|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedablkjs

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the bog of a story that was and wasn’t theirs. That had set out with the
semblance of structure and orderthen bolted like a frightened horse into anarchy.
Kochu Thomban woke and delicately cracked open his morning coconut. The
Kathakali Men took off their makeup and went home to beat their wives. Even Kun-
tithe soft one with breasts. Outside and aroundthe little town masquerading as a
village stirred and came to life. An old man woke and staggered to the stove to warm
his peppered coconut oil. Comrade Pillai. Ayemenem’s egg-breaker and professional
omeletteer. Oddly enoughit was he who had introduced the twins to kathakali.
Against Baby Kochamma’s better judgmentit was he who took themalong with
Leninfor all-night performances at the templeand sat up with them till dawnex-
plaining the language and gesture of kathakali. Aged sixthey had sat with him
through this very story. It was he who had introduced them to Raudra Bhima–crazed
bloodthirsty
Bhima in search of death and vengeance. He is searching fir the beast that lives in
himComrade Pillai had told them–frightenedwide-eyed children–when the ordinar-
ily good-natured Bhima began to bay and snarl. Which beast in particular Comrade
Pillai didn’t yilai：
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|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedablkgv