THIRTEEN - "What are you hiding or trying to hide behind your casual joviality?”
The room that had been noisy a moment ago fell silent again. All eyes turned to Ajay Rayan.
The room that had been noisy a moment ago fell silent again. All eyes turned to Ajay Rayan.
The bell rang and Daniel Wenham said, “I’ll get it”, and went to open the front door.
The Idol Wing office of the Tamil Nadu Police is situated in a building that is also the premises for the Economic Offences Wing and the Tamil Nadu State Highways office, in a congested corner of the SIDCO Industrial Estate located in Guindy. It is a Special Economic Zone, dedicated to the development of micro, small and medium industries by providing plots of land with the required infrastructure like roads, electric, water and sewage connection. Spread across four hundred and four acres, the SIDCO Industrial Estate in Guindy is a maze of small and large buildings, factories and workshops. Anyone unfamiliar with the place can easily get lost in the network of roads, streets, lanes and by-lanes that seem to twist and turn upon themselves, sending the unwary entrant on a circular merry-go-round.
Muthuramalingam pushed hard on the brake as an auto rickshaw came screeching towards them on the narrow connecting lane that led to the main road and stopped at an angle in front of them. It was the same auto that had been parked by the corner. Vael swore from the back seat. Sarayu who had been sending a text to her grandmother, looked up in alarm as the car came to a sudden halt. Her seatbelt saved her from hitting against the dashboard.
‘The Handicraft Art & Heritage Emporium of India’ was more grandiose in name than in its physical presence. It was a small old cramped brick outhouse that was situated within the compound walls of an equally old decrepit looking bungalow. Sarayu checked to make sure that they had arrived at the correct location. Her Google map said that they had. She texted her grandmother that they had reached their destination and reminded the rest of them to play their roles and got out of the car.
“You don’t look old enough”, said Sarayu as she adjusted Vael’s hair.
The shop was thankfully located on a quiet street on Parry’s Corner, so named after a Welsh merchant named Thomas Parry who had set up his company there in the year 1787. The company, ‘East India Distilleries Parry’s Group’, manufactures sugar and nutraceuticals to this day and operates from the same heritage building ‘Dare House’ where it was first set up. It being one of the busiest and most congested areas of Chennai, Sarayu wondered if they would find a place to park their car. But as it turned out, the shop they were looking for was situated in a back street where there was plenty of space for parking on the near empty road.
The glum faces around the dining table after breakfast the next morning reflected the mood everyone was in, especially Vael. He was disappointed, dejected and frustrated at not only not knowing what to do but also at being in the dark as to what was happening to his life. It wasn’t fair that his mother had been taken away from him so early in life, but also to have his father be in danger of being taken from him was too much for the teenager to take.
The Institut Français de Pondichéry, known simply as IFP, is housed in a majestic, recently renovated, French colonial style building with polished floors and wooden doors and windows. Created in 1955, it was a centre set up to study the Indian civilization and culture, with particular reference to the culture and religions of South India. Over the years the Institute extended its study to include Ecology, Social Sciences and Geomatics, focussing on multi-disciplinary facets of South Indian life.
“Sarayu, come take a look at this”, Vael called out.
“Dad has been arrested!”
Vael knocked on his dad’s door and entered without waiting for an answer. His father, Daniel Wenham was at his desk with his back towards him, speaking on his phone. Vael paused and waited for his dad to finish, wondering who it was he was talking to at the early morning hour. As he stood there watching his father, he could sense something wrong. His father’s voice was muffled, and he spoke in single words. Vael could hear him asking, “When?” and then after a pause saying, “Ok. I’ll call you back after dropping Vael at the airport”. Vael knocked on his door again, a little louder this time. Daniel Wenham turned around with a smile, with no sign of any worry on his face.
“It’s been a while, Mr. Rayan”, greeted Tragott Von Herren, the director of the Geneva Freeport.
The Chozha army base looked sleepy. There were two gate guards at the gate and the group could see two more at the top turrets. There was no sign of any activity except for the guards who took slow patrols down by the gate and up on the ramparts. Even the lit fires looked as if they hadn’t been fed for a while.
As the sun began to sink faster and lower in the western sky, Paavai hurried home, all her thoughts of spending her time looking around her village forgotten. Her father and she had to reach the tower before the sun set so that they could relieve the day guard who would then go home for the night, leaving them in-charge of the tower. The guard duty was for only one person from a family, and it was usually the men in the family who took turns for the night duty. But Paavai had insisted that she would accompany Sembuli each time and Sembuli too had found it of little account to protest or prevent her. He would find it almost impossible to climb the tall ladder anyway. And they had set up a system from the very first day. As Sembuli could not climb to the top, Paavai would go up and be the lookout while Sembuli would stand guard at the base of the tower. It had worked with no problems so far.
Paavai sighed, not knowing why she did so. She looked around her, trying to take in as much as she could. She knew that it would be a long time, if ever, she got to see this place again. From what her parents had been talking, they would be leaving soon for Thanjavur. News had reached all over the country about the great temple King Raja Raja was building for Lord Shiva. It was rumored to be seven palm trees tall and was to be built entirely of stone brought from a faraway place. How the huge stones were to be transported without breaking was a logistical mystery to be solved by the great builders who were building the temple. There was talk of using elephants and bullock-drawn carts to transport them over the road. And then talk turned to how the present carts were not strong enough to carry the enormous stones and how the roads would cave in under the enormous weight. And most important of all the questions that were being asked, how were the stones to be carried to such heights and placed securely to build the temple? Paavai had listened to all that the people of Natraazhi said about the temple and its building. She wasn’t a particularly religious girl, but listened keenly anyway, not because she was interested in the temple and its construction, but because it was happening in Thanjavur, a place she would be going to very soon.
“Any volunteer to go against this girl?” Prince Rajendra thundered again.
It had begun like any other day in Natraazhi that day too. As dawn broke, the village stirred and went about its usual morning business until a galloping rider rode fast into the village and shouted, “Where is the village Headman? Which is his house?”
“En Chellam[1]! I’m so proud of you”, said Meenaal, applying medicinal paste on the cuts and wounds Paavai had sustained during her graduation test.
[1] Fictitious place