No Pain Like This Body (3 page)

“Balraj come outa dat wadder!” Pa shouted.

“I fraid you beat me.”

“Boy com outa dat wadder!”

Balraj was afraid. He knew Pa was going to beat him real bad.
Crax crax cratax doom doommm doomed!
the thunder rolled. Balraj looked at the sky; it was blacker than a dream of snakes and evil spirits. Pa bent down and picked up dirt from the riceland bank. He started to pelt Balraj. Balraj was moving from side to side trying hard to get away from the dirt. Pa couldn't hit him. Pa was in a rage; he was pelting as a mad­man. Then Pa shouted, “Now come outa dat wadder boy! I goin to pelt inside dem snake holes.”

Balraj made no effort to come out of the riceland. Pa kept pelting dirt into the deep holes. The water was bubbling and bubbling and bubbling; bubbling and bubbling as if it was boiling over with rage; it was boiling and bubbling as when a ricepot bubbles over a fireside, but Balraj just stood there and looked at Pa.

“You feel you is a big man?” Pa asked him.

“No.”

“Den come outa dat wadder!''

“I (raid you beat me.”

“Den you is a big man?”

“No. I is a little little chile. Little little.”

“Well I goin to make a snake bite you ass!”

It was August, the middle of the rainy season. The rain was falling and falling and falling as if the sky was leaking or some­thing. Sunaree, Rama and Panday were still by the rainwater barrel. Sunaree was holding the enamel dipper, but it slipped from her hand and fell in the yard. The dipper was dirty; full of mud all over. Rama and Panday were still naked. Trembling.

“I feelin cold.”

“Hush else Pa go bust you liver wid a kick,” Rama said. “Pa stupid,” Panday declared.

“Pa stupid like God.”

“Now God have big eyes and he seein wot all you Join,” Sunaree said.

“Somebody shouda hit God one kick and bust he eye!” Rama shouted.

Sunaree told Rama that God had great big eyes; God never winked; even if dirt or flies or smoke went into his eyes, he never winked; God never slept or drank or ate; he never shel­tered with a leaf from the wind and the rain; he just lived in heaven and stared at the earth all the time.

And Rama: “Den God like a stone. He just like a stone I tell you.”

“You mean dat God does see wen Rama pee on me in de night?” Panday asked.

“Yeh,” Sunaree said.

Sunaree picked up the enamel dipper, rinsed it inside the rainwater barrel, and said, “Now Rama and Panday come on inside dat house.” She walked in front, and they followed her.

Balraj was still watching Pa; he was trembling like a banana leaf, but he was watching Pa. Pa was strong like a mango tree, so his teeth were not going
clax clax clax,
because he was not feeling cold.

Ma finished washing the clothes. She put them in the old bucket. She looked. Balraj was still inside the riceland. Ma said to Pa, “Dat chile fraid you. I bleed blood to make dat chile. Dat chile come from my belly after I carry him for nine monts. Now you let dat chile come outa dat wadder. I bleed blood to make dat chile!”

Pa spoke like a stone rolling down from a hill, “Now you just shut you kiss me ass moot woman! Shut it!”

Ma talked back as water falling from a house roof. She complained that Pa was not acting as a father at all. Pa had no heart because he was running Balraj in the riceland. She threatened that if anything happened to Balraj in the water, she was going to walk the three miles to Tolaville; walk the three miles just to get a policeman to lock up Pa.

“Kiss me ass!” Pa shouted.

And Ma talked again; she talked as a spider that is full of poison. Pa hated the way she talked. He began to pelt more dirt into the water. The water was still bubbling. Pa aimed carefully. He threw the dirt. It fell
plunk
inside one of the deep holes. A huge water snake came to the surface of the muddy water.

Balraj started to run in the water. The snake moved
clips clips clips.
Fast. Faster. The snake moved as oil on the water.

Balraj knew that the snake was chasing him, so he didn't look back. The snake went just a little way and turned back. But Balraj thought that the snake was following him; he ran out of the riceland and went by Ma. It was only when he reached by Ma that he looked back. There was no snake.

Pa was serious. He ran by the tub. There was not a laugh or a smile on his face; he just came by the tub to beat Balraj. “Behave youself and leff me son alone!” Ma shouted. “Shut you kiss me ass mout woman!”

Pa held Ma real hard beside the tub; he was pulling her; just pulling and pulling as if he was uprooting a sapodilla tree.

Ma held on to Balraj, and he was holding on to the hog plum tree. Pa tried his best to kick Balraj, but Ma was in his way. Pa was sweating and blowing. “I goin to drownd you in dat tub woman!”

“Balraj is a little chile. You is a big man. You have no right to make a snake run him in dat wadder. But it have a God and he watchin from dat sky.”

“God coud kiss me ass!”

“Well wen a man coud cuss God he deserve to dead!”

Pa hated Ma and he hated Balraj, so he picked up Ma as if he was picking up a little child and he held her in the air. Ma bawled like a cow hard hard hard. She tried to hold the hog plum tree, but she couldn't meet it. Ma didn't want to go inside the tub; she was turning and twisting as a worm; just turning and twisting and bawling; just bawling and trying to get away. The water in the tub was full of soap suds. Pa held her high, and he held her tight as a tree holds another tree. Ma was bawling and getting on; getting on and calling God, but the sky was black and God was only watching with his big eyes from heaven; he was not even trying to help Ma a little. Pa turned her over and pushed her face inside the tub; trying hard to drown her like. Her feet were high in the air, and her whole body was shaking as a banana leaf shakes when the wind blows.

Balraj got his chance. He ran by the rainwater barrel. But Balraj was confused. He didn't know where to run. He just stood by the rainwater barrel behind the house, and stared at Pa.

Then Pa changed his mind. He took Ma out of the tub. She coughed and coughed and coughed. She could not stand. She fell, got up, then she fell again. She rolled on the ground and vomited the soapy water.

Pa left Ma alone. He ran about twenty feet and came by the rainwater barrel. Balraj saw Pa coming but he couldn't move. Pa grabbed him by the barrel and struck him with his right hand. Balraj was not a man; he was not strong like a carat tree; he was just a boy, so the blow flattened him. Pa held his feet and dragged him away from the rainwater barrel. Balraj was bawling and rolling like a pig. Pa stood on his chest and told him to shut up.

Ma was still vomiting, but when she saw Pa standing on his chest, she got up. And Pa was not standing on Balraj's chest alone; he was standing on his chest and saying, “I go bust you liver today!” Pa was squeezing his chest real hard, and Balraj was bawling and bawling.

Ma ran up to Pa like a rat. Pa couldn't see her coming, his back was turned. She gave a good push; he almost fell over. Still standing on Balraj's chest, Pa threw a blow at her head. It sounded
be
as when a dry coconut falls. Then Pa picked up Balraj as a wet bundle of grass and threw him splash inside the drain. Pa turned around. He was looking for Ma. She ran past the rainwater barrel and went by the outhouse. Pa ran through the banana patch, but before he reached the out­house she ran westward, crossed Tola Trace and went inside the sugarcane field.

Balraj got up from the canal. He looked. Pa was still by the outhouse. He ran to the front of the house. He looked. Pa was coming through the banana patch again. Balraj dashed across Tola Trace and hid in the sugarcane field.

Sunaree, Rama and Panday were inside the house. Trem­bling. They peeped through the wide creases in the earthen wall. They saw Ma running and bawling; they saw her cross Tola Trace; they saw Balraj too; they saw him as he ran as a madman inside the sugarcane field. They wanted to run out of the house too, but they were afraid. Pa was walking up and down in the backyard as a crazy man. They were quiet in the house, just looking at him; looking and praying to God to keep Pa away from the house. Pa fished out a bottle of rum from his pocket and took a good drink. He drank out all and threw the flask away; it broke splinks! Sunaree, Rama and Panday were joined together in a living heap. They peeped through the creases again; Pa was walking towards the rice-land. A streak of lightning danced inside the house.

“Hide de dipper Panday!” Sunaree screamed.

“I fraid like hell to move from where I standin up.”

“Hide dat dipper befo de lightnin cut out you tongue.”

“I fraid I tell you!”

Sunaree took the dipper and flung it under the settee. “Why God not kill dat lightnin ass?” Rama asked.

“Quiet befo dat lightnin hear you and cut out you tongue!” Sunaree told him.

They peeped through the creases again. Pa was standing under the barahar tree.

“God go care for we,” Panday said.

“Dat is true bredder.”

But Rama: “God does only eat and drink in dat sky.” “God go give you sin. Wen you dead de Devil go ride you like a horse in de night,” Sunaree said.

They peeped through the creases again. Pa was walking back to the house.

“Let we run outa dis house fast!” Sunaree shouted.

They were ready; Rama and Panday were ready; they were naked and they were ready to run out of the house. Sunaree held their hands as they dashed out of the house. They ran across the yard into Tola Trace. They faced south, because they were running to meet the house of Nanna and Nanny in Rajput Road; they ran fast, because Nanna and Nanny lived half a mile away at the corner of Tola Trace and Rajput Road. Lightning jumped out of the clouds as green snakes and gold fishes, and the thunder shook up the whole of Tola, yet they didn't stop running. Dark clouds were coming closer to the earth like a black spider with a huge body, yet they kept on running. They ran, because they were sure that God was watching them with his big big eyes.

II

SUNAREE, RAMA AND PANDAY
ran down Tola Trace. Their feet went
flip flop flip flop
as if mules were running. The mud jumped up as little crickets and fell in the grass
toots toots.
The large holes in the trace were covered with muddy water. They had to watch carefully for the holes, because some of them were very deep. Panday was running good good, but he stopped suddenly. “Me belly hurtin me, Sunaree.”

“Look Panday, run faster. If you run fast fast dat pain goin to past.”

“But me belly hurtin real bad.”

“You just run more fast.”

“Oright.”

Panday kept on running. Suddenly he stopped again. He stood upright as a carat tree. Sunaree and Rama asked him why he was standing; he said that he couldn't run any more.

“Why?” she asked him.

“Because I messup!”

Panday was smelling stink. He asked Sunaree and Rama what to do. They held their noses, and Sunaree told him, “Go in dat canal and wash off.” She warned, “Now you hurry up and do dat. If you dont hurry up me and Rama goin to run and leff you!” Panday went inside the drain to clean himself. The water smelt of tadpoles. He looked into the water; there were hundreds of them; they were just playing and moving along with the current. He washed himself out quickly, then he joined Sunaree and Rama. Panday wanted to hold hands with them, but they refused. They were running again. They stopped suddenly. A streak of lightning ran down to the earth; it turned and twisted as a golden rope, then it lassooed a tree in the forest. It sounded
crash!!!

Ma and Balraj came out of the sugarcane field. They went and sat under the long mango tree. The tree was very big, and it leaned over Tola Trace in a threatening way. The long mango tree was near Tola River; it was about halfway between the house and Rajput Road. Ma and Balraj sat as two heaps of straws. The mango tree was going
wish wish wish,
because the rain was beating the leaves. Ma had a deep cut in her fore­head; she got it when Pa struck her by the rainwater barrel. As the water fell on her head, the blood mixed with the water on her eyelashes, the blood and the water formed a little ball, then the ball slipped gently down her nose; it stopped on the tip of her nose, then it fell
tuts
on her wet bosom. Ma felt her forehead with her hand. It was still bleeding.

“Bring some guava leafs son,” she told Balraj.

“Yeh, Ma.”

Balraj was cold all over, but he wanted to get the leaves. Ma was bleeding. He walked away from the long mango tree. The sky was dancing in blackness; clouds were running and piling up as a huge heap of black rice. Balraj got tender leaves from the very top of the guava tree. He walked back to the long mango tree with a handful. Ma was no longer under the tree. “Ay Ma!” he called fearfully.

“I on dis side of de tree,” Ma said.

The long mango was bigger than any house in Tola. It was taller than a carat tree. The trunk was thick and heavy. Ma was sitting on the western side, leaning against the bark. Balraj came and handed her the leaves, then he sat down next to her.

Ma held the leaves in her right palm. She spat on them. Then she crushed them between her slender palms. A green­ish juice leaked out from her palms and fell on the ground. The juice smelt as something to eat. Ma looked at her right palm; the leaves were ground enough; it looked as if moss was grow­ing in her palms. She gathered the green spots together with her left index fingers; she joined the spots up and made something like a green worm, then she lifted up her hand slowly as if the crushed leaves were heavier than a stone.
Slap!
she slapped the green stuff on her forehead. Some of the green stuff went out­side the cut. She took her fingers and ran them gently down her forehead. Then she loosed her orhni from her head. Her hair was black as a black fowl, and much longer than a leather belt. She held the silky headdress with both hands, then she ripped a piece off with her jaw teeth. She took the strip and dressed the wound. She took the orhni and tied up her head again.