ArundhatiRoy

THE MINISTRY OF UTMOST HAPP INESS

Contents

 1 WhereDoOldBirdsGotoDie?

 2 Khwabgah

 3 TheNativity

 4 DrAzadBhartiya

 5 TheSlow-GooseChase

 6 SomeQuestionsforLater

 7 TheLandlord

 8 TheTenant

 9 TheUntimelyDeathofMissJebeentheFirst

10 TheMinistryofUtmostHappiness

11 TheLandlord

12 GuihKyom

FollowPenguin

BYTHESAMEAUTHOR

FICTION

TheGodofSmallThings

NON-FICTION

TheAlgebraofInfiniteJusticeAnOrdinaryPerson’sGuidetoEmpire

TheShapeoftheBeastListeningtoGrasshoppers

BrokenRepublicCapitalism:AGhostStory

ThingsThatCanandCannotBeSaid:EssaysandConversations(withJohnCusack)

TheDoctorandtheSaint:Caste,Race,andtheAnnihilationofCaste(TheDebatebetweenB.R.AmbedkarandM.K.Gandhi)

To,TheUnconsoled

OceanofPDF.com

Imean,it’sallamatterofyourheart…     NÂZIMHIKMET

Atmagichour,whenthesunhasgonebutthelighthasnot,armiesofflyingfoxesunhingethemselvesfromtheBanyantreesintheoldgraveyardanddriftacrossthecitylikesmoke.Whenthebatsleave,thecrowscomehome.Notallthedinoftheirhomecomingfillsthesilenceleftbythesparrowsthathavegonemissing,andtheoldwhite-backedvultures,custodiansofthedeadformorethanahundredmillionyears,thathavebeenwipedout.Thevulturesdiedofdiclofenacpoisoning.Diclofenac,cow-aspirin,giventocattleasamusclerelaxant,toeasepainandincreasetheproductionofmilk,works–worked–likenervegasonwhite-backedvultures.Eachchemicallyrelaxed,milk-producingcoworbuffalothatdiedbecamepoisonedvulture-bait.Ascattleturnedintobetterdairymachines,asthecityatemoreicecream,butterscotch-crunch,nutty-buddyandchocolate-chip,asitdrankmoremangomilkshake,vultures’necksbegantodroopasthoughtheyweretiredandsimplycouldn’tstayawake.Silverbeardsofsalivadrippedfromtheirbeaks,andonebyonetheytumbledofftheirbranches,dead.Notmanynoticedthepassingofthefriendlyoldbirds.Therewassomuch

elsetolookforwardto.

1

WhereDoOldBirdsGotoDie?

Shelivedinthegraveyardlikeatree.Atdawnshesawthecrowsoffandwelcomedthebatshome.Atduskshedidtheopposite.Betweenshiftssheconferredwiththeghostsofvulturesthatloomedinherhighbranches.Shefeltthegentlegripoftheirtalonslikeanacheinanamputatedlimb.Shegatheredtheyweren’taltogetherunhappyathavingexcusedthemselvesandexitedfromthestory.Whenshefirstmovedin,sheenduredmonthsofcasualcrueltylikeatree

would–withoutflinching.Shedidn’tturntoseewhichsmallboyhadthrownastoneather,didn’tcranehernecktoreadtheinsultsscratchedintoherbark.Whenpeoplecalledhernames–clownwithoutacircus,queenwithoutapalace–sheletthehurtblowthroughherbrancheslikeabreezeandusedthemusicofherrustlingleavesasbalmtoeasethepain.ItwasonlyafterZiauddin,theblindimamwhohadonceledtheprayersin

theFatehpuriMasjid,befriendedherandbegantovisitherthattheneighbourhooddecideditwastimetoleaveherinpeace.LongagoamanwhoknewEnglishtoldherthathernamewritten

backwards(inEnglish)spelledMajnu.IntheEnglishversionofthestoryofLailaandMajnu,hesaid,MajnuwascalledRomeoandLailawasJuliet.Shefoundthathilarious.‘YoumeanI’vemadeakhichdioftheirstory?’sheasked.‘WhatwilltheydowhentheyfindthatLailamayactuallybeMajnuandRomiwasreallyJuli?’Thenexttimehesawher,theManWhoKnewEnglishsaidhe’dmadeamistake.HernamespelledbackwardswouldbeMujna,whichwasn’tanameandmeantnothingatall.Tothisshesaid,‘Itdoesn’tmatter.I’mallofthem,I’mRomiandJuli,I’mLailaandMajnu.AndMujna,whynot?WhosaysmynameisAnjum?I’mnotAnjum,I’mAnjuman.I’ma

mehfil,I’magathering.Ofeverybodyandnobody,ofeverythingandnothing.Isthereanyoneelseyouwouldliketoinvite?Everyone’sinvited.’TheManWhoKnewEnglishsaiditwascleverofhertocomeupwiththat

one.Hesaidhe’dneverhavethoughtofithimself.Shesaid,‘Howcouldyouhave,withyourstandardofUrdu?Whatd’youthink?Englishmakesyoucleverautomatically?’Helaughed.Shelaughedathislaugh.Theysharedafiltercigarette.He

complainedthatWillsNavyCutcigaretteswereshortandstumpyandsimplynotworththeprice.ShesaidshepreferredthemanydaytoFourSquareortheverymanlyRed&White.Shedidn’trememberhisnamenow.Perhapssheneverknewit.Hewas

longgone,theManWhoKnewEnglish,towhereverhehadtogo.Andshewaslivinginthegraveyardbehindthegovernmenthospital.ForcompanyshehadhersteelGodrejalmirahinwhichshekepthermusic–scratchedrecordsandtapes–anoldharmonium,herclothes,jewellery,herfather’spoetrybooks,herphotoalbumsandafewpressclippingsthathadsurvivedthefireattheKhwabgah.Shehungthekeyaroundherneckonablackthreadalongwithherbentsilvertoothpick.ShesleptonathreadbarePersiancarpetthatshelockedupinthedayandunrolledbetweentwogravesatnight(asaprivatejoke,neverthesametwoonconsecutivenights).Shestillsmoked.StillNavyCut.Onemorning,whileshereadthenewspaperaloudtohim,theoldimam,

whoclearlyhadn’tbeenlistening,asked–affectingacasualair–‘IsittruethateventheHindusamongyouareburied,notcremated?’Sensingtrouble,sheprevaricated.‘True?Iswhattrue?WhatisTruth?’Unwillingtobedeflectedfromhislineofinquiry,theimammuttereda

mechanicalresponse.‘SachKhudahai.KhudahiSachhai.’TruthisGod.GodisTruth.Thesortofwisdomthatwasavailableonthebacksofthepaintedtrucksthatroareddownthehighways.Thenhenarrowedhisblindgreeneyesandaskedinaslygreenwhisper:‘Tellme,youpeople,whenyoudie,wheredotheyburyyou?Whobathesthebodies?Whosaystheprayers?’Anjumsaidnothingforalongtime.Thensheleanedacrossandwhispered

back,untree-like,‘ImamSahib,whenpeoplespeakofcolour–red,blue,orange,whentheydescribetheskyatsunset,ormoonriseduringRamzaan–whatgoesthroughyourmind?’Havingwoundedeachotherthus,deeply,almostmortally,thetwosat

quietlysidebysideonsomeone’ssunnygrave,haemorrhaging.EventuallyitwasAnjumwhobrokethesilence.‘Youtellme,’shesaid.‘You’retheImamSahib,notme.Wheredoold

birdsgotodie?Dotheyfallonuslikestonesfromthesky?Dowestumbleontheirbodiesinthestreets?DoyounotthinkthattheAll-Seeing,Almighty

OnewhoputusonthisEarthhasmadeproperarrangementstotakeusaway?’Thatdaytheimam’svisitendedearlierthanusual.Anjumwatchedhim

leave,tap-tap-tappinghiswaythroughthegraves,hisseeing-eyecanemakingmusicasitencounteredtheemptyboozebottlesanddiscardedsyringesthatlitteredhispath.Shedidn’tstophim.Sheknewhe’dbeback.Nomatterhowelaborateitscharade,sherecognizedlonelinesswhenshesawit.Shesensedthatinsomestrangetangentialway,heneededhershadeasmuchassheneededhis.AndshehadlearnedfromexperiencethatNeedwasawarehousethatcouldaccommodateaconsiderableamountofcruelty.EventhoughAnjum’sdeparturefromtheKhwabgahhadbeenfarfrom

cordial,sheknewthatitsdreamsanditssecretswerenothersalonetobetray.

2

Khwabgah

Shewasthefourthoffivechildren,bornonacoldJanuarynight,bylamplight(powercut),inShahjahanabad,thewalledcityofDelhi.AhlamBaji,themidwifewhodeliveredherandputherinhermother’sarmswrappedintwoshawls,said,‘It’saboy.’Giventhecircumstances,hererrorwasunderstandable.AmonthintoherfirstpregnancyJahanaraBegumandherhusbanddecided

thatiftheirbabywasaboytheywouldnamehimAftab.Theirfirstthreechildrenweregirls.TheyhadbeenwaitingfortheirAftabforsixyears.ThenighthewasbornwasthehappiestofJahanaraBegum’slife.Thenextmorning,whenthesunwasupandtheroomniceandwarm,she

unswaddledlittleAftab.Sheexploredhistinybody–eyesnoseheadneckarmpitsfingerstoes–withsated,unhurrieddelight.Thatwaswhenshediscovered,nestlingunderneathhisboy-parts,asmall,unformed,butundoubtedlygirl-part.Isitpossibleforamothertobeterrifiedofherownbaby?JahanaraBegum

was.Herfirstreactionwastofeelherheartconstrictandherbonesturntoash.Hersecondreactionwastotakeanotherlooktomakesureshewasnotmistaken.Herthirdreactionwastorecoilfromwhatshehadcreatedwhileherbowelsconvulsedandathinstreamofshitrandownherlegs.Herfourthreactionwastocontemplatekillingherselfandherchild.Herfifthreactionwastopickherbabyupandholdhimclosewhileshefellthroughacrackbetweentheworldsheknewandworldsshedidnotknowexisted.There,intheabyss,spinningthroughthedarkness,everythingshehadbeensureofuntilthen,everysinglething,fromthesmallesttothebiggest,ceasedtomakesensetoher.InUrdu,theonlylanguagesheknew,allthings,notjustlivingthingsbutallthings–carpets,clothes,books,pens,musicalinstruments–had

agender.Everythingwaseithermasculineorfeminine,manorwoman.Everythingexceptherbaby.Yesofcoursesheknewtherewasawordforthoselikehim–Hijra.Twowordsactually,HijraandKinnar.Buttwowordsdonotmakealanguage.Wasitpossibletoliveoutsidelanguage?Naturallythisquestiondidnot

addressitselftoherinwords,orasasinglelucidsentence.Itaddresseditselftoherasasoundless,embryonichowl.

Hersixthreactionwastocleanherselfupandresolvetotellnobodyforthemoment.Notevenherhusband.HerseventhreactionwastoliedownnexttoAftabandrest.LiketheGodoftheChristiansdid,afterhehadmadeHeavenandEarth.Exceptthatinhiscaseherestedaftermakingsenseoftheworldhehadcreated,whereasJahanaraBegumrestedafterwhatshecreatedhadscrambledhersenseoftheworld.Itwasn’tarealvaginaafterall,shetoldherself.Itspassageswerenotopen

(shechecked).Itwasjustanappendage,ababy-thing.Perhapsitwouldclose,orheal,orgoawaysomehow.ShewouldprayateveryshrinesheknewandasktheAlmightytoshowhermercy.Hewould.SheknewHewould.AndmaybeHedid,inwaysshedidnotfullycomprehend.Thefirstdayshefeltabletoleavethehouse,JahanaraBegumtookbaby

AftabwithhertothedargahofHazratSarmadShaheed,aneasy,ten-minutewalkfromherhome.Shedidn’tknowthestoryofHazratSarmadShaheedthen,andhadnoideawhatturnedherfootstepssosurelyinthedirectionofhisshrine.Perhapshehadcalledhertohim.OrperhapsshewasdrawntothestrangepeopleshehadseencampedtherewhensheusedtowalkpastonherwaytoMeenaBazaar,thekindofpeoplewhoinherearlierlifeshewouldnothavedeignedtoevenglanceatunlessthey’dcrossedherpath.Suddenlytheyseemedtobethemostimportantpeopleintheworld.NotallthevisitorstoHazratSarmadShaheed’sdargahknewhisstory.

Someknewpartsofit,somenoneofitandsomemadeuptheirownversions.MostknewhewasaJewishArmenianmerchantwhohadtravelledtoDelhifromPersiainpursuitoftheloveofhislife.FewknewtheloveofhislifewasAbhayChand,ayoungHinduboyhehadmetinSindh.MostknewhehadrenouncedJudaismandembracedIslam.FewknewhisspiritualsearcheventuallyledhimtorenounceorthodoxIslamtoo.MostknewhehadlivedonthestreetsofShahjahanabadasanakedfakirbeforebeingpubliclyexecuted.Fewknewthereasonforhisexecutionwasnottheoffencecausedbyhispublicnakednessbuttheoffencecausedbyhisapostasy.Aurangzeb,emperoratthetime,summonedSarmadtohiscourtandaskedhimtoprovehewasatrueMuslimbyrecitingtheKalima:lailahaillallah,Mohammed-urrasulAllah–ThereisnoGodbutAllah,andMohammedisHisMessenger.SarmadstoodnakedintheroyalcourtintheRedFortbeforeajuryofQazis

andMaulanas.Cloudsstoppeddriftinginthesky,birdsfrozeinmid-flightandtheairinthefortgrewthickandimpenetrableashebegantorecitetheKalima.Butnosoonerhadhestartedthanhestopped.Allhesaidwasthefirstphrase:lailaha.ThereisnoGod.Hecouldnotgoanyfurther,heinsisted,untilhehadcompletedhisspiritualsearchandcouldembraceAllahwithallhisheart.Untilthen,hesaid,recitingtheKalimawouldonlybeamockeryofprayer.Aurangzeb,backedbyhisQazis,orderedSarmad’sexecution.TosupposefromthisthatthosewhowenttopaytheirrespectstoHazrat

SarmadShaheedwithoutknowinghisstorydidsoinignorance,withlittleregardforfactsandhistory,wouldbeamistake.Becauseinsidethedargah,Sarmad’sinsubordinatespirit,intense,palpableandtruerthananyaccumulationofhistoricalfactscouldbe,appearedtothosewhosoughthisblessings.Itcelebrated(butneverpreached)thevirtueofspiritualityoversacrament,simplicityoveropulenceandstubborn,ecstaticloveevenwhenfacedwiththeprospectofannihilation.Sarmad’sspiritpermittedthosewhocametohimtotakehisstoryandturnitintowhatevertheyneededittobe.WhenJahanaraBegumbecameafamiliarfigureatthedargahsheheard

(andthenretailed)thestoryofhowSarmadwasbeheadedonthestepsoftheJamaMasjidbeforeaveritableoceanofpeoplewholovedhimandhadgatheredtobidhimfarewell.Ofhowhisheadcontinuedtorecitehispoemsofloveevenafterithadbeenseveredfromhisbody,andhowhepickeduphisspeakinghead,ascasuallyasamodern-daymotorcyclistmightpickuphishelmet,andwalkedupthestepsintotheJamaMasjid,andthen,equallycasually,wentstraighttoheaven.Thatiswhy,JahanaraBegumsaid(toanyonewhowaswillingtolisten),inHazratSarmad’stinydargah(clampedlikealimpettothebaseoftheeasternstepsoftheJamaMasjid,theveryspotwherehisbloodspilleddownandcollectedinapool),thefloorisred,thewallsareredandtheceilingisred.Morethanthreehundredyearshavegoneby,shesaid,butHazratSarmad’sbloodcannotbewashedaway.Whatevercolourtheypainthisdargah,sheinsisted,intimeitturnsredonitsown.Thefirsttimeshemadeherwaypastthecrowd–thesellersofittarsand

amulets,thecustodiansofpilgrims’shoes,thecripples,thebeggars,thehomeless,thegoatsbeingfattenedforslaughteronEidandtheknotofquiet,elderlyeunuchswhohadtakenupresidenceunderatarpaulinoutsidetheshrine–andenteredthetinyredchamber,JahanaraBegumbecamecalm.Thestreetsoundsgrewfaintandseemedtocomefromfaraway.Shesatinacornerwithherbabyasleeponherlap,watchingpeople,MuslimaswellasHindu,comeinonesandtwos,andtieredthreads,redbanglesandchitsofpapertothegrillearoundthetomb,beseechingSarmadtoblessthem.Itwasonlyaftershenoticedatranslucentoldmanwithdry,paperyskinandawispybeardofspunlightsittinginacorner,rockingbackandforth,weepingsilentlyasthoughhisheartwasbroken,thatJahanaraBegumallowedherown

tearstofall.Thisismyson,Aftab,shewhisperedtoHazratSarmad.I’vebroughthimheretoyou.Lookafterhim.Andteachmehowtolovehim.HazratSarmaddid.

ForthefirstfewyearsofAftab’slife,JahanaraBegum’ssecretremainedsafe.Whileshewaitedforhisgirl-parttoheal,shekepthimcloseandwasfiercelyprotectiveofhim.Evenafterheryoungerson,Saqib,wasbornshewouldnotallowAftabtostrayveryfarfromheronhisown.Itwasnotseenasunusualbehaviourforawomanwhohadwaitedsolongandsoanxiouslyforason.WhenAftabwasfivehebegantoattendtheUrdu–Hindimadrassaforboys

inChooriwaliGali(thebangle-seller’slane).WithinayearhecouldreciteagoodpartoftheQuraninArabic,althoughitwasn’tclearhowmuchofitheunderstood–thatwastrueofalltheotherchildrentoo.Aftabwasabetterthanaveragestudent,butevenfromthetimehewasveryyoungitbecameclearthathisrealgiftwasmusic.Hehadasweet,truesingingvoiceandcouldpickupatuneafterhearingitjustonce.HisparentsdecidedtosendhimtoUstadHameedKhan,anoutstandingyoungmusicianwhotaughtHindustaniclassicalmusictogroupsofchildreninhiscrampedquartersinChandniMahal.LittleAftabnevermissedasingleclass.BythetimehewasninehecouldsingagoodtwentyminutesofbadakhayalinRaagYaman,DurgaandBhairavandmakehisvoiceskimshylyofftheflatrekhabinRaagPooriyaDhanashreelikeastoneskippingoverthesurfaceofalake.HecouldsingChaitiandThumriwiththeaccomplishmentandpoiseofaLucknowcourtesan.Atfirstpeoplewereamusedandevenencouraging,butsoonthesnickeringandteasingfromotherchildrenbegan:He’saShe.He’snotaHeoraShe.He’saHeandaShe.She-He,He-SheHee!Hee!Hee!WhentheteasingbecameunbearableAftabstoppedgoingtohismusic

classes.ButUstadHameed,whodotedonhim,offeredtoteachhimseparately,onhisown.Sothemusicclassescontinued,butAftabrefusedtogotoschoolanymore.BythenJahanaraBegum’shopeshadmoreorlessfaded.Therewasnosignofhealinganywhereonthehorizon.Shehadmanagedtoputoffhiscircumcisionforsomeyearswithaseriesofinventiveexcuses.ButyoungSaqibwaswaitinginlineforhis,andsheknewshehadrunoutoftime.Eventuallyshedidwhatshehadto.Shemusteredhercourageandtoldherhusband,breakingdownandweepingwithgriefaswellasreliefthatshefinallyhadsomeoneelsetosharehernightmarewith.Herhusband,MulaqatAli,wasahakim,adoctorofherbalmedicine,anda

loverofUrduandPersianpoetry.Allhislifehehadworkedforthefamilyofanotherhakim–HakimAbdulMajid,whofoundedapopularbrandofsherbetcalledRoohAfza(Persianfor‘ElixiroftheSoul’).RoohAfza,madeof

khurfaseeds(purslane),grapes,oranges,watermelon,mint,carrots,atouchofspinach,khuskhus,lotus,twokindsofliliesandadistillateofdamaskroses,wasmeanttobeatonic.Butpeoplefoundthattwotablespoonsofthesparklingruby-colouredsyrupinaglassofcoldmilkorevenjustplainwaternotonlytasteddelicious,butwasalsoaneffectivedefenceagainstDelhi’sscorchingsummersandthestrangefeversthatblewinondesertwinds.Soonwhathadstartedoutasmedicinebecamethemostpopularsummerdrinkintheregion.RoohAfzabecameaprosperousenterpriseandahouseholdname.Forfortyyearsitruledthemarket,sendingitsproducefromitsheadquartersintheoldcityasfarsouthasHyderabadandasfarwestasAfghanistan.ThencamePartition.God’scarotidburstopenonthenewborderbetweenIndiaandPakistanandamillionpeoplediedofhatred.Neighboursturnedoneachotherasthoughthey’dneverknowneachother,neverbeentoeachother’sweddings,neversungeachother’ssongs.Thewalledcitybrokeopen.Oldfamiliesfled(Muslim).Newonesarrived(Hindu)andsettledaroundthecitywalls.RoohAfzahadaserioussetback,butsoonrecoveredandopenedabranchinPakistan.Aquarterofacenturylater,aftertheholocaustinEastPakistan,itopenedanotherbranchinthebrand-newcountryofBangladesh.Buteventually,theElixiroftheSoulthathadsurvivedwarsandthebloodybirthofthreenewcountries,was,likemostthingsintheworld,trumpedbyCoca-Cola.AlthoughMulaqatAliwasatrustedandvaluedemployeeofHakimAbdul

Majid,thesalaryheearnedwasnotenoughtomakeendsmeet.Sooutsidehisworkinghourshesawpatientsathishome.JahanaraBegumsupplementedthefamilyincomewithwhatsheearnedfromthewhitecottonGandhicapsshemadeandsuppliedinbulktoHindushopkeepersinChandniChowk.MulaqatAlitracedhisfamily’slineagedirectlybacktotheMongol

EmperorChangezKhanthroughtheemperor’ssecond-bornson,Chagatai.Hehadanelaboratefamilytreeonapieceofcrackedparchmentandasmalltintrunkfullofbrittle,yellowedpapersthathebelievedverifiedhisclaimandexplainedhowdescendantsofshamansfromtheGobiDesert,worshippersoftheEternalBlueSky,onceconsideredtheenemiesofIslam,becametheforefathersoftheMughaldynastythatruledIndiaforcenturies,andhowMulaqatAli’sownfamily,descendantsoftheMughals,whowereSunni,cametobeShia.Occasionally,perhapsonceeveryfewyears,hewouldopenhistrunkandshowhispaperstoavisitingjournalistwho,moreoftenthannot,neitherlistenedcarefullynortookhimseriously.Atmostthelonginterviewwouldmeritanarch,amusingmentioninaweekendspecialaboutOldDelhi.Ifitwasadoublespread,asmallportraitofMulaqatAlimightevenbepublishedalongwithsomeclose-upsofMughalcuisine,longshotsofMuslimwomeninburqasoncyclerickshawsthatpliedthenarrowfilthylanes,andofcoursethemandatorybird’s-eyeviewofthousandsofMuslim

meninwhiteskullcaps,arrangedinperfectformation,boweddowninprayerintheJamaMasjid.SomereadersviewedpicturesliketheseasproofofthesuccessofIndia’scommitmenttosecularismandinter-faithtolerance.OtherswithatingeofreliefthatDelhi’sMuslimpopulationseemedcontentenoughinitsvibrantghetto.StillothersviewedthemasproofthatMuslimsdidnotwishto‘integrate’andwerebusybreedingandorganizingthemselves,andwouldsoonbecomeathreattoHinduIndia.Thosewhosubscribedtothisviewweregaininginfluenceatanalarmingpace.Regardlessofwhatappearedordidnotappearinthenewspapers,rightinto

hisdotageMulaqatAlialwayswelcomedvisitorsintohistinyroomswiththefadedgraceofanobleman.Hespokeofthepastwithdignitybutnevernostalgia.Hedescribedhow,inthethirteenthcentury,hisancestorshadruledanempirethatstretchedfromthecountriesthatnowcalledthemselvesVietnamandKoreaallthewaytoHungaryandtheBalkans,fromNorthernSiberiatotheDeccanplateauinIndia,thelargestempiretheworldhadeverknown.HeoftenendedtheinterviewwitharecitationofanUrducoupletbyoneofhisfavouritepoets,MirTaqiMir:

Jissarkoghururaajhaiyaantaj-varikaKalusspeyahinshorhaiphirnauhagarika

TheheadwhichtodayproudlyflauntsacrownWilltomorrow,righthere,inlamentationdrown

Mostofhisvisitors,brashemissariesofanewrulingclass,barelyawareoftheirownyouthfulhubris,didnotcompletelygraspthelayeredmeaningofthecouplettheyhadbeenoffered,likeasnacktobewasheddownbyathimble-sizedcupofthick,sweettea.Theyunderstoodofcoursethatitwasadirgeforafallenempirewhoseinternationalbordershadshrunktoagrimyghettocircumscribedbytheruinedwallsofanoldcity.Andyes,theyrealizedthatitwasalsoaruefulcommentonMulaqatAli’sownstraitenedcircumstances.Whatescapedthemwasthatthecoupletwasaslysnack,aperfidioussamosa,awarningwrappedinmourning,beingofferedwithfauxhumilitybyaneruditemanwhohadabsolutefaithinhislisteners’ignoranceofUrdu,alanguagewhich,likemostofthosewhospokeit,wasgraduallybeingghettoized.MulaqatAli’spassionforpoetrywasnotjustahobbyseparatefromhis

workasahakim.Hebelievedthatpoetrycouldcure,oratleastgoalongwaytowardscuring,almosteveryailment.Hewouldprescribepoemstohispatientsthewayotherhakimsprescribedmedicine.Hecouldproduceacoupletfromhisformidablerepertoirethatwaseerilyaptforeveryillness,everyoccasion,everymoodandeverydelicatealterationinthepoliticalclimate.Thishabitofhismadelifearoundhimseemmoreprofoundandat

thesametimelessdistinctivethanitreallywas.Itinfusedeverythingwithasubtlesenseofstagnancy,asensethateverythingthathappenedhadhappenedbefore.Thatithadalreadybeenwritten,sung,commenteduponandenteredintohistory’sinventory.Thatnothingnewwaspossible.Thiscouldbewhyyoungpeoplearoundhimoftenfled,giggling,whentheysensedthatacoupletwasonitsway.WhenJahanaraBegumtoldhimaboutAftab,perhapsforthefirsttimein

hislifeMulaqatAlihadnosuitablecoupletfortheoccasion.Ittookhimawhiletogetovertheinitialshock.Whenhedid,hescoldedhiswifefornothavingtoldhimearlier.Timeshadchanged,hesaid.ThiswastheModernEra.Hewassurethattherewasasimplemedicalsolutiontotheirson’sproblem.TheywouldfindadoctorinNewDelhi,farawayfromthewhisperandgossipthatwentoninthemohallasoftheoldcity.TheAlmightyhelpsthosewhohelpthemselves,hetoldhiswifealittlesternly.Aweeklater,dressedintheirbestclothes,withanunhappyAftabfittedout

inamanlysteel-greyPathansuitwithablackembroideredwaistcoat,askullcapandjootiswithtoescurledlikegondolas,theysetoffforNizamuddinbastiinahorse-drawntanga.TheostensiblepurposeoftheirdayoutwasthattheyweregoingtoinspectaprospectivebridefortheirnephewAijaz–theyoungestsonofMulaqatAli’solderbrother,Qasim,whohadmovedtoPakistanafterPartitionandworkedfortheKarachibranchofRoohAfza.TherealreasonwasthattheyhadanappointmentwithaDrGhulamNabi,whocalledhimselfa‘sexologist’.DrNabipridedhimselfonbeingastraight-talkingmanofpreciseand

scientifictemper.AfterexaminingAftabhesaidhewasnot,medicallyspeaking,aHijra–afemaletrappedinamalebody–althoughforpracticalpurposesthatwordcouldbeused.Aftab,hesaid,wasarareexampleofaHermaphrodite,withbothmaleandfemalecharacteristics,thoughoutwardly,themalecharacteristicsappearedtobemoredominant.Hesaidhecouldrecommendasurgeonwhowouldsealthegirl-part,sewitup.Hecouldprescribesomepillstoo.But,hesaid,theproblemwasnotmerelysuperficial.Whiletreatmentwouldsurelyhelp,therewouldbe‘Hijratendencies’thatwereunlikelytoevergoaway.(Fitratwasthewordheusedfor‘tendencies’.)Hecouldnotguaranteecompletesuccess.MulaqatAli,preparedtograspatstraws,waselated.‘Tendencies?’hesaid.‘Tendenciesarenoproblem.Everybodyhassometendencyortheother…tendenciescanalwaysbemanaged.’EventhoughthevisittoDrNabididnotprovideanimmediatesolutionto

whatMulaqatAlisawasAftab’saffliction,itbenefitedMulaqatAliagreatdeal.Itgavehimcoordinatestopositionhimself,tosteadyhisshipthatwaspitchingperilouslyonanoceanofcouplet-lessincomprehension.Hewasnowabletoconverthisanguishintoapracticalproblemandtoturnhisattention

andhisenergiestosomethingheunderstoodwell:Howtoraiseenoughmoneyforthesurgery?Hecutdownonhouseholdexpensesanddrewuplistsofpeopleand

relativesfromwhomhecouldborrowmoney.Simultaneously,heembarkedontheculturalprojectofinculcatingmanlinessinAftab.HepassedontohimhisloveofpoetryanddiscouragedthesingingofThumriandChaiti.Hestayeduplateintothenight,tellingAftabstoriesabouttheirwarriorancestorsandtheirvalouronthebattlefield.TheyleftAftabunmoved.ButwhenheheardthestoryofhowTemujin–ChangezKhan–wonthehandofhisbeautifulwife,BorteKhatun,howshewaskidnappedbyarivaltribeandhowTemujinfoughtawholearmyvirtuallysingle-handedlytogetherbackbecausehelovedhersomuch,Aftabfoundhimselfwantingtobeher.Whilehissistersandbrotherwenttoschool,Aftabspenthoursonthetiny

balconyofhishomelookingdownatChitliQabar–thetinyshrineofthespottedgoatwhowassaidtohavehadsupernaturalpowers–andthebusystreetthatranpastitandjoinedtheMatiaMahalChowk.Hequicklylearnedthecadenceandrhythmoftheneighbourhood,whichwasessentiallyastreamofUrduinvective–I’llfuckyourmother,gofuckyoursister,Iswearbyyourmother’scock–thatwasinterruptedfivetimesadaybythecalltoprayerfromtheJamaMasjidaswellastheseveralothersmallermosquesintheoldcity.AsAftabkeptstrictvigil,dayafterday,overnothinginparticular,GudduBhai,theacrimoniousearly-morningfishmongerwhoparkedhiscartofgleamingfreshfishinthecentreofthechowk,would,assurelyasthesunroseintheeastandsetinthewest,elongateintoWasim,thetall,affableafternoonnaankhatai-sellerwhowouldthenshrinkintoYunus,thesmall,lean,eveningfruit-seller,who,lateatnight,wouldbroadenandballoonintoHassanMian,thestoutvendorofthebestmuttonbiryaniinMatiaMahal,whichhedishedoutofahugecopperpot.OnespringmorningAftabsawatall,slim-hippedwomanwearingbrightlipstick,goldhighheelsandashiny,greensatinsalwarkameezbuyingbanglesfromMirthebangle-sellerwhodoubledupascaretakeroftheChitliQabar.Hestoredhisstockofbanglesinsidethetombeverynightwhenheshutshrineandshop.(Hehadmanagedtoensurethattheworkinghourscoincided.)Aftabhadneverseenanybodylikethetallwomanwithlipstick.Herusheddownthesteepstairsintothestreetandfollowedherdiscreetlywhilesheboughtgoats’trotters,hairclips,guavas,andhadthestrapofhersandalsfixed.Hewantedtobeher.HefollowedherdownthestreetallthewaytoTurkmanGateandstoodfor

alongtimeoutsidethebluedoorwayshedisappearedinto.NoordinarywomanwouldhavebeenpermittedtosashaydownthestreetsofShahjahanabaddressedlikethat.OrdinarywomeninShahjahanabadworeburqasoratleastcoveredtheirheadsandeverypartoftheirbodyexcepttheir

handsandfeet.ThewomanAftabfollowedcoulddressasshewasdressedandwalkthewayshedidonlybecauseshewasn’tawoman.Whatevershewas,Aftabwantedtobeher.HewantedtobeherevenmorethanhewantedtobeBorteKhatun.Likeherhewantedtoshimmerpastthemeatshopswhereskinnedcarcassesofwholegoatshungdownlikegreatwallsofmeat;hewantedtosimperpasttheNewLife-StyleMen’sHairdressingSalonwhereIliyaasthebarbercutLiaqattheleanyoungbutcher’shairandshineditupwithBrylcreem.Hewantedtoputoutahandwithpaintednailsandawristfullofbanglesanddelicatelyliftthegillofafishtoseehowfreshitwasbeforebargainingdowntheprice.Hewantedtolifthissalwarjustalittleashesteppedoverapuddle–justenoughtoshowoffhissilveranklets.ItwasnotAftab’sgirl-partthatwasjustanappendage.Hebegantodividehistimebetweenhismusicclassesandhangingaround

outsidethebluedoorwayofthehouseinGaliDakotanwherethetallwomanlived.HelearnedthathernamewasBombaySilkandthatthereweresevenotherslikeher,Bulbul,Razia,Heera,Baby,Nimmo,MaryandGudiya,wholivedtogetherinthehaveliwiththebluedoorway,andthattheyhadanUstad,aguru,calledKulsoomBi,olderthantherestofthem,whowastheheadofthehousehold.AftablearnedtheirhaveliwascalledtheKhwabgah–theHouseofDreams.Atfirsthewasshooedawaybecauseeverybody,includingtheresidentsof

theKhwabgah,knewMulaqatAlianddidnotwanttogetonthewrongsideofhim.Butregardlessofwhatadmonitionandpunishmentawaitedhim,Aftabwouldreturntohispoststubbornly,dayafterday.Itwastheonlyplaceinhisworldwherehefelttheairmadewayforhim.Whenhearrived,itseemedtoshift,toslideover,likeaschoolfriendmakingroomforhimonaclassroombench.Overaperiodofafewmonths,byrunningerrands,carryingtheirbagsandmusicalinstrumentswhentheresidentswentontheircityrounds,bymassagingtheirtiredfeetattheendofaworkingday,AftabeventuallymanagedtoinsinuatehimselfintotheKhwabgah.Finallythedaydawnedwhenhewasallowedin.Heenteredthatordinary,broken-downhomeasthoughhewerewalkingthroughthegatesofParadise.Thebluedooropenedontoapaved,high-walledcourtyardwitha

handpumpinonecornerandaPomegranatetreeintheother.Thereweretworoomssetbehindadeepverandahwithflutedcolumns.Theroofofoneoftheroomshadcavedinanditswallshadcrumbledintoaheapofrubbleinwhichafamilyofcatshadmadeitshome.Theroomthathadn’tcrumbledwasalargeone,andinfairlygoodcondition.Itspeeling,palegreenwallswerelinedwithfourwoodenandtwoGodrejalmirahscoveredwithpicturesoffilmstars–Madhubala,WaheedaRehman,Nargis,DilipKumar(whosenamewasreallyMuhammadYusufKhan),GuruDuttandthelocalboyJohnnyWalker(BadruddinJamaluddinKazi),thecomedianwhocouldmakethe

saddestpersonintheworldsmile.Oneofthecupboardshadadim,full-lengthmirrormountedonthedoor.Inanothercornertherewasabeaten-upolddressingtable.Achippedandbrokenchandelierwithonlyoneworkingbulbandalong-stemmed,darkbrownfanhungfromthehighceiling.Thefanhadhumanqualities–shewascoy,moodyandunpredictable.Shehadanametoo,Usha.Ushawasn’tyounganymoreandoftenneededtobecajoledandproddedwithalong-handledbroomandthenshewouldgotowork,gyratinglikeaslowpoledancer.UstadKulsoomBisleptontheonlybedinthehaveliwithherparakeet,Birbal,inhiscageaboveherbed.BirbalwouldscreechasthoughhewasbeingslaughteredifKulsoomBiwasnotnearhimatnight.DuringBirbal’swakinghourshewascapableofsomeweapons-gradeinvectivethatwasalwaysprecededbythehalf-snide,half-flirtatiousAiHai!thathehadpickedupfromhishousemates.Birbal’schoicestinsultwastheonemostcommonlyheardintheKhwabgah:SaaliRandiHijra(Sister-fuckingWhoreHijra).Birbalknewallthevariations.Hecouldmutterit,sayitcoquettishly,injest,withaffectionandwithgenuine,bitteranger.Everyoneelsesleptintheverandah,theirbeddingrolledupinthedaylike

giantbolsters.Inwinter,whenthecourtyardgrewcoldandmisty,theyallcrowdedintoKulsoomBi’sroom.Theentrancetothetoiletwasthroughtheruinsofthecollapsedroom.Everybodytookturnstobatheatthehandpump.Anabsurdlysteep,narrowstaircaseledtothekitchenonthefirstfloor.ThekitchenwindowlookedoutontothedomeoftheHolyTrinityChurch.MarywastheonlyChristianamongtheresidentsoftheKhwabgah.Shedid

notgotochurch,butsheworealittlecrucifixaroundherneck.GudiyaandBulbulwerebothHindusanddidoccasionallyvisittemplesthatwouldallowthemin.TherestwereMuslim.TheyvisitedtheJamaMasjidandthosedargahsthatallowedthemintotheinnerchambers(becauseunlikebiologicalwomenHijraswerenotconsidereduncleansincetheydidnotmenstruate).ThemostmasculinepersonintheKhwabgah,however,didmenstruate.Bismillahsleptupstairsonthekitchenterrace.Shewasasmall,wiry,darkwomanwithavoicelikeabushorn.ShehadconvertedtoIslamandmovedintotheKhwabgahafewyearsago(thetwowerenotconnected)afterherhusband,abusdriverforDelhiTransportCorporation,hadthrownheroutoftheirhomefornotbearinghimachild.Ofcourseitneveroccurredtohimthathemighthavebeenresponsiblefortheirchildlessness.Bismillah(formerlyBimla)managedthekitchenandguardedtheKhwabgahagainstunwantedintruderswiththeferocityandruthlessnessofaprofessionalChicagomobster.YoungmenwerestrictlyforbiddentoentertheKhwabgahwithoutherexpresspermission.Evenregularcustomers,likeAnjum’sfutureclient–theManWhoKnewEnglish–werekeptoutandhadtomaketheirownarrangementsfortheirassignations.Bismillah’scompanionontheterracewasRazia,whohadlosthermindaswellashermemoryandnolongerknewwho

shewasorwhereshecamefrom.RaziawasnotaHijra.Shewasamanwholikedtodressinwomen’sclothes.However,shedidnotwanttobethoughtofasawoman,butasamanwhowantedtobeawoman.Shehadstoppedtryingtoexplainthedifferencetopeople(includingtoHijras)longago.Raziaspentherdaysfeedingpigeonsontheroofandsteeringallconversationstowardsasecret,unutilizedgovernmentscheme(dao-pech,shecalledit)shehaddiscoveredforHijrasandpeoplelikeherself.Asperthescheme,theywouldalllivetogetherinahousingcolonyandbegivengovernmentpensionsandwouldnolongerneedtoearntheirlivingdoingwhatshedescribedasbadtameezi–badbehaviour–anymore.Razia’sotherthemewasgovernmentpensionsforstreetcats.Forsomereasonherun-memoried,un-anchoredmindveeredunerringlytowardsgovernmentschemes.Aftab’sfirstrealfriendintheKhwabgahwasNimmoGorakhpuri,the

youngestofthemallandtheonlyonewhohadcompletedhighschool.NimmohadrunawayfromherhomeinGorakhpurwhereherfatherworkedasasenior-divisionclerkintheMainPostOffice.Thoughsheaffectedtheairsofbeingagreatdealolder,NimmowasreallyonlysixorsevenyearsolderthanAftab.Shewasshortandchubbywiththick,curlyhair,stunningeyebrowscurvedlikeapairofscimitars,andexceptionallythickeyelashes.Shewouldhavebeenbeautifulbutforherfast-growingfacialhairthatmadetheskinonhercheekslookblueunderhermake-up,evenwhenshehadshaved.NimmowasobsessedwithWesternwomen’sfashionandwasfiercelypossessiveofhercollectionoffashionmagazinessourcedfromthesecond-handSundaybookbazaaronthepavementinDaryaganj,afive-minutewalkfromtheKhwabgah.Oneofthebooksellers,Naushad,whoboughthissupplyofmagazinesfromthegarbagecollectorswhoservicedtheforeignembassiesinShantipath,keptthemaside,andsoldthemtoNimmoataheftydiscount.‘D’youknowwhyGodmadeHijras?’sheaskedAftaboneafternoonwhile

sheflippedthroughadog-eared1967issueofVogue,lingeringovertheblondeladieswithbarelegswhosoenthralledher.‘No,why?’‘Itwasanexperiment.Hedecidedtocreatesomething,alivingcreature

thatisincapableofhappiness.Sohemadeus.’HerwordshitAftabwiththeforceofaphysicalblow.‘Howcanyousay

that?Youareallhappyhere!ThisistheKhwabgah!’hesaid,withrisingpanic.‘Who’shappyhere?It’sallshamandfakery,’Nimmosaidlaconically,not

botheringtolookupfromthemagazine.‘Noone’shappyhere.It’snotpossible.Arreyaar,thinkaboutit,whatarethethingsyounormalpeoplegetunhappyabout?Idon’tmeanyou,butgrown-upslikeyou–whatmakesthemunhappy?Price-rise,children’sschool-admissions,husbands’beatings,wives’cheatings,Hindu–Muslimriots,Indo–Pakwar–outsidethingsthatsettle

downeventually.Butforustheprice-riseandschool-admissionsandbeating-husbandsandcheating-wivesareallinsideus.Theriotisinsideus.Thewarisinsideus.Indo–Pakisinsideus.Itwillneversettledown.Itcan’t.’Aftabdesperatelywantedtocontradicther,totellhershewasdeadwrong,

becausehewashappy,happierthanhehadeverbeenbefore.HewaslivingproofthatNimmoGorakhpuriwaswrong,washenot?Buthesaidnothing,becauseitwouldhaveinvolvedrevealinghimselfasnotbeinga‘normalpeople’,whichhewasnotyetpreparedtodo.Itwasonlywhenheturnedfourteen,bywhichtimeNimmohadrunaway

fromtheKhwabgahwithaStateTransportbusdriver(whosoonabandonedherandreturnedtohisfamily),thatAftabfullyunderstoodwhatshemeant.Hisbodyhadsuddenlybeguntowagewaronhim.Hegrewtallandmuscular.Andhairy.InapanichetriedtoremovethehaironhisfaceandbodywithBurnol–burnointmentthatmadedarkpatchesonhisskin.HethentriedAnneFrenchcrèmehairremoverthathepurloinedfromhissisters(hewassoonfoundoutbecauseitsmelledlikeanopensewer).Hepluckedhisbushyeyebrowsintothin,asymmetricalcrescentswithapairofhome-madetweezersthatlookedmoreliketongs.HedevelopedanAdam’sapplethatbobbedupanddown.Helongedtotearitoutofhisthroat.Nextcametheunkindestbetrayalofall–thethingthathecoulddonothingabout.Hisvoicebroke.Adeep,powerfulman’svoiceappearedinplaceofhissweet,highvoice.Hewasrepelledbyitandscaredhimselfeachtimehespoke.Hegrewquiet,andwouldspeakonlyasalastresort,afterhehadrunoutofotheroptions.Hestoppedsinging.Whenhelistenedtomusic,anyonewhopaidattentionwouldhearahigh,barelyaudible,insect-likehumthatseemedtoemergethroughapinholeatthetopofhishead.Noamountofpersuasion,notevenfromUstadHameedhimself,couldcoaxasongoutofAftab.Heneversangagain,excepttomockinglycaricatureHindifilmsongsatribaldHijragatheringsorwhen(intheirprofessionalcapacity)theydescendedonordinarypeople’scelebrations–weddings,births,house-warmingceremonies–dancing,singingintheirwild,gratingvoices,offeringtheirblessingsandthreateningtoembarrassthehosts(byexposingtheirmutilatedprivates)andruintheoccasionwithcursesandadisplayofunthinkableobscenityunlesstheywerepaidafee.(ThisiswhatRaziameantwhenshesaidbadtameezi,andwhatNimmoGorakhpurireferredtowhenshesaid,‘We’rejackalswhofeedoffotherpeople’shappiness,we’reHappinessHunters.’Khushi-khorwasthephrasesheused.)OncemusicforsookAftabhewasleftwithnoreasontocontinuelivingin

whatmostordinarypeoplethoughtofastherealworld–andHijrascalledDuniya,theWorld.Onenighthestolesomemoneyandhissisters’nicerclothesandmovedintotheKhwabgah.JahanaraBegum,neverknownforhershyness,wadedintoretrievehim.Herefusedtoleave.Shefinallyleftafter

makingUstadKulsoomBipromisethatonweekends,atleast,Aftabwouldbemadetowearnormalboys’clothesandbesenthome.UstadKulsoomBitriedtohonourherpromise,butthearrangementlastedonlyforafewmonths.Andso,attheageoffifteen,onlyafewhundredyardsfromwherehis

familyhadlivedforcenturies,Aftabsteppedthroughanordinarydoorwayintoanotheruniverse.OnhisfirstnightasapermanentresidentoftheKhwabgah,hedancedinthecourtyardtoeverybody’sfavouritesongfromeverybody’sfavouritefilm–‘PyarKiyaToDarnaKya’fromMughal-e-Azam.ThenextnightatasmallceremonyhewaspresentedwithagreenKhwabgahdupattaandinitiatedintotherulesandritualsthatformallymadehimamemberoftheHijracommunity.AftabbecameAnjum,discipleofUstadKulsoomBioftheDelhiGharana,oneofthesevenregionalHijraGharanasinthecountry,eachheadedbyaNayak,aChief,allofthemheadedbyaSupremeChief.Thoughshenevervisitedhimthereagain,foryearsJahanaraBegum

continuedtosendahotmealtotheKhwabgaheveryday.TheonlyplacewheresheandAnjummetwasatthedargahofHazratSarmadShaheed.Theretheywouldsittogetherforawhile,Anjumnearlysixfeettall,herheaddemurelycoveredinaspangleddupatta,andtinyJahanaraBegum,whosehairhadbeguntogreyunderherblackburqa.Sometimes,theyheldhandssurreptitiously.MulaqatAliforhispartwaslessabletoacceptthesituation.Hisbrokenheartnevermended.Whilehecontinuedtogivehisinterviews,heneverspokeeitherprivatelyorpubliclyofthemisfortunethathadbefallenthedynastyofChangezKhan.Hechosetoseveralltieswithhisson.HenevermetAnjumorspoketoheragain.Occasionallytheywouldpasseachotheronthestreetandwouldexchangeglances,butnevergreetings.Never.OvertheyearsAnjumbecameDelhi’smostfamousHijra.Film-makers

foughtoverher,NGOshoardedher,foreigncorrespondentsgiftedherphonenumbertooneanotherasaprofessionalfavour,alongwithnumbersoftheBirdHospital,PhoolanDevi,thesurrendereddacoitknownas‘BanditQueen’,andacontactforawomanwhoinsistedshewastheBegumofOudhwholivedinanoldruinintheRidgeForestwithherservantsandherchandelierswhileshestakedherclaimtoanon-existentkingdom.IninterviewsAnjumwouldbeencouragedtotalkabouttheabuseandcrueltythatherinterlocutorsassumedshehadbeensubjectedtobyherconventionalMuslimparents,siblingsandneighboursbeforeshelefthome.Theywereinvariablydisappointedwhenshetoldthemhowmuchhermotherandfatherhadlovedherandhowshehadbeenthecruelone.‘Othershavehorriblestories,thekindyoupeopleliketowriteabout,’shewouldsay.‘Whynottalktothem?’Butofcoursenewspapersdidn’tworkthatway.Shewasthechosenone.Ithadtobeher,evenifherstorywasslightlyalteredtosuitreaders’appetitesandexpectations.

OnceshebecameapermanentresidentoftheKhwabgah,Anjumwasfinallyabletodressintheclothesshelongedtowear–thesequined,gossamerkurtasandpleatedPatialasalwars,shararas,ghararas,silveranklets,glassbanglesanddanglingearrings.Shehadhernosepiercedandworeanelaborate,stone-studdednose-pin,outlinedhereyeswithkohlandblueeyeshadowandgaveherselfaluscious,bow-shapedMadhubalamouthofglossy-redlipstick.Herhairwouldnotgrowverylong,butitwaslongenoughtopullbackandweaveintoaplaitoffalsehair.Shehadastrong,chiselledfaceandanimpressive,hookednoselikeherfather’s.Shewasn’tbeautifulinthewayBombaySilkwas,butshewassexier,moreintriguing,handsomeinthewaysomewomencanbe.Thoselookscombinedwithhersteadfastcommitmenttoanexaggerated,outrageouskindoffemininitymadethereal,biologicalwomenintheneighbourhood–eventhosewhodidnotwearfullburqas–lookcloudyanddispersed.Shelearnedtoexaggeratetheswinginherhipswhenshewalkedandtocommunicatewiththesignaturespread-fingeredHijraclapthatwentofflikeagunshotandcouldmeananything–Yes,No,Maybe,Wah!BehenkaLauda(Yoursister’scock),Bhonsadike(Youarseholeborn).OnlyanotherHijracoulddecodewhatwasspecificallymeantbythespecificclapatthatspecificmoment.OnAnjum’seighteenthbirthdayKulsoomBithrewapartyforherinthe

Khwabgah.Hijrasgatheredfromalloverthecity,somecamefromoutoftown.ForthefirsttimeinherlifeAnjumworeasari,ared‘disco’sari,withabacklesscholi.Thatnightshedreamedshewasanewbrideonherweddingnight.Sheawokedistressedtofindthathersexualpleasurehadexpresseditselfintoherbeautifulnewgarmentlikeaman’s.Itwasn’tthefirsttimethishadhappened,butforsomereason,perhapsbecauseofthesari,thehumiliationshefelthadneverbeensointense.Shesatinthecourtyardandhowledlikeawolf,hittingherselfonherheadandbetweenherlegs,screamingwithself-inflictedpain.UstadKulsoomBi,nostrangertothesehistrionics,gaveheratranquillizerandtookhertoherroom.WhenAnjumcalmeddownUstadKulsoomBitalkedtoherquietlyina

wayshehadneverdonebefore.Therewasnoreasontobeashamedofanything,UstadKulsoomBitoldher,becauseHijraswerechosenpeople,belovedoftheAlmighty.ThewordHijra,shesaid,meantaBodyinwhichaHolySoullives.InthenexthourAnjumlearnedthattheHolySoulswereadiverselotandthattheworldoftheKhwabgahwasjustascomplicated,ifnotmoreso,thantheDuniya.TheHindus,BulbulandGudiya,hadbothbeenthroughtheformal(extremelypainful)religiouscastrationceremonyinBombaybeforetheycametotheKhwabgah.BombaySilkandHeerawouldhavelikedtodothesame,buttheywereMuslimandbelievedthatIslamforbadethemfromalteringtheirGod-givengender,sotheymanaged,somehow,withinthoseconfines.Baby,likeRazia,wasamanwhowantedto

remainamanbutbeawomanineveryotherway.AsforUstadKulsoomBi,shesaidshedisagreedwithBombaySilkandHeera’sinterpretationofIslam.SheandNimmoGorakhpuri–whobelongedtodifferentgenerations–hadhadsurgery.SheknewaDrMukhtar,shesaid,whowasreliableandclose-lippedanddidnotspreadgossipabouthispatientsineverygaliandkoochaofOldDelhi.ShetoldAnjumsheshouldthinkitoveranddecidewhatshewantedtodo.Anjumtookthreewholeminutestomakeuphermind.DrMukhtarwasmorereassuringthanDrNabihadbeen.Hesaidhecould

removehermalepartsandtrytoenhanceherexistingvagina.Healsosuggestedpillsthatwouldun-deepenhervoiceandhelpherdevelopbreasts.Atadiscount,KulsoomBiinsisted.Atadiscount,DrMukhtaragreed.KulsoomBipaidforthesurgeryandthehormones;Anjumpaidherbackovertheyears,severaltimesover.Thesurgerywasdifficult,therecoveryevenmoreso,butintheenditcame

asarelief.Anjumfeltasthoughafoghadliftedfromherbloodandshecouldfinallythinkclearly.DrMukhtar’svagina,however,turnedouttobeascam.Itworked,butnotinthewayhesaiditwould,notevenaftertwocorrectivesurgeries.Hedidnotoffertorefundthemoneythough,neitherinwholenorinpart.Onthecontrary,hewentontomakeacomfortableliving,sellingspurious,substandardbodypartstodesperatepeople.Hediedaprosperousman,withtwohousesinLaxmiNagar,oneforeachofhissons,andhisdaughtermarriedtoawealthybuildingcontractorinRampur.AlthoughAnjumbecameasought-afterlover,askilledgiverofpleasure,

theorgasmshehadwhensheworeherreddiscosariwasthelastoneofherlife.Andthoughthe‘tendencies’thatDrNabihadcautionedherfatheraboutremained,DrMukhtar’spillsdidun-deepenhervoice.Butitrestricteditsresonance,coarseneditstimbreandgaveitapeculiar,raspingquality,whichsometimessoundedliketwovoicesquarrellingwitheachotherinsteadofone.Itfrightenedotherpeople,butitdidnotfrightenitsownerinthewayherGod-givenonehad.Nordiditpleaseher.AnjumlivedintheKhwabgahwithherpatched-togetherbodyandher

partiallyrealizeddreamsformorethanthirtyyears.Shewasforty-sixyearsoldwhensheannouncedthatshewantedtoleave.

MulaqatAliwasdead.JahanaraBegumwasmoreorlessbedriddenandlivedwithSaqibandhisfamilyinonesectionoftheoldhouseatChitliQabar(theotherhalfwasrentedtoastrange,diffidentyoungmanwholivedamidsttowersofsecond-handEnglishbookspiledonthefloor,onhisbedandoneveryavailablehorizontalsurface).Anjumwaswelcometovisitoccasionally,butnottostay.TheKhwabgahwashometoanewgenerationofresidents;oftheoldonesonlyUstadKulsoomBi,BombaySilk,Razia,BismillahandMaryremained.Anjumhadnowheretogo.

Perhapsforthisreason,nobodytookherseriously.Theatricalannouncementsofdepartureandimpendingsuicidewerefairly

routineresponsestothewildjealousies,endlessintrigueandcontinuouslyshiftingloyaltiesthatwereapartofdailylifeintheKhwabgah.Onceagain,everybodysuggesteddoctorsandpills.DrBhagat’spillscureeverything,theysaid.Everyone’sonthem.‘I’mnotEveryone,’Anjumsaid,andthatsetoffanotherroundofwhispers(ForandAgainst)aboutthepitfallsofprideandwhatdidshethinkofherself?Whatdidshethinkofherself?Notmuch,orquitealot,dependingonhow

youlookedatit.Shehadambitions,yes.Andtheyhadcomefullcircle.NowshewantedtoreturntotheDuniyaandlivelikeanordinaryperson.Shewantedtobeamother,towakeupinherownhome,dressZainabinaschooluniformandsendherofftoschoolwithherbooksandtiffinbox.Thequestionwas,wereambitionssuchasthese,onthepartofsomeonelikeherself,reasonableorunreasonable?ZainabwasAnjum’sonlylove.Anjumhadfoundherthreeyearsagoon

oneofthosewindyafternoonswhentheprayercapsoftheFaithfulblewofftheirheadsandtheballoon-sellers’balloonsallslantedtooneside.ShewasaloneandbawlingonthestepsoftheJamaMasjid,apainfullythinmouseofathing,withbig,frightenedeyes.Anjumguessedthatshewasaboutthreeyearsold.Sheworeadullgreensalwarkameezandadirtywhitehijab.WhenAnjumloomedoverherandofferedherafingertohold,sheglancedupbriefly,graspeditandcontinuedtocryloudlywithoutpause.TheMouse-in-a-hijabhadnoideawhatastormthatcasualgestureoftrustsetoffinsidetheownerofthefingerthatsheheldonto.Beingignoredinsteadofdreadedbythetinycreaturesubdued(foramomentatleast)whatNimmoGorakhpurihadsoastutelyandsolongagocalledIndo–Pak.ThewarringfactionsinsideAnjumfellsilent.Herbodyfeltlikeageneroushostinsteadofabattlefield.Wasitlikedying,orbeingborn?Anjumcouldn’tdecide.Inherimaginationithadthefullness,thesenseofentirety,ofoneofthetwo.ShebentdownandpickedtheMouseupandcradledherinherarms,murmuringallthewhiletoherinbothherquarrellingvoices.Eventhatdidnotscareordistractthechildfromherbawlingproject.ForawhileAnjumjuststoodthere,smilingjoyfully,whilethecreatureinherarmscried.Thenshesetherdownonthesteps,boughthersomebrightpinkcottoncandyandtriedtodistractherbychattingnonchalantlyaboutadultmatters,hopingtopassthetimeuntilwhoeverownedthechildcametogether.Itturnedouttobeaone-wayconversation,theMousedidnotseemtoknowmuchaboutherself,notevenhername,anddidnotseemtowanttotalk.Bythetimeshehadfinishedwiththecottoncandy(orithadfinishedwithher)shehadabrightpinkbeardand

stickyfingers.Thebawlingsubsidedintosobsandeventuallyintosilence.Anjumstayedwithheronthestepsforhours,waitingforsomeonetocomeforher,askingpassers-byiftheyknewofanybodywhowasmissingachild.AseveningfellandthegreatwoodendoorsoftheJamaMasjidwerepulledshut,AnjumhoistedtheMouseontohershouldersandcarriedhertotheKhwabgah.ThereshewasscoldedandtoldthattherightthingtodounderthecircumstanceswastoinformtheMasjidManagementthatalostchildhadbeenfound.Shedidthatthenextmorning.(Reluctantly,ithastobesaid,draggingherfeet,hopingagainsthope,becausebynowAnjumwashopelesslyinlove.)Overthenextweekannouncementsweremadefromseveralmosques

severaltimesaday.NoonecameforwardtoclaimtheMouse.Weekswentby,stillnoonecamelooking.Andso,bydefault,Zainab–thenameAnjumchoseforher–stayedonintheKhwabgahwhereshewaslavishedwithmorelovebymoremothers(and,inamannerofspeaking,fathers)thananychildcouldhopefor.Shedidnottakeverylongtosettleintohernewlife,whichsuggestedthatshehadnotbeenundulyattachedtoheroldone.Anjumcametobelievethatshehadbeenabandonedandnotlost.InafewweeksshebegantocallAnjum‘Mummy’(becausethat’swhat

Anjumhadbeguntocallherself).Theotherresidents(underAnjum’stutelage)wereallcalled‘Apa’(Auntie,inUrdu),andMary,becauseshewasChristian,wasMaryAuntie.UstadKulsoomBiandBismillahbecame‘BadiNani’and‘ChhotiNani’.SeniorandJuniorGranny.TheMouseabsorbedlovelikesandabsorbsthesea.Veryquicklyshemetamorphosedintoacheekyyoungladywithrowdy,distinctlybandicoot-liketendencies(thatcouldonlybarelybemanaged).Mummy,inthemeanwhile,grewmoreaddle-headedbytheday.Shewas

caughtunawaresbythefactthatitwaspossibleforonehumanbeingtoloveanothersomuchandsocompletely.Atfirst,beingnewtothediscipline,shewasonlyabletoexpressherfeelingsinabusy,bustlingway,likeachildwithitsfirstpet.SheboughtZainabanunnecessaryamountoftoysandclothes(frothy,puff-sleevedfrocksandMade-in-Chinasqueakingshoeswithflashingheel-lights),shebathed,dressedandundressedheranunnecessarynumberoftimes,oiled,braidedandunbraidedherhair,tiedanduntieditwithmatchingandun-matchingribbonsthatshekeptrolledupinanoldtin.Sheoverfedher,tookherforwalksintheneighbourhoodand,whenshesawthatZainabwasnaturallydrawntoanimals,gotherarabbit–whowaskilledbyacatonhisveryfirstnightattheKhwabgah–andahe-goatwithaMaulana-stylebeardwholivedinthecourtyardandeverynowandthen,withanimpassiveexpressiononhisface,senthisshinygoatpillsskitteringinalldirections.TheKhwabgahwasinbetterconditionthanithadbeenforyears.The

brokenroomhadbeenrenovatedandanewroombuiltontopofitonthefirst

floor,whichAnjumandMarynowshared.AnjumsleptwithZainabonamattressonthefloor,herlongbodycurledprotectivelyaroundthelittlegirllikeacitywall.Atnightshesanghertosleepsoftly,inawaythatwasmorewhisperthansong.WhenZainabwasoldenoughtounderstand,Anjumbegantotellherbedtimestories.Atfirstthestorieswereentirelyinappropriateforayoungchild.TheywereAnjum’ssomewhatmaladroitattempttomakeupforlosttime,totransfuseherselfintoZainab’smemoryandconsciousness,torevealherselfwithoutartifice,sothattheycouldbelongtoeachothercompletely.AsaresultsheusedZainabasasortofdockwheresheunloadedhercargo–herjoysandtragedies,herlife’scatharticturningpoints.FarfromputtingZainabtosleep,manyofthestorieseithergavehernightmaresormadeherstayawakeforhours,fearfulandcranky.SometimesAnjumherselfweptasshetoldthem.Zainabbegantodreadherbedtimeandwouldshuthereyestightly,simulatingsleepinordernottohavetolistentoanothertale.Overtime,however,Anjum(withinputsfromsomeofthejuniorApas)workedoutaneditorialline.Thestoriesweresuccessfullychildproofed,andeventuallyZainabevenbegantolookforwardtothenight-timeritual.HertopfavouritewastheFlyoverStory–Anjum’saccountofhowsheand

herfriendswalkedhomelateonenightfromDefenceColonyinSouthDelhiallthewaybacktoTurkmanGate.Therewerefiveorsixofthem,dressedup,lookingstunningafteranightofrevelryatawealthySeth’shouseinD-Block.Afterthepartytheydecidedtowalkforawhileandtakeinsomefreshair.Inthosedaystherewassuchathingasfreshairinthecity,AnjumtoldZainab.WhentheywerehalfwayacrosstheDefenceColonyflyover–thecity’sonlyflyoveratthetime–itbegantorain.Andwhatcananyonepossiblydowhenitrainsonaflyover?‘Theyhavetokeepwalking,’Zainabwouldsay,inareasonable,adulttone.‘Exactlyright.Sowekeptwalking,’Anjumwouldsay.‘Andthenwhat

happened?’‘Thenyouwantedtosoo!’‘ThenIwantedtosoo!’‘Butyoucouldn’tstop!’‘Icouldn’tstop.’‘Youhadtokeepwalking!’‘Ihadtokeepwalking.’‘Sowesoo-edinourghagra!’Zainabwouldshout,becauseshewasatthe

agewhenanythingtodowithshitting,pissingandfartingwasthehighpoint,orperhapsthewholepoint,ofallstories.‘That’sright,anditwasthebestfeelingintheworld,’Anjumwouldsay,

‘beingdrenchedintherainonthatbig,emptyflyover,walkingunderahugeadvertisementofawetwomandryingherselfwithaBombayDyeingtowel.’‘Andthetowelwasasbigasacarpet!’

‘Asbigasacarpet,yes.’‘Andthenyouaskedthatwomanifyoucouldborrowhertoweltodry

yourself.’‘Andwhatdidthewomansay?’‘Shesaid,Nahin!Nahin!Nahin!’‘Shesaid,Nahin!Nahin!Nahin!Sowegotdrenched,andwekeptwalking

…’‘Withgaram-garam(warm)soorunningdownyourthanda-thanda(cold)

legs!’InevitablyatthispointZainabwouldfallasleep,smiling.Everyhintof

adversityandunhappinesswasrequiredtobeexcisedfromAnjum’sstories.SheloveditwhenAnjumtransformedherselfintoayoungsex-sirenwhohadledashimmeringlifeofmusicanddance,dressedingorgeousclotheswithvarnishednailsandathrongofadmirers.Andso,intheseways,inordertopleaseZainab,Anjumbegantorewritea

simpler,happierlifeforherself.TherewritinginturnbegantomakeAnjumasimpler,happierperson.EditedoutoftheFlyoverStory,forexample,wasthefactthattheincident

hadhappenedin1976,attheheightoftheEmergencydeclaredbyIndiraGandhithatlastedtwenty-onemonths.Herspoiledyoungerson,SanjayGandhi,wastheheadoftheYouthCongress(theyouthwingoftherulingparty),andwasmoreorlessrunningthecountry,treatingitasthoughitwashispersonalplaything.CivilRightshadbeensuspended,newspaperswerecensoredand,inthenameofpopulationcontrol,thousandsofmen(mostlyMuslim)wereherdedintocampsandforciblysterilized.Anewlaw–theMaintenanceofInternalSecurityAct–allowedthegovernmenttoarrestanybodyonawhim.Theprisonswerefull,andasmallcoterieofSanjayGandhi’sacolyteshadbeenunleashedonthegeneralpopulationtocarryouthisfiat.OnthenightoftheFlyoverStory,thegathering–aweddingparty–that

Anjumandhercolleagueshaddescendedonwasbrokenupbythepolice.Thehostandthreeofhisguestswerearrestedanddrivenawayinpolicevans.Nobodyknewwhy.Arif,thedriverofthevanthatbroughtAnjum&Co.tothevenue,triedtobundlehispassengersintohisvanandmakeagetaway.Forthisimpertinencehehadtheknucklesofhislefthandandhisrightkneecapsmashed.HispassengersweredraggedoutoftheMatador,kickedontheirbacksidesasthoughtheywerecircusclownsandinstructedtoscram,torunallthewayhomeiftheydidnotwanttobearrestedforprostitutionandobscenity.Theyraninblindterror,likeghouls,throughthedarknessandthedrivingrain,theirmake-uprunningalotfasterthantheirlegscould,theirdrencheddiaphanousclotheslimitingtheirstridesandimpedingtheirspeed.True,itwasonlyaroutinebitofhumiliationforHijras,nothingoutofthe

ordinary,andnothingatallcomparedtothetribulationsothersenduredduringthosehorriblemonths.Itwasnothing,butstill,itwassomething.NotwithstandingAnjum’sediting,theFlyoverStoryretainedsome

elementsoftruth.Forinstance,itreallydidrainthatnight.AndAnjumreallydidpisswhilesheran.TherereallywasanadvertisementforBombayDyeingtowelsontheDefenceColonyflyover.Andthewomanintheadvertisementreallydidflatoutrefusetosharehertowel.

AyearbeforeZainabwasoldenoughtogotoschool,Mummybegantopreparefortheevent.Shevisitedheroldhomeand,withherbrotherSaqib’spermission,broughtMulaqatAli’scollectionofbookstotheKhwabgah.Shewasoftenseensittingcross-leggedinfrontofanopenbook(nottheHolyQuran),movinghermouthasherfingertracedalineacrossthepage,orrockingbackandforthwithhereyesclosed,thinkingaboutwhatshehadjustread,orperhapsdredgingtheswampofhermemorytoretrievesomethingthatsheonceknew.WhenZainabturnedfive,AnjumtookhertoUstadHameedtobegin

singinglessons.Itwasclearfromthestartthatmusicwasnothercalling.Shefidgetedunhappilythroughherclasses,hittingfalsenotessounerringlythatitwasalmostaskillinitself.Patient,kind-heartedUstadHameedwouldshakehisheadasthoughaflywasbotheringhimandfillhischeekswithlukewarmteawhilehehelddownthekeysoftheharmonium,whichmeantthathewantedhispupiltotryoncemore.OnthatrareoccasionwhenZainabmanagedtoarrivesomewhereinthevicinityofthenote,hewouldnodhappilyandsay,‘That’smyboy!’–aphrasehehadpickedupfromTheTomandJerryShowonCartoonNetwork,whichhelovedandwatchedwithhisgrandchildren(whowerestudyinginanEnglishMediumschool).Itwashishighestformofpraise,regardlessofthegenderofhisstudent.HebestoweditonZainabnotbecauseshedeservedit,butoutofregardforAnjumandhismemoryofhowbeautifullyshe(orhe–whenshewasAftab)usedtosing.Anjumsatthroughalltheclasses.Herhigh,hole-in-the-headinsecthumreappeared,thistimeasadiscreetusherendeavouringtodisciplineZainab’swaywardvoiceandkeepittrue.Itwasuseless.TheBandicootcouldn’tsing.Zainab’srealpassion,itturnedout,wasanimals.Shewasaterroronthe

streetsoftheoldcity.Shewantedtofreeallthehalf-bald,half-deadwhitechickensthatwerepressedintofilthycagesandstackedontopofeachotheroutsidethebutchershops,toconversewitheverycatthatflashedacrossherpathandtotakehomeeverylitterofstraypuppiesshefoundwallowinginthebloodandoffalflowingthroughtheopendrains.Shewouldnotlistenwhen

shewastoldthatdogswereunclean–najis–forMuslimsandshouldnotbetouched.Shedidnotshrinkfromthelarge,bristlyratsthathurriedalongthestreetshehadtowalkdowneveryday;shecouldnotseemtogetusedtothesightofthebundlesofyellowchickenclaws,sawed-offgoats’trotters,thepyramidsofgoats’headswiththeirstaring,blind,blueeyesandthepearlywhitegoats’brainsthatshiveredlikejellyinbigsteelbowls.Inadditiontoherpetgoat,who,thankstoZainab,hadsurvivedarecord

threeBakr-Eidsun-slaughtered,Anjumgotherahandsomeroosterwhorespondedtohisnewmistress’swelcomingembracewithaviciouspeck.Zainabweptloudly,morefromheartbreakthanpain.Thepeckchastenedher,butheraffectionforthebirdremainedundiminished.WheneverRoosterLovecameuponhershewouldwrapherarmsaroundAnjum’slegsanddeliverafewsmackingkissestoMummy’sknees,turningherheadtolooklonginglyandlovinglyattheroosterbetweenkissessothattheobjectofheraffectionandthepartyreceivingthekisseswerenotinanydoubtaboutwhatwasgoingonandwhothekisseswerereallymeantfor.Insomeways,Anjum’saddle-headednesstowardsZainabwasproportionatelyreflectedinZainab’saddle-headednesstowardsanimals.Noneofhertendernesstowardslivingcreatures,however,gotinthewayofhervoraciousmeateating.AtleasttwiceayearAnjumtookhertothezooinsidePuranaQila,theOldFort,tovisittherhinoceros,thehippopotamusandherfavouritecharacter,thebabygibbonfromBorneo.AfewmonthsaftershewasadmittedintoKGB(Kindergarten–SectionB)

inTenderBudsNurserySchoolinDaryaganj–Saqibandhiswifewereregisteredasherofficialparents–theusuallyrobustBandicootwentthroughapatchofillhealth.Itwasn’tserious,butitwaspersistent,anditworeherout,eachillnessmakinghermorevulnerabletothenext.Malariafollowedflufollowedtwoseparateboutsofviralfever,onemild,thesecondworrying.Anjumfrettedoverherinunhelpfulwaysand,disregardinggrumblesaboutherderelictionofKhwabgahduties(whichweremostlyadministrativeandmanagerialnow),nursedtheBandicootnightanddaywithfurtive,mountingparanoia.Shebecameconvincedthatsomeonewhoenviedher(Anjum’s)goodfortunehadputahexonZainab.TheneedleofhersuspicionpointedsteadfastlyinthedirectionofSaeeda,arelativelynewmemberoftheKhwabgah.SaeedawasmuchyoungerthanAnjumandwassecondinlineforZainab’saffections.ShewasagraduateandknewEnglish.Moreimportantly,shecouldspeakthenewlanguageofthetimes–shecouldusethetermscis-ManandFtoMandMtoFandininterviewsshereferredtoherselfasa‘transperson’.Anjum,ontheotherhand,mockedwhatshecalledthe‘trans-france’business,andstubbornlyinsistedonreferringtoherselfasaHijra.Likemanyoftheyoungergeneration,Saeedaswitchedeasilybetween

traditionalsalwarkameezandWesternclothes–jeans,skirts,halter-necks

thatshowedoffherlong,beautifullymuscledback.Whatshelackedinlocalflavourandold-worldcharmshemorethanmadeupforwithhermodernunderstanding,herknowledgeofthelawandherinvolvementwithGenderRightsGroups(shehadevenspokenattwoconferences).AllthisplacedherinadifferentleaguefromAnjum.Also,SaeedahadedgedAnjumoutoftheNumberOnespotinthemedia.Theforeignnewspapershaddumpedtheoldexoticsinfavouroftheyoungergeneration.Theexoticsdidn’tsuittheimageoftheNewIndia–anuclearpowerandanemergingdestinationforinternationalfinance.UstadKulsoomBi,wilyoldshe-wolf,wasalerttothesewindsofchange,andsawbenefitaccruetotheKhwabgah.SoSaeeda,thoughshelackedseniority,wasinclosecompetitionwithAnjumtotakeoverasUstadoftheKhwabgahwhenUstadKulsoomBidecidedtorelinquishcharge,which,liketheQueenofEngland,sheseemedinnohurrytodo.UstadKulsoomBiwasstillthemajordecision-makerintheKhwabgah,but

shewasnotactivelyinvolvedinitsday-to-dayaffairs.Onthemorningsherarthritistroubledhershewaslaidoutonhercharpaiinthecourtyard,tobesunnedalongwiththejarsoflimeandmangopickle,andwheatflourspreadoutonnewspapertoriditofweevils.Whenthesungottoohotshewouldbereturnedindoorstohaveherfeetpressedandherwrinklesmustard-oiled.Shedressedlikeamannow,inalongyellowkurta–yellowbecauseshewasadiscipleofHazratNizamuddinAuliya–andacheckedsarong.Shewoundherthinwhitehairthatbarelycoveredherscalpintoatinybunpinnedtothebackofherhead.OnsomedaysheroldfriendHajiMian,whosoldcigarettesandpaandownthestreet,wouldarrivewiththeaudiocassetteoftheirall-timefavouritefilm,Mughal-e-Azam.Theybothkneweverysongandeverylineofdialoguebyheart.Sotheysangandspokealongwiththetape.TheybelievednobodywouldeverwriteUrdulikethatagainandthatnoactorwouldeverbeabletomatchthedictionanddeliveryofDilipKumar.SometimesUstadKulsoomBiwouldplayEmperorAkbaraswellashissonPrinceSalim,theheroofthefilm,andHajiMianwouldbeAnarkali(Madhubala),theslave-girlPrinceSalimhadloved.Sometimestheywouldexchangeroles.Theirjointperformancewasreally,morethananythingelse,awakeforlostgloryandadyinglanguage.OneeveningAnjumwasupstairsinherroomputtingacoldcompresson

theBandicoot’shotforeheadwhensheheardacommotioninthecourtyard–raisedvoices,runningfeet,peopleshouting.Herfirstinstinctwastoassumethatafirehadbrokenout.Thishappenedoften–thehuge,tangledmessofexposedelectriccablesthathungoverthestreetshadahabitofspontaneouslyburstingintoflames.ShepickedZainabupandrandownthestairs.EverybodywasgatheredinfrontoftheTVinUstadKulsoomBi’sroom,theirfaceslitbyflickeringTVlight.Acommercialairlinerhadcrashedintoatallbuilding.Halfofitstillprotrudedout,hanginginmid-airlikeaprecarious,

brokentoy.Inmomentsasecondplanecrashedintoasecondbuildingandturnedintoaballoffire.TheusuallygarrulousresidentsoftheKhwabgahwatchedindeadsilenceasthetallbuildingsbuckledlikepillarsofsand.Therewassmokeandwhitedusteverywhere.Eventhedustlookeddifferent–cleanandforeign.Tinypeoplejumpedoutofthetallbuildingsandfloateddownlikeflecksofash.Itwasn’tafilm,theTelevisionPeoplesaid.Itwasreallyhappening.In

America.InacitycalledNewYork.ThelongestsilenceinthehistoryoftheKhwabgahwasfinallybrokenbya

profoundinquiry.‘DotheyspeakUrduthere?’Bismillahwantedtoknow.Nobodyreplied.TheshockintheroomseepedintoZainabandshestirredoutofherfever

dreamonlytotumblestraightintoanother.Shewasn’tfamiliarwithtelevisionreplays,soshecountedtenplanescrashingintotenbuildings.‘Altogetherten,’sheannouncedsoberly,inhernew,TenderBudsEnglish,

andthenrefittedherfat,feveredcheekbackintoitsparkingslotinAnjum’sneck.ThehexthathadbeenputonZainabhadmadethewholeworldsick.This

waspowerfulsiflijaadu.Anjumstoleasly,sidelongglanceatSaeedatoseewhethershewasbrazenlycelebratinghersuccessoraffectinginnocence.Thecraftybitchwaspretendingtobeasshockedaseverybodyelse.

ByDecemberOldDelhiwasfloodedwithAfghanfamiliesfleeingwarplanesthatsangintheirskieslikeunseasonalmosquitoes,andbombsthatfelllikesteelrain.Ofcoursethegreatpoliticos(which,intheoldcity,includedeveryshopkeeperandMaulana)hadtheirtheories.Fortherest,nobodyreallyunderstoodexactlywhatthosepoorpeoplehadtodowiththetallbuildingsinAmerica.Buthowcouldthey?WhobutAnjumknewthattheMasterPlannerofthisholocaustwasneitherOsamabinLaden,Terrorist,norGeorgeW.Bush,PresidentoftheUnitedStatesofAmerica,butafarmorepowerful,farstealthier,force:Saeeda(néeGulMohammed),r/oKhwabgah,GaliDakotan,Delhi–110006,India.InordertobetterunderstandthepoliticsoftheDuniyathattheBandicoot

wasgrowingupin,aswellastoneutralizeoratleastpre-empttheeducatedSaeeda’ssiflijaadu,MummybegantoreadthepaperscarefullyandtofollowthenewsonTV(whenevertheotherswouldletherswitchawayfromthesoaps).

TheplanesthatflewintothetallbuildingsinAmericacameasaboontomanyinIndiatoo.ThePoet-PrimeMinisterofthecountryandseveralofhisseniorministersweremembersofanoldorganizationthatbelievedIndiawas

essentiallyaHindunationandthat,justasPakistanhaddeclareditselfanIslamicRepublic,IndiashoulddeclareitselfaHinduone.SomeofitssupportersandideologuesopenlyadmiredHitlerandcomparedtheMuslimsofIndiatotheJewsofGermany.Now,suddenly,ashostilitytowardsMuslimsgrew,itbegantoseemtotheOrganizationthatthewholeworldwasonitsside.ThePoet-PrimeMinistermadealispingspeech,eloquent,exceptforlong,exasperatingpauseswhenhelostthethreadofhisargument,whichwasquiteoften.Hewasanoldman,buthadayoungman’swayoftossinghisheadwhenhespoke,liketheBombayfilmstarsofthe1960s.‘TheMussalman,hedoesn’tliketheOther,’hesaidpoeticallyinHindi,andpausedforalongtime,evenbyhisownstandards.‘HisFaithhewantstospreadthroughTerror.’Hehadmadethiscoupletuponthespot,andwasexceedinglypleasedwithhimself.EachtimehesaidMuslimorMussalmanhislispsoundedasendearingasayoungchild’s.Inthenewdispensationhewasconsideredtobeamoderate.HewarnedthatwhathadhappenedinAmericacouldeasilyhappeninIndiaandthatitwastimeforthegovernmenttopassanewanti-terrorismlawasasafetyprecaution.EverydayAnjum,newtothenews,watchedTVreportsaboutbombblasts

andterroristattacksthatsuddenlyproliferatedlikemalaria.TheUrdupaperscarriedstoriesofyoungMuslimboysbeingkilledinwhatthepolicecalled‘encounters’,orbeingcaughtred-handedintheactofplanningterroriststrikesandarrested.Anewlawwaspassedwhichallowedsuspectstobedetainedwithouttrialformonths.InnotimeatalltheprisonswerefullofyoungMuslimmen.AnjumthankedtheAlmightythatZainabwasagirl.Itwassomuchsafer.Aswintersetin,theBandicootdevelopedadeep,chestycough.Anjum

gaveherteaspoonsofwarmmilkwithturmericandkeptawakeatnightlisteningtoherasthmaticwheeze,feelingutterlyhelpless.ShevisitedthedargahofHazratNizamuddinAuliyaandspoketooneofthelessmercenaryKhadimswhomsheknewwellaboutZainab’sillnessandaskedhimhowshecouldneutralizeSaeeda’ssiflijaadu.Mattershadgotoutofcontrol,sheexplained,andnowthatitconcernedmuchmorethanthefateofonelittlegirl,she,Anjum,whowastheonlyonewhoknewwhattheproblemwas,hadaresponsibility.Shewaspreparedtogotoanylengthstodowhatneededtobedone.Shewaspreparedtopayanyprice,shesaid,evenifitmeantgoingtothegallows.Saeedahadtobestopped.SheneededtheKhadim’sblessings.Shebecametheatricalandemotional,peoplebegantostareandtheKhadimhadtocalmherdown.HeaskedherwhethershehadvisitedthedargahofHazratGharibNawazinAjmersinceZainabhadcomeintoherlife.Whenshesaidthatforonereasonoranothershehadn’tbeenableto,hetoldherthatthatwastheproblem,notanybody’ssiflijaadu.HewasalittlesternwithheraboutallowingherselftobelieveinwitchcraftandvoodoowhenHazrat

GharibNawazwastheretoprotecther.Anjumwasnotwhollyconvinced,butagreedthatnotvisitingAjmerSharifforthreeyearshadbeenaseriouslapseonherpart.ItwaslateFebruarybythetimeZainabrecoveredenoughforAnjumtofeel

thatshecouldleaveherforafewdays.ZakirMian,theProprietorandManagingDirectorofA-1Flower,agreedtotravelwithAnjum.ZakirMianwasafriendofMulaqatAli’sandhadknownAnjumsinceshewasborn.Hewasinhismid-seventiesnow,toooldtobeembarrassedaboutbeingseentravellingwithaHijra.Hisshop,A-1Flower,wasbasicallyahip-highcementplatform,ametresquare,locatedunderthebalconyofAnjum’soldhome,atthecornerwhereChitliQabaropenedintotheMatiaMahalChowk.ZakirMianhadrenteditfromMulaqatAli–andnowfromSaqib–andhadrunA-1Flowerfromthereformorethanfiftyyears.Hesatonapieceofburlapallday,makinggarlandsoutofredrosesand(separately)outofbrand-newcurrencynotesthathefoldedintotinyfansorlittlebirds,forbridegroomstowearonthedayoftheirnikah.Hismainchallengewasandhadalwaysbeentokeeptherosesfreshanddampandthecurrencynotescrispanddrywithinthesmallspaceofhisshop.ZakirMiansaidheneededtogotoAjmerandthenontoAhmedabadinGujaratwherehehadsomebusinesswithhiswife’sfamily.AnjumwaspreparedtotravelwithhimtoAhmedabadratherthanrisktheharassmentandhumiliation(ofbeingseenaswellasofbeingunseen)thatshewouldhavetoendureifshetravelledbackonherownfromAjmer.ZakirMian,forhispart,wasfrailnow,andhappytohavesomeonetohelphimwithhisluggage.HesuggestedthatwhiletheywereinAhmedabadtheycouldvisittheshrineofWaliDakhani,theseventeenth-centuryUrdupoet,knownasthePoetofLove,whomMulaqatAlihadbeenimmenselyfondof,andseekhisblessingstoo.Theysealedtheirtravelplansbylaughinglyrecitingacoupletbyhim–oneofMulaqatAli’sfavourites:

JiseyishqkatiirkaarilageUseyzindagikyuunnabharilage

ForonestruckdownbyCupid’sbowLifebecomesburdensome,isn’tthatso?

Afewdayslatertheysetoffbytrain.TheyspenttwodaysinAjmerSharif.Anjumpushedherwaythroughthepressofdevoteesandboughtagreen-and-goldchadarforonethousandrupeesasanofferingtoHazratGharibNawazinZainab’sname.ShecalledtheKhwabgahfrompublicpayphonesonbothdays.Onthethirdday,anxiousaboutZainab,shecalledagainfromtheAjmerrailwaystationplatformjustbeforesheboardedtheGharibNawazExpresstoAhmedabad.AfterthattherewasnonewseitherfromherorfromZakirMian.Hissoncalledhismother’sfamilyhomeinAhmedabad.Thephonewasdead.

ThoughtheyhadnonewsfromAnjum,thenewsfromGujaratwashorrible.Arailwaycoachhadbeensetonfirebywhatthenewspapersfirstcalled‘miscreants’.SixtyHindupilgrimswereburnedalive.TheywereontheirwayhomefromatriptoAyodhyawheretheyhadcarriedceremonialbrickstolayinthefoundationsofagrandHindutempletheywantedtoconstructatthesitewhereanoldmosqueoncestood.Themosque,theBabriMasjid,hadbeenbroughtdowntenyearsearlierbyascreamingmob.Aseniorcabinetminister(whowasintheOppositionthen,andhadwatchedasthescreamingmobtoredownthemosque)saidtheburningofthetraindefinitelylookedliketheworkofPakistaniterrorists.ThepolicearrestedhundredsofMuslims–allauxiliaryPakistanisfromtheirpointofview–fromtheareaaroundtherailwaystationunderthenewterrorismlawandthrewthemintoprison.TheChiefMinisterofGujarat,aloyalmemberoftheOrganization(asweretheHomeMinisterandthePrimeMinister),was,atthetime,upforre-election.HeappearedonTVinasaffronkurtawithaslashofvermiliononhisforehead,andwithcold,deadeyesorderedthattheburntbodiesoftheHindupilgrimsbebroughttoAhmedabad,thecapitalofthestate,wheretheyweretobeputondisplayforthegeneralpublictopaytheirrespects.Aweaselly‘unofficialspokesperson’announcedunofficiallythateveryactionwouldbemetwithanequalandoppositereaction.Hedidn’tacknowledgeNewtonofcourse,because,intheprevailingclimate,theofficiallysanctionedpositionwasthatancientHindushadinventedallscience.The‘reaction’,ifindeedthatiswhatitwas,wasneitherequalnoropposite.

Thekillingwentonforweeksandwasnotconfinedtocitiesalone.Themobswerearmedwithswordsandtridentsandworesaffronheadbands.TheyhadcadastrallistsofMuslimhomes,businessesandshops.Theyhadstockpilesofgascylinders(whichseemedtoexplainthegasshortageofthepreviousfewweeks).Whenpeoplewhohadbeeninjuredweretakentohospital,mobsattackedthehospitals.Thepolicewouldnotregistermurdercases.Theysaid,quitereasonably,thattheyneededtoseethecorpses.Thecatchwasthatthepolicewereoftenpartofthemobs,andoncethemobshadfinishedtheirbusiness,thecorpsesnolongerresembledcorpses.NobodydisagreedwhenSaeeda(wholovedAnjumandwasentirely

unawareofAnjum’ssuspicionsabouther)suggestedthatthesoapoperasonTVbeswitchedoffandthenewsbeswitchedonandleftonincase,bysomesmallchance,theycouldpickupaclueaboutwhatmighthavehappenedtoAnjumandZakirMian.Whenflushed,animatedTVnewsreportersshoutedouttheirPieces-to-CamerafromtherefugeecampswheretensofthousandsofGujarat’sMuslimsnowlived,intheKhwabgahtheyswitchedoffthesoundandscannedthebackgroundhopingtocatchaglimpseofAnjumandZakir

Mianliningupforfoodorblankets,orhuddledinatent.TheylearnedinpassingthatWaliDakhani’sshrinehadbeenrazedtothegroundandatarredroadbuiltoverit,erasingeverysignthatithadeverexisted.(NeitherthepolicenorthemobsnortheChiefMinistercoulddoanythingaboutthepeoplewhocontinuedtoleaveflowersinthemiddleofthenewtarredroadwheretheshrineusedtobe.Whentheflowerswerecrushedtopasteunderthewheelsoffastcars,newflowerswouldappear.Andwhatcananybodydoabouttheconnectionbetweenflower-pasteandpoetry?)SaeedacalledeveryjournalistandNGOworkersheknewandbeggedhimorhertohelp.Nobodycameupwithanything.Weekswentbywithnonews.Zainabrecoveredfromherboutofillnessesandwentbacktoschool,butoutsideschoolhoursshewasquerulousandclungtoSaeedanightandday.

Twomonthslater,whenthemurderinghadgrownsporadicandwasmoreorlesstailingoff,ZakirMian’seldestson,Mansoor,wentonhisthirdtriptoAhmedabadtolookforhisfather.Asaprecautionheshavedoffhisbeardandworeredpujathreadsonhiswrist,hopingtopassoffasHindu.Heneverfoundhisfather,althoughhedidlearnwhathadhappenedtohim.HisinquiriesledhimtoasmallrefugeecampinsideamosqueontheoutskirtsofAhmedabad,wherehefoundAnjuminthemen’ssection,andbroughtherbacktotheKhwabgah.Shehadhadahaircut.Whatwasleftofherhairnowsatonherheadlikea

helmetwithearmuffs.Shewasdressedlikeajuniorbureaucratinapairofdarkbrownmen’sterrycottontrousersandachecked,short-sleevedsafarishirt.Shehadlostagooddealofweight.Zainab,thoughmomentarilyalittlefrightenedbyAnjum’snew,manly

appearance,gotoverherfearandpropelledherselfintoherarmsshriekingherdelight.Anjumheldherclose,butrespondedtothetearsandquestionsandwelcomingembracesoftheothersimpassively,asthoughtheirgreetingswereanordealthatshehadnochoicebuttoputupwith.Theywerehurtandalittlefrightenedbyhercoldness,butuncharacteristicallygraciousintheirempathyandconcern.Assoonasshecould,Anjumwentuptoherroom.Sheemergedhours

later,inhernormalclothes,withlipstickandmake-upandafewprettyclipsinherhair.Itsoonbecameobviousthatshedidnotwanttotalkaboutwhathadhappened.ShewouldnotanswerquestionsaboutZakirMian.‘ItwasGod’swill,’wasallshewouldsay.DuringAnjum’sabsenceZainabhadbeguntosleepdownstairswith

Saeeda.ShereturnedtosleepingwithAnjum,butAnjumnoticedthatshehadstartedcallingSaeeda‘Mummy’too.

‘Ifshe’sMummy,thenwhoamI?’AnjumaskedZainabafewdayslater.‘NobodyhastwoMummies.’‘BadiMummy,’Zainabsaid.BigMummy.UstadKulsoomBigaveinstructionsthatAnjumwastobeleftinpeaceto

dowhatevershewanted,foraslongasshewanted.WhatAnjumwantedwastobeleftalone.Shewasquiet,disconcertinglyso,andspentmostofhertimewithher

books.OverthecourseofaweekshetaughtZainabtochantsomethingthatnobodyintheKhwabgahcouldunderstand.AnjumsaiditwasaSanskritchant,theGayatriMantra.ShehadlearneditwhileshewasinthecampinGujarat.PeopletheresaiditwasgoodtoknowsothatinmobsituationstheycouldreciteittotrytopassoffasHindu.ThoughneithershenorAnjumhadanyideawhatitmeant,Zainabpickeditupquicklyandchantedithappilyatleasttwentytimesaday,whileshedressedforschool,whileshepackedherbooks,whileshefedhergoat:

OmbhurbhuvahsvahaTatsaviturvarenyamBhargodevasyadhimahiDhiyoyonahpracodayat

OnemorningAnjumleftthehouse,takingZainabwithher.ShereturnedwithacompletelytransformedBandicoot.Herhairwascroppedshortandshewasdressedinboy’sclothes;ababyPathansuit,anembroideredjacket,jootiswithtoescurledupwardlikegondolas.‘It’ssaferlikethis,’Anjumsaidbywayofexplanation.‘Gujaratcould

cometoDelhianyday.We’llcallhimMahdi.’Zainab’swailingcouldbeheardallthewaydownthestreet–bythe

chickensintheircagesandthepuppiesintheirdrains.

Anemergencymeetingwascalled.ItwasscheduledduringthetwohoursofregularpowercutsothattherewouldbenocomplaintsfromanybodyabouthavingtomisstheserialsonTV.ZainabwassenttospendtheeveningwithHassanMian’sgrandchildren.HerroosterwasinhiscustomarysnoozingplaceonashelfbesidetheTV.UstadKulsoomBiaddressedthemeetingproppeduponherbed,herbacksupportedbyarolled-uprazai.Everyoneelsesatontheground.Anjumskulkedsullenlyinthedoorway.InthehissingbluelightofthePetromaxlanternKulsoomBi’sfacelookedlikeadriedriverbed,herthinningwhitehairtherecedingglacierfromwhichtheriveroncerose.Shehadputinheruncomfortablesetofnewdenturesfortheoccasion.Shespokewithauthorityandagreatsenseoftheatre.HerwordsappearedtobedirectedatthenewinitiateswhohadjustjoinedtheKhwabgah,buthertonewasdirectedatAnjum.

‘Thishouse,thishousehold,hasanunbrokenhistorythatisasoldasthisbrokencity,’shesaid.‘Thesepeelingwalls,thisleakingroof,thissunnycourtyard–allthiswasoncebeautiful.ThesefloorswerecoveredwithcarpetsthatcamestraightfromIsfahan,theceilingsweredecoratedwithmirrors.WhenShahenshahShahJahanbuilttheRedFortandtheJamaMasjid,whenhebuiltthiswalledcity,hebuiltourlittlehavelitoo.Forus.Alwaysremember–wearenotjustanyHijrasfromanyplace.WearetheHijrasofShahjahanabad.OurRulerstrustedusenoughtoputtheirwivesandmothersinourcare.Onceweroamedfreelyintheirprivatequarters,thezenana,oftheRedFort.They’reallgonenow,thosemightyemperorsandtheirqueens.Butwearestillhere.Thinkaboutthatandaskyourselveswhythatshouldbe.’TheRedForthadalwaysplayedamajorpartinUstadKulsoomBi’s

recountingofthehistoryoftheKhwabgah.Intheolddays,whenshewasable-bodied,atriptotheforttowatchtheSoundandLightshowwasamandatorypartoftheinitiationritesfornewarrivals.Theywouldgoinagroup,dressedintheirbestclothes,withflowersintheirhair,holdinghands,riskinglifeandlimbastheyplungedthroughtheChandniChowktraffic–aconfusionofcars,buses,rickshawsandtangasdrivenbypeoplewhosomehowmanagedtoberecklessevenatanexcruciatinglyslowspeed.Thefortloomedovertheoldcity,amassivesandstoneplateau,sovasta

partoftheskylinethatlocalpeoplehadceasedtonoticeit.HadUstadKulsoomBinotinsisted,perhapsnobodyfromtheKhwabgahwouldeverhaveworkedupthenervetogoin,notevenAnjum,whohadbeenbornandraisedinitsshadow.Oncetheycrossedthemoat–fullofgarbageandmosquitoes–andwalkedthroughthegreatgateway,thecityceasedtoexist.Monkeyswithsmall,madeyesparadedupanddownthetoweringsandstonerampartsthatwerebuiltonascaleandwithagracethemodernmindcouldnotconceiveof.Insidethefortitwasadifferentworld,adifferenttime,adifferentair(thatsmelleddistinctlyofmarijuana)andadifferentsky–notanarrow,street-widestripthatwasbarelyvisiblethroughatangleofelectricwires,butaboundlessoneinwhichkiteswheeled,highandquiet,upinthethermals.TheSoundandLightshowwasanold-government-approvedversion(the

newgovernmenthadnotgotitshandsonityet)ofthehistoryoftheRedFortandtheemperorswhohadruledfromitformorethantwohundredyears–fromShahJahan,whobuiltit,toBahadurShahZafar,thelastMughal,whowassentintoexilebytheBritishafterthefaileduprisingof1857.ItwastheonlyformalhistoryUstadKulsoomBiknew,thoughherreadingofitmayhavebeenmoreunorthodoxthanitsauthorsintended.Duringtheirvisits,sheandherlittlecrewwouldtaketheirplacewiththerestoftheaudience,mostlytouristsandschoolchildren,ontherowsofwoodenbenchesunderwhich

densecloudsofmosquitoeslived.Toavoidbeingbittentheaudiencehadtoassumeapostureofenforcednonchalanceandswingtheirlegsthrougheverycoronation,war,massacre,victoryanddefeat.UstadKulsoomBi’sspecialareaofinterestwasthemid-eighteenthcentury,

thereignofEmperorMohammedShahRangeela,legendaryloverofpleasure,ofmusicandpainting–themerriestMughalofthemall.Sheprimedheracolytestopayparticularattentiontotheyear1739.Itbeganwiththethunderofhorses’hoovesthatcamefrombehindtheaudienceandmovedthroughthefort,faintatfirstandthenlouderLouderLOUDER.ThatwasNadirShah’scavalryridingallthewayfromPersia,gallopingthroughGhazni,Kabul,Kandahar,Peshawar,LahoreandSirhind,plunderingcityaftercityasitgallopedtowardsDelhi.EmperorMohammedShah’sgeneralswarnhimoftheapproachingcataclysm.Unperturbed,heordersthemusictoplayon.AtthispointintheshowthelightsintheDiwan-e-Khas,theHallofSpecialAudience,wouldturnlurid.Purple,red,green.Thezenanawouldlightupinpink(ofcourse)andechowiththesoundofwomen’slaughter,therustlingofsilk,thechhann-chhann-chhannofanklets.Then,suddenly,amidstthosesoft,happy,lady-soundswouldcometheclearlyaudible,deep,distinct,rasping,coquettishgiggleofacourteunuch.‘There!’UstadKulsoomBiwouldsay,likeatriumphantlepidopteristwho

hasjustnettedararemoth.‘Didyouhearthat?Thatisus.Thatisourancestry,ourhistory,ourstory.Wewerenevercommoners,yousee,weweremembersofthestaffoftheRoyalPalace.’Themomentpassedinaheartbeat.Butitdidnotmatter.Whatmattered

wasthatitexisted.Tobepresentinhistory,evenasnothingmorethanachuckle,wasauniverseawayfrombeingabsentfromit,frombeingwrittenoutofitaltogether.Achuckle,afterall,couldbecomeafootholdinthesheerwallofthefuture.UstadKulsoomBiwouldbefuriouswithanyonewhomissedthechuckle

afteralltheeffortshehadputintopointingitout.Sofurious,infact,thatinordertoavoidwhatcouldturnintoapublicspectacle,thenewbieswereadvisedbytheolderonestopretendtheyhadhearditeveniftheyhadn’t.OnceGudiyatriedtotellherthatHijrashadaspecialplaceofloveand

respectinHindumythology.ShetoldKulsoomBithestoryofhow,whenLordRamandhiswife,Sita,andhisyoungerbrotherLaxmanwerebanishedforfourteenyearsfromtheirkingdom,thecitizenry,wholovedtheirking,hadfollowedthem,vowingtogowherevertheirkingwent.WhentheyreachedtheoutskirtsofAyodhyawheretheforestbegan,Ramturnedtohispeopleandsaid,‘IwantallyoumenandwomentogohomeandwaitformeuntilIreturn.’Unabletodisobeytheirking,themenandwomenreturnedhome.OnlytheHijraswaitedfaithfullyforhimattheedgeoftheforestforthewholefourteenyears,becausehehadforgottentomentionthem.

‘Sowearerememberedastheforgottenones?’UstadKulsoomBisaid.‘Wah!Wah!’AnjumrememberedherfirstvisittotheRedFortvividlyforreasonsofher

own.ItwasherfirstoutingaftershehadrecoveredfromDrMukhtar’ssurgery.Whiletheyqueuedforticketsmostpeoplegawkedattheforeigntourists,whohadaseparatequeueandmoreexpensivetickets.TheforeigntouristsinturngawkedattheHijras–atAnjuminparticular.Ayoungman,ahippywithapiercinggazeandawispyJesusbeard,lookedatheradmiringly.Shelookedbackathim.InherimaginationhebecameHazratSarmadShaheed.Shepicturedhimstandingproudandnaked,aslim,slightfigure,beforethejuryofmalevolentbeardedQazis,notflinchingevenwhentheysentencedhimtodeath.Shewasalittletakenabackwhenthetouristwalkeduptoher.‘Youareferybeautiful,’hesaid.‘Aphoto?MayI?’Itwasthefirsttimeanybodyhadeverwantedtophotographher.Flattered,

shethrewherred-ribbonedbraidoverhershouldercoylyandlookedatUstadKulsoomBiforpermission.Itwasgranted.Sosheposedforthephotograph,leaningawkwardlyagainstthesandstoneramparts,hershouldersthrownbackandherchintiltedup,brazenandtimorousallatonce.‘Sankyou,’theyoungmansaid.‘Sankyouverymuch.’Sheneversawit,butitwasthebeginningofsomething,thatphotograph.Wherewasitnow?Godonlyknew.

Anjum’sdriftingmindreturnedtothemeetinginUstadKulsoomBi’sroom.ItwasthedecadenceandindisciplineofourRulersthatbroughtruinonthe

MughalEmpire,UstadKulsoomBiwassaying.Princesfrolickingwithslavewomen,emperorsrunningaroundnaked,livinglivesofopulencewhiletheirpeoplestarved–howcouldanempirelikethathavehopedtosurvive?Whyshouldithavesurvived?(NobodywhohadheardherplayingPrinceSaliminMughal-e-Azamwouldhaveguessedthatshedisapprovedofhimsothoroughly.Norwouldanybodyhavesuspectedthat,notwithstandingherprideabouttheKhwabgah’svintageanditsproximitytoroyalty,sheharbouredasocialist’sangerabouttheMughalRulers’profligacyandtheirpeople’spenury.)Shethenwentontomakeacaseforprincipledlivingandirondiscipline,thetwothingsthataccordingtoherwerethehallmarkoftheKhwabgah–itsstrengthandthereasonithadsurvivedthroughtheages,whilestronger,granderthingshadperished.OrdinarypeopleintheDuniya–whatdidtheyknowaboutwhatittakesto

livethelifeofaHijra?Whatdidtheyknowabouttherules,thedisciplineandthesacrifices?Whotodayknewthattherehadbeentimeswhenallofthem,includingshe,UstadKulsoomBiherself,hadbeendriventobeggingforalmsattrafficlights?Thattheyhadbuiltthemselvesup,bitbybit,humiliationby

humiliation,fromthere?TheKhwabgahwascalledKhwabgah,UstadKulsoomBisaid,becauseitwaswherespecialpeople,blessedpeople,camewiththeirdreamsthatcouldnotberealizedintheDuniya.IntheKhwabgah,HolySoulstrappedinthewrongbodieswereliberated.(ThequestionofwhatwouldhappeniftheHolySoulwereamantrappedinawoman’sbodywasnotaddressed.)However,UstadKulsoomBisaid,however–andthepausethatfollowed

wasonethatwasworthyofthelispingPoet-PrimeMinister–thecentraledictoftheKhwabgahwasmanzoori.Consent.PeopleintheDuniyaspreadwickedrumoursaboutHijraskidnappinglittleboysandcastratingthem.Shedidnotknowandcouldnotsaywhetherthesethingshappenedelsewhere,butintheKhwabgah,astheAlmightywaswitness,nothinghappenedwithoutmanzoori.Shethenturnedtothespecificsubjectathand.TheAlmightyhassentour

Anjumbacktous,shesaid.Shewon’ttelluswhathappenedtoherandZakirMianinGujaratandwecannotforceherto.Allwecandoissurmise.Andsympathize.Butinoursympathywecannotallowourprinciplestobecompromised.Forcingalittlegirltoliveasaboyagainstherwishes,evenforthesakeofherownsafety,istoincarcerateher,notliberateher.ThereisnoquestionofthathappeninginourKhwabgah.Noquestionatall.‘She’smychild,’Anjumsaid.‘Iwilldecide.Icanleavethisplaceandgo

awaywithherifIwantto.’Farfrombeingperturbedbythisdeclaration,everybodywasactually

relievedtoseeasignthattheolddramaqueeninAnjumwasaliveandwell.Theyhadnoreasontoworrybecauseshehadabsolutelynowheretogo.‘Youcandoasyoulike,butthechildwillstayhere,’UstadKulsoomBi

said.‘Allthistimeyouspokeaboutmanzoori,nowyouwanttodecideonher

behalf?’Anjumsaid.‘We’llaskher.Zainabwillwanttocomewithme.’TalkingbacktoUstadKulsoomBiinthiswaywasconsidered

unacceptable.Evenforsomeonewhohadsurvivedamassacre.Everybodywaitedforthereaction.UstadKulsoomBiclosedhereyesandaskedfortherolled-uprazaitobe

removedfrombehindher.Suddenlytired,sheturnedtothewallandcurledup,usingthecrookofherarmasapillow.Withhereyesstillshutandhervoicesoundingasthoughitwascomingfromfaraway,sheinstructedAnjumtoseeDrBhagatandtomakesurethatshetookthemedicinesheprescribed.Themeetingended.Themembersdispersed.ThePetromaxlanternwas

carriedoutoftheroomhissinglikeanannoyedcat.

Anjumhadn’tmeantwhatshesaid,buthavingsaidit,theideaofleavingtookholdandcoiledaroundherlikeapython.SherefusedtogotoDrBhagat,soalittledelegationheadedbySaeeda

wentonherbehalf.DrBhagatwasasmallmanwithaclippedmilitarymoustachewhosmelledoverwhelminglyofPond’sDreamflowertalcumpowder.Hehadaquick,birdymannerandawayofinterruptinghispatientsaswellashimselfeveryfewminuteswithadry,nervoussniffaccompaniedbythreestaccatotapsofhispenonthetabletop.Hisforearmswerecoveredwiththickblackhairbuthisheadwasmoreorlesshairless.Hehadshavedabroadstripofhairoffhisleftwrist,overwhichheworeatennisplayer’stowellingsweatband,overwhichheworehisheavygoldwatchsothathehadaclear,unobscuredviewofthetime.Thatmorninghewasdressedthewayhedressedeveryday–inaspotlesswhiteterrycottonsafarisuitandshinywhitesandals.Acleanwhitetowelhungoverthebackofhischair.Hisclinicwasinashitholelocality,buthewasaverycleanman.Andagoodonetoo.Thedelegationtroopedinandsatdownonwhatchairswereavailable,

someperchedonthearmsoftheothers’chairs.DrBhagatwasusedtoseeinghispatientsfromtheKhwabgahintwosandthrees(theynevercamealone).Hewasalittletakenabackatthemultitudethatdescendedonhimthatmorning.‘Whichoneofyouisthepatient?’‘Noneofus,DoctorSahib.’Saeeda,thespokesperson,withoccasionalclarificationsandelucidations

fromtheothers,describedAnjum’salteredbehaviourascarefullyasshecould–thebrooding,therudeness,thereadingand,mostseriously,theinsubordination.ShetoldthedoctoraboutZainab’sillnessesandAnjum’sanxiety.(OfcourseshehadnomeansofknowingaboutAnjum’ssiflijaadutheoryandherownpartinit.)Thedelegationhad,afterdetailedconsultationswitheachother,decidedtoleaveGujaratoutofitbecause:(a)Theydidn’tknowwhat,ifanything,hadhappenedtoAnjumthere.And,(b)BecauseDrBhagathadabiggishsilver(orperhapsitwasonlysilver-

plated)statueofLordGaneshonhistableandtherewasalwayssmokefromafreshincensestickcurlinguphistrunk.Certainlytherewerenoconcreteconclusionstobedrawnfromthislatter

fact,butitmadethemunsureofhisviewsonwhathadhappenedinGujarat.Sotheydecidedtoerronthesideofabundantcaution.DrBhagat(who,likemillionsofotherbelievingHindus,wasinfact

appalledbytheturnofeventsinGujarat)listenedattentively,sniffingandtappingthetablewithhispen,hisbright,beadyeyesmagnifiedbythicklensessetingold-framedspectacles.HefurrowedhisbrowandthoughtforaminuteaboutwhathehadbeentoldandthenaskedwhetherAnjum’swanting

toleavetheKhwabgahhadledtotheReadingortheReadinghadledtoherwantingtoleave.Thedelegationwasdividedontheissue.Oneoftheyoungerdelegates,Meher,saidthatAnjumhadtoldherthatshewantedtomovebacktotheDuniyaandhelpthepoor.Thissetoffaflurryofmerriment.DrBhagat,notsmiling,askedthemwhytheythoughtitsofunny.‘Arre,DoctorSahib,whichPoorwouldwanttobehelpedbyus?’Meher

said,andtheyallgiggledattheideaofintimidatingpoorpeoplewithoffersofhelp.OnhisprescriptionpadDrBhagatwroteintiny,neathandwriting:Patient

formerlyofoutgoing,obedient,jolly-typenaturenowexhibitsdisobedient,revolting-typeofpersonality.Hetoldthemnottoworry.Hewrotethemaprescription.Thepills(the

onesthathealwaysprescribedtoeverybody)wouldcalmherdown,hesaid,andgiveherafewgoodnights’sleep,afterwhichhewouldneedtoseeherpersonally.

Anjumflatlyrefusedtotakethepills.Asthedayspassed,herquietnessgavewaytosomethingelse,something

restlessandedgy.Itcoursedthroughherveinslikeaninsidiousuprising,amadinsurrectionagainstalifetimeofspurioushappinessshefeltshehadbeensentencedto.SheaddedDrBhagat’sprescriptiontothethingsshehadpiledupinthe

courtyard,thingsshehadoncetreasured,andlitamatch.Amongtheincinerateditemswere:Threedocumentaryfilms(abouther)Twoglossycoffee-tablebooksofphotographs(ofher)Sevenphotofeaturesinforeignmagazines(abouther)Analbumofpressclippingsfromforeignnewspapersinmorethanthirteen

languagesincludingtheNewYorkTimes,theLondonTimes,theGuardian,theBostonGlobe,theGlobeandMail,LeMonde,CorrieredellaSera,LaStampaandDieZeit(abouther).Thesmokefromthefireroseandmadeeverybody,includingthegoat,

cough.Whentheashcooled,sherubbeditintoherfaceandhair.ThatnightZainabmovedherclothes,shoes,schoolbagandrocket-shapedpencilboxintoSaeeda’scupboard.SherefusedtosleepwithAnjumanymore.‘Mummy’sneverhappy,’wastheprecise,mercilessreasonshegave.Heartbroken,AnjumemptiedherGodrejalmirahandpackedherfinery–

hersatinghararasandsequinedsaris,herjhumkas,ankletsandglassbangles–intotintrunks.ShemadeherselftwoPathansuits,onepigeongreyandonemudbrown;sheboughtasecond-handplasticanorakandapairofmen’sshoesthatsheworewithoutsocks.AbatteredTempoarrivedandthealmirah

andtintrunkswereloadedontoit.Sheleftwithoutsayingwhereshewasgoing.Eventhen,nobodytookherseriously.Theyweresureshe’dbeback.

Onlyaten-minutetemporidefromtheKhwabgah,onceagainAnjumenteredanotherworld.Itwasanunprepossessinggraveyard,run-down,notverybigandusedonly

occasionally.Itsnorthernboundaryabuttedagovernmenthospitalandmortuarywherethebodiesofthecity’svagrantsandunclaimeddeadwerewarehouseduntilthepolicedecidedhowtodisposeofthem.Mostweretakentothecitycrematorium.IftheywererecognizablyMuslimtheywereburiedinunmarkedgravesthatdisappearedovertimeandcontributedtotherichnessofthesoilandtheunusuallushnessoftheoldtrees.Theformallyconstructedgravesnumberedlessthantwohundred.The

oldergravesweremoreelaborate,withcarvedmarbletombstones,themorerecentones,morerudimentary.SeveralgenerationsofAnjum’sfamilywereburiedthere–MulaqatAli,hisfatherandmother,hisgrandfatherandgrandmother.MulaqatAli’soldersisterBegumZeenatKauser(Anjum’saunt)wasburiednexttohim.ShehadmovedtoLahoreafterPartition.AfterlivingtherefortenyearssheleftherhusbandandchildrenandreturnedtoDelhi,sayingshewasunabletoliveanywhereexceptintheimmediatevicinityofDelhi’sJamaMasjid.(ForsomereasonLahore’sBadshahiMosquedidnotworkoutasasubstitute.)HavingsurvivedthreeattemptsbythepolicetodeportherasaPakistanispy,BegumZeenatKausersettleddowninShahjahanabadinatinyroomwithakitchenandaviewofherbelovedmosque.Sheshareditwithawidowroughlyherownage.Sheearnedherlivingbysupplyingmuttonkormatoarestaurantintheoldcitywhereforeigntourgroupscametosavourlocalfood.Shestirredthesamepoteverydayforthirtyyearsandsmelledofkormathewayotherwomensmelledofittarandperfume.Evenwhenlifelefther,shewasinterredinhergravesmellinglikeadeliciousOldDelhimeal.NexttoBegumZeenatKauserweretheremainsofBibiAyesha,Anjum’soldestsister,whohaddiedoftuberculosis.AlittledistanceawaywasthegraveofAhlamBaji,themidwifewho’ddeliveredAnjum.Intheyearsbeforeherdeath,AhlamBajihadgrowndisorientedandobese.Shewouldfloatregallydownthestreetsoftheoldcity,likeafilthyqueen,hermattedhairtwistedintoagrimytowelasthoughshehadjustemergedfreshfromabathinass’smilk.ShealwayscarriedatatteredKisanUreafertilizersackthatshecrammedwithemptymineral-waterbottles,tornkites,carefullyfoldedpostersandstreamersleftbehindbythebigpoliticalralliesthatwereheldintheRamlilagroundsnearby.Onhergrimmerdays

AhlamBajiwouldaccostthebeingsshehadhelpedbringintotheworld,mostofwhomweregrownmenandwomenwithchildrenoftheirown,andabusetheminthefoulestlanguage,cursingthedaytheywereborn.Herinsultsnevercausedoffence;peopleusuallyreactedwiththewide,embarrassedgrinsofthosewhoarecalledonstagetobeguineapigsinmagicshows.AhlamBajiwasalwaysfed,alwaysofferedshelter.Sheacceptedfood–rancorously–asthoughshewasdoingthepersonwhooffereditagreatfavour,butsheturneddowntheofferofshelter.Sheinsistedonremainingoutdoorsthroughthehottestofsummersandthebitterestofwinters.Shewasfounddeadonemorning,sittingboltuprightoutsideAlifZedStationers&Photocopiers,withherarmsaroundherKisanUreasack.JahanaraBeguminsistedshebeburiedinthefamilygraveyard.Sheorganizedforthebodytobebathedanddressedandforanimamtosaythefinalprayers.AhlamBajihad,afterall,midwifedallherfivechildren.NexttoAhlamBaji’sgravewasthegraveofawomanonwhosetombstone

itsaid(inEnglish)‘BegumRenataMumtazMadam’.BegumRenatawasabellydancerfromRomaniawhogrewupinBucharestdreamingofIndiaanditsclassicaldanceforms.WhenshewasonlynineteenshehitchhikedacrossthecontinentandarrivedinDelhiwhereshefoundamediocreKathakguruwhoexploitedhersexuallyandtaughtherverylittledance.TomakeendsmeetshebegantoperformcabaretsintheRosebudRest-O-Barlocatedintherosegarden–knowntolocalsasNo-RoseGarden–intheruinsofFerozShahKotla,thefifthofthesevenancientcitiesofDelhi.Renata’snomdecabaretwasMumtaz.Shediedyoungafterbeingthwartedinlovebyaprofessionalcheatwhodisappearedwithallhersavings.Renatacontinuedtolongforhimeventhoughsheknewhehaddeceivedher.Shegrewdistraught,triedtocastspellsandcallupspirits.Shebegantogointolongtrancesduringwhichherskinbrokeoutinboilsandhervoicegrewdeepandgravellylikeaman’s.Thecircumstancesofherdeathwereunclear,thougheverybodyassumeditwassuicide.ItwasRoshanLal,thetaciturnheadwaiteroftheRosebudRest-O-Bar,gruffmoralizer,scourgeofallthedancinggirls(andthebuttofalltheirjokes),whosurprisedhimselfbyorganizingherfuneralandvisitinghergravewithflowers,once,twiceandthen,beforeheknewit,everyTuesday(hisdayoff).Itwashewhoorganizedthetombstonewithhernameonitandwhomaintainedits‘keep-up’,ashecalledit.Itwashewhoadded‘Begum’and‘Madam’,theposthumousprefixandsuffixtohername(s)onthetombstone.SeventeenyearshadgonebysinceRenataMumtazdied.RoshanLalhadfatvaricoseveinsrunninguphisthinshinsandhadlostthehearinginoneear,butstillhecame,clankingintothegraveyardonhisoldblackbicycle,bringingfreshflowers–gazanias,discountedrosesand,whenhewaspressedformoney,afewstringsofjasminethatheboughtfromchildrenattrafficlights.

Otherthanthemaingraves,therewereafewwhoseprovenancewascontested.Forexampletheonethatsimplysaid‘Badshah’.SomepeopleinsistedBadshahwasalesserMughalprincewhohadbeenhangedbytheBritishaftertherebellionof1857,whileothersbelievedhewasaSufipoetfromAfghanistan.Anothergraveboreonlythename‘Islahi’.SomesaidhewasageneralinEmperorShahAlamII’sarmy,othersinsistedhewasalocalpimpwhohadbeenknifedtodeathinthe1960sbyaprostitutewhomhehadcheated.Asalways,everybodybelievedwhattheywantedtobelieve.Onherfirstnightinthegraveyard,afteraquickreconnaissance,Anjum

placedherGodrejcupboardandherfewbelongingsnearMulaqatAli’sgraveandunrolledhercarpetandbeddingbetweenAhlamBaji’sandBegumRenataMumtazMadam’sgraves.Notsurprisingly,shedidn’tsleep.Notthatanyoneinthegraveyardtroubledher–nodjinnsarrivedtomakeheracquaintance,noghoststhreatenedahaunting.Thesmackaddictsatthenorthernendofthegraveyard–shadowsjustadeepershadeofnight–huddledonknollsofhospitalwasteinaseaofoldbandagesandusedsyringes,didn’tseemtonoticeheratall.Onthesouthernside,clotsofhomelesspeoplesataroundfirescookingtheirmeagre,smokymeals.Straydogs,inbetterhealththanthehumans,satatapolitedistance,waitingpolitelyforscraps.Inthatsetting,Anjumwouldordinarilyhavebeeninsomedanger.Buther

desolationprotectedher.Unleashedatlastfromsocialprotocol,itroseuparoundherinallitsmajesty–afort,withramparts,turrets,hiddendungeonsandwallsthathummedlikeanapproachingmob.Sherattledthroughitsgildedchamberslikeafugitiveabscondingfromherself.Shetriedtodismissthecortègeofsaffronmenwithsaffronsmileswhopursuedherwithinfantsimpaledontheirsaffrontridents,buttheywouldnotbedismissed.ShetriedtoshutthedooronZakirMian,lyingneatlyfoldedinthemiddleofthestreet,likeoneofhiscrispcash-birds.Buthefollowedher,folded,throughcloseddoorsonhisflyingcarpet.Shetriedtoforgetthewayhehadlookedatherjustbeforethelightwentoutofhiseyes.Buthewouldn’tlether.Shetriedtotellhimthatshehadfoughtbackbravelyastheyhauledheroff

hislifelessbody.Butsheknewverywellthatshehadn’t.Shetriedtoun-knowwhattheyhaddonetoalltheothers–howtheyhad

foldedthemenandunfoldedthewomen.Andhoweventuallytheyhadpulledthemapartlimbfromlimbandsetthemonfire.Butsheknewverywellthatsheknew.They.They,who?Newton’sArmy,deployedtodeliveranEqualandOppositeReaction.

Thirtythousandsaffronparakeetswithsteeltalonsandbloodiedbeaks,all

squawkingtogether:Mussalmankaekhisthan!QabristanyaPakistan!OnlyoneplacefortheMussalman!TheGraveyardorPakistan!Anjum,feigningdeath,hadlainsprawledoverZakirMian.Counterfeit

corpseofacounterfeitwoman.Buttheparakeets,eventhoughtheywere–orpretendedtobe–purevegetarian(thiswastheminimumqualificationforconscription),testedthebreezewiththefastidiousnessandproficiencyofbloodhounds.Andofcoursetheyfoundher.Thirtythousandvoiceschimedtogether,mimickingUstadKulsoomBi’sBirbal:AiHai!SaaliRandiHijra!Sister-fuckingWhoreHijra.Sister-fucking

MuslimWhoreHijra.Anothervoicerose,highandanxious,anotherbird:Nahiyaar,matmaro,Hijronkamaarnaapshagunhotahai.Don’tkillher,brother,killingHijrasbringsbadluck.Badluck!Nothingscaredthosemurderersmorethantheprospectofbadluck.After

all,itwastowardoffbadluckthatthefingersthatgrippedtheslashingswordsandflashingdaggerswerestuddedwithluckystonesembeddedinthickgoldrings.Itwastowardoffbadluckthatthewristswieldingironrodsthatbludgeonedpeopletodeathwerefestoonedwithredpujathreadslovinglytiedbyadoringmothers.Havingtakenalltheseprecautions,whatwouldbethepointofwilfullycourtingbadluck?Sotheystoodoverherandmadeherchanttheirslogans.BharatMataKiJai!VandeMataram!Shedid.Weeping,shaking,humiliatedbeyondherworstnightmare.VictorytoMotherIndia!SalutetheMother!Theyleftheralive.Un-killed.Un-hurt.Neitherfoldednorunfolded.She

alone.Sothattheymightbeblessedwithgoodfortune.Butchers’Luck.That’sallshewas.Andthelongershelived,themoregoodluckshe

broughtthem.Shetriedtoun-knowthatlittledetailassherattledthroughherprivatefort.

Butshefailed.Sheknewverywellthatsheknewverywellthatsheknewverywell.TheChiefMinisterwithcoldeyesandavermilionforeheadwouldgoonto

winthenextelections.EvenafterthePoet-PrimeMinister’sgovernmentfellattheCentre,hewonelectionafterelectioninGujarat.Somepeoplebelievedheoughttobeheldresponsibleformassmurder,buthisvoterscalledhimGujaratkaLalla.Gujarat’sBeloved.

FormonthsAnjumlivedinthegraveyard,aravaged,feralspectre,out-hauntingeveryresidentdjinnandspirit,ambushingbereavedfamilieswhocametoburytheirdeadwithagriefsowild,sountethered,thatitcleanoutstrippedtheirs.Shestoppedgroomingherself,stoppeddyeingherhair.Itgrewdeadwhitefromtheroots,andsuddenly,halfwaydownherhead,turnedjetblack,makingherlook,well…striped.Facialhair,whichshehadoncedreadedmorethanalmostanythingelse,appearedonherchinandcheekslikeaglimmeroffrost(mercifullyalifetimeofcheaphormoneinjectionsstoppeditfromgrowingintoanall-outbeard).Oneofherfrontteeth,staineddarkredfromchewingpaan,grewlooseinhergums.Whenshespokeorsmiled,whichshedidrarely,itmovedupanddownterrifyingly,likeaharmoniumkeyplayingatuneofitsown.Theterrifyingnesshaditsadvantagesthough–itscaredpeopleandkeptnasty,insult-hurling,stone-throwinglittleboysatbay.MrD.D.Gupta,anoldclientofAnjum’s,whoseaffectionforherhad

transcendedworldlydesirelongago,trackedherdownandvisitedherinthegraveyard.HewasabuildingcontractorfromKarolBaghwhoboughtandsuppliedconstructionmaterial–steel,cement,stone,bricks.HedivertedasmallconsignmentofbricksandafewasbestossheetsfromthebuildingsiteofawealthyclientandhelpedAnjumconstructasmall,temporaryshack–nothingelaborate,justastoreroominwhichshecouldlockherthingsifsheneededto.MrGuptavisitedherfromtimetotimetomakesureshewasprovidedforanddidnotharmherself.WhenhemovedtoBaghdadaftertheAmericaninvasionofIraq(tocapitalizeontheescalatingdemandforconcreteblastwalls),heaskedhiswifetosendtheirdriverwithahotmealforAnjumatleastthreetimesaweek.MrsGupta,whothoughtofherselfasaGopi,afemaleadorerofLordKrishna,was,accordingtoherpalmist,livingthroughherseventhandlastcycleofrebirth.Thisgaveherlicencetobehaveasshewishedwithoutworryingthatshewouldhavetopayforhersinsinhernextlife.Shehadherownamorousinvolvements,althoughshemaintainedthatwhensheattainedsexualclimaxtheecstasyshefeltwasforadivinebeingandnotforherhumanlover.Shewasextremelyfondofherhusbandbutwasrelievedtohavehisphysicalappetitestakenoffherplate,andthereforemorethanhappytodohimthissmallfavour.Beforeheleft,MrGuptaboughtAnjumacheapmobilephoneandtaught

herhowtoanswerit(incomingcallswerefree)andhowtogivehimwhathedescribedasa‘missedcall’ifsheneededtospeaktohim.Anjumlostitwithinaweek,andwhenMrGuptacalledfromBaghdadthephonewasansweredbyadrunkwhoweptanddemandedtospeaktohismother.Inadditiontothiskind-heartedness,Anjumalsoreceivedothervisitors.

Saeedabroughttheapparentlyheartless,butintruthtraumatized,Zainabafewtimes.(WhenitbecameapparenttoSaeedathatthevisitscausedboth

AnjumandZainabtoomuchpain,shestoppedbringingher.)Anjum’sbrother,Saqib,cameonceaweek.UstadKulsoomBiherself,accompaniedbyherfriendHajiMianandsometimesBismillah,wouldcomebyinarickshaw.ShesawtoitthatAnjumreceivedasmallpensionfromtheKhwabgah,deliveredtoherincashinanenvelopeonthefirstofeverymonth.ThemostregularvisitorofallwasUstadHameed.Hewouldarriveevery

dayexceptonWednesdaysandSundays,eitheratdawnorattwilight,settledownonsomeone’sgravewithAnjum’sharmoniumandbeginhishauntingriaz,RaagLalitinthemorning,RaagShuddhKalyanintheevenings–Tumbinkaunkhabarmorilait…Whootherthanyouwillaskfornewsofme?Hestudiouslyignoredtheinsultingaudience-requestsforthelatestBollywoodhitorpopularqawwali(nineoutoftentimesitwasDum-a-DumMastQalandar)shoutedoutbythevagabondsanddrifterswhogatheredoutsidetheinvisibleboundaryofwhathad,byconsensus,beenmarkedoffasAnjum’sterritory.Sometimesthetragicshadowsontheedgeofthegraveyardrosetotheirfeetinadreamy,booze-orsmack-inducedhazeanddancedinslowmotiontoabeatoftheirown.Whilethelightdied(orwasborn)andUstadHameed’sgentlevoicerangedovertheruinedlandscapeanditsruinedinhabitants,Anjumwouldsitcross-leggedwithherbacktoUstadHameedonBegumRenataMumtazMadam’sgrave.Shewouldnotspeaktohimorlookathim.Hedidn’tmind.Hecouldtellfromthestillnessofhershouldersthatshewaslistening.Hehadseenherthroughsomuch;hebelievedthatifnothe,thencertainlymusic,wouldseeherthroughthistoo.ButneitherkindnessnorcrueltycouldcoaxAnjumtoreturntoheroldlife

attheKhwabgah.Ittookyearsforthetideofgriefandfeartosubside.ImamZiauddin’sdailyvisits,theirpetty(andsometimesprofound)quarrels,andhisrequestthatAnjumreadthepaperstohimeverymorning,helpeddrawherbackintotheDuniya.GraduallytheFortofDesolationscaleddownintoadwellingofmanageableproportions.Itbecamehome;aplaceofpredictable,reassuringsorrow–awful,butreliable.Thesaffronmensheathedtheirswords,laiddowntheirtridentsandreturnedmeeklytotheirworkinglives,answeringbells,obeyingorders,beatingtheirwivesandbidingtheirtimeuntiltheirnextbloodyouting.Thesaffronparakeetsretractedtheirtalonsandreturnedtogreen,andcamouflagedthemselvesinthebranchesoftheBanyantreesfromwhichthewhite-backedvulturesandsparrowshaddisappeared.Thefoldedmenandunfoldedwomenvisitedlessfrequently.OnlyZakirMian,neatlyfolded,wouldnotgoaway.Butintime,insteadoffollowingheraround,hemovedinwithherandbecameaconstantbutundemandingcompanion.Anjumbegantogroomherselfagain.Shehennaedherhair,turningita

flamingorange.Shehadherfacialhairremoved,herloosetoothextracted

andreplacedwithanimplant.Aperfectwhitetoothnowshonelikeatuskbetweenthedarkredstumpsthatpassedforteeth.Onthewholeitwasonlyslightlylessalarmingthanthepreviousarrangement.ShestayedwiththePathansuitsbutshehadnewonestailoredinsoftercolours,paleblueandpowderpink,whichshematchedwithheroldsequinedandprinteddupattas.Shegainedalittleweightandfilledouthernewclothesinanattractive,comfortableway.ButAnjumneverforgotthatshewasonlyButchers’Luck.Fortherestof

herlife,evenwhenitappearedotherwise,herrelationshipwiththeRest-of-Her-Liferemainedprecariousandreckless.AstheFortofDesolationscaleddown,Anjum’stinshackscaledup.It

grewfirstintoahutthatcouldaccommodateabed,andthenintoasmallhousewithalittlekitchen.Soasnottoattractundueattention,shelefttheexteriorwallsroughandunfinished.Theinsidesheplasteredandpaintedanunusualshadeoffuchsia.Sheputinasandstoneroofsupportedonirongirders,whichgaveheraterraceonwhich,inthewinter,shewouldputoutaplasticchairanddryherhairandsunherchapped,scalyshinswhileshesurveyedthedominionofthedead.Forherdoorsandwindowsshechoseapalepistachiogreen.TheBandicoot,nowwellonherwaytobecomingayounglady,begantovisitheragain.ShealwayscamewithSaeeda,andsheneverspentthenight.Anjumneveraskedorinsisted,orevenmadeherfeelingsmanifest.Butthepainfromthisonewoundneverdeadened,neverdiminished.Onthiscountherheartsimplywouldnotagreetomend.EveryfewmonthsthemunicipalauthoritiesstuckanoticeonAnjum’s

frontdoorthatsaidsquatterswerestrictlyprohibitedfromlivinginthegraveyardandthatanyunauthorizedconstructionwouldbedemolishedwithinaweek.Shetoldthemthatshewasn’tlivinginthegraveyard,shewasdyinginit–andforthisshedidn’tneedpermissionfromthemunicipalitybecauseshehadauthorizationfromtheAlmightyHimself.Noneofthemunicipalofficerswhovisitedherwasmanenoughtotakethe

matterfurtherandruntheriskofbeingembarrassedbyherlegendaryabilities.Also,likeeveryoneelse,theyfearedbeingcursedbyaHijra.Sotheychosethepathofappeasementandpettyextortion.Theysettledonanot-inconsiderablesumofmoneytobepaidtothem,alongwithanon-vegetarianmeal,onDiwaliaswellasEid.Andtheyagreedthatifthehouseexpandedthesumwouldexpandproportionately.OvertimeAnjumbegantoenclosethegravesofherrelativesandbuild

roomsaroundthem.Eachroomhadagrave(ortwo)andabed.Ortwo.Shebuiltaseparatebathhouseandatoiletwithitsownseptictank.Forwatersheusedthepublichandpump.ImamZiauddin,whowasbeingunkindlytreatedbyhissonanddaughter-in-law,soonbecameapermanentguest.Herarelywenthomeanymore.Anjumbegantorentacoupleofroomstodown-and-

outtravellers(thepublicitywasstrictlybywordofmouth).Thereweren’tallthatmanytakersbecauseobviouslythesettingandlandscape,tosaynothingoftheinnkeeperherself,werenottoeverybody’staste.Also,itmustbesaid,notallthetakersweretotheinnkeeper’staste.Anjumwaswhimsicalandirrationalaboutwhomsheadmittedandwhomsheturnedaway–oftenwithunwarrantedandentirelyunreasonablerudenessthatborderedonabuse(Whosentyouhere?Gofuckyourselfinthearse),andsometimeswithanunearthly,savageroar.Theadvantageoftheguesthouseinthegraveyardwasthatunlikeevery

otherneighbourhoodinthecity,includingthemostexclusiveones,itsufferednopowercuts.Noteveninthesummer.ThiswasbecauseAnjumstoleherelectricityfromthemortuary,wherethecorpsesrequiredround-the-clockrefrigeration.(Thecity’spauperswholaythereinair-conditionedsplendourhadneverexperiencedanythingofthekindwhiletheywerealive.)AnjumcalledherguesthouseJannat.Paradise.ShekeptherTVonnightandday.Shesaidsheneededthenoisetosteadyhermind.Shewatchedthenewsdiligentlyandbecameanastutepoliticalanalyst.ShealsowatchedHindisoapoperasandEnglishfilmchannels.SheparticularlyenjoyedB-gradeHollywoodvampiremoviesandwatchedthesameonesoverandoveragain.Shecouldn’tunderstandthedialogueofcourse,butsheunderstoodthevampiresreasonablywell.GraduallyJannatGuestHousebecameahubforHijraswho,foronereason

oranother,hadfallenoutof,orbeenexpelledfrom,thetightlyadministeredgridofHijraGharanas.Aswordspreadaboutthenewguesthouseinthegraveyard,friendsfromthepastreappeared,mostincredibly,NimmoGorakhpuri.Whentheyfirstmet,Anjumandsheheldeachotherandweptlikestar-crossedsweetheartsreunitedafteralongseparation.Nimmobecamearegularvisitor,oftenspendingtwoorthreedaysatastretchwithAnjum.Shehadgrownintoaresplendentfigure,large,jewelled,perfumedandimmaculatelygroomed.ShecameinherownlittlewhiteMaruti800fromMewat,atwo-hourdrivefromDelhi,wheresheownedtwoflatsandasmallfarm.Shehadbecomeagoat-magnatewhotradedinexoticgoatsthatshesoldforseriousmoneytowealthyMuslimsinDelhiandBombayforslaughteronBakr-Eid.Shechuckledasshetoldheroldfriendthetricksofthetradeanddescribedthespurioustechniquesofovernightgoat-fatteningandthepoliticsofgoat-pricinginthepre-Eidgoat-market.Shesaidthatfromnextyearherbusinesswouldgoonline.Anjumandsheagreedthatforoldtimes’saketheywouldcelebratethenextBakr-EidtogetherinthegraveyardwiththebestspecimeninNimmo’sstock.SheshowedAnjumgoatportraitsonherswankynewmobilephone.ShewasasobsessedwithgoatsasshehadoncebeenwithWesternwomen’sfashion.SheshowedAnjumhowtotellaJamnaparifromaBarbari,anEtawafromaSojat.Thensheshowedheran

MMSofaroosterwhoseemedtosay‘YaAllah!’eachtimeheflappedhiswings.Anjumwasfloored.Evenasimpleroosterknew!Fromthatdayonwardsherfaithdeepened.Truetoherword,NimmoGorakhpuripresentedAnjumwithayoungblack

ramwithbiblical,curledhorns–thesamemodel,Nimmosaid,astheoneHazratIbrahimhadsacrificedonthemountaininplaceofhisonlybegottenson,Ishaq,exceptthattheirswaswhite.Anjumputtheraminaroomofhisown(withagraveofhisown)andrearedhimlovingly.ShetriedtolovehimjustasmuchasIbrahimhadlovedIshaq.Love,afterall,istheingredientthatseparatesasacrificefromordinary,everydaybutchery.Shewovehimatinselcollarandputbellsonhisankles.Helovedhertoo,andfollowedherwherevershewent.(ShetookcaretotakethebellsoffhisanklesandconcealhimfromZainabwhenshevisited,becausesheknewwhatthatwouldleadto.)BythetimeEidcamearoundthatyear,theoldcitywasteemingwithretiredcamelswithfadedtattoos,buffaloesandgoatsasbigassmallhorses,waitingtobeslaughtered.Anjum’sramwasfull-grown,almostfourfeettall,allleanmeatandmuscleandslantingyelloweyes.Peoplecametothegraveyardjusttohavealookathim.AnjumbookedImranQureishi,therisingstaramongthenewcropof

youngbutchersinShahjahanabad,toperformthesacrifice.Hehadseveralpriorbookingsandsaidhewouldnotbeabletocomeuntillateafternoon.WhenthedayofBakr-Eiddawned,Anjumknewthatunlessshewenttotheoldcityandbroughthimherself,interloperswouldsnatchhimawayoutofturn.Dressedasaman,inaclean,ironedPathansuit,shespentthewholemorningtrailingImranfromhousetohouse,streetcornertostreetcornerwhilehewentabouthisbusiness.Hislastappointmentwaswithapolitician,aformermemberoftheLegislativeAssembly,whohadlostthepreviouselectionbyanembarrassingmarginofvotes.Tominimizehisdefeatandshowhisconstituencythathewasalreadypreparingforthenextelection,hehaddecidedtoputonanopulentdisplayofpiety.Asleek,fatwaterbuffalo,herskinoiledandshining,wasdraggedthroughthenarrowstreetsthatwereonlyaswideasshewas,toacrossingwheretherewassomeroomformanoeuvre.Positioneddiagonally,tetheredtoalamppostwithherfrontlegshobbled,shejustaboutfittedintowhatpassedoffasastreetcrossing.Excitedpeople,dressedinnewclothes,crowdeddoorways,windows,littlebalconiesandterracestowatchImranperformthesacrifice.Hearrived,makinghiswaythroughthecrowd,slim,quiet,unassuming.Asthemurmurofthecrowdgrewlouderthebuffalo’sskintwitchedandhereyesbegantoroll.Herhugeheadwithitshornsthatsweptbackwardsinanoblongarcbegantoswaybackandforth,asthoughshewasinatranceataclassicalmusicconcert.WithadeftjudomoveImranandhishelperrolledheroverontoherside.Inamomenthehadcutopenherjugularandduckedoutofthewayofthe

fountainofbloodthatpumpedupintotheair,itsrhythmmatchingthebeatingofherfailingheart.Bloodsprayedacrossthedownedshuttersofshops,ontothefacesofsmilingpoliticiansonthetatteredoldposterspastedonthewalls.Itfloweddownthestreetpastparkedmotorcycles,scooters,rickshawsandcycles.Littlegirlsinjewelledslipperssquealedandsteppedoutofitsway.Littleboyspretendednottomindandthemorenaughtyonesstampedtheirfeetsoftlyintheredpuddlesandadmiredtheirbloodyshoe-prints.Ittookawhileforthebuffalotobleedtodeath.Whenshedid,Imranopenedherupandlaidherorgansoutonthestreet–heart,spleen,stomach,liver,entrails.Sincethestreetslopeddownwards,theybegantoslipawaylikeodd-shapedboatsonariverofblood.Imran’shelperrescuedthemandputthemonmoreevenground.Theskinningandcutting-upwouldbedonebythesupportingcast.Thesuperstarwipedhiscleaveronapieceofcloth,scannedthecrowd,caughtAnjum’seyeandnoddedimperceptibly.Heslippedthroughthecrowdandwalkedaway.Anjumcaughtupwithhimatthenextchowk.Thestreetswerebusy.Goatskins,goathorns,goatskulls,goatbrainsandgoatoffalwerebeingcollected,separatedandstacked.Shitwasbeingextrudedfromintestinesthatwouldthenbeproperlycleanedandboileddownintosoapandglue.Catsweremakingoffwithdelectablebooty.Nothingwenttowaste.ImranandAnjumwalkeduptoTurkmanGatefromwheretheytookan

autorickshawtothegraveyard.Anjum,ManoftheHouseforthemoment,heldaknifeoverherbeautiful

ramandsaidaprayer.Imranslithisjugular,andheldhimdownwhileheshudderedandthebloodflowedoutofhim.Withintwentyminutestheramwasskinned,cutupintomanageablepieces,andImranwasgone.AnjummadelittleparcelsofmuttontodistributethesacrificeinthewayitisWritten:athirdforthefamily,athirdfornearsanddears,athirdforthepoor.ShegaveRoshanLal,whohadarrivedthatmorningtogreetheronEid,aplasticpacketcontainingthetongueandpartofathigh.ShekeptthebestpiecesforZainab,whohadjustturnedtwelve,andforUstadHameed.Theaddictsatewellthatnight.Anjum,NimmoGorakhpuriandImam

Ziauddinsatoutontheterraceandfeastedonthreekindsofmuttondishesandamountainofbiryani.NimmogiftedAnjumamobilephonewiththeroosterMMSalreadyinstalledonit.AnjumhuggedherandsaidshenowfeltshehadadirectlinetoGod.TheywatchedtheMMSafewmoretimes.TheydescribedthevideoindetailtoImamZiauddin,wholistenedwithhiseyesbutwasnotasenthusiasticastheywereaboutitsevidentiaryvalue.ThenAnjumtuckedhernewphonesafelyintoherbosom.Thisoneshedidnotlose.Inafewweeks,throughthegoodofficesofhisdriver,whostillbroughtmessagesfromhisbosstoAnjum,D.D.GuptagothernewnumberandwasbackintouchwithherfromIraqwhereheseemedtohavedecidedtolive.

ThemorningafterBakr-Eid,JannatGuestHousereceiveditssecondpermanentguest–ayoungmanwhocalledhimselfSaddamHussain.Anjumknewhimalittleandlikedhimalot,sosheofferedhimaroomatarock-bottomprice–lessthanitwouldhavecosthimtorentoneintheoldcity.WhenAnjumfirstmetSaddamheworkedinthemortuary.Hewasoneof

abouttenyoungmenwhosejobitwastohandlethecadavers.TheHindudoctorswhowererequiredtoconductpost-mortemsthoughtofthemselvesasuppercasteandwouldnottouchdeadbodiesforfearofbeingpolluted.Themenwhoactuallyhandledthecadaversandperformedthepost-mortemswereemployedascleanersandbelongedtoacasteofsweepersandleatherworkerswhousedtobecalledChamars.Thedoctors,likemostHindus,lookeddownonthemandconsideredthemtobeUntouchable.Thedoctorswouldstandatadistancewithhandkerchiefsmaskingtheirnosesandshoutinstructionstothestaffaboutwhereincisionsweretobemadeandwhatwastobedonewiththevisceraandtheorgans.SaddamwastheonlyMuslimamongthecleanerswhoworkedinthemortuary.Likethem,hetoohadbecomesomethingofanamateursurgeon.Saddamhadaquicksmileandeyelashesthatlookedasthoughtheyhad

workedoutinagym.HealwaysgreetedAnjumwithaffectionandoftenranlittleerrandsforher–buyinghereggsandcigarettes(shetrustednobodywithhervegetableshopping)orfetchingabucketofwaterfromthepumponthedaysshehadabackache.Occasionally,whentheworkloadatthemortuarywaslesshectic(usuallySeptembertoNovember,whenpeopleonthestreetswerenotdyinglikefliesoftheheat,thecold,ordengue),Saddamwoulddropin,Anjumwouldmakehimteaandthey’dshareacigarette.Onedayhedisappearedwithoutleavingword.Whensheasked,hiscolleaguestoldherhehadhadarun-inwithoneofthedoctorsandbeenfired.WhenhereappearedthatmorningafterEid,awholeyearlater,helookedalittlegaunt,alittlebattered,andwasaccompaniedbyanequallygauntandbatteredwhitemarewhosenamehesaidwasPayal.Hewasdressedstylishly,injeansandaredT-shirtthatsaidYourPlaceorMine?Heworehissunglassesevenwhenhewasindoors.HesmiledwhenAnjumteasedhimbuthesaiditdidn’thaveanythingtodowithstyle.Hetoldherthestrangestoryofhowhiseyeshadbeenburnedbyatree.Afterhewasfiredfromthemortuary,Saddamsaid,hedriftedfromjobto

job–heworkedasahelperinashop,abusconductor,sellingnewspapersattheNewDelhirailwaystationandfinally,indesperation,asabricklayeronaconstructionsite.OneofthesecurityguardsatthesitebecameafriendandtookSaddamtomeethisboss,SangeetaMadam,inthehopethatshemightgivehimajob.SangeetaMadamwasaplump,cheerfulwidowwho,notwithstandingherjolly-typepersonality,andherloveforBollywoodsongs,wasatough-heartedlabourcontractorwhosesecuritycompany,Safen’Sound

GuardService(SSGS),controlledapooloffivehundredsecurityguards.Heroffice,inthebasementofabottlefactory,wasinthenewindustrialbeltthathadsprungupontheoutskirtsofDelhi.Themenonherrosterhadatwelve-hourworkingdayandasix-dayweek.SangeetaMadam’scommissionwas60percentoftheirsalary,whichleftthemwithbarelyenoughforfoodandaroofovertheirheads.Stilltheyflockedtoherintheirthousands–retiredsoldiers,laid-offworkers,trainloadsofdesperatevillagersfreshlyarrivedinthecity,educatedmen,illiteratemen,well-fedmen,starvingmen.‘Thereweremanysecuritycompanieswhoseofficeswereallnexttoeachother,’SaddamtoldAnjum.‘Whatasightwemadeonthefirstofeverymonthwhenwewenttocollectourpay…thousandsofus…Yougotthefeelingthattherewereonlythreekindsofpeopleinthiscity–securityguards,peoplewhoneedsecurityguards,andthieves.’SangeetaMadamwasamongthebetterpaymasters.Soshehadherpickof

themen.Sherecruitedtheoneswholookedrelativelylessmalnourishedandgavethemhalfaday’straining–basically,shetaughtthemhowtostandstraight,howtosalute,howtosay‘Yes,Sir’,‘No,Sir’,‘Goodmorning,Sir’and‘Goodnight,Sir’.Sheequippedthemwithacap,apre-knottedtiethatcameonanelasticloop,andtwosetsofuniformswithSSGSembroideredontheepaulettes.(Theyhadtopayadepositworthmorethanthepriceoftheuniformsincasetheyranoffwithoutreturningthem.)Shespreadherlittleprivatearmyacrossthecity.Theyguardedhomes,schools,farmhouses,banks,ATMs,stores,malls,cinemahalls,gatedhousingcommunities,hotels,restaurantsandtheembassiesandhighcommissionsofpoorercountries.SaddamtoldSangeetaMadamthathisnamewasDayachand(becauseeveryidiotknewthatintheprevailingclimateasecurityguardwithaMuslimnamewouldhavebeenconsideredacontradictioninterms).Beingaliterate,pleasant-lookingmaningoodhealth,hegotthejobeasily.‘I’llbewatchingyou,’SangeetaMadamtoldhimonhisveryfirstday,lookinghimupanddownappreciatively.‘Ifyoucanproveyouareagoodworker,I’llmakeyouasupervisorinthreemonths.’ShesenthimoutasoneofateamoftwelvementotheNationalGalleryofModernArtwhereoneofIndia’smostfamouscontemporaryartists,amanfromasmalltownwhohadrisentointernationalstardom,washoldingasoloshow.ThesecurityfortheshowhadbeensubcontractedtoSafen’Sound.Theexhibits,everydayartefactsmadeofstainlesssteel–steelcisterns,

steelmotorcycles,steelweighingscaleswithsteelfruitononesideandsteelweightsontheother,steelcupboardsfullofsteelclothes,asteeldiningtablewithsteelplatesandsteelfood,asteeltaxiwithsteelluggageonitssteelluggagerack–extraordinaryfortheirverisimilitude,werebeautifullylitanddisplayedinthemanyroomsofthegallery,eachroomguardedbytwoSafen’Soundguards.Eventhecheapestexhibit,Saddamsaid,wasthepriceofa

two-bedroomLIG(LowerIncomeGroup)flat.So,allputtogether,accordingtohiscalculations,theycostasmuchasawholehousingcolony.ArtFirst,acutting-edgecontemporaryartmagazineownedbyaleadingsteelmagnate,wasthemainsponsoroftheshow.Saddam(Dayachand)wasgivensolechargeofthesignatureexhibitinthe

show–anexquisitelymadehalf-scale,butabsolutelylife-like,stainless-steelBanyantree,withstainless-steelaerialrootsthathungallthewaydowntotheground,formingastainless-steelgrove.Thetreecameinagiganticwoodencrate,shippedinfromagalleryinNewYork.Hewatcheditbeingun-cratedandplacedonthelawnsoftheNationalGallery,securedwithundergroundbolts.Ithadstainless-steelbuckets,stainless-steeltiffincarriersandstainless-steelpotsandpanshangingfromitsbranches.(Almostasthoughstainless-steellabourershadhunguptheirstainless-steelluncheswhiletheyploughedstainless-steelfieldsandsowedstainless-steelseeds.)‘ThatpartIjustdidn’tunderstand,’SaddamtoldAnjum.‘Andtherestyoudid?’Anjumasked,laughing.Theartist,wholivedinBerlin,hadsentstrictinstructionsthathedidnot

wantanykindofprotectivefenceorcordontobebuiltaroundthetree.Hewaskeenforviewerstocommunewithhisworkdirectly,withoutanybarriers.Theyweretobeallowedtotouchitandtowanderthroughthegroveofrootsiftheywantedto.Mostofthemdid,Saddamsaid,exceptwhenthesunwashighandthesteelwasburninghottothetouch.Saddam’sjobwastomakesurenobodyscratchedtheirnamesintothesteeltreeordamageditinanyway.Itwasalsohisresponsibilitytokeepthetreecleanandtomakesuretheimprintsfromthehundredsofhandsthattoucheditwerewipedaway.Forthistaskhewasgivenaspeciallydesignedladder,asupplyofJohnson’sBabyOilandfragmentsofold,softsaris.Itseemedanimprobablemethod,butitactuallyworked.Cleaningthetreewasnotaproblem,hesaid.Theproblemwaskeepinganeyeonitwhenthesunreflectedoffit.Itwaslikebeingaskedtokeepaneyeonthesun.AfterthefirsttwodaysSaddamaskedSangeetaMadamforpermissiontowearsunglasses.Sheturneddownhisrequest,sayingitwouldlookinappropriateandthemuseummanagementwasboundtotakeoffence.SoSaddamdevelopedatechniqueoflookingatthetreeforacoupleofminutesandthenlookingaway.Still,bythetimesevenweekshadpassedandthetreewasre-cratedandshippedtoAmsterdamfortheartist’snextshow,Saddam’seyesweresinged.Theysmartedandwateredcontinuously.Hefounditimpossibletokeepthemopenindaylightunlessheusedsunglasses.HewasdismissedfromSafen’SoundGuardServicebecausenobodyhadanyuseforanordinarysecurityguardwhodressedasthoughhewasafilmstar’sbodyguard.SangeetaMadamtoldhimhewasagreatdisappointmenttoherandhadcompletelybeliedherexpectations.His

responsewastocallhersometerriblenames.Hewasphysicallyejectedfromheroffice.AnjumcackledherappreciationwhenSaddamtoldherwhatthosenames

were.ShegavehimtheroomshehadbuiltaroundhersisterBibiAyesha’sgrave.SaddambuiltatemporarystableabuttingthebathhouseforPayal.She

stoodthereallnight,snufflingandharrumphing,apalenightmareinthegraveyard.InthedaytimeshewasSaddam’sbusinesspartner.Saddamandshedidtheroundsofthecity’slargerhospitals.Hestationedhimselfoutsidethehospitalgatesandbusiedhimselfwithoneofherhooves,tappingitworriedlywithasmallhammer,pretendinghewasre-shoeingit.Payalwentalongwiththecharade.WhentheanxiousrelativesofseriouslyillpatientsapproachedhimSaddamwouldreluctantlyagreetopartwiththeoldhorseshoetobringthemgoodluck.Foraprice.Healsohadasupplyofmedicines–somecommonlyprescribedantibiotics,Crocin,coughsyrupandarangeofherbalremedies–thathesoldtothepeoplewhoflockedtothebiggovernmenthospitalsfromthevillagesaroundDelhi.Mostofthemcampedinthehospitalgroundsoronthestreetsbecausetheyweretoopoortorentanykindofaccommodationinthecity.AtnightSaddamrodePayalhomethroughtheemptystreetslikeaprince.Inhisroomhehadasackofhorseshoes.HegaveAnjumonethatshehungonherwallnexttoheroldcatapult.Saddamhadotherbusinessintereststoo.Hesoldpigeon-feedatcertainspotsinthecitywheremotoristsstoppedtoseekquickbenedictionbyfeedingGod’screatures.Onhisnon-hospitaldaysSaddamwouldbetherewithsmallpacketsofgrainandreadychange.Afterthemotoristspedaway,hewould,quiteoften,muchtothechagrinofthepigeons,sweepupthegrainandputitbackintoapacket,readyforhisnextcustomer.Allofit–short-changingpigeonsandexploitingsickpeople’srelatives–wastiringwork,especiallyinsummer,andtheincomewasuncertain.Butnoneofitinvolvedhavingabossandthatwasthemainthing.SoonafterSaddammovedin,Anjumandhe,partneredbyImamZiauddin,

begananotherinitiative.Itstartedbyaccidentandthenevolvedonitsown.OneafternoonAnwarBhai,whoranabrothelnearbyonGBRoad,arrivedinthegraveyardwiththebodyofRubina,oneofhisgirls,whohaddiedsuddenlyofaburstappendix.Hecamewitheightyoungwomeninburqas,trailedbyathree-year-oldboy,AnwarBhai’ssonbyoneofthem.Theywerealldistressedandagitated,notjustbyRubina’spassing,butalsobecausethehospitalreturnedherbodywiththeeyesmissing.Thehospitalsaidthatratshadgottotheminthemortuary.ButAnwarBhaiandRubina’scolleaguesbelievedthatRubina’seyeshadbeenstolenbysomeonewhoknewthatabunchofwhoresandtheirpimpwereunlikelytocomplaintothepolice.Ifthatwasn’tbadenough,becauseoftheaddressgivenonthedeathcertificate

(GBRoad),AnwarBhaicouldnotfindabathhousetobatheRubina’sbody,agraveyardtoburyherin,oranimamtosaytheprayers.Saddamtoldthemtheyhadcometotherightplace.Heaskedthemtosit

downandgotthemsomethingcoldtodrinkwhilehecreatedanenclosurebehindtheguesthousewithsomeofAnjum’solddupattaswrappedaroundfourbamboopoles.Insidetheenclosureheputoutapieceofplywoodraisedoffthegroundonafewbricks,covereditwithaplasticsheetandaskedthewomentolayRubina’scorpseonit.HeandAnwarBhaicollectedwaterfromthehandpumpinbucketsandacoupleofoldpaintcansandferriedthemtotheimprovisedbathhouse.Thecorpsewasalreadystiff,soRubina’sclotheshadtobecutopen.(Saddamproducedarazorblade.)Lovingly,flappingoverherbodylikeadroveofravens,thewomenbathedher,soapingherneck,herears,hertoes.Equallylovinglytheykeptasharpeyeoutforanyoneamongthemwhomightbetemptedtoslipoffandpocketabangle,atoe-ringorherprettypendant.(Alljewellery–fakeaswellasreal–wastobehandedovertoAnwarBhai.)Mehrunissaworriedthatthewatermightbetoocold.SulekhainsistedRubinahadopenedhereyesandclosedthemagain(andthatshaftsofdivinelightshoneoutfromwherehereyeshadbeen).Zeenatwentofftobuyashroud.WhileRubinawasbeingpreparedforherfinaljourney,AnwarBhai’slittleson,dressedindenimdungareesandaprayercap,paradedupanddown,goose-steppinglikeaKremlinguard,inordertoshowoffhisnew(fake)mauveCrocswithflowersonthem.HemadeagreatproductionofnoisilycrunchingKurkurefromthepacketAnjumhadgivenhim.Occasionallyhetriedtopeepintotheshedtoseewhathismotherandhisaunties(whomhehadneverseeninburqasinallhisshortlife)wereupto.Bythetimethebodyhadbeenbathed,dried,perfumedandwrappedina

shroud,Saddam,withthehelpoftwooftheaddicts,haddugarespectablydeepgrave.ImamZiauddinsaidtheprayersandRubina’sbodywasinterred.AnwarBhai,relievedandgrateful,pressedfivehundredrupeesonAnjum.Sherefusedtotakeit.Saddamrefusedtoo.Buthewasnotonetopassupabusinessopportunity.WithinaweekJannatGuestHousebegantofunctionasafuneralparlour.It

hadaproperbathhousewithanasbestosroofandacementplatformforbodiestobelaidouton.Therewasasteadysupplyofgravestones,shrouds,perfumedMultaniclay(whichmostpeoplepreferredtosoap)andbucket-water.Therewasaresidentimamoncallnightandday.Therulesforthedead(sameasforthelivingintheguesthouse)wereesoteric–warm,welcomingsmilesorirrationalroarsofrejection,dependingonnobody-really-knew-what.TheoneclearcriterionwasthatJannatFuneralServiceswouldonlyburythosewhomthegraveyardsandimamsoftheDuniyahadrejected.Sometimesdayswentbywithnofuneralsandsometimestherewasaglut.

Theirrecordwasfiveinoneday.Sometimesthepolicethemselves–whoseruleswereasirrationalasAnjum’s–broughtbodiestothem.WhenUstadKulsoomBipassedawayinhersleepshewasburiedingrand

fashionintheHijronKaKhanqahinMehrauli.ButBombaySilkwasburiedinAnjum’sgraveyard.AndsoweremanyotherHijrasfromalloverDelhi.(Inthisway,ImamZiauddinfinallyreceivedtheanswertohislong-ago

question:‘Tellme,youpeople,whenyoudie,wheredotheyburyyou?Whobathesthebodies?Whosaystheprayers?’)GraduallyJannatGuestHouseandFuneralServicesbecamesomuchapart

ofthelandscapethatnobodyquestioneditsprovenanceoritsrighttoexist.Itexisted.Andthatwasthat.WhenJahanaraBegumdiedattheageofeighty-seven,ImamZiauddinsaidtheprayers.ShewasburiednexttoMulaqatAli.Bismillah,whenshedied,wasburiedinAnjum’sgraveyardtoo.AndsowasZainab’sgoat,whocouldhavemadeitintotheGuinnessBookofWorldRecordsforaccomplishinganunheard-offeat(foragoat):dyingofnaturalcauses(colic)aftersurvivingarecordsixteenBakr-EidsinShahjahanabad.Thecreditforthatofcoursebelongednottohim,buttohisfiercelittlemistress.OfcoursetheGuinnessBookhadnosuchcategory.

ThoughAnjumandSaddamsharedthesamehome(andgraveyard),theyrarelyspenttimetogether.Anjumenjoyedlazingaround,butSaddam,stretchedbetweenhismanyenterprises(hehadsoldhispigeon-feedbusiness,itbeingtheleastremunerative),hadnotimetospareandhatedTV.OnoneunusualmorningofenforcedleisureAnjumandhesatonanoldredtaxiseatthattheyusedasasofa,drinkingteaandwatchingTV.Itwasthe15thofAugust,IndependenceDay.ThetimidlittlePrimeMinisterwhohadreplacedthelispingPoet-PrimeMinister(thepartyhebelongedtodidnotofficiallybelieveIndiawasaHinduNation)wasaddressingthenationfromtherampartsoftheRedFort.ItwasoneofthosedayswhentheinsularityofthewalledcityhadbeeninvadedbytherestofDelhi.MassivecrowdsorganizedbytheRulingPartyfilledtheRamlilagrounds.Fivethousandschoolchildrendressedinthecoloursofthenationalflagdidaflowerdrill.Pettyinfluence-peddlersandsmallwigswhowantedtobeseenonTVseatedthemselvesinthefrontrowssotheycouldconverttheirvisibleproximitytopowerintobusinessdeals.Afewyearsago,whenthelispingPoet-PrimeMinisterandhispartyofbigotswerevotedoutofoffice,Anjumhadrejoicedandlavishedsomethingclosetoadorationonthetimid,blue-turbanedSikheconomistwhoreplacedhim.Thefactthathehadallthepoliticalcharismaofatrappedrabbitonlyenhancedheradulation.Butoflateshehaddecidedthatitwastruewhatpeoplesaid–thathereallywasapuppetandsomeoneelsewaspullingthestrings.Hisineffectualnesswasstrengtheningtheforcesofdarknessthathadbeguntomassonthehorizonandslouchthroughthestreetsonceagain.

GujaratkaLallawasstilltheChiefMinisterofGujarat.HehaddevelopedaswaggerandbeguntotalkalotaboutavengingcenturiesofMuslimRule.Ineverypublicspeech,healwaysfoundawaytobringinthemeasurementofhischest(fifty-sixinches).Forsomeoddreasonitdidseemtoimpresspeople.Therewererumoursthathewasgettingreadyforhis‘MarchtoDelhi’.OnthesubjectofGujaratkaLalla,SaddamandAnjumwereinperfectsync.AnjumwatchedtheTrappedRabbit–whobarelyhadachestatall–

standinginhisbulletproofenclosurewiththeRedFortloomingbehindhim,reelingoffdensestatisticsaboutimportsandexportstoarestivecrowdthathadnoideawhathewastalkingabout.Hespokelikeamarionette.Onlyhislowerjawmoved.Nothingelsedid.Hisbushywhiteeyebrowslookedasthoughtheywereattachedtohisspectaclesandnothisface.Hisexpressionneverchanged.Attheendofhisspeechheraisedhishandinalimpsaluteandsignedoffwithahigh,reedyJaiHind!(VictorytoIndia!)Asoldier,whowasalmostsevenfeettallandhadabristlingmoustacheasbroadasthewingspanofababyalbatross,unsheathedhisswordfromitsscabbardandshoutedasaluteatthelittlePrimeMinister,whoseemedtoshudderinfright.Whenhewalkedaway,onlyhislegsmoved,nothingelsedid.AnjumswitchedofftheTVindisgust.‘Let’sgouptotheroof,’Saddamsaidhastily,sensingtheapproachofone

ofhermoods,whichusuallyspelledtroubleforeverybodywithinahalf-kilometrerange.Hewentonaheadandputoutanoldrugandafewhardpillowswith

floweredpillowcasesthatsmelledofrancidhairoil.TherewasahintofabreezeandtheIndependenceDaykite-flyerswerealreadyout.Thereweresomekite-flyersinthegraveyardtoo,notdoingtoobadly.Anjumarrivedwithasaucepanoffresh,hotteaandatransistor.Saddamandshelaydown,staringup(Saddaminhissunglasses)atthedirtyskydottedwithbrightpaperkites.Lollingnexttothem,asthoughhetoohaddecidedtotakeadayoffafterahard,workingweek,wasBiroo(sometimescalledRoobi),adogSaddamhadfoundwanderingdownthepavementofabusyroad,wild-eyedanddisoriented,withamessoftransparenttubesdanglingoutofhim.Biroowasabeaglewhohadeitherescapedfromoroutlivedhispurposeinapharmaceuticalstestinglab.Helookedwornandrubbedout,likeadrawingsomeonehadtriedtoerase.Theusuallyrichblack,whiteandtanbeaglecoloursweredimmedbyasmoky,greyishpatinathatmayofcoursehavehadnothingtodowiththedrugsthatweretestedonhim.WhenBiroofirstcametoliveinJannatGuestHousehewastroubledbyfrequentepilepticfitsandsnorting,debilitatingreversesneezes.Eachtimeherecoveredfromtheexhaustionofaseizure,heemergedasadifferentcharacter–sometimesfriendly,sometimeshorny,sometimessleepy,sometimessnarlyorlazy–as

unreasonableandunpredictableashisadoptedmistress.OvertimehisfitshadgrownlessfrequentandhehadstabilizedintowhatbecamehismoreorlesspermanentLazyDogavatar.Thereversesneezeslivedon.Anjumpouredalittleteaintoasaucerandblewintoittocoolitdownfor

him.Heslurpeditupnoisily.HedrankeverythingAnjumdrank,ateeverythingthatsheate–biryani,korma,samosas,halwa,falooda,phirni,zamzam,mangoesinsummer,orangesinwinter.Itwasterribleforhisbody,butexcellentforhissoul.Inawhilethebreezepickedupandthekitessoared,butthenthe

mandatoryIndependenceDaydrizzlebegan.Anjumroaredatitasthoughitwasanuninvitedguest–AiHai!Motherfuckingwhorerain!Saddamlaughedbutneitherofthemmoved,waitingtoseeifitwasamajororaminor.Itwasaminor,andsoonstopped.Absent-mindedly,AnjumbegantorubdownBiroo’scoat,wipingoffthedelicatefrostofraindropsonit.GettingwetintherainremindedherofZainabandshesmiledtoherself.Uncharacteristically,shebegantotellSaddamabouttheFlyoverStory(theeditedversion)andhowmuchtheBandicoothadloveditwhenshewasalittlegirl.Shewentonsunnily,describingZainab’spranks,herloveofanimals,andhowquicklyshehadpickedupEnglishatschool.Allofasudden,whenherreminiscencewasatitsmostcheerful,Anjum’svoice(s)brokeandhereyesfilledwithtears.‘Iwasborntobeamother,’shesobbed.‘Justwatch.OnedayAllahMian

willgivememyownchild.ThatmuchIknow.’‘Howisthatpossible?’Saddamsaid,reasonably,entirelyunawarethathe

wasenteringtreacherousterritory.‘Haqeeqatbhikoicheezhotihai.’Thereis,afterall,suchathingasReality.‘Whynot?Whythehellnot?’Anjumsatupandlookedhimintheeye.‘I’mjustsaying…Imeantrealistically…’‘IfyoucanbeSaddamHussain,Icanbeamother.’Anjumdidn’tsayit

nastily,shesaiditsmilingly,coquettishly,suckingonherwhitetuskandherdarkredteeth.Buttherewassomethingsteelyaboutthecoquetry.Alert,butnotworried,Saddamlookedbackather,wonderingwhatshe

knew.‘Onceyouhavefallenofftheedgelikeallofushave,includingourBiroo,’

Anjumsaid,‘youwillneverstopfalling.Andasyoufallyouwillholdontootherfallingpeople.Thesooneryouunderstandthatthebetter.Thisplacewherewelive,wherewehavemadeourhome,istheplaceoffallingpeople.Herethereisnohaqeeqat.Arre,evenwearen’treal.Wedon’treallyexist.’Saddamsaidnothing.HehadgrowntoloveAnjummorethanheloved

anyoneelseintheworld.Helovedthewayshespoke,thewordsshechose,thewayshemovedhermouth,thewayherred,paan-stainedlipsmovedoverherrottenteeth.HelovedherridiculousfronttoothandthewayshecouldrecitewholeversesofUrdupoetry,most–orall–ofwhichhedidn’t

understand.SaddamknewnopoetryandverylittleUrdu.Butthen,heknewotherthings.Heknewthequickestwaytoskinacoworbuffalowithoutdamagingthehide.Heknewhowtowet-salttheskinandmarinateitwithlimeandtanninuntilitbegantostretchandstiffenintoleather.Heknewhowtocalibratethesournessofthemarinadebytastingit,howtoscudtheleatherandstripitofhairandfat,howtosoapit,bleachit,buff,greaseandwaxittillitshone.Healsoknewthattheaveragehumanbodycontainsbetweenfourandfivelitresofblood.HehadwatcheditspillandspreadslowlyacrosstheroadoutsidetheDulinapolicepost,justofftheDelhi–Gurgaonhighway.Strangely,thethingherememberedmostclearlyaboutallthatwasthelongline-upofexpensivecarsandtheinsectsthatflittedinthebeamsoftheirheadlights.Andthefactthatnobodygotouttohelp.Heknewitwasneitherplannorcoincidencethathadbroughthimtothe

PlaceofFallingPeople.Itwasthetide.‘Whoareyoutryingtofool?’Anjumaskedhim.‘OnlyGod.’Saddamsmiled.‘Notyou.’‘RecitetheKalima…’Anjumsaidimperiously,asthoughshewere

EmperorAurangzebhimself.‘Lailaha…’Saddamsaid.Andthen,likeHazratSarmad,hestopped.‘I

don’tknowtherest.I’mstilllearningit.’‘You’reaChamarlikeallthoseotherboysyouworkedwithinthe

mortuary.Youweren’tlyingtothatSangeetaMadamHaramzaadiBitchaboutyourname,youwerelyingtomeandIdon’tknowwhy,becauseIdon’tcarewhatyouare…Muslim,Hindu,man,woman,thiscaste,thatcaste,oracamel’sarsehole.ButwhycallyourselfSaddamHussain?Hewasabastard,youknow.’AnjumusedthewordChamarandnotDalit,themoremodernand

acceptedtermforthosethatHindusconsideredtobe‘untouchable’,inthesamespiritinwhichsherefusedtorefertoherselfasanythingotherthanHijra.Shedidn’tseetheproblemwitheitherHijrasorChamars.Forawhiletheylaysidebyside,insilence.AndthenSaddamdecidedto

trustAnjumwiththestoryhehadnottoldanybodybefore–astoryaboutsaffronparakeetsandadeadcow.Histoowasastoryaboutluck,notbutchers’luckperhaps,butsomesimilarstrain.Shewasright,hetoldAnjum.Hehadliedtoherandtoldthetruthto

SangeetaMadamHaramzaadiBitch.SaddamHussainwashischosenname,nothisrealname.HisrealnamewasDayachand.HewasbornintoafamilyofChamars–skinners–inavillagecalledBadshahpurinthestateofHaryana,onlyacoupleofhoursawaybybusfromDelhi.Oneday,inanswertoaphonecall,heandhisfather,alongwiththreeother

men,hiredaTempotodriveouttoanearbyvillagetocollectthecarcassofacowthathaddiedonsomeone’sfarm.

‘Thiswaswhatourpeopledid,’Saddamsaid.‘Whencowsdied,upper-castefarmerswouldcallustocollectthecarcasses–becausetheycouldn’tpollutethemselvesbytouchingthem.’‘Yes,yes,Iknow,’Anjumsaid,inatonethatsoundedsuspiciouslylike

admiration.‘Someofthemareveryneatandclean.Theydon’teatonions,garlic,meat…’Saddamignoredthatintervention.‘Sowewouldgoandcollectthecarcasses,skinthem,andturnthehides

intoleather…I’mtalkingabouttheyear2002.Iwasstillinschool.Youknowbetterthanmewhatwasgoingonthen…whatitwaslike…YourshappenedinFebruary,mineinNovember.ItwasthedayofDussehra.OnourwaytopickupthecowwepassedaRamlilamaidanwheretheyhadbuilthugeeffigiesofthedemons…Ravan,MeghnadandKumbhakaran,ashighasthree-storeyedbuildings–allreadytobeblownupintheevening.’NoOldDelhiMuslimneededalessonabouttheHindufestivalof

Dussehra.ItwascelebratedeveryyearintheRamlilagrounds,justoutsideTurkmanGate.EveryyeartheeffigiesofRavan,theten-headed‘demon’KingofLanka,hisbrotherKumbhakaranandhissonMeghnadgrewtallerandwerepackedwithmoreandmoreexplosives.EveryyeartheRamlila,thestoryofhowLordRam,KingofAyodhya,vanquishedRavaninthebattleofLanka,whichHindusbelievedwasthestoryofthetriumphofGoodoverEvil,wasenactedwithgreateraggressionandever-moregeneroussponsorship.AfewaudaciousscholarshadbeguntosuggestthattheRamlilawasreallyhistoryturnedintomythology,andthattheevildemonswerereallydark-skinnedDravidians–indigenousrulers–andtheHindugodswhovanquishedthem(andturnedthemintoUntouchablesandotheroppressedcasteswhowouldspendtheirlivesinserviceofthenewrulers)weretheAryaninvaders.Theypointedtovillageritualsinwhichpeopleworshipeddeities,includingRavan,thatinHinduismwereconsideredtobedemons.Inthenewdispensationhowever,ordinarypeopledidnotneedtobescholarstoknow,eveniftheycouldnotopenlysayso,thatintheriseandriseoftheParakeetReich,regardlessofwhatmayormaynothavebeenmeantinthescriptures,insaffronparakeetspeak,theevildemonshadcometomeannotjustindigenouspeople,buteverybodywhowasnotHindu.WhichincludedofcoursethecitizenryofShahjahanabad.Whenthegianteffigieswereblownup,thesoundoftheexplosionswould

boomthroughthenarrowlanesoftheoldcity.Andfewwereindoubtaboutwhatthatwasmeanttomean.Everyyear,themorningafterGoodhadvanquishedEvil,AhlamBaji,the

midwife-turned-wandering-queenwithfilthyhair,wouldgototheRamlilagrounds,siftthroughthedebris,andreturnwithbowsandarrows,sometimes

awholehandlebarmoustache,orastaringeye,anarm,oraswordthatstuckoutofherfertilizerbag.SowhenSaddamspokeofDussehra,Anjumunderstooditinallitsvast

andvariedmeanings.‘Wefoundthedeadcoweasily,’Saddamsaid.‘It’salwayseasy,youjust

havetoknowtheartofwalkingstraightintothestink.WeloadedthecarcassontotheTempoandstarteddrivinghome.OnthewaywestoppedattheDulinapolicestationtopaytheStationHouseOfficer–hisnamewasSehrawat–hiscut.Itwasapreviously-agreed-uponsum,aper-cowrate.Butthatdayheaskedformore.Notjustformore,fortripletheamount.Whichmeantwewouldhaveactuallybeenlosingmoneytoskinthatcow.Weknewhimwell,thatSehrawat.Idon’tknowwhatcameoverhimthatday–maybehewantedthemoneytobuyalcoholthatnight,tocelebrateDussehra,ormaybehehadadebttopayoff,Idon’tknow.Maybehewasjusttryingtotakeadvantageofthepoliticalclimateofthetime.Myfatherandhisfriendstriedtopleadwithhim,buthewouldn’tlisten.Hegotangrywhentheysaidtheydidn’tevenhavethatmuchmoneyonthem.Hearrestedthemonthechargeof“cow-slaughter”andputtheminthepolicelock-up.Iwasleftoutside.Myfatherdidn’tseemworriedwhenhewentin,soIwasn’teither.Iwaited,assumingtheywerejustdoingsomehardbargainingandwouldsooncometoanagreement.Twohourswentby.Crowdsofpeoplepassedbyontheirwaytotheeveningfireworks.Someweredressedasgods,Ram,LaxmanandHanuman–littlekidswithbowsandarrows,somewithmonkey’stailsandtheirfacespaintedred,someweredemonswithblackfaces,allgoingtotakepartintheRamlila.Whentheywalkedpastourtruck,theyallheldtheirnosesbecauseofthestink.Atsunset,Iheardtheexplosionsoftheeffigiesbeingblownupandthecheersofthepeoplewatching.IwasupsetthatIhadmissedallthefun.Inawhilepeoplebegantoreturnhome.Therewasstillnosignofmyfatherandhisfriends.Andthen,Idon’tknowhowithappened–maybethepolicespreadtherumour,ormadeafewphonecalls–butacrowdstartedtocollectoutsidethepolicestationdemandingthe“cow-killers”beturnedovertothem.ThedeadcowintheTempo,stinkingupthewholearea,wasproofenoughforthem.Peoplebegantoblocktraffic.Ididn’tknowwhattodo,wheretohide,soImingledwiththecrowd.SomepeoplestartedshoutingJaiShriRam!andVandeMataram!Moreandmorejoinedinanditturnedintoafrenzy.Afewmenwentintothepolicestationandbroughtmyfatherandhisthreefriendsout.Theybegantobeatthem,atfirstjustwiththeirfists,andwithshoes.Butthensomeonebroughtacrowbar,someoneelseacarjack.Icouldn’tseemuch,butwhenthefirstblowsfellIheardtheircries…’SaddamturnedtoAnjum.

‘Ihaveneverheardasoundlikethat…itwasastrange,highsound,itwasn’thuman.Butthenthehowlingofthecrowddrownedthem.Idon’tneedtotellyou.Youknow…’Saddam’svoicedroppedtoawhisper.‘Everybodywatched.Nobodystoppedthem.’Hedescribedhowoncethemobhadfinisheditsbusinessthecarsswitched

theirheadlightson,alltogether,likeanarmyconvoy.Howtheysplashedthroughpuddlesofhisfather’sbloodasifitwererainwater,howtheroadlookedlikeastreetintheoldcityonthedayofBakr-Eid.‘Iwaspartofthemobthatkilledmyfather,’Saddamsaid.Anjum’sdesolatefortwithitshummingwallsandsecretdungeons

threatenedtorisearoundheragain.Saddamandshecouldalmostheareachother’sheartbeats.Shecouldn’tbringherselftosayanything,noteventoutterawordofsympathy.ButSaddamknewshewaslistening.Itwasawhilebeforehespokeagain.‘Afewmonthsafterallthismymother,whowasalreadyunwell,died.I

wasleftinthecareofmyuncleandmygrandmother.Idroppedoutofschool,stolesomemoneyfrommyuncleandcametoDelhi.IarrivedinDelhiwithjustalittlemoneyandtheclothesIwaswearing.Ihadonlyoneambition–IwantedtokillthatbastardSehrawat.SomedayIwill.Isleptonthestreets,workedasatruckcleaner,forafewmonthsevenasasewageworker.AndthenmyfriendNeeraj,whoisfrommyvillage,nowheworksintheMunicipalCorporation,you’vemethim–’‘Yes,’Anjumsaid,‘thattall,beautiful-lookingboy–’‘Yes,him.Hetriedtogetintomodellingbutcouldn’t…evenforthatyou

havetopaypimps.NowhedrivesatruckfortheMunicipalCorporation…Anyway,Neerajhelpedmetogetajobhere,inthemortuary,wherewefirstmet…AfewyearsafterIcametoDelhiIwaspassingaTVshowroom,andoneoftheTVsinthewindowwasplayingtheeveningnews.That’swhenIfirstsawthevideoofthehangingofSaddamHussein.Ididn’tknowanythingabouthim,butIwassoimpressedbythecourageanddignityofthatmaninthefaceofdeath.WhenIgotmyfirstmobilephone,Iaskedtheshopkeepertofindthatvideoanddownloaditforme.Iwatcheditagainandagain.Iwantedtobelikehim.IdecidedtobecomeaMuslimandtakehisname.IfeltitwouldgivemethecouragetodowhatIhadtodoandfacetheconsequences,likehim.’‘SaddamHusseinwasabastard,’Anjumsaid.‘Hekilledsomanypeople.’‘Maybe.Buthewasbrave…See…Lookatthis.’Saddamtookouthisfancynewsmartphonewithitsfancybigscreenand

pulledupavideo.Heshadedthescreenwithacuppedpalmtocuttheglare.ItwasaTVclipthatbeganwithanadvertisementforVaselineIntensiveCaremoisturizingcreaminwhichaprettygirloiledherelbowsandshinsandseemedextremelypleasedwiththeresults.Nextupwasanadvertisementby

theJammu&KashmirTourismDepartment–snowylandscapesandhappypeopleinwarmclothessittinginsnowsledges.Thevoice-oversaid,‘Jammu&Kashmir.SoWhite.SoFair.SoExciting.’ThentheTVannouncersaidsomethinginEnglishandSaddamHussein,formerPresidentofIraq,appeared,elegant,withasalt-and-pepperbeard,inablackovercoatandwhiteshirt.Hetoweredoverthegroupofmurmuringmenwearingpeaked,blackexecutioner’shoodswhosurroundedhimandlookedathimthrougheye-slits.Hishandsweretiedbehindhisback.Hestoodstillwhileoneofthementiedablackscarfaroundhisneck,makinggesturesthatseemedtosuggestthatthescarfwouldhelptopreventtheskinonhisneckgettingchafedbythehangman’srope.Onceitwasknotted,thescarfmadeSaddamHusseinlookevenmoreelegant.Surroundedbythejabbering,hoodedmen,hewalkedtothegallows.Thenoosewasloopedoverhisheadandtightenedaroundhisneck.Hesaidhisprayers.Thelastexpressiononhisfacebeforehefellthroughthetrapdoorwasoneofabsolutedisdainforhisexecutioners.‘Iwanttobethiskindofabastard,’Saddamsaid.‘IwanttodowhatIhave

todoandthen,ifIhavetopayaprice,Iwanttopayitlikethat.’‘IhaveafriendwholivesinIraq,’Anjumsaid,seeminglymoreimpressed

bySaddam’sphonethanwiththeexecutionvideo.‘Guptaji.HesendsmehisphotosfromIraq.’ShepulledoutherphoneandshowedSaddamthepicturesthatD.D.Guptasentherregularly–GuptajiinhisflatinBaghdad,GuptajiandhisIraqimistressonapicnic,andaseriesofportraitsoftheblastwallsthatGuptajihadconstructedalloverIraqfortheUSArmy.Somewerenewandsomewerealreadypockmarkedwithbulletholesandcoveredwithgraffiti.Acrossoneofthem,someonehadscrawledanAmericanarmygeneral’sfamouswords:Beprofessional,bepoliteandhaveaplantokilleverybodyyoumeet.Anjumcouldn’treadEnglish.Saddamcould,ifhepaidcarefulattention.

Onthisoccasionhedidn’t.Anjumfinishedherteaandthenlayonherbackwithherforearmscrossed

overhereyes.Sheseemedtohavedozedoff,butshehadn’t.Shewasworried.‘Andincaseyoudidn’tknow,’shesaidafterawhile,asthoughshewas

continuingaconversation–actuallyshewas,exceptthatitwasoneshehadbeenhavingwithherselfinherhead.‘LetmetellyouthatweMuslimsaremotherfuckerstoo,justlikeeveryoneelse.ButIsupposeoneadditionalmurdererwon’tharmthereputationofourbadnaamqoam,ournameismudalready.Anyway,takeyourtime,don’tdoanythinginahurry.’‘Iwon’t.ButSehrawatmustdie.’Saddamtookoffhisglassesandclosedhiseyes,screwingthemupagainst

thelight.HeplayedanoldHindifilmsongonhisphoneandbegantosingalongtunelesslybutconfidently.Birooslurpedupthecoldtearemaininginthesaucepanandtrottedoffwithboiledtealeavesonhisnose.

Whenthesungrewhot,theyreturnedindoorswheretheycontinuedtofloatthroughtheirliveslikeapairofastronauts,defyinggravity,limitedonlybytheouterwallsoftheirfuchsiaspaceshipwithitspalepistachiodoors.Itisn’tasthoughtheydidn’thaveplans.Anjumwaitedtodie.Saddamwaitedtokill.Andmilesaway,inatroubledforest,ababywaitedtobeborn…

Inwhatlanguagedoesrainfallovertormentedcities?

PABLONERUDA

3

TheNativity

Itwaspeacetime.Orsotheysaid.Allmorningahotwindhadwhippedthroughthecitystreets,drivingsheets

ofgrit,soda-bottlecapsandbeedistubsbeforeit,smackingthemintocarwindscreensandcyclists’eyes.Whenthewinddied,thesun,alreadyhighinthesky,burnedthroughthehazeandonceagaintheheatroseandshimmeredonthestreetslikeabellydancer.Peoplewaitedforthethundershowerthatalwaysfollowedaduststorm,butitnevercame.Fireragedthroughaswatheofhutshuddledtogetherontheriverbank,guttingmorethantwothousandinaninstant.StilltheAmaltasbloomed,abrilliant,defiantyellow.Eachblazingsummer

itreachedupandwhisperedtothehotbrownsky,FuckYou.Sheappearedquitesuddenly,alittleaftermidnight.Noangelssang,no

wisemenbroughtgifts.Butamillionstarsroseintheeasttoheraldherarrival.Onemomentshewasn’tthere,andthenext–thereshewasontheconcretepavement,inacriboflitter:silvercigarettefoil,afewplasticbagsandemptypacketsofUncleChipps.Shelayinapooloflight,underacolumnofswarmingneon-litmosquitoes,naked.Herskinwasblue-black,sleekasababyseal’s.Shewaswideawake,butperfectlyquiet,unusualforsomeonesotiny.Perhaps,inthosefirstshortmonthsofherlife,shehadalreadylearnedthattears,hertearsatleast,werefutile.Athinwhitehorsetetheredtotherailing,asmalldogwithmange,a

concrete-colouredgardenlizard,twopalm-stripedsquirrelswhoshouldhavebeenasleepand,fromherhiddenperch,ashe-spiderwithaswolleneggsacwatchedoverher.Otherthanthat,sheseemedtobeutterlyalone.Aroundherthecitysprawledformiles.Thousand-year-oldsorceress,

dozing,butnotasleep,evenatthishour.Greyflyoverssnakedoutofher

Medusaskull,tanglinganduntanglingundertheyellowsodiumhaze.Sleepingbodiesofhomelesspeoplelinedtheirhigh,narrowpavements,headtotoe,headtotoe,headtotoe,loopingintothedistance.Oldsecretswerefoldedintothefurrowsofherloose,parchmentskin.Eachwrinklewasastreet,eachstreetacarnival.Eacharthriticjointacrumblingamphitheatrewherestoriesofloveandmadness,stupidity,delightandunspeakablecrueltyhadbeenplayedoutforcenturies.Butthiswastobethedawnofherresurrection.Hernewmasterswantedtohideherknobby,varicoseveinsunderimportedfishnetstockings,cramherwitheredtitsintosaucypaddedbrasandjamherachingfeetintopointedhigh-heeledshoes.Theywantedhertoswingherstiffoldhipsandre-routetheedgesofhergrimaceupwardsintoafrozen,emptysmile.ItwasthesummerGrandmabecameawhore.Shewastobecomesupercapitaloftheworld’sfavouritenewsuperpower.

India!India!Thechanthadgoneup–onTVshows,onmusicvideos,inforeignnewspapersandmagazines,atbusinessconferencesandweaponsfairs,ateconomicconclavesandenvironmentalsummits,atbookfestivalsandbeautycontests.India!India!India!Acrossthecity,hugebillboardsjointlysponsoredbyanEnglishnewspaper

andthenewestbrandofskin-whiteningcream(sellingbytheton)said:OurTimeIsNow.Kmartwascoming.WalmartandStarbuckswerecoming,andintheBritishAirwaysadvertisementonTV,thePeopleoftheWorld(white,brown,black,yellow)allchantedtheGayatriMantra:

OmbhurbhuvahsvahaTatsaviturvarenyamBhargodevasyadhimahiDhiyoyonahpracodayat

OGod,thouartthegiveroflife,Removerofpainandsorrow,Bestowerofhappiness,OCreatoroftheUniverse,Maywereceivethysupremesin-destroyinglight,Maythouguideourintellectintherightdirection.

(AndmayeveryoneflyBA.)

Whentheyfinishedchanting,thePeopleoftheWorldbowedlowandjoinedtheirpalmsingreeting.Namaste,theysaidinexoticaccents,andsmiledliketheturbaneddoormenwithMaharajamoustacheswhogreetedforeignguestsinfive-starhotels.Andwiththat,intheadvertisementatleast,historywasturnedupsidedown.(Whowasbowingnow?Andwhowassmiling?Whowasthepetitioner?Andwhothepetitioned?)IntheirsleepIndia’sfavouritecitizenssmiledback.India!India!theychantedintheirdreams,likethecrowdsatcricketmatches.Thedrummajorbeatoutarhythm…India!India!Theworldrosetoitsfeet,roaringitsappreciation.

Skyscrapersandsteelfactoriessprangupwhereforestsusedtobe,riverswerebottledandsoldinsupermarkets,fishweretinned,mountainsminedandturnedintoshiningmissiles.MassivedamslitupthecitieslikeChristmastrees.Everyonewashappy.Awayfromthelightsandadvertisements,villageswerebeingemptied.

Citiestoo.Millionsofpeoplewerebeingmoved,butnobodyknewwhereto.‘Peoplewhocan’taffordtoliveincitiesshouldn’tcomehere,’aSupreme

Courtjudgesaid,andorderedtheimmediateevictionofthecity’spoor.‘Pariswasaslimyareabefore1870,whenalltheslumswereremoved,’theLieutenantGovernorofthecitysaid,rearranginghislast-remainingswatchofhairacrosshisscalp,righttoleft.(IntheeveningswhenhewentforaswimitswambesidehiminthechlorineintheChelmsfordClubpool.)‘AndlookatParisnow.’Sosurpluspeoplewerebanned.Inadditiontotheregularpolice,severalbattalionsoftheRapidAction

Forceinstrange,sky-bluecamouflageuniforms(toflummoxthebirdsperhaps)weredeployedinthepoorerquarters.Inslumsandsquattersettlements,inresettlementcoloniesand

‘unauthorized’colonies,peoplefoughtback.Theyduguptheroadsleadingtotheirhomesandblockedthemwithrocksandbrokenthings.Youngmen,oldmen,children,mothersandgrandmothersarmedwithsticksandrockspatrolledtheentrancestotheirsettlements.Acrossoneroad,wherethepoliceandbulldozershadlinedupforthefinalassault,asloganscrawledinchalksaid,SarkarkiMaakiChoot.TheGovernment’sMother’sCunt.‘Whereshallwego?’thesurpluspeopleasked.‘Youcankillus,butwe

won’tmove,’theysaid.Thereweretoomanyofthemtobekilledoutright.Instead,theirhomes,theirdoorsandwindows,theirmakeshiftroofs,their

potsandpans,theirplates,theirspoons,theirschool-leavingcertificates,theirrationcards,theirmarriagecertificates,theirchildren’sschools,theirlifetime’swork,theexpressionintheireyes,wereflattenedbyyellowbulldozersimportedfromAustralia.(DitchWitch,theywerecalled,the’dozers.)TheywereState-of-the-Artmachines.Theycouldflattenhistoryandstackituplikebuildingmaterial.Inthisway,inthesummerofherrenewal,Grandmabroke.FiercelycompetitiveTVchannelscoveredthestoryofthebreakingcityas

‘BreakingNews’.Nobodypointedouttheirony.Theyunleashedtheiruntrained,butexcellent-looking,youngreporters,whospreadacrossthecitylikearash,askingurgent,emptyquestions;theyaskedthepoorwhatitwasliketobepoor,thehungrywhatitwasliketobehungry,thehomelesswhatitwasliketobehomeless.‘BhaiSahib,yehbataaiye,aapkokaisalagrahahai…?’Tellme,brother,howdoesitfeeltobe…?TheTVchannelsneverran

outofsponsorshipfortheirlivetelecastsofdespair.Theyneverranoutofdespair.Expertsairedtheirexpertopinionsforafee:Somebodyhastopaytheprice

forProgress,theysaidexpertly.Beggingwasbanned.Thousandsofbeggarswereroundedupandheldin

stockadesbeforebeingshippedoutofthecityinbatches.Theircontractorshadtopaygoodmoneytoshipthembackin.FatherJohn-for-the-Weaksentoutalettersayingthat,accordingtopolice

records,almostthreethousandunidentifieddeadbodies(human)hadbeenfoundonthecity’sstreetslastyear.Nobodyreplied.Butthefoodshopswereburstingwithfood.Thebookshopswerebursting

withbooks.Theshoeshopswereburstingwithshoes.Andpeople(whocountedaspeople)saidtooneanother,‘Youdon’thavetogoabroadforshoppinganymore.Importedthingsareavailableherenow.See,likeBombayisourNewYork,DelhiisourWashingtonandKashmirisourSwitzerland.It’slikereallylikesaalafantasticyaar.’Alldaylongtheroadswerechokedwithtraffic.Thenewlydispossessed,

wholivedinthecracksandfissuresofthecity,emergedandswarmedaroundthesleek,climate-controlledcars,sellingclothdusters,mobilephonechargers,modeljumbojets,businessmagazines,piratedmanagementbooks(HowtoMakeYourFirstMillion,WhatYoungIndiaReallyWants),gourmetguides,interiordesignmagazineswithcolourphotographsofcountryhousesinProvence,andquick-fixspiritualmanuals(YouAreResponsibleforYourOwnHappiness…orHowtoBeYourOwnBestFriend…).OnIndependenceDaytheysoldtoymachinegunsandtinynationalflagsmountedonstandsthatsaidMeraBharatMahan,MyIndiaIsGreat.Thepassengerslookedoutoftheircarwindowsandsawonlythenewapartmenttheyplannedtobuy,theJacuzzitheyhadjustinstalledandtheinkthatwasstillwetonthesweetheartdealtheyhadjustclosed.Theywerecalmfromtheirmeditationclassesandglowingfromyogapractice.Onthecity’sindustrialoutskirts,inthemilesofbrightswamptightly

compactedwithrefuseandcolourfulplasticbags,wheretheevictedhadbeen‘re-settled’,theairwaschemicalandthewaterpoisonous.Cloudsofmosquitoesrosefromthickgreenponds.Surplusmothersperchedlikesparrowsonthedebrisofwhatusedtobetheirhomesandsangtheirsurpluschildrentosleep.

Sootirahubaua,bhakolabaiyaNaanigaamseangaa,siyaitabaiyaMaamasangemaami,nachaitabaiyaKarasangechara,labaitabaiya

Sleep,mydarling,sleep,beforethedemoncomesYournewlytailoredshirtfrommother’svillagecomes

Youruncleandauntie,a-dancingtheywillcomesYourankletsandbracelets,a-bringingtheywillcomes

Thesurpluschildrenslept,dreamingofyellow’dozers.Abovethesmogandthemechanicalhumofthecity,thenightwasvastand

beautiful.Theskywasaforestofstars.Jetaircraftdartedaboutlikeslow,whiningcomets.Somehovered,stackedtendeepoverthesmog-obscuredIndiraGandhiInternationalAirport,waitingtoland.

Downbelow,onthepavement,ontheedgeofJantarMantar,theoldobservatorywhereourbabymadeherappearance,itwasfairlybusyevenatthattimeofthemorning.Communists,seditionists,secessionists,revolutionaries,dreamers,idlers,crackheads,crackpots,allmanneroffreelancers,andwisemenwhocouldn’taffordgiftsfornewborns,milledaround.Overthelasttendaystheyhadallbeensidelinedanddrivenoffwhathadoncebeentheirterritory–theonlyplaceinthecitywheretheywereallowedtogather–bythenewestshowintown.MorethantwentyTVcrews,theircamerasmountedonyellowcranes,keptaround-the-clockvigilovertheirbrightnewstar:atubbyoldGandhian,former-soldier-turned-village-social-worker,whohadannouncedafasttothedeathtorealizehisdreamofacorruption-freeIndia.Helayfatlyonhisbackwiththeairofanailingsaint,againstabackdropofaportraitofMotherIndia–amany-armedgoddesswithamap-of-India-shapedbody.(UndividedBritishIndia,ofcourse,whichincludedPakistanandBangladesh.)Eachsigh,eachwhisperedinstructiontothepeoplearoundhim,wasbeingbroadcastlivethroughthenight.Theoldmanwasontosomething.Thesummerofthecity’sresurrection

hadalsobeenthesummerofscams–coalscams,iron-orescams,housingscams,insurancescams,stamp-paperscams,phone-licencescams,landscams,damscams,irrigationscams,armsandammunitionscams,petrol-pumpscams,polio-vaccinescams,electricity-billscams,school-bookscams,god-menscams,drought-reliefscams,car-number-platescams,voter-listscams,identity-cardscams–inwhichpoliticians,businessmen,businessmen-politiciansandpolitician-businessmenhadmadeoffwithunimaginablequantitiesofpublicmoney.Likeagoodprospector,theoldmanhadtappedintoarichseam,a

reservoirofpublicanger,andmuchtohisownsurprisehadbecomeacultfigureovernight.Hisdreamofasocietyfreeofcorruptionwaslikeahappymeadowinwhicheverybody,includingthemostcorrupt,couldgrazeforawhile.Peoplewhowouldnormallyhavenothingtodowitheachother(theleft-wing,theright-wing,thewingless)allflockedtohim.Hissuddenappearance,asiffromnowhere,inspiredandgavepurposetoanimpatient

newgenerationofyoungstersthathadbeeninnocentofhistoryandpoliticssofar.TheycameinjeansandT-shirts,withguitarsandsongsagainstcorruptionthattheyhadcomposedthemselves.TheybroughttheirownbannersandplacardswithsloganslikeEnoughIsEnough!andEndCorruptionNow!writtenonthem.Ateamofyoungprofessionals–lawyers,accountantsandcomputerprogrammers–formedacommitteetomanagetheevent.Theyraisedmoney,organizedthemassivecanopy,theprops(theportraitofMotherIndia,asupplyofnationalflags,Gandhicaps,banners)andadigital-agemediacampaign.Theoldman’srusticrhetoricandearthyaphorismstrendedonTwitterandswampedFacebook.TVcamerascouldn’tgetenoughofhim.Retiredbureaucrats,policemenandarmyofficersjoinedin.Thecrowdgrew.Instantstardomthrilledtheoldman.Itmadehimexpansiveandalittle

aggressive.Hebegantofeelthatstickingtothesubjectofcorruptionalonecrampedhisstyleandlimitedhisappeal.Hethoughttheleasthecoulddowastosharewithhisfollowerssomethingofhisessence,histrueselfandhisinnate,bucolicwisdom.Andsothecircusbegan.HeannouncedthathewasleadingIndia’sSecondFreedomStruggle.Hemadestirringspeechesinhisold-man-baby-voice,which,althoughitsoundedlikeapairofballoonsbeingrubbedtogether,seemedtotouchtheverysoulofthenation.Likeamagicianatachildren’sbirthdayparty,heperformedtricksandconjuredgiftsoutofthinair.Hehadsomethingforeveryone.HeelectrifiedHinduchauvinists(whowerealreadyexcitedbytheMotherIndiamap)withtheircontroversialoldwarcry,VandeMataram!SalutetheMother!WhensomeMuslimsgotupset,thecommitteearrangedavisitfromaMuslimfilmstarfromBombaywhosatonthedaisnexttotheoldmanformorethananhourwearingaMuslimprayercap(somethingheneverusuallydid)tounderlinethemessageofUnityinDiversity.FortraditionaliststheoldmanquotedGandhi.HesaidthatthecastesystemwasIndia’ssalvation.‘Eachcastemustdotheworkithasbeenborntodo,butallworkmustberespected.’WhenDalitseruptedinfury,amunicipalsweeper’slittledaughterwasdressedupinanewfrockandseatedbyhissidewithabottleofwaterfromwhichhesippedfromtimetotime.Formilitantmoraliststheoldman’ssloganwasThievesmusthavetheirhandscutoff!Terroristsmustbehanged!ForNationalistsofallstripesheroared,‘Doodhmaangogeytokheerdengey!Kashmirmaangogeytochiirdengey!’Askformilk,we’llgiveyoucream!AskforKashmir,we’llripyouopenseamtoseam!InhisinterviewshesmiledhisgummyFarex-babysmileanddescribedthe

joysofhissimple,celibatelifeinhisroomthatwasattachedtothevillagetemple,andexplainedhowtheGandhianpracticeofratisadhana–semenretention–hadhelpedhimtokeepuphisstrengthduringhisfast.Todemonstratethis,onthethirddayofhisfast,hegotoffhisbed,joggedaround

thestageinhiswhitekurtaanddhotiandflexedhisflappybiceps.Peoplelaughedandcriedandbroughttheirchildrentohimtobeblessed.Televisionviewershipskyrocketed.Advertisingrolledin.Nobodyhadseen

frenzylikethis,atleastnotsincetwentyyearsago,when,ontheDayoftheConcurrentMiracle,idolsofLordGaneshintemplesallovertheworldwerereportedtohavesimultaneouslystarteddrinkingmilk.Butnowitwastheninthdayoftheoldman’sfastand,despitehisstockpile

ofun-spilledsemen,hewasnoticeablyweaker.Rumoursabouttheriseinhiscreatininelevelsandthedeteriorationofhiskidneyshadflownaroundthecitythatafternoon.Luminarieslinedupbyhisbedsideandhadthemselvesphotographedwithhimwhiletheyheldhishandand(althoughnobodyseriouslybelieveditwouldcometothat)urgedhimnottodie.IndustrialistswhohadbeenexposedinthescamsdonatedmoneytohisMovementandapplaudedtheoldman’sunwaveringcommitmenttonon-violence.(Hisprescriptionsforhand-chopping,hanginganddisembowellingwereacceptedasreasonablecaveats.)Therelativelywelloffamongtheoldman’sfans,whohadbeenblessed

withlife’smaterialneeds,buthadneverexperiencedtheadrenalinrush,thetasteoftherighteousangerthatcamewithparticipatinginamassprotest,arrivedincarsandonmotorcycles,wavingnationalflagsandsingingpatrioticsongs.TheTrappedRabbit’sgovernment,oncethemessiahofIndia’seconomicmiracle,wasparalysed.InfarawayGujarat,GujaratkaLallarecognizedtheappearanceoftheold

man-babyasasignfromthegods.Withapredator’sunerringinstinct,heacceleratedhisMarchtoDelhi.Bythefifthdayoftheoldman’sfast,Lallawas(metaphoricallyspeaking)campedoutsidethecitygates.HisarmyofbelligerentjanissariesfloodedJantarMantar.Theyoverwhelmedtheoldmanwithboisterousdeclarationsofsupport.Theirflagswerebigger,theirsongslouderthananyoneelse’s.Theysetupcountersanddistributedfreefoodtothepoor.(Theywereflushwithfundsfrommillionairegod-menwhoweresupportersofLalla.)Theywereunderstrictinstructionsnottoweartheirsignaturesaffronheadbands,nottocarrysaffronflagsandnevertomentionGujarat’sBelovedbynameeveninpassing.Itworked.Withindaystheyhadpulledoffapalacecoup.Theyoungprofessionalswhohadworkedsohardtomaketheoldmanfamousweredeposedbeforethey,orevenhe,understoodwhathadhappened.TheHappyMeadowfell.Andnobodyrealized.TheTrappedRabbitwasdeadmeat.SoontheBelovedwouldrideintoDelhi.Hispeople,wearingpapermasksofhislikeness,wouldcarryhimontheirshoulderschantinghisname–Lalla!Lalla!Lalla!–andplacehimonthethrone.Whereverhelooked,hewouldseeonlyhimself.ThenewEmperorofHindustan.Hewasanocean.Hewasinfinity.Hewashumanityitself.Butthatwasstillayearaway.

Fornow,inJantarMantar,hissupportersshoutedthemselveshoarseaboutgovernmentcorruption.(Murdabad!Murdabad!Down!Down!Down!Down!)AtnighttheyrushedhometowatchthemselvesonTV.Untiltheyreturnedinthemorningtheoldmanandhis‘coregroup’ofafewsupporterslookedalittledesolateunderthebillowingwhitecanopythatwaslargeenoughtoaccommodateacrowdofthousands.

Rightnexttotheanti-corruptioncanopy,inaclearlydemarcatedspaceunderthespreadingbranchesofanoldTamarindtree,anotherwell-knownGandhianactivisthadcommittedherselftoafasttothedeathonbehalfofthousandsoffarmersandindigenoustribespeoplewhoselandhadbeenappropriatedbythegovernmenttobegiventoapetrochemicalscorporationforacaptivecoalmineandthermalpowerplantinBengal.Itwasthenineteenthindefinitehungerstrikeofhercareer.Eventhoughshewasagood-lookingwomanwithaspectacularplaitoflonghair,shewasfarlesspopularwiththeTVcamerasthantheoldman.Thereasonforthiswasn’tmysterious.Thepetrochemicalscorporationownedmostofthetelevisionchannelsandadvertisedhugelyontheothers.SoangrycommentatorsmadeguestappearancesinTVstudiosdenouncingherandinsinuatingthatshewasbeingfundedbya‘foreignpower’.Agoodnumberofthecommentatorsaswellasjournalistswereonthecorporation’spayrolltooanddidtheirbestbytheiremployers.Butonthepavement,thepeoplearoundherlovedher.Grizzledfarmersfannedmosquitoesfromherface.Sturdypeasantwomenmassagedherfeetandgazedatheradoringly.Apprenticeactivists,someofthemyoungstudentsfromEuropeandAmerica,dressedinloosehippyoutfits,composedherconvolutedpressreleasesontheirlaptopcomputers.Severalintellectualsandconcernedcitizenssquattedonthepavementexplainingfarmers’rightstofarmerswhohadbeenfightingfortheirrightsforyears.PhDstudentsfromforeignuniversitiesworkingonsocialmovements(anextremelysought-aftersubject)conductedlonginterviewswiththefarmers,gratefulthattheirfieldworkhadcometothecityinsteadoftheirhavingtotrekallthewayouttothecountrysidewheretherewerenotoiletsandfilteredwaterwashardtofind.Adozenheftymenincivilclothesbutwithuncivilhaircuts(shortbackand

sides)anduncivilsocksandshoes(khakisocks,brownboots)haddistributedthemselvesamongthecrowd,blatantlyeavesdroppingonconversations.SomeofthempretendedtobejournalistsandfilmedconversationswithsmallHandycams.Theypaidspecialattentiontotheyoungforeigners(manyofwhomwouldsoonfindtheirvisasrevoked).TheTVlightsmadethehotairhotter.Suicidalmothsbombedthesunguns

andthenightsmelledofcharredinsect.Fifteenseverelydisabledpeople,sullenandtiredfromalong,hotday’sbegging,hoveredinthedark,just

outsidethecircleoflights,restingtheirbuckledbacksandwastedlimbsongovernment-issue,hand-operatedcyclerickshaws.Thedisplacedfarmersandtheirfamousleaderhaddisplacedthemfromthecoolest,shadieststretchofpavementwheretheyusuallylived.Sotheirsympathieswereentirelywiththepetrochemicalsindustry.Theywantedthefarmers’agitationtoendassoonaspossiblesotheycouldhavetheirspotback.Somedistanceawayabare-torsoedman,withyellowlimesstuckallover

hisbodywithsuperglue,suckednoisilyonathickmangodrinkfromasmallcarton.Herefusedtosaywhyhehadstucklimestohisskinorwhyhewasdrinkingmangojuiceeventhoughheseemedtobepromotinglimes,andgrewabusiveifanyoneasked.Anotherfreelancer,whocalledhimselfa‘performanceartist’,wanderedaimfullythroughthecrowdswearingasuitandtieandanEnglishbowlerhat.Fromadistancehissuitlookedasthoughithadseekhkebabsprintedalloverit,butoncloserinspectiontheyturnedouttobeperfectlyshapedturds.Thewiltedredrosepinnedtohiscollarhadturnedblack.Atriangleofwhitehandkerchiefpeepedoutofhisbreastpocket.Whenaskedwhathismessagewas,inrefreshingcontrasttotherudenessoftheLimeMan,hepatientlyexplainedthathisbodywashisinstrumentandhewantedtheso-called‘civilized’worldtoloseitsaversiontoshitandacceptthatshitwasjustprocessedfood.Andviceversa.HealsoexplainedthathewantedtotakeArtoutofMuseumsandbringitto‘ThePeople’.SittingneartheLimeMan(whoignoredthemcompletely)wereAnjum,

SaddamHussainandUstadHameed.Withthemwasastriking-lookingyoungHijra,Ishrat,aguestatJannatGuestHousewhowasvisitingfromIndore.OfcourseithadbeenAnjum’sidea–herlong-standingdesireto‘helpthepoor’–whichmadehersuggesttheygotoJantarMantartoseeforthemselveswhatthe‘SecondFreedomStruggle’theTVchannelshadbeenbroadcastingwasallabout.Saddamwasdismissive:‘Youdon’thavetogoallthewaytheretofindout.Icantellyounow–it’sthemotherfuckerofallscams.’ButAnjumhadbeenadamantandofcourseSaddamwouldnotlethergoalone.Sotheymadeupalittleparty,Anjum,Saddam(stillinhissunglasses)andNimmoGorakhpuri.UstadHameed,whohaddroppedintoseeAnjum,wasdragoonedintotheexpedition,aswasyoungIshrat.Theydecidedtogoatnightwhenthecrowdswouldbecomparativelythinner.Anjumhaddresseddown,inoneofherdrabberPathansuits,thoughshecouldnotresistahairclip,adupattaandatouchoflipstick.Ishratwasdressedasthoughshewasatherownwedding–inaluridpinkkurtawithsequinsandagreenPatialasalwar.Sheignoredalladvicetothecontraryandworebrightpinklipstickandenoughjewellerytolightupthenight.NimmohaddrivenAnjum,IshratandUstadHameedinhercar.Saddamhadarrangedtomeetthemthere.HerodePayaltoJantarMantarandtetheredhertoarailingsomedistance

away(andpromisedacheekylittleshoe-shineboytwochoco-barsandtenrupeestokeepaneyeonher).SensingNimmoGorakhpuri’srestlessness,Saddamhadtriedtoentertainherwiththeanimalvideoshehadonhisphone–somethathehadshothimself,ofthestraydogsandcatsandcowshecameacrossonhisdailytreksacrossthecity,andothershehadreceivedfromfriendsonWhatsApp:See,thisfellowiscalledChaddhaSahib.Heneverbarks.Everydayat4p.m.sharphecomestothisparktoplaywithhisgirlfriend.Thiscowlovestomatoes.Itakehersomeeveryday.Thisonehasabadcaseofitching.Haveyouseenthislionstandingontwolegsandkissingthiswoman…?Yes,she’sawoman.Youcantellwhensheturnsaround…SincenoneofthemfeaturedgoatsorWesternwomen’sfashion,theydidnothingtoalleviateNimmoGorakhpuri’sboredomandshesoonexcusedherselfandleft.Anjumontheotherhandwasfascinatedbythebustle,thebannersandthebitsofconversationsheoverheard.Sheinsistedtheystayonand‘learnsomething’.So,likeeverybodyelseonthepavement,theysettledintotheirownlittlehuddle.Headquarteredthere,Anjumsentherenvoy–HisExcellency,Plenipotentiary,SaddamHussain–fromgrouptogrouptogetaquicklow-downonwheretheywerefrom,whattheirprotestwasaboutandwhattheirdemandswere.Saddamwentobedientlyfromstalltostalllikeashopperinapoliticalfleamarket,returningeverynowandthentobriefAnjumabouttheinsightshehadgained.Shesatcross-leggedontheground,leaningforwardandlisteningintently,nodding,halfsmiling,butnotlookingatSaddamashespokebecauseherheadwasturnedandhershiningeyeswerefixedfirmlyonwhichevergroupitwasthathewastalkingabout.UstadHameedwasnotremotelyinterestedintheinformationSaddambrought.Buttheexpeditionwasawelcomechangefromhisdailyroutinesohewascontenttobepartofitandhummedtohimselfashelookedaroundabsent-mindedly.Ishrat,inappropriatelydressedandabsurdlyvain,spentallhertimetakingselfiesfromvariousangleswithdifferentbackgrounds.Thoughnobodypaidmuchattentiontoher(itwasaNo-contestbetweenherandtheoldman-baby)shewascarefulnottostraytoofarfrombasecamp.AtonepointsheandUstadHameeddissolvedintoaspasmofschoolgirlgiggles.WhenAnjumaskedwhatwassofunny,UstadHameedtoldherhowhisgrandchildrenhadtutoredtheirgrandmothertocallhim(herhusband)a‘bloodyfuckingbitch’,whichshehadbeengiventounderstandwasatermofendearmentinEnglish.‘Shehadnoideawhatshewassaying,shelookedsosweetwhenshesaid

it,’UstadHameedsaid,laughing.‘Bloodyfuckingbitch!That’swhatmybegumcallsme…’‘Whatdoesitmean?’Anjumasked.(SheknewwhattheEnglishword

‘bitch’meant,butnot‘bloody’and‘fucking’.)BeforeUstadHameedcouldbegintoexplain(althoughevenhewasn’tallthatsurehimself,hejustknewit

wasbad),theywereinterruptedbyalong-haired,beardedyoungmaninfloaty,shabbyclothesandanequallyshabbilydressedgirlwithgorgeous,wildhairthatsheworeloose.TheyweremakingadocumentaryfilmaboutProtestandResistance,theyexplained,andoneoftherecurringthemesofthefilmwastohaveprotesterssay,‘AnotherWorldIsPossible’inwhateverlanguagetheyspoke.Forexample,iftheirmothertonguewasHindiorUrdu,theycouldsay,‘Doosriduniyamumkinhai…’TheysetuptheircamerawhiletheyweretalkingandaskedAnjumtolookstraightintothelenswhenshespoke.Theyhadnoideawhat‘Duniya’meantinAnjum’slexicon.Anjum,forherpart,completelyuncomprehending,staredintothecamera.‘HumdoosriDuniyaseaayehain,’sheexplainedhelpfully,whichmeant:We’vecomefromthere…fromtheotherworld.Theyoungfilm-makers,whohadalongnight’sworkaheadofthem,

exchangedglancesanddecidedtomoveonratherthantrytoexplainwhattheymeantbecauseitwouldtaketoolong.TheythankedAnjumandcrossedtheroadtotheoppositepavementwhereseveralgroupshadtheirownseparatecanopies.Inthefirst,sevenmenwithshavedheads,dressedinwhitedhotis,had

takenavowofsilence,claimingtheywouldnotspeakuntilHindiwasdeclaredIndia’snationallanguage–itsofficialmothertongue–overthetwenty-twootherofficiallanguagesandhundredsofunofficialones.Threeofthebaldmenwereasleepandtheotherfourhadslippeddowntheirwhitehospitalmasks(their‘vowofsilence’prop)inordertodrinktheirlate-nighttea.Sincetheycouldnotspeak,thefilm-makersgavethemasmallposterthatsaidAnotherWorldIsPossibletoholdup.TheymadesurethatthebannerwiththedemandforHinditobedeclaredthenationallanguagewasoutofframe,becausebothfilm-makersagreeditwasasomewhatregressivedemand.Buttheyfeltthatbaldmenwithmasksprovidedgoodvisualtexturefortheirfilm,andoughtnottobepassedover.Occupyingasubstantialpartofthepavementquiteclosetothebaldmen

werefiftyrepresentativesofthethousandsofpeoplewhohadbeenmaimedinthe1984UnionCarbidegasleakinBhopal.Theyhadbeenonthepavementfortwoweeks.Sevenofthemwereonanindefinitehungerstrike,theirconditiondeterioratingsteadily.TheyhadwalkedtoDelhiallthewayfromBhopal,hundredsofkilometresinthesearingsummersun,todemandcompensation:cleanwaterandmedicalcareforthemselvesandthegenerationsofdeformedbabieswhowerebornafterthegasleak.TheTrappedRabbithadrefusedtomeettheBhopalis.TheTVcrewswerenotinterestedinthem;theirstrugglewastoooldtomakethenews.Photographsofdeformedbabies,misshapenabortedfoetusesinbottlesofformaldehydeandthethousandswhohadbeenkilled,maimedandblindedinthegasleakwerestrunguplikemacabrebuntingontherailings.OnasmallTVmonitor

(theyhadmanagedtogetanelectricityconnectionfromanearbychurch)grainyoldfootageplayedonaloop:ajauntyyoungWarrenAnderson,theAmericanCEOoftheUnionCarbideCorporation,arrivingatDelhiairportdaysafterthedisaster.‘I’vejustarrived,’hetellsthejostlingjournalists.‘Idon’tknowthedetailsyet.Sohey!Whaddyawantmetosay?’ThenhelooksstraightintotheTVcamerasandwaves,‘HiMom!’Onandonthroughthenighthewent:‘HiMom!HiMom!HiMom!Hi

Mom!HiMom…’Anoldbanner,fadedfromdecadesofuse,said,WarrenAndersonisawar

criminal.Aneweronesaid,WarrenAndersonhaskilledmorepeoplethanOsamabinLaden.NexttotheBhopaliswastheDelhiKabaadi-Wallahs’(Waste-recyclers’)

AssociationandtheSewageWorkers’Union,protestingagainsttheprivatizationandcorporatizationofthecity’sgarbageandthecity’ssewage.Thecorporationthatbidforandwonthecontractwasthesameonethathadbeengivenfarmers’landforitspowerplant.Italreadyranthecity’selectricityandwaterdistribution.Nowitownedthecity’sshitandwaste-disposalsystemstoo.Rightnexttothewaste-recyclersandthesewageworkerswastheplushest

partofthepavement,aglitteringpublictoiletwithfloatglassmirrorsandashinygranitefloor.Thetoiletlightsstayedon,nightandday.Itcostonerupeeforapiss,twoforashitandthreeforashower.Notmanyonthepavementcouldaffordtheserates.Manypissedoutsidethetoilet,againstthewall.So,thoughthetoiletwasspotlesslycleaninside,fromtheoutsideitgaveoffthesharpsmokysmellofstaleurine.Itdidn’tmatterverymuchtothemanagement;thetoilet’srevenuecamefromelsewhere.Theexteriorwalldoubledupasabillboardthatadvertisedsomethingneweveryweek.ThisweekitwasHonda’snewestluxurycar.Thebillboardhaditsown

personalguard.GulabiyaVechanialivedunderasmallblueplasticsheetrightnexttothebillboard.Thisaccommodationwasastepupfromwherehe’dbegun.Whenhefirstarrivedinthecityayearago,outofabjectterroraswellasnecessity,Gulabiyahadlivedinatree.Nowhehadajob,andsomesemblanceofshelter.Thenameofthesecurityagencyheworkedforwasembroideredontheepaulettesofhisstainedblueshirt:TSGSSecurity.(ArivalconcerntoSangeetaMadamHaramzaadiBitch’sSSGS.)Hisjobwastopreventvandalism,inparticular,tothwartrepeatedattemptsbeingmadebycertainmiscreantstourinaterightontothebillboard.Heworkedsevendaysaweek,twelvehoursaday.ThatnightGulabiyawasdrunkandhaddroppedofftosleepwhensomeonesprayedInqilabZindabad!LongLiveRevolution!rightacrossthesilverHondaCity.Belowthat,someoneelsescrawledapoem.

Chheenlitumnegaribkiroziroti

Aurlagadiyehainfeeskarnepetatti

You’vesnatchedpoorfolks’dailybreadAndslappedafeeontheirshitinstead

Gulabiyawouldlosehisjobinthemorning.Thousandslikehimwouldlineuphopingtoreplacehim.(Onemightevenbethestreetpoethimself.)Butfornow,Gulabiyasleptsoundlyanddreameddeep.Inhisdreamhehadenoughmoneytofeedhimselfandsendalittlehometohisfamilyinhisvillage.Inhisdreamhisvillagestillexisted.Itwasn’tatthebottomofadamreservoir.Fishdidn’tswimthroughhiswindows.Crocodilesdidn’tknifethroughthehighbranchesoftheSilkCottontrees.Touristsdidn’tgoboatingoverhisfields,leavingrainbowcloudsofdieselinthesky.InhisdreamhisbrotherLuariyawasn’tatour-guideatthedam-sitewhosejobwastoshowcasethemiraclesthedamhadwrought.Hismotherdidn’tworkasasweeperinadam-engineer’shousethatwasbuiltonthelandthatsheonceowned.Shedidn’thavetostealmangoesfromherowntrees.Shedidn’tliveinaresettlementcolonyinatinhutwithtinwallsandatinroofthatwassohotyoucouldfryonionsonit.InGulabiya’sdreamhisriverwasstillflowing,stillalive.Nakedchildrenstillsatonrocks,playingtheflute,divingintothewatertoswimamongthebuffaloeswhenthesungrewtoohot.TherewereleopardandsambarandslothbearintheSalforestthatclothedthehillsabovethevillage,whereduringfestivalshispeoplewouldgatherwiththeirdrumstodrinkanddancefordays.Allhehadleftfromhisoldlifenowwerehismemories,hisfluteandhis

earrings(whichhewasnotallowedtoweartowork).UnliketheirresponsibleGulabiyaVechania,whohadfailedinhisdutyto

protectthesilverHondaCity,JanakLalSharma,thetoilet‘in-charge’,waswideawakeandworkinghard.Hisdog-earedlogbookwasupdated.Themoneyinhiswalletwasorganizedcarefully,bydenomination.Hehadaseparatepouchforcoins.Hesupplementedhissalarybyallowingactivists,journalistsandTVcameramentorechargetheirmobilephones,laptopsandcamerabatteriesfromthepowerpointinthetoiletforthepriceofsixshowersandashit(i.e.,twentyrupees).Sometimesheallowedpeopletoshitforthepriceofapissanddidn’tenteritinthelogbook.Atfirsthewasalittlecarefulwiththeanti-corruptionactivists.(Theywerenothardtoidentify–theywerelesspoorandmoreaggressivethaneverybodyelse.ThoughtheywerefashionablydressedinjeansandT-shirts,mostofthemworewhiteGandhicapsstampedwithasolarizedprintoftheoldman-babysmilinghisFarex-babysmile.)JanakLalSharmatookcaretochargethemtheproperratesandlogthenatureofeachone’sablutioncorrectlyandcarefully.Butsomeofthem,especiallythesecondbatchofnewarrivals,whowereevenmoreaggressivethanthefirst,grewresentfulthattheywerebeingchargedmore

thantheothers.Soon,withthemtoo,itbecamebusinessasusual.Withhisextraincomehesubcontractedhistoilet-cleaningduties,whichwereunthinkableforamanofhiscasteandbackgroundtoperform(hewasaBrahmin),toSureshBalmikiwho,ashisnamemakesclear,belongedtowhatmostHindusovertly,andthegovernmentcovertly,thoughtofastheshit-cleaningcaste.Withtheincreasingunrestinthecountry,theendlessstreamofprotestersarrivingonthepavement,andalltheTVcoverage,evenaftersettingasidewhathepaidSureshBalmiki,JanakLalhadearnedenoughtomakeadownpaymentonanLIGflat.Oppositethetoilet,backontheTV-crewsideoftheroad(butsomeserious

ideologicaldistanceaway),waswhatpeopleonthepavementcalledtheBorder:ManipuriNationalistsaskingfortherevocationoftheArmedForcesSpecialPowersAct,whichmadeitlegalfortheIndianArmytokillon‘suspicion’;TibetanrefugeescallingforafreeTibet;and,mostunusually(andmostdangerously,forthem),theAssociationofMothersoftheDisappeared,whosesonshadgonemissing,intheirthousands,inthewarforfreedominKashmir.(Spooky,then,tohaveasoundtrackthatwent‘HiMom!HiMom!HiMom!’However,theMothersoftheDisappeareddidnotregisterthiseerinessbecausetheythoughtofthemselvesasMoj–‘Mother’inKashmiri–andnot‘Mom’.)ItwastheAssociation’sfirstvisittotheSuperCapital.Theyweren’tall

mothers;thewives,sistersandafewyoungchildrenoftheDisappearedhadcometoo.Eachofthemcarriedapictureoftheirmissingson,brotherorhusband.Theirbannersaid:

TheStoryofKashmirDEAD=68,000DISAPPEARED=10,000IsthisDemocracyorDemonCrazy?

NoTVcamerapointedatthatbanner,notevenbymistake.MostofthoseengagedinIndia’sSecondFreedomStrugglefeltnothinglessthanoutrageattheideaoffreedomforKashmirandtheKashmiriwomen’saudacity.SomeoftheMothers,likesomeoftheBhopalgasleakvictims,had

becomealittlejaded.Theyhadtoldtheirstoriesatendlessmeetingsandtribunalsintheinternationalsupermarketsofgrief,alongwithothervictimsofotherwarsinothercountries.Theyhadweptpubliclyandoften,andnothinghadcomeofit.Thehorrortheyweregoingthroughhadgrownahard,bittershell.ThetriptoDelhihadturnedouttobeanunhappyexperienceforthe

Association.ThewomenwereheckledandthreatenedattheirroadsidepressconferenceintheafternoonandeventuallythepolicehadhadtointerveneandthrowacordonaroundtheMothers.‘MuslimTerroristsdonotdeserve

HumanRights!’shoutedGujaratkaLalla’sundercoverjanissaries.‘Wehaveseenyourgenocide!Wehavefacedyourethniccleansing!Ourpeoplehavebeenlivinginrefugeecampsfortwentyyearsnow!’SomeyoungmenspatatphotographsofthedeadandmissingKashmirimen.The‘genocide’and‘ethniccleansing’theyreferredtowasthemassexodusofKashmiriPanditsfromtheKashmirValleywhenthefreedomstrugglehadturnedmilitantinthe1990sandsomeMuslimmilitantshadturnedonthetinyHindupopulation.SeveralhundredHindushadbeenmassacredinmacabrewaysandwhenthegovernmentannouncedthatitcouldnotensuretheirsafety,almosttheentirepopulationofKashmiriHindus,almosttwohundredthousandpeople,hadfledtheValleyandmovedintorefugeecampsintheplainsofJammuwheremanyofthemstilllived.AfewofLalla’sjanissariesonthepavementthatdaywereKashmiriHinduswhohadlosttheirhomesandfamiliesandalltheyhadeverknown.PerhapsevenmorehurtfultotheMothersthantheSpitterswerethethree

beautifullygroomed,pencil-thincollegegirlswhowalkedpastthatmorningontheirwaytoshopatConnaughtPlace.‘Ohwow!Kashmir!Whatfunnn!Apparentlyit’scompletelynormalnow,ya,safefortourists.Let’sgo?It’ssupposedtobestunning.’TheAssociationofMothershaddecidedtogetthroughthenightsomehow

andnevercomebacktoDelhi.Sleepingoutonthestreetwasanewexperienceforthem.Backhometheyallhadprettyhousesandkitchengardens.Thatnighttheyhadameagremeal(thatwasanewexperiencetoo),rolleduptheirbannerandtriedtosleep,waitingfordaytobreak,longingtobegintheirjourneybacktotheirbeautiful,war-tornvalley.

Itwasthere,rightnexttotheMothersoftheDisappeared,thatourquietbabyappeared.IttooktheMothersawhiletonoticeher,becauseshewasthecolourofnight.Asharplyoutlinedabsenceintheshadowsunderthestreetlight.Morethantwentyyearsoflivingwithcrackdowns,cordon-and-searchoperationsandthemidnightknock(OperationTiger,OperationSerpentDestruction,OperationCatchandKill)hadtaughttheMotherstoreadthedarkness.Butwhenitcametobabies,theonlyonestheywereusedtolookedlikealmondblossomswithapplecheeks.TheMothersoftheDisappeareddidnotknowwhattodowithababythathadAppeared.EspeciallynotablackoneKruhunkaalEspeciallynotablackgirlKruhunkaalhishEspeciallynotonethatwasswaddledinlitterShikasladh

Thewhisperwaspassedaroundthepavementlikeaparcel.Thequestiongrewintoanannouncement:‘Bhaibacchakiskahai?’Whosebabyisthis?

Silence.

Thensomeonesaidtheyhadseenthemothervomitingintheparkintheafternoon.Someoneelsesaid,‘Ohno,thatwasn’ther.’Someonesaidshewasabeggar.Someoneelsesaidshewasarapevictim

(whichwasawordineverylanguage).Someonesaidshehadcomewiththegroupthathadbeenthereearlierin

thedayorganizingasignaturecampaignforthereleaseofpoliticalprisoners.ItwasrumouredtobeaFrontorganizationforthebannedMaoistPartythatwasfightingaguerrillawarintheforestsofCentralIndia.Someoneelsesaid,‘Ohno,thatwasn’ther.Shewasalone.She’sbeenhereforsomedays.’Someonesaidshewastheformerloverofapoliticianwhohadthrownher

outaftershegotpregnant.Everybodyagreedthatpoliticianswereallbastards.Thatdidn’thelp

addresstheproblem:Whattodowiththebaby?

Perhapsawarethatshehadbecomethecentreofattention,orperhapsbecauseshewasfrightened,thequietbabyfinallywailed.Awomanpickedherup.(Later,aboutheritwassaidthatshewastall,shewasshort,shewasblack,shewaswhite,shewasbeautiful,shewasnot,shewasold,shewasyoung,shewasastranger,shewasoftenseenatJantarMantar.)Apieceofpaperfoldedmanytimesintoasmallsquarepellet,tapeddownalongoneedge,wasthreadedontothethickblackstringtiedaroundthebaby’swaist.Thewoman(whowasbeautiful,whowasnot,whowastall,whowasshort)un-tapeditandhandedittosomeonetoread.ThemessagewaswritteninEnglishandwasunambiguous:Icannotlookafterthischild.SoIamleavingherhere.

Eventually,afteralotofmurmuredconsultation,hesitantly,sadly,ratherreluctantly,thepeopledecidedthatthebabywasamatterforthepolice.

BeforeSaddamcouldstopher,AnjumstoodupandbegantowalkfasttowardswhatseemedtohavebecomeaspontaneouslyconstitutedBabyWelfareCommittee.Shewasaheadtallerthanmostpeople,soitwasn’thardtofollowher.Asshewalkedthroughthecrowd,thebellsonheranklets,notvisiblebelowherloosesalwar,wentchhann-chhann-chhann.ToSaddam,suddenlyterrified,eachchhann-chhannsoundedlikeagunshot.ThebluestreetlightlitupthefaintshadowofwhitestubbleonAnjum’sdark,pittedskin,shinynowwithsweat.Hernose-pinflashedonhermagnificentnosethat

curveddownwardslikethebeakofabirdofprey.Therewassomethingunleashedabouther,somethingun-calibratedandyetabsolutelycertain–asenseofdestinyperhaps.‘Police?We’regoingtogivehertothepolice?’Anjumsaidinbothher

voices,separate,yetjoined,onerasping,onedeep,distinct.Herwhitetuskshoneoutfrombetweenherbetel-nut-redstumps.Thesolidarityofher‘We’wasanembrace.Predictably,itwasmetwithan

immediateinsult.Awitfromthecrowdsaid,‘Why?Whatwillyoudowithher?Youcan’t

turnherintooneofyou,canyou?Moderntechnologyhasmadegreatadvances,butithasn’tgotthatfaryet…’HewasreferringtothewidelyheldbeliefthatHijraskidnappedmalebabiesandcastratedthem.Hiswaggishnessearnedhimaneddyofspinelesslaughter.Anjumdidn’tbaulkatthevulgarityofthecomment.Shespokewithan

intensitythatwasasclearandasurgentashunger.‘She’sagiftfromGod.Givehertome.Icangiveherthelovesheneeds.

Thepolicewilljustthrowherinagovernmentorphanage.She’lldiethere.’Sometimesasingleperson’sclaritycanunnerveamuddledcrowd.Onthis

occasion,Anjum’sdid.ThosewhocouldunderstandwhatshewassayingwerealittleintimidatedbytherefinementofherUrdu.Itwasatoddswiththeclasstheyassumedshecamefrom.‘HermothermusthaveleftherherethinkingasIdid,thatthisplaceis

today’sKarbala,wherethebattleforjustice,thebattleofgoodagainstevil,isbeingfought.Shemusthavethought,“Thesepeoplearefighters,thebestintheworld,oneofthemwilllookafterthechildthatIcannot”–andyouwanttocallthepolice?’Thoughshewasangryandthoughshewassixfeettallandhadbroad,powerfulshoulders,hermannerwasinflectedwiththeexaggeratedcoquetryandtheflutteringhandgesturesofa1930sLucknowcourtesan.SaddamHussainbracedhimselfforabrawl.IshratandUstadHameed

arrivedtodowhattheycould.‘WhogavetheseHijraspermissiontosithere?WhichoftheseStrugglesdo

theybelongto?’MrAggarwal,aslim,middle-agedmanwithaclippedmoustache,wearing

asafarishirt,terrycottontrousersandaprintedGandhicapthatsaidIamagainstCorruptionareYou?hadthecurt,authoritativeairofabureaucrat,whichwasindeedwhathehadbeenuntilrecently.HehadspentmostofhisworkinglifeintheRevenueDepartment,untiloneday,onawhim,sickenedbyhisringsideviewoftherotinthesystem,hehadresignedhisgovernmentjobto‘servethenation’.Hehadbeentinkeringontheperipheryofgoodworksandsocialserviceforafewyears,butnow,asthetubbyGandhian’schieflieutenant,hehadshottoprominenceandhispicturewasinthepaperseveryday.Manybelieved(correctly)thattherealpowerlaywithhim,and

thattheoldmanwasjustacharismaticmascot,ahirelingwhofittedthejob-profileandhadnowbeguntoexceedhisbrief.Theconspiracytheoristswhohuddledontheedgesofallpoliticalmovements,whisperedthattheoldmanwasdeliberatelybeingencouragedtopromotehimself,topainthimselfintoacorner,sothathisownhubriswouldnotallowaretreat.Iftheoldmandiedofhungerpublicly,onliveTV,therumourwent,theMovementwouldhaveamartyrandthatwouldkick-startthepoliticalcareerofMrAggarwalinawaynothingelsecould.Therumourwasunkindanduntrue.MrAggarwalwasthemanbehindtheMovement,butevenhehadbeentakenabackatthefrenzytheoldGandhianevoked,andhewasridingthetide,notplottingastage-managedsuicide.Inafewmonthshewouldjettisonhismascotandgoontobecomeamainstreampolitician–averitabletreasurehouseofmanyofthequalitieshehadoncedenounced–andaformidableopponentofGujaratkaLalla.

MrAggarwal’ssingularadvantageasanemergingpoliticianwashisun-singularlooks.Helookedlikemanypeople.Everythingabouthim,thewayhedressed,thewayhespoke,thewayhethought,wasneatandtidy,clippedandgroomed.Hehadahighvoiceandanunderstated,matter-of-factmanner,exceptwhenhestoodbeforeamicrophone.Thenhewastransformedintoaraging,almostuncontrollable,tornadoofterrifyingrighteousness.Byinterveninginthematterofthebaby,hehopedtodeflectanotherpublicspat(liketheonebetweentheKashmiriMothersandtheSpittingBrigade)thatcoulddistractmediaattentionawayfromwhathethoughtofastheRealIssues.‘ThisisourSecondFreedomStruggle.OurcountryisonthebrinkofaRevolution,’hesaidportentouslytothequicklygrowingaudience.‘Thousandshavegatheredherebecausecorruptpoliticianshavemadeourlivesunbearable.Ifwesolvetheproblemofcorruptionwecantakeourcountrytonewheights,righttothetopoftheworld.Thisisaspaceforseriouspolitics,notacircusring.’HeaddressedAnjumwithoutlookingather:‘Doyouhavepolicepermissiontobehere?Everybodymusthavepermissiontobehere.’Shetoweredoverhim.Hisrefusaltomeethereyemeanthewassquarelyaddressingherbreasts.MrAggarwalhadmisreadthetemperature,misjudgedthesituation

completely.Thepeoplewhohadgatheredwerenotwhollysympathetictohim.Manyresentedthewayhis‘FreedomStruggle’hadgrabbedallthemediaattentionandunderminedeverybodyelse.Anjum,forherpart,wasoblivioustothecrowd.Itdidn’tmattertoherinwhichdirectionitssympathieslay.Somethinghadlitupinsideherandfilledherwithresolutecourage.‘Policepermission?’Nevercouldtwowordshavebeenpronouncedwith

morecontempt.‘Thisisachild,notsomeillegalencroachmentonyour

father’sproperty.Youapplytothepolice,Sahib.TherestofuswilltaketheshorterrouteandapplystraighttotheAlmighty.’SaddamhadjustenoughtimetowhisperasmallprayerofgratitudethatthewordsheusedfortheAlmightywasthegenericKhudaandnotspecificallyAllahmianbeforethebattlelinesweredrawn.Theadversariessquaredoff.AnjumandtheAccountant.Whataconfrontationitwas.Ironicallybothofthemwereonthepavementthatnighttoescapetheirpast

andallthathadcircumscribedtheirlivessofar.Andyet,inordertoarmthemselvesforbattle,theyretreatedrightbackintowhattheysoughttoescape,intowhattheywereusedto,intowhattheyreallywere.He,arevolutionarytrappedinanaccountant’smind.She,awomantrapped

inaman’sbody.He,ragingataworldinwhichthebalancesheetsdidnottally.She,ragingatherglands,herorgans,herskin,thetextureofherhair,thewidthofhershoulders,thetimbreofhervoice.He,fightingforawaytoimposefiscalintegrityonadecayingsystem.She,wantingtoplucktheverystarsfromtheskyandgrindthemintoapotionthatwouldgiveherproperbreastsandhipsandalong,thickplaitofhairthatwouldswingfromsidetosideasshewalked,andyes,thethingshelongedformostofall,thatmostwellstockedofDelhi’svaststockofinvectives,thatinsultofallinsults,aMaakiChoot,amother’scunt.He,whohadspenthisdaystrackingtaxdodges,pay-offsandsweetheartdeals.She,whohadlivedforyearslikeatreeinanoldgraveyard,where,onlazymorningsandlateatnight,thespiritsoftheoldpoetswhomsheloved,Ghalib,MirandZauq,cametorecitetheirverse,drink,argueandgamble.He,whofilledinformsandtickedboxes.She,whoneverknewwhichboxtotick,whichqueuetostandin,whichpublictoilettoenter(KingsorQueens?LordsorLadies?SirsorHers?).He,whobelievedhewasalwaysright.She,whoknewshewasallwrong,alwayswrong.He,reducedbyhiscertainties.She,augmentedbyherambiguity.He,whowantedalaw.She,whowantedababy.Acircleformedaroundthem:furious,curious,assessingtheadversaries,

pickingsides.Itdidn’tmatter.Whichtight-arsedGandhianaccountantstoodachanceinhellinaone-to-onepublicface-offagainstanold,OldDelhiHijra?AnjumbentlowandbroughtherfacewithinkissingdistanceofMr

Aggarwal’s.‘AiHai!Whysoangry,jaan?Won’tyoulookatme?’SaddamHussainclenchedhisfists.Ishratrestrainedhim.Shetookadeep

breathandwadedintothebattlefield,interveninginthepractisedwaythatonlyHijrasknewhowtowhenitcametoprotectingeachother–bymakingadeclarationofwarandpeaceatthesametime.Herattire,whichhadlookedabsurdonlyafewhoursago,couldnothavebeenmoreappropriateforwhat

sheneededtodonow.Shestartedthespread-fingeredHijraclapandbegantodance,movingherhipsobscenely,swirlingherchunni,heroutrageous,aggressivesexualityaimedathumiliatingMrAggarwal,whohadneverinallhislifefoughtafairstreetfight.Damppatchesappearedinthearmpitsofhiswhiteshirt.Ishratbeganwithasongsheknewthecrowdwouldknow–fromafilm

calledUmraoJaan,immortalizedbythebeautifulactressRekha.

Dilcheezkyahai,aapmerijaanlijiyeWhyjustmyheart,takemywholelifetoo

Someonetriedtohustleheroffthepavement.Shemovedtothemiddleofthewide,emptyroad,enjoyingherselfnowasshepirouettedonthezebracrossingunderthestreetlights.Fromtheoppositesideoftheroadsomeonebeganbeatingoutarhythmonadafli.Peoplejoinedthesinging.Shewasright.Everybodyknewthesong:

BasekbaarmerakahamaanlijiyeButjustthisonce,mylove,grantmemywish

Thatcourtesan’ssong,oratleastthatoneline,couldhavebeentheanthemforalmosteverybodyinJantarMantarthatday.Allthosewhowerethereweretherebecausetheybelievedthatsomebodycared,thatsomebodywaslistening.Thatsomebodywouldgrantthemahearing.

Afightbrokeout.Perhapssomeonesaidsomethinglewd.PerhapsSaddamHussainhithim.It’snotclearexactlywhathappened.Thepolicemenondutyatthepavementsnappedoutoftheirsleepand

swungtheirlathisatanybodywhowaswithintheirreach.Policepatroljeeps(WithYou,ForYou,Always)arrivedwithflashinglightsandtheDelhiPolicespecial–maaderchodbehenchodmaakichootbehenkalauda. fn1

TheTVcamerascrowdedin.Theactivistonhernineteenthfastsawherchance.Shewadedintothecrowdandturnedtothecameraswithhertrademark,clenched-fistcalland,withunerringpoliticalacumen,sheappropriatedthelathichargeforherpeople.

Lathigolikhaayenge!Batonsandbulletswewillbear!

Andherpeopleanswered:

Andolanchalaayenge!Withourstrugglewe’llpersevere!

Itdidn’ttakethepolicelongtorestoreorder.AmongthosearrestedanddrivenawayinpolicevanswereMrAggarwal,Anjum,aquakingUstadHameedandtheliveartinstallationinhisscatologicalsuit.(TheLimeManhadmadehimselfscarce.)Theywerereleasedthefollowingmorningwithnocharges.Bythetimesomeonerememberedhowithadallbegun,thebabywasgone.

4

DrAzadBhartiya

ThelastpersontoseethebabywasDrAzadBhartiya,whohadjustentered,accordingtohisowncalculations,theeleventhyear,thirdmonthandseventeenthdayofhishungerstrike.DrBhartiyawassothinastobealmosttwo-dimensional.Histempleswerehollow,hisdark,sunbakedskinslunkoverthebonesofhisfaceandtheprominentcartilageofhislong,reedyneckandcollarbone.Searching,feveredeyesstaredoutattheworldfromdeepshadowbowls.Oneofhisarms,fromshouldertowrist,wasencasedinafilthywhiteplastercastsupportedbyaslingloopedaroundhisneck.Theemptysleeveofhisgrimystripedshirtflappedathissidelikethedesolateflagofadefeatedcountry.Hesatbehindanoldcardboardsigncoveredwithadim,scratched,plasticsheet.Itsaid:

MyFullName:DrAzadBhartiya.(Translation:TheFreeIndian)

MyHomeAddress:DrAzadBhartiyaNearLuckySaraiRailwayStationLuckySaraiBastiKokarBihar

MyCurrentAddress:DrAzadBhartiyaJantarMantarNewDelhi

MyQualifications:MAHindi,MAUrdu(FirstClassFirst),BAHistory,BEd,BasicElementaryCourseinPunjabi,MAPunjabiABF(AppearedButFailed),PhD(pending),DelhiUniversity(ComparativeReligionsandBuddhistStudies),Lecturer,InterCollege,Ghaziabad,ResearchAssociate,JawaharlalNehruUniversity,New

Delhi,FounderMemberVishwaSamajwadiSthapana(WorldPeople’sForum)andIndianSocialistDemocraticParty(AgainstPrice-rise).

Iamfastingagainstthefollowingissues:IamagainsttheCapitalistEmpire,plusagainstUSCapitalism,IndianandAmericanStateTerrorism/AllKindsofNuclearWeaponsandCrime,plusagainsttheBadEducationSystem/Corruption/Violence/EnvironmentalDegradationandAllOtherEvils.AlsoIamagainstUnemployment.IamalsofastingforthecompleteobliterationoftheentireBourgeoisclass.EachdayIrememberthepooroftheworld,Workers/Peasants/Tribals/Dalits/AbandonedLadiesandGents/includingChildrenandHandicappedPeople.

TheyellowplasticJayceesSariPalaceshoppingbagthatsatnexttohimupright,likeasmallyellowperson,containedpapers,typedaswellashandwritten,inEnglishandHindi.Severalcopiesofadocument–anewsletteroratranscriptofsomesort–werelaidoutonthepavement,weigheddownbystones.DrAzadBhartiyasaiditwasavailableforsaleatcostpricefornormalpeopleandatadiscountforstudents:

‘MYNEWS&VIEWS.’(UPDATE)

MyoriginalnameasgiventomebymyparentsisInderY.Kumar.DrAzadBhartiyaisthenameIhavegivenmyself.ItwasregisteredincourtonOctober13th1997alongwiththeEnglishtranslationi.e.:Free/LiberatedIndian.Myaffidavitisattached.Itisnottheoriginal;itisacopyattestedbyaPatialaHousemagistrate.Ifyouacceptthisnameforme,thenyouhavetherighttothinkthatthisisno

placeforanAzadBhartiyatobefound,hereinthispublicprisononthepublicfootpath–see,itevenhasbars.YoumaythinkarealAzadBhartiyashouldbeamodernpersonlivinginamodernhousewithacarandacomputer,ormaybeinthattallbuildingthere,thatfive-starhotel.ThatoneiscalledHotelMeridian.IfyoulookupatthetwelfthflooryouwillbeabletoseetheACroomwithattachedbreakfastandbathroomwheretheUSPresident’sfivedogsstayedwhenhecametoIndia.ActuallywearenotsupposedtocallthemdogsbecausetheyareofficersoftheAmericanArmy,oftherankofCorporal.Somepeoplesaythosedogscansmellhiddenbombsandthattheyknowhowtoeatwithknivesandforkssittingatatable.Theysaythehotelmanagerhastosalutethemwhentheycomeoutofthelift.Idon’tknowifthisinformationistrueorfalse,Ihavenotbeenabletoverifyit.YoumighthaveheardthatthedogswenttovisitGandhi’smemorialinRajghat?Thatisconfirmed,itwasinthenewspaper.ButIdon’tcare.Idon’tadmireGandhi.Hewasareactionary.Heshouldbehappyaboutthedogs.TheyarebetterthanallthoseWorldKillerswhoregularlyplaceflowersathismemorial.ButwhyisthisDrAzadBhartiyahereonthefootpathwhiletheAmericandogs

areintheFiveStarhotel?Thismustbethequestionuppermostonyourmind.TheanswerforthatisthatIamherebecauseI’marevolutionary.Ihavebeenon

hungerstrikeformorethanelevenyears.Thisismytwelfthyearrunning.Howcanamansurvivefortwelveyearsonhungerstrike?TheansweristhatIhavedevelopedascientifictechniqueoffasting.Ieatonemeal(light,vegetarian)eitherevery48or58hours.Thatismorethansufficientforme.YoumaywonderhowanAzadBhartiyawithnojobandnosalarymanagesamealevery48or58hours.Letmetellyou,hereonthefootpath,nodaygoeswithoutsomebodywhohasnothingofferingtoshareitwithme.IfIwanted,justsittinghereIcouldbecomeafatmanliketheMaharajaofMysore.ByGod.Thatwouldbeeasy.Butmyweightisforty-twokilos.IeatonlytoliveandIliveonlytostruggle.Itrymybesttotellthetruth,soIshouldclarifythattheDoctorpartofmynameis

actuallypending,likemyPhD.I’musingthattitlealittlebitinadvanceonlyinorder

tomakepeoplelistentomeandbelievewhatIsay.Iftherewerenourgencyinourpoliticalsituation,Iwouldnotdothisbecause,technicallyspeaking,itisdishonest.Butsometimes,inpolitics,onehastocutpoisonwithpoison.IhavebeensittinghereinJantarMantarforelevenyears.Ionlyleavethisplace

sometimestoattendseminarsormeetingsonsubjectsofmyinterestinConstitutionCluborGandhiPeaceFoundation.OtherwiseIampermanentlyhere.AllthesepeoplefromeverycornerofIndiacomeherewiththeirdreamsanddemands.Thereisnobodytolisten.Noonelistens.Thepolicebeatsthem,thegovernmentignoresthem.Theycannotstayherethesepoorpeople,astheyaremostlyfromvillagesandslumsandtheyhavetoearnaliving.Theyhavetogobacktotheirland,ortotheirlandlords,totheirmoneylenders,totheircowsandbuffaloeswhoaremoreexpensivethanhumans,ortotheirjhuggis.ButIstayhereonthosepeople’sbehalf.Ifastfortheirprogress,fortheacceptanceofalltheirdemands,fortherealizationoftheirdreamsandforthehopethatsomedaytheywillhavetheirowngovernment.WhatcasteamI?Thatisyourquestion?Withsuchahugepoliticalagendaas

mine,youtellme,whatcasteshouldIbe?WhatcastewereJesusandGautamBuddh?WhatcastewasMarx?WhatcastewasProphetMohammed?OnlyHindushavethiscaste,thisinequalitycontainedintheirscriptures.IameverythingexceptforaHindu.AsanAzadBhartiya,IcantellyouopenlythatIhaverenouncedthefaithofthemajorityofthepeopleinthiscountryonlyforthisreason.Forthatmyfamilydoesnottalktome.ButevenifIwasPresidentofAmerica,thatworldclassBrahmin,stillIwouldbehereonhungerstrikeforthepoor.Idon’twantdollars.Capitalismislikepoisonedhoney.Peopleswarmtoitlikebees.Idon’tgotoit.ForthisreasonIhavebeenputundertwenty-four-hourssurveillance.Iamundertwenty-four-hoursremotecontrolelectronicsurveillancebytheAmericanGovernment.Lookbehindyou.Canyouseethatblinkingredlight?That’stheircamerabatterylight.Theyhaveinstalledtheircamerainthattrafficlightalso.TheyhavetheircontrolroomfortheircamerasintheMeridianhotel,inthedogs’room.Thedogsarestillthere.TheyneverwentbacktoAmerica.Theirvisaswereextendedindefinitely.NowbecausetheAmericanPresidentscometoIndiasooften,theykeeptheirdogshere,permanentlystationed.Atnightwhenthelightsareontheysitonthewindowsills.Iseetheirshadows,theiroutline.Mydistancevisionisverygoodandgettingbetter.EverydayIcanseefurtherandfurther.Bush,Hitler,Stalin,MaoandCeausescuaremembersofaonehundredmemberclubofleadersthatareplottingtodestroyallthegoodgovernmentsintheworld.AlltheAmericanpresidentsaremembers,eventhisnewone.LastweekIwashitbyawhitecar,MarutiZenDL2CP4362belongingtoan

IndianTVChannelfundedbyAmericans.Itcrashedthroughtheironrailinganddroveontome.Youcanseethatpartoftherailingisstillbroken.Iwassleeping,butalert.Irolledtoonesidelikeacommando,andsoIescapedthatattemptonmylife,onlymyarmwascrushed.Itisnowunderrepair.Therestofmewassaved.Thedrivertriedtoescape.ThepeoplestoppedhimandforcedhimtotakemetoRamManoharLohiahospital.Twopeoplesatinthecarandslappedhimallthewaytothehospital.Thegovernmentdoctorstreatedmeverywell.InthemorningwhenIcameback,alltherevolutionarieswhowereherethatnight,boughtmesamosasandaglassofsweetlassi.Theyallsignedorputtheirthumbimpressionsonmyplaster.See,hereareSanthaltribalsfromHazaribagh,displacedbyEastParejcoalmines,theseareUnionCarbideGasvictimswhowalkedhereallthewayfromBhopal.Ittookthemthreeweeks.ThatGas-Leakcompanyhasanewnamenow,DowChemicals.Butthesepoorpeoplewhoweredestroyedbythem,cantheybuynewlungs,neweyes?Theyhavetomanagewiththeirsameoldorgans,whichwerepoisonedsomanyyearsago.Butnobodycares.ThosedogsjustsitthereonthatMeridianHotelwindowsillandwatchusdie.ThisisDeviSinghSuryavanshi’ssignature;heislikeme,anonaligned.Hehasgivenhisphonenumberalso.Heisfightingagainstcorruptionandthecheatingofthenationbypoliticians.Idon’tknowwhathisotherdemandis;youcanphonehimdirectlyandask.HehasgonetovisithisdaughterinNashik,buthewillcomebacknextweek.Heisaeighty-sevenyears

oldman,butforhim,still,thenationcomesfirst.ThisistherickshawunionRashtravadiJanataTipahiyaChalakSangh.ThisthumbimpressionbelongstoPhoolbattifromBetul,MadhyaPradesh.She’saverygoodlady.ShewasworkinginafieldasadailylabourerwhenaBSNL–BharatSancharNigamLimited–telephonepolefellonher.Herleftleghadtobeamputated.TheNigamgavehermoneyfortheamputation,fiftythousandrupees,buthowisshetoworknow,withonlyoneleg?Sheisawidow,whatwillsheeat,whowillfeedher?Hersondoesn’twanttokeephersohehassentherheretodoasatyagrahatodemandasedentaryjob.Shehasbeenhereforthreemonths.Noonecomestoseeher.Noonewill.Shewilldiehere.YouseethisEnglishsignature?ThisisS.Tilottama.Sheisaladywhocomes

hereandgoes.Ihaveseenherformanyyears.Sometimesshecomesintheday.Sometimesshecomesinthelatenightorintheearlymorning.Sheisalwaysalone.Shehasnoschedule.Shehasthisverygoodhandwriting.Sheisalsoaverygoodlady.ThesearetheLaturearthquakevictimswhosecashcompensationhasbeen

eatenupbycorruptcollectorsandtehsildars.Outofthreecrorerupeesonlythreelakhrupeesreachedthepeople,3percent.Therestwaseatenbycockroachpeopleontheway.Theyhavebeensittingheresince1999.CanyoureadHindi?Youcanseewhattheyhavewritten,Bharatmeingadhey,giddhaursooarrajkarteinhain.ItmeansIndiaisruledbydonkeys,vulturesandpigs.Thisisthesecondassassinationattemptonme.Lastyearon8thApril,Honda

CityDL8CX4850,droveontome.Thatsamecaryouseeintheadvertisementthereonthetoiletexceptthatmycarwasmaroon,notsilver.DrivenbyanAmericanagent.On17thJuly,HindustanTimescitysection,HTCityreportedit.Myrightlegwasfracturedinthreeplaces.Evennowit’shardformetowalk.Ihavetolimp.PeoplejokeandsaythatIshouldmarryPhoolbattisothatwehaveonehealthyleftlegandonehealthyrightlegfortwoofus.IlaughwiththemeventhoughIdon’tfinditfunny.Butitisimportanttolaughsometimes.Iamagainsttheinstitutionofmarriage.Itwasinventedtosubjugatewomen.Iwasmarriedonetime.Mywifeelopedwithmybrother.Theycallmysontheirsonnow.HecallsmeUncle.Ineverseethem.AftertheyelopedIcamehere.SometimesIcrosstheroadandfastontheotherside,withtheBhopalis.Butit’s

muchhotterthere.Doyouknowwhatthisplaceis,thisJantarMantar?Intheolddaysitwasasun-

dial.ItwasbuiltbysomeMaharaja,Ihaveforgottenhisname,intheyear1724.Foreignersstillcometoseeitwithtourguides.Theywalkpastusbuttheydon’tseeus,sittinghereonthesideoftheroad,fightingforabetterworldinthisDemocracyZoo.Foreignersonlyseewhattheywanttosee.Earlieritwassnakecharmersandsadhus,nowitisthesuperpowerthings,theBazaarRaj.Wesitherelikecagedanimals,andthegovernmentfeedsususelesslittlepiecesofhopethroughthebarsofthisironrailing.Notenoughtoliveon,butjustenoughtopreventusfromdying.Theysendtheirjournaliststous.Wetellourstories.Forawhilethatlightensourburden.Thisishowtheycontrolus.EverywhereelseinthecitythereisSection144ofCriminalProcedureCode.Seethisnewtoilettheyhavebuilt?Forus,theysay.Separateforladiesand

gents.Wehavetopaytogoinside.Whenweseeourselvesinthosebigmirrors,wegetafraid.

DECLARATION

Idoherebydeclarethatalltheinformationgivenhereinabovearetruetothebestofmyknowledgeandnomaterialhasbeenconcealedtherefrom.

FromhisvantagepointonthepavementDrAzadBhartiyahadseenthatfarfrombeingalone,thebabythathaddisappearedhadthreemothersonthepavementthatnight,allthreestitchedtogetherbythreadsoflight.Thepolice,whoknewthathekneweverythingthathappenedatJantar

Mantar,descendedonhimtoquestionhim.Theyslappedhimaroundalittle–notseriously,justfromhabit.Butallhewouldsaywas:

MargayeebulbulqafasmeinKehgayeesayyaadseApnisunehrigaandmeinTuthoonslefasl-e-bahaar

Shediedinhercage,thelittlebird,Thesewordssheleftforhercaptor–PleasetakethespringharvestAndshoveitupyourgildedarse

Thepolicekickedhimover(asamatterofroutine)andconfiscatedallthecopiesofhisNews&ViewsaswellashisJayceesSariPalacebagandallthepapersinit.Oncetheyleft,DrAzadBhartiyadidn’tloseamoment.Heimmediatelyset

towork,startingthelaboriousprocessofdocumentationfromscratch.Thoughtheydidn’thaveasuspect(thenameandaddressofS.Tilottama,

publisherofDrAzadBhartiya’sNews&Views,jumpedoutatthematalaterstage),thepoliceregisteredacaseunderSection361(KidnappingfromLawfulGuardianship),Section362(Abducting,Compelling,ForcingorDeceitfullyInducingaPersonfromaPlace),Section365(WrongfulConfinement),Section366A(aCrimeCommittedagainstaMinorGirlWhoHasNotAttainedEighteenYearsofAge),Section367(KidnappinginOrdertoCauseGrievousHurt,PlaceinSlaveryorSubjecttheKidnappedPersontoUnnaturalLust),Section369(KidnappingaChildunderTenYearsofAgeinOrdertoStealfromThem).Theoffenceswerecognizable,bailableandtrialablebyMagistratesofthe

FirstClass.Thepunishmentwasimprisonmentfornotmorethansevenyears.Theyhadalreadyregisteredonethousandonehundredandforty-sixsimilar

casesinthecitythatyear.AnditwasonlyMay.

5

TheSlow-GooseChase

Ahorse’shoovesechoedonanemptystreet.Payalthethinday-mareclop-clippedthroughapartofthecitysheoughtn’t

tobein.Onherback,astridearedclothsaddleedgedwithgoldtassels,tworiders:

SaddamHussainandIshrat-the-Beautiful.Inapartofthecitytheyoughtn’ttobein.Nosignssaidso,becauseeverythingwasasignthatanyfoolcouldread:thesilence,thewidthoftheroads,theheightofthetrees,theunpeopledpavements,theclippedhedges,thelowwhitebungalowsinwhichtheRulerslived.Eventheyellowlightthatpouredfromthetallstreetlightslookedencashable–columnsofliquidgold.SaddamHussainputonhissunglasses.Ishratsaiditlookedsillytowear

gogglesatnight.‘Youcallthisnight?’Saddamasked.Heexplainedthathewasn’twearing

hissunglassesinordertolookgood.Hesaidtheglarefromthelightshurthiseyesandthathe’dtellherthestoryofhiseyeslater.Payalpinnedherearsbackandtwitchedherhideeventhoughthereweren’t

anyfliesaround.Shesensedhertransgression.Butshelikedthispartofthecity.Therewasairtobreathe.Shecouldhavegalloped,ifthey’dlether.Buttheywouldn’t.Theywereonaslow-goosechase,sheandherriders.Theirmissionwasto

followanautorickshawanditspassengers.Theykepttheirdistancefromitasitsputteredlikealostchildaroundvast

roundaboutslandscapedwithsculptures,fountainsandflowerbeds,anddownavenuesthatspikedoffthem,eachlinedwithdifferentkindsoftrees–Tamarind,Jamun,Neem,Pakad,Arjun.

‘Look,theyevenhavegardensfortheircars,’Ishratsaidastheycircledaroundabout.Saddamlaughed,delighted,intothenight.‘Theyhavecarsfortheirdogsandgardensfortheircars,’hesaid.AcavalcadeofblackMercedeswithtinted,bulletproofwindowsappeared

asiffromnowhereandscorchedpastthemlikeaserpent.PasttheGardenCitythechaseesandchasersapproachedabumpyflyover.

(Bumpyforvehicles,thatis,nothorses.)Therowoflightsrunningdownthemiddlelookedlikemechanicalcherubs’wingsmountedonlongpoles.Therickshawchuggeduphill,thendippeddownanddisappearedfromview.Tokeepup,Payalbrokeintoagentle,happytrot.Aslimunicorninspectingthecherubbrigade.Beyondtheflyoverthecitygrewlesssureofitself.Theslowchasethreadedpasttwohospitalssofullofsicknessthatpatients

andtheirfamilieshadspilledoutandwerecampedontheroads.Somewereonmakeshiftbedsandinwheelchairs.SomeworehospitalgownsandhadbandagesandIVdrips.Children,baldfromchemotherapy,worehospitalmasksandclungtotheirempty-eyedparents.Peoplecrowdedthecountersoftheall-nightchemists,playingIndianRoulette.(Therewasa60:40chancethatthedrugstheyboughtweregenuineandnotspurious.)Familiescookedonthestreet,cuttingonions,boilingpotatoesgonegrittywithdustonsmallkerosenestoves.Theyhungtheirwashingontreeguardsandrailings.(SaddamHussaintooknoteofallthis–forprofessionalreasons.)Abunchofemaciatedtwig-thighedvillagersindhotissquattedontheirhaunchesinacircle.Inthecentre,perchedlikeawoundedbird,wasawizenedoldladyinaprintedsariandenormousdarkglassesthatweresealedalongtheedgeswithcottonwool.Athermometerangledoutofhermouthlikeacigarette.Theypaidnoattentiontothewhitehorseandherridersastheycanteredpast.Anotherflyover.Thistimethegoose-chasepartywentunderit.Itwaspackedtightwith

sleepingpeople.Abare-bodiedbaldmanwithapurplecrustofcongealedtalcumpowderonhisheadandalong,grey,bushybeardbeatoutarhythmonanimaginarydrum,flinginghisheadaroundlikeUstadZakirHussain.‘DhaDhaDhimTi-ra-ki-taDhim!’Ishratcalledouttohimastheywent

past.Hesmiledandrewardedherwithacomplicatedflourishofpercussion.Ashutteredmarket,amidnightegg-parathastall.ASikhGurdwara.

Anothermarket.Arowofcar-repairshops.Themenanddogsasleepoutsidewerecoveredincargrease.Therickshawturnedintoaresidentialcolony.Andthen

leftrightleftrightleft.Alane.Constructionmaterialstackedalongit.Thehouseswereallthreeandfourstoreyshigh.

Therickshawstoppedoutsideabarredirongatepaintedadullshadeoflavender.Payalstoppedintheshadows,manygatesaway.Asnufflingspectre.Apalemare-ghost.Thegoldthreadonhersaddleglintinginthenight.Awomangotout,paidandwentintothehouse.Aftertherickshawleft,

SaddamHussainandIshrat-the-Beautifulapproachedthelavendergate.Twoblackbullswithwobblinghumpslolledoutside.Alightcameoninthesecond-floorwindow.Ishratsaid,‘Writedownthehousenumber.’Saddamsaidhedidn’tneedto

becauseheneverforgotplaceshe’dbeento.He’dbeabletofinditinhissleep.Shewriggledagainsthim.‘Wah!Whataman!’Hesquishedherbreast.Sheslappedhishandaway.‘Don’t.Theycostalot.

I’mstillpayingmyinstalments.’Thewomansilhouettedagainsttherectangleoflightonthesecondfloor

lookeddownandsawtwopeopleonawhitehorse.Theylookedupandsawher.Asthoughtoacknowledgetheglancethatpassedbetweenthem,the

woman(whowasbeautiful,whowasnot,whowastall,whowasshort)inclinedherheadandkissedthestolengoodssheheldinherarms.Shewavedtothemandtheywavedback.OfcoursesherecognizedthemastheteamfromthescrumatJantarMantar.Saddamdismountedandheldupasmallwhiterectangle–hisvisitingcardwiththeaddressofJannatGuestHouseandFuneralServices.HedroppeditintothetinletterboxthatsaidS.Tilottama.SecondFloor.Thebabyhadfrettedmostoftheway,buthadfinallyfallenasleep.Tiny

heartbeatsandablackvelvetcheekagainstabonyshoulder.Thewomanrockedherasshewatchedthehorseanditsridersexitthelane.Shecouldnotrememberwhenlastshehadbeenthishappy.Notbecause

thebabywashers,butbecauseitwasn’t.

6

SomeQuestionsforLater

WhentheBabySealgrewolder,whenshewas(say)crowdedaroundanice-creamcartonaburningafternoon,oneamongapressofschoolgirlsclamouringforanorangebar,mightshegetasuddenwhiffoftheheadyscentofripeMahuathathadinfusedtheforestthedayshewasborn?Wouldherbodyrememberthefeelofdryleavesontheforestfloor,orthehot-metaltouchofthebarrelofhermother’sgunthathadbeenheldtoherforeheadwiththesafetycatchoff?Orhadherpastbeenerasedforever?

Deathfliesin,thinbureaucrat,fromtheplains–AGHASHAHIDALI

7

TheLandlord

It’scold.Oneofthosedim,dirtywinterdays.Thecityisstillstunnedbythesimultaneousexplosionsthattorethroughabusstop,acaféandthebasementparkinglotofasmallshoppingplazatwodaysago,leavingfivedeadandverymanymoreseverelyinjured.Itwilltakeourtelevisionnewsanchorsalittlelongerthanordinaryfolkstorecoverfromtheshock.Asformyself,blastsevokearangeofemotionsinme,butsadly,shockisnolongeroneofthem.I’mupstairsinthisbarsati,thissmall,second-floorapartment-on-the-roof.

TheNeemtreeshaveshedtheirleaves;therose-ringedparakeetsseemtohavemovedtoawarmer(safer?)place.Thefogishunchedupagainstthewindowpanes.Aclotofbluerockpigeonshuddlesontheshit-crustedchhajja.Thoughit’sthemiddleoftheday,nearlylunchtime,I’vehadtoswitchthelightson.Inoticethatmyexperimentwiththeredcementfloorhasfailed.Iwantedafloorwithadeep,softshine,likethosegracefuloldhousesdownSouth.Buthere,overtheyears,thesummerheathasleachedthecolourfromthecementandthewintercoldhascausedthesurfacetocontractandshatterintoapatternofhairlinecracks.Theapartmentisdustyandrun-down.Somethingaboutthestillnessofthishastilyabandonedspacemakesitlooklikeafrozenframeinamovingpicture.Itseemstocontainthegeometryofmotion,theshapeofallthathashappenedandeverythingthatisstilltocome.Theabsenceofthepersonwholivedhereissoreal,sopalpable,thatit’salmostapresence.Thenoisefromthestreetismuted.Thebladesofthestillceilingfansare

edgedwithgrime,apaeantoDelhi’sfamouslyfilthyair.Fortunatelyformylungs,I’monlyvisiting.Oratleastthat’swhatIhope.Ihavebeensenthomeonleave.ThoughIdon’tfeelunwell,whenIlookatmyselfinthemirrorI

canseethatmyskinisdullandmyhairhasthinnednoticeably.Myscalpshinesthroughit(yes,shines).Almostnothingremainsofmyeyebrows.I’mtoldthisisasignofanxiety.Thedrinking,Iadmit,isworrying.Ihavetestedthepatienceofbothmywifeandmybossinunacceptablewaysandamdeterminedtoredeemmyself.IambookedintoarehabilitationcentrewhereIwillbeforsixweekswithnophone,nointernetandnocontactwhatsoeverwiththeworld.Iwassupposedtocheckintoday,butI’lldoitonMonday.IlongtoreturntoKabul,thecitywhereIwillprobablydie,insome

hackneyed,unheroicmanner,perhapswhilehandingmyAmbassadorafile.BOOM.Nomoreme.Twicetheynearlygotus;bothtimesluckwasonourside.AfterthesecondattackwereceivedananonymousletterinPashtu(whichIreadaswellasspeak):Nunzamongbadqismatiwa.Khoyaadlarachemongsirfyawwaarpaqismatgattakawo.Tabadahameshadaparakhushqismatave.Thattranslates(moreorless)as:Todaywewereunlucky.Butrememberweonlyhavetobeluckyonce.Youwillneedgoodluckallthetime.Somethingaboutthosewordsrangabell.Igoogledthem.(That’saverb

now,isn’tit?)Itwasaclose-to-verbatimtranslationofwhattheIRAsaidafterMargaretThatcherescapedtheirbombattackontheGrandHotelinBrightonin1984.It’sanotherkindofglobalization,Isuppose,thisuniversalterrorspeak.EverydayinKabulisabattleofwitsandI’maddicted.

WhileIwaitedtobecertifiedfitforservice,Idecidedtovisitmytenantsandseehowthehouse–Iboughtitfifteenyearsagoandmoreorlessrebuiltit–wasbearingup.Atleastthat’swhatItoldmyself.WhenIgothereIfoundmyselfavoidingthemainentranceandgoingallthewaytotheendoftheroadandaroundtotheback,totakethegatethatopensontotheservicelanethatrunsbehindtherowoftownhouses.Itwasaquiet,prettylaneonce.Nowit’slikeaconstructionsite.Building

material–steelreinforcementrods,slabsofstoneandheapsofsand–occupieswhatlittlespaceparkedcarsdonot.Twoopenmanholesgiveoffastenchthatdoesn’tquitecomplementthesoaringpriceofpropertyhere.Mostoftheolderhouseshavebeentorndownandplushnewdevelopers’flatsarecomingupintheirplace.Someareonstilts,thegroundfloorsgivenovertoparking.It’sagoodideainthiscar-maddenedcity,butsomehowitsaddensme.I’mnotsurewhy.Nostalgiaforanolder,quietertimeperhaps.Aposseofdustychildren,somecarryinginfantsontheirhips,amuse

themselvesbyringingdoorbellsandskitteringawayhiccupingwithdelight.Theiremaciatedparents,haulingcementandbricksaroundinthedeeppitsdugfornewbasements,wouldnotlookoutofplaceonaconstructionsiteinancientEgypt,heavingstonesforapharaoh’spyramid.Asmalldonkeywith

kindeyeswalkspastmecarryingbricksinitssaddlebags.Thepost-blastannouncementsbeingmadeinEnglishandHindiontheloudspeakerinthepoliceboothinthemarketarefainterhere:‘Pleasereportanyunidentifiedbaggageorsuspicious-lookingpersontothenearestpolicepost…’EveninthefewmonthssinceIwaslasthere,thenumberofcarsparkedin

thebacklanehasgrown–andmostarebigger,swisher.MyneighbourMrsMehra’snewdriver,hiswholeheadwrappedinabrownmufflerwithaslitforhiseyes,ishosingdownanewcreamToyotaCorollaasthoughit’sabuffalo.IthasasmallsaffronOMpaintedonitsbonnet.OnlyayearagoMrsMehrawasflinginghergarbagestraightfromherfirst-floorbalconyontothestreet.IwonderwhetherowningaToyotahasimprovedhersenseofcommunityhygiene.Icanseethatmostoftheapartmentsonthesecondandthirdfloorshave

beensmartenedup,glassedin.Theblackbullsthatlivedaroundtheconcretelamppostoppositemyback

gateformanyyears,fedandspoiledbyMrsMehraandhercow-worshippingcohorts,aren’taround.Maybethey’vegoneforajog.Twoyoungwomeninsmartwintercoatsandclickinghighheelswalkpast,

bothsmokingcigarettes.TheylooklikeRussianorUkrainianwhores,thekindyoucandialupforfarmhouseparties.TherewereafewatmyoldfriendBobbySingh’sstagpartyinMehraulilastweek.Oneofthem,whowalkedaroundwithaplateoftacos,wasactuallyaDip–shewastopless,moreorless–withhummusalloverherchest.Ithoughtitwasabitmuch,buttheotherguestsseemedtoenjoyit.Thegirlgavethatimpressiontoo–althoughthatmayhavebeenpartofthejobdescription.Hardtosay.Servantswearingtheiremployers’expensivecast-offsarebeingwalkedby

evenbetter-dresseddogs–Labradors,Germanshepherds,Dobermanns,beagles,dachshunds,cockerspaniels–withwoolcoatsthatsaythingslikeSupermanandWoof!Evensomeofthestreetmongrelshavecoatsandshowtracesofpedigreedlineage.Trickledown.Ha!Ha!Twomen–onewhite,oneIndian–gopast,holdinghands.Theirplump

blackLabradorisdressedinared-and-bluejerseythatsaysNo.7ManchesterUnited.Likeagenialholymandistributinghisblessings,hebestowsalittlesquirtofpissontothetyresofthecarshewaddlespast.Thesheet-metalgateoftheMunicipalPrimarySchoolthatabutsthedeer

parkisnew.It’spaintedoverwithadreadfulrenditionofahappybabyinitshappymother’sarmsbeinggivenapoliovaccinationbyahappynurseinawhitedressandwhitestockings.Thesyringeisroughlythesizeofacricketbat.Icanhearchildren’svoicesintheirclassrooms,shoutingBaabaablacksheep,risingtoashriekonWool!andFull!ComparedtoKabul,oranywhereelseinAfghanistanorPakistan,orfor

thatmatteranyothercountryinourneighbourhood(SriLanka,Bangladesh,

Burma,Iran,Iraq,Syria–GoodGod!)thisfoggylittlebacklane,withitseverydayhumdrumness,itsvulgarity,itsunfortunatebuttolerableinequities,itsdonkeysanditsminorcruelties,islikeasmallcornerofParadise.Theshopsinthemarketsellfoodandflowersandclothesandmobilephones,notgrenadesandmachineguns.Childrenplayatringingdoorbells,notatbeingsuicidebombers.Wehaveourtroubles,ourterriblemoments,yes,buttheseareonlyaberrations.Ifeelarushofangeratthosegrumblingintellectualsandprofessional

dissenterswhoconstantlycarpaboutthisgreatcountry.Frankly,theycanonlydoitbecausetheyareallowedto.Andtheyareallowedtobecause,forallourimperfections,weareagenuinedemocracy.Iwouldnotbecrassenoughtosaythistooofteninpublic,butthetruthisthatitgivesmegreatpridetobeaservantoftheGovernmentofIndia.Thebackgatewasopen,asIexpectedittobe.(Theground-floortenants

havepainteditlavender.)Iwentstraightupthestairstothesecondfloor.Thedoorwaslocked.Theextentofmydisappointmentunsettledme.Thelandinglookeddeserted.Therewasmailandoldnewspaperspiledupagainstthedoor.Inoticedadog’spaw-printsinthedust.Onmywaydown,theplump,prettywifeofmyground-floortenant,who

runssomesortofvideoproductioncompany,cameoutofherkitchenandaccostedmeonthestairs.Sheinvitedmeinforacupoftea(towhatusedtobemyhomewhenmywifeandIwerebothpostedinDelhi).‘I’mAnkita,’shesaidoverhershoulderassheledmein.Herlong,

chemicallystraightenedhairstreakedwithblondehighlightswasdampandIcouldsmellhertangyshampoo.Sheworesolitairesinherearsandafuzzywhitewoolsweater.Thebackpocketsofhertightbluejeans–‘jeggings’,mydaughterssaythey’recalled–stretchedoverhergenerousbehindwereembroideredwithcolourfulforked-tonguedChinesedragons.Mymotherwouldhaveapproved,ifnotoftheclothes,thencertainlyoftheplumpness.DekhtebeshRolypoly,she’dhavesaid.Mypoormother,whospentallofhermarriedlifeinDelhi,dreamingofherchildhoodinCalcutta.Thewordsetupanannoyingbuzzinmyhead.Rolypolyrolypolyrolypoly.Threeofthefourwallsintheroomwerepaintedwatermelonpink.Allthe

furnitureincludingthediningtablewasasortofflecked–distressedIbelieveistherightword–rindgreen.Thedoorandwindowframeswereblack(theseeds,Isuppose).Ibegantoregrethavinggiventhemafreehandwiththeinterior.AnkitaandIsatfacingeachother,separatedbythelengthofthesofa(myoldsofa,re-upholsterednow).Atonepointwehadtoclaspourkneesandliftourfeetoffthefloorwhilehermaidpassedbelowus,shufflingonherhauncheslikeasmallduck,swabbingthefloorwithsomethingthatsmelledsharp,likecitronella.WouldithavebeensodifficultforRolypolytohavehad

thatsectionofherfloorswabbedalittlelater?Whenwillourpeoplelearnsomebasicetiquette?ThemaidwasobviouslyaGondoraSanthalfromJharkhandor

Chhattisgarh,orperhapsoneoftheaboriginaltribesinOrissa.Shelookedlikeachildofmaybefourteenorfifteen.FromwhereIsatIcouldseedownherkurtatowhereatinysilvercrucifixnestledbetweenhertinybreasts.Myfather,whohadareflexivehostilitytowardsChristianmissionariesandtheirflock,wouldhavecalledherHallelujah.Forallhissophisticationhepossessedmorethanjustastreakofimpropriety.Enthronedinhergiantwatermelon,lookingradiantlyoutatmefromunder

herhalooftintedhair,Rolypolygavemeawhispered,incoherentaccountofwhathadhappenedupstairs.‘Ithinksosheisnotanormalperson,’shesaid,morethanonce.Tobefair,perhapsshewascoherentandIwashostiletotheideaofhearingherout.Shesaidsomethingaboutababyandthepolice(‘Iwasdump-struckwhenpoliceknockedonthedoor’)andbringingdisreputetothehouseandtheentireneighbourhood.Itallsoundedabitviciousandfar-fetched.Ithankedherandleftwiththegiftshepressedintomyhands–aDVDofherhusband’slatestdocumentaryontheDalLakeinKashmirmadefortheDepartmentofTourism.Anhourortwolater,hereIam.I’vehadtobringinalocksmithfromthe

markettofashionakeyforme.Inotherwords,I’vehadtobreakin.Mysecond-floortenantseemstohaveleft.‘Left’,ifRolypolyistobebelieved,maybesomethingofaeuphemism.Butthen‘tenant’isaeuphemismtoo.No,wewerenotlovers.Atnopointdidsheeveroffermeahintthatshemightbeopentoarelationshipofthatsort.Hadshe,Idon’tknowmyselfwellenoughtosayhowthingsmighthaveturnedout.Becauseallmylife,eversinceIfirstmetherallthoseyearsagowhenwewerestillincollege,Ihaveconstructedmyselfaroundher.Notaroundherperhaps,butaroundthememoryofmyloveforher.Shedoesn’tknowthat.Nobodydoes,exceptperhapsNaga,Musaandme,themenwholovedher.Iusethewordloveloosely,andonlybecausemyvocabularyisunequalto

thetaskofdescribingtheprecisenatureofthatmaze,thatforestoffeelingsthatconnectedthethreeofustoherandeventuallytoeachother.ThefirsttimeIsawherwasalmostexactlythirtyyearsago,in1984(who

inDelhicanforget1984?),attherehearsalsofacollegeplayinwhichIwasacting,calledNorman,IsThatYou?Sadly,afterrehearsingitfortwomonthsweneverperformedit.Aweekbeforeitwasmeanttoopen,MrsG–IndiraGandhi–wasassassinatedbyherSikhbodyguards.Forafewdaysaftertheassassination,mobsledbyhersupportersand

acolyteskilledthousandsofSikhsinDelhi.Homes,shops,taxistandswithSikhdrivers,wholelocalitieswhereSikhslivedwereburnedtotheground.Plumesofblacksmokeclimbedintotheskyfromthefiresalloverthecity.

Frommywindowseatinabusonabright,beautifulday,IsawamoblynchanoldSikhgentleman.Theypulledoffhisturban,toreouthisbeardandnecklacedhimSouthAfrica-stylewithaburningtyrewhilepeoplestoodaroundbayingtheirencouragement.IhurriedhomeandwaitedfortheshockofwhatIhadwitnessedtohitme.Oddly,itneverdid.TheonlyshockIfeltwasshockatmyownequanimity.Iwasdisgustedbythestupidity,thefutilityofitall,butsomehow,Iwasnotshocked.ItcouldbethatmyfamiliaritywiththegoryhistoryofthecityIhadgrownupinhadsomethingtodowithit.ItwasasthoughtheApparitionwhosepresenceweinIndiaareallconstantlyandacutelyawareofhadsuddenlysurfaced,snarling,fromthedeep,andhadbehavedexactlyasweexpecteditto.Onceitsappetitewassateditsankbackintoitssubterraneanlairandnormalityclosedoverit.Maddenedkillersretractedtheirfangsandreturnedtotheirdailychores–asclerks,tailors,plumbers,carpenters,shopkeepers–lifewentonasbefore.Normalityinourpartoftheworldisabitlikeaboiledegg:itshumdrumsurfaceconcealsatitsheartayolkofegregiousviolence.Itisourconstantanxietyaboutthatviolence,ourmemoryofitspastlaboursandourdreadofitsfuturemanifestations,thatlaysdowntherulesforhowapeopleascomplexandasdiverseaswearecontinuetocoexist–continuetolivetogether,tolerateeachotherand,fromtimetotime,murderoneanother.Aslongasthecentreholds,aslongastheyolkdoesn’trun,we’llbefine.Inmomentsofcrisisithelpstotakethelongview.Wedecidedtopostponetheopeningoftheplaybyamonthinthehopethat

bythenthingswouldhavesettleddown.ButinearlyDecembertragedystruckagain,thistimeevenharder.TheUnionCarbidepesticideplantinBhopalsprangadeadlygasleakthatkilledthousandsofpeople.Thenewspaperswerefullofaccountsofpeopletryingtofleethepoisonouscloudthatpursuedthem,theireyesandlungsonfire.Therewassomethingalmostbiblicalaboutthenatureandthescaleofthehorror.Newsmagazinespublishedphotographsofthedead,theill,thedying,themangledandthepermanentlyblinded,theirsightlesseyeseerilyturnedtowardsthecameras.Eventuallywedecidedthatthegodsweren’twithusandthatperformingNormanwouldbeinappropriateforthetimes,sothewholethingwasshelved.Ifyou’llpardonmeformakingthissomewhatprosaicobservation–maybethat’swhatlifeis,orendsupbeingmostofthetime:arehearsalforaperformancethatnevereventuallymaterializes.InthecaseofNorman,though,wedidn’tneedafinalperformancetochangethecourseofourlives.Therehearsalsturnedouttobemorethanenough.DavidQuartermaine,thedirectoroftheplay,wasayoungEnglishmanwho

hadmovedtoDelhifromLeeds.Hewasalean,athleticand,ifImaysayso,devastatinglybeautifulman.Hisblondhairfelltohisshoulders,hiseyeswereanunreal,sapphireblue,likePeterO’Toole’s.Hewasstonedmostofthe

time,andwascandidlyhomosexual,althoughheneverbroughtitupinconversation.Aparadeofduskyadolescentboys–theturnoverwashigh–passedthroughhisbook-linedroomsinDefenceColony.Theyloungedonhisbedorcurleduponhisrockingchair,flippingthroughmagazinestheyobviouslycouldn’tread(hehadaclearpreferenceforproletarians).Wehadneverseenanythingremotelylikeit.Thedaywegatheredinhistwo-roomflatforthefirstplay-reading,hissilent,efficientmaidhadefficientlydeliveredherthirdchildinhisbathroom.WelivedinaweofDavidQuartermaine,ofhisaudacioussexuality,hiscollectionofbooks,hismoodiness,hismumblingandhissuddenenigmaticsilences,whichwebelievedweretheprerequisitecharacteristicsofatrueartist.Someofustriedtoreplicatethatbehaviourinourfreetime,imaginingwewerepreparingourselvesforalifeinthetheatre.MyclassmateNaga,NagarajHariharan,wascastasNorman.Iwastoplayhislover,GarsonHobart.(Intheearlyrehearsalswehammeditupmorethanjustalittle.Isupposeinouryoung,stupidwayweweretryingtosignalthatweweren’treallyhomosexual.)Wewerebothfinishingourmaster’sinhistoryatDelhiUniversity.Asaconsequenceofhisparentsandminebeingfriends(hisfatherwasintheForeignService,minewasaseniorheartsurgeon),NagaandIhadbeentogetherthroughschoolandnowuniversity.Likemostsuchchildrenwewereneverclosefriends.Wedidn’tdislikeeachother,butourrelationshiphadalwaysbeenmorethanalittleadversarial.Tilowasathird-yearstudentattheArchitectureSchoolandwasworking

onthesetsandlightingdesign.SheintroducedherselftousasTilottama.ThemomentIsawher,apartofmewalkedoutofmybodyandwrappeditselfaroundher.Andthereitstillremains.IwishIknewwhatitwasaboutherthatdisarmedmesocompletelyand

mademebehavelikesomeoneIamnot–solicitous,alittleovereager.Shedidn’tlooklikeanyofthepale,well-groomedgirlsIknewatcollege.HercomplexionwaswhattheFrenchmightcallcaféaulait(withverylittlelait),which,asfarasmostIndianswereconcerned,disqualifiedherstraightawayfrombeingconsideredgood-looking.It’shardformetodescribesomeonewhohasbeenimprintedonme,onmysoul,likeastamporasealofsomesortforsomanyyears.IseeherasIseealimbofmine–ahand,orafoot.Butletmetry,ifonlyinthebroadestbrushstrokes.Shehadasmall,fine-bonedfaceandastraightnose,withpert,flarednostrils.Herlong,thickhairwasneitherstraightnorcurly,buttangledanduncaredfor.Icouldimaginesmallbirdsnestinginit.ItwouldhaveeasilymadetheBeforepartofaBefore-and-Aftershampoocommercial.Sheworeitdownherbackinaplaitandsometimestwistedintoanuntidyknotatthenapeofherlongneckwithayellowpencilstuckthroughit.Sheworenomake-upanddidnothing–noneofthosedelightfulthingsgirlsdo,withtheirhair,ortheireyes,ortheirmouths–to

augmentherlooks.Shewasn’ttall,butshewasrangy,andshehadawayofstanding,withherweightontheballsofherfeet,hershoulderssquared,thatwasalmostmasculine,andyetwasn’t.ThedayIfirstmethershewaswearingwhitecottonpyjamasandahideous–thehideousnesssomehowdeliberate–printed,oversizedman’sshirtthatdidn’tseemtobelongtoher.(Iwaswrongaboutthat:weekslater,whenwegottoknoweachotherbetter,shetoldusthatitwasindeedhers.Thatshehadboughtitatthesecond-handclothesmarketoutsideJamaMasjidforonerupee.Naga–typically–toldherthatheknewfromreliablesourcesthattheclothessoldthereweretakenoffthebodiesofpeoplewhodiedintrainaccidents.Shesaidshedidn’tmindaslongastherewerenobloodstains.)Theonlyjewellerysheworewasabroadsilverringonalong,ink-stainedmiddlefingerandasilvertoe-ring.ShesmokedGaneshbeedisthatshekeptinascarletDunhillcigarettepacket.Shewouldlookrightthroughthedisappointmentonthefacesofthosewhohadtriedtoscamwhattheythoughtwasanimportedfiltercigaretteoffherandendedupinsteadwithabeedithattheyweretooembarrassednottosmoke,especiallywhenshewasofferingtolightitforthem.Isawthishappenanumberoftimes,butherexpressionalwaysremainedimpassive–therewasneverasmileortheexchangeofanamusedglancewithafriend,soInevercouldtellwhethershewasplayingapracticaljokeorwhetherthiswasjustthewayshedidthings.Thecompleteabsenceofadesiretoplease,ortoputsomeoneattheirease,could,inalessvulnerableperson,havebeenconstruedasarrogance.Inheritcameacrossasakindofrecklessaloneness.Behindherplain,unfashionablespectacles,herslightlyslantingcat-eyeshadtheinsouciantsecretivenessofapyromaniac.Shegavetheimpressionthatshehadsomehowslippedoffherleash.Asthoughshewastakingherselfforawalkwhiletherestofuswerebeingwalked–likepets.Asthoughshewaswatchingconsiderately,somewhatabsent-mindedly,fromadistance,whilewemincedalong,gratefultoourowners,happytoperpetuateourbondage.Itriedtofindoutmoreabouther,butshegaveverylittleaway.WhenI

askedherwhathersurnamewas,shesaidhernamewasS.Tilottama.WhenIaskedwhatSstoodforshesaid,‘SstandsforS.’Sheevadedmyindirectquestionsaboutwherehomewas,whatherfatherdid.Shedidn’tspeakmuchHindiatthetime.SoIguessedSouthIndia.HerEnglishwascuriouslyunaccented,exceptthatZsometimessoftenedintoS,so,forexample,shewouldsay‘Sip’for‘Zip’.IguessedKerala.ItturnedoutthatIwasrightaboutthat.Abouttherest–Ilearnedthatshe

wasn’tbeingevasive;shegenuinelydidnothaveanswerstothoseordinarycollege-kidquestions:Whereareyoufrom?Whatdoesyourfatherdo?Etceteraandsoon.FromstraywispsofconversationIgatheredthathermotherwasasinglewomanwhosehusbandhadlefther,orshehadlefthim,orhewasdead–itwasallabitofamystery.Nobodyseemedtobeabletoplace

her.Therewererumoursthatshewasanadoptedchild.Andrumoursthatshewasnot.LaterIlearned–fromacollegejunior,afellowcalledMammenP.Mammen,agossipmongerfromTilo’shometown–thatbothrumoursweretrue.Hermotherwasindeedherrealmother,buthadfirstabandonedherandthenadoptedher.Therehadbeenascandal,aloveaffairinasmalltown.Theman,whobelongedtoan‘Untouchable’caste(a‘Paraya’,MammenP.Mammenwhispered,asthougheventosayitaloudwouldcontaminatehim),hadbeendispensedwithinthewayshigh-castefamiliesinIndia–inthiscaseSyrianChristiansfromKerala–traditionallydispensewithinconveniencessuchasthese.Tilo’smotherwassentawayuntilthebabywasbornandplacedinaChristianorphanage.Inafewmonthsshereturnedtotheorphanageandadoptedherownchild.Herfamilydisownedher.Sheremainedunmarried.Tosupportherselfshestartedasmallkindergartenschoolwhich,overtheyears,hadgrownintoasuccessfulhighschool.Sheneverpubliclyadmitted–understandably–thatshewastherealmother.ThatwasaboutasmuchasIknew.Tilottamaneverwenthomeforherholidays.Sheneversaidwhy.Nobody

camelookingforher.Shepaidherfeesbyworkinginarchitects’officesasadraughtsmanaftercollegehoursandonweekendsandholidays.Shedidn’tliveinthehostel–shesaidshecouldn’taffordit.Insteadshelivedinashackinanearbyslumthatwasstrungalongtheouterwallsofanoldruin.Noneofuswasinvitedtovisither.DuringtherehearsalsofNorman,shecalledNagaNaga,butme,forsome

reason,sheonlyeveraddressedasGarsonHobart.Sotherewewere,NagaandI,studentsofhistory,wooingagirlwhodidn’tseemtohaveapast,afamily,acommunity,apeople,orevenahome.ActuallyNagawasn’treallywooingher.Inthosedayshewasmesmerizedmorebyhimselfthananybodyelse.HenoticedTiloandswitchedonhis(considerable)charm,likeyoumightswitchontheheadlightsofacar,onlybecauseshedidn’tpayattentiontohim.Hewasn’tusedtothat.IwasneverentirelysurewhattherelationshipbetweenMusa–Musa

Yeswi–andTiloreallywas.Theywerequietwitheachotherincompany,neverdemonstrative.Sometimestheyseemedmorelikesiblingsthanlovers.TheywereclassmatesinArchitectureSchool.Bothexceptionallygiftedartists.Ihadseensomeoftheirwork,Tilo’scharcoalandcrayonportraits,Musa’swatercoloursoftheruinsoftheoldercitiesofDelhi,Tughlakabad,FerozShahKotlaandPuranaQila,andhispencildrawingsofhorses–sometimesjustpartsofhorses–ahead,aneye,awildmane,gallopinghooves.Ionceaskedhimaboutthose,whetherhedrewthemfromphotographsorcopiedthemfromillustrationsinbooks,orwhetherhehadhorsesathomeinKashmir.Hesaidhedreamedaboutthem.Ifoundthatdisquieting.Idon’tpretendtoknowmuchaboutart,buttomylayman’seye,

thosedrawings,bothhisandTilo’s,lookeddistinctiveanddazzling.Iremembertheybothhadsimilarhandwriting–thatcasual,angularcalligraphythatusedtobetaughtinarchitectureschoolsbeforeeverythingcametobecomputerized.Ican’tsaythatIknewMusawell.Hewasaquiet,conservativelydressed

boy,compactlybuiltandonlyaboutastallasTilowas.HisreticencemayhavehadsomethingtodowiththefactthathisEnglishwasn’tfluentandhespokeitwithadistinctlyKashmiriaccent.Hehadawayofbeingincompanywithoutdrawinganyattentiontohimself,whichwassomethingofaskill,becausehewasstriking-looking,inthewaymanyyoungKashmirimencanbe.Thoughhewasn’ttall,hewasbroad-shouldered,andtherewasaconcealedsinewinesstohiscompactness.Hehadjet-blackhair,whichheworecroppedveryshort.Hiseyeswereadarkbrown-green.Hewasclean-shaven,hissmooth,paleskinasharpcontrasttoTilo’scomplexion.Iremembertwothingsabouthimclearly:achippedfronttooth(whichmadehimlookridiculouslyyoungwhenhesmiled,whichheseldomdid)andhissurprisinghands–theywerenotthehandsofanartistatall–theywereapeasant’shands,bigandstrong,withstockyfingers.TherewasagentlenesstoMusa,aserenity,whichIliked,althoughitwas

probablythoseveryqualitiesthatcoalescedintosomethingdreadfullateron.I’mcertainhewasawareofwhatIfeltaboutTilo,yetheshowednosignsoffeelingeitherthreatenedortriumphant.That,inmyeyes,gavehimtremendousdignity.InhisrelationshipwithNagaIthinktherewaslessequanimity,whichinallprobabilityhadmoretodowithNagathanwithMusa.NagashowedapeculiarinsecurityandlackofgracewhenhewasaroundMusa.Thecontrastbetweenthetwoofthemwasremarkable.IfMusawas(orat

leastgavetheimpressionofbeing)solid,dependable,arock–Nagawasbreezyandmercurial.Itwasimpossibletorelaxaroundhim.Hecouldn’tbeinaroomwithoutdirectingalltheattentiontowardshimself.Hewasagreatshowman;boisterous,witty,abitofabully,andutterly,hilariouslymercilesswiththepeoplehechosetopubliclypickon.Hewasnice-looking,slim,boyish,agoodcricketer(off-spinner),withfloppyhairandglasses–verymuchthecool,intellectualsportsman.Butmorethanhislooks,itwashisroguishappealthatgirlsseemedtolove.Theyflockedaroundhimgiddily,hangingontohiseveryword,gigglingathisjokesevenwhentheyweren’tfunny.Itwashardtokeeptrackofhisstringofgirlfriends.Hehadthatchameleon-likequalitythatgoodactorshave–theabilitytoalterhisphysicalappearance,notsuperficially,butradically,dependingonwhohehaddecidedtobeatthatparticularmomentinhislife.Whenwewereyoung,itwasallveryentertainingandexhilarating.EverybodylookedforwardtowhatNaga’s

newestavatarwasgoingtobe.Butaswegrewolderitbecamealittlehollowandtiresome.

AftertheygraduatedfromArchitectureSchool,MusaandTiloseemedtohavedriftedapart.HereturnedtoKashmir.Shegotajobasajuniorarchitectinanarchitecturalfirm.Hermainresponsibilityatwork,shetoldme,wastotaketheblameforotherpeople’smistakes.Withhermeagresalary(shewaspaidbythehour)sheupgradedherselffromtheslumandrentedaramshackleroomnearthedargahofHazratNizamuddinAuliya.Ivisitedherthereafewtimes.OnthelastofthosevisitswesatbyMirzaGhalib’sgrave,inapoolof

beediandcigarettestubs,surroundedbythespectacularcripples,lepers,vagrantsandfreakswhoalwaysaccumulatearoundholyplacesinIndia,anddranksomethick,terribletea.‘Thisishowwetreatthememoryofourgreatestpoet,’Iremembersaying,

somewhatpretentiously–atthetimeIknewnothingofGhalib’spoetry.(Idonow.Ihaveto.Forprofessionalreasons.BecausenothingwarmsthesubcontinentalMuslim’sheartmorethanafewwell-chosenlinesofUrduverse.)‘Maybehe’shappierthisway,’shesaid.Laterwewalkedthroughthebeggar-linedlanestothedargahforthe

Thursday-nightqawwali.Itwasn’tthebestqawwaliIhadeverheard,buttheforeigntouristsclosedtheireyesandswayedinecstasy.Afterthelastsongwassung,andthemusicianspackedawaytheirbattered

instruments,wewalkeddownthedarkroadthatranbehindthecolony,alongthebanksofastorm-waterdrainthatsmelledlikeasewer,andclimbedthesteep,narrowstairstoherroom.Herdustyterracewasstackedwithsomeone’s–probablyherlandlord’s–discardedfurniture,thewoodbleachedwhitebythesun.Agingertomcatyowledinsexualdesperationforthefemalewhohadbarricadedherselfinsideanestofloosewickerthathadcomeundonefromtheseatofabrokenchair.Iprobablyrememberhimsoclearlybecauseheremindedmeofmyself.Theroomwastiny,morelikeastoreroomthanaroom.Itwasbareexcept

forastringcot,aterracottamatkaforwaterandacardboardcartonwithclothesandsomebooks.Anelectricringonanoldjeepwindscreenproppeduponbricksfunctionedasthekitchen.Askilful,larger-than-lifecrayondrawingofaniridescent,purple-blueroostertookuponewholewallandregardeduswithasternyelloweye.Itwasasthough,tomakeupforthelackofrealones,Tilohadconjuredupagraffitiparenttokeepaneyeonher.Iwasrelievedtoescapetherooster’sirasciblegazewhenwewentoutonto

theterrace.Wesmokedsomehashish,gotbittenbymosquitoesandlaughedalotatabsolutelynothing.Tilosatcross-legged,perchedontopoftheparapet

wall,lookingoutatthedarkness.Amottledmoonrose,itsother-worldlybeautyatoddswiththesharp,veryworldlyfumesfromtheopendrainacrosstheroad.Suddenlyastonespunupatusfromthestreetbelow,missingTilobyawhisker.Shejumpedoffthewall,butdidnotseemundulyperturbed.‘It’sthecrowdfromthecinemahall.Thelastshowmustbeover.’Ilookeddown.Icouldhearsniggering,butcouldn’tseeanybodyinthe

shadows.IhavetoadmitthatIwasalittleunnerved.Iaskedher–itwasastupidquestion–whatprecautionsshetooktomakesureshestayedsafe.Shesaidshedidn’tdisputetherumourintheneighbourhoodthatsheworkedforawell-knowndrugdealer.Thatway,shesaid,peopleassumedshehadprotection.IdecidedtobrazenitoutandaskaboutMusa,wherehewas,whetherthey

werestilltogether,whethertheyplannedtogetmarried.Shesaid,‘I’mnotmarryinganybody.’WhenIaskedherwhyshefeltthatway,shesaidshewantedtobefreetodieirresponsibly,withoutnoticeandfornoreason.

AthomethatnightIfellasleepthinkingofthechasmthatseparatedmylifefromhers.IstilllivedinthehouseIwasbornin.Myparentswereasleepinthenextroom.Icouldhearthefamiliarhumofournoisyrefrigerator.Alltheobjects–thecarpets,thecupboards,thearmchairsinthedrawingroom,theJaminiRoypaintings,thefirsteditionsofTagore’sbooksinBengaliaswellasEnglish,myfather’scollectionofmountaineeringbooks(itwasahobby,hewasn’taclimber),thefamilyphotoalbums,thetrunksinwhichourwinterclotheswerekept,thebedIhadsleptinsinceIwasaboy–werelikesentinelsthathadwatchedovermeforsomanyyears.True,myadultlifelayahead,butthefoundationsonwhichthatlifewouldbebuiltseemedsoimmutable,sounassailable.Tilo,ontheotherhand,waslikeapaperboatonaboisteroussea.Shewasabsolutelyalone.Eventhepoorinourcountry,brutalizedastheywere,hadfamilies.Howwouldshesurvive?Howlongwoulditbebeforeherboatwentdown?AfterIjoinedtheBureauandleftformytraining,Ilosttouchwithher.ThenexttimeIsawherwasatherwedding.

Idon’tknowwhatbroughtherandMusatogetheragainallthoseyearslater,orhowshecametobeonthathouseboatwithhiminSrinagar.GivenwhatIknewofhim,Ihaveneverunderstoodhowthatstormofdull,

misguidedvanity–theabsurdnotionthatKashmircouldhave‘freedom’–swepthimupasitdidawholegenerationofyoungKashmirimen.It’struethathesufferedthekindoftragedythatnobodyevershould–butKashmirwasawarzonethen.Icanputmyhandonmyheartandswearthat,whatevertheprovocation,Iwouldnevercontemplatedoingwhathedid.

Butthenhewasn’tme,andIwasn’thim.Hedidwhathedid.Andhepaidthepriceforit.Asyesow,soshallyereap.WithinweeksofMusa’sdeath,TilomarriedNaga.

Asforme,theleastremarkableofusall–Ilovedherwithoutpride.Andwithouthope.Withouthope,becauseIknewthatevenifbysomeremotechanceshehadreciprocatedmyfeelings,myparents,myBrahminparents,wouldneveraccepther–thegirlwithoutapast,withoutacaste–intothefamily.HadIpersevered,itwouldhavemeantanupheavalofthesortthatIsimplydidnothavethestomachfor.Eveninthemostuneventfuloflives,wearecalledupontochooseourbattles,andthisonewasn’tmine.Now,theseyearslater,myparentsarebothdead.AndI’mwhat’sknownas

a‘familyman’.MywifeandItolerateeachotherandadoreourchildren.Chitra–Chittaroopa–mywife(yes,myBrahminwife),isintheForeignServiceandispostedtoPrague.Ourdaughters,RabiaandAnia,areseventeenandfifteen.TheystaywiththeirmotherandattendtheFrenchSchool.RabiahopestostudyEnglishliteratureandyoungAniaisdeadsetonacareerinhumanrightslaw.It’sanunorthodoxchoice,andherdetermination,herrefusaltoevenconsiderotheroptions,isalittleodd,especiallyforonesoyoung.Iwastroubledaboutitatfirst.Iwonderedwhetheritwasherwayofstagingasubtleversionofateenagerebellionagainstherfather.Butthatdoesn’tseemtobethecaseatall.Overthelasttenyearsorsothefieldofhumanrightshasbecomeaperfectlyrespectableandevenlucrativeprofession.Ihavebeennothingshortofencouragingwithher.Inanycase,afinaldecisionisstillafewyearsaway.We’llseewhathappens.Boththegirlsaregoodstudents.ChitraandIhavebeenpromisedajointpostingsoon–hopefullyinthecountrywherethegirlswillbeatuniversity.IneverimaginedIwouldeverdoanythingtoupsetorharmmyfamilyin

anyway.ButwhenTilowalkedbackintomylife,thoselegalties,thoselofty,moralprinciples,atrophiedandevenseemedalittleabsurd.Asitturnedoutmyanxietywasirrelevant–shedidnotseemtoevennoticemydilemmaordiscomfort.Byrentingtheseroomstoherwhensheneededthem,ItoldmyselfIwas

makingupformytrespassestactfullyandunobtrusively.Isay‘trespasses’becauseIhavealwaysfeltthatIhadfailedherinanebulousandyetfundamentalway.Shedidn’tseemtoseeitlikethatatall–butthenshewasn’tthatsortofperson.

IhadonlyseenheronandoffsinceshemarriedNaga.TheirweddinginDelhiremainsburnedintomymemory,andnotbecauseofwhatmightseemtobetheobviousreasons–heartbreakorthwartedlove.That,infact,wastheleastofit.Iwasreasonablyhappyatthetime.Myownmarriagewaslessthan

twoyearsold;therewasstillsomesemblanceofrealaffectionbetweenmeandmywife,ifnotlove.ThesappingbrittlenessthatmarksmyrelationshipwithChitranowhadnotsetinyet.BythetimeTiloandhegotmarried,Nagahadalreadymadethemany

transitionsfromanirreverent,iconoclasticstudenttoanunemployableintellectualontheradicalLeft,tobeingapassionateadvocateofthePalestiniancause(hisheroatthetimewasGeorgeHabash),andthenontomainstreamjournalism.Likemanynoisyextremists,hehasmovedthroughawholespectrumofextremepoliticalopinion.Whathasremainedconsistentisonlythedecibellevel.NowNagahasahandler–thoughhemaynotseeitquitethatway–intheIntelligenceBureau.Withaseniorpositionathispaper,heisavaluableassetforus.Hisjourneytothedarkside,ifthat’swhatyouwanttocallit–Iwouldn’t–

beganwiththeusualbitofquidproquo.HisbeatwasthePunjab.Theinsurgencyhadmoreorlessbeencrushedbythen.ButNagaspenthistimediggingupoldstories,providingammunitionforthosefarcicalparodiescalled‘People’stribunals’,afterwhichtheybroughtoutevenmorefarcical‘People’scharge-sheets’againstthepoliceandtheparamilitary.Anadministrationthatwasatwarwitharuthlessinsurgencycannotbeheldtothesamestandardsasonethatisfunctioninginordinary,peacefulconditions.Butwhowastoexplainthattoacrusadingjournalistwhowrotehiscopywiththesoundofapplausepermanentlyringinginhisears?Ononeofhisvacationsfromthisbrandofperformativeradicalism,NagawenttoGoaand,intypicalNagafashion,fellwildlyinloveandimpulsivelymarriedayoungAustralianhippy.Lindy,Ithinkshewascalled.(OrwasitCharlotte?I’mnotsure.Itdoesn’tmatter.I’llstaywithLindy.)Withinayearoftheirmarriage,LindywasarrestedinGoaforherointrafficking.Shefacedtheprospectofseveralyearsinprison.Nagawasbesidehimself.Hisfatherwasaninfluentialmanandcouldeasilyhavehelped,butNaga–alatearrivalinhisfather’slife–hadalwayshadatroubledrelationshipwithhimanddidn’twanthimtoknow.SohecalledmeandIpulledafewstrings.TheDirectorGeneralofPoliceinPunjabspoketohiscounterpartinGoa.WegotLindyoutofcustodyandhadthechargesdropped.Assoonasshewasreleased,LindycaughtthefirstplanehometoPerth.InafewmonthsNagaandshewereformallydivorced.NagacontinuedhisworkinPunjab,needlesstosay,aconsiderablychastenedman.Whenweneededajournalist’shelponasmallmatter,acasethathuman

rightsactivistsweremakinganoiseabout,thoughasusualmanyoftheirfactsneededcorrecting,IcalledNaga.Hehelped.Andsoitwent.Acollaborationwasborn.GraduallyNagabegantoenjoytheheadstarthehadoverhiscolleagues

becauseofthebriefingshereceivedfromus.Itwasagreatirony–anotherkindofdrugracket.Thistimearoundwewerethedrugdealers.Hewasour

addict.Inafewyearsherosetobecomeastarreporterandasought-aftersecurityanalystinthemediafirmament.WhenhisrelationshipwiththeBureaupromisedtobecomemorethanatemporaryassociation–amarriageandnotjustaone-nightstand–Ithoughtitprudenttostepoutoftheway.Acolleagueofmine,R.C.Sharma–RamChandraSharma–tookover.R.C.andhegotonverywell.Theysharedthesamecruelsenseofhumourandaloveforrock’n’rollandtheblues.TheonethingIwillsayforNagaisthatnotarupeeeverchangedhands.Aboutthathewas–andcontinuestobe–honesttoafault.Sincehisideaofprofessionalintegrityrequireshimtolivebyhisprinciples,inordertoremainapersonofintegrity,hehaschangedhisprinciples,andnowbelievesinusalmostmorethanwebelieveinourselves.Whatanironyfortheschoolboywhosefavouritetauntwastocallmethe‘RunningDogofImperialism’atanagewhenmostofuswerestillreadingArchiecomics.I’mnotsurewhereandfromwhomNagalearnedthefierylanguageofthe

Left.Perhapsfromarelativewhowascommunist.Whoeveritwas,he–orshe–wasagoodteacherandNagadeployedwhathelearnedspectacularly.Ittookhimfromconquesttoconquest.Iwasoncepittedagainsthiminaschooldebate.Wemusthavebeenthirteenorfourteenyearsold.Thetopicwas‘DoesGodExist?’Iwastospeakfor,andNagaagainst,themotion.Ispokefirst.ThenNagadeliveredhisflamingspeech,hisskinnybodytautasawhipcord,hisvoicequaveringwithindignation.Ourmesmerizedclassmatestookdiligentnotesofhisblatantblasphemy:‘Thefalsehoodofour330millionmuteidols,theselfishdeitieswecallRamandKrishnaarenotgoingtosaveusfromhunger,diseaseandpoverty.Ourfoolishfaithinmonkeysandelephant-headedapparitionsisnotgoingtofeedourstarvingmasses…’Ididn’tstandachance.Naga’sspeechmademinesoundasthoughithadbeenwrittenbyapious,elderlyaunt.Oddly,thoughIhaveaclear,rawmemoryofmyfeelingofutterinadequacy,IhavenomemoryofwhatIactuallysaid.Formonthsafterthat,IwouldsecretlydeclaimNaga’ssacrilegetomyselfinthemirror:‘Ourfoolishfaithinmonkeysandelephant-headedapparitionsisnotgoingtofeedourstarvingmasses…’myatomizedspitlandingonmyownreflectionlikerain.AnotherofNaga’smilestoneperformancescameafewyearslater,ata

collegeannualculturalevent.FreshfromasummertriptoBastarwithtwoofhisfriends,wheretheyhadcampedintheforestandwalkedthroughvillagespeopledbyprimitivetribes,Nagaambledontothestage,long-haired,barefoot,bare-bodied,wearingonlyaloincloth,withabowandaquiverofarrowsslungoverhisshoulders.Hemadeagreatshowofcrunchingwhatheclaimedwastermitesontoast,elicitingbreathlessexpressionsofcoydisgustfromthegirlsintheaudience,mostofwhomwantedtomarryhim.Afterswallowingthelastmorseloftoast,hewentuptothemicrophoneand

performedtheStones’‘SympathyfortheDevil’,vocalizingthebackgroundscore,simulatingthechordsonanimaginaryguitar.Hewasagood,maybeevenexcellent,singer,butIfoundthewholethingdistasteful,andthoughtitshowedadeepdisrespectforindigenouspeopleaswellasforMickJagger,who,atthatpointinmylife,IbelievedwasGod.(IwishIhadthoughtofthatformypro-Godspeechinschool.)Iactuallytookituponmyselftosaysotohim.Nagalaughedandinsistedthathisperformancewasatributetoboth.Today,asthesaffrontideofHinduNationalismrisesinourcountrylikethe

swastikaoncedidinanother,Naga’s‘foolishfaith’schoolboyspeechwouldprobablygethimexpelled,ifnotbytheschoolauthorities,thencertainlybysomesortofparents’campaign.Infact,intoday’sclimate,togetawaywithjustexpulsionwouldbelucky.Peoplearebeinglynchedforfarless.EvenmycolleaguesintheBureaudon’tseemtobeabletoseethedifferencebetweenreligiousfaithandpatriotism.TheyseemtowantasortofHinduPakistan.Mostofthemareconservative,closetBrahminswhoweartheirsacredthreadsinsidetheirsafarisuits,andtheirsacredponytailsdanglingdowntheinsideoftheirvegetarianskulls.TheytoleratemeonlybecauseIamafellowTwice-born(actually,thecasteIbelongtoisBaidya,butwecountourselvesasBrahmin).Still,Ikeepmyopinionstomyself.Nagaontheotherhandhasslidintothenewdispensationinonesmoothslither.Hisoldirreverencehasvanishedwithoutatrace.Inhiscurrentavatarhewearsatweedblazerandsmokescigars.Ihaven’tmethiminyears,butIseehimplayingtheNationalSecurityexpertonthoseexcitableTVshows–hedoesn’tseemtoevenrealizethathe’snotmuchmorethanaventriloquist’sbrightpuppet.Itsaddensmesometimes,toseehimsohousebroken.Nagaisperpetuallyexperimentingwithhisfacialhair.SometimeshesportsaFrenchgoatee,sometimesatwirled,waxed,Daliesquemoustache,sometimesheaffectsdesignerstubble,andsometimeshe’sclean-shaven.Hecan’tseemtosettleona‘look’.It’stheAchillesheelinhisrig-outofopinionatedself-importance.Itgiveshimaway.Oratleastthat’sthewayIseeit.Unfortunatelyoflatehehasbeguntooverplayhishand,andhis

intemperanceisbecomingaliability.TwiceintwoyearstheBureauhashadtointervene(discreetlyofcourse)withtheproprietorsofhisnewspaper,tosettlesquabbleshehashadwithhiseditorthatendedinimpulsiveresignations.Thelasttimearoundwepulledoffacoup.Wehadhimreinstatedwitharaise.

Ifbeingtogetherinkindergarten,schoolanduniversity,andplayinghomosexualloversinaplaywasn’tenough,duringtheyearsthatIwaspostedtoSrinagar,asDeputyStationHeadfortheBureau,NagawastheKashmircorrespondentforhisnewspaper.Hewasn’tstationedinKashmir,butlivedtheremostdaysofthemonth.HehadapermanentroomatAhdoosHotel,

wheremostreportersstayed.HisrelationshipwiththeBureauhadbeencementedbythen,butwasnotasevidentasitisnow.Itsuitedusmuchbetterthatway.Tohisreaders–andpossiblyeventohimself–hewasstilltheintrepidjournalistwhocouldbetrustedtoexposetheso-called‘crimes’oftheIndianState.Itmusthavebeenwellpastmidnightwhenthecallcamethroughonthe

Governor’shotlineattheForestGuestHouseinDachigamNationalPark,abouttwentykilometresoutofSrinagar.IwasthereaspartofHisExcellency’sentourage.(WewerewellintotheTroublesbythen.Theciviliangovernmenthadbeendismissed;itwas1996,thesixthstraightyearofGovernor’sRuleintheState.)HisExcellency,aformerChiefoftheIndianArmy,likedtogetawayfrom

thebloodlettinginthecityasoftenashecould.HespenthisweekendsinDachigam,strollingalongarushingmountainstreamwithhisfamilyandfriends,whilethechildrenintheparty,eachshadowedbyatense,heavilyarmedsecurityguard,moweddownimaginarymilitants(whoshoutedAllah-hu-Akbar!astheydied)andchasedlong-tailedmarmotsintotheirholes.Theyusuallyhadapicniclunch,butdinnerwasalwaysbackattheguesthouse–riceandcurriedtroutfromthefishfarmcloseby.Thepondsinthehatcheryweresothickwithfishthatyoucouldputyourhandin–ifyoucouldstandtheclose-to-freezingtemperature–andpickoutyourownthrashingrainbowtrout.Itwasautumn.Theforestwasheart-stoppinglybeautifulinthewayonlya

Himalayanforestcanbe.TheChinartreeshadbeguntoturncolour.Themeadowswereacopperygold.IfyouwereluckyyoumightspotablackbearoraleopardorDachigam’sfamousdeer,thehangul.(NagausedtocalloneofKashmir’sfamouslyrandyex-ChiefMinistersthe‘well-hungghoul’.Itwasacleverpun,Ihavetoadmit,thoughofcoursemostpeopledidn’tgetit.)Ihadbecomesomethingofabirdman–apassionthathasremainedwithme–andcouldtellaHimalayangriffonfromabeardedvultureandcouldidentifythestreakedlaughingthrush,theorangebullfinch,Tytler’sleafwarblerandtheKashmirflycatcher,whichwasthreatenedthen,andmustsurelybynowbeextinct.ThetroublewithbeinginDachigamwasthatithadtheeffectofunsettlingone’sresolve.Itunderlinedthefutilityofitall.ItmadeonefeelthatKashmirreallybelongedtothosecreatures.Thatnoneofuswhowerefightingoverit–Kashmiris,Indians,Pakistanis,Chinese(theyhaveapieceofittoo–AksaiChin,whichusedtobepartoftheoldKingdomofJammuandKashmir),orforthatmatterPahadis,Gujjars,Dogras,Pashtuns,Shins,Ladakhis,Baltis,Gilgitis,Purikis,Wakhis,Yashkuns,Tibetans,Mongols,Tatars,Mon,Khowars–noneofus,neithersaintnorsoldier,hadtherighttoclaimthetrulyheavenlybeautyofthatplaceforourselves.Iwasoncemovedtosayso,quitecasually,toImran,ayoungKashmiripoliceofficerwhohad

donesomeexemplaryundercoverworkforus.Hisresponsewas,‘It’saverygreatthought,Sir.Ihavethesameloveforanimalsasyourself.EveninmytravelsinIndiaIfeeltheexactsamefeeling–thatIndiabelongsnottoPunjabis,Biharis,Gujaratis,Madrasis,Muslims,Sikhs,Hindus,Christians,buttothosebeautifulcreatures–peacocks,elephants,tigers,bears…’Hewaspolitetothepointofbeingobsequious,butIknewwhathewas

gettingat.Itwasextraordinary;youcouldn’t–andstillcannot–trusteventheonesyouassumedwereonyourside.Noteventhedamnpolice.Ithadalreadysnowedinthehighmountains,buttheborderpasseswere

stillnegotiableandsmalllegationsoffighters–gullibleyoungKashmirisandmurderousPakistanis,Afghans,evensomeSudanese–whobelongedtothethirtyorsoremainingterroristgroups(downfromalmostonehundred)werestillmakingthetreacherousjourneyacrosstheLineofControl,dyingindrovesontheway.Dying.Maybethat’saninadequatedescription.WhatwasthatgreatlineinApocalypseNow?‘TerminatewithExtremePrejudice.’Oursoldiers’instructionsattheLineofControlwereroughlysimilar.Whatelseshouldtheyhavebeen?‘Calltheirmothers’?ThemilitantswhomanagedtomakeitthroughrarelysurvivedintheValley

formorethantwooratmostthreeyears.Iftheyweren’tcapturedorkilledbythesecurityforces,theyslaughteredeachother.Weguidedthemalongthatpath,althoughtheydidn’tneedmuchassistance–theystilldon’t.TheBelieverscomewiththeirguns,theirprayerbeadsandtheirownDestroy-YourselvesManual.YesterdayaPakistanifriendforwardedmethis–it’smakingthemobile

phonerounds,soyoumayhaveseenitalready:

Isawamanonabridgeabouttojump.Isaid,‘Don’tdoit!’Hesaid,‘Nobodylovesme.’Isaid,‘Godlovesyou.DoyoubelieveinGod?’Hesaid,‘Yes.’Isaid,‘AreyouaMuslimoranon-Muslim?’Hesaid,‘AMuslim.’Isaid,‘ShiaorSunni?’Hesaid,‘Sunni.’Isaid,‘Metoo!DeobandiorBarelvi?’Hesaid,‘Barelvi.’Isaid,‘Metoo!TanzeehiorTafkeeri?’Hesaid,‘Tanzeehi.’Isaid,‘Metoo!TanzeehiAzmatiorTanzeehiFarhati?’

Hesaid,‘TanzeehiFarhati.’Isaid,‘Metoo!TanzeehiFarhatiJamiaulUloomAjmer,orTanzeehiFarhatiJamiaulNoorMewat?’

Hesaid,‘TanzeehiFarhatiJamiaulNoorMewat.’Isaid,‘Die,kafir!’andIpushedhimover.

Thankfullysomeofthemstillhaveasenseofhumour.

Theinbuiltidiocy,thisideaofjihad,hasseepedintoKashmirfromPakistanandAfghanistan.Now,twenty-fiveyearsdowntheline,Ithink,toouradvantage,wehaveeightornineversionsofthe‘True’IslambattlingitoutinKashmir.EachhasitsownstableofMullahsandMaulanas.Someofthemostradicalamongthem–thosewhopreachagainsttheideaofnationalismandinfavourofthegreatIslamicUmmah–areactuallyonourpayroll.Oneofthemwasrecentlyblownupoutsidehismosquebyabicyclebomb.Hewon’tbehardtoreplace.TheonlythingthatkeepsKashmirfromself-destructinglikePakistanandAfghanistanisgoodoldpetitbourgeoiscapitalism.Foralltheirreligiosity,Kashmirisaregreatbusinessmen.Andallbusinessmeneventually,onewayoranother,haveastakeinthestatusquo–orwhatwecallthe‘PeaceProcess’,which,bytheway,isanentirelydifferentkindofbusinessopportunityfrompeaceitself.

Themenwhocamewereyoung,intheirteensorearlytwenties.Awholegenerationvirtuallycommittedsuicide.By’96theborder-crossingshadslowedtoatrickle.Butwehadn’tmanagedtocompletelystemtheflow.Wewereinvestigatingsomedisturbingintelligencewehadreceivedaboutoursoldiersatsomebordersecuritypostssellingwindowsof‘safepassage’duringwhichtheywouldlookawaydiscreetlywhileGujjarshepherds,whoknewthosemountainslikethebacksoftheirhands,guidedthecontingentsthrough.SafePassagewasonlyoneofthethingsonthemarket.Therewasalsodiesel,alcohol,bullets,grenades,armyrations,razorwireandtimber.Wholeforestsweredisappearing.Sawmillshadbeensetupinsidearmycamps.KashmirilabourandKashmiricarpentershadbeenpress-gangedintoservice.ThetrucksinthearmyconvoythatbroughtsuppliesuptoKashmirfromJammueverydayreturnedloadedwithcarvedwalnut-woodfurniture.Ifnotthebest-equipped,wecertainlyhadthebest-furnished–ifImaycoinaphrase–armyintheworld.Butwho’stointerferewithavictoriousarmy?ThemountainsaroundDachigamwerecomparativelyquiet.Still,in

additiontotheparamilitarypicketspermanentlystationedthere,eachtimeHisExcellencyvisited,AreaDominationPatrolswouldgoinadayaheadtosecurethehillsthatlookeddownontotheroutehisarmouredconvoytook,

andMineProofArmouredVehicleswouldchecktheroadforlandmines.Theparkwaspermanentlyclosedtolocalpeople.Tosecuretheguesthouse,morethanahundredmenwerestationedontheroof,inwatchtowersaroundthepropertyandinconcentriccirclesakilometredeepintotheforest.NotmanyfolksinIndiawouldbelievethelengthstowhichwehadtogoinKashmirjusttogetourbossalittlefreshfish.IwasuplatethatnightfinalizingmydailyreportforHisExcellency’s

morningbriefing.ThevolumeonmyoldSonyplayerwasturnedlow.RasoolanBaiwassingingaChaiti,‘YahinthaiyanmotiyahiraeegaeliRama’.KesarBaiwasundoubtedlyourmostaccomplishedfemaleHindustanivocalist,butRasoolanwassurelyourmosterotic.Shehadadeep,gravelly,masculinevoice,quiteunlikethehigh-pitched,virginal,permanentlyadolescentvoicethathascometodominateourcollectiveimaginationthroughBollywoodsoundtracks.(Myfather,ascholarofHindustaniclassicalmusic,thoughtRasoolanwasprofane.Itremainedoneofourmanyunresolveddifferences.)Icouldpicturethestringofpearlsshesangaboutbeingbrokenintheurgencyoflovemaking,hervoicelanguorouslyfollowingthebeadsastheyskitteredaroundthebedroomfloor.(Ahyes,therewasatimewhenaMuslimcourtesancouldsohauntinglyinvokeaHindudeity.)Therehadbeenserioustroubleinthecitythatmorning.Thegovernment

hadannouncedelectionsinafewmonths’time.Theywouldbethefirstinalmostnineyears.Themilitantshadannouncedaboycott.Itwasprettyclearthen(unlikenowwhenthequeuesatthevotingboothsareunmanageable)thatpeoplewerenotgoingtocomeoutandvotewithoutsomeseriouspersuasiononourpart.The‘free’presswouldbethereinallitsgloriousidiocy,sowewouldhavetobecareful.OurAceofSpadeswastobetheIkhwan-ul-Muslimoon,theMuslimBrotherhood,ourcounter-insurgencyforce,anopportunisticmilitantgroupthathadsurrenderedasagroup–lock,stockandbarrel.Graduallyitsrankswereexpandedbyotherdisaggregatedindividualswhobegantosurrender(‘cylinder’asKashmiriscalledit)indroves.Wehadregroupedandrearmedthem,andreturnedthemtothefray.TheIkhwaniswereroughmen,mostlyextortionistsandpettycriminalswhohadjoinedthemilitancywhentheysawprofitinthatendeavour,andwerethefirsttocylinderwhenthegoinggotrough.Theyhadthekindofaccesstolocalintelligencethatwecouldneverhopefor,andoncetheyhadbeenturnedaround,theyhadtheadvantageofanambiguousprovenancethatallowedthemtocarryoutoperationsthatwereoutsidethemandateofourregularforces.Atfirsttheyhadprovedtobeaninvaluableasset,butthenhadbecomeincreasinglyhardtocontrol.Themostfearedofthemall,thePrinceofDarknesshimself,wasamanknownlocallyasPapa,whohadoncebeennothingmorethanafactorywatchman.InhisillustriouscareerasanIkhwanhehadkilledscoresofpeople.(Ithinkthenumbernowstandsatonehundred

andthree.)Theterrorheevokeddid,atfirst,weighthebalanceinourfavour,butby’96hehadbeguntooutlivehisusefulnessandwewereconsideringreininghimin.(He’sinprisonnow.)InMarchthatyear,withoutinstructionsfromus,Papahadbumpedoffthewell-knowneditorofanUrdudaily–anirresponsibleUrdudaily,Ihavetosay.(Irresponsible,virulentlyanti-Indiadailiesthatexaggeratedbodycountsandgottheirfactswronghadtheirusestoo–theyunderminedthelocalmediaingeneralandmadeiteasierforustotarthemallwiththesamebrush.Totellyouthetruth,weevenfundedsomeofthem.)InMayPapahadenclosedacommunitygraveyardinPulwama,claimingitwashisancestralproperty.Thenhekilledamuch-lovedvillageschoolteacherinabordervillageandthrewhisbodyintoanoman’slandthathadbeenminedwithIEDs.Sothebodycouldn’tbeapproached,therecouldbenofuneralprayers,andthedeadman’sstudentshadtowatchthecorpseoftheirteacherbeingpickedatbykitesandvultures.ImpressedbyPapa’sgains,otherIkhwanishadbeguntofollowhis

example.ThatmorningagroupofthemhadstoppedanoldKashmiricoupleata

securitybarrierindowntownSrinagar.Whenthemanrefusedtohandoverhiswallettheyabductedhimanddroveaway.PeoplegatheredandchasedthemallthewaytothecamptheIkhwanissharedwiththeBorderSecurityForce.TheoldmanwasthrownoutoftheGypsyjustoutsidethecamp.Oncetheywereinsidethey–howshouldIputit–theycompletelylosttheirmarbles.Theylobbedagrenadeoverthewallsandthenfiredintothecrowdwithamachinegun.Aboywaskilledandadozenorsopeopleinjured,halfofthemseriously.TheIkhwanisthenwenttothepolicestation,threatenedthepoliceandpreventedthemfromlodgingareport.Intheafternoontheyambushedtheboy’sfuneralprocessionandmadeoffwiththecoffin.Whichmeanttherewasnobody,andthereforetherecouldbenomurdercharge.Byeveningpublicprotestshadturnedviolent.Threepolicestationswereburneddown.Thesecurityforcesfiredatthecrowdsandkilledfourteenmorepeople.Curfewwasdeclaredinallthelargertowns–Sopore,BaramullaandSrinagarofcourse.WhenIheardthephoneringandHisExcellency’saide-de-campanswerit,

Iassumedthetroublehadgotoutofhandandtheywerecallingtoaskforfreshorders.Thatdidnotturnouttobethecase.ThecallersaidhewasspeakingfromtheJointInterrogationCentre,the

JIC,whichfunctionedoutoftheShirazCinema.Itisn’twhatitsoundslike.Wehadn’tshutdownafunctioningcinemahall

andturneditintoaninterrogationcentre.TheShirazhadbeenshutdownyearsagobyanoutfitcalledtheAllahTigers.Itorderedtheclosingofallcinemahalls,liquorshopsandbarsasbeingun-Islamicand‘vehiclesofIndia’sculturalaggression’.TheproclamationwassignedbyanAirMarshal

NoorKhan.TheTigersplasteredthecitywiththreateningpostersandputbombsinbars.WhentheAirMarshalwasfinallycapturedheturnedouttobeabarelyliteratepeasantfromaremotemountainvillagewhohadprobablyneverseteyesonanaeroplane.Iwasajuniormemberofateamofinterrogators(itwasbeforemySrinagarposting)whovisitedhimandseveralotherseniormilitantsinprisoninthehopeofturningthemaround.Heansweredourquestionswithslogans,whichheshoutedoutasthoughhewasaddressingamassrally:JisKashmirkokhoonseseencha,wohKashmirhamarahai!TheKashmirwehaveirrigatedwithourblood,thatKashmirisours!OrthewarcryoftheAllahTigers:LaSharakeyawaLaGarabeya,Islamia,Islamia!–roughly:NeitherEastnorWest,Islamisbest!TheAirMarshalwasabravemanandIalmostenviedhimhisclear-

hearted,simple-mindedfervour.Heremainedimpenitent,evenafterastintinCargo.He’soutnow,afterservingalongsentence.Westillkeepaneyeonhimandotherslikehim.Heseemstohavestayedoutoftrouble.HeearnsameagrelivingsellingstampsoutsideadistrictcourtinSrinagar.I’mtoldheisnotinhisrightmind,althoughIcannotconfirmthat.Cargocouldbeaprettyroughplace.

TheADCwhoansweredthephonetoldmethatthecallerhadgivenhisnameasMajorAmrikSinghandhadaskedformenotjustbydesignationbut,unusually,alsobyname–BiplabDasgupta,DeputyStationHead,IndiaBravo(radiocodeinKashmirfortheIntelligenceBureau).Iknewthefellow,notpersonally–I’dneverseteyesonhim–butby

reputation.HewasknownasAmrikSingh‘Spotter’–forhisuncannyabilitytospotthesnakeinthegrass,themilitanthiddenamongacrowdofcivilians.(He’sfamousnow,bytheway.Posthumously.Hekilledhimselfrecently–shothiswife,histhreeyoungsonsandputabulletthroughhisownhead.Ican’tsayI’msorry.Shameaboutthewifeandchildrenthough.)MajorAmrikSinghwasabadapple.No,letmerephrasethat–hewasaputridapple,andwas,atthetimeofthatmidnightphonecall,atthecentreofaprettyputridstorm.AcoupleofmonthsafterIarrivedinSrinagar,whichwasinJanuaryof1995,AmrikSinghhad,onordersquitelikely,apprehendedawell-knownlawyerandhumanrightsactivist,JalibQadri,atacheckpoint.Qadriwasanuisance,abrash,abrasivemanwhodidnotknowthemeaningofnuance.Thenighthewasarrested,hewasduetoleaveforDelhifromwherehewasgoingtoOslotodeposeataninternationalhumanrightsconference.Hisarrestwasonlymeanttopreventthatsillycircusfromtakingplace.AmrikSinghapprehendedQadripublicly,inthepresenceofQadri’swife,butthearrestwasnotformallyregistered,whichwasnotunusual.TherewasanoutcryaboutQadri’s‘abduction’,amuchbiggeronethanweexpected,soafterafewdayswethoughtitprudenttoreleasetheman.Buthewasnowhere

tobefound.Agreathueandcryarose.Wesetupasearchcommitteeandtriedtocalmnerves.AfewdayslaterJalibQadri’sbodyshowedupinasackfloatingdowntheJhelum.Itwasinaterriblecondition–skullsmashedin,eyesgougedout,andsoon.EvenbyKashmir’sstandards,thiswassomewhatexcessive.Thelevelofpublicangerwentoffthecharts–naturally–sothelocalpolicewerepermittedtofileacase.Ahigh-levelcommitteewassetuptolookintothewholething.Witnessestotheabduction,peoplewhosawQadriinAmrikSingh’scustodyinanarmycamp,peoplewhowitnessedthealtercationbetweenthetwothatsentAmrikSinghintoarage,actuallycameforwardtogivewrittenstatements,whichwasrare.EvenAmrikSingh’saccomplices,Ikhwanismostofthem,werewillingtoturnapproversandtestifyagainsthimincourt.Butthenonebyonetheirbodiesbegantoturnup.Infields,inforests,bythesideoftheroad…hekilledthemall.Thearmyandtheadministrationhadtoatleastpretendtodosomething,althoughtheycouldn’treallyactagainsthim.Heknewtoomuchandhemadeitclearthatifhewentdownhewouldtakeasmanypeopleashecoulddownwithhim.Hewascornered,anddangerous.Itwasdecidedthebestthingtodowouldbetogethimoutofthecountryandfindhimasylumsomewhere.Whichiseventuallywhathappened.Butitcouldn’tbedoneatonce.Notwhilethespotlightwasonhim.Therehadtobeacooling-offperiod.Asafirststephewastakenofffieldoperationsandgivenadeskjob.IntheShirazJIC,outoftrouble’sway.Orsowethought.Sothiswasthemanwhowascallingme.Ican’tsayIwaslongingtospeak

tohim.Apestilencelikethatisbestkeptquarantined.WhenIansweredthephonehesoundedexcited.Hespokesofastittook

meawhiletorealizehewasspeakingEnglishandnotPunjabi.HesaidtheyhadcapturedanA-CategoryTerrorist,aCommanderGulrez,adreadedHizb-ul-Mujahideencommander,inamassivecordon-and-searchoperationonahouseboat.ThiswasKashmir;theSeparatistsspokeinslogansandourmenspokein

pressreleases;theircordon-and-searchoperationswerealways‘massive’,everybodytheypickedupwasalways‘dreaded’,seldomlessthan‘A-category’,andtherecoveriestheymadefromthosetheycapturedwerealways‘war-like’.Itwasn’tsurprising,becauseeachofthoseadjectiveshadacorrespondingincentive–acashreward,anhonourablementionintheirservicedossier,amedalforbraveryorapromotion.So,asyoucanimagine,thatpieceofinformationdidn’texactlygetmypulsegoing.Hesaidthattheterroristhadbeenkilledwhiletryingtoescape.Thatdidn’t

domuchformeeither.Ithappenedseveraltimesadayonagoodday–orabadday,dependingonyourperspective.SowhywasIbeingcalledinthemiddleofthenightaboutsomethingsoroutine?Andwhatdidhiszealousnesshavetodowithmydepartmentorwithme?

A‘ladies’hadbeencapturedalongwithCommanderGulrez,hesaid.Shewasn’tKashmiri.Nowthatwasunusual.Unheardof,actually.The‘ladies’hadbeenhandedovertoACPPinky,forinterrogation.WeallknewAssistantCommandantPinkySodhiofthepeachcomplexion

andthelongblackbraidworncoiledunderhercap.Hertwinbrother,BalbirSinghSodhi,wasaseniorpoliceofficerwhohadbeenshotdownbymilitantsinSoporewhenhewasoutonhismorningjog.(Foolishthingforaseniorofficertodo,evenonewhopridedhimselfon,or,asitturnedout,deludedhimselfabout,being‘loved’bythelocals.)ACPPinkyhadbeengivenajobintheCRPF–CentralReservePoliceForce–oncompassionategrounds,ascompensationtothefamilyforthedeathofherbrother.Nobodyhadeverseenheroutofuniform.Forallherstunninglooks,shewasabrutalinterrogatorwhooftenexceededherbriefbecauseshewasexorcizingdemonsofherown.Shewasn’tintheAmrikSinghleague,butstill–GodhelpanyKashmiriwhofellintoherhands.Asforthosewhodidn’tfallintoherhands–manyofthemwerebusywritinglovepoemstoherandevenproposingmarriage.SuchwasACPPinky’sfatalcharm.The‘ladies’whomtheyhadarrested,Iwastold,hadrefusedtodivulgeher

name.Sincethecaptured‘ladies’wasn’taKashmiri,IimaginedACPPinkyhadexercisedsomerestraintandhadnotunleashedherselfcompletely.Hadshe,thenneitherLadiesnorGentswouldhavebeenabletowithholdinformation.Anyway,Iwasgettingimpatient.Istillcouldnotfathomwhatanyofithadtodowithme.FinallyAmrikSinghcametothepoint:duringtheinterrogation,myname

hadcomeup.Thewomanhadaskedforamessagetobepassedontome.Hesaidhecouldn’tunderstandthemessage,butshesaidI’dunderstand.Hereadit,orratherspelledit,aloudoverthephone:G-A-R-S-O-NH-O-B-A-R-TRasoolan’svoice,stillsearchingforherscatteredpearls,filledmyhead:

Kahanvaekadhoondhoonre?DhoondhatdhoondhatbauragaeliRama…

GarsonHobartmusthavesoundedlikeasecretcodeforamilitantstrike,oranacknowledgementofreceiptforaweaponsconsignment.Themadbruteontheotherendofthephonewaswaitingforanexplanationfromme.Icouldn’tthinkofhowtoevenbegin.CouldCommanderGulrezhavesomethingtodowithMusa?Washe

Musa?IhadtriedtogetintouchwithhimseveraltimesaftermovingtoSrinagar.Iwantedtooffermycondolencestohimforwhathadhappenedtohisfamily.Ihadneversucceeded,whichinthosedaysusuallymeantonlyonething.Hewasunderground.

WhoelsecouldTilohavebeenwith?HadtheykilledMusainfrontofher?OhGod.

ItoldAmrikSinghascurtlyasIcouldthatIwouldcallhimback.

MyfirstinstinctwastoputasgreatadistanceaspossiblebetweenthewomanIlovedandmyself.Doesthatmakemeacoward?Ifitdoes,atleastI’macandidone.EvenifIdidwanttogotoher,itwasn’tpossible.Iwasinthemiddleofa

jungleinthemiddleofthenight.Movingoutwouldhavemeantsirens,alarms,atleastfourjeepsandanarmouredvehicle.Itwouldhavemeanttakingalongsixteenmenattheveryleast.Thatwastheminimumprotocol.ThatkindofcircuswouldnothavehelpedTilo.Orme.AnditwouldhavecompromisedHisExcellency’ssecurityinwaysthatcouldhaveledtounthinkableconsequences.Itcouldhavebeenatraptodrawmeout.Afterall,MusaknewaboutGarsonHobart.Itwasparanoidthinking,butinthosedaystherewasn’tmuchdaylightbetweencautionandparanoia.Iwasoutofoptions.IdialledAhdoosHotelandaskedforNaga.

Fortunatelyhewasthere.HeofferedtogototheShirazimmediately.Themoreconcernedandhelpfulhesounded,themoreannoyedIbecame.IcouldliterallyhearhimgrowingintotheroleIwasofferinghim,seizingwithbothhandstheopportunitytodowhathelovedmost–grandstand.Hiseagernessreassuredandinfuriatedmeatthesametime.IcalledAmrikSinghandtoldhimtoexpectajournalistcalledNagaraj

Hariharan.Ourman.Isaidthatiftheyhadnothingonthewoman,theyweretoreleaseherimmediatelyandhandherovertohim.

AfewhourslaterNagacalledtosayTilowasintheroomnexttohisatAhdoos.IsuggestedheputheronthemorningflighttoDelhi.‘She’snotfreight,Das-Goose,’hesaid.‘Shesaysshe’sgoingforthis

CommanderGulrez’sfuneral.Whoeverthehellthatis.’Das-Goose.Hehadn’tcalledmethatsincecollege.Incollege,inhisultra-

radicaldays,hewouldmockinglycallme(forsomereasonalwaysinaGermanaccent)‘BiplabDas-Goose-da’–hisversionofBiplabDasgupta.TheRevolutionaryBrotherGoose.IneverforgavemyparentsfornamingmeBiplab,aftermypaternal

grandfather.Timeshadchanged.BythetimeIwasborntheBritishweregone,wewereafreecountry.Howcouldtheynameababy‘Revolution’?Howwasanybodysupposedtogothroughlifewithanamelikethat?AtonepointIdidconsiderchangingmynamelegally,tosomethingalittlemorepeacefullikeSiddharthaorGautamorsomething.IdroppedtheideabecauseIknewthatwithfriendslikeNaga,thestorywouldclatterbehindmelikeatin

cantiedtoacat’stail.SothereIwas–hereIam–aBiplab,intheinnermostchamberofthesecretheartoftheestablishmentthatcallsitselftheGovernmentofIndia.‘WasitMusa?’IaskedNaga.‘Shewon’tsay.Butwhoelsecouldithavebeen?’

ByMondaymorningtheweekendbodycounthadrisentonineteen;thefourteendemonstratorskilledinthefiring,theboytheIkhwanishadshot,MusaorCommanderGulrezorwhateverthehellhecalledhimself,andthreebodiesofmilitantskilledinashoot-outinGanderbal.Hundredsofthousandsofmournershadgatheredtocarrythosenineteencoffins(whichincludedanemptyonefortheboywhosebodyhadbeenstolen)ontheirshoulderstotheMartyrs’Graveyard.TheGovernor’sofficecalledtosaythatitwouldnotbeadvisableforusto

attempttoreturntothecityuntilthefollowingday.Intheafternoonmysecretarycalled:‘Sir,sunlijiye,pleaselisten,Sir…’SittingontheverandahoftheDachigamForestGuestHouse,over

birdsongandthesoundsofcrickets,Iheardthereverberatingboomofahundredthousandormorevoicesraisedtogethercallingforfreedom:Azadi!Azadi!Azadi!Onandonandon.Evenonthephoneitwasunnerving.QuiteunlikehearingtheAirMarshalshoutingslogansinhisprisoncell.Itwasasthoughthecitywasbreathingthroughasinglepairoflungs,swellinglikeathroatwiththaturgent,keeningcry.Ihadseenmyshareofdemonstrationsbythen,andheardmorethanmyshareofslogan-shoutinginotherpartsofthecountry.Thiswasdifferent,thisKashmirichant.Itwasmorethanapoliticaldemand.Itwasananthem,ahymn,aprayer.Theironywas–is–thatifyouputfourKashmirisinaroomandaskthemtospecifywhatexactlytheymeanbyAzadi,whatexactlyareitsideologicalandgeographiccontours,theywouldprobablyendupslittingeachother’sthroats.Andyetitwouldbeamistaketochalkthisdowntoconfusion.Theirproblemisnotconfusion,notreally.It’smorelikeaterribleclaritythatexistsoutsidethelanguageofmoderngeopolitics.Alltheprotagonistsonallsidesoftheconflict,especiallyus,exploitedthisfaultlinemercilessly.Itmadeforaperfectwar–awarthatcanneverbewonorlost,awarwithoutend.ThechantthatIheardonthephonethatmorningwascondensed,distilled

passion–anditwasasblindandasfutileaspassionusuallyis.Duringthose(fortunatelyshort-lived)occasionswhenitwasinfullcry,ithadthepowertocutthroughtheedificeofhistoryandgeography,ofreasonandpolitics.Ithadthepowertomakeeventhemosthardenedofuswonder,evenifmomentarily,whatthehellweweredoinginKashmir,governingapeoplewhohatedussoviscerally.

Theso-called‘martyrs’funerals’werealwaysagameofnerves.Thepoliceandsecurityforceshadorderstoremainalert,butoutofsight.Thiswasnotjustbecauseonthoseoccasionstempersnaturallyranhighandaconfrontationwouldinevitablyleadtoanothermassacre–thiswehadlearnedfrombitterexperience.Thethinkingwasthatpermittingthepopulationtoventitsfeelingsandshoutitsslogansfromtimetotimewouldpreventthatangerfromaccumulatingandbuildingintoanunmanageablecliffofrage.Sofar,inthismorethanquarter-century-longconflictinKashmir,ithaspaidoff.Kashmirismourned,wept,shoutedtheirslogans,butintheendtheyalwayswentbackhome.Gradually,overtheyears,asitgrewintoahabit,apredictable,acceptablecycle,theybegantodistrustanddisrespectthemselves,theirsuddenfervoursandtheireasycapitulations.Thatwasanunplannedbenefitthataccruedtous.Nevertheless,toallowhalfamillion,sometimesevenamillion,peopleto

taketothestreetsinanysituation,letaloneduringaninsurgency,isaseriousgamble.

Thefollowingmorning,oncethestreetshadbeensecured,wereturnedtothecity.IdrovestraighttoAhdoostofindthatTiloandNagahadcheckedout.Nagadidn’treturntoSrinagarforawhile.Iwastoldhewasonleave.Afewweekslater,Ireceivedaninvitationfortheirwedding.Iwentof

course,howcouldInot?Ifeltresponsibleforthetravesty.FordrivingTilointothearmsofamanIfeltsurehadbeenlessthanhonestwithher.Ididn’tthinkshewouldhavebeenmadeprivytotherelationshipbetweenhersoon-to-behusbandandtheIntelligenceBureau.Shewouldhavethoughtshewasmarryingacampaigningjournalist,seekerofjustice,scourgeoftheestablishmentthathadkilledthemansheloved.Thedeceptionmademeangry,butofcourseIcouldn’tbetheonetodisabuseherofthatnotion.

ThereceptionwasonthemoonlitlawnsofNaga’sparents’bigwhiteArtDecohouseinDiplomaticEnclave.Itwasasmall,exquisiteaffair,veryunliketheoverblownextravaganzasthathavebecomesopopularthesedays.Therewerewhiteflowerseverywhere,lilies,roses,cascadingstringsofjasmine,arrangedinthemostartfulwaysbyNaga’smotherandoldersister,neitherofwhomlooked,orevenpretendedtolook,happy.Thedrivewayandtheflowerbedswerelinedwithclaylamps.Japaneselanternshungfromtrees.Fairylightswerethreadedthroughthebranches.Old-worldbearersinliveriedcostumeswithbrassbuttons,red-and-goldcummerbundsandstarchedwhiteturbansrushedaboutwithtraysoffoodanddrink.Aposseofmop-haireddogssmellingofperfumeandcigarettesmokeranamokamongtheguests,likeasmallarmyofyapping,motorizedfloorswabs.

Onaraisedplatformcoveredwithwhitesheets,abandofmusiciansfromBarmer,inwhitedhotisandkurtasandbright,printedturbans,transportedustotheRajasthandesert.Muslimfolkmusicianswereanoddchoiceforaweddingofthiskind.ButmyfriendNagawaseclecticandhaddiscoveredthemonatriphe’dmadetothedesert.Theywereoutstandingperformers.Theirraw,hauntingmusicopenedupthecityskyandshookthedustoffthestars.Thegreatestofthemall,BhungarKhan,sangofthecomingofthemonsoon.Inhiswild,high,almost-femalevoicehetransformedasongabouttheparcheddesert’sacheforrainintoasongaboutawomanyearningforthereturnofherlover.MymemoryofTilo’sweddinghasalwaysbeenimbuedwiththatsong.

IthadbeenmorethantenyearssinceIhadseenTiloandsharedthatjointwithheronherterrace.ShewasthinnerthanIremembered.Hercollarboneswingedoutfromthebaseofherneck.Hergossamersariwasthecolourofsunset.Herheadwascovered,butthroughthesheerfabricIcouldseethesmoothshapeofherskull.Shewasbald,oralmost.Herhairjustavelvetstubble.Myfirstthoughtwasthatshehadbeenunwellandwasrecoveringfromchemotherapyorsomeotherdreadfulafflictionthatcausedhairloss.Butherdense,almost-bushyeyebrowsandthickeyelashesputthatparticulartheorytorest.Shecertainlydidn’tlookillorunwell.Shewasbarefacedandworenomake-up,nokajal,nobindi,nohennaonherhandsandfeet.Shelookedlikeanunderstudyforthebride,temporarilystandinginwhiletherealonegotdressed.DesolateIthinkisthewordI’dusetodescribeher.Shegavetheimpressionofbeingutterly,unreachablyalone,evenatherownwedding.Theinsouciancewasgone.WhenIwalkeduptoher,shelookedstraightatme,butIfeltasthough

someoneelsewaslookingoutthroughhereyes.Iwasexpectinganger,butwhatIencounteredwasemptiness.Itcouldhavebeenmyimagination,butassheheldmygazeatremorwentthroughher.Forthenine-thousandthtimeInoticedwhatabeautifulmouthshehad.Iwastransfixedbythewayitmoved.Icouldalmostseetheeffortittookforittoformwordsandavoicetoattachtothem:‘It’sjustahaircut.’Thehaircut–theshave–musthavebeenACPPinkySodhi’sidea.A

policewoman’stherapyforwhatshesawastreason–sleepingwiththeenemy,herbrother’skillers.PinkySodhilikedtokeepthingssimple.IhadneverseenNagalooksodisconcerted,soanxious.HeheldTilo’s

handrightthroughtheevening.Musa’sghostwaswedgedbetweenthem.Icouldalmostseehim–short,compact,withthatchipped-toothsmileandthatquietairofhis.Itwasasthoughthethreeofthemweregettingmarried.That’sprobablyhowitturnedoutintheend.

Naga’smotherwasatthecentreofaclotofelegantladieswhoseperfumeIcouldsmellfromacrossthelawn.AuntieMeerawasfromaroyalfamily,oneoftheminorprincipalitiesinMadhyaPradesh.Shewasateenagewidow,whoseroyalhusbandhaddevelopedanaggressivelungtumouranddiedthreemonthsaftershemarriedhim.Unsureofwhattodowithher,herparentssenthertoafinishingschoolinEngland,whereshemetNaga’sfatheratapartyinLondon.TherecouldnothavebeenabetterpositionforaqueenwithoutaqueendomthanbeingthewifeofasuaveForeignServiceofficer.Shemodelledherselfintoaperfecthostess–amodernIndianMaharaniwithaplummyBritishaccent,acquiredfromachildhoodgovernessandperfectedatfinishingschool.Sheworechiffonsarisandpearlsandalwayskeptherheadcoveredwithherpallu,asRajputroyaltyshould.Shewastryingtoputabravefaceonthetraumathathernewdaughter-in-law’sshockingcomplexionhadvisiteduponher.Sheherselfwasthecolourofalabaster.Herhusband,thoughTamilian,wasBrahminandonlyashadedarkerthanher.AsIwalkedpastIheardherlittlegranddaughter,herdaughter’sdaughter,ask:‘Nani,issheanigger?’‘Ofcoursenot,darling,don’tbesilly.And,darling,wedon’tusewords

likeniggeranymore.It’sabadword.Wesaynegro.’‘Negro.’‘Goodgirl.’AuntieMeera,mortified,turnedtoherfriendswithabravesmileandsaid

ofthenewmemberofherfamily,‘Butshehasabeautifulneck,don’tyouthink?’Thefriendsallagreedenthusiastically.‘But,Nani,shelookslikeaservants.’Thelittlegirlwasadmonishedandsentoffonapretenderrand.

Theotherguests,Naga’soldcollegefriends–acolytesmorethanfriends–noneofwhomhadevermetTilo,werebunchedtogetheronthelawn,alreadygossiping,trainedbynowinNaga’sdistinctivebrandofcruelhumour.Oneofthemraisedatoast.‘ToGaribaldi.’(ThatwasAbhishek,whoworkedforhisfather’scompany,

whichsourcedandsoldsewagepipes.)Theylaughedloudly,likementryingtobeboys.‘Triedtalkingtoher?Shedoesn’ttalk.’‘Triedsmiling?Shedoesn’tsmile.’‘Wherethehelldidhefindher?’

I’dhadmylastdrinkandwasmovingtowardsthegatewhenNaga’sfather,AmbassadorShivashankarHariharan,calledouttome.‘Baba!’Hebelongedtoanotherera.HepronouncedBabathewayanEnglishman

would–barber.(HisownnamehepronouncedShiver.)Heneverlostan

opportunitytoletpeopleknowthathewasaBalliolman.‘UncleShiva,Sir.’Retirementisrarelykindtopowerfulmen.Icouldseehehadaged

suddenly.Helookedgauntandalittletoosmallforhissuit.Hehadacigarclenchedbetweenhisperfect,pearlydentures.Fatveinspushedthroughthepaleskinonhistemples.Hisneckwastoothinforhiscollar.Paleringsofcataracthadlaidsiegetohisdarkirises.Heshookmyhandwithmoreaffectionthanhehadevershownmeinthepast.Hehadathin,reedyvoice.‘Runningaway,areyou?Leavingustoourowndevicesonthishappy

occasion?’Thatwastheonlyreferencehemadetohisson’slatestescapade.‘Where’syourbeautifulwife?Where’reyoupostedthesedays?’WhenItoldhimhisfacesuddenlyhardened.Thechangethatcameover

himwasalmostfrightening.‘Getthembytheballs,Barber.Heartsandmindswillfollow.’Kashmirdidthistous.

AfterthatIdroppedoutoftheirlives.Betweenthenandnow,Imetheronlyonce,andquitebychance.IwaswithR.C.–R.C.Sharma–andanothercolleague.WeweretakingawalkinLodhiGardens,discussingsomevexingofficepolitics.Isawherfromadistance.Shewasinatracksuit,runningfullpelt,withadogbyherside.Icouldn’ttellifitwashersorjustaLodhiGardenstraythathaddecidedtorunwithher.Ithinkshesawustoo,becausesheslowedherruntoawalk.Whenwecameface-to-face,shewassoakedinsweatandstilloutofbreath.Idon’tknowwhatgotintome.MaybeitwasembarrassmentatbeingseenwithR.C.OrtheusualconfusionthatcameovermewhenIwaswithher.Whateveritwas,itmademesaysomethingstupid–somethingI’dsaytothewifeofacolleagueIhappenedtobumpintosomewhere–chummy,cocktail-partybanter.‘Hello!Where’sthehubby?’Icouldhavekilledmyselfjustafterthosewordscameout.Shehelduptheleashshewascarryinginherhand(thedogwashers)and

said,‘Thehubby?Ohsometimesheallowsmetotakemyselfforawalk.’Itsoundsterrible,butitwasn’t.Shesaiditwithasmile.Hersmile.

Fouryearsago,outoftheclearbluesky,sherangtoaskwhetherIwastheBiplabDasgupta(thereareplentyofus,theabsurdlynamed,inthisworld)whohadadvertisedinthepapersforatenantforasecond-floorapartment.IsaidindeedIwas.Shesaidshewasworkingasafreelanceillustratorandgraphicdesignerandneededanofficeandcouldpaywhateverthegoingrentwas.IsaidI’dbemorethandelighted.Acoupleofdayslater,mydoorbellrangandthereshewas.Mucholderofcourse,butinsomeessentialway

unchanged–aspeculiarasever.Sheworeapurplesariandablack-and-white-checkedblouse,ashirtactually,withacollarandlongsleevesrolledhalfwayupherforearms.Herhairwasdeadwhiteandcroppedclosetoherhead,shortenoughforittolookspiky.Shelookedeithermuchyoungerormucholderthanheryears.Icouldn’tdecidewhich.IwasondeputationtotheMinistryofDefenceatthetime,andwasliving

downstairs(inwhatisnowthewatermelon).ItwasaSaturday,Chitraandthegirlswereout.Iwasaloneathome.Instincttoldmetobemoreformalthanfriendly,nottoreminisceaboutthe

past.SoItookherupstraightaway,tohavealookattheapartment.Ishowedheraroundthetworooms–atinybedroomandalargerworkroom.ItwasanimprovementonherNizamuddinstoreroomforsure,butnocomparisontoherhomeofmanyyearsinDiplomaticEnclave.Shebarelylookedaroundbeforesayingshewouldliketomoveinassoonaspossible.Shewalkedthroughtheemptyroomsandsatatthebaywindow,looking

downatthestreetbelow.Sheseemedenthralledbywhatshesaw,butsomehowwhenIlookedoutatthesameviewIdidn’tthinkwewereseeingthesamethings.Shemadenoattemptatconversationandappearedateasewiththesilence.

Shestillworethesameplainsilverringonthemiddlefingerofherrighthand.Icouldseeshewashavingsomekindofconversationwithherself.Suddenlyshebecamepractical.‘MayIgiveyouacheque?Adepositofsomesort?’IsaidIwasinnohurry,thatIwoulddrawupanagreementinthenextfew

days.Sheaskedifshecouldsmoke.Isaidofcourseshecould,thiswasherspace

nowandshecoulddowhatshepleasedinit.Shetookoutacigaretteandlitit,cuppingtheflameinherpalmslikeaman.‘Givenupbeedis?’Iasked.Hersmilemadethelightscomeonintheroom.Ilefthertofinishhercigarette,andcheckedthelights,thefans,thewater

connectionsinthekitchenandbathroom.Asshestooduptoleave,shesaid,asthoughshewascontinuingaconversationwe’dbeenhaving,‘There’ssomuchdata,butnoonereallywantstoknowanything,don’tyouthink?’Ihadnoideawhatshemeant.Thenshewasgone.Thentoo,herabsence

filledtheapartment,likeitdoesnow.Shemovedinadayortwolater.Shehadalmostnofurniture.Shedidnot

tellmeatthetimethatshehadleftNagaandthatsheintendednotjusttowork,buttoactuallyliveupstairs.Therentwasdepositedstraightintomyaccountonthefirstofeverymonthwithoutfail.Herarrivalinmylife,herpresenceupstairs,unlockedsomethinginsideme.ItworriesmethatIusethepasttense.

Evenacasualglancearoundtheroom–atthephotographs(numbered,captioned)pinneduponthenoticeboards,thelittletowersofdocumentsstackedneatlyonthefloorandinlabelledcartonsandboxfiles,theyellowPost-itsstuckonbookshelves,cupboards,doors–tellsmethatthere’ssomethingunsafehere,somethingbestleftuntouched,turnedovertoNagaperhaps,oreventhepolice.ButcanIbringmyselftodothat?MustI,shouldI,canIresistthisinvitationtointimacy,thisopportunitytosharetheseconfidences?Atthefarendoftheroomthere’salong,thickplankofwoodsupportedon

twometalstandsthatservesasatable.It’spiledwithpapers,oldvideotapes,astackofDVDs.Pinnedtothenoticeboards,togetherwiththephotographs,arenotesandsketches.Nexttoanolddesktopcomputerisatrayfulloflabels,visitingcards,brochuresandletterheads–probablythegraphicdesignworkwithwhichsheearned(earns,forGod’ssake!)herliving–theonlythingsintheroomthatlookreassuringlynormal.Thereareprintoutsofwhatappeartobeseveralversionsofashampoolabel,invarioustypefaces:

NaturelleUltraDouxNourishingConditionerWithWalnutOilandPeachLeaf

NaturelleUltraDouxhascombinedthenourishingandrelaxingvirtuesofwalnutoilandthesoothingqualitiesofpeachleafinarichdetanglingcreamthatmeltsinstantlyinyourhair.

Results:Veryeasytocomb.Yourhairregainsitsirresistiblesoftness,withoutheaviness.Deeplynourished,yourhair

isperfectlyflowingandsmooth.ADEIGHTFULEXPERIENCE.

‘Delightful’ismissingan‘l’inalltheversions.Trusther,atthisstageofherlife,tobedesigningmisspelledshampoolabels.Whataboutashampooforrapidlydisappearinghair?Onthewalljustabovethecomputertherearetwosmallish,framed

photographs.Oneisapictureofachild,maybefourorfiveyearsold.Hereyesareclosedandherbodyiswrappedinashroud.Bloodfromawoundonhertemplehasseepedthroughthewhitecloth,arose-shapedstain.She’slaidoutonthesnow.Apairofhandspillowsherhead,liftingitslightly.Alongthetopedgeofthephotographisarowoffeet,cladinallmannerofwintershoes.ItoccurstomethatthechildcouldbeMusa’sdaughter.Whatanoddphotographtochoosetoframeandhangonyourwall.Theotherphotographislessdistressing.It’sbeentakenontheporchofa

houseboat.Oneofthesmaller,shabbierones.Youcanseethelakedottedwithafewshikarasinthebackgroundandthemountainsbeyond.It’sapictureofanunusuallyshort,beardedyoungmaninaworn,brownKashmiripheran.Hisbigheadisdisproportionatetothesizeoftherestofhisbody.Hehasa

bunchoftinywildflowerstuckedbehindeachear.He’slaughing,hisgreeneyessparkleandhisteetharecrooked.Somethingabouttheunguardedness,thesheerabandonofhissmile,makeshimlooklikeachild.Crouchinginthebowlofhislargehandsaretwotinykittens,onehasasmokygreycoatstreakedwithblack,andtheotherisaharlequin,withablackeyepatch.He’sholdingthemout,asthoughhe’sofferingthemtothephotographertotouchorstroke.Thekittensarepeeringoverthebarricadeofhisthickfingers,theirliquideyesalertandapprehensive.Whocouldhebe?Ihavenoidea.Ipickupafatgreenfilefromapileoffilesonthetableandopenitata

randompage.Twophotographsaregluedontoasheetofpaper.Inthefirstone,ablurred,out-of-focuscyclistridespastabarredmetaldoorwaysetinasix-orseven-foot-highpinkboundarywall,theentrancetowhatlookslikeapublicmen’stoilet.Itislocatedinacrowdedneighbourhoodandissurroundedbyone-andtwo-storeyedbrickbuildingswithbalconies.There’sanadvertisementfor‘RoxyPhotocopier’painteddirectlyontothewallinlargegreenletters.Thesecondphotographhasbeentakeninsidethetoilet.Theweatheredpinkwallsarestreakedwithmossandmoistureandhaverustypipesrunningalongthem,horizontallyaswellasvertically.Thereisagrimywhitesinkonthewall,andarowofthreeuncoveredmanholesintheconcretefloor.Metalcoverswithhandles,likethelidsofenormoussaucepans,lienexttothem.Anold,brokenwindowframeandaplankofwoodareproppedupononewall.TheyarethemostunexceptionalphotographsIhaveeverseen.Whohastakenthem?Whywouldanybodytakepictureslikethat?Andwhywouldanybodyfilethemawaysocarefully?Thenextpageexplainsit:

GHAFOOR’SSTORY

ThisplaceiscalledNawabBazaar.Seethatpublictoilet?WhereitsaysRoxyPhotocopier?That’swhereithappened.Itwas2004.MusthavebeenApril.Itwascoldandrainingheavily.Weweresittinginmyfriend’sshop,NewElectronics,rightnexttoRafiqTailorShop,drinkingtea.Tariqandme.Itwasaroundeightatnight.Suddenlyweheardthescreechofbrakes.Acrosstheroadaboutfourorfivevehiclesdroveupandcordonedoffthetoilet.TheywereSTFvehicles.STF,youknow,isSpecialTaskForce.Eightsoldierscametotheshopandforcedustocrossthestreetwiththematgunpoint.Whenwereachedthetoilettheytoldustogoinandsearchit.TheysaidanAfghanterroristhadescapedandhadrunintothetoilet.Theywantedustogoinandaskhimtosurrender.Wedidn’twanttogoinbecausewethoughtthatthemujahidwouldhaveagun.TheSTFmenputpistolstoourheads.Wewentin.Itwasabsolutelydark.Wecouldseenothing.Therewasnopersonthere.Wecameoutandtoldthemthattherewasnobodythere.Theyaskedustogobackin.Theygaveusatorch.Wehadneverseensuchahugetorch.Oneofthemshowedushowitworks,switchingitonandoffonandoffonandoff.Anotherkeptstaringatus,clickingthesafetycatchofhisgunonandoffonandoffonandoff.Theysentusbackintothetoiletwiththetorch.Weflasheditaroundbutfoundnobody.Wecalledout,butnobodyreplied.Wewerecompletelydrenched.

TheSTFsoldiershadtakenpositioninthenext-doorbuilding.Twowereonthefirst-floorbalcony.Theysaidtheycouldseesomeoneinthedrain.Howcouldthatbe?Itwassodark,howcouldtheyseeanythingfromsofaraway?Ishonethetorchdownontherowofthreemanholes.Isawaman’shead.Iwassoafraid.Ithoughthehadagun,Imovedawaytooneside.Thesoldiersaskedmetoaskhimtocomeout.Tariq,whowasstandingbehindme,whispered,‘They’remakingafilm.Dowhattheysay.’By‘film’hedidnotmeanreallya‘film’inthatsense.Hemeanttheyweresettingupthescene,tomakeastory.Iaskedthemaninthemanholetocomeout.Hedidn’treply.Icouldtellhewasa

Kashmiri.NotanAfghan.Hejuststaredback.Hecouldn’tspeak.WestoodaroundthemanwiththeSTFtorch.Itwasstillraining.Thesmellfromthemanholewasunbearable.Maybeanhourandahalfwentby.Wedidnotdaretospeaktoeachother.Weswitchedthetorchonandoff.Thentheman’sheadfellsideways.Hehaddied.Buriedinshit.TheSTFmengaveuscrowbarsandspades.Wehadtobreaktheconcreteedgesaround

themanholetopullhimout.Allofuswerewet,shivering,stinking.Whenwepulledoutthebodywefoundthathislegsweretiedtogetherandweighteddownwitharock.OnlylaterwelearnedwhathadhappenedearlierintheSTFfilm.Firstafewofthemhadcomequietlyinonecar.Theytiedupthemanandstuffedhim

intothemanhole.Hehadbeenbadlytorturedandwasabouttodie.Whentheycameintheyfoundanotheryoungmaninoneofthebooths.Theyarrestedhimandtookhimaway–maybeherefusedtodowhatweagreedtodo.Thentheycamebackintheirvehiclesandstagedtherestofthefilminwhichtherewererolesforustoo.Theirofficeraskedustosignapaper.Ifwehadn’tsignedtheywouldhavekilledus.We

signedaswitnessestoanencounterinwhichtheSTFhadtrackeddownandkilledadreadedAfghanterroristwhowascorneredinapublictoiletinNawabBazaar.Itwasinthenews.ThemantheykilledwasalabourerfromBandipora.Theyoungmantheyarrested

becausehewaspissingataweirdandinconvenienthourhasdisappeared.AndTariqandIhaveliesandtreacheryonourconscience.Thoseeyesthatstaredatusforoneandahalfhours–theywereforgivingeyes,

understandingeyes.WeKashmirisdonotneedtospeaktoeachotheranymoreinordertounderstandeachother.Wedoterriblethingstoeachother,wewoundandbetrayandkilleachother,butwe

understandeachother.

Badstory.Terribleactually.Ifit’strue,thatis.Howdoesoneverifythesethings?Peoplearen’treliable.They’reforeverexaggerating.Kashmirisespecially.Andthentheybegintobelieveintheirownexaggerationasifit’sGod’struth.Ican’timaginewhatMadamTilottamaisdoing,collectingthispointlessstuff.Sheshouldsticktohershampoolabels.Anyway,itisn’taone-waystreet.Theothersidehasitsrepertoryofhorrortoo.Someofthosemilitantsweremaniacs.Ifonehastochoose,thengivemeaHindufundamentalistanydayoveraMuslimone.It’struewedid–wedo–someterriblethingsinKashmir,but…ImeanwhatthePakistanArmydidinEastPakistan–nowthatwasaclearcaseofgenocide.Openandshut.WhentheIndianArmyliberatedBangladesh,thegoodoldKashmiriscalledit–stillcallit–the‘FallofDhaka’.Theyaren’tverygoodatotherpeople’spain.Butthen,whois?TheBaloch,whoarebeingbuggeredbyPakistan,don’tcareaboutKashmiris.TheBangladeshiswhomweliberatedarehuntingdownHindus.ThegoodoldcommunistscallStalin’sGulaga‘necessarypartof

revolution’.TheAmericansarecurrentlylecturingtheVietnameseabouthumanrights.Whatwehaveonourhandsisaspeciesproblem.Noneofusisexempt.Andthenthere’sthatotherbusinessthat’sbecomeprettybigthesedays.People–communities,castes,racesandevencountries–carrytheirtragichistoriesandtheirmisfortunesaroundliketrophies,orlikestock,tobeboughtandsoldontheopenmarket.Unfortunately,speakingformyself,onthatcountIhavenostocktotrade,I’matragedy-lessman.Theupper-caste,upper-classoppressorfromeveryangle.Cheerstothat.Whatelsedowehavehere?There’sanopencarton,anoldHewlett-Packardprintercartridgecarton

lyingopenonthetable.I’mrelievedtoseethatitscontentsaresomewhatsunnier–twoyellowphotosachets,onelabelled‘OtterPics’andtheother‘OtterKills’.Nice.Ihadnoideathatshehadaninterestinotters.Itsuddenlymakesherless–howshouldIsayit–lesshazardous.Theideaofherwalkingonabeach,orariverbank,withthewindinherhair…relaxed,unguarded…lookingforotters…makesmegladforher.Iloveotters.Ithinktheymightbemyfavouritecreatures.Ioncespentawholeweekwatchingthemwhenwewereonafamilyholiday,aPacificcruisealongthewestcoastofCanada.Evenwhenitwasstormyandtheoceanwasdangerouslychoppy,theretheywere,thosecheekylittlebastards,floatingnonchalantlyontheirbacks,lookingforalltheworldasthoughtheywerereadingthemorningpapers.Itipthephotosoutofoneofthesachets.Noneofthemarepicturesofotters.Ishouldhaveknown.Ifeellikethevictimofaprank.Theoneonthetopofthepileisaphototakenonthepromenadearound

DalGateinSrinagar.AswarthySikhsoldierwearingaflakjacketandholdingarifleisonhishaunches.Onekneeup,onekneedown,posingtriumphantlyoverthecorpseofayoungman.Fromthewayhisbodylies,it’scleartheyoungmanisdead.He’sproppeduponhischin,whichisjammedupontheone-foot-highconcretevergethatrunsaroundthelake,therestofhisbodyisslumpedinadownwardarc.Hislegsaresplayed,onekneebentatarightangle.He’sintrousersandabeigepoloshirt.He’sbeenshotthroughhisthroat.There’snotmuchblood.Thereareblurredsilhouettesofhouseboatsinthebackground.Thesoldier’sheadhasbeencircledwithapurplemarker.Judgingfromthedeadman’sclothesandtheweaponthesoldierisholding,it’saprettyoldpicture.Ineachoftheotherlessdramaticphotographsofgroupsofsoldierstakeninmarketplaces,atcheckpoints,oronahighwaywhiletheyarewavingdownvehicles,asoldierhasbeensingledoutwiththesamepurplemarker.There’snoobviousconnectionbetweenthem.Someareclean-shaven,someareSikh,someareobviouslyMuslim.InallbutoneofthephotographsthesettingisKashmir.Intheonethatisn’t,a

bored-lookingsoldierissittingonablueplasticchairinasandbaggedbunkerinwhatlookslikethemiddleofadesert.Hishelmetisonhislapandhe’sholdinganorangeflyswatterandlookingawayintothedistance.There’ssomethingabouthiseyes,somethingblankandexpressionlessthatholdsyourattention.Hisheadtooiscircledwiththatpurplemarker.Whoarethesemen?Andthen,whenIspreadthemoutonthetable,Igetit–they’reallthe

samesoldier.Helooksdifferentineachphotograph,exceptforhiseyes.He’sashape-shifter.Maybeoneofourcounter-intelligenceboys.Whydoeshehaveapurplenoosearoundhishead?There’safileinthecartonthatsays‘Otter’.Thefirstdocumentinitlooks

likesomeone’sCV.TheletterheadsaysRalphM.Bauer,LCSW,LicensedClinicalSocialWorker,followedbyalonglistofhiseducationalqualifications.Awordjumpedoutatme.Clovis.RalphBauer’sstreetaddresswasEastBullardAvenue,Clovis,California.CloviswaswhereAmrikSinghshothimselfandhisfamily.Intheirhome,

inasmallsuburbanresidentialcolony.AndthenIgetit.Spotter.Otter.Ofcourse.ThemaninthephotographsisAmrikSingh‘Spotter’.Ineveractuallycameface-to-facewithhiminKashmir.Ididn’tknowwhathelookedlikeasayoungerman(thosewerepre-Googledays).Thesepicturesofhimbearalmostnoresemblancetothephotographofhimasanolderman,pudgy,clean-shavenandlookingcompletelydisoriented,thatappearedinthepapersafterhissuicide.Myveinsfeelasthoughthey’refloodedwithsomekindofchemical,

somethingotherthanblood.Howdidshegetholdofthesedocuments?Andwhy?Why?Whatusedidshehaveforthem?Whatwasthisnow?Somesortofvoodoorevengefantasy?Thefirstfewpagesinthefileareasortofquestionnaire–aseriesofthose

typicallycorny,psychobabbletypesofquestions:Haveyoueverhaddistressingdreamsoftheevent?Haveyoubeenunabletohavesadorlovingfeelings?Haveyoufoundithardtoimaginealonglifespanandfulfillingyourgoals?Thatsortofthing.AttachedtothequestionnairearetwowrittentestimoniessignedbyAmrikSinghandhiswife(herslong,hisverybrief),andphotocopiesoftwothick,neatlyfilled-outapplicationformsforasylumintheUS,alsosignedbythem.Ineedtositdown.Ineedadrink.IhaveabottleofCardhuthatIshouldn’t

havepickedupintheDutyFreeonmywayinfromKabul,andshouldn’thavebroughtupherewithme.EspeciallynotwhenIhavepromisedChitrathatIwillnevertouchanotherdrink.Notapeg.Notadrop.EspeciallynotwhenIknowmyjobisatrisk.EspeciallynotwhenIknowthatmybosshasgivenmethisonelastchanceto–inhishackneyedwords–‘shapeuporshipout’.

I’dlikesomeice,butthere’snone.Thewholefreezerhasturnedintoablockoficeandneedsdefrosting.Thefridgeisemptybutthekitchenisstackedwithfruitcartons.Maybeshewas–is–ononeofthosetrendydetoxdietswhereyoueatonlyfruit.Maybethat’swhereshe’sgone.Toayogaretreatorsomething.Ofcourseshehasn’t.I’llhavetodrinktheCardhuneat.It’sreallycoldandthosedamnpigeons

reallyoughttostopfornicatingonthewindowsill.Whywon’ttheystop?

Date:April16th,2012Re:LoveleenSinghnéeKaurandAmrikSingh

ThisisarequestforaPsycho-SocialEvaluationofAmrikSinghandhiswife,LoveleenSinghnéeKaur,todetermineiftheywerevictimsofpersecutionasaresultoftheabuse,policecorruptionandextortiontheysufferedinIndia,theirnativecountry.Dotheyhaveagenuine‘well-foundedfear’ofbeingtorturedorkilledbytheirgovernment?TheyareseekingasylumastheyclaimthatAmrikSinghwillbetorturedorkilledifhereturnstoIndia.DuringthecourseoftheinterviewIadministeredaTraumaSymptomInventory-2(TSI-2),MentalStatusChecklist,Post-TraumaticStressDisorder(PTSD)ScreeningInterview,andaDavidsonTraumaScale.Alengthyhistorywastakenduringatwo-hourface-to-faceinterviewwitheachofthemtocompleteanarrativeoftheactualeventsthattheyactuallyexperiencedinKashmir,India.

Background:

MrandMrsAmrikSinghresideinClovis,California.LoveleenSinghnéeKaurwasborninKashmir,India,onNovember19th1972.AmrikSingh,borninChandigarh,India,onJune9th1964.Thecouplehasthreechildren,theyoungestofwhomwasbornintheUS.ThecouplefledfromIndiatoCanadawiththeirtwoolderchildren.TheyenteredtheUnitedStatesbyfootonOctober1st2005.TheyfirstenteredBlaine,Washington,butnowliveinClovis,California,whereMrAmrikSinghworksasatruckdriver.LoveleenKaurisahome-maker.Theyareconstantlyanxiousabouttheirfamily’ssafety.

Loveleen’sNarrative:

ThisisaNarrativebasedonaparaphraseofLoveleen’sinterview.

MyhusbandAmrikSinghwasamilitarymajorpostedinSrinagar,Kashmir.WhilehewasonthepostIdidnotlivewithhimonthebase,Ilivedwithoursoninaprivateaccommodation,inasecond-floorflatinJawaharNagar,Srinagar.InthatcolonymanySikhfamiliesandonlyfewMuslimslive.In1995ahumanrightslawyerbythenameofJalibQadriwaskidnappedandkilledandmyhusbandwasblamedbythelocalpoliceandwefeltthatMuslimswereframinghim.MyhusbanddidnotacceptbribesandhedidnotlikeMuslimterrorists.Hewasanhonorableman.Inhisownwords:‘Iwillnotcheatonmycountryandyoucannotbribeme.’

MyfriendManpreetwasatthattimeajournalistinSrinagar.ShefoundoutwhowasframingmyhusbandandwhohadkilledJalibQadri.Sheandmymotherwenttothepolicestationtotellthemtheinformation.Thepolicedidnotlistentoherbecauseshewasawomanandarelativeoftheaccused.AndbecauseJKPolicearemostlyKashmiriMuslims.Theleadingpoliceinvestigatorsaid,‘IfIwantIcanmakeyouladiesburnalivehere.Ihavethatpower.’

AfteroneyearpoliceunitsencircledJawaharNagarcolonywhereIlivedwithoutmyhusbandtodoacordon-and-search.Thentheybangedonmydoorandcameinside.They

grabbedmebymyhairanddraggedmefromthesecondfloortothefirstfloor.Onepolicemantookmyson.Theystoleallmyjewelry.Allthewhiletheykickedandbeatmeandsaid,‘ThisisthefamilyofAmrikSinghwhokilledourleader.’Inthepoliceheadquarterstheytiedmetoawoodplankandkickedandslappedandbeatme.Theybeatmeonmyheadwitharubberplank.Theytoldme,‘Wewillmakeyouamadvegetablefortherestofyourlife.’Amanwithmetalshoeskickedandcrushedmychestandstomach.Thentheyrolledwoodenpolesdownmylegs.Thentheyattachedstickythingsonmybodyandthumbsandgavemeelectricshocksagainandagain.Theywantedmetogiveafalsestatementaboutmyhusband.Iwaskepttherefortwodays.TheykeptmysoninanotherroomandsaidIwillgethimbackonlyafterImakeafalsestatement.Finallytheyletmego.Isawmysonthen.Wewerebothcrying.Icouldnotwalktohimbecausemyfeetwerehurting.Arickshawdriverpickedmeupandtookmetomymother’shome.

NodoctorwouldtreatmebecausetheywerescaredthattheMuslimterroristswouldkillthem.Meandmyhusbandwerebeingwatchedallthetime.Welivedaverystressfullife.

WeleftKashmirafterthreeyearsandlivedinJammu.In2003weleftourcountryforCanada.Weappliedforasylumandtheydeniedus.Itwasheartless.Weneededhelp.Weshowedthemallourevidences,stilltheydeniedus.InOctober2005wecametoSeattle.Myhusbandgotajobasatruckdriverandin2006wemovedtoClovis,California.Wehavenoprotection.Wedon’tgoanywhere,wehavenooutingsorhappylife.Ifwegooutwedon’tknowifwewillcomehomealive.Allthetimewefeelwearewatchedbytheterrorists.WitheverynoiseIthinkIamgoingtodie.Igetscaredeasilywithloudnoises.Lastyear,in2011,whenmyhusbandwasjustverballydiscipliningourchildren,IgotsoscaredIthoughttheywereheretokillus.Irantothephonetocall911.Ihurtmyselfbadlyonmyhead,chestandlegswhileIwasrunning.IthoughtIwasgoingtodieeventhoughhewasonlyverballydiscipliningthechildren.MyheartbeatgoessofastIfeellikeacrazywoman.Ioftenreactdramaticallytoyellingandloudnoises.EventhoughmyhusbandwasonlyverballydiscipliningourchildrenIcalledthepoliceandIdon’tknowwhatItoldthem.Theyarrestedmyhusbandandtheyreleasedhimonbail.Iamstillunsurewhathappened.ThenewscameinthepapersthatmyhusbandwassoandsoandhadservedinKashmir.Theyshowedmyhusband’spictureandourhouseandtoldeveryonewelivedhere.ThatnewscameontheinternetandinKashmirtoo.AgaintheMuslimterroristsbegantoaskformyhusbandtobesentback.AfterafewdaysajournalistcalledandtoldusamagazinewriterfromIndiawaslookingforus.Butweknewhewasn’twhohesaidhewas.Isawhimdrivepastourhouse.Isawhimmanytimes.Itoldmyhusbandthatwemustleave.Hesaid,‘Wedon’thavemoneytokeepmoving.Idon’twanttorun.Iwanttolive.’Themanisalwaysaround.Othermentoo.AllMuslimterrorists.Iamconstantlyscared.Ikeepallthecurtainsclosedandwatchfrombehindthecurtain.Theystandonthestreetandstareatourhouse.NowIkeepeverythinglocked.BeforeIusedtorunasmallbeautyparlorfrommyhouse,doingeyebrowsthreadingandlegswaxingforladies.NowIfeelitisunsafetoletstrangerscometomyhouse.

SeventeenyearshavegonepassedandtheKashmiriMuslimterroristsstillcelebratethatlawyerman’sdeath.Inthenewspapersandoninternettheystillblamemyhusband.Mychildrenarescared.Theyalwaysask,‘Momwhencanweenjoyourlives?’Itellthem,‘I’mtrying,butit’snotinmyhands.’

Shehurtherlegs,headandchestwhilerunningtothetelephone.That’safeat.Whatdidherhusbanddotomakeherwithdrawhercomplaint,Iwonder?Maybesheandherchildrenwouldbealivetodayifshehadn’t.Iparticularlylovethepartinwhichlocalpolicedoacordon-and-searchoperationin

JawaharNagarofallplacesandthenarrestandtortureaservingarmymajor’swife.That’speerless.InKashmirthisstorywouldbereceivedasslapstickcomedy.The‘scareddoctors’bitwasagoodtouchtoo.Verisimilitudeiseverything.Asforherdetailedandknowledgeableaccountoftorture,Ihopeherhusbandonlytutoredherinhistechniquesanddidn’tactuallyusethemonher.‘Hewasonlyverballydiscipliningthechildren,’repeatedthreetimesinasingleparagraphsoundsdiretome.

AmrikSingh’sowntestimonywassoldier-like.Briefandtothepoint:

IservedintheIndianArmyasacommissionedofficer.Iwaspostedinvariouscounter-insurgencyandpeacekeepingdutieswithinIndiaandabroad.In1995IwaspostedinKashmirwhereinsurgencyisongoingsince1990.In1995ahumanrightsworkerwhoIlatercametoknowbelongedtoabannedterroristoutfitwaskidnappedandkilled.TheKashmirpoliceandIndianGovernmentisputtingthisblameonme.Iambeingmadeanescapegoat.IhadnochoicebuttofleefromIndiaalongwithmyfamily.IfIreturnGovernmentofIndiawouldnotlikemetofaceanycourtwhereIcanputupmyview.Iwouldbetorturedbybeating,shocks,waterboarding,foodandsleepdeprivationorelsebekilledandnevertobeseenorheardagain.

Theapplicationformswerefilledinbyhand.AmrikSinghhadneat,almostgirlishhandwritingandaneat,girlishsignaturetomatch.It’seerielookingathishandwriting.Itfeelsoddlyintimate.

Theycertainlyknewhowtogoabouttheirbusiness,thosetwo.HowwaspooroldRalphBauer,LCSW,toknowthattheirstoryrangsotruebecauseitwastrue,exceptthatthevictimsandtheperpetratorshadswappedroles?Smallwonderthathecametothishilariousconclusion:

Findings:

BasedonthedatapresentedabovethereisnodoubtinmymindthatMrsLoveleenSinghandMrAmrikSinghbothsufferfromseverePost-TraumaticStressDisorder.Thisdegreeofstressisdefinitelyindicativeofindividualsthathavesuffereddestructiveandtraumaticeventssuchastorture,indefiniteperiodsofincarcerationandseparationfromfamily.TheydeeplyfearthatiftheyreturntoIndiatheseeventswillberepeated.ThereisnoquestionthattherearepersonsatlargewhostillseekrevengeandcarryouttheirvendettainvariousblogsoftheWorldWideWeb.

GiventhesefactsIhighlyrecommendthatMrandMrsAmrikSinghandtheirfamilybegivenprotectionandasylumhereintheUnitedStatesofAmericasothattheycanbegintoleadanormallifetotheextentthatitispossibleforthem.

Sotheyhadnearlypulleditoff,MrandMrsSingh.TheywereonthevergeofbecominglegalcitizensoftheUnitedStates.Andyet,acoupleofmonthslaterAmrikSinghchosetoshoothimselfandhiswholefamily.Whatsensedidthatmake?Couldithavebeensomethingotherthansuicide?

Whowasthedrive-byartistthatthewifementionedinhertestimony?Andwhoweretheothers?Doesitmatteranymore?Nottome.NottotheGovernmentofIndia.SurelynottotheCaliforniaPolice,whomusthaveotherthingsontheir

minds.Shameaboutthewifeandkidsthough.

WhydoesmytenantMadamS.Tilottamahavethisfile?Andwherethehellisshe?

Myphonebeeps.Strange.Noonehasthisnumber.AsfarastheworldisconcernedI’minrehab.Oronstudyleave,whichistheotherwayofputtingit.Who’stextingme?Oh.THYROCARE,whateverthatis:

DearClientpleaseattendourhealthcamp.VitD+B12,Sugar,Lipid,LFT,KFT,Thyroid,Iron,CBC,UrinetestforRs1800/-

DearThyrocare.IthinkI’dratherdie.

I’vealreadydrunkaquarterofthebottle.It’stimeforaforbiddenafternoonsnooze.Workingmenshouldn’tsnooze.Ishouldn’ttaketheCardhuintothebedroom.ButImust.Itinsists.There’snobed.Justamattressonthefloor.Therearebooks,notebooks,

dictionariesarrangedinneattowers.Iswitchonthetallstandardlamp.Icanseeapieceofcolouredpaper

Scotch-tapedtothewide-brimmedlampshadeofthestandardlamp.Areminder?Anotetoherself?Itsays:

Asfortheirdeath,needItellyouaboutit?Itwillbe,forallofthem,thedeathofhimwho,whenhelearnedofhisfromthejury,merelymumbledinaRhenishaccent,‘I’malreadywaybeyondthat.’JeanGenet

P.S.Thislampshadeismadeofsomekindofanimalskin.Ifyoulookcarefullyyouwillfindsomehairsgrowingoutofit.Thankyou.

Theseroomsseemtohavewitnessedsomesortofunravelling.Theunravellingofanyhumanbeingisprobablyhorrifyingtowitness.Butthishumanbeing?Ithasanedgeofdanger,likethefaint,acridsmellofgunpowderhangingintheairatthesceneofacrime.IhavenotreadGenet,shouldIhave?Haveyou?

It’sgoodwhisky,Cardhu.Andbloodyexpensive.I’llhavetodrinkitrespectfully.I’malreadyabitwoozy–‘oozy’,asmyoldfriendGolakwouldhaveputit.InOrissatheytendtodroptheirW’s.

It’spitch-dark.Idreamedofatowerofstackedsaucepanlidsandopenmanholesstuffed

withstrangethings–filesmostly,andMusa’sdrawingsofhorses.Andlongboltsofverydrysnowthatlooklikebones.Whofinishedthewhisky?Whobroughtthevodkaandthecrateofbeerfrommycaruptothe

apartment?Whoturnedthedayintonight?Howmanydayshavebeenturnedintohowmanynights?Andwhoisatthedoor?Icanhearthekeyturning.Isither?

Noit’snot.

It’stwopeoplewiththreevoices.Strange.Theycomeinandswitchonthelightsasthoughtheyowntheplace.Andnowwe’reface-to-face.Ayoungmanindarkglassesandanolderman.Olderwoman.Man.Woman-man.Whatever.SomesortoffreakdressedinaPathansuitandacheapplasticanorak.Verytall.Witharedmouthandabright,shiningtooth.Ormaybeit’sjustmestilldreaming.Mysensesareweirdlyheightenedandbluntedatthesametime.Therearebottleseverywhere,crashingaroundourfeet,rollingunderthefurnitureandintotheopenmanholes.Sincewedon’tseemtohavemuchtosaytoeachotherandI’munsteady

onmyfeet–Icanfeelmyselfswayinglikecorninacornfield–Igobackintothebedroomandliedown.Whatelseisthereformetodo?Theyfollowmein.Thatstrikesmeasunusualbehaviour,eveninadream

sequence,ifthat’swhat’sgoingonhere.Thewoman-manspeakstomeinavoicethatsoundsliketwovoices.ShespeaksthemostbeautifulUrdu.ShesayshernameisAnjum,thatshe’safriendofTilottama,whoislivingwithherforthemoment,andthatsheandherfriendSaddamHussainhadcomebecauseTiloneededsomethingsfromhercupboard.IsaidIwasafriendofTilo’stooandtheyshouldgorightaheadandtakewhattheyneeded.Theyoungmanproducesakeyandopensthecupboard.Acloudofballoonsfloatsout.Theyoungmanproducesasackandbeginstofillit.Ingoes–atleastfrom

whatIcantell–arubberduck,aninflatablebaby’sbathtub,alarge,stuffed

zebra,someblankets,booksandwarmclothes.Whentheyaredonetheythankmeformypatience.TheyaskifIwanttosendamessagetoTilo.IsayIdo.ItearapageoutofoneofhernotebooksandwriteGARSONHOBART.

TheletterscomeoutmuchlargerthanIintendthemtobe.Likesomesortofdeclaration.Ihandthenotetothem.Andthentheyaregone.Imovetothewindowtowatchthemexitthebuilding.Oneofthem–the

olderone–getsintoanautorickshaw,theother,Iswearonmychildren,leavesonahorse.Apairoffreakswithaswagbagfullofstuffedtoystrottingoffintothemistonafriggingwhitehorse.Mymindisinashambles.Myhallucinationsaresopitiful.Itwasallso

real.Icouldsmellit.Ican’trememberwhenIlastate.Where’smyphone?What’sthetime?Whatdayisit,orwhatnight?Ilookbackattheroom.Theballoonsarefloatingaroundlikea

screensaver.Thecupboarddoorshaveswungopen.Theinsideofoneismarkedup.FromwhereI’mstandingitlookslikeachartofsomekind…aparents’recordoftheheightoftheirgrowingchild–weusedtodothatwithAniaandRabiawhentheyweregrowingup.Whatchildcouldshehavebeenmeasuring,Iwonder.FromupcloseIrealizeit’snotthatatall.HowcouldIhaveimagined,howeverbriefly,thatitwouldbesomethingsodomesticandendearing?It’ssomekindofdictionary,aworkinprogress–theentriesareinuneven

handwritingandindifferentcolours:

Kashmiri–EnglishAlphabet

A:Azadi/army/Allah/America/Attack/AK-47/Ammunition/Ambush/Aatankwadi/ArmedForcesSpecialPowersAct/AreaDomination/AlBadr/AlMansoorian/AlJehad/Afghan/AmarnathYatra

B:BSF/body/blast/bullet/battalion/barbedwire/brust(burst)/bordercross/boobytrap/bunker/byte/begaar(forcedlabour)

C:Cross-border/Crossfire/camp/civilian/curfew/Crackdown/Cordon-and-Search/CRPF/Checkpost/Counter-insurgency/Ceasefire/Counter-Intelligence/CatchandKill/CustodialKilling/Compensation/Cylinder(surrender)/Concertinawire/Collaborator

D:Disappeared/DefenceSpokesman/DoubleCross/DoubleAgent/DisturbedAreasAct/Deadbody

E:Encounter/EJK(extrajudicialkilling)/ExGratia/Embeddedjournalists/Elections/enforceddisappearance

F:Funerals/Fidayeen/ForeignMilitant/FIR(FirstInformationReport)/FakeEncounter

G:GrenadeBlast/Gunbattle/GBranch(Generalbranch–BSFintelligence)/Graveyard/Gunculture

H:HM(Hizb-ul-Mujahideen)/HRV(humanrightsviolations)/HRA(humanrightsactivist)/Hartal/Harkat-ul-Mujahideen/Honeymoon/Half-widows/Half-orphans/Humanshields/HealingTouch/Hideout

I:Interrogation/India/Intelligence/Insurgent/Informer/I-card/ISI/intercepts/Ikhwan/InformationWarfare/IB/IndefiniteCurfew

J:Jail/Jamaat/JKP/JIC(JointInterrogationCentre)/JKLF(Jammu&KashmirLiberationFront)/jihad/jannat/jahannum/JamiatulMujahideen/Jaish-e-Mohammed

K:Kills/Kashmir/Kashmiriyat/Kalashnikov(seealsoAK)/KiloForce/Kafir

L:Lashkar-e-Taiba/LMG/Launcher/Loveletter/Lahore/LandmineM:Mujahideen/Military/Mintree/Media/Mines/MPV(mineproof

vehicle)/Militant(alsoMilton,Mike)/MuslimMujahideen/MistakenIdentity/Martyrs/Mukhbir(Informer)/Misfire(Accidentaldeath)/Muskaan(armyorphanage)/Massacre/Mout/Moj

N:NGO/NewDelhi/Nizam-e-Mustapha/Nabad(seealsoIkhwan)/NightPatrolling/NTR(NothingToReport)/nailparade/normalcy

O:Occupation/Ops/OGW(overgroundworker)/overground/officialversion/OperationTiger/OperationSadbhavana

P:Pakistan/PSA(PublicSecurityAct)/POTA(PreventionofTerrorismAct)/PickedUp/PrimaFacie/Peace/Police/PapaI,PapaII(interrogationcentres)/Psyops(psychologicalwarfare)/Pandits/PressConference/PeaceProcess/Paramilitary/PTSD(Post-TraumaticStressDisorder)/Paar/pressrelease

Q:Quran/QuestioningR:RR(RashtriyaRifles)/RegularArmy/rape/rigging/RoadOpening

Patrol/RDX/RAW/Renegades/RPG(rocketpropelledgrenade)/razorwire/referendum

S:Separatists/Surveillance/Spy/SOG/STF/Suspected/Shaheed/Shohadda(martyrs)/Sources/Security/Sadbhavana(Goodwill)/Surrender(aka

cylinder)/SRO43(SpecialReliefOrder-1lakh)T:ThirdDegree/Torture/Terrorist/tip-off/tourism/TADA(Terroristand

DisruptiveActivitiesAct)/threats/target/taskforceU:Unidentifiedgunmen/unidentifiedbody/Ultras/undergroundV:violence/VictorForce/VillageDefenceCommittee/Version

(local/official/police/army)/victoryW:Warnings/wireless/waza/wazwaanX:XgratiaY:Yatra(Amarnath)Z:Zulm(oppression)/ZplusSecurity

There’snoMusa,sowhohasbeenfillingherheadwiththistrash?Whyisshestillwallowinginthisoldstory?Everyone’smovedon.Ithoughtshehadtoo.I’mlyingonherbed.Myheadiskillingme.Andtheroomisfullofballoons.WhydoIalwaysenduplikethisaroundher?IopenthenotebookI’vetornapageoutof.Onthefirstpageitsays:

DearDoctor,AngelshoverovermeasIwrite.HowcanItellthemthattheirwingssmelllikethebottomofachickencoop?

Honestly,it’ssomuchsimplerinKabul.

Then,asshehadalreadydiedfourorfivetimes,theapartmenthadremainedavailableforadramamoreseriousthanherowndeath.

JEANGENET

8

TheTenant

ThespottedowletonthestreetlightduckedandbobbedwiththedelicacyandimmaculatemannersofaJapanesebusinessman.Hehadanunobstructedviewthroughthewindowofthesmall,bareroomandtheodd,barewomanonthebed.Shehadanunobstructedviewofhimtoo.Somenightsshebobbedbackandsaid,MoshiMoshi,whichwasalltheJapanesesheknew.Evenindoorsthewallsradiatedabullying,unyieldingheat.Theslow

ceilingfanstirredthescorchedair,layeringitwithfine,cinderydust.Theroomshowedsignsofcelebration.Theballoonstiedtothewindow

grillebumpedintoeachotherdesultorily,softenedandshrivelledbytheheat.Inthecentre,onalow,paintedstool,wasacakewithbrightstrawberryicingandsugarflowers,acandlewithacharredwick,amatchboxandafewusedmatchsticks.OnthecakeitsaidHappyBirthdayMissJebeen.Thecakehadbeencut,asmallpieceeaten.Theicinghadmeltedanddribbledontothesilver-foil-coveredcardboardcake-base.Antsweremakingoffwithcrumbslargerthanthemselves.Blackants,pinkcrumbs.Thebaby,whosebirthdayandbaptismceremonieshadbeen

simultaneouslycelebratedandsuccessfullyconcluded,wasfastasleep.Herkidnapper,whowentbythenameofS.Tilottama,wasawakeand

concentrating.Shecouldhearherhairgrowing.Itsoundedlikesomethingcrumbling.Aburntthingcrumbling.Coal.Toast.Mothscrispedonalightbulb.Sherememberedreadingsomewherethatevenafterpeopledied,theirhairandnailskeptgrowing.Likestarlight,travellingthroughtheuniverselongafterthestarsthemselveshaddied.Likecities.Fizzy,effervescent,simulatingtheillusionoflifewhiletheplanettheyhadplundereddiedaroundthem.

Shethoughtofthecityatnight,ofcitiesatnight.Discardedconstellationsofoldstars,fallenfromthesky,rearrangedonEarthinpatternsandpathwaysandtowers.Invadedbyweevilsthathavelearnedtowalkupright.Aweevil-philosopherwithagravemannerandasharpmoustachewas

teachingaclass,readingaloudfromabook.Admiringyoungweevilsstrainedtocatcheachwordthatspilledfromhiswiseweevillips.‘NietzschebelievedthatifPityweretobecomethecoreofethics,miserywouldbecomecontagiousandhappinessanobjectofsuspicion.’Theyoungstersscratchedawayontheirlittlenotepads.‘SchopenhauerontheotherhandbelievedthatPityisandoughttobethesupremeweevilvirtue.Butlongbeforethem,Socratesaskedthekeyquestion:Whyshouldwebemoral?’HehadlostaleginWeevilWorldWarIV,thisprofessor,andcarrieda

cane.Hisremainingfive(legs)wereinexcellentcondition.Airbrushgraffitisprayedonthebackwallofhisclassroomsaid:EvilWeevilsAlwaysMaketheCut.Othercreaturescrowdedintothealready-crowdedclassroom.

AnalligatorwithahumanskinpurseAgrasshopperwithgoodintentionsAfishonafastAfoxwithaflagAmaggotwithamanifestoAneoconnewtAniconiguanaAcommunistcowAnowlwithanalternativeAlizardonTV.Helloandwelcome,you’rewatchingLizardNewsatNine.There’sbeenablizzardonlizardisland.

Thebabywasthebeginningofsomething.Thismuchthekidnapperknew.Herboneshadwhisperedthistoherthatnight(thesaidnight,theconcernednight,theaforementionednight,thenighthereinafterreferredtoas‘thenight’)whenshemadehermoveonthepavement.Andherboneswerenothingifnotreliableinformants.ThebabywasMissJebeenreturned.Returned,thatis,nottoher(MissJebeentheFirstwasneverhers),buttotheworld.MissJebeentheSecond,whenshewasgrowntobealady,wouldsettleaccountsandsquarethebooks.MissJebeenwouldturnthetide.Therewashopeyet,fortheEvilWeevilWorld.True,theHappyMeadowhadfallen.ButMissJebeenwascome.

NagaaskedTiloforonegoodreasonwhyshewasleavinghim.Didhenotloveher?Hadhenotbeencaring?Considerate?Generous?Understanding?Whynow?Afteralltheseyears?Hesaidfourteenyearswasenoughtimefor

anyonetogetoveranything.Providedtheywantedtogetoverit.Peoplehadbeenthroughmuchworse.‘Ohthat,’shesaid.‘Igotoverallthatlongago.I’mhappyandwell

adjustednow.LikethepeopleofKashmir.I’velearnedtolovemycountry.Imayevenvoteinthenextelection.’Heletthatpass.Hesaidsheshouldthinkaboutseeingapsychiatrist.Thinkingmadeherthroatache.Thatwasagoodreasonnottothinkabout

seeingapsychiatrist.Nagahadstartedwearingtweedcoatsandsmokingcigars.Likehisfather

did.Andtalkingtoservantsintheimperiouswaythathismotherdid.Termitesontoast,khadiloinclothsandtheRollingStoneswereaforgottenfeverdreamfromapastlife.Naga’smother,wholivedaloneonthegroundfloorofthebighouse(his

father,AmbassadorShivashankarHariharan,haddied),advisedhimtoletTilogo.‘Shewon’tbeabletomanageonherown,she’llbegyoutotakeherback.’Nagaknewotherwise.Tilowouldmanage.Andevenifshedidn’t,therewouldbenobegging.Hesensedshewasdriftingonatidethatneitherhenorshecoulddomuchabout.Hecouldn’ttellwhetherherrestlessness,hercompulsiveandincreasinglyunsafewanderingthroughthecity,markedtheonsetofanunsoundnessofmindoranacute,perilouskindofsanity.Orweretheyboththesamething?Theonlythinghecouldattributehernew-foundrestivenesstowasher

mother’sbizarrepassing,whichhethoughtodd,giventhatitwasarelationshipthathadbarelyexisted.True,Tilohadbeenatherbedsideduringthelasttwoweeksinhospital.Butotherthanthat,shehadseenhermotheronlyafewtimesinthepastseveralyears.Nagawasrightinonesensebutwronginanother.Hermother’sdeath(she

diedinthewinterof2009)hadreleasedTilofromaninternmentthatnobody,includingsheherself,hadbeenawareofbecauseithadpasseditselfoffassomethingquitetheopposite–apeculiar,insularindependence.ForallofheradultlifeTilohaddefinedandshapedherselfbymarkingoffandmaintainingadistancebetweenherselfandhermother–herrealfoster-mother.Whenthatwasnolongernecessary,somethingfrozenbegantothawandsomethingunfamiliarbegantotakeitsplace.Naga’spursuitofTilohadnotturnedoutasplanned.Shewasmeanttobe

justanothereasyconquest,yetanotherwomanwhosuccumbedtohisirreverentbrillianceandedgycharmandhadherheartbroken.ButTilohadcreptuponhim,andbecomeakindofcompulsion,anaddictionalmost.Addictionhasitsownmnemonics–skin,smell,thelengthofthelovedone’sfingers.InTilo’scaseitwastheslantofhereyes,theshapeofhermouth,thealmost-invisiblescarthatslightlyalteredthesymmetryofherlipsandmadeherlookdefiantevenwhenshedidnotmeanto,thewayhernostrilsflared,

announcingherdispleasureevenbeforehereyesdid.Thewaysheheldhershoulders.Thewayshesatonthepotstarknakedandsmokedcigarettes.Somanyyearsofmarriage,thefactthatshewasnotyounganymore–anddidnothingtopretendotherwise–didn’tchangethewayhefelt.Becauseithadtodowithmorethanallthat.Itwasthehaughtiness(despitethequestionmarkoverher‘stock’,ashismotherhadnothesitatedtoputit).Ithadtodowiththewayshelived,inthecountryofherownskin.Acountrythatissuednovisasandseemedtohavenoconsulates.True,ithadneverbeenaparticularlyfriendlycountryevenatthebestof

times.Butitsbordersweresealedandtheregimeofmoreorlesscompleteisolationismbeganonlyafterthetrain-wreckattheShirazCinema.NagamarriedTilobecausehewasneverreallyabletoreachher.Andbecausehecouldn’treachherhecouldn’tlethergo.(Ofcoursethatraisesanotherquestion:WhydidTilomarryNaga?Agenerouspersonwouldsayitwasbecausesheneededshelter.Alessgenerousviewwouldbethatitwasbecausesheneededcover.)Althoughhiswasonlyasmallpartinthestory,inNaga’smind,‘Before’

and‘After’ShirazsometimestookontheovertonesofBCandAD.

AfterthemidnightcallfromBiplabDas-Goose-dainDachigam,ittookNagaafewhoursandseveraldiscreetphonecallstomakethenecessaryarrangementstogetfromAhdoostotheShiraz.Curfewhadbeendeclared.Srinagarwaslockeddown.Securitywasbeingputinplaceforthefuneralprocessionforthepeoplewhohadbeenkilledovertheweekend,whichwouldragethroughthestreetsthenextmorning.Therewereshoot-on-sightorders.Movingaroundthecitythatnightwasnexttoimpossible.BythetimeNagamanagedtoorganizeavehicle,acurfewpass,checkpointwaiversandanentry-permittotheShiraz,itwasalmostdawn.Anorderlywaswaitingforhimoutsidethecinemalobby,nearwhathad

oncebeentheticketboothandwasnowasentrypost.HesaidtheMajorSahib(AmrikSingh)hadleft,butthathisdeputywouldmeethiminhisoffice.TheorderlyescortedNagatothebackofthebuilding,upthefireescapetoadim,makeshiftofficeonthefirstfloor.HeaskedNagatotakeaseat,sayingthat‘Sahib’wouldbethereinaminute.WhenheenteredtheroomNagahadnomeansofknowingthatthefigureinapheranandbalaclavasittingonachairwithherbacktothedoorwasTilo.Hehadn’tseenherinawhile.Whensheturnedaround,whatalarmedhimmorethanthelookinhereyeswastheeffortshemadetosmileandsayhello.That,tohim,wasasignofbreakage.Itwasn’ther.Shewasn’tawomanwhosmiledandsaidhello.HerclosefriendshadlearnedovertimethatwithTilotheabsenceofa

greetingwasactuallyabrusquedeclarationofintimacy.Thankstothebalaclava,whattheylatercametocall‘thehaircut’wasn’timmediatelyevident.NagaassumedthebalaclavawasjustaSouthIndian’sexaggeratedresponsetothecold.(HehadacacheofjokesaboutSouthIndiansandmonkeycapsthatheusedtotellwithaccentsandaplomb,withoutfearofcausingoffence,becausehewashalfSouthIndianhimself.)AssoonasTilosawhimshestoodupandmovedquicklytothedoor.‘It’syou!IthoughtGarson–’‘Hecalledme.He’sinDachigamwiththeGovernor.Ihappenedtobein

town.AreyouOK?AndMusa…?Wasit…?’Heputanarmaroundhershoulder.Shewasn’tshiveringsomuchas

vibrating,asthoughtherewasamotorjustunderneathherskin.Apulsejumpedonthesideofhermouth.‘Canwegonow?Shallweleave…?’BeforeNagacouldreply,AshfaqMir,DeputyCommandantoftheShiraz

CinemaJIC,walkedin,heraldedbytheoverpoweringscentofhiscologne.NagadroppedhisarmfromTilo’sshoulder,feelingguiltyforanimaginedmisdemeanour.(InKashmirinthosedays,thedifferencebetweenwhatconstitutedguiltandinnocencelayintherealmoftheoccult.)AshfaqMirwasstartlinglyshort,startlinglystrong-lookingandstartlingly

whiteevenforaKashmiri.Hisearsandnostrilswereshellpink.Heexudedanalmostmetallicradiance.Hewassmartlyturnedout,khakitrouserscreased,brownbootspolished,bucklesgleaming,hairgelledandrakedbackoffhissmooth,shiningforehead.HecouldhavebeenAlbanian,orayoungarmyofficerfromtheBalkans,butwhenhespoke,itwaswiththemannerofanold-worldhouseboatowner,steepedingenerationsoflegendaryKashmirihospitality,greetinganoldcustomer.‘Welcome,Sir!Welcome!Welcome!Imusttellyou,Iamyourbiggestfan,

Sir!Weneedpeoplelikeyoutokeeppeoplelikemeontherighttrack!’Thesmilethatspreadacrosshisfresh,boyishfacewasapennant.Hisamazed,baby-blueeyeslitupwithwhatlookedlikerealpleasure.HesandwichedNaga’shandbetweenbothhishandsandpumpeditwarmlyforagoodlengthoftimebeforetakinghisplacebehindhisdeskandgesturingtoNagatositdownoppositehim.‘I’msorryIamalittlelate.Iwasoutallnight.There’stroubleinthecity–youmusthaveheard–protests,firings,killings,funerals…OurusualSrinagarSpecial.Ijustgotback.MyCOSiraskedmetocomeandhandoverMa’ampersonally.’Thoughhecalledher‘Ma’am’,hebehavedasthoughTilowasn’tthere.

(WhichallowedTilotobehaveasthoughshewasn’tthereeither.)Evenwhenhereferredtoherhedidn’tlookather.Whetherthatwasagestureofrespect,disrespectorjustlocaltraditionwasnotclear.

Notmuchaboutwhathappenedinthatroomthatdaywasclear.AshfaqMir’sperformancecouldeitherhavebeencarefullyscripted,includingthemannerandtimingofhisentrance,oritcouldhavebeenakindofpractisedimprovisation.Theonlythingthatwasunambiguouswastheundertoneofbustling,smilingmenace:‘Ma’am’wouldbepersonallyhandedover,butSirandMa’amcouldleaveonlywhenAshfaqMirsaidtheycould.Yetheconductedhimselfasthoughhewasahumbleminionmerelycarryingout,inthemostgraciouswaypossible,adutyhehadbeenassigned.Hegavetheimpressionthathehadabsolutelynoideawhathadhappened,whatTilowasdoingintheJICorwhysheneededtobe‘handedover’.Itwasobviousfrom,ifnothingelse,thequalityoftheairintheroom(it

trembled)thatsomethingheinoushadhappened.Itwasn’tclearwhat,orwhothesinnerwasandwhothesinnedagainst.AshfaqMirrangabellandorderedteaandbiscuitswithoutaskinghis

guestsiftheywantedany.Whiletheywaitedforittobeserved,hefollowedNaga’sgazetoaframedposteronthewall:

WefollowourownrulesFerociousweareLethalinanyformTameroftidesWeplaywithstormsUguesseditrightWeareMeninUniform

‘Ourin-housepoetry…’AshfaqMirthrewhisheadbackandguffawed.Eitherthetea–orthescript–madehimtalkative.Oblivioustothedisquiet

(aswellasthequiet)ofhisaudiencehechatteredamiablyabouthiscollegedays,hispolitics,hisjob.Hehadbeenastudentleader,hesaid,andlikemostyoungmenofhisgeneration,ahard-coreSeparatist.Buthavinglivedthroughthebloodshedoftheearly1990s,havinglostacousinandfiveclosefriends,hehadcometoseethelight.HenowbelievedKashmir’sstruggleforAzadihadlostitswayandthatnothingcouldbeachievedwithoutthe‘RuleofLaw’.AndsohejoinedtheJammuandKashmirPoliceandhadbeendeputedtotheSOG,theSpecialOperationsGroup.Holdingabiscuitintheair,delicatelybetweenhisthumbandforefinger,herecitedapoembyHabibJalibthathesaidhadsimplycometohim–attheverymomentofhischangeofheart:

MohabbatgoliyonseborahehoWatankachehrakhoonsedhorahehoGumaantumkokerastakattrahahaiYaqeenmujhkokemanzilkhoraheho

Bulletsyousowinsteadoflove

OurhomelandyouwashwithbloodYouimagineyou’reshowingthewayButIbelieveyou’vegoneastray

Withoutwaitingforareactionheswitchedfromhisdeclamatorytonetoaconspiratorialone:‘AndafterAzadi?Hasanyonethought?Whatwillmajoritydotothe

minority?KashmiriPanditshavealreadygone.OnlyusMuslimsremain.Whatwillwedotoeachother?WhatwillSalafisdotoBarelvis?WhatwillSunnisdotoShias?TheysaytheywillgotoJannatmoresurelyiftheykillaShiathaniftheykillaHindu.WhatwillbethefateofLadakhiBuddhists?JammuHindus?J&KisnotjustKashmir.It’sJammuandKashmir,andLadakh.HasanySeparatistthoughtofthis?Theanswer,Icantellyou,isabig“No”.’NagaagreedwithwhatAshfaqMirsaid,andheknewhowcarefullythis

seedofself-doubthadbeensownbyanadministrationthathadclaweditswaybackintocontrolfromthebrinkofutterchaos.ListeningtoAshfaqMirwaslikewatchingtheseasonchangeandthecropmature.ItgaveNagaamomentaryrush,acultishsenseofomniscience.Buthedidn’twanttodoanythingthatwouldprolongthemeeting.Sohesaidnothing.Hemadeashowofcraninghisnecktoreadthelistofthe‘MostWanted’–abouttwenty-fivenames–writtenwithgreenMagicMarkeronthewhiteboardbehindthedesk.Nexttomorethanhalfthenamesitsaid(killed)(killed)(killed).‘TheyareallPakistanisandAfghanis,’AshfaqMirsaid,notturning

around,keepinghisgazeonNaga.‘Theirshelf-lifeisnotmorethansixmonths.Bytheyear-endtheywillallbeeliminated.ButweneverkillKashmiriboys.NEVER.Neverunlesstheyarehard-core.’Thebarefacedliehungintheairunchallenged.Thatwasitspurpose–to

testtheair.AshfaqMirsippedhistea,continuingtostareatNagawiththoseamazed,

unblinkingeyes.Suddenly–orperhapsnotsosuddenly–anideaseemedtooccurtohim.‘Wouldyouliketoseeamilton?Ihaveawoundedonewithmehereincustody.AKashmiri.ShallIorderforhim?’Herangthebellonceagain.Withinsecondsamananswereditandtookthe

‘order’asthoughitwereanadditionalsnackthatwasbeingorderedwiththetea.AshfaqMirgrinnedmischievously.‘Don’ttellmyboss,please.Hewill

scoldme.Thistypeofthingisnotallowed.Butyou–andMa’am–willfinditveryinteresting.’Whilehewaitedforthenewsnacktobeservedheturnedhisattentionto

thepapersonhisdesk,signinghisnamerapidlyonseveralofthem,withanairofcheerfultriumph,thescratchofhispenonpaperamplifiedbythesilence.Tilo,whohadbeensittingonachairatthebackoftheroom,stoodup

andwalkedtothewindowthatlookedoutontoableakparkinglotfullofmilitarytrucks.Shedidn’twanttobetheaudienceforAshfaqMir’sshow.Itwasaninstinctivegestureofsolidaritywithaprisoneragainstajailer–regardlessofthereasonsthathadmadetheprisoneraprisonerandthejailerajailer.Frombeingsomeonewhohadbeentryingtoturnherpresenceintheroom

intoanabsence,herun-presentformnowturnedthermal,emittingafluxthatboththemenintheroomwereacutelyawareof,althoughinverydifferentways.Inafewminutesaburlypolicemanentered,carryingathinboyinhisarms.

Onelegoftheboy’strouserswasrolledup,exposingamatchstick-thincalfheldtogetherbyasplintfromankletoknee.Hisarmwasinaplastercastandhisneckwasbandaged.Thoughhisfacewasdrawnwithpain,hedidn’tgrimacewhenthesoldierdepositedhimonthefloor.Torefusetoshowpainwasapacttheboyhadmadewithhimself.Itwasa

desolateactofdefiancethathehadconjuredupintheteethofabsolute,abjectdefeat.Andthatmadeitmajestic.Exceptthatnobodynoticed.Hestayedverystill,abrokenbird,halfsitting,halflying,proppedupononeelbow,hisbreathshallow,hisgazedirectedinward,hisexpressiongivingnothingaway.Heshowednocuriosityabouthissurroundingsorthepeopleintheroom.AndTilo,withherbacktotheroom,inanequallydesolateactofdefiance,

refusedtoshowcuriosityabouthim.AshfaqMirbrokeupthetableauwiththesamedeclamatorytoneinwhich

hehadrecitedhispoem.Whathesaidthistimewasakindofrecitaltoo:‘Theaverageageofamiltonisbetweenseventeenandtwentyyears.Heis

brainwashed,indoctrinatedandgivenagun.Theyaremostlypoor,low-casteboys–yes,foryourkindinformationevenweMuslimshappilypractisecaste.Theydon’tknowwhattheywant.TheyaresimplybeingusedbyPakistantobleedIndia.It’swhatwecancalltheir“PrickandBleed”policy.Thisboy’snameisAijaz.HewascapturedinanoperationinanappleorchardnearPulwama.Youcantalktohim.Askhimanyquestions.Hewaswithanewtanzeemthathasrecentlystartedoperationshere.Lashkar-e-Taiba.Hiscommander,AbuHamza,wasaPakistani.Hehasbeenneutralized.’ThegamebecamecleartoNaga.HewasbeingofferedadealinKashmir’s

specialcurrency.Aninterviewwithacapturedmilitantfromarelativelynewand–accordingtotheintelligencereportshewasprivyto–deadlyoutfit,inexchangeforpeaceoverthenight’sevents–forwhateverhadhappenedwithTiloandwhateverhorrorshemighthavewitnessed.AshfaqMirwalkedovertohisquarryandspoketohiminKashmiri,ina

toneonemightuseforsomeonewhowashardofhearing.‘YichuiNagarajHariharanSahib.HeisafamousjournalistfromIndia.’

(SeditionwasacontagioninKashmir–sometimesitinvoluntarilyslipped

intothevocabularyofLoyaliststoo.)‘Hewritesagainstusopenly,butstillwerespectandadmirehim.Thisisthemeaningofdemocracy.Somedayyouwillunderstandwhatabeautifulthingitis.’HeturnedtoaddressNaga,switchingtoEnglish(whichtheboyunderstood,butcouldnotspeak).‘Afterbeingwithusandcomingtoknowuswell,thisboyhasseentheerrorofhisways.Nowhethinksofusashisfamily.Hehasrenouncedhispastanddenouncedhiscolleaguesandthosewhoforciblyindoctrinatedhim.Hehashimselfrequestedustokeephimincustodyfortwoyearssothathecanbesafefromthem.Hisparentsarebeingallowedtovisithim.Inafewdayshewillbetransferredtojail,tojudicialcustody.Therearemanyboyslikehimwhoarewithushere,readytoworkwithus.Youcanspeakwithhim–askhimanything.It’snoproblem.Hewilltalk.’Nagasaidnothing.Tiloremainedatthewindow.Itwascooloutside,but

theairrumbledandsmelledofdiesel.Shewatchedsoldiersescortayoungwomanwithababyinherarmsthroughthemazeoftrucksandsoldiers.Thewomanseemedreluctanttogo.Shekeptturningaroundtolookbackatsomething.ThesoldiersdepositedheroutsidethetallmetalgatesoftheShiraz,beyondthecoiledrazor-wirefencethatbarricadedthetorturecentrefromthemainroad.Thewomanremainedstandingwhereshehadbeendeposited.Asmall,desperate,frightenedfigure,atrafficislandonthecrossroadstonowhere.Foramomentthesilenceintheroomgrewawkward.

‘OhIseeIunderstand…youwouldliketospeakwithhimoneonone?ShallIgoout?It’snoproblem.Icaneasilygoout.’AshfaqMirrangabell.‘I’mgoingout,’heinformedthepuzzledorderlywhoansweredthebell.‘Wearegoingout.Wewillsitintheoutsideroom.’Havingorderedhimselfoutofhisownoffice,heleftandshutthedoor.Tilo

turnedaroundbrieflytowatchhimleave.Throughthegapbetweenthebottomofthedoorandthefloorshecouldseehisbrownshoesblockingthelight.Withinasecondhecamebackinwithamanwhocarriedablueplasticchair.Itwaspositionedfacingtheboyonthefloor.‘Pleasehaveaseat,Sir.Hewilltalk.Youneednotworry.Hewillnotharm

you.I’mgoingnow,OK?Youcanspeakinprivate.’Heleft,closingthedoorbehindhim.Hereturnedalmostimmediately.‘IforgottotellyouthathisnameisAijaz.Askhimanything.’Helookedat

Aijazandhistonebecameslightlyperemptory.‘Answerwhateverheasksyou.Urduisnoproblem.YoucanspeakinUrdu.’‘Ji,Sir,’theboysaid,notlookingup.‘He’saKashmiri,I’maKashmiri,we’rebrothers–andjustlookatus!OK.

I’llgoout.’

AshfaqMirlefttheroomonceagain.Andonceagainhisshoespacedupanddownjustoutsidethedoor.

‘Wouldyouliketosayanything?’NagaaskedAijaz,ignoringthechairandcrouchingonthefloorinfrontofhim.‘Youdon’thaveto.Onlyifyouwantto.Onorofftherecord.’AijazheldNaga’sgazeforamoment.Themortificationofbeingdescribed

asarenegadecleanoutstrippedthephysicalpainhewasin.HeknewwhoNagawas.Hedidn’trecognizehisface,obviously,butNaga’snamewaswellknowninmilitantcirclesasafearlessjournalist–notafellowtravellerbyanymeans,butsomeonewhocouldbeuseful–amemberofthe‘humanright-wing’,assomemilitantsjokinglycalledIndianjournalistswhowroteeven-handedlyandequallyconscientiouslyabouttheexcessescommittedbythesecurityforcesaswellasthemilitants.(Naga’spoliticalshifthadstillnotmanifesteditselfasadiscerniblepattern,noteventohimself.)Aijazknewhehadonlymomentswithinwhichtodecidewhattodo.Likeagoalkeeperinapenaltyshoot-out,hehadtocommithimselfonewayoranother.Hewasyoung–hechosetheriskieroption.Hebegantospeak,quietlyandclearly,inKashmiri-accentedUrdu.Theincongruitybetweenhisappearanceandhiswordswasalmostasshockingasthewordsthemselves.‘Iknowwhoyouare,Sir.Strugglingpeople,peoplefightingfortheir

freedomanddignity,knowNagarajHariharanasanhonest,uprightjournalist.Ifyouwriteaboutmeyoumustwritethetruth.It’snottruewhathe–AshfaqSahib–said.Theytorturedme,theygavemeelectricshocksandmademesignablanksheet.Thisiswhattheydoherewitheverybody.Idon’tknowwhattheywroteonitlater.Idon’tknowwhattheyhavemademesayinit.ThetruthisthatIhavenotdenouncedanybody.ThetruthisthatIhonourthosewhotrainedmeinjihadmorethanIhonourmyownparents.Theydidn’tforcemetojointhem.ItwasIwhowentlookingforthem.’Tiloturnedaround.‘IwasinClassTwelveinagovernmentschoolinTangmarg.Ittookmeone

wholeyeartogetrecruited.They–Lashkar–wereverysuspiciousofmebecauseIdidn’thaveanyfamilymemberwhohadbeenkilled,torturedormadetodisappear.IdiditforAzadiandforIslam.Theytookoneyeartobelieveme,tocheckmeout,toseeifIwasanarmyagent,orifmyfamilywouldbeleftwithoutabreadwinnerifIbecameamilitant.Theyareverycarefulabout–’Fourpolicemenburstintotheroomwithtraysofomelettes,bread,kebabs,

onionrings,choppedcarrotsandmoretea.AshfaqMirappearedbehindthemlikeacharioteerdrivinghishorses.Hepersonallyservedthefoodontotheplates,takinghistimetoarrangethecarrotsontheouterrim,theonionsinside,likeanimpenetrablemilitaryformation.Theroomfellsilent.There

wereonlytwoplates.Aijazreturnedhisgazetothefloor.Tiloturnedbacktothewindow.Thetruckscameandwent.Thewomanwiththebabywasstillstandinginthemiddleoftheroad.Theskywasaflamingrose.Themountainsinthedistancewereethereallybeautiful,butithadbeenanotherterribleyearfortourism.‘Pleasegoahead.Helpyourself.Willyoulikekebab?Noworlater?Please,

keeptalking.Noproblem.OK,I’mgoing.’AndforthefourthtimeintenminutesAshfaqMirlefthisofficeandstoodoutsidethedoor.NagawaspleasedbywhatAijazhadsaidabouthimanddelightedthatit

hadbeensaidinfrontofTilo.Hecouldnotresistasmallperformance.‘Youcrossedover?YouweretrainedinPakistan?’NagaaskedAijazonce

hewassureAshfaqMirwasoutofearshot.‘No.Iwastrainedhere.InKashmir.Wehaveeverythingherenow.

Training,weapons…Webuyourammunitionfromthearmy.It’stwentyrupeesforabullet,ninehundredfor–’‘Fromthearmy?’‘Yes.Theydon’twantthemilitancytoend.Theydon’twanttoleave

Kashmir.Theyareveryhappywiththesituationasitis.EverybodyonallsidesismakingmoneyonthebodiesofyoungKashmiris.Somanyofthegrenadeblastsandmassacresaredonebythem.’‘You’reaKashmiri.WhydidyouchoosetheLashkarinsteadofHizbor

JKLF?’‘BecauseeventheHizbhasrespectforcertainpoliticalleadersinKashmir.

InLashkarwehavenorespectfortheseleaders.Ihavenorespectforanyleader.Theyhavecheatedandbetrayedus.TheyhavemadetheirpoliticalcareersonthebodiesofKashmiris.Theyhavenoplan.IjoinedLashkarbecauseIwantedtodie.Iamsupposedtobedead.IdidnoteverthinkIwouldbecaughtalive.’‘Butfirst–beforeyoudied–youwantedtokill…?’AijazlookedNagaintheeye.‘Yes.Iwantedtokillthemurderersofmypeople.Isthatwrong?Youcan

writethat.’

AshfaqMirburstin,smilingbroadly,buthisunsmilingeyesdartedfrompersontoperson,tryingtoassesswhathadpassedbetweenthem.‘Enough?Happy?Didhecooperate?Beforepublicationyoucanplease

reconfirmwithmeanyfactshegaveyou.He’saterrorist,afterall.Myterroristbrother.’Andonceagainheguffawedhappilyandranghisbell.Theburly

policemanreturned,gatheredAijazinhisarmsandcarriedhimaway.Oncethesnackhadbeenclearedawayonitsburlytray,NagaandTilo

weregivencheerful(butunspoken)permissiontoleave.Thefoodonthe

platesremaineduntouched,themilitaryformationunbreached.

OntheirwaytoAhdoos,sittingintheclaustrophobicbackseatofanarmouredGypsy,NagaheldTilo’shand.Tiloheldhishandback.Hewasacutelyawareofthecircumstancesinwhichthattentativeexchangeoftendernesswastakingplace.Hecouldfeelthetremor,themotorunderherskin.Still,ofallthewomenintheworld,tohavethiswoman’shandinhismadehimindescribablyhappy.Thesmellinsidethejeepwasoverpowering–arankcocktailofsourmetal,

gunpowder,hairoil,fearandtreachery.Itscustomarypassengersweremaskedinformers,knownas‘Cats’.Duringcordon-and-searchoperations,theadultmenofthecordonedneighbourhoodwouldberoundedupandparadedpastthearmouredGypsy,thatubiquitoussymbolofdreadintheKashmirValley.Fromthedepthsofhismetalcage,theconcealedCatwouldnod,orblink,andamanwouldbetakenoutofthelinetobetortured,‘disappeared’,ortodie.Nagaknewallthisofcourse,butitdidnothingtolessentheintensityofhiscontentment.Thesullencitywaswideawakebutfeigningsleep.Emptystreets,closed

markets,shutteredshopsandlockedhousesslidpastthejeep’sslitwindows–‘deathwindows’,localpeoplecalledthem,becausewhatpeeredoutofthemwereeithersoldiers’gunsorinformers’eyes.Packsofstreetdogsslouchedaboutlikesmallbears,theirburredcoatsthickeninginanticipationoftheapproachingwinter.Otherthantensesoldiersonhair-triggeralert,therewasnotahumaninsight.Bymid-morningthecurfewwouldbeliftedandthesecuritywithdrawntoallowpeopletoreclaimtheircityforafewhours.Theywouldswarmoutoftheirhomesintheirhundredsofthousandsandmarchtothegraveyard,unawarethateventheoutpouringoftheirgriefandfuryhadbecomepartofastrategic,military,managementplan.NagawaitedforTilotosaysomething.Shedidn’t.Whenhetriedtoinitiate

aconversationshesaid,‘Please.Canwe…isit…possible…tonottalk?’‘Garsonsaidtheyhadkilledaman,aCommanderGulrez…theythink,or

Idon’tknowwhothinks…Garsonthinks…ormaybetheytoldhimitwasMusa.Wasit?Justthat.Tellmejustthat?’Shesaidnothingforamoment.Thensheturnedandlookedstraightathim.

Hereyeswerebrokenglass.‘Itwasimpossibletotell.’WhenhecoveredtheconflictinPunjab,Nagahadseen,oftenenough,the

conditionofbodieswhentheycameoutofinterrogationcentres.SohetookwhatTilosaidasconfirmationofhissuspicions.HeunderstoodthatitwouldtakeTiloawhiletogetoverwhatshehadbeenthrough.Hewaspreparedtowait.Hethoughtheknewenough–oratleastallthathereallyneededto

know–aboutwhathadhappened.HeforgavehimselfforthefactthatTilo’sanguishwas,forhim,thesourceofexquisitecontentment.Tilo’sanswertoNaga’squestionwasn’tanoutrightlie.Butitcertainly

wasn’tthetruth.Thetruthwasthatgiventheconditionofthebodyshesaw,hadshenotknownwhoitwas,itwouldhavebeenimpossibletotell.Butshedidknowwhoitwas.Sheknewverywellthatitwasn’tMusa.Withthatuntruthorhalf-truthorone-tenthtruth(orwhateverotherfraction

ofthetruthitwas),thebarrierscamedownandthebordersofthecountrywithoutconsulatesweresealed.TheepisodeattheShirazwasfiledawayasaclosedsubject.WhentheyreturnedtoDelhi,sinceTilowasinnoconditiontobeleftalone

inwhatNagacalledher‘storeroom’intheNizamuddinbasti,heinvitedhertostayforawhileinhislittleflatontheroofofhisparents’house.Whenhefinallysawher‘haircut’hetoldherthatitreallysuitedherandthatwhoeverhaddoneitshouldbecomeahairdresser.Thatmadehersmile.Afewweekslaterheaskedherifshewouldmarryhim.Shedelightedhim

bysayingthatshewould.Verysoon,tohisparents’utterdismay,theceremonywas,astheysay,solemnized.TheyweremarriedonChristmasDay,1996.IfcoverwaswhatTiloneeded,shecouldn’thavedonebetterthan

becomingthedaughter-in-lawofAmbassadorShivashankarHariharanwithahomeaddressinDiplomaticEnclave.

Sheheldthatlifetogetherforfourteenyearsandthensuddenly,shecouldn’tanymore.Therewereanumberofexplanationsforwhythiswasso,butchiefamongthemwasexhaustion.Shegrewtiredoflivingalifethatwasn’treallyhersatanaddresssheoughtn’ttobeat.Ironically,whenthedriftbegan,shewasfonderofNagathanshehadeverbeen.Itwasherselfshewasexhaustedby.Shehadlosttheabilitytokeepherdiscreteworldsdiscrete–askillthatmanyconsidertobethecornerstoneofsanity.Thetrafficinsideherheadseemedtohavestoppedbelievingintrafficlights.Theresultwasincessantnoise,afewbadcrashesandeventuallygridlock.

Lookingbacknow,NagarealizedthatforyearshehadlivedwiththesubconsciousdreadthatTilowasjustpassingthroughhislife,likeacamelcrossingadesert.Thatshewouldsurelyleavehimoneday.Still,whenitactuallyhappened,ittookhimawhiletobelieveit.HisoldfriendR.C.,whohadalwaysmaintainedthatworkinginthe

IntelligenceBureauandreadinginterrogationtranscriptsgaveamananunparalleledunderstandingofhumannature,moreprofoundthananypreacher,poetorpsychiatristcouldeverhopetoattain,tookhiminhand.

‘Whatsheneeds,I’msorrytosay,istwotightslaps.Thismodernapproachofyoursdoesn’talwayswork.Attheendofthedaywe’reallanimals.Weneedtobeshownourpeeellaseeee.Alittleclaritywillgoalongwaytowardshelpingalltheconcernedparties.Youwillbedoingherafavourforwhichshewill,oneday,begrateful.Believeme,Ispeakfromexperience.’R.C.oftendroppedhisvoicemid-sentenceandspelledoutrandomwords,asthoughhewashoodwinkinganimaginaryeavesdropperwhodidn’tknowhowtospell.Healwaysreferredtopeopleas‘parties’.‘Attheendoftheday’washisfavouritelaunchingpadforallhisadviceandinsights,justaswhenhewantedtobelittlesomeonehealwaysbeganbysaying,‘Withallduerespect.’R.C.chastisedNagaforallowingTilotorefusetohavechildren.Children,

hesaid,wouldhaveboundhertotheirmarriagelikenothingelsecould.Hewasasmall,soft,effeminatemanwithasalt-and-peppermoustache.Hehadasmall,softwifeandasmall,softteenageddaughterwhowasstudyingmolecularbiology.Theylookedlikeamodelfamilyofsmall,softtoys.Socomingfromhim,thismasculineadvicewasstartlingeventoNaga,whohadknownhimforyears.NagafelltowonderingaboutthenatureandfrequencyoftightslapsthathadkeptMrsR.C.inplace.Outwardlyshelookedplacidandperfectlycontentwithherlot–withherhousefulofmementoesandhercollectionofsomewhattastelessjewelleryandexpensiveKashmirishawls.Hecouldn’timaginethatshewasreallyavolcanoofhiddenfuriesthatneededtobedisciplinedandslappedfromtimetotime.R.C.,wholovedtheblues,playedasongforNaga.BillieHoliday’s‘No

GoodMan’.

I’mtheonewhogetsTherun-around,IoughtahatehimAndyetIlovehimsoForIrequireLovethat’smadeoffire

R.C.heard‘Ioughtahatehim’as‘Allthehittin’’.‘Women,’hesaid.‘Allwomen.Noexceptions.Getit?’

TilohadalwaysremindedNagaofBillieHoliday.Notthewomansomuchashervoice.Ifitwaspossibleforahumanbeingtoevokeavoice,asound,thenforNaga,TiloevokedBillieHoliday’svoice–shehadthatsamequalityoflimbering,heart-stopping,fucked-upunexpectednesstoher.R.C.hadnoideawhathehadsetoffwhenheusedBillieHolidaytoillustratethepointhewasmaking.Onemorning,Naga,who,whateverhisotherfaults,wasphysicallythe

gentlestofmen,hithiswife.Notveryconvincingly,theybothrealized.But

hedidhither.Thenheheldherandwept.‘Don’tgo.Pleasedon’tgo.’ThatdayTilostoodatthegateandwatchedhimbeingdrivenawayinhis

officecar,byhisofficedriver.Shecouldn’tseethathecriedinthebackseatallthewaytowork.Nagawasnotacryingman.(Whenheappearedasaguestonaprime-timeTVdebateaboutnationalsecuritylaterthatnight,heshowednosignsofpersonaldistress.HewassharpwithhisreparteeandmadequickworkoftheHumanRightswomanwhosaidthatNewIndiawasslidingtowardsfascism.Naga’slaconicresponseraisedatitterfromthecarefullypickedstudioaudienceofnattilydressedstudentsandambitiousyoungprofessionals.Anotherguest,aretired,geriatricarmygeneral,allmoustacheandmedals,whowastrundledoutregularlybyTVstudiostosupplyvenomandstupiditytoalldiscussionsonnationalsecurity,laughedandapplauded.)Tilotookabustotheedgeofthecity.Shewalkedthroughmilesofcity

waste,abrightlandfillofcompactedplasticbagswithanarmyofraggedchildrenpickingthroughit.Theskywasadarkswirlofravensandkitescompetingwiththechildren,pigsandpacksofdogsforthespoils.Inthedistance,garbagetruckswoundtheirwayslowlyupthegarbagemountain.Partlycollapsedcliffsofrefuserevealedthedepthofwhathadaccumulated.Shetookanotherbustotheriverfront.Shestoppedonabridgeand

watchedamanrowacircularraftbuiltwitholdmineral-waterbottlesandplasticjerrycansacrossthethick,slow,filthyriver.Buffaloessankblissfullyintotheblackwater.Onthepavementvendorssoldlushmelonsandsleekgreencucumbersgrowninpurefactoryeffluent.Shespentanhouronathirdbusandgotoffatthezoo.Foralongtimeshe

watchedthelittlegibbonfromBorneoinhisvast,emptyenclosure,afurrydothuggingatalltreeasthoughhislifedependedonit.Thegroundunderneaththetreewaslitteredwiththingsvisitorshadthrownathimtoattracthisattention.Therewasagibbon-shapedcementtrashcanoutsidethegibbon’scageandahippo-shapedtrashcanoutsidethehippo’scage.Thecementhippo’smouthwasopenandcrammedwithtrash.Therealhippowaswallowinginascummypond,herslick,wide,ballooningbottomthecolourofawettyre,hertinyeyessetinsidetheirpink,puffyeyelids,watchful,abovethewater.Plasticbottlesandemptycigarettepacketsfloatedaroundher.Amanbentdowntohislittledaughterdressedinabrightfrock,hereyessmudgedwithkohl.Hepointedtothehippoandsaid,‘Crocodile.’‘Cockodie,’hislittlegirlsaid,crankingupthecuteness.Aknotofnoisyyoungmenflickedrazorbladesacrossthebarredenclosureanddownthecementbanksofthehippopond.WhentheyranoutofbladestheyaskedTiloifshewouldtakeaphotographofthem.Oneofthem,withringsoneveryfingerandfadedredthreadsaroundhiswrists,composedthepictureforher,handedherhisphoneandranbackintotheframe.Heputhisarmsaroundhis

companions’shouldersandmadethevictorysign.WhenTiloreturnedthephoneshecongratulatedthemforthecourageitmustrequiretofeedacagedhipporazorblades.Ittookawhilefortheinsulttoregister.Whenitdid,theyfollowedheraroundthezoowiththatleeringDelhiyodel‘Oye!Hapshiemadam!’Hey!Niggermadam!TheytauntedhernotbecausethecolourofherskinwasunusualinIndia,butbecausetheysawinherbearinganddemeanoura‘hapshie’–HindiforAbyssinian–whohadrisenaboveherstation.A‘hapshie’whowasclearlynotamaidservantoralabourer.

TherewasanIndianrockpythonineverycageinthesnakehouse.Snakescam.Therewerecowsinthesambarstag’senclosure.Deerscam.AndtherewerewomenconstructionworkerscarryingbagsofcementintheSiberiantigerenclosure.Siberiantigerscam.Mostofthebirdsintheaviarywereonesyoucouldseeonthetreesanyway.Birdscam.Atthecageofthesulphur-crestedcockatoooneoftheyoungmeninsinuatedhimselfnexttoTiloandsangtothecockatoo,settinghisownlyricstothetuneofapopularBollywoodsong:

DuniyakhatamhojayegiChudaikhatamnahihogi

Theworldwillend,Butfuckingneverwill.

ItwasintendedtobedoublyinsultingbecauseTilowasatleastdoublehisage.

Outsidetheenclosureoftherosypelicansshereceivedatextmessageonherphone:

OrganicHomesonNH24Ghaziabad1BHK15L*2BHK18L*3BHK31L*BookingstartingatRs35000ForDiscountcall91-103-957-9-8

ThedustyoldNicaraguanjaguarhadhischinonthedustyledgeofhiscage.Hestayedlikethat,supremelyindifferent,forhours.Maybeyears.Tilofeltlikehim.Dusty,oldandsupremelyindifferent.Maybeshewashim.Maybesomedayshewouldhaveanexpensivecitycarnamedafterher.

Whenshemovedout,shedidn’ttakemuchwithher.Atfirstitwasn’tcleartoNagaor,forthatmatter,eventoherthatshehadmovedout.Shetoldhimshehadrentedanofficespace,shedidn’tsaywhere.(GarsonHobartdidn’ttellhimeither.)Forafewmonthsshecameandwent.Overtimeshewentmorethanshecame,andthengraduallyshestoppedreturninghome.Nagabeganhislifeasanewlyunmarriedmanbyplungingintoworkand

intoastringofgloomyaffairs.BeingonTVasoftenashewashadmadehimwhatmagazinesandnewspaperscalleda‘celebrity’,whichpeopleseemedtothinkwasaprofessioninandofitself.Atrestaurantsandairportsstrangersoftenapproachedhimforanautograph.Manyofthemweren’tevensurewhohewas,orwhatexactlyhedidorwhyhelookedfamiliar.Nagawastooboredtoevenbothertorefuse.Unlikemostmenofhisage,hewasstillslim,andhadafullheadofhair.Beingseenas‘successful’gavehimthepickofarangeofwomen,somesingleandfaryoungerthanhim,andsomehisageorolder,marriedandlookingforvariety,ordivorcedandlookingforasecondchance.Thefrontrunneramongthemwasaslender,stylishwidowinhermid-thirtieswithmilk-whiteskinandglossyhair–minorroyaltyfromasmallprincipality–inwhomNaga’smothersawheryoungerself,andcovetedmorethanhersondid.SheinvitedtheladyandPrinceCharles,herchihuahua,tostaywithherdownstairsasahouseguest,fromwheretheycouldjointlyplanthecaptureofthesummit.Afewmonthsintotheiraffair,thePrincessbegantocallNaga‘jaan’–

Beloved.ShetaughttheservantsinthehousetocallherBaiSainthetraditionofRajputroyalty.ShecookedNagadishesmadewithsecretfamilyrecipesfromherfamily’sroyalkitchen.Sheorderednewcurtains,embroideredcushionsandlovelydhurriesforthefloor.Shebroughtasweet,sunny,femininetouchtoanegregiouslyneglectedapartment.HerattentionswerebalmtoNaga’sinjuredpride.Thoughhedidn’treciprocateherfeelingswiththesameintensitywithwhichtheywereoffered,heacceptedthemwithatiredgrace.Hehadalmostforgottenwhatitwasliketobethedoted-ononeinacouple.Notwithstandinghisgeneralprejudicetowardssmalldogs,hegrewinordinatelyfondofPrinceCharles.Hetookhimtotheneighbourhoodparkregularly,wherehethrewatiny,saucer-sizedfrisbeeforhimthathehadsourcedandboughtonline.PrinceCharleswouldretrievehissaucer-frisbee,lollopingbacktoNagathroughweedsthatwerealmostastallashewas.ThePrincessplayedhostessatafewdinnersthatNagathrew.R.C.wasentrancedbyherandimpresseduponNagathatheshouldlosenotimeandmarryherwhileshewasstillofchildbearingage.Naga,stilldistraughtandstillvulnerabletoR.C.’sdisastrousadvice,asked

thePrincessifshewouldliketomoveinforatrialrun.Shereachedacrossandtenderlyneatenedhisunrulyeyebrows,pressingthehairsintoaridgebetweenherforefingerandherthumb.Shesaidnothingwouldmakeher

happier,butthatbeforeshemovedinshewouldneedtoliberateTilo’schithatstillhungaboutthehouse.WithNaga’spermissionshedry-roastedwholeredchilliesandcarriedthesmokingcopperpotfromroomtoroom,coughingdelicatelyandturningherglossyheadawayfromtheacridsmokewithhereyesscrewedshut.Whenthechilliesstoppedsmokingshesaidaprayerandburiedtheminthegardenalongwiththepot.ThenshetiedaredthreadaroundNaga’swristandlitexpensivescentedcandles,oneineachroom,andleftthemtoburndowntothewick.SheboughtadozenlargecardboardcartonsforNagatopackTilo’sthingsintoandtakedowntothebasement.ItwaswhilehewascleaningoutTilo’scupboard(thatsmelledsounashamedlyofher)thatNagacameuponTilo’smother’sthickmedicalfilefromLakeviewHospitalinCochin.

InalltheyearsheandTilohadbeenmarried,NagahadnevermetTilo’smother.Tilonevertalkedabouther.Heknewthebroadcontoursofcourse.HernamewasMaryamIpe.Shebelongedtoanold,aristocraticSyrianChristianfamilythathadfallenonbadtimes.Twogenerationsofthefamily–herfatherandherbrother–hadgraduatedfromOxfordandsheherselfhadbeeneducatedataconventschoolinOotacamund,ahillstationintheNilgiris,andthenataChristiancollegeinMadras,afterwhichherfather’sillnessforcedhertoreturntoherhometowninKerala.NagaknewthatshehadbeenanEnglishteacherinalocalschoolbeforeshestartedherownschool,whichgrewtobeanextremelysuccessfulhighschoolknownforitsinnovativeteachingmethods–theschoolthatTilohadattendedbeforeshecametocollegeinDelhi.HehadreadafewnewspaperarticlesaboutTilo’smotherinwhichTilowasnevernamed,butalwaysreferredtoasheradopteddaughterwholivedinDelhi.R.C.(whosejobitwastoknoweverythingabouteverybodyandtoleteverybodyknowthathekneweverythingabouteverybody)hadoncemadeafileofclippingsforhim,saying,‘YourFoster-Mother-in-Lawisacoolchick,yaar.’Thearticlesspannedaperiodofseveralyears–somewereaboutherschool,itsteachingmethodsanditsbeautifulcampus,somewereaboutthesocialandenvironmentalcampaignsthatshehadledortheawardsshehadwon.Theytoldthestoryofawomanwhohadovercomegreatadversityinherearlylifetobecomewhatshewas–aniconicfeministwhonevermovedtoabigcity,butchoseinsteadtotakethehardpathandcontinuetoliveandfightherbattlesintheconservativelittletownshebelongedto.Theydescribedhowshehadstruggledagainstcabalsofbullyingmen,howsheeventuallywontherespectandadmirationofthosewhohadtormentedherandhowshehadinspiredawholegenerationofyoungwomentofollowtheirdreamsanddesires.ItwasobvioustoanybodywhoknewTilothatshewasnotthefoster-

daughterofthewomaninthephotographsinthosearticles.Althoughtheir

complexionsweredramaticallydifferent,theirfeatureswerestrikinglysimilar.Fromwhatlittleheknew,Nagasensedtherewasasubstantialpieceofthe

puzzlethathadgonemissinginthenewspaperstories–asortofepicMacondomadness,thestuffofliterature,notjournalism.Althoughheneversaidso,hefeltTilo’sattitudetowardshermotherwaspunitiveandunreasonable.Inhisopinion,evenifitwastruethatTilowasherrealchildwhomshewouldnotpubliclyacknowledge,itwasequallytruethatforayoungwomanwhobelongedtoatraditionalcommunity,tohavechosenalifeofindependence,chosentoeschewmarriageinordertoclaimachildborntoheroutofwedlock–evenifitmeantmaskingitasbenevolenceandmasqueradingasthebaby’sfoster-mother–wasanactofimmensecourageandlove.Naganoticedthatinallthenewspaperarticles,theparagraphconcerning

Tilowasalwaysasetpiece:‘SisterScholasticacalledmetosaythatacooliewomanhadleftanewbornbabyinabasketoutsidetheMountCarmelorphanage.SheaskedifIwantedtotakeher.Myfamilywasdeadagainstit,butIthoughtthatifIadoptedherIcouldgiveheranewlife.Shewasajet-blackbaby,likealittlepieceofcoal.ShewassosmallshealmostfittedinthepalmofmyhandsoIcalledherTilottama,whichmeans“sesameseed”inSanskrit.’HurtfulasthismighthavebeenforTilo,Nagathoughtsheshouldbeable

tolookatitfromhermother’spointofview–sheneededtodistanceherselffromherbabyifonlyinordertobeabletoclaimher,ownherandloveher.AccordingtoNaga,thecreditforTilo’sindividuality,herquirkinessand

unusualness–regardlessofwhichschoolyousubscribedto,natureornurture–wentstraighttohermother.Butnothinghecouldsay,directlyorindirectly,ledtoarapprochement.SoNagawaspuzzledwhen,havingkeptawayfromhermotherforso

manyyears,TilosoreadilyagreedtogotoCochinandlookafterherinhospital.Heimagined(eventhoughhecouldn’trecallTiloeverhavingbetrayedanycuriosityonthesubject)thatitcouldhavebeeninthehopeofgainingsomeinformation,adeathbedrevelationperhaps,aboutherselfandwhoherfatherreallywas.Hewasright.Butitturnedouttobealittlelateforthatsortofthing.

BythetimeTiloreachedCochin,hermother’sdeterioratinglungshadledtoabuild-upofcarbondioxideinherbloodstream,whichinturnledtotheinflammationofherbrain,whichmadeherseverelydisoriented.Toaddtothat,hermedicationandherextendedstayintheICUhadinducedaformof

psychosiswhichdoctorssaidparticularlyaffectedpowerful,self-willedpeoplewhosuddenlyfoundthemselveshelplessandatthemercyofthosetheyhadoncetreatedasminions.Otherthanthehospitalstaff,herangerandbewildermentweredirectedatherfaithfuloldservantsandtheteachersfromherschoolwhotookturnstobeonhospitalduty.TheyhoveredaroundinthehospitalcorridorandwereallowedtovisittheirbelovedAmmachiintheICUforafewminuteseverycoupleofhours.OnthedayTiloarrived,hermother’sfacelitup.‘I’mscratchingallthetime,’shesaidbywayofgreeting.‘Hesaysit’sgood

toscratch,butIcouldn’tstanditanymore,soItookthescratchingmedicine.Howareyou?’Sheheldupherdarkpurplearms,oneofthemattachedtoadrip,toshow

Tilowhathadhappenedtoherskinfromhavingbeenproddedandpokedwithneedlesbythedoctors’endlesssearchforveinsthatwerestillopen.Mostofherveinshadcollapsedandcloseddownandformedadarkerpurplewebunderneaththealready-purpleskin.‘Thenwillhestriphissleeveandshowhisscarsandsay,“Thesewounds

hadIonCrispin’sday.”Remember?Itaughtyouthat.’‘Yes.’‘What’sthenextline?’‘“Oldmenforget.Yetallshallbeforgot.Buthe’llrememberwith

advantageswhatfeatshedidthatday.”’Tilohadforgottenthatsheremembered.Shakespearecamebacktohernot

asafeatofmemorysomuchasmusic,asanoldtuneremembered.Shewastakenabackbyhermother’scondition,butthedoctorswerepleasedandsaidthefactthathermotherhadrecognizedherwasaremarkableimprovement.ThatdaytheymovedhertoaprivateroomwithawindowthatoverlookedthesaltwaterlagoonandtheCoconuttreesthatbentintoitandthemonsoonstormsthatblewacrossit.Theimprovementdidn’tlast.Inthedaysthatfollowedtheoldladydrifted

inandoutoflucidityanddidn’talwaysrecognizeTilo.Eachdaywasanunpredictablenewchapterinthecourseherillnesstook.Shedevelopednewquirksandirrationalpreoccupations.Thehospitalstaff,thedoctors,nursesandeventheattendantswerekind,andseemednottotakeanythingshesaidtoheart.TheytoocalledherAmmachi,spongedher,changedhernappiesandcombedherhairwithnosignofannoyanceorrancour.Infact,themorehavocshecreated,themoretheyseemedtoloveher.AfewdaysafterTiloarrived,hermotherdevelopedaweirdfixation.She

turnedintoasortofcaste-inquisitor.Shebegantoinsistonknowingthecasteandsubcasteandsub-subcasteofeverybodywhoattendedtoher.Itwasn’tenoughiftheysaidtheywere‘SyrianChristian’–shehadtoknowwhethertheywereMarthoma,Yacoba,ChurchofSouthIndiaorC’naah.Iftheywere

‘Hindu’,itwasn’tenoughiftheysaidEzhava,shehadtoknowiftheywereTheeyasorChekavars.Iftheysaid‘ScheduledCaste’,shehadtoknowiftheywereParayas,Pulayas,Paravans,Ulladans.Weretheyoriginallyofthecoconut-pickercaste?Orweretheirancestorsdesignatedcorpse-carriers,shit-cleaners,clothes-washersorrat-catchers?Sheinsistedonspecificsandonlyoncesheknewwouldshepermitherselftobehandledbythem.IftheywereSyrianChristian,thenwhatwastheirfamilyname?Whosenephewwasmarriedtowhosesister-in-law’sniece?Whosegrandfatherhadbeenmarriedtowhosegreat-grandfather’ssister’sdaughter?‘COPD,’thesmilingnursessaidtoTilowhentheysawtheexpressionon

herface.‘Don’tworry.Ithappenslikethisalways.’Shelookeditup.ChronicObstructivePulmonaryDisease.ThenursestoldTiloitwasadiseasethatcouldgiveharmlessoldgrandmothersthemannersofbrothel-ownersandmakebishopsswearlikedrunks.Itwasbestnottotakeanythingpersonally.Theywerefabulousgirls,thosenurses,preciseandprofessional.EachofthemwaswaitingforajobthatwouldtakehertoaGulfcountry,ortoEnglandortheUS,wheretheywouldjointhatelitecommunityofMalayalinurses.Untilthen,theyflutteredaroundthepatientsinLakeviewHospitallikebutterflyhealers.TheybecamefriendswithTiloandexchangedphonenumbersandemailaddresses.Foryearsafterthatshe’dreceiveWhatsAppChristmasgreetingsandround-robinMalayalinursejokesfromthem.Asherillnessintensified,theoldladybecamerestlessandalmost

impossibletomanage.Sleepforsookherandshestayedawake,nightafternight,herpupilsdilated,hereyesterrified,talkingcontinuouslytoherselfandtoanybodywhowouldlisten.Itwasasthoughshethoughtshecouldoutsmartdeathbyremainingconstantlyvigilant.Soshetalkedcontinuously,sometimesbelligerent,sometimespleasantandamusing.Shesangsnatchesofoldsongs,hymns,Christmascarols,Onamboat-racesongs.SherecitedShakespeareinherimpeccableconvent-schoolEnglish.Whenshegotupsetsheinsultedeverybodyaroundherinahard-coredialectofguttersnipeMalayalamthatnobodycouldworkouthow(andfromwhere)intheworldawomanofherclassandbreedinghadpickedup.Asthedaysworeon,shegrewmoreandmoreaggressive.Herappetiteincreaseddramaticallyandshedownedsoft-boiledeggsandpineappleupside-downpastrieswiththeurgencyofaconvictonparole.Shetappedintoreservesofphysicalstrengththatwerenothingshortofsuperhumanforawomanofherage.Shefoughtoffnursesanddoctors,pulledportsandsyringesoutofherveins.Shecouldnotbesedatedbecausesedativessuppressedlungfunction.FinallyshewasmovedbacktotheICU.Thatmadeherfuriousandpushedherfurtherintopsychosis.Hereyes

turnedslyandhuntedandsheconstantlyplottedherescape.Sheofferedbribestonursesandattendants.Shepromisedayoungdoctorthatshewould

signoverherschoolanditsgroundstohimifhewouldhelphertogetout.Twiceshemadeitallthewaydownthecorridorinherhospitalgown.Afterthatepisodetwonurseshadtokeepconstantvigil,andoccasionallyevenholdherdowninherbed.Whenshehadexhaustedeverybodyaroundherthedoctorssaidthehospitalcouldnotaffordtogiveherround-the-clocknursingcareandthatshewouldneedtobephysicallyrestrained,strappedtoherbed.TheyaskedTilo,ashernextofkin,tosigntheformsthatgavethempermissiontodoso.Tiloaskedthemforonelastchancetotrytocalmhermotherdown.Thedoctorsagreed,ifalittlereluctantly.ThelasttimeshecalledNagafromthehospital,Tilotoldhimthatshehad

beengivenspecialpermissiontostaybyhermother’ssideintheICUbecauseshehadfinallyfoundawayofsoothingher.Hethoughthedetectedahintoflaughterandevenaffectioninhervoice.Shesaidshehadfoundasimple,workablesolution.Shesatonachairbyhermother’sbedwithanotebookandhermotherdictatedendlessnotestoher.Sometimestheywereletters:DearParentcommanextline…ithasbeenbroughttomynoticethat…didyouputacommaafterDearParent?Mostlytheywerepuregibberish.Somehowtheideaofdictatingthings,Tilosaid,seemedtomakehermotherfeelthatshewasstillthecaptainoftheship,stillinchargeofsomething,andthatcalmedherdownconsiderably.NagahadnoideawhatTilowastalkingaboutandtoldhershesoundeda

littledeliriousherself.Shelaughedandsaidhe’dunderstandwhenhesawthenotes.HerememberedwonderingatthetimewhatkindofpersonitwasthatgotonbestwithhermotherwhenshewashallucinatingonherdeathbedinanICUwhileshe,thedaughter,masqueradedasherstenographer.Eventually,though,thingsdidn’tturnoutwellinLakeviewHospital.Tilo

returnedafterhermother’sfuneral,gauntandmoreuncommunicativethanever.Herdescriptionofhermother’spassingwasbriefandalmostclinical.WithinweeksofreturningtoDelhishebeganherrestlesswandering.Naganeverdidseethenotes.

Thatmorning,asheleafedaimlesslythroughthemedicalfileinTilo’scupboard,hefoundsomeofthem.TheywereinTilo’swriting,onruledpagestornoutofanotebook,foldedupandtuckedbetweenhospitalbills,medicineprescriptions,oxygen-saturationchartsandblood-gastestresults.Ashereadthem,Nagarealizedhowlittleheknewaboutthewomanhehadmarried.Andhowlittlehewouldeverknow:

9/7/2009

Takecareofthepottedplantstheymayfall.

Andthatfold–thecrumpleintheblanket–Imighthavetotrumpthemall.

WhatdoesthatsayaboutyouMadamAmbassadorMasterBuilderParayaGirl?

Thosepeopleinblue,theyhandletheshit.Aretheyyourrelatives?

AsfarasIknowPaulosedoesn’tgetonwiththeorchids,he’skillingthem.ItcouldbeaParayaproblem.

AskBijuorRejutotakeover.

Haveyouheardthedogsatnight?Theycometotakeawaythelegsfromthediabetespeoplethatarecutoffandthrownaway.Icanhearthemhowlingandtheyrunoffwithpeople’sarmsandlegs.Nobodytellsthemnotto.

Aretheyyourdogs?Aretheyboysorgirls?Theyseemtolikesweetthings.

Canyougetmeagood-qualityjujube?

Thebluepeoplemuststophangingaroundus.

Wemustbeverycareful,youandI.Youknowthat,don’tyou?

TheyhavemeasuredmytearsandtheyareOKintermsofsaltandwater.Ihavedryeyesandmustkeepbathingthemandeatingsardinestomaketears.Sardinesarefulloftears.

Thisgirlincheckswilldostunningdeedswiththelottery.

Let’sgo.

AskRejutogetthecar.Ijustcan’t.Idon’twantto.

Hello!Hownicetomeetyou!Thisismygranddaughter.Shecannotbecontrolled.Pleaseseethatthisplaceiscleanedout.

AssoonasRejucomeslet’stakethecarandmakearunforit.Carrythepotty.Leavetheshit.

Youcomeherenow.Givemeawhisper.I’minajam.Areyouinajamtoo?

We’llsitonthepottyandmakeajumpforit.

I’llhaveaJohnnieWalker.Isheupthereontopofus?

I’lljusttaketwosheets.Butwhatshouldourlegsdo?

Willtherebeahorse?

Agreatwarhasstartedbetweenmeandthebutterflies.

WillyougetoutassoonaspossiblewithPrincey,Niceyandfriends?Takethebrassvase,theviolinandthestitches.Leavetheshitanddarkglassesandforgetaboutthebrokenchairs,they’realwayshangingaround,theycomeandgo.

She’llhelpyouwithyourshitthisgirlinchecks.Herfatherisgoingtobeheresoontotakeouttherubbish.Idon’twanthimtobecaughtwithyou.Ithinkweshouldjustclearout.

Whenyoulookoutbehindthosecurtains,doyoufeelthere’sacrowdofpeople?Ifeelthereis.There’sdefinitelyasmell.Acrowdsmell.Abitrotten,likethesea.

IthinkyoushouldleaveyourpoemsandallyourplanswithAlicekutty.Sheishideouslyugly.I’dlikeaphotographofherformetolaughat.That’shownastyIam.

Thebishopwillwanttoseemeinmycoffin.It’squiteareliefbecauseit’sformyfuneral.IneverthoughtI’dgetthere.Isitraining,isitshining,isitdarkisitdayisitnight?Can’tsomebodypleasetellme?

NowBUNK.

Andgetthesehorsesout.

Ithinkit’smeantotakethisgirlandemptyouthereverything.

Getup!!!

I’mgoingout.Youcandowhatyouwant.You’llgetsuchathrashing.

MostshamefulyouaretostandaroundsayingyouareTilottamaIpewhenyouarenot.Iwon’ttellyouanythingaboutmyselforyourselfeither.

I’mjustgoingtostandhereandsay,‘Dothisanddothat.’Andyou’lljollywelldoit.Nosalaryforyoufromtomorrow.Haveyouwrittenthat?I’llfineyoueverytime.

Goandtelleverybodythat‘Thisismymother,MsMaryamIpe,andshe’sonehundredandfiftyyearsold.’

Dotheyhavemedicineforallthehorses?

Haveyounoticedhowpeoplelooklikehorseswhentheyyawn?

Lookafteryourteethviciouslyanddon’tletanyonetakethemout.

Sometimestheyofferyouadiscountandthat’sstupid.

Checkeverythingandlet’sgo.

Andthenthere’sHannah.IowehermoneyandIhavetojumpoverallthechildrenwithcatheters.

TherearesomanycathetersandeverybodywasratherpleasedthatMrsIpewasgettingheronions.Butshe’sbeensogoodthischild.Youdidn’tremovemycatheter.Shedid.She’saproperParaya.You’veforgottenhowtobeone.

Somebodycameupandthensomebodyandsomebody.

TheshockofitallisthatYOUaregivingyourrulestoeverybody.ButIexpectpeopletoobeyme.

ButIAMincharge.Itisverydifficulttogetoutofchargeasyouwillnodoubtfind.Annammaisthequietestcreatureinourcommunity.

WhoistheAnnammawhoplaysSherlockHolmesandSherlockHolmes?Shedoesbothwithgrace.Shewasmyheadteacherwhodiedsobeautifully.Shewenthomeandbroughtmeacough.

HelloDoctorthisismydaughterwhoishomeschooled.She’sprettynasty.Shewasawfultodayattheraces.ButIwasprettyawfultoo.Wegaveeverybodyakicking.

Ispentmylifedoingridiculousthings.Iproducedababy.Her.

AndthatboywithdirtyclothesandadirtycatheterandIsatforhoursinthedirtyriver.

IfeelIamsurroundedbyeunuchs.AmI?

Music…what’swrongwithit?Ijustcan’trememberanymore.

Listentothat…it’soxygen.Bubblingtoitsdeath.Iamrunningoutofoxygen.ButIdon’tcarewhetherI’mrunningoutorrunningin.

Iwanttosleep.I’dlovetodie.Wrapmyfeetinwarmwater.

I’dliketogotosleep.I’mnotaskingforpermission.

It’slikehpsfhpsfhpsf…CUK!CUK!CUK!

Thisismyengine.

Whenyoudieyoucanhookontoacloudandwecanhaveallyourinformation.Thentheygiveyouyourbill.

WHERE’SMYMONEY?

ThearterialportisJesusChrist’sscrew.Itdoesn’thurt.

I’mjustaweemannequin.

Ilikemybum.Idon’tknowwhyDrVerghesewantstocutitoutofthepicture.

Thefrozenflowersnevergoaway.Theyhangaroundsomewhereallthetime.Ithinkweneedtotalkaboutvases.

Didyouhearthesoundofthewhiteflower?

WhatNagafoundwasjustasampling.Thecompilednotes,iftheyhadn’tgoneoutwiththehospitalwaste,wouldhavemadeupseveralvolumes.

Onemorning,afteraweekofnon-stopstenography,Tilo,wornout,wasstandingbyhermother’sbedside,leaningherarmsonthebackofthechairsheusuallysatin.ItwasthebusiesttimeofthedayintheICU,doctorswereontheirrounds,thenursesandattendantswerebusy,thewardwasbeingcleaned.MaryamIpewashavingaparticularlyvilemorning.Herfacewasflushedandhereyeshadafeverishglitter.Shehadpulledupherhospitalgownandlayinhernappy,herlegsramrodstraightandsplayedapart.Whensheshouted,hervoicewasdeepenoughtobeaman’s.‘TelltheParayasthatit’stimetocleanmyshit!’Tilo’sbloodleftthehighwayandsteamedalongmadforestpaths.Without

warning,thechairshehadbeenleaningonpickeditselfupandsmasheditselfdown.Thesoundofsplinteringwoodechoedthroughtheward.Needlesjumpedoutofveins.Medicinebottlesrattledintheirtrays.Weakhearts

missedabeat.Tilowatchedthesoundtravelthroughhermother’sbody,fromherfeetupwards,likeashroudbeingpulledoveracorpse.Shehadnoideahowlongshecontinuedtostandthereorwhotookherto

DrVerghese’soffice.

DrJacobVerghese,HeadoftheDepartmentofCriticalCare,had,untilfouryearsago,beenamedicwiththeUSArmy.Hewassecond-in-commandofcriticalcareinhisunitintheKuwaitwarandhadreturnedtoKeralawhenhistenureended.Eventhoughhehadlivedmostofhislifeabroad,hisspeechdidnotbearevenatraceofanAmericanaccent,whichwasremarkable,becauseinKeralapeoplejokedthatapplyingforaUSvisawasenoughforpeopletoaffectanAmericanaccent.NothingaboutDrVerghesesuggestedthathewasanythingotherthananabsolutelylocalSyrianChristianwhohadlivedinKeralaallhislife.HesmiledatTilokindlyandorderedcoffee.HecamefromthesametownasMaryamIpeandwasprobablywellawareofalltheoldrumoursandwhispers.Theairconditioninginhisofficewasbeingservicedandtheclatterofthattookawaytheawkwardnessintheroom.Tilowatchedthemechaniccarefully,asthoughherlifedependedonit.Menandwomeningreentunicsandtrousers,wearingsurgicalmasks,floatedaroundsoundlesslyinthecorridorinoperation-theatreslippers.Someofthemhadbloodontheirsurgeons’gloves.DrVergheselookedatTilooverhisreadingglasses,studyingherasthoughhewastryingtomakeadiagnosis.Perhapshewas.Inawhilehereachedacrossthetableandtookherhandinhis.Hecouldnothaveknownthathewastryingtocomfortabuildingthathadbeenstruckbylightning.Therewasn’tmuchleftofittocomfort.Afterhiscoffeehadbeendrunkandhersleftuntouched,hesuggestedtheygobacktotheICUandthatsheapologizetohermother.‘Yourmotherisaremarkablewoman.Youmustunderstandthatitisn’tshe

whoisutteringthoseuglywords.’‘Oh.Whoisit,then?’‘Someoneelse.Herillness.Herblood.Hersuffering.Ourconditioning,our

prejudices,ourhistory…’‘SotowhomwillIbeapologizing?Toprejudice?Ortohistory?’Butshewasalreadyfollowinghimdownthecorridor,backtotheICU.Bythetimetheyarrivedhermotherhadslippedintoacoma.Shewas

beyondhearing,beyondhistory,beyondprejudice,beyondapology.Tilocurleduponthebedandputherfaceonhermother’sfeetuntiltheywentcold.Thebrokenchairwatchedoverthemlikeamelancholyangel.Tilowonderedhowhermotherhadknownwhatthechairwoulddo.Howcouldshehaveknown?Forgetaboutthebrokenchairs,they’realwayshangingaround.MaryamIpediedearlythenextmorning.

TheSyrianChristianchurchwouldnotforgiveherhertrespassesandflatoutrefusedtoburyher.Sothefuneral,attendedmostlybyschoolteachersandafewofherpupils’parents,tookplaceinthegovernmentcrematorium.Tilobroughthermother’sashesbacktoDelhi.ShetoldNagathatsheneededtothinkverycarefullyaboutwhattodowiththem.Shedidn’ttellhimmuchelse.Thepotcontainingtheashessatonherworktableforaslongashecouldremember.LatelyNaganoticedthatithaddisappeared.HewasnotsurewhetherTilohadfoundanappropriateplacetoimmersetheashes(orscatterthem,orburythem),orwhethertheyhadsimplymovedwithhertohernewhome.

TheprincesscameuponNagasittingonthefloorlookingthroughafatmedicalfile.Shestoodbehindhimandreadthenotesaloudoverhisshoulders.‘“ThearterialportisJesusChrist’sscrew”…“Didyouhearthesoundof

thewhiteflower?”What’sthisrubbishyou’rereading,jaan?Sincewhendidflowersstartmakingsounds?’Nagaremainedsittingandsaidnothingforalongtime.Heappearedtobe

deepinthought.Thenhestoodupandcuppedherbeautifulfaceinhishands.‘I’msosorry…’‘Forwhat,jaan?’‘It’snotgoingtowork…’‘What?’‘Us.’‘Butshe’sgone!She’sleftyou!’‘Shehas.Shehas,yes…Butshe’llcomeback.Shehasto.Shewill.’ThePrincesslookedatNagapityinglyandmovedon.Shewassoon

marriedtotheChiefEditorofaTVnewschannel.Theymadeahandsome,happycoupleandwentontohavemanyhealthy,happychildren.

TheroomsTilorentedwereonthesecondfloorofatownhouseoverlookingagovernmentprimaryschoolfullofrelativelypoorchildrenandaNeemtreefullofreasonablywell-offparakeets.Everymorningatassemblythechildrenshoutedoutthewholeof‘HumHongeyKaamyaab’–theHindiversionof‘WeShallOvercome’.Shesangwiththem.Onweekendsandholidaysshemissedthechildrenandtheschoolassembly,soshesangthesongtoherselfatexactly7a.m.Onthedaysthatshedidn’t,shefeltthemorningwasjustthe

previousdayextended,thatanewdayhadn’tdawned.Onmostmornings,anyonewhoputaneartoherdoorwouldhaveheardher.Nooneputaneartoherdoor.

MissJebeen’sbirthdayandbaptismceremonymarkedTilo’sfourthyearandlastnightinthesecond-floorapartment.Shewonderedwhatsheshoulddowiththerestofthebirthdaycake.Perhapstheantswouldinvitetheirrelativesintheneighbourhoodtopartakeofthefeastandeitherfinishitorremoveeverylastcrumbintostorage.Theheatstoodupandpacedaroundtheroom.Trafficgrowledinthe

distance.Citythunder.Norain.Thespottedowletflittedawaytoduckandbobandpractisehisgood

mannersonsomeotherwomanthroughsomeotherwindow.Whenshenoticedthattheowlhadleft,Tilofeltunutterablysad.Sheknew

shewouldsoonbeleavingtoo,andmightneverseehimagain.Theowlwassomeone.Shewasn’tsurewho.Musamaybe.ThatwasalwayshowitwaswithMusa.Eachtimeheleft,afterhisbrief,mysteriousvisits,inhispeculiardisguises,lookinglikeMrNobodyfromDistrictNowhere,sheknewshemightneverseehimagain.Usuallyitwashewhodisappearedandshewhowaited.Thistimeitwasherturntodisappear.Shehadnomeansoflettinghimknowwhereshewas.Hedidnotuseamobilephone,andtheonlycallshemadetoherwereonherlandline,whichwouldnowgounanswered.Shewasovercomebythedesiretocommunicatetheuncertainnatureoftheirfarewelltothespottedowletthatnight.Shescribbledalineonapieceofpaperandstuckitonthewindow,facingoutwardsfortheowltoread:Whocanknowfromthewordgoodbyewhatkindofpartingisinstorefor

us.Shereturnedtohermattress,pleasedwithherselfandtheborrowedclarity

ofhercommunication.Butthen,innotimeatall,shefeltashamed.OsipMandelstamhadhadmoreseriousthingsonhismindwhenhewrotethatline.HewasnegotiatingStalin’sGulag.Hewasn’ttalkingtoowls.Sheretrievedhernoteandonceagainreturnedtobed.

Afewmilesawayfromwhereshelayawake,threemenhadbeencrushedtodeaththepreviousnightbyatruckthathadcareenedofftheroad.Perhapsthedriverhadfallenasleep.OnTVtheysaidthatthatsummerhomelesspeoplehadtakentosleepingontheedgesofroadswithheavytraffic.Theyhaddiscoveredthatdieselexhaustfumesfrompassingtrucksandbuseswereaneffectivemosquitorepellentandprotectedthemfromtheoutbreakofdenguefeverthathadkilledseveralhundredpeopleinthecityalready.

Sheimaginedthemen:newimmigrantstothecity,stone-workers,comehometotheirpre-booked,pre-paid-forspotwhoserentwascalculatedbycalibratingtheoptimumdensityofexhaustfumesanddividingitbytheacceptabledensityofmosquitoes.Precisealgebra;noteasilyfoundintextbooks.Themenweretiredfromtheirday’sworkonthebuildingsite,their

eyelashesandlungspalewithstone-dustfromcuttingstoneandlayingfloorsinthemulti-storeyshoppingcentresandhousingestatesspringinguparoundthecitylikeafast-growingforest.Theyspreadtheirsoft,frayedgamchhasonthepokygrassoftheslopingembankmentdottedwithdogshitandstainless-steelsculptures–publicart–sponsoredbythePamnaniGroupthatwaspromotingcutting-edgeartistswhousedstainlesssteelasamedium,inthehopethatthecutting-edgeartistswouldpromotethesteelindustry.Thesculptureslookedlikeclustersofsteelspermatozoa,orperhapstheyweremeanttobeballoons.Itwasn’tclear.Eitherway,theylookedcheerful.Themenlitalastbeedi.Smokeringscurledintothenight.Theneonstreetlightsmadethegrasslookmetalblueandthemenlookgrey.Therewasteasingandsomelaughter,becausetwoofthemcouldblowsmokeringsandthethirdcouldn’t.Hewasbadatthings,alwaysthelasttolearn.Sleepcametothem,quickandeasy,likemoneytomillionaires.

Iftheyhadn’tdiedoftruck,theywouldhavediedof:

(a)Denguefever(b)Theheat(c)Beedismokeor(d)Stone-dust

Ormaybenot.Maybetheywouldhaverisentobecome:

(a)Millionaires(b)Supermodelsor(c)Bureauchiefs

Diditmatterthattheyweremashedintothegrasstheyslepton?Towhomdiditmatter?Didthosetowhomitmatteredmatter?

DearDoctor,Wehavebeencrushed.Isthereacure?Regards,Biru,Jairam,RamKishore

Tilosmiledandclosedhereyes.Carelessmotherfuckers.Whoaskedthemtogetinthewayofthetruck?Shewonderedhowtoun-knowcertainthings,certainspecificthingsthat

sheknewbutdidnotwishtoknow.Howtoun-know,forexample,thatwhenpeoplediedofstone-dust,theirlungsrefusedtobecremated.Evenaftertherestoftheirbodieshadturnedtoash,twolung-shapedslabsofstoneremainedbehind,unburned.HerfriendDrAzadBhartiya,wholivedonthepavementofJantarMantar,hadtoldherabouthisolderbrother,JitenY.Kumar,whohadworkedinagranitequarryanddiedattheageofthirty-five.Hedescribedhowhehadhadtobreakuphisbrother’slungswithacrowbaronthefuneralpyretoreleasehissoul.Hedidit,hesaid,eventhoughhewasacommunistanddidn’tbelieveinsouls.Hedidittopleasehismother.Hesaidhisbrother’slungsglittered,becausetheywerespeckledwith

silica.

DearDoctor,Nothing,really.Ijustwantedtosayhello.Actually–thereissomething.Imaginehavingtosmashyourbrother’slungstopleaseyourmother.Wouldyoucallthatnormalhumanactivity?

Shewonderedwhatanun-releasedsoul,asoul-shapedstoneonafuneralpyre,mightlooklike.Likeastarfishmaybe.Oramillipede.Oradappledmothwithalivingbodyandstonewings–poormoth–betrayed,helddownbytheverythingsthatweremeanttohelpittofly.

MissJebeentheSecondstirredinhersleep.Concentrate,thekidnappertoldherselfasshestrokedthebaby’sdamp,

sweatyforehead.Otherwisethingscouldgetcompletelyoutofhand.Shehadnoideawhysheofallpeople,whoneverwantedchildren,hadpickedupthebabyandrun.Butnowitwasdone.Herpartinthestoryhadbeenwritten.Butnotbyher.Bywhom,then?Someone.

DearDoctor,Ifyoulikeyoucanchangeeveryinchofme.I’mjustastory.

MissJebeenwasagood-naturedbabyandseemedtolikethesaltlesssoupandmashedvegetablesthatTilomadeforher.Forawomanwhohadverylittleexperiencewithchildren,Tilowassurprisinglyeasywithherandconfidentinthewayshehandledher.OnthefewoccasionsthatMissJebeencried,shewasabletocomfortherinnotimeatall.Thebestcourseofaction,Tilofound(afeedbeingtheexception),wastolayherdownonthefloorwiththelitteroffivegun-colouredpuppiesthatComradeLaali,ared-hairedmongrel,hadbirthedonthelandingoutsideherdoorfiveweeksago.Both

parties(thepuppiesandMissJebeen)seemedtohaveplentytosaytoeachother.Bothmothersweregreatfriends.Sotheget-togetherswereusuallyasuccess.Wheneverybodywastired,Tilowouldreturnthepuppiestotheirburlapsackonthelanding,andgiveComradeLaalialittlebowlofmilkandbread.Earlierintheday,Tilohadjustlitthecandleonthecakeandwaswaltzing

thenewlynamedMissJebeenaroundtheroomhumming‘HappyBirthday’,whenAnkita,theground-floortenant,phoned.Shesaidthataconstablehadcomebythatmorninginquiringabouther(Tilo)andaskingher(Ankita)whethersheknewanythingaboutanewbabyinthebuilding.Hewasinahurryandhadleftanewspaperwithherinwhichthepolicehadpublishedaroutinenotice.AnkitasentitupwithherlittleAdivasichild-slave.Itsaid:

KIDNAPPINGNOTICEDP/1146NEWDELHI110001

GeneralPublicisherebyinformedthatoneunknownbaby,s/oUNKNOWN,r/oUNKNOWN,withoutclotheswasabandonedatJantarMantar,NewDelhi.AfterPolicewasinformedbutbeforepolice-forcearrivedonthescenethesaidbabywaskidnappedbyanunknownperson/persons.FirstInformationReporthasbeenregisteredunderSections361,362,365,366A,Sections367&369.ForalloranyinformationpleasecontactStationHouseOfficer,ParliamentStreetPoliceStation,NewDelhi.Thedescriptionofthebabyisasunder:Name:UNKNOWN,Father’sName:UNKNOWN,Address:UNKNOWN,Age:UNKNOWN,Wearing:NOCLOTHES.

Ankitasoundedsuperioranddisapprovingonthephone.ButthatwasjustherusualmannerwithTilo.Shetendedtoassumethatsomewhatsmug,triumphantairofawoman-with-a-husbandspeakingtoawoman-without-a-husband.Itdidn’thaveanythingtodowiththebaby.ShedidnotknowaboutMissJebeen.(FortunatelyGarsonHobarthadseentoitthattheconstructionofhishousewassolidandthewallssoundproof.)Nobodyintheneighbourhooddid.Tilohadnottakenherout.Shehadn’tbeenoutmuchherself,exceptforoccasional,essentialtripstothemarketwhenthebabywasasleep.Theshopkeepersmighthavewonderedabouttheuncharacteristicpurchasesofbabyfood.ButTilodidnotthinkthepolicewouldtaketheinvestigationthatfar.Whenshefirstreadthepolicenoticeinthenewspaper,Tilodidn’ttakeit

seriously.Itlookedlikearoutine,bureaucraticrequirementthatwasbeingmindlesslyfulfilled.Onasecondreading,however,sherealizeditcouldspellserioustrouble.Togiveherselftimetothink,shecopiedthenoticecarefullyintoanotebook,wordforword,inolde-worldecalligraphy,anddecorateditwithamarginofvinesandfruitasthoughitweretheTenCommandments.Shecouldn’timaginehowthepolicehadtracedherandcomeknocking.She

knewsheneededaplan.Butshedidn’thaveone.Soshecalledtheonlypersonintheworldthatshetrustedwouldunderstandtheproblemandgivehersoundcounsel.Theyhadbeenfriendsformorethanfouryears,sheandDrAzadBhartiya.

Theymetforthefirsttimewhiletheywerebothwaitingfortheirsandalstobemendedbyastreet-sidecobblerinConnaughtPlacewhowasfamousforhisskillandhissmallness.Inhishands,eachshoeorslipperhewasmendinglookedasthoughitbelongedtoagiant.Whiletheystoodaroundwithoneshoeonandoneshoeoff,DrBhartiyasurprisedTilobyaskingher(inEnglish)ifshehadacigarette.Shesurprisedhimbackbyreplying(inHindi)thatshehadnocigarettesbutcouldofferhimabeedi.Thelittlecobblerlecturedthembothatlengthabouttheconsequencesofsmoking.Hetoldthemhowhisfather,achain-smoker,haddiedofcancer.Hedrewtheoutlineofhisfather’slungtumourwithhisfingerinthedust.‘Itwasthisbig.’DrBhartiyaassuredhimthathesmokedonlyontheoccasionswhenhewashavinghisshoesmended.Theconversationswitchedtopolitics.Thecobblercursedthecurrentclimate,bad-mouthedthegodsofeverycreedandreligion,andendedhisdiatribebybendingdownandkissinghisironlast.HesaiditwastheonlyGodhebelievedin.Bythetimetheirsoleshadbeenmended,thecobblerandhisclientshadbecomefriends.DrBhartiyainvitedbothhisnewfriendstohispavementhomeinJantarMantar.Tilowent.Fromthenontherewasnolookingback.Shevisitedhimtwiceaweekormore,oftenarrivingintheeveningand

leavingatdawn.Occasionallyshebroughthimadewormingpill,which,forsomereason,shedeemedessentialforeverybody’swell-being,andhedeemedethicaltoconsumeevenwhileonhungerstrike.Sheconsideredhimtobeamanoftheworld,amongthewisest,sanestpeoplesheknew.Intimeshebecamethetranslator/transcriberaswellasprinter/publisherofhissingle-pagebroadsheet:MyNews&Views,whichherevisedandupdatedeverymonth.Theymanagedtosellasmanyaseightorninecopiesofeachedition.Allinallitwasathrivingmediapartnership–politicallyacute,uncompromising,andwhollyinthered.Themediapartnershadnotmetformorethaneightdays–sincethe

comingofMissJebeentheSecond.WhenTilocalledDrBhartiyatotellhimaboutthepolicenotice,hedroppedhisvoicetoawhisper.Hesaidtheyshouldspeakaslittleaspossibleonthemobilephone,becausetheywereunderconstantsurveillancebyInternationalAgencies.Butafterthatinitialmomentofcaution,hechattedawaysunnily.Hetoldherhowthepolicehadbeatenhimandconfiscatedallhispapers.Hesaiditwasquitelikelythattheyhadpickedupthetrailfromthere(becausethepublisher’snameandaddressweregivenatthebottomofthepamphlet).Itwaseitherthatorherflamboyantsignatureonhisplastercast,whichtheyhadforcibly

photographedfromseveralangles.‘Nooneelsesignedingreeninkandputtheiraddress,’hetoldher.‘Soyoumustbethefirstpersonontheirlist.Itmustbejustaroutinecheck-up.’Still,hesuggestedthatsheimmediatelytransferMissJebeenandherself,atleasttemporarily,toaplacecalledJannatGuestHouseandFuneralServicesintheoldcity.Thepersontocontactthere,hesaid,wasSaddamHussain,ortheproprietorherself,DrAnjum,who,DrBhartiyasaid,wasanextremelygoodpersonandhadmethimseveraltimesaftertheincident(ofthesaidnight),inquiringaboutthebaby.Duetothehonorifichehadarbitrarilybestowedonhimself(eventhoughhisPhDwasstill‘pending’),DrBhartiyaoftencalledpeopleheliked‘Doctor’fornorealreasonotherthanthathelikedandrespectedthem.TilorecognizedthenameoftheguesthouseaswellasthenameSaddam

HussainfromthevisitingcardthatthemanonthewhitehorsewhohadfollowedherhomefromJantarMantarhaddroppedintoherletterbox(onthesaidnight).Whenshephonedhim,SaddamtoldherthatDrBhartiyahadbeenintouch,andthathe(Saddam)hadbeenwaitingforhercall.HesaidhewasofthesameopinionasDrBhartiya,andthathewouldcomebacktoherwithaplanofaction.Headvisedherthatsheshouldonnoaccountleaveherhousewiththebabyuntilsheheardfromhim.Thepolicecouldnotenterherhousewithoutasearchwarrant,hesaid,butiftheywerewatchingthehouse,astheymightwellbe,andtheycaughtherwiththebabyonthestreet,theycoulddoanythingtheyliked.Tilowasreassuredbyhisvoiceandhisfriendly,efficientmanneronthephone.AndSaddam,forhispart,wasreassuredbyhers.Hecalledherafewhourslatertosaythatarrangementshadbeenmade.He

wouldpickherupfromherhomeatdawn,probablybetween4and5a.m.,before‘TruckEntry’closedinthearea.Ifthehousewasbeingwatched,itwouldbeeasytotellatthathour,whenthestreetswereempty.HewouldcomewithafriendwhodroveapickupfortheMunicipalCorporationofDelhi.Theyhadtopickupthecarcassofacowthathaddied–burst–fromeatingtoomanyplasticbagsatthemaingarbagedumpinHauzKhas.Heraddresswouldnotbemuchofadetour.Itwasafoolproofplan,hesaid.‘NopolicemaneverstopsanMCDgarbagetruck,’hesaid,laughing.‘Ifyoukeepyourwindowopenyou’llbeabletosmellusbeforeyouseeus.’

So,onceagainshewasmoving.Tilosurveyedherhomelikeathief,wonderingwhattotake.Whatshould

thecriterionbe?Thingsthatshemightneed?Orthingsthatoughtnottobeleftlyingaround?Orboth?Orneither?Itvaguelyoccurredtoherthatifthepoliceweretomakeaforcedentry,kidnappingmightturnouttobetheleastofhercrimes.

Mostincriminatingofallthethingsinherapartmentwasthestackofbrightfruitcartonsthathadbeendeliveredtoherdoorstep,oneatatime,overafewdays,byaKashmirifruit-seller.TheycontainedwhatMusacalledhis‘recoveries’fromthefloodthathadinundatedSrinagarayearago.WhentheJhelumroseandbreacheditsbanks,thecitydisappeared.Whole

housingcolonieswentunderwater.Armycamps,torturecentres,hospitals,courthouses,policestations–allwentdown.Houseboatsfloatedoverwhathadoncebeenmarketplaces.Thousandsofpeoplehuddledprecariouslyonsharplyslopingrooftopsandinmakeshiftshelterssetuponhigherground,waitingforrescuesthatneverhappened.Adrownedcitywasaspectacle.Adrownedcivilwarwasaphenomenon.ThearmyperformedstunninghelicopterrescuesforTVcrews.Inliveround-the-clockbulletinsnewsanchorsmarvelledathowmuchbraveIndiansoldiersweredoingforungrateful,surlyKashmiriswhodidnotreallydeservetoberescued.Whenthefloodreceded,itleftbehindanuninhabitablecity,encasedinmud.Shopsfullofmud,housesfullofmud,banksfullofmud,refrigerators,cupboardsandbookshelvesfullofmud.Andanungrateful,surlypeoplewhohadsurvivedwithoutbeingrescued.Duringtheweeksthefloodlasted,TilohadnonewsofMusa.Shedidnot

evenknowwhetherhewasinKashmirornot.Shedidnotknowwhetherhehadsurvivedordrowned,hisbodywasheduponsomedistantshore.Onthosenights,whileshewaitedfornewsofhim,sheputherselftosleepwithheavydosesofsleepingpills,butduringthedaywhileshewaswideawakeshedreamedoftheflood.Ofrainandrushingwater,densewithcoilsofrazorwiremasqueradingasweeds.Thefishweremachinegunswithfinsandbarrelsthatrudderedthroughtheswiftcurrentlikemermaids’tails,soyoucouldnottellwhotheywerereallypointedat,andwhowoulddiewhentheywerefired.Soldiersandmilitantsgrappledwitheachotherunderwater,inslowmotion,likeintheoldJamesBondfilms,theirbreathbubblingupthroughthemurkywater,likebrightsilverbullets.Pressurecookers(separatedfromtheirwhistles),gasheaters,sofas,bookshelves,tablesandkitchenutensilsspunthroughthewater,givingitthefeelofalawless,busyhighway.Cattle,dogs,yaksandchickensswamaroundincircles.Affidavits,interrogationtranscriptsandarmypressreleasesfoldedthemselvesintopaperboatsandrowedthemselvestosafety.PoliticiansandTVanchors,bothmenandwomen,fromtheValleyaswellasthemainlandwentprancingpastinsequinedbathingsuits,likeachoruslineofseahorses,executingbeautifullychoreographedaqua-balletroutines,diving,surfacing,twirling,pointingtheirtoes,happyinthedebris-filledwater,smilingbroadly,theirteethglimmeringlikebarbedwireinthesun.Onepoliticianinparticular,whoseviewswerenotdissimilartothoseoftheSchutzstaffelofNaziGermany,cartwheeledinthe

water,lookingtriumphant,inastarchedwhitedhotithatgavetheimpressionofbeingwaterproof.Itrecurred,dayafterday,thisday-mare,eachtimewithnew

embellishments.AmonthwentbybeforeMusafinallycalled.Tilowasfuriouswithhimfor

soundingcheerful.HesaidtherewasnosafehouseleftinSrinagarwherehecouldstorehis‘recoveries’fromtheflood,andaskedwhetherhecouldkeeptheminherflatuntilthecitygotbackonitsfeet.Hecould.Ofcoursehecould.Theywereexcellentquality,theKashmiriapplesthatweredeliveredin

custom-madecartons,redones,less-redones,green,andalmost-blackones–Delicious,GoldenDelicious,Ambri,KaalaMastana–allindividuallypackedinshreddedpaper.EachcartonhadMusa’scallingcard–asmallsketchofahorse’shead–tuckedintoacorner.Andeachcartonhadafalsebottom.Andeachfalsebottomcontainedhis‘recoveries’.Tiloreopenedthecartonstoremindherselfwhatwasinthemandworkout

whattodowiththem–takethemorleavethembehind?Musahadtheonlyotherkeytotheapartment.GarsonHobartwassafelyparkedinAfghanistan.Inanycasehedidnothaveakey.Soleavingthemwheretheywerewasnogreatrisk.Unless,unless,unless–wasthereanoff-chancethatthepolicewouldbreakin?The‘recoveries’werefewandhadobviouslybeenhurriedlydispatched.

Whentheyfirstarrivedsomeofthemwerecakedwithmud–thick,darkriversilt.Somewereinfineshapeandhadobviouslyescapedthefloodwaters.Therewasaruinedalbumofwater-stainedfamilyphotographs,mostofthembarelyrecognizable,ofMusa’sdaughter,MissJebeentheFirst,andhermother,Arifa.TherewasastackofpassportsinaplasticZiploc–sevenaltogether,twoIndianandfiveothernationalities–IyadKhareef(MusatheLebanesepigeon),HadiHassanMohseni(MusatheIranianwisemanandguide),FarisAliHalabi(MusatheSyrianhorseman),MohammedNabilal-Salem(MusatheQatarinobleman),AhmedYasiral-Qassimi(MusatherichmanfromBahrain).Musaclean-shaven,Musawithasalt-and-pepperbeard,Musawithlonghairandnobeard,Musawithclose-croppedhairandaclippedbeard.Tilorecognizedthefirstname,IyadKhareef,asanamethatMusahadalwaysloved,andwhichtheyhadbothlaughedaboutduringtheircollegedays,becauseitmeant‘thepigeonwhowasbornintheautumn’.Tilohadavariationonthethemeforpeopleshewasannoyedwith–GandooKhareef.Theassholewhowasborninautumn.(Shehadbeenexceptionallyfoul-mouthedasayoungwoman,andwhenshefirststartedlearningHindi,tookpleasureinusingnewlylearnedexpletivesasthefoundationonwhichshebuiltaworkingvocabulary.)

Inanotherplasticpacketthereweremud-crustedcreditcardswithnamesthatmatchedthepassports,boardingpassesandafewairlinetickets–relicsfromthedayswhenairlineticketsexisted.Therewereoldtelephonediaries,withnames,addressesandnumberscrammedintothem.Diagonally,acrossthebackofoneofthem,Musahadscrawledafragmentofasong:

DarktolightandlighttodarkThreeblackcarriages,threewhitecarts,Whatbringsustogetheriswhatpullsusapart,Goneourbrother,goneourheart.

Whowashemourning?Shedidn’tknow.Awholegenerationmaybe.Therewasahalf-writtenletter,onablueinlandletter-form.Itwasn’t

addressedtoanybody.Perhapshewaswritingittohimself…ortoher,becauseitbeganwithanUrdupoemthathehadtriedtotranslate,somethingheoftendidforher:

DuniyakimehfilonseuktagayahoonyaRabKyalutfanjumanka,jabdilhibujhgayahoShorishsebhagtahoon,dildhoondtahaimeraAisasukootjispetaqreerbhifidaho

Iamwearyofworldlygatherings,OLordWhatpleasureinthem,whenthelightinmyheartisgone?FromtheclamourofcrowdsIflee,myheartseeksThekindofsilencethatwouldmesmerizespeechitself

Underneathhehadwritten:

Idon’tknowwheretostop,orhowtogoon.IstopwhenIshouldn’t.IgoonwhenIshouldstop.Thereisweariness.Butthereisalsodefiance.Togethertheydefinemethesedays.Togethertheystealmysleep,andtogethertheyrestoremysoul.Thereareplentyofproblemswithnosolutionsinsight.Friendsturnintofoes.Ifnotvocalones,thensilent,reticentones.ButI’veyettoseeafoeturningintoafriend.Thereseemstobenohope.Butpretendingtobehopefulistheonlygracewehave…

Shedidn’tknowwhichfriendshemeant.SheknewthatitwasnothingshortofamiraclethatMusawasstillalive.In

theeighteenyearsthathadgonebysince1996,hehadlivedalifeinwhicheverynightwaspotentiallythenightofthelongknives.‘Howcantheykillmeagain?’hewouldsayifhesensedworryonTilo’spart.‘You’vealreadybeentomyfuneral.You’vealreadylaidflowersonmygrave.Whatmorecantheydotome?I’mashadowathighnoon.Idon’texist.’Thelasttimeshemethimhesaidsomethingtoher,casually,jokingly,butwithheartbreakinhiseyes.Itmadeherbloodfreeze.‘ThesedaysinKashmir,youcanbekilledforsurviving.’Inbattle,MusatoldTilo,enemiescan’tbreakyourspirit,onlyfriendscan.

Inanothercartontherewasahuntingknifeandninemobilephones–alot,foramanwhodidnotusemobiles–oldonesthesizeofsmallbricks,tinyNokiaones,aSamsungsmartphoneandtwoiPhones.Whentheyweredelivered,coveredinmud,theylookedlikeslabsoffossilizedchocolate.Now,minusthemud,theyjustlookedoldandunusable.Therewasasheafofstiff,yellowednewspaperclippings,thefirstofwhichcontainedastatementmadebythethenChiefMinisterofKashmir.Someonehadunderlinedit:

Wecan’tjustgoondiggingallthegraveyardsup.WeneedatleastgeneraldirectionsfromtherelativesoftheMissing,ifnotpointedlyspecificinformation.Wherecouldbethegreaterpossibilityoftheirdisappearedkinbeingburied?

Athirdcartoncontainedapistol,afewloosebullets,avialofpills(shedidn’tknowwhatpills,butwasinapositiontomakeaneducatedguess–somethingbeginningwithC)andanotebookthatseemednottohavesufferedthedepredationsoftheflood.Tilorecognizedthebookandthewritinginitashers,butshereadthroughitscontentscuriously,asthoughithadbeenwrittenbysomeoneelse.Thesedaysherbrainfeltlikea‘recovery’–encasedinmud.Itwasn’tjustherbrain,sheherself,allofher,feltlikearecovery–anaccumulationofmuddyrecoveries,randomlyassembled.LongbeforeshebecamestenographertohermotherandtoDrAzad

Bhartiya,Tilohadbeenaweird,part-timestenographertoafull-timemilitaryoccupation.AftertheepisodeattheShiraz,aftershecamebacktoDelhiandmarriedNaga,shehadtravelledbacktoKashmirobsessively,monthaftermonth,yearafteryear,asthoughshewassearchingforsomethingshehadleftbehind.SheandMusaseldommetonthosetrips(whentheymet,theymetinDelhi,mostly).ButwhileshewasinKashmir,hewatchedoverherfromhishiddenperch.Sheknewthatthefriendlysoulsthatappearedasiffromnowhere,tohangaboutwithher,totravelwithher,toinvitehertotheirhomes,wereMusa’speople.Theywelcomedherandtoldherthingstheywouldhardlytellthemselves,onlybecausetheylovedMusa–oratleasttheirideaofhim,themanwhomtheyknewasashadowamongshadows.Musadidn’tknowwhatshewassearchingfor,neitherdidshe.Yetshespentalmostallthemoneysheearnedfromherdesignandtypographyassignmentsonthesetrips.Sometimesshetookoddpictures.Shewrotestrangethingsdown.Shecollectedscrapsofstoriesandinexplicablememorabiliathatappearedtohavenopurpose.Thereseemedtobenopatternorthemetoherinterest.Shehadnosettask,noproject.Shewasnotwritingforanewspaperormagazine,shewasnotwritingabookormakingafilm.Shepaidnoattentiontothingsthatmostpeoplewouldhaveconsideredimportant.Overtheyears,herpeculiar,raggedarchivegrewpeculiarlydangerous.Itwasanarchiveofrecoveries,notfromaflood,butfromanotherkindofdisaster.InstinctivelyshekeptithiddenfromNaga,andordereditaccordingtosomeelaborate

logicofherownthatsheintuitedbutdidnotunderstand.Noneofitamountedtoanythinginthecutandthrustofrealargumentintherealworld.Butthatdidn’tmatter.ThetruthisthatshetravelledbacktoKashmirtostillhertroubledheart,

andtoatoneforacrimeshehadn’tcommitted.AndtoputfreshflowersonCommanderGulrez’sgrave.ThenotebookthatMusasentbackwithhis‘recoveries’washers.Shemust

haveleftitbehindononeofhertrips.Thefirstfewpageswerefilledwithherwriting,therestwereblank.Shegrinnedwhenshesawtheopeningpage:

TheReader’sDigestBookofEnglishGrammarandComprehensionforVeryYoungChildren

ByS.Tilottama

Shegotherselfanashtray,settleddowncross-leggedonthefloor,andchain-smokedherwaytotheendofherbook.Itcontainedstories,pressclippingsandsomediaryentries:

THEOLDMAN&HISSON

WhenManzoorAhmedGanaibecameamilitant,soldierswenttohishomeandpickeduphisfather,thehandsome,alwaysdapperAzizGanai.HewaskeptintheHaiderBaigInterrogationCentre.ManzoorAhmedGanaiworkedasamilitantforoneandahalfyears.Hisfatherremainedimprisonedforoneandahalfyears.OnthedayManzoorAhmedGanaiwaskilled,smilingsoldiersopenedthedoorofhis

father’scell.‘Jenaab,youwantedAzadi?Mubarakhoaapko.Congratulations!Todayyourwishhascometrue.Yourfreedomhascome.’Thepeopleofthevillagecriedmorefortheshamblingwreckwhocamerunningthrough

theorchardinragswithwildeyesandabeardandhairthathadn’tbeencutinayearandahalfthantheydidfortheboywhohadbeenmurdered.Theshamblingwreckwasjustintimetobeabletolifttheshroudandkisshisson’sface

beforetheyburiedhim.

Q1:Whydidthevillagerscrymorefortheshamblingwreck?Q2:Whydidthewreckshamble?

NEWS

KashmirGuidelineNewsServiceDozensofCattleCrossLineofControl(LoC)inRajouriAtleast33cattleincluding29buffaloeshavecrossedovertoPakistansideinNowshera

sectorofRajouridistrictinJammuandKashmir.AccordingtoKGNS,thecattlecrossedtheLoCinKalsiansub-sector.‘Thecattlewhich

belongtoRamSaroop,AshokKumar,CharanDas,VedPrakashandothersweregrazingnearLoCwhentheycrossedovertootherside,’localstoldKGNS.

TicktheBox:Q1:WhydidthecattlecrosstheLoC?

(a)Fortraining(b)Forsneak-inops(c)Neitheroftheabove.

THEPERFECTMURDER(J’sstory)

Thishappenedafewyearsago,beforeIresignedfromtheservice.Maybein2000or2001.IwasatthetimeDySP,DeputySuperintendentofPolice,postedinMattan.Onenightatabout11.30p.m.wegotacallfromaneighbouringvillage.Thecallerwasa

villager,buthewouldn’trevealhisname.Hesaidtherehadbeenamurder.Sowewent.I,alongwithmyboss,theSP.ItwasinJanuary.Verycold.Snoweverywhere.Wearrivedinthevillage.Thepeoplewereallinsidetheirhouses.Doorswerelocked.

Lightswereoff.Ithadstoppedsnowing.Thenightwasclear.Fullmoon.Themoonlightwasreflectingoffthesnow.Youcouldseeeverythingveryclearly.Wesawthebodyofaperson,abigstrongman.Hewaslyinginthesnow.Hehadbeen

freshlykilled.Hisbloodhadfloodedontothesnow.Itwasstillwarm.Ithadmeltedthesnow.Thesnowwasstillsteaming.Helaythereasthoughhewasbeingcooked…Youcouldtellthatafterhisthroathadbeenslithehaddraggedhimselfaboutthirty

metrestoknockonthedoorofahouse.Butoutoffearnobodyhadopenedthedoor,sohehadbledtodeath.AsIsaid,hewasabigstrongman,sotherewasalotofblood.HewasdressedinPathanclothes–salwarkameez–heworeacamouflagebulletproofvest,andanammunitionbeltfullofammunition.AnAK-47waslyingnearhim.Wehadnodoubthewasamilitant–butwhohadkilledhim?IfithadbeenthearmyofcoursetheywouldhaveremovedthebodyandclaimedtheKillimmediately.Ifithadbeenarivalmilitantgrouptheywouldhavetakenhisweapon.Thiswasabigpuzzleforus.Weroundedupthevillagersandquestionedthem.Nobodyadmittedtoseeingorhearing

orknowinganything.WetookthebodybackwithustotheMattanpolicestation.TheremySPcalledtheCommandingOfficeroftheRashtriyaRifle(RR)camp–thearmycamp–nearbytoaskifheknewanythingaboutit.Nothing.Itwasn’thardtoidentifythebody.Hewasawell-known,veryseniormilitant

commander.HebelongedtotheHizb.Hizb-ul-Mujahideen.ButnobodyclaimedtheKill.SoeventuallythearmyCOandmySPdecidedtoclaimit.TheyannouncedthathehadbeenkilledinanencounterfollowingaSearch-and-CordonoperationconductedjointlybytheRRandJKP(JammuandKashmirPolice).Thestoryappearedinthenationalpressasfollows:Inafiercegunbattlethatlasted

severalhoursadreadedmilitantwaskilledinajointoperationbytheRashtriyaRiflesandtheJammuandKashmirPoliceledbyMajorXXandSuperintendentofPoliceYY.Bothofus,theRRandJKP,weregivencitationsandwesharedthecashreward.We

handedthemilitant’sbodyovertohisfamilyandmadediscreetinquiriesaboutwhethertheyhadanyideawhokilledhim.Wemadenoheadway.Sevendayslater,inanothervillage,anotherHizbmilitantwasfoundbeheaded.Hewas

thesecond-in-commandofthefirstmanwhosebodywehadfound.TheHizbowneduptothekilling.Privatelytheyletitbeknownthathewaskilledforhavingmurderedhiscommanderandstolentwenty-fivelakhsincashthatwasmeantfordistributionamongthecadre.Thestoryinthenationalpressappearedasfollows:GruesomeBeheadingofInnocentCivilianbyMilitants

Q1:Whoistheheroofthisstory?

THEINFORMER–I

InthenotifiedareaofTral.AvillagecalledNavDal.It’s1993.Thevillageisbristlingwithmilitants.It’sa‘liberated’village.Thearmyiscampedontheoutskirts,butsoldiersdaren’tenterthevillage.It’sacompletestand-off.Novillagersapproachthearmycamp.Thereisnoexchangeofanysortbetweensoldiersandvillagers.Andyet,theofficercommandingthecampknowseverymovethemilitantsmake.Which

villagerssupporttheMovement,whichonesdon’t,whooffersmilitantsfoodandlodgingwillingly,whodoesn’t.Fordaysaclosewatchismounted.Notasinglepersongoestothecamp.Notasingle

soldierentersthevillage.Andyet,theinformationgetstothearmy.Finallythemilitantsnoticeasleekblackbullfromthevillagewhoregularlyvisitsthe

camp.Theyinterceptthebull.Tiedtohishorns,alongwithanassortmentoftaveez(tokeephimfromillness,fromtheevileye,fromimpotence),arelittlenoteswithinformation.ThenextdaythemilitantsattachanIEDtothebull’shorns.Theydetonateitashe

approachesthecamp.Noonedies.Thebullisseverelyinjured.Thevillagebutcherofferstodo‘halal’sothevillagerscanatleastfeastonthemeat.Themilitantspassafatwa.It’sanInformerBull.Nobodyisallowedtoeatthemeat.Amen.

Q1:Whoistheheroofthestory?

THEINFORMER–II

Helikedsellingoutonpeople,forthisdehumanizedhim.Dehumanizingmyselfismyownmostfundamentaltendency.          JeanGenet

I’mnotyetcuredofhappiness.        AnnaAkhmatova

Q1:Whoistheheroofthestory?

THEVIRGIN

Thefidayeenattackthathadbeenplannedonthearmycampwasabortedatthelastminutebynoneotherthanthefidayeenthemselves.TheytookthisdecisionbecauseAbidAhmedaliasAbidSuzuki,thedriveroftheMarutiSuzukitheywerein,wasdrivingreallybadly.Thelittlecarveeredsharplytotheleft,thensharplytotheright,asthoughitwasdodgingsomething.Buttheroadwasemptyandtherewasnothingtododge.WhenAbidSuzuki’scompanions(noneofwhomknewhowtodrive)askedhimwhatthematterwas,hesaiditwasthehouriswhohadcometotakethemalltoheaven.Theywerenakedanddancingonthebonnet,distractinghim.There’snowaytoascertainwhetherthenakedhouriswerevirginsornot.ButAbidSuzukicertainlywasone.

Q1:WhywasAbidSuzukidrivingbadly?Q2:Howdoyouestablishaman’svirginity?

THEBRAVEHEART

MehmoodwasatailorinBudgam.Hisgreatestdesirewastohavehimselfphotographedposingwithguns.Finallyaschoolfriendofhiswhohadjoinedamilitantgrouptookhimto

theirhideoutandmadehisdreamcometrue.MehmoodreturnedtoSrinagarwiththenegativesandtookthemtoTajPhotoStudiotohaveprintsmade.Henegotiateda25-paisadiscountforeachprint.WhenhewenttopickuphisprintstheBorderSecurityForcelaidacordonaroundTajPhotoStudioandcaughthimred-handedwiththeprints.Hewastakentoacampandtorturedformanydays.Hedidnotgiveawayanyinformation.Hewassentencedtotenyearsinjail.Themilitantcommanderwhofacilitatedthephotographysessionwasarrestedafew

monthslater.TwoAK-47sandseveralroundsofammunitionwererecoveredfromhim.Hewasreleasedaftertwomonths.

Q1:Wasitworthit?

THECAREERIST

Theboyhadalwayswantedtomakesomethingofhimself.Heinvitedfourmilitantsfordinnerandslippedsleepingpillsintotheirfood.Oncetheyhadfallenasleephecalledthearmy.Theykilledthemilitantsandburneddownthehouse.Thearmyhadpromisedtheboytwocanalsoflandandonehundredandfiftythousandrupees.Theygavehimonlyfiftythousandandaccommodatedhiminquartersjustoutsideanarmycamp.Theytoldhimthatifhewantedapermanentjobwiththeminsteadofbeingjustadailywageworkerhewouldhavetogetthemtwoforeignmilitants.Hemanagedtogetthemone‘live’Pakistanibutwashavingtroublefindinganother.‘Unfortunatelythesedaysbusinessisbad,’hetoldPI.‘Thingshavebecomesuchthatyoucannotanylongerjustkillsomeoneandpretendhe’saforeignmilitant.Somyjobcannotbemadepermanent.’PIaskedhim,iftherewasareferendumwhomhewouldvotefor,IndiaorPakistan?‘Pakistanofcourse.’‘Why?’‘BecauseitisourMulk(country).ButPakistanmilitantscan’thelpusinthisway.IfIcan

killthemandgetagoodjobithelpsme.’HetoldPIthatwhenKashmirbecameapartofPakistan,he(PI)wouldnotbeableto

surviveinit.Buthe(theboy)would.Butthat,hesaid,wasjustatheoreticalmatter.Becausehewouldbekilledshortly.

Q1:Whodidtheboyexpecttobekilledby?(a)Thearmy(b)Militants(c)Pakistanis(d)Ownersofthehousethatwasburned.

THENOBELPRIZEWINNER

ManoharMattoowasaKashmiriPanditwhostayedonintheValleyevenafteralltheotherHindushadgone.HewassecretlytiredofanddeeplyhurtbythebarbsfromhisMuslimfriendswhosaidthatallHindusinKashmirwereactually,inonewayoranother,agentsoftheIndianOccupationForces.Manoharhadparticipatedinalltheanti-Indiaprotests,andhadshoutedAzadi!louderthaneverybodyelse.Butnothingseemedtohelp.AtonepointhehadevencontemplatedtakinguparmsandjoiningtheHizb,buteventuallyhedecidedagainstit.Onedayanoldschoolfriendofhis,AzizMohammed,anintelligenceofficer,visitedhimathometotellhimthathewasworriedforhim.Hesaidthathehadseenhis(Mattoo’s)surveillancefile.Itsuggestedthathebeputunderwatchbecausehedisplayed‘anti-nationaltendencies’.WhenheheardthenewsMattoobeamedandfelthischestswellwithpride.

‘YouhavegivenmetheNobelPrize!’hetoldhisfriend.HetookAzizMohammedouttoCaféArabicaandboughthimcoffeeandpastriesworth

Rs500.Ayearlaterhe(Mattoo)wasshotbyanunknowngunmanforbeingakafir.

Q1:WhywasMattooshot?(a)BecausehewasaHindu(b)BecausehewantedAzadi(c)BecausehewontheNobelPrize(d)Noneoftheabove(e)Alloftheabove.

Q2:Whocouldtheunknowngunmanhavebeen?(a)AnIslamistmilitantwhothoughtallkafirsshouldbekilled(b)AnagentoftheOccupationwhowantedpeopletothinkthatall

Islamistmilitantsthoughtthatallkafirsshouldbekilled(c)Neitheroftheabove(d)Someonewhowantedeveryonetogocrazytryingtofigureitout.

KHADIJASAYS…

InKashmirwhenwewakeupandsay‘GoodMorning’whatwereallymeanis‘GoodMourning’.

THETIMESTHEYAREA-CHANGIN’

BegumDilAfrozewasawell-knownopportunistwhobelieved,quiteliterally,inchangingwiththetimes.WhentheMovementseemedtobeontheupandup,shewouldsetthetimeonherwristwatchhalfanhouraheadtoPakistanStandardTime.WhentheOccupationregaineditsgripshewouldresetittoIndianStandardTime.IntheValleythesayingwent,‘BegumDilAfroze’swatchisn’treallyawatch,it’sanewspaper.’

Q1:Whatisthemoralofthisstory?

APRILFOOL’SDAY2008:Actuallyit’sAprilFool’snight.Allnightthenewscomesinsporadically,relayedfrommobilephonetomobilephone:‘Encounter’inavillageinBandipora.TheBSFandSTFsaytheyreceivedspecificinformationthatthereweremilitants–theChiefofOperationsoftheLashkar-e-Taibaandsomeothers–inahouseinthevillageofChithiBandi.Therewasacrackdown.Theencounterwentonallnight.Pastmidnightthearmyannouncedthattheoperationhadbeensuccessful.Theysaidthattwomilitantshadbeenkilled.Butthepolicesaidtherewerenobodies.IwentwithPtoBandipora.Weleftatdawn.FromSrinagartoBandiporatheroadwindsthroughmustardfields.WularLakeisglassy,

inscrutable.Slimboatspreenonitlikefashionmodels.Ptellsmethatrecently,aspartof‘OperationGoodWill’,thearmytooktwenty-onechildrenonapicnicinanavyboat.Theboatoverturned.Alltwenty-onechildrendrowned.Whentheparentsofthedrownedchildrenprotestedtheywereshotat.Theluckieronesdied.Bandiporais‘liberated’,theysay.LikeSoporeoncewas.LikeShopianstillis.Bandipora

isbackedupagainstthehighmountains.Whenwereachedwefoundthatthecrackdownhadn’tended.

Thevillagerssaidithadbegunat3.30p.m.thepreviousday.Peoplewereforcedoutoftheirhomesatgunpoint.Theyhadtoleavetheirhousesopen,hotteanotyetdrunk,booksopen,homeworkincomplete,foodonthefire,theonionsfrying,thechoppedtomatoeswaitingtobeadded.Thereweremorethanathousandsoldiers,thevillagerssaid.Somesaidfourthousand.At

nightterrorismagnified,theleavesintheChinartreesmusthavelookedlikesoldiers.Asthecrackdownworeon,anddawnbroke,itwasnotjusttheoccasionalgunshotsthattorethroughpeople,butalsothesoftersounds,oftheircupboardsbeingopened,theircashandjewellerybeingstolen,theirloomsbeingsmashed.Theircattlebeingbarbecuedaliveintheirpens.Abighousebelongingtoapoet’sbrotherhadbeenrazed.Itwasaheapofrubble.No

bodieshadbeenfound.Themilitantshadescaped.Orperhapstheywereneverthere.Butwhywasthearmystillthere?Soldierswithmachineguns,shovelsandmortar

launcherscontrolledthecrowd.Morenews:Twoyoungmenhavebeenpickedupfromapetrolpumpnearby.Thecrowdgoesrigid.Thearmyhasalreadyannouncedthatthey’vekilledtwomilitantshereinChithiBandi.

Sonowithastoproducebodies.Thepeopleknowhowreallifeworks.Sometimesthescriptiswritteninadvance.‘Ifthebodiesofthoseboysarefreshlyburnedwewon’tacceptthearmystory.’GoIndia!GoBack!Peoplecatchsightofasoldierstandinginthevillagemosque,lookingdownatthem.He

hasn’ttakenhisbootsoffintheholyplace.Ahowlgoesup.Slowlythebarrelofthegunrisesandtakesaim.Theairshrinksandgrowshard.Ashotringsoutfromthepoet’sbrother’sex-house.It’sanannouncement.Thearmyis

goingtowithdraw.Thevillageroadisn’twideenoughforusandthem,sotomakeroomforthemweflattenourselvesagainstthewallsofhouses.Thesoldiersfilethrough.Hootingpursuesthemlikethewindwhistlingdownthevillageroad.Youcansensethesoldiers’angerandshame.Youcansensetheirhelplessnesstoo.Thatcouldchangeinasecond.Alltheyhavetodoistoturnaroundandshoot.Allthepeoplehavetodoistoliedownanddie.Whenthelastsoldierhasgone,thepeopleclimboverthedebrisoftheburnthouse.The

tinsheetsthatwereoncetheroofarestillsmouldering.Ascorchedtrunkliesopen,flamesstillleapingoutofit.Whatwasinitthatburnssobeautifully?Onthesmall,smokymountainofrubble,thepeoplestandandchant:HumKyaChahtey?Azadi!AndtheycallfortheLashkar:AiwaAiwa!Lashkar-e-Taiba!

Morenewscomes.MudasserNazirhasbeenpickedupbytheSTF.Hisfatherarrives.Hisbreathingisshallow.Hisfaceisashen.Anautumnleafinspring.They’vetakenhisboytothecamp.‘He’snotamilitant.Hewasinjuredinaprotestlastyear.’‘They’resayingifyouwantyoursonback,thensendusyourdaughter.Theysayshe’san

OGW–anovergroundworker.ThatshehelpsaHizbMantransporthisthings.’Maybeshedoes,maybeshedoesn’t.Eitherway,she’sagoner.

I’llhelpaHizbMantransporthisthings.Andthenhe’llkillmeforbeingme.Bad,uncoveredwoman.IndianIndian?Whatever

Soitgoes.

NOTHING

Iwouldliketowriteoneofthosesophisticatedstoriesinwhicheventhoughnothingmuchhappensthere’slotstowriteabout.Thatcan’tbedoneinKashmir.It’snotsophisticated,whathappenshere.There’stoomuchbloodforgoodliterature.

Q1:Whyisitnotsophisticated?Q2:Whatistheacceptableamountofbloodforgoodliterature?

Thelastentryinthenotebookwasanarmypressrelease,pastedontooneofthepages:

PRESSINFORMATIONBUREAU(DEFENCEWING)GOVERNMENTOFINDIAPUBLICRELATIONSOFFICE,MINISTRYOFDEFENCE,SRINAGARGIRLSOFBANDIPORALEFTFOREXCURSION

Bandipora27September:Todaywasanimportantdayinthelifeof17girlsofvillageErinandDardporaofBandiporadistrictwhentheir13daysSADHBHAVANATourtoAgra,DelhiandChandigarhwasflaggedoffbyMrsSonyaMehraandBrigadierAnilMehra,Commander,81MountainBrigadefromFisherygroundsofErinVillage.Thesegirlsaccompaniedbytwoelderlywomenandtwopanchesfromtheareaalongwithofficialsof14RashtriyaRifles.TheywillvisitplacesofhistoricalandeducationalinterestatAgra,DelhiandChandigarh.TheywouldhaveaprivilegeofinteractingwithGovernorofPunjabandoftheirownstate.BrigAnilMehra,Commander81MountainBrigade,whileaddressingthetourparticipants,toldthemtomakefulluseoftheexcellentopportunityprovidedtothem.Healsoaskedthemtokeenlyobservetheprogressmadebyotherstatesandtoseethemselvesasambassadorsofpeace.AlsopresentontheoccasiontogiveawarmsendoffwereColonelPrakashSinghNegi,CommandingOfficer,14RashtriyaRifles,electedsarpanchesofthetwovillagesandparentsofalltheparticipantsalongwithagatheringoflocalpopulace.

TheReader’sDigestBookofEnglishGrammarandComprehensionforVeryYoungChildrenwastwobeedisandfourcigaretteslong.Adjustingofcourseforreading/smokingspeed,bothofwhicharevariables.Tilosmiledtoherself,rememberinganotherGoodWillexcursionlikethe

onedescribedinthepressreleasethatthearmyhadverykindlyorganizedfortheboysfromMuskaan,thearmyorphanageinSrinagar.MusahadsentamessageaskinghertomeethimattheRedFort.Itmusthavebeenabouttenyearsago.ShewasstilllivingwithNagaatthetime.Onthatoccasion,Musa,athismostaudacious,wasoneofthecivilian

escortstothegroup.TheywerepassingthroughDelhiontheirwaytoAgratoseetheTajMahal.WhiletheywereinDelhitheorphansweretakentoseetheQutbMinar,RedFort,IndiaGate,RashtrapatiBhavan,ParliamentHouse,

BirlaHouse(whereGandhiwasshot),TeenMurti(whereNehruhadlived)and1SafdarjungRoad(whereIndiraGandhiwasshotbyherSikhbodyguards).Musawasunrecognizable.HecalledhimselfZahoorAhmed,smiledmoreoftenthanheneededtoandhadcultivatedabent,slightlyoafish,obsequiousair.HeandTilometasstrangerswhosatnexttoeachotherbychance,ona

benchinthedarkattheSoundandLightShowattheRedFort.Mostoftherestoftheaudiencewereforeigntourists.‘ThisisacollaborativeventurebetweenusandtheSecurityForces,’Musawhisperedtoher.‘Sometimes,inthesekindsofcollaborations,thepartnersdon’tknowthattheyarepartners.ThearmythinksitisteachingthechildrenlovefortheirMotherland.AndwethinkweareteachingthemtoknowtheirEnemy,sothatwhenitistheirgeneration’sturntofight,theywon’tendupbehavinglikeHassanLone.’Oneoftheorphans,atinyboywithhugeears,climbedontoMusa’slap,

gavehimathousandkissesandthensatverystill,regardingTilofromadistanceofaboutthreeinches,withintense,expressionlesseyes.Musawasgruffwithhim,unresponsive.ButTilosawhisfacemusclestwitchand,foramoment,hiseyesgrowbright.Sheletthemomentpass.‘Who’sHassanLone?’‘Hewasmyneighbour.Greatguy.Abrother.’‘Brother’wasMusa’shighestformofpraise.‘Hewantedtojointhemilitancy,butonhisfirsttriptoIndia,toBombay,

hesawthecrowdsatVTstationandhegaveup.Whenhereturnedhesaid,“Brothers,haveyouseenhowmanyofthemthereare?Wehavenochance!Isurrender.”Heactuallygaveup!He’sdoingsomesmalltextilebusinessnow.’Musa,smilingbroadlyinthedark,gavethechildonhislapasmacking

kissonhisheadinmemoryofhisfriendHassanLone.Thelittlefellowstaredstraightahead,glowinglikealamp.Onthesoundtracktheyearwas1739.EmperorMohammedShahRangeela

hadbeenonthePeacockThroneinDelhiforalmostthirtyyears.Hewasaninterestingemperor.Hewatchedelephantfightsdressedinladies’clothesandjewelledslippers.Underhispatronageanewschoolofminiaturepaintingdepictingexplicitsexandbucoliclandscapeswasborn.Butitwasn’tallsexanddebauchery.Greatkathakdancersandqawwalsperformedinhiscourt.Thescholar-mysticShahWaliullahtranslatedtheQuranintoPersian.KhwajaMirDardandMirTaqiMirrecitedtheirverseintheteahousesofChandniChowk:

LesaansbhiahistakinazukhaibahutkaamAfaqkiisskargah-e-shishagarika

Breathegentlyhere,forwithfragilityallisfraught,Here,inthisworkshopoftheworld,wherewaresofglassarewrought

Butthen,thesoundofhorses’hooves.ThetinyboystooduponMusa’slapandturnedaroundtoseewherethesoundwascomingfrom.ItwasNadirShah’scavalrygallopingfromPersiatoDelhi,pillagingcitiesthatlayonitsroute.TheEmperoronthePeacockThronewasunperturbed.Poetry,musicandliterature,hebelieved,oughtnottobeinterruptedbythebanalityofwar.ThelightsintheDiwan-e-Khaschangedcolour.Purple,red,green.Onthesoundtrackthelaughterofwomeninthezenana.Bellsontheanklesofdancinggirls.Theunmistakable,deep,coquettishgiggleofacourteunuch.Aftertheshowtheorphansandtheirescortsspentthenightinadormitory

intheVishwaYuvakKendrainDiplomaticEnclave.IthappenedtobejustdowntheroadfromTilo’s(andNaga’s)home.WhenTilogothome,NagawasasleepwiththeTVon.Sheswitcheditoff

andlaydownnexttohim.Thatnightshedreamedofawindingdesertroadthathadnoreasontowind.SheandMusawerewalkingdownit.Therewerebusesparkedalongonesideandshippingcontainersontheother–eachwithanentrancedoorandatattered,gauzecurtain.Therewerewhoresinsomeofthedoorwaysandsoldiersintheothers.LongSomalisoldiers.Badlyharmedpeoplewerebeingbroughtoutandchainedpeopletakenin.Musastoppedtospeaktoamaninwhite.Heseemedtobeanoldfriend.MusafollowedhimintoashippingcontainerwhileTilowaitedoutside.Whenhedidn’tcomeoutshewentinlookingforhim.Thelightintheroomwasred.Amanandwomanwerehavingsexonabedinacornerofthecontainer.Therewasabigdressingtablewithamirror.Musawasn’tintheroom,buthisimagewasreflectedinthemirror.Hewashangingfromtheroofbyhisarms,swingingaroundandaround.Therewasalotoftalcumpowderintheroom,includinginMusa’sarmpits.Tilowokeupwonderinghowshecametobeonaboat.ShelookedatNaga

foralongtimeandwasbrieflyovercomebysomethingthatfeltlikelove.Shedidn’tunderstanditanddidn’tdoanythingaboutit.

Shecalculatedthatithadbeenthirtyyearssinceallofthem–Naga,GarsonHobart,Musaandshe–hadfirstmetonthesetofNorman,IsThatYou?Andstilltheycontinuedtocirclearoundeachotherinthesepeculiarways.

Thelastboxwasn’tafruitcartonandwasn’ta‘recovery’fromtheflood.ItwasasmallHewlett-Packardprinter-cartridgecartonthatcontainedtheAmrikSinghdocumentsthatMusahadleftwithherafterhereturnedfromoneofhistripstotheUS.Sheopenedittodouble-checkthathermemoryservedherright.Itdid.Therewasasachetofoldphotographs,afolderofpressclippingsreportingAmrikSingh’ssuicide.Oneofthereportshada

photographoftheSinghs’houseinCloviswithpolicecarsparkedoutsideitandpolicemenmillingaroundinsidetheNoGozonetheyhadmarkedoffwiththeyellowtapeyousawinTVserialsandcrimefilms.TherewasaninsetphotographofXerxes,therobotwithacameramountedontoitthattheCaliforniapolicehadsentintothehousebeforetheywentintomakesurenobodywaslurkingaroundwaitingtoambushthem.OtherthanthepressclippingstherewasafilewithcopiesofAmrikSingh’sandhiswife’sapplicationsforasylumintheUS.Musahadgivenheralong,comicalaccountofhowhehadgotthefile.He,alongwithalawyerwhohadarguedhundredsofasylumcasesontheWestCoast–thefriendofa‘brother’–visitedtheAmericansocialworkerinCloviswhohadbeendealingwithAmrikSingh’scase.Thesocialworkerwasawonderfulman,Musasaid,oldandinfirm,butdedicatedtohisjob.Hehadsocialistleaningsandwasfuriouswithhisgovernment’simmigrationpolicy.Hissmallofficewaslinedwithfiles–thelegalrecordsofthehundredsofpeoplehehadhelpedtogetasylumintheUS,mostofthemSikhswhohadfledIndiaafter1984.HewasfamiliarwiththestoriesofpoliceatrocitiesinPunjab,thearmyinvasionoftheGoldenTempleandthe1984massacreofSikhsthatfollowedtheassassinationofIndiraGandhi.Helivedinatimewarpandwasn’tuptodateoncurrentaffairs.SohehadconflatedPunjabandKashmirandviewedMrandMrsAmrikSinghthroughthatprism–asyetanotherpersecutedSikhfamily.HehadleanedacrosshisdeskandwhisperedthathebelievedthetragedyoccurredbecauseneitherAmrikSinghnorhiswifehadcometotermswiththerapethatMrsAmrikSinghwasboundtohavesufferedwhileshewasinpolicecustody.Hehadtriedtoconvinceherthatmentioningitwouldgreatlyenhancetheirchancesofgettingasylum.Butshewouldn’tadmittoitandhadgrownagitatedwhenhesuggestedthattherewasnoshameintalkingaboutit.‘Theyweresimplegoodfolks,thosetwo,alltheyneededwassome

counselling,theyandtheirlittleones,’hesaid,handingovercopiesoftheirpaperstoMusa.‘Somecounsellingandsomegoodfriends.Justalittlehelpandtheywouldstillhavebeenalive.Butthat’stoomuchtoexpectfromthisgreatcountry,isn’tit?’Rightatthebottomoftheprinter-cartridgecartonwasafat,old-fashioned

legalfilethatTilodidn’trememberhavingseenbefore.Itwasasetofloose,unboundpages,perhapsfiftyorsixtypages,stackedonapieceofcardboardandtieddownwithredstrapsandwhitestring.WitnesstestimoniesintheJalibQadricasefromnearlytwentyyearsago:

MemorandumofStatementbyGhulamNabiRasools/oMushtaqNabiRasool,r/oBarbarshah.Occupation–ServiceinTourismDepartment.Age37years.StatementrecordedunderSection161/CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:IamaresidentofBarbarshahinSrinagar.On8.03.1995Isawamilitarycontingent

positionedatParraypora.Theywerefriskingvehiclesthere.Anarmytruckandarmouredvehiclewerealsoparkedthere.OnetallSikharmyofficersurroundedbymanymilitarypersonnelinuniformwasconductingthefrisking.Aprivatetaxiwasalsoparkedthere.Inthetaxithereweresomecivilianpersonnelwrappedinaredblanket.OnaccountoffearIremainedsomedistanceawayfromthisscene.ThenIsawawhiteMaruticarcoming.JalibQadriwasdrivingandhiswifewasinthepassengerseat.OnseeingJalibQadrithetallarmyofficerstoppedhisvehicleandmadehimtogetout.TheypushedhiminthearmouredvehicleandallthevehiclesincludingtheprivatetaxiwentawayinaconvoyviatheBypass.

MemorandumofStatementbyRehmatBajads/oAbdulKalamBajad,r/oKursooRajbagh,Srinagar.Occupation–AgricultureDepartment.Age32years.StatementrecordedunderSection161/CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:IamtheinhabitantofKursooRajbaghandworkintheAgricultureDepartmentasfieldassistantofficer.Today,on27.03.1995,IwasatmyhomewhenIheardnoisecomingfromoutside.Icameoutandfoundpeopleweregatheredaroundadeadbodywhichwastuckedintoasack-bag.ThedeadbodyhadbeenrecoveredbylocalyouthfromtheJhelumFloodChannel.Theyouthremovedthebodyfromthesack-bag.IfoundittobethebodyofJalibQadri.Irecognizedhimbecausehehadbeenlivinginmyneighbourhoodforthepasttwelveyears.AfterinspectionIidentifiedthefollowingapparel:

1.Woollensweaterkhakicoloured2.Whiteshirt3.Greypants4.Whiteundershirt.

Besidesthisbotheyesweremissing.Hisforeheadwasbloodstained.Bodywasshrunkanddecomposed.PolicecameandtookcustodyandpreparedacustodymemowhichIsigned.

MemorandumofStatementbyMaroofAhmedDars/oAbdulAhadDar,r/oKursooRajbagh,Srinagar.Occupation–Business.Age40years.StatementrecordedunderSection161/CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:IamaresidentofKursooRajbaghanddealwithbusiness.On27.03.1995IheardnoisecomingfromthebankoftheJhelumFloodChannel.IwenttothespotandfoundthatthedeadbodyofJalibQadriwaslyingonthebundtuckedinasackbag.Icouldidentifythedeceasedbecausehewasresidinginmyneighbourhoodforaperiodoftwelveyearsandweofferedprayersinthesamelocalmosque.Onthedeceasedbodythefollowingapparelswereseen:

1.Woollensweaterkhakicoloured2.Whiteshirt3.Greypants4.Whiteundershirt.

Besidesthisbotheyesweremissing.Hisforeheadwasbloodstained.Bodywasshrunkanddecomposed.PolicecameandtookcustodyandpreparedacustodymemowhichIsigned.

MemorandumofStatementbyMohammedShafiqBhats/oAbdulAzizBhat,r/oGanderbal.Occupation–Mason.Age30years.StatementrecordedunderSection161/CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:IhailfromGanderbal.IamamasonbyprofessionandpresentlyIamworkinginthehouseofMohammedAyubDarinKursooRajbagh.Today,on27.03.1995atabout6.30a.m.inthemorningIwenttotheJhelumFloodChannelforwashingmyface.Isawadeadbodyina

sack-bagfloatingintheriver.Onelegandonearmwasvisiblefromoutside.OnaccountoffearIdidnotreportthistoanybody.LaterIwenttoMohammedShabirWar’shousetoperformmylabourasamason.Ifoundthesamedeadbodyinasack-bagwhichwasrecoveredbythelocalsfromtheJhelumFloodChannel.Thedeadbodywasdecomposedandsoaked.Theapparelonthebodywasasfollows:

1.Woollensweaterkhakicoloured2.Whiteshirt3.Greypants4.Whiteundershirt.

Besidesthisbotheyesweremissing.Hisforeheadwasbloodstained.Bodywasshrunkanddecomposed.PolicecameandtookcustodyandpreparedacustodymemowhichIsigned.

MemorandumofStatementbybrotherofthedeceased,ParvaizAhmedQadris/oAltafQadri,r/oAwantipora.Occupation–ServiceinAcademyofArts,CultureandLanguages.Age35years.StatementrecordedunderSection161CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:IamaresidentofAwantiporaandthebrotherofthedeceasedJalibQadri.TodayaftertheidentificationandPostmortemItookthedeadbodyofmybrotherJalibQadrifromthePolice.Thepoliceseparatelyfiledaninjurymemoandreceiptforthedeadbody.ThecontentsofthememoswerereadtomewhichIacknowledgetobecorrect.

MemorandumofStatementbyMushtaqAhmedKhanaliasUsmanaliasBhaitoth,r/oJammuCity.Age30years.Statementrecordedon12.06.95underSection164/CrPC

Thewitnessstatesasunder:Sir,Iamabaker.IhadashopatRawalporaandusedtosupplybreadtothearmypersonnelfrom1990–91.ThenthesituationinKashmirdeterioratedandthemilitantsthreatenedmeforsupplyingbreadtoarmypersonnel.Sincethatwastheonlylifelineformybusiness,assuchIcloseddownmybakeryandwenttomynativevillageinUri.Afterthreemonthsofmystaytheremilitantsstartedtovictimizemywife.Notonlythis,theyforciblykidnappedmy15yearsoldsisterandforcedhertomarryoneoftheircompanions.OnthisaccountIleftmynativevillageandreturnedtoSrinagarwhereIstayedinarentedhouseinMagarmalBagh.InsometimemilitantsoftheJammuKashmirLiberationFront(JKLF)reachedthereandforcedmetojointheircadre.LateronduringthemutualconflictsamongdifferentmilitantfactionsthemilitantsofAl-UmaroutfitpickedmeupandIgotassociatedwithitfortwoyears.Thenthesecurityforcesstartedtroublingmeandpickedupmychildren.AssuchIsurrenderedbeforeIndiaBravoIBandhandedovermyAK-47rifletothem.Iwaskeptincustodyfor8monthsinBaramullaandthenreleasedbutwasboundtoreporttoIBeveryfifteendays.IdidthisforthreemonthsbutthenranawayonaccountoffearbecauseifanybodywouldhaveseenmewithIBitwouldhavebeenfataltomylife.InSrinagar,oneperson,namelyAhmedAliBhataliasCobrametmeandintroducedmetotheDySPofKothiBaghpolicestationwhotookmeandsentmeforworkwiththeSpecialOperationsGroupSOGintheRawalporacamp.CobraandParwazBhatwereIkhwanisandusedtoworkinthecampalongwithMajorAmrikSingh.TheyprovokedMajorAmrikSinghagainstmeandtoldhimIknewallthemilitantsandshouldhelphimintheirarrest.OnedayMajorAmrikSinghtookmealongwithhimforpurposeofraidonmilitants’hideoutatWazirBaghwhereintwomilitantswerecapturedandreleasedafterpaymentofRs40,000.IworkedwithMajorAmrikSinghformanymonthsandwaswitnesstotheeliminationbyhimofthefollowingpeople:

1.GhulamRasoolWani.2.BasitAhmedKhandaywhowasworkinginCenturyHotel.3.AbdulHafeezPir.4.IshfaqWaza.

5.OneSikhtailorwhosenamewasKuldeepSingh.

Alltheyhavebeenregisteredasdisappearedsincethen.

AfterwardsononeoccasioninMarch1995MajorAmrikSinghandhisfriendSalimGojriwhowasalsolikemeasurrenderedmilitantandfrequentvisitortothecamppickeduponepersonwhowaswearingacoat,whiteshirtandtieandgreypant.AtthattimeSukhanSingh,BalbirSinghandDoctorwerealsothere.Thecoat-pantmanwasaverylearnedperson.Hearguedwiththeminthecampsaying‘Whydidyougotmearrestedandbroughtmehere?’UponwhichMajorAmrikSinghgotfuriousandbeathimruthlesslyandtookhimtoaseparateroom.Afterconfininghimhecameoutandsaid,‘DoyouknowthatpersonisthefamousadvocateJalibQadri.Wehavearrestedhimbecausewhosoevermalignsthearmyandhelpsmilitantswillnotbesparedwhatevermaybehisstatus.’ThateveningIheardcriesandshoutingfromthesameroominwhichJalibQadriwasconfined.Ifurtherheardsoundsofgunshotsinthatroom.LaterIobservedonesack-bagwasloadedintoavehicle.

FewdayslaterwhenthedeadbodyofJalibQadriwasrecoveredandnewswerepublishedinthepapersinthisregard,MajorAmrikSinghinregretsaidtomethathedidwrong,andthatheshouldnothavekilledJalibQadributhewashelplessinthisregardbecauseotherofficershadentrustedthatjobtohimandSalimGojri.WhenhesaidthistomeIfeltathreattomylife.

ThenSalimGojriandhisassociates,MohammedRamzanwhowasillegalimmigrantfromBangladesh,MuneerNasserHajamandMohammedAkbarLaway,stoppedcomingtothecamp.MajorAmrikSinghsentmealongwithSukhanSinghandBalbirSinghinvehiclestofindthemandbringthemtothecamp.WefoundSalimGojrisittinginashopinBudgamandaskedhimwhyhehadnotcometothecampforoneweek.Hesaidhewasbusywithraidsandhewouldcomethenextday.Nextdayhecamewithhisthreeassociates.TheycameinanAmbassadortaxi.Theirweaponswereheldatthegate.MajorAmrikSinghtoldthemthiswasduetotheimpendingvisitoftheCOofthecamp.AfterthatMajorAmrikSingh,SalimGojriandhisassociatessatinchairsatthecompoundandstarteddrinking.AftertwohoursMajorAmrikSinghtookSalimGojriandhisassociatestothediningroom.Iwasintheverandah.SukhanSingh,BalbirSingh,oneMajorAshokandDoctortiedSalimGojriandhisassociateswithropesandclosedthedoor.ThenextdaytheirbodieswererecoveredinafieldinPamporealongwiththebodyofthetaxidriverMumtazAfzalMalik.AfterwardsImovedmywifeandchildrentothehouseofmyfriendwhowasresidingatBy-pass.ThenIescapedtoJammu.FurtherIdonotknow.

Tiloputthefilesandthesachetofphotographsbackintothecartonandleftitonthetable.Theywerelegalpapersandcontainednothingincriminating.ShepackedMusa’s‘recoveries’–thegun,theknife,thephones,the

passports,boardingpassesandeverythingelse–intoairtightplasticfoodcontainersandstackedtheminherfreezer.InsideoneofthecontainerssheputSaddamHussain’svisitingcard,sothatMusawouldknowwheretocome.Herrefrigeratorwasanoldone–thekindthaticedupifitwasn’tregularlydefrosted.Sheknewthatifsheturnedthetemperaturedownbeforesheleft,theincriminatingevidencewouldturnintoablockofice.HerreasoningwasthatRecoveriesthathadsurvivedadevastatingfloodsurelyhadspecialpowers.Theywouldsurviveamini-blizzardtoo.

Shepackedasmallbag.Clothes,books,babythings,computer,toothbrush.Thepotwithhermother’sashes.Theonlydecisionthatremainedtobemadewaswhattodowiththecake

andtheballoons.

Shelayinherbed,fullydressedandreadytoleave.Itwas3a.m.Stillnosign(norscent)ofSaddamHussain.ReadingtheOtterpaperswasamistake.Abadone.Shefeltasthoughshe

hadbeensealedintoabarreloftar,withhimandallthepeoplehehadkilled.Shecouldsmellhim.Andseehiscold,flateyesashesatacrossfromherontheboatandstaredather.Shecouldfeelhishandonherscalp.Thebedshelayonwasn’treallyabed,justamattressontheredcement

floor.Antshurriedaroundwithcakecrumbs.Theheatseepedthroughthemattressandthesheetfeltcoarseagainstherskin.Ababygeckowalkedunsteadilyacrossthefloor.Itstoppedafewfeetaway,lifteditsbigheadandregardedherwithbright,oversizedeyes.Shewatcheditback.‘Hide!’shewhispered.‘Thevegetariansarecoming.’Sheoffereditadeadmosquitofromthepileofdeadmosquitoesshehad

collectedonasheetofblankpaper.Sheputthemosquitocarcassdown,halfwaybetweenherselfandthegecko.Thegeckoignoreditatfirst,andthenateitinaflash,whileshelookedaway.WhatIshouldhavebeen,shethought,isagecko-feeder.

Harshneonlightmasqueradingasthemoonstreamedthroughthewindow.Afewweeksago,walkingacrossasteep,over-litflyoveratnight,sheeavesdroppedonaconversationbetweentwomenwheelingtheirbicycles:‘Isshehermeinabraatkasahaarabhinahinmilta.’Inthiscitywe’veevenlosttheshelterofthenight.Shelayverystill,likeacorpseinamorgue.Herhairwasgrowing.Hertoenailstoo.Thehaironherheadwasdeadwhite.Thetriangleofhairbetweenherlegswasjetblack.Whatdidthatmean?Wassheoldorstillyoung?Wasshedeadorstillalive?Andthen,evenwithoutturningherhead,sheknewtheyhadcome.The

bulls.Massiveheadswithperfecthornssilhouettedsickle-shapedagainstthelight.Twoofthem.Thecolourofnight.Thestolencolourofwhat-used-to-be-night.Roughcurlsembossedintotheirdampforeheadslikedamaskheadscarves.Theirmoist,velvetnosesglistened,andtheypursedtheirpurple

lips.Theymadenosound.Theyneverharmedher,onlystared.Thewhitesoftheireyesastheylookedaroundtheroomwerecrescentmoons.Theydidn’tseemcuriousorparticularlygrave.Theywerelikedoctorslookinginonapatient,tryingtoagreeonadiagnosis.Didyouforgettobringyourstethoscopesagain?Timehadadifferentqualityintheirpresence.Shecouldn’ttellforhow

longtheywatchedher.Sheneverlookedbackatthem.Sheknewtheyweregoneonlywhenthelighttheyhadblockedreturnedtoilluminatetheroom.Whenshewassuretheyweregone,shewenttothewindowandsawthem

shrinktostreetlevelandwalkaway.City-slickers.Apairofthugs.Oneofthemlifteditsleglikeadogandpissedonthewindowofacar.Averytalldog.Sheputonthelightandlookedupthewordinsouciant.Thedictionarysaid:Cheerfullyunconcernedorunworriedaboutsomething.Shekeptdictionariesnearherbed,piledupintoatower.Shepickedasheetofpaperfromaream,andapencilfromacoffeemug

fullofsharpenedbluepencils,andbegantowrite:

DearDoctor,

Iamwitnesstoacuriousscientificphenomenon.Twobullsliveintheservicelaneoutsidemyflat.Inthedaytimetheyappearquitenormal,butatnighttheygrowtall–Ithinkthewordmightbe‘elevate’–andstareatmethroughmysecond-floorwindow.Whentheypiss,theylifttheirlegslikedogs.Lastnight(atabout8p.m.),whenIwasreturningfromthemarket,onegrowledatme.ThisI’msureof.Myquestionis:Isthereanychancethattheycouldbegeneticallymodifiedbulls,withdog-growthorwolf-growthgenesimplantedinthem,thatmighthaveescapedfromalab?Ifso,aretheybullsordogs?Orwolves?Ihavenotheardofanysuchexperimentsbeingdoneoncattle,haveyou?Iamawareof

humangrowthgenesbeingusedontrout,makingthemgigantic.Thepeoplewhobreedthesegianttroutsaythey’redoingittofeedpeopleinpoorcountries.Myquestioniswhowillfeedthegianttrout?Humangrowthgeneshavealsobeenusedinpigs.I’veseentheresultofthatexperiment.It’sacross-eyedmutantthatissoheavythatitcannotstanduporbearitsownweight.Itneedstobeproppeduponaboard.It’sprettydisgusting.Thesedaysoneisneverreallysurewhetherabullisadog,oranearofcornisactuallya

legofporkorabeefsteak.Butperhapsthisisthepathtogenuinemodernity?Why,afterall,shouldn’taglassbeahedgehog,ahedgeanetiquettemanual,andsoon?

Yourstruly,Tilottama

P.S.Ihavelearnedthatscientistsworkinginthepoultryindustryaretryingtoexcisethemotheringinstinctinhensinordertomitigateorentirelyremovetheirdesiretobrood.Theirgoal,apparently,istostopchickenswastingtimeonunnecessarythingsandtherebytoincreasetheefficiencyofeggproduction.EventhoughIampersonallyandinprinciplecompletelyagainstefficiency,Iwonderwhetherconductingthissortofintervention(bywhichImeanexcisingthemotheringinstinct)ontheMaaji–TheMothersoftheDisappearedinKashmir–wouldhelp.Rightnowtheyareinefficient,unproductiveunits,livingonamandatorydietofhopelesshope,potteringaboutintheirkitchengardens,wonderingwhattogrowandwhattocook,incasetheirsonsreturn.I’msureyouagreethisisabadbusinessmodel.Couldyouproposeabetterone?Adoable,realistic(althoughI’magainstrealismtoo)formulatoarriveatanefficientQuantumofHope?ThethreevariablesintheircaseareDeath,DisappearanceandFamilialLove.Allotherformsoflove,assuming

thattheydoindeedexist,donotqualifyandshouldbedisregarded.BarringofcoursetheLoveofGod.(Thatgoeswithoutsaying.)

P.P.S.I’mmoving.Idon’tknowwhereI’mgoing.Thisfillsmewithhope.

Whenshefinishedherlettershefoldeditcarefullyandputitintoherbag.Shecutthecake,packeditintoaboxfileandputitintothefridge.Sheuntiedtheballoonsonebyoneandlockedtheminthecupboard.SheswitchedontheTVwiththevolumeoff.Amanwassellinghiseyebrows.Hehadturneddowntheinitialofferoffivehundreddollars.Eventually,foronethousandfourhundreddollarsheagreedtohavethemshavedoffwithanelectricshaver.Hehadafunny,sheepishsmileonhisface.HelookedlikeElmerFuddinTheWackyWabbit.

Predawn.StillnoSaddamHussain.Thekidnapperlookeddownfromherwindowalittleimpatiently.Atextmessageonherphone:

Let’suniteonInternationalYogaDayforpoolsidecandlelightyogaandmeditationbyGuruHanumantBhardwaj

Shetappedoutareply:

Pleaselet’snot.

Rightbesidetheschoolgateonwhichapaintednursewasgivingapaintedbabyapaintedpoliovaccination,acircleofsleepywomen,migrantworkersfromroadworksnearby,stoodaroundatinyboyashesquattedlikeacommaontheedgeofanopenmanhole.Thewomenleanedontheirshovelsandpickaxesastheywaitedfortheirstartoperform.Thecommahadhiseyesfixedononeofthewomen.Hismother.Thespiritmovedhim.Hemadeapool.Ayellowleaf.HismotherputdownheraxeandwashedhisbottomwithmuddywaterfromanoldBisleribottle.Withtheleftoverwatershewashedherhands,andwashedtheyellowleafintothemanhole.Nothinginthecitybelongedtothewomen.Notatinyplotofland,notahovelinaslum,notatinsheetovertheirheads.Noteventhesewagesystem.Butnowtheyhadmadeadirect,unorthodoxdeposit,anexpressdeliverystraightintothesystem.Maybeitmarkedthebeginningofafootholdinthecity.Thecomma’smothergatheredhiminherarms,slungheraxeacrosshershoulder,andthelittlecontingentleft.Thestreetwasempty.Andthen,asthoughhehadbeenwaitingforthewomentoleavebefore

makinghisentry,SaddamHussainappeared.Inthefollowingorder:

SoundSightSmell(stench).Theyellowmunicipaltruckturnedintothelittleservicelaneandparkeda

fewhousesaway.SaddamHussainswungoutofthepassengerseat(withthesameflamboyancewithwhichheusuallyswungoffhishorse),hisgazealreadyscanningthesecond-floorwindowofTilo’sbuilding.Tiloputherheadoutandsignalledthatthegatewasopenandthatheshouldcomeup.Shemethimatthedoorwithapackedsuitcase,ababyandaboxfilefull

ofstrawberrycake.ComradeLaaligreetedSaddamonthelandingasthoughshewasbeingreunitedwithalostlover.Sheheldherheadsteadyandwaggedtherestofherbodyfromsidetoside,herearsflattened,hereyesslantingcoquettishly.‘Issheyours?’SaddamaskedTiloaftertheyhadintroducedthemselvesto

eachother.‘Wecantakeher,there’splentyofroomwherewearegoing.’‘Shehaspuppies.’‘Arre,where’stheproblem…?’Hegentlypushedthepuppiesoffthesacktheylayon,openeditand

droppedthemin–abunchofsquealing,squirmingbrinjals.Tilolockedherdoorandthelittleprocessiontroopeddownthestairsandintothestreet.Saddamwithapackedsuitcaseandasackfullofpuppies.Tilowithababyandaboxfile.AndComradeLaalitrailinghernew-foundlovewithunashameddevotion.

Thedriver’scabinwasasbigasasmallhotelroom.NeerajKumarthedriverandSaddamHussainwereoldfriends.Saddam(masterofforethoughtandattentiontodetail)placedawoodenfruitcratenearthedoorofthetruck.Amakeshiftstep.ComradeLaalijumpedin,followedbyTiloandMissJebeentheSecond.Theysatattheback,onaredRexinebunkbedthattruckdriverssleptonduringlong-hauldriveswhentheyweretiredandthestand-indrivertookthewheel.(Municipalgarbagetrucksneverwentonlong-hauldrives,buttheyhadthebunkbedsanyway.)Saddamsatinfront,onthepassengerseat.Heplacedthepuppysackbetweenhisfeet,openeditupforair,putonhissunglasses,rappedthepassengerdoortwice,likeabusconductor,andtheywereoff.Theyellowtruckblazedatrailthroughthecity,leavingthestenchofburst

cowinitswake.Thistime,unlikethelastjourneySaddamhadmadewithsimilarcargo,hewasinamunicipaltruckinthecapitalofthecountry.GujaratkaLallawasstillayearawayfromtakingthethrone,thesaffronparakeetswerestillbidingtheirtime,waitinginthewings.Sotemporarily,itwassafe.

Thetruckrattledpasttherowofcar-repairshops,themenanddogscoveredingrease,stillasleepoutside.Pastamarket,aSikhGurdwara,anothermarket.Pastahospitalwith

patientsandtheirfamiliescampedontheroadoutside.Pastjostlingcrowdsatthe24×7chemists.Overaflyover,thestreetlightsstillon.PasttheGardenCitywithlush,landscapedroundabouts.Asitdroveon,thegardensdisappeared,theroadsgrewbumpyand

potholed,thepavementsgrewcrowdedwithsleepingbodies.Dogs,goats,cows,humans.Parkedcyclerickshawsstackedonebehindtheotherlikethevertebraeinaserpent’sskeleton.Thetruckstankitswayundercrumblingstonearchesandpasttheramparts

oftheRedFort.ItskirtedtheoldcityandarrivedatJannatGuestHouseandFuneralServices.

Anjumwaswaitingforthem–anecstaticsmileshiningoutfromamongthetombstones.Shewassplendidlydressed,inthesequinsandsatinofherglorydays.She

woremake-upandlipstick,shehaddyedherhairandpinnedonathick,long,blackplaitwitharedribbonwovenintoit.SheenvelopedbothTiloandMissJebeeninabearhug,kissingbothofthemseveraltimes.ShehadorganizedaWelcomeHomeparty.JannatGuestHousewas

decoratedwithballoonsandstreamers.Theguests,allsplendidlydressed,were:Zainab,aplumpeighteen-year-old

now,studyingfashiondesignatalocalpolytechnic,Saeeda(soberlydressedinasari,inadditiontobeingUstadoftheKhwabgah,sheheadedanNGOthatworkedontransgenderrights),NimmoGorakhpuri(whohaddriveninfromMewatwiththreekilosoffreshmuttonfortheparty),Ishrat-the-Beautiful(whohadextendedhervisit),RoshanLal(whoremainedpoker-faced),ImamZiauddin(whotickledMissJebeenwithhisbeard,andthenblessedherandsaidaprayer).UstadHameedplayedtheharmoniumandwelcomedherinRaagTilakKamod:

AerisakhimorapiyagharaayeBaghlagaissaanganko

Omycompanions,mylovehascomehomeThisbareyardhasblossomedintoagarden

SaddamandAnjumshowedTilototheroomtheyhadreadiedforheronthegroundfloor.ShewouldshareitwithComradeLaaliandfamily,MissJebeenandAhlamBaji’sgrave.Payal-the-marewastetheredoutsidethewindow.Theroomwasfestoonedwithstreamersandballoons.Unsureofwhatarrangementstomakeforawoman,arealwoman,fromtheDuniya–andnotjusttheDuniyabuttheSouthDelhiDuniya–theyhadoptedfora

hairdressing-salontypeofdécor–adressingtablefromasecond-handfurnituremarketfittedoutwithalargemirror.AmetaltrolleyonwhichtherewasarangeofbottlesofdifferentshadesofLakménailpolishandlipstick,acomb,ahairbrush,rollers,ahairdryerandabottleofshampoo.NimmoGorakhpurihadbroughtherlifetime’scollectionoffashionmagazinesfromherhomeinMewatandarrangedthemintallpilesonalargecoffeetable.Nexttothebedwasababycotwithabigteddybearproppeduponthepillow.(ThecontroversialsubjectofwhereMissJebeentheSecondwouldsleepandwhowouldbecalledMummy–not‘badiMummy’or‘chhotiMummy’,butMummy–wouldberaisedlater.ItwouldbeeasilyresolvedbecauseTiloconcededtoAnjum’sdemandsquitehappily.)AnjumintroducedTilotoAhlamBajiasthoughAhlamBajiwerestillalive.SherecountedheraccomplishmentsandachievementsandlistedthenamesofsomeofShahjahanabad’sluminariesthatshehadhelpedbringintotheworld–AkbarMianthebaker,makerofthebestsheermalinthewalledcity,JabbarBhaithetailor,SabihaAlvi,whosedaughterhadjuststartedaBenarasiSariEmporiuminthefirst-floorroomoftheirhouse.AnjumspokeasthoughitwasaworldthatTilowasfamiliarwith,aworldthateverybodyoughttobefamiliarwith;infact,theonlyworldworthbeingfamiliarwith.Forthefirsttimeinherlife,Tilofeltthatherbodyhadenoughroomto

accommodateallitsorgans.Thefirsteverhotelthathadcomeupinthesmalltownshegrewupinwas

calledHotelAnjali.ThestreethoardingsthatadvertisedthisexcitingnewdevelopmentsaidCometoAnjalifortheRestofYourLife.Thepunhadbeenunintentional,butasachildshehadalwaysimaginedthatHotelAnjaliwasfullofthecorpsesofitsunsuspectingguestswhohadbeenmurderedintheirsleepandwouldremaintherefortherestoftheir(dead)lives.InthecaseofJannatGuestHouse,Tilofeltthatthattaglinewouldhavebeennotjustappropriate,butcomforting.InstincttoldherthatshemayfinallyhavefoundahomefortheRestofHerLife.Dawnhadjustbrokenwhenthefeastingbegan.Anjumhadshoppedallday

(formeatandtoysandfurniture)andcookedallnight.Onthemenuwas:MuttonKormaMuttonBiryaniBrainCurryKashmiriRoganJoshFriedLiverShamiKebabNanTandooriRotiSheermal

PhirniWatermelonwithblacksalt.Theaddictsandhomelesspeoplefromtheperipheryofthegraveyard

gatheredtopartakeofthefeastandmerriment.Payalsnuffledupasubstantialservingofphirni.DrAzadBhartiyaarrivedalittlelate,buttogreatapplauseandaffectionforhavingcoordinatedtheescapeandhomecoming.Hisindefinitefasthadentereditseleventhyear,thirdmonthandtwenty-fifthday.Hewouldnoteat,butsettledforadewormingpillandaglassofwater.Afewkebabsandsomebiryaniwerekeptasideforthemunicipalofficers

whowouldsurelycomebylaterintheday.‘ThosefellowsarejustlikeusHijras,’Anjumsaidandlaughed

affectionately.‘Somehowtheysmellacelebrationandarrivetodemandtheirshare.’BirooandComradeLaalifeastedonbonesandleftovers.Asamatterof

abundantcaution,ZainabsequesteredthepupsinaplacethatwasinaccessibletoBirooandspenthoursdelightinginthemandflirtingoutrageouslywithSaddamHussain.MissJebeentheSecondwaspassedfromarmtoarm,hugged,kissedand

overfed.Inthiswaysheembarkedonherbrand-newlifeinaplacesimilarto,andyetaworldapartfromwhere,overeighteenyearsago,heryoungancestorMissJebeentheFirsthadendedhers.Inagraveyard.Anothergraveyard,justalittlefurthernorth.

AndtheywouldnotbelievemepreciselybecausetheywouldknowthatwhatIsaidwastrue.

JAMESBALDWIN

9

TheUntimelyDeathofMissJebeentheFirst

Eversinceshewasoldenoughtoinsist,shehadinsistedonbeingcalledMissJebeen.Itwastheonlynameshewouldanswerto.Everyonehadtocallherthat,herparents,hergrandparents,theneighbourstoo.Shewasaprecociousdevoteeofthe‘Miss’fetishthatgrippedtheKashmirValleyintheearlyyearsoftheinsurrection.Allofasudden,fashionableyoungladies,especiallyinthetowns,insistedonbeingaddressedas‘Miss’.MissMomin,MissGhazala,MissFarhana.Itwasonlyoneofthemanyfetishesofthetimes.Inthoseblood-dimmedyears,forreasonsnobodyfullyunderstood,peoplebecamewhatcanonlybedescribedasfetish-prone.Otherthanthe‘Miss’fetish,therewasanursefetish,aPT(PhysicalTraining)instructorfetishandaroller-skatingfetish.So,inadditiontocheckposts,bunkers,weapons,grenades,landmines,Casspirs,concertinawire,soldiers,insurgents,counter-insurgents,spies,specialoperatives,doubleagents,tripleagentsandsuitcasesofcashfromtheAgenciesonbothsidesoftheborder,theValleywasalsoawashwithnurses,PTinstructorsandroller-skaters.AndofcourseMisses.AmongthemMissJebeen,whodidn’tlivelongenoughtobecomeanurse,

norevenaroller-skater.IntheMazar-e-Shohadda,theMartyrs’Graveyard,whereshewasfirst

buried,thecast-ironsignboardthatarchedoverthemaingatesaid(intwolanguages):WeGaveOurTodaysforYourTomorrows.It’scorrodednow,thegreenpaintfaded,thedelicatecalligraphyfleckedwithpinholesoflight.Still,thereitis,afteralltheseyears,silhouettedlikeaswatchofstifflaceagainstthesapphireskyandthesnowy,saw-toothedmountains.Thereitstillis.MissJebeenwasnotamemberoftheCommitteethatdecidedwhatshould

bewrittenonthesignboard.Butshewasinnopositiontoarguewithits

decision.Also,MissJebeenhadn’tnotchedupverymanyTodaystotradeinforTomorrows,butthenthealgebraofinfinitejusticewasneversorude.Inthisway,withoutbeingconsultedonthematter,shebecameoneoftheMovement’syoungestmartyrs.Shewasburiedrightnexttohermother,BegumArifaYeswi.Motheranddaughterdiedbythesamebullet.ItenteredMissJebeen’sheadthroughherlefttempleandcametorestinhermother’sheart.Inthelastphotographofher,thebulletwoundlookedlikeacheerfulsummerrosearrangedjustaboveherleftear.Afewpetalshadfallenonherkaffan,thewhiteshroudshewaswrappedinbeforeshewaslaidtorest.MissJebeenandhermotherwereburiedalongwithfifteenothers,taking

thetolloftheirmassacretoseventeen.AtthetimeoftheirfuneraltheMazar-e-Shohaddawasstillfairlynew,but

wasalreadygettingcrowded.However,theIntizamiyaCommittee,theOrganizingCommittee,haditseartothegroundfromtheverybeginningoftheinsurrectionandhadarealisticideaofthingstocome.Itplannedthelayoutofthegravescarefully,makingordered,efficientuseoftheavailablespace.Everyoneunderstoodhowimportantitwastoburymartyrs’bodiesincollectiveburialgroundsandnotleavethemscattered(intheirthousands),likebirdfeed,upinthemountains,orintheforestsaroundthearmycampsandtorturecentresthathadmushroomedacrosstheValley.WhenthefightingbeganandtheOccupationtighteneditsgrip,forordinarypeopletheconsolidationoftheirdeadbecame,initself,anactofdefiance.Thefirsttobelaidtorestinthegraveyardwasagumnaamshaheed,an

anonymousmartyr,whosecoffinwasbroughtoutatmidnight.Hewasburiedinthegraveyard-which-wasn’t-yet-a-graveyardwithfullritesandhonoursbeforeasolemnknotofmourners.Thenextmorning,whilecandleswerelitandfreshrosepetalsscatteredonthefreshgrave,andfreshprayersweresaidinthepresenceofthousandsofpeoplewhohadgatheredfollowingthepost-Friday-prayerannouncementsinthemosques,theCommitteebeganthebusinessoffencingoffalargeswatheoflandthesizeofasmallmeadow.Afewdayslaterthesignwentup:Mazar-e-Shohadda.Rumourhaditthattheunidentifiedmartyrwhowasburiedthatnight–the

founder-corpse–wasnotacorpseatall,butanemptyduffelbag.Yearslater,the(alleged)mastermindofthis(alleged)planwasquestionedbyayoungsang-baaz,arock-thrower,amemberofthenewgenerationoffreedomfighters,whohadheardthisstoryandwastroubledbyit:‘Butjenaab,jenaab,doesthisnotmeanthatourMovement,ourtehreek,isbasedonalie?’Thegrizzledmastermind’s(alleged)replywas,‘Thisisthetroublewithyouyoungsters,youhaveabsolutelynoideahowwarsarefought.’Manyofcoursemaintainedthattherumouraboutthemartyr-bagwasjust

anotherofthoseendlessrumoursgeneratedanddisseminatedbytheRumoursWinginBadamiBagh,MilitaryHQ,Srinagar;justanotherploybythe

occupationforcestounderminethetehreekandkeeppeopledestabilized,suspiciousandrackedbyself-doubt.RumourhaditthattherereallywasaRumoursWingwithanofficerofthe

rankofMajorinchargeofit.TherewasarumourthatadreadedbattalionfromNagaland(themselvessubjectsofanotheroccupationintheeast),legendaryeatersofpigsanddogs,occasionallyenjoyedasnackofhumanfleshaswell,especiallythemeatof‘oldies’,thoseintheknowsaid.Therewasarumourthatanybodywhocoulddeliver(tosomebody,addressunknown)anowlingoodhealththatweighedthreeormorekilos(owlsintheregionweighedonlyhalfthat,eventhefatones)wouldwinamillion-rupeeprize.Peopletooktosnaringhawks,falcons,smallowlsandraptorsofallkinds,feedingthemrats,riceandraisins,injectingthemwithsteroidsandweighingthemonthehour,everyhour,eventhoughtheywerenotquitesurewhomtodeliverthebirdsto.Cynicssaiditwasthearmyagain,alwayslookingforwaystokeepgulliblepeoplebusyandoutoftrouble.Therewererumoursandcounter-rumours.Therewererumoursthatmighthavebeentrue,andtruthsthatoughttohavebeenjustrumours.Forinstance,itreallywastruethatformanyyearsthearmy’sHumanRightsCellwasheadedbyaLieutenantColonelStalin–afriendlyfellowfromKerala,sonofanoldcommunist.(TherumourwasthatitwashisideatosetupMuskaan–whichmeans‘smile’inUrdu–achainofmilitary‘GoodWill’centresfortherehabilitationofwidows,half-widows,orphansandhalf-orphans.Infuriatedpeople,whoaccusedthearmyofcreatingthesupplyoforphansandwidows,regularlyburneddownthe‘GoodWill’orphanagesandsewing-centres.Theywerealwaysrebuilt,bigger,better,plusher,friendlier.)InthematteroftheMartyrs’Graveyard,however,thequestionofwhether

thefirstgravecontainedabagorabodyturnedouttobeofnorealconsequence.Thesubstantivetruthwasthatarelativelynewgraveyardwasfillingup,withrealbodies,atanalarmingpace.

MartyrdomstoleintotheKashmirValleyfromacrosstheLineofControl,throughmoonlitmountainpassesmannedbysoldiers.Nightafternightitwalkedonnarrow,stonypathswrappedlikethreadaroundbluecliffsofice,acrossvastglaciersandhighmeadowsofwaist-deepsnow.Ittrudgedpastyoungboysshotdowninsnowdrifts,theirbodiesarrangedineerie,frozentableauxunderthepitilessgazeofthepalemooninthecoldnightsky,andstarsthathungsolowyoufeltyoucouldalmosttouchthem.WhenitarrivedintheValleyitstayedclosetothegroundandspread

throughthewalnutgroves,thesaffronfields,theapple,almondandcherryorchardslikeacreepingmist.Itwhisperedwordsofwarintotheearsofdoctorsandengineers,studentsandlabourers,tailorsandcarpenters,weaversandfarmers,shepherds,cooksandbards.Theylistenedcarefully,andthenput

downtheirbooksandimplements,theirneedles,theirchisels,theirstaffs,theirploughs,theircleaversandtheirspangledclowncostumes.Theystilledtheloomsonwhichtheyhadwoventhemostbeautifulcarpetsandthefinest,softestshawlstheworldhadeverseen,andrangnarled,wonderingfingersoverthesmoothbarrelsofKalashnikovsthatthestrangerswhovisitedthemallowedthemtotouch.TheyfollowedthenewPiedPipersupintothehighmeadowsandalpinegladeswheretrainingcampshadbeensetup.Onlyaftertheyhadbeengivengunsoftheirown,aftertheyhadcurledtheirfingersaroundthetriggerandfeltitgive,eversoslightly,aftertheyhadweighedtheoddsanddecideditwasaviableoption,onlythendidtheyallowtherageandshameofthesubjugationtheyhadenduredfordecades,forcenturies,tocoursethroughtheirbodiesandturnthebloodintheirveinsintosmoke.Themistswirledon,onanindiscriminaterecruitmentdrive.Itwhispered

intotheearsofblackmarketeers,bigots,thugsandconfidence-tricksters.Theytoolistenedintentlybeforetheyreconfiguredtheirplans.Theyrantheirslyfingersoverthecold-metalbumpsontheirquotaofgrenadesthatwasbeingdistributedsogenerously,likeparcelsofchoicemuttonatEid.TheygraftedthelanguageofGodandFreedom,AllahandAzadi,ontotheirmurdersandnewscams.Theymadeoffwithmoney,propertyandwomen.Ofcoursewomen.Womenofcourse.Inthiswaytheinsurrectionbegan.Deathwaseverywhere.Deathwas

everything.Career.Desire.Dream.Poetry.Love.Youthitself.Dyingbecamejustanotherwayofliving.Graveyardssprangupinparksandmeadows,bystreamsandrivers,infieldsandforestglades.Tombstonesgrewoutofthegroundlikeyoungchildren’steeth.Everyvillage,everylocality,haditsowngraveyard.Theonesthatdidn’tgrewanxiousaboutbeingseenascollaborators.Inremoteborderareas,neartheLineofControl,thespeedandregularitywithwhichthebodiesturnedup,andtheconditionsomeofthemwerein,wasn’teasytocopewith.Someweredeliveredinsacks,someinsmallpolythenebags,justpiecesofflesh,somehairandteeth.Notespinnedtothembythequartermastersofdeathsaid:1kg,2.7kg,500g.(Yes,anotherofthosetruthsthatoughtreallytohavebeenjustarumour.)Touristsflewout.Journalistsflewin.Honeymoonersflewout.Soldiers

flewin.Womenflockedaroundpolicestationsandarmycampsholdingupaforestofthumbed,dog-eared,passport-sizedphotographsgrownsoftwithtears:PleaseSir,haveyouseenmyboyanywhere?Haveyouseenmyhusband?Hasmybrotherbyanychancepassedthroughyourhands?AndtheSirsswelledtheirchestsandbristledtheirmoustachesandplayedwiththeirmedalsandnarrowedtheireyestoassessthem,toseewhichone’sdespairwouldbeworthconvertingintocorrosivehope(I’llseewhatIcan

do),andwhatthathopewouldbeworthtowhom.(Afee?Afeast?Afuck?Atruckloadofwalnuts?)Prisonsfilledup,jobsevaporated.Guides,touts,ponyowners(andtheir

ponies),bellboys,waiters,receptionists,toboggan-pullers,trinket-sellers,floristsandtheboatmenonthelakegrewpoorerandhungrier.Onlyforgravediggerstherewasnorest.Itwasjustworkworkwork.With

noextrapayforovertimeornightshifts.

IntheMazar-e-Shohadda,MissJebeenandhermotherwereburiednexttoeachother.Onhiswife’stombstone,MusaYeswiwrote:

ARIFAYESWI12September1968–22December1995

WifeofMusaYeswi

Andbelowthat:

AbwahankhaakudhaatihaikhizaanPhoolhiphooljahaanthaypehle

Nowdustblowsonautumn’sbreezeWhereoncewereflowers,onlyflowers

Nexttoit,onMissJebeen’stombstoneitsaid:

MISSJEBEEN2January1992–22December1995Belovedd/oArifaandMusaYeswi

Andthenrightatthebottom,inverysmallletters,Musaaskedthetombstone-engravertoinscribewhatmanywouldconsideraninappropriateepitaphforamartyr.Hepositioneditinaplacewhereheknewthatinwinteritwouldbemoreorlesshiddenunderthesnowandduringtherestoftheyeartallgrassandwildnarcissuswouldobscureit.Moreorless.Thisiswhathewrote:

AkhdaleelawannYethmanznekahnbalaiaasiNaaessohkunnijunglasmanzroazaan

It’swhatMissJebeenwouldsaytohimatnightasshelaynexttohimonthecarpet,restingherbackonafrayedvelvetbolster(washed,darned,washedagain),wearingherownpheran(washed,darned,washedagain),tinyasateacosy(ferozibluewithsalmon-pinkpaisleysembroideredalongtheneckandsleeves)andmimickingpreciselyherfather’slying-downposture–herleftlegbent,herrightankleonherleftknee,herverysmallfistinhisbigone.Akhdaleelawann.Tellmeastory.Andthenshewouldbeginthestoryherself,shoutingitoutintothesombre,curfewednight,herraucousdelight

dancingoutofthewindowsandrousingtheneighbourhood.Yethmanznekahnbalaiaasi!Naaessohkunnijunglasmanzroazaan!Therewasn’tawitch,andshedidn’tliveinthejungle.Tellmeastory,andcanwecutthecrapaboutthewitchandthejungle?Canyoutellmearealstory?Coldsoldiersfromawarmclimatepatrollingtheicyhighwaythatcircled

theirneighbourhoodcockedtheirearsanduncockedthesafetycatchesoftheirguns.Who’sthere?What’sthatsound?Stoporwe’llshoot!TheycamefromfarawayanddidnotknowthewordsinKashmiriforStoporShootorWho.Theyhadguns,sotheydidn’tneedto.Theyoungestofthem,S.Murugesan,barelyadult,hadneverbeensocold,

hadneverseensnowandwasstillenchantedbytheshapeshisbreathmadeasitcondensedinthefrozenair.‘Look!’hesaidonhisfirstnightpatrol,twofingerstohislips,pullingonanimaginarycigarette,exhalingaplumeofbluesmoke.‘Freecigarette!’Thewhitesmileinhisdarkfacefloatedthroughthenightandthenfaded,deflatedbytheboreddisdainofhismates.‘Goahead,Rajinikant,’theysaidtohim,‘smokethewholepack.Cigarettesdon’ttastesogoodoncethey’veblownyourheadoff.’They.Theydidgethimeventually.Thearmouredjeephewasridinginwas

blownuponthehighwayjustoutsideKupwara.Heandtwoothersoldiersbledtodeathbythesideoftheroad.HisbodywasdeliveredinacoffintohisfamilyinhisvillageinThanjavur

district,TamilNadu,alongwithaDVDofthedocumentaryfilmSagaofUntoldValourdirectedbyaMajorRajuandproducedbytheMinistryofDefence.S.Murugesanwasn’tinthefilm,buthisfamilythoughthewasbecausetheyneversawit.Theydidn’thaveaDVDplayer.InhisvillagetheVanniyars(whowerenot‘untouchable’)wouldnotallow

thebodyofS.Murugesan(whowas)tobecarriedpasttheirhousestothecremationground.SothefuneralprocessiontookacircuitousroutethatskirtedthevillagetotheseparateUntouchables’cremationgroundrightnexttothevillagedump.OneofthethingsthatS.Murugesanhadsecretlyenjoyedaboutbeingin

Kashmirwasthatfair-skinnedKashmiriswouldoftentauntIndiansoldiersbymockingtheirdarkskinsandcallingthem‘Chamarnasl’(Chamarbreed).HewasamusedbytherageitprovokedamongthoseofhisfellowsoldierswhoconsideredthemselvesuppercasteandthoughtnothingofcallinghimaChamar,whichwaswhatNorthIndiansusuallycalledallDalits,regardlessofwhichofthemanyUntouchablecastestheybelongedto.Kashmirwasoneofthefewplacesintheworldwhereafair-skinnedpeoplehadbeenruledbyadarker-skinnedone.Thatinversionimbuedappallingslurswithakindofrighteousness.

TocommemorateS.Murugesan’svalour,thearmycontributedtowardsbuildingacementstatueofSepoyS.Murugesan,inhissoldier’suniform,withhisrifleonhisshoulder,attheentrancetothevillage.Everynowandthenhisyoungwidowwouldpointitouttotheirbaby,whowassixmonthsoldwhenherfatherdied.‘Appa,’she’dsay,wavingatthestatue.Andthebabywouldsmile,mimickingpreciselyhermother’swave,afoldofbabyfatspillingoverherbabywristlikeabracelet.‘Appappappappappappappa,’she’dsay,smiling.Noteveryoneinthevillagewashappywiththeideaofhavingan

Untouchableman’sstatueputupattheentrance.ParticularlynotanUntouchablewhocarriedaweapon.Theyfeltitwouldgiveoutthewrongmessage,givepeopleideas.Threeweeksafterthestatuewentup,therifleonitsshoulderwentmissing.SepoyS.Murugesan’sfamilytriedtofileacomplaint,butthepolicerefusedtoregisteracase,sayingthattheriflemusthavefallenofforsimplydisintegratedduetotheuseofsubstandardcement–afairlycommonmalpractice–andthatnobodycouldbeblamed.Amonthlaterthestatue’shandswerecutoff.Onceagainthepolicerefusedtoregisteracase,althoughthistimetheysniggeredknowinglyanddidnotevenbothertoofferareason.Twoweeksaftertheamputationofitshands,thestatueofSepoyS.Murugesanwasbeheaded.Therewereafewdaysoftension.PeoplefromnearbyvillageswhobelongedtothesamecasteasS.Murugesanorganizedaprotest.Theybeganarelayhungerstrikeatthebaseofthestatue.Alocalcourtsaiditwouldconstituteamagisterialcommitteetolookintothematter.Inthemeanwhileitorderedastatusquo.Thehungerstrikewasdiscontinued.Themagisterialcommitteewasneverconstituted.Insomecountries,somesoldiersdietwice.Theheadlessstatueremainedattheentranceofthevillage.Thoughitno

longerboreanylikenesstothemanitwassupposedtocommemorate,itturnedouttobeamoretruthfulemblemofthetimesthanitwouldotherwisehavebeen.S.Murugesan’sbabycontinuedtowaveathim.‘Appappappappa…’

AsthewarprogressedintheKashmirValley,graveyardsbecameascommonasthemulti-storeyparkinglotsthatwerespringingupintheburgeoningcitiesintheplains.Whentheyranoutofspace,somegravesbecamedouble-deckered,likethebusesinSrinagarthatonceferriedtouristsbetweenLalChowkandtheBoulevard.Fortunately,MissJebeen’sgravedidnotsufferthatfate.Yearslater,after

thegovernmentdeclaredthattheinsurrectionhadbeencontained(althoughhalfamillionsoldiersstayedonjusttomakesure),afterthemajormilitantgroupshadturned(orbeenturned)oneachother,afterpilgrims,touristsand

honeymoonersfromthemainlandbegantoreturntotheValleytofrolicinthesnow(tobeheavedupandwhiskeddownsteepsnowbanks–shrieking–insledgesmannedbyformermilitants),afterspiesandinformershad(forreasonsoftidinessandabundantcaution)beenkilledbytheirhandlers,afterrenegadeswereabsorbedintoregulardayjobsbythethousandsofNGOsworkinginthePeaceSector,afterlocalbusinessmenwhohadmadefortunessupplyingthearmywithcoalandwalnutwoodbegantoinvesttheirmoneyinthefast-growingHospitalitySector(otherwiseknownasgivingpeople‘StakesinthePeaceProcess’),afterseniorbankmanagershadappropriatedtheunclaimedmoneythatremainedindeadmilitants’bankaccounts,afterthetorturecentreswereconvertedintoplushhomesforpoliticians,afterthemartyrs’graveyardsgrewalittlederelictandthenumberofmartyrshadreducedtoatrickle(andthenumberofsuicidesrosedramatically),afterelectionswereheldanddemocracywasdeclared,aftertheJhelumroseandreceded,aftertheinsurrectionroseagainandwascrushedagainandroseagainandwascrushedagainandroseagain–evenafterallthis,MissJebeen’sgraveremainedsingle-deckered.Shedrewaluckystraw.Shehadaprettygravewithwildflowersgrowing

arounditandhermothercloseby.

Hermassacrewasthesecondinthecityintwomonths.Oftheseventeenwhodiedthatday,sevenwereby-standerslikeMiss

Jebeenandhermother(intheircase,theyweretechnicallyby-sitters).Theyhadbeenwatchingfromtheirbalcony,MissJebeen,runningaslighttemperature,sittingonhermother’slap,asthousandsofmournerscarriedthebodyofUsmanAbdullah,apopularuniversitylecturer,throughthestreetsofthecity.Hehadbeenshotbywhattheauthoritiesdeclaredtobea‘UG’–anunidentifiedgunman–eventhoughhisidentitywasanopensecret.AlthoughUsmanAbdullahwasaprominentideologueinthestruggleforAzadi,hehadbeenthreatenedseveraltimesbythenewlyemerginghard-linefactionofmilitantswhohadreturnedfromacrosstheLineofControl,fittedoutwithnewweaponsandharshnewideasthathehadpubliclydisagreedwith.TheassassinationofUsmanAbdullahwasadeclarationthatthesyncretismofKashmirthatherepresentedwouldnotbetolerated.Therewastobenomoreofthatfolksy,old-worldstuff.Nomoreworshippingofhome-grownsaintsandseersatlocalshrines,thenewmilitantsdeclared,nomoreaddle-headedness.Thereweretobenomoresideshowsaintsandlocalgod-men.TherewasonlyAllah,theoneGod.TherewastheQuran.TherewasProphetMohammed(PeaceBeUponHim).Therewasonewayofpraying,oneinterpretationofdivinelawandonedefinitionofAzadi–whichwasthis:

Azadikamatlabkya?Lailahaillallah

Whatdoesfreedommean?ThereisnoGodbutAllah

Therewastobenodebateaboutthis.Infuture,allargumentswouldbesettledwithbullets.ShiaswerenotMuslim.Andwomenwouldhavetolearntodressappropriately.Womenofcourse.Ofcoursewomen.Someofthismadeordinarypeopleuncomfortable.Theylovedtheirshrines

–Hazratbalinparticular,whichhousedtheHolyrelic,theMoi-e-Muqaddas,ahairofProphetMohammed.Hundredsofthousandshadweptonthestreetswhenitwentmissingonewinterin1963.Hundredsofthousandsrejoicedwhenitturnedupamonthlater(andwascertifiedasgenuinebytheconcernedauthority).ButwhentheStrictOnesreturnedfromtheirtravels,theydeclaredthatworshippinglocalsaintsandenshrininghairwereheresy.TheStrictLineplungedtheValleyintoadilemma.Peopleknewthatthe

freedomtheylongedforwouldnotcomewithoutawar,andtheyknewtheStrictOneswerebyfarthebetterwarriors.Theyhadthebesttraining,thebetterweaponsand,asperdivineregulation,theshortertrousersandthelongerbeards.TheyhadmoreblessingsandmoremoneyfromtheothersideoftheLineofControl.Theirsteely,unwaveringfaithdisciplinedthem,simplifiedthem,andequippedthemtotakeonthemightofthesecond-biggestarmyintheworld.Themilitantswhocalledthemselves‘secular’werelessstrict,moreeasy-going.Morestylish,moreflamboyant.Theywrotepoetry,flirtedwiththenursesandtheroller-skaters,andpatrolledthestreetswiththeirriflesslungcarelesslyontheirshoulders.Buttheydidnotseemtohavewhatittooktowinawar.PeoplelovedtheLessStrictOnes,buttheyfearedandrespectedtheStrict

Ones.Inthebattleofattritionthattookplacebetweenthetwo,hundredslosttheirlives.EventuallytheLessStrictOnesdeclaredaceasefire,cameovergroundandvowedtocontinuetheirstruggleasGandhians.TheStrictOnescontinuedthefightandovertheyearswerehunteddownmanbyman.Foreachonethatwaskilled,anothertookhisplace.AfewmonthsafterthemurderofUsmanAbdullah,hisassassin(thewell-

knownUG)wascapturedandkilledbythearmy.Hisbodywashandedovertohisfamily,pockmarkedwithbullet-holesandcigaretteburns.TheGraveyardCommittee,afterdiscussingthematteratlength,decidedthathewasamartyrtooanddeservedtobeburiedintheMartyrs’Graveyard.Theyburiedhimattheoppositeendofthecemetery,hopingperhapsthatkeepingUsmanAbdullahandhisassassinasfarapartaspossiblewouldpreventthemfromquarrellingintheafterlife.

Asthewarwenton,intheValleythesoftlinegraduallyhardenedandthehardlinefurtherhardened.Eachlinebegotmorelinesandsub-lines.TheStrictOnesbegotevenStricterOnes.Ordinarypeoplemanaged,quitemiraculously,toindulgethemall,supportthemall,subvertthemall,andgoonwiththeirold,supposedlyaddle-headedways.ThereignoftheMoi-e-Muqaddascontinuedunabated.AndevenastheydriftedonthequickeningcurrentsofStrictness,ever-largernumbersofpeoplecontinuedtoflocktotheshrinestoweepandunburdentheirbrokenhearts.

Fromthesafetyoftheirbalcony,MissJebeenandhermotherwatchedthefuneralprocessionapproach.Liketheotherwomenandchildrenwhowerecrowdedintothewoodenbalconiesoftheoldhousesallthewaydownthestreet,MissJebeenandArifatoohadreadiedabowloffreshrosepetalstoshoweronthebodyofUsmanAbdullahasitpassedbelowthem.MissJebeenwasbundledupagainstthecoldintwosweatersandwoollenmittens.Onherheadsheworealittlewhitehijabmadeofwool.ThousandsofpeoplechantingAzadi!Azadi!funnelledintothenarrowlane.MissJebeenandhermotherchantedittoo.AlthoughMissJebeen,alwaysnaughty,sometimesshoutedMataji!(Mother)insteadofAzadi!–becausethetwowordssoundedthesame,andbecausesheknewthatwhenshedidthat,hermotherwouldlookdownatherandsmileandkissher.Theprocessionhadtopassalargebunkerofthe26thBattalionofthe

BorderSecurityForcethatwaspositionedlessthanahundredfeetfromwhereArifaandMissJebeensat.Thesnoutsofmachinegunsprotrudedthroughthesteelmeshwindowofadustyboothmadeupoftinsheetsandwoodenplanks.Thebunkerwasbarricadedwithsandbagsandconcertinawire.Emptybottlesofarmy-issueOldMonkandTripleXRumdangledinpairsfromtherazorwire,clinkingagainsteachotherlikebells–aprimitivebuteffectivealarmsystem.Anytinkeringwiththewirewouldsetthemoff.BoozebottlesintheserviceoftheNation.TheycamewiththeaddedbenefitofbeingcallouslyinsultingtodevoutMuslims.Thesoldiersinthebunkerfedthestraydogsthatthelocalpopulationshunned(asdevoutMuslimsweremeantto),sothedogsdoubledasanadditionalringofsecurity.Theysataround,watchingtheproceedings,alert,butnotalarmed.Astheprocessionapproachedthebunker,themencagedinsideitfusedintotheshadows,coldsweattricklingdowntheirbacksunderneaththeirwinteruniformsandbulletproofvests.Suddenly,anexplosion.Notaveryloudone,butloudenoughandclose

enoughtogenerateblindpanic.Thesoldierscameoutofthebunker,tookpositionandfiredtheirlightmachinegunsstraightintotheunarmedcrowdthatwaswedgedintothenarrowstreet.Theyshottokill.Evenafterpeopleturnedtoflee,thebulletspursuedthem,lodgingthemselvesinrecedingbacks

andheadsandlegs.Somefrightenedsoldiersturnedtheirweaponsonthosewatchingfromwindowsandbalconies,andemptiedtheirmagazinesintopeopleandrailings,wallsandwindowpanes.IntoMissJebeenandhermother,Arifa.UsmanAbdullah’scoffinandcoffin-bearerswerehit.Hiscoffinbrokeopen

andhisre-slaincorpsespilledontothestreet,awkwardlyfolded,inasnow-whiteshroud,doublydeadamongthedeadandinjured.SomeKashmirisdietwicetoo.Theshootingstoppedonlywhenthestreetwasempty,andwhenallthat

remainedwerethebodiesofthedeadandwounded.Andshoes.Thousandsofshoes.Andthedeafeningslogantherewasnobodylefttochant:

JisKashmirkokhoonseseencha!WohKashmirhamarahai!

TheKashmirwehaveirrigatedwithourblood!ThatKashmirisours!

Thepost-massacreprotocolwasquickandefficient–perfectedbypractice.WithinanhourthedeadbodieshadbeenremovedtothemorgueinthePoliceControlRoom,andthewoundedtohospital.Thestreetwashoseddown,theblooddirectedintotheopendrains.Shopsreopened.Normalcywasdeclared.(Normalcywasalwaysadeclaration.)Lateritwasestablishedthattheexplosionhadbeencausedbyacardriving

overanemptycartonofMangoFrootionthenextstreet.Whowastoblame?WhohadleftthepacketofMangoFrooti(Fresh’n’Juicy)onthestreet?IndiaorKashmir?OrPakistan?Whohaddrivenoverit?Atribunalwasinstitutedtoinquireintothecausesofthemassacre.Thefactswereneverestablished.Nobodywasblamed.ThiswasKashmir.ItwasKashmir’sfault.Lifewenton.Deathwenton.Thewarwenton.

AllthosewhowatchedMusaYeswiburyhiswifeanddaughternoticedhowquiethehadbeenthatday.Hedisplayednogrief.Heseemedwithdrawnanddistracted,asthoughhewasn’treallythere.Thatcouldhavebeenwhateventuallyledtohisarrest.Oritcouldhavebeenhisheartbeat.Perhapsitwastooquickortooslowforaninnocentcivilian.Atnotoriouscheckpostssoldierssometimesputtheirearstoyoungmen’schestsandlistenedtotheirheartbeats.Therewererumoursthatsomesoldiersevencarriedstethoscopes.‘Thisone’sheartisbeatingforFreedom,’they’dsay,andthatwouldbereasonenoughforthebodythathostedthetoo-quickortoo-slowhearttomakeatriptoCargo,orPapaII,ortheShirazCinema–themostdreadedinterrogationcentresintheValley.Musawasnotarrestedatacheckpost.Hewaspickedupfromhishome

afterthefuneral.Over-quietnessatthefuneralofyourwifeandchildwould

nothavepassedunnoticedinthosedays.

Atfirstofcourseeverybodyhadbeenquiet,fearful.Thefuneralprocessionsnakeditswaythroughthedrab,slushylittlecityindeadsilence.Theonlysoundwastheslap-slap-slapofthousandsofsocklessshoesonthesilver-wetroadthatledtotheMazar-e-Shohadda.Youngmencarriedseventeencoffinsontheirshoulders.Seventeenplusone,thatis,forthere-murderedUsmanAbdullah,whoobviouslycouldnotbeenteredtwiceinthebooks.So,seventeen-plus-onetincoffinswovethroughthestreets,winkingbackatthewintersun.Tosomeonelookingdownatthecityfromtheringofhighmountainsthatsurroundedit,theprocessionwouldhavelookedlikeacolumnofbrownantscarryingseventeen-plus-onesugarcrystalstotheiranthilltofeedtheirqueen.Perhapstoastudentofhistoryandhumanconflict,inrelativetermsthat’sallthelittleprocessionreallyamountedto:acolumnofantsmakingoffwithsomecrumbsthathadfallenfromthehightable.Aswarsgo,thiswasonlyasmallone.Nobodypaidmuchattention.Soitwentonandon.Soitfoldedandunfoldedoverdecades,gatheringpeopleintoitsunhingedembrace.Itscrueltiesbecameasnaturalasthechangingseasons,eachcamewithitsownuniquerangeofscentandblossom,itsowncycleoflossandrenewal,disruptionandnormalcy,uprisingsandelections.

Ofallthesugarcrystalscarriedbytheantsthatwintermorning,thesmallestcrystalofcoursewentbythenameofMissJebeen.Antsthatweretoonervoustojointheprocessionlinedthestreets,standing

onslipperybanksofoldbrownsnow,theirarmscrossedinsidethewarmthoftheirpherans,leavingtheiremptysleevestoflapinthebreeze.Armlesspeopleattheheartofanarmedinsurrection.Thosewhoweretooscaredtoventureoutwatchedfromtheirwindowsandbalconies(althoughtheyhadbeenmadeacutelyawareoftheperilsofthattoo).Eachofthemknewthattheywerebeingtrackedinthegunsightsofthesoldierswhohadtakenpositionacrossthecity–onroofs,bridges,boats,mosques,watertowers.Theyhadoccupiedhotels,schools,shopsandevensomehomes.Itwascoldthatmorning;forthefirsttimeinyearsthelakehadfrozenover

andtheforecastpredictedmoresnow.Treesraisedtheirnaked,mottledbranchestotheskylikemournersstilledinattitudesofgrief.Inthegraveyard,seventeen-plus-onegraveshadbeenreadied.Neat,fresh,

deep.Theearthfromeachpitpiledupnexttoit,adarkchocolatepyramid.Anadvancepartyhadbroughtinthebloodstainedmetalstretchersonwhichthebodieshadbeenreturnedtotheirfamiliesafterthepost-mortems.Theywereproppedup,arrangedaroundthetrunksoftrees,likebloodiedsteelpetalsofsomegiganticflesh-eatingmountainblossom.

Astheprocessionturnedinthroughthegatesofthegraveyard,ascrumofpressmen,quiveringlikeathletesontheirstartingblocks,brokerankandrushedforward.Thecoffinswerelaiddown,opened,arrangedinalineontheicyearth.Thecrowdmaderoomforthepressrespectfully.Itknewthatwithoutthejournalistsandphotographersthemassacrewouldbeerasedandthedeadwouldtrulydie.Sothebodieswereofferedtothem,inhopeandanger.Abanquetofdeath.Mourningrelativeswhohadbackedawaywereaskedtoreturnintoframe.Theirsorrowwastobearchived.Intheyearstocome,whenthewarbecameawayoflife,therewouldbebooksandfilmsandphotoexhibitionscuratedaroundthethemeofKashmir’sgriefandloss.Musawouldnotbeinanyofthosepictures.OnthisoccasionMissJebeenwasbyfarthebiggestdraw.Thecameras

closedinonher,whirringandclickinglikeaworriedbear.Fromthatharvestofphotographs,oneemergedalocalclassic.Foryearsitwasreproducedinpapersandmagazinesandonthecoversofhumanrightsreportsthatnooneeverread,withcaptionslikeBloodintheSnow,ValeofTearsandWilltheSorrowNeverEnd?Inthemainland,forobviousreasons,thephotographofMissJebeenwas

lesspopular.Inthesupermarketofsorrow,theBhopalBoy,victimoftheUnionCarbidegasleak,remainedwellaheadofherinthecharts.Severalleadingphotographersclaimedcopyrightofthatfamousphotographofthedeadboyburiedneckdeepinagraveofdebris,hisstaring,opaqueeyesblindedbypoisongas.Thoseeyestoldthestoryofwhathadhappenedonthatterriblenightlikenothingelsecould.Theystaredoutofthepagesofglossymagazinesallovertheworld.Intheenditdidn’tmatterofcourse.Thestoryflared,thenfaded.Thebattleoverthecopyrightofthephotographcontinuedforyears,almostasferociouslyasthebattleforcompensationforthethousandsofdevastatedvictimsofthegasleak.

Theworriedbeardispersed,andrevealedMissJebeenintact,un-mauled,fastasleep.Hersummerrosestillinplace.Asthebodieswereloweredintotheirgravesthecrowdbegantomurmur

itsprayer.

Rabbishrahleesadree;WayassirleeamriWahluluqdatanminlisaanee;Yafqahooqawlee

MyLord!Relievemymind.AndeasemytaskformeAndlooseaknotfrommytongue.Thattheymayunderstandmysaying

Thesmaller,hip-highchildrenintheseparate,segregatedsectionforwomen,suffocatedbytheroughwooloftheirmothers’garments,unabletoseeverymuch,barelyabletobreathe,conductedtheirownhip-leveltransactions:I’llgiveyousixbulletcasingsifyougivemeyourdudgrenade.

Alonewoman’svoiceclimbedintothesky,eerilyhigh,rawpaindriventhroughitlikeapike.

Rorahihaiyehzameen!Rorahahaiasmaan…

Anotherjoinedinandthenanother:

Thisearth,sheweeps!Theheavenstoo…

Thebirdsstoppedtheirtwitteringforawhileandlistened,beady-eyed,tohumansong.Streetdogsslouchedpastcheckpostsunchecked,theirheartbeatsrocksteady.Kitesandgriffonscircledthethermals,driftinglazilybackandforthacrosstheLineofControl,justtomockthetinyclotofhumansgathereddownbelow.Whentheskywasfullofkeening,somethingignited.Youngmenbeganto

leapintotheair,likeflameskindledfromsmoulderingembers.Higherandhighertheyjumped,asthoughthegroundbeneaththeirfeetwassprung,atrampoline.Theyworetheiranguishlikearmour,theirangerslungacrosstheirbodieslikeammunitionbelts.Atthatmoment,perhapsbecausetheywerethusarmed,orbecausetheyhaddecidedtoembracealifeofdeath,orbecausetheyknewtheywerealreadydead,theybecameinvincible.ThesoldierswhosurroundedtheMazar-e-Shohaddahadclearinstructions

toholdtheirfire,nomatterwhat.Theirinformers(brothers,cousins,fathers,uncles,nephews),whomingledwiththecrowdandshoutedslogansaspassionatelyaseverybodyelse(andevenmeantthem),hadclearinstructionstosubmitphotographsandifpossiblevideosofeachyoungmanwho,carriedonthetideoffury,hadleaptintotheairandturnedhimselfintoaflame.Sooneachofthemwouldhearaknockonhisdoor,orbetakenasideata

checkpoint.Areyouso-and-so?Sonofso-and-so?Employedatsuch-and-such?Oftenthethreatwentnofurtherthanthat–justthatbland,perfunctory

inquiry.InKashmir,throwingaman’sownbio-dataathimwassometimesenoughtochangethecourseofhislife.Andsometimesitwasn’t.

TheycameforMusaattheircustomaryvisitinghour–fourinthemorning.Hewasawake,sittingathisdeskwritingaletter.Hismotherwasinthenextroom.Hecouldhearhercryingandthecomfortingmurmursofhersistersandrelatives.MissJebeen’sbelovedstuffed(andleaking)greenhippopotamus–withaV-shapedsmileandapinkpatchworkheart–wasinhisusualplace,proppedupagainstabolsterwaitingforhislittlemotherandhisusualbedtimestory.(Akhdaleelawann…)Musaheardthevehicleapproach.From

hisfirst-floorwindowhesawitturnintothelaneandstopoutsidehishouse.Hefeltnothing,neitherangernortrepidation,ashewatchedthesoldiersgetoutofthearmouredGypsy.Hisfather,ShowkatYeswi(GodzillatoMusaandhisfriends),wasawaketoo,sittingcross-leggedonthecarpetinthefrontroom.HewasabuildingcontractorwhoworkedcloselywiththeMilitaryEngineeringServices,supplyingbuildingmaterialsanddoingturnkeyprojectsforthem.HehadsenthissontoDelhitostudyarchitectureinthehopethathewouldhelphimexpandhislineofbusiness.Butwhenthetehreekbeganin1990,andGodzillacontinuedtoworkwiththearmy,Musashunnedhimaltogether.Tornbetweenfilialdutyandtheguiltofenjoyingwhathesawasthespoilsofcollaboration,Musafounditharderandhardertoliveunderthesameroofashisfather.ShowkatYeswiseemedtohavebeenexpectingthesoldiers.Hedidnot

appearalarmed.‘AmrikSinghcalled.Hewantstotalktoyou.It’snothing,don’tworry.Hewillreleaseyoubeforedaylight.’Musadidnotreply.HedidnotevenglanceatGodzilla,hisdisgustapparent

inthewayheheldhisshouldersandintheerectnessofhisback.Hewalkedoutofthefrontdoorescortedbytwoarmedmenoneithersideofhimandgotintothevehicle.Hewasnothandcuffedorheadbagged.TheGypsyslidthroughtheslick,frozenstreets.Ithadbeguntosnowagain.

TheShirazCinemawasthecentrepieceofanenclaveofbarracksandofficers’quarters,cordonedoffbytheelaboratetrappingsofparanoia–twoconcentricringsofbarbedwiresandwichingashallow,sandymoat;thefourthandinnermostringwasahighboundarywalltoppedwithjaggedshardsofbrokenglass.Thecorrugated-metalgateshadwatchtowersoneitherside,mannedbysoldierswithmachineguns.TheGypsycarryingMusamadeitthroughthecheckpostsquickly.Clearlyitwasexpected.Itdrovestraightthroughthecompoundtothemainentrance.Thecinemalobbywasbrightlylit.Amosaicoftinymirrorsthatsequined

theflutedwhiteplaster-of-Parisfalseceiling,whippeduplikeicingonagigantic,invertedweddingcake,dispersedandmagnifiedthelightfromcheap,flashychandeliers.Theredcarpetwasfrayedandworn,thecementfloorshowingthroughinpatches.Thestale,recirculatedairsmelledofgunsanddieselandoldclothes.Whathadoncebeenthecinemasnackbarnowfunctionedasareception-cum-registrationcounterfortorturersandtorturees.Itcontinuedtoadvertisethingsitnolongerstocked–Cadbury’sFruit&NutchocolateandseveralflavoursofKwalityicecream,ChocoBar,OrangeBar,MangoBar.Fadedpostersofoldfilms(Chandni,MainePyarKiya,ParindaandLionoftheDesert)–fromthetimebeforefilmswerebannedandthecinemahallshutdownbytheAllahTigers–werestilluponthewall,someofthemspatteredwithredbeteljuice.Rowsofyoungmen,boundand

handcuffed,squattedonthefloorlikechickens,somesobadlybeatenthattheyhadkeeledover,barelyalive,stillinsquattingposition,theirwristssecuredtotheirankles.Soldiersmilledaround,bringingprisonersin,takingothersawayforinterrogation.Thefaintsoundsthatcamethroughthegrandwoodendoorsleadingtotheauditoriumcouldhavebeenthemutedsoundtrackofaviolentfilm.Cementkangarooswithmirthlesssmilesandgarbage-binpouchesthatsaidUseMesupervisedthekangaroocourt.Musaandhisescortwerenotdetainedbytheformalitiesofreceptionor

registration.Followedbythegazeofthechained,beatenmen,theysweptlikeroyaltystraightupthegrand,curvingstaircasethatledtothebalconyseats–theQueen’sCircle–andthenfurtherupanarrowerstaircasetotheprojectionroomthathadbeenexpandedintoanoffice.Musawasawarethateventhestagingofthispieceoftheatrewasdeliberate,notinnocent.MajorAmrikSinghstoodupfrombehindadeskthatwasclutteredwithhis

collectionofexoticpaperweights–spiky,speckledseashells,brassfigurines,sailingshipsandballerinasimprisonedinglassorbs–togreetMusa.Hewasaswarthy,exceptionallytallman–sixfoottwo,easily–inhismid-thirties.HischosenavatarthatnightwasSikh.Theskinonhischeeksabovehisbeardlinewaslarge-pored,likethesurfaceofasoufflé.Hisdarkgreenturban,woundtightaroundhisearsandforehead,pulledthecornersofhiseyesandhiseyebrowsupward,givinghimasleepyair.Thosewhowereevencasuallyacquaintedwithhimknewthattobetakeninbythatsleepyairwouldbeaperilousmisreadingoftheman.HecamearoundthedeskandgreetedMusasolicitously,withconcernandaffection.ThesoldierswhohadbroughtMusainwereaskedtoleave.‘Assalaamaleikumhuzoor…Pleasesitdown.Whatwillyouhave?Tea?

Orcoffee?’Histonewassomewherebetweenaqueryandanorder.‘Nothing.Shukriya.’Musasatdown.AmrikSinghpickedupthereceiverofhisredintercom

andorderedteaand‘officers’biscuits’.Hissizeandbulkmadehisdesklooksmallandoutofproportion.Itwasnottheirfirstmeeting.MusahadmetAmrikSinghseveraltimes

before,at,ofallplaces,his(Musa’s)ownhome,whenAmrikSinghwoulddropintovisitGodzilla,uponwhomhehaddecidedtobestowthegiftoffriendship–anofferthatGodzillawasnotexactlyfreetoturndown.AfterAmrikSingh’sfirstfewvisits,Musabecameawareofadrasticchangeinthehomeatmosphere.Itbecamequieter.Thebitterpoliticalargumentsbetweenhimselfandhisfatherebbedaway.ButMusasensedthatGodzilla’ssuddenlysuspiciouseyeswereconstantlyonhim,asthoughtryingtoassesshim,gaugehim,fathomhim.Oneafternoon,comingdownfromhisroom,Musaslippedonthestaircase,rightedhimselfmid-slide,andlandedonhisfeet.Godzilla,

whohadbeenwatchingthisperformance,accostedMusa.Hedidnotraisehisvoice,buthewasfuriousandMusacouldseeapulsethrobbingnearhistemple.‘Howdidyoulearntofalllikethat?Whotaughtyoutofalllikethis?’HeexaminedhissonwiththefinelyhonedinstinctsofaworriedKashmiri

parent.Helookedforunusualthings–foracallusonatriggerfinger,forhorny,tough-skinnedkneesandelbowsandanyothersignsof‘training’thatmighthavebeenreceivedinmilitantcamps.Hefoundnone.HedecidedtoconfrontMusawiththetroublinginformationAmrikSinghhadgivenhim–aboutboxesof‘metal’beingmovedthroughhisfamily’sorchardsinGanderbal.AboutMusa’sjourneysintothemountains,abouthismeetingswithcertain‘friends’.‘Whatdoyouhavetosayaboutallthis?’‘AskyourfriendtheMajorSahib.He’lltellyouthatnon-actionable

intelligenceisasgoodasgarbage,’Musasaid.‘Tsechhuimarnuiassisarneitimarnavakh,’Godzillasaid.You’regoingtodieandtakeusallwithyou.ThenexttimeAmrikSinghdroppedin,GodzillainsistedthatMusabe

present.Onthatoccasiontheysatcross-leggedontheflooraroundaflowered,plasticdastarkhanasMusa’smotherservedthetea.(MusahadaskedArifatomakesurethatsheandMissJebeendidnotcomedownstairsuntilthevisitorhadleft.)AmrikSinghexudedwarmthandcamaraderie.Hemadehimselfathome,sprawlingbackagainstthebolsters.HetoldafewbawdyStupidSikhjokesaboutSantaSinghandBantaSingh,andlaughedatthemlouderthananybodyelse.Andthen,onthepretextthatitwaspreventinghimfromeatingasmuchashewouldliketo,heunbuckledhisbeltwithhispistolstillinitsholster.Ifthegesturewasmeanttosignalthathetrustedhishostsandfeltateasewiththem,ithadtheoppositeeffect.ThemurderofJalibQadriwasstilltocome,buteveryoneknewaboutthestringofothermurdersandkidnappings.ThepistollaybalefullyamongtheplatesofcakesandsnacksandThermosflasksofsaltednoonchai.WhenAmrikSinghfinallystooduptoleave,burpinghisappreciation,heforgotit,orappearedtohaveforgottenit.Godzillapickeditupandhandedittohim.AmrikSinghlookedstraightatMusaandlaughedashebuckleditbackon.‘Agoodthingyourfatherremembered.Imagineifithadbeenfoundhere

duringacordon-and-search.Forgetme,evenGodwouldn’thavebeenabletohelpyou.Imagine.’Everybodylaughedobediently.Musasawthattherewasnolaughterin

AmrikSingh’seyes.Theyseemedtoabsorblightbutnotreflectit.Theywereopaque,depthlessblackdiscswithnotahintofaglimmeroraglint.

ThosesameopaqueeyesnowlookedatMusaacrossadeskfullofpaperweightsintheprojectionroomoftheShiraz.Itwasanextraordinarysight–AmrikSinghsittingatadesk.Itwasclearthathehadabsolutelynoideawhattodowithitotherthanuseitasacoffeetableformementoes.Itwasplacedinsuchawaythathehadonlytoleanbackinhischairandpeerthroughthetinyrectangularopeninginthewall–oncetheprojectionist’sviewingportal,nowaspyhole–tokeepaneyeonwhateverwashappeninginthemainhall.Theinterrogationcellsledofffromthere,throughthedoorwaysoverwhichred,neon-litsignssaid(andsometimesmeant):EXIT.Thescreenstillhadanold-fashionedredvelvettasselledcurtain–thekindthatusedtogoupintheolddaystopipedmusic:‘Popcorn’or‘BabyElephantWalk’.Thecheaperseatsinthestallshadbeenremovedandpiledupinaheapinacorner,tomakespaceforanindoorbadmintoncourtwherestressed-outsoldierscouldletoffsteam.Evenatthishour,thefaintthwackthwackofashuttlecockmeetingaracquetmadeitswayintoAmrikSingh’soffice.‘Ibroughtyouheretooffermyapologiesandmydeepestpersonal

condolencesforwhathashappened.’ThecorrosioninKashmirransodeepthatAmrikSinghwasgenuinely

unawareoftheironyofpickingupamanwhosewifeandchildhadjustbeenshotandbringinghimforcibly,underarmedguard,toaninterrogationcentreatfourinthemorning,onlyinordertoofferhiscommiseration.MusaknewthatAmrikSinghwasachameleonandthatunderneathhis

turbanhewasa‘Mona’–hedidn’thavethelonghairofaSikh.HehadcommittedthatultimatesacrilegeagainsttheSikhcanonbycuttinghishairmanyyearsago.MusahadheardhimboasttoGodzillaabouthowwhenhewasoutonacounter-insurgencyoperationhecouldpasshimselfoffasaHindu,aSikhoraPunjabi-speakingPakistaniMuslim,dependingonwhattheoperationdemanded.Heguffawedashedescribedhow,inordertoidentifyandflushout‘sympathizers’,heandhismendressedinsalwarkameez–‘KhanSuits’–andknockedonvillagers’doorsinthedeadofnight,pretendingtobemilitantsfromPakistanaskingforshelter.Iftheywerewelcomed,thenextdaythevillagerswouldbearrestedasOGWs(overgroundworkers).‘Howareunarmedvillagerssupposedtoturnawayagroupofmenwith

gunswhoknockontheirdoorsinthemiddleofthenight?Regardlessofwhethertheyaremilitantsormilitary?’Musacouldnothelpasking.‘Oh,wehavewaysofassessingthewarmthofthewelcome,’AmrikSingh

said.‘Wehaveourownthermometers.’Maybe.ButyouhavenounderstandingofthedepthsofKashmiriduplicity,

Musathoughtbutdidnotsay.Youhavenoideahowapeoplelikeus,whohavesurvivedahistoryandageographysuchasours,havelearnedtodriveourprideunderground.Duplicityistheonlyweaponwehave.Youdon’tknow

howradiantlywesmilewhenourheartsarebroken.Howferociouslywecanturnonthosewelovewhilewegraciouslyembracethosewhomwedespise.Youhavenoideahowwarmlywecanwelcomeyouwhenallwereallywantisforyoutogoaway.Yourthermometerisquiteuselesshere.Thatwasonewayoflookingatit.Ontheotherhand,itmayhavebeen

Musawhowas,atthatpointintime,thenaiveone.BecauseAmrikSinghcertainlyhadthefullmeasureofthedystopiaheoperatedin–onewhosepopulacehadnoborders,noloyaltiesandnolimitstothedepthstowhichitwouldfall.AsfortheKashmiripsyche,iftherewasindeedsuchathing,AmrikSinghwasseekingneitherunderstandingnorinsight.Forhimitwasagame,ahunt,inwhichhisquarry’switswerepittedagainsthisown.Hesawhimselfmoreasasportsmanthanasoldier.Whichmadeforasunnysoul.MajorAmrikSinghwasagambler,adaredevilofficer,adeadlyinterrogatorandacheery,cold-bloodedkiller.Hegreatlyenjoyedhisworkandwasconstantlyonthelookoutforwaystouptheentertainment.Hewasintouchwithcertainmilitantswhowouldoccasionallytuneintohiswirelessfrequency,orheintotheirs,andtheywouldtaunteachotherlikeschoolboys.‘Arreyaar,whatamIbutahumbletravelagent?’helikedtosaytothem.‘ForyoujihadisKashmirisjustatransitpoint,isn’tit?Yourrealdestinationisjannatwhereyourhourisarewaitingforyou.I’monlyheretofacilitateyourjourney.’HereferredtohimselfasJannatExpress.AndifhewasspeakingEnglish(whichusuallymeanthewasdrunk),hetranslatedthatasParadiseExpress.Oneofhislegendarylineswas:Dekhomian,meinBharatSarkarkalund

hoon,aurmerakaamhaichodna.Look,brother,IamtheGovernmentofIndia’sdickandit’smyjobtofuck

people.Inhisrelentlessquestforamusement,hewasknowntohavereleaseda

militantwhomhehadtrackeddownandcapturedwiththegreatestdifficulty,onlybecausehewantedtorelivetheexhilarationofrecapturinghim.Itwasinkeepingwiththatspirit,withtheperverserubricofhispersonalhuntingmanual,thathehadsummonedMusatotheShiraztoapologizetohim.OverthelastfewmonthsAmrikSinghhad,correctlyperhaps,identifiedMusaasapotentiallyworthyantagonist,someonewhowashispolaroppositeandyethadthenerveandtheintelligencetoraisethestakesandperhapschangethenatureofthehunttoapointwhereitwouldbehardtotellwhowasthehunterandwhothehunted.ForthisreasonAmrikSinghwasextremelyupsetwhenhelearnedofthedeathofMusa’swifeanddaughter.HewantedMusatoknowthathehadnothingtodowithit.Thatitwasanunexpectedand,asfarashewasconcerned,below-the-beltblow,neverpartofhisplan.Inorderforthehunttogoon,heneededtoclarifythistohisquarry.

HuntingwasnotAmrikSingh’sonlypassion.Hehadexpensivetastesandalifestylethathecouldn’tsupportonhissalary.Soheexploitedotheravenuesofentrepreneurialpotentialthatbeingonthewinningsideofamilitaryoccupationoffered.Inadditiontohiskidnappingandextortionconcerns,heowned(inhiswife’sname)asawmillinthemountainsandafurniturebusinessintheValley.Hewasasimpetuouslygenerousashewasviolent,anddistributedextravagantgiftsofcarvedcoffeetablesandwalnut-woodchairstopeoplehelikedorneeded.(Godzillahadapairofbedsidetablespressedonhim.)AmrikSingh’swife,LoveleenKaur,wasthefourthoffivesisters–Tavleen,Harpreet,Gurpreet,LoveleenandDimple–famousfortheirbeauty–andtwoyoungerbrothers.TheybelongedtothesmallcommunityofSikhswhohadsettledintheValleycenturiesago.Theirfatherwasasmallfarmerwithlittleornomeanstofeedhislargefamily.Itwassaidthatthefamilywassopoorthatwhenoneofthegirlstrippedonherwaytoschoolanddroppedthetiffincarrierthatcontainedtheirpackedlunch,thehungrysistersatethespilledfoodstraightoffthepavement.Asthegirlsgrewup,allmannerofmenbegantocirclearoundthemlikehornets,withallmannerofproposals,noneofthemformarriage.Sotheirparentsweremorethandelightedtobeabletogiveawayoneoftheirdaughters(fornodowry)toaSikhfromthemainland–anarmyofficer,noless.AftertheyweremarriedLoveleendidnotmoveintoAmrikSingh’sofficer’squartersinthevariouscampshewaspostedtoinandaroundSrinagar.Because,itwassaid(rumoured),atworkhehadanotherwoman,another‘wife’,acolleaguefromtheCentralReservePolice,anACPPinkywhousuallypartneredhiminfieldoperationsaswellasininterrogationsessionsatthecamps.Onweekends,whenAmrikSinghvisitedhiswifeandtheirinfantsonintheirfirst-floorflatinJawaharNagar,thelittleSikhenclaveinSrinagar,neighbourswhisperedaboutdomesticviolenceandhermuffledscreamsforhelp.Nobodydaredtointervene.ThoughAmrikSinghhunteddownandeliminatedmilitantsruthlessly,he

actuallyregardedthem–thebestofthematleast–withasortofgrudgingadmiration.Hehadbeenknowntopayhisrespectsatthegravesofsome,includingafewwhomhehimselfhadkilled.(Oneevengotanunofficialgunsalute.)Thepeoplehedidn’tjustdisrespectbuttrulydespisedwerehumanrightsactivists–mostlylawyers,journalistsandnewspapereditors.Tohim,theywereverminwhospoiledanddistortedtherulesofengagementofthegreatgamewiththeirconstantcomplaintsandwhining.WheneverAmrikSinghwasgivenpermissiontopickoneofthemupor‘neutralize’them(these‘permissions’nevercameintheformoforderstokill,butusuallyasanabsenceofordersnottokill)hewasneverlessthanenthusiasticincarryingouthisduties.ThecaseofJalibQadriwasdifferent.Hisordershadbeenmerelytointimidateanddetaintheman.Thingshadgonewrong.JalibQadri

hadmadethemistakeofbeingunafraid.Oftalkingback.AmrikSinghregrettedhavinglostcontrolofhimselfandregrettedevenmorethathehadhadtoeliminatehisfriendandfellowtraveller,theIkhwanSalimGojri,asaconsequenceofthat.Theyhadsharedgoodtimesandmanygrandescapades,heandSalimGojri.Heknewthathadthingsbeentheotherwayaround,Salimwouldsurelyhavedonethesamething.Andhe,AmrikSingh,wouldsurelyhaveunderstood.Orsohetoldhimself.Ofallthethingshehaddone,killingSalimGojriwastheonethingthathadgivenhimpause.SalimGojriwastheonlypersonintheworld,hiswifeLoveleenincluded,forwhomAmrikSinghhadfeltsomethingthatvaguelyresembledlove.Inacknowledgementofthis,whenthemomentcame,hepulledthetriggeronhisfriendhimself.Hewasnotabrooderthough,andgotoverthingsquickly.Sittingacrossthe

tablefromMusa,theMajorwashisusualself,cockyandsureofhimself.Hehadbeenpulledoutofthefieldandgivenadeskjob,yes,butthingshadnotbeguntounravelforhimyet.Hedidstillgooutonfieldtripsoccasionally,onoperationsinwhichhewasfamiliarwiththeparticularcasehistoryofamilitantorOGW.Hewasreasonablysurehehadcontainedthedamage,andwasoutofthewoods.The‘officers’biscuits’andteaarrived.Musaheardthefaintrattleof

teacupsonametaltraybeforethebearerofthebiscuitsappearedfrombehindhim.Musaandthebearerrecognizedeachotheratonce,buttheirexpressionsremainedpassiveandopaque.AmrikSinghwatchedthemclosely.Theroomranoutofair.Breathingbecameimpossible.Ithadtobesimulated.JunaidAhmedShahwasanAreaCommanderoftheHizb-ul-Mujahideen

whohadbeencapturedafewmonthsagowhenhemadethatmostcommon,butfatal,mistakeofpayingamidnightvisittohiswifeandinfantsonattheirhomeinSoporewheresoldierslayinwaitforhim.Hewasatall,litheman,wellknown,muchlovedforhisgoodlooksandforhisreal,aswellasapocryphal,actsofbravery.Hehadoncehadshoulder-lengthhairandathickblackbeard.Hewasclean-shavennow,hishairclose-cropped,IndianArmy-style.Hisdull,sunkeneyeslookedoutfromdeep,greyhollows.Hewaswearingworntracksuitbottomsthatendedhalfwaydownhisshins,woollensocks,army-issuecanvasKedsandascarlet,moth-eatenwaiter’sjacketwithbrassbuttonsthatwastoosmallforhimandmadehimlookcomical.Thetremorinhishandscausedthecrockerytodanceonthetray.‘Allright,getlostnow.Whatareyouhangingaroundfor?’AmrikSingh

saidtoJunaid.‘JiJenaab!JaiHind!’YesSir!VictorytoIndia!Junaidsalutedandlefttheroom.AmrikSinghturnedtoMusa,thepicture

ofcommiseration.

‘Whathappenedtoyouissomethingthatoughtnottohappentoanyhumanbeing.Youmustbeinshock.Here,haveaKrackjack.It’sverygoodforyou.Fifty–fifty.Fiftypercentsugar,fiftypercentsalt.’Musadidnotreply.AmrikSinghfinishedhistea.Musalefthisuntouched.‘Youhaveanengineeringdegree,isthatnotso?’‘No.Architecture.’‘Iwanttohelpyou.Youknowthearmyisalwayslookingforengineers.

Thereisalotofwork.Verywellpaid.Borderfencing,orphanagebuilding,theyareplanningsomerecreationcentres,gymsforyoungpeople,eventhisplaceneedsdoingup…Icangetyousomegoodcontracts.Weoweyouthatmuchatleast.’Musa,notlookingup,testedthespikeofaseashellwiththetipofhisindex

finger.‘AmIunderarrest,ordoIhaveyourpermissiontoleave?’Sincehewasn’tlookingup,hedidnotseethetranslucentfilmofangerthat

droppedacrossAmrikSingh’seyes,asquietlyandquicklyasacatjumpingoffalowwall.‘Youcango.’AmrikSinghremainedseatedasMusastoodupandlefttheroom.Herang

abellandtoldthemanwhoansweredittoescortMusaout.

Downstairsinthecinemalobbytherewasatorture-break.Teawasbeingservedtothesoldiers,pouredoutfrombigsteamingkettles.Therewerecoldsamosasinironbuckets,twoperhead.Musacrossedthelobby,thistimeholdingthegazeofoneofthebound,beaten,bleedingboyswhomheknewwell.Heknewtheboy’smotherhadbeengoingfromcamptocamp,policestationtopolicestation,desperatelylookingforherson.Thatcouldhavelastedawholelifetime.Atleastsomehorriblegoodhascomeofthisnight,Musathought.HehadalmostwalkedoutofthedoorwhenAmrikSinghappearedatthe

headofthestairs,beaming,exudingbonhomie,anentirelydifferentpersonfromtheoneMusahadleftintheprojectionroom.Hisvoiceboomedacrossthelobby.‘Arrehuzoor!Ekcheezmainbilkulbhoolgayatha!’There’ssomethingIcompletelyforgot!Everybody–torturersandtortureesalike–turnedtheirgazeonhim.

Whollyawarethathehadtheattentionofhisaudience,AmrikSinghtrottedathleticallydownthesteps,likeajoyfulhostsayinggoodbyetoaguestwhosevisithehasgreatlyenjoyed.HehuggedMusaaffectionatelyandpressedonhimapackagehewascarrying.‘Thisisforyourfather.TellhimIordereditespeciallyforhim.’

ItwasabottleofRedStagwhisky.Thelobbyfellsilent.Everybody,theaudienceaswellastheprotagonistsof

theplaythatwasunfolding,understoodthescript.IfMusaspurnedthegift,itwouldbeapublicdeclarationofwarwithAmrikSingh–whichmadehim,Musa,asgoodasdead.Ifheacceptedit,AmrikSinghwouldhaveoutsourcedthedeathsentencetothemilitants.Becauseheknewthatthenewswouldgetout,andthateverymilitantgroup,whateverelsetheydisagreedabout,agreedthatdeathwasthepunishmentforcollaboratorsandfriendsoftheOccupation.Andwhisky-drinking–evenbynon-collaborators–wasadeclaredun-Islamicactivity.Musawalkedovertothesnackbarandputthebottleofwhiskydownonit.‘Myfatherdoesnotdrink.’‘Arre,whatistheretohide?There’snoshameinit.Ofcourseyourfather

drinks!Youknowthatverywell.Iboughtthisbottleespeciallyforhim.Nevermind,I’llgiveittohimmyself.’AmrikSingh,stillsmiling,orderedhismentofollowMusaandseethathe

gothomesafe.Hewaspleasedwiththewaythingshadturnedout.

Dawnwasbreaking.Ahintofroseinapigeon-greysky.Musawalkedhomethroughthedeadstreets.TheGypsyfollowedhimatasafedistance,thedriverinstructingcheckpostaftercheckpostonhiswalkie-talkietoletMusathrough.Heenteredhishomewithsnowonhisshoulders.Thecoldofthatwas

nothingcomparedtothecoldthatwasgatheringinsidehim.Whentheysawhisfacehisparentsandsistersknewbetterthantoapproachhimoraskwhathadhappened.Hewentstraightbacktohisdeskandresumedtheletterhehadbeenwritingbeforethesoldierscameforhim.HewroteinUrdu.Hewrotequickly,asthoughitwashislasttask,asthoughhewasracingagainstthecoldandhadtofinishitbeforethewarmthseepedoutofhisbody,perhapsforever.ItwasalettertoMissJebeen.

BabajaanaDoyouthinkI’mgoingtomissyou?Youarewrong.Iwillnevermissyou,becauseyouwillalwaysbewithme.Youwantedmetotellyourealstories,butIdon’tknowwhatisrealanymore.Whatused

toberealsoundslikeasillyfairystorynow–thekindIusedtotellyou,thekindyouwouldn’ttolerate.WhatIknowforsureisonlythis:inourKashmirthedeadwillliveforever;andthelivingareonlydeadpeople,pretending.NextweekweweregoingtotryandmakeyouyourownIDcard.Asyouknow,jaana,

ourcardsaremoreimportantthanweourselvesarenow.Thatcardisthemostvaluablethinganyonecanhave.Itismorevaluablethanthemostbeautifullywovencarpet,orthesoftest,warmestshawl,orthebiggestgarden,orallthecherriesandallthewalnutsfromalltheorchardsinourValley.Canyouimaginethat?MyIDcardnumberisM108672J.YoutoldmeitwasaluckynumberbecauseithasanMforMissandaJforJebeen.Ifitis,thenitwillbringmetoyouandyourAmmijaanquickly.Sogetreadytodoyourhomeworkin

heaven.WhatsensewoulditmaketoyouifItoldyouthattherewereahundredthousandpeopleatyourfuneral?Youwhocouldonlycounttofifty-nine?CountdidIsay?Imeantshout–youwhocouldonlyshouttofifty-nine.Ihopethatwhereveryouareyouarenotshouting.Youmustlearntotalksoftly,likealady,atleastsometimes.HowshallIexplainonehundredthousandtoyou?Suchahugenumber.Shallwetryandthinkaboutitseasonally?Inspringthinkofhowmanyleavesthereareonthetrees,andhowmanypebblesyoucanseeinthestreamsoncetheicehasmelted.Thinkofhowmanyredpoppiesblossominthemeadows.Thatshouldgiveyouaroughideaofwhatahundredthousandmeansinspring.InautumnitisasmanyChinarleavesascrackledunderourfeetintheuniversitycampusthedayItookyouforawalk(andyouwereangrywiththecatwhowouldn’ttrustyouandrefusedthepieceofbreadyouofferedhim.We’reallbecomingabitlikethatcat,jaana.Wecan’ttrustanyone.Thebreadtheyofferusisdangerousbecauseitturnsusintoslavesandfawningservants.You’dprobablybeangrywithusall).Anyway.Weweretalkingaboutanumber.Onehundredthousand.Inwinterwe’llhavetothinkofthesnowflakesfallingfromthesky.Rememberhowweusedtocountthem?Howyouusedtotryandcatchthem?Thatmanypeopleisahundredthousand.Atyourfuneralthecrowdcoveredthegroundlikesnow.Canyoupictureitnow?Good.Andthat’sonlythepeople.I’mnotgoingtotellyouabouttheslothbearthatcamedownthemountain,thehangulthatwatchedfromthewoods,thesnowleopardthatleftitstracksinthesnowandthekitesthatcircledinthesky,supervisingeverything.Onthewhole,itwasquiteaspectacle.You’dhavebeenhappy,youlovecrowds,Iknow.Youwerealwaysgoingtobeacitygirl.Thatmuchwasclearfromthebeginning.Nowit’syourturn.Tellmeabout–

Mid-sentencehelosttheraceagainstthecold.Hestoppedwriting,foldedtheletterandputitinhispocket.Henevercompletedit,buthealwayscarrieditwithhim.Heknewhedidn’thavemuchtime.Hewouldhavetopre-emptAmrik

Singh’snextmove,andquickly.Lifeasheonceknewitwasover.HeknewthatKashmirhadswallowedhimandhewasnowpartofitsentrails.Hespentthedaysettlingwhataffairshecould–payingthecigarettebills

hehadaccumulated,destroyingpapers,takingthefewthingshelovedorneeded.ThenextmorningwhentheYeswihouseholdwokeuptoitsgrief,Musawasgone.HehadleftanoteforoneofhissistersaboutthebeatenboyhehadseenintheShirazwithhismother’snameandaddress.Thusbeganhislifeunderground.Alifethatlastedpreciselyninemonths–

likeapregnancy.Exceptthatinamannerofspeakingatleast,itsconsequencewastheoppositeofapregnancy.Itendedinakindofdeath,insteadofakindoflife.

Duringhisdaysasafugitive,Musamovedfromplacetoplace,neverthesameplaceonconsecutivenights.Therewerealwayspeoplearoundhim–inforesthideouts,inbusinessmen’splushhomes,inshops,indungeons,instorerooms–whereverthetehreekwaswelcomedwithloveandsolidarity.Helearnedeverythingaboutweapons,wheretobuythem,howtomovethem,wheretohidethem,howtousethem.Hedevelopedrealcallusesintheplaceswherehisfatherhadimaginedphantomones–onhiskneesandelbows,onhistriggerfinger.Hecarriedagun,butneverusedit.Withhisfellowtravellers,whowereallmuchyoungerthanhim,hesharedthelovethathot-

bloodedmenwhowouldgladlygivetheirlivesforeachothershare.Theirliveswereshort.Manyofthemwerekilled,jailedortortureduntiltheylosttheirminds.Otherstooktheirplace.Musasurvivedpurgeafterpurge.Histiestohisoldlifeweregradually(anddeliberately)erased.Nobodyknewwhohereallywas.Nobodyasked.Hisfamilydidnotknowthat.Hedidnotbelongtoanyoneparticularorganization.Intheheartofafilthywar,upagainstabestialitythatishardtoimagine,hedidwhathecouldtopersuadehiscomradestoholdontoasemblanceofhumanity,tonotturnintotheverythingtheyabhorredandfoughtagainst.Hedidnotalwayssucceed.Nordidhealwaysfail.Herefinedtheartofmergingintothebackground,ofdisappearinginacrowd,ofmumblinganddissembling,ofburyingthesecretsheknewsodeepthatheforgotheknewthem.Helearnedtheartofennui,ofenduringaswellasinflictingboredom.Hehardlyeverspoke.Atnight,fedupwiththeregimeofsilence,hisorgansmurmuredtoeachotherinthelanguageofnightcrickets.Hisspleencontactedhiskidney.Hispancreaswhisperedacrossthesilentvoidtohislungs:

HelloCanyouhearme?Areyoustillthere?

Hegrewcolder,andquieter.Thepriceonhisheadwentupveryquickly–fromonelakhtothreelakhs.Whenninemonthshadgoneby,TilocametoKashmir.

Tilowaswhereshewasmostevenings,atateastallinoneofthenarrowlanesaroundthedargahofHazratNizamuddinAuliya,onherwaybackhomefromwork,whenayoungmanapproachedher,confirmedthathernamewasS.Tilottama,andhandedheranote.Itsaid:GhatNumber33,HBShaheen,DalLake.Pleasecome20th.Therewasnosignature,onlyatinypencilsketchofahorse’sheadinonecorner.Whenshelookedup,themessengerhadvanished.ShetooktwoweeksofffromherjobinanarchitecturefirminNehruPlace,

caughtatraintoJammu,andanearly-morningbusfromJammutoSrinagar.Musaandshehadnotbeenintouchforawhile.Shewent,becausethatwashowitwasbetweenthem.ShehadneverbeentoKashmir.Itwaslateafternoonwhenthebusemergedfromthelongtunnelthatbored

throughthemountains,theonlylinkbetweenIndiaandKashmir.AutumnintheValleywastheseasonofimmodestabundance.Thesun

slanteddownonthelavenderhazeofzaffrancrocusesinbloom.Orchards

wereheavywithfruit,theChinartreeswereonfire.Tilo’sco-passengers,mostofthemKashmiri,coulddisaggregatethebreezeandtellnotmerelythescentofapplesfromthescentofpearsandripepaddythatwaftedthroughthebuswindows,butwhoseapples,whosepearsandwhoseripepaddytheyweredrivingpast.Therewasanotherscenttheyallknewwell.Thesmellofdread.Itsouredtheairandturnedtheirbodiestostone.Asthenoisy,rattlingbuswithitsstill,silentpassengersdrovedeeperinto

theValleythetensiongrewmoretangible.Everyfiftymetres,oneithersideoftheroad,therewasaheavilyarmedsoldier,alertanddangerouslytense.Thereweresoldiersinthefields,deepinsideorchards,onbridgesandculverts,inshopsandmarketplaces,onrooftops,eachcoveringtheother,inagridthatstretchedallthewayupintothemountains.IneverypartofthelegendaryValleyofKashmir,whateverpeoplemightbedoing–walking,praying,bathing,crackingjokes,shellingwalnuts,makingloveortakingabus-ridehome–theywereintherifle-sightsofasoldier.Andbecausetheywereintherifle-sightsofasoldier,whatevertheymightbedoing–walking,praying,bathing,crackingjokes,shellingwalnuts,makingloveortakingabus-ridehome–theywerealegitimatetarget.Ateverycheckpointtheroadwasblockedwithmovablehorizontalbarriers

mountedwithironspikesthatcouldshredatyretoribbons.Ateachcheckpostthebushadtostop,allthepassengershadtodisembarkandlineupwiththeirbagstobesearched.Soldiersriffledthroughtheluggageonthebusroof.Thepassengerskepttheireyeslowered.Atthesixthorperhapstheseventhcheckpost,anarmouredGypsywithslitsforwindowswasparkedonthesideoftheroad.AfterconferringwithahiddenpersonintheGypsy,agleaming,struttingyoungofficerpulledthreeyoungmenoutofthepassengerline-up–You,YouandYou.Theywerepushedintoanarmytruck.Theywentwithoutdemur.Thepassengerskepttheireyeslowered.BythetimethebusarrivedinSrinagar,thelightwasdying.InthosedaysthelittlecityofSrinagardiedwiththelight.Theshops

closed,thestreetsemptied.AtthebusstopamansidleduptoTiloandaskedherhername.Fromthen

on,shewaspassedfromhandtohand.AnautorickshawtookherfromthebusstandtotheBoulevard.Shecrossedthelakeinashikaraonwhichtherewasnosittingoption,onlyaloungingone.Sosheloungedonthebright,floralcushions,ahoneymoonerwithoutahusband.Itwastomakeupforthat,shethought,thatthebrightflangesoftheboatman’soarswhichpushedthroughtheweedswereheart-shaped.Thelakewasdeadlyquiet.TherhythmicsoundofoarsinthewatermightwellhavebeentheuneasyheartbeatoftheValley.PlifPlifPlif

Thehouseboatsanchorednexttoeachothercheekbyjowlontheoppositeshore–HBShaheen,HBJannat,HBQueenVictoria,HBDerbyshire,HBSnowView,HBDesertBreeze,HBZam-Zam,HBGulshan,HBNewGulshan,HBGulshanPalace,HBMandalay,HBClifton,HBNewClifton–weredarkandempty.HB,theboatmantoldTilowhensheasked,stoodforHouseBoat.HBShaheenwasthesmallestandshabbiestofthemall.Astheshikara

drewup,alittleman,lostinsidehiswornbrownpheranthatalmosttouchedhisankles,cameouttogreetTilo.LatershelearnedhisnamewasGulrez.Hegreetedherasthoughheknewherwell,asthoughshehadlivedthereallherlifeandhadjustreturnedfrombuyingprovisionsinthemarket.Hislargeheadandoddlythinneckrestedonbroad,sturdyshoulders.AsheledTilothroughthesmalldiningroomanddownanarrowcarpetedcorridortothebedroom,sheheardkittensmewling.Hethrewasparklingsmileoverhisshoulder,likeaproudfather,hisemerald,wizardeyesshining.Thecrampedroomwasonlyslightlylargerthanthedoublebedcovered

withanembroideredcounterpane.Onthebedsidetabletherewasafloweredplastictraywithafiligreedbell-metalwaterjug,twocolouredglassesandasmallCDplayer.Thethreadbarecarpetonthefloorwaspatterned,thecupboarddoorswerecrudelycarved,thewoodenceilingwashoneycombed,thewaste-paperbinwasintricatelypatternedpapiermâché.Tilolookedforaspacethatwasnotpatterned,embroidered,carvedorfiligreed,toresthereyeson.Whenshedidn’tfindone,atideofanxietywelledupinher.Sheopenedthewoodenwindowsbuttheylookeddirectlyontotheclosedwoodenwindowsofthenexthouseboatafewfeetaway.Emptycigarettepacketsandcigarettestubsfloatedinthefewfeetofwaterthatseparatedthem.Sheputherbagdownandwentouttotheporch,litacigaretteandwatchedtheglassysurfaceofthelaketurnsilverasthefirststarsappearedinthesky.Thesnowonthemountainsglowedforawhile,likephosphorus,evenafterdarknesshadfallen.Shewaitedontheboatthewholeofthenextday,watchingGulrezdustthe

undustyfurnitureandtalktopurplebrinjalsandbig-leavedhaakhinhisvegetablegardenonthebankjustbehindtheboat.Afterclearingawayasimplelunch,heshowedherhiscollectionofthingsthathekeptinabigyellowairportduty-freeshoppingbagthatsaidSee!Buy!Fly!Helaidthemoutonthediningtableonebyone.ItwashisversionofaVisitors’Book:anemptybottleofPoloaftershavelotion,arangeofoldairlineboardingpasses,apairofsmallbinoculars,apairofsunglassesfromwhichonelenshadfallenout,awell-thumbedLonelyPlanetguidebook,aQantastoiletbag,asmalltorch,abottleofherbalmosquitorepellent,abottleofsuntanlotion,asilver-foilcardofexpireddiarrhoeapills,andapairofblueMarks&Spencerladies’knickersstuffedintoanoldcigarettetin.Hegiggledandmadehiseyesslyas

herolledtheknickersintoasoftcigarandputthembackinthetin.Tilosearchedherslingbagandaddedasmallstrawberry-shapederaserandavialthatusedtocontainclutch-pencilleadstothecollection.Gulrezunscrewedthelittlecapofthevialandscreweditbackon,thrilled.Aftercontemplatingthematterforawhile,heputtheeraserintheplasticbagandpocketedthevial.Hewentoutoftheroomandcamebackwithapostcard-sizedprintofaphotographofhimselfholdingthekittensinthepalmsofhishandsthatthelastvisitorontheboathadgivenhim.HegaveittoTiloformally,holdingitoutwithbothhandsasthoughitwereacertificateofmeritbeingawardedtoher.Tiloaccepteditwithabow.Theirbarterwascomplete.InaconversationinwhichherhesitantHindiencounteredhishaltingUrdu,

Tilofiguredoutthatthe‘Muzz-kak’thatGulrezkeptreferringtowasMusa.HebroughtoutaclippingofanUrdunewspaperwhichhadpublishedphotographsofallthosewhohadbeenshotonthesamedayasMissJebeenandhermother.Hekissedthecuttingseveraltimesover,pointingtoalittlegirlandayoungwoman.GraduallyTilopiecedtogetherthesemblanceofanarrative:thewomanwasMusa’swifeandthechildwastheirdaughter.Thephotosweresobadlyprinteditwasimpossibletodeciphertheirfeaturesandtellwhattheylookedlike.TomakesureTilounderstoodhismeaning,Gulrezlaidhisheaddownonapillowmadeofhispalms,closedhiseyeslikeachildandthenpointedtothesky.They’vegonetoheaven.Tilodidn’tknowthatMusawasmarried.Hehadn’ttoldher.Shouldhehave?Whyshouldhehave?Andwhyshouldshemind?Itwasshewhohadwalkedawayfromhim.Butshedidmind.Notbecausehewasmarried,butbecausehehadn’ttoldher.FortherestofthedayaMalayalamnonsenserhymeloopedendlesslyin

herhead.Ithadbeenthemonsoonanthemofanarmyoftiny,knickeredchildren–she,oneamongthem–whostompedinmudpuddlesandstreakeddownthecreepered,overgreenedriverbankinthepouringrain,shriekingit.

Dum!Dum!PattalamSaarindeveetilkalyanamAanapindamchoruAttavarthaduupperiKozhitheetamchamandi

Bang!Bang!Here’sthearmybandAweddinginthehouseofthelordofthelandElephantdungrice!Friedmillipedes,nice!

Mincedhen-shitforspice!

Shecouldn’tunderstand.Couldtherebeamoreinappropriateresponsetowhatshehadjustlearned?Shehadn’tthoughtofthisversesinceshewasfiveyearsold.Whynow?Perhapsitwasraininginsideherhead.Perhapsitwasthesurvivalstrategy

ofamindthatmightshutdownifitwasfoolishenoughtoattempttomakesenseoftheintricatefretworkthatconnectedMusa’snightmarestohers.TherewasnotourguideonhandtotellherthatinKashmirnightmares

werepromiscuous.Thattheywereunfaithfultotheirowners,theycartwheeledwantonlyintootherpeople’sdreams,theyacknowledgednoprecincts,theywerethegreatestambushartistsofall.Nofortification,nofence-buildingcouldkeepthemincheck.InKashmirtheonlythingtodowithnightmareswastoembracethemlikeoldfriendsandmanagethemlikeoldenemies.Shewouldlearnthatofcourse.Soon.Shesatontheupholstered,built-inbenchintheentranceporchofthe

houseboatandwatchedhersecondsunset.Agloomynightfish(norelativeofthenightmare)rosefromthebottomofthelakeandswallowedthereflectionofthemountainsinthewater.Whole.Gulrezwaslayingthetablefordinner(fortwo,clearlyheknewsomething)whenMusaarrivedsuddenly,quietly,enteringfromthebackoftheboat.‘Salaam.’‘Salaam.’‘Youcame.’‘Ofcourse.’‘Howareyou?Howwasthejourney?’‘OK.You?’‘OK.’TherhymeinTilo’sheadswelledintoasymphony.‘I’msorryI’msolate.’Hedidn’tgiveanyfurtherexplanation.Otherthanlookingalittlegaunt,he

hadn’tchangedverymuch,andyethewasalmostunrecognizable.Hehadgrownastubblethatwasalmostabeard.Hiseyesseemedtohavelightenedanddarkenedatonce,asthoughthey’dbeenwashed,andonecolourhadfadedandtheotherhadnot.HisbrowngreeniriseswerecircumscribedwitharingofblackthatTilodidnotremember.Shesawthathisoutline–theshapehemadeintheworld–hadgrownindistinct,smudged,somehow.Hemergedintohissurroundingsevenmorethanheusedto.IthadnothingtodowiththeubiquitousbrownKashmiripheranthatflappedaroundhim.WhenhetookoffhiswoolcapTilosawthathishairhadthickstreaksofsilver.Henoticedthatshenoticedandranself-consciousfingersthroughhishair.Strong,horse-

drawingfingers,withacallusonthetriggerfinger.Hewasthesameageasher.Thirty-one.Thesilencebetweenthemswelledandsubsidedlikethebellowsofan

accordionplayingatunethatonlytheycouldhear.Heknewthatsheknewthatheknewthatsheknew.That’showitwasbetweenthem.

Gulrezbroughtinatrayoftea.Withhimtoo,therewasnogreatexchangeofgreetings,althoughitwasclearthattherewasfamiliarity,evenlove.MusacalledhimGul-kakandsometimes‘Mout’andhadbroughthimeardrops.Theeardropsbroketheiceasonlyeardropscan.‘Hehasanearinfection,andhe’sscared.Terrified,’Musaexplained.‘Isheinpain?Heseemedfineallday.’‘Notofthepain,there’snopain.Ofbeingshot.Hesayshecan’thear

properlyandhe’sworriedthathemightnothearthematthecheckpostswhentheysay“Stop!”Sometimestheyfirstletyougothroughandthenstopyou.Soifyoudon’thearthat…’Gulrez,sensingthestrain(andthelove)intheroomandalerttothefact

thathecouldplayapartineasingit,kneltonthefloortheatrically,andrestedhischeekonMusa’slapwithabigcauliflowerearturnedupwardstoreceiveeardrops.Afterministeringtobothcauliflowersandstoppingthemupwithwadsofcottonwool,Musagavehimthebottle.‘Keepitcarefully.WhenI’mnothereaskher,she’lldoit,’hesaid.‘She’s

myfriend.’Gulrez,muchashecovetedthetinybottlewithitsplasticnozzle,muchas

hefeltitsrightfulplacewasinhisSee!Buy!Fly!Visitors’Book,entrustedittoTiloandbeamedather.Foramomenttheybecameaspontaneouslyconstitutedfamily.Fatherbear,motherbear,babybear.Babybearwasbyfarthehappiest.Fordinnerheproducedfivemeat

dishes:gushtaba,rista,martzwangankorma,shamikebab,chickenyakhni.‘Somuchfood…’Tilosaid.‘Cow,goat,chicken,lamb…onlyslaveseatlikethis,’Musasaid,heaping

animpoliteamountontohisplate.‘Ourstomachsaregraveyards.’Tilowouldnotbelievethatbabybearhadcookedthefeastsingle-handedly.‘Hewastalkingtobrinjalsandplayingwiththekittensallday.Ididn’tsee

himdoinganycooking.’‘Hemusthavedoneitbeforeyoucame.He’sawonderfulcook.Hisfather

isaprofessional,awaza,fromGodzilla’svillage.’‘Whyishehereallalone?’‘He’snotalone.Thereareeyesandearsandheartsaroundhim.Buthe

can’tliveinthevillage…it’stoodangerousforhim.Gul-kakiswhatwecalla“mout”–helivesinhisownworld,withhisownrules.Abitlikeyou,insomeways.’MusalookedupatTilo,serious,unsmiling.

‘Youmeanafool,avillagefool?’Tilolookedbackathim,notsmilingeither.‘Imeanaspecialperson.Ablessedperson.’‘Blessedbywhom?Twistedfuckingwaytoblesssomeone.’‘Blessedwithabeautifulsoul.Herewerevereourmaet.’IthadbeenawhilesinceMusahadheardalaconicprofanityofthisnature,

especiallyfromawoman.Itlandedlightly,likeacricketonhisconstrictedheart,andstirredthememoryofwhy,andhowandhowmuch,hehadlovedTilo.Hetriedtoreturnthatthoughttothelockedsectionofthearchiveithadcomeoutof.‘Wenearlylosthimtwoyearsago.Therewasacordon-and-search

operationinhisvillage.Themenwereaskedtocomeoutandlineupinthefields.Gulranouttogreetthesoldiers,insistingtheywerethePakistaniarmy,cometoliberatethem.Hewassinging,shoutingJeevey!Jeevey!Pakistan!Hewantedtokisstheirhands.Theyshothiminhisthigh,beathimwithriflebuttsandlefthimbleedinginthesnow.Afterthatincidenthebecamehysterical,andwouldtrytorunawaywheneverhesawasoldier,whichisofcoursethemostdangerousthingtodo.SoIbroughthimtoSrinagartolivewithus.Butnowsincethere’shardlyanybodyinourhome–Idon’tlivethereanymore–hedidn’twanttostaythereeither.Igothimthisjob.Thisboatbelongstoafriend;he’ssafehere,hedoesn’tneedtogoout.Hejusthastocookforthefewvisitorsthatcome,hardlyanydo.Provisionsaredeliveredtohim.Theonlydangeristhattheboatissoolditmightsink.’‘Seriously?’Musasmiled.‘No.It’squitesafe.’Thehousewith‘hardlyanybody’inittookitsplaceatthedinnertable,a

thirdguest,withtheravenousappetiteofaslave.‘AlmostallthemaetinKashmirhavebeenkilled.Theywerethefirsttobe

killed,becausetheydon’tknowhowtoobeyorders.Maybethat’swhyweneedthem.Toteachushowtobefree.’‘Orhowtobekilled?’‘Hereit’sthesamething.Onlythedeadarefree.’MusalookedatTilo’shandrestingonthetable.Heknewitbetterthanhe

knewhisown.Shestillworethesilverringhehadgivenher,yearsago,whenhewassomeoneelse.Therewasstillinkonhermiddlefinger.

Gulrez,keenlyawarethathewasbeingspokenabout,hoveredaroundthetable,refillingglassesandplates,withamewlingkittenineachpocketofhispheran.Duringabreakintheconversation,heintroducedthemasAghaandKhanum.ThestreakygreyonewasAgha.Theblack-and-whiteharlequinwasKhanum.

‘AndSultan?’Musaaskedhimwithasmile.‘Howishe?’Asifoncue,Gulrez’sfacecloudedover.Hisreplywasalongprofanityin

amixtureofKashmiriandUrdu.Tilounderstoodonlythelastsentence:Arreussbewakoofkoagaryahanmintreekesaathrehnanahiaatatha,tophirwohsaalaisduniyameinaayahikyuuntha?Ifthatfooldidn’tknowhowtoliveherewiththemilitary,whydidhehave

tocomeintothisworldinthefirstplace?ItwasnodoubtsomethingGulrezhadheardaworriedparentorneighbour

sayabouthim,andhadfiledawaytouseasacomplaintagainstSultan,whoeverSultanwas.Musalaughedoutloud,grabbedGulrezandkissedhimonhishead.Gul

smiled.Ahappyimp.‘Who’sSultan?’TiloaskedMusa.‘I’lltellyoulater.’

Afterdinnertheywentoutontotheporchtosmokeandlistentothenewsonthetransistor.Threemilitantshadbeenkilled.DespitethecurfewinBaramullatherehad

beenmajorprotests.Itwasano-moonnight,pitch-dark,thewaterblackasanoilslick.Thehotelsontheboulevardthatranalongthelakeshorehadbeenturned

intobarracks,wrappedinrazorwire,sandbaggedandboardedup.Thediningroomsweresoldiers’dormitories,thereceptionsdaytimelock-ups,theguestroomsinterrogationcentres.Thick,painstakinglyembroideredcrewelworkdrapesandexquisitecarpetsmuffledthescreamsofyoungmenhavingtheirgenitalsproddedwithelectrodesandpetrolpouredintotheiranuses.‘D’youknowwho’sherethesedays?’Musasaid.‘GarsonHobart.Have

youbeenintouchwithhimatall?’‘Notforsomeyears.’‘He’sDeputyStationHead,IB.It’saprettyimportantpost.’‘Goodforhim.’Therewasnobreeze.Thelakewascalm,theboatsteady,thesilence

unsteady.‘Didyouloveher?’‘Idid.Iwantedtotellyouthat.’‘Why?’Musafinishedhiscigaretteandlitanother.‘Idon’tknow.Somethingtodowithhonour.Yours,mineandhers.’‘Whydidn’tyoutellmeearlier,then?’‘Idon’tknow.’‘Wasitanarrangedmarriage?’‘No.’

SittingnexttoTilo,breathingnexttoher,hefeltlikeanemptyhousewhoselockedwindowsanddoorswerecreakingopenalittle,toairtheghoststrappedinsideit.Whenhespokeagainhespokeintothenight,addressingthemountains,entirelyinvisiblenow,exceptforthewinkinglightsofarmycampsthatwerestrungacrosstherange,likemeagredecorationsforsomedreadfulfestival.‘Imetherinthemosthorribleway…horribleyetbeautiful…itcould

haveonlyhappenedhere.Itwasthespringof’91,ouryearofchaos.We–everybodyexceptGodzilla,Ithink–thoughtAzadiwasaroundthecorner,justaheartbeataway.Everydaythereweregunbattles,explosions,encounterkillings.Militantswalkedopenlyinthestreets,flauntingtheirweapons…’Musatrailedoff,unsettledbythesoundofhisownvoice.Hewasn’tused

toit.Tilodidnothingtohelphimout.ApartofhershiedawayfromthestorythatMusahadbeguntotellher,andwasgratefulforthediversionintogeneralities.‘Anyway.Thatyear–theyearImether–Ihadjustgotajob.Itshould

havebeenabigdeal,butitwasn’t,becauseinthosedayseverythinghadshutdown.Nothingworked…notcourts,notcolleges,notschools…therewasacompletebreakdownofnormallife…howcanItellyouhowitwas…howcrazy…itwasafree-for-all…therewaslooting,kidnapping,murder…masscheatinginschoolexams.Thatwasthefunniestthing.Suddenly,inthemiddleofwar,everyonewantedtobeaMatricPassbecauseitwouldhelpthemtogetcheaploansfromthegovernment…Iactuallyknowafamilyinwhichthreegenerations,thegrandfather,fatherandson,allsatfortheschoolfinalexamtogether.Imaginethat.Farmers,labourers,fruit-sellers,allofthemClassTwoandThreepass,barelyliterate,satfortheexam,copiedfromtheguidebookandpassedwithflyingcolours.Theyevencopiedthat“PleaseTurnOver”signatthebottomofthepage–thepointingfinger–remember?Itusedtobeatthebottomofourschooltextbooks?Eventoday,whenwewanttoinsultsomeonewho’sbeingstupid,wesay,“Areyouanamtukpass?”’Tilounderstoodhewasdeliberatelydigressing,circlingaroundastorythat

wasashard–harder–forhimtotellasitwasforhertohear.‘Areyouthebatchof’91?’Musa’ssoftlaughwasfullofaffectionforthe

foiblesofhispeople.Shehadalwayslovedthatabouthim,thewayhebelongedsocompletelyto

apeoplewhomhelovedandlaughedat,complainedaboutandsworeat,butneverseparatedhimselffrom.Maybesheloveditbecausesheherselfdidn’t–couldn’t–thinkofanybodyas‘herpeople’.Exceptperhapsthetwodogsthatarrivedat6a.m.sharpinthelittleparkoutsideherhousewhereshefedthem,andthehobosshedrankteawithattheteastallneartheNizamuddindargah.Butnoteventhem,notreally.

LongagoshehadthoughtofMusaas‘herpeople’.Theyhadbeenastrangecountrytogetherforawhile,anislandrepublicthathadsecededfromtherestoftheworld.Sincethedaytheydecidedtogotheirownways,shehadhadno‘people’.‘WewerefightinganddyinginourthousandsforAzadi,andatthesame

timeweweretryingtosecurecheaploansfromtheverygovernmentwewerefighting.We’reavalleyofidiotsandschizophrenics,andwearefightingforthefreedomtobeidioticand–’Musastoppedmid-chuckle,cockinghishead.Apatrolboatchuggedpast

somedistanceaway,thesoldiersinitsweepingthesurfaceofthewaterwithbeamsoflightfrompowerfultorches.Oncetheyhadgone,hestoodup.‘Let’sgoin,Babajaana.It’sgettingcold.’Itslippedoutsonaturally,thatoldtermofendearment.Babajaana.My

love.Shenoticed.Hedidn’t.Itwasn’tcold.Butstill,theywentin.Gulrezwasasleeponthecarpetinthediningroom.AghaandKhanum

werewideawake,playingonhimasthoughhisbodywereanamusementparkconstructedentirelyfortheirpleasure.Aghahidinthecrookofhisknee,Khanumstagedanambushfromthestrategicheightsofhiship.

Musastoodatthedoorofthecarved,embroidered,patterned,filigreedbedroomandsaid,‘MayIcomein?’andthathurther.‘Slavesdon’tnecessarilyhavetobestupid,dothey?’Shesatontheedgeof

thebedandflippedbackwards,herpalmsunderherhead,herfeetremainingonthefloor.Musasatnexttoherandputhishandonherstomach.Thetensionslippedoutoftheroomlikeanunwantedstranger.Itwasdarkexceptforthelightfromthecorridor.‘CanIplayyouaKashmirisong?’‘No,thanks,man.I’mnotaKashmiriNationalist.’‘Yousoonwillbe.Inthreeormaybefourdays’time.’‘Why’sthat?’‘Youwillbe,becauseIknowyou.Whenyouseewhatyouseeandhear

whatyouhear,youwon’thaveachoice.Becauseyouareyou.’‘Istheregoingtobeaconvocation?I’llgetadegree?’‘Yes.Andyou’llpasswithflyingcolours.Iknowyou.’‘Youdon’treallyknowme.I’mapatriot.IgetgoosebumpswhenIseethe

nationalflag.IgetsoemotionalIcan’tthinkstraight.Iloveflagsandsoldiersandallthatmarchingaroundstuff.What’sthesong?’‘You’lllikeit.Icarrieditthroughthecurfewforyou.Itwaswrittenforus,

foryouandme.ByafellowcalledLasKone,frommyvillage.You’llloveit.’‘I’mprettysureIwon’t.’‘Comeon.Givemeachance.’

MusatookoutaCDfromthepocketofhispheranandputitintotheplayer.Withinsecondsoftheopeningchordsoftheguitar,Tilo’seyessnappedopen.

Trav’linglady,stayawhileuntilthenightisover.I’mjustastationonyourway,IknowI’mnotyourlover.

‘LeonardCohen.’‘Yes.Evenhedoesn’tknowthathe’sreallyaKashmiri.Orthathisreal

nameisLasKone…’

WellIlivedwithachildofsnowwhenIwasasoldier,andIfoughteverymanforheruntilthenightsgrewcolder.

Sheusedtowearherhairlikeyouexceptwhenshewassleeping,andthenshe’dweaveitonaloomofsmokeandgoldandbreathing.

Andwhyareyousoquietnowstandingthereinthedoorway?Youchoseyourjourneylongbeforeyoucameuponthishighway.

‘Howdidheknow?’‘LasKoneknowseverything.’‘Didshewearherhairlikemine?’‘Shewasacivilizedperson,Babajaana.Notamout.’TilokissedMusa,andwhilesheheldhimtoherandwouldnotlethimgo

shesaid,‘Getawayfromme,youfilthymountainman.’‘Overwashedriverwoman.’‘Howlongsinceyoubathed?’‘Ninemonths.’‘No,seriously.’‘Aweekmaybe?Idon’tknow.’‘Filthybastard.’

Musa’sshowerlastedaninordinatelylongtime.ShecouldhearhimhummingalongwithLasKone.Hecameoutbare-bodied,withatowelaroundhiships,smellingofhersoapandshampoo.Itmadeherchortle.‘You’resmellinglikeasummerrose.’‘I’mfeelingreallyguilty,’Musasaid,smiling.‘Right.Youreallylookit.’

‘AfterweeksofgeneroushospitalitytolicesandleechesI’veturnedthemoutofthehouse.’‘Lices’madeherlovehimalittlemore.

Theyhadalwaysfittedtogetherlikepiecesofanunsolved(andperhapsunsolvable)puzzle–thesmokeofherintothesolidnessofhim,thesolitarinessofherintothegatheringofhim,thestrangenessofherintothestraightforwardnessofhim,theinsoucianceofherintotherestraintofhim.Thequietnessofherintothequietnessofhim.Andthenofcoursethereweretheotherparts–theonesthatwouldn’tfit.WhathappenedthatnightontheHBShaheenwaslesslovemakingthan

lament.Theirwoundsweretoooldandtoonew,toodifferent,andperhapstoodeep,forhealing.Butforafleetingmoment,theywereabletopoolthemlikeaccumulatedgamblingdebtsandsharethepainequally,withoutnamingtheinjuriesoraskingwhichwaswhose.Forafleetingmomenttheywereabletorepudiatetheworldtheylivedinandcallforthanotherone,justasreal.Aworldinwhichmaetgavetheordersandsoldiersneededeardropssotheycouldhearthemclearlyandcarrythemoutcorrectly.Tiloknewtherewasagununderneaththebed.Shemadenocomment

aboutit.Notevenafterwards,whenMusa’scalluseshadbeencounted.Andkissed.Shelaystretchedoutontopofhim,asthoughhewereamattress,herchinrestingonherintertwinedfingers,herdistinctlyun-KashmiribottomvulnerabletotheSrinagarnight.InawayMusa’sjourneytowherehewasnowdidnotentirelysurpriseher.Sheclearlyrememberedadayyearsago,in1984(whocouldforget1984),whenthenewspapersreportedthataKashmiricalledMaqboolButt,jailedformurderandtreason,hadbeenhangedinTiharJailinDelhi,hisremainsinterredintheprisonyard,forfearhisgravewouldbecomeamonument,arallyingpointinKashmir,wheretroublehadalreadybeguntosimmer.Thenewshadnotmatteredtoevenoneotherpersonintheircollege,neitherstudentnorprofessor.ButthatnightMusahadsaidtoher,quietly,matter-of-factly,‘Somedayyou’llunderstandwhy,forme,historybegantoday.’Thoughshehadnotfullycomprehendedtheimportofhiswordsatthetime,theintensitywithwhichtheyhadbeenutteredhadremainedwithher.‘How’stheQueenMotherinKeralakeeping?’Musainquiredintothe

bird’snestthatpassedoffashislover’shair.‘Don’tknow.Haven’tvisited.’‘Youshould.’‘Iknow.’‘She’syourmother.She’syou.Youareher.’‘That’sonlytheKashmiriview.It’sdifferentinIndia.’

‘Seriously.It’snotajoke.Thisisnotagoodthingonyourpart,Babajaana.Youshouldgo.’‘Iknow.’Musaranhisfingersdowntheridgesofmuscleoneithersideofherspine.

Whatbeganasacaressturnedintoaphysicalexamination.Foramomenthebecamehissuspiciousfather.Hecheckedouthershoulders,herlean,muscledarms.‘Where’sallthisfrom?’‘Practice.’Therewasasecondofsilence.Shedecidedagainsttellinghimaboutthe

menwhostalkedher,whoknockedonherdooratoddhoursofthedayandnight,includingMrS.P.P.Rajendran,aretiredpoliceofficerwhoheldanadministrativepostinthearchitecturalfirmsheworkedfor.Hehadbeenhiredmoreforhiscontactsinthegovernmentthanforhisskillsasanadministrator.Hewasopenlylecheroustowardsherintheoffice,makinglewdsuggestions,oftenleavinggiftsonherdesk,whichsheignored.Butlateatnight,bolsteredperhapsbyalcohol,hewoulddrivetoNizamuddinandhammeronherdoor,shoutingtobeletin.Hisbrazennesscamefromknowingthatifmatterscametoahead,inthepubliceye,aswellasinacourtoflaw,hiswordwouldprevailagainsthers.Hehadarecordofexemplarypublicservice,amedalforbravery,andshewasalonewomanwhowasimmodestlyattiredandsmokedcigarettes,andtherewasnothingtosuggestthatshecamefroma‘decent’familywhowouldrisetoherdefence.Tilowasawareofthisandhadtakenprecautionarymeasures.IfMrRajendranpushedhisluckshecouldhavehimpinnedtothefloorbeforeheknewwhathadhappened.Shesaidnothingofallthisbecauseitseemedsordidandtrivialcompared

towhatMusawaslivingthrough.Sherolledoffhim.‘TellmeaboutSultan…thebewakoofpersonthatGulrezwassoupset

with.Who’she?’Musasmiled.‘Sultan?Sultanwasn’taperson.Andhewasn’tbewakoof.Hewasavery

cleverfellow.Hewasarooster,anorphanroosterthatGulhadraisedsincehewasalittlechick.Sultanwasdevotedtohim,hewouldfollowhimaroundwhereverhewent,theywouldhavelongconversationswitheachotherthatnooneelseunderstood,theywereateam…inseparable.Sultanwasfamousintheregion.Peoplefromnearbyvillageswouldcometoseehim.Hehadbeautifulplumage,purple,orange,red,hewouldstrutaroundtheplacelikearealsultan.Iknewhimwell…weallknewhim.Hewasso…lofty,healwaysactedasthoughyouowedhimsomething…youknow?Onedayanarmycaptaincametothevillagewithsomesoldiers…CaptainJaanbaazhecalledhimself,Idon’tknowwhathisrealnamewas…theyalwaysgivethemselvesthesefilmynamestheseguys…theyweren’tthereforacordon-

and-searchoranything…justtospeaktothevillagers,threatenthemalittle,mistreatthemabit…theusualstuff.Themenofthevillagewereallmadetoassembleinthechowk.Thewell-knownfirmofGul-kakandSultanweretheretoo,Sultanlisteningattentivelyasthoughhewereahumanbeing,avillageelder.Thecaptainhadadogwithhim.AhugeGermanshepherd,onaleash.Afterhefinisheddeliveringhisthreatsandhislecture,heletthedogofftheleash,saying,“Jimmy!Fetch!”JimmypouncedonSultan,killedhim,andthesoldierstookhimfortheirdinner.Gul-kakwasdevastated.Hecriedfordays,likepeoplecryfortheirrelativeswhohavebeenkilled.ForhimSultanwasarelative…nothingless.AndhewasupsetwithSultanforlettinghimdown,fornotfightingback,orescaping–almostasthoughhewasamilitantwhoshouldhaveknownthesetactics.SoGulwouldcurseSultanandwail,“Ifyoudidn’tknowhowtolivewiththemilitary,whydidyoucomeintothisworld?”’‘Sowhywereyouremindinghimaboutit?Thatwasmean…’‘Gulismylittlebrother,yaar.Weweareachother’sclothes,wetrusteach

otherwithourlives.Icandoanythingwithhim.’‘Thisisnotagoodthingonyourpart,Musakuttan.InIndiawedon’tdo

thesethings…’‘Weevensharethesamename…’‘Meaning?’‘That’swhatI’mknownas.CommanderGulrez.Nooneknowsmeas

MusaYeswi.’‘It’sallafuckingmindfuck.’‘Shhh…inKashmirwedon’tusesuchlanguage.’‘InIndiawedo.’‘Weshouldsleep,Babajaana.’‘Weshould.’‘Butbeforethatweshouldgetdressed.’‘Why?’‘Protocol.ThisisKashmir.’

Afterthatcasualintervention,sleepwasnolongerarealisticoption.Tilo,fullydressed,alittleapprehensiveaboutwhatthe‘protocol’implied,butfortifiedbyloveandsatedbylovemaking,proppedherselfuponanelbow.‘Talktome…’‘Andwhatdowecallwhatwe’vebeendoingallthistime?’‘Wecallit“pre-talk”.’Sherubbedhercheekagainsthisstubbleandthenlayback,herheadonthe

pillowbesideMusa’s.‘WhatshallItellyou?’‘Everysinglething.Noomissions.’

Shelittwocigarettes.‘Tellmetheotherstory…theonethat’shorribleandbeautiful…thelove

story.Tellmetherealstory.’TilodidnotunderstandwhywhatshesaidmadeMusaholdhertighterand

turnedhiseyesbrightwithwhatmighthavebeentears.Shedidn’tknowwhathemeantwhenhemurmured‘Akhdaleelawann…’Andthen,holdingherasthoughhislifedependedonit,Musatoldher

aboutJebeen,abouthowsheinsistedonbeingcalledMissJebeen,aboutherspecificrequirementsfrombedtimestoriesandallherothernaughtinesses.HetoldheraboutArifaandhowhefirstmether–inastationeryshopinSrinagar:‘I’dhadahugefightwithGodziethatday.Overmynewboots.Theywere

lovelyboots–Gul-kakwearsthemnow.Anyway…Iwasgoingouttobuysomestationery,andIwaswearingthem.Godzietoldmetotakethemoffandwearnormalshoes,becauseyoungmenwearinggoodbootswereoftenarrestedasmilitants–thosedaysthatwasevidenceenough.Anyway,Irefusedtolistentohim,sofinallyhesaid,“Dowhatyouwant,butmarkmywords,thosebootswillbringtrouble.”Hewasright…theydidbringtrouble–bigtrouble,butnotthekindhewasexpecting.ThestationeryshopIusedtogoto,JKStationery,wasinLalChowk,thecentreofthecity.Iwasinsidewhenagrenadeexplodedonthestreetjustoutside.Amilitanthadthrownitatasoldier.Myeardrumsnearlyburst.Everythinginsidetheshopshattered,therewasglasseverywhere,chaosinthemarket,everyonescreaming.Thesoldierswentcrazy–obviously.Theysmashedupalltheshops,cameinandbeateveryoneinsight.Iwasonthefloor.Theykickedme,beatmewithriflebutts.Irememberjustlyingthere,tryingtoprotectmyskull,watchingmybloodspreadingonthefloor.Iwashurt,nottoobadly,butIwastooscaredtomove.Adogwasstaringatme.Heseemedquitesympathetic.WhenIgotovertheinitialshock,Ifeltaweightonmyfeet.IrememberedmynewbootsandwonderediftheywereOK.AssoonasIthoughtitwassafeIliftedmyheadslowly,ascarefullyasIcould,totakealook.AndIsawthisbeautifulfacerestingonthem.Itwaslikewakingupinhellandfindinganangelonmyshoe.ItwasArifa.Shetoowasfrozen,tooscaredtomove.Butshewasabsolutelycalm.Shedidn’tsmile,didn’tmoveherhead.Shejustlookedatmeandsaid,“Asalboot”–“Niceboots”–Icouldn’tbelievethecoolnessofthat.Nowailing,screaming,sobbing,crying–justabsolutelycool.Webothlaughed.Shehadjustdoneadegreeinveterinarymedicine.MymotherwasshockedwhenIsaidIwantedtogetmarried.ShethoughtIneverwould.Shehadgivenuponme.’ItwaspossibleforTiloandMusatohavethisstrangeconversationabouta

thirdlovedone,becausetheywereconcurrentlysweetheartsandex-sweethearts,loversandex-lovers,siblingsandex-siblings,classmatesandex-

classmates.Becausetheytrustedeachothersopeculiarlythattheyknew,eveniftheywerehurtbyit,thatwhoeveritwasthattheotherpersonlovedhadtobeworthloving.Inmattersoftheheart,theyhadavirtualforestofsafetynets.MusashowedTiloaphotographofMissJebeenandArifathathecarriedin

hiswallet.Arifaworeapearl-greypheranwithsilverembroideryandawhitehijab.MissJebeenwasholdinghermother’shand.Shewasdressedinadenimjumpsuitwithanembroideredheartonitspinafore.Awhitehijabwaspinnedaroundhersmiling,apple-cheekedface.Tilolookedatthephotographforalongtimebeforeshegaveitback.ShesawMusasuddenlylookdrawnandhaggard.Butherecoveredhispoiseinawhile.HetoldherabouthowArifaandMissJebeenhaddied.AboutAmrikSinghandthemurderofJalibQadri,andthestringofmurdersthatfollowed.AbouthisominousapologyattheShiraz.‘I’llnevertakewhathappenedtomyfamilypersonally.ButI’llnevernot

takeitpersonally.Becausethatisimportanttoo.’Theytalkedintothenight.Hourslater,Tilocircledbacktothephotograph.‘Didshelikewearingaheadscarf?’‘Arifa?’‘No,yourdaughter.’Musashrugged.‘It’sthecustom.Ourcustom.’‘Ididn’tknowyouweresuchacustomsman.SoifIhadagreedtomarry

you,you’dhavewantedmetowearone?’‘No,Babajaana.Ifyouhadagreedtomarryme,I’dhaveendedupwearing

ahijabandyouwouldhavebeenrunningaroundtheundergroundwithagun.’Tilolaughedoutloud.‘Andwhowouldhavebeeninmyarmy?’‘Idon’tknow.Nohumansforsure.’‘Amothsquadronandamongoosebrigade…’TilotoldMusaaboutherboringjobandherexcitinglifeinherstoreroom

neartheNizamuddindargah.Abouttheroostershehaddrawnonherwall–‘Soweird.MaybeSultanvisitedmetelepathically–isthataword?’(Itwasthepre-mobile-phoneera,soshedidn’thaveaphotographtoshowhim.)Shedescribedherneighbour,thefakesex-hakimwithwaxedmoustacheswhohadendlessqueuesofpatientsoutsidehisdoor,andherfriends,thetrampsandmendicantsshedrankteawithonthestreeteverymorning,whoallbelievedsheworkedforadruglord.‘Ilaugh,butIdon’tdenyit.Ileaveitambiguous.’‘Why’sthat?That’sdangerous.’‘No.Opposite.It’sfreesecurityforme.TheythinkIhavegangster

protection.Noonebothersme.Let’sreadapoembeforewesleep.’Itwasan

oldhabit,fromtheircollegedays.Oneofthemwouldopenthebookatarandompage.Theotherwouldreadthepoem.Itoftenturnedouttohaveuncannysignificanceforthemandtheparticularmomenttheywerelivingthrough.Poetryroulette.Shescrambledoutofbedandreturnedwithaslim,wornvolumeofOsipMandelstam.Musaopenedthebook.Tiloread:

Iwaswashingatnightinthecourtyard,Harshstarsshoneinthesky.Starlight,likesaltonanaxe-head–Therain-buttwasbrim-fullandfrozen.

‘What’sarain-butt?Don’tknow…mustcheck.’

Thegatesarelocked,Andtheearthinallconscienceisbleak.There’sscarcelyanythingmorebasicandpureThantruth’scleancanvas.

Astarmelts,likesalt,inthebarrelAndthefreezingwaterisblacker,Deathcleaner,misfortunesaltier,Andtheearthmoretruthful,moreawful.

‘AnotherKashmiripoet.’‘RussianKashmiri,’Tilosaid.‘Hediedinaprisoncamp,duringStalin’s

Gulag.HisodetoStalinwasn’tconsideredsincereenough.’Sheregrettedreadingthepoem.

Theysleptfitfully.Beforedawn,stillhalfasleep,TiloheardMusasplashinginthebathroomagain,washing,brushinghisteeth(withhertoothbrushofcourse).Hecameoutwithhishairslickeddownandputonhiscapandpheran.Shewatchedhimsayhisprayers.Shehadneverseenhimdothatbefore.Shesatupinbed.Itdidnotdistracthim.Whenhewasdonehecametoherandsatontheedgeofthebed.‘Doesitworryyou?’‘Shouldit?’‘It’sabigchange…’‘Yes.No.Justmakesme…think.’‘Wecan’twinthiswithjustourbodies.Wehavetorecruitoursoulstoo.’Shelittwomorecigarettes.‘Youknowwhatthehardestthingforusis?Thehardestthingtofight?Pity.

It’ssoeasyforustopityourselves…suchterriblethingshavehappenedtoourpeople…ineverysinglehouseholdsomethingterriblehashappened…butself-pityisso…sodebilitating.Sohumiliating.MorethanAzadi,nowit’safightfordignity.Andtheonlywaywecanholdontoourdignityistofightback.Evenifwelose.Evenifwedie.Butforthatweasapeople–asan

ordinarypeople–havetobecomeafightingforce…anarmy.Todothatwehavetosimplifyourselves,standardizeourselves,reduceourselves…everyonehastothinkthesameway,wantthesamething…wehavetodoawaywithourcomplexities,ourdifferences,ourabsurdities,ournuances…wehavetomakeourselvesassingle-minded…asmonolithic…asstupid…asthearmyweface.Butthey’reprofessionals,andwearejustpeople.ThisistheworstpartoftheOccupation…whatitmakesusdotoourselves.Thisreduction,thisstandardization,thisstupidification…Isthataword?’‘Itjustbecameone.’‘Thisstupidification…thisidiotification…ifandwhenweachieveit…

willbeoursalvation.Itwillmakeusimpossibletodefeat.Firstitwillbeoursalvationandthen…afterwewin…itwillbeournemesis.FirstAzadi.Thenannihilation.That’sthepattern.’Tilosaidnothing.‘Areyoulistening?’‘Ofcourse.’‘I’mbeingsoprofoundandyou’renotsayinganything.’Shelookedupathimandpressedherthumbintothetinyinverted‘v’

betweenhischippedfrontteeth.Heheldherhandandkissedhersilverring.‘Itmakesmehappythatyoustillwearit.’‘It’sstuck.Ican’ttakeitoffevenifIwantto.’Musasmiled.Theysmokedinsilenceandwhentheyweredoneshetook

theashtraytothewindow,droppedthestubsintothewatertojointheotherfloatingstubsandlookedupattheskybeforeshereturnedtobed.‘ThatwasafilthythingIjustdid.Sorry.’Musakissedherforeheadandstoodup.‘You’releaving?’‘Yes.Aboat’scomingforme.Withacargoofspinachandmelonsand

carrotsandlotusstems.I’llbeaHaenz…sellingmyproduceinthefloatingmarket.I’llundercutthecompetition,bargainruthlesslywithhousewives.AndthroughthechaosI’llmakemyexit.’‘WhenwillIseeyou?’‘Someonewillcomeforyou–awomancalledKhadija.Trusther.Gowith

her.You’llbetravelling.Iwantyoutoseeeverything,knoweverything.You’llbesafe.’‘WhenwillIseeyou?’‘Soonerthanyouthink.I’llfindyou.KhudaHafiz,Babajaana.’Andhewasgone.

InthemorningGulrezgaveheraKashmiribreakfast.Chewylavasarotiswithbutterandhoney.Kahwawithnosugar,butwithshreddedalmondsthatshehadtoscoopupfromthebottomofhercup.AghaandKhanumdisplayed

deplorablemanners,skitteringupanddownthediningtable,knockingaroundthecutlery,spillingthesalt.Attensharp,Khadijaarrivedwithhertwoyoungsons.TheycrossedthelakeinashikaraanddrovedowntowninaredMaruti800.ForthenexttendaysTilotravelledthroughtheKashmirValley,eachday

accompaniedbyadifferentsetofcompanions,sometimesmen,sometimeswomen,sometimesfamilieswithchildren.Itwasthefirstofmanytripsshemadeoverseveralyears.Shetravelledbybus,insharedtaxis,andsometimesbycar.ShevisitedthetouristspotsmadefamousbyHindicinema–Gulmarg,Sonmarg,PahalgamandtheBetaabValley,whichwasactuallynamedafterthefilmthatwasshotthere.Thehotelswherefilmstarsusedtostaywereempty,thehoneymooncottages(where,hertravellingcompanionsjoked,theiroppressorshadbeenconceived)wereabandoned.Shetrekkedthroughthemeadowfromwhere,ayearago,sixtourists,American,British,GermanandNorwegian,hadbeenkidnappedbyAl-Faran,anewlyformedmilitantoutfitthatnotmanypeopleknewabout.Fiveofthesixweremurdered,oneescaped.TheyoungNorwegian,apoetanddancer,hadbeenbeheaded,hisbodyleftinthePahalgammeadow.Beforehedied,ashiskidnappersmovedhimfromplacetoplace,heleftatrailofpoetryonscrapsofpaperthathesecretlymanagedtogivetopeopleheencounteredontheway.ShetravelledtotheLolabValley,consideredthemostbeautifuland

dangerousplaceinallofKashmir,itsforestteemingwithmilitants,soldiersandrogueIkhwanis.Shewalkedonlittle-knownforestpathsnearRafiabadthatranclosetotheLineofControl,alongthegrassybanksofmountainstreamsfromwhichshewoulddropdownonallfoursanddrinktheclearwaterlikeathirstyanimal,herlipsturningbluewithcold.Shevisitedvillagesringedbyorchardsandgraveyards;shestayedinvillagers’homes.Musawouldappearandleavewithoutnotice.TheysataroundafireinanemptystonehuthighupinthemountainsthatwasusedbyGujjarshepherdsinthesummerwhentheybroughttheirsheepupfromtheplains.MusapointedoutaroutethatwasoftenusedbymilitantstocrosstheLineofControl:‘Berlinhadawall.Wehavethehighestmountainrangeintheworld.It

won’tfall,butitwillbescaled.’InahomeinKupwara,TilomettheoldersisterofMumtazAfzalMalik,

theyoungmanwhohappenedtobedrivingthetaxithattookAmrikSingh’saccompliceSalimGojritothecampthedaytheyweremurdered.Shedescribedhow,whenherbrother’sbodywasfoundinafieldandbroughthome,hisfists,clenchedinrigormortis,werefullofearthandyellowmustardflowersgrewfrombetweenhisfingers.

TiloreturnedtoHBShaheenfromherexcursionsintheValley,alone.SheandMusahadsaidtheirgoodbyes,casually,justincase.Tilolearnedquickly

that,inthesematters,casualnessandjokeswerestrictlyserious,andseriousnesswasusuallycommunicatedasajoke.Theyspokeincodeevenwhentheydidn’tneedto.ThatwashowAmrikSingh‘Spotter’gothiscodename:Otter.(Therehadn’tbeenaformalconvocation,butthedegreetheyhadjestedabouthadbeenconferredandaccepted.EventhoughTilowasnothinglessthanirreverentaboutthesloganAzadikamatlabkya?Lailahaillallah,shecouldnowcertainly,andcorrectly,bedescribedasanEnemyoftheState.)Thedayaftershereturned,whenshesawGulrezlayingthetablefortwo,sheknewMusawouldcome.Hecamelateinthenight,lookingpreoccupied.Hesaidtherehadbeen

serioustroubleinthecity.Theyswitchedontheradio:AgroupofIkhwanishadkilledaboyand‘disappeared’hisbody.Inthe

proteststhatfollowedfourteenpeoplehadbeenshotdead.Threemilitantshadbeenkilledinanencounter.Threepolicestationsburned.Thetollforthedaywaseighteen.Musaatequicklyandstooduptoleave.Hemurmuredagruffgoodbyeto

Gulrez.HekissedTiloonherforehead.‘KhudaHafiz,Babajaana.Travelsafe.’Heaskedhertostayinside,nottocomeouttoseehimoff.Shedidn’t

listen.Shewalkedoutwithhimtotherickety,makeshiftdockwhereasmallwoodenrowboatwaswaiting.Musaclimbedinandlayflatontheflooroftheboat.Theboatmancoveredhimwithawovengrassmatandartfullyarrangedemptybasketsandafewsacksofvegetablesoverhim.Tilowatchedtheboatrowawaywithitsbelovedcargo.Notacrossthelaketotheboulevard,butalongtheendlesslineofhouseboats,intothedistance.ThethoughtofMusalyingatthebottomofaboat,coveredwithempty

baskets,didsomethingtoher.Herheartfeltlikeagreypebbleinamountainstream–somethingicyrushedoverit.Shewenttobed,settingheralarmtobeupintimetocatchherbusto

Jammu.FortunatelyshefollowedKashmiriprotocol,notbecauseshemeantto,butbecauseshewastootiredtoundress.ShecouldhearGul-kakpotteringaround,humming.

Shewokelessthananhourlater–notsuddenly,butgradually,swimmingthroughlayersofsleep–firsttosoundandthentotheabsenceofit.Firsttothehumofenginesthatseemedtocomefromeverydirection.Then,whentheywereswitchedoff,tothesuddensilence.Motorboats.Manyofthem.TheHBShaheenpitchedandrolled.Notmuch,justalittle.

Shewasalreadyonherfeet,bracedfortrouble,whenthedoorofhercarved,embroidered,filigreedbedroomwaskickeddownandtheroomwasfullof

soldierswithguns.Whathappenedoverthenextfewhourshappenedeitherveryquicklyor

veryslowly.Shecouldn’ttellwhich.Thepicturewasclearandthesoundprecise,butsomehowdistant.Feelingslaggedfarbehind.Shewasgagged,herhandsweretied,andtheroomwassearched.TheyhustledherdownthecorridorintothediningroomwhereshepassedGul-kakonthefloor,beingkickedandbeatenbyatleasttenmen.Whereishe?Idon’tknow.Whoareyou?Gulrez.Gulrez.GulrezAbroo.GulrezAbroo.

Eachtimehetoldthetruththeyhithimharder.Hiswailsspearedcleanthroughherbodylikejavelinsanddriftedacross

thelake.Whenhereyesgotusedtothedarknessoutside,shesawaflotillaofboatsfullofsoldiersbobbingontheblackwater,theaquaticequivalentofacordon-and-search.Thereweretwoconcentricarcs,theouterarcwastheareadominationteam,theinnerone,thesupportteam.Thesoldiersthatmadeupthesupportteamwerestandingintheirboats,probingandstabbingatthewaterwithknivestiedtotheendoflongpoles–improvisedharpoons–tomakesurethemantheyhadcomefordidnotmakeanunderwatergetaway.(Theyweremortifiedbytherecent,butalreadylegendary,escapeofHaroonGaade–HaroontheFish–whogotawayevenaftertheraidingpartythoughtithadcorneredhiminhishideoutonthebanksoftheWularLake.Theonlypossibleexitroutehehadwasthelakeitself,whereateamofmarinecommandoslayinwaitforhim.ButHaroonGaadegotawaybyhidingunderwaterinaclumpofweeds,usingareedofbambooasasnorkel.Hewasabletoremainconcealedforhours–untilhisflummoxedpursuersgaveupandwentaway.)Theboatthathadcarriedtheassaultteamwasdocked,waitingforits

passengerstoreturnwiththeirtrophy.ThemaninchargeoftheoperationwasatallSikhwearingadarkgreenturban.Tiloassumed,correctly,thathewasAmrikSingh.Shewasshovedontotheboatandmadetositdown.Nobodyspoketoher.Nobodyintheneighbouringhouseboatscameouttofindoutwhatwashappening.Eachofthemhadalreadybeensearchedbysmallteamsofsoldiers.InawhileGulrezwasbroughtout.Hecouldn’twalk,sohewasdragged.

Hisbighead,coveredbyahoodnow,lolledforward.HewasseatedoppositeTilo.Allshecouldseeofhimwasthehood,hispheranandhisboots.Thehoodwasn’tevenahood.ItwasabagthatadvertisedSuryaBrandBasmatiRice.Gul-kakwasquietandappearedtobebadlyhurt.Hecouldnotsitupunsupported.Twosoldiersheldhimup.Tilohopedhehadlostconsciousness.

TheconvoysetoffinthesamedirectionthatMusa’sboathadtaken.Pasttheendlessrowofdark,emptyhouseboatsandthenright,intowhatlookedlikeaswamp.Nobodyspoke,andforawhiletherewassilenceexceptforthedroneof

boatenginesandtheplaintivemewlingofakittenthatfilledthenightandmadethesoldiersuneasy.Themewlingseemedtobetravellingwiththem,buttherewasnosignofakittenonboard.Finallyshewaslocated–Khanumtheharlequin–inGulrez’spocket.Asoldierpulledheroutandflungherintothelakeasthoughshewasapieceofgarbage.Sheflewthroughtheair,yowling,withherfangsbaredandherlittleclawsextended,readytotakeontheentireIndianArmyallbyherself.Shesankwithoutasound.Thatwastheendofyetanotherbewakoofwhodidnotknowhowtoliveinamintreeoccupation.(HersiblingAghasurvived–whetherascollaborator,commoncitizenormujahidwasneverascertained.)Themoonwashigh,andthroughtheforestofreedsTilocouldmakeout

thesilhouettesofhouseboats,muchsmallerthantheonesmeantfortourists.Aramshacklewoodenconstructionfrontedbyaricketywoodenboardwalk–abackwatershoppingarcadethathadn’tseencustomersinyears–satjustabovethewaterlineonrottingstilts.Theshops,achemist,anA-1Ladies’storeandseveral‘emporiums’forlocalhandicrafts,wereallboardedup.Smallrowboatsweredockedontheshoresofwhatlookedlikeboggyislandsdottedwitholdwoodenhousesfallentoruin.Theonlysignthattheeeriesilencewhichlayupontheswampwasnotentirelyunpeopledwasthecrackleofradiosandtheoccasionalsnatchesofsongsthatdriftedoutofthebarred,shutteredshadows.Theboatsatlowinthewater.Thatpartofthelakewaschokedwithweedsoitfeltsurreal,asthoughtheywerecleavingthroughadark,liquidlawn.Debrisfromthemorning’sfloatingvegetablemarketbobbedaround.AllTilocouldthinkofwasMusa’slittleboatthathadtakenthesamepath

lessthananhourago.Hishadnomotor.PleaseGod,whoeveryouare,whereveryouare,slowusdown.Givehim

timetogetaway.Slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown

Someoneheardherprayerandansweredit.ItwasunlikelytohavebeenGod.AmrikSingh,whowasinthesameboatasTiloandGulrez,stoodupand

wavedtotheescortboats,indicatingthattheyshouldgoahead.Oncetheyweregone,hedirectedthedriveroftheboattheywereintoturnleftintoawaterwaysonarrowtheyhadtoslowdownandliterallypushtheirwaythroughthereeds.Aftertenminutesofsuffocationtheyemergedinopenwateragain.Theymadeanotherleftturn.Thedrivercutthemotorandtheydocked.Whatfollowedappearedtobeafamiliardrill.Nobodyseemedto

needinstructions.Gulrezwasliftedupanddraggedashorethroughacoupleoffeetofwater.OnesoldierremainedontheboatwithTilo.Therest,includingAmrikSingh,wadedashore.Tilocouldseetheoutlineofalarge,dilapidatedhouse.Itsroofhadfalleninandthemoonshonethroughitsskeletonofraftersthatloomedagainstthenight–aluminousheartinanangularribcage.Agunshotfollowedbyashortexplosionalarmedtheground-nestingbirds.

Foramomenttheskywasfullofherons,cormorants,plovers,lapwings,callingasthoughdayhadbroken.Theywereonlyplayactingandsettleddownsoonenough.TheoddhoursandunusualsoundtrackoftheOccupationwerenowamatterofroutineforthem.WhenthesoldiersreturnedtherewasnoGulrez.Buttheycarriedaheavy,shapelesssackthatneededmorethanonemantolift.InthiswaytheprisonerwholefttheboatasGul-kakAbrooreturnedasthe

mortalremainsofthedreadedmilitantCommanderGulrez,whosecaptureandkillingwouldearnhiskillersthreehundredthousandrupees.Thetollforthedaywasnoweighteenplusone.

AmrikSinghsettledbackintotheboat,thistimeseatinghimselfdirectlyoppositeTilo:‘Whoeveryouare,youarechargedwithbeingtheaccompliceofaterrorist.Butyouwillnotbeharmedifyoutelluseverything.’Hespokepleasantly,inHindi.‘Takeyourtime.Butwewantallthedetails.Howyouknowhim.Whereyouwent.Whoyoumet.Everything.Takeyourtime.Andyoushouldknowthatwealreadyknowthosedetails.Youwon’tbehelpingus.Wewillbetestingyou.’Thesamedepthless,blank,blackeyesthathadpretendedtolaughabout

pretendingtoforgethispistolinMusa’shomenowstaredatTilointhemoonlitbog.Thatgazecalledforthsomethinginherblood–amuterage,astubborn,suicidalimpulse.Astupidresolvethatshewouldsaynothing,nomatterwhat.Fortunately,itwasnevertested;itnevercametothat.Theboatridelastedanothertwentyminutes.AnarmouredGypsyandan

openmilitarytruckwereparkedunderatree,waitingtodrivethemtotheShiraz.Beforetheygotin,AmrikSinghremovedTilo’sgagbutleftherhandstied.Inthecinemalobby,busyasabusterminal,evenatthathour,Tilowas

handedovertoACPPinky,whohadbeensummonedfromhersleeptodealwiththisunusualprisoner.Thearrestwasnotregistered.Theyhadnotevenaskedtheprisonerhername.ACPPinkyledherpastthereceptioncounterwhereninemonthsagoMusahadleftAmrikSingh’sbottleofRedStagwhisky,pasttheadvertisementsforCadbury’schocolateandKwalityicecreamandthefadedpostersofChandni,MainePyarKiya,ParindaandLion

oftheDesert.Theythreadedtheirwaythroughthelinesofthelatestbatchofbound,beatenmenandthecementkangaroogarbagebins,enteredthetheatre,crossedtheimprovisedbadmintoncourt,exitedfromthedoorclosesttothescreenandthentookanotherdoorthatopenedontoabackyard.ThereweremorethanafewamusedglancesandmumbledlewdremarksasthewomenmadetheirwaytotheShiraz’smaininterrogationcentre.Itwasanindependentstructure–anunremarkable,long,rectangularroom

whoseprimaryfeaturewasitsstench.Thesmellofurineandsweatwasoverlaidbythesicksweetsmellofoldblood.ThoughthesignonthedoorsaidInterrogationCentre,itwasintruthatorturecentre.InKashmir,‘interrogation’wasnotarealcategory.Therewas‘questioning’,whichmeantafewslapsandkicks,and‘interrogation’,whichmeanttorture.Theroomhadonlyonedoorandnowindows.ACPPinkywalkedovertoa

deskinthecorner,pulledoutafewblanksheetsofpaperandapenfromadrawerandslappedthemonthetable.‘Let’snotwasteeachother’stime.Write.I’llbebackintenminutes.’SheuntiedTilo’shandsandleft,shuttingthedoorbehindher.

Tilowaitedforthenumbnesstogoawayandthebloodtoreturntoherfingersbeforeshepickedupthepen.Herfirstthreeattemptsatwritingfailed.Herhandswereshakingsomuchshecouldnotreadherownwriting.Sheclosedhereyesandrememberedherbreathinglessons.Theyworked.Inclearlettersshewrote:PleasecallMrBiplabDasgupta,DeputyStationHeadIndiaBravoGivehimthismessage:G-A-R-S-O-NH-O-B-A-R-T

WhileshewaitedforACPPinkytoreturnsheinspectedtheroom.Atfirstglanceitlookedlikearudimentarytoolshed,kittedoutwithacoupleofcarpenters’worktables,hammers,screwdrivers,pliers,ropes,whatseemedtobescaled-downstoneorconcretepillars,pipes,atuboffilthywater,jerrycansofpetrol,metalfunnels,wires,electricextensionboards,coilsofwire,rodsofallsizes,acoupleofspades,crowbars.Onashelftherewasajarofredchillipowder.Thefloorwaslitteredwith

cigarettestubs.Tilohadlearnedenoughoverthelasttendaystoknowthatthoseordinarythingscouldbeputtoextraordinaryuse.Sheknewthatthepillarsweretheinstrumentsofthemostfavouredformof

tortureinKashmir.Theywereusedas‘rollers’onprisonerswhoweretieddownwhiletwomenrolledthepillarsoverthem,literallycrushingtheirmuscles.Moreoftenthannot,‘rollertreatment’resultedinacuterenalfailure.Thetubwasforwaterboarding,thepliersforextractingfingernails,thewiresforapplyingelectricshockstomen’sgenitals,thechillipowderwasusuallyappliedonrodsthatwereinsertedintoprisoners’anusesormixedintowater

andpoureddowntheirthroats.(Yearslater,anotherwoman,Loveleen,AmrikSingh’swife,woulddisplayanintimateknowledgeofthesemethodsinherapplicationforasylumintheUS.Itwasthisverytoolshedthatwasthesiteofherfieldresearch,exceptthatshehadvisiteditnotasavictim,butasthespouseofthetorturer-in-chief,whowasbeinggivenatourofherhusband’soffice.)ACPPinkyreturnedwithMajorAmrikSingh.Tilosawatonce,fromtheir

bodylanguageandtheintimatewayinwhichtheyspoketoeachother,thattheyweremorethanjustcolleagues.ACPPinkypickedupthesheetofpaperTilohadwrittenonandreaditaloud,slowlyandwithsomedifficulty.Clearly,readingwasnotherforte.AmrikSinghtookthepaperfromher.Tilosawhisexpressionchange.‘Whoishetoyou,thisDasgupta?’‘Afriend.’‘Afriend?Howmanymendoyoufuckatthesametime?’ThiswasACP

Pinky.Tilosaidnothing.‘Iaskedyouaquestion.Howmanymendoyoufuckatthesametime?’Tilo’ssilenceelicitedaslewofinsultsalongpredictablelines(inwhich

Tilorecognizedthewords‘black’,‘whore’and‘jihadi’)andthenthequestionwasaskedagain.Tilo’scontinuedsilencehadnothingtodowithcourageorresilience.Ithadtodowithalackofchoice.Herbloodhadshutdown.ACPPinkynoticedthesmirkonAmrikSingh’sface–clearlyinsomeway

headmiredthedefiancethatwasondisplay.Shereadvolumesintothatexpressionanditincensedher.AmrikSinghleftwiththesheetofpaper.Atthedoorheturnedandsaid:‘Findoutwhatyoucan.Noinjurymarks.Thisisaseniorofficer,this

personwhosenameshe’swritten.Letmecheckitout.Maybenonsense.Butnomarksuntilthen.’‘Nomarks’wasaproblemfortheACP.Shehadnoexperienceinthatfield,

becauseshewasnotatrainedtorturer,shehadlearnedhercraftontherun,inthebattlefield,and‘nomarks’wasnotacourtesythatwasextendedtoKashmiris.ShedidnotbelievethatAmrikSingh’sinstructionshadanythingtodowithaseniorofficer.Sherecognizedthelookinhiseye,andsheknewwhatattractedhiminwomen.Havingtoconstrainherselfoffendedherdignityandthatdidn’thelphertemper.Herslapsandkicks(whichcameunderthecategoryof‘questioning’)drewnothingfromherdetaineebutexpressionless,deadsilence.IttookAmrikSinghmorethananhourtolocateBiplabDasguptaand

speaktohimonthehotlinetotheForestGuestHouseinDachigam.ThefactthathewaspartoftheGovernor’sweekendentouragewascauseforseriousalarm.Therewasnoquestionthatthewomanknewhim.Andwell.The

DeputyDirectorIndiaBravoseemedtoknowexactlywhatG-A-R-S-O-NH-O-B-A-R-Tmeant.ButthepredatorinAmrikSinghsmelledhesitation,diffidenceeven.Heknewhecouldbeinmoretrouble,bigtrouble,butitwasn’ttoolateforittobeundoneifhereleasedthewomanunhurt.Therewasspacetomanoeuvre.Hehurriedbacktotheinterrogationcentretostallanyfurtherdamage.Hewasalittlelate,butnottoolate.ACPPinkyhadfoundacheap,clichédwayaroundherproblem.Shecalled

downtheprimordialpunishmentfortheWoman-Who-Must-Be-Taught-A-Lesson.Hervindictivenesshadverylittletodowithcounter-terrorismorwithKashmir–exceptperhapsforthefactthattheplacewasanincubatorforeverykindofinsanity.MohammedSubhanHajam,thecampbarber,wasjustleavingasAmrik

Singhrushedintotheroom.Tilowassittingonawoodenchairwithherarmsstrappeddown.Herlong

hairwasonthefloor,thescatteredcurls,nolongerhers,mingledwiththefilthandcigarettebutts.Whilehetonsuredher,SubhanHajamhadmanagedtowhisper,‘Sorry,Madam,verysorry.’AmrikSinghandACPPinkyhadalovers’tiffthatalmostcametoblows.

Pinkywassulkybutdefiant.‘Showmethelawagainsthaircuts.’AmrikSinghuntiedTiloandhelpedhertoherfeet.Hemadeashowof

dustingthehairoffhershoulders.Heputahugehandprotectivelyonherscalp–abutcher’sblessing.ItwouldtakeTiloyearstogetovertheobscenityofthattouch.Hesentforabalaclavaforhertocoverherhead.Whiletheywaitedforit,hesaid,‘Sorryaboutthis.Itshouldn’thavehappened.Wehavedecidedtoreleaseyou.What’sdoneisdone.Youdon’ttalk.Idon’ttalk.Ifyoutalk,Italk.AndifItalk,youandyourofficerfriendwillbeinalotoftrouble.Collaboratingwithterroristsisnotasmallthing.’ThebalaclavaarrivedalongwithasmallpinktinofPond’sDreamflower

talc.AmrikSinghpowderedTilo’sshavedscalp.Thebalaclavastankworsethanadeadfish.Butsheallowedhimtoputitonherhead.Theywalkedoutoftheinterrogationcentre,acrosstheyardandupafireescapetoasmalloffice.Itwasempty.AmrikSinghsaiditwastheofficeofAshfaqMiroftheSpecialOperationsGroup,DeputyCommandantofthecamp.Hewasoutonanoperation,butwouldreturnshortlytohandherovertothepersonwhomBiplabDasguptaSirwassending.TilopolitelyrefusedAmrikSingh’soffersofteaandevenwater.Helefther

intheroom,clearlykeenforthisparticularchaptertoend.Itwasthelastshesawofhim,untilsheopenedthemorningpapersmorethansixteenyearslater,tothenewsthathehadshothimselfandhiswifeandthreeyoungsonsintheirhomeinasmalltownintheUS.Shefoundithardtoconnectthenewspaperphotographofthepuffy,fat-faced,clean-shavenmanwith

frightenedeyestothesameonewhohadmurderedGul-kakandthensolicitously,almosttenderly,powderedherscalp.Shewaitedintheemptyoffice,staringatthewhiteboardwithalistof

namesagainstwhichitsaid(killed),(killed),(killed)andaposteronthewallwhichsaid:

WefollowourownrulesFerociousweareLethalinanyformTameroftidesWeplaywithstormsUguesseditrightWeareMeninUniform

ItwastwohoursbeforeNagawalkedthroughthedoor,followedbythecheerfulAshfaqMirwhowasaccompaniedbythescentofhiscologne.IttookanotherhourforAshfaqMirtocompletehishistrionicswiththewoundedLashkarmilitantashisprop,fortheomelettesandkebabstobeservedandforthe‘handover’tobecompleted.AllthroughthemeetingandthedawnridetoAhdoosthroughtheemptystreetswhileNagaheldherhand,allshecouldthinkofwasGul-kak’sheadlollingforwardinaSuryaBrandBasmatiRicebag(forsomereasonthehandles,particularlythehandles,ofthebagseemeddemonicallydisrespectful)andMusalyingatthebottomofasmallboatcoveredbyemptybaskets,beingrowedtoeternity.NagahadveryconsideratelybookedheraroomnexttohisinAhdoos.He

askedherwhethershewantedhimtostaywithher(‘Onapurelysecularbasis,’asheputit).Whenshesaidno,hehuggedherandgavehertwosleepingpills.(‘Orwouldyoupreferajoint?Ihaveonerolledandready.’)Hecalledandaskedhousekeepingtobringhertwobucketsofhotwater.Tilowastouchedbythiscaring,kind-heartedsideofhim.Shehadneverencountereditbefore.Heleftheranironedshirtandapairofhistrousersincaseshewantedtochange.HesuggestedtheytaketheafternoonflighttoDelhi.Shesaidshe’dlethimknow.Sheknewshecouldn’tleavewithouthearingfromMusa.Shejustcouldn’t.Andsheknewthatamessagewouldcome.Somehowitwouldcome.Shelayonherbedunabletoclosehereyes,almosttooscaredtoevenblink,forfearofwhatapparitionmightappearbeforeher.Apartofherselfthatshedidn’trecognizewantedtogobacktotheShirazandhaveafairfightwithACPPinky.Itwaslikethinkingofsomethingclevertosaylongafterthemomenthaspassed.Sherealizedthatitwasalsocheapandmean.ACPPinkywasjustaviolent,unhappywoman.Shewasn’tOtter,thekillingmachine.Sowhythemisguidedrevengefantasy?Shemissedherhair.Shewouldnevergrowitlongagain.Inmemoryof

Gul-kak.

Ataboutteno’clockthatmorningtherewasaquiet,barelyaudibleknockonherdoor.ShethoughtitwouldbeNaga,butitwasKhadija.Theyhardlykneweachother,buttherewasnobodyintheworld(otherthanMusa)thatTilowouldhavebeenhappiertosee.KhadijaexplainedquicklyhowshehadfoundTilo:‘Wehaveourpeopletoo.’Inthiscasetheyincludedthepilotofoneoftheboatsonthecordon-and-searchteamandpeopleonneighbouringhouseboatsandallalongtheway,whohadrelayedinformation,almostinrealtime.IntheShirazCinema,therewasMohammedSubhanHajamthebarber.AndinAhdoostherewasabellboy.Khadijahadnews.Thearmyhadannouncedthecaptureandkillingofthe

dreadedmilitantCommanderGulrez.MusawasstillinSrinagar.Hewouldbeatthefuneral.MilitantsfromseveralgroupswouldattendtogiveCommanderGulrezafarewellgunsalute.Itwassafeforthemtomovearoundbecausetherewouldbetensofthousandsofpeopleoutonthestreets.Thearmywouldhavetopullbacktoavoidanall-outmassacre.TilowastogowithhertoasafehouseinKhanqah-e-MoulawhereMusawouldmeetherafterthefuneral.Hesaiditwasimportant.KhadijahadbroughtTiloasetoffreshclothes–asalwarkameez,apheranandalime-greenhijab.Hermatter-of-factnessjoltedTilooutofthelittleswampofself-pityshehadallowedherselftosinkinto.Itremindedherthatshewasamongapeopleforwhomherordealofthepreviousnightwasknownasnormallife.Thehotwatercame.Tilobathedandputonhernewclothes.Khadija

showedherhowtopinthehijabaroundherface.Itmadeherlookregal,likeanEthiopianqueen.Shelikedit,althoughshemuchpreferredthelookofherownhair.Ex-hair.TiloslippedanoteunderNaga’sdoorsayingshewouldbebackbyevening.Thetwowomensteppedoutofthehotelandintothestreetsofthecitythatcamealiveonlywhenithadtoburyitsdead.TheCityofFuneralswassuddenlyawake,animated,kinetic.Allaround

wasmotion.Thestreetsweretributaries;smallriversofpeople,allflowingtowardstheestuary–theMazar-e-Shohadda.Littlecontingents,largecontingents,peoplefromtheoldcity,thenewcity,fromvillagesandfromothercitieswereconvergingquickly.Eveninthenarrowestby-lanes,groupsofwomenandmenandeventhesmallestchildrenchantedAzadi!Azadi!Alongthewayyoungmenhadsetupwaterpointsandcommunitykitchenstofeedthosewhohadcomefromfaraway.Astheydistributedwater,astheyfilledtheplates,aspeopleateanddrank,astheybreathedandwalked,toadrumbeatthatonlytheycouldhear,theyshouted:Azadi!Azadi!Khadijaseemedtohaveadetailedmapofthebackstreetsofhercityinher

head.ThisimpressedTiloenormously(becausesheherselfhadnosuchskills).Theytookalong,circuitousroute.ThechantsofAzadi!becameareverberatingboomthatsoundedlikethecomingofastorm.(GarsonHobart,holedupinDachigamwiththeGovernor’sentourage,unabletoreturntothe

cityuntilthestreetshadbeensecured,hearditonthephoneheldouttothestreetbyhissecretary.)NinemonthsafterMissJebeen’sfuneral,herewasanotherone.Thistimetherewerenineteencoffins.Oneofthemempty,fortheboywhosebodytheIkhwanishadstolen.AnotheronefulloftheshreddedremainsofalittlemanwithemeraldeyeswhowasonhiswaytojoinSultan,hisbelovedbewakoof,inheaven.‘Iwouldliketoattendthefuneral,’TilosaidtoKhadija.‘Wecould.Butitwillbearisk.Wemaygetlate.Andwewon’tget

anywhereclose.Womenarenotallowednearthegrave.Wecanvisititafterwards,onceeveryonehasleft.’Womenarenotallowed.Womenarenotallowed.Womenarenotallowed.Wasittoprotectthegravefromthewomenorthewomenfromthegrave?Tilodidn’task.

Afterforty-fiveminutesofdrivingaround,Khadijaparkedhercarandtheywalkedquicklythroughamazeofnarrow,windingstreetsinapartoftownthatseemedtobeinterconnectedinseveralways–undergroundandoverground,verticallyanddiagonally,viastreetsandrooftopsandsecretpassages–likeasingleorganism.Agiantcoral,orananthill.‘Thispartoftownisstillours,’Khadijasaid.‘Thearmycan’tcomein

here.’Theysteppedthroughasmallwoodendoorwayintoabare,green-carpeted

room.Anunsmilingyoungmangreetedthemandusheredthemin.Hewalkedthemquicklythroughtworoomsandastheyenteredthethird,heopenedwhatlookedlikealargecupboard.Therewasatrapdoorthroughwhichsteep,narrowstepsledintoasecretbasement.TilofollowedKhadijadownthesteps.Theroomhadnofurniture,buttherewereacoupleofmattressesonthefloorandsomecushions.Therewasacalendaronthewall,butitwastwoyearsold.Herbackpackwasproppedupinacorner.SomeonehadriskedsalvagingitfromtheHBShaheen.Ayounggirlcamedownthestepsandrolledoutaplasticlacedastarkhan.Anolderwomanfollowedwithatrayofteaandteacups,aplateofrusksandaplateofslicedspongecake.ShetookTilo’sfaceinherhandsandkissedherforehead.Notmuchwassaid,butbothmotheranddaughterstayedintheroom.WhenTilofinishedhertea,Khadijapattedthemattresstheyweresitting

on.‘Sleep.Hewilltakeatleasttwoorthreehourstogethere.’TilolaydownandKhadijacoveredherwithaquilt.Shereachedoutand

heldKhadija’shandunderthequilt.Intheyearsthatfollowed,theywouldbecomefastfriends.Tilo’seyesclosed.Themurmurofwomen’svoicessayingthingsshecouldn’tunderstandwaslikebalmonrawskin.

ShewasstillasleepwhenMusacame.Hesatcross-leggednexttoher,lookingdownathersleepingfaceforalongtime,wishinghecouldwakeheruptoanother,betterworld.Heknewitwouldbealongtimebeforehesawheragain.Andthenonlyiftheywerelucky.Therewasn’tmuchtime.Hehadtoleavewhilethetidewashighandthe

streetsstillbelongedtothepeople.Hewokeherasgentlyashecould.‘Babajaana.Wakeup.’Sheopenedhereyesandpulledhimdownnexttoher.Foralongtimethere

wasnothingtosay.Absolutelynothing.‘I’vejustcomefrommyownfuneral.Igavemyselfatwenty-one-gun

salute,’Musasaid.Andtheninavoicethatwouldnotriseaboveawhisperbecauseeachtime

itdiditbrokeundertheweightofwhatitwastryingtosay,Tilotoldhimwhathadhappened.Sheforgotnothing.Notasinglething.Notasound.Notafeeling.Notawordthathadorhadnotbeensaid.Musakissedherhead.‘Theydon’tknowwhatthey’vedone.Theyreallyhavenoidea.’Andthenitwastimeforhimtoleave.‘Babajaana,listencarefully.WhenyougobacktoDelhiyoumustnoton

anyaccountstayalone.It’stoodangerous.Staywithfriends…maybeNaga.You’llhatemeforsayingthis–buteithergetmarriedorgotoyourmother.Youneedcover.Forawhileatleast.UntilwedealwithOtter.We’llwinthiswar,andthenwe’llbetogether,youandI.I’llwearahijab–althoughyoulooklovelyinthisone–andyoucantakeuparms.OK?’‘OK.’Ofcourseitdidn’tworkoutthatway.BeforeMusalefthegaveTiloasealedenvelope.‘Don’topenitnow.KhudaHafiz.’Itwouldbetwoyearsbeforeshesawhimagain.

ThesunhadnotyetsetwhenKhadijaandTilowenttotheMazar-e-Shohadda.CommanderGulrez’sgravestoodoutfromtheothers.Asmallbambooframeworkhadbeenerectedoverit.Itwasdecoratedwithstringsofsilverandgoldtinselandagreenflag.Atemporaryshrinetoabelovedfreedomfighterwhohadgivenhistodaysforhispeople’stomorrows.Amanwithtearsstreamingdownhisfacelookedatitfromadistance.‘He’sanex-militant,’Khadijasaid,underherbreath.‘Hewasinjailfor

years.Poorman,he’scryingforthewrongperson.’‘Maybenot,’Tilosaid.‘ThewholeworldshouldweepforGul-kak.’TheyscatteredrosepetalsonGul-kak’sgraveandlitacandle.Khadija

foundthegravesofArifaandMissJebeentheFirst,anddidthesameforthem.ShereadtheinscriptiononMissJebeen’stombstoneouttoTilo:

MISSJEBEEN2January1992–22December1995Belovedd/oArifaandMusaYeswi

Andthealmost-hiddenonebelowit:

AkhdaleelawannYethmanznekahnbalaiaasiNoaaessakunnijunglasmanzroazaan

KhadijatranslateditforTilo,butneitherofthemunderstoodwhatitreallymeant.ThelastlinesoftheMandelstampoemshehadreadwithMusa(and

wishedshehadn’t)floatedbackunbiddenintoTilo’sbrain.

Deathcleaner,misfortunesaltier,Andtheearthmoretruthful,moreawful.

TheyreturnedtoAhdoos.KhadijawouldnotleaveuntilshesawTilobacktoherroom.WhenKhadijahadgone,TilocalledNagatosayshewasbackandthatshewasgoingtobed.Fornoreasonsheknew,shesaidasmallprayer(tonogodsheknew)beforeopeningtheenvelopeMusahadgivenher.Itcontainedadoctor’sprescriptionforeardropsandaphotographofGul-

kak.Hewasinakhakishirt,combatfatiguesandMusa’sAsalboot,smilingintothecamera.Hehadahandsomeleatherammunitionbeltslungacrossbothhisshoulders,andapistolholsterathiship.Hewasarmedtotheteeth.Ineachleatherbulletlooptherewasagreenchilli.Sheathedinhispistolholsterwasajuicy,fresh-leaved,whiteradish.OnthebackofthephotographMusahadwritten:OurdarlingCommander

Gulrez.InthemiddleofthenightTiloknockedonNaga’sdoor.Heopeneditand

puthisarmaroundher.Theyspentthenighttogetheronapurelysecularbasis.

Tilohadbeencareless.ShereturnedfromtheValleyofdeathcarryingalittlelife.SheandNagahadbeenmarriedfortwomonthswhenshediscoveredthat

shewaspregnant.Theirmarriagehadnotbeenwhatwascalled‘consummated’yet.Sotherewasnodoubtinhermindaboutwhothefatherofthechildwas.Sheconsideredgoingthroughwithit.Whynot?Gulrezifitwasaboy.Jebeenifitwasagirl.Shecouldn’tseeherselfasamotheranymorethanshecouldseeherselfasabride–althoughshehadbeenabride.Shehaddonethatandsurvived.Sowhynotthis?

ThedecisionsheeventuallytookhadnothingtodowithherfeelingsforNagaorherloveforMusa.Itcamefromamoreprimalplace.Sheworriedthatthelittlehumansheproducedwouldhavetonegotiatethesameoceanfullofstrangeanddangerousfishthatshehadhadtoinherrelationshipwithhermother.ShedidnottrustthatshewouldbeabetterparentthanMaryamIpe.Herclear-eyedassessmentofherselfwasthatshe’dbeafarworseone.Shedidnotwishtoinflictherselfonachild.Andshedidnotwishtoinflictareplicationofherselfontheworld.Moneywasaproblem.Shehadalittle,butnotmuch.Shehadbeenfired

fromherjobforpoorattendance,andhadn’tgotanotherone.Shedidn’twanttoaskNagaforany.Soshewenttoagovernmenthospital.Thewaitingroomwasfullofdistraughtwomenwhohadbeenthrownout

oftheirhomesbytheirhusbandsfornotbeingabletoconceive.Theyweretheretohavefertilitytests.WhenthewomenfoundoutthatTilowasthereforwhatwascalledMTP–MedicalTerminationofPregnancy–theycouldnothidetheirhostilityanddisgust.Thedoctorstooweredisapproving.Shelistenedtotheirlecturesimpassively.Whenshemadeitclearthatshewouldnotchangehermind,theysaidtheycouldnotgivehergeneralanaestheticunlesstherewassomebodywithhertosigntheconsentform,preferablythefatherofthechild.Shetoldthemtodoitwithoutanaesthetic.Shepassedoutwiththepainandwokeinthegeneralward.Someoneelsewaswithherinthebed.Achild,withakidneydisorder,screaminginpain.Therewasmorethanonepatientineverybed.Therewerepatientsonthefloor,mostofthevisitorsandfamilymemberswhowerecrowdedaroundthemlookedjustasill.Harrieddoctorsandnursespickedtheirwaythroughthechaos.Itwaslikeawartimeward.ExceptthatinDelhitherewasnowarotherthantheusualone–thewaroftherichagainstthepoor.Tilogotupandstumbledoutoftheward.Shelostherwayinthefilthy

hospitalcorridorsthatwerepackedwithsickanddyingpeople.Onthegroundfloorsheaskedasmallmanwithbicepsthatseemedtobelongtosomeoneelsewhetherhecouldshowherthewayout.Theexithepointedtoledhertothebackofthehospital.Tothemortuary,andbeyondit,toaderelictMuslimgraveyardthatseemedtohavefallenintodisuse.Flyingfoxeshungfromthebranchesofhuge,oldtrees,likelimpblack

flagsfromanoldprotest.Therewasnobodyaround.Tilosatonabrokengrave,tryingtoorientherself.Athin,baldmaninascarletwaiter’scoatclankedinonanoldbicycle.He

hadasmallbunchofmarigoldsclampedtothebackseatofhiscycle.Hemadehiswaytooneofthegraveswiththeflowersandaduster.Afterdustingit,heplacedtheflowersonit,stoodinsilenceforamomentandthenhurriedaway.

Tilowalkedovertothegrave.Itwastheonlyone,asfarasshecouldtell,whosetombstonewasinscribedinEnglish.ItwasthegraveofBegumRenataMumtazMadam,thebellydancerfromRomaniawhohaddiedofabrokenheart.ThemanwasRoshanLalonhisdayofffromRosebudRest-O-Bar.Tilo

wouldmeethimseventeenyearslater,whenshereturnedtothegraveyardwithMissJebeentheSecond.Ofcourseshewouldn’trecognizehim.Norwouldsherecognizethegraveyard,becausebythen,itwasnolongeraderelictplacefortheforgottendead.OnceRoshanLalleft,TilolaydownonBegumRenataMumtazMadam’s

grave.Shecriedalittleandthenfellasleep.Whenshewokeshefeltbetterpreparedtogohomeandfacetherestofherlife.Thatincludeddinnerdownstairs,atleastonceaweek,withAmbassador

Shivashankarandhiswife,whoseviewsonalmosteverything,includingKashmir,madeTilo’shandsshakeandthecutleryrattleonherplate.Thestupidificationofthemainlandwaspickingupspeedatan

unprecedentedrate,anditdidn’tevenneedamilitaryoccupation.

Thentherewasthechangingoftheseasons.‘Thisisalsoajourney,’Msaid,‘andtheycan’ttakeitawayfromus.’

NADEZHDAMANDELSTAM

10

TheMinistryofUtmostHappiness

Wordspreadquicklyinthepoorerquartersthatacleverwomanhadmovedintothegraveyard.ParentsintheneighbourhoodflockedtoenroltheirchildrenintheclassesTiloheldatJannatGuestHouse.HerpupilscalledherTiloMadamandsometimesUstaniji(Teacher,inUrdu).Althoughshemissedthemorningsingingbythechildrenfromtheschooloppositeherapartment,shedidn’tteachherownpupilstosing‘WeShallOvercome’inanylanguage,becauseshewasn’tsurethatOvercomingwasanywhereonanyone’shorizon.Butshetaughtthemarithmetic,drawing,computergraphics(onthreesecond-handdesktopcomputersshehadboughtwiththeminimalfeesshecharged),abitofbasicscience,Englishandeccentricity.FromthemshelearnedUrduandsomethingoftheartofhappiness.Sheworkedalongdayand,forthefirsttimeinherlife,sleptafullnight.(MissJebeentheSecondsleptwithAnjum.)WitheachpassingdayTilo’smindfeltlesslikeoneofMusa’s‘recoveries’.Despitemakingplanseveryotherdaytodoso,shehadnotvisitedherapartmentsincesheleft.NotevenafterreceivingthemessageGarsonHobarthadsentthroughAnjumandSaddamwhentheywent(outofcuriositytoseewhereandhowthestrangewomanwhohadparachutedintotheirliveslived)topickupsomeofherthings.Shecontinuedtopayherrentintohisaccount,whichshethoughtwasonlyfairuntilshemovedherthingsout.WhenafewmonthshadgonebywithnonewsfromMusa,sheleftamessagewiththefruit-sellerwhobroughtherhis‘recoveries’.Butshestillhadn’theardfromhim.Andyet,theburdenofperpetualapprehensionthatshehadcarriedaroundforyears–ofsuddenlyreceivingnewsofMusa’sdeath–hadlightenedsomewhat.Notbecauseshelovedhimanyless,butbecausethebatteredangelsinthegraveyardthatkeptwatchovertheirbatteredchargesheldopenthedoorsbetweenworlds(illegally,justacrack),sothatthesouls

ofthepresentandthedepartedcouldmingle,likeguestsatthesameparty.Itmadelifelessdeterminateanddeathlessconclusive.Somehoweverythingbecamealittleeasiertobear.EncouragedbythesuccessandpopularityofTilo’stuitionclasses,Ustad

Hameedhadbegun,onceagain,togivemusiclessonstostudentsheconsideredpromising.Anjumattendedtheseclassesasthoughtheywereacalltoprayer.Shestillwouldn’tsing,buthummedthewaysheusedtowhenshewastryingtogetZainabtheBandicoottolearntosing.OnthepretextofhelpingAnjumandTilolookafterMissJebeentheSecond(whowasgrowingupfast,gettingnaughtyandbeingspoiledrotten),Zainabbegantospendherafternoons,eveningsandsometimesevennightsatthegraveyard.Therealreason–notlostonanyone–washerheadyloveaffairwithSaddamHussain.Shehadcompletedhercourseatthepolytechnicandbecomeapudgylittlefashionistawhostitchedladies’clothestoorder.SheinheritedallNimmoGorakhpuri’soldfashionmagazinesaswellasthehaircurlersandcosmeticsthathadbeenputinTilo’sroomtowelcomeherwhenshefirstcame.Saddam’sfirst,unspokendeclarationoflovehadbeentoallowZainabtoflirtatiouslypainthisfingernailsandtoenailsscarlet,bothofthemgigglingallthewhile.Hedidnotremovethenailpolishuntilitchippedoffbyitself.BetweenZainabandSaddam,theyhadturnedthegraveyardintoazoo–a

Noah’sArkofinjuredanimals.Therewasayoungpeacockwhocouldnotfly,andapeahen,perhapshismother,whowouldnotleavehim.Therewerethreeoldcowsthatsleptallday.Zainabarrivedonedayinanautorickshawwithseveralcagesstuffedwiththreedozenbudgerigarsthathadbeenabsurdlycolouredinluminousdyes.Shehadboughttheminafitofangerfromabird-sellerwhohadthecagesstackedonthebackofhisbicycleandwaspeddlingthebirdsintheoldcity.Colouredlikethat,theycouldn’tbesetfree,Saddamsaid,becausethey’dattractpredatorsinseconds.Sohebuiltthemahigh,airycagethatspannedthebreadthoftwograves.Thebudgerigarsflittedaboutinit,glowingatnightlikefatfireflies.Asmalltortoise–anabandonedpet–thatSaddamhadfoundinapark,withasprigofcloverinonenostril,nowwallowedontheterraceinamud-pitofhisown.Payal-the-marehadalamedonkeyforacompanion.HewascalledMaheshfornoreasonthatanyoneknew.Biroowasgettingold,buthisandComradeLaali’sprogenyhadmultiplied,andtheytumbledaroundtheplace.Severalcatscameandwent.AsdidthehumanguestsinJannatGuestHouse.Thevegetablegardenbehindtheguesthousewasdoingwelltoo,thesoilof

thegraveyardbeingasitwasacompostpitofancientprovenance.Althoughnobodywasparticularlykeenoneatingvegetables(leastofallZainab),theygrewbrinjals,beans,chillies,tomatoesandseveralkindsofgourds,allofwhich,despitethesmokeandfumesfromtheheavytrafficontheroadsthatabuttedthegraveyard,attractedseveralvarietiesofbutterflies.Someofthe

moreable-bodiedaddictswererecruitedtohelpwiththegardenandtheanimals.Itseemedtobringthemsometemporarysolace.AnjummootedtheideathatJannatGuestHouseshouldhaveaswimming

pool.‘Whynot?’shesaid.‘Whyshouldonlyrichpeoplehaveswimmingpools?Whynotus?’WhenSaddampointedoutthatwaterwasakeyelementinswimmingpoolsandthelackofitmightprovetobeaproblem,shesaidpoorpeoplewouldappreciateaswimmingpoolevenwithoutwater.Shehadonedug,afewfeetdeep,thesizeofalargewatertank,andhaditlinedwithbluebathroomtiles.Shewasright.Peopledidappreciateit.Theycametovisititandprayedfortheday(Insha’Allah,Insha’Allah)whenitwouldbefullofcleanbluewater.Soallinall,withaPeople’sPool,aPeople’sZooandaPeople’sSchool,

thingsweregoingwellintheoldgraveyard.Thesame,however,couldnotbesaidoftheDuniya.Anjum’soldfriendD.D.GuptahadreturnedfromBaghdad,orwhatwas

leftofit,withhorrorstoriesofwarsandmassacres,bombingsandbutchery–ofawholeregionthathadbeendeliberatelyandsystematicallyturnedintohellonearth.Hewasgratefultobealiveandtohaveahometoreturnto.Henolongerhadthestomachforblastwalls,orforthatmatterforanykindofbusinessenterprise,andwasdelightedtoseehowthedesolate,ravagedspectrethathehadleftbehindwhenhewenttoIraqhadblossomedandprospered.HeandAnjumspenthourstogether,shootingthebreeze,watchingoldHindifilmsonTV,andoverseeingnewplansforexpansionandconstruction(itwashewhosupervisedtheconstructionoftheswimmingpool).MrsGupta,forherpart,hadalsoretreatedfromworldlyloveandspentallhertimewithLordKrishnainherpujaroom.Hellwasclosinginonthehomefronttoo.GujaratkaLallahadsweptthe

pollsandwasthenewPrimeMinister.Peopleidolizedhim,andtemplesinwhichhewasthepresidingdeitybegantoappearinsmalltowns.AdevoteegiftedhimapinstripedsuitwithLallaLallaLallawovenintothefabric.HeworeittogreetvisitingHeadsofState.Everyweekheaddressedthepeopleofthecountrydirectlyinanemotionalradiobroadcast.HedisseminatedhismessageofCleanliness,PurityandSacrificefortheNation,eitherwithafable,afolktale,oranedictofsomesort.Hepopularizedthepracticeofmassyogaincommunityparks.Atleastonceamonthhevisitedapoorcolonyandsweptthestreetshimself.Ashispopularitypeaked,hebecameparanoidandsecretive.Hetrustednobodyandsoughtnoadvice.Helivedalone,atealone,andneversocialized.Forhispersonalprotection,hehiredfood-tastersandsecurityguardsfromothercountries.Hemadedramaticannouncementsandtookdrasticdecisionsthathadfar-reachingeffects.TheOrganizationthathadbroughthimtopowertookadimviewof

personalitycults,andalongviewofhistory.Itcontinuedtosupporthim,but

quietlybegantogroomasuccessor.Thesaffronparakeetsthathadbeenbidingtheirtimeweresetloose.They

swoopedintouniversitycampusesandcourtrooms,disruptedconcerts,vandalizedcinemahallsandburnedbooks.Aparakeetcommitteeofpedagogywassetuptoformalizetheprocessofturninghistoryintomythologyandmythologyintohistory.TheSoundandLightshowattheRedFortwastakenintotheworkshopforrevision.SoonthecenturiesofMuslimrulewouldbestrippedofpoetry,musicandarchitectureandcollapsedintothesoundoftheclashofswordsandabloodcurdlingwarcrythatlastedonlyalittlelongerthanthehuskygigglethatUstadKulsoomBihadhungherhopeson.TheremainingtimewouldbetakenupbythestoryofHinduglory.Asalways,historywouldbearevelationofthefutureasmuchasitwasastudyofthepast.Smallgangsofthugs,whocalledthemselves‘defendersoftheHindu

Faith’,workedthevillages,gainingwhatadvantagetheycould.Aspiringpoliticiansjump-startedtheircareersbyfilmingthemselvesmakinghatefulspeechesorbeatingupMuslimsanduploadingthevideosontoYouTube.EveryHindupilgrimageandreligiousfestivalturnedintoaprovocativevictoryparade.Armedescortteamsrodebesidepilgrimsandrevellersontrucksandmotorcycles,lookingtopickfightsinpeacefulneighbourhoods.Insteadofsaffronflagstheynowproudlywavedthenationalflag–atricktheyhadlearnedfromMrAggarwalandhistubbyGandhianmascotinJantarMantar.TheHolyCowbecamethenationalemblem.Thegovernmentbacked

campaignstopromotecowurine(asadrinkaswellasadetergent).NewsfilteredinfromLallastrongholdsaboutpeopleaccusedofeatingbeeforkillingcowsbeingpubliclyfloggedandoftenlynched.GivenhisrecentexperiencesinIraq,theworldlyMrD.D.Gupta’s

consideredassessmentofallthisactivitywasthatinthelongrunitwouldonlyendupcreatingamarketforblastwalls.NimmoGorakhpuricameoveroneweekendwitha(literally)blow-by-

blowfourth-personaccountofhowtherelativeofaneighbour’sfriendhadbeenbeatentodeathinfrontofhisfamilybyamobthataccusedhimofkillingacowandeatingbeef.‘Youhadbetterchaseouttheseoldcowsthatyouhavehere,’shesaid.‘If

theydiehere–notif,whentheydie–they’llsayyoukilledthemandthatwillbetheendofallofyou.Theymusthavetheireyesonthispropertynow.That’showtheydoitthesedays.Theyaccuseyouofeatingbeefandthentakeoveryourhouseandyourlandandsendyoutoarefugeecamp.It’sallaboutproperty,notcows.Youhavetobeverycareful.’‘Carefulinwhatway?’Saddamshouted.‘Theonlywayyoucanbecareful

withthesebastardsisbyceasingtoexist!Iftheywanttokillyoutheywillkill

youwhetheryouarecarefulornot,whetheryou’vekilledacowornot,whetheryouhaveevenseteyesonacowornot.’Itwasthefirsttimeanybodyhadeverheardhimlosehistemper.Everybodywastakenaback.Noneofthemknewhisstory.Anjumhadtoldnobody.Asakeeperofsecrets,shewasnothingshortofOlympicclass.OnIndependenceDay,inwhathadgrowntobearitual,Saddamsatnextto

Anjumontheredcarsofawithhissunglasseson.HeswitchedchannelsbetweenGujaratkaLalla’sbellicosespeechattheRedFortandamassive,publicprotestinGujarat.Thousandsofpeople,mainlyDalit,hadgatheredinadistrictcalledUnatoprotestthepublicfloggingoffiveDalitswhohadbeenstoppedontheroadbecausetheyhadthecarcassofacowintheirpickuptruck.Theyhadn’tkilledthecow.Theyhadonlypickedupthecarcass,likeSaddam’sfatherhad,allthoseyearsago.Unabletobearthehumiliationofwhatwasdonetothem,allfivemenhadtriedtocommitsuicide.Onehadsucceeded.‘FirsttheytriedtofinishofftheMuslimsandChristians.Nowthey’re

goingfortheChamars,’Anjumsaid.‘It’stheotherwayaround,’Saddamsaid.Hedidnotexplainwhathe

meant,butlookedthrilledasspeakerafterspeakerattheprotestsworeonoaththattheywouldneveragainpickupcowcarcassesforupper-casteHindus.Whatdidn’tmakeittoTVwerethegangsofthugsthathadpositioned

themselvesonthehighwaysleadingawayfromthevenueofthegathering,waitingtopickofftheprotestersastheydispersed.

AnjumandSaddam’sIndependenceDayTV-watchingritualwasinterruptedbywildshrieksfromZainab,whowasoutside,hangingupsomewashing.Saddamracedout,followedbyaslower,worriedAnjum.Ittookthemawhiletobelievethatwhattheysawwasrealandnotaspectre.Zainab,hergazedirectedskyward,wastransfixed,terrified.Acrowhungfrozeninmid-air,oneofitswingsspreadoutlikeafan.A

featheredChrist,hangingaskew,onaninvisiblecross.Theskyswarmedwiththousandsofagitated,low-flyingfellowcrows,theirdistraughtcawingdrowningouteveryothercitysound.Abovetheminanuppertier,silentkitescircled,curiousperhaps,butinscrutable.Thecrucifiedcrowwasabsolutelystill.Veryquicklyasmallcrowdofpeoplegatheredtowatchtheproceedings,tofrightenthemselvestodeath,toadviseeachotherabouttheoccultsignificanceoffrozencrows,andtodiscusstheexactnatureofthehorrorsthatthisill-omen,thismacabrecurse,wouldvisituponthem.Whathadhappenedwasnotamystery.Thecrow’swingfeathershad

snaggedmid-flightonaninvisiblekitestringthatwaslacedacrossthebranchesoftheoldBanyantreesinthegraveyard.Thefelon–apurplepaper-

kite–peepedguiltilythroughthefoliageofoneofthem.Thestring,anewChinesebrandthathadsuddenlyfloodedthemarket,wasmadeoftough,transparentplastic,coatedwithgroundglass.IndependenceDaykite-warriorsuseditto‘cut’eachother’sstrings,andbringeachother’skitesdown.Ithadalreadycausedsometragicaccidentsinthecity.Thecrowhadstruggledatfirst,butseemedtohaverealizedthateachtime

itmoved,thestringsliceddeeperintoitswing.Soitstayedstill,lookingdownwithabewildered,brighteyeinitstiltedheadatthepeoplegatheredbelow.Witheverypassingmomenttheskygrewdenserwithmoreandmoredistressed,hystericalcrows.Saddam,whohadhurriedawayafterassessingthesituation,returnedwith

alongropemadeofseveraloddpiecesofparcelstringandclotheslineknottedtogether.Hetiedastonetooneendand,squintingintothesunthroughhissunglasses,lobbedthestoneintothesky,usinginstincttogaugethetrajectoryoftheinvisiblekite-string,hopingtolooptheropeoveritandbringitdownwiththeweightofthestone.Ittookseveralattemptsandseveralchangesofstone(ithadtobelightenoughtospinhighintothesky,andheavyenoughtoarcoverthestringandpullitthroughthefoliageitwassnaggedon)beforehesucceeded.Whenhefinallydid,thekite-stringfelltotheground.Thecrowfirstdippeddownwithit,andthen,magically,flewaway.Theskylightened,thecawingreceded.Normalcywasdeclared.Tothoseonlookersinthegraveyardwhowereofanirrationaland

unscientifictemper(whichmeansallofthem,includingUstaniji),itwasclearthatanapocalypsehadbeenavertedandabenedictionearnedinitsplace.TheManoftheMomentwasfeted,huggedandkissed.Notonetoallowsuchanopportunitytopass,Saddamdecidedthathis

TimewasNow.

LatethatnighthewenttoAnjum’sroom.Shewaslyingonherside,proppeduponanelbow,lookingtenderlydownatMissJebeentheSecond,whowasfastasleep.(Theunsuitable-bedtime-storiesstagewasstilltocome.)‘Imagine,’shesaid,‘butforthegraceofGod,thislittlecreaturewould

havebeeninsomegovernmentorphanagerightnow.’Saddamallowedforawell-judgedmomentofrespectfulsilenceandthen

formallyaskedherforZainab’shandinmarriage.Anjumrespondedalittlebitterly,withoutlookingup,suddenlyrevisitedbyanoldache.‘Whyaskme?AskSaeeda.She’shermother.’‘Iknowthestory.That’swhyI’maskingyou.’Anjumwaspleased,butdidnotshowit.InsteadshelookedSaddamupand

downasthoughhewasastranger.

‘GivemeonereasonwhyZainabshouldmarryamanwhoiswaitingtocommitacrimeandthenbehangedlikeSaddamHusseinofIraq?’‘Arreyaar,that’sallovernow.It’sgone.Mypeoplehaverisenup.’

SaddamtookouthismobilephoneandpulleduptheSaddamHusseinexecutionvideo.‘Here,see.I’mdeletingitnow,rightinfrontofyou.See,it’sgone.Idon’tneeditanymore.Ihaveanewonenow.Look.’Asshecrankedherselfuponherbedandcreakedintoasittingposition,

Anjumgrumbledgood-naturedlyunderherbreath,‘YaAllah!WhatsinhaveIcommittedthatIhavetoputupwiththislunatic?’Sheputonherreadingglasses.ThenewvideoSaddamshowedherbeganwithashotofseveralrusty

pickuptrucksparkedinthecompoundofagenteeloldcolonialbungalow–theofficeofalocalDistrictCollectorinGujarat.Thetruckswerepiledhighwitholdcarcassesandskeletonsofcows.FuriousyoungDalitmenunloadedthecarcassesandbeganflingingthemintothedeep,colonnadedverandahofthebungalow.Theyleftamacabretrailofcowskeletonsinthedriveway,placedahuge,hornedskullontheCollector’sofficetableanddrapedserpentinecowvertebraelikeantimacassarsoverthebacksofhisprettyarmchairs.Anjumwatchedthevideolookingshocked,thelightfromthemobilephone

screenbouncingoffherperfectwhitetooth.Itwasclearthemenwereshouting,butthevolumeonthephonewasturneddownsoasnottowakeMissJebeen.‘Whataretheyshouting?It’sinGujarati?’sheaskedSaddam.‘YourMother!Youlookafterher!’Saddamwhispered.‘Aihai!Whatwilltheydototheseboysnow?’‘Whatcantheydo,thepoorfuckers?Theycan’tcleantheirownshit.They

can’tburytheirownmothers.Idon’tknowwhatthey’lldo.Butit’stheirproblem,notours.’‘Sonow?’Anjumsaid.‘You’vedeletedthevideo…thatmeansthatyou’ve

givenuptheideaofkillingthatbastardcop?’Shesoundeddisappointed.Disapproving,almost.‘NowIdon’tneedtokillhim.Yousawthevideo–mypeoplehaverisen

up!Theyarefighting!WhatisoneSehrawatforusnow?Nothing!’‘Doyoumakeallyourlife’sbigdecisionsbasedonmobilephonevideos?’‘That’showitisthesedays,yaar.Theworldisonlyvideosnow.Butsee

whatthey’vedone!It’sreal.It’snotamovie.They’renotactors.Doyouwanttoseeitagain?’‘Arre,it’snotthateasy,babu.They’llbeatuptheseboys,buythemoff…

that’showtheydoitthesedays…andiftheyleavethisworkoftheirs,howwilltheyearn?Whatwilltheyeat?Chalo,we’llthinkaboutthatlater.Doyouhaveanicephotographofyourfather?WecanhangitupintheTVroom.’

AnjumwassuggestingthataportraitofSaddam’sfatherbehungnexttotheportraitofZakirMiangarlandedwithcrispcash-birdsthatgracedtheTVroom.ItwasherwayofacceptingSaddamasherson-in-law.

Saeedawasdelighted,Zainabecstatic.Preparationsfortheweddingbegan.Everybody,includingTiloMadam,wasmeasuredupfornewclothesthatZainabwoulddesign.AmonthbeforetheweddingSaddamannouncedthathewastakingthefamilyoutforaspecialtreat.Asurprise.ImamZiauddinwastoofrailtogoanditwasUstadHameed’sgrandson’sbirthday.DrAzadBhartiyasaidthetreat-destinationSaddamhadchosenwasagainsthisprinciplesandinanycasehecouldn’teat.SothepartyconsistedofAnjum,Saeeda,NimmoGorakhpuri,Zainab,Tilo,MissJebeentheSecondandSaddamhimself.Noneofthemcouldintheirwildestdreamshavepredictedwhathehadinstoreforthem.

NareshKumar,afriendofSaddam’s,wasoneoffivechauffeursemployedbyabillionaireindustrialistwhomaintainedapalatialhomeandafleetofexpensivecarseventhoughhespentonlythreeorfourdaysamonthinDelhi.NareshKumararrivedatthegraveyardtopickupthepre-weddingpartyinhismaster’sleather-seatedsilverMercedes-Benz.ZainabsatinfrontonSaddam’slapandeverybodyelsesquashedinbehind.TilocouldneverhaveimaginedenjoyingaridethroughthestreetsofDelhiinaMercedes.Butthat,shediscoveredveryquickly,wasonlyduetoherseverelylimitedimagination.Thepassengersshriekedasthecarpickedupspeed.Saddamwouldnottellthemwherehewastakingthem.Astheydrovethroughthevicinityoftheoldcity,theylookedoutofthewindowseagerly,hopingtobeseenbyfriendsandacquaintances.AstheymovedintoSouthDelhi,themismatchbetweenthepassengersandthevehicletheywereindrewplentyofcuriousandsometimesangrylooks.Alittleintimidated,theyrolledthewindow-glassesup.Theystoppedatatrafficintersectionattheendofalong,tree-linedavenuewhereagroupofHijrasdresseduptothenineswerebegging–theyweretechnicallybegging,butactuallyhammeringoncarwindowsdemandingmoney.Allthecarsthathadstoppedatthelightshadtheirwindowsrolledup.ThepeopleinthemweredoingalltheycouldtoavoideyecontactwiththeHijras.WhentheycaughtsightofthesilverMercedes,allfourHijrasconvergedonit,smellingwealthand,theyhoped,anaiveforeigner.Theyweresurprisedwhenthewindowsrolleddownbeforetheyhadevenlaunchedtheirstrike,andAnjum,SaeedaandNimmoGorakhpurismiledbackatthem,returningtheirwide-fingeredHijraclap.Theencounterquicklyturnedintoanexchangeofgossip.WhichGharanadidthefourbelongto?WhowastheirUstad?AndtheirUstad’sUstad?ThefourleanedthroughtheMerc’swindows,theirelbowsrestingontheledges,their

bottomsprotrudingprovocativelyintothetraffic.Whenthelightschanged,thecarsbehindthemhootedimpatiently.Theyrespondedwithastringofinventiveobscenities.Saddamgavethemonehundredrupeesandhisvisitingcard.Heinvitedthemtothewedding.‘Youmustcome!’Theysmiledandwavedgoodbye,sashayingtheirleisurelywaythroughthe

annoyedtraffic.Astheircarspedaway,Saeedasaidthatbecausesexual-reassignmentsurgerywasbecomingcheaper,better,andmoreaccessibletopeople,Hijraswouldsoondisappear.‘Nobodywillneedtogothroughwhatwe’vebeenthroughanymore.’‘YoumeannomoreIndo–Pak?’NimmoGorakhpurisaid.‘Itwasn’tallbad,’Anjumsaid.‘Ithinkitwouldbeashameifwebecame

extinct.’‘Itwasallbad,’NimmoGorakhpurisaid.‘You’veforgottenthatquackDr

Mukhtar?Howmuchmoneydidhemakeoffyou?’

Thecarfloatedlikeasteelbubblethroughstreetswideandnarrow,smoothandpotholed,formorethantwohours.Theyglidedthroughdenseforestsofapartmentbuildings,pastgiganticconcreteamusementparks,bizarrelydesignedweddinghallsandtoweringcementstatuesashighasskyscrapers,ofShivainacementleopard-skinloinclothwithacementcobraaroundhisneckandacolossalHanumanloomingoverametrotrack.Theydroveoveranimpossible-to-pee-onflyoveraswideasawheatfield,withtwentylanesofcarswhizzingoveritandtowersofsteelandglassgrowingoneithersideofit.Butwhentheytookanexitroadoffit,theysawthattheworldunderneaththeflyoverwasanentirelydifferentone–anunpaved,unlaned,unlit,unregulated,wildanddangerousone,inwhichbuses,trucks,bullocks,rickshaws,cycles,handcartsandpedestriansjostledforsurvival.Onekindofworldflewoveranotherkindofworldwithouttroublingtostopandaskthetimeofday.Thesteelbubblefloatedon,pastshantytownsandindustrialswamps

wheretheairwasapalemauvehaze,pastrailwaytrackspackedthickwithtrashandlinedwithslums.Finallytheyarrivedattheirdestination.TheEdge.Wherethecountrysidewastrying,quickly,clumsilyandtragically,toturnitselfintothecity.Amall.ThepassengersintheMercfelldeadsilentasitturnedintothe

undergroundparkinglot,lifteditsbonnetanditsbootlikeagirlliftingherskirts,foraquickbomb-check,andthendrifteddownintoabasementfullofcars.Whentheyenteredthebrightshoppingarcade,SaddamandZainablooked

happyandexcited,completelyateaseinthenewsurroundings.Theothers,

includingUstaniji,lookedasthoughtheyhadsteppedthroughaportalintoanothercosmos.Thevisitbeganwithahitch–alittletroubleontheescalator.Anjumrefusedtogeton.Ittookagoodfifteenminutesofcoaxingandencouragement.Finally,whileTilocarriedMissJebeentheSecond,SaddamstoodnexttoAnjumonthestepwithhisarmaroundhershoulders,andZainabstoodonthestepaboveher,facingher,holdingbothherhands.Thusreinforced,AnjumwentupwobblingandroaringAiHai!asthoughshewasriskingherlifeinadangerousadventuresport.Astheywanderedaroundawestruck,tryingtotellthedifferencebetweentheshoppersandthemannequinsinshopwindows,NimmoGorakhpuriwasthefirsttoregainhercomposure.Shelookedapprovinglyattheyoungwomeninshortsandminiskirts,withhugeshoppingbagsandsunglassespushedupintotheirlush,blow-driedhair.‘See,thisiswhatIwantedtolooklikewhenIwasyoung.Ihadareal

fashionsense.Butnobodyunderstood.Iwastoofaraheadofourtimes.’Afteranhour’swindow-shoppingandabsolutelynobuying,theyatelunch

inanoutletcalledNando’s.Mainly,hugehelpingsofdeep-friedchicken.ZainabwasassignedtosuperviseNimmoGorakhpuri,andSaddamtookcareofAnjum,becauseneitherofthemhadbeentoarestaurantbefore.Anjumstaredinfrankamazementatthefamilyoffouratthenexttable–anoldercoupleandayoungerone.Thewomen,clearlymotheranddaughter,werebothdressedalikeinsleevelessprintedtopsandtrousers,theirfacescakedwithmake-up.Theyoungman,presumablythegirl’sfiancé,hadhiselbowsonthetableandfrequentlygazeddownadmiringlyathisown(huge)bicepsthatbulgedoutofhisblue,short-sleevedT-shirt.Onlytheoldermandidnotappeartobeenjoyinghimself.Hepeeredfurtivelyoutfromaroundtheimaginarypillarhewashidingbehind.Everyfewminutesthefamilysuspendedallconversation,immobilizedtheirsmilesandtookselfies–withthemenu,withthewaiter,withthefoodandwitheachother.Aftereachselfietheypassedtheirphonesaroundfortheotherstosee.Theydidnotpayanyattentiontoanyoneelseintherestaurant.Anjumwasfarmoreinterestedinthemthaninthefoodonherplate,which

shehadnotbeenintheleastimpressedby.Afterhepaidthebill,Saddamlookedaroundthetablewithasenseofceremony:‘YouallmustbewonderingwhyIbroughtyouallthewayhere.’‘ToshowustheDuniya?’Anjumsaid,asthoughitwereaquizquestionon

aTVshow.‘No.Tointroduceallofyoutomyfather.Thisiswherehedied.Righthere.

Wherethisbuildingnowstands.Beforeitcameuptherewerevillageshere,surroundedbywheatfields.Therewasapolicestation…aroad…’Saddamthentoldthemthestoryofwhathappenedtohisfather.Hetold

themabouthisvowtokillSehrawat,theStationHouseOfficeroftheDulina

policestation,andwhyhehadgivenuptheidea.TheyalltookturnstopasshismobilephonearoundthetableandwatchthevideoofthedeadcowsbeingflungintotheDistrictCollector’sbungalow.‘Myfather’sspiritmustbewanderinghere,trappedinsidethisplace.’Everybodytriedtoimaginehim–avillageskinner,lostinthebrightlights,

tryingtofindhiswayoutofthemall.‘Thisishismazar,’Anjumsaid.‘Hindusaren’tburied.Theydon’thavemazars,badiMummy,’Zainabsaid.Maybeit’sthewholeworld’smazar,Tilothought,butdidn’tsay.Maybethe

mannequin-shoppersareghoststryingtobuywhatnolongerexists.‘Itisn’tright,’Anjumsaid.‘Themattercan’tbeleftlikethis.Yourfather

shouldhaveaproperfuneral.’‘Hedidhaveaproperfuneral,’Saddamsaid.‘Hewascrematedinour

village.Ilithisfuneralpyre.’Anjumwasnotconvinced.ShewantedtodosomethingmoreforSaddam’s

father,tolayhisspirittorest.Afteragreatdealofdiscussion,theydecidedtheywouldbuyashirtinhisnamefromoneoftheshops(likepeopleboughtchadarsindargahs)andburyitintheoldgraveyardsothatSaddamandZainab’schildrenwouldfeelthepresenceoftheirgrandfatheraroundthemastheygrewup.‘IknowaHinduprayer!’Zainabsaidsuddenly.‘ShallIreciteitherein

memoryofAbbajaan?’Everybodyleanedintolisten.Andthen,sittingatatableinafast-food

restaurant,asamissiveoflovetoherlateaswellasfuturefather-in-law,ZainabrecitedtheGayatriMantrathatAnjumhadtaughtherwhenshewasalittlegirl(becauseshebelieveditwouldhelpherinamob-situation).

OmbhurbhuvahsvahaTatsaviturvarenyamBhargodevasyadhimahiDhiyoyonahpracodayat fn1

OnthemorningofSaddamHussain’sfather’ssecondfuneral,Tiloputsomethingelseonthetable.Literally.Shebroughtoutthelittlepotthatcontainedhermother’sashesandsaidshewouldlikehermothertobeburiedintheoldgraveyardtoo.Itwasdecidedthattherewouldbeadoublefuneralthatday.IfthecremationintheelectriccrematoriuminCochincounted,itwouldbeMaryamIpe’ssecondfuneraltoo.SaddamHussaindugthegraves.Astylish,Madras-checkedshirtwasinterredinone.Apotofashesintheother.ImamZiauddindemurredalittleattheunorthodoxyoftheproceedings,buteventuallyagreedtosaytheprayers.AnjumaskedTiloifshewantedto

sayaChristianprayerforhermother.Tiloexplainedthatthechurchhadrefusedtoburyhermother,soanyprayerswoulddo.Asshestoodbesidehermother’sgrave,alinethatMaryamIpehadrepeatedmorethanonceduringherhallucinationsintheICUcamebacktoher.IfeelIamsurroundedbyeunuchs.AmI?Atthetimeithadseemedlikenothingmorethanapartofherregular

barrageofICUinsults.ButnowitgaveTiloashiver.Howdidsheknow?Oncethepotofasheshadbeenburiedandthegravefilledwithearth,Tiloclosedhereyesandrecitedhermother’sfavouritepassagefromShakespearetoherself.Andatthatmomenttheworld,alreadyastrangeplace,becameanevenstrangerone:

AndCrispinCrispianshallne’ergoby,Fromthisdaytotheendingoftheworld,Butweinitshallberemember’d–Wefew,wehappyfew,webandofbrothers;Forheto-daythatshedshisbloodwithmeShallbemybrother;behene’ersovile,Thisdayshallgentlehiscondition;AndgentlemeninEnglandnowa-bedShallthinkthemselvesaccurs’dtheywerenothere,AndholdtheirmanhoodscheapwhilesanyspeaksThatfoughtwithusuponSaintCrispin’sday.

Shehadneverunderstoodwhyhermotherhadsoparticularlylovedthismanly,soldierly,warlikepassage.Butshehad.WhenTiloopenedhereyes,shewasshockedtorealizethatshewasweeping.

ZainabandSaddamweremarriedamonthlater.Therewasaneclecticgatheringofguests–HijrasfromalloverDelhi(includingthenewfriendstheyhadmadeatthetrafficlights),Zainab’sfriends,mostofthemstudentsoffashiondesign,someofUstaniji’sstudentsandtheirparents,ZakirMian’sfamily,andseveralofSaddamHussain’soldcomradesfromhisvariedcareer–sweepers,mortuaryworkers,municipaltruckdrivers,securityguards.DrAzadBhartiya,D.D.GuptaandRoshanLalwerethereofcourse.AnwarBhaiandhiswomenandhissonwhohadoutgrownhismauveCrocscamefromGBRoad,andIshrat-the-Beautiful–whohadplayedastellarroleintherescueofMissJebeentheSecond–camefromIndore.Tilo’sandDrAzadBhartiya’slittlecobblerfriend,whohadoutlinedhisfather’slungtumourinthedirt,droppedinbriefly.OldDrBhagatcametoo–stilldressedinwhite,stillwearinghiswatchonasweatband.DrMukhtarthequackwasnotinvited.MissJebeentheSecondwasdressedasalittlequeen.Sheworeatiaraandafrothydressandshoesthatsqueaked.Ofallthepresentstheyoungcouplewereshoweredwith,theirfavouritewasthegoatthatNimmoGorakhpurigavethem.ShehadhaditspeciallyimportedfromIran.

UstadHameedandhisstudentssang.Everybodydanced.AfterwardsAnjumtookSaddamandZainabtoHazratSarmad.Tilo,

SaeedaandMissJebeentheSecondwenttoo.Theymadetheirwaypastthesellersofittarsandamulets,thecustodiansofpilgrims’shoes,thecripples,thebeggars,andthegoatsbeingfattenedforEid.SixtyyearshadgonebysinceJahanaraBegumhadtakenhersonAftabto

HazratSarmadandaskedhimtoteachherhowtolovehim.FifteenyearshadpassedsinceAnjumtooktheBandicoottohimtoexorcizehersiflijaadu.ItwasmorethanayearsinceMissJebeentheSecond’sfirstvisit.JahanaraBegum’ssonhadbecomeherdaughter,andtheBandicootwas

nowabride.Butotherthanthat,nothingmuchhadchanged.Thefloorwasred,thewallswereredandtheceilingwasred.HazratSarmad’sbloodhadnotbeenwashedaway.Awispymanwithaprayercapstripedlikeabee’sbottomheldouthis

prayerbeadstoSarmadbeseechingly.Athinwomaninaprintedsaritiedaredbangletothegrilleandthenpressedherbaby’sforeheadtothefloor.TilodidthesamewithMissJebeentheSecond,whothoughtitwasagoodgameanddiditmanymoretimesthanwasreallynecessary.ZainabandSaddamtiedbanglestothegrilleandlaidanewvelvetchadartrimmedwithtinselontheHazrat’sgrave.Anjumsaidaprayerandaskedhimtoblesstheyoungcouple.AndSarmad–HazratofUtmostHappiness,SaintoftheUnconsoledand

SolaceoftheIndeterminate,BlasphemeramongBelieversandBelieveramongBlasphemers–did.

Threeweekslatertherewasathirdfuneralintheoldgraveyard.

OnemorningDrAzadBhartiyaarrivedatJannatGuestHousewithaletterthatwasaddressedtohim.Ithadbeenhand-deliveredbyawomanwhowouldnotidentifyherself,butsaidtheletterwasfromtheBastarforest.Anjumdidn’tknowwhatorwherethatwas.DrAzadexplainedbrieflyaboutBastar,theAdivasitribesthatlivedthere,theminingcompaniesthatwantedtheirlandandtheMaoistguerrillaswhowerewagingawaragainstsecurityforcesthatweretryingtoclearthelandforthecompanies.TheletterwaswritteninEnglish,intiny,crampedhandwriting.Therewasnodateonit.DrAzadBhartiyasaiditwasfromMissJebeentheSecond’srealmother.‘Tearitup!’Anjumroared.‘Shethrowsawayherbabyandthencomes

backheresayingsheistherealmother!’Saddamstoppedherfromlungingfortheletter.

‘Don’tworry,’DrAzadBhartiyasaid,‘sheisnotcomingback.’Itwasalongletter,writtenonbothsidesofthepageswithwholepassages

scoredout,sentencesrunningintoeachotherasthoughpaperwasinlimitedsupply.Betweenthepagestherewereafewpressedflowersthathadcrumbledwhenthepapershadbeenfoldedintothepelletthatwasdelivered.DrAzadBhartiyareaditout,roughlytranslatingitasbesthecouldashewentalong.HisaudiencewasAnjum,TiloandSaddamHussain.AndMissJebeentheSecond,whodidallshecouldtodisrupttheproceedings.

DearComradeAzadBharathiyaGaru,IamwritingthistoyoubecauseinmythreedaystimeinJantarMantarIobservedyoucarefully.Ifanybodyknowswhereismychildnow,Ithinkitmightbeyouonly.IamaTeluguwomanandsorryIdon’tknowHindi.MyEnglishisnotgoodalso.Sorryforthat.IamRevathy,workingasafull-timerwithCommunistPartyofIndia(Maoist).WhenyouwillreceivethisletterIwillbealreadykilled.

Atthispoint,Anjum,whohadbeenleaningforward,listeningwithraptattention,rockedback,lookingvisiblyrelieved.Sheseemedtohavelostinterest.Butgradually,asDrAzadBhartiyareadon,shegrewrivetedagainandlistenedwithoutinterrupting.

MycomradeSugunaknowstosendthislettertoyouwhenshehearsthatIamnomore.Asyouknowwearebanned,undergroundpeople,andthisletterfrommeyoucancallasundergroundofunderground,soitwilltakeminimumfiveorsixweekstocometoyouthroughasafechannels.AfterIleftmychildthereinDelhi,myconscienceisverymuchbad.Icannotsleeportakerest.Idon’twanther.ButIdon’twanthertosufferalso.Soincaseifyouknowwheresheis,Iwanttotellyouherfrankstoryalittle.Restisforyourdecision.HernamethatIhavegaveherwasUdaya.InTeluguitmeanssunrise.IgaveherthisnamebecauseshewasborninDandakaranyaforestduringsunrise.WhenshewasbornIfranklyfelthatredforherandIthoughttokillher.Ifeltreallyshewasnotmine.Reallysheisnotmine.ReallyifyouseeherstorythatIhavewrittenhere,Iamnothermother.RiverishermotherandForestisherfather.ThisisthestoryofUdayaandRevathy.I,Revathy,hailfromEastGodavaridistrictofAndhraPradesh.MycasteisSettibalijawhichcomesunderBC(BackwardCaste).Mymother’snameisIndumati.SheisaSSLCschoolpass.Sheismarriedwithmyfatherwhensheis18years.Fatherworkedinarmy.Hewasoldertoherbymanyyears.HesawherwhenhewashomeforvacationandfellinlovebecauseMotherisveryfairandpretty.AfterengagementbutbeforemarriageFatherwascourt-marshaledfromarmyforsmokingnearthearmory.HecametoliveinhisvillagewhichwasonoppositesideofGodavaririverfromMother’svillage.Hisfamilyissamecaste,butwasrichthanhers.DuringmarriageceremonyitselftheymademyMothertogotupfromthepandalanddemandedformoredowry.Mygrandfatherhadtorunforloan.Onlythentheyagreedandmarriagecontinued.ImmediatelyaftermarriageFatherdevelopedsomeperversionsandsadism.HewantedMothertowearshortdressesanddoballroomdancing.Whensherefusedhecutherwithbladesandcomplainedshewasnotsatisfyinghim.Aftersomemonthshesentherhometomygrandfather.WhenshewasfivemonthspregnantwithmemyMother’syoungerbrothertookherbacktoFather’svillageinaboat.Shewasdressedinaverygoodsariandjewelryandtooktwosilverpotsofsweetsandtwenty-fivenewsarisforhermother-in-law.Fatherwasnotthereinthehouse.In-lawsrefusedtoopenthedoorandcameoutandkickedthepotofsweets.Motherfeltverymuch

ashamed.Onthewayback,inmiddleoftherivershetakedoffherjewelryandjumpedfromtheboat.Iwasinherstomachfivemonthsthen.Boatmansavedherandtookherhome.Iwasborninmymaternalgrandfather’shouse.DuringpregnancytimeMother’sstomachwashuge.Shewasexpectingtwins.Whitecolor,likeherandherhusband.ButIcameout.Iwasblackandweighty.SeeingmycolorMotherwasunconsciousfortwodays.Butafterthatsheneverleftme.Thewholevillagetalked.Myfather’sfamilycametoknowhowblackIwas.Theyhadthatcasteandcolorfeeling.TheysaidIwasnottheirsbutaMalaorMadigagirl,notaBCbutaSCScheduleCastegirl.Igrewupinmygrandfather’shouse.HeworkedinAnimalHusbandry.Hewasacommunist.Hishousehadathatchroofbutmanybooks.Whenhebecameoldmygrandfatherbecameblindalso.IwasinschoolthenIwouldreadtohim.IwouldreadIllustratedWeekly,CompetitionSuccessReviewandSovietBhumi.IalsoreadthestoryoftheLittleBlackFish.WehadmanybooksfromPeople’sPublishingHouse.Fatherwouldcometomygrandfather’shouseatnighttotroubleMother.Iwouldhatehim.Hemovedaroundthehouseatnightlikeasnake.Shewouldfollowhim,hewouldtortureandcutherandsendherback.Againhewouldcallherandagainshewouldgo.Forsometimeafterwardshetookherandkeptherwithhimagaininhisvillage.Againshebecamepregnant.Inmygrandfather’svillagethewomenprayedforhersecondbabytobealsoblacksoMothercouldbeprovedafaithfulwife.Theysacrificedthirtyblackhensinthetempleforthis.Thanksgodmybrotherisbornalsoblack.ButthenagainFathersentMotherhomeandmarriedanotherwoman.Iwantedtobealawyerandputmyfatherbehindbarsforever.ButsoonIbecameinfluencedbyCommunismandrevolutionarythinking.Ireadcommunistliterature.Mygrandfathertaughtmerevolutionarysongsandwewouldsingtogether.Mymotherandgrandmotherstolecoconutsandsoldthemforpayingmyschoolfees.Theyboughtmesmallthingsandkeptmeveryfashionableandmanyboyslikedme.AfterpassingIntermediateIsatforMedicalentranceandgotselectedbutwehadnomoneyforfees.SoIjoinedgovernmentdegreecollegeinWarangal.ThereMovementwasverystrong.Insideforest,butoutsidealso.InmyfirstyearitselfIwasrecruitedbyComradeNirmalakkaandComradeLaxmiwhowouldvisitwomen’shostelandtalktousgirlsaboutexploitationbytheClassEnemyandterribleconditionofpovertyinourcountry.FromcollegeitselfIworkedasapart-timerandcourierfortheParty.AfterwardsIworkedintheMahilaSangham–women’sorganization,creatingclassawarenessinslumsandvillages.WebecameachannelforParty’scommunicationalloverTelangana.Wewouldtravelbybustomeetingscarryingbookletsandpamphlets.Wewouldsinganddanceatprotestmeetings.IreadMarxandLeninandMaoandbecameconvincedofMaoism.Atthetimesituationwasverydangerous.Allpolice,Cobras,Greyhounds,AndhraPolice

wouldbeeverywhere.HundredsofPartyworkerswerekilledlikeanything.Maximumhatredpolicehadforwomenworkers.ComradeNirmalakkawhenshewaskilledtheyrippedherstomachandtookouteverything.ComradeLaxmialsotheynotsimplykilled,butcut,andremovedeyes.Forhertherewasbigprotest.OneanotherComradePadmakkatheycapturedandbrokenbothherkneessoshecouldnotwalkandbeathersoshehaskidneydamage,liverdamage,somuchdamage.ShecameoutfromjailnowsheworksinAmarulaBandhuMithrulaSangathan.WhereverPartypeoplearekilledandfamilyispoorandcannotaffordtotraveltogettheirperson’sbodyback,shegoes.Intractor,Tempo,anything,andbringsthebodytofamilyforfuneralandallthosethings.In2008thesituationmuchworstinsidetheforest.OperationGreenHuntisannouncedbyGovernment.WaragainstPeople.Thousandsofpoliceandparamilitaryareintheforest.Killingadivasis,burningvillages.Noadivasicanstayinherhouseortheirvillage.Theysleepintheforestoutsideatnightbecauseatnightpolicecome,hundred,twohundred,sometimesfivehundredpolice.Theytakeeverything,burneverything,stealeverything.Chickens,goats,money.Theywantadivasipeopletovacateforestsotheycanmakeasteeltownshipandmining.Thousandsareinjail.Allthispoliticsyoucanreadoutside.OrinourmagazinePeople’sMarch.SoIwillonlytellyouaboutUdaya.AtthetimeofGreenHunt,PartygaveacallforrecruitmenttoPLGA–People’sLiberationGuerrillaArmy.AtthetimeIandtwootherswentintoBastarforestforarmstraining.Iworkedthereformorethansixyears.InsidesometimesIamcalledComradeMaase.ItmeansBlackGirl.Ilikethisname.Butwekeepdifferentnamesalso,eachother’snames.AlthoughIaminPLGA,sinceIamaneducatedwoman,Partyalsokeepsmeforoutsidework.SometimesIhavetogotoWarangal,Bhadrachalamor

Khammam.SometimesNarayanpur.Thisismostdangerous,becausenowinvillagesandintownstherearemanyinformersworkingagainstus.Thatishow,onetimewhenIwasreturningfromoutside,IwascapturedinKudurvillage.AtthetimeIwasdressedinasariandbanglesandhandbagandtwostringpearls.Icouldnotfight.Myarrestwasnotshown.IwastiedupandgivenchloroformandtakentosomeplaceIdon’tknow.WhenIwakedupitwasdark.Iwasinaroomwithtwodoorsandtwowindows.Itwasaclassroom.Therewasablackboardbutnofurniture.Itwasagovernmentschool.Allschoolsinsidetheforestsarepolicecamps.Noteachersandnostudentscome.Iwasnaked.Therewassixpolicearoundme.Onewascuttingmyskinwithaknife-blade.‘Soyouthinkyouareagreatheroine?’heaskedme.IfIclosedmyeyestheyslapme.Twoareholdingmyhandsandtwoareholdinglegs.‘WewanttogiveyouagiftforyourParty.’Theyaresmokingandputtingtheircigarettesonme.‘Youpeopleshoutalot!Shoutnowandseewhathappens!’IthoughttheywouldkillmelikePadmakkaandLaxmibuttheysaid‘Don’tworryBlackiewewillletyougo.Youmustgoandtellthemwhatwedidtoyou.Youareagreatheroine.Yousupplythemwithbullets,malariamedicines,food,toothbrushes.Allthatweknow.HowmanyinnocentgirlshaveyousenttojoinyourParty?Youarespoilingeveryone.Nowyougoandmarrysomeone.Settledownquietly.Butfirstwewillgiveyousomemarriageexperience.’Theykeptonburningmeandcuttingme.ButIamnotcryingatall.‘Whydon’tyouscream?Yourgreatleaderswillcomeandsaveyou.Youpeopledon’tscream?’Thenonemanforcedopenmymouthandonemanputhispenisinmymouth.Icouldnotbreathe.IthoughtIwoulddie.Theykeptputtingwateronmyface.Thenallrapedmemanytimes.OneisUdaya’sfather.Which,howcanIsay?Iwasunconscious.WhenIwakedagainIwasbleedingeverywhere.Thedoorwasopen.Theywereoutsidesmoking.Icouldseemysari.Islowlytookit.Thebackdoorwasopenslightlyandoutsidewasapaddyfield.Theysawmerunning,firsttheyranaftermeandIfellbutthentheysaid,‘Leaveit,lethergo.’Thisistheexperienceofsomanywomenintheforest.FromthatItookcourage.Iranthroughthefields.Itwasonlymoonlight.Ireachedatarroad.Icameontoit.Ihadonlysari.Noblouse,nopetticoat.Iwrappeditsomehow.Abuscame.Igotin.Iwasbarefeet.Bleeding.Myfaceislikeapumpkin.Mouthishugebecausetheybititmanytimes.Thebuswasempty.Conductordidnotsayanything.Hedidnotaskmeforaticket.Isatnearthewindowandsleptbecauseofthechloroform.InKhammamhewokemeandsaid,‘Thisisthelaststop.’Igotdownfromthebus.WhenIcametoknowitwasKhammamIwashappybecauseIknowverywelloneDrGowrinathwhohasaclinic.Iwentthere.Iwaswalkinglikeadrunkman.Iknockedonthedoorandhiswifeopeneditandscreamed.Isatonherbed.Iwaslookinglikeamadperson.Allthecigaretteburnswerebubbles,onmyface,breast,nipples,stomach.Herwholebedwasblood.DrGowrinathcameandgavemesomefirstaid.Iamsleepingalwaysbecauseofchloroform.WhenIamawakeIamonlyweeping.Ionlywanttogotomycomradesinsidetheforest,Renu,Damayanti,Narmadaakka.DrGowrinathkeptmefortendays.AfterthatwegotacontactfrominsideandIwentbacktotheforest.IwalkedfortwelvekilometresthenaPLGAsquadcameandwewalkedfivehoursmoretoacampwhereDistrictCommitteememberswere.Themainleader,ComradeP.K.askedmewhathappened.Heisnomorenow.Healsokilledinencounter.AtthetimeItoldthem,butIwascryingandhecouldnotunderstandanything.FirsthethoughtIamcomplainingaboutaPartycomrade.ComradeP.K.said,‘Idon’tunderstandthisfeelingsnonsense.Wearesoldiers.Tellmelikeareportwithoutemotions.’SoItoldhimthereport.Butwithoutmyknowledgemyeyesareweeping.Ishowedmyinjuriesforinspectiontofemalecomrades.Afterthattheysatfortwodaystothinkwhattodo.ThenthecommitteecalledmeagainandsaidImustgooutsideandforma‘RevathyAtyacharVedirekhCommittee’–CommitteeAgainstRevathy’sRape.InadditionIwasgivenresponsibilityforanotherprogrammetotakeoveraslumcolonywith2000peopleandonlytwohandpumps.IamsosickandIhavetoorganizepeople’srallyformorehandpumps.Icouldnotbelieveit.ButtheysaidImusthelpmyself.ButIcouldnotgooutsidebecausebythenIcouldnotwalk.Bleedingwasnotstopped.Iwashavingfits.Mywoundsweregotseptic.Icouldnotgoout.Icouldnotmarchwiththesquads.AgainIwasleftinaforestvillage.AfterthreemonthsIcouldwalk.BythenIwaspregnant.ButIdidnotbother.IrejoinedPLGA.ButwhenPartycametoknowtheyagaintoldmetogooutsidebecausePLGAwomenarebannedtohavechildren.IstayedinaforestvillagetillUdayawasborn.WhenIsawherfirstIfeltverymuchhatred.I

feltthatsixpolicefellowscuttingmewithbladesandburningmewithcigarettes.Ithoughttokillher.Iputmygunonherheadbutcouldnotfirebecauseshewasasmallandcutebaby.ThattimetherewasabigcampaigngoingonoutsidetheforestagainstWaronPeople.BigDelhigroupsorganizedapublictribunal.AdivasipeoplewhohadbecomevictimswerecalledtoDelhitospeaktoNationalMedia.Partytoldmetoaccompanythemalongwithotherlocallawyersandactivists.AsIhadasmallchilditwasagoodcover.IwasaverygoodspeakerinTeluguandknewallthefacts.TheyhadgoodtranslatorsinDelhi.AftertheTribunalIsatwithtribalvictimsforthreedayspublicprotestinJantarMantar.Isawmanygoodpeoplethere.ButIcannotliveoutsidelikethem.MyPartyismyMotherandFather.Manytimesitdoesmanywrongthings.Killswrong

people.Womenjoinbecausetheyarerevolutionariesbutalsobecausetheycannotbeartheirsufferingsathome.Partysaysmenandwomenareequal,butstilltheyneverunderstand.IknowComradeStalinandChairmanMaohavedonemanygoodthingsandmanybadthingsalso.ButstillIcannotleavemyParty.Icannotliveoutside.IsawmanygoodpeopleinJantarMantarsoIhadtheideatoleaveUdayathere.Icannotbelikeyouandthem.Icannotgoonhunger-strikeandmakerequests.Intheforesteverydaypoliceisburningkillingrapingpoorpeople.Outsidethereisyoupeopletofightandtakeupissues.Butinsidethereisusonly.SoIamreturnedtoDandakaranyatoliveanddiebymygun.ThankyouComradeforreadingthis.RedSalute!LalSalaam!Revathy

‘LalSalaamAleikum,’wasAnjum’sinadvertent,instinctiveresponsetotheendoftheletter.Thatcouldhavebeenthebeginningofawholepoliticalmovement,butshehadonlymeantitinthewayofan‘Ameen’afterlisteningtoamovingsermon.Eachofthelistenersrecognized,intheirownseparateways,somethingof

themselvesandtheirownstories,theirownIndo–Pak,inthestoryofthisunknown,farawaywomanwhowasnolongeralive.ItmadethemcloseranksaroundMissJebeentheSecondlikeaformationoftrees,oradultelephants–animpenetrablefortressinwhichshe,unlikeherbiologicalmother,wouldgrowupprotectedandloved.WhatcameupforimmediatediscussioninthegraveyardPolitburo,

however,waswhetherornotMissJebeentheSecondshouldeverknowabouttheletter.Anjum,theGeneralSecretary,wasabsolutelyunambiguousaboutthat.WhileMissJebeentheSecondstoodonherlapandalmosttwistedthenoseoffherface,Anjumsaid,‘Sheshouldknowabouthermotherofcourse.Neveraboutherfather.’ItwasdecidedthatRevathyshouldbeburiedwithfullhonoursinthe

graveyard.Intheabsenceofherbody,herletterwouldbeinterredinthegrave.(Tilowouldkeepaphotocopyfortherecord.)Anjumwantedtoknowwhatthecorrectritualswereforthefuneralofacommunist.(SheusedthephraseLalSalaami.)WhenDrAzadBhartiyasaidthatasfarasheknewtherewerenoneassuch,shewasalittledisparaging.‘Whatkindofthingisit,then?Whatkindofpeopleleavetheirdeadwithoutprayers?’

ThenextdayDrAzadBhartiyaprocuredaredflag.Revathy’sletterwasputintoanairtightcontainerandthenitwaswrappedintheflag.WhileitwasburiedhesangtheHindiversionof‘TheInternationale’andgaveheraclenched-fistRedSalute.ThusendedthesecondfuneralofMissJebeentheSecond’sfirst,secondorthirdmother,dependingonyourperspective.ThePolitburodecidedthatMissJebeentheSecond’sfullnamewould,

fromthatdayonwards,beMissUdayaJebeen.Theepitaphonhermother’stombstonesimplyread:

COMRADEMAASEREVATHYBelovedmotherofMissUdayaJebeen

LalSalaam

DrAzadBhartiyatriedtoteachMissUdayaJebeen–sheofthesixfathersandthreemothers(whowerestitchedtogetherbythreadsoflight)–toclenchherfistandsayafinal‘LalSalaam’tohermother.‘…’alSalaam,’shegurgled.

11

TheLandlord

I’mstillhere.Asyoumust,nodoubt,haveguessed.Ineverdidcheckintothatrehabilitationcentre.Itlastedonandoffforalmostsixmonths,thebingethatstartedwhenIfirstarrived.However,I’msobernow–soberfornow,isprobablyhowI’mmeanttoputit.It’sbeenwelloverayearsinceItouchedadrink.Butit’stoolate.I’velostmyjob.ChitrahasleftmeandRabiaandAniawon’tspeaktome.Oddly,noneofithasmademeasunhappyasIimagineditwould.Ihavecometoenjoymysolitude.Overthelastfewmonths,I’velivedthelifeofarecluse.Insteadofbinge

drinking,I’vebeenbingereading.Ihavemadeitmybusinesstopryintoeverylastpieceofpaper–everydocument,everyreport,everyletter,everyvideo,everyyellowPost-itandeveryphotographineveryfileinthisapartment.IsupposeyoucouldsaythatIbroughttheattributesofanaddictivepersonalitytothisprojecttoo–bywhichImeansingle-mindednesscoupledwithacuteguiltanduselessremorse.OnceIhadbeenthroughthewhole,weirdarchive,Itriedtomakeamendsformypruriencebyputtingsomelogicandorderintoitschaos.Thenagain,maybethatjustcountsasfurthertransgression.Eitherway,I’verefiledthepapersandphotographsandpackedthemintosealedcartonssothat,ifandwhenshecomes,shecantakethemawayeasily.I’vetakendownthenoticeboardsandmadesurethephotographsandPost-itsarepackedinawaythatshecanputthemupagaininthesameorderwithlittledifficulty.AllthistosaythatIhavemovedin.Iliveherenow,inthisapartment.Ihavenowhereelsetogo.Therentfromtheflatdownstairsconstitutesthebetterpartofmyincome.Tilodoescontinuetopayrentintomyaccount,butIplantoreturnittoherwhenever,ifever,Iseeheragain.

Theupshotofmyprying,Ishouldadmit,isthatIhavechangedmymindaboutKashmir.Itmightsoundalittlecheapandconvenientformetobesayingthisnow,Iknow–Imustsoundlikethosearmygeneralswhowagewaralltheirlivesandthensuddenlybecomepious,anti-nukepeacenikswhentheyretire.TheonlydifferencebetweenthemandmeisthatI’mgoingtokeepmynewlyformedopiniontomyself.It’snoteasythough.IfIwantedto,andifIplayedmycardsright,Icouldprobablyparlayitintosomeseriouscapital.IcouldcreateapoliticalstormifI‘cameout’,sotospeak,becauseIseefromthenewsthatKashmir,afterafewyearsofdeceptivecalm,hasexplodedonceagain.FromwhatIcantell,it’snolongerthecasethatsecurityforcesare

attackingpeople.Itseemstobetheotherwayaroundnow.People–ordinarypeople,notmilitants–areattackingtheforces.Kidsonthestreetswithstonesintheirhandsarefacingdownsoldierswithguns;villagersarmedwithsticksandshovelsaresweepingdownmountainsidesandoverwhelmingarmycamps.Ifthesoldiersfireatthemandkillafew,theprotestsjustswellsomemore.Theparamilitaryareusingpelletgunsthatendupblindingpeople–whichisbetterthankillingthem,Isuppose.AlthoughinPRtermsit’sworse.Theworldisinuredtothesightofpiled-upcorpses.Butnottothesightofhundredsoflivingpeoplewhohavebeenblinded.Pardonmycrudeness,butyoucanimaginethevisualappealofthat.Buteventhatdoesn’tseemtobeworking.Boyswho’velostoneeyearebackonthestreet,preparedtorisktheother.Whatdoyoudowiththatkindoffury?Ihavenodoubtthatwecan–andwill–beatthemdownoncemore.But

wherewillitallend?War.OrNuclearWar.Thoseseemtobethemostrealisticanswerstothatquestion.EveryeveningasIwatchthenewsImarvelattheignoranceandidiocyondisplay.AndtothinkthatallmylifeIhavebeenapartofit.It’sallIcandotostopmyselfwritingsomethingforthepapers.Iwon’t,becauseI’dlaymyselfopentoridicule–thesacked,drunk,conscientiousobjector.Thatsortofthing.OfcourseIknowaboutMusanow–inthesensethatIknowhedidn’tdie

whenwethoughthedid.He’sbeenaroundalltheseyears,andofcourse,needlesstosay,mytenanthasknownthatallalong.Allittookwasanextendedpowercutformetofindthethingsshehadstoredinthefreezer.Soimaginemypleasureonenight,whenthekeyturnedinmydoorand

MusawalkedinandwasmoreshockedtoseemethanIwastoseehim.Thefirstfewminutesoftheencounterwerefraught.Hemadetoleave,butImanagedtopersuadehimtostayandatleasthaveacupofcoffee.Itwasgoodtoseehim.Wehadlastmetasveryyoungmen.Boys,really.NowIhadalmostnohairandhiswassilver.WhenItoldhimthatIwasnolongerwiththeBureauherelaxed.Weendedupspendingthatnightandmostofthenextdaytogether.Wetalkedalot–whenIlookbackonthatmeeting,I’malittle

unnervedbytheskillwithwhichhedrewmeout.Itwasacombinationofquietsolicitousnessandthesortofcuriositythatisflatteringratherthaninquisitive.PerhapsbecauseofmyeagernesstoreassurehimthatIwasnolongerthe‘enemy’,Iendedupdoingmostofthetalking.IwasastonishedathowintimatelyheseemedtoknowtheworkingsoftheBureau.Hetalkedofsomeofficersasthoughtheywerepersonalfriends.Itwasalmostlikeexchangingnoteswithacolleague.Butitwasdonesocoolly,almostnonchalantly,mostofitjustcasualchatterthatborderedongossip,thatIonlyrealizedwhathadhappenedafterhewasgone.Wedidn’treallytalkpolitics.Andwedidn’ttalkaboutTilo.HeofferedtocookmelunchwithwhateveringredientsIhadinthekitchen.OfcourseIknewthatwhathereallywantedwastotakealookatmyfreezer.Alltherewasintherenowwasakiloofgoodmutton.Itoldhimthatthestuffintheapartment,includinghismanypassportsandotherpersonalbelongings,waspackedandreadytoberemovedwheneverTilowantedtotakeit.WecircledaroundthesubjectofKashmir,butonlyinabstractways.‘Youmayberightafterall,’Isaidtohiminthekitchen.‘Youmayberight,

butyou’llneverwin.’‘Ithinktheopposite,’hesmiled,stirringthepotfromwhichawonderful

aromaofroganjosharose.‘Wemayturnouttobewrong,butwehavealreadywon.’Ileftitatthat.Idon’tthinkhewasawareoftheextenttowhichthe

GovernmentofIndiawouldgotoholdontothatlittlepatchofland.Itcouldturnintoabloodbaththatwouldmakethe1990slooklikeaschoolplay.Ontheotherhand,maybeIhadnoideahowsuicidalKashmiriswerepreparedtobe–tobecome.Eitherway,thestakeswerehigherthantheyhadeverbeen.Ormaybewehaddifferentnotionsaboutwhat‘winning’means.Themealwasdelectable.Musawasarelaxed,accomplishedcook.He

askedaboutNaga.‘Ihaven’tseenhimonTVoflate.IsheOK?’Oddly,theonlypersonIhavebeenseeingoccasionallyinmynewlifeasa

recluseisNaga.HehasresignedfromhispaperandseemshappierthanIrememberhimeverbeing.Maybe,ironically,we’rebothliberatedbyTilo’sconclusiveandcategoricaldisappearancefromourlivesandtheworldweknow.ItoldMusathatNagaandIwereplanning–itwasstillnothingmorethanaplan–tostartasortofyesteryearmusicchannel,ontheradioormaybeapodcast.NagawoulddotheWesternmusic,rock’n’roll,blues,jazz,andI’ddoworldmusic.Ihaveaninteresting,andIbelieveexcellent,collectionofAfghan,IranianandSyrianfolkmusic.AfterIsaidit,Ifeltshallowandsuperficial.ButMusaseemedgenuinelyinterestedandwehadanicelittlechataboutmusic.ThenextmorningheorganizedasmallTempofromthemarketandtwo

menloadeditupwiththecartonsandtherestofTilo’sthings.Heseemedto

knowwhereshewas,butdidn’tsay,soIdidn’task.Therewasonequestion,though,thatIdidneedtoaskhimbeforeheleft,somethingIdesperatelyneededtoknowbeforeanotherthirtyyearswentby.ItwouldhavetroubledmefortherestofmylifeifIdidn’t.Ihadtoask.Therewasnosubtlewayofdoingit.Itwasn’teasy,butfinallyIcameoutwithit.‘DidyoukillAmrikSingh?’‘No.’Helookedatmewithhisgreen-tea-colouredeyes.‘Ididn’t.’Hesaidnothingforamoment,butIcouldtellfromhisgazethathewas

assessingme,wonderingifheshouldsaymoreornot.ItoldhimI’dseentheasylumapplicationsandtheboardingpassesofflightstotheUSwithanamethatmatchedoneofhisfakepassports.Ihadcomeacrossareceiptfromacar-hirecompanyinClovis.Thedatesmatchedtoo,soIknewthathehadsomethingtodowiththatwholeepisode,butIdidn’tknowwhat.‘I’mjustcurious,’Isaid.‘Itdoesn’tmatterifyoudid.Hedeservedtodie.’‘Ididn’tkillhim.Hekilledhimself.Butwemadehimkillhimself.’Ihadnoideawhatthehellthatwassupposedtomean.‘Ididn’tgototheUSlookingforhim.Iwasalreadythereonsomeother

workwhenIsawthenewsinthepapersthathehadbeenarrestedforassaultinghiswife.Hisresidentialaddressbecamepublic.Ihadbeenlookingforhimforyears.Ihadsomeunfinishedbusinesswithhim.Manyofusdid.SoIwenttoClovis,madesomeinquiriesandfinallyfoundhimatatruck-washinggarageandworkshopwherehewouldgotohavehistruckserviced.Hewasacompletelydifferentpersonfromthemurdererweknew,thekillerofJalibQadriandmanyothers.HedidnothavethatinfrastructureofimpunitywithinwhichheoperatedinKashmir.Hewasscaredandbroke.Ialmostfeltsorryforhim.IassuredhimthatIwasnotgoingtoharmhim,andthatIwasonlytheretotellhimthatwewouldnotallowhimtoforgetthethingsthathehaddone.’MusaandIwerehavingthisconversationoutonthestreet.Ihadcome

downtoseehimoff.‘OtherKashmirishadalsoreadthenews.SotheybegantoarriveinClovis

toseehowtheButcherofKashmirlivednow.Somewerejournalists,somewerewriters,photographers,lawyers…somewerejustordinarypeople.Theyturnedupathisworkplace,athishome,atthesupermarket,acrossthestreet,athischildren’sschool.Everyday.Hewasforcedtolookatus.Forcedtoremember.Itmusthavedrivenhimcrazy.Eventuallyitmadehimself-destruct.So…toansweryourquestion…no,Ididnotkillhim.’WhatMusasaidnext,standingagainstthebackdropoftheschoolgates

withthepaintingoftheogrenursegivingababyapoliovaccine,waslike…likeanice-injection.Moresobecauseitwassaidinthatcasual,genialwayhehad,withafriendly,almost-happysmile,asthoughhewasonlyjoking.

‘OnedayKashmirwillmakeIndiaself-destructinthesameway.Youmayhaveblindedallofus,everyoneofus,withyourpelletgunsbythen.Butyouwillstillhaveeyestoseewhatyouhavedonetous.You’renotdestroyingus.Youareconstructingus.It’syourselvesthatyouaredestroying.KhudaHafiz,Garsonbhai.’Withthatheleft.Ineversawhimagain.

Whatifhe’sright?We’veseengreatcountriesfallintoruinvirtuallyovernight.Whatifwe’renextinline?Thatthoughtfillsmewithakindofepochalsadness.Ifthislittlebackstreetisanythingtogoby,perhapstheunravellinghas

alreadybegun.Everythinghassuddenlyfallenquiet.Alltheconstructionhasstopped.Thelabourershavedisappeared.Wherearethewhoresandthehomosexualsandthedogswithfancycoats?Imissthem.Howcoulditalldisappearsoquickly?Imustn’tkeepstandinghere,likesomenostalgicoldfool.Thingswillgetbetter.Theymust.OnmywaybackinImanagedtoavoidmyvoluptuousandvolubletenant

AnkitaonthestairsasIreturnedtomyemptyapartmentthatwillforeverbehauntedbytheghostsofthecardboardcartonsthathavegone,andallthestoriestheycontained.Andtheabsenceofthewomanwho,inmyownweak,waveringway,Iwill

neverstoploving.Whatwillbecomeofme?I’malittlelikeAmrikSinghmyself–old,

bloated,scared,anddeprivedofwhatMusasoeloquentlycalled‘theinfrastructureofimpunity’thatIhaveoperatedwithinallmylife.WhatifIself-destructtoo?Icould–unlessmusicrescuesme.IshouldgetintouchwithNaga.Ishouldworkonthatpodcastidea.ButfirstIneedadrink.

12

GuihKyom

ItwasMusa’sthirdnightinJannatGuestHouse.Hehadarrivedafewdaysagolikeadeliveryman,withaTempofullofcardboardcartons.EverybodywasdelightedtoseetheanimationonUstaniji’sfacewhensheseteyesonhim.ThecartonswerestackedagainstthewallinTilo’sroom,crowdingupthespaceshesharedwithAhlamBaji.TilohadtoldMusaasmuchassheknewabouteveryoneinJannatGuestHouse.Onthatlastnightshelaynexttohimonherbed,showingoffherprowessinUrdu.Shehadwrittenoutapoemshe’dlearnedfromDrAzadBhartiyainoneofhernotebooks:

MargayeebulbulqafasmeinKehgayeesayyaadseApnisunehrigaandmeinTuthoonslefasl-e-bahaar fn1

‘Thatsoundsliketheanthemofasuicidebomber,’Musasaid.TilotoldhimaboutDrAzadBhartiyaandhowthepoemhadbeenhis

responsetopolicequestioninginJantarMantar(onthemorningafterthesaidnight,theconcernednight,theaforementionednight,thenighthereinafterreferredtoas‘thenight’).‘WhenIdie,’Tilosaid,laughing,‘Iwantthistobemyepitaph.’AhlamBajimutteredafewinsultsandturnedoverinhergrave.MusaglancedatthepageinthenotebookthatfacedtheoneinwhichTilo

hadwrittenthepoem.Itsaid:

How  to  tell

    ashattered    story?

      By      slowly        becomingeverybody.      No.      Byslowlybecomingeverything.

Thatwassomethingtothinkabout,hethought.Itmadehimturntohisloveofmanyyears,thewomanwhosestrangeness

hadbecomesodeartohim,andholdherclose.SomethingaboutTilo’snewhomeremindedMusaofthestoryofMumtaz

AfzalMalik,theyoungtaxidriverwhomAmrikSinghhadkilled,whosebodyhadbeenrecoveredfromafieldanddeliveredtohisfamilywithearthinhisclenchedfistsandmustardflowersgrowingthroughhisfingers.ThatstoryhadalwaysstayedwithMusa–perhapsbecauseofthewayhopeandgriefwerewoventogetherinit,sotightly,soinextricably.HewouldleaveforKashmirthenextmorning,toreturntoanewphasein

anoldwarfromwhich,thistime,hewouldnotreturn.Hewoulddiethewayhewantedto,withhisAsalbooton.Hewouldbeburiedthewayhewantedtobe–afacelessmaninanamelessgrave.Theyoungermenwhowouldtakehisplacewouldbeharder,narrowerandlessforgiving.Theywouldbemorelikelytowinanywartheyfought,becausetheybelongedtoagenerationthathadknownnothingbutwar.TilowouldreceiveamessagefromKhadija–aphotographofayoung,

smilingMusaandGul-kak.Ontheback,KhadijawouldwriteCommandersGulrezandGulrezaretogethernow.TilowouldgrievedeeplyatMusa’spassing,butwouldnotbeundonebyhergriefbecauseshewasabletowritetohimregularlyandvisithimoftenenoughthroughthecrackinthedoorthatthebatteredangelsinthegraveyardheldopen(illegally)forher.Theirwingsdidnotsmelllikethebottomofachickencoop.Ontheirlastnighttogether,TiloandMusasleptwiththeirarmswrapped

aroundeachother,asthoughtheyhadonlyjustmet.

Anjumwasrestlessthatnightandunabletosleep.Shepotteredaroundthegraveyardinspectingherproperty.ShestoppedforamomentatBombaySilk’sgraveandsaidaprayerandtoldMissUdayaJebeen,whowasperchedonherhip,thestoryofhowshehadfirstseteyesonBombaySilkwhileshewasbuyingbanglesfromthebangle-selleratChitliQabarandhadfollowedherallthewaydownthestreettoGaliDakotan.ShebentdownandpickeduponeofRoshanLal’sflowersfromBegumRenataMumtazMadam’sgraveandputitonComradeMaase’sgrave.Thatlittleactofredistributionmadeher

feelmuchbetter.ShelookedbackatJannatGuestHousewithasenseofcontentmentandaccomplishment.Onimpulse,shedecidedtotakeMissUdayaJebeenoutonabriefmidnightrambletofamiliarizeherwithhersurroundingsandseethecitylights.Shewalkedpastthemortuary,throughthehospitalcarparkontothemain

road.Therewasn’tmuchtrafficatthathour.Still,tobesafe,theystayedonthepavement,threadingtheirwaythroughparkedcyclerickshawsandsleepingpeople.Theypassedaslim,nakedmanwithasprigofbarbedwireinhisbeard.Heraisedahandingreeting,andhurriedoffasthoughhewaslatefortheoffice.WhenMissUdayaJebeensaid,‘Mummy,soo-soo!’Anjumsatherdownunderastreetlight.Withhereyesfixedonhermothershepeed,andthenliftedherbottomtomarvelatthenightskyandthestarsandtheone-thousand-year-oldcityreflectedinthepuddleshehadmade.Anjumgatheredherupandkissedherandtookherhome.Bythetimetheygotback,thelightswerealloutandeverybodywas

asleep.Everybody,thatis,exceptforGuihKyomthedungbeetle.Hewaswideawakeandonduty,lyingonhisbackwithhislegsintheairtosavetheworldincasetheheavensfell.Butevenheknewthatthingswouldturnoutallrightintheend.Theywould,becausetheyhadto.BecauseMissJebeen,MissUdayaJebeen,wascome.

Acknowledgements

IwovetheloveandfriendshipthatIreceivedfromthosewhosenamesImentionbelowintoacarpetonwhichIthought,slept,dreamed,fled,andflewaroundduringthemanyyearsittookmetowritethisbook.Mythanksto:JohnBerger,whohelpedmestartandwaitedformetofinish.MayankAustenSoofiandAijazHussain.Theyknowwhy.Idon’tneedto

tell.ParvaizBukhari.Sameasabove.ShohiniGhosh,belovedmadcap,whoqueeredmypitch.JawedNaqviformusic,wickedpoetryandahousefulloflilies.UstadHameed,whoshowedmethatyoucanskydive,snorkelandhang-

glidebetweenanytwonotesofmusic.DayanitaSingh,withwhomIoncewentwandering,andanideawas

ignited.MunniandShigoriinMeenaBazaarforlonghoursspentshootingthe

breeze.TheJhinjhanvis:SabihaandNaseer-ul-Hassan,ShaheenaandMuneer-ul-

Hassan,forahomeinShahjahanabad.TarunBhartiya,PrashantBhushan,MohammedJunaid,ArifAyazParray,

KhurramParvez,ParvezImroze,P.G.Rasool,ArjunRaina,JitendraYadav,AshwinDesai,G.N.Saibaba,RonaWilson,NandiniOza,ShripadDharmadhikary,HimanshuThakker,NikhilDe,Anand,DionneBunsa,ChittaroopaPalit,SabaNaqviandReverendSunilSardar,whoseinsightsaresomewhereinthefoundationsofTheMinistry.SavitriandRavikumarforourtravelstogetherandforsomuchelse.J.J.(Heck.)Butshe’sinheresomewhere.RebeccaJohn,ChanderUdaySingh,JawaharRaja,RishabhSancheti,

HarshBora,MrDeshpandeandAkshayaSudame,whohavekeptmeoutofprison.(Sofar.)SusannaLeaandLisetteVerhagen,WorldAmbassadorsofUtmost

Happiness.HeatherGodwinandPhilippaSitters,whowomanthebasecamp.DavidEldridge,jacket-designerextraordinaire.Twobooks,twentyyears

apart.IrisWeinsteinforperfectpages.

EllieSmith,SarahCoward,ArpitaBasu,GeorgeWen,BenjaminHamilton,MariaMasseyandJenniferKurdyla.Closereaders,serious-shitcopy-editorsandbrilliantprotagonistsinthetransatlanticcommawars.PankajMishra,FirstReader,still.RobinDesserandSimonProsser.Dreameditors.Mywonderfulpublishers,SonnyMehta,MeruGokhale(forpublishing

pluscomfortfood),HansJürgenBalmes,AntoineGallimard,LuigiBrioschi,JorgeHerralde,DoroteaBrombergandalltheotherswhomIhavenotpersonallymet.SumanParihar,MohammedSumon,KrishnaBhoatandAshokKumar,

whokeptmeafloatwhenitwasn’teasy.SuzieQ,mobileshrink,dearfriendandbestcabbieinLondon.KrishnanTewari,SharmilaMitraandDeepaVermaformydailydoseof

sweat,sanityandlaughter.JohnCusack,supersweetheart,co-drafteroftheFleedomCharter.EveEnslerandBindiaThapar.Beloveds.Mymotherlikenoother,MaryRoy,mostuniquehuman.Mybrother,LKC,keeperofmysanity,andsister-in-law,Mary,bothof

whom,likeme,survived.Golak.Go.Oldestfriend.MithvaandPia.Littles.Stillmine.DavidGodwin.FlyingAgent.TopMan.Withoutwhom.AnthonyArnove,comrade,agent,publisher,rock.PradipKrishen,loveofmanyyears,honorarytree.SanjayKak.Cave.Sinceforever.AndBegumFilthyJaanandMaatiK.Lal.Creatures.

Specialacknowledgements:ThepassagewhichtheweevilprofessorreadsaloudtohisweevilclassisadaptedfromStrawDogsbyJohnGray.Thelyrics‘Darktolightandlighttodark’arefrom‘Gone’byIoannaGika.Thepoem‘DuniyakimehfilonseuktagayahoonyaRab’isbyAllama

Iqbal.ThecoupletonArifaYeswi’sgravestoneisbyAhmedFaraz.

Permissions:Theepigraphhere:NazimHikmet,excerptfrom‘OntheMatterofRomeoandJuliet’fromPoemsofNazimHikmet.Translationcopyright©1994byRandyBlasingandMutluKonuk.Reprintedwiththepermissionofthepublishers,PerseaBooks,Inc.(NewYork),www.perseabooks.com.Allrightsreserved.

Theepigraphhere:PabloNeruda,fragmentfromLXVIfromLibrodelasPreguntas/TheBookofQuestions,translatedbyWilliamO’Daly.Copyright©1974,FundacionPabloNeruda/PabloNerudaandtheHeirsofPabloNeruda.Translationcopyright©1991,2001byWilliamO’Daly.ReprintedwiththepermissionofThePermissionsCompany,Inc.,onbehalfofCopperCanyonPress,www.coppercanyonpress.org.Theepigraphhere:‘MuharraminSrinagar,1992’,fromTheCountry

WithoutaPostOfficebyAghaShahidAli.Copyright©1997byAghaShahidAli.UsedbypermissionofW.W.Norton&Company,Inc.Theepigraphhere:takenfromOurLadyoftheFlowersbyJeanGenet,

translatedbyBernardFrechtman.Copyright©JeanGenet,1943,1951,1964,1973.Translationcopyright©BernardFrechtman,1943,1951,1964,1973.ReproducedbypermissionofFaber&FaberLtd.Thesonghereis‘NoGoodMan’,wordsandmusicbyIrene

Higginbotham,DanFisherandSammyGallop,copyright©1944,UniversalMusicCorp.Universal/MCAMusicLimited.AllRightsReserved.InternationalCopyrightSecured.UsedbypermissionofMusicSalesLimited;copyright©1945(renewed),SammyGallopMusicCompany(ASCAP).AllrightsonbehalfofSammyGallopMusicCompanyadministeredbyWBMusicCorp.Thesonghereis‘Gone’,wordsandmusicbyJoannaGikas,copyright©

UPGMusicPublishing,2012.Universal/MCAMusicLimited.AllRightsReserved.InternationalCopyrightSecured.UsedbypermissionofMusicSalesLimited.Theepigraphhere:thepublisherisgratefulforpermissiontoreproducean

extractfromTheFireNextTimebyJamesBaldwin,publishedbyPenguinClassics,reprintedbypermissionofTheBaldwinEstate.Thesongheretakenfrom‘WinterLady’,wordsandmusicbyLeonard

Cohen,copyright©Sony/ATVSongsLLC,1966.ChrysalisSongsLimited.AllRightsReserved.InternationalCopyrightSecured.Thepoemhere:OsipMandelstam,SelectedPoems,translatedbyJames

Greene(PenguinBooks;copyright©JamesGreene,1989,1991);bypermissionofAngelBooks.Theepigraphhere:fromHopeAgainstHopebyNadezhdaMandelstam,

translatedbyMaxHayward,publishedbyHarvillPress.ReprintedbypermissionofTheRandomHouseGroupLtd.Copyright©AtheneumPublishers,1970.

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ISBN:978-0-241-98077-4

3:THENATIVITY

fn1 Motherfuckersisterfuckeryourmother’scuntyoursister’scock.

10:THEMINISTRYOFUTMOSTHAPPINESS

fn1 OGod,thouartthegiveroflife/Removerofpainandsorrow/Bestowerofhappiness/OCreatoroftheUniverse/Maywereceivethysupremesin-destroyinglight/Maythouguideourintellectintherightdirection.

12:GUIHKYOM

fn1 Shediedinhercage,thelittlebird,/Thesewordssheleftforhercaptor–/Pleasetakethespringharvest/Andshoveitupyourgildedarse.