The Cripple and His Talismans Read Online Free Page A

world.
    “He gathered the festering parts, so he lost tonight. He’s not ready. He must do more time.”
    “What does all this have to do with me?”
    The In-charge whispers into the leper’s ear. The leper then looks at me from the corners of his eyes. He turns slowly toward me. I hope he does not touch me.
    The leper puts his hand in his mouth.
    He bites hard onto his forefinger. He does so as though he is eating a dark biscuit.
    Pthuck.
    A snap, like that of a dry twig.
    The finger stays in his mouth, caught between his teeth. If I give him a matchstick, he might smoke it. He picks it out of his mouth.
    “Take it,” says the In-charge.
    And dip it in my tea? Offer it to others as a vintage cigar?
    “It’s an offering,” urges the In-charge.
    “I’m okay,” I say.
    “The victor must relinquish his finger. One by one, he will renounce all his body parts until he ceases to exist. Only then will he be cleansed. You cannot let him down.”
    “But …”
    “It’s crucial that you take it.”
    “I …”
    “Do it!”
    “Can’t he give it in a bag?”
    “Listen, friend, do it for your own sake.”
    I extend my arm, a naughty child holding his hand out for the schoolmaster’s cane.
    “Is this how you accept an offering?”
    I cup my hand.
    The finger feels scaly. A dry piece of dog shit.
    The leper taps the stump of my arm.
    He comes close to my ear. His breath captures the essence of an entire hospital.
    “Baba Rakhu,” he whispers.

A THOUSAND OIL LAMPS
    Not far from Jalebee Road is an old burnt-down mill by the sea. I stop to rest in its ruins. As I left the games, the cries of the lepers tried to pull me back. That is why it took me an hour to get here.
    The mill resembles an ancient temple. I stand under a half-eaten archway. There are hubs in the walls, carved out for the gods. Under the moon the hubs hold light, tempting us to drink it. If only we could drink light.
    Dark leaves move in the trees. I walk toward a slab of stone in the distance. On either side of me there is exposed brick. I hear the waves hit the shore. I want to sit by the sea and watch the small boats in the distance. Men are sea urchins at heart. We like being lost at sea, being rescued and given little huts to live in on the shore. But as time goes by, we lose ourselves in the water again. I take my place on the stone. It is cold. I stare into the night and wonder if the sea looks as widowed during the day.
    I used to have an apartment by the sea. I never saw the sun rise because I was too busy drinking gold of my own the night before. When your head aches, you shut out the sound of waves; only the splashing of whiskey is heard, as your shaking hand raises the bottle to your mouth. I used to drink water, too. Water is a wonderful drink. It clears out the toxins to make way for more potent ones. Waves do the same. That is why they foam.
    I think too much. I must shut down my brain and only see. But then I see too much. For example, right now, a woman stands in front of me. I do not know where she has come from. She carries the glow of caves. Maybe she was born from the salt of the sea. I am surprised but not scared. After the leper fight, anything else is a song.
    “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks.
    I look down at the stone I sit on.
    “Not the stone,” she says. “I’m talking about the rainbow.”
    Ruins do that to people. They see lions in the moonlight, licking honey from the hands of a child.
    “It’s just come out,” she says. She looks at the archway that I stood under only moments ago.
    “You mean the archway is in the shape of a rainbow?”
    “That’s not an archway. It’s a rainbow.”
    I do not argue, only make certain that I still have the leper’s finger in my pocket. It has no use now, and maybe it never will. It is a fitting token for a man seeking the truth about his lost limb.
    “I would like your help,” she says.
    Help is a cunning dog. It comes to you on all fours, and as you bend lower to pet