Twenty-Four

Abstract

It was the dead of night. The world was mantled in inky darkness. Although the village had long since fallen silent and still, Gendethimma who had been lying on the front verandah of Malegowda’s house, open-eyed, still and motionless like a dead body, sat up. Gorakala was snoring away on an adjacent verandah. His hoarse snores slicing the stillness of the night frightened Gendethimma. They were so harsh and loud that it was impossible to believe that they came from a human being: rather they called to mind the grunts of a wild animal. Even in that hour of crisis Gendethimma wondered how Gorakala’s wife put up with his roar. Maranki came bounding into his mind at once. Had Maranki been with him, it seemed to him, he wouldn’t have felt so intensely orphaned as he did now The next second however he found himself hissing that it was only because of her that these evil things had happened. He would rather die than face the villagers in the morning. He visualised how people pointing to him would say derisively, “There he is — the home-wrecking son of a bitch!” before spitting on him as they went by. Gendethimma rose with slow deliberation.