He inhaled the heavy, acrid smell of the city, spread his arms wide, threw back his head and revelled in the dazzling delight of being alive. As if on cue, two grey pigeons fluttered over his head in synchronized unison, sharing in the day's jubilation. He was in Esplanade, the teeming heart of the metropolis, and everywhere he looked he saw people and more people. Children pointed at him excitedly, men simply gawked, and women drew their breath sharply and covered their mouths with their hands; he smiled and waved at them. All around the tram was a vortex of traffic – cars, taxis, rickshaws, scooters, cycles. Horns blared, honked, buzzed and screeched. Swarms of battered private buses hurtled along the road, with uniformed conductors hanging out from the side shouting destinations at the top of their voices. Garish advertisements for toothpaste and shampoo screamed for attention from huge billboards. The tall decadent buildings on either side of the road loomed like a range of ancient hills. Eketi felt as if he was floating through a magnificent dream.
It was just over a fortnight since that fateful day when he had volunteered to recover the sacred rock stolen by Banerjee. The Elders had been taken by surprise by Ashok Rajput, the junior welfare officer, who had eavesdropped on their deliberations. They had been even more surprised by his willingness to take Eketi to India by ship and help recover the ingetayi. Under duress, they had grudgingly accepted his offer. Not only had he discovered their plans, he was the only one who knew Banerjee's address. But they had cautioned Eketi to be wary of him. The welfare officer was to be used to reach the sacred rock and then discarded like a pesky fly.
The preparations for the trip had taken more than a week. Ashok had to obtain leave from the Welfare Department. And Nokai, the medicine man, took his time putting together Eketi's 'survival kit' – tubers and strips of dried boar for eating, medicinal pellets for healing, lumps of red and white clay for body-painting, a pouch of pig fat for mixing the clay, and the pièce de résistance, the chauga-ta, a charm to ward off disease, made of the bones of the great Tomiti himself. Eketi had hidden all these in a black canvas bag – a fake Adidas he had picked up from Hut Bay – and covered them up with a few old clothes. Following a night of feasting and festivity, he had received a hero's send-off. The next day he had left Little Andaman with Ashok for Port Blair in a government speedboat. That same night he had been smuggled aboard MV Jahangir, a large passenger ship which sailed three times a month to Kolkata and whose captain was known to Ashok. The welfare officer had taken a deluxe cabin while Eketi had been dumped in a third-class bunk, to stay hidden from prying eyes in a cramped closet close to the engine room.
'Now remember,' Ashok had instructed Eketi, 'no one must find out that you are an Onge from Little Andaman. So you must keep your hair covered at all times with your cap and ensure that the jawbone around your neck is hidden underneath your T-shirt. If anyone asks, you should say that you are an adivasi, a tribal called Jiba Korwa from Jharkhand. Jharkhand is an Indian State which has many primitive tribes like yours. Understood? Now repeat your new name.'
'Eketi is Jiba Koba from Jakhan.'
'Idiot!' Ashok knocked him on the head. 'You need to say, "I am Jiba Korwa from Jharkhand." Now put on your cap and repeat after me twenty times.'
So Eketi had put on his red Gap cap and repeated his new name till he had memorized it.
The ship had completed its 1,255-kilometre journey in three days, arriving at the Kidderpore Dock in Kolkata the evening before. They had waited for all the passengers to leave and for night to fall. Then they had disembarked and taken a taxi.
No sooner had the taxi left the docks than the night sky had come alive with a brilliant display of fireworks. The ground shook with the sounds of exploding crackers. 'Are they welcoming me?' Eketi asked excitedly, but Ashok shushed him and tapped the driver's shoulder. 'How come you guys are celebrating Diwali twenty days before it is due?'
The driver laughed. 'What, you don't even know that you have arrived in Kolkata at the time of our biggest festival? Today is Saptami, tomorrow is Mahashtami.'
'Oh shit,' Ashok swore under his breath. 'I didn't realize we were landing here bang in the middle of Durga Puja.'
The city was indeed in the grip of puja fervour. There were magnificent pandals at virtually every street corner, glittering in the night like lighted palaces. Eketi sat in the front seat and gaped at the temporary temples of cloth and bamboo, each competing with the other in raucous gaudiness. Some had domes, some had minarets. One called to mind a South Indian temple tower, while another harked back to a Tibetan pagoda. There was one shaped like a Grecian amphitheatre and another which resembled an Italian palazzo. The approach to these pandals was lined with red carpets and lit with a series of illuminated panels.
The streets were full of people, more than Eketi had seen in his life, and the city was slick with sound. Loudspeakers boomed from every pandal. Drum beats reverberated from every corner, a primal call for the tribe to gather. And they gathered in their millions, in their starched saris and immaculately ironed shirts and trousers, converting the city into one giant carnival. The taxi was forced to take several detours as entire streets were blocked off by the police, who blared out cautionary instructions to pedestrians from their megaphones.
An hour and ten minutes later, the taxi stopped in Sudder Street, the backpacker ghetto full of mildewed hotels and decrepit shops selling food, souvenirs and internet access. Ashok checked into Milton Hotel, which had a strange atmosphere of gloomy decay. The manager looked suspiciously at Eketi and asked to see his passport. Ashok had to produce his government ID card to prevent further questioning.
They went through dimly lit corridors to a room on the first floor which was very basic, just two beds separated by a small table. In the harsh glare of the strip light, Eketi noticed damp patches on the walls and cobwebs in every corner. A dripping sound came from the adjoining toilet.
'Eketi doesn't like this hotel.' He curled up his nose.
Anger flared up on Ashok's face. 'What did you expect, darkie? That I'd put you up at the Oberoi? Even this dump is much better than your lousy huts. Now shut up and lie down on the floor.'
As Eketi looked on sullenly, the welfare officer enjoyed a meal of chicken curry and naan bread ordered from room service. Then he took out his lighter and lit up a cigarette.
The tribal eyed the open packet. 'Can Eketi also have one?'
Ashok raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you had vowed not to touch tobacco till you got the ingetayi?'
'Yes. But this is not my island. Here I can do as I please.'
'No, blackie,' Ashok sneered. 'Here you do as I please. Now go to sleep.'
Eketi lay down on the cold floor with the canvas bag as his pillow and chewed on a strip of dried boar. Soon he could hear Ashok's loud snores, but he found it difficult to sleep. The drumbeats appeared to be coming closer, making the wooden floor tremble. He got up and sat by the open window, watching the glow of a pandal in the far distance, observing the junkies and the dogs sheltering under the awnings in the street, breathing in the air of this vast and mysterious city, feeling a frisson of guilty pleasure.
The next morning he tagged along with Ashok, who was going for a walking tour of the area around the hotel. In the next two hours, he saw the white-domed Birla Planetarium, the impregnable brick-and-mortar octagon of Fort William, and the verdant green Maidan, full of gardens, fountains and memorials. He saw men exercising with huge weights, running, skipping, and walking with dogs. He smiled when he came across a group which was standing in a circle and simply laughing, and fell silent upon seeing the grandiose baroque of the Victoria Memorial, its white marble shading pink under the nascent sun. It was the biggest building he had seen in his life and the most beautiful. He shivered with the thrill of discovery.