Anjali Deshmukh
 
 
 
conviction
 
The Chance of Conviction. Digital print, 45x45. 2009.

Chance of Conviction Part 2 (excerpt) (see Part 1)

No, you're wrong. You've got the wrong idea...maybe. It was a lucid day of blue sky beating down, lowering itself towards the horizon and coating the rough stones in yellow whiteness. There are signs of wear and use, but very few people were around. No one, actually, except for two young men who were on the ground by a low table. It's really a board, an old recycled piece of furniture balancing on uneven stones that are hidden underneath the cover of a bright cotton cloth, yet another recycled thing. Spread out on the board are incense, ashes resting in a crooked line, candles, plastic idols, and fans. Maybe hundreds of fans, made of dyed feathers, paper, thin plastic.

The two were sitting at the edge of a dapple of shade cast by the row of cherry trees that are still shedding blossoms right now. That was probably a quiet time of day, a between-time of quietness leaping across spaces of crowded, shuffling figures ushered through mahogany doors.

Actually, it was quiet except for the sound of crows lining the branches of cherry blossom trees, flapping their wings and piercing through the branches with their shrieks; they hunted for the fall of crumbs from the two men eating their lunches in the trees' shade. But the two didn't notice a thing.

They ate in unison, synchronism that suggested that they could be twins from the way they were dressed. Paisley cotton shirts, torn fringes, dirty cuffs. Dirty black hair restrained with worn pomade. It's like they left practically the same mark here, symmetrical shadows of history. The only difference in their thin frames is in their shoe size, a nine and a nine and a half. A small but important detail. Brothers, maybe, but no, not twins. READ MORE