New horizons, p.22
New Horizons, page 22
He was panting now, his face red.
‘But here? Noooo! Here, a state of primordial chaos reigns. Here, the traffic is jammed because of cows. The trains are late because of the rains. The streets are flooded because of the blocked drains. And yet… where do the silent Shimmerers pick as the preferred spot for their Home Base? Here! And who is their preferred interpreter? An Indian! I simply cannot accept that!’
Dr Venkatesh felt the surface of his skin heat up and grow damp with sweat once more despite the air conditioning. He hated confrontations. As a young boy he could remember physically wriggling and bending away from situations involving other people. They would get irritated because he could never give answers quick enough for them. He was highly intelligent and very good at his studies, but he had to think through his verbal responses. He liked to be precise, he liked to be accurate and truthful. It meant that he needed to take his time. It also meant that people frequently wanted to slap him – and occasionally did.
He had learned as an adult to control the reflex to fold himself in half and crawl away. But inside his head he felt a sensation exactly as if he were attempting to curl himself into a tiny ball, rolling himself into a corner.
‘Ahhm,’ he began. ‘I wish I could help you. I… I want to help you. But there’s really nothing that I can to tell you. I go to the venue, I meet with the Fa and I…’
The European general’s eyes bulged, his lips drew back in a snarl and he lunged towards the physicist. The Chinese general, who was quick on her feet, spun around and hit the military man full in the face. ‘No! We can’t afford to fall apart this way!’ she cried, as the other two representatives squawked aloud in surprise.
At that very instant, as Dr Venkatesh flinched away from the furious general, he found the space around his body stretching and ballooning outwards. It was as if he was contained within a bubble of some sort. It was a bit like an infinitely elastic cling film covering him without restricting his movements. Outside of it, he could see the rest of the room frozen in place. Within it, he could move around with ease.
Hesitantly, he took a step forward. His scalp was tingling with amazement and curiosity. He took another step. The bubble, or whatever it was, moved with him. Meanwhile, the other people in the room remained frozen. Still as statues.
Dr Venkatesh walked slowly and wonderingly over to the Chinese general’s desk. He picked up the bottle of water that was there, still unopened. Then he returned to where he’d been standing, beside his chair. None of the four PCC members had so much as twitched an eyelid. A sense of sparkling enlightenment began to dawn within the professor’s head.
So, he thought. So!
He opened the bottle of water, drank from it and capped it once more. All the while, the invisible bubble kept him contained. He looked around the room thoughtfully. He could take his time, he realized. This was like his childhood habit of trying to escape physically from torment but transformed into a temporal bolthole: a bubble of time where he could not be reached. He had let his guard down in that moment of panic when the general came at him. His mind had curled in upon itself, rather like a turtle pulling in its limbs and head. In that instant, he had slipped into the bubble.
How will I get out of it, he wondered, even as the answer appeared in his head. Just reverse the turtle act. Unfold yourself.
Immediately, the room filled with sound. The two generals righted themselves. Madam Americas was staring strangely at Venkatesh. The African representative looked slightly ill.
‘What?’ asked Venkatesh, looking at the others as if they had said something to him.
‘You…’ began Madam Americas. She stopped and began again. ‘Something happened to you. I saw it. Just a blink. But I saw it.’
‘Thinned out,’ said the African rep, in a strangled tone of voice, as if he’d swallowed a toad. ‘I saw it too. Weird. I can’t explain it.’
Venkatesh’s mind was wonderfully calm. ‘I’m thinking,’ he said, as he twirled the water bottle slowly in his hands, ‘that perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I do have some news to share after all.’
‘Come on, come on!’ said the European general, waving his hands in the air, as belligerent as before. ‘Get on with it!’ The Chinese general, though, stared at the water bottle. She recognized it as hers.
The physicist smiled. Perhaps for the first time since the assignment had begun, he was feeling happy.
‘You know, General, what you were saying earlier? About the thousand ways in which India has resisted the modern world? I can well appreciate how irritating it is for you – all of you who transitioned to the digitized era with your perfect regularity, your punctuality, your precision! Yes, India is annoying. Yes, we appear dysfunctional. Yes, we lag behind in so many sectors that we seem to belong to an older, quieter time altogether. We move at our own pace. And that drives people like you mad, General.’
The general snarled and bristled, but his Chinese counterpart grabbed his arm. She was frowning, her gaze still on the bottle in the professor’s hand.
Venkatesh paused, holding up the water bottle. ‘You’ve noticed the bottle, Madam General? Yes, it’s from your desk. I walked over and picked it up. While the two of you were assaulting each other.’ He glanced at the other two council members. They were staring at him with their mouths hanging open. ‘What you saw of me was a sliver of myself as I moved around in a bubble of expanded time. That’s why I looked weird.’
He took another sip from the bottle now. ‘So, here’s what I’m thinking: I don’t know why the Fa came to our planet, I don’t know what their plans for us are. All I am certain of is that they are benign. And the reason they chose India? Maybe it’s because of that quality the rest of you complain about when you come to this country: an altered sense of time. Not wrong, not late, not lazy, not stupid. Just… altered. Different from the rest of you speedy-needy types elsewhere on the planet.
‘Maybe that’s what the Fa saw in us Indians: a fondness for stretching time. Maybe it’s an ability, not a liability. Maybe it’s a talent, not a defect. Of course, we’ve not been able to do what they do, which is flex the boundaries of the fleeting minute. But maybe they knew that Indians, more than any other humans, would be more receptive to learning their so-called “chronological otherness”? Maybe we have a natural talent for learning their techniques of time-bending and chrono-stretching? Moulding it to suit our needs, rather than being imprisoned by it? Maybe that’s what they’ve been passing on to me during my time with them.’
He put the bottle down on the table next to him. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take your leave and return to the Fa. I believe I have finally understood how to receive their instructions.’
The four members of the council watched in silence as Venkatesh thinned out before their eyes. They heard a few indistinct chirps and clicks. A moment later, he was gone.
THE OTHER SIDE
PAYAL DHAR
1
They were very close to the border when Leela’s foot caught on an exposed root and she went down with a muffled moan. This past week had conditioned them to being quiet. It was an instinct. Even those who had died had done so silently.
Nisa dropped down next to Leela in the pitch darkness. The driver’s firefly lantern – their only mode of navigation – grew fainter and fainter ahead of them. They did not have the luxury of stopping to assess Leela’s injury. For one, the night was their biggest ally; once the cover of darkness was gone, there was only death – or worse. For another, getting left behind was not an option.
There were shouts up ahead, and Nisa’s blood turned cold. Shouts were not a good sign. Silence was everything. Then there was a gunshot, followed by more shouts. In that instant, Nisa knew that by tripping Leela had most probably saved their lives. They lay flat against the dark, cold ground, as still as possible, shivering, whether from pain, cold or fear, who knew – probably all three. The uneven rasping of their breath seemed like a beacon for their enemies to home in on.
The cold air and the damp chill from the ground seeped into Nisa’s clothes, digging their fingers right into the bones of her tired body. Fear and cold had her paralysed, the night pressing down on her from the top, and the cold, dark, formless ground pulling her into itself from below. She felt like she was being buried alive, like the broad, almost-there outlines of the trees that surrounded them were closing in. She was so tired that the idea of lying there and letting the forest take her was a welcome thought. Even though they were so close.
Low whimpers from Leela nudged her back to reality. The firefly lights were gone now, replaced by the penetrating beams of powerful torches that swept the area up ahead. A gentle swishing sound meant that the wind was starting up again. As Nisa lifted her head a bit to look around, she felt a sharp pain in her arm. Leela’s fingers were digging into her bicep, her grip like a vice even through all of Nisa’s layers. Her mouth felt gritty with mud and she smelt wet earth close to her face.
Sight, sound, touch, taste and smell. I want to live.
She realized she had spoken aloud when Leela replied in a whisper tight with pain: ‘Me too.’
Surely they had left all the Company check posts behind? There weren’t supposed to be border guards here. Their heavy tread made the ground vibrate, the sounds of their search muffled by forest noises of rustling leaves and animal calls.
Nisa and Leela had been towards the end of the train, but there was no way to tell if any of the others had scattered and circled around behind them when the guards had appeared. Nisa wondered how many had been captured, how many shots had been fired. It was odd that the guards were carrying guns, though. It was too retro; she would have guessed tasers, set to beyond ‘stun’ but short of ‘kill’. The thought of being caught was like a foulness spreading from within. Everyone knew what they did to captured workers. And, worse, to allies.
Leela’s grip on her arm loosened for a moment and then tightened again. ‘They’re moving away,’ she whispered.
The arcs of light were now further away. Nisa felt the tension leave her limbs. Perhaps they would live after all. She propped herself up on her elbow and stared at the faint receding outlines of the guards, three of them.
‘It’ll be light soon,’ Leela pointed out.
That was not good news. Nisa turned to her. ‘What do we do?’
‘We have to go on. We know the border is close – in that direction.’ Leela nodded with her head. ‘It’s now or never.’ She pulled herself upright as she spoke, grimacing in pain.
Nisa thought of her friend’s slight frame. ‘I can carry you.’
‘No!’ The reply was sharp.
‘But your ankle…’
‘I have another.’ She stood with the help of the stick she had been using to navigate the more difficult mountain paths. There was no arguing with her and, anyway, there was nowhere else to go but forward. Keeping under cover as best they could, the two young women inched forward. Nisa reminded herself that the rough path etched on the grass was evidence of others who had come this way before.
The sound of voices stopped them short. The glow of a fire nudged from the edge of the mountainside. Their path went over the ledge, right over the border guards’ watch point or camp or whatever it was.
‘One by one,’ Nisa whispered. ‘You first.’
‘No…’
‘I said it. You first.’
There was no time to argue; they would rather have an opportunity to fight about it later. She knew Leela felt the same.
Voices rose from the guards. They laughed. The fire crackled. Nisa’s nerves jangled like her out-of-tune guitar back at what had once been home. She held herself tight, watching Leela move further and further away. They would have to be as quiet as gravestones.
But Leela crossed without event, and when Nisa could no longer see her companion over the dip in the path, she finally allowed herself to breathe. It was her turn now. As quietly as she could, she started to move. As she neared the fire, she bent low – she was taller than Leela and had to be careful nobody spotted her over the lip of the ledge. Nearer to the camp, the laughter rose, a raucous sound over the rough hiss and spit of the fire and strains of music. Crouched on the crest right above their hideout, Nisa couldn’t help inching forward to see what they were doing.
Four people were gathered around the fire, so well bundled in thick coats and hats that it was impossible to tell if they were men or women. Their rifles lay on the ground, but within reach, as two of them picked through a threadbare canvas knapsack, removing items of clothing and laughing at each item.
Rage burnt through Nisa. She knew that knapsack. It was old Uncle-ji’s. One of the guards appeared stretched out on the ground. It was an odd place for a catnap – even with the fire, the ground would be chilled. As the fourth guard moved, Nisa had a full view of the napper – it was a body.
Then it fell into place, realization hitting her like a bludgeon. These were no border guards – they were bounty hunters. The kind that were paid to return bodies of escapees. Bodies that would be displayed in public as deterrents.
A moan almost escaped her lips as she recognized the lifeless form. She clapped her hands over her mouth. It wasn’t just the sight of his death that shocked her; it was the long, thin implement impaled in the dead man’s eye, something that glinted.
Nisa swallowed down the bile in her throat and choked back her sob. Shaking, she rose to a half crouch and turned in the direction of the waiting Leela. Then a loud crack – she had stepped on a twig.
‘What’s that?’ A man’s voice from below her.
‘There!’ Another shout, and an arm came into Nisa’s vision pointing towards the forest, down in the valley. Away from her.
It was brighter now, light enough for her to see someone running in the forest. No, two people, an adult and a child. Mohi and her young son? But Nisa had no time to think about anyone else. She had been given a lifeline. She couldn’t save anyone else. As the bounty hunters pelted down the mountainside, eerily silent despite their speed, she turned and ran the rest of the way, to where a trembling Leela was waiting.
‘What was the noise?’ Leela whispered, her voice unsteady and shrill. ‘I thought…’
She caught Leela by the shoulder, sobbing. ‘Nazir is dead, Leela! They… they put… they put his eye out.’
‘Oh.’ The sound was like the air going out of Leela’s lungs. She pressed her hands on Nisa’s forearms for a moment. Then she wiped the tears on her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘We can’t mourn him now. We have to go. Fast. It is nearly dawn.’
Nisa nodded, unable to speak, letting Leela lead the way. The path was clear, and they stumbled along in silence.
‘Look,’ Leela said.
Her voice sounded different, making Nisa turn to her instead of where she was pointing. She hadn’t seen a smile in a long time.
‘Look.’ Leela nodded as if to emphasize the importance of the word.
Nisa turned to look. It was the border. A shrouded figure stood beyond it, gesturing to them to move faster.
2
Eight days before Nazir died, a sharpened steel rod through his eye, Leela and Nisa huddled deep inside a container truck along with three other people, in a cramped, hollowed-out space between a cargo of carpets, knees and elbows jostling, giant rolled-up parcels towering over them.
Nisa clutched a plain canvas rucksack to her chest – the plainest and most nondescript one she had been able to buy from the offline market in the Walled City. Leela’s hand gripped hers. It was surreal to think that the life she had known just a week or so ago was over. Everything she owned was now in that rucksack; the books and clothes and gadgets and money, everything else gone. The thought that from here on she and Leela only had each other was terrifying.
They knew nothing about where their first station was or how long it would be before they arrived there. All they had been told was that they had to move quickly and quietly, and follow instructions. Whose instructions, they didn’t know. Nisa couldn’t tell how long they had been on the road, but the smooth movement of the truck and lack of frequent stops indicated they were on the highway. Her stomach tightened into a knot. How far would they have to travel in this confined, suffocating space? Would they know if plans went wrong? What would happen when they reached a check post and the truck was searched?
The ragged breaths of her companions got on her nerves. She couldn’t tell if she was the one shivering or if they all were, as one. Her body was taut from anticipation, and each time the truck slowed she tensed even more.
When they finally did stop, things happened very quickly. They were not privy to what would make the truck stop in the middle of the highway, or how they would get out of the electronically locked container. But the small beep of the lock disengaging and then the cold air striking them with its metallic-smoky tang set them all in motion. Mohi with her son Golu went first, followed by the frail Uncle-ji, and finally Leela and Nisa.
Smog hung in the air, limiting visibility, but there was no mistaking the sound of voices and the loud metallic clanging going on towards the front of the truck.
‘What…?’ Nisa started to say, but the woman who had let them out shushed her and pointed to a narrow strip on the ground worn between the waist-high shrubs and the surrounding trees.
‘Quick and quiet.’ Those were the only three words she said.
They walked in silence through forests and fields, a tight, tense, terrified group, bound only by the hope of freedom.
Dawn was licking the edges of the sky when they reached their first station. It was an underground bunker, the entrance hidden in a rock behind a scraggly crop of bushes. The metal doors screeched as their guide pulled it open, unnaturally loud in the forest. Nisa was glad when they were inside.
Narrow, bricked stairs, illuminated by the light of a torch, led straight down into a small, squarish room. One dim LED bulb hung from the ceiling, a fading ball of light around it. There was silence apart from their footsteps on the stairs, but Nisa knew instinctively that they were surrounded by people. Still, it was a shock to find about a dozen huddled shapes around the room. Some of them stirred, some slept, some sat up. Nisa imagined their eyes on her as she found place for herself and Leela in one corner. Someone handed them blankets.
