I'd written this story nearly a decade and a half back as an assignment in Creative Writing. The theme of assignment was Floating Body. I was reluctant to post it publicly for obvious reasons. But, recently a very young friend happened to read it and gave an encouraging response making me think about posting it here.
Motta Zulfi
The seawater had cleaned the wound across his chest. The flesh was pure pink without even a stain of blood as it is in the butcher’s shop. The torn underwear could not hide his private organs. The grimace on his face felt as if he was still suffering the pain of the wound.
The police had lifted the corpse floating below the Venduruthy Bridge.
“Are you sure it is him?” the SI asked.
“Athe Saare”, said the Head Constable, “hundred percent, he is Zulfi, I was there when he was arrested for the first time peddling drugs outside the Sacred Hearts College nearly ten years ago”.
“Ok, I’ve heard that many times. That, Rajendran, the youth leader and the nephew of then MLA was also involved in the case. But, never knew Motta was still active here”, the SI wondered aloud.
The SI started moving towards the spot where other couple of constables were trying to pack the body into body-sized plastic. A small crowd was gathering there.
“Rajan, can you confirm that this is Motta Zulfi, as Sivadasan says?” the Inspector asked the veteran crime reporter, who’d woken up from a snooze at his office table, waiting for a tea a couple of hours ago, by the buzzing of his cell phone. It was the SI.
“Yes”, said Rajan, sipping his ball pen. “It is him”, his gaze still fixed on the corpse. “He has put on a little weight, that is all”.
“But, how come here?” the Inspector wondered.
“No idea”, said Rajan.
“Do you think anyone will be interested in him?” the SI asked to no one in particular, “will they come to claim his body?”
“I don’t think so sir”, Sivadasan ventured with an answer, “He was disowned by his siblings since his name appeared in the Thopampaddy sex scandal.”
“He left Kochi after that – heard his political connections helped him to get out of that mess”, Rajan chipped in.
“Ok, write a press release for us saying that it is an unidentified body without mentioning the wound. We’ll have a photo of his face. You can write a bit more detailed report, even guess his identity and carry it as exclusive. But, please spare me of Goonda villaiyattam and that the police force is made of eunuchs when it comes to dealing with them”, the SI told Rajan.
Only one person wept reading the report the next day.
*****
“I love you, Zaida”, he said in the euphoria of climax. The words brought in her a fresh surge of love for him, making her forget the torture of bearing the weight of the limping body of this monster of a man, making her hold on to him with renewed vigour and kiss whatever her lips could find of him.
“So, my man is learning to make small talk while working”, Zaida teased him sitting on the bed. “I always wonder how the madamas of Bombay who pay you by thousands for an hour bear your silence while you knead their bodies”.
“I get paid for my other skills”, Zulfi said, buckling his pants. “And, they know I can put this to better use if they wish to”, he continued pointing to his tongue.
Zaida was familiar with Zulfi’s acidic speech for long to be perturbed by such minor lashings.
Zulfi was present in Zaida’s life from the time she doesn’t even remember; being brought up in the same locality, attending the same kindergarten and primary school. He started disappearing from high school. But, she did not realise it for a long time as he was always visible in the neighbourhood and the fact was that he was not important for her to miss.
But the situation changed soon enough; once when she was passing through the street corner with her friends, an older boy among the group standing there passed a comment to the effect that the girls of the locality were ripening very quickly. There was a commotion in the group when she looked back. The elder boy was squatting with blood dripping from his nose. The group was divided into two; one attending to the injured and other dragging Zulfi back. The girls left the place with quickened pace, scared to be considered a party in the scene.
There were a few more occasions on which Zulfi had jumped in front of her as a super hero in her time of distress. It was difficult for her to believe that his presence in those situations were coincidences. But, she had no proof to prove otherwise.
Zaida’s life moved to a surreal plain when she first started liking Zulfi and then began to love him. It wasn’t easy for her to convince Zulfi of her feelings and to sustain the relationship. He’d wished to move on many times. But, she couldn’t think of a life without him. In between, she had to get married to another man and had to have a child that wasn’t Zulfi’s.
Still, she couldn’t let go of Zulfi. She’d wished to marry him, have his children. But he did not agree to drag her into his uncertain life and even said that he wasn’t sure of his love for her to dissuade her from persisting with him. Of course, she did not let it happen and they continued to meet. The meetings became sporadic and the intervals between them longer after he shifted base to Mumbai without robbing off the intensity as far as Zaida was concerned. She had even committed to abandon her husband and even her child whenever Zulfi was ready to take her with him. His notoriety or his occupation became an issue once in a while but, Zaida was careful enough not to make a full blown quarrel out of it.
*****
It was the face of her husband that Zaida saw when she opened the door of her bedroom. Their daughter was sitting on his lap. At first, she feared that she may lose her composure but her courage held her in spite of self doubt. She made space for Zulfi to come out and gave him confidence by looking him into the eyes and smiling. Zulfi came out swiftly and tried to smile at the little girl while making his way out.
Her husband gave her a slap that wasn’t good enough to give her any pain. Zaida was only worried that Zulfi would return hearing the noise, but was relieved when she heard the sound of his Bullet going away.
*****
A few tears mixed with the gum from the glue stick on the newspaper clipping. Zaida was careful that her sobs did not harm the piece of paper in her hand. She deftly pasted it on an antique wedding album with thick black velvety paper. The thought that this will be one of the last scraps of Zulfi that she was going to have clenched her heart like a spanner and she began to cry loudly like a hungry child for a few moments in her locked room; then stopped abruptly as if she caught someone watching her. She caressed the passport size picture of Zulfi of yesteryears on the first page of the album; then turned a few pages slowly containing news items of the only person she’d loved in her life before placing it in the locker of her Almirah.
