A Good Citizen

W. Somapala Peiris

As Sunil stealthily approached the nest, the bird sitting on her eggs became alarmed. The boy was interested in the eggs and the little helpless chicks that will eventually emerge from them.

Yes, he has his catapult in his hip-pocket. But that was used only to knock down a fruit from a tree and never to aim it at a living thing. The alarmed bird suddenly flew away from the nest. Sunil peeped through the foliage only to find eggs not hatched yet. Disappointed, he could only take his hopes to the next nest.

The marshy woods, behind the shanty dwellings, where Sunil lived, was an undeclared sanctuary for birds and there was plenty of nests for him to peep into. He had named the marshes “Birdy-Land, after Disney-Land.” Creeping through thorny bushes and creepers, he rembered his classroom that day. The teacher had written on the blackboard “A Good Citizen” and she had said.

“Children, for your home work. write a nice essay under this heading.”

Although he has to write it tonight, he had not thought about it. Well, who is a good citizen? He wondered. On the other bank of the river, an engine in a factory, was making a cacophony of noise, as a stream of polluted and odourous liquid poured from an outlet into the river.

The putrid smell of rotting organism was spreading all around. A kingfisher perched on a low branch, watched some carcasses of fish floating, down along with other waste.

Then, Sunil heard the sound of a car coming from the narrow road leading to the garbage dumping site of the Local Council. By the sound, it was a Datsun or a Toyota, definitely not the noise of an old car. He made his way towards the sound.

He saw a black car come to a stop it was well concealed by thick foliage. Sunil could see an elderly person in the driver’s seat, wearing a black coat, unbuttoned and a loosened dark tie was hanging, over a white shirt. Then, he saw the blood and began to move closer. In a close-up view.

He saw bleeding wound on the man’s left arm. A handkerchief was tied over the wound, and that too was soaked in blood, the man had a tough, crafty look. Sunil strongly felt that he had seen him before.

The man pulled out a thick bundle of currency notes. He put it on a seat and from the other pocket he pulled out a pistol and slowly aimed it at his head. Sunil knew it was not a game and the pistol, was not a toy.

The man seemed to hesitate as he laid the weapon on the seat. Now, taking a bottle of liquor from the cubby hole, he greedily gulped down some of it. Calming down in a sort of way, he started writing something in a note book.

Sunil, now intrigued, knew this is no child’s play. All these do not add up to the Peace, the Natural Beauty and the Musical Silence of Birdy Land. The man continued writing. Suddenly Sunil felt sure that it is a suicide note.

If it is so, it would be the moral duty of a good citizen to prevent it.

But what could he do? He felt sorry for this injured, distraut, and almost drunken man. Again, he vividly remembered the question his teacher had put to him.

“Well now, ...... Sunil, are you a good citizen?”
Standing up, with a broad smile towards his friends, he had replied,
“Sure teacher, I am a very good citizen.”

The man in the car, finished writing, took another big gulp off the bottle, and picked up the gun. That was the moment of decision for Sunil. Here was the challenge for a good citizen.

He liked to feel the joy of success and he had faith in his simple but effective weapon. He pulled out the catapult from his pocket and picked up a pebble of rock, a substitute for a bullet. He knew that he has only a single chance, and if he missed it - he did not like to think about it.

The pistol in the man’s hand is now pointed at his temple. The moment was crucial and Sunil grabbed it. Like a bowman pulling the taut bow string, taking aim, pulled back the rubber bands of his catapult and released its missile at the pistol just as it fired.

The missile smashed on to the pistol making it fly from the man’s hand. With the burst of the shot, the bullet flew astray through a glass in the car. Uttering an obscenity, the man looked around to comprehend what had happened.

Finally he saw the missile that had nullified his suicide attempt. Picking up the pebble of rock and the fallen gun, he stepped out of the car and looked around for the culprit. Sunil crouching behind a bush, expected the man to start firing blindly into the jungle. Yet he felt the thrill of participating in a scene of a jungle movie and he was elated.

The man’s anger was subsiding. He understands the intention of the person who interrupted his suicide. He went back to the car and sat in the driver’s seat leaving the door invitingly open. Sunil liked the invitation and accepted it. With the catapult in his hand, he stepped out and walked towards the car. The man carefully examined the boy coming towards him and then ...... he smiled.

“What are you doing here?” he asked roughly.
“Bird watching, sir” was Sunil’s gentle reply.”
“What the hell do you mean by interfering in my affairs? Eh-and Do You Know Who I am?
“No, sir.”
“Well, .... who do I look like?”
For a while, Sunil was thoughtful.
“Sir, you look like someone from the law Courts.”
“And how do you happen to know that?”
“Because it was a gentleman like you who asked the judge to send my father to prison.”
The man was silent and then ........ he burst out laughing.
“.......Really, you are a fine boy ...... you are correct my boy. I am Jayaweera, the famous lawyer of the underworld. I appear for the thugs in the underworld. Your father might remember me.”
“Then, why sir destroy such a valuable life?”

“Boy, that is the way with Life. You are born. You Live your life and then you Die. That is life. You have to Live it. But remember that you will die only as you had lived. That is the law of life. I tell you - get onto the correct track then it will be fine. Leave this place At Once. Go Away Right Now.”

But Sunil stood up for himself.

“Sir, as a good citizen I cannot leave you like this.”

“The decision is yours, my boy, You choose your limits and should stand by them and bear the consequences. Don’t hold me responsible for your life or death. The underworld is now after my blood and my life. They always succeed. No one can change my decision. You make yours.”

Then he turned back again to his bottle. Sunil realised his limits and made his decision. With a last look at the man he had saved from sure death, he turned away to creep back into the bush.

A motorcycle carrying two men came along the dirt road and entered the jungle. They concealed the vehicle in a bush and pulling out guns from their jackets, merged into the jungle. Quickly, they tracked down Jayaweera’s car. Sunil crouching behind a tree, saw them closing on Jayaweera, moving from tree to tree like ghosts. It was like a scene from a film but this time, Sunil was not an actor, but a lone spectator.

The killer came close to the prey, gripping his weapon with both hands, aimed it. Sunil covered his mouth to suppress a cry. The gun fired, and Jayaweera’s body fell out of the car. In the bush, Sunil stood up petrified, the catapult gripped in his hand. Then the killers crept back into the jungle.

Gradually it began to dawn on Sunil that there are other priorities and criteria of behaviour and values on human life, other than what he has come to learn, and understand. And that you yourself along, have to decide which, when, where and how to make decisions and stick to them.

Tomorrow the killing will be reported in the media. But, only the inhabitants of Birdy Land know that a man who hated his own life had a bit of love for a 12 years old shanty dwelling boy. Maybe the birds could decide who was the good citizen.

The birds who had flown away at the gun shots, came back to settle on the trees and their nests. Sunil’s duty as a good citizen was not finished. He counted the coins in his pockets.

It was just sufficient to make a telephone call to complete his mission. Some day when his father comes home from the prison, Sunil would ask him the name of the lawyer who had condemned him. Then Sunil felt happy with himself and the essay he will he writing tonight by the light of an oil lamp.

The bird settled over her eggs for the night. She began to think about the boy with the kind face and silent feet, and she wished he would come again tomorrow, because she felt the Most The Wonderful Event In The World happening under her warm plumed body.

She wanted him to witness it.