No Pain Like This Body (11 page)

At first Ma was a little restless; she turned from side to side like a sick dog; saliva leaked from her hard mouth and tears rolled out of her sad eyes. The women watched her as if she was a bad animal. Pulbassia spat on the ground and said, “If she just try to get up one more time, I go pour de whole bottle of rum in she mout.”

Sunaree and Panday were sitting on a potato crate by the tapia wall; sitting and watching the villagers; sitting and watching Rama all by themselves. They were not crying; they were only sad like.

Nanna walked up to them. “All you want coffee?”

Nanna didn't even wait for an answer. He went in the backyard and got two cups of black coffee. He carried the coffee by the tapia wall. Sunaree took hers, but Panday said, “Me eh want none Nanna. It have a dead in dis house.”

“Take it boy.”

“Me eh want none.”

“Why?”

“Because I not want none.”

“But Rama is you bredder,” Nanna reminded him.

“I still not want none.”

Nanna knitted his brows. He thought for a long time.

Then he told Panday how dead people were the best people, because they couldn't harm anyone. But living people were worst than cats and dogs.

“I know dat Nanna,” Panday said.

“Well drink de coffee.”

“Oright.”

Sunaree and Panday emptied their cups. Nanna carried the

cups for Nanny in the backyard. She took the cups and asked, “How Sunaree and Panday doin?”

“Dey doin oright.” Then Nanna scratched his head and asked Nanny, “How me dorta drunk?”

Nanny put the cups down on the ground. She looked at Nanna sadly, then she told him about Ma. Ma was lying down on the ricebags in the kitchen. She was drunk, but she wasn't drinking the rum on her own will; she never really liked rum. She wanted to be sober; she wanted to be sober just to tell the villagers about Pa: tell them how he chased the children out in the rain and the wind; he ran them out of the house in the wind and the rain; tell them that he was drinking rum some­place in Tola when Rama got sick; just let the people know that when Balraj and Rama were stung by scorpions, Nanna went out into the night and searched for Pa; Nanna searched and searched, but he couldn't find Pa. But Ma couldn't tell the people anything. Pa like he knew that she was going to talk. He gave Pulbassia and Jasso bottles and bottles of rum; he gave them the rum telling them to keep Ma drunk; she was weak, he wanted her to sleep. And Pulbassia and Jasso were real rum suckers; they were glad to be in charge of rum, but they couldn't figure out why Pa wanted them to keep Ma drunk all the time. Nanny knew what was going on, but she couldn't do anything. All the other women in the wake were only interested in listening to stories and drinking rum. Nanny had to boil the coffee in the backyard because the vil­lagers were quarrelling for coffee and rum all the time.

The villagers were quiet. It was as if they were still thinking about Rama. But the priest was eager to tell another story. He scratched his beard and said, “All you lissen to me. Now I go tell all you a story about Hoodlee.”

“Tell we! Tell we!” the villagers shouted.

Just as the holy man was ready to begin, Nanna came again with a pot of boiling coffee. Nanny carried the small
wooden tray and shared out the biscuits. Pulbassia passed around the rum. When Nanna offered coffee to Jasso she said, “Oldman behave you ass nuh! It have rum here. You tink I go leff rum to drink coffee?”

“But you coud talk better dan dat,” Nanna said.

“She talkin so because she want a good man,” the priest declared.

Jasso lifted her dress above her waist. Her legs were long black and smooth.

The priest licked his lips and said, “You like you really hot tonight.”

“Yeh. I want you to cool me down Baba.”

“I old now,” the priest cooed. “Besides I is a man of God.”

Jasso sat down on the earthen floor. She took the rum bot­tle from Pulbassia and swallowed a few ounces. “It eh have notten better dan rum,” she said.

“All you Madras people does drink de most rum in de world,” the one-legged man said.

“Kiss me ass One Foot.”

The priest lifted his hand. All the people became quiet. “I goin to tell all you de story about Hoodlee.”

“Tell we! Tell we!” the villagers shouted.

“Oright. It had a time Hoodlee was livin in Karan Settle­ment. Dat was a long time now. Lissen good. All you open all you ass and lissen. Hoodlee de just finish servin he five years bound in Bound Coolie Estate. So Hoodlee de mindin some cows and workin for de white people too. Well in dem days, John Sharp was a big man in Bound Coolie Estate. He and Hoodlee was friends. Not close friends, but dey used to talk.

“Well Hoodlee had a big sapodilla tree in he yard. One day he de sittin down under de sapodilla tree and grindin he cut­lass on a stone. Next ting he see is a old creole woman walk in he yard. She head was white white. She was so old dat she waswalkin kind of bend like. Hoodlee see she, but he just sid­down under dat tree and play he eh see she. De creole woman come and stand up right in front Hoodlee. So Hoodlee raise he head and ask de woman, Wot you want mam?'

“`Me want a black neck fowl to buy.'

“Hoodlee get up. He watch de woman from head to foot. `Oright mam. Me give you one fowl.'

“So Hoodlee hold de fowl. De creole woman give him one shillin. Hoodlee tell de woman he eh want de shillin.

“'Tank you,' de woman say.

“So de woman gone. But wen night come, Hoodlee was in trobble. He was bustin he head tinkin which part he see dat woman befo. Hoodlee tink and tink till he fall asleep. But eh. Hoodlee de never see dat woman befo. Next mornin Hoodlee get up early like hell to grind he cutlass again. Wen he bend down to sharpen de cutlass, he see one shillin in de ground. Now Hoodlee feel good. He take up de money and put it in he house. Den he gone to work. De next mornin he find anodder shillin by the sapodilla tree. So he say to heself, dat maybe de creole woman de drop two shillin by mistake. De next mornin Hoodlee find anodder shillin. Hoodlee take de shillin and gone back inside he house. Hoodlee say he not workin again. One shillin a day was enuff to keep him livin, because dat time Hoodlee eh de have no wife.

“Wen John Sharp de whiteman not seein Hoodlee comm to work, de whiteman make up he mind to come and see why Hoodlee not workin. So wen de whiteman come Hoodlee tell de whiteman dat he sick. He eh tell de whiteman notten about dat money he was gettin. De whiteman de vex like hell, but he eh beat up Hoodlee. John Sharp just leff Hoodlee alone.

“But Hoodlee eh de have long again to collect dat jumbie money. One night he gone to sleep. He wake up in de night because he de only hearin tunder outside. Hoodlee watch
good. He see he house door open. A whiteman walk inside de house. Now Hoodlee ass was cuttin nail. In dem days white people de bad like hell. White people used to beat people wid wip inside dey own house. So Hoodlee de tinkin dat John Sharp de come to beat him. So Hoodlee start to beg, ‘Massa Sahib, me eh do notten. I go come to work Massa Sahib . . .

“De whiteman walk up to Hoodlee. He had a handbag and a long black wip in he hand. He put he hand in de bag and take out a big chunk of gold. He offer de gold to Hoodlee. Hoodlee tremble like a leaf. ‘Me eh want gold!' Hoodlee tell de whiteman.

“De whiteman offer Hoodlee dat gold three times. But Hoodlee eh take de gold. De whiteman take de gold and put it back in de handbag. Den de whiteman take de wip and he crack about fifty good lash in Hoodlee ass. Den de whiteman gone outside and crack dat wip so hard dat Hoodlee whole house de shake up. Next day Hoodlee gone to Bound Coolie Estate. He ask John Sharp if he de come and beat him last night. But it was not John Sharp who beat Hoodlee. Was a spirit dat beat Hoodlee. Dat was the last Hoodlee ever find money under dat sapodilla tree.”

Nanna called Pa into the backyard. Nanny was still boiling coffee. “Ay!” Nanna said. Nanny almost fell inside the fire.

“Wot you want to talk about oldman?” Pa asked seriously.

Nanny offered Pa a cup of coffee. He refused it.

“I want to talk about de funeral,” Nanna said.

“Talk. I lissenin.”

And Nanna: “Now de priest go need some tings in de mornin. You have to go to Tolaville for plenty tings. Fust you have to get some good cattle butter. Den you have to get one yard of cotton. Den you have to get lohoban, gogool, camphor, and some white rice. And white merino to bury Rama wid. Den you have to buy one coffin in Tolaville. Den after dat you have to go in de Warden Office and get de death certificate. Dat is all you have to do.”

Pa was serious. “Oldman! You dorta feel I kill de boy. Well me eh Join notten. You want to bury him in coffin, den you buy coffin and bury him.”

“But Rama is you chile man. He dead. Dis is de last you coud do for him. You go and get dese tings I tell you to get. Control youself man.”

Pa was mad like a bull. “Kiss me ass oldman! You see about buryin him. I not takin me foot outa dis house.”

“Well give me de money to bury him.”

“Kiss me ass!” Pa said as he went back into the house to lis­ten to the stories.

Then Nanny: “Dat man not goin to bury dat chile. How much money you have?”

Nanna dipped his hands into his pockets. He didn't have much money; it was his money that bought the rum, ciga­rettes, biscuits and coffee to keep up the wake. He counted the money. “I only have ten dollars.”

“It not have no more money in we house home?”

Nanna said that there was no more money.

“Well,” Nanny said, “buy de merino and de pants to bury Rama. Den buy de tings for de Pandit to do he work. You just have to leff dat coffin.”

Nanna thought a little.

“I coud beg de carpenter in Rajput Road to come and make de coffin. He coud break de ricebox and make de coffin. I go tell him dat I go pay him wen I get pay.”

“Well dat good. Try and see wot you coud do oldman,” Nanny said.

Nanna harnessed the horse cart and hurried down Tola Trace.

The cocks were crowing
co kee yo ko! co kee yo ko! co kee yo ko!
all over the village. When the priest heard the cocks crowing, he jumped up. “Time to say some prayers for Rama.” Pulling out his Ramayana, he went by the ricebox.

“Get a Iota and some mango leaf.”

“Oright Baba,” Pulbassia said.

The priest took a mango leaf and sprinkled some water over Rama. Then he gave the mango leaf to Pulbassia. He took some flour and made a cross on the ground. The priest closed his eyes and recited some holy verses. Some of the vil­lagers who were sober enough recited too. The hymn was long and strange. A strange silence came into the house. With closed eyes the priest recited on and on. Then he opened his eyes. “Gimme some flowers.”

Pulbassia ran out in the yard and got some wild flowers. She handed them to the Pandit. “You want anyting else Baba?” she asked.

“Not right now.”

The priest took the flowers and placed them on the sheet over Rama's chest. He closed his eyes and prayed for Rama's soul. His hands trembled as he prayed, and his body shook, and his voice was soft and powerful.

Pa stood next to the priest, but he didn't close his eyes. He looked at Rama all the time. While the priest was praying Pa bent down and kissed Rama on his forehead. Then he took his shirt and wiped Rama's face. Then he stood up and closed his eyes and prayed.

The village women stood around. Some of them were cry­ing. Jasso wiped her eyes and said, “Look at de poor chile.”

And Soomintra the wife of Sankar said, “It hard to bring a chile so big and den see it dead.”

“All of we have to dead one day,” Pulbassia declared. Nanny was drooping in the backyard. The chants of the
priest woke her up. She rubbed her eyes. She listened. They were reading the sermon for the child by the ricebox. Nanny got up and ran from the backyard. She came and stood next to Pa. Nanny's face was old and full of wrinkles. Tears rolled out of her sunken eyes and fell on the ground. She listened to the chants.

Sunaree and Panday were asleep on two ricebags near the tapia wall; their mouths were open. A few cockroaches were walking over their bodies.

“Look how dem poor chirens sleepin,” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said.

“Oh God! Dis world have trobble I tell you,” Pulbassia cried out. Then she went by the tapia wall. She took two floursacks and covered Sunaree and Panday. Panday opened his eyes a little. “Sleep son,” Pulbassia said. Panday closed his eyes and sank down on the bags again.

Then the priest tied some red strings around Rama's wrists to keep away the evil spirits. Putting a little flour on Rama's forehead, the priest called on the Aryan gods to look after the child. His voice was full of sadness, and the chants went up into the morning air as a special plea to God.

There was life in Tola. There was life in the wind as it left the corners of the sky and swept the face of the earth; there was life in the dawn that was coming with gold in its mouth; there was love in the night birds that made strange noises beyond the river; there was love in the people as their hearts reached up to the sky and their souls mixed with the void.

“Look at me grandchile!” Nanny screamed.

“Wot you go do?” Soomintra the wife of Sankar said. “Wot you go do woman? We born and we have to dead.” “But he is a chile.”

“Everyting born on dis earth have to dead,” the priest said. “De Hindu Bible say dat even de gods have to dead.”

And Jasso: “Baba wen I dead I want you to do me work.” “Oright beti.”

The priest read some more. The villagers wept as they lis­tened. When the reading was over, the priest said, “Put de chile in de house.”

Pa and Jadoo held the ricebags on which Rama was lying. They picked him up and carried him inside the bedroom. Jadoo came outside but Pa remained with Rama. Pa sat and stared at the child as if he was expecting Rama to get up and talk to him. But Rama just rested on the ricebags. “Come outside Babwah.” Pa heard the priest calling him. Pa didn't move. He sat and stared into Rama's face.