Valmiki's Daughter (10 page)

He put the window down an inch farther. The rain came in so he leaned away, but in vain.

“Saul not here. He leave for work six o'clock,” Saul's wife said. A pause followed. Valmiki shrank from it. She continued, “He working by Mr. Kowlessar new house. They putting in the electrical now. You know where Mr. Kowlessar new house situated?”

Valmiki wondered if indeed she knew of his and Saul's relationship. She showed no animosity toward him. And he knew that he couldn't go to Malcolm Kowlessar's house. He dared not be seen going there to meet a tradesman, pulling this worker out to go and fritter away a day with him. People would talk. They would wonder if he had lost his mind.

Valmiki remained silent, and the woman's manner softened as she continued. “Well, he leave real early to beat the traffic, so he might come home any time now.”

Having unintentionally involved Saul's wife in his impudence, Valmiki now lost the feeling of needing to see Saul. Saul might have offered the reassurance and sort of stillness that usually calmed Valmiki. But ultimately, Saul could not really help Valmiki, and Valmiki knew this too well.

If going into the forest is what he wanted to do, Valmiki could accomplish this by himself. He would drive off immediately.

But Saul's wife was saying, “I know about him and you, you know, Doc. I know he real take to you.”

Valmiki's face flushed. He stared forward, put his fingers on the key in the ignition. Mrs. Joseph spoke quickly now, undeterred by the rain. “Even though he and me married since we young, and living that long together, we used to be like neighbours to each other. But that was before he and you.”

A sweat broke over Valmiki's entire body. Before he and I
what
? He wanted and didn't want, at the same time, to know what she was saying. He bit the side of his gum like a child who had no explanation.

“It used to be that he minding he own business, me minding mine. But he come like a brother to me since.”

Since
. Since what? But Valmiki was glad that she had not said more on this.

“We don't have relations, but I have to say what we have is better than that.”

The rain wetting her dress seemed immaterial to Saul's wife. Valmiki reached for the ignition, and she put her hands on the glass of the window, hooked the fingers of both hands on its edge. “No, Doc. I did want a chance to tell you I don't have no bad feelings. Nobody can expect me to feel good as a woman, but I don't have bad feelings either.” She pointed to the house and quickly returned her hand to grip the window. “You see this? He work hard and with his hard-earned money he buy the house.”

Valmiki turned and looked at her directly, but when she spoke on he looked away again. “Saul does sleep in one room. I in the next. Why I wouldn't be a little sorry for myself? But he treat me all right. Doc, we are not rich people. I can't get up and leave just so. Leave and go where? I have to stay and make do. Saul happy, and I happy for him. It might be a strange thing, but I will say it, I happy for him because he happy and he is my husband. Is only strange if you not in the situation yourself and you watching-judging from outside.”

There might be some queer openness between Saul and his wife, Valmiki noted, yet not so great a one that Saul would reveal that it was Valmiki who had bought that house. Rather awkwardly he mumbled that it was a slow day in the office, and he
had just taken a chance that he might see Saul to talk about some electrical work he had for him. But, he apologized between gritted teeth, he had better get back; he was expecting a full office later in the afternoon.

He wondered if he should put a stop to this thing with Saul immediately.

VALMIKI HAD LEFT THE HIGHWAY AND PASSED SEVERAL SMALL SETTLE-
ments along the way to the western edges of the Central Range. He arrived in an area of forest he had visited in the past with Saul. Here, the road conditions changed. He pondered all that Mrs. Joseph had just said to him, and wondered too, in his embarrassment, who was the wiser in the degree of their discretion, his wife or this woman? He went along a narrow two-way road that was thinly paved with a mix heavy in gravel and light in asphalt. If a car were to come from the opposite direction, he or the other driver would have to pull off the pavement, exercising caution not to slip too far down the gully that ran along either side. Arriving alongside a cutlassed path into the forest, Valmiki brought the car to rest on a well-padded section of knot-grass that was usually kept low by hunters for this very purpose. He shut the engine off. A path of dirty grey skylight mirrored the roadway. In an instant, the windows fogged up. He switched back on the ignition and lowered the windows a fraction all around. The glass cleared, but he saw nothing save for a blur of shivering greens and the darkness of the forest magnified.

The rain tapped relentlessly off the car's metal and glass, on the asphalt and gravel, off the leaves. The ground was coursed by muddied vein-like rivulets. Even while it rained, birds could be heard chirping in the trees. Caws and squawks in call-and-answer patterns came from all directions. Through the incessant
and loud ringing of innumerable cicadas he heard the occasional grunts of howler monkeys. No human sounds could be heard. He mumbled nonsensical sounds just to hear himself.

This forest was dense and dark enough that at any time of day it offered good hunting opportunities. In the rain the animals would have hunkered down beside the wide trunks of trees, on the inside of one of the wall-like roots of a balata tree, or under the umbrellas of wide-leafed trees. They would be easy prey like that.

Valmiki hesitated at the rain and mud. Then, with a jolt of determination, he opened the car door, got out, and stood in the rain until he was thoroughly soaked. He went to the trunk and opened it. He unfurled the rifle from its pouch. He licked the trickles on his lips. His own salt had already begun to break through, in spite of the rain washing over him. A grin set on his face.

It did not last long, though. Once the car and roadway were no longer visible he tensed and moved one deliberate step at a time. By himself, without someone to watch his back, he had the sense that anything could fall out of the trees onto him, or that he could be pounced on from behind. He tiptoed, even though the falling rain drowned the sound of his presence.

He hadn't gone out or used the rifle in the rain before, and wasn't sure how he and it would fare. And, he remembered, snakes got washed out in this kind of weather. In spite of the tall heavy rubber boots he wore, he felt that he could be bitten and die right there. In the forest. Alone. Like a man. Devika and the girls would live the rest of their lives wondering what on earth had made him leave his office and go into the forest by himself. His heart raced.

He walked a hundred or so yards into the forest. Suddenly, he stood still. He could hear something. Fear caused a thundering
pulsing in his head. He did his best to listen beyond the sound of his own fear. He watched with the painful acuity of one whose life depended on it. Soon he could hear a steady, fast-paced panting. A whimper. He bent down and looked through the binoculars that hung around his neck. Rain covered the lenses and the forest was an undecipherable mess of fractured shades of green. Again, there was that sound, a wince or a whimper. He looked with his eyes, the water globbing on his eyelashes almost blinding him. About ten yards or so away, he could just see something that seemed out of place. A honey-coloured shape, huddled in the stalks of a stand of baliser. He couldn't see its face, but judging from the shape, the heaving body, and the paler hanging folds of skin knobbed with rows of teats, he knew it must be a dog that had been recently nursing. Rabies came to mind. He watched for a while, until the dog ducked its head under and out from the heavy dripping fronds of the baliser. He aimed the rifle. In its hooded target lines, he could see the dog's face. Its eyes were soft, its face soft — almost timid. The dog shivered. He lowered the rifle and looked around. The dog seemed to be alone. No pups, no sign of a person nearby or a squatter's lean-to or shed. He lifted the barrel again, and let the scope's target lines roam the face of the dog. He let it run down the dog's body. Its neck. Its visible hind leg. He lifted it toward the chest. There. Between its ribcage. He steadied himself and cocked the rifle.

Suddenly, above the patter of rain falling he heard what could be nothing other than the clearing of a man's throat. He was so startled that he made a fast turn, slipped on the slimy floor of rotting leaves, and fell over. He quickly righted himself and looked about. About the same distance away as the dog, but off to its side now, the glow of a cigarette revealed a man whose face was obscured by a straw hat with a brim wide enough to
permit him to smoke in the rain. The man was stooped in the root system of a balata tree.

It horrified Valmiki to think he had not seen that glow. The man remained on his haunches, as still as if he were a bird asleep on one leg. But the lit cigarette gave away the fact that he was watching, and his well-timed throat-clearing said that he disapproved, and intended to interrupt whatever it was that Valmiki had been contemplating. Valmiki wondered if the man was alone. If he hadn't seen this man, he wondered, what else was he missing? The man did not look like someone Valmiki had met in the village while travelling there with Saul, and made no sign of rising, or wanting to talk, or even to quarrel. Valmiki, still hunkered on the ground, was terrified that the man might also carry a gun. His temples throbbed. He suffered an acute shame, like a schoolboy caught in the act of doing something wrong. He had the real, albeit fleeting thought, of turning the gun on himself, if only to handle his self-inflicted humiliation. The barrel of the rifle would have been much too long to accomplish even this, and he imagined himself further mortified by yet another incompetence.

Hastily, he stumbled backwards, keeping an eye on where the man stood, wary that a bullet from the gun the man might carry might be racing in a crippling hurry toward his spine. Finally, he turned and ran forward, arriving back at his car his only desire now. He sweated, and was drenched in a way that no rainfall could have matched.

WHEN VALMIKI FINALLY REACHED HIS CAR, HE SPUN IT AROUND AND
got out of there — not caring about the bumpy road — out of the village, out onto the main road, and made his way back into San Fernando faster than was legal or safe. All the way he shook his
head, as if trying to dispel the act and the knowledge that he might have, that he could have, that he almost pulled the trigger on a sitting, nursing, shivering dog. He didn't know which was worse, to have been so close to doing this or to have been caught in the act. He had also to find a plausible, acceptable reason for running out of his office in the middle of the day without telling his staff, and with a room full of waiting patients.

Back in town, he went to The Victory Hotel first, where the staff knew him well. They were not surprised to see him on a workday — but to find him drenched, his clothing mud-splattered, his shoes caked, him looking like a fugitive and without a woman? They gave him a room, no questions asked, expecting that a woman was bound to arrive looking for him. However, in record time, the staff noted, he had changed — not into his usual work attire but into the clothing that was kept in the trunk of his car: khaki slacks and a white golf jersey — and was out of there. He was a handsome man, the staff, both the men and the women, agreed, and so gentle, they said, adding: no wonder all those women he comes with here like him so much.

Valmiki arrived at an excuse that involved him making a stop at Maraj and Son Jewellers. Under the guidance of the owner, Sunil Maraj, he would buy Devika, Viveka, and Vashti a piece of jewellery each. The explanation would be partially true: having just seen a patient who had the effect on him of making him think of his family, he was overcome with appreciation for each one of them, and wished to express this, so he had left the office early in search of the perfect gifts. He would buy them the best there was, and perhaps they would ask no more questions. The bonus, he thought, would be that Devika might be placated, at least for a short while, and Viveka, through some heaven-sent generosity, might settle down and behave herself.

Viveka wasn't home when he returned. He handed Devika and Vashti the presents. They were surprised, speechless, and made a gaggle of sounds that were lost on him. His mind was on something else: his relief that he hadn't had time to pull the trigger.

EARLIER THAT SAME DAY, VIVEKA WALKED DOWN THE HILL FROM
Luminada Heights and from there took a local taxi to the stand just outside of the San Fernando General Hospital. The umbrella she sheltered under did nothing to keep her feet dry. The legs of her jeans were damp and clung to her thighs, and her feet were wet and splotched with debris from the street. She stood in a huddle with several other people under the ample awning of the taxi stand. A doctor who knew her as Valmiki's daughter drove through the gates of the hospital, spotted her, and pulled up his car. He drew down the window and greeted her. She knew he was bound to be wondering what she was doing waiting in the rain, outside of the gates of the hospital, for a taxi, but wouldn't come right out and ask. She saved him the trouble with a harmless lie: “I am doing a project that involves public transportation.” The look on the doctor's face brightened. After that she positioned herself a little behind another waiting passenger and made sure to duck down whenever a face she knew from her family's world of friends passed by.

The wall behind her stank of urine, the odour like a vapour leached by the rain. The woman at Viveka's side held a handkerchief to her nose. There didn't seem to be any judgment in
this; she just held the kerchief there as if it were the most natural thing to do. Viveka thought of doing the same, but felt that if she did she would certainly appear to be aloof and disdainful. The woman turned to her and said, “I don't know why they don't do something about the beggars sleeping under here, na. Is like every wall in this place is a public toilet.” Viveka smiled but remained quiet. From the way other passengers and passersby looked at her, some of them taking in her entire frame in a slow examination, she knew she seemed out of place at the taxi stand. She wondered which was easier — enduring all of this or just mustering up enough courage to sit behind the wheel herself and drive. Since getting her licence more than a year before, she had driven only a handful of times, and never unaccompanied by her mother or her father. Given the way people drove their cars —“as if they owned the streets,” people would say, and regardless of rules — and given the number of accidents and deaths caused by careless driving, she had no desire and even less courage to drive.