Scattered Fates - a novel on the second partition of India

  #

  Moon returned to his hostel, hoping to catch some rest, he would not miss much by skipping the class on Marxist Economic Theory. Das Kapital always put him to sleep, and he would manage something for the exams.

  It was one week since he started sleeping on his own bed, and he never felt more satisfied. After Vinay made a hurried exit, he had mopped the entire room and got rid of the strange smell that was hanging in the air. No more sleeping on Andy’s floor. In fact now his friends spent most of their time in his den, chatting till late in the night. They even brought along their local drinks, converting his room into a secret bar.

  Andy came from Nagaland, one of the Northeastern Indian states, with 90 percent Christian population. They loved to make their own liquor from rice and for his stay in Madras, he had packed a suitcase full of zutho bottles.

  The first time Moon tasted zutho he immediately took a liking to it, it tasted just like makgeolli, which was his second favorite alcohol drink. The first was of course soju, as it had three times the strength, enabling him to get high faster for less.

  Andy warned him to go slow on his zutho stash as the stock was fast depleting, but once alcohol started flowing, there was no stop.

  At first Moon was surprised to find that hardly anyone drank alcohol in the University. The drinking culture was deeply ingrained in Corea and families even occasionally shared soju and makgeolli with the ladies and children joining in. Here, only the foreign exchange students had the occasional beer, while the students from Northeast swigged their own local brew. Someone told him that Hindu's consider it a sin to drink alcohol, only Christians and the lower castes participated in this activity. Another puzzle, he would never understand.

  Tonight they had planned to get high on zutho, and try some ganja that his friend had picked up from a shop near Madras Central station.

  As he approached the room, he saw it slightly ajar and expected to find Andy over for an impromptu visit, instead, as he pushed it wider, the strange smell was back, much to his horror.

  Shikya is back.Our plan is foiled, have to leave a note for Andy.

  ‘Hi, you returned? I thought you were going to Delhi,’ he said, staring at Vinay.

  ‘My father did not want to spend more money, he heard there was no agitation and sent me back.’

  ‘So then you will complete the term?’

  ‘Yes, I have no option. What have you done to this room? What are those bottles in the corner?’

  ‘Those are some herbal medicines that Andy got from his hometown.’

  ‘So many of them? What is that strange smell?’

  Bloody fool, it is coming from you.

  ‘Maybe there’s a dead rat somewhere... I have to go and find Andy, he has my lecture notes.’

  ‘OK, see you for dinner. Want to go to Triplicane again?’

  ‘Sorry, I have a dinner meeting.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘Andy and other friends, we want to try out a new Chinese restaurant on Mount Road,’ he lied.

  ‘Chinese? I heard they eat snakes and dogs, how disgusting. What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Do you eat snakes and dogs?’

  ‘The meat is delicious, you should try it sometime. There are so many snakes and dogs here, if you want I can cook for you one day,’ he replied, determined to make Vinay uncomfortable.

  Chinese believe that there are specific health benefits to be gained from eating snake, and it is also considered a male aphrodisiac, but it was not very popular in Corea. Dog meat soup was a different pot altogether, and considered a delicacy in his country.

  ‘How can you people eat dogs? They are man's best friends?’

  ‘The meat is tasty and healthy, much better than chicken or beef. I never complain about your food, so you have no right to judge my traditional food.’

  ‘Barbarians, I wonder how your Indian Queen tolerated the nasty food.’

  ‘What do you mean my Indian Queen?’

  ‘The priest at my family temple said that an Indian princess from my hometown went to your country 2,000 years ago and married your King. She became the first Queen of your country, so actually Coreans are half-Indian. That is why you are better looking than Chinese hee heee,’ he chuckled.

  ‘What a fantasy. Do you seriously think it is possible?’

  ‘Of course it is, it is also recorded in your oldest history book.’

  ‘I get it, you are talking of Queen Heo Hwang-ok, the first queen of Gaya Dynasty. For your information, the Samguk Yusa says that a princess travelled by boat from Ayutthaya in Thailand, not your hometown in India. She came to marry King Suro who ruled a small kingdom in Corea, not my entire country.’

  ‘There is a temple in my hometown which also mentions the queen, I am sure that she came from Ayodhya.’

  ‘Can you really believe that a princess from India had a dream and travelled thousands of kilometers across the seas to marry a person she never met. They had nothing in common, not even the food they ate, or the language they spoke, maybe she was just his concubine.’

  ‘I don't know; my priest told me and I believe him, a Brahmin knows everything.’

  ‘Then how come you do not seem to know anything?’

  ‘Believe what you want to. India has a 5,000 year old history and my ancestors conquered most of the world, including Corea.’

  ‘Typical arrogance, just like the Chinese. A country's greatness lies not in its history but with what its people make of the present.’

  ‘You will see soon, India will be a superpower under Indira. Anyway, I am tired, and have to take some rest, a bunch of madrasis sat next to me in the train, farting all night. Enjoy your Chinese food with the other chinkies and spare me the details when you get back.’

  Relieved, Moon left to find Andy and share the bad news.

  Our secret bar is closed.

  #

  Locating Professor Subbaiah's house was a breeze. As Moon stood at the frontdoor, he heard laughter filtering through the curtains and realized that the mood was pleasant.

  It means there is still no news about the language policy; I hope the new Prime Minister never announces it.

  He looked for a calling bell, and unable to locate it, knocked twice.

  ‘So here you are, hope there was no difficulty,’ Subbaiah said, opening the door.

  ‘Hello sir. Sorry I did not get a gift.’

  ‘That is not necessary, we do not have that custom here, make yourself comfortable.’

  Moon noticed Ganapathy reclining on a cane chair, fiddling with a camera.

  ‘Hello professor.’

  ‘Hello young man. Everything fine?’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Do you know anything about cameras? Subbaiah wanted a few family photos taken.’

  ‘That is a Rolleiflex TLR, a very expensive German camera.’

  ‘Really? My wedding gift two years ago, my nephew clicked a few photos during my wedding, but I could never use it. I think around four more photos can be taken on this roll.’

  ‘My father has a Rolleiflex back home. It is a professional camera and I learnt how to use when I was a kid. The top lens is used to compose and focus the image, ground glass screen and the lower lens takes the photo.’

  ‘Good you can take some for us. Malathi, can both of you come out of the kitchen please?’ Subbaiah shouted out to his wife.

  What's the matter?’ she asked coming out with Vijaylaxmi, Ganapathy's wife. ‘Oh, your Corean student has come?’

  ‘Moon this is my wife, and that is Mrs. Ganapathy.’

  They both look like traditional housewives.

  ‘Hello mam's.’

  ‘Namaskaram, Subbaiahgaru told me about you,’ Malathi replied bringing her palms together.

  She never addressed her husband by just the first name in front of strangers, and always added the honorific 'garu' at the end.

  ‘He will take our photo. You have always wanted to go to the
studio, but Ganapathy offered to loan his camera,’ Subbaiah told her.

  Moon turned over the camera in his hands, trying to make out if it was the same model that his father had. It was.

  A couple of minutes later, he had taken three photographs in the same location below the huge painting that was hanging on the wall.

  The first was of Subbaiah and Malathi, the second of Ganapathy and Vijayalaxmi, and the last one of all the four together.

  ‘You know it is very expensive to develop the photos, I will go to Guindy to the discount studio there, we should get the photos in one week,’ Ganapathy said.

  ‘One more photo can be taken in this roll, I think we should also have one of all the three men together,’ Subbaiah, said feeling sorry for Moon.

  ‘Malathi can you take one for us?’

  ‘I don't know how to operate it,’ she protested.

  ‘Moon will show you, you just have to keep the camera steady and click that button.’

  A brief lesson later, she nervously clicked the camera, as the three stood together below the same painting- Subbaiah in the center, flanked by Ganapathy and Moon.

  What an ugly painting.

  ‘Sir, whose painting is that?’

  ‘That one was my wedding gift from a student in Bombay. It is called Maiden Flight and the artist is someone called Hussain.’

  ‘Are you interested in art?’

  ‘No, I have no idea. My student said that someday it will be worth a lot of money. It was his guru dakshina. Hussain is apparently very popular, although I cannot understand what is so great about this painting.’

  ‘Subbaiah, just because you cannot understand it, does not mean it is junk. Everything in life has a hidden value, which we appreciate only after others like it,’ Ganapathy said laughing.

  'Like Malathi's cooking?’

  ‘Exactly! You may be bored of her cooking, but her sambar is out of this world. Why don't we have dinner? It is getting late, and Moon must be hungry.’

  #

  Moon enjoyed the dinner and was pleasantly surprised that Andhra food could be so spicy, yet tasty. Corean food was supposed to be one of the spiciest in the world, but clearly, tonight’s food was far ahead.

  It is the first time I have enjoyed Indian vegetarian food.

  The dinner conversation was slightly boring for the ladies, and they retreated indoors, but all the three men were hooked. It centered on the civil rights movement in America, and the Nobel Peace Prize that had been awarded to Martin Luther King Jr. the previous year. They also speculated on the next recipient, which was to be announced in a couple of months time.

  ‘Isn't it strange that Gandhi was never awarded the prize?’ Ganapathy asked.

  ‘I am not surprised, it is decided by white people who don't care for the rest of the world. It is just a way to further Norway's foreign policy and economic interests.’

  ‘I wonder how long it will take before people from other developing countries are acknowledged?’

  ‘I will tell you. When we become economically strong, and the white race wants to sell their goods to us, or they want to change a government.’

  ‘Subbaiah, why are you so negative?’

  ‘Not negative, da. Speaking the truth, which is obvious. It is just like the Brahmins controlling India, or the North Indians getting all the opportunities in our country.’

  ‘Hey, I am a Brahmin, and you are the head of department. You control my career.’

  ‘Don't simplify the argument and look at the broad picture. You know I don't care for your caste, you are my friend.’

  ‘Then stop saying things that hurt me.’

  ‘OK, sorry, I just got carried away. It is so frustrating, this silence from Delhi.’

  ‘I don't think there will be any announcement.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  Trying to change the uncomfortable conversation, Moon intervened.

  ‘Sir, why is there no Nobel Prize for Economics?’

  ‘Because economics is more of a philosophy and not an actual science,’ Subbaiah replied.

  ‘I disagree. Economics is a social science that analyzes production, distribution, and consumption. We try to explain how economic agents behave or interact and how economies work,’ Ganapathy jutted in.

  ‘That is true, but we cannot analyze the results in a lab. The Nobel prize is given for disciplines that show concrete results.’

  The discussion became heated, but at least it steered clear of the caste system in India. They could not reach a consensus and finally had to be pulled away by their respective wives, as the clock ticked away.

  Strolling back to the hostel, Moon hoped that Vinay was fast asleep, he just wanted to change his attire and dash over to Andys'.

  ‘So how was the Chinese food?’ Vinay asked as he entered the dark room.

  ‘Delicious. I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘I am trying to sleep. Have a tummy upset, ate too much dal.’

  Dal had the capacity to induce farts at a phenomenal rate. A favorite dish of North Indian vegetarians, it was the secret to the huge belly and obnoxious smell that Vinay carried around.

  ‘Dal that ttong worse than sambar? Have to escape fast,’ Moon thought.

  ‘By the way, I heard Indira made some announcement on the radio tonight. I told you she should be the prime minster, she will take us to great heights, India will become a superpower,’ Vinay said.

  ‘Do you know what she said?’

  ‘No, I heard some students talking when I went to the mess. I wanted to ask them, but they were from the lower caste and I did not want to pollute myself. I asked a Tamil Brahmin on the way back from dinner, but he just glared at me.’

  ‘Too bad… hey, what happened to all the bottles? You threw them out?’

  ‘No, your friend Andy and some other chinkies were here to take all the herbal medicine.’

  This time Moon decided he had to confront Vinay.

  ‘You do know that chinki is a racist word?’

  ‘Of course not, it is just a funny word for the Chinese and the Northeasterners. Everyone uses it, just like kaalia for Africans.’

  ‘Is everyone in North India like you?’

  ‘What do you mean?

  Racist, prejudiced and hollow inside.

  ‘Nothing,’ Moon said, ‘I'm going to meet Andy. Maybe he knows what the Prime Minister said.’

  He was mistaken. Andy and friends were in a deep slumber having had a heady cocktail of zutho and ganja, strumming the guitar to their favorite Beatles' numbers, getting stoned. They even forgot to latch the door from inside.

  Moon was not surprised with the trashy condition of the room.

  At least it doesn't smell like Vinay.

  He surveyed it, pushed the empty zutho bottles to a side with his legs, and slowly lay down next to two other friends on the floor. One other friend was sharing Andy's bed. All of them had a smile on their faces, dreaming of something exotic, no doubt.

  I have to wait until morning to find out what the Prime Minister said. Even Professor Subbaiah seemed unaware of the announcement.

  ‘I wonder what is in store?’ he thought, as he tossed and turned, till his mind was clouded with dreams that he would hardly recollect the next day.