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either heard or understood what Chacko said.
“He knows everything,” Comrade PilIai said. “He is genius.
In front of visitors only he‟s quiet.”
Comrade Pillai jiggled Lenin with his knees.
“Lenin Mon, tell Comrade Uncle the one Pappa taught you.
Friends Romans countrymen …”
Lenin continued his nasal treasure hunt.
“Come on, Mon, it‟s only our Comrade Uncle–”
~Comrade Pillai~~
“Friends Roman: countrymen lend me your–?”
Lenin‟s unblinking gaze remained on Chacko. Comrade
Pillai tried again.
“Lend me your–?”
Lenin grabbed a handful of banana chips and bolted out of
the front door. He began to race up and down the strip of front yard
between the house and road, braying with an excitement that he
couldn‟t understand. When he had worked some of it off, his run
turned into a breathless, high-kneed gallop.
“kndmeyawYERS;”
Lenin shouted from the yard, over the sound of a passing
bus.
“I cometobery Caesar, not to praise him. Thee-vu that
mendoo lives after them, The goodisoft interred with their
bones…”
He shouted it fluently, without faltering once. Remarkable,
considering he was only six and didn‟t understand a word of what
he was saying. Sitting inside, looking out at the little dust devil
whirling in his yard (future service contractor with a baby and
Bajaj scooter), Comrade Pillai smiled proudly.
“He‟s standing first in class. This year he will be getting
double promotion.”
There was a lot of ambition packed into that hot little room.
Whatever Comrade Pillai stored in his curtained cupboard, it
wasn‟t broken balsa airplanes.
Chacko, on the other hand, from the moment he had entered