NOBODY LIGHTS A CANDLE
Anjali Deshpande
6
“I want the report,” said Adhirath.
“Report will come only after a week. Only after all these mother fucking white coats have done everything they can to put off work. Only the likes of us work. Look we cut up bodies and everyone hates us. We are untouchables. They also don’t touch us, mother fuckers. Chattering away in English all the time. You know there is not a single student here that is from my caste? Not one. All these bloody Bahmans and Banias come here to the morgue to cut up dead bodies to learn what a man is made of inside and do you think that knowledge ever makes them see all of us as human? No way, my son, no way. Most of those bodies are of people like us. Us people, poor sister fuckers, lawaaris. And you know what? These bloody vegetarians who once thought the dead body was untouchable who will still have sutak when someone in the family dies, these people come and eat rasgullas at the morgue sometimes. I swear they do. They will do anything for money, these upper castes. I will let you in on a secret. Nowadays more banias are becoming doctors. Good business it is. Private hospitals. Pharma company bounties. Rich people paying lacs to get their hearts cut and stitched. Banias are becoming doctors and dipping their hands in blood. Come to think of it they always had their hands in peoples’ blood.”
“Yes, yes, but can you tell me the cause of death?”
“They say he was being harassed in the college hostel by all these upper caste doctor students. They made him wash their clothes and flung chapattis at him in the mess and said he must not touch the bowl of vegetables or it would be polluted. He committed suicide. Such a hulla bulla. The media is here and you will see three days later nobody will talk of him and nothing will change. Coward, bloody coward. That is what he was. Did not even think what his mother will feel, how his sister will live. Just hung himself. He should have flung the bowls in their faces. Or killed some of them. Arre, he had decided to die, so why not kill a few first? Instead he kills himself. Quitters all.”
Adhirath sighed. The problem with this man was he was part of a union and loved making speeches and slurred ones at that. He had become such a nuisance for the authorities that just to be rid of him they had posted him at the morgue. Punishment posting. That is what it was. Sweepers paid huge bribes to be allowed to work the streets and not be posted here. This one revelled in it. He hardly had the time for the union now or even any interest in it for he rinsed his mouth with rum when he got up in the morning. He arrived drunk and he left drunk. How he managed to cut up bodies so accurately Adhirath had never understood.
“Mamu, the body my friend got,” said Adhirath.
“Who? Oh, that girl who was brought in today? No, no, Tuesday. Yes Tuesday it was, or was it Wednesday?”
“I am talking about the girl who was killed in the farmhouse,” said Adhirath clearly demonstrating his impatience through the patient enunciation of each word.
“Oh, that your friend’s case? That is why you are here? How is the enquiry going?”
“What enquiry?”
“Your case. How is it going? You pay attention to your case and stop meddling in other people’s business. Your friend is police. He will get report. Tell me have they filed report in your case?”
“They will file the report when they have the time. I am not their first priority. And if you don’t want to talk to me you just have to say it. I am leaving,” said Adhirath with some asperity.
“I hope it is soon. After all you were innocent and they must reinstate you,” said Bhiku.
“Mamu, the girl. How did she die?”
Bhiku looked at him with sad eyes.
“My niece never asks this favour but you are a different variety altogether. I say nobody must have a policeman in the family and I have two. Obviously there will be no peace for me.”
“Mamu, I came to you with great hopes.”
“That girl was strangulated. There were some marks on the throat, just below the chin. I don’t think she died of that. She had a long gash in her abdomen. A very long one. And a very straight one, like someone held a ruler and cut her against its edge. How they managed to cut her like that I have no idea. Bastard must have been quite a practiced cutter, whoever did it. Just made my job easy even though the body when it came here was a mess. They had stuffed the intestines somehow inside, all the mud sticking to it...”
Adhirath began to make motions of getting on to his bike. Bhiku lit another beedi.
They both sat staring at the harried faces of patients and relatives walking past to the tune of honking horns and the air was laden with traffic smoke.
“Can’t imagine how he cut her in so straight a line. He too must have got injured. It is possible that there is something under her nails, a little skin or blood of the assaulter. The girl also had many wounds. Looks like someone had beaten her up. Lips too, someone had bitten the lips perhaps, they are swollen. There are many bruises on her chest. And look some bruises between her thighs also, on her thighs I mean. The palms also have a bruise like she was dragged about and was trying to resist. Must have all happened before she was strangulated. You can see the stains of rope on her throat. Thick rope it must have been. You can see the weave of it imprinted on the skin.
“Girl was pregnant also. Three months or so. The foetus was also cut into two pieces. Just a blob of flesh you know, looks like a fish standing upright. It does. Truth. I am telling the truth. It does not have features. Have you seen a foetus like that? They keep it here in jars, in saline solution. Want me to show you? Well this foetus, it was neatly cut into two. The intestines too were criss corossed with cuts. You know why? They are coiled up inside and when you wield a knife on a coil it cuts many parts of the coil. Try it on a coil of rope. Did they teach you that in the police tiraining school? How to cut up dolls so you can assess what kind of cut what kind of knife makes? Look, stuff a coil of rope inside a doll, then cut the doll with a knife and look at the coil, you will know what I mean”.
Adhirath had heard enough. He got up from the steps and walked briskly for a little distance. Then he turned back and said, “Let us have tea.”
Bhiku laughed at him “Throw up behind that pillar. There under that window. What kind of a man are you? And a police man at that? My niece, what she saw in you I have no idea. You know she was never afraid of anything. Not even of ghosts. Never.”
Adhirath never heard all this, he was bending low behind a pillar.
“Mamu, you are saying she died of that cut?” he asked afterwards.
“Yes. Or both. First she lost some of her breath and could not run then she lost a lot of blood. Poor girl. She was a very pretty girl. And young too. Quite young. A little older than my niece. Does she have any other children.”
Adhirath shook his head to indicate a negative and raced home. It was late afternoon by the time he got home. Pushpa was in the kitchen making tea. His father’s voice was raging like the fire.
“In my young age is when we used to have real tea. Milk was boiled for so long it used to turn pink. I swear it used to. Pink. Woman would be sitting near the chulha, cutting vegetables and the milk would be on simmer on a very low flame. The tea used to be so thick that if you placed a spoon on it wouldn’t sink. Cream would float on the surface...”
Mother wasn’t around, must have gone to the market.
“Want me to chop vegetables?” Adhirath asked standing close behind Pushpa. Pushpa turned to look at him. Her were eyebrows raised. Her eyes laughed into his.
email: anjalides@gmail.com
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