City of Ghosts (3 page)

And then he was lying spread-eagled, his hands and feet tied to wooden pegs pushed into the ground. He looked around and saw that the shop had vanished and he was in some sort of clearing, out in the woods. The baby sat by his head, shaking what appeared to be a rattle. The noise brought stray dogs out from the shadows; mangy, sharp-toothed mongrels with blood and flesh dripping from their jaws. Gulbaru tried to scream but there was no one to help him. The baby boy, oblivious to the danger, continued to shake his rattle. Something else crawled out of the darkness to his left, edging towards Gulbaru: a baby girl with eyes of burning fire and daggers for teeth.

From the right came an identical baby girl, this one followed by hundreds – no,
thousands
of rats. The baby boy continued to shake his rattle until the other babies, the dogs and the rats surrounded Gulbaru. And then he heard it – a voice he'd almost forgotten – as it gave the order. The first baby girl opened her mouth, drew back her head, snarled and then ripped a chunk of flesh from Gulbaru's chest with one bite. The mongrels howled with bloodlust as the rats began to clamber over his body, picking at his skin with their teeth. The largest of
the dogs jumped onto him. Its hot, bloody mouth was wide open, little pieces of flesh falling from the teeth. It arched its back and struck . . .

Now, as he sat up in bed, he wondered what the significance of his dreams was. No doubt his wife, Darshana Kaur, would interpret them for him. But she was soundly asleep, her back to him, snoring loudly. Gulbaru got out of bed and walked over to the water gourd on the table. He poured himself a drink, downing it in one, and then made his way back to bed.

As he got under the covers, his wife stirred and turned round. ‘What is it?' she asked him.

‘Nothing,' he lied. ‘Go back to sleep.'

Darshana ignored him. ‘This is the third night you've woken me,' she said.

‘Bad dreams,' he admitted.

Darshana sat up and let the covers fall from her. Even in the darkness Gulbaru could make out her crooked nose and mono-brow. The heat that rose from her body carried the stench of onions and dirt. He turned away and tried to close his eyes.

‘I know you want a son,' she told him, hoping that he was still listening, but knowing in her heart that he was not. ‘And I know that I am not the beauty I was when we met. But I love you, Gulbaru Singh, and I always will. We have been through too much, done too much, to be apart . . .'

Darshana looked at Gulbaru's back, stroked it, and for a moment prayed silently that she might provide him
with a male heir. God knows, she had tried everything she could; listened to every old wives' tale, but to no avail. Now, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she knew that his love had died. It would not be long, she realized, before he cast her aside and found a younger woman to be with. And that thought ate away at her day and night.

‘Do you remember those nights after we first met?' she said to him. ‘The way you never wanted to leave me when dawn broke?'

Gulbaru said nothing but his memory took him back to a time when Darshana had been truly beautiful; to the little room where they had spent so many nights. He recalled taking her away from the brothel owner just as he was preparing to put her to work. Threatening to cut out the man's heart with a dagger to have the woman he dreamed of. Theirs had been a savage, animal passion but the fire was long dead, the embers faded to grey.

‘I am still the same girl,' she insisted. ‘I may not look the same but I
am
her and I still love you.' She lay back down, facing his back, her left hand caressing his shoulders and neck. ‘I promise that I will provide you with a son,' she added.

Gulbaru remained silent and listened to his wife crying herself to sleep.

On the other side of the city, lying on a thin mattress on the floor, Gurdial dreamed of happier days, of finding a
better place. His thoughts were flooded with images of a golden future with Sohni. The two of them holding hands in the sunshine, laughing in a garden filled with flowers. A house, not dissimilar to Sohni's, stood behind them, freshly painted, its doors and windows thrown open. Jeevan and Bissen Singh were there, sitting on one of the verandas, drinking spicy tea and chatting idly about the state of the world.

Inside the house, around a large table fashioned from rosewood, a meal was waiting. Large clay bowls filled with dhal sat on the table next to plates of
roti
and fresh fruit – slices of juicy mango and plump lychees. From the kitchen came the sound of a couple laughing. Gurdial watched himself walk through the door to find Mata Devi and Sohan Singh cheerfully preparing the rest of the meal, their faces turned away from him.

A bright green lizard crawled across one of the walls, throwing out its tongue, searching. Flies buzzed in and out of the windows as a huge wasp hovered above a wooden pail of water-buffalo milk. In the corners, spiders wove their webs and small mice scuttled about. From the back door came the croak of a toad, the cry of an eagle and the gentle rustle of a cooling breeze. And in the distance, a car horn
pap-papped
.

Gurdial approached Mata Devi and touched her plump shoulder. She turned and smiled at him, and suddenly he found himself looking up at an open sky, blue with gentle wisps of white cloud floating in it. The smell of citrus oil invaded his senses, and then the
smiling face of a woman looked down at him. He smiled back at her, trying to speak, but the sounds were simply the little gurgles of a baby. The woman kissed his forehead and cooed gently.

He felt the presence of a man but could not make him out. He saw a smile and sensed a voice but no more than that. And then he found himself sitting opposite the Golden Temple, its reflection shimmering in the water. Jeevan was at his side, holding rotting onions, telling him a story. A hand took hold of his shoulder, forcing him to turn. Gulbaru Singh's face confronted him, his eyes blazing with hatred, his breath sour.

‘Did you think I would let you live?' he spat.

‘But I . . .' Gurdial heard himself stutter.

Gulbaru Singh raised the machete in his right hand and brought it down in an arc towards Gurdial's head—

Gurdial sat up, his breathing shallow, his heart pumping. Across from him, Jeevan stirred and woke up too.

‘What's the matter,
bhai-ji
?' Jeevan asked.

‘Nothing,' whispered Gurdial.

‘You sound unwell.'

‘Just a bad dream.'

‘All right,' said Jeevan, settling back down.

Gurdial lay down too but kept his eyes open, wondering why his dream had turned into a nightmare so quickly. Was it some kind of message to leave well alone? However hard he tried to banish them, the insecurities he felt over Sohni stayed with him, day and
night. Was he a fool for believing that they had a future together? Was he really so naïve? Outside the open window he heard a pack of stray dogs howling. In the corner of the room something scurried across the floor. Gurdial closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but he was soon in his dream again, back at the beginning. Holding hands with Sohni in the sunshine.

DARSHANA KAUR LED
her guest into the kitchen and poured some tea for him. He thanked her in heavily accented Punjabi and took the chair she offered. She remained standing, watching him as he sipped at the cup.

‘Do you know why you are here?' she asked him.

‘Yes,' he replied, his cat-like green eyes searching the room around her.

‘Where are you from?'

The man smiled. ‘From across the mountains to the north,' he replied.

‘From China?'

He nodded. ‘From the empire of dragons,' he said, smirking.

Darshana wondered how old he was. His hair was long and straggly and completely white. A long white beard hung from his face and his teeth looked canine.
His skin was dry and his ears seemed too large for his head.

‘How do you come to speak our language?' Darshana asked.

‘I have lived in your country for many years. I was brought here by a rajah who employed me for a decade.'

‘What did you do for this rajah?'

The Chinaman smiled. ‘Whatever I could,' he replied. ‘Spells and potions and curses . . . But you know all about me. That is why you asked me to come.'

Darshana nodded. ‘I am told that you are the best there is,' she told him. ‘Expensive, but very good.'

‘That I am. Once I am in your employ, there is nothing I cannot do, if you ask me.'

Darshana was about to ask him another question when the Chinaman shushed her.

‘You long for a male child,' he said to her. ‘You have already had two . . . shall we say,
unsuccessful
attempts at childbirth.'

‘But how do you—?'

‘
Silence!
' he ordered. ‘It is what I do. Now, I can help you but it won't be easy. You must do as I say, whenever I say.'

Darshana nodded slowly.

‘Take all images and artefacts of God or religion from the house,' he said.

‘But . . .'

The Chinaman frowned. ‘Do as I say or find another.'

‘When do I—?' began Darshana.

‘Now,' he whispered. ‘I shall finish my tea as you collect them and then we shall go into the garden.'

‘The garden?'

‘In order to burn the offending items. The magic does not work if it is tainted by religion.'

Darshana sat where she was and thought for a moment about her husband. Would he be angry if she did as the man asked? The answer was probably no. Gulbaru Singh was not a religious man, unless you counted the worship of money.

‘I'll do it,' she replied. ‘But be warned – I am not a woman to cross.'

The Chinaman nodded. ‘I know this. Now get on with your task. And make up a bed for me. I will be staying in your house until my work is done.'

Darshana left the kitchen, muttering as she went. She had taken an instant dislike to the Chinaman. But as long as he served his purpose she would put up with him.

Twenty minutes later they were in the garden – a pile of religious artefacts burning on a small fire in front of them.

‘Do you have any broken or cracked dishes?' the Chinaman asked Darshana.

‘One or two,' she replied. ‘Why?'

‘Bring them out too. And anything else that is broken. Such things will stop you falling pregnant.'

‘Is there anything else I need to burn while I'm at it?' she asked sarcastically.

The Chinaman smiled. ‘In many parts of this country, a bitch such as you would know her place. But here, you are queen.' He chuckled to himself. ‘I mean nothing by those words,' he told her. ‘That is just my way. Do not take it to heart.'

Darshana looked him in the eye. ‘You dare to call me a bitch again,' she said quietly, ‘and I will pull your eyeballs from their sockets and feed them to the rats. You say you know all about me: tell me, am I serious?'

He nodded. ‘You and I will make formidable allies, madam. I apologize for any offence.' He began to chuckle once more.

‘Let me go and find those broken dishes,' she said.

When she returned, the Chinaman inspected the dishes closely before smashing them on the ground. Once they were in small pieces he took a broom and swept them into the fire.

‘Kneel down, madam,' he told Darshana. ‘I am going to see what it tells us.'

‘How?'

‘Many things are made clear in this way,' he said.

They knelt before the fire and looked into it. The flames were small but hot enough to make the skin on Darshana's face prickle. The Chinaman looked unperturbed. He sat completely still for five minutes, not even looking away when Darshana stood up, her
face red with the heat. Finally he turned and looked up at his mistress.

‘You may not like what I saw,' he said, ‘but we are allies and I must tell you.'

Darshana helped him to his feet. ‘What did you see?' she asked, desperate to know.

The Chinaman fixed her with his feline eyes. ‘The magic of love has gone from your marriage,' he said softly.

Darshana nodded sadly.

‘Your husband looks for a new love. And, as he has done before, he thinks about ridding himself of his burdens.'

Darshana's eyes grew wide with shock as she digested the Chinaman's words. ‘I am his burden,' she said in a whisper.

He nodded. ‘He sleeps badly and he dreams of ghosts. And each day, as he sits making money, he wonders what a new woman could give him. And thinks of what
you
cannot give him.'

Darshana shuddered. ‘A son,' she said.

‘Yes, madam.'

She wiped away her tears and steadied herself. ‘This remains between us,' she told him.

‘As you wish,' he replied. ‘If the time comes, I will be ready to help.'

An image of Gulbaru lying on her bed in the morning light, his eyes shiny with love, came to her. He called out to her, telling her that he wished to lose himself
inside her. That he would never,
could
never, touch another woman. Was God so cruel that he could kill such a beautiful love? she asked herself. Despite all they had done, they
had
loved each other. And now it was gone. She had known, deep inside, that it was over, but it had taken the Chinaman to make it sink in.

‘But if I . . . If he . . .' she stuttered. ‘I will end my life alone. What man will want this broken thing that I have become?'

The Chinaman took her hand. ‘Broken things can be mended,' he told her. ‘Perhaps your husband is the evil that has infected your body. Perhaps when he is gone, you will become again the flower that you once were.'

Darshana wiped her eyes again. ‘Do you think so?' she asked hopefully.

‘Yes, madam,' replied the Chinaman. ‘Now let us go and drink some more tea.'