Through some miracle, there were no casualties. Men and women went very morning for their ablutions, by this generation much deeper burnt into them than just on a cultural or religious level. They didn't feel clean until they dunked themselves under the cool, green water of the Periyar.

And the Periyar sure did smell funny. Everyone noticed it. Gulf-returnees emerged from the cocoons of their luxury apartments to take a whiff of the fresh, foetid air in. They retreated, tortoise-like and confused.

Foul things were obviously afoot.

The swimming competition came closer and closer towards the little haggle of kids, practicing their swimming in the river every day.

So what if one them felt something wrap around his leg very quickly and then almost immediately let go? What Papa doesn't know can't hurt him.

So they swam, their little hands flailing against the week current, their nostrils and mouths filled with the stench and taste of something already dead. And those that opened their eyes saw fish, dead or almost dead. The living ones were soporifically creating little spirals as they blew their last bubbles out and up. The will to eat was gone for these fish.

The boys were slowly turning sick as well, psoriatic patches developing all over their lean, tanned bodies.

***

Vernon was not sure exactly how to feel. The man next to him was an old friend, to be sure. But what exactly did that even mean?

They had been passing acquaintances during Vernon's BA Economics days. Rampal was a science student so they never really interacted beyond the usual casual nods and fast handhakes they were so fond of back then. Vernon regretted that – not getting to know him better back then. They could have even had something to talk about now, had he thought of this earlier.

Vernon was sitting in the passenger seat of Rampal's Nano, playing with the window lever and poking around on the AC console.

"So, how's work?" Vernon ventured.

"Crawling along, I suppose. I get projects like this every once in a while. They make me happy."

His voice was still the low, brassy rumble that it used to be, his tone just as clipped and polite as back in college. Vernon had wanted to knock his teeth in back then, spoilt little fucker. Well, maybe not little. But a fucker, that was sure.

Vernon realized now that he had rather misjudged him. The man's very nature was that way. He epitomized "if you don't have anything to say...

"That's nice. That's really nice. Next left, please."

Rampal kept driving, expertly weaving through the traffic and the debris of the urban-metro rail project construction. Big pillars of granite and cement hung over them, casting weird and grotesque shadows on the ground below.

They drove in silence for the rest of the way, a silence Vernon forced himself to believe was companionable.

"Okay, stop here." Vernon said.

"But this isn't the river. This is a house."

"My house. You're coming for breakfast."

Vernon stopped talking. He was once again, just like in college, forcing himself to sound social; to sound like people on TV. To sound like people with a life.

Rampal got out of the car. "I'd prefer to get the work out of the way first, before we eat." His eyes roamed over Vernon's taut belly. "Unless of course you're hungry."

Fucking prick, Vernon thought. He swept his oily strands of hair back. "Okay. That's fine. Come with me."

Vernon led him past the house, into a thicket of tall trees. The ground was marshy and soft from fresh rain and Vernon felt his weight sink a little every step he took. The road grew narrower and narrower as the two man walked.

"I think you can start to see it from here. The trees, look at them. They're all very dry."

Rampal stopped and broke a leaf off one the lower hanging branches and snapped it in half. He swiped off some of the oozing sap and rubbed it between his fingers, raising it up to his nostrils.

Right, George of the Jungle, Vernon thought. "Anything?" he asked.

"Something doesn't smell right."

They walked down to the river and Rampal pulled a little vial from his test tube. He collected a sample of the river water and of the soil. Then, he went back and put his gloves on. He pulled out a few fish carcasses and packed one of them.

"Mathi fry for lunch, Ram?" Vernon attempted a joke.

"I hope for your sake you haven't been eating these."
They began the trek back.

Show up show up show up show up. Vernon kept repeating it as he walked, far too afraid to bring up the topic with Rampal just like that. Afraid he was seeing things and beyond that, afraid he wasn't.

And then it showed up. A few metres ahead on the road, a naked man stood, milking a goat. The man looked up at them and smiled.

"Did you see that?" Vernon asked.

Rampal's eyes were wide. For the first time, some emotion poured through.

"Did you see that?" Rampal managed to mutter.

"See what?" Vernon asked.

I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Give me a comment to let me know how I can improve as a writer.