“Kanagambaram” by Ku.Pa. Raja Gopalan

This is an English Translation of “Kanagambaram”, s short story written by Ku. Pa. Raja Gopalan (Ku.Pa.Ra). Translated from Tamil by  Saravanan Karmegam.

*** 

 “Mani,” Ramu called out, standing at the entrance. He was doubtful whether his friend was at home or not.

“He has gone out somewhere. May I know who you are?” Mani’s wife asked him in a thin voice, standing near the door.

Ramu was shocked, mildly though.

Both Mani and he studied together at the university. He was not much aware of Mani’s wife. He hadn’t even met her to date. It had just been one month since she came to Chennai to start her family with her husband. Ramu was not in Chennai all through that month. Saratha hadn’t met him earlier.

Ramu also had progressive thoughts like Mani. He had also impressed upon frantically the need for women to mingle with men equally and the importance of women's emancipation in all university discussions and debates. But when his progressive thoughts were tested at the altar of real life, he was unduly perplexed. He was completely astonished to see Mani’s wife talking to him despite being unfamiliar to him. He didn’t expect it at all. ‘If Mani is not at home, no reply would come. So let me wait for a moment and give a call’, he thought and gave out a call.

Saratha, Mani’s wife, was also not an educated woman. She was a typical village girl. She was a daughter of a local landlord from a remote village lying nearly twenty kilo metres away from the railway track from all directions in the Chola Kingdom. In her walk, dress, and demeanour, he couldn’t find any unusual sign during those decisive minutes of his meeting with her. 

She had worn a costly Bangalore silk saree, neatly leaving the ‘pleats’ and an old-style blouse in a matching colour. She had parted her hair in the middle and was plaiting it. Unlike the ones in vogue in modern life, the plait was not hanging loose, covering her ears. She was tying her plaits. One big vermillion was shining on her forehead like a full moon. The diamonds on her body were sparkling like blossoms. She had a nose ring too. He could understand from her appearance that she had come out urgently to appraise the visitor standing outside when she was busy with her household works. A woman of such qualities talking to him had actually left Ramu disconcerted.  

He was not embarrassed at the fact that a woman had spoken to him. He was familiar with many educated women both in the university and everyday life. It seemed nothing new to him. But an uneducated woman talking to him had left him confused. ‘It is difficult for even educated women to talk to strangers. Isn’t it’? Then, how could a woman, who hailed from a region that is not aware of anything called ‘modern lifestyle and getting mingled up with men,’ speak up to an unknown man?’ It seemed like something extremely awkward to him. But her words sounded indeed mild. She didn’t even look at his face while speaking. She held her head down at that time. Despite being genteel in her manners, his mind was not convinced.

“I…I…Mani’s friend.” He couldn’t speak more, visibly gagged up with words.

“He’ll come at any time. “Please come in and have a seat,” Saratha told him.

After hearing these words, Ramu was seriously astounded. His head started spinning. He looked around as if he had done something wrong. ‘In a small separate house, a lonely young woman is asking him to come inside the house and sit.’ He couldn’t make anything out of it.

“No….I’ll come later,” he spoke halfway and left from there swiftly without turning his head.

2

In five minutes, Mani entered home after buying banana leaves and vegetables. “Someone came to meet you. He told that he was your friend. Saratha went in front of him, jumping with joy. He felt that her body and voice had such an effect of invasion of an army on him. Mani enjoyed and found comfort in such waves of pleasure that came to leave an effect on him amidst all the troubles of having a separate, nuclear family.

“Who was that?” he asked her, pinching her cheeks lovingly.

She feigned as if having pain and said, “Haa… I didn’t ask him who he was.”

All of a sudden, Mani’s face got reddened; anger went up high through his skull.  

“How many times have I told you? What the heck is your problem in asking who it was? Nothing big would be lost if you could use one more word. He won’t drag you out holding your hands. Will he?’ He was spewing out the words.

 Just a week ago he got very angry with Saratha for such a similar incident.

“In this town my friends might come to our house in search of me. It is impudent to close the door without giving them a proper reply. You must behave in such a way to suit the requirements of this town.” He advised her a lot on this matter. Due to this incident, both of them were not talking to each other for two days.

But this time, thinking that the reply she was going to give him would make him happy, she remained silent till he spoke out as much as he wanted. Once his anger got settled down, she spoke softly.

“I asked him who he was. He told that he was your friend. He didn’t tell his name. I told him that you would be here at any time and asked him to come inside the house. But he went off saying he would visit later.”

Saratha was watching his face eagerly. Her face fell at once after seeing his sullen face, which carried no sign of happiness. She went inside swiftly.

Mani never expected such a reply from her. Firstly, he felt that her reply was kind of a slap in his face. Further, he was annoyed with her for behaving more than the required limits that his advice had specified. Then why did she behave like that? ‘ Was it just a plain obedience to my advice? Or else will it be something...? His mind seemed to have started losing its balance. All his thoughts combined together got his mouth shut for one and all. Saratha too didn’t try her part to assuage his worries nor tried to pull him towards her through talks. She was also angry. Until he went out after having his meals, he didn’t utter a word to her. Walking along the street, he was thinking about it randomly. His heart was aching with an immeasurable agony. He never expected that Saratha would go that far. ‘ This matter wouldn’t have become a matter of concern had it been an educated girl. A village girl inviting an unknown man to the house and asking him to sit was nothing less than a height of indecency. What would my friend have thought? He might have thought about her: “What sort of a nerve does this girl have? Or what a stupid girl she must be! Or…else…’

He was walking, preoccupied with the thoughts of such possibilities.

On the way, Ramu, who was coming back from somewhere, saw Mani coming in the opposite direction. On seeing him, he became overly embarrassed. He was hesitant, doubtful even, to stop and have a word with Mani.

‘Should I tell that I had gone to his house or not? Should I tell him what his wife had told me?’ A lot of such apprehensions arose. The matter would have had no impact had she spoken to me freely at the behest of Mani’s insistence. If she had done it without his permission, whatever I am going to tell him would make him believe that his wife was ignorant and stupid, which might further infuriate him. Wouldn’t it? What if it causes a misunderstanding between them? Who knows? Human temperament is so fickle that it could think any nonsense. I shouldn’t become a cause of such misunderstanding between them. Where is the guarantee that she had told everything on her own to Mani without omitting anything? Had she not told everything, her stupidity would cost her very dear. Wouldn’t it? Thinking about all these options, Ramu took a turn into a lane and escaped Mani’s eyes. However, he couldn’t get rid of the events that had occurred in the morning from his mind. Her fresh, childlike face with an innocent look in her eyes…her lucid words without hesitation, shock, and fear. She told, ‘He would be here at any time.’ There was an honesty in it. Wasn’t it? What respect those words carried! Further, a trust was evident in her call to ask me to come in! That trust was due to the fact that I am her husband’s friend. Wasn’t it? Che…che… With those four simple words, she had placed every meaning in it. Hadn’t she? She believed me too. How could she be a stupid lady? It was only because of that I got all those confusions. I have to meet Mani and tell him everything. Ramu was walking, preoccupied with these thoughts.   But he decided to have a firsthand assessment of the situation before he would initiate his talk on this matter. He thought that Mani would be at his home if he went to his house at seven in the evening.

3

It was evening six ‘O clock. After completing her household work, Saratha was combing and plaiting her hair. Near her, she had a plate full of loose, unstrung Kanagambaram flowers, a face mirror, ribbons, a comb, and a fragrant oil bottle. When Mani entered the home, he became furious at seeing all these arrangements.

“You call this rubbish as a flower; you buy it and wear it on your head daily. Do you?” He scolded her on the pretext of using that flower while having a lump inside, which he couldn’t swallow.

But Saratha thought that he was talking only about the Kanagambaram flower. She decided to depreciate his urban culture in front of him at that juncture.

“Why not? Everyone in this town wears this flower. Don’t they? Even in music concerts, people come wearing this flower, making their head hang with its weight. Don’t they?” Saratha told him.

“Who has told you to do everything that the people of this town do? Is there any necessity for it? This Kanagambaram flower is also exactly like those women of this city who wear it on their head. Will anyone wear a flower that doesn’t have fragrance? The taste of women who wear blue pea flower on their heads would just be nothing more than this.”

“It was you who told me that I must behave like urban women. Or else it will be shameful for you. Didn’t you say that?” Saratha told this as she was carefully watching the facial expressions of Mani.

“Does it mean that you can bring a third person into the house and ask him to sit here?” Mani poured out his heart in words, in anger.

Saratha’s face changed. Even though she was a village girl, after all, she was also a woman. With an immeasurable indignation, she looked up at Mani’s face for a minute. She could see that his thoughts were clearly reflected on his face. A deep sign of disgust appeared on her face as she understood the insult he had just inflicted on her—on her femininity. She loosened her half-plaited hair, tied it up, picked those kanagambaram flowers along with the plate, kept them in the almirah, and went into the kitchen.

Mani was stunned at this display of magnificent wrath. He went inside the room like a beaten dog, sat on a chair, picked up a book, and pretended as if he was seriously reading it.

When the clock struck seven, Ramu came there. Despite Mani’s earnest efforts to be jovial, the situation remained grim. Immediately upon his arrival, Ramu asked him, “Mani, I came to meet you in the morning. Where had you gone?”

“Was it you who came in the morning?” Asking this, Mani delved into silence.

“Mani, as I was seriously surprised, I even forgot to tell my name.” Ramu’s throat seemed to have got choked up. Mani was sitting, with his head looking down. He couldn’t speak anything. Both the friends remained silent for minutes. Ramu could understand the situation. He got up quickly.

“Mani, let me take leave. I just came here to tell you this.”

“Why can’t you have your meals with us, Ramu?”

“No…not today.”

4

The dinner went off without any conversation. Looking at the moon, which came in through the windows, Mani was sitting there yearning for her. Saratha came with a glass of milk and gave it to him silently.

He didn’t have the courage even to look into her face.

He lifted his head and looked up. He was traumatised to see the sign of sorrows on her face. He got up and held her shoulder tenderly.

“Saratha”—he was unable to speak more and caressed her face endearingly.

“What I have told is…” Mani started expressing his heart out.

“Actually, I do not like Kanagamabaram flower. There was nothing wrong in what you have said.” Saratha changed the topic with a gentle elegance, which women are adept at.

***End***

 

The artiste in Tiger Disguise (Puli Kalaignan) by Ashoka Mithran

This is an English Translation of “Puli Kalaignan”, a short story written by Ashoka Mithran. Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam.

***

 We used to have an interval from one o'clock to two in the noon. Earlier, it was up to half past two, people say. During those days, the work also started at eleven in the morning. Reaching the office at half past eleven while the scheduled office time was eleven, after having breakfast at about half past ten or fifteen to eleven at home, it was sort of an impossible task to sit for lunch at one o'clock. Due to this reason, one could see the actual crowd at the canteen only at two “ o'clock. The time was reduced to half past ten from eleven. Now they had passed an order to reduce it further to ten, and it had been in force for one month. For lunch, it was from one to two. The office, which used to be once closed at five in the evening, was now functioning till six. 

Work remained routine there anyway. Factory divisions made in the name of carpenters, electricians, and lottery men had eight hours of duty daily. Similarly, there was an account section. Then the accounting department. No matter whether there was work or not, the persons in this department would have to keep writing accounts throughout the year. Then came the telephone operator, attending to telephones with no respite or leave for itself. Hence, only those who were not included in these departments had at times some leisure time in the office, sometimes in days or in weeks or in months.

As far as I remember, our studio once remained jobless without producing even a motion picture for about one and a half years. During those one and a half years, we could receive our wages without doing any work, sleep during office hours with our legs on tables, let our hair get grey, let our belly bulge with fat, invite diabetes, teach our eyes to look around as there was no fixed target for our thoughts, and bring lots of incoherent stammer to our talk.  After one and a half years, when we received the real tasks, we could experience a new lease of enthusiasm as our compulsory leisure had come to an end and sometimes found doing the work a bit difficult due to lack of continuity over these years. On one such day when we were expecting such enthusiasm and difficulties on a daily basis, he came to us one afternoon while we were all munching petal leaves and tobacco after our lunch.

“What do you want?” Sharma asked him.

Trousers were part of Sharma’s attire in those days. He was working as a police sub-inspector. Later, he wrote plays and stories and published them, gained fame, and had become an important person in the story section of our studio. During those old golden days, he used to carry our owner on the motorcycle pillion and selected good locations for outdoor shooting. Now he got used to the dhoti and tobacco. His descending square-shaped shoulders while standing below his neck proved that his physique was sculpted with exercises once upon a time.

It was a small room. Old tables in different sizes were there, big and small. We ought to consider Sharma, who was sitting behind the big table, as the main spokesperson of that room. Other than the chairs where we were sitting, there was one more chair lying. All our chairs were old ones having different shapes. One leg of the chair lying extra was found short. Anyone who sat on it would tilt on one side and develop a sudden gush of uneasiness in their stomach. The person who came there was standing, holding the backside of this chair.

“What do you want?” Sharma asked him.

“I came to your house on Saturday, sir,” he said.

“I was not in the town on Saturday,” Sharma told him.

“I came in the morning. You were repairing an umbrella.

“O! It’s you! Aren’t you Velayutham?”

“No, sir… I am Kader. Tagar faayit Kader”

“Were you the one who came?”

“Yes… Vellai told me to meet Aiya at his home.”

“Who is Vellai?”

“It is Vellai. Agent Vellai”

Now Sharma could understand something.  Vellai was the agent who used to bring hundreds of men and women whenever we had to shoot big crowds in our studio. Other than showing their faces in the crowds, no acting skills were required of them. Vellai would collect two rupees per head along with meals.

“At present, we haven’t planned any crowd scene. You know that? ” Sharma told him.

“Yes… I know. But he told me that you would give some role if I meet you.”

“Who told you?”

“That one…that Vellai”

Sharma looked at us. We both glanced at the newcomer. He was short. He must have possessed a well-sculpted body earlier. Now he was looking frail with his collarbone protruding outside. The joints of his jaw, well jutted, showed his dark cheeks more shallow than they actually were. Almost all the persons brought by Vellai would carry a similar look like that. Even if we took a motion picture on the Kingdom of Lord Rama, the citizens appearing in the movie would look like the ones who were born in the year of “Dhaatu” (a Tamil year).

“I will let you know about it through Vellai,” Sharma told. We leaned against the chairs. The interview was over.

He further told, “Ok, sir...” His voice became softer. “If you can arrange something immediately, if possible, it will be of great help,” he told.

“We haven’t started shooting yet. We would take crowd scenes only at last.

“I don’t mean that, sir. You could give me any role.

“What sort of a role could I give you? The casting assistant is sitting over there. Give your details to him.”

I was the casting assistant. I had details such as names, age, height, and address of thousands of people who came to meet me, like him. In case of any need, if we wrote letters to four persons with the help of details available to me, three letters would come back with an acknowledgment that the person had changed his address. Then it was Vellai who would come to rescue.

But he didn’t turn towards me. He was so certain that Sharma was the most important person among the three of us.

“Only with your recommendation can something happen,” he said.

“Do you know swimming?” Sharma asked him.

 “Swimming! He repeated it and asked us. Then he told, “I know swimming…a bit.”

“No use of knowing it incomplete. We need to take a shot in which one person should jump from a height and then swim through. You are not fit for that.”

“I know takar faayit, Sir… Even my name is Takar Faayit Kader, sir.”

“What’s that Takar faayit?”

“Takar faayit sir… Takar… You know Takar.

Now all of us were attentive. No one could understand what he said.

Then he told, “Tiger, sir…tiger…tiger faayit.”

“O! Is it Tiger fight? Tiger fight! You will fight with a tiger. Won't you?”

“No, sir… I act like a tiger in disguise. People call it takar faayit. Don’t they?”

“So you are an actor wearing a tiger costume. Aren’t you? But cinema does not require tiger disguise. Anyway, let Vellai come. If I find any suitable role for you, I will let you know for sure.”

“I perform takar faayit effectively, sir. It will look like a real tiger.”

“If it looks like a real tiger, we can bring the real one. Can’t we?”

“Nothing like that, sir… My performance will exactly look like a real tiger. Do you want to see that?”

“Ahaan…No…Not required.”

“Just have a glance, sir. You couldn’t have seen Tiger Disguise anywhere else, sir?

 “Why not? For every Moharram or Ramjan, there would be a lot of tiger disguises on the street.”

“My performance is something different. It will look like a real tiger.

He took out a tiger head from somewhere. Only after that did we understand that he had brought a cloth bag as well along with him. Tiger head means only the outer part of it was covered with tiger skin. In a second he wore it on his head and pulled that mask down at his jaw. With his own eyes, now he changed himself with a leopard’s head. He threw his eyes around the room for a second.

“Excellent!” Sharma said. We kept looking at him.

He limbered up his hands and body once. He then bent down, stood on four legs, and turned his face here and there.

“Superb!” Sharma said again.

He arched just his back like a cat, curved his body, and shook it up. Then he opened his mouth. We were stunned at looking at him. We never heard such a roar of a ferocious tiger in such close proximity.

He roared once again like a tiger and shook only his rear. He jumped over a chair lying empty in that room with his four legs and curled himself. The chair rocked, losing its balance. I shouted, “Aiyo.”  

He then pounced over my table with his four legs. With a flick of an eye, he jumped over to Sharma’s table. Papers, books, and a petal leaves casket were found scattered on Sharma’s table. His leg didn’t even touch any of them. He crouched upon Sharma’s table, stared at Sharma, and gave out a life-taking roar once again. He then jumped into the air from there. We all shouted in dread.

It was a very old building. Along its wall, at about ten feet height, an edge of two inches was carved out. On one side of the wall, a window with single rods just above the edge was acting like a ventilator. It was dusty, dirty, and full of cobwebs.

With the help of his four legs, he jumped above our heads and fixed himself on that two-inch edge for a moment. Holding the ventilator rods with his hands, he roared like a tiger once again.

“Be safe …Be safe,” Sharma cried. In that height, the ceiling fan was running fiendishly right in front of his face. The distance between his face and ceiling fan blades was not even in inches.

He jumped off from that height onto a chair and then to the ground.

All of us remained frozen with unmitigated fright. His eyes in that leopard face now sparkled like that of a tiger. Now the leopard opened its mouth once again and roared ferociously. The next moment, his body relaxed, and he got up.

Even Sharma couldn’t utter any word of praise. He took off his leopard mask.

We were all tongue-tied. It was he who came out of this trance first and became normal.

“I will certainly do something for you,” Sharma assured him. His voice was changed now. He folded his hands and prayed to him.

“Where are you putting up?” Sharma asked him. He mentioned his place at Mir Sahib Pettai and told him some number and lane. He further told him hesitantly, “But… I don’t know, sir… how long I will be staying there.”  

“Why?” Sharma asked.

“Nothing, sir… While dragging his words, he prostrated in front of Sharma suddenly.

“Please get up…get up, Kader…” Sharma was uneasy at his action. We stood up. He also got up and wiped his eyes. “My wife had told me not to come to my house.” It was he who was roaring like a tiger just a while ago.

“It has been a long time since I earned. What else could she do then? We have four kids. All are very young.” He was crying now.

Something occurred to Sharma. He asked him, “Have you had your food today?”

“No, sir,” he replied. After seeing his condition on that day, it was unnecessary to ask him about the days he hadn’t taken his food.

Sharma put his hand into his pocket. We also groped into our pockets. We collected some amount. It was two rupees. Sharma gave it to him and told him, “Go to the canteen and eat well.”

“No, sir… he refused.

“Why do you refuse it?   Please have your food first,” Sharma insisted.

“Please offer me a role, sir,” he told him amidst his sob.

I had never seen Sharma getting angry like that. “How could you say no to the money that comes to you? If you deny money, from where will the money come? Even if it is a penny, it is Laxmi. (Goddess of wealth). From where will your Laxmi come? Get this money, go to the canteen, and eat first,” he yelled at him.

He stopped weeping and received the money. Sharma became soft in his tone and told him, “Such things like offering roles are not in my hands. I will do my best for you. Now you go. Have something for your stomac”h. He turned towards me and told, “Take him to the canteen and make him eat something. I got up.

“No, sir… I’ll go myself and eat. I’ll go myself to eat,” he told. He folded his hands once, paid his respects, and left.

We remained silent for some time. Sharma spoke involuntarily in a slightly raised voice.

“How can we make use of this fellow? Isn’t the movie we are shooting now about some king and queen?”

But he didn’t remain quiet after that. When the story section was assembled for discussion, he somehow managed to obtain permission to shoot a scene in which the hero would enter the enemy fort, disguising himself as a tiger. While showing it as a tiger disguise, he thought of engaging Kader as a “dupe” in place of the hero. At least he could fetch a hundred rupees for him.

I wrote a letter to Kader. As usual, the letter came back in four days. The reason: the addressee was not there.

Sharma called upon Vellai and searched for Kader. We also tried our hands everywhere to search for him. The day of shooting the scene in which the hero would enter the enemy fort under tiger disguise was also nearing. But we couldn’t find Kader.

Even if he was found, it was of not much use. In one movie released in that month, there was a scene in which our hero was shown dancing with a Kavadi 1 in the backdrop of folk music. That movie became a blockbuster, fetching unmanageable crowds everywhere in Tamil Nadu.

It was decided that our hero would also dance with Karagam 2 in the movie.

***The End***

Note:

1. Kavadi: Bamboo sticks bent in semi-circular form with some ornamentations, carried by devotees on their shoulders as part of their religious commitment towards deity

2. Karagam: A metal pot kept on the heads of performers while performing Karagattam, a Tamil folk dance.