The Conversation of Plants (Thavarangalin Uraiyadal) by S Rama Krishnan

This is an English Translation of "Thavarangalin Uraiyadal", a Short Story written by S Rama Krishnan Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam

S Rama Krishnan 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam

When Robertson was travelling to India from England by the ship ‘The Great Coast’, he avoided conversing and drinking liquor with any of the East India Company Officers who were accompanying him in the journey and rather spent all his days scrutinizing the geographical maps in his chamber instead. He was busy learning, during his ten days journey, about some enigmatic plants nurtured by some specific communities on the slopes of Indian mountains, scripts made with coded pictorial representations about the art of growing plants and the secret sign language used to understand the conversations of plants during eclipses. He was awestruck, startled learning all these. Unmindful of his bizarre interest on plants, his fellow Company officials were busy with noisy revelry celebrating the birth day of Jesus Christ which added up to their gaiety.  

As most of them had frequented India, they were gabbling on excitedly in inebriation about the busty dark-complexioned women, the jungles for hunting and wondered how foolish the people were being unaware of guns.  

As he knew something about the book “The Secret Life of Plants” written by Thandavaraya Swamigal of Thirikoodar Hills, Robertson was busy recording his impressions sitting in his cabin where he could avoid the noise of his merry making friends and was seriously thinking of its manuscript which couldn’t be traced anywhere. He had prepared an exhaustive procedure for searching the manuscript of Thandavaraya Swamigal which could arguably prove, all western knowledge gained in the field of botany till date, false. Recording the conversations of plants during eclipses was the quintessence of his journey. He was surprised to see every Indian book written about botany just looked a bundle of stories resembling parted feathers of some fantasy.

On the next night after Christmas, he was standing on the upper deck of the ship, his face looking pale, bearing the restiveness of unending waves of sea birds. His mind was fully occupied with Thandavaraya Swamigal as he was staring at the sea blankly holding his grey hat on one hand. He was thinking of secret symbols hiding in every family in Indian lives laden with riddles and their illusionary, enigmatic imaginations. His fellow traveller in the ship, a lady with the name Robertson went past his room watching it still lit. She kept on hearing the sounds of his sleepless babbling daily. He was speaking himself as if he was speaking to someone unknown. The Spanish servant boy who served dinner saw him lying amidst papers with swollen eyes. His cat was sleeping upon his gun. He got treated by the doctor on the fourth day and came to the upper deck with his cat on one hand and a black hat on the other. His cat was staring at the sea. The fry further went deep into the water on seeing the shadow of the cat on water surface. In his dream that night, the gluttonous giants, about whom he had read in Indian mythological stories when he was young, were belching out with their stuffy stomachs after swallowing up that ship.

On the evening the ship was nearing the shore, he kept his boxes ready and was gazing at the landscapes lay before him, with the cat in hand. Before alighting from the ship, he drank a bottle of liquor, threw the empty bottle away into the sea. The Sun fell into the sea. The harbour with fishing boats was visible at the distance. The wind from that unknown land flew across, gently stroking the back of the cat. With its eyes dizzying, his cat travelled in the chariot along with Robertson, enjoying the semi-dark evening.                      

After seven days, he reached Madras. Since it was a holiday, there was not much crowd in the city. Only birds were sitting along the shore. A couple of children were seen roaming around with fishing nets. On his way to the Church located along the shore for offering prayers, a woman with six fingers carrying a fibre basket in her hands smiled at Robertson displaying her betel leaves stained teeth. It looked as if the whole area full of red colour buildings, trees grown along with reeds and huts nestled in coconut trees, had become alive from the dream. While returning from his prayer, he met Gomathi Nayagam Pillai who had come from Welsy Bungalow, awaiting him. Gomathi Nayagam was fifty two years old then. His wife was carrying her eighth child.

On his way, when he met the six fingered- woman once again, he realised that there was an irresistible strong attraction and charm in her. He stood there, kept looking intently at her. She took no time to tell him on his face. “Don’t search for the origins of streams, women and trees. Leave this place”. She gave him a wooden toy while leaving him. The toy had sex symbols of both the genders. A lot of coded languages were found carved on its body. Unmindful of the palm sized toy he was holding in hands, Robertson was busy enquiring Gomathi Nayagam pillai about her. When he was informed that she was a soothsayer woman, belonging to weaver community and their words were powerful enough to become true, he could feel that death was hiding behind the charm found in her stained teeth.       

All what he was talking the whole next day with Pillai was nothing except the Thirikoodar Hills. Pillai thought that he was also as fascinated as other English men who were having an unrelenting thirst for hunting. But hearing his frequent references to Swamigal and some enigmatic plants, he told himself that he must be under the spell of an invisible madness. Robertson roamed around the city of Madras and could succeed in procuring some copies of botanical treatises and history of jungle anecdotes that were hiding in some old book shops that had been still thriving since Mogul period. He understood that some plants nurtured in some families for generations had grown up as extended branches of time and acquired some super natural power. That, they are the ones which teach all the secrets of man-woman relationship and as they are carrying the hereditary memories of families, they tend to acquire the power of shining, he thought. When he came across stories related to shrubs used as narcotic substances, creepers inducing secret passions, flower plants kept in bath room blossoming in dreams at the sight of nude young virgin, the lonely tree radiating the smell of animosity and the branches of trees where the spirits were hiding etc, his interest on the subject increased many fold. Robertson’s cat was getting accustomed with the surroundings. The women walked away from the area where the black cat with green eyes was roaming, went by other small paths, and hid themselves instead.

Gomathi Nayagam had made all the arrangements for the journey to Thirikoodar Hills. Robertson was writing a letter to his wife. Before he completed the letter with the last line, he heard someone knocking at the door. He stepped out of the house, and saw the six fingered woman walking at a distance. A head of a rooster with blood streaking out was found lying at his door.

Countless number of water falls were found in Thirikoodar Hills. There found stone statues of lions, stone halls with water sprayers, trees whose names were unknown, monkeys, stone beds of ascetics and Siddhars in the caves, water springs, long tailed dragon flies, bushes full of heart shaped leaves, rocks, black rocks, sleeping trees, the lonely house of Neeli, wood leaches, wild squirrels, skulls of dead hunters, heaps of elephant dung, army of flies, scabby flowers, white cloths of people who died falling into the springs that looked like dried honey comb, drunkards roaming around seeking sexual pleasure, illicit gamblers, a statue of Amman without breasts, an altar stone with the stains of pig’s blood, pebbles reminding breasts and grey ducks. When Robertson arrived in there, the rainy season was still not over. Despite it post winter season, it was still raining. He reached the foothills in one morning when the hill witnessed simultaneously sunny light on its one side and rain on another side. His cat, staring at the trees till then, raised its head as it sniffed the odour of meat.

The verdant expanse of the Thirikoodar hills covered his body and made it look greenish. His body was just physically standing in front of the Thirikoodar hills, which he till then had seen only in geographical maps and fantasies, with all its senses surrendered muttering with itself. A big empty space where the sound of humans became almost non-existent was lying beneath the hills. The game of sun light’s arrival and the rain’s disappearance went on concomitantly. All rocks became alert at the sound of human presence. Robertson let his cat go from his hands slowly and walked along the twin falls. The red flowers were strewn on along the path. It looked as if frozen with the spread of dense mosses. The day time was lengthening itself. The remains of hunters’ foot prints could be seen. The wind was throwing the noise of falls at the hills. The foot prints were found erased on the boulders which stood obstructing the paths. Small caves were visible all through the way. Since they were small caves he could sense them badly stinking with broken mud pots scattered all around. He saw all the caves having inevitable scent of women in them. The bats were sleeping in the warmth found inside the caves. He found that some caves had springs and eye- shaped boulders were placed on them to obstruct it. Behind the twin falls, the trees were thickly grown all through the way. Some trees that shed its leaves were staring at the sky. It was looking like a forest area without much of human activity. The cat came back shaking its head after roaming around somewhere, with wild flies sticking all over its body. Robertson lit a fire to get rid of the wild flies. The cat curled its tongue towards the flames of fire. Till the evening of his first day of expedition, Robertson was roaming along the hill tracks found behind the twin falls, but returned in vain. All his maps had become like toy boards. He saw all paths were either found closed or half of them were cut off.

Robertson was looking very much disappointed and his heart was filled with the springs of bitterness when Gomathi Naygam Pillai met him that night. He was unable to find out any way. Next day, Gomathi Nayagam took Robertson to a village called Koodankaavu. The sun light descended upon that village of which all houses were thatched with tiles. They were walking through the village where one could see cows and children everywhere, went directly to Thaan Thondriya Pillai’s house. Thaan Thondriya Pillai, a stout frame possibly due to excess water content and blackened foot welcomed them and offered them seats. Following their lengthy conversation all through the day, Pillai brought some science books and manuscripts from the inner rack of his house, showed them to Robertson.

Robertson asked him, “Are plants capable of speaking? Are there any enigmatic plants around here?”

Thaan Thondriya Pillai walked up to the inner hall of his house, ensured that there was no woman in the house. He, then, lowered his voice and told, “Yes. It is most likely. They do speak. As the women in the house shouldn’t hear this, I am telling this secretly. The plants are capable of speaking. They are aware of secrets. Thandavaraya Swamigal even told that they have flesh like humans”

Pricked by the reference of Thandavaraya Swamigal’s name, Robertson asked him to provide more details about him.  Pillai told him that he hadn’t known about him much; he would roam around the jungle half nude; women would close their doors whenever he entered the village; no woman would ever cross his way. Sufficient amounts of grains would be dispatched to him. Along with these details, when Pillai added up one more information that Swamigal died of syphilis, Robertson understood that it were all nothing but exaggerated fantasies.

Robertson spent the whole of rainy season in meeting a lot of persons. Even those who knew about Thandavaraya Swamigal repeated the same stories. Some more anecdotes were also added in the stories about him and it got extended into different narratives such as he was capable of bringing the trees along with him while coming down the hills, he could make the trees know young women’s bodies so as to satiate their mysterious desires; he himself was a magician and he knew about coital techniques. But the manuscript of “The secret Life of Plants” was not available with anyone. Every one showed him the picture of Thadavaraya Swamigal with his six fingers, long matted hair and thin frame, instead. 

Once the rainy season was over, the paths to Thirikoodar Hills opened up. Robertson started walking deep inside the hills till midnight, carrying ration along with him sufficient for a week. The dark paths of the hills became clear as they received the sun light. The yellow insects stuck to the rocks had started falling down. The trees with heavy roots were heaving sigh. Passing through the slits found in the rocks, Robertson reached the inner layers of the jungle. The jungle looked like a green cup. All the components of it seemed to have lost their shapes. Other than rocks and trees, he couldn’t see anything. He felt that nights in the jungle were colder and greener than they were during the day. He could hear whispers and the sound of flutters of wings raising and dropping somewhere. The bodies of twin trees intertwining with each other became visible. Darkness had descended upon tall trees where snakes were hiding. Seeing the trees hit by broken arrows, he was walking past further deep into the jungle. Now, the trees looked standing alone and unruly. The trees resembling stones were sucking up the moisture.

On the third day, his cat was seemingly frightened at the shrubs found around. At the touch of his cat, some plants closed their leaves. The only butterflies flying above the cat  gazed at it. When he followed his cat which fell down after a failed attempt of jumping from a boulder, Robertson came across a falls which no one had ever seen.

It was a falls falling from a great height. The magnificence of that falls falling from the edges of rocks was not known as yet. It was further more surprising to see that the falls didn’t make noise despite falling from such a height. It appeared that a sort of superlative silence was descending. For the first time, he saw a falls which didn’t make any noise. Even the burbling of water was also absent. He was lying there for two full days amidst the wet rocks through which the water flowed, watching the falls like an animal. No sound anywhere. He couldn’t understand where the sound of falls was hiding itself. Even his cat which was lying on the rock, full of flowers grown on it, could not remove its eyes from the marvelous scenery unfolded in front of it. On the third day, he went near to the falls, stood under it. The falls with its speed, chillness and fragrance swept him away. He was lying there watching the white flowers blossomed everywhere on the right side of the falls. Those flowers looked like a tube with eight petals. He uprooted one white flower plant along with earth. He completed drawing the layout of falls during the day time. Unable to withstand the 'laughter' of the Silent Falls, he got himself withdrawn from it, crawled along the rocks and reached his home after six days, only to be found that he had been infected with water born fever, and was too feeble to talk. He was treated by Gomathi Nayagam Pillai and got cured. The very thought of the Silent Falls caused him immense pain in his heart. There were some conspicuous changes in his behaviour too after his return from the jungle. In one of his dreams on a night, he found his body becoming a big hill and his body parts turning into trees. The blood was gushing out of his heart like silent falls and flowing from head to toe. Once he realized that the jungle where the silent falls flowed was nothing but human body, the plants mentioned in the “The secret Life of Plants” was nothing but man and it was the plants that resided in the human body were capable of talking, having secret desires, he relinquished all his clothing at once and started roaming around Thirikoodar Hills with his black cat.        

The Paliyar women used to see the “Cat Man’ many a times lying in the rubble. His body bore the scars of leech bites and cracks from the scabby skin. His cat, totally changed its behaviour now, had started screaming at everything. People had seen it scratching the trees and chasing something invisible in the air. The face of the ‘Cat Man’ was full of thick facial hairs. At times, he made visits to Paliyar villages, stayed there for some time. However, the trees hiding in his body were inducing his passions even though he avoided talking with people. On the day of eclipse, everyone went into hiding at their houses. When the Cat Man went to the village on that day, it stood carrying a deserted look. Paliyars told him that it was the day the plants would talk to each other. He went down from the hills on its left side. The shadow of eclipse started shrouding all over. The day became dark and the jungle went into night. So dark it was through which even fly couldn't penetrate. The trees stood with their heads down. The branches extended its hands and hugged each other. The small shrubs became lively. The touch of leaves and their mild scent created an inscrutable sense of lethargy. The petals of couple of flowers blossomed, hugged the shrubs on the other side. The roots started shaking as if there was a water current beneath. The sniff of trees was making noise. The trees loosened their bodies and passionately attracted to each other. The stony trees started shining, stretched out their branches. Even trees which were sleeping till then, got up and shared their cravings. The Cat Man felt that it was conversation of the plants in the jungle.

From the nerves of leaves hugging each other, light was streaking out. The trees intertwined with each other gently like snakes. The individual trees standing on the hilly rocks stretched out their bodies, started eating up the fruits of flower plants standing at the edges of rocks as if they moved out of their place, coming down. Countless number of seeds fell down. Once the eclipse was over and the streaks of sun rays came out, the leaves released themselves from their cuddle. The trees straightened their bodies. The fruits that were half eaten were restless. The leaves which were unable to release themselves from the flowers were cut off. The jungle was filled with relaxation of trees at the sun light and restiveness of lust. The air around spread an aroma of waves. The jungle ceased its bustling and returned to its initial calmness. Robertson was blinking with disbelief, confused as to whether all what he saw were real or just an illusionary representation. In case, if it was real, the secret life of plants was just similar to humans. Wasn’t it? A myriad information had been hiding in the layers of their memories. Hadn’t it? A botanist called Robertson who was hiding inside the Cat Man became alive, and came out. The events he saw just a while ago were pretty true. It was a marvellous fact that no other botanist had ever discovered till date. After this discovery, one would be able to understand plants only through the scientific procedures employed for studying human behaviour.  Since they have the nuances of human attributes and dreams, trees are able to mingle with human beings easily. Having decided to go down to register what he had seen, he went to the Paliyar village.

The Paliyar village women were walking before him with wet clothes sticking onto their body after bathing. It was only at that time, he noticed one thing. All women had their stomach tattooed with a long shrub with leaves and flowers. There was a picture on their breasts as if it was covered with green leaves like shrubs tattooed on their stomach. He understood that the plants were some kinds of rare code languages to indicate something important in Indian lives. Leaving his cat alone, he came down from the hills in haste. The door which he had left closed already remained closed as it was. The news of Robertson’s death provided by Gomathi Nayagam had also gone to England. 

He entered his room through the rear door, found a lot of lizards sleeping in the drawer as he opened it. Just to register his findings that there was nothing called manuscript of Thandavaraya swamigal, and as it was nothing other than only the jungle, he picked up his diary for jotting it down. The room was full of dusts and cob webs. Swiftly he put on his clothes, stood in front of the mirror. When he saw himself in the mirror he felt elated with the feel of success and laughter. He pushed the front door and looked out whether anyone was coming. There was no human movement. He picked up a liquor bottle from the shelf in the room. The glass tumblers kept along the liquor bottle slid down on the floor. When he was cleaning the glass pieces broken from the fall at the height of almirah, something went into his skull suddenly: “Where has the sound of glass breaking gone?” Why hasn’t sound come? Within a second, he diverted his attention to the white flower plant kept at the corner of the room. It had grown into a big tree, spreading its branches booming with flowers all around. ‘Where has this sound gone? He threw out the liquor bottle upward. It also fell down from that height without making sound. He kept the flower plant out of the room and tossed another liquor bottle up. It fell down with a big sound. ‘It means the plant sucks up the sound. Doesn’t it?’ Can there be any plant that sucks up sound?’ He couldn’t believe. He brought that plant into his room once again and was testing it throughout the day.

Finally he concluded that the plant only sucked up the sounds. He further understood that the same plant was reason behind the water falls falling on surface without making noise. He preserved that plant. He spent next whole three days, recording all his findings, and left to meet Gomathi Nayagam Pillai.

Children were playing at his house. Gomathi Nayagam’s wife got frightened at seeing him. When he went inside, Gomathi Nayagam came in front, seemingly troubled as he didn’t expect him, welcomed him. Robertson told him that he was leaving for England and he would come back to Thirikoodar hills again. The baby in her womb turned its face after seeing Robertson. He carried along with him the wooden toy given by the woman soothsayer, sound-sucking plant and some notes while leaving for England by ship. The ship was moving very slowly. He had chat with almost everyone on board. He was spending his time either by drinking liquor or dancing, making noise in drunken state.

On the ninth day since he started his journey, the storm which was, till then, hiding inside the sea came out ferociously and swayed the ship. The wind scooped up the water and threw it onto the deck. The colour of the sea had changed. The omens portending the death, engulfing everyone, cut short all chit chats. The ship was standing marooned in an expanse of the sea where one couldn’t find even a sign of land. No one knew when the ship got wrecked. When he opened his eyes last in the height of a wave, he saw a verdant spread everywhere. After that, his body was floating several days on the waves of the sea. When his body was washed ashore, the sun light was crawling on his lengthy back.

The notes he kept in a leather bag which drowned in the depth of frothing sea water were, later, eaten by fishes slowly. All his secrets were safely dumped into the bodies of fishes. However, the sea water broke the wooden toy into pieces.

Mr Richard Burton, a military officer having a penchant for tiger hunting, who shared the room with Robertson, made all Robertson’s new findings, on the secret lives of Plant and Silent Falls, known to the world. When he came to the Thirikoodar hills later, he couldn’t find any such place there. All what he got were just only Robertson’s notes. He compiled them, published it in 1864. The major reason why that publication didn’t attract much of attention was just the opinion of botanists who rejected it as an exaggerated fantasy of a tiger hunter.

John Parker, a botany research scholar who came to India in 1964, went to the place Robertson had mentioned in his notes after studying extensively about the Thirikoodar hills and found out the said water falls falling with noise. There were no white flower plants. ‘The reason behind the plant’s delicate feelings was just their ability to absorb electro-magnetic wave’ he reasoned. Further, he concluded that most of the Indian stories about plants were pretty interesting ones; and the notes of Robertson were just one of such interesting stories’. However, he couldn’t help feeling the sense of formication on his skin- that the tattoos of leaves drawn on the skin of the Paliyar woman with whom he had sex during his stay were actually crawling on his body while having sex with her. He brushed it aside comforting himself that it might be due to the effects of inebriation. But when he failed attempting to find out the reason for the eruption of green colour patches on his skin, John Parker did feel that he couldn’t help remembering Robertson. When Gomathi Nayagam Pillai’s eighth baby was born with six fingers, no one knew whether there was a relation between its six fingers and its tryst with Robertson when it was in the womb. It was a different story anyway.

 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam

Source : (www.azhiyasudargal.blogspot.com) “Thavarangalin Uraiyadal” short story by S Rama Krishnan. (100 best short stories in Tamil, curated by S. Rama Krishnan) 

 

The New Wife (Puthu Pensathi) by A. Muttulingam

This is an English Translation of "Puthu Pensaathi", a Short story written by A Muttulingam  Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K  This is 14thEnglish Translation in Classic Tamil Short Stories series

 A Muthu Lingam 

  When she boarded the train at Colombo, Padmalosani didn’t know that  her name would be of no use any longer. She looked for her husband. He was busy pushing two big boxes and a suitcase looking much older than his age, inside. It had just been one day since their marriage took place. Her thali¹ was hanging around her neck like a circle and she had applied eye liner as well. Jasmine in her head. Even as she was examining her toes, she lifted her head up frequently, kept watching what her husband was doing.  

He was dark complexioned, tall and looked like a twisted rope. She didn’t like moustache. But his moustache was looking attractive. He had rolled up his light green full sleeve shirt up to his upper arm where his muscular nerves looked prominent. She remembered what her mother had told her. ‘Your husband is not that educated chap. He is having a shop at his village. Under any circumstances, you must not reveal that you are educated and you know English.’ The man who gave him the tickets had actually handed over him the correct balance amount. Even from that distance, she could see it clearly. But, that man had to explain it to her husband who was confronting him that the balance amount was not correctly calculated. The very thought of how he was going to look after the business in the shop made her appalled, indeed.      

When they alighted from the train at Kokuvil station, there was no one to welcome them. The firmament broken into fragments; the palm trees with its broken tufts; yellowish grass; the broken wooden fence. She was standing perpendicularly erect, completely not matching with the standards of that place. She bent down, pulled the rear strap of her sandals on her heels and fixed it. She bent down again, when she looked up after adjusting the strap of sandals in another heel, she found that the boys from the village stood, surrounding her. All of them were looking at her as if she was a weird object. One of them shouted, “Ramanathan has got a new wife”. That was it. From that moment, it was certain that there would be no one there to call her by her full name.

As Ramanathan was walking in front, bringing her to the village, taking pride in winning the hands of a princess in an archery championship, she was following, walking behind him. The porters were walking in front and the boys were following them behind. It looked like a big procession and the women of the village were wondering looking at them, peeking out of the fences. It was the first time a lady with the heels-sandals walking through the narrow streets of their village as if she was going to do some community service. There was no such a beautiful woman like her in the village. She remembered the words of one of her classmates who used to tease her, “By keeping all this beauty with yourself, what are you going to do?” She controlled her laughter that came up to her lips. 

Ramanathan didn’t open his shop for two days. The villagers were talking among themselves that he was under the spell of his new wife. On the third day, he opened his shop and started his routine business. It was the only grocery shop in the village. Other than grocery items, articles needed for school, soda, cigarette and magazines were also sold in the shop. He would open the shop by taking out the wooden planks one by one at six in the morning and would go home after closing it at eight in the night. His house was situated just behind the shop, adding to his comforts. 

For the first six months, the ladies from the village kept coming to see the ‘new wife’. Some ladies came to see the beauty of her talk with her irregular ‘swallowing’ of words; some came to see the beauty of her tresses flying in air on one side like the national flag. Her neighbour lady still addressed her ‘New Wife’. Those who came to the shop for buying things called her “new wife amma” and the boys called her ‘new wife akka”. She started forgetting her name. 

Within months, she could understand that her husband’s shop was running in loss. He didn’t know how to maintain the accounts. His ability to read was up to the level of picking up letters only. She was stunned to see her husband selling the items below the procurement price even after he had put a considerable amount of hard work to bring those items from the market. One day, while chit chatting with her husband, she told him that she would also join him in the shop to assist him. He got shocked as if he was bitten by a snake, told her, “chee…you should never do that. You don’t know anything about it” 

One day early morning, a telegram came to an old lady who was staying in the front house. Without opening it, she was running here and there, holding the telegram above her head like a termite which got wings. None was found around who could read English. Someone suggested that she could wait till the school opened so that any teacher coming to the school could read it out to her. The Old lady started crying helplessly. 

“May I read it?” she asked her husband. “You? Do you know how to read?” he asked her. “Don’t know much. But I can try” she replied. Once he gave her permission, she opened the telegram, read it and laughed heartily. “Grandma…nothing to fear. Your daughter has given birth to a baby boy. You have become a grandmother.” She told. The new wife’s knowledge in English became the main topic of gossip than the cheers brought by the baby’s birth. Ramanathan looked at her with surprise and admiration. So composed was she even at that time, she didn’t reveal the fact to him that she had received first prize in English and mathematics in the school where she studied.

Even after two years of their marriage, Ramanathan was still facing an issue. The beauty of his wife made him feel inferior. From the very beginning, he had been thinking that he was not a suitable match for his wife. The moment he approached her, he would feel so naïve like a boy. He was unable to look into her dark, striking eyes. Whenever she talked to him, opening her lips endearingly which looked swollen due to some recent insect bites, his heart would bounce. Sometimes, the shiver he developed after seeing her would start from his feet and spread to other parts gradually. He was unable to go near to her. 

One day night, she told him, “You ought not to think that I am advising you. Let us note down the prices of the items sold in the shop in a coded language. While selling the items, we should sell it for higher price than the noted ones. If we follow this method, we will not face any loss in business.” After conveying this idea to her husband, she was still waiting for his reply with her lips partly opened as if she waiting to absorb his reply. As he was very much tired that day, he simply told her “Okay…do it”, with sort of a charitable face giving alms to beggars.  

That night, she lit a lamp, sat in the light and started noting down the prices of each and every item. Those coded notes had the pattern of ‘கத்ண்’²and‘இதுஎ’². For every coded letter, there was a number given. She prepared a ten letter sentence to remember those letters and their corresponding numbers. When Ramanathan rolled on his side on the bed at 1 ‘O clock in the midnight, he saw his wife bending forward again and again, jotting down something with help of hand lamp’s light. He turned other side and slept. 

When he got up in the morning, he was astonished- She was still sitting at the same place, bent forward, holding her falling hair with one hand and still writing. She didn’t sleep throughout the night. It was extremely hard for him to believe. Something in his heart got softer and started flowing. He went near to her, touched her cheek, and called her tenderly, “Padmi”. He had never called her like that before. She didn’t even lift her head up. She started sobbing inconsolably. She wiped her cheeks with both of her hands like a car’s glass wiper, but even then her tears didn’t stop. It flowed down her cheeks and made it wet. “Please don’t cry…don’t cry” Ramanathan hugged her. He opened his shop two hours late and was drowned in delight throughout the day as if his name was printed in block letters in the front page of Veer Kesari³newspaper. 

When he was taking rest in the afternoon, she was looking after the business. Only Elephant mark Soda and Three Roses Cigarette were sold more in the shop. Referring to the price tags she prepared, she would sell the items and actively involved herself in the business. She was looking like a spin top released from the thread. At the time of closing the shop, she would come again to assist him. They would fold the advertisement boards and put off the rope hanging with fire in its tip used for lighting cigarettes, roll it up and keep them inside. Then they would line up the wooden planks in order, close the shop and lock it with a pad lock. One day she calculated the profit, told him, “Today’s profit is 50.40 rupees. This is the day we got the highest profit” and laughed. “How could you say it this accurately” he asked her. She thought for some time, putting her palms on her cheeks, narrowing her eyes as if she was trying to recollect the name of a heroine in the old movies. Then, told him, “We can do anything if we know the numbers and letters”. When she spoke those words with her irregular stutter, he would think of swallowing her as whole. 

Exactly after thirteen years of their marriage, a baby girl was born to them. They named her Arputham⁴as she was born as a miracle. Even after that too, the villagers still called her ‘New Wife’. When Arputham was ten years old, her husband died of heart attack. She didn’t get shattered by it. As her responsibilities increased, her wisdom also got widened. Thus, educating her only daughter and getting her well settled in life became the singular aim of her life. 

Unlike before, the business in the shop was running profitably. Both the teachers and the students studying in the school tried their best to decipher the code language pasted on the items sold in the shop, but in vain. They tried it with Arputham too. She also didn’t know anything about it. The teacher who was teaching mathematics in the school tried thrice and failed. They were talking among each other that the new wife had adroitly designed the code language. 

One day Arputham was found missing. The daughter had also planned to become beautiful like her mother. She had her braided plait hanging and thrown her half saree above it. When they got the news about a dead body floating in the common well, no one believed it. Arputham had committed suicide when she was seventeen years old. As the bad luck would have it, her mother woke her up in the early morning even a couple of days ago, fed her morsel after morsel of food till it got over when she was busy studying. She couldn’t ascertain the reason why she had committed suicide. It was understood that Arputham was in love with a boy who was active in the liberation movement⁵. When she came to know that he died in the Vadamaratchi battle, she killed herself. This story was known to everyone in the village and the school where she studied. But her mother was not aware of it. The mother who had waited for thirteen years to give her birth and spent seventeen years to bring her up to that level, became worthless at once for her. She had jumped into a well just for a petty three months of courtship with a militant. Hadn’t she?

She refused to open the shop after the death of her daughter. She wept aloud that for whom she had to have her life thence. After being persuaded by the villages, she opened the shop; Unexpectedly, the day she opened it became an unforgettable day. It was 30^thJuly, 1987. It was the day when the Indian Peace Keeping Force arrived in Sri Lanka under Lieutenant General Dipender Singh. Her shop wore a festive mood. Whoever came to her shop, was greeted with Elephant mark Soda. Three Roses Cigarettes for men, sweets, pencils and erasers for school children were provided free of cost. The festivity in the New Wife’s shop lasted till midnight. 

One day, when the curfew was in force, she closed the day’s accounts hurriedly and when she was about to leave for her home after closing the shop, an Indian military van came there, jolted with a sudden halt. An army man got down from the vehicle, plucked out eight bananas from the hand, bought four biscuits and a Three Roses pocket. He pointed at a bottle with the picture of egg pasted on it. He enquired something in a language which produced heavy voice in the throat pit. Without understanding his words, she simply nodded her head, ‘yes…yes.’ He asked her how much it was, by waving his hands. She also replied with hand movements that she didn’t need it. He insisted and gave her the cash. She wrote down the cost of the items on a paper by referring to her code language and received the correct amount from him. Receiving of amount from him for the items sold, indeed, enhanced the respect of Indian Army in her mind. But that respect didn’t last even for twenty four hours.

Next day, it was the time for closing the shop. Like yesterday, one vehicle came fast, stopped in from of her shop with a sudden brake. But the person who jumped out of the van was not the one who had come on the previous day. His face carried a look of exercising power on others. He was an army officer with blue colour turban and moustache. Without allowing her to speak, they dragged her with a sense of hostility to their vehicle, stuffed her into it and left. By that time the villagers assembled there. Greatly stunned, not knowing the reason why she was arrested and taken along with them, all she could cry out to her neighbour was just a sentence, “Rasamama akka, my goats, my chickens,…take care of them”. 

That army man had asked her whether the shampoo in the bottle with egg picture was edible. Without understanding his language, the reply she gave costed him very dear as he got diarrhea after eating it and now was bed ridden. She was taken under custody for enquiry. She could understand it later only after the translator explained it to her. Despite her repeated appeals that she was innocent, it yielded no result.

Even after six months were passed, the new wife didn’t return to the village. Her shop was also not opened. No one knew about her whereabouts after the army men took her with them for enquiry. The ones who were looking after the chickens ate them all one day. Those who were feeding the goats ate them all one day. On one night, someone broke open the rear door of the shop, entered and looted all rice and dal. Following it, flour, salt and sugar all disappeared. Very soon Soda, Three Roses Cigar, Shampoo with egg picture, note books and erasers were all stolen. An accounts book, a paper cutting pasted on the wall carrying the news of Arputham’s suicide and a calendar with a date sheet torn on the day of her arrest were the only remnants available in the shop. The calendar showed Monday, March 20, 1989. 

Everyone had almost forgotten the new wife who hailed from an unknown place in the south, got married and came to that village thirty two years ago. One day, a young couple who lost their home in the war entered the shop and owned it. While mopping the floor with a wet cloth, the young wife saw that every wooden plank carried numbers, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0 and letters written below them. Ten planks and ten letters.எ ண் ணெ ழு த் து இ க ழே ல்². The young wife stood hesitatingly for a while, wiped them with force and deleted them all with the cloth she was holding in her hands.

                                                                  ***End***

Note: 

1. A sacred thread tied around the neck of the bride during marriage. 

2. Tamil letters kept as such, as it cannot be taken out of context in translation.

3. A newspaper published in Sri Lanka. 

4. Arputham means miracle. As she was born as a miracle, she was named Arputham. 

5. It refers to LTTE movement.  

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 

Source: “Puthu Pensaathi” short story by A Muttulingam. (I extend my sincere thanks to Mr A. Muthu Lingam for giving permission to translate this short story)                     

 

Enduring Impressions (Azhiya Sudar) by Mouni

Mouni
(To know more about him 
click here)

This is an English Translation of "Azhiya Sudar" a short story written by Mouni

To read the Tamil version of this short story click here.

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 

This is 13th English Translation in the Classic Tamil Short Stories Series. 

I didn’t go to him that day, like the way I usually go to meet him every morning. The sun light was very harsh since dawn. Overcome with an inexplicable weariness, I didn’t venture out of the house. As I thought of meeting him in the evening, I rather preferred spending that sweltering day at my home.

It happened day before yesterday. At about half past four in the evening, I reached his house. He was my childhood friend. As usual, he was sitting on a chair in the front hall of his house when I went there. As I thought that he was fully immersed in some deep thoughts sitting in front of the open window, I hesitated to go inside unexpectedly and was standing in the outer hall instead. When he called me to come inside without even turning his face towards me, I was indeed surprised. His appearance was also looking quite bizarre. There were only one chair and a table inside. At the opposite side, the window was kept opened facing the street.

“Have you finished coffee?” I entered as I asked him.

“Not yet” he told.

“Why?”

“Yes…I have been sitting here since morning. Mind full of thoughts” he told, smiled lightly.

I could understand that my friend had forgotten laughter and it was true to the best of my knowledge that he did not laugh at all in the recent past. Even when he laughed that time, it rang like a sound of laughter which had lost its life in it.  The way he spoke and the way he looked outside with an emptiness in his eyes made me uneasy. Before I started thinking about it further, he himself started talking. He had changed as an unfathomable man in the recent times.    

“Please come here…Come and sit here. Just have a look at the opposite side” he got up, sat on the table as he told this. I sat on the chair.

“See what is visible there by sitting at the place where I was sitting” he told me.

A big tree that had shed its leaves, looking like a dead tree was standing in front of me. Other than that, nothing specific was visible to me. It appeared to me that the tree was bemoaning silently in loneliness with its dishevelled hair kept untidy. The birds flying across the sky would perch on its branches in unison suddenly and merge with the tree as if they had all become dead. The noise of those birds was coming out intermittently like a sound of death. After a while, one after the other, all flew away from the branches as if all of them became alive at once. I didn’t think much about the appearance of the tree. I could not understand how far those visuals seen with the half closed eyes in the scorching sun light and empty stare outside since morning could have caused such an emotional upsurge in my friend’s mind.

“What have you seen? His question sounded too heavy for me to handle.

“That…that tree ” I told.

“What? Is it a tree? I see”, sitting at his place, he bent down a bit and looked outside to have a glance of it and continued talking.

“Yes…it is. Are you able to see how it is groping with its hands spread up for an object which is not present in the sky? It moves; dances and then stops. It didn’t stop after its game was over. Did it? A breeze would blow from the west sluggishly. The clouds sniffed by love would come in, floating thickly and rest on it. Unable to bear them, it would start swaying again. Is it a blown out fly whisk that sweeps the streets of sky from the clouds? Or is it yearning for rain drops in order to sprout? For what?”

“It seems that you have become a big poet. Haven’t you? Why do you have this much fury and hatred? I asked him. I didn’t like his words and talk.

“Please listen to me. Pushing back the time with so many ‘yesterdays’, my mind had gone to an incident that occurred nine years ago. After I remembered that incident, my mind has lost its balance. It is so troubled that it can’t be expressed in words. That is all…” he stopped for a moment. His eyes were shining with an unusual glitter as if they were trying to find out some oracular phenomenon that can’t be seen with naked eyes. The way he was talking showed that nothing more was in store for me.  

“Right...Nine years ago I was a college student. I was eighteen years old at that time. An incident happened in those days keeps appearing in different fantasies as a first thematic line of a song since morning. You might be remembering how I looked in those days…”

“You…looked well groomed…” 

“It’s ok…it’s ok…My elongated nose, stretched out ahead of the face, curved enough to pull the persons back walking in front. The parted thin lips just below it would show the shiny lining of teeth to people softly to make their eyes glare. I trimmed my hair anew that time. I would keep fondling my untidy frontal tuft very often with my hands just to make people believe that I had lost my long, thickly grown tresses. With my sharp naughty eyes, I was so indulged with my physical appeal and had high regards for myself. Many people might have seen me that time. I was not bothered about their opinion about me. The look I have these days is nothing but only a dry look . My eyes are also dried anyway. Aren’t they? It seems that all my beauty was dead in my youth itself. Doesn’t it? But my life has not ended in the youth. Has it? It was probable that she had also seen me.”

“Who was she? I asked him.

“Nothing to talk about her. Please listen to me. How many years has it been since I had gone to the temple? After that day, I have never gone to temple till yesterday. Before that, I used to go to temple very often. You also accompanied me most of the time. Didn’t you? During that night about which I am talking now, you were with me. Weren’t you?”

“It was not a festival day. She had also come. I was not aware that she would come. When we were going out of the temple, we met her at the entrance of the temple while she was entering. She might have been thirteen years old then. She turned suddenly and looked at me. I might have been the one who had turned her eyes. After turning…what was the force that pulled me along with you to follow her inside? I didn’t know. It could have been a childhood fantasy of that age. Please don’t give excuses of infatuation, etc like that. Even though it is void of reason, it is true that the heart gets depressed. You may consider it vanity”

“I followed her. On many occasions, there were instances where I was so close to her that I could even touch her. I was mumbling something frequently too. But I knew that it didn’t have anything to do with conveying something. Because there was, indeed, nothing to convey”

Standing at the close proximity of the deity, she was in meditation with her head bent down. I was standing just behind her very closely. I was able to see the hanging lamps of sanctum sanctorum, shining in dim light at a distance, through the gap of her folded hands.

It seemed that his eyes went behind the idols, triumphed all the beginning and ends of life and immersed in the world of divinely bliss! 

“I didn’t know how long I stayed in that state. Without marching ahead, the ‘time’ in her form remained there in the close proximity of God”.              

“When she turned towards me after releasing herself from the meditation, I was so ecstatic that I uttered out of my control, ‘I am waiting to do anything for you. I can do anything’. You and others who had accompanied her were standing at a distance. Those words couldn’t have fallen into your ears. But it was certain that she heard those words. She smiled”.

“I had suspected even at that time as to whether it was she alone who heard those words. I thought that the idol inside the sanctum and the statue of lion standing attached to the wall also heard those words. When I looked at the Lingam at the opposite side, the idol of deity smeared with sandalwood vermillion and vibhoothi visible above the knit coconut leaves, became alive and angry, twisting its eye brows. The Statue of Lion standing along the wall also got terribly frightened, scarred and angry, contorting its face. It stood on its hind legs and threatened. I saw her. She had turned towards other side. With her coiffed plait hanging behind, she was walking slowly along with the people who had accompanied her. I followed her for a short distance, looked at her and stood there. It appeared to me that the sound her anklets were making were required to disturb the tranquillity of this world which had gone into deep slumber. She was happily talking with them, played with words and finally left with her anklets making sounds majestically. The silence of the shrine got perturbed by the resonance of the sound of her anklets. The bats flew criss-cross with clicks”.

When my friend was narrating, my mind started visualizing it. Without any fetters, it started drawing pictures- temple, sanctum sanctorum- yes. The bats flying across inside the temple during day time were actually flying without knowing that it was day.        

“The half of the day’s light would hesitate to enter. In the dim light of the night, the idols were standing there with the signs of life in them. The temple is a place where one could nurture the feel of divinely bliss which could be attained in silence with deeper experience and privacy. Isn’t it? The bunch of lamps would be burning. It would cause a shock of not being able to identify the difference between the devotees roaming in the brightness of lights and their shadows. ‘For teaching which truth, the sanctum sanctorum has been created? Are we mere shadows? Whose moving shadows are we?’- when such queries were raised by my mind, the whole of my body shuddered for once”.          

The eyes of my friend were looking splendid. His speech with an awareness of having realized a secret one way or the other, was ringing in my ears sublimely. He would stop talking whenever he realised that the words wouldn’t be enough to express himself. That time, his eyes would shine brightly.  

“She left for taking a round of sanctum’s periphery. Her tresses neatly made as plait were hanging, moving elegantly. Her self-effacing walk carried her grace ahead. An unquestionable thought of following her came over my mind. I didn’t articulate it to make it known. At the start of the sanctum’s periphery, there was a bael tree. The moon light was seen, speckled through the leaves, like white patches. I kept telling myself, “O! My dear lady! Please look at me”. She turned and looked at me. I could understand from her eyes that she also conveyed the message ‘follow me’. A sound was heard from somewhere. It was the sound of a bat hanging with its head down. A sound which gives a fear of death while laughing into the ears! Standing under the bael tree, I kept looking at her. After that, I was walking ahead to follow her”.

The moon was throwing its light like a day. Just like her elongated shadow that followed her, I too followed her behind. Just before the turn at the corner, she turned to look at me. Her eyes seemed to be begging me to withdraw the words I had spoken. She was looking beautiful even in her distress. As I approached her closely, I was about to say, “I will do anything for you”. But I could not complete the sentence. I returned hurriedly. She also went to the sanctum periphery down. Then I reached you when you were standing under the bael tree. Both of us reached home without talking anything.”

When he stopped talking for some time, I asked him, “Who was that girl? I couldn’t recollect who she was.” My question didn’t get into his mind. He continued talking. I got angry.

“From that day onwards, I stopped going to temples. I don’t know why I had stopped going. As a matter of temperament I stopped going, I thought”

“My mind couldn’t stay peacefully yesterday night. It just started wandering from nowhere. I left for the temple to have a “darshan” of God. I started late anyway as I thought that there shouldn’t be much crowd in the temple. While passing the big temple entrance, you could see the sanctum sanctorum of the God”.     

“A big lamp was burning near the Shiva Lingam for a long time in a lonely silence as if it was glittering with the flame. Suddenly, it disappeared for a while, came alive like before and seen again in silence. Some unknown devotee went inside to worship the God. I was walking slowly. The disappearance and appearance of the flame bore the semblance of an imperishable light of the world left behind amidst the indestructibility, by the last man of the world who had completed his worship. It all happened yesterday just to make the unignited flame burning inside me, burn with a magnificent glitter”.

“Now, she might be twenty-two years old. She was looking cosmopolitan in her outlook. I saw her in the temple now and it has caused a pain in my heart. I have developed an inexplicable distaste towards her due to this unexpected meeting. I thought that she had not understood me. Since my thoughts pertaining to cosmopolitanism were not well rooted and I was also on the verge of changing my mind, all her docility and cultured niceties had given me a sort of solace. When I thought about the words I spoke to her earlier, it was only her new appearance that gave me succour from hating myself. I hated her with all my might. But when she was standing in front of the God, she had got all her cosmetics removed. Only at that time, I was able to understand how people could carry exquisiteness and make it possible to yield to their impulses in front of The God.”

“The splendour of her meditation drove me mad. It made me stand with an empty stare. Just a lasting presence of bliss! An ecstasy! As she had turned, she saw me. She looked at the pillar at the opposite side intently. Even I could see the statue of Lion which stood as an imperishable evidence of my words springing to its feet, danced. I just looked up. O! My God! One more statue of Lion was staring at me angrily, bending its head looking down. I got shocked when I saw her looking at the place where I was seeing. She appeared like a woman giving me orders. Her eyes were piercing through me. Her eyes moved out of me like a man disappearing after conveying half of his inner secret to a mad man in his day dream. Before my emotions became thoughts and before my mind could understand what she had told, she had left me. When I raised my bent head up, I saw that she turned towards me again. Two drops of tears rolled down from her eyes like two diamonds shining in the deep, dark tunnel”.

“I am the shadow of destiny. You are going to witness the brutishness of allurement of love in its fullness”.

“What did she say? What did she ask me to do? What else is there for me to do? Isn’t it? Was everything just a dream? She didn’t speak. Nothing is there in the sound. Is it there? In speech? In her body….cheee..cheee…all are just meaningless. None of them could reveal the truth. Everything seems to be so invisible. They elude like smoke even from the tight grip. These pointing fingers are with us not only for making us realise that all are illusions but also to make us disappear before we learnt to go ahead through the way it points at. What is left with us is nothing but a hope of reaching the right path even by jumping out inadvertently amidst our confused efforts to find out the way in darkness”.

“See that tree. Aren’t you able to see its stretched-out branches and its each atom filled with life trying to merge with the azure sky? When it dances, it searches something in the space of sky. It searches for something blindly. Doesn’t it?”

It was fully dark. When he was looking at the space emptily, I left him without informing him.

Once I stepped onto the street, I looked upwards. There, seen a countless number of stars in the curved sky of the night like dots drawn by children on a black board. Despite pouring out all their brightness with their intermittent sparkling, they remained there permanently, shining like immortals without fear of getting melted. I heaved a sigh, exasperated not being able to understand what was happening above there. I reached home, walking nonchalantly.

He was not found at his home. I didn’t know where he had gone and what for he had gone out. I didn’t know whether he knew about it either. It was just a realization that “He” knew everything- if at all, he existed.

                                              ***End***

 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K

Source: www.azhiyasudargal.blogspot.com (See the "Best 100 short stories in Tamil" curated by S. Rama Krishnan)  

Is Savithri wrong? (ஆற்றாமை) by Ku.Pa. Rajagopalan

This is an English Translation of "ஆற்றாமை", A short story written by Ku.Pa. Raja Gopalan. 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam  

****

“Please have a seat. You may leave after sometime. Why are you in a hurry?” Savithri told as she was rolling on her bed. 

“No...It’s time up for him to come. If only I start heating up the water now for making coffee, I'd be able to serve it right on his arrival” Kamala said, rose. 

“It's easy making it? Isn't it? How long would it take to prepare a simple coffee? You can very well leave after he came. Sit down. It has been tough for me to while away my time. You know!” 

That time, Raghavan reached there, called out to his wife “Kamala”. 

“Haven't I just told you a moment ago? See he has come now” Kamala told her, ran towards her room. Savithri lifted her head, glanced at them while still lying on the bed. Raghavan entered the house, smiled at his wife. “You are too early." Kamala said, followed him. Even though their room was at a brief distance away, it wasn't lying too far off a safe distance for anyone to receive the sound of some random conversation. The young couple, sometimes, would not realise the presence of neighbourhood.

"What's this! What a childish play it is. Leave me. Someone might come”- Kamala's words filled with delight fell into Savithri's ears, half inaudibly though. The air of pleasure that sprang up from their room reached Savithri, and made her stifled.

As the pain of carnal craving engulfed her mind and body, she grew restive lying on the bed on her stomach. Savithri’s husband was working in the army somewhere in North India. He stayed with her for only three days after their marriage was consummated, that too because of some ritualistic obligations, and then immediately left her on an emergency duty. It had been two years since he left. She received letters from him regularly. But he didn’t come to meet her. The people around would start chewing upon the couple's personal affairs, if Shanti Muhoortham was not arranged for them. In order to keep their mouth shut, the parents of the couples arranged a First Night for them. After that, nothing would be considered wrong, no matter how long the man was separated from his wife. And no one would open their mouth to critique it. But, it was the very Shanti Muhoortham that had been tormenting Savithri as the God of Death. While she could succeed taming her mind like earlier, her body refused to budge on its demands. It instigated the tamed mind too. Her body couldn't forget the sexual pleasure it had received during those three days of their being together. It bawled, fully exasperated. 

Savithri was a woman gifted with a fully endowed physique. Her body was effusively voluptuous with youthfulness. She was unable to take on the incessant craving of her body. ‘Look at this Kamala! Does she have to jump like this if she has nice time with her husband? What is the need of boasting about their intimacy to me? I am staying here like a destitute. What is the need of romping in front of me? She is doing it deliberately. It appears that she is doing all these just to make me feel the pain of watching her happiness. All the time she has been talking what her husband told her. Is it something marvellous or what? She seems to be the one who gave birth to her husband. Doesn’t she? She does have all the reasons to walk upside down anyway. Doesn’t she? She is proud of her happy life with her husband after seeing another women of her age dying in loneliness. If it occurs, even a bit, in her heart that I am living in such a deplorable condition or I would feel pathetic about myself- will she behave like this? If only personally affected, she could feel my pain. With her heart full of grouches, Savithri was lying on the bed. “Adiye! Can’t you bring some water from the tap? Have coffee” her mother came to her.

“You get all done in such a manner. Don’t you? You gave me birth only for such things. I will do it. First, get out of my sight”. She yelled at her mother.

“Coffee is here. I got to go there, that street. I don’t know whether I would come back tonight?”

“What are you going to do by coming here? Please stay only at your brother’s home”

“Be safe with the door locked…”

“I know…I Know…you get lost.”

Her mother adjusted her linen sari, applied Viboothi on forehead, left for that street. The coffee kept near Savithri became cold. Yet, the heat in her heart didn’t get diminished. Once her husband left for office, Kamala came to meet Savithri. “Ammami! Had your coffee?” Savithri looked at her spitefully, told her. “It has become cold. That is why not drinking it”

“May I bring you coffee? I have kept in the flask for him as he needs it in the evening. You have it now. I will make it later for him”

“No…I don’t need it as I have chest burns”

“I asked him if we could go for a movie. He said tomorrow. You can also accompany us Ammami”

“It won’t look good. When you guys go out together for having fun, what is need of me in between…”

“You always tease me Ammami!” Kamala told her shyly.

Kamala’s delight sounded a poisonous potion for Savithri.

“What Ammami! You don’t look well. Are you alright?”

“Nothing happened to me. Nothing. I am alright.”

“He brought a novel ‘Karukiya Mottu’ (Burnt buds). Can we read it together?” she went in, came with a book and sat beside her. The cover of the book carried a picture. Kamala showed that picture to Savithri shyly with an innocent grin on her face.- A man is sitting on a chair, delved into a deep thought. The book from his hand is found lying on the floor. His wife is standing behind him with a smile without his knowledge. “What could be its meaning, Ammami?” Kamala asked Savithri.

“The husband is thinking about something very seriously. Without understanding that it is an inappropriate time, she comes to him, smiling foolishly”  

The gleeful grin, hither to, found in Kamala’s face disappeared. “Is that so?” she asked her.

“What else then will it be?” Savithri told her with an uncouth smile.

“I don’t think that way, Ammami!”

“Then, how will that be?”

“It means….that is….the husband is reading the book thinking about her. As he forgets himself, the book falls off his hands. She doesn't come there for long. At last…..”

“I know what would be that thing ‘at last’. Don’t I?”

“Can I continue reading it?”

“You can.”

Kamala was reading that book for a long time. How much of it went inside Savithri’s ears, she only knew. Suddenly Kamala remembered, “O! God! It is already late. Forgot the time as I kept reading. I need to go”, Kamala left Savithri only at five in the evening.

Savithri didn’t get up. The house keeping maid came. “I can clean the house myself. You may leave now” she told the maid. Flower selling woman came. “I don’t want flowers today” she told her too. It was getting dusk. It had been so long since the darkness set in. She couldn't bear the night long mirth Kamala and Raghavan were orchestrating in their room. 'They don’t even think about their neighbours. Do they?' She got up and switched on the electric light irritably. Came again to the bed and lay down there.

“I have kept your meals ready. Please come soon” Kamala called him.

“Why this early? After having food, then we…..”

“I feel sleepy today” Kamala told him.

“You do feel sleepy. Don’t you?” Raghavan teased her.

Savithri heard all they were talking teasingly. Kamala came to the doorway, threw the banana leaf out and locked the grill door and hall door. As she happened to see the opposite hall while returning, she saw Savithri half asleep as if she was semi-conscious in the inner hall. “Ammami! Is your dinner over?”she asked Savithri.

“Yes. It’s over”

Kamala went inside and locked the door from inside. The house was having a roof like marriage halls. There were families staying on both sides. There were doors for inner halls and outer halls of the houses. It was only eight in the night. Even the bustling of the town had not yet receded. But the sound from kamala’s house had stopped. Only Savithri found herself immobile on the bed.

“Raghavan”, a low voice was heard at the doorway. Savithri was quite first. As it seemed that she might have become curious about something, she opened the outer hall door, slowly and went near to the Veranda. A young man of Raghavan’s age was standing there. “Is Raghavan there? Is he there?”

“Yes…he is there” Savithri replied. She opened the grill door and turned back. The young man came to the outer hall and stood hesitantly. Savithri lowered her voice and told him, “Knock that outer hall door”, gesturing to him.

The young man stood a while, hesitantly.

“Just give it a plain knock. He will open” She told him with a sort of crooked pleasure she had drawn, went to her room and eagerly awaited the events that were to follow.

The young man knocked the door again, slowly, called out “Raghavan”

A minute later, the door opened. “Who is that?”- a roaring question came out.

“It’s me”

“What does it mean it’s me? Who's that?” Raghavan opened the door furiously, looked up outside, sitting inside.

“It’s me…Seenu from Madurai.”

“O! Please come in…” seemingly irritated with confusions thrown over his mind, Raghavan left the door opened, entered the outer hall and took Seenu with him to the doorway. For flash of a second, Seenu could see something inside. The electric light was kept on. He saw Kamala lying on the cot just opposite to the doorway with her dress partly removed, jumping out and running towards the wall within a fraction of a second Raghavan opened the door and left that place. Savithri could see her further clearly. A bunch of flowers was hanging from Kamala’s head. A heavy fragrance of jasmine and incense were wafting through their room. She could not continue looking at that room which bore the semblance of a privacy that had been torn open. The light which was resembling solitude, standing striped off its cloths, dazzled her eyes. She closed the door without making noise. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a sorrow and a deep self-pity. “What a sin I have committed! Don’t know if it is the sin I have committed nor the sin of separating anyone, I have been cursed to lead this wretched life. Aiyo”

The two hearts which were grasping each other with an irresistible passion had got now shattered and thrown away afar as fragments.

Controlling her welled up tears from falling down, Kamala with massive anger, adjusted her dress, put off the light and lay on the bed. Raghavan came inside after sending off Seenu. He climbed on to the cot and tried coaxing Kamala again, slowly. She pushed his hands away violently. “It would have been better, had you kept the other door also open. Wouldn’t it?” she yelled at him. 

“O! Sorry. I forgot to close it, Kamala”

“How will you remember that? Will you?”

“Why are you making unnecessary fuss out of nothing?”

“Nothing…is it nothing? All my dignity is gone at once.”

Raghavan got annoyed at the developments that had happened. Irked, he asked her “How much is it gone?”

“Enough of it!. Will you please shut up? Don’t you remember there are neighbours around us?” she also retorted in the same tone.

These words of hers also fell into Savithri’s ears.

She lay on her stomach and started weeping with heavy bouts of breaths. “This sinner deserves any damn punishment. Doesn’t she?’ she was cursing herself.

She heard Kamala clearing her nose.

“You demon! You are satisfied now. Aren't you?” Savithri asked herself aloud.

                                                     ***End**