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 2 THE HOUSE was seven miles from the City. It took them half an hour to reach there. He drove through the iron gates, hastily opened by a guard. The bungalow was painted white on the brickworks and charcoal on the timber and beams. Very pleasant. An Indian girl, about fifteen came out. She was quite fair lor an Indian girl and had a tiny mole on the side of her nose. She wore a Tee-shirt and a red skirt. Her breasts showed under the shirt. She kept running her hand nervously through her long hair. The inspector spoke to her in Tamil. He was pleased that she had such a lovely voice. He did not like her Tee-shirt, though. Her name was Nila. When he wanted to go into the house, the girl stopped him. He was surprised. He was used to going into his scenes of crime without being stopped. But she insisted that not only he, but all his PCs as well take off their shoes. The shoes would spoil the marble, she explained. He wanted to push her aside, but she stood there in the doorway, blocking him. He noticed that her neck was long, and tiny beads of sweat gathered at her throat. He liked girls who sweat. He took off his shoes and his men did likewise. It was the first time he had been into a house with such a large sunken hall, dimly glowing with the sheen of green Italian marble, and supported by columns of white marble, around which were placed cascades of indoor plants. It was like some big hotel lobby. He followed the girl and they crossed a smaller hall with a large round dining table. In the distance he saw a turquoise sea with white flecks and the crowd under the rain tree. He paused on the outside and sat down on the stone steps lo put on his shoes. PC 2168 was grumbling as his shoes were a size too small for him. The store did not have the right size at the time. PC 5927 wore yellow socks and pulled his shoes on and spat into a dendronium. The girl gazed at the man sharply, and was about to speak, when across the garden, a shout came. "Niiiiieecelaaa! Bring the police here." Inspector Gopal stood up smartly and adjusted his belt. He waited until his men had completed putting on their shoes. He must be in command. Never let any silly woman dominate a man. "Niiiieeeelaaaa!" The shout came again. |
| Inspector Gopal was
ready. He walked slowly across the garden, conscious of the stares. He had asked PC 2168 to stay behind. It did not create a good impression to have a limping man with him. DPC 4010 and PC 5927 walked a respectful pace behind him. "Don't come through there. Don't come there. Nila. Nila." Inspector Copal paused in his stride. Well, the grass looked very green and fine, like carpet, under his feet. Suddenly Nila ran up and pulled his hand. "Come here Inspector." "Why? This is the quicker way." He fell the softness of her touch and stayed still while she ke pt pulling him. "Come here Inspector. This is where the Master plays golf. See the hole in the ground." "Nila. Get that policeman off the green. Quick." Inspector Gopal resented being called a policeman.What with the crowd hearing everything. And the woman had used a crude colloquial term for 'policeman' in Tamil. He turned round, squeezing his heel deeply into the soft ground, and left his mark on the green. Nila looked at the depression, horrified. He was conscious of the crowd looking in his direction. Despite the strong breeze, the sun burned into his back and welts of sweat stained his uniform. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his face and carefully dabbed his moustache. The crowd stood under the rain tree. Some were still corning over the sea-wall. At a glance he saw that there were some elderly men among those standing under the tree. A woman stood apart from the rest. Dressed in white sari, she was gesticulating at an old man She ignored the presence of Inspector Gopal. She wore an expensive-looking ring with a large green stone on her right hand. Her face was long, curved like a cashew nut. Narrow forehead and pointed chin with a small mouth. But she was fair and had large breasts. The top of her sari kept slipping down in the breeze, exposing narrow shoulders. She stood very erect and looked contemptuously at the gathering under the tree. She seemed to be holding them at bay. Without a doubt she was the wife of Mr. K. As Inspector Gopal approached within hearing distance, she yelled at him. "Policeman. Get these ruffians off my grounds. My God, you all are damn slow in your duty." |
| "Madam,
I am not a policeman. I am an Inspector, madam." "Well then, Inspector, get them off." She pointed at the crowd. Inspector Gopal divided womankind into two groups. One contained the potential Shaktis, and the other held the rest. His emotional responses were similarly defined. He was cautious with the one and abrupt with the other. The wife of Mr. K. was definitely with the rest. "I can't get them off at once, madam." "What? What are you doing here? Standing there like some belacan!" Inspector Gopal did not in the least like being compared with baked prawn paste. He knew he smelt, but not so badly. The crowd giggled. He looked at them closely. He picked out Ramu the car-washer, who operated at the Odeon Cinema and had been hauled up for black-marketing cinema tickets. There was also Muttiah, a slick talker, who hung with a crowd of gay fellows and followed the white tourists into the pubs. And, Subbiah, an informer, whom he had used before. Mostly Indian. One or two old Chinese. About forty of them. "Madam, I came on orders. And the less you disturb my work, the faster I can perform my duty." He stamped his boots into the ground. "Don'tyou ruin my garden, Inspector. It's imported grass and costs more than your salary." "All right. Go away. I'll talk to them." "I certainly will not go away. I want to see them off before I go in. I'll report you if you are insulting, Inspector." Inspector Gopal look in the threat and his dislike for the woman grew intensely. He wished he could grab her by her breasts and squeeze the things until they burst. "Madam, I am doing my duty. Please do not obstruct me." Inspector Gopal turned round and stared at the woman in the face. The crowd was watching. He heard Ramu translating their exchanges into Tamil and expressions of delight appeared on those who heard. The woman placed her arms akimbo on her hips. She returned his stare. Her saris flapped in the strong breeze. |
| "I
obstruct you? You are mad, Inspector, mad. Kick them out. Or are you afraid?" She took a step forward in his direction and swung her right leg. He retreated. The breeze blew into the folds of her sari and the hem rode up the leg, exposing it to the thigh. She quickly dropped her leg. Everyone clapped. I le heard Ramu gave a piercing whistle. She turned on the crowd. "Bastards you all. Bastards you all. Inspector, kick them out." An old man emerged from the crowd. Inspector Gopal had once met him at the temple in the Gardens when he had been assigned to crowd control during Thaipusam. He was a Swami of some sort. Heavy white line drawn across the middle of his forehead with two large red dots one above and the other below the line. Sometimes he had three heavy white lines drawn across his forehead, and instead of dots, large circles. Today it was just the line and the two red dots. The crowd stopped sniggering. ' "Inspector, tell the lady to have some patience. All we want is time until sunset, when the correct rites could be performed. Then there would be a sign of what should be done." Inspector pressed his palms together in greeting The crowd was impressed by his gesture. "Swami, tell the lady yourself." "I've done so, but she does not understand." "She's a difficult one. Like a cow without a bull." The Swami ignored his remark and stayed still. Suddenly he touched the spot between his eyebrows with his index finger. The rest of his fingers were quivering as though he was drunk and he stumbled towards the tree. The crowd parted. The Swami knelt before the covered object under the great rain tree. He prayed for some time and the crowd knelt and did likewise. He pulled aside the black doth covering the object under it. .Inspector Gopal saw Ganesh for the first time. It was not like any Ganesh he had seen before. It was about four feel. tall. The head of the elephant was a brilliant red and the trunk came down the belly and curled round the waist with the tip resting on the navel. And there were six arms, each holding a trident, a sword, a lamp, a flower, a discus and a book. The Swami touched it reverently. It was carved from wood. Inspector Gopal went nearer. Under the speckled play of shades and shadows, Ganesh sat there, pot-bellied and satisfied and very happy for all to see. Inspector Gopal raised his head. He saw Nila looking at Ganesh with rapture. Her oval face was lit up. In her expression Inspector Gopal caught a glimpse of what he had long been searching for. He quickly rubbed his moustache with his thumb. He did this when he was excited. This movement distracted Nila's concentration and she shifted her gaze to him. Now he saw the full rapture on her face, it was like what they described in the books: the eyes carrying such an intense longing, brilliant and yet |
| sorrowful
at the same time, and the lips pouting, and
he could imagine the beads of sweat on the delicate upper lip. Ganesh had
brought her to him. It was a miracle. What Inspector
Gopal did not know was that directly behind him stood Ramu who was dressed
today in his favourite Indian film star manner, hair full of curls and waves,
moustache neatly trimmed, and wearing a dhoti of pure while. Besides, Ramu
had the height and flashing eyes. Inspector Gopal felt happy. He smiled at Nila. The girl turned her face away. Such a shy girl. What delights she promised. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a loud shout. "Inspector, get the crowd away. They're trampling on my orchids and flowers. Look, that woman lias let her boy pee and he's dirtied the place!" Inspector Gopal saw the mother holding out the baby with legs wide apart. Turd after yellow turd thudded onto the flowers. The woman picked up some leaves to wipe the anus and threw them onto the garden. "Inspector, get them out. I'll report you, Inspector." "Be patient, madam. They ask until six o'clock." "No! Ask them to get out. Now!" The woman moved quickly towards him. The Swami hastily covered Ganesh with the black cloth and the crowd gathered defensively under the tree. Inspector Gopal remembered his instructions. DSP Ismail had warned him to disperse the crowd quietly, without fuss. But now after looking at Ganesh, Inspector Gopal knew he did not have the heart to do this. It could bring untold curses upon him. Ganesh could be a terrible God when crossed. Why, even the Moon had to cover up her face when He came out for a stroll. The best thing to do was to get DSP Ismail down here. Inspector Gopal waved to PC 2168 who was lounging on the steps of the house and shouted him to radio HQ for DSP Ismail. The woman heard his instructions and was placated. PC 2168 limped off into the house and chipped some of the marbled floor with his heavy boots. He radioed HQ but DSP Ismail was not in. While waiting for DSP Ismail to be contacted, he radioed Inspector Hashim. In actual fact lie was trying to check if Inspector Hashim was at his post. He had long suspected ; Inspector Hashim, a Kelantan Malay who had visited the block of quarters where PC 2168 and his young wife were staying, just to see a policeman relative, so he had said. The visits were frequent and sometimes PC 2168 caught the inspector leaving the block in a hurry as he was coming in. For the rest of the day his wife would have a dreamy look on her face. He felt agonized whenever he had to be away from HQ. He knew Inspector |
Hashim suspected that he was observing them. But this sort of thing happened when he had to go on patrol duty. It made him feel helpless. Inspector Hashim answered the radio call. At least he was there behind his desk. As a matter of routine, PC 2168 relayed to him the information of what had happened. Inspector Hashim was not only very good with the ladies but lie was also ambitious. Coming from a poor home he had studied hard and came out top in the entrance examinations, beating the Chinese candidates as well. He was promoted to an inspector swiftly in line with the National Policy. Being also a staunch supporter of the Ruling Party he was detailed to be in charge of a section of the Riot Squad, the infamous Red Helmets. On hearing this piece of information, Inspector Hashim thought his Division should have been assigned to handle the matter in the first place. Crowds were a matter of control and supervision. What was the point of sending a vice squad inspector out there alone, to face a hundred threatening ruffians? Inspector Hashim duly recorded the radio conversation in the official diary and made an entry of the time of day. Next he called his sergeant and instructed him to get ready a lorry load. They were going out on a raid. All the equipment had to checked! The tear gas bombs should be taken from the armoury - fifty shells would do; after all, it was a small job. He would sign the chit for their release. He spread out his arms and stretched his spine, and looked at himself in the small mirror hanging opposite his desk on the office wall. He was handsome; he had known that from small. They call him "Puteh" when he was small. Fair, almost as fair as a Chinese. "Puteh". He had dark wavy hair and, unlike most Malays, a beautiful mouth, with perfect curves - not thicklipped. He was clever too. "Brilliant" his superiors had said. And the bomoh in his kampungh told him that he had two choices to make, both of which would lead him to success. Because of his tact and his handling of the riot in Market Square which had threatened to tear the town apart, he was favourably reported to the Inner Circle. Someone had whispered to him that he would go far in the Force or, if he wanted, get the right constituency and climb up the political ladder fast. He would have made an excellent Minister. All these, for the moment, were dreams, pleasant ones. He gazed fondly into the mirror. He had so much time still. Allah was kind. The huge red vehicle swung through the gate of the police headquarters. The platoon of red-helmeted policemen rode inside, looking disciplined, and stared out through the grilled openings. They sweated inside the hot interior despite the breeze coming through the vents. Inspector Hashim rode in the front with the sergeant. It never failed to give him a sense of elation, riding in the Riot Vehicle, so high in the air, looking down on the tops of private cars and the egg-shell helmets of the motor-cyclists on the road. The crowds on the pavements looked vulnerable and he could sense their tenseness as they suddenly bunched together or slowly congealed their movements until the vehicle had passed by. He had been taught about is in the Academy and he had learnt to quickly identify and classify the shape and mood of a crowd, and to husband and shepherd the recalcitrants. In time, he learnt to appreciate and understand the economy of crowd control. In his drawer he had boxes of cheap Japanese plastic soldiers which, in his spare time, he spilled onto the table and assembled in front of him. Then, spending some minutes, he shifted them all over the place and made imaginary moves of control and surges. He slowly worked up to a ratio of one to ten in an open area, and to twenty in an enclosed area and was pleased with the results which showed that he could contain them in a series of simple moves.# End of Part 2 (to be continued) Reproduced by permission of Mrs Lee Kok Liang Click here for Part One Go to the top |
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Ardchak awak
The Baling meeting (2)
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| ____________________ The Penang File Issue 40 |