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 K. Saravanan. This is 37^th English translation in the Classic Tamil short stories series.

Ashoka Mithran 

We used to have 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 the last 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 duty daily. Similarly there was an account section. Then Account 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 telephone operator attending telephones having 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 half years, we could receive our wages without doing any work, sleep during office hours with our legs on tables, let our hair getting grey, let our belly bulged 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 half years, when we received the real tasks we could experience a new leash of enthusiasm as our compulsory leisure had come to an end, and sometimes found doing the works a bit difficult due to lack of continuity over these years. On one such day when we were expecting such enthusiasm and difficulties on daily basis, he came to us in 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, 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 in the motor cycle pillion and selected good locations for outdoor shooting. Now he got used to with 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 stomach. The person who came there was standing holding the back side 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 out.  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’d told you?”

“That one…that Vellai”

Sharma looked at us. We both glanced at the newcomer. He was short. He must have possessed well sculpted body earlier. Now he was looking frail with his collar bone protruding outside. The joints of his jaw, well jutted, showed his dark cheeks shallow more than actually it was. Almost all the persons brought by Vellai would carry the 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 I could 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 with me, three letters would come back with an acknowledgement 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 three of us.

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

“Do you know swimming?” Sharma asked him.

 “Swimming! He repeated it, asked us. Then 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 tiger. Wont you?”

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

“So you are an actor wearing 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 real tiger”

He took out a tiger head from somewhere. Only after that we understood 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 opened his mouth. We were stunned at looking at him. We never heard such roar of a ferocious tiger in such a 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. Within a flick of an eye, he jumped over to Sharma’s table. Papers, books and 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 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 cob webs.

With the help of his four legs, he jumped above our head and fixed himself in that two inches 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. Next moment, his body got relaxed, 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, prayed to him.

“Where are you putting up?” Sharma asked him. He mentioned his place at Mir Sahib Pettai, 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, 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 long time since I earned. What else she could 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, “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, 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 stomach”. He turned towards me, 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 regards, 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 assembled for discussion, he somehow managed obtaining 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 “dupe” in place of the hero. At least he could fetch hundred rupees for him.

I wrote a letter to Kader. As usual the latter 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 back drop of folk music. That movie became a black buster, 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.

Translated from Tamil by K. Saravanan

Source: Ashoka Mithran’s “Puli Kalaignan” short story.