CHAPTER 1

THE OPEN DOOR

Nothing in life is quite as simple as it seems.

The thought crossed Vishnu’s mind as he stood at top of the steps, waiting for the train to grind to a slow stop at the little station.

It was an unusually beautiful morning—even by South Indian standards. The wind had a clean feel to it, even though it was pushing 10 O’clock. Vishnu swung his eyes over to the brilliantly azure-blue sky, the Neem trees nodding in the breeze, the wooden fence, painted an indeterminate brown that ran alongside the tracks, the station master who ran hurriedly out of his station, one or two stragglers who ambled out, vaguely curious about the train and its passengers.

He adjusted his cane, trying to rest himself in a comfortable position. Not that that would do much good. It was going to be a lot of trouble just getting off the train—the steps were more than a feet above the ground. He waited until the train stopped completely, held the bars alongside the doorway, and stepped down gingerly. Pulling his travel bag onto his shoulder, he limped slowly across the near-deserted station. Cramped inside the train, unable to stretch his legs, pins and needles were pricking him all over.

Just as he had expected, there was no one waiting for him. Ah, well. He had been warned of that, at any rate.

The train had started moving away—it stopped for less than three minutes in such tiny stations such as these. The station-master threw him a puzzled glance, as though trying to decide whether he should greet this lone passenger, and then decided that he would.

“Your first visit, sir? How may I help you?”

Vishnu had been too absorbed in his surroundings to notice the station-master’s approach. He turned, startled.

It was now the station master’s turn to do a double-take. He stopped short, took off his wobbly glasses and stared.

A tiny smile appeared on Vishnu’s face as he noted the station-master's reaction. “I must've looked lost indeed," he murmured. Aloud, he said, "How far is Thiruvamuthoor? Could you help me find some kind of transport?”

The station-master replaced his glasses, obviously embarrassed. “I—yes. Thiruvamuthoor? Of course.” He shot another glance at Vishnu, this time taking in the cane, and Vishnu’s stiff stance. “It’s two miles away, sir. You’ll need transportation, of course. May I know your name—if that is all right with you?”

“Why not? I’m Vishnu. Vishnu Aryaa.” Vishnu shifted his cane to his left hand, and held out his right. The station-master took it hesitantly, but Vishnu’s smile reassured him, and he shook it with vigour.

“I’m Sabapathi,” he replied, a smile transforming his lined, wrinkled face. “I’ve been here for the last three years—and it’s a boring job at best.” He stopped suddenly, wondering why he was telling this to a perfect stranger. The smile on Vishnu’s face widened.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sabapathi,” He said, beginning to limp towards the white wooden gates that led outside the station. “I know what you mean—it can be a bit stifling here.” His gaze swept across the length and breadth of the station. The stragglers had retreated, apparently bored with his arrival. “Is it always this empty?”

“Oh, worse, sir. “ He looked at Vishnu’s cane again, but the latter chose to ignore it.
“I’m from Thiruvamuthoor myself,” admitted Sabapathi. “If I may ask—are you here on…work?” He hurried on, not wanting to sound too curious. “We often receive people that way, you see.”

Vishnu’s attention had been wandering. He turned to his new-found friend with a start. “I’m sorry…? Um, no. I’m here to visit…” He paused. “Relations.”

“Oh.” Something in Vishnu’s voice warned him that further questions would not be entertained. Besides, it was too soon—the visitor had set foot in the place barely ten minutes ago. There would be time enough…later. Tactfully, he strode ahead, and raised his voice in a long, well-modulated call.

“Aeeyy…Maari!”

Vishnu watched in some amusement as a well-built man, snoring inside a bullock-cart, almost toppled over as he woke up. He recovered quickly enough, smoothed his lungi (he wore no shirt—who would, in this weather?), and trotted across to the station-master.

“Aiyyaa?” He muttered respectfully, his glance raking over Vishnu expertly. Vishnu felt distinctly queasy—almost as if he’d been undressed and covered up in a jiffy. Had he had any idea that he would be subjected to this scrutiny dozens of times in the next few days, there’s no doubt that he would have turned tail then and there. He didn’t, though, and put up with it.

“Aiyyaa (Sabapathi indicated Vishnu as he said this) wishes to go to Thiruvamuthoor, Maari. Take him up in your cart, and deliver him to his destination. And none of your tricks. Charge him the correct rate, will you?”

Maari looked pained. “I always do, saami,” he replied, his voice conjuring all the injury he plainly didn’t feel. Sabapathi was merely bantering, and he knew it.

“Don’t take that tone with me, my man—I know what you are. Our visitor is from the city, so see to it that he gets to wherever he wants to go—”Sabapathi stopped, and looked at Vishnu enquiringly. “Where would that be, sir?”

Too late, Vishnu realised ruefully that Sabapathi had cleverly found the means to learn his destination—in spite of his decision not to enlighten him. However, he could hardly refuse to answer now.

“Amuthoor Jameen Bungalow,” he replied, his smile unwavering. “And I’ll pay whatever I have to.”

Sabapathi cast him a reproachful glance—to accept the terms and conditions of drivers and other people involved in transportation was a certain way of getting yourself fleeced by them unmercifully. City-breds rarely had much sense, he thought, shaking his head. But then, it was hardly his business. Not at the moment, anyway. Still, he had learned one thing of importance...

Amuthoor Jameen Bungalow, eh? He mused, as he assisted Vishnu to settle inside the cart with a fussiness that his newly formed acquaintance didn’t much care for. And what would your business there be?

He watched the cart roll away on the uneven track, and decided that he would find out soon enough.

*************

Vishnu dangled his legs outside the cart, laid his cane by the side, and prepared himself to enjoy the beauty of the Tamil country-side around him.

It didn’t disappoint him. Lush paddy fields ranged along each side of the road, the stalks nodding gently in the fresh breeze that sprung up now and then—it gave the impression of rolls of green, velvety cloth rustling gracefully in the wind. Clumps of bushes dotted the landscape, and groves of coconut tress could be seen stretching away into the hazy, blue horizon. A roughly dug canal ran along the road, filled with rain-water—monsoon was approaching, after all. Softly tinted lotuses floated gently on the sparkling waters. In the distance, a tall, impressive stone structure rose above the tees, its domes reaching out to the sky. Vishnu recognized it for the Vaishnavaite temple he had been told about— it said much for its height that it could be seen two miles away.

Maari noticed his passenger’s pre-occupation with the view around him. “Ah, the temple is well over a thousand years old, sir. You ought to have visited it during the Chithirai Festival—now that would be a sight to see!”

Vishnu turned around with an effort. “It’s beautiful enough, now.”

“Hai!” Maari gave his bullocks a cursory whip. “I daresay sir, but the place is full of people, during the Chithirai festivals. Everybody enjoys themselves.” He shot a keen glance at Vishnu. “May I know your name, sir?”

“Vishnu Aryaa.”

“Ah.” Vishnu could almost see the wheels turn in Maari’s head as he mulled over this peculiar name. He seemed to come to terms with it, finally, though he was by no means satisfied with it. “We don’t have names like yours in these parts, sir.”

“Uh-huh.” Vishnu tried moving his legs—he was already beginning to feel cramped.

“I could stop for a while, if you would like me to, sir,” Maari suggested tactfully.

“No, that’s ok. It’s not too bad.”

“Accident, sir?” came the next query.

Vishnu felt the morning breeze whip through his hair, and grinned. Talk about rural curiosity. He had been in the general vicinity of Thiruvamuthoor for exactly sixteen minutes, and he was already being grilled pretty thoroughly.

Well, not the station-master, though. He had been curious too, but he at least had refrained from probing too much—except when he got me with that destination thing. And now this…

“Yes,” he replied in a non-committal tone. “I slipped and fell,” he added, anticipating Maari’s next question.

Throughout this conversation, Maari had been sitting in front of the cart, leaning to one side— watching Vishnu covertly. He now asked the question he’d obviously been burning to ask for the past few minutes.

“Relations here, sir?”

“You could say that.”

Maari seemed perplexed. “But how can that be? You either have relations, or you don’t.” He was suddenly aware of having over-stepped his limit. “If you don’t mind my asking you all this, that is.”

“No, of course not.” It was the only answer Vishnu could give, without Maari feeling embarrassed—if the latter ever felt any embarrassment at any time. Judging by his next words, it appeared that he didn’t.

“You’re very good-looking, sir,” he said, eyeing his passenger appreciatively.

Vishnu shot him a startled look...and then chuckled, aware of the innocence in the compliment, and his own perplexed reaction to it. He wished heartily, though, that he might be left in peace. “The credit goes to my parents, I think.”

“Are they in Chennai, sir?” asked Maari, thinking of the first city he knew. “Will they be coming too?”

A strange expression flitted across Vishnu’s face as his eyes focussed unseeingly on the horizon. “Um...not right now.”

Fortunately, after this, Maari seemed to realise that Vishnu was in no mood for convivial talk, and lapsed into silence.

The cart bumped along the uneven road, jigging over pot-holes, slowly but steadily. Vishnu stared at the fields around him—a land alien to him in every way, people he had never known, circumstances and experiences that had never come his way before. His heart sank, and the smile he had worn from the moment he’d stepped down from the train vanished. It didn’t help any, of course, that he hadn’t had much sleep on the train, and that his leg was troubling him.

I must have been mad, He thought wearily. Crazy, lunatic. What on earth ever possessed me to come here, of all places? I don’t know anyone. I’m never going to get along with them—what’re they going to say when they see me, for Christ’s sake?

But I shall have to. Even if I haven’t the faintest idea about how I’m going to go about it. I owe it—to them.

The cart swung with a rhythmic motion, the cowbells jangled pleasantly, and Maari seemed intent on inspecting his large, brown feet. When next he raised his head and looked at his passenger, Vishnu was seated awkwardly, his hands leaning on the bar placed across the cart—fast asleep.