I had to create a picture of a strange house which was full of owls. I described as vividly as possible paintings of owls, carved owls, stuffed owls, and I even made Aunty believe that a real owl flew across the room in my presence and perched on the branch of a big candelabra. Yes, I really had to make her believe—she who was a stranger, a new person into whose life I had entered. I had to make myself interesting. She had to see me as someone who was special. I could even make her feel that those people I would have to live with were strange, even sinister. Then she would think, how can this young girl live in that desolate place with its dry swimming pool, its remoteness from the city, its broken down pop corn machine and bakery which no longer baked rich, crusty loaves of bread. And why, she would question, were there no kingfishers or golden orioles? Why only these night creatures with their staring yellow eyes, their avid beaks pecking at their prey. Would I change into a mutant too? Would I be able to struggle out of those snares? Would I be trapped in this wilderness? Would I become the rodent? Or the owl?

I smiled a secret smile to myself when I heard Aunty say: ‘Stay here, I’ll phone Nanna and Aunty Madeleine. You’re sure then that you don’t want to go back?’ I knew then that I had won. I had escaped. I could continue creating my fantasies. The Ninja turtles had come to my rescue again. Those mutants who were strong, much stronger than the owls. My fantasy protectors.

Man Without a Mask

All tremble at weapons; all fear death. Comparing others with oneself, one should not slay, nor cause to slay.

—The Dhammapada

WE TRAVEL IN two Pajeros. The shutters are up so we cannot feel the cool night air. But the Pajero is well equipped with air-conditioning and turbo coolers and we do not feel any discomfort. The roads, at this hour, are quiet and deserted; we travel swiftly and smoothly along the tarred carpet. Our destination is fifty miles away from the city. At a certain point, we have to branch off the main road and take the turning which leads to the village where this man lives in his ancestral house. It lies in the midst of a vast coconut estate. Family property.