1. Arrival
Tiny creatures sensed It at once. When it settled in a tree, a cloud of moths ascended. The branches blackened with ants clambering over each other in agitation, launching themselves into the air to fall pattering on the red earth below. If you had put your ear to one of the tall mounds of earth nearby, you might have heard a faint whispering, as millions of termites abandoned their ancient palace to find safety deep underground.
But birds were oblivious to its presence. Flocks of mynahs and crows descended to feed on the fleeing insects, while babblers squeaked in excitement as they hopped about gorging themselves.
Sometimes, it would settle, dense and ball-shaped in the crook of a muscular branch. Mynahs would gather on the tree to roost, noisy and chattering. If it was in a mood to feed, they might disappear, one by one, over the course of the night, the few that remained fluttering about in confusion in the morning sun. Otherwise, the entire flock survived, simply because it had chosen to spend the night observing the small movements of the birds’ breasts and listening to the drowsy sounds they made.
For several months, it became a crow, roosting in an abandoned cowshed with the rest of the crows. It tried growing an extra pair of wings but that made flying difficult, and agitated the other crows. It had more success multiplying its legs. It would chase a squirrel up a tree, copying its bounding gait, then glide back down on glossy wings.
One day, it became aware of strange new activity. Crouched on the cowshed roof, it watched the newcomers as they came and went, digging, removing, building. A month later, they left and did not return. Standing there, empty, was the structure they had made.
*
‘This is a good place for a restaurant,’ said the policeman. ‘Next to the highway. You will make plenty of money.’ He removed his large hat and mopped his head with a handkerchief.
‘Thank you sir,’ said Surendran. ‘For you, it’s free, always.
‘You must come back on Monday,’ he continued. ‘The cook is on his way from the village.’
‘Fine, fine. One tea,’ the policeman said, settling down on a charpai. Receiving no response, he turned and asked, ‘What’s the problem?’
Surendran was staring at the floor. A stream of some kind was moving past his feet. ‘Sir, it is happening again!’ he shouted. ‘You see? All the insects are running away … second time this month!’
‘This is a problem for a restaurant?’ said the cop, snorting. ‘Just give me a cup of tea. Hurry up.’
2. Tree
We were winding our way down the hill, preparing ourselves for the disappointment of heading back to the city. At the bottom of the hill, Renjy stopped the car.
‘Boss,’ he said. ‘There is something I think you will enjoy, but we have to take a long detour.’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘But I don’t know if you’d be interested.’
‘C’mon man! What??’ I said.
‘It’s a really huuuuuge tree. Banyan tree.’
‘Like the one on Mysore Road?’ I said thinking of the times I had driven by and decided not to stop.
‘Oh, much bigger. You’ll feel that one is nothing.’
‘Seriously? Let’s go!’ I said.
‘Oh ya,’ said Vinoy. ‘They have a name for that tree. Right, Renju?’
‘Thimammamarimanu,’ said Renjy, laughing. ‘You know our local names, sorry.’
‘That’s great! Thim-ammamma … what?’ I said.
‘Thim-amma-mari-manu. It’s the name of the deity also,’ said Renjy. ‘Local people worship the tree.’
‘Thimamma-marimanu! THIMM-AMMA-MARIMANUU!’ I shouted. ‘It’s our new motto!’
*
Wow, I thought, in awe, as we walked through the small gate. I looked around. Acres of enormous branches lay low on the ground, occasionally angling up towards the green light filtering through. They reminded me of something.
‘Dinosaurs,’ I said. ‘They look like dinosaur’s limbs. See that one there? It even has huge wrinkles, and see, there’s an elbow-like part.’
‘As you say, brother,’ laughed Renjy.
‘Boss, your imagination, bloody hell … !’ said Vinoy.
‘A fallen brontosaurus,’ I said.
There was a small shrine built into what must have been the tree’s main trunk a long time ago. The aerial roots surrounding it were the girth of ordinary trees. They were decorated in red and yellow cloth, and bells hung overhead.
On the ground a camphor flame flickered and smoked, and a tinkling emerged from inside where the old priest was busying himself.
‘There is a legend, sir,’ said the guide who had attached himself to us. ‘A story about how this tree came to be. It is said that long ago, there was a young girl…’
My attention drifted as he talked, registering the lights and the shadows. Tree? This could not be described as a tree.
Something fluttered past my nose.
‘Look at that huge butterfly,’ I said, smiling.
The guide had stopped speaking. His eyes followed the ephemeral creature as it flapped its way upwards.
‘It’s very strange, sir,’ he said. ‘For so many years, ever since I was a small boy, no butterflies could be seen here. No ants, no bees. No insects of any kind near this tree. It was also part of the legend. Everyone knew it.
‘Roughly a year ago, insects started to come back,’ the guide continued. ‘Suddenly.’
‘But that’s nice, no?’ I said.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, and laughed uncomfortably. ‘Some people say it means that bad things are coming.’
3. Kababs
‘Here, this place looks good,’ Vinoy said.
‘M K Dhaba,’ I read.
‘Hey, this is nice, they have charpais for sitting.’
‘But nobody else is here, strange,’ said Renjy.
‘Ya, usually these places are packed.’
‘What happened, boss? You had a bad dream on the way?’ Renjy said, grinning.
‘What?’ I said, arranging myself on the charpai.
‘Yes, in the car. You suddenly started shouting in your sleep.’
‘Really!? Sorry, man.’
‘No ya, just that it was kind of funny.’
A waiter appeared. Small, smiling.
‘Right!’ I said. ‘I know what this place reminds me of.’
‘Hello sir, veg, nonveg?’ said the waiter.
‘Nonveg, boss, pure nonveg!’
‘Hahaha.’
‘Kya milega? Mutton kabab?’
‘Haan, Sir, seekh milega,’ said the waiter.
‘Roti?’
‘Tandoori roti, Sir, naan.’
‘Accha, three plates and roti.’
‘V,’ I said. ‘Remember the dhaba we used to go to?’
‘Oh yeah … man! Some great times…’
‘What’s this?’ Renjy asked.
‘Joint about ten to fifteen km from where we used to work. We used to go there sometimes, eat tandoori chicken and get super drunk. They had charpais too.’
‘Hey!’ Vinoy said, ‘You remember that dog??’
‘Dog?’ said Renjy.
‘Oh, yeah, shit, that poor pup,’ I said.
Vinoy was laughing.
I said, ‘One time at that dhaba, this pup was sniffing around, we were feeding him the bones. Really cute fellow.’
‘He chewed on his ear!’ said Vinoy, pointing at me.
‘What??’ said Renjy.
‘I had him on my lap,’ I said. ‘He had really tempting ears … I couldn’t resist, so I gave one ear a small nibble. Not hard, not to hurt him of course.’
‘What shit, crazy fellow,’ Renjy said, laughing.
‘The dog was howling,’ said Vinoy.
‘No, come on, man, he yelped only because he wasn’t expecting it! I didn’t hurt him.’
The waiter was approaching, laden with plates.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Do you guys feel there is something funny with that guy’s mouth?’
‘Who, the waiter?’
‘Seekh kabab, Sir … teen plate. Tandoori roti. Aur kuch?’
‘Water, boss.’
After a few minutes of contented chewing, Renjy said, ‘These are good, man, good choice!’
‘Ya, damn good.’
‘I think Senthil told me once about this place,’ said Vinoy.
‘What, that guy from the Production department?’
‘Yes, same guy.’
‘Nice fellow.’ I said. ‘You were good friends, right? Where did he go?’
‘No idea. I thought he had moved to Mumbai … but he just disappeared.’
‘Happens, sometimes.’
All of a sudden, Renjy stood up, nearly knocking the table backwards.
‘What the fuck!’ he shouted.
‘What happened, man?’
‘Look at this! I felt something hard when I was eating…!’
‘What the hell is it?’
‘Is that a tooth? It’s a tooth!’
‘Fucking hell … boss!’ shouted Renjy. ‘Hello! Arre, what is this?!’
‘You didn’t like, Sir?’ said the waiter, hurrying up, looking puzzled.
I felt that something was definitely wrong with his mouth.
‘What have you put in this?’ Renjy shouted, showing him the tooth.
‘Sorry, Sir, sorry! the waiter said, looking ready to cry.
Then he grabbed Renjy’s hand, and bit down.
As he began to chew, I saw row upon row of tiny, sharp teeth. Like a shark’s. Blood bubbled up through them.
Renjy’s hand had disappeared, and rivulets were running down his arm. His mouth was open, though no sound seemed to issue from it.
The waiter’s face seemed to be collapsing. Eyes, nose, chin, shifted and rolled inwards towards his odd mouth.
Now I could hear a faint screaming, along with a growling sound. It was like distant music.
A kind of peace descended, and nobody could move.
*
A scientist and medical writer by profession, Anand Jacob has been interested in reading, animals, and the natural world all his life. He grew up in Mumbai. After meandering for years through the US, Bangalore and New Delhi, he now lives in Kerala. His shorter pieces, some with accompanying artwork, appear on his blog.