Two Perplexed Night Riders

Perplexed!

We used to meet at night in Vicky's room during those days for our 'combined study' for the examinations. Many a time we had other occupations like making stories, sharing a peg or a cigarette and listening to music or watching videos. Often after mid night when I returned from his room, the beat police used to pick me until after a while I was familiar with them. They never did any harm.

 To begin with, it is not justice unless I tell you about an incident which happened one of these nights.

 These were October nights. Onam season was just over and the nights are becoming cold just before the spell of the next round of monsoon.

On some days it did rain. We could feel the sweet smell of the night flowers as we walked through the sodium vapor lit street. We could see the mist in the night sky. We could see when it rained on the foggy yellow light of sodium vapor lamps. We could hear the cicadas and frogs. The experience of walking through the night is exhilarating especially when you find most of the town asleep.

 Occasionally you meet a couple returning from cinema or some other jollifications. One day for example we saw a car zigzagging very fast through the road. We were quite afraid that it will smash into the side walls or ram into a closed shop. But it moved away somehow and we could hear the frantic yell of the male, "Annie, Annie, drive straight, drive straight"!

They were back from some night club or party and the wife was quite drunk and must have insisted on driving even as the Police kept a close watch in the night for those who drive drunk. So you have occasions to witness such merriments.

South of the Junction on the main road lay a posh residential area of the city, that was divided into two by a wide two lane street. Heavy vehicles were at that time not allowed through this road and were a perfect one for morning and evening walks. We preferred the night!

 We were planning to have food from a street shop at the Junction right in front of the News paper company. Not before a brief walk through this street. After food, we needed to return to continue our work on a complex costing problem.

Joss, who was a common friend and who lived close by had as usual joined us for a walk with his Dachshund. The dog was a fine one.

One of Joss's favorite past time during these night trips was to exercise the dog by throwing stones and making the dog, pick up and bring them back. This went on even as we paced up and down the road. The dog was said to be an expert to de-husk coconuts which fall on his terrace!

Joss was a pleasant man of medium height, thin and a chain smoker. He was working in a travel agency and was a clever man that he didn't take any fancy to our profession. He was about to get married.

 Just as we crossed the street, we saw a man sitting near the dirty drainage, half of his body slumped into it. Every such night, we were accustomed to seeing this man sitting on the main road opposite of the news paper company, on the edge of the drainage, always quite drunk.

 He drooped down to the ground and was sometimes vomiting into the drainage. He used to lay there on the ground always uttering something.

During those days the Government allowed, for no reason, retail sales from wine shops. Earlier you could drink only from Bars or Restaurants with a license. This helped the drunkards.

On the way to Vicky's room there was one such retail shop and every evening we used to see many people who had drunk and who fell on the bare earth in front of the shop like dead flies!

At night, while sipping black tea after one or two 'dosas' in the street shop (small temporary shops at night serving food to people living in lodges and for families buying parcels), this was an additional entertainment for us.

 The friendly shop keeper, Murali, had told us the story of this man. He was actually a journalist and used to write short stories. I still remember that I immediately recognized him. One of his stories had just been published which created some ripples in the literary circles. It was about a prostitute meeting with an accident and nobody cares about her except our man who gets her into a nearby public hospital.

It is always like that. Nobody would dare to be known in public to be related to such poor souls though their money will be used shamelessly by the family. She dies in the hospital and nobody claims her body. Somebody has got to do the last rites.  The protagonist takes it his responsibility to claim her body and carry her ashes to the sea. It was a wonderful story.

 Murali told us that the journalist currently wrote about the drug abuse among college students and about the under world gangs who supplied this near the colleges. The articles were scary and there were rumors about some political support for the gangs. The media also hinted at rulers nexus with business magnets in the city that had interests in feeding the gangs. This enraged the home minister who turned loose every force and tried to stamp out the gangs.

It was still a small city. The City Police Commissioner was a fire brand man and he knew the city as good as the lines on his palm. The police did not leave alone even the simple food vendors who made their living on the street. Night life, which was scarce, was becoming more difficult.

Only last week, two people were stabbed in the heart of the city near a well known hotel. It was said to be a gang war and this further complicated the matters. Murali warned us against our night walks.

 We also had read some of these articles and wondered how such an excellent journalist could spend his life in complete ruin after sunset.

 Actually, the man's life was in shambles as his wife suddenly committed suicide one day. His children were being looked after by his in laws. He is said to have loved his wife very much and could not help himself in the misfortune and took to drinking heavily. Who knows what really happened in such cases!

 My friend suddenly went close to him and with his foot, nudged the person into the drainage. Vicky was all laughing, when he did this and when he turned at us. The drainage was not very deep but was full of black silt. Fortunately, nobody else was on the road at that time to witness this callous behavior, except Murali, who also laughed.

 Though we reproached him for this behavior, we resumed our own talks later that we were least aware of the dangers we put to ourselves.

 We continued our walk and went as far as the end of the two lane road from where a bridge connected the road to the newly built apartment complex. The road further was a single lane and was connected through a slum and went till the ship yard. It was not wise to go further. It was dark there with no street lights. The entire length of the road we covered took just fifteen minutes.

Apartments were very uncommon during those days. We stayed for sometime in front of a house of a rich contractor for our own little reasons and talked.

It was difficult for Joss to keep the dog from barking. The daughter of the contractor was known to all of us and studied in the women's college and was a beauty. We could see her shadow on the first floor as she walked back and forth the room, obviously studying. Joss was telling us a story about her.

 During the New Year eve, the youngsters in the town vied with each other to get passes for the Navy Ball. It was a privileged affair and the one who got invited felt like a Prince! The attraction was so much as there were wine and food and dance during the night. An extra entertainment, we were told, was the moment of New Year when the clock struck twelve and when the lights were off for a minute!

It was usual for young participants to come back and narrate well made stories to their unfortunate brethren about what happened in these nights. Joss was entertaining us with such a story involving the young beauty. We were listening curiously with wide eyes. Joss's brother Johns was in Merchant Navy. This girl, whose name resembled some well known fragrant flower later went on to become a famous actress across the southern states, was showered with many awards and won many accolades.

 After spending there a while and enjoying the scene, we returned to the shop. The man who fell into the drainage was nowhere to be seen and Murali said he had come out all dark and saw him going east, further on the main road, most likely to his home. We were much relieved.

 We left his subject and were discussing other things when the incident happened.

Joss was sitting on a stool on the other side of the shop with Murali and his face towards us. He had securely tied his dog, on the nearby electric post. Dachshund was sitting on the shadow of the post with his tongue dropped out from his open mouth, catching a fly now and then, swinging around his body, and sometimes eagerly looking at us with his innocent eyes, waiting for the bonus pieces of omelets.

A car, an old Benz, came to a halt a few yards away from the shop. It was of ivory color. Two people jumped out. We could see few more sitting inside.

The man who came near us ordered black tea and omelets. His eyes were red, his nose as red as a plum and was hissing when he talked. He wore black jeans and blue tee-shirt. He was quite stocky. His hair was thorny and was mended back. I noticed that Joss stared at him indignantly as if he knew him before. The man was wheezing and sneezing either with cold or having drunk so much.

My friend continued his narrative as usual, without caring.

I was the first to jerk and jump back when I saw a glass whizzing past me towards Joss and it broke near him. Before my friend could turn around, another one was flying past me but still missed Joss and broke on the electric post.

 Vicky turned around now and yelled at the man, "Hey, what are you doing? What is going on?"

The man pushed him aside, took a log which was lying nearby and charged at Joss, abusing him with very foul language. He was quite drunk; and I thought it would be dodgy for us to stay there. I immediately grasped the danger and tried to pull back my friend from a scuffle.

Joss, who was sitting unperturbed, now stood up. There was a loud bark.

The Dachshund!

It had already smelt danger and now jumped out of the shadow and came charging at the man. The man, who had never noticed the dog as it was behind the post was taken aback by this sudden turn of event and dropped the log impulsively and stepped back.

Joss, by now released the dog and pulling him back came towards us as if nothing had happened and signaled us to go home. It was as if he knew what was happening. The dachshund was barking loudly against the car and squirming to get out of the grip by Joss.

I had difficulty in bringing back Vicky, who was all worked up and was planning for a fight.

By the time the others in the car got out, a police jeep was seen coming slowly from the south street and turned to the left and parked there for sometime, which shortly averted further danger. The man and his colleague went back to the car, got inside and did not come out again.

 Joss later told us at his home that they were a goons' team kept by a well known businessman and they used to travel in this particular car in the night for their expeditions. As to the provocation, he said it was merely because he stared at the man crossly and the man became uneasy!

Vicky told Joss later, "Man, why, your dog is not just a watch dog, he is a blood hound!"

 We were relieved of escaping unhurt, except for my friend who wanted to strike the man. We were so shaken by the incident that I wound up the study for the day and returned to my room.

 Next morning, as I was about to get up, I heard running foot steps and my friend calling out to me. I opened the door cursing him harshly with the memory of last day's events. He was standing there with a news paper and was obviously shaken. I took it and he showed me the front page.

Down there was the news about a man's body found near the bridge close to the apartments. He was identified as the Journalist.

There were some bruises on the body and the shirt was missing. There was a deep wound on the head as if something struck him or he fell down and hit somewhere. It was a mystery why he went to this part as Murali had told us that he went east.  We had not met anybody on the road on our way back to Murali's shop that night.

He had (the story ran) apparently fallen from the bridge, hit on a stone and died in the shock. He was also drunk.

According to the Police, he was to return home after midnight as usual after his drinking bout, but had lost his way. There was no mention of any mud found on his body. He might have washed himself somewhere.

The Police had registered a case for accidental death and send the body for post mortem.

 We looked at each other perplexed.

('perplexed' is part of 'The Inverted Tiq Marqs' © by A P)

 (Fiction)