Mahesh Rao - The Smoke is Rising

At the Mysore Regency Hotel an emergency meeting of the Contingency Plan Committee was drawing to a close. It had been decided that security would be increased all around the perimeter of the hotel grounds and that extra precautions would be taken at the gates. Text messages would be sent to all hotel guests informing them of the trouble in the city and advising them to stay in the hotel. Hospitality managers would also be in charge of providing periodic updates on the situation to everyone at the hotel. Extra supplies of food, bottled water and diesel were being delivered and the stockpile of emergency torches and blankets would be checked immediately. Senior members of staff were briefed on their roles in case of every eventuality, from a bomb blast in the hotel vicinity to an armed attack by insurgents. The liaison officers in charge of communication with all relevant emergency services also swung into action. Personnel trained in first-aid procedures were dispatched to report on the status of medical supplies. Floor plans of the hotel were photocopied but would not be distributed yet. There was a delicate balance that needed to be maintained between precaution and panic.

Susheela called her younger daughter.

‘Prema, it’s me.’

‘Hi amma , how come you’re calling at this time? Everything all right?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine. Actually, not everything. I’m fine but I thought you might have seen online or something that there has been a lot of trouble in Mysore.’

‘Really? No, I didn’t know. What’s been happening?’

‘There have been riots by the lake and explosions and God only knows what.’

‘What?’

‘On the TV they are saying that it is those farmers again, although no one is sure about anything. They went there to ruin that lake festival and the police responded and now things are just terrible. They say some people have died. And there are flames coming from some of the buildings on the Promenade.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘It’s all they are showing on every channel. It’s truly terrible. I don’t know what is happening to this city. Such strange things seem to be going on. First, Uma disappears without a trace. There’s been no news from her. Just like that, she has left town, it seems, without even a word. These people, after all you do for them, sometimes it really makes you wonder. And then, well, then this happens.’

‘ Amma , one second, this will get very expensive for you. I’ll just call you back.’

Susheela continued to describe the bewildering images that flashed and froze on screen. There was nothing new to say after a while but they stayed on the phone, both knowing the precise nature of the comfort that was needed.

‘Okay, I’d better leave you now,’ said Susheela.

‘No, it’s fine. I am not doing anything anyway.’

‘But this call will be costing you a lot.’

‘No, it won’t. There’s no need for you to go anywhere if you don’t want to.’

Susheela asked Prema a couple of half-hearted questions about her teaching before a curious tremor crept into her voice.

‘ Amma , is there something else wrong?’

‘No, no. I think it’s just when you see all this destruction and madness in your city, it’s very shocking, you know.’

‘Yes, but you’re sure there’s nothing else, no?’

Susheela experienced a desperate desire to unburden herself, a vigorous jolt to her carefully maintained hoard of experiences and impulses. The quiet concern in Prema’s voice had in a moment bored through the hard surfaces of that private vault.

‘I don’t really know how to tell you.’

‘Is it something serious?’

‘No. That’s the stupid thing. It’s not serious at all. But it’s the only thing I have been able to think about.’

Susheela’s anxieties were ripe for revelation. Her account unfolded slowly, full but measured. She mentioned the day that she had been stranded in the city, an incident she had never discussed; she spoke of the unexpected meeting at the Erskine Club and the dinner by the lake; she revealed the sudden pleasure of the lengthy phone calls that surfaced in her life by stealth; she told the story of the first time they had ventured out, feeling audacious in the quiet streets of Mysore; she acknowledged the significance of each subsequent encounter; she explained that she had woken up to the possibilities of a new friendship. She told it all. Finally, she described Vaidehi’s visit and her own reaction to it.

‘Oh my God. I don’t know what to say,’ said Prema.

‘Maybe it was not fair of me, to tell you this all of a sudden.’

‘Of course you should tell me. I am glad you told me. So, after that woman came to your house, you didn’t tell him about what happened?’

‘No. How could I? It was too awful.’

‘But have you spoken to him since the day he was supposed to come over for dinner?’

Susheela paused.

‘No. I did call him once more but I was very relieved that he was not there. There was only his answering machine. I left him a message saying that we could not meet again as it was very difficult and I hoped that he understood.’

‘That’s all?’

‘I don’t know. What more can you say to a machine?’

‘You didn’t even try to talk to him after that?’

‘No. I know that it was very bad of me but I just reacted to what was happening.’

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.

‘You have no idea, living abroad, what it’s like for someone like me here,’ said Susheela, her voice becoming louder. ‘What people are like here, the judgments they make, what they think, what they say. You have no idea.’

‘I know what it was like when she came to see you and I can understand that you were in shock. But you must at least talk to him and explain what happened. How hurt must he be feeling, amma ? Beyond that, I am not going to tell you what I think you should do. If you can’t continue this friendship and ignore vicious people like that Vaidehi, that is up to you. You are the one who has to live there. But you must at least talk to him once more to explain. Don’t you think so?’

‘Yes,’ said Susheela, ‘you’re right. You are more than right. That is what I need to do.’

It was difficult to form an accurate judgment of the gravity of the disruption at the lake shore and the scale of the state’s response. Teams of riot police were witnessed streaming into the area but unconfirmed reports stated that Karnataka State Reserve Police personnel had also been mobilised to bring the situation under control. There was talk of special counter-insurgency battalions, Central Reserve Police Force commandos and even the National Security Guard. A well-connected source told one news channel that COBRA units were on their way to Mysore. The airwaves were overloaded with the lethal sparks sent out by special militias, auxiliary paramilitary forces and elite combat squads.

Accounts of the perpetrators of the violence varied enormously too. It was by turns called a terrorist operation, a Naxalite uprising, a Maoist insurrection, a separatist agitation and a communal riot. Fingers were pointed at al-Qaeda, home-grown terror cells, the ISI, hostile neighbours, fanatics, anarchists, radicals, militants and fundamentalists. Borders had not been secured, intelligence had not been collated, leads had not been followed, signs had not been read, lessons had simply not been learnt.