The Song of Kahunsha (17 page)

Chamdi’s hands are sticky with oil, but he has forgotten to take off his vest. He removes it anyway and places it on the ground. For a moment he wonders if he should remove the white cloth from around his neck as well, but he decides against it. He made a promise to himself that he would untie the cloth only when he found his father.

He starts with his chest. He spreads the oil evenly, keeping an eye on the windows opposite him, even though he feels no one would care that he is putting oil over his body. He finds it hard to oil his back, but he manages. He is relieved that he has hardly eaten in the past two days-he has become even thinner. The fear rushes back: can he really go through with this? One hard strike of the policeman’s stick on his chest and his ribs will be broken forever.

Chamdi glances up. The police inspector has suddenly disappeared from sight. Chamdi whips around. What if the policeman has smelt him and has crept up behind Chamdi to take him away? He is clearly not cut out for this—he would be willing to trade his fast legs for Sumdi’s defective one.

The politician has now entered the temple. The policeman reappears in Chamdi’s line of sight. He stands outside the temple, only a few feet away from Sumdi. Chamdi feels a flood of relief. Surely, Sumdi will now give up the plan altogether. He will see the policeman, realize it is stupid to attempt such a robbery, and walk away from the temple. They will find another way to make money. It might take them a while, but they have brains. They will figure out a way to save the baby and eventually leave the city.

At least ten men have entered the temple with the politician. Sumdi and Guddi continue to stand outside the temple window. They do not appear concerned about the policeman. Chamdi steps out from behind the beedi shop and walks towards Sumdi and Guddi. Yes, his back and chest are smeared in oil, but it does not matter now. He sees Sumdi spot him as he walks, marks the confusion on Sumdi’s face. Guddi takes a few steps in
his direction, while Sumdi stays rooted to the spot with his hands on his hips. Chamdi knows she will call him a coward. He looks down in shame, but then decides to look her straight in the eye. He summons his courage and raises his head—Guddi walks fast towards him.

In that split second, a great force throws Chamdi face down on the ground. Large blocks of cement fall from the sky. He covers his head and stays down. After a few seconds, he lifts his head into a curtain of thick, black smoke. White dust has stuck to his body because of the oil. He looks for Guddi. Chamdi realizes that he is now standing. The temple window is a gaping hole without bars. It is difficult for him to hear, and when he sees a bundle on the ground he screams, but he cannot hear his own cry. It is Sumdi, face down, his back torn open. Chamdi staggers towards Sumdi, but his feet have no strength. He slumps to the ground. He still cannot hear anything. He crawls forward, reaches out and turns Sumdi’s head sideways. Sumdi’s mouth is bleeding. Chamdi drops the head. Now his hearing comes back to him in bits. He hears a few muffled moans, and says softly, “Guddi, Guddi.” He gets up from his knees and looks around. Stepping
towards the sound of the moans, he trips over the body of a man and scrambles away in fear, only to be blocked by a slab of cement. A brass temple bell lies on its side, shoes and slippers are strewn across the street, and he still cannot find Guddi. There is an arm lying on the street, with a watch on the wrist. Then he sees a figure in a brown dress, crawling away from him, towards what used to be the temple. He moves towards her and holds her by the waist. She is scared by his sudden touch and she screams. He says, “It’s me, it’s me,” but when she looks at him, he realizes that this is not Guddi, but a grown woman. He lets go, and the woman crawls away. A man beside him writhes in pain. Large shards of glass are stuck in the man’s neck and stomach. Chamdi coughs and covers his mouth to prevent dust from entering his lungs. He is about to keel over when he sees the wheel of a cycle. A hand rests on the wheel. There are orange bangles around the wrist. He is propelled towards the owner of this hand, even though his legs want to collapse. He gently lifts her head.

Blood flows from her nose, and there is a deep gash on her forehead. He looks around for help, but he is surrounded only by cries. He shakes her and utters her name, but she does not respond.
The blood from her nose is now on her lips. He must take her to the doctor’s dispensary. He tries to lift her but she is heavy, so he drags her by her arms. Maybe he should not be pulling her by the arms. What if they are broken? He bends down, summons all the strength he has, and hoists Guddi on his shoulders. He searches for the door to the dispensary. Three men run towards him, but they pass him by as though he does not exist. They run towards the white Ambassador, which is in flames. The police jeep is overturned.

Chamdi reaches the door of the dispensary, but it is closed. He carefully places Guddi on the steps of the dispensary and pounds on the door. He wants to shout for help, but is unable to. Instead, his pounding becomes louder and louder. Why is the doctor not opening the door? He kicks the door hard and finally his voice comes to him, and he screams, but it is not exactly a word, it is a howl, and his fists join the howl, raw and hurt from beating on the door. He looks around him and suddenly knows: no one can help him. He sits. For a while, he sits on the steps of the dispensary as though nothing is wrong at all. He simply stares at the wound in the temple. Two stray dogs stand near him. It is difficult to breathe. He does not
look at Guddi. It is easier for him to look at the dogs instead and the dogs are quiet.

Finally, Chamdi moves. He wipes the blood off Guddi’s face with his hands. The air around him is still a chaotic mass of smoke and dust, and through the haze, Chamdi thinks he sees Sumdi, face buried in the ground. He quickly forces himself to look away. He sees another body—the old woman who makes garlands. She lies on the ground covered in marigolds and lilies, and her white sari is red with blood.

Guddi is not dead, he tells himself. She cannot be. He knew no good could come from robbing a temple. He looks at the gash in her forehead—it is similar to Munna’s gash. With this thought, he stands up. There is only one person who can help Guddi.

If Darzi fixed Munna, he can fix Guddi.

The adda is not far, he tells himself. I can reach it. He jumps down the steps of the doctor’s dispensary and runs, runs faster than when he fled the orphanage. This is as fast as he would have run had he robbed the temple, but now something more precious than money is at stake. But even though he runs faster than he ever has before, his vision begins to fade. The shops around him spin
and his knees buckle, and soon he is flat on the ground. The last thing he sees is the sky—a black sky in the middle of the afternoon.

As Chamdi regains consciousness, he is gripped by fear. But it takes him only a second to remember why he is afraid. An old man reaches out and touches him. Chamdi takes the old man’s hand and stands up. Satisfied that none of the shops are spinning, he starts walking fast. Soon the walk turns into a run, and once again his silver body is streaming through the street. He wonders if he is running in the right direction and is relieved when he sees Pushpam Collections—the air-conditioned clothing store—and the New Café Shirin Restaurant. In the distance, he can spot the tree he sleeps under. People pass him by, moving swiftly away from the temple. A man who runs a pharmacy slams the shutter down. When Chamdi hears the siren of an ambulance, worry grips him.

Chamdi finds it very hard to breathe, and he is surprised because he has run only a short distance. But he soon tastes the dirt in his mouth and realizes that his nostrils are blocked by grit. There is nothing he can do about it. He cannot
afford to stop. He tells himself that he does not need air to run. He needs fast feet.

He cuts across the lane in front of his tree and runs past the burnt building. He sprints through the hole in the wall, enters the playground. He is surprised to find boys in white shirts and khaki shorts, and girls with blue ribbons in their hair. They are running too, a game of sakli, hands held together to form a chain, trying to catch a boy who is just out of reach. It is as though they are not aware of the blast. Their game temporarily stops as Chamdi tears through them.

He soon comes to Anand Bhai’s adda. He rushes towards Darzi’s room and bangs on the closed door. There is no answer. He continues to bang. The door opens suddenly. It is Anand Bhai. Chamdi does not know what to say. He did not expect Anand Bhai to open the door. He is shirtless and hairy.

“Madarchod, who is it?” he asks, as he stares down at Chamdi.

“It’s me, Chamdi …”

Chamdi realizes he must be unrecognizable—he has white dust all over him. His eyelashes stick together and he blinks rapidly. He sticks one
finger in his eye and rubs hard. “I’m Sumdi’s friend,” he explains.

“What do you want?”

“There was a blast in the temple,” says Chamdi.

“I know. Now get out.”

Chamdi can hear moans of pain from inside the room, but he focuses on Anand Bhai.

“Guddi is hurt,” says Chamdi. “Please save her.”

“Everyone’s hurt,” says Anand Bhai. “Now get out.”

“Please ask Darzi …”

Anand Bhai slams the door shut. Chamdi cannot believe it. His chest heaves up and down and he notices there is some blood on it. It must be Guddi’s blood. Perhaps he should not have left Guddi alone. What if someone mistakes her for dead and takes her body away? If only Sumdi were with him, Sumdi would find a way to save Guddi. He must get Darzi’s attention. Perhaps he is a kind man and will have pity on Chamdi. He bangs on the door again with great might. He is worried that Anand Bhai might slash him with a knife as he did Munna. But Guddi’s life is worth any risk. This time Chamdi knows he has to somehow get Anand Bhai’s attention so the door is open
long enough for Darzi to notice Chamdi. But what should he say?

Anand Bhai opens the door again.

“I told you to leave!”

“I have information for you,” says Chamdi.

“What information?”

Before Chamdi has time to think, a name jumps out of his mouth: “Dabba.”

“What about Dabba?”

“Dabba is dead. He ate rat poison.”

“He killed himself?”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“So?”

“Dabba told me a secret.”

For a moment, Anand Bhai stands still. He holds on to the door of the room and looks hard at Chamdi.

“Dabba told me a secret about the jeweller.” Chamdi tries to remember the name of the jeweller’s shop, but his memory fails him. “The jeweller who is selling the shop. I know on what day and exactly at what time he will be moving the jewellery.”

“Listen to me, Chamdi. If you are lying, I will strangle you right here, right now.”

Anand Bhai’s mouth is very close to Chamdi’s.
There are two grains of white rice stuck in Anand Bhai’s beard as though he was eating in a hurry, or had to abandon his meal.

“Please,” begs Chamdi. “Ask Darzi to save Guddi. I will tell you everything.”

“First tell me what Dabba said.”

“Dabba said that the jeweller will move the jewels tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“That I will tell you only after you save Guddi.”

Anand Bhai slaps Chamdi hard across the face. His hand lands on Chamdi’s ear and there is a ringing sound that rises and seems to enter Chamdi’s brain.

“No one bargains with me, understand?” snaps Anand Bhai.

“What’s wrong with Guddi?” says a woman’s voice.

The voice comes from inside Darzi’s room. An old woman grips the open door for support. There are folds on her face, as though it is made of leather, and her eyes are narrow slits.

“Go inside,” Anand Bhai tells her.

“What’s wrong with Guddi?” she asks again.

“She’s hurt very badly,” says Chamdi. “She’ll die if you don’t help her. There was a blast …”

“We know,” she says. “Anand, go get Guddi.”

“Do you want me to save the bloody world?” yells Anand Bhai. “Your own son is bleeding in that room. Why don’t you look after him?”

“Navin will be fine. He’s being looked after. You get Guddi.”

“What do you care about Guddi?”

“Anand. Get her.
Now.”

Anand Bhai goes inside Darzi’s room and comes back with a white shirt in his hand.

“Do you have a mother?” Anand Bhai asks Chamdi.

“No,” says Chamdi.

“Good,” says Anand Bhai. He looks at the old woman as he says this. Then he turns his attention to Chamdi. “I’ll deal with you later. Let’s get Guddi.”

“But Darzi …”

“Darzi is looking after my brother. Now do you want to save Guddi or not?”

“We’ll have to run fast,” says Chamdi.

“No running.”

Anand Bhai takes out car keys from the pocket of his black trousers. He puts on the white shirt but does not bother closing the buttons. They walk to the white car parked behind Darzi’s
room. Anand Bhai does not hurry. Chamdi swallows his anger and looks at the ground, noticing how tomatoes and cucumbers have been planted in the small space directly under Darzi’s window. He forces himself to breathe. Then he reaches out and tries to open the door of the car, but it is locked.

“Hurry up!” explodes Chamdi. “She’ll die.”

“If she is meant to die, she will. But let me explain something to you. If you are lying about Dabba …”

“I’m not lying,” says Chamdi. “I swear.” For once in his life, he does not feel bad about lying, even though he gets a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about what Anand Bhai will do when he finds out.

Anand Bhai starts the car and opens the passenger door. Chamdi gets in, and before he can close the door, they speed off. They race along the road behind the adda, past a vegetable seller who carts his vegetables on wheels. Anand Bhai takes the bend, turns left. His right hand is on the steering wheel and his left hand is on the horn. He keeps the horn pressed, giving it the urgency of a siren. But there is no need. The street is deserted. The bomb has scared everyone into
their homes. Chamdi is relieved. “Keep breathing, Guddi, keep breathing,” he mutters. He does not care if Anand Bhai can hear him.