The Malkhan village materialized before their eyes. What the village consisted of? A couple of dozen of cracking mud huts with thatches upon it and some hundred gaping Malkhans.
"Very uncomfortable life. How do they survive, it is an enigma to me!" said Matthew. "No good food. No good shelters. No clothes. Environment's harsh too. Yet they survive. And cheerily still. Government takes steps… But you know…"
Veronica only nodded her head. Still the sound of conch and gong from downhill was heard.
"Now should we meet and have some talk with people?" she asked.
Seeing the youth duo (Veronica and Matthew) a crowd of small children and some old men had gathered around them. They were curious. They were firing questions at them in their incomprehensible foreign sounding language, which she could not understand at all.
"What they are saying?" she asked.
"Oh they think we are some government official and we are here for some kind of enquiry here."
One old man came near Veronica, very near, so that she with her reflexes backed off, which made the others – the whole congregation – the children and the other old men, to burst into laughter, which made Veronica feel hot around her ears. The old man who had approached her was mumbling something.
"Do not be angry," said Matthew. "That old man is saying that he was checking whether you were carrying sweets or medicines in your bag. Well he is also saying that as we are not wearing any badge or identity card or such things around our necks, so he is almost sure that we will not be supplying them with pills. So he is happy, because he does not like the bitter taste of those pills."
"Oh, please tell the old man that we are here for some private works, not sent by government nor some NGO and please tell them that we only need some old men to talk to and ask the children to disperse."
Matthew told them something in their language going near the old men. In turn the old men told something to the children and most of the children rushed away, but they stayed there at a distance, hiding behind a cottage. They were all almost naked – boys and girls, all. Almost all had pot bellies and thin legs and bulging eyes; some with hairy heads and some with bald heads. A bunch of kids were still hanging around there, not showing any sign of buzzing away from their place. The old men had to sush them away when Matthew asked them something. Now the bunch started running away. Now the old men – seven in number, gathered around Veronica and Matthew, all curious.
"Can you please translate it for me?" she asked him. He nodded his head. Then she said, "Who among them had lived here twenty years prior? I guess all of them." She said more to herself than him.
He took a moment and translated it. She could not understand what he was telling, she could just remember a couple of words of it like "remo" and "ringa". She felt like he was doing pretty well, for the seven of the old men were intently listening to him and nodding their primal heads to his each phrase, almost in unison; even they said something in unison, too.
"They say they were all here twenty years prior." He reported her. "But let me tell you, they do not have the time sense as we have. They say they have been living here over centuries. They all. It means they have never left this place."
"Oh time immemorial…" she helped him and nodded at the seven old men. They also nodded at her as if they understood her tongue.
Matthew also nodded and said, "So what do you want to know about them?"
Veronica thought: I must be cautious. I have to do it eventually. I have the photo of Andrew in my bag. Eventually I will take it out and show it to the old men. I will ask, through Matthew – the translator, whether they had ever seen him in this fore shaken part of the earth. If yes, do they have any idea concerning his whereabouts now? Or to be a bit hopeful, if he had been in contact with these Malkhans by now, or does Andrew have a close friend in this community who can tell her how to reach him, etc. That is why I have come so far. To get some information. To get some answers.
It was a difficult task for her. She had to hide everything about her task from everyone – even the mediator – the translator – Matthew. Her father had told her if any problem arose, if the translator suspected her, she should not hesitate to shoot him. After using his help – after communicating with the Malkhans. She should be very quick about it for she had very little time. Time was ticking very quickly away. She should be very quick too. Cutting all the crap. No round about. Well the problem was that she could not go as straight as she imagined. Situations were pushing her to her limits. She hated this. But she was bound.
She faced Matthew. His bright eyes open. Then she told him, "I have prepared a set of questions to be asked. Let's somewhere less crowded," she said looking around for the gaping crowd of Malkhans gathering around them.
Matthew told the old Malkhans and they took them both into a hut. She handed Matthew a paper sheet on which several questions like: what do you eat; what did you eat a decade earlier; what do you produce in the fields, were written. She could not have accomplished this list without the help of internet. He took the paper and gave a hawk's eye view to it, and then one by one asked the thirty questions. He was translating Veronica's question to the old men and translating back their answers to her. It was a lengthy process. For the Malkhan people took time in discussing among them in their alien tongue. This was boring and tiring for him, she could see it. She was shifting half a dozen times where she was sitting. Matthew noticed it and he asked in the middle of the session of the translation questions and answers, "Are you all right? You look tired."
"No, nothing," she replied. "It is just the journey. The fatigue. Nothing to worry about. We are doing our duties."
"Hmm!" Matthew nodded gravely and went on doing his job for which he would be paid, that was, for translating.
Veronica had to act a little bit. She was jotting down the translated answers. She was looking very grave all the while. She needed not to make a grave face, for she had already one. She would look very beautiful if she smiled. Fortunately Matthew was buying in her this simple tricky plan. A pragmatic boy: she thought. Doing his job. For money. Very good.
All questions ultimately were finished. The Malkhan old men seemed happy to discuss with Matthew.
"Good job," said she and patted Matthew's back. Now is the time: she thought and she got a photo of Andrew, the man she had been searching intensely for last few months. She gave the photo to Matthew. He was baffled, "Who is this man?"
"Do not worry. It is a photo of someone who is the inspiration behind my research on the tribal people. But recently he has gone somewhere. And we have been searching for him. But we can not find him anywhere. We are guessing that he has been living, if he lives till now, amid any tribal group, for he has a great love for anything tribal: be it tribal food, culture, art or dance etc." She took a pause. Then she resumed, "Please ask these old men if they have seen this man in the photo, recently."
"No, you have some other secret cause behind all this that you are not telling me," said Matthew and saw Andrew's photo very carefully. He did not seem satisfied with her story. He again asked, "Who is this man to you personally?"
She said, "I have told you already. He is my mentor. As your grandpa is your mentor."
He still seemed dissatisfied with her answer. Yet he handed the photo to one of the seven old men inside the cottage. He told him something.