Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup Read Free Book Online

gravely as he embraced the young
man. For a couple of minutes they communed in silence, eyes
closed, cheek against cheek.
    'When is the funeral, Koira?' Pemba asked the young man.
    'This evening,' Koira replied.
    'I didn't know Talai was sick,' said Melame.
    'He wasn't,' said Koira. 'My father just had mild fever
yesterday. Mother applied some moro leaves to bring the
fever down, but by this morning he was gone. Just like the wind.'
    'Look after your mother,' said Melame, gently patting Koira's
shoulder. The old woman continued to wail, taking no notice of
the visitors. Melame and Pemba said their goodbyes and stepped
out of the shack into the sweltering heat once again.
    'That's the third death this season,' the older man said, his
voice quivering. 'The legions of eeka are increasing.'
    Pemba nodded grimly. 'When malevolent spirits multiply,
things can only get worse. At this rate, our tribe will soon become
extinct, like the dugong.'
    'Ah, the dugong! I have almost forgotten what it used to taste
like,' Melame replied wistfully, smacking his desiccated lips.
    'But Pemba still remembers. For my initiation ceremony I
actually speared a dugong,' said Pemba.
    'You were a great hunter. One of our best,' Melame responded
approvingly. 'But look at today's youngsters, celebrating tanagiru by drinking beer and coca, that too made by the foreigners!'
    'You are right, Chief. Well, what can I say? My Eketi is no
better. He roams around the Welfare Office all the time, waiting
for handouts. They say he sells honey and ambergris to the welfare
officials in exchange for cigarettes. I have caught him several times
smoking them. It makes me hang my head in shame,' Pemba
replied in a low voice.
    They trudged slowly in the direction of the turquoise ocean,
wiping the perspiration from their brows. Bordered by casuarinas
and coconut palms, the creek looked green, shady and inviting.
They could see two white motorboats moored at the jetty. On the
other side of the jetty were the cottages of the welfare staff. They
passed the powerhouse, where the generator was making a racket
as usual, and the dispensary, where Nurse Shakuntala was sitting
all alone, fanning herself with a magazine. The next building was
a dilapidated old warehouse, which now served as the school.
They saw Murthy, the teacher with the slick, oily hair, standing
with six tribal kids in the playground. He was distributing paper
flags to the children, who wore identical blue shorts and white
bush shirts. 'Now look,' they heard him instruct, 'when Minister
Sahib arrives on Sunday, you have to stand in line at the helipad
just like this and start waving these flags. And I want each one of
you to give him a big smile. Now show me smiles, all of you.' He
raised his right hand, in which he gripped a wooden ruler. The
children gave nervous, toothy grins.
    'Looks like another VIP is coming. Now all of us will be
ordered to do cleaning and dusting and made to put on those
horrid clothes,' Pemba said in irritation.
    'Can there be anything more demeaning than parading our
children before the inene ?' Melame asked, his voice bristling with
anger.
    'No, Chief,' Pemba concurred. 'We have been made slaves in
our own land.'
    They passed behind the little temple built three years ago by
the welfare staff. A square block of concrete with a white dome, it
housed a stone image of Hanuman in mid-flight holding up a
mountain, the entire thing painted a garish orange. They glimpsed
two figures inside the temple, bowing their heads before the
monkey god.
    'Isn't that Raju and Taleme?' Melame asked incredulously.
    'It does look like them,' said Pemba, craning his neck to peer
into the semi-darkness of the sanctum sanctorum.
    'Now Melame has seen everything.' The chief shook his head
slowly. 'Our men have even forsaken our god.'
    'That is because our god has forsaken us. Why is Puluga
causing all these deaths? You need to do something, Chief, and
quickly,' counselled Pemba.
    'I think the time has come to