302

His eyes flickered, and his final thought before lapsing into unconsciousness was that he hoped he would die soon.

***

The whole thing was so out of the blue. It was like any other lazy May evening in Mumbai. The air was shimmering in the heat, the cars were honking, the crows were fighting over scraps of food and the children were playing cricket. Raj turned, laughing, as the cricket ball flew past him into the alley across the road and his 8-year old brother clumsily sprinted after it. He stood there smiling, then impatient and finally concerned. Even in the fading light, it shouldn’t have taken Anil so long.

He waited for a car to pass and then crossed the street. The alley reeked of garbage and the high walls on both sides, succumbing to the harsh climate and the constant flow of sewage from broken pipes, were covered with a thick layer of dark green sludge. Raj held his breath and scanned the dim alley, but he couldn’t spot his brother. He finally exhaled and shouted out, “Anil!” A cat wailed and disappeared into the dark. He tentatively went a few steps further, glancing back to assure himself of an exit. His foot hit something soft and instinctively he felt his gut churn. He looked down and when his eyes finally adjusted to the dark, he convulsed and vomited uncontrollably.

***

Pankaj Kamble, aka Pintu, was breathing heavily as he traced his steps back to the sleepy village of Kherda. He wanted to scream or shout or something but he controlled himself as a mixture of passion, excitement and disgust coursed through his body. He knew he couldn’t stay in the village for too long. The Nipani’s waters had silently accepted the crumpled figure, but the people of Kherda wouldn’t - they would eventually figure out who he really was, how he gave in to his urges. No. He couldn’t wait for that to happen, they would kill him. He wanted a taste of the big city, where he would be just another nameless animal in the concrete jungle.

***

When Pintu woke up, the first thing that struck him was the smell. He went to the window of his dingy room and shut the window. The smell persisted. He cursed. The days were blurring into each other now and his past was barely more than a vague memory. The city was nothing like he had imagined it would be. It had already swallowed him alive and he now felt like he was slowly being digested.

It was still night outside and surprisingly quiet. The building was under construction in some god-forsaken hinterland hoping to be included in the ever-growing city. He had managed to find a part-time job as a laborer and he was allowed to sleep in a tiny tin-shed on the construction site. Usually there was the dull chatter of other migrant laborers, but tonight there was no sound except for the wind. Pintu wasn’t surprised - all the others had gone back to their villages for the Puja. He didn’t have a home to go back to.

He checked his watch. It was 3:30am and he thought it would be futile to try and sleep again. He went outside to have a bath. The January cold bit into his flesh - he decided it would have to be a quick dip in the pond and then back to a hot cup of tea.

As he made his way past the heaps of rubble towards the stagnating pool a few hundred metres from the site, there was a sudden sharp noise. It sounded like a tin bucket had fallen. He stopped, but when there was no other noise he carried on. He had almost reached the pond when he heard the sound of a child crying. He froze in his steps - all the laborers had gone home, there were no children in that area for miles. He listened intently - it sounded like a young boy whimpering. He peered into the distance but he could see no one. Then a tiny hand tugged his shirt from behind. Pintu started and had to stop himself from letting out a scream. He whirled around and a small boy was standing there looking at him. His hands were filthy and his clothes were torn and smeared with dark stains. His cheeks were streaked with tears.
Pintu took a few steps back, not knowing what to do.
The child’s face creased into a smile.
“Did I scare you, Dada?”
Pintu’s eyes bulged. He had never met this child.
“How do you know me? Who are you?”
“How can you forget me, Dada?”. He took a step closer to Pintu.
He started crying again and his cries grew louder and louder.
“Stop! Stop!” Pintu cried
The child stopped crying but kept walking towards him.
Pintu started backing away, startled by the boy’s behavior.
“Go away! I don’t know who you are”
But the boy kept walking towards him, scratching his own arms and his face slowly but so viciously that they started bleeding.
“Why won’t you play with me, Dada?”
Pintu turned and started walking away as quickly as he could. He didn’t hear the boy following him. He looked behind his shoulder and the child was gone. This frightened him even more and he quickly turned to go back to the shed, which was now, in his mind, a bastion of safety. He was half-running past the pond when there was a ear-splitting shriek and he felt a hand grip his arm. Pain seared through his body. The boy was now bleeding profusely and he started dragging Pintu towards the pond with surprising ease. Pintu was screaming now and and sores were opening up on his skin. He clawed the dirt but the child dragged him into the water. He struggled but the boy seemed to have an iron grip. The water started turning a dull shade of crimson. Then just as suddenly as it had started, he was alone again - screaming out into the emptiness. He ran back to his shed, straining every muscle in his body. The mutilated corpse of the boy was hanging outside his window.

And then he woke up.

***

The fan creaked noisily but provided little comfort in the stifling courthouse. The judge arrived and the courtroom went silent.
“Will the defendant please rise.”
A visibly nervous Pintu got to his feet.
“Pankaj Vitthal Kamble, this court finds you guilty of the murder of Anil Sharma under sections 300 and 377 of the Indian Penal Code. In addition, according to the amended section 302 of the IPC, you are hereby sentenced to brain-imprisonment until dead.”
The sound of the gavel punctuated the silence.
The constables dragged a shrieking Pintu out of the court to the innocuous white van waiting to take him to the Arthur Road neuroscience facility.

***

Pintu woke up feeling vaguely sick. The first thing that struck him was the smell coming from his window.