RUMBLE IN A VILLAGE: A Novel by LUC LERUTH & JEAN DRÈZE

Author:LUC LERUTH & JEAN DRÈZE [LERUTH, LUC & DRÈZE, JEAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aleph Book
Published: 2020-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Palanpur, 1984

Soon after falling asleep, I woke up. It was not the bedbugs or the mosquitoes: I could hear loud screams from the upstairs room in Chunni’s house. I got up and climbed to the roof. From there, I could hear and see what was going on. Rakesh’s ordeal was not a pretty sight. He was punished not only for running away and for taking something from my house, but also for stealing twenty rupees from his parents before leaving. A severe beating was on the cards. The parents had tied the poor boy’s hands with a thick rope, stretched them upwards and tied the other end of the rope to the roof of the veranda. They threatened to leave him there the whole night. Then they sat inside and started discussing his transgressions, constantly shouting at him. After about an hour, Chunni told his wife to start questioning Rakesh. She did it with the help of a rod: What had he done for so long? Where was the money? What had he taken from my house? The questions were punctuated with heavy blows. I was not sure whether I should intervene or not. I decided to keep quiet, at least temporarily. At some point, Chunni’s wife seemed to feel tired and told Chunni to continue, but he would have none of it. After a short quarrel between husband and wife, during which Chunni’s authority seemed in jeopardy, she resumed her task, making Rakesh promise that he would never do this again. The boy promised and I left the roof, hoping that that would be the end of it.

Back on my charpoy, I found it hard to sleep as the promise was being sealed with a few more blows. The beating finally stopped. The parents untied the boy at last and gently told him to have some dinner. In England, the boy would have been sent to bed without dinner instead of being roughed up, but such a harsh punishment was evidently unthinkable in Palanpur.

The beating did not yield what I had expected. The son had screamed his confession in a way that left no doubt in my mind: he was telling the truth. What he had pinched from my house was a little golden star—not made of gold, much to Chunni’s regret—of the sort one sees on police and army uniforms. At least, that was what Chunni thought. It would not be surprising: the police had searched my place several times. I was left with only two shells for three shots. It was not clear what I could do with that.

I turned on my charpoy but, in spite of the silence, I could not sleep. Too many things on my mind. Of course, there was the missing third shell. But Pat’s insistence was also odd. Had I looked behind the bed? What a strange question! Why come up with that all the time—when I had left for the airport, and then in the telegrams. She could not have

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