THE PUPPETEERS OF PALEM Read Online Free Page B

looked at the spectacle too. When Venkataramana took a step towards the crows, the boy said, ‘Don’t.’
    ‘Don’t what?’
    ‘Don’t scare them away.’
    ‘I want to save the bird.’
    ‘Don’t,’ he said, looking back at his boat. ‘Don’t you know that crows punish their flock members by killing it? Justice has to be done.’
    He looks like a baby version of some sort of anti-buddha, Venkataramana decided. The boy’s face carried serenity, yes, but it was masking something volatile under the surface. Much like this cracked earth.
    Venkataramana took another step towards the screeching birds.
    ‘No! Don’t!’
    Good one, Ramana. You’re being told what to do by a boy. A cripple.
    Two crows mounted the criminal crow and pinned it to the ground.
    What is he going to do? Beat you up with those crutches of his?
    Two others started pecking the criminal’s eyes out. The air filled with a cacophony of caws, the loudest coming from the victim.
    Sniffle, sniffle, sniffle; I am scared of the cripple.
    The cawing reduced. One by one the crows started to disperse. But two of them remained to peck at the wounded carcass. The legs of the dead crow had folded on top of themselves and gone limp. Its attackers, though, hacked away mercilessly.
    ‘They are going to eat it,’ the boy said.
    Venkataramana said, ‘That’s rubbish. Crows are not cannibalistic. They — ’ He caught himself and stared.
    One of the crows held the leg of the dead crow in its beak and stretched it. The other pecked at the flesh until it gave way. Once the limb got dismembered, they held the ends and pulled in opposite directions until each one had a piece. Seemingly satisfied with their respective spoils, they stepped away to feed before coming back for the other leg.
    ‘No,’ Venkataramana said, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust.
    The boy did not say anything. He turned and stepped away from the Gandhi statue, in the direction of the school building. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I have homework.’
    Venkataramana walked up to the statue and picked up the paper boat from the pedestal. The boy had left it behind. From the side, the cawing of the crows had become softer and more contented, presumably because their hunger was satiated. Without thinking, he started unfolding the paper boat, bit by bit. His neck and his back seemed to be on fire. His knees and hands shivered. He thought of two things at the same time.
    Woh kagaz ki kashti, woh baarish ka paani…
    Sniffle, sniffle, sniffle; I am scared of the cripple.
     

     

Chapter Four
    1984
    C rickets . So many crickets.
    They seemed to be everywhere. Chanti had caught a cricket the night before in front of his hut. He had used two sticks from the broom to pin it by the wings. It had not struggled to get away. It had merely leaned forward, lifted its legs and scratched itself under the wings. He had wanted to squash it to stop that horrible noise, but he only had the two thin broom sticks for weapons. And he was too afraid to squash it with his hand. It had such big eyes. And so many.
    It was the season of crickets. They made that sound because they wanted to get married, his mother had once told him. They got married, and then had baby crickets who would get married the next year and have more baby crickets who would come back the following year to get married — there was just no end to it. The only way out of it was to kill them all. One day he would squash them all. No, not with his hands. With a hammer. Yes, maybe when he was as old as Aravind.
    They were walking through the babul bushes down the narrow path to the Shivalayam.
    ‘Thorns,’ Venkarataramana said. ‘Thorns everywhere.’
    Aravind did not turn back. ‘These are babul bushes, Ramana. You expect thorns.’
    ‘We should have brought a torch.’
    It was Sarayu’s idea that they did not need a torch. But there was no blaming her. How was she to know that the clouds would gather with such haste?
    ‘It better