The Gypsy Goddess (16 page)

started to shoot at us and it is not simple shooting you see they have at least twenty-five guns with them, mostly local country-made shotguns not as good as the foreign guns but they could keep on firing, look at that coconut tree, it has the highest number of gunshot injuries, just like Palayam, they removed fifty-six pellets from his thigh at the hospital, and poor Veerappan had to lead him to safety down the mud paths in the dark and take him to Thevur and then to Keevalur and then straight to the hospital while we were ducking the gunshots coming our way and watching the mob remove the bamboo fences from our homes and as they advanced our people began to run away in fright, it was scary, seeing these men with their guns, and just then three black vans came around the corner and we felt the police had come, hope was there because our saviour was here, we ran towards the vans seeking help but Gopalakrishna Naidu and his henchmen stepped out of the vans and the trailers,
naanga ethirpaakave illa
, we were shocked, we were fooled, they burst into a brisk volley of commands: C
ATCH
!
STRIKE
!
HIT
!, we were screaming, we started running for our lives we ran through the canals we ran through the ponds,
moochu vaanga neramilla ma
, we ran breathlessly, we had to save ourselves, we entered the fields full of paddy crops and hid ourselves there, and we were still, so still like we were stone-dead, we saw them set fire to our homes, we watched our village burn bright, we heard unceasing
screams, we knew the worst was going on, but you see we could not go back, that would be useless, empty bravado, if you were there you too would have decided against going back, because if we went back we would be shot dead and we could not leave the fields because our shadows would give us away, we lay in wait and some time that night the police came again but they went back as if nothing had happened, they did not report any incident so we had to go to the police station and report the attack around midnight and the police came in their van at around two and by that time everything had been burnt down, I was crying that our people have been charred to death because the smell of burning hair was everywhere but no one listened to me, sister, so I decided to leave, I took Muniyan and Muthusamy away from Kilvenmani, it was panic, I was afraid that we might be attacked again that night, and you see, it is very important to save our leaders, they would have died for us, I made them board a
paara vandi
and sent them off to Nagapattinam, even I was injured, everything was going wrong at once, I was feeling forsaken, but I made up my mind and I went to the Keevalur police station and when I entered the station I saw Gopalakrishna Naidu come out wiping his filthy nose and
ennaala porukka mudiyala
, I started shouting
indha thaiyolidhaan enga sanaththa konaan
, he's the bloody mother-fucker who killed us all and the police restrained me by saying he is now under our
custody, we can handle him, we can take care of the matter, and then they put me in a van to the hospital, that's how they deftly got rid of me, it looked like they were under orders to complete the crime by shielding the criminals, I was where I did not want to be, and here I saw something that will make any man shudder, my brother Palanivelu and my friend were carried inside like corpses and my brother's legs were hacked up and both of them had at least forty injuries between them, it was atrocious,
indha aniyayathukku oru alavae illa
, and this brutality happened because they had guns and we did not, these
mirasdars
had been allowed to have country shotguns and rifles and revolvers and pistols, complete with licence and all, but you know, sister, what the real tragedy is, not only were those barbaric whoresons allowed to have guns, but trust me, every single gun in the Nagapattinam district was deployed that night against us, we escaped only because we were hiding, we were not in the direct line of fire which would have killed at least fifty more of us, that's why we are breathing now, that's why we are undead, that's why I am able to tell you the story about that day,
kaalula neruppa kattikittu odanom, adhunaala thappichom
, we escaped because of our flaming feet, and at dawn most of us started returning to our village, you tell me, what else could we have done, even wordless creatures go looking for their dead, how could we stop ourselves, when we went we were
promptly tied up to trees and beaten up by the police,
adhu mattuma
, they blamed us for the fires of the previous night and soon even the inspector general was here and he said this smelled like a village of corpses and he ordered for us to be untied and a police officer who had come with the IG caught hold of my friend Pandari Ramayya and accused him of the murder of Pakkirisami Pillai and Ramayya told him that it was true that he was caught up in a mob earlier in the day, that he was being attacked by the imported labourers who had come from Irukkai under their agent Pakkirisami Pillai, he said these labourers had been looking for trouble, and that he hit back only to defend himself, they were not convinced with anything he said, you see, he was a prize catch and they were in no mood to let him go, so they sent him to the highest official who was easiest to reach, so it was the district superintendent of the police force,
ennaala summava irukka mudiyum
, how could I let him go alone, so I went with my friend and there the DSP was in civil dress and he asked us to sit down but we said that we preferred standing and then he asked Ramayya – Tell me the truth, did you attack Pakkirisami Pillai – and he replied that there was a commotion and that most of the men from our village confronted the mob coming in the opposite direction with billhooks and knives and that we fought with them and that we were attacked by them and the DSP asked him to cut to the chase and come straight to the point and
then Ramayya told him that it was
Margazhi
, the month of morning mist and the month of rain and slippery soil because of which he always carried a stick with him and that he hit this man with his stick because he was pretending to be one of us, but he was weaving his way in and out of our crowd and spearing our men at random and that he actually hit him only after he saw him stab Sellamuthu repeatedly with his billhook, and Ramayya said that it was what he did in the heat of the moment, he had not killed him, the man had only fallen into a nearby canal and then the others from our village had come hearing this noise and they saw this intruder and identified him as the agent from Irukkai, Pakkirisami Pillai, who imported the labourers, they tied him up and everything up to this was true, I say this because I was also there, I know that Ramayya did not have anything to do with that murder, but the DSP did not think so, when Ramayya was yet to even finish, the DSP left his chair, charged at him and slapped Ramayya as he kept repeating that it was true he attacked Pakkirisami Pillai for stabbing Sellamuthu, he had pushed him into the canal but he had not killed him but the DSP was in no mood to listen, instead he told his juniors that he should be thrown in jail and my friend was taken away, I was left alone, I made it back to the village and it was too crowded because everyone was there, the police and the newspaper people and the politicians, I managed to break the police cordon and saw them load the
bodies into a lorry, half my village was dead now, those were my people, men who had roamed these fields carrying me on their shoulders, women who were sisters or daughters or mothers or aunts from whose hands I have had water to drink and food to eat,
ellarum uravu murai
, we were all related, I broke down, I was not even allowed to go near their bodies, they did not let me even look at them for the last time, I was beaten up by the police and taken into their custody, I was treated as a criminal though I lost everyone dear to me in one night, that's how everything worked you see, we had nothing nothing at all because we were fighting for everyday food but he had everything, he owned everything, those who burnt our homes were his slaves, those who were our landlords were also his slaves, the police were his slaves and even the politicians were his slaves because they had all eaten his salt.

I don't know what you feel, or whose side you are on but I have told my story, sister, I haven't lied to you, a man cannot lie when he has the taste of death on his tongue, I want you to write this all down and put it in the papers and tell the truth to the whole world. Let everyone read about what happened here and let them burn with anger. And yes, you can note this too, my name is Ramalingam, I live on the same street where the tragedy took place, I have studied up to the eighth standard.

12.
Some Humanitarian Gestures

And since desperate times called for desperate measures, the extremely perturbed Inspector General of Police Mahadevan took certain liberties with his decisions. With the cosy benefit of hindsight, we could take shelter in blaming his haste but it must be borne in mind that on that particular day and under those pressing circumstances, Inspector General Mahadevan was left with no choice but to trust his instincts. When everything was in disorder, the atmosphere lent itself to rapid action. His first act was to get the suspects untied from the coconut trees which finally allowed the existing male survivors in Kilvenmani the freedom to be taken into proper police custody. His second act was to quickly dismiss the doctors who had been pressed into action at the behest of Inspector Rajavel. He ruled out a post-mortem or any procedure that involved taking the dead to a hospital. He reasoned that this was a modest humanitarian kindness that he could bestow on the victims. Nobody found the nerve to disagree, and the
doctors were herded back to the hospital. Pleased that he had performed a gallant act of charity, he got the requisite courage to face his higher authorities.

Inspector Rajavel, in spite of his overwhelming deference to obedience, was unhappy with IG Mahadevan's decision to bid goodbye to the doctors. This country policeman had been proud of the huge team at his disposal, and, naturally, he looked upon such downsizing as a personal affront. He was glad that at least the photographer, the firemen and the five-member village
panchayat
– made up of two untouchables (Thangavelu and Arumugam, a Paraiyar and Pallar), two Naidus and a Nadar for the neutrality – had been allowed to stay and identify the bodies.

Next, IG Mahadevan decided that the dead would not be returned to their relatives. This was his third charitable act of the day. He beamed with pride that he had solved the problem of handing over incomplete body parts of the unidentified victims. He was no longer rankled by questions: ‘What if there was a mix-up of the dead children? What if husbands mourned for other men's wives? Would everybody at least get a complete corpse? What if the mass funeral fuelled a retaliation?' As he had anticipated, the Communists argued for the right of the relatives to perform the last rites of the dead, but he was clear that he would neither allow dismembered corpses to create confusion among the bereaved, nor allow the angry
comrades to hold the state to ransom.

The Communists struggled to enter the village but the police cordon was rigid and impenetrable, and their leadership in Madras was mired in confusion and could not give them further orders on whether to break the
bandobust
or watch passively. Comrade Meenakshisundaram threatened direst repercussions against the police publicly, but used a local journalist friend to negotiate with them on his behalf, and as a consequence of his two-pronged approach, he and Comrade Sukumaran were let inside to meet IG Mahadevan. They exchanged pleasantries without any awkwardness despite being aware that the occasion was highly inappropriate. The Communists had a one-point demand: ‘Give us our people', but the police chief was in no mood to oblige. He patiently cited law and order problems, medical formalities, historical precedents, legal obstacles and investigation procedures, but to no avail. Clearly, such cold logic and persuasive techniques did not curry favour with the Communist leaders, who stuck to their stand.

‘I know you know this but do you think it is my personal decision? As a police officer, I want to let you know that we have been given shooting orders. How can anybody guarantee that their funerals would be peaceful? Who can assure us that there will not be another blood bath?' IG Mahadevan said.

‘But the bodies belong to us.'

IG Mahadevan stayed silent for a long time. ‘I don't disagree,' he said, and, pointing towards the burnt hut, remarked that it was easier to pluck hair off a hen's egg than to find matching pairs of legs, arms, a torso and a head for each of the dead from the heap of corpses.

‘No hands. No legs. No names. That's our problem. Our people were murdered, and we need their bodies. They died defending our red flag and they will be buried under our red flag. Give them to us,' Sukumaran demanded.

IG Mahadevan did not relent. ‘They might be dead meat, but we cannot ration them,
comrade
,' he said.

Before he could retort, Comrade Sukumaran was escorted away. Comrade Meenakshisundaram followed him out, shouting anti-police slogans.

Born without eyes, the fire had used its feet to move. Lacking the forgiveness of water, it had burnt them with blindness and bitterness. So, that morning, the
cheri
did not carry the roses-and-marigolds smell of death. Only the coppery sick-sweet smell of charred flesh: a smell like nothing else, a smell that was almost a taste, a smell that was meant to be smuggled to the grave. Through the smoke clouds that hung heavier than mist, the police van returned to Kilvenmani to fetch the dead. The living had been taken away to the hospital, or taken into custody. Subban was the first to be loaded in, followed by ten-year-old Jothi. The gravedigger and his granddaughter. Kunjammal and Poomayil, wife and sister of Thangavelu, the only two others who were identified. Then, as if out of deference, the dead mother cradling the dead child. Then the men and the women and the children and the disjointed limbs and torsos and legs that were stumps and standalone skulls and unclassifiable chunks of charred flesh. Stick men and stick women and stick children: dark and devoured by fire. The remains of two babies muddled into a mess, so they were not on the list of dead. Such death diminished the pain of procedure. There was no time wasted applying the rule of nines, no necessity to extract dying declarations.