a course.”

“What course, mate? What course, eh?”

“Ah,.... just leave it, eh?”

They became friends. They met regularly in the park, where many bored, teens hung out all day, laughing stupidly, and making fun of people walking past.

97

“Hey Unty,” asked Jamie casually, “you wanna make money?”

“What d’ you mean?”

“See that big guy? He has business. He help you.”

“Yeh?”

“Yeh. Come.”

A powerfully-built man, in his early forties, with broad shoulders, meaty hands, legs like lamp-posts, long hair to his shoulders, leaning on a gleaming motor-cycle, glowered at them as they approached. He walked away slowly, and they followed him at a distance. Jamie went up to him when he stopped behind a shop, and had a brief conversation.

When Untonian went home later, Kaila snapped at him:-“Did you get a job eh,….. you lazy dog?”

“Um…..Kaila! We gonna be rich,” he said in a low, grave voice.

“What?……. How? You gonna rob a bank, eh?”

“Nah,…nah…. not robbing anyone. Business!. You’ll see,” said he.

“Get out……..out…..…get a job,……now!” Her voice sent a chill down his spine.

He left.

It was a dark night..

“Hi!” smiled Jamie, “How did it go, mate?”

“She’s mad,” he said.

“Leave her, mate! Leave her!”

98

“I can’t…..I can’t.”

They smoked.

Untonian did not go home that night. Nor the next.

Kaila became worried. He had never done that before. They had had numerous fights, but he had always come home in the night.

She wandered the streets, leaving the baby with a neighbour, but couldn’t find him. She thought about going to the police for help, but then decided against it. The police had always been their enemies.

When he did come back, she was shocked. He looked like a ghost!

He had a boy with him.

“Where the hell have you been, eh? I hate you!……Who is this?”.

“I’m Jamie,” said Jamie with a big smile, offering his hand.

She ignored him, and turned away angrily.

She went to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and went to sleep.

In the morning when she got up, she smelt a strange, pungent smell in the front room.

They had gone.

He came back much later, left a thick wad of notes on the table, and disappeared.

99

She picked up the money, hesitated, then decided to spend it. She bought a white dress printed with red strawberries. She felt strangely happy. She went to the supermarket, and filled up the trolley with items she had never been able to buy before.

The money kept appearing on the table. She spent it. She bought new furniture.

“Like to move to a bigger house?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked. She thought he was joking.

“A bigger, better house,” he said slowly, letting each word sink in.

“Hey…..are you serious?”

“Yes. Come with me. I’ll show you”.

They boarded a bus to New Haven.

She gasped as she entered the spacious, three-bedroom house with a sleep-out. The kitchen had an oven, a refrigerator, and an electric stove. It even had a dishwasher.

The sleep-out was full of plants with strange, green leaves. There was an automatic heating and watering system for them.

“Hey, what’s this?” she asked.

“Just a private plant nursery,” he answered, “It comes with the house.”

She wasn’t interested in plants.

“We rent this from Monday,” he announced. “You ok?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

This was a dream come true.

100

The sleep-out was separate.

Strange people walked in and out. They did not bother her, and she did not care.

Untonian and Jamie spent most of the time there.

Their neighbour was old, frail and bent. Her children were in Sydney, and came to visit her only once a year, at Christmas time.

She sat in her rocking chair all day knitting, and looked out of the window.

Her only friend came to visit her every Monday, and she talked to her about the concern she had with the type of people coming and going next door.

The friend told her husband.

The husband came and saw what was happening.

“Not good!” he said firmly, “something’s going on. Something not right. Ah, yes,…..I know what to do. I saw it on TV. I’ll ring Crimestoppers.”

When the police came to the house to execute a search-warrant, they found only Kaila at home.

She was shocked.

They went through the house and the sleepout.

They arrested her, but gave her police bail, to appear in court.

They arrested Untonian also, but did not bail him. They put him in the filthy, overcrowded cell at the police station.

101

She did not see Untonian again.

The duty lawyer at court made a legal-aid application, and a lawyer, Henry Fitzgibbon, was assigned to her on legal-aid.

He read the disclosure, and advised her to plead guilty, because she was an occupant of the house, and the circumstantial evidence was against her. He said she would get credit for an early guilty plea.

But the lawyer, Cindy Fancy, assigned to Untonian, came up to Kaila quietly, and advised her softly not to plead guilty. She said that she was going to raise the defence of validity of the search warrant, that the police were not entitled to rely on an anonymous phone-call.

Kaila was confused.

The case was adjourned several times, and she was worried.

“Will I go to jail?” she texted her lawyer.

He answered:- “I advised you to plead guilty at the first opportunity, but you did not listen!”

“But will I go to jail?” she came back.

“You may, or you may not. I can’t guarantee anything”, he answered.

The bespectacled court-taker was having a bad day. She grabbed the mike, turned it roughly towards her, and said:- “Attention all court-users. No caps, hats, sunglasses, gang-patches allowed in the courtroom; turn cell-phones off or they will be confiscated, no children allowed; all those who have lawyers or have seen duty-lawyers, and cases are ready to be called,

102

take a seat at the back of the courtroom. The judge is about to come in.”

“All stand for His Honour the Judge.”

The tall, serious, bony judge with a long nose and protruding ears, carrying several files, climbed the wooden platform, looked down at the people, frowned, bowed slightly, and sat down heavily.The lawyers bowed to the judge.

“The District Court is now in session. Please be seated,” commanded the court-taker.

When the case was called, Henry Fitzgibbon got up pompously, and gave his appearance for Kaila. Cindy Fancy gave her appearance for Untonian, and the judge asked:-“What’s going to happen today?”

“Your Honour, we are proceeding with the judge-alone trial.”

“Right! How long will it take?”

“Two hours, sir.”

“Very well. Stand down,” the judge told the defendants, “”We’ll go through the list, and call your case again later.”

The other cases were then called, some were disposed of on guilty pleas, and the rest were stood down.

The judge became grumpy, because there were too many cases on the list, far beyond the available court time.

Their case was called again after the morning break.

“Are you going to lead evidence?” the judge asked the prosecuting sergeant.

103

“No sir! The only issue, as I understand from the defence, is the validity of the search warrant. The prosecution briefs may be accepted in evidence by consent,” said Sergeant Bulbow.

“Right. Who goes first?” asked the judge.

Henry jumped up, and said:- “Ms. Fancy, sir. I will adopt her arguments to avoid duplication.”

“Yes, Ms. Fancy.”

“Your Honour, the defence submission is that the search warrant is invalid, because the application for the search warrant was based on an anonymous phone-call to Crimestoppers.”

“Crimestoppers, eh? What’s the law on the subject?” asked the judge irritably.

He had diabetes, and his blood sugar rose at about this time.

“The latest Court of Appeal judgment ‘Palmer-Brown’ is spot on, sir. It is binding,” said Cindy triumphantly.

“I know the Court of Appeal is binding on me!” snapped the judge. “Let’s see the judgment.”

He read the judgment, while Cindy sat with a broad smile on her face.

He then looked down at her over his half-glasses, and said sternly:- “This judgment does not deal with that aspect. It only refers to it in passing. Do you have anything else in your support?”

Judge Tankard was known for his tantrums, and the lawyers felt the tension.

“Yes, Your Honour,” she mumbled.

104

“Speak up! I can’t hear you!” he thundered.

“Supreme Court in Mohammed.”

The judge read that too, and his face grew redder and redder. He looked like a gas balloon, ready to explode.

“This too doesn’t decide the point. Do you, or do you not, have an authority in support of your case?” he growled.

“Your Honour, my respectful submission is that the search warrant is invalid, because it is based on an anonymous phone-call.”

“That is your argument! Is there case-law to support it? You are wasting my time. There are a lot of people waiting. Sit down! Mr. Fitzgibbon, what do you have to say?”“Sir, I adopt the arguments of my learned friend. I have nothing more to add.”

“Sergeant Bulbow, do you have any submissions?”

“Yes sir. The search warrant is perfectly valid. The police conducted their own inquiries, and the application for the search warrant says so. In any event, sir, Crimestoppers is a well-known service for the public to bring crime to the attention of the police without the source of the information being revealed. The police are entitled to act on that.”

“Do you have any authority for that?” asked the judge mildly. He was known to be pro-prosecution.

“Yes, Your Honour. English cases are directly on point. I have given copies to the defence already, and these are copies for the Court.”

“Right! I’ll take the luncheon adjournment now, and read them.”

105

The judge came back exactly at 2.15pm.

“I have read the cases, Sergeant. Do you have anything to add?”

“No sir,”

“Very well. The defendants are found guilty. Now, Mr. Fitzgibbon, what are your submissions as to sentence?”

“Your Honour, my client only went along with her partner. She had no choice. He is the one who is more culpable. My client is a housewife, Your Honour, with a two-year old child. The respectful submission made on her behalf is that she be sentenced to an order to come up for sentence if called upon. She has been told that if she gets that sentence, and if she offends again, she will be in serious trouble.”

The judge glared fiercely at the defendants, and then looked towards the lawyers.

“Ms. Fancy?”

“Your Honour,” said Cindy, “My client was working before he was arrested. He worked long hours, six days a week. He worked Sundays too at times. His boss has said he will fire him if he is sent to jail. Sir, it is very difficult to get a job nowadays.”

“I know that,” snapped the judge, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Sorry, sir! Your Honour, I do not accept that my client is more culpable as was submitted by Mr. Fitzgibbon. My client had to suffer every day the incessant nagging, the continuous demands for money, the humiliation and the torture. She would not give him a moment’s rest. She wanted a bigger and better house, good clothes, and the like. My client suffered in silence. Then by chance, Your Honour, he was introduced to a person who gave him the opportunity to make a lot of easy money, and he couldn’t

106

resist. Anyone in his shoes would possibly have done the same thing.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that doing a crime is not an opportunity to be missed, Ms. Fancy? Are you, eh?”

“No, no, sir! No sir. I didn’t mean that, sir. I…..I…..I merely say that he fell for it. Now he seriously regrets it. He is very remorseful. Truly. He will never break the law again. My respectful submission to you, sir, is that my client also be given a good behaviour bond, sir. Parity of sentencing, sir.”

There was complete silence in the courtroom.

The judge sat with his head in his hands, thinking. He got up abruptly, and went out.

He came back after ten minutes.

“The defendants face a serious criminal charge carrying a maximum jail sentence of seven years. The facts are as set out in the prosecution summary. I incorporate that as part of my sentencing notes. The defence accept the prosecution case. The only issue raised by the defence was that of validity of the search warrant. They say that as the application for the search warrant is based on an anonymous call to Crimestoppers, the warrant is not valid. I asked both counsel for the defence to show me a binding authority on the subject, but they were unable to do so. Therefore I am free to decide what I want. Crimestoppers is a well-known organization which has been around for years. It gives the public the safe means of reporting crime without the source being known. The identity of the person giving the information over the phone is protected, and the criminals cannot therefore take revenge. My finding is that the search warrant is perfectly valid. I do not feel that it is necessary to discuss the case law cited, because it does not decide the point. I will merely give the references at the foot of this judgment, so that it will be known that those cases were cited, and were read by me. I hold

107

that the charge against both the defendants has been proved beyond reasonable doubt. I now proceed to sentence the defendants. Both counsel have submitted that the defendants be sentenced to a good behaviour bond, i.e. an order to come up for sentence if called upon. I consider those submissions misconceived, and ridiculous. The operation was a highly sophisticated one, and had been carried on for a lengthy period. The defendants knew fully well that they were breaking the law, and they did not care. I hold that both the defendants are equally culpable. The pathetic attempt to arouse sympathy is untenable. If I were to take that aspect into account in sentencing, I would not be able to uphold the law, as sympathy would drown the sentencing principles. That is not what the legislature intended. The law has to be upheld in spirit and in letter. I therefore sentence both the defendants to twelve months jail. I have taken the aggravating and mitigating features into account in arriving at my decision. Actually there are no mitigating features. The aggravating features demand that I impose a custodial sentence. That sentence will therefore be twelve months jail with standard post-release conditions. Stand down.”

Kaila swayed, her knees gave way, and she fell down unconscious.

108

Foxie

The hunter peered through the dense bush. The hot sun was way up in the sky. The herd of wild deer was grazing peacefully. The large stag with the formidable antlers snorted, and looked around suspiciously. He was the sentry for the rest of them, and also their leader. His dominance was not questioned, for might was right. He had driven away the other males who had been daring enough to challenge him.

The gentle breeze blew towards the hunter, and so did not betray his presence. He looked through the sights of his powerful rifle, and focused on the ones nearest him. He pulled the trigger, and a deer leaped up in alarm, but fell to the ground. The others bounded away, and disappeared out of sight.

The hunter smiled to himself. He loved venison, and this was free. He had a hunting permit, and so was well within his right to hunt the wild deer. He had been hunting for years. He stretched his arms and legs, and got out of the bush into the open where the herd had been grazing. When he walked to the slain deer, he heard a tiny, anguished sound, and stopped in his tracks. It was a fawn! He had not expected this! He had killed its mother! He had not seen the fawn behind the mother, when he trained the sights of the rifle on the herd of deer.

109

He was filled with remorse. He picked up the little, helpless creature gently, and wondered what to do with it. He felt very sad. Hunting deer for meat was one thing, but killing the mother of a fawn, and leaving it all alone in the world, was another. His mind was in a turmoil.

“Why….oh why…. did I do such a cruel thing? What shall I do now?” he moaned.

He had to take it with him. There was no alternative.

Large, frightened eyes looked up at him, as he held it in his strong hands like a baby, and stroked it gently. He had to take it with him. He could not leave it there. That would be cruel and callous. He had children. He knew what it was to be a parent.

He dragged the dead deer, with one hand, and held the baby deer in the other. He then put them in his mud-splattered S.U.V. and drove home.

Alisha was five years old. Bob was seven. The family lived in a pastoral village in the North Island of New Zealand.

“Oh….how sweet! She’s so cute!” said Alisha, “Can I hold her, dad?”

“ Here, take him. But be careful. He’s very delicate.”

“Oh, so it’s a boy, is it? Let’s call him………um…….um…….Bambino!!”

“That doesn’t sound right,….but okay……as you like,…….Bambino, it is. Now, the poor thing must be very hungry. Tell mum to warm some diluted milk.”

“Okay, dad,” said Alisha, as she skipped away, shouting at the top of her voice, “Mum, mum we have a baby deer. His name’s Bambino.”

110

Their white-and-brown Fox Terrier dog called Foxie ran round them in excitement, and tried to nose Bambino. They had to keep Bambino out of his reach, in case he tried to attack him.

Bambino refused to drink the milk. He was shivering. They wrapped him in a warm cloth, and Alisha kept him cuddled in her lap, and stroked him till he fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, he got up squeaking.

“He must be hungry,... definitely,.” said dad. “We’ll try again.”

They tried several times, but each time, Bambino turned his face away.

“I’ll get an eye-dropper,” said mum. “That might work.”

Alisha nudged the dropper into the baby’s mouth, and finally Bambino did take a few sips.

“Hoorah!” yelled Bob. He ran to get his friends to see the baby deer.

Neighbours came, and offered suggestions on how to bring him up. The baby deer became popular in the village. The children wanted to feed him, and each got a chance, while Alisha and Bob kept careful watch, and Foxie eyed everyone intently.

Bambino thrived with the loving care lavished on him, and became taller and stronger. Wee antlers peeped out from his skin, and in a year’s time, he became a full-grown stag. He had enormous antlers now, and weighed nearly a hundred kilos.

They kept him as a pet, in a paddock, all by himself, and he looked at the world proudly, with his head held high. He walked around like a peacock.

The children were now not allowed to go near him, as he was big and strong, and could hurt them. But dad went into the paddock each morning to wrestle with him. He caught Bambino’s huge

111

antlers, and pushed him back in play as he thrust his head forward. And Foxie ran around them, barking at Bambino.

One fine morning, as usual, dad went into the paddock to entertain Bambino, while the children were at school. The stag was sitting on the ground, munching the grass contentedly. Dad approached him, caught his antlers, and pulled at them to try and get him to stand. All of a sudden, Bambino jumped up, shook his head violently, slipped out of dad’s grip, reversed a few steps, and rammed his antlers into dad. He nearly collapsed with pain, but managed to hold on to the antlers, and tried to keep the stag away. He screamed for help, but there was no one there except Foxie.

Brave, little Foxie sprang to the rescue, barking furiously, and nipped at the stag’s legs, trying to draw the stag’s attention away from his master. Bambino turned his massive head towards the barking dog, and charged him, thereby leaving dad to back off fast, and retreat out of the paddock, bleeding profusely. He realised that he had to get help while still conscious. He tried to stop the bleeding, but could not. He struggled into the farm vehicle parked nearby, and drove in agony to the house.

His wife called the emergency number, and tried to stem the blood which was gushing out. There were no ambulances in that village, and the nearest one was about fifty kilometres away. So a rescue helicopter was sent, and the paramedics stopped the bleeding. He was airlifted to the nearest big town with a hospital equipped to take accident cases.

He remained in hospital for about a fortnight, and underwent two operations.

When he came back home, and was able to hobble on crutches, he had the wooden, paddock fence barred at the top, to prevent Bambino from hurting anyone. He never ventured inside again.

112

Foxie became a national hero, and primetime TV came to film him. The camera crew caught Foxie running in and out of the paddock (from the space left open at the bottom of the fence), with the monster stag in full pursuit. Foxie knew how to keep just out of reach of the deadly antlers.

Foxie mocked Bambino, seeming to say:- “Catch me if you can.”

Bambino never did!

***

113

Stick em up!

They had been drinking in the car with the windows down.

Jade was bored. “Let’s rob a bank,” he said.

“W…What bank? Wh…Where?” replied Yip.

“On the corner.”

“Okay” Yip agreed.

He groped for the door handle.

Suddenly, a shrill, squeaky voice said sharply: “Hands up! I got you!”.

They were shocked.

“Hey,” blurted Jade. “We done nothing. Just having a quiet drink.”

“You scum! That’s my car.”

“Naw. It’s not. We bought it.”

114

“Liars!”

They saw a frail old lady with white hair, holding a menacing revolver in a thin, wrinkled hand.

“Get out,” she ordered.

They tumbled out hurriedly with their hands in the air, leaving the keys in the ignition.

She drove off before they could react, and a cloud of black exhaust suffocated them.

They ran after the car, but it was gone.

Yip swore, kicked the rubbish bin savagely, sent it flying, and swore again.

Jade kept his mouth shut. He had lost a front tooth when Yip had lashed out at him once.

“She stole it…she stole our car...that..!” Yip ranted and raved. “Get the cops.”

He spat on the ground.

“No cops”, said Jade quietly. Both of them had a record.

Yip however insisted on reporting the matter.

They went off fuming, and ultimately found the cop-shop.

115

The duty sergeant had a long ugly nose, thick hairy arms, and a bushy, upturned black moustache. He scowled fiercely at them across the desk.

“You been drinking, boys,” he barked.

“She stole our car at gunpoint!” They spat the words out.

“Your car?” he asked.

They told him what had happened. He knew them well. They had been in the lock-up more times than he could remember. He realized that they would not have dared come there with a story that was false.

He scribbled their car number, make, model and colour, and waved them away. He knew where to find them.

The police checked, and found that the car was indeed registered in the names of the two of them. The sergeant decided that he would grill them later as to where they had got the money to buy the car.

He told his men to find the car, and bring in the person who had it.

He nearly fell off his chair when he saw her! She was short, thin, wrinkled and stern. She looked him straight in the eye, and demanded:- “Well, officer, what is all this? Why have I been brought here? You better make it sound good, or I am going straight to my lawyer!”

“Ma’am, the car you have is not yours,” he said firmly.

116

“Not mine? What do you mean…not mine? Of course it’s mine!” she stamped her foot in anger.

“Can I see proof, please?” he asked.

She rummaged in her shoulder bag, and flung a piece of paper on his desk.

He invited her to sit down, but she wouldn’t.

He pulled out another paper from his drawer, and studied both side by side. Then he looked at her sharply.

Ma’am,” he said angrily, “the car you have is definitely not yours. You have an almost-identical car, but with a different registration number. You took the wrong car. At gunpoint! You took the law in your own hands. Have you got a gun-licence?”

She went pale, and stammered:- “No...o...o. I keep the gun for...for...protection.”

“Ah well then,” said the sergeant, “You are under arrest for having an unlicensed firearm.”

The shock hit her hard. She sighed heavily, swayed, tottered and collapsed slowly onto the hard dirty floor.

***

117

Culture shock

“When I eight, …my ma, …she shake us up at sunrise…in my country…out in sleeping suit……put snow over us…minus forty…change to uniform…walk to school fourteen kilometres…fourteen kilometres…”

“But pa,” complained Dora “This is not “your country”, this is New Zealand. All we ask is that you don’t wake us at sunrise. School is just ten minutes away.”

“How you be strong,…how you be healthy? Eh? You spoilt,” grumbled Pa.

Dora, Augusta and I are sisters. We were born in New Zealand. Our parents had narrowly escaped from the country where they would have been tortured for their beliefs. Pa wore the scars. Ma was quiet, withdrawn.

Pa didn’t go out much. Neither did Ma. They were never comfortable in English. We sisters had a lot of friends. Dora was the eldest, next Augusta and then I. There was about a two year gap between each of us.

Dora started dating. Henry particularly liked her. Pa couldn’t accept the idea of her going out to dance parties, clubs, bars and coming home in the wee hours of the morning with strangers. He revolted. He blew up. You could all but see the steam whistling out of his ears. But he loved us. And we loved him. We loved Ma

118

too, and she adored us. Ma went with what Pa said. That was the way it always was in the culture.

There was tension in the house every weekend. Dora is stubborn. So is Pa. Yet there had to be a compromise. Dora could go with Henry, provided Augusta and I went along.

So Augusta and I went too. I was at the acceptable age for the places we went to, provided I showed I.D. I always carried that in my purse. But I didn’t like the way the bouncers and barmen looked me up and down, and then at the I.D.

I even now clearly recollect the night we were at Whistler Bar on Merry Road in town. A friend of Pa saw us and Henry.

He shuffled up to us with a deep frown on his weather-beaten face, and snorted like a war-horse:- “What you doing? Why you not home? Who this is?” pointing solidly to Henry. “In my country …you be slit…,” and ran his chubby fingers across his throat. We gulped down our drinks, paid the bill, and slipped out. Henry’s face was chalk-white.

He said later that he couldn’t forget that ghastly creature.

Then came the fateful day. Henry announced to Pa that Dora and he were getting married. Dora had been fretting, worrying, dreading the moment. Pa just went into shock. His eldest daughter marrying outside the community! At night, after Henry had left, he shouted angrily:- “He tell me! He not ask me! …He tell me!…He…He…”

Henry’s parents invited themselves to our house to discuss wedding plans. Pa walked and talked like a zombie.

The wedding day arrived. Augusta and I were bridesmaids. The community attended, with solemn faces. Two tough characters walked behind us…in reverse…facing the other way. Pa said that was the way it was done in the place where he grew up, and

119

it should be the same here. The toughies were there to protect the bride and bridegroom, he said.

Months later the stork came flapping in with a crying bundle. Pa had a peek inside. His old eyes became moist. “What it be?” he stammered, “Boy? Girl?”

We knew what his feelings would be if it had been a girl.

But it wasn’t.

It was a boy.

Tears of joy rolled down Pa’s and Ma’s faces.

Little Benjamin grew up fast. His parents and he lived in another town not far away.

Dora came with Benjamin to visit us regularly.

Henry never did. He always felt rejected.

Pa never went there, so they didn’t see each other at all. We tried desperately to bring them together, but to no avail.

Neither relented.

One day, Ma suddenly collapsed in the kitchen, and we rushed her to hospital. She had had a stroke.

Pa was devastated. So were we. She didn’t live long.

The earlier hard life had taken its toll. She passed away in Pa’s arms. Pa’s health went down.

When Dora started working, she decided to leave Benjamin with us during the week. He went to a school near our house.

120

Pa and Benjamin bonded well. Pa adored Benjamin. They went cycling often.

Benjamin sensed that his dad and grandpa were not on talking terms. We heard whispered conversations between Benjamin and Pa, but couldn’t catch what they were saying.

I remember the day vividly.

Pa had put on his best clothes. Dora was waiting in the car.

Pa walked slowly down the driveway, holding Benjamin’s hand.

Benjamin turned to us, smiled, and said:- “Grandpa is coming to our house!! Dad’s waiting for him”.

***

121

Silverback

The silverback sat in solitary splendour.

His extended family was spread all around him, at a respectful distance. He chose to ignore them.

Two young ones were bored. They walked about a bit, and found a lone baby antelope. One sniffed at its nose, and the other pulled its back legs. It stood frozen in fear. They left it after a few minutes, then dug up the soft soil, gobbling the ants as they ran out. They made a meal of the abundant nettles (which they folded to avoid being stung), popping the leaves into their mouths. The female amused herself by catching the many flies, taking them apart, and examining every little part. They munched on the crisp, wild celery sticks. They nibbled the fungus on the trees.

As the sun was ready to leave, the troop got up slowly, one by one, and moved on behind their leader who had ambled his way into the deep forest.

The bamboo poles arched from a fence of ferns. There were wire nooses hidden in the dirt. They were not meant for them, though. The traps were set to catch antelopes. The troop leader was

122

wise and experienced in the ways of man. He led them carefully around them.

They saw a challenger. He hooted loudly. He pounded his cupped palms against his chest. He broke branches, and started towards the troop. They watched him silently. He stood on two legs, beat his chest again, and smashed the thick branches against the ground.

The troop leader answered with a tremendous roar. Then he charged the younger male who dared to mock him. The challenger saw the huge shape come hurtling towards him, lost his resolve, and fled fast.

Jill felt the rain pounding down upon her, the water trickling into her thick khaki shirt, but she stood riveted.

The streets were dark, filthy, twisted and broken. Like most of the men and women who lived there.

Jill was born in one of the houses, the second child to parents who cared for none of the five children. Her father had charcoal skin, a black moustache, large fists, and an ugly temper. He ran the pub on the corner, where violent men gathered. He made the liquor, putting into the pot whatever rubbish he could lay his hands on. He had a knife on him at all times.

Her mother looked like dry fungus. She did not talk. She screamed. She fought.

Jill was punished for speaking, and not speaking. She was beaten, kicked and nearly strangled.

She had to cook, and to clean. Her strong brothers roamed the neighbourhood, imposing their will and fancy on others.

They were trained in the school of violence.

123

The Honduras had many of those in the cities. Gangs fought over territory. Each area commanded a lot in protection money. There were drugs. Hard-core drugs, like heroin.

Jill was forced into becoming a carrier.

She lived in constant fear of being caught.

The police generally adopted a policy of laissez-faire. Sometimes though, to keep up appearances, they got hold of the easiest, and dumped them in jail.

Jill was caught, and served a prison sentence.

She came out broken, walked the streets, and stumbled into a gang-fight.

The Pros were in a majority, well-armed. They carried guns and knives. The Punks had strayed into their territory. It was a blood-bath. The Punks ran desperately, and Jill was knocked to the ground.

She passed out.

When she opened her eyes days later, she had no idea where she was. She just lay there in pain.

Pablo was a kind man.

He was a social worker.

He heard of Jill. He went to see her, and talked to her in a soft, soothing voice. He said he wanted to help her.

124

He arranged her removal from there, and had her sent to a small town, to a rest-home run by nuns.

The nuns were part of an international sisterhood called “Love and Peace Always”. They worked with the homeless and the destitute. They were dedicated to pulling people away from alcohol, drugs and crime.

Jill had never been treated well before. She had been slapped, bitten, kicked and punched. She knew no language but abuse.

She called them bad names. She spat at them.

Yet they looked after her. They fed her, cleaned her, clothed her. They talked gently to her. They prayed for her.

She did not trust them. But they did not give up.

She liked the food and the comfort. She had never had that before.

They took her for walks, and she dragged along reluctantly.

They told her that there was a God who looked after man and animals.

They wanted her to start a new life.

They had offices all over the world.

The branch in Africa was starting out on an experiment called “Gorilla Good”. They talked to her about it. They showed her photos. They said that they were prepared to spend a lot of

125

money on her in sending her to Africa, to gorilla country, to protect the gorillas who were an endangered species. They told her about Dian Fossey and her work with the gorillas.

She couldn’t make up her mind.

They persisted.

She relented at last, and went.

She had never sat in a plane.

She landed in Africa, and was taken to the Rwandan mountain forest.

She was fascinated with the gorillas. She went to watch them day after day. They got used to her. She learnt to distinguish individuals. She gave them names. She made notes, and took photos.

She liked the families, the young, and the Silverbacks.

She hated the poachers.

She petitioned the Government. Her pleas for armed guards to protect the gorillas against poachers first fell on deaf ears.

But the “Love and Peace Always” head office took up the matter, and asked the United Nations to persuade the local government to protect the gorillas from extinction.

She got what she wanted. She accompanied the armed guards on their patrols.

The poachers targeted her.

They decided to lay a trap for her, and kill her.

126

The King Silverback was dozing, when suddenly his senses alerted him to danger. His troop was not far from Jill’s camp.

She heard him roar in anger. She called to the guards, and ran.

Two of them snatched up their rifles, and followed.

She did not stop for them to catch up. She burst into the clearing where the gorillas were.

A bullet stopped her in her tracks.

She fell. The guards ran up to her, and carried her back to camp.

They applied pressure to the wound, and dressed it. She was gasping for breath, and they realised that they had to get her to a doctor as fast as possible if she were to survive.

They put her in the jeep, and radioed ahead to let the hospital know they were coming, and to be ready for an emergency. It was a hundred kilometre drive through rough terrain to the nearest town. The hospital staff swiftly arranged for a helicopter to go and bring her in. The guards in the jeep heard the roar of the helicopter long before they saw it, headed for the nearest clearing, and waved frantically to draw the attention of the pilot. He saw them, circled twice, and landed in a small clearing. The paramedic in the chopper checked her pulse. The heartbeats were faint, but she was breathing. He put her on life-support. There was still hope.

They operated on her to remove the bullet. It had missed her vital organs by a fraction. It was touch and go for five days. She was tough, said the doctors. They decided to airlift her to a larger, better-equipped hospital for specialist treatment.

127

When the “Love and Peace Always” volunteer, Ruby, from Nairobi, came to see her, she cried. She sat by the hospital bed, holding Jill’s hand, and whispering in her ear:-“The Silverbacks are waiting for you. Please don’t give up. Please!”

Then she saw it. A dainty locket around Jill’s neck. There was a photo of a Silverback in it.

Jill’s condition worsened, and the doctors thought they were losing her.

Ruby prayed hard for her. She kept talking softly to her about the Silverbacks, and what would happen to them if she was not there to look after them.

The world press reported on the courageous woman who had once been a creature of the streets of a large city, but was now a passionate wild-life saviour. Medical specialists in the U.S.A. and Canada offered their help and guidance to the hospital doctors. They flew to the hospital the latest medicine which would help her recover.

Ruby played softly, on a portable player, the sounds of the gorilla family talking, which was what Jill herself had recorded.

She hoped that would help.

It did.

Jill slowly opened her eyes, closed them, opened them again, and asked:- “Wh.....where am I?”

“There’s been an accident,” said Ruby, holding Jill’s hand to comfort her, “But don’t worry. You’ll be all right.”

The recovery was long and painful. It was months before Jill was ready to be discharged from hospital.

128

She walked with a walker, and took one hesitant step after another. She did not remember what had happened on that day, but her memories of the Silverbacks and their families came back.

She wanted to return to the jungle to look after them. The government sanctioned more funds for game wardens, bowing to pressure from the public and the governments all over the world.

It was hot and humid, with an overcast sky, when Jill got slowly and painfully into the waiting jeep. The two faithful game wardens who had looked after her on that fateful day smiled broadly.

The driver drove carefully over bumps in the dirt track.

They stopped, and got down at the point where the bush was too thick for the vehicle to go any further.

Jill and her armed escorts pushed through the vegetation, and saw the giant Silverback sitting majestically with his family.

He turned his head when he sensed their presence, had a good hard look, and thumped his chest as if to say:- “Welcome back, Jill!”

***

129

Bushfire

Manual squatted cross-legged on the hard ground, looking around at the vast expanse of land.

Mudflats, sandstone hills, escarpments and thick bushes.

He loved the wilderness.

The sun blazed furiously. It was the height of summer. Sweltering heat. Not a cloud in the sky.

A Fire Service truck approached fast, with a dense cloud of dust billowing like a balloon behind it. It screeched to a halt, and a uniformed officer tumbled out.

“Hey… you alone?”

“Mother inside.”

“Get her out here now!” he commanded sharply.

“Mother, fire service here.” he shouted.

130

Isabel waddled out, drying her thick, wet hands on a dirty piece of grey cloth.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You need to move now. Now. Right now. Bushfire…. spreading.” said the officer.

“Bushfire? What bushfire…,” she squinted and frowned.

“Huge fire!” he exploded, pointing at the horizon,“spreading fast. Go. Go.”

She just stood there, hands on hips.

“ Where is your husband?” the officer asked.

“Dead,” she muttered sadly. Manuel’s father had worked in the mine, but it closed. He died two years later.

He saw the battered, old car, and said:-“Go…go...now…now...Have to alert others…Got a telephone?”

“No.” she replied.

He roared away, leaving mother and son transfixed.

Then they saw specks in the distance coming towards them.

“Roos…koalas…wallabies…come this way,” said the boy to his mother.

The car did not work. The battery had corroded.

The first flames burst through the billowing smoke.

It was now too dangerous to be there.

They grabbed whatever they could, and started walking at a brisk trot.

131

The animals overtook them.

A joey fell from his fleeing mother’s pouch, but she didn’t stop, leaving him behind, screaming.

Manual rushed to pick him up before the others trampled him. They ran.

“I …can’t run…any more…” said the mother, panting heavily.

“Please, please…come on...,” he pleaded, dragging her with one hand, while holding the joey with the other.

“No, leave me…save yourself”, she said.

“The river,” he yelled excitedly, “The river is not far now.”

She stumbled, fell, crawled, got up, and crashed into the water just as the first burst of flames licked the dry shrubs by the bank of the river.

There were crocs in the water.

Manual knew everything about crocodiles. He had watched Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter, jump on their backs, and pull up their long snouts.

The crocs swam slowly, silently, and lazily towards them.

But they retreated from the flames, and headed for the opposite bank.

The river was narrow, muddy and shallow.

A long, black, deadly-looking snake, tongue flicking in and out, swam by their side, but ignored them.

They managed to reach the other side, and collapsed.

132

The flames leaned across the river.

They rested for a while, and then struggled on.

Darkness descended, and it became cold, very cold.

The joey fell asleep, and Manual laid him down gently on the sand.

The mother and son hugged each other to keep warm. The night dragged on endlessly.

As the first rays of the sun peeped over the horizon, she stretched, moaned, and tried to stand. Her legs felt like jelly. She fell down, got up again, and zig-zagged a few steps.

“Camels, camels coming...look, look, son!” she cried.

He put his hand over his eyes, looked hard and long, but saw nothing.

“You dreaming, mother! No camels.” he said.

“Yes there are…see…water...water….”

He realised that she was in a bad state.

He put his shoulder under her armpit, and pulled her along.

He saw a long lizard, and killed it with a stone.

He collected a few dry shrubs, and started a small fire in the way the tribe always did.

He roasted the lizard over the fire, and they ate the rubbery meat.

The little joey stared at him with frightened, big, baby eyes.

A family of kangaroos came hopping up, hearing the joey. A timid mother edged closer. The joey cried. They crowded

133

around, smelt and nosed him. Then they turned abruptly, and bounded away, taking the joey with them.

“This is good sign,” said Manual to his mother.

“What father say now? Why he leave us, eh?” she asked in a frail whisper.

“He say, go on….go on….no give up.”

They saw a cloud of dust, and then many camel-riders coming.

“Who are you? What you doing here, eh?” asked the leader in a loud, guttural voice. He was a tall, hefty man with bulging biceps, broad shoulders, a flowing beard, and a handlebar moustache.

Manual told him.

“Give them water, food. You, Zig, take them to camp. Rest…… follow me.” He kicked his camel hard, and rode away with the men.

Zig glared at them steadily for a few minutes. He then threw a water bottle and some food at them. He was ugly and dirty.

They followed him to the camp which had small log cabins in a clearing.

They were directed to one of the cabins, and they fell asleep within minutes.

When Manuel got up, he could not remember where he was, or what he was doing there.He saw his mother beside him, and then the whole thing came back to him.

He went out, and saw that they were alone.

Suddenly, he heard a dog whining.

134

He found it chained to the back of a cabin. It wagged its tail when it saw him. It was a handsome dog. He let it loose, and it sniffed its way to Isabel, waking her with licks. She got up with a start. Manuel talked to her gently.

“Something not right here” he said. “We must go before they come back.”

The dog barked, bounded ahead, turned around, looked at them, barked again, and waited.They followed it till darkness fell.

Then they saw faint, twinkling lights in the direction the dog was heading.

They came to a mud road, with tyre tracks. The road led to a small town, and the dog ran to a house.

A plump young woman, with long earings, holding the hand of a curly-headed girl of about five, came rushing out when she heard the dog barking.

“Scamp......Scamp….. …..where have you been? We missed you so much!”

They hugged the dog who licked their faces in delight.

She then asked:- “Where did you find him? He’s been gone many days. We searched everywhere. Where was he?”

Manuel told her, and she listened intently.

“You brought our dog back,” she said gratefully, “See…Susie is happy again. She’s been crying for days! Wait. I’ll tell my husband”.

She went in her house, and came out, a few minutes later, with her husband.

135

He was a lean, straight-backed man, of average height, with a handsome, honest face.

He said:-“Hello. My name is Allan Smythe. My wife told me all about how you found our precious dog. We are very grateful to you”.

He took them to a small bungalow at the back of the property, and said:-“This is our guesthouse. You can stay here. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Allan later showed them around the factory.

He explained:- “I am the manager. We manufacture vital parts of the Aero Airship Wonderbird 1. It is an airship. Not an airplane. It will be a complete revolution in air travel once it is tested, and manufactured commercially. It’s internal ballast system allows operators to control buoyancy by compromising the helium in its tanks to make it heavier than air. So it doesn’t have to be weighed down or tied down, while cargo is loaded and unloaded. It will land and take off in places where a plane cannot. It will not need a runway. It will carry far more load than the largest helicopter.”

Neither Manual nor his mother understood, but they just nodded.

Allan invited Manuel to his office, and asked him what had happened. Manual told him that his father had worked in a mine, that he was dead, and that he and his mother had to flee the bushfire, and had lost everything.

Allan thought for a while with his chin on his hand, and then asked:-“Look! Would you like to work for us? You and your mother can live here. We will find some work for her too. You have brought back our precious dog, and we are very grateful.”

136

Manuel told his mother what Allan had said.

“Son,” she said quietly, with tears in her eyes, “Can’t go back. Lost everything. Your father...he find you job...take it!.... We stay here........ Our new home!”

***

137

The rip and the orca

We waded into the dancing waves, swinging the fishing rods.

“Hey! Hey!” I said. “Too deep now.”

“Aw, come on. Just a little more.”

Suddenly, the sand shifted under my feet, unbalancing me. I was tossed about like a rag doll.

I panicked.

“Help! Help! Satish, help!” I yelled. But Satish had disappeared.

The salt water cascaded into my eyes, nose, and ears. I thrashed

about frantically. I was going down, and getting weaker by the

minute. This is the end, I thought.

I then vaguely saw two dark shapes in the water. One was much

bigger than the other. I felt something rubbery and slippery.

I kicked hard.

The smaller shape was now directly under me, gently pushing me towards the surface.

138

I went up blowing water, thrashing my arms desperately. I couldn’t see anything. It was all a blur.

I heard voices now. My heart was beating so hard, I thought it

would burst.

“I found him! Here! Here!”

It sounded like Satish’s voice, but in my confused state of mind, I

could be imagining that. Someone grabbed my outstretched

hand.

I was lying on the sand when I opened my eyes. A kind-looking, young female face swirled into my vision, and I thought I was in heaven.

Cool water splashed onto my face, and the deafening roar of the surf crashing onto the rocks, brought me to my senses slowly, and I croaked:- “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now. Just relax. The ambulance is coming.”

I threw up violently. I was shivering uncontrollably. A blanket was thrown over me, and I felt being lifted.

Satish told me in the hospital that he had panicked when he saw a huge orca and her baby coming towards us in the water, and he just turned and fled to safety, leaving me struggling in the water.

He begged my forgiveness.

My dear wife rushed to the hospital, with my darling five-year old daughter.

They embraced me fondly. There was deep anxiety in their eyes.

139

“Daddy, daddy, what happened?”

I told her. I repeated what Satish had said about what he had seen in the water.

She listened to me very intently. She frowned. I kissed her lightly on her forehead.

She then made me repeat everything again.

I could sense her little brain working hard.

“Daddy, I know it. It was the baby orca! It saved you!”

***

140

White river

Messy sat below the tall, slender tree, staring into space. The sun peeped through the dark clouds which were heavily pregnant with rain. He was slim, brown, with round bright eyes, and hair that kept on falling on his forehead. His name was Mesiah, but they called him Messy. He was twelve years old.

The river gave them water to drink, wash and irrigate the fields. They called it the ‘White river’ in the local language. He loved swimming in it with his friends from the village. They challenged each other to reach the other side first. He was always the fastest.

He lived with his parents and little sister Dotty in a thatched hut in a field on the outskirts of a village, about fifty kilometres from Honiara. They had five lean goats, a shaggy, squat dog, and a fat, smelly pig. Messy reluctantly went to the village school, with the dog shadowing him. His father was the postmaster, and his mother grew and sold vegetables and fruit. Their needs were few. He was happy.

141

It grew dark fast, and rain fell hard. He jumped up, and started walking home. The water level in the river rose steadily. Then quickly. He was drenched to the bone. The dog had run off ahead.

The wind howled like a hundred hungry wolves. Messy shivered. The river had broken free of its weak mud banks, and all he could see was water.

Water, water everywhere.

The tree danced. It looked like an island in the sea.

He struggled on, but was cut off by the rising water. He couldn’t push through the deluge of things rushing towards him at a frightening pace. He had to turn back towards the lonely tree.

He couldn’t control his legs. He was buffeted on all sides. Panic rose within him. He screamed for help, but there was no one there. The roaring water took him along, and he just managed to grab the tree. He clung on, and with great effort, climbed up out of the water’s reach. His heart beat fast.

He was afraid that the tree would be pulled from its roots, and carried away by the storm. He suddenly saw what looked like a bundle of clothes floating fast towards him. But then he got a shock when he spotted an arm sticking out!

He tried to grab it, missed, and tumbled into the water himself.

Now he was fighting for his life, as the racing water carried him with it. He kept saying in his mind:- “Swim, swim, don’t stop!” There was water in his eyes, in his mouth. He swallowed a lot of it.Then something bumped into him, and a wet nose touched his face. He got a start! But, then he saw that it was his own dog Mitu!

Mitu had braved the storm to come look for him!

142

He clutched him tight, and both of them cart-wheeled in the current. The dog was a strong swimmer, and a life-jacket for him.

They were being dragged towards the sea, where the white river ended. He tried to grab hold of anything he could find. He clutched at a few branches floating by, but the current was so strong, it was difficult to hold onto anything. He went below the surface several times, but Mitu kept him afloat.

“My brave dog,” thought Messy, “he will save me!”

He was terrified that the swiftly-flowing water would push him into the open sea, and then he would be lost. He was getting tired, tossed around in the current, struggling to breathe.

He kept thinking of his mum and dad. He then stopped fighting the current, and swam along with it with Mitu.

He dodged debris, and held his breath, as he was pushed below the surface of the water. He had grass and mud all over him.

When a log passed by, he leaped for it with one hand, while holding Mitu with the other, and caught it just in time. He pushed Mitu onto the log, and the dog just collapsed onto it, and held on with his sharp nails.

He looked back, and could see the land receding into the distance.

The water was cold. He talked to Mitu.

“Mitu, Mitu, you came to find me! You saved my life!”

The dog wagged his tail gently, as if he understood what his master said.

They drifted on the log for hours. The land was out of sight altogether. His clothes hung in shreds.

143

He was very thirsty. But he knew that if he drank the sea-water, he would die. He prayed for rain. But there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The wind had blown them away.

Mitu started growling, and Messy saw an ugly fin sticking out of the water.

He knew that sharks had fins that stuck out of the water. He knew that sharks ate flesh, and that they attacked humans.

The shark swam in circles around the log to which they clung desperately. Messy kept his legs out of the water, and followed the shark with his terrified eyes. It went round and round, and edged closer with each round. Now he could see its evil, unblinking eyes.

The shark would not leave.

Then Messsy saw about half a dozen dark shapes jumping in and out of the water, coming swiftly towards him. The shark apparently saw them too, and began swimming in the opposite direction. Messy thought fresh danger was approaching, but the fish that were coming were smiling! Messy wondered whether this was real, or he had lost his mind!

Their mouths had a distinct smile! Their eyes were gentle. They did not have fins sticking out of the water, so Messy was sure they were not sharks. What could they be? He did not know any fish except the small ones they ate for food at home, and had never seen big fish like these. He knew about sharks because fishermen spoke about their encounters with them.

The friendly fish had chased the shark away. Messy relaxed. The fish kept them company.

Messy felt tired, hungry and thirsty. The fish stayed with the boy and the dog for hours.

144

Messy dozed, and struggled not to fall asleep, and loose his grip of the log. His throat was parched, and his tongue dry. He needed water. The dog too was panting and pining for water. Messy prayed to God!

“Oh God, please save me and Mitu. We don’t…….don’t want to die! Please take us back to my parents and little sister. They must be so worried.”

But hours passed, and still they drifted, and the large, friendly fish kept them company.

It started becoming dusk, and Messy knew that they would not be able to survive the night on the log. He was beginning to lose all hope. He was getting weaker and weaker by the minute. Mitu was whining. He was finding it hard to cling on to the log.

Messy then saw what looked like a tiny light in the far distance. He wondered if he was dreaming, or whether it was land, or a boat. He kept his eyes riveted on the light, and had his hopes up when he realized that the light was actually coming towards them. It grew brighter and brighter.

He wanted to stand up and wave when he saw that indeed it was the navigation light of a boat. But when he did stand up in excitement, the log rolled so violently that he just managed to hold onto to Mitu with one hand, and the log with the other.

Now he could hear the distinct beat of a boat engine. The large, friendly fish moved away a little to avoid the boat which was on a crash course with the log. Messy saw a man sitting in front, smoking a cigarette. He yelled as loudly as he could, to alert him to the log and its occupants. Luckily the man heard the boy’s voice above the noise of the engine, and got up with a start. He rushed to the rudder, and jerked the handle from the hands of the person holding it, turning the boat away just in time from ramming the log.

145

The momentum carried the boat away from the boy and the dog. Messy thought they were going away! He yelled frantically for help. The boat stopped, and turned back. It came slowly towards them, and slid to a halt a few metres away, its engine throbbing softly. There were two men on the boat, which was a fishing boat. The smell of fish was in the air.

The men were astounded to see the boy and the dog on a log in the ocean. They took them on deck, and gave them both water, and food. Messy was so exhausted he couldn’t answer their questions.

They took the boy and the dog to their village.

The villagers crowded round them as the boat came to dock at the rickety, wooden pier. He and the dog were taken to the headman’s hut and given food and drink.

“I want to go home,” said Messy.

“Where’s home?”

He told them.

“That’s too far,” they said, “This is the fishing season. We’ve got to take the boat out again.”

“But I have to go home. My mum and dad will be worried sick.”

“Then you’ll have to find your own way there,” they said.

He slept the night at the village, and early morning he and the dog started on their way home. The villagers pointed out to him the general direction, and gave him water and dry food to carry with him. They also gave him a bone, with some meat on it, for the dog. He thanked them profusely for having saved his and the dog’s lives.

146

He had no idea how far he was from home. He had to find the river, and then follow it inland.

He did not see any sign of human life. Just fallen trees, boulders and debris. He saw dead birds and animals rotting in the hot sun. It was scary.

They walked the whole day till the sun started going down the horizon. Shadows crawled towards them. The dog whined, and Messy decided that they could not go any further that day, and had to find a place to pass the night.

He searched the landscape, but it was barren. Vultures circled slowly overhead, and the dog growled at them.

They bedded down in the hollow of a tree, which had been uprooted in the storm. The night passed very slowly. He tossed and turned, and could not sleep. The dog buried its nose in his lap.

At break of dawn, they started walking again. Then suddenly, they heard a sound like a horse neighing. It sounded like the animal was in pain.

Messy loved horses.

They found it, struggling to get up. The dog bounded towards it, but the boy called it back. He didn’t want the horse to panic.

He stroked its neck gently.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take you with us. We won’t leave you here,” he said softly.

The horse seemed to understand, and stopped thrashing around. He rubbed his long nose on the boy.

Messy felt its legs. He saw the deep gash on the left foreleg, and the dried blood.

147

It must have hurt its leg in trying to escape the storm.He took hold of the broken bridle, and pulled gently. The horse got up painfully, and came forward one step at a time

They walked very slowly, looking for the river.

They had to stop often. The food and the water given by the villagers was long gone. They had to find the river.

It was the horse that smelt it! He raised his drooping head, and snorted.

Messy saw the gleaming white streak far in the distance. He jumped with joy, and flung his arms round the horse. The dog barked.

It took them hours to get to the banks of the river. But they made it, and all three bent down to drink. They felt refreshed.

The horse seemed to know where to go, and the boy and the dog followed.

Messy held on to the horse’s neck for support, and struggled on, using the strength left in him. He somehow trusted the horse to take them home.

Then he saw a thin wisp of smoke.

The horse walked in the direction of the smoke, his ears alert.

The sun had left them, when they came within sight of the huts.

The village dogs came rushing in on Mitu, led by a big, black dog with a bushy tail, and large jaws. Messy saw them coming, and realized that if he didn’t act fast to save Mitu, they would tear him apart.

148

He grabbed his dog, and lifted him onto the horse.

He then picked up a piece of wood lying on the ground, and flung it at them. It caught the leader smack on the nose. It howled in pain, and stopped in its tracks. The others hesitated.

The horse neighed angrily, reared a bit, and advanced on the pack.

People came out from the huts, when they heard the commotion.

A tall, thin, elderly man with a rough, black beard ran towards them shouting:- “Messy! Messy! My son! He has come back from the dead!”

The boy collapsed in the arms of his father.

They had come home!

***

149

Flashing police lights missing

He looked downright ugly. His chin had a heavy shapelessness, and the lines on his forehead were as if scored by a knife. His short, wiry black hair looked like barbed wire. He huddled in the narrow alley between the bakery and the bank. A delicate mist rose gently from the road, stirred only occasionally by a faint breath of breeze.

“Hang on till he’s gone, mate” he hissed, “Then we strike!.”

Lawrence and Jacob heard him. They called him Bull.

Lawrence’s muscular body tensed. He dreamt of money. Jacob was the planner. He had a hoarse voice, and a sharp crooked mind.

“We gonna wait here all night, man? Let’s go” said Lawrence impatiently.

“Shut up!” growled Jacob, “I been watching this set-up for days.”

Minutes dragged by like hours.

150

A dirty, black, battered van pulled up. A uniformed man with a shotgun came slowly down the steps of the bank, got into the vehicle which then roared off.

Revolvers ready, faces covered, they burst into the bank, shouting:- “Hands over your heads! Down! Down!”

Bull pushed the few customers there into an interview room. A woman with a screaming child cowered in a corner.

Lawrence leapt over the counter and grabbed the money, stuffing it hurriedly into cloth bags.

They then backed up to the main door, and ran.

It was over in less than a minute.

They slowed down to a walk, and stopped when they felt safe.

“Freeze!” a deep voice suddenly barked, “We got you covered…on the ground…now.”

They were stunned! Who was it?

A rush of heavy feet came up, punched and kicked them, and then,......gone!

The bags had disappeared.

The wail of police sirens electrified them into action.

“Run….run, in different directions!” shouted Jacob.

But the flashing lights came from all sides. There seemed no escape. Bull ran for his life, a police-car chasing him. He flung himself onto a fence and scrambled over it. The cop slammed his brakes, burst out, and gave chase. Bull stumbled, fell and was caught. He was dragged, swearing, to the car, and pushed in.

151

The engine was still on, and the lights swirled.

Like a flash, Bull vaulted into the driver’s seat, pulled the gear into reverse, and backed out of the lane, tyres spinning wildly, knocking the burly cop down.

He weaved in and out of traffic at high speed. He was enjoying this!

“I’m a cop” he said to himself, “Yoo….Yeah…hoo.”

He narrowly missed a long truck-trailer. He drove madly over footpaths and on the wrong side of the road. He speeded up as he entered the motorway, and then pushed the pedal to the floor. The powerful vehicle shot forward. He felt a rush of blood to his head.

He glanced in the rear mirror to see if he was being followed. No. Now he had time to think of a flight path. He decided to back-track to his own house through the lonely, long route.

He didn’t have a criminal record, so they wouldn’t be able to pin him. He’d lock the police-car in the garage. “They won’t ever find it” he thought.

The news flashed all over the country that a police-car had been stolen, and was missing.

A week went by. Bull finally ventured out on foot. He had to find his mates.

They had to trace the money stolen from them, and take sweet revenge. He knew where Lawrence and Jacob lived. But they

152

hadn’t been home, he discovered. He searched from pub to pub. No one had seen them. Were they in the cooler?

He learnt that Lawrence had been caught on the spot, and was serving a six-month jail sentence.

Bull didn’t dare visit Lawrence in jail. He would have to look for Jacob himself. He spread the word in the underworld.

The Black Bandits’ gang ruled the streets. They were into drugs, smuggling, the works. He arranged to see the gang leader.

The spot was deserted. He walked hesitatingly down the stony path. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, his hands bound, dragged backwards, and dumped into the back of a vehicle. His feet were tied, and his mouth gagged. He bounced around till it stopped some time later. He was lifted up, dropped onto the ground, and marched into a building, feet dragging.

It was pitch dark. His hands and legs felt numb. A beam of bright light came straight on him and completely blinded him.

“What’s the game man? You a police pig? We kill you …now.”

“No! No! ” pleaded Bull. “I’m not a cop. I’m looking for my mate.”

“Why?”

Bull couldn’t see the owner of the gruff voice.

“Who the devil is your mate?”

“Lawrence.”

“What does he look like?”

Bull told him.

153

“We check your story, eh!. We’ll be in touch.”

Two days later, he was taken in the same way to the same voice.

“Yep. You are okay. We find out for you.”

Bull joined the gang. He was first given light duties like robbing a liquor store, roughing up easy targets etc. He got to know the other gang-members and was allowed to accompany them on more tough sorties.

The Headhunters were the rival gang, and particularly known for visciousness. They cut up their victims. The rivalry between the two gangs became more bitter as each sought more turf. Boundaries were broken, and then came swift revenge.

Bull was ordered to go to Danny Road to collect the usual weekly ‘protection money’ from the small businesses there. They always paid promptly. He had covered three shops and was about to step into the fourth.

“Get lost, man! This is our turf”.

He turned around slowly.

He recognised the member of the rival gang.

There was a moment of choking silence. Another Headhunter came up menacingly.He swung at the nearest, and fled.

He reported this to his team-leader, who relayed it to the boss. The order went out to prepare for a showdown.

Every Black Bandit was issued a handgun and a knife, and trained to use them effectively. They practised attack and

154

defence. They had to work as a team. The plan was to break the Headhunter gang completely.

Scouts went out all over the city to report back on the movements of the rival gang. The day, time and place were carefully selected. The attack was to be to the Headhunter headquarters. They would never expect that.

At the stroke of midnight on a moonless night, they moved in silently and swiftly. But the Headhunters were expecting them. There had been a leak.

The response was fierce. Hand-to-hand fights erupted. Men fell on both sides. Bull found himself being cornered, and outnumbered. He fought back and savagely. He was bleeding from the shoulder where a knife had struck him.

There was yelling and cursing. He suddenly recognized a familiar, hoarse voice. It was Jacob! He had found him! He was a Headhunter!

Then someone shouted “Cops coming!.”

The fight broke up abruptly. They fled helter-skelter. Bull ran away from there, as fast as he could, his left hand clutching his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. He felt weak and dizzy by the time he reached a safe area, and leaned on a wall, panting heavily. He tore his shirt, and tied up the wound. He then struggled on. He had to reach home before dawn.

He had to find Jacob.

He followed a lone Headhunter stealthily, and then jumped him when the coast was clear. He put his knife to the man’s throat, cutting the skin. The victim’s eyeballs rolled up in fear and pain.

155

“Where’s Jacob? Tell me now…or I ram the knife in….”

“I…I…I don’t know…who…”

Bull pressed the knife in further.

“I’m not playing games, man. Speak or you die.”

He told Bull where Jacob lived. Bull let him go.

Bull went to the place, and stood across the road from the house. The drapes were drawn and all was quiet.

He knocked softly on the door. He had a funny feeling that he was being watched from inside. It was a while before the door opened, and a large female, hands on her hips, growled:- “Yes?”

He said he was Jacob’s friend. She looked him up and down. Then she moved quickly aside, and gestured for him to come in. He put one foot in,…the crushing blow knocked him out cold!

His head was spinning like a top when he regained consciousness. It hurt madly. He was bound and trussed in a dimly-lit room.

“Aa…aah. You came looking for me, eh?”

“Hullo mate, Bull said, “Why am I tied up?”

“Now, let’s see. Why did you come looking for me, eh?”

“The money, Jacob. I came for my share. Do you know who stole it from us? Lawrence is in jail.”

Jacob burst into laughter. Bull was taken aback. What was he laughing for?

156

“It’s with me, you fool. It’s where neither you nor Lawrence will ever find it. You’re not going to live long, anyway. Neither is Lawrence, once he serves his time.”

His aching head prevented Bull from thinking clearly. But he did finally realize that Jacob had tricked him and Lawrence. Jacob was always the one with a crooked mind. He must have used others to help him. He got the cash, nice and easy.

He was left alone. He lay there thinking hard. Many hours later, the large woman came in with some cooked meat on a plate, which she left in front of him.

She didn’t untie him. He noticed that the plate was a glass one. That gave him the idea.

The next time she came in, he let her come close, then suddenly lifted both his legs and kicked her hard in the jaw, knocking her down unconscious. The plate broke. He wriggled till he got hold of a sharp piece, and worked frantically on the cord round his wrists, hoping all the time that she wouldn’t recover. Eventually he loosened it, and got one hand out. The rest was easy. He tied her up with the same cord, and gagged her.

She was still unconscious when he left.

He opened the door quietly, and walked into the street.

Then he spotted the boy, shabby and tired-looking, his hands in his pockets.

“Got a job for you, Joe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“How much you gonna pay, man?”

157

He dropped some coins into the outstretched palms.

“There’s more for you when you get me the information. Here’s what you got to do…………”

Joe got onto Jacob’s tracks like a bloodhound.

Joe saw the tall and large woman come out with a bundle under one arm.

He followed her, as she went down the alley, looking over her shoulder every now and then.She stopped abruptly, and said something to someone with his back to her.

That man wheeled round suddenly, and slapped her hard, cursing profusely.

He snatched the bundle from her hands, and strode away.

He kicked a mangy dog out of his way. He disappeared into a dimly-lit, run-down pub, and Joe could see him drinking inside, sitting on the high stool, mumbling to himself.

Joe sped to alert Bull. He knew that Jacob would most likely spend hours there drinking.

Bull had just heard that there had been a riot at the prison, and that some prisoners had escaped. The cops had launched a massive man-hunt. They would probably search door-to-door. He suddenly remembered the police-car in his garage! That would give him away. He had to get rid of it before they found it.

Joe crashed into Bull as he was hurrying round a corner. The impact knocked Joe to the ground.

Bull hauled him up, and pulled him along, whispering:-

“Out with it! Found him?”

158

Joe told him.

Bull was left with the hard choice of getting rid of the cop-car first, or catching up with Jacob. He decided that the car had to come first.

He made sure that the coast was clear before he backed it out of his garage in the dead of night. The neighbours were fast asleep. He drove carefully. He headed out of town, along by-roads. He would take it deep into the forest on dirt-tracks and then either burn it or push it into the river.

He stopped, and got out. He opened the gas-tank and was about to drop a live match into it, when a sharp voice rang out:- “Stop!”

Shadows surrounded him.

“A cop-car! It’s a cop-car, man! This fella’s not a cop.”

“What you doing with a cop-car, man?”

“Hey, man, if you stole a cop-car, you must be cool.”

There were four of them, dressed in prison uniform.

Bull recognised Lawrence.

“You look different, man,” said Lawrence.

Lawrence then explained to the others that he knew Bull, and that they could trust him. Lawrence was obviously the leader. They decided to get rid of the cop car..

They dropped a match into the petrol tank. The car went up in flames. But the flames set the dry forest alight.

They ran as fast as they could.

They came to a mud-bank, and slid into a small river.

“Right! …Now…where do we go… from here?”

159

“We gotta get rid of these clothes, man. Get ordinary ones.”

It was still quite dark when they came upon a lonely farmhouse. They stripped to their underclothes, and buried the prison garb. Three of them went to the rear of the house, to stand-by, while Lawrence and another strode up to the front-door and knocked loudly.

A sleepy female voice called out:- “Who is it?”

“Our car fell in the river, ma’am. We are lucky to escape. We are soaking wet. We need to dry out.”

She poked her head out the first-floor window, and said “Get lost!.” She banged the window shut.It was easy getting into the house, and holding the woman. She was alone. She said her husband had gone away to buy some sheep. They helped themselves to his clothes and the food in the kitchen.

They didn’t want to kill her, and have murder on their heads, so they just gagged and tied her to her bed, and left her there.

Then they split, and Lawrence and Bull teamed up. Bull told him what he knew about Jacob and the money. They had to find him.

They walked to the rural road.

The driver of the red saloon braked hard to avoid running over the man lying on the road. He got out to see if the man was hurt, but the man jumped into the driver’s seat, and the car roared off.

Lawrence was at the wheel going fast, and Bull in the passenger’s seat felt uneasy. The road was unsealed and winding.

“Hey man,” asked Bull, “where we going?”

160

“We gotta get rid of this, man. The cops will get us.

A police siren sounded in the distance, coming fast from behind. The chase was on. The red car was distinctive. The owner must have reported it stolen.Lawrence pushed the pedal to the floor, but the cop-car drew nearer.

“Go, man, go!” screamed Bull.

“It won’t go any faster,” grunted Lawrence in frustration.

The cop was only metres away when Lawrence abruptly swerved…and lost control.

The car leaned on two wheels, skid madly, grazed a power-pole, went on, turned turtle, righted itself, and became air-borne, moments after Bull opened the door and jumped out. He heard the explosion, and saw the flames. He had lost a mate.

He lay stunned for a moment or two.

He checked himself for broken bones, but found none. He crawled on hands and knees in the bush, further and further away from the scene of the accident.

He walked, stumbled, dragged himself to town. He was hungry and penniless, his clothes torn and tattered.

He stood at a corner, begging. Some passers-by dropped him coins. A couple of hours later he had enough for a frugal meal.

As he approached a Bar, the door opened violently, and a drunk was flung outside, and landed at his feet. He glanced down…and recognised Jacob! He grabbed him by the collar, and barked in his ear “Where’s the money? Where’s the money?”

Jacob looked at his face blankly. “Who are…you, mate?” he asked, “What…what…do you want?”

161

The headlights of a car fell full on Bull’s face, and that’s when Jacob snapped out of his drunken stupor, and bounded up in terror. He broke free, and ran,...... into the path of a vehicle which hit him.

“An ambulance! Call an ambulance!” yelled a witness.

An ambulance came, and whisked Jacob away to the nearest hospital.

Bull went to the hospital.

They said Jacob was unconscious. They wouldn’t let him see Jacob.

Jacob’s condition deteriorated. He was dying, they said.

Bull was desperate. He had to ask Jacob where the money was before he passed away. He got friendly with Moo, the day nurse.

“How long you been nursing?” he asked her, “Tired, eh?”

“Yeah, man. Been too long. Need a break.”

“A beer, the beach, relax?”

He grinned, looking into her eyes intently.

She blushed. Nobody had looked at her like that before! In fact, men didn’t give her a second look. She was so unattractive.

“Maybe if we had a million, we could make it, eh Moo?”

“Maybe…” she dreamed.

“That fella Jacob, he’s dying isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got my money! He’s hidden it somewhere.”

162

“Well, today I barely heard him mumbling something about money.”

“What did he say? What,…Moo, what?” he asked eagerly.

“I heard…bank…money…hidden.”

“Where? Did he say where?”

“He was mumbling something…

like he was talking to someone…”

“What did he say? What did he say?”

“Seemed as if he was talking to a woman. He said something that sounded ‘Keep it’.”

“She knows!” Bull almost shouted.

“Who knows? What?”

“That big ugly woman. The one who fed me like I was a dog. I’ve got to find her.”

Jacob died.

As Bull passed the room where they kept the dead, he suddenly saw her. The large ugly woman! He felt like choking her! But he watched her from a distance. She was crying.

A hearse came up, and they took the body away. She didn’t follow it. She walked slowly out of the hospital grounds, and into the street. He kept her in sight. She walked with her head bent down, her hands hanging at her sides.She went through a maze of streets. Bull suddenly realized that she was actually heading towards the bank. The one they had held up. She stopped and turned to glance back. Bull hid swiftly. Then she went on.

163

She came to an empty warehouse near the outskirts of town, and slipped in after opening a side door with a key. She slammed the door behind her.

He waited patiently outside.

When she came out, she was holding two sacks in her hands. Bull jumped her when the coast was clear, snatched the sacks out of her hands, and ran, leaving her lying on the footpath.

He found a lonely spot, and opened the sacks.

They were filled with useless pieces of newspapers!

Jacob had cheated him!

***

164

Mr. Kersie Khambatta is a semi-retired lawyer practising in New Zealand. He is also a part-time writer of articles and short-stories.

His writing is recognizable by his simple style, with short sentences and carefully-chosen words. He has a diploma of Associateship of the British Tutorial Institute, London, in English, Modern Journalism, and Journalism in India, and a Certificate in Comprehensive writing awarded in October 2005 by the Writing School (Australia and New Zealand).His pieces have appeared in Senior Living (B.C., Canada), Her Magazine (New Zealand), The Rusty Nail magazine (U.S.A.), and many other publications.

165