It remained with me. I know it did. When he left my
room that day, I knew that he had left some thing with me besides the cigarette
stump he dropped in my ashtray. So I record this event in my diary apart from
the routine documentation of official affairs. Infact, as per my usual way this
is a time I go for a pleasant stroll in the Marine Drive with Rosy and my
children after the successful completion of a pretty good business. I think I
won’t forgive my self for pondering over the jaathakam of a dead bo(d)y.
I wonder how human beings are subjected to
odd behaviors. As an ordinary businessman in Cochin
or rather Kochi,
as they call it now, I had very little chance to deal with people like the one
I am going to tell about. They say Kochi has changed a lot. However, as it is
said in a film recently, though Kochi is not the old one, I must say that I
remain the same from my shabby boyhood days to this man of Metropolitan Kochi.
Changed or not, the city is just wonderful, though sometimes I think I want to
flee some where when I take a walk through the city to recount my old days.
Some times I stand kneeling on the balustrades of the Venduruthy Bridge,
feeling with fingers its familiar roughness, staring at the fearful depth of
Vembanad and the poisonous blue sky against the irregularities of the shipyard.
I run a Private Transport Company in Kochi
from 1988 onwards, named Velankanni Matha Transport Co-operation Private Ltd. I
have five Volvo buses running between Kochi and Mumbai, and a five
storied building amidst the city, which include lodges and a margin free
market. I was very committed to my business and it was expanding literally and
figuratively. See, as I judge myself, a man in the latter half of forties, I
am very straightforward regarding all
activities of my life, and am not averse
to confessing to you those things which some of my friends, who are in the same
business, thinks as something below their dignity to do.
Those
who know me and my business know very well that my real business is Pani
Theerkkal or Quotation as we say in local language. That means, in
simple language, killing for money. In Malayalam we have a proverb that one
shouldn’t forget the way he came. I followed it. It was my first profession.
But I didn’t linger there but went on experimenting, and rendered a kind of
respectability to this job. So today I am not that twenty- three-year-old Thotti
Thoma who slept under railway overbridge near Ernakulam North station, but
Thomas Kurisinkal of Velankanni group. That is hard work and professionalism,
not to forget God’s grace. I spend a considerable amount of money every year
for lighting candles in the churches, for Yatheem khanas and for the Temple
affairs in which my wife has a strong belief. I even used to put some coins in
the synagogue at Mattancherry.
I
digressed a little. I must say some thing about my business. It was one of the
profitable businesses in the city, I must say, as a person who is in it for
almost fifteen years. It is not the petty quotation of hundred rupees of
old days, but includes deals involving lakhs. That’s it. If my knowledge is
correct, there are more than ten companies in the city working under
respectable names. I am proud to say that Velankanni group has earned the trust
and admiration of its clients through these years. I was careful to provide
every benefit and satisfaction to my clients. I lived happily in a two-storied
house in the suburb of the city with my beautiful wife and two angelic children
she has borne to me. I was a loyal husband to my wife and a loving father to my
children.
The
day my story started was a fine Monday morning when a young man in black dress
tapped the door of my office-room and asked, “May I come in, Sir?” I was
reading a book and munching my favourite seedless grapes, when I raised my head
and motioned him in and asked him to sit down. He was a boy of early twenties
with fine reddish brown beard and long hair which hung up to his shoulders.
Through his shirt I can see an inverted crossed tattooed on top of his hairless
chest. I knew that there were Satanists in the city and many youngsters were
interested in it at that time. I offered him a cigarette.
“What
can I do for you, chum?”: Me, as politely as possible in the way I usually deal
with my customers.
He hesitated for a moment and said: “I brought a business for you.”
With
the look in his face, I guessed that he came with my “real business”. I smiled.
“Have
some grapes”. I said.
“Thank
you.”
I
took the note-pad and pen, which was the usual procedure.
“Who
is the fellow?”
He
took a photograph and gave it to me. It was a good-looking, clean-shaven young
man, who evoked a feeling of having seen somewhere.
“Name?”
“Mine?”
“No.
His.”
“Is
it necessary that I should provide details about him?
“We
used to keep a record of our dispatched clients. It wont harm our customers.”
He
seemed satisfied.
“Devin.
Twenty years old. A sales man in a foot wear shop in the city. Lives in Kaloor,
Kochi. Is it enough?”
“Thank
you. Enough and more for the time being”.
“When
will it be done?”
“As
soon as my staff locates him. You will hear from us by tomorrow evening.”
“Thank
you.”
“Give
your mobile number.”
“My
number?”
“Don’t
worry about it. It will all be safe and sound”
“Infact,
I don’t have a set. No need to acknowledge me. I’ll know as soon as you finish
your job”
“But
we need you, because the balance amount will only be collected after the
business is over. So we have to contact you. Now you
can pay your advance and return”
“Sir,
I will pay the full amount now”
I
said: “That’s not our procedure”.
“Sir,
But I won’t be here by the time you finish your job. I had to leave the city
soon”.
“In
that case…you can pay the amount in the cash counter and get your receipt.”
“Thank you, sir”
“Welcome”
We
shook hands and he departed.
I
kept the photograph and details in a cover and called Attendor Mony to handle
it over to Murukan, who was the chief co- coordinator who dealt with that part
of the business. Murukan was a wonderful guy who was more like a chum than an
employee. He was with me from my street days itself. A well-built man with a
Mammootty-like arrogance in his ways and deeds. He was a film buff and never
left any movies unseen. As the day was
free I went home buying a packet of popcorn for children and forgot about the
whole affair.
Usually
I used to leave rest of my affairs to Murukan and his boys. But this time due
to some strange co-incidences I was drawn towards it. This is how it happened.
The next evening I went for an outing with my family to Marine Drive. We had
some ice-creams and had some fun. Every week I used to find some time to spend
with my family. Rima and Maria, my children, ran ahead of us playing with a
balloon while me and my wife walked munching some groundnuts. I was talking to
Rosy about the strange guy that came to my office. She asked me why the man
wanted to kill the other. I said it was not part of the business to inquire
about it.
After
a while I sent my wife and children home with my driver, as it was my routine
to walk for half an hour each day. The
street beside the lake was empty except few pedlars. The sky was turning red
carving the silhouettes of ships and shipyard on one side of the street, with
the black lake making noises on the stonewall. I noticed a young boy in red
T-shirt was coming against me, lazily, watching the ships and chewing
bubble-gum. Siren of a ship was heard.
Then
I thought I saw him somewhere, just when he passed me, and realized to my
surprise that he was the boy in the photograph whom my client brought the day
before. I went forward with an ominous feeling in my mind. The road was
desolate. There was a man-selling apple in a cart and two bicycle men passed
me. They were whistling a song that was familiar to me from the old movie West
Side Story.Then immediately I recognized them as Murukan and his boy as I
know that the song had something to do with their work as a code or something.
I told myself that I had to expect something behind me. And it was not wrong.
0QBLi-lLKyHw~~_12.JPG)
It was not my first experience to see the
blood. But that sight gave me dizziness. And I saw something, which shocked my
heart to my mouth. His clean-shaven face smeared with blood was familiar to me.
The shock was completed when I saw an upturned cross-tattooed on his hairless
chest. The client and the victim were one and the same!
Maria Rose
