The Exorcist

Once upon a time, in Ranwar village, there lived a little boy who watched a lot of Bold and Beautiful and Santa Barbara. Every evening the family gathered around their ONIDA colour TV to watch Ridge Forrester raise his eyebrows at Brooke Logan. Then one day, in 1992, Aunty Mildred brought home a VCR player and everyone’s lives were changed forever.

Aunty Mildred had called out to Aunty Cleta from her balcony to share the good news.

“Aye, Cleta. Cleta, guess what, I got a new video player. My brother, Kenny sent it from Abu Dhabi.”

By evening, the entire village had heard that Mildred Rosario had a new VCR player. We each chipped in 50 paisa and Gilroy was given 5 rupees to rent a video cassette from Mullu’s Video Library in Chimbai. Gilroy returned with The Omen Part I starring Gregory Peck. Why Mullu, the owner of the video library, would recommend The Omen to a boy of ten is still a mystery, but the film turned out to be a runaway hit and horror movies became the most watched genre of the year in Ranwar village. We first watched all of The Omen films followed by Rosemary’s Baby, The Poltergeist and finally The Exorcist.

One night, around 9:30pm, while I was just about to finish my dinner and go over to Aunty Mildred’s house for a movie, the doorbell rang. My mother answered it.

“Come fast, men. Something’s happened to Cliffy.” It was Aunty Cleta.

“What happened?”

“He fell on the kitchen floor, but now he’s making strange noises and talking to somebody. I’m very scared, men. Please come.”

She was crying. But, Aunty Cleta was always crying. She cried every year during the Stations of the Cross when the priest said, ‘Jesus falls the first time.’ Also, it came as no surprise to hear that Uncle Clifford was making strange noises, especially when he had just returned home from Mimi’s bar. They used to put something in the alcohol in those days that turned men into Zombies. Almost all the men growled and barked on their way home from the bar.

My mother put on a t-shirt over her nightdress and went with Cleta to see what was wrong with Uncle Clifford. A few minutes later, both women were back at our house looking like they’d just seen the devil.

“Should we call Fr. Bertram?” Aunty Cleta was saying.

“It’s late, no? Will he come?”

“But, these things take place in the night only, men,” whispered Cleta.

“You’re right. Ok, let me call him. In the meantime, you go home and just make sure Cliffy doesn’t physically harm himself.”

Cleta rushed home, while my mother went to look for her special phonebook which she kept in the back of her cupboard under an unopened box of Mackintosh chocolates from 1987. We first opened the phonebook at ‘F’ for Father, but couldn't find his number. Instead there was a mortuary card for Flavia Furtado. We looked again under B for Bertram, but found two more mortuary cards.

“I keep these to use as bookmarks,” said my mother.

We eventually found Father Bertram’s number under the ‘Emergency Contacts’ page.

“Hello? Good evening, Father. I’m so sorry to disturb you at this hour. I hope you’re not too busy?”

Father Bertram was the most sought after priest in all of Bombay. He dealt with everything from demonic possessions to the devil’s influence on Rock n Roll music.

“Father, it’s about our neighbour, Clifford. He had an episode a few hours ago. His wife says she saw him on the floor barking like a dog and then later I saw it for myself.”

Father Bertram asked a few questions to which my mother answered with a ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Finally, she said,

“Yes, Father, I have Holy Water. In fact, I have a bottle of Holy Water from Lourdes. I’ll take the bottle, but please come, Father.”

She put down the receiver and repeated Father Bertram’s instructions. I was to fetch the bottle of Lourdes water, which, according to my mother and Father Bertram, should sort out the whole issue.

In case you are wondering, ‘Lourdes Water’ is Water from Lourdes - a small town in the south west of France that is very popular among Catholics as it is claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared to a young girl there. It is said that the water from Lourdes contains miraculous healing powers.

My mother was very excited to show off her bottle of Lourdes water. But, what she didn’t know was that a few months ago, my father, unknowingly, drank the entire bottle of Lourdes water with his evening whisky.

Anyway, after having finished all of our sacred Lourdes water, my father filled up the empty bottle with tap water and put it right back where he had found it. I was warned never to open my mouth about the incident.

It was a full moon night and the village had gathered around Aunty Mildred’s living room floor to watch Friday the Thirteenth. Aunty Mildred, who lived just below Aunty Cleta’ house, caught sight of us climbing the narrow staircase from her window.

“Aye, where your going quietly, quietly?”

“Oh, hello Mildred. Cleta invited us over,” said my mother.

“My… What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Father Bertram is coming… to…to… bless the house.”

“My… just see. I met Cleta this morning at the meat shop and she didn’t mention anything to me.”

“It must’ve been last minute.”

“But, she should have told me, no? I would have made something and sent.”

Not only was Father Bertram the premier Demon Slayer of Bombay, but, he was also the Choir Conductor, Parish Counsellor and President of the Ladies Sodality. If the church had something like a Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, then Father Bertram would have been its first inductee. And tonight, he was coming to Ranwar village.

“….I even invited Cleta over to watch Friday the Thirteenth, you know…” Aunty Mildred was still grumbling. My mother gave me a nudge and motioned for me to keep climbing the stairs.

Aunty Cleta was sitting in her balcony with the front door closed and bolted from the outside. She stood up when she saw us.

“I spoke to Father Bertram. He said he will come in half an hour.”

“Oh, how sweet of him.”

“Here, I brought some Holy Water from Lourdes,” said my mother.

“How you got Lourdes water, men?”

“My sister went to Lourdes last year, no?”

“Ah yes.”

“This year she went to the Holy Land and brought me sand from the Dead Sea.”

“My, how sweet.”

“Shall we go inside?” I asked. I was beginning to get restless.

“You go, baba. It’s in the bedroom.”

Poor Aunty Cleta had already begun to refer to her husband as it.

“Here, take this,” she said and pointed at a hockey stick lying behind the front door. It was a beautiful Vijayanti ‘U Blade’ hockey stick that belonged to Uncle Cliffy. He used to play for Bank of India, but nowadays it was used to kill rats and threaten some ‘bastard who thought he was big,’ as Uncle Cliffy would say.

Mother picked up the hockey stick in both her hands and gestured for me to open the front door.

“It’s in the bedroom,” whispered Cleta. She pointed us to the bedroom door and vanished into the kitchen.

Mother instructed me to sprinkle holy water around the door frame like some kind of sacred epoxy that might seal up the evil spirit.

“Not so much! I don’t want to waste all my Lourdes water on this idiot.”

I took a little water in my palm and splashed it over the door frame.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now open the door… slowly!”

I pushed open the wooden doors and stood back.

The room was dimly lit by a tiny bedside lamp. Uncle Cliffy was in bed; his back towards the door. He was talking to someone.

“Where the hell is Cleta?” My mother hissed.

“I’ll go call her,” I said, happy to get away from that door frame.

Aunty Cleta was bustling about in her kitchen, humming a tune and filling a tray with food and cold drinks.

“I just thought I’ll heat up some potato chops, men.” she said. “Mildred sent potato chops for Cliffy last week. You’ll have some Tang? I’m making a jug of Tang. Father Bertram might enjoy a cool glass of Tang, no?”

“Aunnie, I think you should come soon. Uncle Cliffy is talking to someone.”

“What? Oh my Jesus. Okay, I’m just coming.” She picked up the tray of food and followed me out.

“Cliffy, if you can hear me, say, ‘I love Jesus',” my mother was saying as we stepped into the living room. There was no response.

“Cliffy… Cliff, darling, say, I love Jesus, no?” Said Cleta. But, there was no response. Aunty Cleta set the food tray on the dining table, grabbed the bottle of water from my hand and rushed into the bedroom.

“Cliffy! Say ‘I Love Jesus’.” She yelled and splashed water on her husband’s face. This caused a deadly reaction from the evil. Cliffy jerked his head up and barked at the three of us. A moment later, we were out on the balcony again.

“Don’t be afraid,” said my mother. “The Lourdes water will protect us.”

Just then, we could hear singing from the street below.

“From a Jack to a King...I threw an ace and I won the Queen…”

It was Rocky Fernandes on his way home from the bar. Rocky looked up at the three of us and saw Cleta crying and my mother with a hockey stick in her hand.

“Aye, Cleta! What happened?”

“Don’t say anything to him,” my mother whispered.

“No, nothing,” said Cleta.

“What happened, men?”

“Shhh! Rocky, go home.”

But, it was too late. Rocky was already climbing up the stairs, which was no easy feat for anyone who’d spent their evening at Mimi’s bar. By the time he reached us on the balcony, he looked like he was going to pass out.

“Wha…wha… Cleta…wha…what happened?” He asked.

“It’s Cliffy. He’s in the room…” is all that Cleta could say.

“Wha… what he did? What he did, men? He hit you? That bash-turd hit you?”

Rocky grabbed the hockey stick from my mother’s hand and stormed into the house. We quickly followed and stood behind him.

“Where is he?”

Agnes pointed at the bedroom door, thinking maybe it would be better for a drunk person to face off against the devil.

“Clifford! Clifford! Come out!”

Rocky banged on the door with the hockey stick and again we heard the familiar bark from within the room.

“What he’s saying, men?” Asked Rocky.

“That’s not Cliffy. That’s not my Cliffy,” Cleta whimpered.

“Not Cliffy? Who’s inside, then?” Asked Rocky. “Aye Bleddy Bashturd, come out if you got the guts?”

There was a knock on the front door and Agnes rushed to answer it. It was Fr. Bertram, at last.

“Good evening, Father. Please come in and have a seat.”

Father Bertram entered and took a seat at the dining table. He wore black trousers and a black long sleeved shirt with a white clerical collar, just like the priest in The Omen. His eyes were red and his face and hair the colour of ash. He smelled of alcohol, cigarettes and stale sweat.

“It’s so hot, no? Here, have some Tang, Father. I made Tang. You want potato chops?”

Tang was the gold standard of cold drinks. Only gulf-returned people drank Tang while Rasna was for the masses. Father Bertram put down his briefcase and took out a diary and a bible. He took a sip of his cold drink and began;

“Has there been any change in his behaviour since we last spoke?”

“No, father. Still the same.”

“But, he’s definitely responding to my Lourdes Water,” said my mother, who was not to be outdone by Cleta’s Tang.

“Is that your husband?” Asked Fr. Bertram. He was looking at Rocky who was still banging the bedroom door with the hockey stick.

“No, father. That’s Rocky. He’s just had too much to drink. But, he came to help.”

“Good evening, Father,” Rocky began. “I was just walking home and…”

He paused for a second and looked at the hockey stick in his hands as if seeing it for the first time. He looked up at Father Bertram and down again at the hockey stick and finally said,

“It’s not right what Cleta is doing, Father.”

“What?” said Father Bertram.

“It’s not my business, Father. But, there’s a man in the bedroom who is not her husband and I’m happy they called you to sort it out because I would have broken that bashturd’s legs.”

“Shut up! You bloody drunkard! My husband is in that room and he’s possessed by the devil.”

“Shhh, the neighbours will hear you,” my mother whispered.

But, it was too late because Ranwar neighbours hear everything. In fact, Ranwar neighbours have the ability to hear about incidents even before they occur, but that’s another story.

“Has Clifford been possessed before?” Asked Father Bertram.

“No, Father.”

“So, this would be his first possession?”

“Yes, Father. Will you have some potato chops, Father?”

“Does Clifford keep any charms or bracelets in the house?”

“No, Father.

“Has Clifford received any presents or food in the last few weeks from anyone?”

Agnes thought for a moment.

“No, Father. Oh, wait…”

Cleta was looking at the potato chops on the plate.

“Last Sunday, my neighbour, Mildred, sent these potato chops for Cliffy,” she began in a hushed whisper. “My Cliffy loves potato chops. It’s not that I can’t make it, ah. I can make it. What is there to make potato chops? Honestly speaking, Father, it’s a headache. But, Mildred has lots of time on her hands, so she makes potato chops, pan rolls, cutlets…”

Father Bertram continued writing in his diary. You could tell Rocky was still processing My husband is possessed by the devil because he moved away from the door and glued himself to the farthest corner of the room.

“Okay, let us begin,” said Father Bertram. “Where is the Holy Water?”

“Here, Father. Water from Lourdes,” said my mother, handing him the plastic bottle of tap water.

Father Bertram took the bottle of water in one hand, the bible in the other and stood before Clifford’s bedroom. He was about to push open the doors when there was another knock on the front door. Cleta went to answer it.

“Good evening Cleta. I thought you were coming to watch the movie tonight. I was waiting for you.”

It was Aunty Mildred standing at the door, carrying what looked like food wrapped in an aluminium foil. She looked over Cleta’s shoulder and spotted Father Bertram.

“Oh Father Berty! My, what a surprise. I just dropped in to call Cleta for our movie, which reminds me, I was meaning to as you. Father, what is your opinion on horror movies? Does the Church condemn watching horror movies?”

“Mildred, Father is a little busy right now,” Cleta interrupted. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, I’m so sorry to disturb you. Actually, I brought some of my special Black Forest cake for Cleta. But, Father, since you’re here, you must try some of my cake. Cleta, you don’t mind, no? I’ll send some more tomorrow.”

Aunty Mildred crossed over to the dining table and opened up the foil package. She took out a piece of cake and handed it to Father Bertram, who was still standing by the bedroom door with Bible and water bottle in his hands. Father Bertram put down the Bible and took the cake from Mildred. He was just about to take a bite of the cake when Cleta interrupted again,

“Father, remember the potato chops?”

“What potato chops?”

“The potato chops that Cliffy ate,” she said.

Cleta was pointing her lower lip in Mildred’s direction and moving her eyes back and forth between the potato chops and the piece of cake in Father’s hand.

“Oh my potato chops!” said Mildred. “Father, you must try them. Everyone keeps asking me for the recipe and I tell them it’s just regular mince, but I add one secret ingredient. ”

My mother and Cleta glanced at one another. I knew what they were thinking. The secret ingredient was black magic stuff. There was an awkward silence, which was shattered by another bark from inside the bedroom.

“My God, what was that?” said Mildred.

Aunty Cleta pretended as if she didn’t hear anything.

“What was what?”

“What was that noise?”

“That’s the bloody devil,” shouted Rocky. Aunty Mildred turned to see Rocky for the first time since she’d entered the house. He was still standing in the corner, holding onto the hockey stick.

“My… what is this idiot doing?” Mildred blurted out.

“There’s a devil in this bloody house,” cried Rocky.

“Aye, who you calling devil, men? You bloody drunkard.”

“Just shut up!” Rocky shouted back. “You have woken up the devil.”

“Then go back to sleep, men, Bevda.”

The two of them continued to yell at each other. Aunty Cleta took her chance to warn Father Bertram about Mildred’s voodoo food. She grabbed the potato chops from the table and the cake from his hand and threw it out of the window. There was another bark from inside the room. Father Bertram pushed open the doors and entered.

“Nobody gives two shits about your cake,” shouted Rocky.

“Who offered you, men?”

“I don’t want your black magic cake.”

“It’s Black Forest cake, idiot. Just see, men. He’s calling it Black Magic cake.”

Shouts could be heard from inside the bedroom now.

“Stop it. Stop it and get out,” Uncle Cliffy or the demon was shouting.

“In the name of Jesus, I command you…” Father Bertram thundered.

“Get out!” shouted Cliffy.

“My God, what’s happened to Cliffy?” shouted Mildred.

“Your potato chops have fucked him up,” snapped Rocky.

“Shut up! bevda! Go home.”

Poor Cleta looked like she was about to collapse. But, to everyones surprise, Father Bertram emerged from the room only a few minutes later and closed the door behind him. He took a seat at the dining table and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. Everyone stayed perfectly still and waited for Father to speak.

“He’s fine,” he said at last. “Just let him sleep it out till the morning.”

“Lourdes water is so powerful,” my mother said.

The next morning, the whole village dressed up for Sunday mass, except Uncle Clifford whose voice could be heard yelling from the balcony. The hot topic of the week was obviously Uncle Cliffy’s demonic possession. Nobody wanted to go near him or the house. But, our greater fear was Aunty Mildred and her black magic ways. If she was really a witch, then that would explain her passion for horror movies.

After mass, my mother asked me to help out at the Ladies Sodality food stall that was setup in the church compound.

“But, how did he manage to get possessed?” Asked Linda from the Ladies Sodality.

“She dabbles, men… in all that black magic stuff.” my mother whispered.

“Who? Who?”

“Don’t mention it to anyone because only I know about it, but Mildred dabbles in Black Magic.

“What? Our Mildred?”

“She put something in the potato chops that she gave Cliffy.”

“My Jesus. Poor Cleta.”

“They’re saying Mildred wanted to cast a spell on Cliffy.”

“Why Cliffy?”

“Jealousy, what else?”

“Poor Cleta, men,” said Hilda. “As it is she’s had to deal with a drunkard and now she has to deal with a drunkard who is cursed.”

The three ladies stood for a moment in silence.

In the distance, I could see Aunty Mildred walking towards the stall.

“Shhh, Mildred’s coming.”

“Morning Linda. Morning Hilda. Here, I brought some potato chops for the food stall".

Sketches by Keith Coutinho

@iamxapai