Benyamin - Yellow Lights of Death

‘Whether we are liable or not, there are some things that I’m curious to know. What is this Uthiyan Cheral Tamil Kazhagam? What were the original data in Senthil’s USB drive? Why did Senthil often go to Pondicherry? Who is Faisal Bava, the regular visitor at the Park Plaza? What’s his relation with the gossip stories? Does it have any connection with Senthil’s murder? If we believe in Andrapper’s version that his father was not behind the killing, then who did it?’ Nattapranthan asked.

‘In this case, we have a responsibility to ourselves, directly or indirectly, that’s what I feel, said Mashu.

‘Me too. As a person who has been to Diego, I am a bit more excited about this entire thing,’ Salim said, supporting Mashu.

‘Then let’s start from the first question. What is Uthiyan Cheral Tamil Kazhagam? Who can give us the details?’ Anil asked.

‘It’ll be better to start with the second question. Since the USB is our property now, it’ll be easier to start with that and then move to Tamil Kazhagam,’ Biju suggested.

‘Okay, then that’s decided. I’m hereby handing over the USB drive to you guys and launching Operation Diego Garcia Part II,’ Salim said, and the Thursday Market members clapped and cheered the decision. We moved to the computer there and then and started opening the files one by one.

As Andrapper had written, most of them were nude pictures, and Tamil news and songs. None of us could decode anything suspicious from them. As nobody among us could read Tamil, even the details Andrapper had given about the news couldn’t be independently verified.

‘This won’t help us to know more about Senthil,’ Salim said. ‘For that, we need to prepare for another journey. To Pondicherry. We have one address left. 27, Shalai Street, Kottakuppam Post, Villupuram District, Tamil Nadu, Pin 605104. Abdul Majid’s residential address. That’s where we should start our hunt for Senthil.’

‘No, it shouldn’t be from there,’ Nibu interrupted. ‘I think we should start from Hotel Park Plaza. From the receptionist Manoj!’

‘Will that be possible?’ Biju asked.

‘Why not? If Andrapper can travel alone from Diego to that place, why can’t the seven of us do the rest of the miles?’

‘Okay, we’ll travel. But who among us?’

‘The one looking for a thrill. Let Nattapranthan go,’ Nibu suggested.

‘I’ll go,’ Nattapranthan agreed. ‘Who’ll join me?’

‘I’m ready.’ I took the responsibility of being the writer.

‘Me too,’ Salim said.

Thus we decided. According to the plan, two Saturdays later, on a weekend, which was followed by a public holiday, three of us started out on our trip to Chennai and Pondicherry.

Our plan was to stay at Hotel Park Plaza and start our investigation from there. But once we heard of the room tariffs at the Park Plaza, we dumped the plan. We booked a cheaper hotel nearby and tried to start the probe. But then we came to know that Manoj Thomas, the receptionist who had promised to help Andrapper, had shifted from the place. We approached the boy who had replaced him and asked about Faisal Bava, but he was a pain, not responding to sweet talk or threats. So we had to call off the attempt.

The next day we set off for Pondicherry via Mamallapuram. We roamed around the Pallava temples there for about two hours. That was also fated to be part of the trip.

It was past noon when we reached Kottakuppam. Shalai street was obviously a Muslim neighbourhood. We didn’t have to sweat much to find the Juma Masjid and Yazar’s shop nearby. When we asked about the house of Abdul Majid who works in Diego, a boy accompanied us to the house. It was a big two-storeyed bungalow. Nobody would imagine that a waiter in a coffee shop in Diego was the owner of the house. It was so palatial. When we said we had come from Diego to tour Pondicherry and that Abdul Majid had told us to come here, his Appa showered us with love. ‘He is the blessing of this house. He married off his three sisters. Jobs for five brothers, this house, car, everything we owe to the money he sends from Diego,’ Appa proudly presented all the good deeds that Abdul Majid had done for the family in the past twenty years.

When we asked about Senthil who used to visit them regularly from Diego, he screamed, ‘ Ada paavi ’, and slammed his chest. ‘ Ennada ungalude Diego, such a gentleman got killed and you couldn’t find the killer!’ he bawled.

‘Did Senthil come here regularly?’ Salim asked in broken Tamil.

‘Once a month for sure.’

‘What was the purpose of his visits? What business was he doing here?’ I asked.

‘Some official purpose. Who knows!’

Just then, his youngest son, Kabir, who studied in college, came home. We asked him too about the purpose of Senthil’s visits. He didn’t know the name of the office, but he knew that it was in Rajaji Nagar. That was all we wanted. After having pakku vada and tea that Majid’s mother affectionately served us, we left the house. Rajaji Nagar was our next target.

‘If there are some ten offices there, how will we figure out the right one?’ I shared my doubt with the others while in the bus from Kottakuppam to Pondicherry.

‘Then we’ll go to all ten offices. We’ll ask at every place if they knew of one Senthil from Diego,’ Salim said with his usual self-confidence.

My worries about Rajaji Nagar turned out to be true. The street was full of office complexes. We walked reading each office name plate. Mother’s Service Society, Saraswati Shanmugham Charitable Trust, Urvasi Foundation, Children’s Action Trust, Amar Seva Sangham, Vivasayangal Urpathiyalar Sangham, Raj Foundation, Association of Non-traditional Employment, Bhagavan Mahavir Foundation, Tamil Deseeya Pengal Viduthalai Izhakkam, CDDP, ACIK, Dhan Foundation. So many non-profit, charity and NGO offices!

‘God, we have so many social workers and still India is struggling with poverty and inequality,’ said Nattapranthan, placing his hand on his head.

Even Salim, who was confident that we would ‘ask at every place’ got discouraged by the number of offices. We were confused where to start our search from. But after two or three turns, when we reached the third street, we saw a board in English and Tamil, in front of which we stood dumbstruck for around ten minutes.

Uthiyan Cheral Tamil Kazhagam!

Excited with the find, Nattapranthan hugged me. ‘This is the real snake we were hunting down!’

But I was feeling uneasy. A fear about what kind of trouble we were getting into. Salim led us inside, as if ready to face any consequences. We followed him.

There was one peon there. We struggled a lot to converse with him because of his indecipherable Tamil. Somehow, we made him understand that we needed to meet some senior person. The boy called up the office secretary. He came within ten minutes. Luckily, he knew some Malayalam!

When we told him we were tourists from Diego and that we had heard of this organization before and wanted to know more, he took us to his office room. He gave us brochures and described the activities of Uthiyan Cheral Kazhagam.

‘It is a non-profit organization that works for Tamils across the world. Anyone can work with us, no matter what his religion or caste or group or politics. Our main aim is to protect orphans and widows. Also, to nurture the basic talents of people, encourage them to be good citizens, help them succeed in life. we work for all that. We also do career-development courses, facilitates the conducting of IQ and aptitude tests, and promotes Tamil language and culture. Last year, we did an aptitude test for around eight lakh children across the world. We have adopted 120,000 orphaned kids. Last year, we distributed forty tonnes of rice among the poor. All this was possible thanks to God Almighty. ’ he kept talking.