June in Ranchel is a raining month. The river floods and snowy white cranes gorge on the fishes in the river. Red crabs move all around the damp mud on the shore. Houseflies hum circling the dead fishes. The river has a pair of strangers, unnoticed and with sullen expectation, the crocs. The countryside turns an immodest green. Boundaries blur as rain water floods.
A narrow road is dampened, making it hard for the workers in the pasture. A young man, clad in black overcoat is watching them all with a whip in his hand. He is six feet tall, stout body with nerves bulging out, fair skinned, clean-shaved face. His round face has a good looking moustache. Men and women are working hard to remove the bunds which might flood the pasture, the only source to feed thousands of cattle of the farm. “Neh, neh, neh” an infant burst out to cry. Its mother, a worker, stopped working and began to milk the infant. The young man brushed off food crumbs on his overcoat and turned his dark eyeballs towards this woman. There is nobody to stop this sensual pleasure, not because they are busy in their work, but he is their ruthless boss, the only one to feed them. After a few minutes, he moved towards a villa, a magnificent one.
This villa was made out of the blood and sweat, not his. It is the only magnificent structure in the entire village, smiling like a giant among a set of thatched huts. Boats have been halted beside the villa. Small fishes appear in the puddles. It was drizzling when the boss stepped inside the villa. The verandah is adorned by the exotic furniture from the nearest city- Medera. This villa on the hill wore its steep orange roof having sliding rain water. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground.
The well maintained garden was full of the whisper and scurry of tiny lives. A green snake is slithering behind a rat. Frogs were looking for mates in the scummy pond. Teak wood trees are surrounding the villa, a few meters away, like a pack of guards. The house is empty. The doors and windows are locked. Some thin-armed children, flat-chested, are slipping. They are the kids of the workers. The boss didn’t force them to vacate, not because he loved them, but he was too sleepy to do that.
The sky is a state of confusion whether to rain or drizzle. The boss slept on a sofa in the verandah, seemingly undisturbed by the noise of the work. The brass plate on the wall mentioned the name of the house and of the person sleeping on the sofa, in bold letters- “Pelvis John Mansion”.
Life is hard for the workers not for him, now. In those early years when life was full of beginnings and no ends, it was not so easy for him. He began to earn at the age of ten, as he was orphaned. His dad was murdered by a gang of goons sent by the previous landlord of this place, Jack Hardy. His mom was raped and murdered on the same day by Jack Hardy.
But, then he wasn’t matured enough to avenge. He had to work hard at houses of the other mini- landlords for food, no pay. At the age of sixteen, he demanded for a pay. He was ousted from the job for this disloyalty, as mentioned by them. The next a dead body was laying at Nariman Street, bathed in blood. It was of the mini-landlord who ousted Pelvis John. The news spread like a wild fire in the village and Pelvis was conferred the tag of a goon. He started to see the fear in the eyes of the people and decided to leverage it. He used the same dagger which he had used to kill the mini-landlord, to scare the people and snatch money from them. Soon, he built a gang, popularly referred as “the Pelvis Gang”. He attacked the houses of all the mini-landlords on a same day and looted, murdered and even raped. The ruthless tag attached to his name, overnight. He ran brothels, liquor dens and even some amount of arms smuggling units.
Women always tried to cover their faces when they see him, as he never spared one he feels lust on. He accumulated huge money as cops never came here, to disturb his operations. Soon, he became Ranchel’s don after “the grand massacre” of those budding goons who were against him and unifying those who followed his orders. He supplied arms, women, liquor and money to appease his men. The local political leaders were scared to even talk to him, would they act against him.
Finally, the day came. A group of fifty goons attacked the villa of Jack Hardy. Jack was tied up. The goons began looting gold, silver and cash. A man in black jacket was in search for something else, he moved from left to right and right to left and to all the rooms in the house. He was Pelvis, the ruthless. It is time to avenge for the years of pain he had undergone.
“Got you, how can you hide from me? I can smell women, their aroma arouses me,” he held the hairs of a young lady and dragged her out from the room. Jack could not utter a word as the goons have inserted cloth into his mouth. The goons were filling the truck they have brought with bounty.
The lady was the daughter of Jack. The pretty lady was in her twenties, unmarried. She was fair, slim and curvy enough to seduce any man. She was wearing red gown. “See! See! How I am going to peel your daughter, like a banana,” he shouted and in a flash undressed her. She stood stark naked in front of him. He pushed her to the wall and used all his might on her. He raped her and called out for a dagger, a goon handed one to him and he slit her throat. He rushed towards Jack and strangled him with his daughter’s gown. “I own this mansion from now on,” he shouted at the top of his voice.
This is how he owned this mansion. Pelvis woke up from the sound of the lunch bell, for the workers. “Where is the sack? It is the time to …,” he paused and moved towards the pasture. Two workers are ready with sacks, there are two sacks, precisely. He began to move, the workers are behind him with the sacks and a couple of big heaves. The sack is bleeding. Blood drops spilled all over their path. They are directing towards the river. They reached the river shore. The workers placed the sacks on the shore and began to open it. But they are five feet away from Pelvis, who is almost in the river. One worker inserted his hands into a sack and took out a large chunk of a red material. It is flesh, a fresh one with blood all over. Another worker pulled a moving tray and indicated the other one to drop the meat into it. He did so. The worker pushed it towards Pelvis, insisting that he won’t move from the five feet away, where he stood.
Two giants rushed out from the river to tremble the workers. They started to sweat. Pelvis on the other side began to feed the giants, the crocs. On the other side, Pelvis is not showing any sign of fear. He is even fondling the giant crocs. Few years back, it was he who brought these crocs at a tender age to feed the people who turned against him. The people were directly fed or were killed and fed.
The moon embraced the sky, smiling at the wet grass and giant trees. The pasture is snowy with two gentlemen on its turf. The devil never sleeps, told him one of his friend. Maybe true, but, some say the devil sleeps at dawn and rise at midnight. Pelvis’s friend is an athletic person he has muscles from skiing all winter, normally. He has the kind of face that can pause any woman for a while. His shiny goatee and handlebar moustache added more to it. His eyes are a dazzle with wonder over a friendly smile, a dashing personality, to be concise. His concrete jaw and Titan’s shoulders make him a perfect match to be a friend of Pelvis, the ruthless. His Viking gold hair and bristly eyebrows added to the charm.
In the middle of the pasture, at 9 P.M, Pelvis and his friend are seated on wooden chairs with some burning firewood in front. A teapoy is full of delicacies and wines.
“Vicky, don’t smoke here. Go far,” Pelvis indicated his friend.
Vicky got up from the chair to smug his lust for tobacco. After smoking a couple of cigars he sat on the chair. Both of them loved the cold breezy wind. Fortunately, the firewood has some energy to burn the gusty wind.
Pelvis took a sip of German wine from his designer glass. Vicky isn’t intimate with it. So, he refrained, sufficed with the couple of Cuban cigars. The trees are battling with the gusty wind at a few meters away from the fire. Vicky was the first team member of Pelvis’s gang. He joined Pelvis at a tender age, being five years younger than Pelvis. But, his ability to organize men was well leveraged by Pelvis. The talk of the village is that Vicky is Pelvis’s right hand man. Frankly, Pelvis believed nobody completely. Even Vicky was spied many times before and even recently. Pelvis always believed that people change as per time and circumstance.
There is a movement in the dark shrubs ahead. A shabbily dressed worker is running towards the fire. “Master, master, the devil had rose again at the glowing swamp. This time it has swallowed two of our workers,” cried the worker.
“Why did they go there? They weren’t assigned any duty there,” Pelvis replied.
“That’s the devil’s charm, Master. It lured them to death,” said the worker in grief.
“Vicky, something has to be done about this devil. It has already consumed 10 of our men,” said Pelvis in deep thought.
“But, did anybody see this devil. Moreover, nobody knows it’s the devil or devils. I personally lost one man who probably followed the glowing light,” said Vicky in a mixture of anger and sad tone.
“Vicky, should we assign anybody to have a watch on the swamp?” asked Pelvis.
“No need, Pelvis. Already we are in short of manpower,” replied Vicky, the only human who calls him by his name.
“Master Vicky, Please show some courtesy towards us. This creepy devil has to be tamed. Why can’t we assign it to a black magician?” asked the worker slavishly bent.
“Then go and assign the best one,” replied Pelvis, instead of Vicky. The worker disappeared through the dark area.
“Pelvis, have you seen that glowing light of the swamp devil,” asked Vicky.
“No.” replied Pelvis.
“It’s a beautiful act of devil, if so. Some say that it’s the soul of some dead fishermen. But, whatever it might be it’s a masterpiece,” said Vicky in deep thought.
“Vicky, why can’t we leave our crocs for a few days in the swamp? Let us see who wins,” said Pelvis with a broken laugh.
Moon has abandoned the sky, leaving the sun to embrace it. Clouds are no more to overfeed the green shield. “Pelvis Mansion” is awake with workers all around. Ploughing, tilling, sowing, plucking and chatting all around the villa. Pelvis is having his morning cup of tea with milk bread and some biscuits, sitting on a sofa in the hall. The bull statue in the hall is staring at Pelvis.
Suddenly, a worker started to scream, disturbing all the other workers and interrupting Pelvis from his morning joy. Pelvis got up from the sofa and went to the entrance. The worker was near the steps, breathing heavily with sweat like dew drops were dropping from his forehead. “What happened, yell out?” Pelvis asked in his normal autonomous way.
“Master, Master, your men have killed my brothers. The only two I had as my family, leaving me orphaned for eternity,” cried the worker with his hands covering his eyes. Pelvis is still gazing at the brown skinny body of his worker. He is actually absorbed in thought, not gazing at the worker’s body marks.
An all-terrain red jeep rushed through the narrow path and stopped at the entrance of the villa. Four strong men leaped out of the jeep, scaring the workers around. They proceeded towards Pelvis who was absorbed in deep thought. What is Pelvis actually thinking off? May be about his past, the way he was orphaned. But, he shed no tears. The men folded their hands and stood in front of Pelvis.
“Master, yesterday we killed two men for smuggling diamonds. If those diamonds would have reached the market we would have lost millions,” reported one of the goons who wore a blue t-shirt highlighting the words “FCUK U” [letters interchanged to avoid censorship]. Another goon who is short showed a pink jewel box with the name “JAKE 91” on it. Pelvis took the box and checked there are nineteen diamonds in it.
The worker is convinced that these men are going to be heroes, as the grave mistake was on his brothers’ side. He moved out with his head down in embarrassment as his brothers had deceived their master.
‘Jake 91’ is the rival gang of Pelvis, run by Jake Hunter and his 90 men. These 90 men are no less than savages who eat raw flesh and some are believed to be even cannibals. Jake and his men are scared of none, except one, the ruthless Pelvis. They know that the only way to smuggle in the turf of Pelvis is through Pelvis’s men. Their operations can be contained only in the nearby villages.
Night has reached Ranchel. Pelvis is sleeping comfortably on his bed. The clock struck at 12:00 with a couple of ding-dong rings at the door. Pelvis woke up and opened the door to see a group of workers. They are shocked, their face reveals it. “Master, master, one of our women has been swallowed by the glowing devil. She is no more,” said a worker with a broken cry.
Pelvis, as ever showed no emotion. His rational thought is his asset. He called his men to guard the swamp from further devilish events. “If you can bear the expense we can call Prebo,” suggested a worker.
“What is his price?” asked Pelvis in his usual way of considering that every human is for sale. “50 Grand,” uttered all of the workers unanimously. “Okay, tell him to meet me,” ordered Pelvis.
The Pelvis’s men who were guarding the swamp were found dead the next morning. Only one is alive. He ran through the hills and reached Pelvis’s mansion to inform this dreaded news. Vicky confirmed through his men that no other gang had crept into the village yesterday.
“This is a serious case, Pelvis. The black magician Prebo is a good choice as far as his local reputation goes. But, I am still curious about this. You know, I am an atheist. I don’t believe in these stories. Why can’t we call a detective to reveal the rot?”
“Let us try both, if needed,” replied Pelvis taking a sip from his morning tea.
A red-eyed six-foot man in black robe is walking towards the mansion in a pair of blue clogs. A long beard and bushy moustache covered his triangular face. He is thin and fair with a pair of blue ear rings. A mark on his forehead commanded the respect of all the workers around. It is a star with a circle around. His nerves are trying to come out of his body, it looked so. The workers are gazing at him as if their eyes are glued. He took a bottle covered in red cloth out of his brown bag. He held the bottle at his chest and chanted “Boom, Boom, Ba” and opened the bottle, without waiting poured the water onto the pasture, the dried one. It burnt like a wild fire, an area of about 9 square feet. The smell of the pasture invited the honourable ones in the mansion.
“Who are you?” asked Vicky while Pelvis already realized who he is from his attire.
“I am Prebo- the Satan’s own child. The only heir to his assets,” answered Vicky with even more commanded.
“Assets?” asked Vicky baffled.
“Yeah, the power of evil, the eternal one,” replied Prebo with great amount of pride flashing on his face.
“Thank Satan, he didn’t say that he has the patent for crimes,” said Vicky to himself with a snicker.
“Why did you burn that pasture?” asked Pelvis indicating the pasture.
“I expected the question to be “How?”, “Prebo replied with his fingers on his cheek.
“Okay, How?” asked Pelvis irritably.
“It is holy water, the one found only at hell. A gift from my Father Satan,” replied Prebo looking at Pelvis to know whether he is convinced.
Pelvis paid Prebo to start the magic tonight itself. But, his eyes conveyed that he isn’t sure about Prebo’s ability to drive the devil off its bastion. He called one of his goons and whispered something.
The path is filled with gravel stones, flanked by mammoth trees- poplar, teak, rosewood etc. Some bushes stood with the hope of growing higher than these giant trees. Hard steps hit the ground. They belong to the Satan’s own child- Prebo. He took a slingshot from his brown bag. There are many unexplored mysteries in it.
He plucked a lemon from the nearest green shield, poured holy water onto it and chanted aloud “Boom, boom, bah” and took a knife from the brown bag and cut into 2 parts. Blood started to ooze out from the lemon. Astonished people around expressed the same on their face, fear.
“This place is haunted by the same devils. They cannot be appeased, but can be destroyed,” shouted Prebo wagging his fingers at his new fans. Some of them mumbled that Prebo had travelled to the land of the devil to master the extreme power of the devil.
Prebo is showing his might in front of that deadly swamp, facing it like a Lord. He smiled when he looked at its magnificent size, as if something is clear to him. There is one small piece of land on the swamp in the mid, just 3 meters wide. It has a beautiful palm tree flanked by some shrubs. A lake is next to the swamp with a small passage to let water into the swamp. Two eyes are blinking behind the shrubs, unnoticed.
The frigid weather is never kind to the village, like the devil. Most of the houses here don’t have a fireplace. But, Ranchel market has a large one, like summing up for the entire village to use. It warmed even the cattle in the market, the ones which are for sale, priced high. The cattle here are genetically modified to produce more milk and weigh more to appease the milkmen and the butchers respectively.
Ranchel market is not a well-structured one. It is just a series of shattered cubicles where meat and textiles neighboured. A butcher forced a chicken into two pieces with his heavy cleaver and pulled out the vital organs while a couple of customers are waiting with black covers in their hands. A textile shop owner is scaling and cutting a long cloth while his customers are waiting with fancy colourful covers.
A vegetable vendor is weighing carrots and radishes while sunlight sneaked through the hole in the roof. There is a giant banyan tree in the market. A man wearing white linen hat and a black suit looking like a foreigner, an Indian probably, is sitting under the banyan tree on a worn away concrete block. Banyan leaves are lying all over. His walking stick is tapping the concrete block to produce a tune, the wood music.
Moon has reached the cloudy sky. Fire started to swallow the two goats beheaded by Prebo. The glow of the fire is seen in the eyes of the people surrounding him. He jumped to and fro and around the fire with a burning wood in his arm. There is only one thing clearly visible in the eyes of the gazers, fear, a confused fear- Prebo or Devil. Those two eyes behind the bush are still blinking, but with the reflection of fire.
Pelvis is seated on a sofa in his mansion with a cup of morning tea brewed by Vicky. A worker in barefoot and a blue towel on his shoulder approached him in servitude. “Yesterday night Prebo performed the rituals needed to get rid of the devil. We can be assured that it is not going to return,” said the worker. This pimpled face departed with utmost bliss.
The white linen hat worn Indian walked past the village school that the local government had built to educate poor kids. The situation in Ranchel is so worse that most of the kids have to work to sustain their families, leaving most of the school benches empty. Though, it envied the tiny huts around for its beautiful architecture, sponsored by some bureaucrats.
The Indian is in jeans and white T-shirt. These dresses are sold in Ranchel market for the tourists as major customers.
Mansion of Pelvis is in back in action with workers all over.
“Disaster, disaster, that Prebo is a quack,” a tiny glass diamond gleamed in one nostril of the lady worker when she said this to Pelvis. The workers are expecting the worst as they recommended Prebo.
“What happened?” asked Pelvis.
“That devil is glowing again. This time, much more. In different colours, as prior,” answered the husband of the lady with gleaming diamond.
“Bring that quack. Tell him a rope is waiting for him,” shouted Pelvis while his face turned red. The only other time it turned so was when he attacked Hardy’s house to loot and kill. He never forgives deception.
A pair of blue clogs are oscillating in the air. Much above those nervy legs two hands are knotted in a white rope. Last oscillation is done. The life is liberated from the body. It is Prebo.
The sky is blue, no, it isn’t. It is colourful. Many beautiful kites are flying high. A kid did it perfectly. The lift and dive trap. Loosened the grip, tugged on the string, dipped and dodged other kites. The other kites panicked. It is successful. A kite got struck and moved without control. It moved with the children screaming behind it, for it.
The wind carried it as per its whims and fancy. Finally, it dropped on a pair of black shoes. The man wearing it smilingly gave it to the children. He is the same foreigner- the Indian. He is on his way to the mansion which every other house in the village envies.
He reached the front yard of the mansion. “Pelvis, Pelvis,” he shouted. The workers around are staring at him. Pelvis came out, bare-footed in jeans and T-shirt. He stared at the man’s eyes in anger for shouting. Workers around are now staring at them, expecting a good scene. In a moment they both hugged each other. Shocking the workers and at the same time disappointing them.
“Vicky, do you know him?” asked Pelvis as he opened the fridge and took out a new bottle of French wine.
Vicky gazed at the new face seated on the chair of the dining table from head to toe and said with a wide smile, “no”.
“He is Akash, a detective, my old friend too. He had helped me a lot when he was in Ranchel. Unfortunately, he returned to his motherland, India. Now he is a sensation like Sherlock Holmes,” Pelvis said cheerfully and sat next to Akash’s chair.
Pelvis placed three glasses on the dining table. Vicky shook hand with Akash and sat on the chair next to Pelvis. Akash observed at the hall, its cupboard, table, chairs, fridge, the staring bull and everything and said,” You are still a bachelor.”
“Exactly, but how do you know?” Vicky exclaimed while Pelvis didn’t how any such sign, as he knows his old friend very much.
Pelvis answered Vicky, “Nothing is womanly here.”
“You know our ways very much,” Akash laughed.
“Let us come to the matter. Vicky, without informing you I had appointed Akash to look into the glowing devil matter. We had a conversation earlier regarding a detective, remember?” Pelvis said taking a sip.
Akash is a lean person with flamboyant dressing and clean shaved face full of serenity. He has curly hairs with towering height. He eyes are full of mystery.
“I was roaming all around the village with this linen hat and walking stick like a typical foreigner of this place. There isn’t anything fishy about this village, regarding this. Then my focus was on the swamp,” Akash said and lifted his walking stick and detached its handle and took out mysterious objects from it.
“Cameras,” Vicky said.
“Yeah, hidden cameras, I had installed these on the trees near the swamp but found no human activity. But, the lights were appearing themselves,” Akash paused and took a sip of wine and continued,” I was shocked when I saw this. But, gained courage and decided to hide behind my favourite spot behind the bushes on the land in the mid of the swamp. I blinked and saw Prebo – he cut the lemons to get rid of the devil. It is a trick very popular in India. I would love to tell you. Rinse the knife blade with ammonium thiocyanate solution and apply some ferric chloride solution on a whole lemon piece.
Now, press the knife blade against the lemon as you would do to cut it into halves. What do you see? As the knife find its way through the lemon cautiously enough, red drops of blood ooze out from the junction of the cut. It is due to the reaction between ferric chloride and ammonium thiocyanate.
“What about lights?” asked Vicky with utmost curious voice.
“Yeah, read this aloud. It has the answer,” Akash took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Vicky. It is a cut out from an Indian English newspaper.
Vicky took the paper and cleared his throat and began to read:
Glowing swamp of India
India– the land of tigers has something more to offer. A swamp which comes with paranormal danger: lights that entice you to meet Satan himself. As per the local fishermen it is produced by their colleagues who died in that swamp and some tourists. But, science says it differently. Those lights are produced by the decaying organic matter in the swamps. They oxidise and ionize to create this glow. As there are different gases we find various colours.
A worker overheard this conversation and began to run shouting aloud,” There is no devil in the swamp. There is no devil in the swamp.”
–END–
