Ode to Broken Things (17 page)

He pushed the remote control button and the television sounds filled the room, full of bad news as always. An Indian boy killed in police custody. A Chinese young man found dead outside the office of the anti-corruption agency. A Muslim woman to be caned for drinking beer in a bar. Everything was news.

That female newscaster had a head like a young coconut, filled with fluid, as she cheerfully nodded her way through the miserable broadcast.

Now she was smiling at the Hindsight fellow who was going to have a press conference tomorrow, to demand more rights for the Indian population.

Colonel S stepped closer to the screen. So the Hindsight leader was going to be at the press conference tomorrow? That would give the government a chance to tackle this problem head-on.

Or maybe not.

He heard the Hindsight leader growing more strident, “We are tired of being looked at as ‘migrants’ instead of ‘sons of the soil’ like the
bumiputras
… Such categories have no meaning in Malaysia any more! Many of us… the non-Malays… have roots on the Malay Peninsula that go back a hundred years. For the Peranakan Chinese, it’s several hundred years,
kan
? In fact, the ancestors of many non-Malays got to Malaysia earlier than the ancestors of many Malays… and changing how we teach history in Malaysia won’t change that reality. So we are tired,
lah
, tired of being told that we haven’t been there long enough to really be Malaysian like the Malays are. Very racist, like apartheid actually. It’s like saying that African Americans are incapable of being true Americans. You see?”

Colonel S glared at the screen. They should have kicked out these migrants as soon as Malaysia gained independence from the British, and sent these British coolies home with their colonial masters. What was this man up to? The Malays would never let there be a Barack Obama situation in Malaysia, not in the next elections,
NOT EVER
. Go,
lah
, go to America if you want your Martin Luther Kings. No one can stop you from migrating,
kan
?

In those hope-filled days right after Malaysian Independence, when Zainal, Mahesh, and Nikhil had talked into the night, Colonel S was a silent bystander. He resented the way the talk was going, but was too young to object. It was because of the hospitality of men like Zainal that Indians in Malaysia were so arrogant.

Nikhil believed that Malaysians greeting independence with the population equally divided between Malays and immigrant races was a good thing. “Exactly a fifty-fifty split! Time to champion the concept of the multi-racial, non-partisan, New Malaysian.”

“Perhaps,” Zainal cracked a
keropok
with a loud bite, smiling genially. “Perhaps it will happen. But the Chinese and the Indians are intruders, my friend.”

Zainal and Nikhil rarely argued, while Mahesh and Zainal always did, so Colonel S was not surprised to hear Maheshbabu’s retort, “
Intruders?
The Indians and Chinese developed this country into what it is. Otherwise the jungle would have claimed you all a long time ago.”

“Jungle or not, it belongs to us. Whether we develop, or not, it is our choice,” said Zainal.

“Belongs to us, Encik Zainal? You must mean the
Sakais
? By your logic, the aborigines of the country have the greatest claim,” Mahesh paused. “But the
Jakuns
– they are not worthy, are they?”

“I do not call them
Jakuns
. You just did.” Zainal stopped eating and looked at Mahesh, belligerence in the set of his mouth.

Nikhil smiled at Zainal. “Maheshbhai gets a little hotheaded. You must excuse him. Anyway, we came to Malaya at the invitation of the Malays, and immigrant labour was introduced with their consent, so perhaps intruder is a harsh word, my friend?”

Zainal’s eyes remained steadily on Mahesh. He did not acknowledge what Nikhil had said. Colonel S had swatted a mosquito in the darkness, and felt the satisfying squish of the dead bug under his fingers.

Finally Mahesh had fled to America with his family, soon after that fateful night Zainal and Siti disappeared. What had happened to Zainal was unspeakable, and unforgivable… He could never forget Siti sobbing into his arms
aku dianiaya kawan yang aku anggap darah daging sendiri…
She had treated these people as her own flesh and blood, but been badly betrayed.

Colonel S never allowed anyone from another race to come
so
close. He now increased the volume so that he could clearly hear what the Hindsight leader had to say. The man looked just like a talking baboon on the screen, and should be taken just as seriously.

The sky had darkened with rainclouds. Jay ran his finger lightly around the stem of the chilled beer glass as he admired the setting. Mridula was fussing around the food; her flamboyant
sari
heaved around her curves with every breath.

The air was slightly moist with the hint of fog. Even though it was only late afternoon, fairy lights twinkled at strategic places in the garden, the highlight of which was an enormous man-made waterfall, backlit to maximise the majesty of the gushing water. Besides the sound of the water, there was the zap of insects being lured into the neon traps and the low nasal humming of the mosquitoes. The table was loaded with an excess of dishes that slowly congealed in the cool air.

“It must be impossible to get bad food in Malaysia,” Jay remarked.

Ranjan cocked his head and addressed the statement in all seriousness. “Except at one time. During the war years there was no food, and whatever we did get was exceptionally bad.”

Mridula nodded her head. “Jayanta, the food was so scarce that our code words were the common foods that no one ate any more. We ate only tapioca, sweet potatoes and yams. If we spoke of putting
brinjals
in a
shukto
, there was no guessing; everyone knew it wasn’t the food being discussed.”

“So exciting,
lah
! All this hide-and-seek,” Agni said with a shiver.

Mridula exchanged a glance with Ranjan and snorted, “You all, hah! You find it so romantic-shomantic, all talk only with eyes shining like two black pearls. But we, who took risks with our lives and saw death day in and day out, found it hateful – anything but exciting! Babies dying –” Mridula broke off sharply.

Ranjan cleared his throat. “We should talk about things which are more pleasant, eh?”

Agni stopped eating as Abhik advanced, a heavy plate of mutton
periyatel
balanced on his palm, enroute to Jay. He had changed into dark slacks from the jeans he had worn in the kitchen. He placed the plate carefully in front of Jay, and turned to his grandparents, kneeling on the grass so that his face was level with his grandfather.

“I have some bad news. I can’t come with you to Port Dickson tomorrow. I’m really sorry. The Hindsight 2020 leader is flying back from London, and the press conference is tomorrow morning. I have to be there, in case the police try anything.” He looked at Agni, then at his grandparents. “I’m
very
sorry, I just found out about this. I’ll try to get to PD as soon as I can.”

Ranjan’s face was stony. In profile, anger chiselled his features until they seemed to pierce the air. “Even Agni took leave from such an important press conference at the airport tomorrow. Surely you can do something? No! It’s wrong that they cannot leave you alone even for our religious celebrations. And you, out there with all the ruffians who claim to protect us.”

“There’s nothing you can do?” Mridula asked.

One of Ranjan’s friends put a hand on the old man’s arm. “Let it be. You all should be proud that he is trying to make a difference. He is getting involved with the Hindsight fellers to fight for us. We never got involved, but maybe we should have, my friend.”

Ranjan spun the wheelchair around to face his friend. “Of course I am proud of Abhik. I cannot live without him, but his work is too much! These people have no respect –” Ranjan took a deep breath and squeezed his grandson’s fingers. “Just come to Port Dickson as quickly as you can, okay?”

Mridula’s hands rested on her husband’s shoulders, gently. Her veins stood out under gnarled joints, and her fingers were emphasised by an unusually large number of rings. Almost every finger except the thumb had a ring.

The two Malay girls who joined the group broke the sombre spell.

“Hello Rohani and Shiraz! Good to see you both after such a long time!” Mridula embraced them both with expansive arms.

The girls smiled at Ranjan, hugging Mridula. Then with a “Happy Deepavali, everyone!” they settled into the space created for them.

At some point in the early evening, a group of women had gathered at the open foyer to begin preparations for the lamp-lighting. Agni was now dressed in a turquoise
sari
with an intricate gold border that glittered, and Jay marvelled at the transformation. She dazzled without the least trace of self-consciousness. Jay searched for the denim-clad coquette that he identified with.

She and two other Indian girls knelt on the floor, lighting the hundred and eight lamps that had been placed in the pattern of an
Om
. Pink and green lotus buds, in huge clusters, peeked from over her shoulder as she tiptoed around the intricate
alpona
design, which already showed signs of smearing. The
diyas
flickered prettily, casting shadows on her features. Jay caught his breath at the beauty of the spectacle.

He eased himself into a low rattan armchair, which was comfortably antique. This was the first time in his life he had met such a chameleon woman, one who would be at ease in all his worlds. A Malaysian woman like Shanti, but one who would not drown, leaving him with demon teeth for a memory. Someone who had also been abandoned, was flawed, and was still looking for the sum of her parts… like him.

“Enjoying yourself?” Abhik had a hand on the rattan chair as they watched the same woman.

“It’s all very… magical. Somehow I didn’t expect so much feeling. In North America they have huge
pujas
, often held in gyms and church halls, and I’ve been squirted with
ganga jal
from a squeezee bottle,” he laughed. “This neighbourhood community thing feels very different.”

“I don’t know for how much longer though,” said Abhik reflectively. He indicated the older women who had clustered around the central area, telling the younger women what to do. “Those are our gatekeepers and keep this going. After them, the next generation is all working women, with little time for rituals.”

Agni looked across at them both enquiringly. Abhik raised his thumb to his lips to ask whether she wanted a drink.

She made her way across the room, and flopped into a chair. “Could you get me a rum and coke? Easy on the rum, or I’ll trip on the yards of fabric, and your grandmother won’t be amused. This is some family heirloom I am wearing.”

Abhik grinned. “What can I say? She’s keeping things in the family.”

The implication was unmistakable, but Jay refused to ask any questions even as Abhik walked away. He turned to Agni. “Look, I’m sorry about getting a little snappy about Colonel S. Old men of his age do start looking alike. Trust me, he hasn’t left the house for months. He had problems starting his car when I first met him at his house. The battery was almost dead.”

“He lied,” Agni said dismissively. “I saw him at the airport on Sunday. He is on our surveillance cameras.”

“Why would he need to lie to you?” Jay asked reasonably.

“I don’t know. Rohani is standing in for me for the rest of the week, so I can go to Port Dickson tomorrow. But, as soon as I come back, I’ll find out.” She stood up abruptly.

“Well, in that case, good luck. I am pretty sure you’ll find someone else on your footage.”

“How are you so sure? How well do you know this guy anyway?”

Jay let the silence grow as he controlled his anger. “I’ve known him all my life. He saved me from the fire – yes, the one you asked me about earlier – then he set me up in a lab in Seattle and taught me everything I know about science. Whatever I am today is thanks to him. He has been mentor, friend… father.” His voice dropped, “I know him very well.

The call to the faithful rang out over the noise of the guests. Stereophonic sounds of
Allah hu akhbar
rose and fell like the wingbeats of the birds in the darkening air as they stared at each other.

Finally, Agni looked away. “In that case, Professor, I really hope I am wrong.”

Jay watched Abhik and Agni from a distance. In her gregariousness, and his quietude, he saw an edge of insecurity that separated them. It was obvious that their relationship hadn’t been made public. He could hope.

A young man was intoning like a Bollywood hero, “Hai, if you ever get tired of waiting for your prince, I am always here. I even wrote a sonnet to read out this evening.”

“
Aiyah
, not another
Desire on Deepavali
,” Rohani mimed finger-in-throat gagging.

Agni’s laughter pealed out as she reached for the glass Abhik handed her. “Don’t waste it on me! My mother was the poet; my networks involve computers, not people. No time for love,
lah
!”

The next door neighbour, Mrs Wong, had seated herself next to Agni and was sharing a bowl of
murruku
with her. Jay heard Agni’s giggles over Mrs Wong’s voice. “Love shove, pah! That’s the trouble with all you youngsters! You think Mr Wong and I got love when we married? Never even see each other properly before the wedding day, now married for forty years already. No need for love-one, you take it from me. Find a good boy, family good, can earn some money, enough what?”

And Mrs Wong looked meaningfully at Abhik.

Agni nudged Abhik with her shoulder. “
Chee
, what are you saying? Marry my brother? Cannot,
lah
!”

Mridula, who was re-filling the bowl of cashew nuts, frowned. She wagged her finger, “There is no blood shared between you and him. You take a lamp and search the whole world, girl; you’ll never find another diamond like this one. There is no problem of suitable girls for
him
!”

“Mriduladida! If you matchmake us all the time, I’ll go away!” Agni stood up and pouted, her hair in little curls over her face. Turning slightly cross-eyed, she blew one away from the tip of her nose as she shook her head, a charming vision of wild womanchild. Abhik hid his face in his hands and groaned, but Agni didn’t seem at all disconcerted. She poked Abhik in the ribs. “Get married quick, Casanova,” she said, “or the relatives will be scooping up corpses of girls flinging themselves at you.”