Lindsay Pereira’s new short story ‘Return of the King’

Karthik caressed the material as if it had been the cheek of a cherished one. He used the again of his palm, permitting the fabric to maneuver of its personal volition, pulling his hand away guiltily when he observed the grime beneath his fingernails. Sheathed in plastic, the outfit hung behind an olive-green Godrej cabinet, tucked to the suitable and out of sight.

He hoped it nonetheless glimmered the way in which it had when he set eyes on it a decade in the past at Chagganlal Dresswallah’s retailer. It had value greater than his month-to-month wage on the time, and he remembered the salesperson stifling a bored smile as he handed over the garments and pointed to a cashier. What might a dark-skinned boy probably need with an Elvis Presley costume?

If that smirking salesman had been to satisfy him as we speak, he would lastly have a solution.

Shifting the outfit apart as he reached for a plaid shirt, Karthik thought, as he typically did, in regards to the first time he heard the King. It was Love Me Tender, a tune most likely requested by some teenager on the radio present Saturday Date. He remembered how crisp it sounded of their one-room condo, pouring out of a brand new Murphy set that glowed dimly beneath a tubelight. That was when his father was nonetheless round, months earlier than he disappeared into the dusty sands of Bahrain, misplaced both to an industrial accident or the arms of one other lady. Karthik would by no means know as a result of his mom by no means talked about her husband once more. All that remained of him had been two sweaters — his different clothes lengthy exchanged for utensils — and a light wedding ceremony {photograph} positioned throughout the folds of her nicest sari, one she would by no means put on once more.

Different recollections rose gently to the floor as Karthik buttoned up his shirt: expertise competitions at college, Diwali events on the workplace, his arm swirling in an imaginary circle whereas he went down on one knee crooning Presley’s hits and misses. The lyrics to well-known songs like Hound Canine got here unbidden to his thoughts, together with extra obscure ones like Promised Land. They had been adopted by the reactions his impressions elicited, expressions of astonishment giving approach to laughter and derision. He stopped dressing for a second and sighed. Elvis Presley had died in 1977 and nobody might stand the concept of him being resurrected by a South Indian man. Now, on the cusp of 2022, Karthik supposed to vary that.

Outdoors, the sounds of Kalina rushed in as if a window had been out of the blue flung open. Realising he can be late once more if he didn’t bathe shortly, he cursed himself for daydreaming. There was nothing previously however desolation, he reminded himself, shutting the cabinet.

Strolling into the workplace at Parel an hour later, he felt his shoulders droop in a well-known trend. They fell in keeping with how time at all times appeared to decelerate inside these premises, taking over the feel of molasses. Shifting into his cubicle, he turned on his laptop and double-clicked the day’s first Excel sheet.

Round him, dialog ebbed and flowed, damaged once in a while by a loud comment. Karthik didn’t lookup. He had no illusions of how dispensable his function within the accounts division was, nevertheless it was all he had recognized. This was the place he had labored for nearly three many years now, the primary firm he had utilized to after graduating with a level in commerce. It was the job that allowed his mom to lastly cease operating a tiffin service to pay for his training.

He had spent years together with his eyes firmly on columns and rows. Colleagues who had lengthy moved to raised jobs would ask him about girlfriends or an organized marriage, then stopped joking about his sexuality when it grew to become obvious that he was glad to occupy a room with simply his mom and music assortment.
Ten minutes earlier than 5 pm, Karthik walked into the supervisor’s workplace to announce his resignation.

There was shock as a result of he had provided no warning indicators. He was supposedly as dependable because the furnishings, a blind spot meant to remain till retirement earlier than fading away with an engraved watch and LIC coverage. He gave no causes, and politely refused to rethink.

Not one of the sights or sounds on the journey residence registered as he considered the remainder of his night. It had been three months since his mom handed away, snatched away cruelly together with tens of millions of others by a virus that laughed within the faces of these it left behind. His had at all times been a darkish world, however the gloom appeared deeper. The one brilliant factor left to him lay in his cabinet, ready to be let loose.

Unlocking the door, Karthik slowly undid his shirt. He considered early rumours of Elvis being alive and the way they’d quietened down years in the past. There had by no means been a resurrection reported from Asia. Stepping out of his trousers, he walked in his socks in the direction of the cabinet, his higher lip curling slowly upwards. “Clever males say,” he hummed, “solely fools rush in…”

Opening the cabinet, he reached for the outfit and eliminated its protecting sheet. The shirt and trousers had been white, with gold sequins on each inch. They didn’t shine as brightly as he remembered them doing however twinkled within the fading mild and distracted him into silence. Shutting the cabinet, he put them on and stood earlier than the mirror, tying the cape. The darkish glasses might come on later, together with mascara and his most popular whitening cream.

Turning to his stereo system that stood in a nook, Karthik reached for a cassette from the highest of a pile. Sliding it in, he turned up the amount and went again to face earlier than the mirror. He imagined hundreds of lights happening and a highlight ready for him within the centre of his room. Moving into it, he threw up one hand. This might be the 12 months Karthik would die. However Elvis Presley would dwell.

Lindsay Pereira is a Mumbai-based author. His debut novel Gods and Ends (Penguin Random Home) was shortlisted for the JCB Prize for Literature and Tata Lit Dwell First Guide Prize