Benyamin: Yellow Lights of Death

How many thoughts must pass through the minds of others of which we are unaware! If I were not to ask Anita, how different would be her response! I put her children’s photos in my pocket. They lay close to my heartbeats.

Promise

AFTER REACHING HOME, I was in a hangover called Anita. Everything she’d ever done at school started flashing before my eyes. Anita singing, Anita delivering a speech, Anita taking the pledge in the assembly, Anita jumping up with answers in class even before the teacher completed the questions, Anita coming first in all the exams, being praised by teachers, me looking at her in awe, Anita walking up to the stage to collect prizes and returning proudly, Anita sitting with an open book in the boat after school, I ogling at her tiny breasts and chubby cheeks, doubting if there could be such a beauty anywhere else in the world. a lagoon of memories. I sailed through it for a long while. All that time, a nameless agony filled me. She had not flown that far and high; then why did I fail to make her mine? That was the reason for the pain.

But the agony lasted only for a short while. By then, the Senthil puzzle resurfaced and enwrapped me again. Isn’t a lost friend more serious than a failed dream? And not just simply lost, but murdered, creating in its wake a plethora of mysteries.

I quickly stepped into the nooks and crannies of the case. But how do I get to know what exactly had happened? I’m not crazy enough to think that it was all an illusion. I’ve never experienced psychotic delusions. Even if I have, it is yet to be proven. I couldn’t sit still. I left home, ignoring Momma’s query of where I was off to first thing in the morning. In fact, I didn’t know where I was heading. I had to go somewhere. Somewhere where I could find the truth: that was all I had in mind. I considered the various options. It was when the boat almost reached Pentasia that a face appeared in my mind. I redirected the boat to Seleucia.

I went directly to the North Seleucia Public Security Office. The investigation director, Stephen Pereira Andrapper, was a distant cousin of Papa, and an officer known for his honesty. He had played a pivotal role in solving many major cases in Diego. He had come home last month to visit Valyapapan. We had briefly chatted about Martin, his youngest son, now in Canada.

There was no one better than Stephen uncle to tell me what had actually happened. My plan was to meet him and explain the previous day’s incident. I had to wait in front of the office for a long time. There was a big crowd, including weeping, wailing, raging and shouting women of all ages. When I asked someone in the crowd what was happening, his explanation was shocking. Most of the people were relatives of youth who had been forcibly taken into custody. Most of them didn’t know why the arrests had been made or where they had been taken. I couldn’t quite figure out what could be the crime that got so many young people arrested. But the government would always have its own justifications.

When I finally managed to get in, he received me warmly. He asked about Valyapapan and Papa and Momma. He called for coffee and inquired why I had come.

I narrated the whole sequence of events that had taken place so far. After listening to me, he confirmed that if such an incident had occurred in Diego, he would definitely be one of the people informed about it. He called two of his junior officers right then and asked if there had been any shooting reported in Port Louis recently. They were also in the dark. He also checked the secret files of the Investigation Directorate. There, too, nothing was to be found. He shrugged helplessly. ‘What can I say about an incident not recorded in the case diary of a disciplined and efficient public security department?’

However, he assured me that he was now as interested in the case as I was and that he’d look into what had actually taken place. I trusted him. Because it was not the usual promise of a police officer to a common man. It was a promise one Andrapper was making to another. It was a promise that would be kept.

Missing Person

I WAITED FOR three days expecting a call from Stephen Pereira Andrapper. But nothing happened. On all three days, I went to Port Louis, in the hope of meeting Jesintha. That too didn’t happen. I stuck around the coffee shop for a while in the hope of some clue, some hint of suspicion. Nothing. Everyone was content with their own concerns. But what more can you expect from those who’ve forgotten a murder soon after it happened?

I felt my life was like a grounded boat, tied to the stake. Either I should write the novel so that I could believe that I was living through my self-expression; unfortunately, that wasn’t going anywhere. Else, I should get a solid clue about the missing Senthil. Then I could find some relief in thinking that I was living for a cause. That too wasn’t happening. I felt contempt for myself.

But I was not willing to give up. Determined to meet Stephen Pereira, I went to Seleucia’s North Public Security Office again. It was crowded like the previous time. Superiors and juniors hurrying from one room to another with files and papers. No one even had the time to respond to my question whether Investigation Director Stephen Pereira was present.

Wasn’t all that commotion taking place to ensure the efficiency of the Public Security? We ought not disturb it. So, I had to wait there for a long time. At last, my turn came. Seeing me, Stephen uncle scratched his head. ‘ Che , the matter you mentioned that day, I forgot about that completely in this mess. Now what shall we do.?’

I was sad, angry, and fuming. Last time, I had the feeling that I was taken seriously. By now, he ought to have gathered some information. I had thought he might have forgotten to call me because of his busy schedule. Now, after I had reported such an important issue.

‘So, you were saying. who is it that’s missing.?’

‘A friend of mine. He didn’t go missing, he was murdered.’

He understood the change of tone in my voice.

‘Yes, yes. But that is something we have to prove.’

‘We should prove. If you look into it, it’ll be done.’

‘I’ll do one thing. I’ll introduce one of my officers to you. You talk to him in detail. I’ll follow it up then.’ He rang for a peon. He mentioned some officer’s name and told him to accompany me to his cabin. My only option was to follow the peon.

He took me to the office of Chief Investigator Vijay Mullikratnam. A rough guy. He looked as if he was angry at the world. He behaved as if I was a suspect. I somehow managed to explain the situation to him.

‘Dude, it is very strange! First of its kind ever in Diego. By the way, how was the missing person connected to you?

‘He was one of my friends.’

‘How long had you known him?

‘We studied together till high school.’

‘What was your relationship with him in recent times?’

‘We had none. We’d not met in more than a decade.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Senthil.’

‘House?’

‘Don’t know. Somewhere in Peruntheruvu.’

‘Occupation?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Address?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Don’t know his house. Don’t know his job. Don’t know his address. Was not in touch with him for ten years. And you have come to complain that the guy is missing. Dude, do you know that someone going missing means he is not available at his address? So, if you don’t know his address, on what basis are you saying that he is missing?’

‘I told you, sir. He didn’t go missing, he was killed.’

‘Look, whether he was killed or is alive is not to be decided by you, but by the Public Security. The main issue in your story is that a person went missing after being admitted to a hospital. I’ll ask you one thing. When someone is missing, normally who should be filing a complaint? You say you had no recent relationship with him, or his relatives?’