Benyamin - Yellow Lights of Death

‘Appa has some doubts. So, he told them that he needs to show the papers to someone before signing them,’ said Anpu.

‘Not just someone, kanna. Someone whom I can trust. There is no one in this street like that. I don’t even like my relatives. Illiterate morons. That’s why I made Anpu call you.’

I went through the papers. Some relieving orders from Senthil’s office. Two or three documents from the Public Security. Death certificate from the hospital. And a notary declaration saying there was no suspicion of anything out of the ordinary in Senthil’s death.

‘Who brought all these?’

‘I don’t know. When I asked, they said they were from Senthil’s office. Is there any problem?’

‘No, nothing. I was just asking.’

‘Then shall I sign them?’

I hesitated for a moment. There was something dodgy going on. How smartly they were plugging the loopholes. The family is the last voice left, and they want to silence it too. These papers would do that. But what reason could I give to stop them from signing?

‘Appa, I’m happy that you trust me and have asked me to verify these papers. But I don’t have the expertise. However, I can help you out. Please give me two days. I’ll show these to someone and return them to you.’

‘They said they would come today,’ Anpu said.

‘I’ll tell them to come after two days, right, kanna?’ her father intervened.

‘Yes. Please also get the details of who they are.’

‘Okay, kanna.’

‘I’m leaving then,’ I said, folding the papers.

‘Ayyo no, please have some coffee.’ Anpu stopped me.

‘No. I had coffee before I left home.’

‘That’s okay. You can also have the coffee I make.’ She ran into the kitchen.

I couldn’t resist the offer. I waited for her to return.

Senthil’s mother brought the coffee. I had nothing to say to her. Her face was still damp with tears. I knew that it would only get worse if I asked anything. As I feared, tears flowed down her cheeks soon enough. She wiped them with her sari and went back inside.

SITTING IN SALIM’S vehicle, I enthusiastically called the Thursday Market and announced the adventurous Interpol heroism which got us the third part of The Book of Forefathers . How? How? Each member of the assembly was eager to know. I mollified them with the promise of a detailed account when we met.

I read the text twice before I reached home, watching out for the hint of a phone number or an email ID or a postal address. The secret message had been deciphered by others the last time, and I was keen to crack it myself this time. How can I not have an investigative mind; after all, I am a writer! It is to me that Andrapper had sent his autobiography. Wouldn’t I have had to find out these details on my own if there had been no Thursday Market? How would I have done it then? These thoughts were driving my search. But it was a tough nut to crack! There were no hints this time, or I couldn’t find any. I’d have to rely again on the Thursday Market.

By the time we reached, each and every one of them had caught the Cultural Ambulance and gathered at my house. Hearing Salim’s vehicle, Nibu rushed out to me, grabbed the papers and ran inside. ‘See, the one who did not want to waste time on this now wants to read it first,’ quipped Biju. ‘Then Biju can read it the last,’ replied Anil. ‘I’ll be the first,’ Nibu insisted. Then, following a consensus, Nibu handed the text to Mashu who read it aloud. After that, Salim recounted the heroic tale of how we got hold of the papers. Towards the end, all of them laughed their guts out at Salu’s antics. They also had fun at the expense of ‘Interpol Benyamin’.

‘The devil’s arrived, now get ready to tackle it,’ declared Biju. But nobody could find anything in the text. They had drawn a blank, as I had.

To break the silence, Mashu, like in the past, took out the checklist. ‘Author’s name?’

‘Since his brother’s name is Jeff, he could be Steve,’ guessed Anil.

‘Could be Jeff and Jerry too,’ Biju said.

‘What’s wrong with Jeff and Justin?’ was Nibu’s contention.

‘His current name is P.C. Andrapper!’ announced Baldy.

‘PC?’ asked Salim.

‘Pachu Chuang Tzu Andrapper.’

‘Who are the fresh faces introduced in this segment?’

‘Only Dr Iqbal. The rest are all reappearances.’

‘Then he is our leading man. Let’s think about how we can find him,’ Nibu said.

‘That’ll never happen. In the story, Andrapper has shown contempt for him. Dr Iqbal is not the one,’ Salim said.

‘Who’s the one then?’ Nibu got angry.

‘Find out!’

‘What’s this, an Agatha Christie novel, to go on looking for clues?’

‘Whether it’s a detective story or not, we’ll have to find out,’ Mashu said. ‘Let’s take it as a challenge. For now, let’s take the Cultural Ambulance and return to our homes instead of wasting time daydreaming. All of you mull over it. Next Thursday, come with your heads filled with your guesses, queries and findings. Benyamin will scan these pages and send them to all of us tomorrow. Okay?’

We all agreed with Mashu. After drinking the coffee made by my wife, all of them left, winding up the assembly.

Next Thursday, we gathered earlier than usual. Mashu called us to order: ‘All right, like I said last week, let’s get to know the Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes in each of you!’

We looked at each other to see who’ll go first.

‘Let our author begin,’ Biju suggested.

‘I went through the three parts in detail,’ I said. ‘I can’t find anything new. Pass!’

‘I took the same old route: Orkut,’ Anil said. ‘I found Chuang Tzu’s profile. There’s no photo of him, just that of a flower. The posts are restricted from public view. Locked. I sent a message, but haven’t got a reply yet.’

‘I read Kanyabhogasooktham four times. And forwarded it to four girls,’ said Nattapranthan. ‘I’ve sent a scrap to Chuang Tzu asking for its full version. While doing that I found a profile of Melvin — his probable girlfriend — and sent a friend request. She hasn’t accepted it. If she likes my bald head, we are saved.’

‘I did a more practical thing,’ Salim said. ‘I got in touch with Charu Nivedita. According to Andrapper, Charu has been to Diego. He remembers meeting Andrapper and being hosted by the family. Charu said the Andrapper house was one of the biggest there. He also gave me the number of one Shivasankar, who writes scripts for Tamil serials from Diego. I called him and he gave me some good news. Apparently, some days ago, he met our Andrapper on the streets. He even chatted with him. Shivasankar has promised to ask around about him and update us. That means Andrapper is within our arm’s reach!’

When Salim stopped, we all clapped. There was no way Salim’s effort could have gone unrecognized.

‘Nobody has heard what I did,’ Biju said, peeping from behind Nattapranthan.

‘Ayyo da, we forgot about Pattar,’ Anil said. ‘Okay, let’s hear your findings.’

‘I mailed Rahim and Bilal. Both of them replied. Rahim says Andrapper has changed drastically. During their schooldays, they spoke about girls a lot. But Andrapper has now become a serious person. He even emailed Bilal disapproving of Rahim’s behaviour. He claimed that Rahim hadn’t changed while he himself had become an angel. Rahim wrote that he knows nothing about Andrapper and does not wish to answer anything about him.

‘According to Bilal, they all thought Andrapper would grow up to be the most successful among them — a business magnate or a minister or a chancellor. However, while the rest of the classmates have all settled down with jobs, Andrapper, even at twenty-eight, is jobless and roaming around aimless. Rahim had invited him to France many times but he didn’t go. According to Rahim, Andrapper likes to be bone idle. He doesn’t know where Andrapper is now. Either he must have gone mad like his grandfather or must have committed suicide.