I knew the police would wait at the railway station. They always did. I was on the local train, heading for Avadi and I had to get off before it reached the station. I waited for it to slow down at the signal crossing. It usually did at that hour of the night for the super-fast express, heading to somewhere in northern India. Cool air blew in through the doors and windows – the only likable thing about the journey. The outside looked dark and lifeless but you knew things were out there. Like horror rides in theme parks. I’ve been in two such rides. Once with my husband and once with my daughter. You always knew something was coming and coming, but you couldn’t see it until it showed up. Crazy, scary, giant being, with tongues the length of my arm. As long as you were inside the wagon, you were safe and whatever shit happened outside did not matter. It couldn’t catch you.
Behind me, at the other exit were a group of college boys, sticking their heads and limbs outside the coach. One had painted his hair yellow, only at the centre of his head. Funny looking fellow. I heard them talking and laughing about me but couldn’t get what it was – probably about my ass. All harmless compared to what was outside the train.
The stench of the pickle factory meant the signal was nearby and, as expected, the train slowed down. Then halted. I held my plastic bag in my mouth, pulled up my sari to my knees, and got out of the train, sliding down the door pole. The boys made a noise and called out some names, but I did not care. I had to reach home before my daughter Rani came back from tuition.
The gravel was slippery. I got to the clearance between the local line and express line and walked towards the station. I couldn’t see much in the dark and I hoped I didn’t step on any shit. I could’ve walked on the express train track, for it was wiped clean by the train’s velocity but by the time you realised that you had to get down, you would be pasted. So, I was ok with stepping on shit!
Another issue of walking next to the tracks at night was that any drunk, or anyone who came to take a piss could ambush you. And it had happened before. So my plastic bag was black, and I usually wore the same dark-coloured sari to merge with the night. Not that I had that many options in my wardrobe, anyway.
I saw the headlights, and horns come blaring and ran to the electric post, squatted, held my bag closer, and covered my face with the end of my sari. The express rushed past me with an enormous noise and force. It felt like it ran through my gut. As it vanished, the local train began to move and sped past me, leaving me alone and it was suddenly silent. I sat for a moment, caught my breath, and began walking. In the distance, I saw the lights of the station. When I reached there, I didn’t use the platform but slid through the giant hole in the wall of the two-wheeler parking. The sleepy ticket collector didn’t care if I came through the wall or came bursting out of the earth like some goddess. He came to life only if he saw a bike. Otherwise, he remained in his trance-like state. What a life! Best I could imagine. I walked past him and right there, Muthuvel, the sub-inspector came walking down the rusted steps of the station along with his two subordinates.
I had almost made it.
I closed my eyes, held my bag tightly, and said a silent prayer to a random goddess as if it would help. I wasn’t worried that he would catch me with any weed. Because I didn’t have any. Not there with me. It was safe somewhere else. If I got caught again, I was done, and I was not a fool to carry it around. No, what had me churning was something else.
I opened my eyes, and he smiled with his cow teeth.
‘Being clever, Selvi?’
‘I’m far from clever, sir. If I’m clever why would I be like this?’
‘Now you are asking questions to me?’ He was missing a tooth. I wondered how? Probably someone had punched him straight through his mouth. What a sight that would have been, his eyes aghast, his mouth busted and bleeding. I laughed inside as loudly as I could as he shook me by my shoulders. ‘Sir, no sir. I’m just going home.’
‘What’s in the bag?’ His smile was gone.
‘Just vegetables.’
‘Oh, now I have to believe that you carry vegetables?’
I moved forward to show him my bag and the two constables along with him rushed forward like attack dogs. He stopped them and I showed the bag: tomatoes, onions and one medium-sized cauliflower.
And it was a wonderful cauliflower. A specimen. I had got it after much bargaining for I was making something special. Rani had talked about a dish, something named after a guy called Gopi, and it sounded like a pakora. She hadn’t asked me for it, she never did, but I was going to surprise her.
He took the cauliflower, weighed it in his giant hands, and ripped it apart. There was nothing inside. He gave back the pieces. ‘Selvi, where is it?’
‘Really, sir. I’m not selling anymore.’
‘I’ll ask one more time.’
‘Sir, I promise! I don’t have any.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I knew where it was heading, and my skin was already crawling. ‘You want to prove that?’ ‘Sir…’
He smiled and his moustache crooked up. He told me to walk to the corner under the stairs and I did. What else could I do? Grab his handgun and shoot him?
He ran his leathery hands all over me, feeling, finding, squeezing – I closed my eyes, and kept imagining how he had lost his tooth. What else was I supposed to do? If I had let myself feel what was going on, I might have shot him. He was so vigorous in his act that in fact, even I haven’t rubbed myself that much while bathing. His two guys watched, their mouths watering, probably cursing him for not giving them a chance. Finally, he took the money from my blouse and said, ‘You are rich.’
‘Sir, it’s my salary. My owner paid me.’
‘Owner?’
‘Owner of the place where I work as a maid, sir.’ That was the truth. It wasn’t weed money.
‘Selvi, I can’t believe this. I check you again and again, but I can’t find any of it. Tell me, is there a place I haven’t checked?’ The two dogs burst into a laugh, their teeth bright in the dark.
‘Sir, I promise, after the arrest, I stopped. I remember your warning.’
‘You remember, that’s good … good. But checking you is my duty. I must do it, right?’
‘Sir…’
‘Answer me!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But I find nothing. That means I’m not getting paid. Neither are these two fellows. Who will pay us? Tell me. Will you pay us?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll pay.’ Was there an option?
‘I take this as the charge for my duty,’ he took five hundred out of my money and gave the rest to me. He probably bought dog biscuits for the two with that money.
‘If I catch you selling again, you are done. Understood? Done! But do come tomorrow. I enjoy checking you,’ and the two laughed again.
I nodded and walked away, wondering what he would miss, if someone shot him in the mouth. I calmed myself down. I had to find another way of reaching home from tomorrow. That hole in the wall trick wasn’t working very well for me.
Once they left, I re-tied my sari for it was undone everywhere and walked home quickly. I still had time to cook Gopi.
I lived in a housing board apartment, with eleven houses tied into each other and mine was on the second floor. Construction workers from other states occupied the ground-floor rooms. Poor guys, far away from their families, overworked and exhausted. I don’t know whether they even eat or sleep. I used to feel lucky, thinking of their plight. I could have had a good business with them. Most of them smoked weed to forget many things. But they were never my customers. Reason – my daughter! I was not selling that shit anywhere near her.
I ran up the stairs and found Jhansi at the door of her house, the light from the tv dancing on her face. I switched on the light. ‘Hey! Don’t spoil my theatre effect.’
‘You’ll go blind.’
‘Were you blind when you tied your sari? What were you doing?’
‘What was I doing! What do you expect?’ I looked at her, and she understood.
‘That pig again, eh … when will he die?’
‘How do I know, Jhansi? Imagine if I could know when people died!’
‘That would sort a lot of things out. Especially for me. You would tell me my date, right?’
‘I wouldn’t spoil the suspense!’
‘Hey! I’m your friend.’
‘That’s why I won’t.’
‘Hmmm … Selvi?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Be careful. If you get caught, I don’t know … he will eat you alive!’ ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
She is one of the few I still trust. When I was arrested, she got me out and she would never say what she did to get me out. What leverage does she have – a widow who earns a living by packing masala packets?
I got into my home and switched on the lights. Two can sleep in the living room and one can stand in the kitchen – tailored for us. I washed, for I still felt his hands, and got to work. I broke the bits of cauliflower, washed them with salt, got the batter ready – a notch spicier, she loved it spicy – doused the vegetable pieces in the batter and let them swim in the hot oil and fished them out when they were golden brown. I had made a handful when I heard her footsteps. Phew!
Rani was in her school uniform and she looks taller to me, every day. She went to the wooden rack which she had made herself and stacked her books. She likes things to be in order. Then she came to me, ‘I should’ve never told you. Look at your eyes, you need sleep. Not Gobi Manchurian!’
‘Isn’t it Gopi?’
‘Ma … you must sleep!’
‘It’s all right Rani. It’ll be done in a minute.’
‘Don’t be like this, Ma. You are not my servant.’
‘I never said I am.’
‘Do you have to say it?’
She went out to wash her lunch box. I was not allowed to do that – an order from her. She never lets me do anything. I don’t want to pamper her, but she doesn’t even allow me to be a mother! We had a huge fight about her going for a part-time job. Which mother would allow that? Why would I do all that crawling through holes and being a squeeze for pricks? I could simply wash vessels and gossip with the house lady. Easy money. But that isn’t enough. I want to make things better for her. I don’t want her talking to herself at my age like Jhansi and I do. She may act as if she needs nothing. But she does. I know.
I set the dinner on the floor – rice, rasam, pickle, and Gopi, no gobi. I switched on the tv. We never ate without watching. Comedians were mimicking famous actors as politicians. It was funny, you can laugh but you aren’t really laughing.
Rani came and tasted the gobi. ‘Ma, you should’ve been a chef.’
I smiled and opened the almirah to lock up what was left of my salary, which was Rs. 4500. The steel cashbox was from my father. It still had the smell of his dry betel nuts. I put in my cash and counted the lot but it wasn’t right. It was like my money had grown! I counted again. Were there any angels around?
‘What are you doing, Ma? Come, let’s eat.’
‘There is more cash than I left in the box, Rani!’
‘Great!’
‘No, it is not. How is it, di?’
‘How do I know, Ma? Maybe you didn’t count it right. Whatever. Come, let us eat. I’m hungry to taste your gobi.’
‘You eat. I have to count again.’
I sat down to count once again, remembering how much I had left, how much I had got and lost, when she called me again, ‘Ma.’ I told her to eat but she called me again, ‘Ma.’ I looked at her and I had never seen her face like that. It reminded me of mine! Tired and worn. ‘What, Rani?’
‘Ma, I didn’t want you to know about this. Not this way. But now there is no other option.’
‘What do you mean?’
She went to the door, checked outside, and closed the door. She turned with her back to the door and said, ‘Ma, listen to this without panicking. I know you will, but there is no use, ok? Right.’ She took a breath, ‘That’s my money, Ma. I earned it. I sold a pinch out of your stash.’
‘My stash, what…’
‘Ma, let’s not pretend like we don’t know what is happening. I know what you are doing and now you know what I did, and I can’t be more open than this. I know it’ll be shocking to you, but that’s that! So calm down.’
‘Rani, I don’t get it,’ though I understood.
‘I sold weed and got that money.’
Have you ever felt like the whole sky cracked and crashed on your head? Like it was made of glass all the time? As if fate already knew it, the comedy sketch reached its peak and the audience was roaring in laughter and jeering.
I ran to her, knocking over the vessels, and began slapping her. Left. Right. Left. And she snapped, ‘Stop’ and I obeyed. ‘Control yourself, Ma. You are acting crazy.’
‘Yes, I am crazy. My life got just shattered … every little dream of mine.’
‘Stop overacting. It is not such a big deal. Calm down and listen.’
‘What is there to listen to? You are doing this shit and you want me to shut up and listen?’
‘Ma, I did nothing you didn’t do.’
I slapped her once again.
‘What the hell do you know about me? You don’t know shit.’
‘I know. Your look thinner every day. Do you think I haven’t noticed? Your knees are shot. Your hair is greying already … your eyes, always tired and sunk. You want me to put on blinders and not see that you are burning yourself out? I can’t do that.’
‘So?’
‘I’m doing my bit.’
‘Take your bit and shove it. Who needs your help?’
‘Ma, listen. I’m not saying it is right. It is just a means to an end. An opportunity. And I’m making use of it.’
‘Aren’t you guilty, at all?’
‘Why would I be? I’m not cheating. No one is selling it saying it is good for health. Nor that we are mixing it in baby food. People come to us, asking for it. Ma, no one cares! Especially about people like us. We don’t matter. Whether you’re guilty or happy, no one cares! All that matters is money.’
‘I can’t believe that you’ve become this, and I’ve brought it upon you. I can never forgive myself.’
‘Stop, Ma. I would do it regardless of whether or not you are doing it. It was just available to you.’
‘Stop your nonsense. Do you know what will happen if you are caught?’
‘I won’t, Ma. I’m just passing it along. No one knows.’ I stood there in silence. ‘It pays well, Ma.’ I slapped her again, and we stood in silence for a long while. ‘Listen carefully. If you do not stop this, we can’t go back to our lives. I can’t see you the same way.’
‘I’ve always been like this, Ma. You just haven’t noticed.’
‘So be it. I don’t want you. I want my Rani, and it is your choice now.’
I waited. There was nothing else I could do. I could hit her; threaten her. But that would only make her more stubborn. ‘All right, Ma. I won’t do this anymore.’
‘Promise?’
‘Yes. But I will do some other work, and you shouldn’t stop me.’
I nodded.
‘Promise?’
‘Yes.’ I said.
I took a step to hug her and there was a knock on the door. Jhansi, I thought. She had no sense of timing. I cursed her and went to the door, looked at Rani and she smiled back. What a beautiful smile my daughter has! It just wiped everything off me. In an instant, all was back to normal.
I opened the door and Muthuvel was standing there with his two constables. And I knew I was done. His face grew grave, and he slapped me so hard on my right that I folded on my left like a folding chair. Then a bug began buzzing in my right ear and it is still buzzing.
‘Ma...’ Rani came out rushing. Hearing her Jhansi came too.
‘You lying bitch! Now you are selling to school kids!’ Rani, Rani, Rani! What have you done!
He grabbed me and got me up to my feet. He looked at Rani and asked, ‘Is that your daughter?’ I nodded. He pinched the flesh of my hip and twisted it. I moaned in pain. ‘What happens if your daughter smokes the same shit? Have you thought of that?’ He twisted some more, and I writhed more in pain, ‘Answer me, bitch! Haven’t you thought of that?
‘No sir. No.’
‘No sir! Say that in jail. No remand for you this time.’ He almost plucked the flesh away, ‘Let’s see what you can do there.’
Jhansi begged him, ‘Sir, please, sir. Please, sir. She won’t do it again. I promise.’
He almost slapped her, saying, ‘I should’ve kicked you out last time itself. Just go away.’
He dragged me downstairs and took me through the crowd to the police jeep. It was like a dream. Nothing registered. Not their faces, nor their voices. I heard only Rani’s voice. She was running after me, crying, ‘Ma, Ma, Ma.’ But it was too late. What else could be done, now!
He ordered the attack dogs to get me into the jeep. They did. Before the jeep started, I told Jhansi to take care of Rani and gave her the only gold I was wearing – a chain that my father got me when I was young.
Rani held my hands and said, through her tears, ‘It is all because of me, Ma.’ I shut her mouth and told her, ‘It is better this way than the other. Promise me you won’t regret this.’
‘Ma…’
‘Quick. Promise.’
‘Promise.’
‘I’ll be back, Rani. Soon. The driver started the engine. I kept looking at her, and she grew smaller and smaller and I wondered if she would finish the gobi.
*
Vignesh Babu’s short stories have been published in regional magazines. He writes mainly about people who live in the fringes of society, throwing light on their unspoken lives. He is an engineer by profession.