Story
The God in the Garden
by Lee Kok Liang
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Story
The God in the Garden by Lee Kok Liang |
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Part 3 THE ROUTE to the Doctor's house led the vehicle from the main arterial road to the beach road. It was slightly past noon. The sun poured down on the pink, Chinese-tiled roofs, housing the shops on both sides of the main artery. Chinese signboards everywhere. In some states they did not have them anymore. But this was a more tolerant state, and it had a greater proportion of Chinese. Inspector Hashim suppressed the feeling of annoyance which rose in him. If he wanted to get on in the political world he had better not be so uncompromising. Who knows, he might have to depend on Chinese votes to make his majority bigger. So long as they did not make trouble; live and let live. They would change with the times, whether they liked it or not, now that there was a National education system. Soon the vehicle hit the open beach road and less than five minutes later, with its sirens opened to the full, the Riot Vehicle turned into the gales of the Doctor's residence. A crowd by that time had gathered along the entrance. At a glance Inspector Hashim classified it as a friendly crowd. Behind his vehicle he noticed two cars following him; As they slowed down, he recognized some of the occupants. Reporters, with their cameras. There was Ah Chong, the tiny hunched reporter from a Chinese newspaper, who, when drunk with beer, moved his Adam's apple vigorously and who had once called on Inspector Hashim to do him a favour. Ah Chong lived in a cubicle on the third floor in Campbell Street above a Chinese herbalist, and the landlady had accused him of indecent behaviour The landlady was a middle-aged widow, squat and, and talkative, and was one night squatting over the toilet j provide it with a proper latch. when Ah Chong came home drunk and without bothering to find out if anyone was inside unbuttoned toned himself and opened the door with a quick pull. The plastic string which held the door closed snapped. The landlady gave a scream and stood up quickly and abused him. Other tenants arrived and crowded round. Ah Chong stood there in the middle of the crowd dazed and unable to defend himself. A little boy suddenly shouted, "Ah Chong! Ah Chong! Your trousers." |
| Everyone
laughed and the women giggled and the landlady was furious. On the following
day she asked a lawyer to send Ah Chong an eviction notice and made a
police report. Inspector Hashim did Ah Chong a favour. He threatened the
landlady, telling her that if she did not stop harrassing poor Ah Chong,
he, Inspector Hashim, would send her son away under a Restriction Order.
That made some sense to the landlady. Her son was mixed up in some Secret
Society. Everything returned to normal; that is, Ah Chong could now go
back to drinking with his visibly moving Adam's apple. The door to the toilet
now had a wire string: the landlady was still mean enough not to nrovie
it with a proper latch. Some thought she had other motives. There were many
younger and more masculine tenants in the building. The vehicle stopped in front of the bungalow. In accordance to the drill, half of his men got down quickly and spread themselves around the vehicle, facing outwards with their rattan shields before them and their sticks ready. Their red helmets shone in the midday sun. Inspector Hashim climbed down, jumping the last step. He ordered the others out. He sent three to guard the gate and move the crowd away. Their boots! rang on the metalled surface of the road. He sent four more into the house. An Indian girl peeped out from the house and then quickly ran off, looking frightened.. Inspector Hashim noted her expression with some satisfaction. Not that he enjoyed frightening anyone, but the manual termed this 'an expression of normality'. If there had been no fright, he would have expected some trouble. He gave a wave and the men at the gates allowed the crowd of reporters in. Ah Chong smiled gratefully at him and surreptitiously gave him a thumbs up signal. He sent some others to the front of the bungalow using the path. He then asked the driver to keep the radio communication open. He went into the house. At a glance he knew it was expensive. On par with the private residence of some of the top politicians in the Ruling Party. One day to would have a house like this, with a special prayer room and the richest carpets from Iran. The men he had sent in posted themselves by the front door am stood at attention when he came in, clicking their boots smartly. He liked the vigour in their movement, economical and sharp. He walked out into the sun and surveyed the scene. An Indian inspector was walking towards him followed by two men. Under the rain tree stood the crowd, staring in the direction of the red-helmetel men who had ringed the bungalow. Some way apart stood a woman in a flowing white sari. The crowd under the rain tree was about two hundred feet away and had suddenly bunched together. A very normal crowd.. He had met Inspector Gopal many times and found him amusing. When that chap got drunk he could sing, wiggle his neck, and vibrate his body like some Indian movie star. But Inspector Gopal had what he considered a strange reticence about sex and girls. He had pondered for a week before consenting to go out with Inspector Hashim who had to have his outings every other day, and more so during the durian season. That fruit added lustre to the desires of the body. |
Well, one never put a drunkard in charge of a pub or permitted a sex maniac in a vice squad. But Inspector Gopal could carry things too far with his shyness and pretences. Anyway, however well Gopal handled the whores, Inspector Hashim was certain Gopal should not have been sent on this assignment. At a glance he knew that the crowd had got the better of Inspector Gopal and had entrenched itself around and under the rain tree. Mostly Indian - probably that's why HQ had sent Inspector Gopal out in the first place. Not that he was criticizing - but sometimes HQ acted like a pack of old women - a crowd was always a crowd. It was more correct to classify it as a peaceful, or an ugly or a potentially explosive or inflammable group. Classifying them by races might have done in the old days but now crowd control was scientific. Inspector Hashim had been sent for crowd control training in Japan. He had chosen to go there instead of to the States. And he was glad. The tactics and manoeuvres displayed and used during the Narita Airport siege would have filled several volumes. It was a seminal cauldron that could give forth eruptions for years to come. Inspector Hashim had said so and his Japanese colleagues were full of admiration at his prescience. Praise be to Allah, that a kampung boy could hold his own even with the Japanese. The crowd before him was a mixed group. Some were in their 'teens and some in their seventies. Very malleable. Praise be to Allah. Just as Inspector Gopal was about to reach him, the woman shouted. "Come here! Come here. Please." Her white sari fluttered in the breeze and she had arched her back, her left hand gripping the folds of the sari, her right waving to him. She had very high breasts and a deep waist and fleshy buttocks. A beautiful woman. And her voice had that lovely lilting, quality to it; she could have been a damned good crooner. Inspector Hashim moved quickly to her, leaving Inspector Gopal fuming and waiting. "Ah, Inspector it's good to see you," the woman smiled. Inspector Hashim hesitated and then remembered. It was at the Garden Party held in the Governor's residence to celebrate Independence Day where he had met her. She was also got up in white then, but the dress she had worn had gold edgings to it, a blend of a sari and a bat's cape so that when she moved it twirled around her and cunningly revealed the contours of her body. She had sat among a group of women, young wives of the dignitaries, who had left their husbands to talk their politics. One of these wives was his cousin, Che Halimah, fair as a Chinese and possessing a pair of huge, mischievous eyes. Che Halimah's husband was a fat slob in the banking business who had got there through working with the right political party. He had earlier been a taxi driver with a flair for abuse and verbosity. |
| Che Halimah had waved to him, recognizing him. And when he came over, he paused and stopped a waiter, plucking two glasses of Coca-Cola from the tray and walked slowly on the green lawn. He handed a glass to Che Halimah and then looked around and gave the other one to her. She had thanked him profusely in that wonderful lilting voice. Her command of Malay was superb and she talked to him about police work and showed a knowledgeable grasp of the subject. Her father was the Commissioner of Police in Madras. He had been very impressed by her conversation. One day there would be plenty of women like her in this country. Well informed and not shy. "Mrs. K. I did not recognize you at first. Forgive me. You should have called me in." "Oh I forgot. I left it to my husband." She threw a sharp glance in the direction of Inspector Gopal. "And that inspector over there, he's making matters worse. No discipline." "Mrs. K. it's all right now. Inspector Gopal was, I am sure, trying his best. Everything is now under control. Gopal, Gopal, please come here." Inspector Gopal walked slowly to them. His expression was set and his steps slow. The crowd stirred restlessly. "Let me introduce you. Inspector Gopal, Mrs. K." Inspector Hashim smiled and patted Gopal on the shoulders. But neither of them shook hands. Mrs. K. glanced away. Inspector Gopal stood quietly and then jerked his head at Inspector Hashim and moved a few paces away. Inspector Hashim followed. "Hashim," Gopal said in a voice that was tight, "you are not going to move the crowd are you? After, all they are asking until 6.00 this evening when it isj the right time to move." "To move. Why wait until 6.00? Why not now?" Inspector Hashim asked, getting irritated. "Why, don't you know Ganesh? It's a miracle, Hashim, Ganesh washed up from the sea. Like legend, Hashim. And that woman should have bee proud. Instead, look at her." "I can't understand all this," Inspector Hashiriv said. "Tell me once more slowly. We are here on duty. Not to oversee a religious festival." "Listen, Hashim, help me this once. I find all the girls you want. The new ones from the villages. Anything, Hashim. But do not move Ganesh now, please. Reason with that woman. She looks down on me and! called me a Pariah. Talk to her. I'll do anything you want. A favour, huh." . Inspector Hashim absorbed this. Crowd control, the manual had stated, was easy. The decision to move and how much force to apply was more difficult. A split in command must be avoided. This seemed to be the situation and it was growing. |
| Before
Inspector Hashim could make up his mind, however, Mrs. K. called to him
and walked over swiftly, smiling. "Oh Inspector," she said, brushing her hand over her hair, "if they want the idol, I'll let them have it, although it's washed up on my property. But do ask them to take it away. And quick." "Mrs. K. it's a good idea. It's a good idea." Inspector Hashim said with a smile. He had to keep things even. No use rocking any boat now. Could reveal a snake in its bottom. Praise be to Allah. And he had to try to find the middle way. Between his obvious duty and his fondness for Gopal. The first thing was to gel them out of the growing heat. He signalled to Gopal and then turned to Mrs. K, pointing to the house. "Come let's all go in, Mrs. K. It's cooler inside and we can decide what to do." The crowd watched them as they walked slowly to the house. The breeze had died down. The sea turned a dull grey. The clouds that gave patches of shade had withdrawn themselves to the other side of the channel, hovering above the dark green peaks of the mountain ranges on the other side. Beads of perspiration trembled on the sides of cheeks and ran down the armpits. It was such a relief to enter the dark cool of the house and to sit around the highly polished oval table in the dining hall. Inspector Hashim sat facing the front and Mrs. K. took up the side where the shadow of a pillar hid her from the glare of the sun. Inspector Gopal sat a rather long way off, wiping himself with a large brown handkerchief, rubbing his neck vigorously. "Well, what do you think, Gopal? Mrs. K. is prepared to let them have the idol. And they can take it ,away now." "Hashim," Gopal rubbed his moustache with his handkerchief, "I've told you. Just a few more hours." Before Inspector Hashim could reply, Mrs. K. snapped out from her end of the table. "What few more hours? This is my house. I want them out now." "Now listen, lady," Gopal reacted, "1 know it's your house. But these are people and Ganesh is very important to them. You know. Just a few more hours." Mrs. K. kept quiet as if thinking. She bent her head and her strong nose arched below her closed; eyes. Inspector Hashim noticed the fine body she had when she sat. Her arms were round, full of flesh, and he could imagine how they would look with the water running off them like in those TV advertisements for Lux. As she bent over slightly, he saw the round mounds of the tops of her brown breasts, so tightly pressed together that a ball pen could not be pushed between them. Mrs. K. looked up and glanced at him. And then she gave a tiny smile. "Inspector Hashim, how forgetful of me. You must have some tea or coffee. Nila. Nila." |
Inspector Hashim waved his hand but Mrs. K ignored his refusal. Instead she smiled at him. Her hands were soft looking against the dark polished surface of the table. "Nila. Nila. Ah, where's the girl? Conic here, Nila." After a few moments, Nila came in through the door opening out on the front garden. She was breathless as if she had run suddenly very hard. She had to come round the chair of Inspector Gopal to reach the side of Mrs. K. As she passed him Inspector Gopal caught a slight waft of her perfume. She smelt like jasmine. She threw a quick glance at him, her eyes large and dark with upcurling lashes. The rays of the sun caught the outlines of her breasts, and Inspector Gopal trembled ever so slightly when he observed how large and soft they looked under her Tee-shirt. "Yes, Mem. Yes, Mem." Nila said quickly. Her voice was rather high as if she was in a panic. "Nila. Next time I call you, come quickly." "Yes, Mem. Yes, Mem." After admonishing Nila, Mrs. K. turned to Inspector Hashim. "What will you have, Inspector? Tea or coffee or Coca-Cola? Come, you must have something to drink. It's so hot. This is the first time I've been able to rest since the crowd came." Inspector Hashim could not refuse and said coffee. Coffee, he thought, was good for the blood, gave it more heal. Tea tended to soften. Coca-Cola was for children. He looked outside. The crowd seemed to be under control now. He had sent some ten of his Red Helmets to form a semi-circular barrier between the house and the rain tree. He knew he had made a good friend of Mrs. K. He had never had dealings with high caste Indian women before. He found Mrs. K. very cool and efficient under pressure. Nila brought out the tray and placed a cup of coffee before Inspector Hashim and gave a glass of fresh orange to Mrs. K. "Oh Nila, you fool. Why didn't you get another cup for that Indian Inspector? Sometimes you can be so stupid. Go and bring another cup. I am sorry, Inspector." Inspector Gopal closed his eyes against the sun which was slanting in. He knew it was a deliberate omission. Sort of cutting him out. Well, he wouldn't show that he was annoyed or anything like that at all. Nila brought the coffee to him, rattling the cup. "Be careful. Nila. You stupid girl. Clumsy." The girl placed the cup carefully before Inspector Gopal. She was so close to him that he noticed how pink and perfect her little mole was on the side of her nose. He thanked her and she lowered her eyes. "Now go out Nila and tell us if any of the dirty people tries to climb over the fence. We have more than enough." |
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Inspector Hashim drank his coffee slowly. If only Gopal would agree.
Then he would have his afternoon free. He put down his cup. On the highly polished surface of the table, reflections of white clouds massed above dark mountains on the opposite shore moved gently from the spot where his hand rested, and then he noticed his image superimposing itself on the clouds. Not clear, but seemingly floating along with the clouds. He watched his own eyes. They looked very dark in the reflections. Further along, the white of Mrs. K.'s sari, full at the breasts and on his left the dark stubby fingers of Inspector Gopal. Slowly he drank again, thinking. Then unexpectedly out of the silence that had fallen between them he heard an eerie sound. Not clear but seemingly floating along with the clouds. It took him some moments to identify it as the sound of a flute. It was then followed by the gentle patter of a drum. Hesitant at first, the combined sounds grew. He looked out of the door. So did Gopal and Mrs. K. Another drum; joined in. Stronger this time. And the sound of the flute reached out high into the sky. The crowd stirred under the great tree. And the chant of the priest took wing among its branches and the tempo weaved and cascaded. The leaves seemed to quiver with the iridescence of the accompanying chants that followed and pursued the introductions of the priest. And then through all this, he heard the voice of Mrs. K. "Inspector Hashim. Inspector Hashim. There you see. You've got to clear them off my grounds. Do it now." Inspector Hashim looked sadly across at Gopal. Duty came first. This was an obvious breach of the peace. And yet he hesitated to act. Somehow the hot afternoon had oppressed his usual alacrity. He felt suddenly a bit tired, as if he had too many glasses of beer. "Inspector Hashim. Inspector Hashim, please." Now she was pleading to him. "Gopal, go and tell them they have to leave," he said in answer. His mind started to work. Narita. Narita. The initial softened approach, failing which the back-up forces. "Gopal, please go," he commanded, when he saw Gopal hesitating. Although both held the same rank, it was an unwritten rule that the Riot Squad took precedence. But Gopal did not go at once. Instead Inspector Gopal turned to Mrs. K. "Can't you allow them to remain for sometime? Let them finish the rites and then they will go." "No. Look, they are going round in a circle. And some of them are trampling on my gladioli and they |are plucking my flowers. My beautiful chrysanthemums. Inspector Hashim. Please stop them. Ask them to take away the idol. My God, why did it have to be washed up here?" |
| "Move Gopal. If you don't,
I'll have to send my men in." Inspector Hashim decided that firmness
had to be laid down. Gopal sometimes tended to confuse duty with sentiment. Inspector Gopal stood up. He put on his cap. His expression was set. At that moment his hate for Mrs. K. was intense.# End of Part 3 (to be continued) Reproduced by permission of Mrs Lee Kok Liang Click here for Part Two Go to the top |
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| ______ INDEX Point to the article that you want to read, and CLICK Index page
The Baling meeting (3)
Book review Food guide The God in the garden (3) The wedding dinner |
| ____________________ The Penang File Issue 41 |