“You can’t trust a soul here,” he whispered. “Not a soul.”

He shifted his gaze to the tiny necklace in his hand. He then went silent.

*

It had been more than five years since I’d last been home. Caught up in a seemingly endless cycle of monotony, I’d never quite had the chance to return for a holiday. I’d been working in Colombo as an assistant secretary for a while now, and at last, I’d taken a few days off. At last; I’d be coming home.

I surveyed my workspace one last time before I left. It was cramped, with hardly enough space for my desk and chair. I stared up at the piles of paper stacked up on my table, knowing that I’d have to painstakingly sort through everything once I’d come back. My head hurt just thinking about it.

The stagnant air immediately turned fresh as I stepped out of the building, and with it came a sense of relief. At least for a few days, I’d be detached from it all.

The train leaving for Nuwara Eliya would be here, so I hurried to the station. It seemed as though everyone was rushing to get a seat when it arrived. I barely secured onewhen the horn blared and the train sputtered into action. I watched as the regular rows of buildings gradually dwindled into trees, as the urban landscape transformed into rocky plains, daunting mountains and misty forests. The rhythmic pulse of the train sounded more distant by the second. I stared up at the unmoving multicoloured clouds.

They looked as though they were meticulously painted with utter precision. The clouds… the sky… the mountains… all morphed into fuzzy blobs until finally… nothing.

The train’s horn blared once more when it reached the station, which woke me up with a jolt. The October mist blanketed the entire place; enveloping it in a soft, dreamlike veil. I barely saw a thing. I dismounted the train along with a wave of passengers, their breath visible in the chilly air. My house was far from here. Very far. Amongst the vast plains and estates. I searched for the familiar landmarks that would usually guide me home, but the dense mist obscured it all.

I trudged along the road until it ended, and continued on through the wet grass. Each step felt heavier than the last. I walked onwards and lost track of time. The landscape seemed to stretch out infinitely in all directions. When the mist finally cleared, I could just make out a dilapidated mass. There they were; the line houses.

A cloud of nostalgia overwhelmed me as I quickened my pace and approached my house. Childhood memories flooded back as I stepped in through the door. The place felt like a time capsule; unaltered by years gone by and untouched by anything new. It was the same carpet, the same wooden chairs, the same marks on the wall. Yet onething wasn’t the same. The place I’d remembered full of people was now empty. Of course, they wouldn’t be here; they were plucking tea.

As I waited for them to return, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I ought to have been with them. Yet I was sent away to the city, in the hope of finding better prospects. I couldn’t imagine what that may have cost them. And what did I have to show for it? A meagre monthly earning that could barely sustain myself, let alone my family. I had tried. I had tried everything. If only—

At once, I heard someone screaming my name at the top of their lungs. I recognised the voice in an instant and bolted outside. Simultaneously, I was locked in a tight embrace.

One that temporarily liberated me from all my worries and stresses, from every little thing that troubled me.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have waited at the station for you- No matter, I’m so happy you’re here! It’s been so long…too long. So how’s life in Colombo?

The food? The job?”

“…fine.”

My mother was silent for a while and decided not to ask me anything further for now.

Great. She still knew me inside out.“Where’s everyone else?”

“Still out in the field. But it’s getting dark. They’ll be back any minute now. Wait till they see you’ve returned!”

My family reunion was an emotional yet brief one, as everyone was busy preparing the decorations for Deepavali, once they’d returned from the fields. It was a festival I’d grown up with, and after years I’d be celebrating it with those I hold dear, in the place I knew so well.

As night fell, tiny wisps of light appeared in every house, and in no time, swept as far as the eye could see. As they flickered in the darkness, a certain ethereal quality loomed over the place. They were like stars on earth. Colourful kolams adorned the floor right next to the lit lamps and the smell of fresh food wafted through the air. With no constant work to be burdened with, the people gathered outside their houses and stared up at the sky. It was a canvas of colour, as the fireworks lit one after the other. Children ran around, their faces beaming with joy. I didn’t know most of them.

Yet, in the immense expanse of light, there was a patch of darkness. Out of all the houses that were filled with light and warmth, there was one that stood in stark contrast to them all. A dark and brooding structure, which stood out like a dead weed amidst an opulent field. I asked my mother about it.“That house belongs to an old man- I forget his name. A recluse he is. Barely comes out of his house anymore. I wonder how survives. He’s especially distraught during this time

of year-

”

“Why?”

She hesitated. “His daughter,” She took a deep breath. “Killed herself during the

Deepavali festival.”

I stared at her in utter disbelief.

“

-But that was a long time ago. It’s been more than twenty-five years-

”

“Killed herself? Here?”

“Seems hard to believe, but I remember that day.

Fireworks lit the sky and I wasn’t used to the noise. All the estate workers flocked to the place where the festival was held. It was in a clearing that overlooked the estate. I remember the sheer crowds of people; how they danced, how they sang, how they ate.

It was almost midnight but didn’t feel like it. The lights were overwhelmingly bright. The girl- Amrita her name was- was there as well. She’d just gotten a new job as a maid forthe estate owner, and her demeanour showed it. She’d been lent a beautiful dress and a necklace which looked like it cost a fortune.

The night went on, and so did the seemingly endless string of fireworks. Once most of us got tired, we started to make our way home, but just as we did, a shrill scream disrupted the entire area. It came from one of the girls at the far end of the clearing, bordering a bunch of trees. She stood petrified, her eyes wide in horror as she pointed

at a shadowy mass hanging from the tree.”

We both sat there, dead silent.

“She’d hanged herself. But why? None of us knew. We all stood there perplexed. The girl’s father dashed through the crowds in an almost dreamlike state, as though he

wasn’t seeing clearly, and let out a wild inhuman yell when he saw her.”

“How come no one told me about this?”

“It was all hushed up before the news spread. Besides, this community didn’t like outsiders poking their noses into its business. And so the tragedy wore off with time, the people slowly went back to their usual selves, all except the old man. He has never been the same since. People saw him less and less as the years went by.I remember seeing him once, years ago, withered and lifeless near his door. I saw him staring off into the distance. Poor fellow. It was as though he’d passed on from this

world a long time ago.”

*

The five days of Deepavali celebrations went by much faster than it used to, and in no time I found myself packing to leave. In a few hours, I’d have to catch the train. But there was one thing I needed to do before I went back.

It was early in the morning when I walked along the path passing several houses until finally, I reached his. It was a small dead house, run down by the passage of time. I knocked on the door to no avail. Fueled by an insatiable childlike curiosity, I saw a window out back and decided I could peep through it. The minute window was thick with grime. I cautiously wiped the heavy layer of dust off the window and peered inside. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I suddenly caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes glaring right at me from within the house. I immediately recoiled and took a few steps back.

It was him; the old man. I felt the urge to run away yet found myself talking to him.

“Excuse me, may I come in?” I said, trying to sound normal, but I trembled at every word.He nodded.

Cautiously, I opened the door and let myself in. The abysmal house was in a state of collapse. Every wall was smeared with black streaks where leaks seemed to have dripped down. The tin roof was plated with rust and a foul odor wafted about the place.

The diffused light coming in through the window appeared to be the only thing that illuminated the house. He was there, sitting on his chair in the corner of the room. Sitting quietly, waiting for me to speak.

I handed him the tin of food I brought with me. An assortment I’d set aside for him during the festivities.

“I don’t eat… especially now.” He said, hastily.

He looked emaciated. Like a skeleton with skin.

“Really sir, you must-

”

“Must what? Play along with your feigned hospitality? I’ve entertained many a person like you. What is it you want, child?”

“Well,” I choked. “I wanted to know about your daughter-

”“It doesn’t concern you. Now get out.” He snapped.

“Oh it does- you see I’m a journalist-”

“Lies! All of it! I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you here. You’re one of us.”

“That may be true, but I’ve been employed in Colombo for five years, and I’ve just learnt about your daughter. If you’d just give me some information-

”

He sat there in silence for a while.

“If you really need to know, child, don’t take the word of anyone.”

“What?”

“You can’t trust a soul here, not a soul.”

I saw him staring down, fingering with a necklace he held in his hand.

“They’re liars, all of them. You don’t know. You don’t know what truly happened. My daughter, she had but one goal. She always promised me that she’d give us a better life; that she’d make us proud. You see, our family was brought down from India ageneration ago, without money, without citizenship. Impoverished we were. Condemned to a life of poverty, plucking tea.

Amrita, however, had different ideas. She was sure she could bring us out of that poverty. So she worked. Worked as hard as she could. Until finally she was recognized for her work, and taken in as a housemaid for the owner. She wouldn’t stop there. No, she told me she wouldn’t. She told me she’d find a new job as soon as she’d got the money…

And then came the festival.”

He paused. I waited until he could collect himself.

“She had been at her job for only a month. I remember. She looked so happy. She had secured herself a salary and partially succeeded in her plan. I saw so much hope in her, as though her vision was finally coming together.”

“So then why did she kill herself?”

“Don’t you see, child? She didn’t.

None of the villagers liked her much. And those that did, quickly fell out of favour with her as soon as she got the job. They didn’t like it. They didn’t like that an immigrant girlrose to be someone of a higher status than them, especially when they’d been trapped in their underprivileged state for generations. This community was so hell-bent on keeping its people in an equal social standing that they couldn’t bear to see her doing well. Rumours had long since spread about her, and by the time of the festival, everyone despised her.

A few hours into the festival, I caught no sight of her. I wasn’t worried at the time, but as the night went on, I became anxious. I looked for her for a while, and to my horror, found her being beaten by a small group of villagers in a secluded spot in the estate.

Her screams were drowned out by the sound of the fireworks. I rushed to her side as soon as I could and punched the nearest villager in the face. He returned that punch to her, which immediately caused her to stop struggling and become frighteningly still. In a frantic moment, I threw myself at them, only to be swiftly knocked out. ‘Think you’re so high and mighty now?’ I heard them say.

When I woke up, I was alone. I ran back to tell everyone… when I- when I saw-

”

He choked.

“…They’d killed her and made it look like suicide. I don’t think it was their initial intent, but it was murder nonetheless. Yet no one came to my aid. I screamed ‘Murder!’. They didn’t listen. I pleaded with the estate owner for an inquest. He didn’t listen. I went to the police myself but was disregarded. They claimed there ‘wasn’t evidence’, although there was ample, and, everyone seemed to possess the same narrative of that night. Allexcept for me. I’d tried. I’d tried everything. They had all seized justice from my

daughter. They’d stolen her hopes; her dreams; her life.”

As I sat there, stone cold, I wondered if I really knew anything. The place I’d supposedly known so well now felt alien to me. I couldn’t comprehend that the very place I called home concealed such sinister secrets.

“You’re like her, you know… I suppose people are more accepting now…”

*

The train was due to arrive in a few minutes. I made my way to the local cemetery. It was a disarmingly quiet evening. She wasn’t hard to find; “Amrita Jhadav, 1919 -1938”.

“You’re like her…” The words echoed in my head. I was no journalist, but I knew I’d give her justice when I got back. Somehow…