Benyamin: Yellow Lights of Death

The Face of Death

SENTHIL? oh my god! And then Jesintha walked away so casually? In our class, Senthil, Jesintha and Daniel D’Silva were the Sri Lankans. Senthil and Jesintha were good friends. They used to come to the school and leave together. Both of them lived in Seleucia’s Tamil colony, Cherar Peruntheruvu. Now, it was as if she didn’t even care a bit for him; she had stood among the multitudes as an onlooker — and refrained from being even an eyewitness before the Public Security. He was among the smartest in our class. Though we didn’t have any career prediction for him, nobody had thought he would end up being shot dead in the streets.

Though Jesintha was cavalier about what had occurred, I couldn’t set it aside without knowing what had happened to Senthil. I left straight for City Hospital. All I could think about during the boat journey was Jesintha, not Senthil. Who would have thought she’d react like that?

How did she know so quickly that it was Senthil who got shot? How long had I stared at that face, hoping for a hint of life? I never realized it was him. And was she aware all along that Senthil was there? Then why didn’t she tell me? I was more struck by Jesintha’s reactions as an onlooker than by the mystery behind the gunning down of Senthil. If that was Jesintha’s normal response to such an incident, then it is terrible how unfeeling the times have made us. If that wasn’t her normal response. if she had some ulterior motive. was she. involved in the murder?

I had to sweat a lot at City Hospital to get any information about him. I finally got to know that he was in the ICU. It was easy to figure out that it was just a medical formality. A medical hypocrisy — to show that all attempts had been made to save him, when, in reality, he had dropped dead long back! As I’d supposed, he was shifted to the mortuary without much delay. When they brought the body out, I lifted the sheet and looked at the face another time. Though Jesintha had said it was Senthil, till that moment I had my doubts. But now I was certain. Despite the coagulated blood, I could easily identify the Class V face! When the corpse was brought out, there were two Public Security officials accompanying it. As the only person who went there looking for Senthil, I was stopped and questioned thoroughly. They were rude to me. Not many in the town had heard the news. Hence, they wanted to know how I came to know about it. I tried bluffing, saying a friend had told me, but they didn’t let me get away with that. Jesintha’s warning wouldn’t let me admit that I had indeed witnessed the incident. I couldn’t explain my behaviour. But while standing before the Public Security officers, I felt it was the right thing to do.

They asked a lot of questions such as how I knew him, what my relationship was with him, when I had met him last, etc. Finally, only when I told them my address did they loosen up. At least, some of them still remembered the influence the Andrapper family had in Diego Garcia. Even then, they let me go from the hospital only after warning me that I would be called if they needed me.

While I was walking down the hospital corridor, I ran into a friend from my Thiruvananthapuram days. Johnny. We used to go to the mainland together. And also return together, after the vacations. That was the connection. He had also studied in a college in Thiruvananthapuram.

Honestly, he had been nowhere in my memory till then. I had often reminisced about my life in Thiruvananthapuram, those journeys and those days. But not even once had his face sprung up in my mind. It’s surprising. I didn’t spare a thought for a person whom I had known for three years. He and all the things related to him had disappeared from my mind. Many such faces and incidents have been lost to us for eternity, haven’t they? Some of those faces would have been of our dearest ones, those whom we have respected the most; some of the experiences we forgot had probably affected us deeply. How does the mind erase such things?

With these thoughts in mind, I deliberated on my life for a long time. I tried to walk through each and every moment in the past. I didn’t succeed much, but I recollected a train journey from my childhood. In that crowded compartment, I had travelled squatting on the floor. Though there are no trains in Diego, I was sure that it was not a dream. I asked Momma about that journey. When we would drop anchor in Kanyakumari, we used to catch a train to a relative’s house in Alappuzha, but never in anything but first class, Momma asserted. She couldn’t even imagine a journey sitting on the floor. I asked everyone at home about such a trip. If I had gone on a journey at that age, it couldn’t have been alone. Some elder would have accompanied me. But no one knew of any such journey. So, when or to where did I make such a trip? All I could manage to gather was that it was either a dream or a journey made in my previous life.

Anyway, I could recognize Johnny as soon as I saw him. Not just that, I even managed to retrieve the memories of those days.

‘I’m with the hospital administration,’ Johnny said. ‘Why are you here?’

I told him.

He took me to his office. Served me coffee. Inquired about my house and job and marriage. I quipped that the house was where it always was, and that nothing had happened with job and marriage.

‘Why would someone like you who sits on cash need a job?’ Johnny was half serious, half joking. There was a tint of jealousy in his question. A common envy that one who has to work for a living feels for another who doesn’t. When I was about to leave, he held my hands. ‘Nonetheless, we have travelled together for ages. Please tell your family to arrange a promotion for me. You guys have good contacts. You can get it done.’

Not knowing what to say, for a minute I stood bewildered. Then I said OK, nodding my head.

Geography

DIEGO GARCIA is a land of lagoons. Located 1600 kilometres away from the Indian subcontinent, which we islanders refer to as the mainland, at 7°19’S latitude and 72°25’E longitude, Diego Garcia is the largest land mass in the Chagos Archipelago that also include Eagle, Three Brothers, Egmont, Nelsons, Salomon and Danger. Our neighbours are Tanzania, Madagascar, Mauritius, Seychelles, Zanzibar, Maldives and Sri Lanka. The islands of Pentasia, Seleucia and Venecia, often called the Three Sisters, constitute our hub. Then there are the small islets, more than forty of them, including Sarthe, Cordoba, Parana, Sao Paulo, Bahia, Mahala, Bourdon, Messia and Messina. Our prosperity lies in the lagoons that blanket the island. The dry land rim, with a width of 2.4 kilometres, separates the fresh water from the sea. Lagoons divide our cities. Lagoons are our pathways. Our lives are moored to the lagoons. Houses that extend into the lagoons; front yards that walk up to the lagoons; shops that open up to the lagoons; churches with steps leading up from the lagoons; temples that face the lagoons; mosques that summon to prayer beside the lagoons; schools. offices. hotels. bars.

Pentasia on the western-most side is the capital of Diego Garcia. The Senate Hall and other main government offices are in Pentasia. It is twenty-five kilometres long and up to three kilometres wide. Serpentine, it lies in the Indian Ocean. The Port Louis harbour is at its western end. The other two islands are smaller. The eastern island of Venecia has the St. Raphael International Airport. Seleucia in the middle is the main residential area.

In Diego, cars can be found only in Pentasia. That too, very few, and mostly used for official purposes. Other motor vehicles are rare. Some use cycles, some bikes. Canoes and boats are our primary mode of transport. There’ll hardly be a house without them. My house has six canoes, four small boats and three speedboats. A long time ago, it seems the family had 400 canoes, sixty boats and four vessels. All that grandeur disappeared before I was born. On 13 May 1973, to be precise.