I asked, my voice trembling involuntarily : the prospect of picking unknown bones at midnight shook me.

Yes, said the boy.

Go to the backyard and dig out the roots of the big tamarind tree. You will find my bones. Take them and throw them into the well, and I promise I will go away and never come again.

If I dont do it ?

I will never leave this place, nor open the door.

Murugesan, I said a few minutes later, wont you tell me something about your good self?

I stayed here for a night on my way to Malgudi.

That man suffocated me while I slept and stole my purse. He pressed a pillow on my face and I think he sat on it.

Who did it ?

The old man who has the keys of this bungalow.

Isnt he too old to do such a thing ?

Oh, no. He is very deft with the pillow .

And then he buried me under the tamarind tree.

Now every pig which noses about for filth stamps over my head all day ; and every donkey and every pa.s.ser-by defiles my bones, and they heap all kinds of rubbish there. How can I rest ?

If I throw the bones into the well, will you open the door and quit the building for ever ?

176 OLD BONES.

I promise, said the nephew.

I went down, clutching my torch, and searched for something to dig with. I pulled out a couple of bamboo palings from a fence, went to the backyard, and set to work. I am not a coward, but the whole situation shook my nerves. The backyard was a most desolate place, an endless vista of trees and shrubs and a rocky hillock looming over it all. Jackals howled far off, and night insects whirred about and hummed. And this strange task of digging up an unknown grave at night !

I placed the lit torch on the ground and cleared a part of the rubbish dumped under the tree. After throwing up earth for half an hour I picked up a skull and a few leg bones. I felt sick. I could not find more than six or seven pieces. I picked them up.

A few yards off there was the well, weed-covered, with all its masonry crumbling in. I flung the bones into the well, and as they splashed into the water I heard the boy shout from within the house : Many thanks. Good-bye.

I ran in. The door was open, and the boy lay across the threshold. I carried him to his bed.

Next morning I asked him, Did you sleep well ?

Yes. But I had all sorts of wild dreams. His voice was soft and boyish. I asked, Can you lift me and throw me out ?

The boy laughed.

What a question, uncle ! How can I ?

The old caretaker came up at about six. I was ready to start. I had to walk a couple of miles to the cross-roads and catch an early bus for Malgudi.

I settled accounts with the old man : the broken chimney had to be paid for, and then the rent for the night.

OLD BONES 177.

As I was about to leave I couldnt resist it. I called the old man aside and asked : You know of a person called Murugesan who spent a night in this bungalow ?

The old mans face turned pale. He replied : I.

know nothing. Go about your business.

My business will be to tell the police what I know.

The police !

He fell down at my feet and cringed :

I know nothing. Please dont ruin an old man.

I went away and joined my nephew. He asked, Why did the old man fall on the ground, uncle ?

I dont know, I replied.

Till I reached the bus road I debated within myself whether to tell the police, but ultimately decided against it. I am a busy man, and getting mixed up in a police case is a whole-time job. Some day when I dont have much work I will take it up.

24.

ATTILA.

IN a mood of optimism they named him Attila.

What they wanted of a dog was strength, formidableness, and fight, and hence he was named after the Scourge of Europe.

The puppy was only a couple of months old : he had square jaws, red eyes, pug nose and a ma.s.sive head, and there was every reason to hope that he would do credit to his name. The immediate reason for buying him was a series ofhouse-breakings and thefts in the neighbourhood, and our householders decided to put more trust in a dog than in the police. They searched far and wide and met a dog fancier. He held up a month-old black-and-white puppy and said, Come and fetch him a month hence. In six months he will be something to be feared and respected. He spread out before them a pedigree sheet which was stunning. The puppy had, running in his veins, the choicest and the most ferocious blood.

They were satisfied, paid an advance, returned a month later, paid down seventy-five rupees, and took the puppy home. The puppy, as I have already indicated, did not have a very prepossessing appearance and was none too playful, but this did not prevent his owners from sitting in a circle around him and admiring him. There was a prolonged debate as to what he should be named. The youngest suggested, Why not call him Tiger ?

178.

ATTILA 179.

Every other street-mongrel is named Tiger, came the reply.

Why not Caesar ?

Caesar ! If a census were taken of dogs you would find at least fifteen thousand Caesars in South India alone . Why not Fire ?

It is fantastic.

Why not Thunder?

It is too obvious.

Grip ?

Still obvious, and childish.

There was a deadlock. Someone suggested Attila, and a shout of joy went up to the skies. No more satisfying name was thought of for man or animal.

But as time pa.s.sed our Attila exhibited a love of humanity which was disconcerting sometimes. The Scourge of Europe could he ever have been like this ?

They put it down to his age. What child could help loving all creatures ? In their zeal to establish this fact, they went to the extent of delving into ancient history to find out what The Scourge of Europe was like when he was a child. It was rumoured that as a child he clung to his friends and to his parents friends so fast that often he had to be beaten and separated. But when he was fourteen he showed the first sign of his future : he knocked down and plunged his knife into a fellow who tried to touch his marbles.

Ah, this was encouraging. Let our dog reach the parallel of fourteen years and people would get to know his real nature.

But this was a vain promise. He stood up twenty inches high, had a large frame, and a forbidding appearance on the whole but that was all. A variety of people entered the gates of the house every day : mendicants, bill-collectors, postmen, tradesmen, and i8o ATTILA family friends. All of them were warmly received by Attila. The moment the gate clicked he became alert and stood up looking towards the gate. By the time anyone entered the gate Attila went blindly charging forward. But that was all. The person had only to stop and smile, and Attila would melt. He would behave as ifhe apologized for even giving an impression of violence. He would lower his head, curve his body, tuck his tail between his legs, roll his eyes, and moan as if to say : How sad that you should have mistaken my gesture ! I only hurried down to greet you.