Is it Murder?

She shook her head and sat down on the dresing table stool. The mirror reflected her aged young face, her untidy hair streaked with grey and her smudged eyes gazed vacantly back her. Raju left the room. She had forgotten to make the coffee.

He drove fast. He was late and he feared the foreigner. The smartly attired security guard opened the door. How much the country had changed these last few years, Raju thought, earlier no one would have thought of employing trained security personnel to guard a house, but now, among the affluent it was a common practice. He smiled slightly thinking, it was seldom that the affluent suffered, many of them would leave the country if things were very difficult, it was the middle class and the poor who would have to live, trying to build on the debris left behind a new life perhaps, and he wondered was he also responsible as Devi said often, for the tragedy that was overcoming this land.

He walked into the carpeted room aware as always of the ambiguity of the foreigner's talk and the opulence in which he lived. In fact the first time he had met him he had been impressed by his talk of equality and brotherhood. Now he occasionally wondered, but was too afraid to speak - the foreigner was so necessary for the movement. The carpeted room deadened the sound of his footsteps and the foreigner looked up sharply when Raju said, "You wanted to see me?" "Sit down Raju you are late" said the man looking at his wristlet. The early morning light touched the red stone on his ring. "My wife is worried about Indran. I said he was safe but I couldn't say where he was. She may talk. She is so unhappy and doesn't realize that these recent attacks especially when ordinary men and women are killed has differentiated our communitees further of us now'' "Michael is dead'' the man said. Raju frowned. He was sure the foreigner had not heard what he had said.

He seemed preoccupied. Michael's was just another death. "Yes I heard it again over the news. They seem to be offering a fantastic reward for anyone who saw the car that knocked him or information of the driver. Do you think Michael knew anything of importance?" he asked innocently. The man looked up at him sharply and then he said "I think he did." "What'' asked Raju his voice srill in sudden fear. The man shook his head, they could never suppress the shrillness of their voices when they were excited or frightened - that shrillness identified them so quickly. Raju educated in England was no better than the rest. "I think he knew something that is why he was killed. Somebody killed him''. The man said slowly and then he looked at Raju. Raju mumbled "I am sorry I don't think, any of our boys were involved. I would have known if they were.'' The man was silent for a long time then he said "I want you to do something quickly, efficiently. A girl in one of those flats saw the accident. I want to know how much she saw, whether she could identify the driver or the car." Raju wanted to ask him why he was so anxious, but now knowing the man he was afraid. "Oh 'that's simple'' said Raju "I've got some of my boys there in those flats.'' "I know that is why I asked you'' said the man. Was there nothing that the man did not know. He wondered why he had ever had to get involved with him. "Nobody will suspect you'' his leader had said. "You are not one of those noisy trouble makers. You are a respected citizen and who else but you could be the contact with the foreigner. After all in the eyes of the world you have a lot in common.'' The man was yet speaking. "Try to get the informantion tonight. I want to know by tomorrow morning the latest.'' He stood up and Raju stood too. The conversation was over and he was dismissed he thought like a school boy.

He disliked intensely the foreigner. Driving back he remembered the first meeting he had with him. It had been a miserable rainy day when his leader had asked him to go to the Hotel to meet a foreigner who had just arrived. Grumbling he had gone. The hotels were not as empty as they were now, and he had to stand in the lobby waiting for the man.

The man had smiled at him when he had glanced annoyed at some noisy tourists and said cynically "Don't look so unhappy, soon when the newspapers start calling this another Beirut of Lebannon, these tourists will not come here.'' "How can you be so sure'' he had asked curiously "Every man has a price'' the foreigner had said. "Money can do wonders. No man or woman in this world does anything without expecting a return, and money is the most acceptable return - anything done if you can pay for it - guns, drugs, propaganda anything just give some money and the work is done." "But I thought you were a Socialist.'' The man laughed. "I am. I am all for equality, liberty, fraternity and the rest - but there has to be money in it after all, its no fun being poor and an idealist, life is too short to be bothered about tiny little scruples.''

He was puzzled by this first meeting and had told Siva "Why should a person like him be concerned about us? What is his interest? Does he think he can influence the work of the boys?" "I don't think so, but we need help, especially financial, and in training, he could help us, may be that's why you were asked to meet him."

The next evening when he met the man he had been less nervous. The foreigner had talked a lot of his schemes and then said "You can't achieve what you want alone. I will help you but for a price. Your boss knows what that is - that need not interest you. I wanted to meet you. You are the visionary they spoke of, I'd like to hear why are you so keen to fight the establishment." He had listened patiently to the agony and violence in Raju's voice, the so called humiliation of the Northerner educated and feeling he had no special privilege. The foreigner had said coldly annoying Raju again "You are too emotional. Battles cannot be fought on emotion.

You have to think clearly, logically. Plan it out this way, create confusion, suspicion, fear and ultimately you will achieve your aim.'' Later in his plush hotel room going through the contracts the foreigner had smiled thinking of the chaos that will ultimately lead to greater conflict, and of this will never come the blue print they hope to achieve - All these visionaries were the same, they never realized that reality never had the beauty the dream visualizes, men seldom worked for the well-being of others. Raju had been puzzled by his smile.

That night Raju had discussed his bewildered thoughts with Siva, and later he had agreed that perhaps the foreigner was right. He was too emotional. Raju had realized that the foreigner had been correct, their earlier campaigning had not whipped up fear or terror they were just isolated incidents. That night strangely excited he had not slept and Devi had been annoyed at his restless silence. He was worried that the man annoyed at his impetuous anger against the establishment and system would not want to support the boys. When the call had come next evening he was ready to agree to the terms. The foreigner had contacts abroad, the drugs and guns would come and though in his mind he knew that the foreigner would ultimately in safety reap the benefits, yet it was necessary ''Why is he helping us'' asked Anthony. He was young and suspicious. He had ambitions of his own. This was their fight - why was a foreigner necessary." He's a manipulator,'' he said. "Aiyah he's not doing this for love of us, today he may be with us, tomorrow he'll go where there will be greater money. He might go to the other side. I don't think we should involve ourselves with him'' Raju never knew whether Anthony had spoken to anyone else but two days later his bullet ridden body was found on a crossroads in the North. The Army was blamed but Raju was fearful and more so when others who disagreed with the man suddenly disappeared and were found dead. True enough the man was essential and gradually, Raju remained the planner but the man decided.

As he drove back he felt a great sadness. Things had been more violent than he had ever imagined and they were no closer to the goal. There was only uncertainty, fear and unhappiness. Vaguely he remembered a line he had read somewhere "Borders are scratched across the hearts of men, by strangers with calm judicial eyes and when the borders bleed we watch with dread the lines of ink along the map turn red.'' Was that what was happening now?

He did not want to go back home. He hated to talk to Devi. It was difficult to explain Indran's sudden disappearance. He went to his office, yet unkept and dirty and sitting at the desk drew swiggles on the blank paper in front of him. Swiggles twisting, turning lines like the fears in his mind. It was too early to call the boy who was living in the flats with a friend he had met in the campus. It was strange he thought how even kindness was used to take undue advantage. When they needed to have few of the militants in the city he had asked the boys to make friends and live with those whom one day they would destroy.

Edward was a charming quiet boy, and he had no place to live when he came to the campus. Readily the others had sympathized with his fears and found him a temporary home. Raju waited till he heard the old cleaner leave the room and then phoned, speaking to the boy in quick urgent tones. "Yes, Yes," 'said Edward, "I saw the accident it was terrible those men had no chance - don't know, the only flat in front is where there is a young girl - that is the flat opposite where the accident took place - I'll check up - that child doesn't go to school - no, there is no man in the house - I'll let you know tonight about 8.30 - 9.00 p.m. Right? Sure I'll not let you down. No one else is here in these flats but me from the groups. The woman here, the mother of the boy I am staying with does not like me much. She seems to suspect me - so I might have to find some other place - I know it's only for a week till the work is complete, but even for a week - o.k. alright, alright.'' The boy sounded exasperated and Raju sighed as he put the phone down. It was difficult to control young emotions he thought.

Friday Afternoon

It was a boring day Chitra thought, she had read all the books that Neela had brought her and now there was nothing for her to do. She was not hungry and the sandwiches left for her looked unappetizing. She sighed wondering how long she would live like this alone without anyone to keep her company. She longed to hear again the laughter of her classmates and be with them even though she could not speak, she could hear them. She wished she could tell her mother all the feelings within her, but then she wondered whether her mother would understand. She may feel hurt. She sighed again and turned on the radio, at least the music would keep her occupied. Often when she had nothing to do she would draw images conjured by the words in the songs. But they were songs of love and she was tired of drawing young couples - It seemed a bit silly to be in love, she thought with a smile. But it was the news that came in "Michael Gunawardena and Nihal Jayaratne are reported dead in an accident that occured near the Sinhapura Flats.

Any information regarding the car that knocked them down should be reported to the nearest Police Station." She did not listen to the rest of the news "Michael, Nihal'' they had names she thought, Nihal must have been the younger man, the man who smiled. Ah' but she knew the driver of the car. She knew and she had no way of speaking, conveying to anyone her knowledge. Even her mother did not believe her. She took a piece of paper and wrote in a bold childish script 'I know.' Suddenly, she heard the knock on the door. She was frightened. Nobody ever knocked at the door. Few came to visit them, who ever did, came only with her mother. She ran to the room and hid the drawing in the pillow case, a trusted hiding place yet undiscovered by her mother. She sat on the bed. The knocking continued sharp, hard knocks.

She left the room and came near the door, listening, her eyes startled and frightened. She could hear the swish of feet restlessly moving. The knocking was repeated once more and then an unfamiliar voice muttered in exasperation "I hope the window is open,'' Chitra looked up saw the unlocked window and closed it quickly. The room was dark. She was frightened to switch on the light. She waited alone in the dark for her mother to come.

Neela heard the afternoon news over the radio when she was in the canteen. A reward of one and a half lakhs was being offered. A lot of money, money that may cure Chitra, but she was suddenly terrified. Was it a premonition she thought this uneasy fear she had - a man who killed could kill again and what could a child unable to shout or scream do in a lonely flat. She took a halfday leave and hurried home. She glanced up and saw the closed window, panic striken she rushed up the single flight of steps and opened the door. The room was dark - where was the child. "Chitra, daughter' she called, the girl came running from the room and flung her arms round her mother hugging her and making harsh sobbing sounds. "Why are you crying" she asked. The child clung to her desperately with the strength of her thin arms. Neela's eyes filled with tears, if only Chitra could talk.

The doctor had spoken of the traumas Chitra would continue to suffer by the loss of her voice and in the earlier days when she had realized that she could not speak, that no sound came from her infected throat, she wept, got into tantrums at the slightest excuse, often she rolled on the floor, kicking and throwing anything she could lay her hands on. But gradually she had quietened down and seemed to accept her disability except, that often Neela would see the wearied unhappiness in her eyes.

She tried to lip read often and spent a lot of time reading and painting. "Let her do so'' the doctor had said, "it's a good outlet for her suppressed fears.'' Hugging her now, trying to calm the restless hands clinging to her, Neela feared her outburst. Had the accident triggered off another series of tantrums contained within the walls of her fears? As the child quietened down, she thought it best not to question her, but Chitra drew a piece of paper towards her and wrote of the fearful knocking and the dismembered voice trying to enter through the window. "Who could it be?" wondered Neela, was it a thief who knew that only Chitra was in the house. She wished she had some friend who could help her, but she was too proud to talk to anyone of her worries. She thought she'd take Chitra to a film she had longed to see, then she would forget the accident and the fears her lonely mind was imagining or so Neela purposely thought. It relieved her worry.

Dr.Serasinghe looked sharply at Nihal. He had known him as a boy and he had foolishly agreed or so he thought, late last night to make the announcement that Nihal too was fatally injured. Now he wondered whether Nihal was so severely injured that his mind was affected. The head injury had bled a lot and even now the bandage was tinged with blood. It was a miracle that Nihal had not been killed, perhaps the child he talked about, as he muttered on the operating table might have helped though how Dr.Serasinghe did not know. Nihal grimaced in pain and said. "Look Doctor ,don't look so dubiously at me. I have not gone mad but I must leave the hospital today. There is a man I must find and when I do, then Michael will be at peace, not only Michael,'' he added under his breath. "Nihal'' said Dr.Serasinghe in the calm voice he use as he fondly imagined on distraught patients. Nihal knowing him grimaced wryly at what he jokingly referred to as his bedside manner. "I said that you were fatally injured not for you to leave hospital and wander around. You'll not last two days.'' "That's just enough for me, please you have been good enough don't fuss now,'' he said pointing to the headlines that screamed of their death. The more popular Daily had questioned "Is it murder?'' and had gone on to say Michael Gunawardena, well known Investigator and his competent assistant must have stumbled on some important clue, perhaps as to how the terrorists got their sophisticated weapons and how they came into the country. That would be a good enough reason for them to be killed.

"Please" said Nihal, "You must help me to get out of this place today and no one, no one must know that I am alive." Doctor Serasinghe said worriedly, "You'd really be dead if you get out of here." "It doesn't matter but before I am dead I'll find Michael's killer." Nihal wished he could trust Dr. Serasinghe and tell him of his fears, but then he thought it's best that no one knows anything more, for what one does not know one cannot speak of. Some one had known where Michael and he were to be that evening and as Michael had said "Everything has a price, secrets more so Nihal." Dr. Serasinghe sighed. "Alright I'll keep a car, go anywhere you want to, but keep me informed. Do you suspect anyone?" he asked sharply. "If I did" said Nihal glibly "I'd have told you, the attendant knows I am here, will you see that he keeps his mouth shut. Pay him well to forget that I was here." Dr. Serasinghe nodded. "I wish you'd wait a day or two, feel a bit better before you leave". "I'd have my neck cut here if..." and then he stopped. He saw Dr. Serasinghe look suspiciously at him. He clutched his head and said "Ouch". The doctor said worriedly "I yet don't think you should go, but these are troubled times, one does not know what to do or whom to trust. I guess it is so even in your set up." "Yes" said Nihal. "We don't screen people who get in to our service now as it was done long years ago. After all this government is not that popular with everyone and this is a good opportunity to create a upheaval and then when the violence occurs any one can create chaos and take charge. Oh hell, my head feels sore," he added quickly, more to avoid talking than because his head hurt. He wished Dr. Serasinghe would go.

The doctor stood up and said "Remember to take the medicines I've given and take care Nihal, it's 'cause I believe in you, that I am doing this, but don't let any harm happen to you" Nihal watched the doctor leaving and locked the door. The tiny room next to the operating theatre had been convenient to place him when the doctor knew that he wanted people to know that he was fatally injured.

From that little autopsy room he could get out in to the road without anyone seeing him. He sat down on the bed gingerly touching his head. His bandaged dislocated shoulder throbbed but it did not hurt with such blinding flashes as did his head. He closed his eyes and could almost see the car reversing on to Michael crushing his face. The broken pavement with its irregular pot holes had saved him. Yet in the midst of the swirling pain when he had tried desperately to cling to consciousness the only memory weaned in his mind was the girl at the window with her long hair and her smile. It was the noise she made that had saved him. Why had she not shouted? he wondered. May be it was the shock of seeing the car, he thought. He had to see the girl. She would have seen the vehicle at least she could describe it, perhaps if he was lucky she may have had a glimpse of the driver a small lead to go on, but yet, it would be something.

He glanced at the mirror near the bed, his bruised face and bandaged head might frighten the girl for she seemed only a child, but then it was not possible to wait too long. A child's mind forgets fast he knew and other impressions would blur the memory. It was dusk when he left the hospital. No one saw him leave. The night nurse folding the yet blood stained sheets sighed "It's a sad death, he was a handsome man." -To be continued.

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