Excerpts from bestselling author Ashok Ferrey’s latest novel
As promised, the readers of the Sunday Observer, in the issue of 5th February, the first instalment of a three part series of excerpts of bestselling Sri Lankan author, Ashok Ferrey’s latest work of fiction –The Ceaseless Chatter of Demons unfolds in this issue of Spectrum with the kind courtesy of Penguin Random House India.
The Devil took the direct flight to Colombo on SriLankan Airlines UL 504 better known as Usually Late 504. As it happened, it was bang on time, so it might have been better to call it UP 504 – Unusually Punctual 504. Because the Devil was visible only to the very good or very bad, he felt safe. He slipped into a large business class seat; kicking off his satin Restoration shoes with their gilt buckles he tucked his hooves comfortably under him.
An unusually well-nourished Sri Lankan woman accompanying a small girl went past.
‘Mummy, mummy look, that Auntie has hairy legs.’
‘Oh, shush. You have to learn, Hiranthi, to keep your comments to yourself. One day, you too will be old and no doubt have hairy legs too.’
The Devil took umbrage. He sat up in his seat and poked his face at them. ‘Your mother’s fat. Yes, fat. Do I go around telling people she’s fat? Do? Do I?’ he thumped his thin chest aggressively. ‘On the contrary, I would take great pains to say, “My, Sakuntala, how you have pulled down. Have you tried Sustagen?”’
Before he had finished, the mother and child had bustled away, and the Devil sank back into his seat fuming. Really, these Sri Lankans! He was proud, though, that he had been able to insinuate My, how you have pulled down into the conversation, a phrase gleaned from the Handbook of Sri Lankan Idioms that he had been poring over night after night prior to this momentous journey. Surreptitiously slurping down a Bloody Mary off the circulating drinks tray – there had been Virgin Marys too, but that wouldn’t have done now, would it? – the Devil gave a delicate belch and prepared himself for sleep.
‘Only man is vile,’ he crooned to himself as he drifted off. ‘Only man is vile. . .’
A little while later, when the shades were down and lights put out, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was the Captain, lecherous and elderly, his face creased and lined and shiny like mahogany shoe leather. ‘You fancy a good time when we get to Colombo, lady?’ He was swaying a little and his eyes were bloodshot.
‘Lady? Lady? Do I look like a lady to you?’
‘I know what I like,’ said the Captain. ‘I like what I see.’
‘Then put your glasses back on,’ snapped the Devil irritably.
‘Temper, temper!’ The Captain wagged his finger. He turned and sashayed back uncertainly to the cockpit. ‘That ain’t no lady,’ he said shaking his head sorrowfully.