Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam
***
Chapter 29: Sundaram
Pandian
reached the jetty in Penang and left for Jeluthang. The cycle rickshaw in which
he was travelling was speeding through the Beach Street. The yellow rays of
evening sun burnt his face. All the way through were Chinese shops. Soldiers of
different races- White, brown and Black- were found walking and travelling in
vans. Some Chinese boys selling cigarettes were beseeching those soldiers to
buy from them.
“Johny…Johny
please one packet”
At
times, Anti-Fascist guerrillas were visible moving around with their olive green
uniform and rifles. The owner of betel leaves shop ‘Sweden’ was speaking
in broken Tamil to some men from Chetti Street as his spittle trickled out of his
betel leaves stained mouth. A couple of Chinese women wearing Pyjama were
passing by making squeaky sounds with their wooden slippers. The Malay women
were walking with their high heel slippers as softly as swans.
The
rickshaw took a turn to Jeluthang Road and sped along. Some military trucks
were speeding along with it and some in opposite direction. The Australian
sepoys standing at the back of truck bed were yelling, singing songs aloud.
Newly deployed jeeps and cars were moving fast and disappearing like beetles. A
group of workers working in boats was coming from the left, shouting, crossed
the road. The crowd was dragging a well fed, fatty proprietor with a rope tied
around his neck. “Japanese supervisor...Japanese supervisor” the crowd’s high
pitch shouts of accusations pervaded the air. It was a god given opportunity to
settle one’s scores, be it a Japanese owner or any owner the workers despised.
“Kaminabo”
The
rickshaw driver kept moving, ringing the bell throwing simultaneous abuses at
pedestrians who crossed his path and the car drivers who didn’t pave him the
way. Some prostitutes in colourful
silken attire were sitting cross legged in rickshaws coming opposite. They were
on their way to the town for selling their flesh- flesh trade- Siam Road,
Suliya Street and Love Lane…
The
rickshaw took a turn at Bera road and stopped in front of Manikkam’s house.
“Should
I wait sir?” rickshaw driver asked.
“No…”
After
paying the driver cash, he climbed up the steps. A young Chinese woman standing
in the front hall of the third house stared at him, without batting her eyes,
as if he were a thief. Another Tamil girl with a tattoo on her forehead wearing
a lungi Kimono sitting on a chair in the front yard of the next house, stood up
briskly on seeing him and ran into her house. A quite good number of kids were
crying in different tunes in union at the house of a Chinese Child Specialist
doctor.
“He has
gone to Bayan Lepas and will be back only in the early morning” Manikkam’s cook
Muniyappa told.
“Bayan
Lepas?”
“Yes…it
is true. You are ‘Sarang’ Pandian. Aren’t you?”
“How do
you know?”
“Three
of you are standing in the portrait”
“O!
O.K. Keep only Manikkam informed that I came here. If any other person asks
you, what will you tell them?”
“I’d
simply tell them that no such person showed up his face here and see for
yourself I hadn’t moved my ass from this chair”
“What
about your neighbours?”
“Very
tight lipped. That too, if it is our house matter, they will never open their
mouth”
“May I
take leave now?”
“I’ll
make coffee for you. You may leave after having it”
“I get
late. Will meet some other day”
“See
you soon…Should I arrange a rickshaw?”
“Not
needed. I can find one in the tri-junction”
“O.K
Anna. See you soon”
Pandian
boarded a rickshaw standing in front of coffee shop at tri-junction and
gestured to the driver towards north east. The rickshaw rolled away. ‘Where
has this bugger gone at this time?’
“Anna…Anna…”
The man
sitting in a rickshaw coming in the opposite side called out to him. Pandian
turned his casual attention towards him….it was Natarajan.
He
asked the driver to stop the rickshaw and alighted from it.
Natarajan
crossed the road and came running to him.
“Settle
the amount and come with me”
Natarajan
went back to the rickshaw driver who was wiping his forehead with his towel,
settled the amount and came to Pandian.
“Where
are you going?” asked Pandian.
“To
meet Manikkam Annan. That Sundaram fellow…who was in your company in Jarang….It
is good that I met you”
“I have
come here just to settle that matter anyway. Maikkam is not in home. He’d come
only in the morning. I have to finish that crook, Sundaram off by today”
“It
will be difficult to finish him off in Suliya Street. He is not moving anywhere
from there. We need to wipe him out without any trace of evidence. Don’t we?”
“We
can. Where is he in Suliya Street?”
“Jashwant
Rai shop upstairs. The room once held by the auditor. Other rooms are lying
empty. The iron door of the room is always kept opened as it is very old and
broken. It can’t be locked.”
“Mm”
“If we
can abduct him and bring him this side, execution will be a matter of minutes.
We’ve been also trying for three days but in vain.”
“We can
finish him off at his place itself”
“Mm…O.K”
“Weapon?”
“I have
kept in Pattani Road. Yours?”
“I
don’t have”
“Take
some sugar and make powder of it like flour. A glass paper in an attractive
colour, and a silk thread in different colour to bind it...Sugar should be of the
amount of tooth powder used for one brushing. Bring it in an eye-catching
pack.”
“Sugar?”
“Yes?”
“Why
sugar?”
“To
finish the task without any trace of evidence. Kek Cheng shop upstairs. Even
our people shouldn’t know about it”
“O.K.
Give me fifteen minutes past half an hour”
Natarajan
engaged rickshaw and left before Pandian.
Pandian
walked down a little distance and got into a rickshaw.
There
were many streets on both sides of the road. Gates Street, Java Street, McAlam
Street, Theema Street, Bruskrave Street where large number of Chinese people
lived. Big buildings owned by Chinese. Clothes were hanging on bamboo sticks
sticking out of those buildings for getting them dried in sun light. Six roads
and six tri-junctions met there. The rickshaw took a turn towards Penang road
and strode through the road where Lorries, cars, jeeps and cycles were
haphazardly moving from one side to another. On the right, was there Maxwell
road. On the corner, was there Windsor drama dais in cement colour. Below, on
the platforms were flower shops- Jasmine, Rose and Patchouli- the streets were
impregnated with horn sounds of cars, sweet voices of women, men and women from
different races. Mixed sounds of different languages. Winklok restaurant…Police
Head Quarters…Juval Mura…
“Stop”
The
rickshaw stopped, Pandian got off and walked down east for a short distance,
crossed the road and walked on the pedestrian path in the south. The crowd of
pedestrians was slowly moving with its mixed, incessant conversations.
“Roko…Roko…puoothe
poognaa rook” the boys selling foreign branded cigarettes were roaming, coaxing everyone
with their yells. Chocolate tins were placed on paper spreads on platforms
along with tooth paste tubes, milk boxes, soaps- all leftovers collected from
soldiers. The relentless screams of street vendors to sell their products were
causing ache in one’s ear drum.
Sundari,
the nurse working in Menon’s Clinic was going in the front with her voluptuous,
never aging body. ‘Has she got a boon of ever youthful body eating manna? Or
is it a result of personal attention with copious amount of make up on her
body? She is a mother of at least six or seven children. Isn’t she? Who’s that
tall build walking with her?’
He
entered Kek Cheng Gede coffee café and climbed up stairs. The tables below were
resonating with the mixed noises of various languages and clinking of
cutleries. Pandian went to the corner of room in south and sat there.
“Ah…Manikkan
poognar kaavan. Welcome sir welcome”. The shop owner greeted Manikkam’s friend,
Pandian.
“Hello Thavakke…how
about you?” asked Pandian.
“Good
good” the shop owner moved to other tables with a smile on his face. The
bartender came to him, bent down politely to take his orders. “Coffee bite,
cigarettes and magazine” Pandian ordered.
A
family from Yazhpanam was having their meals in the front. Some five or six
Chinese men were bargaining their business, writing something on a paper and
drinking tea.
Coffee,
cigarette and magazine were brought to his table. Pandian drank coffee without
milk as he was reading the magazine. ‘I need Manikkam now. Easy going
idiot…’ he thought.
He was
reading a government notification regarding the activities undertaken to
rejuvenate the resources of Malaya.
“Oh…sir.
It’s you. It’s been since long I last met you. You are in Malakka these days.
Aren’t you?” – A young man in white shirt and sandal pant greeted Pandian with
his folded hands.
“Welcome…welcome…quite
an unexpected meeting…have a seat…I am working in Muvar” Pandian replied to him
with his hands folded.
“I hope
I ain’t causing you discomfort. You have any work this side?” the visitor sat
beside him.
“Never…I
was just whiling away my time. Now I got a good company to spend my time anyway”
The
attender came running to them.
An
order for Mikarong, Pechang Papaya, coffee, juice was placed. Both started
eagerly discussing Subbaiya, Muthaiya and other Sathaiyas. The Chinese men
sitting upstairs went out sulking, unhappy about the outcome of bargain. The bargain did
seem to be unsuccessful. The Yazhpanam family also left the restaurant.
Natarajan
slid his hand into his pant pocket. Pandian gestured to him negative. The
attender boy brought the ordered items, placed them on the table and left. They
remained silent for some while.
Pandian
threw his eyes at the door and extended his hands curtly, received the pistol
and paper packet and slid the pistol into his pant pocket and paper packet into
his shirt pouch. Leaving the Kek Cheng restaurant, they walked down east and
turned to Suliya Street. The lamp posts were flickering here and there. A good
number of rickshaws were found at the entrance of every hotel transporting men,
women and eunuchs. The sounds of Majong game came out of them. The petty shops
nestling along the walls were drowned in descending darkness. Some Chinese
children were playing in those shops screeching at each other.
“Anna…Sundari…”Natarajan’s
left hand raised skyward pointing to a window upstairs.
“Let
her go hell…stinking whore”
The
lungi shop owner Vaiyapuri Muthaliyar was seen walking looking down as if
ruminating something very seriously.
“That
Chinnathambi, who was arrested yesterday is his son”
Pandian
turned his head and glanced backward. Muthaliyar was walking north with his
head still bent down.
“Why is
that scoundrel doing all these? Did you guys invite his wrath by beating him
black and blue for something?” asked Pandian.
“No…No…Anna.
It is just money.” Natarajan flipped his right hand last finger with his thumb.
“He is a glutton devouring biryani every time, Kafur Marakkayar should be begging
before him for the variety of cloths he puts on, and adding to it, expenses on
whores…people have seen him laughing with two old slattern hags at Ching Lyong
Hotel every night. A class womanizer” he wrinkled his face, “it is all just
filthy money”.
“O.K…O.K”
he patted Natarajan’s back reassuringly with his left hand.
Two
Tamil men working as clerks, wearing green blazers with a rose tucked in
button holes, went past them, fast, their heads emitting fragrance.
“Did
you ever try to make him understand that he is doing wrong?”
“Shameless
bastard! No use in preaching him morals. When Manikkam Anna sent him a person,
he refused to meet him”
“What
did Manikkam say?”
“He
told he would take a decision on Saturday on this?”
They
walked down south.
“Once I
hate a lusty loss” – they turned their head hearing a song sung by a white
soldier under inebriation. The soldier smiled at them holding the hat in his
hand.
“Hiiiiiii…My
name is Carter. C.A.R.T.E.R. Carter. Carl Lawnbury Carterllllll….corporal…sixth
Somerset. Hiiiiiiiiii”
They
moved away from him, walked on.
“The
flag of Hinomaru is gone. Now Carter flags are flying”
“Chin Peng*
flag may fly soon, who knows?”
“Yes…you
are right. Who knows?. Hiiiiii….my name is Carter. C.A.R.T….hiiii”
“Enough
of your rant”
They
walked on silently.
In the
front, Chellaiya and Abdul Kader were coming towards them, with their eyes
fixed on them. Pandian gestured to them as if finger-combing his hair to walk
on without paying attention to him. They went past him. Clanking noises of
hammers hitting the tin sheets were heard from the nearby workshops.
“We can
have a coffee at Kader’s shop. We have to get a flask full of coffee also”
They
entered the shop, and sat by a window. A group of Malay women were gobbling Idiyappam
with chicken curry.
“As
soon as the ship service resumes, my first and foremost priority is to leave
for home, Nana” – a voice from the rear announced.
“Even
if I starve back home, I will never get to board the ship anymore” Nana’s voice
sounded very firm.
“Get me
some coffee in a flask” Pandian held out a dollar note at the cash counter and
told, “We’ll collect the change when we come back with the flask”
“Not
needed sir. Please take it”
A
coffee filled flask arrived. He picked it and left. Their journey continued,
they went past the Pitt Street. Darkness had fully descended everywhere. Five
or six Gujaratis were talking in hushed voice at the entrance of Mangal Das
shop. The bell clanked at Queen Mariyamman temple. Singer Kittappa’s ‘Androru
Naal kutti’ song came floating in the air from Diwan Meera shop. With their
characteristic gesticulations, a group of eunuchs was talking aloud at the
corner of King Street.
Jaswant
Rai shop. Upstairs looked lit. They climbed up the stairs and found the door
half opened. Natarajan motioned silently that it was a wooden floor. They
pushed the door in and made a forceful entry. Sundaram, standing in front of mirror,
was smearing talcum powder on his face.
“Sundaram”
Sundaram
raised his head from the mirror and looked up to the caller. His eyes, visibly
upset, were fixed on Pandian with a singular focus. He rose gazing at Pandian.
His right hand reflexively went to his forehead and offered a humble salute to
Pandian.
The
visitors dragged the chairs and occupied them. The flask had now changed its
place from Pandian’s hand to Sundaram’s table.
Sundaram’s
eyes were fixed on Pandian, as if its lids had forgotten to bat.
The
‘Jarang’ lieutenant sat on a chair, stretched out his legs comfortably, cigarette
emitting smoke in his right hand fingers, left hand placed on his thigh and fingers
dancing on it.
“Sit
down”
Sundaram
shifted his eyes to the table, sat on a chair, nervously hit his elbow and
cautiously massaged it with fingers. His face and neck were shining with
profuse sweat. He turned to Pandian.
“Let me
go downstairs to order coffee for you” said Sundaram.
Pandian’s
cigarette smoke emitting hands pointed to the flask. Natarajan got up, cleared
his throat and sat by a window from where he could have a full view of the front
yard of the hotel.
“I have
some important work in Penang road” Sundaram rose staring at the wall. “I will
be back in ten minutes”
“Sit
down…If you want to go out, it will only be your dead body”
Sundaram
turned to Pandian, hugely struggling to bring his shivering body under control.
The Jarang lieutenant was sitting half-folding his left leg and the right
stretched out. Cigarette was still emitting smoke in the right hand and the
left hand fingers sitting on his thigh were cutely dancing. The lamp dangling
above head was swaying gently in air. The wall clock was ticking seemingly
computing the auspicious time of Sundaram’s death. Sundaram turned to western
side only to see the Sub Officer looking sternly, sitting tight lipped dangling
his legs from the window bed.
Sundaram
sat down. Interiors of his palms and thighs grew wet with sweat. Tongue dried
up and got his throat choke.
“Your
suspicion is baseless” he tried to mutter swallowing half of his words. “I have
never told Rakbir Lal matter to anyone”
“Why
did you betray Chinna Thambi?”
“Day
before yesterday it was Arumugam. Before that it was Sivasamy, Veeraiya…” the
Sub Officer intervened.
Jarang
Havildar’s entire body was soaked in sweat. His vest became so wet that it got
stuck onto his skin. He took out his hand kerchief, wiped his face and neck.
“Sundaram,
we have decided to finish you off before eight tonight” Pandian told
nonchalantly as he was imperturbably puffing at his cigarette. “Even if Netaji
resurrects and comes alive, he wouldn’t be able to change this decision.
Kathiresan is standing at the entrance and Manikkam at the rear door. It is
very certain that you will lose your life today. You have ten minutes more now”
He
shifted his face from the table and shrieked, “This is not Jarang camp. It is Penang.
They won’t leave you”
“Yes.
You are right. It isn’t Jarang Camp”
“I have
a work. I’ve got to go” he took a step ahead.
Pandian
got up in no time, the cigarette was shifted to his left hand, his right hand
folded in an angle, rose above and swung with a brute force brushing his chest
and returned after potentially damaging vitals on Sundaram’s ear, cheek, and
nose.
“Sit
down”
Sundaram sat down, like a machine obeying force applied
upon it. His body was shivering, eye lids batting incessantly, and his
right-hand fingers were rubbing his cheeks gently. Sitting on his chair,
Pandian sat folding his legs, right upon left. Cigarette from his left hand
changed to right. Natarajan jumped off the window bed, went out, examined
stairs and other rooms and stood at the entrance with his one leg in and
another on threshold.
‘Tick…tick…tick…the wall clock was nearing its
prediction. A melody of Sundarambal on the demise of Pandit Motilal Nehru was
coming from Diwan Meera shop.
Sundaram stared at them. They were looking at him
fixedly, as if having singular vision. Sundaram wiped his neck and forehead
with his kerchief, pathetically staring at them again keeping the kerchief in
his shirt pocket. ‘These men were staring at me with singular focus. Abdomen
grows chill. Bibi and Rumila will be waiting at Ching Lyong. Here two men who
are known for their ruthless way of killing are standing before me…’
“I accept what I did is a crime. Please forgive me. Next
week I will leave for my village. Let it be a new leash of life I get with your
magnanimity to correct myself .”
“Ohooo…If someone wrongs us, we have to do him good in
return. Don’t we? It doesn’t actually fit men like us. It fits senile men and
Thiruvalluvars”.
“I beg you with my two hands folded. Please do spare my
life”
“Once decided, it is decided anyway. No one can stop your
death”
“Anna…it is my bad time. I did everything out of
ignorance…”
“Sundaram, enough that you had been a coward till now. At
least at the time of death, be a brave man. Death has its own dignity. When
death gets inevitable, one must be ready to face it with courage rather than
crying like a eunuch. How a man died assumes more importance than how he lived.
Cowardice is the biggest enemy of Tamil men. We can never allow it. You are
going to sacrifice yourself for the sake of other Tamils. You must die. There
is no way to escape it. Dying for the sake of others, and that too, being
killed by your own friends is rare of the rarest award one can get in lifetime.
So, you must be happy and proud like Karna for getting a lifetime chance of
such a sacrifice which no one born on this planet would ever get.”
Pandian’s solemn words of reassurance brought Sundaram a
rain of sweat in his feelings and bathed his body. He couldn’t recollect all
what Pandian had told him in sequence. But he felt Pandian’s neutral words of
reassurance announcing one thing that they were sitting in that room as the
messengers of his unavoidable death and ruthless murderers who had no qualms of
killing.
The Sub Officer was watching them with his narrow mouth
and shrewd hunting eyes struggling to fathom Pandian’s proclivity to give
Sundaram a lecture instead of finishing him off without wasting time. Getting
him confused with his lecture may be one of his tricks but how about killing him?
With mere lecture and sugar?
Sundaram’s eyes were fixed on Pandian’s lap. Suddenly his
body went limb, trembled violently, looked up to him- a pistol in Pandian’s
right hand. He turned his face other side- a pistol in Natarajan’s left hand.
Looked at the wall in the front- a wall clock counting his last minutes with
its dreaded ticks…only a few more minutes more.
“You can’t escape after killing me. Berkele will hunt you down
by tomorrow…”
“O! Barkle! Major Peter Berkele. Now you are first.”
Pandian rose from his seat and said, “The time is up now. You have two
choices-How do you want face your death? Lying in a pool of blood with your
brain burst into pieces? Or solemnly dying by consuming poison?”
“Anna…please spare me” his helpless voice came out as if
cutting through his throat. “Anna…Please consider me your brother”
“Sundaram, I have come here to kill you. Not to save you.
The one who is going die shouldn’t raise his voice. It will increase the pain
of death” Pandian’s voice bore the resemblance of a mother singing her baby
lullaby. I have told you to be brave at least at the time of your death.
Haven’t I? If your death gets inevitable….”
“Annaaa…please spare me. Save me
please”
His feeble voice from his
tightened throat pit begged him.
“Reply to what I asked….it’s
alright. Let me decide. You will get your brain shot into pieces, and die your
death with your body wriggling in pool of blood….”
Sundaram’s body went lifeless.
‘Brain blasted into pieces, body in bog of blood …No…No….I can’t’ – Sundaram
blabbered, “Poison, peace, courage, death, peace, poison, death, courage,
poison, death, poison..” and finally settled with poison.
“Poison” his frail utterance
sounded as if he was speaking from the bottom of well.
“My dear friend, the poison I
have brought is extremely powerful and is usually with the Japanese Generals
for their private use. It is a high quality poison having no taste, odour.
colour, and won’t cause nausea or pain. It is pure white in colour. Sooner it
gets down your throat, you will die immediately. You will have no trouble. High
quality poison. Peaceful death”
Pandian took out a tumbler from
almirah, placed it on the table and filled it with coffee from his flask.
With his elbows sitting on the
table, Sundaram blankly staring at the tumbler. Even if he could escape from
these men, Kathiresan and Manikkam would tear him into many pieces. Coffee got
poured in…the tumbler was full. The flask sat straight on table after its task
with a mild thud. Sundaram looked up.
Pandian took out a small yellow
packet, opened it, and mixed its poisonous white powder with coffee. After
mixing it up, he crumbled the paper elegantly and kept it into his shirt pocket
along with the coloured thread that was used to bind it.
Sundaram was watching all these, ceremoniously
orchestrated in front of his eyes. ‘Why is he putting the paper and thread
into his pocket? Not to leave any traces of evidence? Even a bit of its odour
will be enough for Berkele to round them up’
“Do you want to leave any message
for anyone back home?”
Sundaram stared at coffee tumbler
and those two men brandishing pistols in their hands simultaneously. His throat
pit was dried up, ear drums grew numb, and eye sight became blurry.
“Any message you want to leave?”
Sundaram picked up the tumbler as
if being possessed by some strange spirits, and drank it in one gulp. ‘Peaceful
death, quality poison, death…no taste, no odour, nocolour…quality poison. No
nausea or pain…’
“At the end of your day, die a
peaceful death, my friend. Your death is painless, peaceful death that happened
at once”
Sundaram stumped his leg
violently on the wooden floor. He kept the tumbler on the table, arching his
back forward and in seconds suddenly fell onto the ground on his back.
“tick…tick…tick…”
Natarajan paced a couple of
steps, and checked his nostrils with his fingers, touched his body…Sundaram was
lying dead as a corpse on the cot.
“Heart attack”
Announcing Sundaram’s death in
categorical terms, Pandian poured the remaining coffee in the glass into flask
and filled in the glass again. He took out a flask from the almirah and
transferred the coffee from the flask he brought from the shop, into it.
“Let us leave…take it” he held
out the pistol.
“Don’t you need it?” Natarajan
received it, hid it in his waist belt and slid another into his pant pocket.
“There will be checking in jetty
area”
Natarajan collected the flask,
kept the door a bit more half closed, climbed up the stairs and walked down the
street south.
“Anna…what sort of a magic is
this?”
“I read a similar story in an
English magazine when I was studying in school. I just remembered it before
executing it”
“It looks like dream. Will it be
effective with everyone?”
“The success of magic tricks depends
on person. He is a coward and a womanizer as you said.”
“Even if he is a coward…”
“Mind is the basis of everything.
If you want to destroy your enemy, you should first get his mind intimidated”
“If he didn’t die in this magic…”
“In the event of poison trick getting
failed, I had kept another plan ready. It is also equally dangerous”
“What’s it? You may share it with
me”
“I’ll tell you when it is
required. They may come to you for enquiry. You first meet Manikkam and tell
him everything. He will take care of the rest. Investigation wouldn’t go beyond
a couple of enquiries. No place for charge sheeting as no one would be held
responsible for heart attack. He was suffering from ailments and was
essentially a glutton. You just maintain that you don’t know anything of it”
“I don’t know anything. I just
live for my livelihood. Nothing more Inspector. Be magnanimous to get me a job…I
will be grateful for ever”
“Yes…it gets late. Give me that
flask and leave me now. I’ll stay in Pataworth tonight and leave for Alor Star
tomorrow morning”
“O.K. It still looks like a
dream”
“What do you learn from this?”
“Mental strength is the basis of
all achievements”
“First mental strength. Then
comes the strength of your actions. Mayilappur Saliyan has also told that
strength of an action is nothing but one’s strength of mind. Let me take leave
now”
Pandian turned to left and walked
on.
***
K.K Resan alias Kathiresan, son
of Karmega Velar had stepped into the world of export-import business in the
city of Bangkok with the support of his maternal uncle who once worked under a
business man having close ties with Siamese royal family. In every letter Pandian
received every week from Kathiresan carried his repeated requests to pay a
visit to Bangkok city. It mentioned that Bangkok was the only city in the world
where one could find a prince and a Sanyasi in every household.
Pandian hadn’t visited Bangkok.
He decided to go to Bangkok and stay there for ten days.
One day morning he boarded the
train leaving for the capital of Siam.
***Chapter 29: “Sundaram” ended***
Chapter 30: “Bangkok” will be posted shortly.
Note:
*Chin Peng- The leader of Malaya’s communist party (Anti- Fascist guerrilla forces)