Funny Boy (10 page)

A few days later, Radha Aunty took a train north to Jaffna. I was to go without her to rehearsals and now Amma drove me there. The first time she dropped me outside St. Theresa’s, I looked at the tall gates and felt lost and alone. Slowly, I made my way towards the netball court. The other children in the cast were playing rounders and I stood watching them for a while, then made my way to the rehearsal hall. The men and women who were Radha Aunty’s friends were talking outside the hall. Anil was not with them. Feeling that I didn’t belong there either, I went into the hall. The actors were doing the scene where the king’s chief wife sings to the English governess about the things she liked in her husband. I noticed Anil now. He was leaning on the piano, his hand under his chin. From the expression on his face I could tell that he, too, was missing Radha Aunty. I went and stood by him.

It was during Radha Aunty’s absence that I began to really get to know Anil. I was struck by how different he was from men like my father and uncles. His friendliness towards me was
casual and effortless, unlike the stiff formality other adults had when they felt compelled to make a gesture of cordiality towards us children.

A month passed, and soon it was time for Radha Aunty to come back. The day before she returned, however, we heard that there was trouble in Jaffna. The old market had been burned down and nobody was certain who had done it. A curfew would be set. Ammachi phoned Nages Aunty to find out if it was safe to send Radha Aunty by train. Nages Aunty said that the tension had died down and that she had arranged for a police friend of hers to escort Radha Aunty to the station. Radha Aunty was taking the night train, which would bring her to Colombo early the next day.

That morning, after rehearsal, Amma didn’t come to pick me up. I sat on the steps by the gate and watched the other cast members leave. Anil saw me waiting and he offered to keep me company until Amma arrived. After half an hour had gone by, however, I became uneasy. The sun was very hot now and I was beginning to feel hungry. Finally, Anil offered to leave me at my grandparents’ house on his way home. I wondered if he had offered to drop me at their house rather than my house because he hoped to get a glimpse of Radha Aunty.

When we turned down Ramanaygam Road, I was surprised to see all the aunts’ and uncles’ cars parked outside the house and my parents’ as well. Anil saw me lean forward in my seat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Diggy and some of the other cousins were seated on the wall. When they saw me, they jumped down and ran to the car.

“You’ll never guess what!” Diggy cried. “Radha Aunty’s train was attacked.”

I looked at them, shocked. Anil turned off the ignition.

“What happened?” he asked.

“People attacked the Tamils on the train,” Diggy said. “Radha Aunty was hurt and everything.”

“But why?” Anil asked.

“Because there was trouble in Jaffna,” Diggy explained. “When the train got to Anuradhapura, Sinhalese people began throwing stones and bottles at the train. Next thing you know, there was a big hullabaloo.” He leaned forward into the car. “And now they say there’s going to be trouble in Colombo too. The government is going to declare a curfew.”

Anil looked worried. He opened the door on his side, and I got out as well.

As we walked up the driveway, I could hear the adults’ voices in the drawing room. Some cousins were in the garden and they stared at Anil. I went in to call Amma. When Amma saw me she cried out, “Oh, darling, I completely forgot about you.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “Anil drove me home.”

“Who?” Amma asked.

Before I could reply, Mala Aunty said, “The Sinhala man. You know, the one who Radha …” her voice trailed off and the adults glanced at each other significantly.

“He’s here,” I said and pointed to the front porch.

Mala Aunty covered her mouth and the other adults looked towards the porch.

“I’ll deal with him,” Ammachi said and she stood up.

“No, no,” Amma said, hastily, “I’ll talk to him. After all, he brought Arjie and everything.”

She got up and followed me out onto the porch.

“Thank you for driving my son here,” she said to Anil.

He waved his hand as if to say it was nothing.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“The train coming from Jaffna was attacked at the Anuradhapura station.”

“And Radha … I mean your sister-in-law, how is she?”

Amma shook her head. “We don’t know as yet. Mr. Rasiah, a family friend of ours, was on the train and he was able to get her out of the station quickly.”

Anil exhaled slowly. “Where is she now?” he asked.

“She’s with Mr. Rasiah. He is bringing her back to Colombo.”

“May I see her when she comes back?”

“I’m afraid I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She smiled at Anil to indicate that the visit was over. He nodded and, after a moment, he left.

When we went back into the drawing room, everyone looked at Amma expectantly.

“He wanted to find out what had happened,” she said. “Poor man.”

Kanthi Aunty made a derisive sound. “Don’t start that ‘poor man’ nonsense. Especially not after what has happened.”

Amma sent me to the bathroom to wash before lunch. As I walked down the corridor, I was suddenly brought up short by the photograph of my great-grandfather on the wall. I stared at it for a moment, and then the gravity of the looming crisis sunk in. I shivered involuntarily as I recalled what my father had said about the fights between the Sinhalese and the Tamils in the fifties and how many Tamils had been killed. Was it happening all over again? Would we suffer a similar fate to that of my great-grandfather? I turned away from the photograph, not wanting to look at it any more, not wanting to be reminded of what might await us.

The atmosphere at lunch was tense. The adults sat at the dining table and we children sat in the drawing room, our plates on our laps. No one spoke except to ask someone to pass a dish. The radio was on so we could listen for more news. Many places in Sri Lanka were already under curfew and this evening there would be one in Colombo.

We were midway through the meal when we heard the sound of a car stopping outside our gate. We became silent. There was a banging on the gate and a man called out, asking if anyone was home. Radha Aunty had arrived. We all got up, left our plates, and hurried down the corridor to the front door. When we arrived on the porch, Radha Aunty and Mr. Rasiah were walking up the driveway. We stood still and watched them. Radha Aunty walked slowly, her hand resting on Mr. Rasiah’s arm. She was wearing a scarf and she kept her head bent. When she was close to us, she lifted her head and we all stared at her in horror. The right half of her
face was dark and swollen. The scarf around her head covered a bloody bandage.

Ammachi made a small noise that sounded like a whimper and went to Radha Aunty. She put her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Radha Aunty stood there without responding. She seemed oblivious to all of us. Ammachi tried to lead her towards the house, but she made a protesting sound and clung to Mr. Rasiah’s arm.

“She’s still very shocked,” Mr. Rasiah said by way of explaining her behaviour. He gently disengaged her fingers from his arm so that Ammachi could lead Radha Aunty into the house. As she went past me I looked at her, unable to believe that she was the same Radha Aunty who had left for Jaffna a few weeks earlier. The uncles, my father, and Appachi invited Mr. Rasiah to sit down and have some lunch with them. The aunts, Amma, I, and all the cousins followed as Ammachi led Radha Aunty down the corridor to Radha Aunty’s room. We stood in the doorway and watched as Ammachi helped her to sit down on her bed.

Now Mala Aunty, being the doctor, took charge. She removed the scarf and began to examine the wound. When she tried to take off the bandage, Radha Aunty drew in her breath sharply and put her hand up to stop her.

“I have to take it off,” Mala Aunty said. “We must see if you need stitches or not.”

She found a pair of scissors in a drawer and began to snip at the bandage. Radha Aunty gripped the edges of the bed, a grimace on her face. Finally the bandage came undone and we
saw the gash on her forehead. Mala Aunty tilted Radha Aunty’s head back and examined the wound carefully. Then she nodded, indicating that stitches weren’t needed. She sent me to get a new bandage from Appachi.

When I arrived in the dining room, Mr. Rasiah was in the middle of describing what had happened at the Anuradhapura station. I forgot about my errand for a moment and stood listening to him tell how Radha Aunty had been assaulted by two men, one carrying a stick and the other a belt, and how he had managed to save her because he spoke good Sinhalese and the men had believed he was Sinhalese.

When I returned with the bandage, Radha Aunty was lying on her bed and someone had drawn the curtains. Mala Aunty took the bandage from me and began to dress the wound. When she was done, all the aunts left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind them. The other cousins went down the corridor, talking excitedly about the size and bloodiness of Radha Aunty’s wound. I waited till they had gone and then I entered Radha Aunty’s room. She opened her eyes as I came in and stared at me, then she closed them again. I sat on the edge of the bed. In the dining room I could hear Mr. Rasiah finishing his story. I thought how rapidly our lives had changed. Yesterday, it would have been impossible to imagine these events. In a few hours curfew would begin, the night would descend, and there would be the anxiety of waiting till morning, wondering what would happen to us. As I sat there on Radha Aunty’s bed, I thought of all Mr. Rasiah had said and found myself wondering how people could be so cruel, so terrible. The scene he had
described, the bottles being flung, the beatings, seemed unreal. And yet they were real, as I could see before my very eyes.

My thoughts were disturbed by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I glanced towards the half-open door, wondering who was visiting us at this hour. Radha Aunty, too, was listening. Then we heard Anil asking for her. Radha Aunty sat up in bed.

“Radha is not in,” we heard Kanthi Aunty say. “She had to go to the dispensary.”

“When will she be back?” Anil asked.

Radha Aunty lowered her feet over the side of the bed and stood up.

“I don’t know.”

“May I wait?”

“No. It’s very insensitive of you to come around at a time like this.”

“I was only concerned about Radha …”

“There is no need for you to be concerned.”

Radha Aunty stood in the middle of her room as if uncertain of what to do next. Now we heard Ammachi’s voice. “What do you want?” she cried at Anil. “Haven’t you people done enough?”

“Please go,” Kanthi Aunty said. “You are not wanted here.” There was a long silence.

Now Radha Aunty walked quickly to the bedroom door. But she was too late. Anil had left. Then I heard her breathe in deeply and realized that she was crying. She stood by the door for a moment, the tears running down her face. Then she went
back towards the bed and slowly sat down on the edge of it, looking at her hands. From time to time, she breathed in loudly. I turned away from her, unable to bear the sound of her crying.

By the time we left that afternoon, a few sporadic incidents had been reported not far from where my grandparents lived. It was decided that Ammachi, Appachi, and Radha Aunty would spend a few days with us. My grandparents would stay in the spare room, Radha Aunty would have Sonali’s room, and Sonali would sleep with me.

In the middle of the night Sonali woke me up to say that she had heard a noise in the hall. We sat up in bed, listening carefully. I heard someone moving around in the drawing room. I got up quietly and crept to the door. I turned the handle slowly, making sure that it didn’t click as I opened the door, and I stepped out into the hall. In the dark I could make out a figure at the end of the hall, looking at the garden through the half-glass front door. Then the person moved slightly and the bandage caught the moonlight. Radha Aunty. She had heard me. She turned and gazed in my direction for a moment, then beckoned to me. I went to her.

“What are you doing up?” she whispered sharply.

I didn’t answer.

She stood looking outside again. The moon seemed to have bewitched the garden. The grass and the bushes appeared to have melted into one another, as if the moonlight had spread a fine silver netting over them. As I stood watching her in the
moonlight I realized that she had changed. There was a seriousness to her face that was new, a harshness that I had never seen before. After a while she turned and, without waiting for me, she went back down the hall to her room.