Valmiki's Daughter by Shani Mootoo Page A

cocked the rifle.
    Suddenly, above the patter of rain falling he heard what could be nothing other than the clearing of a man’s throat. He was so startled that he made a fast turn, slipped on the slimy floor of rotting leaves, and fell over. He quickly righted himself and looked about. About the same distance away as the dog, but off to its side now, the glow of a cigarette revealed a man whose face was obscured by a straw hat with a brim wide enough topermit him to smoke in the rain. The man was stooped in the root system of a balata tree.
    It horrified Valmiki to think he had not seen that glow. The man remained on his haunches, as still as if he were a bird asleep on one leg. But the lit cigarette gave away the fact that he was watching, and his well-timed throat-clearing said that he disapproved, and intended to interrupt whatever it was that Valmiki had been contemplating. Valmiki wondered if the man was alone. If he hadn’t seen this man, he wondered, what else was he missing? The man did not look like someone Valmiki had met in the village while travelling there with Saul, and made no sign of rising, or wanting to talk, or even to quarrel. Valmiki, still hunkered on the ground, was terrified that the man might also carry a gun. His temples throbbed. He suffered an acute shame, like a schoolboy caught in the act of doing something wrong. He had the real, albeit fleeting thought, of turning the gun on himself, if only to handle his self-inflicted humiliation. The barrel of the rifle would have been much too long to accomplish even this, and he imagined himself further mortified by yet another incompetence.
    Hastily, he stumbled backwards, keeping an eye on where the man stood, wary that a bullet from the gun the man might carry might be racing in a crippling hurry toward his spine. Finally, he turned and ran forward, arriving back at his car his only desire now. He sweated, and was drenched in a way that no rainfall could have matched.
    WHEN VALMIKI FINALLY REACHED HIS CAR, HE SPUN IT AROUND AND got out of there — not caring about the bumpy road — out of the village, out onto the main road, and made his way back into San Fernando faster than was legal or safe. All the way he shook hishead, as if trying to dispel the act and the knowledge that he might have, that he could have, that he almost pulled the trigger on a sitting, nursing, shivering dog. He didn’t know which was worse, to have been so close to doing this or to have been caught in the act. He had also to find a plausible, acceptable reason for running out of his office in the middle of the day without telling his staff, and with a room full of waiting patients.
    Back in town, he went to The Victory Hotel first, where the staff knew him well. They were not surprised to see him on a workday — but to find him drenched, his clothing mud-splattered, his shoes caked, him looking like a fugitive and without a woman? They gave him a room, no questions asked, expecting that a woman was bound to arrive looking for him. However, in record time, the staff noted, he had changed — not into his usual work attire but into the clothing that was kept in the trunk of his car: khaki slacks and a white golf jersey — and was out of there. He was a handsome man, the staff, both the men and the women, agreed, and so gentle, they said, adding: no wonder all those women he comes with here like him so much.
    Valmiki arrived at an excuse that involved him making a stop at Maraj and Son Jewellers. Under the guidance of the owner, Sunil Maraj, he would buy Devika, Viveka, and Vashti a piece of jewellery each. The explanation would be partially true: having just seen a patient who had the effect on him of making him think of his family, he was overcome with appreciation for each one of them, and wished to express this, so he had left the office early in search of the perfect gifts. He would buy them the best there was, and perhaps they would ask no more