Ode to Broken Things Read Free Page A

on the cameras by now, and he hoped he had them scuttling. As he stubbed out his cigarette and lit another, he mused, in another week, it will finally be out of my hands.
    He needed to call Jay. Colonel S wouldn’t be able to pull this off alone once the plan was set in motion, and the first dry run was in a week’s time, in Malaysia, but after that they would show the world how it was done. There was still a slight problem in convincing Jay to come back – not the money, which was easy – but in convincing him that this country provided the most congenial soil for any kind of research. He had followed his protégé’s career over the past three decades, and Jay surpassed his expectations. Now it was up to Colonel S to woo him back to Malaysia, to take a sabbatical from the prestigious Haversham where he was now Professor.
    He would invoke the blood-debt again; the ultimate ace dealt by fate.
    Unfortunately, no one else knew the science as well as Jay did. Colonel S needed his protégé. Once Jay came back to Malaysia, he would be so deeply implicated that he would have to stay.
    Colonel S could now see the girl with the crinkled hair on the tarmac, talking to someone. He picked at the hair growing out of the dark mole on his chin. He would give it another few minutes, then pick up his cane and walk towards the green and white sign that said Keluar . Then he would call Jay again, today, before time ran out.
    A toddler wailed loudly as a young Chinese woman strained towards the monitor trying to make out the words on cnn. She shook the child’s shoulders and yelled, “Quiet! I’ll wallop you now!” The man next to them quickly scrambled up on one of the orange chairs to adjust the volume on the TV. Colonel S leaned back to watch the familiar face on the grainy footage from a mountainous cave in Afghanistan: … and they spread in every place in which injustice is perpetuated …
    He picked up his cane and got to his feet. Someone with the logo of the airline stitched on his shirt started to walk towards him, but he waved him away. Then, with deliberate slowness, he extended his right foot, swivelled his right hip and dragged his left. People made way for him, smiling that pity which made his exits so easy.

Three
    Professor Jay Ghosh stood cradling the telephone in his hand, and yawned loudly. What an intriguing offer from his old mentor. If only he could trust Colonel S again! He had debts to repay, and that old fox made sure Jay would remember that by spouting an old Malay pantun at him, as always. Colonel S recited Hutang emas boleh di bayar, hutang budi … and, before he had even finished, Jay found himself nodding: Yes, yes, debts of gold can be easily repaid; debts of gratitude are carried to the grave . Let me call you back in a week.
    More than a week had passed since the first phone call. The old man called again this morning. With the phone in his hand now, Jay couldn’t believe that he, Professor Jay Ghosh, was actually thinking of going to Malaysia for three weeks. That he would say yes to a Return. That he would dial this phone now and say: I will come .
    Not again. Not ever.
    But why not?
    Because he still didn’t trust Colonel S completely. Research with him was tremendously exciting, but somehow also… tainted.
    Because he couldn’t bear the thought of going back to Malaysia.
    He looked up at the ceiling. He loved the dining room cornices matching the flowered borders of the Turkish wool carpet leading out to the garden. This was his home now and, as always, he was comforted by its beauty and order. It had been years since he lived anywhere else. Then he looked at the lake outside, glimmering with chips of ice, and thought, I can’t let a ghost keep me out of Malaysia forever.
    That morning, after speaking with Colonel S, when he had stepped into the shower and seen the raven-black hair in the drain, he had jumped out, naked and shivering. How many more such visitations lurked around the house,