OLD BONES

THE Talkative Man said :
I was canvassing agent for a company manufacturing chemical fertilizers, and my work
took me into the country for over twenty days in the month. One night I was held up in
a dak bungalow, a mile outside the village Tayur.
If ever there was a deserted dak bungalow it was this. It was over a hundred years old,
built in the company days, a massive rounded structure, with a fine circular veranda,
hefty pillars, and plaster standing out in flakes ; the whole thing was tucked away in a
casuarina grove. I had to spend a night in it, and a little fellow, a nephew of mine,
happened to be with me.
The caretaker, a parched old man, who looked like a lost soul, opened the door for me,
placed a rusty oil lamp on the table in the hall, pushed up and down some heavy
furniture, hovered about till we had had our dinner, and then said that he must go away
for the night.
My nephew somehow seemed to dislike the idea : " Uncle, why should he go ? "
" Perhaps he has a home in the village ; whatever it is, why do you want him ? " I
asked.
He could not explain. He merely mumbled, " I thought it might be interesting."
" I hope you are not afraid "
" No, not at all," said the boy.
But I could see that he was slightly nervous. He was brought up in Madras,
accustomed to crowds and electric lights ; this loneliness in an ancient bungalow with a
shadow-throwing rusty lamp gave him a feeling of discomfort. So I tried to persuade
the old man : " Why won't you sleep here ? "
" No, no, I can't," wheezed the old man. " I have been a caretaker for over forty years
now, and I won't sleep here. You may write a complaint if you like. I don't care if I lose
this job. Such a riddance it will be for me and they won't get another even if they offer a
thousand sovereigns."
Jingling his key bunch he hobbled away. I made a bed for the boy, drew it close to
mine, and asked him to lie down. I shut the front door, opened a window or two, sat
down at the table, and opened my portfolio. I had my journal to write and check
accounts. I drew the lamp close to my papers, and was soon absorbed in work. The
boy snored. Outside the casuarina murmured.
For a while noises from the village barking of dogs, snatches of songs and arguments
came floating in the air, and then they ceased. Even the boy ceased to snore. It was
past eleven when I finished my work. I put away my papers, blew out the lamp, and lay
down. I am not a very sound sleeper. I usually lie blinking in the dark for a long time. It
must have been past midnight. I was just falling asleep when I heard the banging of a
window shutter. I got up, turned up the stays of the shutter, and returned to bed. As I
was dozing off it banged again. " Damn," I said.
There was not the slightest breeze. Why did these things rattle? I fumbled about in the
dark and shut the windows tight. I returned to bed and lay awake. Shutters in another
part of the building rumbled. It was irritating. I took out my torch to see if the boy had
been disturbed. He was fast asleep. I went over to every corner of the building and
hooked up the shutters and doors.
When I lay down again, a new kind of disturbance began. There was a noise as if the
front door was being violently kicked and fisted. I started up.
" Who is there ? " I bellowed. The noise moved away, and now another door was
kicked and fisted, and then the closed windows. This was a travelling process :
someone seemed to be flying round, battering all the doors and shutters. The din was
continuous. "Who is there? Who is there?" I cried, almost running round and round as
the noise passed on from place to place. I grew anxious about the boy. What a fright
he would get if he woke up !
I picked up the box of matches and struck a stick. As I took it near the wick of the lamp,
it was blown off. I struck another with no better success. I wasted half the box. And
then the glass chimney flew off the table and splintered on the floor. I flashed the
torchlight on the boy, fervently hoping that he still slept ; but he was sitting up in bed.
" Raju, lie down, it is nothing," I began.
" You lie down if you like," replied the boy. His voice was changed. It was gruff like an
adult's. There was no banging on the doors now, and so I said to him : " Some loose
shutters rattled, so it has stopped now, you see "
" Shut up, will you ? " he said in answer. " You are a whole set of selfish brutes ; won't
trouble to know what a man wants "
" What are you saying ? " I asked.
" You know where my bones are ? "
" Under your skin, I am sure."
" You will learn not to joke with me," said the gruff voice. And then the boy left his bed,
took me by the neck, and pushed me out. I was nearly ten stone, and that was a young
fellow of twelve. How could he handle me in this manner ? I felt indignant and tried to
resist. But it was no use. He displayed enormous strength. He wheeled me about,
almost tore open the front door, and flung me out. I flew across the veranda and came
down on the lawn, bruised and shaken. The door shut behind me.
I sat there I don't know how long, frightened out of my wits. Presently my sense of
responsibility returned. How could I let that youngster shut himself in ? It was my duty
to return him to his parents. I felt truly sorry for having brought him down with me.
I got up with difficulty, limped up the steps, knocked on the door.
" Go away," screamed the boy, " or I will rip you up."
" Raju, Raju," I pleaded. " Won't you open the door for your, uncle ? "
" See here, I am not Raju. So don't call me Raju hereafter, do you understand ? "
" Who are you ? "
" Do you want to know ? "
" Certainly."
" Ah, I am so happy you are prepared to hear about me ! But what is the use ? You
won't help me."
" Oh, I will do anything for you. But tell me who you are." I am Murugesan-
" Oh, Murugesan, what are you doing here ? "
" Good man," said the boy happily, greatly pleased at being called Murugesan.
" What are you doing here ? " I persisted.
" Where can I go ? These scoundrels are defiling my bones. I won't move till that is
stopped."
" Do you want me to do anything ? " 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 don't do it ? "
" I will never leave this place, nor open the door."
" Murugesan," I said a few minutes later, " won't 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."
" Isn't 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 passer-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?
" 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.
As I was about to leave I couldn't 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 man's 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 don't ruin
an old man."
I went away and joined my nephew. He asked, " Why did the old man fall on the
ground, uncle ? "
" I don't 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 don't have much work I will take it up.