The Journey by Ashoka Mithran

This is an English translation of “Pirayanam” written by Ashoka Mithran. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam. 

…

I turned back again hearing the moans of pain. My master’s eyes were visibly strained, closed, due to unbearable pain. The long wooden plank I was dragging having him lain on it was partly drenched. I reached out to him in a leap. 

“I don’t believe I would make it anymore”, he said. 

I looked around, and found not a trace of white patch on the sky. The hill locks nestling each other on the sprawling landscape as far as my eyes could see were covered with small bundles of clouds. The edges of the hill lock where we were walking down ended in a vertically descending gorge of about hundred feet with a brook at the bottom. Though it looked a pool of stagnant water from above, it was a running stream fiercely hitting the rocks and was falling into a valley at a little distance away. On the other side, the hills stood high. Walking down a distance of twelve miles along the edges would lead us to a mountain pass. After that, there lay a plains full of small bushes. They would gradually wane as we enter the forest area. Beyond the forest was there flowing a small river. We would then get in to a village, Harirambukur where we would find the first traces of human settlement, sitting on the fringes of the forest on the river bank. It took two full days when I and my master were on our way by foot passing through Harirambukur to reach our hermitage six months ago. ‘Now half of the day is over even before crossing half of the mountain. In half an hour, it’d get dark’  

I opened my rug sack, took out a big towel and long bag woven with rough woollen fibre, removed the woollen rug wrapped up around my master’s body and other clothes, wrapped him up again with the long towel and helped him to stuff himself into the woollen bag. Though the bag could accommodate his whole body including his head, I kept one end of it open to expose his face out. I covered his ears with a woollen muffler, wrapped it up around his head. 

“Can I make some gruel for you, Master?” I asked. 

He gestured with his eyes, ‘yes’. 

I took out a small tin box, a round shaped utensil usually given to soldiers during the Second World War and a ‘military’ water bottle from the bag. Half-filled the utensil with water, opened the lid of tin box in which frozen kerosene half a quantity of the tin had been kept. I struck the match stick, brought it near to the brim. The frozen kerosene started burning in steady flames at once. Holding the handle of the utensil deftly, I heated up the water in the flame. Sooner the water reached its first boil, I mixed a handful of starch flour I carried in a bundle on my back, with it and stirred it with a dry twig, continued boiling and added some water to prevent it becoming a thick paste. The porridge was ready. I closed the burning tin box with its lid. The fire was off except some streaks of flame popping out. I kept stirring the mixture in the utensil itself and made it considerably cold. When the hot gruel reached a tolerable level of safe consumption, I gently lifted my master’s head a little, kept it on my lap and started feeding him with it. Within a couple of gulps, he gestured that it was enough. It looked he had mustered up some strength in his body. I drank up the remaining gruel and packed the utensil after cleaning it with cloth instead of water as there was only a little water left in the ‘bottle’. I had to go to the creek below to bring water, possibly only in the next morning. 

My master was lying, with his mouth open. With my year-long Yoga training under his guidance, I had hard learnt not to breathe with my mouth under any circumstances. But my master, who had lived his life as a complete ‘Yogi’ for the past fifty years was now struggling even to breathe with his mouth. Until the day he fell down with a sharp shrill clutching his stomach tightly, hardly anyone could have felt his breathing unless they employed their keen eyes on him to notice it. Even if it was visible, they would be able to feel his breath coming out in long and steady spells from the previous one. Now he was struggling to breathe through his mouth. 

The sun was setting behind the hills and spreading monstrous shadows on its slopes. It would take only a couple of minutes for the darkness and those shadows merging with each other. I collected some dried twigs from the creepers and plants grown thin like sticks here and there. I didn’t feel cold. My master who had never worn the upper clothe in his life was now lying bundled up in a woollen bag wrapping his body with a woollen towel. He needed warmth. The dew drops would descend heavily in the midnight. Unlike with its usual vapour form, it would fall in the form of smoggy bundles. My master would require warmth at that time. The warmth was required for one more reason- One could see the puck marks during the day. The owners of those puck marks would surely come that night. 

I brought some dried plants uprooting them. I had to squint my eyes very often to look around before completing two rounds of collecting those dried twigs carrying them as much as I could cuddling it along my chest. I had a bundle of wood secured with the wooden plank I was dragging with my master lain on it. Those wood pieces were hard nuts, wouldn’t pick up fire fast. Even if they did, they wouldn’t last even a night. We would never carry wood beyond our requirement when we used to make visits to Harirambukur on some emergency needs from our hermitage twice or thrice a year. But this time it was very clear that those firewood wouldn’t come sufficient enough.

I handpicked some smaller palm sized twigs and heaped them conically near my master’s legs. There were no signs of birds around. Though the wind was breezy, it nevertheless made a deep booming noise as it had to hit on the slopes of the hills. The creek in full spate flowing about a hundred feet below, at a distance of half a mile away, was giving out its continuous rumbles. Other than these sounds and the sound of my master’s choked breath, there were no sounds around for my ear to hear. 

The dried twigs were burning like wicks of crackers. I poised five or six pieces of firewood sticks like equidistant hands of a wheel just for the tip of flames to reach it. The stars started twinkling in groups in the sky. One of the sticks caught fire and burnt with flames. I swiftly took it out from the rest, swung it fast across as to put the flames off, and kept it down again as a live ember. Only one of those sticks was emitting a thick smoke. I flipped it, tabbed it on the ground a little. The smoke was now thin. I sat near my master with a long bamboo pole keeping it under my custody for meeting any eventuality. The cliffs of the mountains around us that looked monstrous frozen waves were visible as dark shadows even in that pitch dark. 

Having left with no other options, I had to sit and keep watching them for hours till dawn. Sitting in tranquillity, I began to feel the ever growing presence of my being in me. I used to bring such consciousness in me in my earlier days, deliberately awaiting it every day, sitting on empty spaces when my master was lying on bed inside the hermitage without any ailments in his body. Now I grew worried to get rid of that consciousness surging in me without my consent. At that time, I felt the two cliffs at the distance became one and were moving in my direction. An unfathomable fear appeared to rise from my abdomen. My super-conscious state of being vanished at once. Shifting my attention from the mountain cliffs, I started watching on the sky. The stars which were found strewn around the sky a while ago were now visible in individual clusters. Those clusters didn’t first bear any resemblance of images that could be perceived in some way in my mind. But, very soon each cluster seemed to have developed limbs of different kinds, and resembled various images flying wildly extending their limbs. It also seemed that even my breathing while closing my eyes did come out with an appeal of musical rhythm. I felt my consciousness dragging me into slumber when my mind was actively engaging itself with it. Cutting it off abruptly, I opened my eyes and threw them over the stars above. When the stars were changing into different clusters and then into different images, I glanced at those cliffs. The moment I became aware that my mind was inclined to merge with the rhythmic sounds of master’s breathing, I grew alert and sat down straight. I mustn’t lose my consciousness that night no matter whatever the situation. I must reach Harirambukur somehow crossing this mountain, plains, jungle, and river. I should make medical treatment available to my master. The snowfall started descending, heavily. I wrapped my head up with an old towel that was lying with me unused and sat down with my one thigh upon another. 

I could hear the roars of wind blowing across the mountain cliffs bang in me. The sound of brook was also heard. I was expanding, expanding in all directions and kept expanding as if I had started losing my weight and frame every second. Though every sound around me was audible in my ears, I felt that they all had been active only on some common base. That time, I heard an odd sound coming above all. It didn’t get along with other sounds around that time. Again, that sound of hissing with ferocity! I curled myself in seconds. The proficiency I had mastered through my year-long training towards concentrating one’s mind did seem unnecessary that moment. I heard that sound of ferocity once again. Grasping tightly the bamboo pole, I threw my eyes at the direction the sound came from. I saw two twinkling fireflies. I swung my stick only to see those bright sparkles feign a move. I swung the stick again, this time stretching out my hands further. It hit somewhere followed by a sharp, shrill howl which made me shudder. Next moment, that wolf retreated, fled. 

I turned to my master. All the firewood I kept near him were on the verge of going off. It must be past midnight. I understood I had fallen asleep moments ago. More than half of those wood pieces which remained alive as ember had gone ashes. The wolf must have come only after that. I blew on to a foot size stick that remained half burnt, and made it burn with flame. I examined my master with the light of the flame from head to foot. The woollen bag in which he was lying was found torn on it left near his leg. Had I been careless even by a couple of minutes, the wolf would have torn open the bag and clasped my master’s legs in its teeth. 

The wood was now fully blown out and only emitted smoke. I scooped out a small amount of frozen kerosene in my finger tip and dropped it on ember. It caught up with fire again. I went near my master’s face under its brightness, and called him mildly, “Ayya”. My words didn’t fall into his ears. He was sleeping with his mouth open a while ago, but now with his mouth closed. He might have been thirsty or hungry when I fell asleep. I called out to him again, moving his body gently. He lay there without any movement. I checked his breath with the back of my palm. I placed my ear on his chest, tried to hear something from his chest pit. But nothing remained there for my ear to hear. 

I wasn’t shocked with the death of my master. I was mentally prepared to accept the worst when I happened to see his body, which once walked on here with its purest form,  completely immobile having lost all his energy even to move his body while allowing urine to trickle down. I would have to relinquish my training in yoga. It took more than three years to find out a master like him and oblige him accept me as his disciple. I wasn’t sure of how many year more it would take to find another master of his stature. It remained doubtful anyway. I might meet another master according to the dictates of my destiny. My deepest prayer at that time was nothing other than my master safely reaching Harirambukur without any dangers on the way. Long ago I heard my master telling me that a dying person should be fed with cow milk just before he was about to leave out his last breath. Today his words stood completely irrelevant. His words in another occasion that people like him should be buried in six feet grave also sounded absurd now. I had already missed offering him cow milk and now at least he must be buried in six feet of grave. For that I had to reach down the plains leaving this rocky mountainous area. He must be buried in six feet of grave covered with big stones instead of sand in order to prevent the wolves digging his grave out. A wolf from the pack had already sniffed him and it wouldn’t take much of time for the remaining wolves to come for waging attack. 

The ‘under-developed’ moon appeared. I slowly removed the woollen rug, bag from his body. My master’s face shone with an unfathomable, splendid peace bearing the resemblance of a person in deep sleep with a solemn countenance if at all no efforts towards checking his breath and heart beats were ever made. I tore an old cloth and tied his toes together. With another piece of cloth I tied his hands too. With his single dhoti, I covered his whole body from head to foot, carefully stuffed his remains into the woollen bag, closed it tightly and waited for the dawn keeping the embers alive by slowly burning it. I was sitting with my legs folded against my chest snuggling my face between my knees. By the time the dim rays of the sun appeared in the eastern sky, I saw two-inch layer of snowflakes around me. When I started towing the wooden plank with my master’s mortal remains in that half-light, I saw something moving behind me. When I looked at it again second time, it was walking at the same distance. This time the wolf was yelping, mildly. 

I failed to understand how the dead ones gaining weight. I could feel dragging the wooden plank with his dead body seemed relatively more difficult than pulling it when he remained laid on it but with breath. The plank moved a little smoothly as long as the snowflakes were sitting on my head in the morning. But before noon, everything dried out completely, leaving one wonder if at all that place ever received such a heavy snow fall. I was now moving on the descending side of the mountain. Most of the times, I was literally pushing the plank from behind instead of pulling it from the front. It proved an extremely difficult task to drag it with its ever increasing weight carefully avoiding it falling into gorge. As I had drunk the remaining gruel which my master left the previous day, I didn’t feel hungry though I hadn’t eaten anything after that. It was only my shoulders and waist that ached a lot. I didn’t halt anywhere and was moving with a singular aim in mind that I must reach the plains crossing that hilly terrain before the fall of night. My body remained strong enough to match my mental strength, though it proved insufficient. I had to tread very slowly, one step after another. It seemed the hills kept extending endlessly as I saw them. It would be sufficient if I could manage getting four or five hours of sun light. It would remain utter foolish if I was forced to collect the dried twigs again to spend another night by not utilising the available sun light to the best of my ability. At many places, the rocks were found split open and descended so steep hundreds of feet down. I could see the plants grown even in that rock bottom. Within the very short span of journey during that day, I could see the rotten remains, decomposed and limbless bodies of dead animals which might have fallen into that gorge accidentally. 

My ever increasing tiredness was being compensated by the receding light. My body grew so sensitive that it could feel even the slightest change in the light. Despite the spurt in the efforts of my body, it failed to see the corresponding increase in my speed. I had to try enormously even to drag myself, let alone walking fast. I could see thousands of insects flying in front of my eyes. The journey was left by another two hours. My confidence to cross the mountains before the sun set began waning as the time passed. I would have to stay another snow-falling night again amidst these mountains. Though I didn’t find anything troublesome during the day, the sense of caution once experienced did remain with me. That wolf knew every movement of mine. Now, it wouldn’t definitely come alone. 

The plains were visible at a distance. But I couldn’t afford continuing my journey hoping to reach there now. I carefully placed the wooden plank down on the ground and began searching for dried twigs. I couldn’t find them in sufficient quantity like yesterday. I was one day older than yesterday. I was more tired and weaker than yesterday. I lit the fire with the available wood sticks. I had only four pieces of fire wood with me. I lit each one of them, and went around my master’s dead body with a burning brand of fire stick. That night too, I saw a steep gorge descending near the place where I halted. There was no creek below at the bottom, it might be running in different direction. At the bottom of the gorge, were there thickly grown wild bushes. When I halted my journey yesterday, I wasn’t frightened. It was true that my master couldn’t extend me any assistance with his near-dead body yesterday which could well be meant that I remained alone yesterday as well. But the fright which didn’t engulf my psyche yesterday was now truncating my intellect. All my achievements in life, aims, and bases of my thoughts, desires, and feelings did vanish just like vapour leaving me with nothing but a singular resolve to bury my master’s whole body with honour in the plains. I was sure that the snow fall would never do any harm to my master’s body howsoever denser its volume might be. But I was waiting with fear that seemed to have crept into my teeth and bones. I was so attentive as if my body had grown with ears all over. After the thick darkness descended heavily, I didn’t have to wait much to hear the distinct sound, that came streaking through the roars of wind, I was waiting for. A dense galaxy of fireflies was moving towards me with mild yelps.

Holding a burning wood on one hand and the bamboo pole in another, I was waiting for them to come nearer. My eyes did seem to have learnt seeing through that pitch dark. Though they were moving towards me in a group, they formed a circle around us sooner they came near about fifteen twenty yards from us and began circling, squealing, walking short steps front and forth, and pouncing once ferociously coupled with fake retreats. The minutes were passing like aeons. The circumference of the circle formed by the wolves around us started becoming small inch by inch. Five or six wolves in the pack were fully grown. They circled us keeping their tails between their hind legs. I stood by my master’s head, and swung the burning wood across furiously in all directions. The feeling that the wolves which I hadn’t come across during the day were now following us at some distance to attack, kept me in a persistent dread. But when I saw them closely, I felt a solemn peace filling in me and at times I began feeling that I had ceased to think anything. 

My hands were swaying, slowly, calmly. The wolves were still pacing in circle around us. It appeared that they were waiting for me to launch the first attack. If there was no pressing situation between us which could prompt any one of us to initiate attack, the remaining part of that night would remain uneventful and the wolves would possibly flee at the crack of dawn, I believed. 

I was firm in my stand. The controlled yelps of those wolves now seemed to have merged with the silence of the surrounding. They were walking in circle as if they didn’t like to break the rules they had set for themselves even a little by mistake. I started feeling an enormity of love for them. I felt that I had known them for ages. At one point of time, I thought I also joined them and walking around me in circle. The burning brand of fire wood I was holding in my hand went off suddenly. I swung it fast in the air to produce flame in it. That time, it looked as if the entire hilly region stopped breathing and stood still. The fire wood in my hand completely went off. Dropping it down, I bent down to the fire place to pick up a fire stick that remained alive in their tips. Hardly was it half a moment, I didn’t hear the snorts of wolves. Within a moment of that gap, a big wolf among them pounced upon me with deadly roar. I thrust the wood into the wolf’s wide mouth that came straight in front of my face. The wolf withdrew with meek howl of hurt. Other wolves began tearing off the woollen bag that covered my master’s body. 

The deadly silence and the respect for rules that seemed to prevail there a while ago had now vanished in just a matter of seconds. The wolves attacked me one after another. But they attacked my master’s corpse in packs. I swirled my bamboo pole like a wheel. My shoulder experienced an excruciating pain due to the effect of resistance it received whenever it hit its target. Now the wolves started attacking me in pairs and sometimes in threes. The darkness seemed nearly absent between us. I and wolves were drenched with each other’s blood that kept sprinkling on both of us and falling onto the ground like a sparkling cracker burst after catching fire. 

The wolves didn’t cease their attack, continued panting, pouncing with short steps, biting, getting beaten, withdrawing and again pouncing on me. That time I could realise one thing- I was making loud noises, frantically screeching which I would never fantasise even when I am fully conscious. I had become a terrible animal in that war. Sometimes, we were equally strong for each other. I had become one of those wolves. 

Yet, it couldn’t last for long. A good chunk of wolves was terribly beaten, got maimed and fled the scene. Only three were posing challenge. My upper garment was torn at many places and dangling loose with blood stains. The woollen bag in which my master’s body was kept had long been torn into pieces and lay asunder.

One of the wolves, a lonely wolf kept waging its attack on me tirelessly from different directions without coming under the swings of my bamboo pole. If I swung it below, it would jump off above. If I threw it above, it would slouch its head onto the ground. I was fighting it with all my might and fury as to finish it off. It looked well aware of my moves. I was throwing my blows at it with the love and rancour one would have for his own twin brother. Driven by frantic madness, I started chasing that lonely wolf completely forgetting where I was standing, my master’s dead body and other wolves howling around. It fled the spot howling and disappeared into the darkness of the wild. Its yelping didn’t sound like its usual howl, rather it sounded as if it had fled affirming its victory over its war with me. Other two wolves were fast sinking their teeth into my master’s dead body and tearing it apart. 

Seeing the gory scene, I shrieked, “Aiyo” and pounced upon those wolves. Before I could reach them, they dragged his dead body along with them and fell into the gorge. Unable to see it more, I ran to them screaming loudly, “aiyo…aiyo”. I stumbled on something; must be the wooden plank I was dragging to carry my master laid on it. I fell down, and became unconscious before I touched the bottom of the gorge. 

When I regained my consciousness, I found a thin layer of snow covering my body. The rays of morning sun were piercing my eyes. I rose with a jolt from my long slumber. The snowflakes fell off my body like a cotton fibre. I peeked into another rift lying at some distance. I ran along its edges, reached its bottom only to see my master’s stomach completely eaten away by the wolves. His head was missing, seemed severed. The blood that streaked out was found clotted all over his body as if frozen. The piece of cloth used to bind his fingers together was found ripped off. 

The leg of a wolf avulsed along with its shoulder plate from its body was found tightly clasped in my master’s right hand. 

                                                          ***Ended***   

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி) by Pa. Singaram Chapter 40: Kerk Straat

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam 

***

Chapter 40: Kerk Straat    

 

The yellow lights from the gas lamps were glowing in Hakka Straat. Vehicles were busy moving on both directions of the road. Pandian was walking west along the left edge of the road. He was wearing a blue shirt tucked into a greenish brown lungi. On the top, a Khaki over coat. A pair of slip-on shoes on feet. Jumadi and Iskant in Malay costume were walking behind him, at a distance on both sides of the road. Rashid and Kartaviro were following these two men the way they were walking behind Pandian. 

A Dutch lieutenant standing close to a jeep near Roxy Bioscope threw a frowning stare at him. Wearing a rustic look of labourers working in tea estates, Pandian was busy walking steadily with his mouth wide open and eyes squinting. His left hand rose to the back of his neck at intervals and scratched it often. 

He went past the railway track. Kerk Straat. Dermulan Restaurant. Crowding army men. Rows of vehicles. He walked along the walls of Mother Mary church. Cars were speeding away. Men were on the move. Occasional appearance of weapon wielding soldiers. Tree branches rustled. A glaring light on the top of Davros bungalow. 

“Stop” 

A Dutch Corporal yelled at him, parking his motor bike near the pedestrian path. His right hand brandished a pistol while his left hand grasping his waist belt. Pandian stopped. Four Dutch soldiers were coming opposite, chit chatting. Pandian looked into the eyes of the soldier who stopped him. Eyes brimming with suspicion! 

Pandian raised his hands skyward. The chit-chat soldiers went past them as if nothing happened. With his intimidated look Pandian looked through Corporal’s eyes. “Is he sure about my identity? Or just a suspicion? Let me try something to get rid of him” Pandian thought. 

“Sir…sir…saya kling….Sir…saya didamilayu….sir” 

He was pleading with an innocent face, not of a Malay but of a Tamil. His squinting eyes were watching the Dutch Corporal sharply. 

The passers-by slowed down their paces, watched them standing at a distance. 

“Tathang sam saya”

The Corporal bellowed, asked Pandian to come with him. 

 “Sir…sir…saya kling….Sir…saya didamilayu….sir”

His hands raised above skyward signaled something with a mild shake. A booming sound- the sound of bullet from behind. The Dutch man tried batting his eyes lids. Pandian, with his raised hand delivered a hard punch in lightning speed, and ran for life in a second. Bullets were showered, brushing his elbows. Pistols spewing out…tum….tum…tum’

Holding a pistol in one hand, Pandian jumped off and ran crisscross. Bodies fell dead. The soldiers appearing from nowhere ran after him, followed him and tried to shoot him down. 

“Shoot him…Shoot him…” 

The Dutch voices shrieked aloud. 

The four men who accompanied him ran separately, fell onto the ground and were delivering bullets. The passers-by took to their feet and ran helter-skelter. Some of them fell flat on ground and closed their ears. 

A Military warning bell went off and was continuously giving out a shrill howl. Pandian jumped on his side, shot back at the person chasing him behind and ran again crisscross. ‘If I could manage reaching Davros bungalow, retaliatory fire will be easy as there will be mammoth pillars to take cover’, he thought.   

A jeep coming from Kesawan stopped there abruptly. The soldier jumped out of the jeep aligned his Tommy machine gun slinging over his shoulder at his waist level and let loose a burst of fire from its nozzle...trrrrrrrr..trrrrrr. 

Pandian fell on the ground in the four-junction, hit by bullets. The rain of rounds again….Storm, flood, earth quake, darkness, darkness, darkness, blood gushing out like flood from hands, legs, waist, chest….again pumping of a burst of fire into him. 

Dilton, holding a Tommy gun in his left hand came running to Pandian, bent down, and examined who it was. 

“Heavens! Pandaiyaan! Raja Uttang!” 

The soldiers standing around him looked astonished, their mouth uttered ‘Raja Uttang’ in a cataleptic reflex. 

“Raja Uttang! Raja Uttanag! Raja Uttang!” 

Dilton, straightening his body, delivered instructions in sequence. 

“Siberling! Get the road blocked. Balstra! Disperse the crowd at Dermulan. Bring him a stretcher, immediately. Nielson, call the ambulance” 

He unbuttoned Pandian’s shirt. Blood…blood…blood all over his body, and floor. They lifted him holding each other’s hands under his body, joined the tables together, laid him on bed spreads and administered first aid. 

“Pandaiyaan….Pandaiyaan” 

Dilton was standing near the cot on which Pandian was laid, watching him. 

His body moved a little. ‘Kerk straat, Mother Mary Church, Corporal, bomb sound, sounds of chatters and Dilton’s voice’   

““Pandaiyaan….Pandaiyaan” 

Pandian opened his eyes, squinted facing the glare, and batted twitchily. Words came out as if they were from the netherworld. 

“Good evening Major” 

“Good evening Raja Uttang” 

He extended his hand to a tumbler on the table near the wall. 

“Please drink it. You are out of danger. Doctor is on the way. Doctor Hewber” 

Putting his hand under the pillow, Dilton lifted Pandian’s head and held out the tumbler near his mouth. The fire like water went through his throat, made his body burn with fire and offered him strength. 

“What happened to my men?”

“Don’t know. Total six men” 

“Will I live some more time?” 

“No…No…you are absolutely out of danger. Strong body. Sound mind. A very talented doctor is on the way. Miracle medicines coming out. Some sutures. Some days on bed rest. Then we meet again old Pandaiyaan”

“Hopeless”

“Nothing hopeless. It is the truth. What an unfortunate meeting is it anyway!”

“Whatever, we did meet anyway”

“It is the destiny of humans to meet and then part away” 

“Parting is the result of meeting. My eyes glare. What building is this?”

“Dermulan restaurant”

He switched off the light in the front and came back. 

“How long was it after the shoot out?”

“About twenty minutes” 

“How did he identify me?”

“I have given some of my men your photograph” 

“Which one?”

“Binling Studio in Singapore”

“Oh! That photo with three men?”

“It’s our plan to get all of you arrested and deported to India by ship. This shoot-out, a totally unexpected, unwarranted side effect”

“Oh!”

“A British counsel, my father’s friend, had promised me for assistance” 

“That old Mallison?”

“Yes. He is obdurate in safe guarding the welfare British citizens” 

“Yes! I know”

“Have some rest. Doctor will reach shortly. I’ll be back in minutes after making a telephone call”- Dilton paced fast to the adjacent room. 

Breath getting choked up. Suffocating. Lumps in chest and throat, falling deeper in nadir, an empty space, space of nothingness, injuries, blood, space of emptiness, Penang, Rajula, Nagapattinam, Madurai, Sinna Mangalam, neem oil in the market, wooden wheeled push carts creaking sounds, a man sized bag full of tobacco, cajoling entreaties to avail it as soon as possible before it getting empty, open ground in front of the Amman Temple, milky moon light, games of Kabadi with rustic songs of challenging others, Madurai Imperial Cinema theatre, South Veli street, traders’ houses, Manjanakara Street, Kuyavar Palayam, Lane Number one, have a look this side- endearing of words in Malayalam, Medan city, Moski Straat, Bilithone Straat, Ayesha, her golden ivory like body, her sweet words “saya pongja sintha saya poogja raja”, wars, plunders, five heads, Arnemia river, Rolce Royce lawyer Dilton, wooden ship, Storm, Penang, Manikkam, Nanyang Hotel, Nee soon camp, Kota Baling, Jarang Camp, Palavesamuthu, Rakbirlal, jails, Kalik usman, Vilasini, Yamasaki, Netaji, ‘you did your duty perfectly’, Penang Natarajan, Chooliya Street, Sundaram, “Anna, please spare me”, Bangkok, Kathiresan, Prophets, Medan, Ayesha, Thangaiya, jungles, battles, Gangsar, my home, my home, my home, medal, Kerk Straat, bombs, Major Dilton, “Ah, what an unfortunate meeting”, now on bed asphyxiating in chest and throat, it’s me, grass, tree, bird, animal, land, water, fire, air, sky, I am everything in this universe, Yessss, it is me…everything…”

“Pandaiyaan….Pandaiyaan” Dilton came running, checked his pulse and felt his body chilled, almost frozen. He pulled the shroud and closed his body. 

The ambulance arrived in, stopped at the door way, creaking. 

Major Yohan Dilton’s mouth whispered, “You, a fearless man! You, the courageous! Sleep now, Sleep now” 

 

                                     ***Chapter 40 “Kerk Straat” ended.    

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி) by Pa. Singaram Chapter 39: Medal

 

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam

***

Chapter 39: Medal    

 

It was an evening. It was drizzling, breaking through the golden rays of the sun. Pandian turned back hearing the footsteps. Three men- Kasim, the chief of the North Sumathra freedom fighters, Colonel Lubis, the liaison officer of the Republican army and his assistant Simbolon- entered the room.

After the initial entreaties, they all sat around the table. The attender brought them tea. Colonel Lubis slid his hand into his pant pocket and took out “Abdullah” vial. “It is my humble gift to Raja Uttang. We seized it from a Dutch major last week” he said.

“Thank you, colonel sir”

“He received the vial, screwed it open, took out some cigarettes and gave it everyone. Lubis adjusted his shirt with his left hand as he took out the cigarette from his mouth holding it between right hand fingers.

“Major, the republican Army carefully examined your request”. Clutching the cigarette between his lips, he adjusted his shirt with both hands. “We understand it is extremely difficult to stay in the jungle for long. Would you appreciate our suggestion that you could spend some time on vocation either in Shibolka or Limpong?”

“I must go home now”

“Is there any possibility to revisit your decision?”

“I am sorry”

A deep silence followed it for seconds.

Captain Simbolon poured out tea into cups from the jug. All drank it.

“If then, it is alright” Lubis kept the cup on the table and said, “Both the government of Indonesia and its people are well aware of the un-paralleled service you rendered. I have come here to honor you with the top most gallantry award of the Republic on behalf of the supreme army commander”

“Thank you so much, colonel”

A silence followed once again in the room. They puffed on cigarettes in silence. The sun light was growing dim outside the window.

“Major, you may be aware of the siege of the Dutch Navy. You have to go to Malaya first while going home. Right? What is your plan to go to Malaya?”

“By some boat”

“It would be difficult to cross the sea. The Dutch would have gathered information about you by now”

“I believe I can make some arrangements with the help of my friends in Medan”

“I can make an arrangement taking the route to Philippines through Java, if you want. But it will delay your journey. We can’t do anything immediately about it now”

“I believe I can cross the sea from here”

“Let it be your decision. I have one more thing to discuss. You must have a lot of friends in Malaya. Will you be able to arrange sending the cargo from here hoodwinking the Dutch navy’s siege?”

“I can do something about it only after going there”

“Inje Ahamed Bin Rahman, the Republic’s representative in Penang has the power to discuss this matter as to take a favourable decision. I’ll send him a letter”

“Wherever I disembark in Malaya, I would definitely go to Penang and pay him a visit for sure”

Colonel Lubis rose from his chair, others too followed him.

Next day morning, was there a parade of the First Division of North Sumathra Guerilla Strike force. Colonel lubis decked Major Pandian’s shirt with the supreme gallantry medal or his valour and gave a speech on him.

**

Pandian sent a message to Muthu alias Kampong Dara Mukhtar.

Replay came negative. “Not possible”

Another message went to Kampong Dara again. “This assistance should be extended by any means possible. For money, you can meet Jalan Kuda Haji Ruslan Ali”

Reply came from Mukhtar. “After Monday, but before Wednesday, go to Alamelu’s house situated at western corner and send me message from there. Do not enter Medan city in the night. A stringent curfew is in place. Don’t enter in day time too as there wouldn’t be crowd around. Evening 5-7 will be the correct time. Do follow the instructions from Alamelu. Market Straat Moping master has agreed to arrange a ‘bird ride’.

 

                                             ***Chapter 39 “Medal” ended***

Chapter 40: “Kerk Straat” will be posted soon. 

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி) by Pa. Singaram Chapter 38: Life in jungle

 

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam

***

Chapter 38: Life in jungle   

 

Pandian was sitting on a chair under teak tree. The silvery stars on the sky gleamed, smiled. The waxing crescent was throwing its cool light. The foliage around shone in golden green. The fragrance of jasmine flowers was wafting in the air. Sweeter fragrance…pleasant wind…pleasing moon light.

The thought of his village came over his mind, and proved it depressingly heavy. My village…Sinna Mangalam…Madurai…Sinna Mangalam…Madurai…I have to go back to my place. No more guns….no more jungles….no more hidings…The life in jungle is meant for only animals and barbarians. I need my friends, women, books, and pleasing scenes on streets.

The roars from the sea of trees surrounding him so closely, oppressively rose up a music of forest in the air. I can’t live in jungle anymore. It is not for me. I am a social animal. It is wrong to live alone, having differences with loved ones. It is good to have a peaceful and beautiful life with our people.

He rose, ran his fingers through his hair. Enough of this jungle life living like a beggar. I must go back home without any more delay. My trials in seeking pleasures and facing life with uncertainty are more for this young age. I have defiled my body with bad habits, but still able to retain my mind pure. My mental purity would bring me back the purity of my body which I had lost. Body is the basis of healthy life. If body gets defiled, mind would also get spoilt. I would like to lead a life of peace. What I need is a life with good conduct. Without good conduct, there will be no prosperity in life. “Right conduct exalts one; it should be prized above one’s life”.

                                         ***Chapter 38: “Life in jungle” ended***

Chapter 39: “Medal” will be posted soon. 

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி) by Pa. Singaram Chapter 37: Gangsar

 

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam

***

Chapter 37: Gangsar  

 

It was a Sunday evening. The subdued lights of gas lamps which used to be seen before the war had shrouded the city of Gangsar. The shops were found closed in Derbutan Street. Only the Chinese Streets and houses had their lights on which were seen through windows. The bioscope playhouse on the western most corner stood illumined with garlands of lights. Military jeeps and trucks were parked in the front in rows. The youth- with their hands in their pant pockets, mouths wide open and eyes not batting its lids- were devouring “the fully endowed bosom” of an actress hanging in the front wall.

In the east, was there a police post in the Tri-Junction. The soldiers-three white men and two locals- were sitting on iron chairs, smoking cigarettes. Some of Indonesian youths were chit chatting with them. Those who were walking on the road took a diversion at the tri-junction.

The Dutch troops were crowding as usual at Bonhome Restaurant standing in the middle of Van Leben Straat. Piano music in radio was wafting through the air. The clatter of cutlery- plates, spoons and cups- were mildly noisy as they hit the glass surface of the tables. The Krammer Park was just opposite and were there the school arches under darkness on its either sides. Motor vehicles were standing along streets and the drivers were found chatting with the passers-by smoking tobacco.

The news bulletin telecast at half past seven was nearing its announcement. The radio in Bonhome Restaurant clearly indicated the time passing fast. “Pippip Piptisisde Niromsh Patha…” the light went out suddenly, hand bombs exploded and the guns shots shook the surrounding. The miserable howling of people running helter-skelter towards safer places filled in the streets. Helpless yells from every corner of the streets, “Appi…appi…appi...” The gun shots didn’t stop while the goading voices of Dutch pressing emergency pervaded, “hot bar dum daya….hot bar dum daye…”

The parked vehicles disappeared, sped away in no time. The policemen sitting at the police posts fell prey to the starving hand bombs and Greece knives. The soldiers walking on the streets fell on the ground. Houses, telegram and telephone exchanges were blown up. The military men who were playing pole games in their camps waiting for the announcement from the radio were killed in the rain of bullets within seconds the lights were out. The Dutch military vans sped away south carrying the military equipment. The soldiers of the First Division of North Sumathra Guerilla Regiment were travelling in it!

The Gangsar attack shook every nerve of the Dutch army- Who attacked? How and when they assembled and executed this attack? Who was the master mind behind this attack?

The Chief of Military Intelligence Dikurs went to Gangsar, consulted all the Security Services officials and tried to infer from the available information. They could arrive at one thing- The militants who attacked were well trained and belonged to a disciplined striking force. What about the chief? He must either be a Japanese army officer and a European military officer, they thought. But Major Dilton wasn’t convinced with that, he had some other inferences in mind. ‘The one who led this attack is a Tamil. A Moski Straat clerk. How did he come to lead this armed outfit? He had been trained in the Indian National Army. Ha…ha…ha…Indian Nazi….Indian Nazi….” Dilton’s voice was subdued in the fervent laughter that threw slur.

The news of success by the first division of Guerilla forces spread every corner of North Sumathra, spread further everywhere and resonated every corner of Indonesia. This was the first time where the Indonesian Republican Army personnel waged an attack successfully on a big city which held the bases of the Dutch army and caused a huge damage.

Who’s this man heading the first division of North Sumathra Guerilla forces? Is he the Muslim officer who left the British army and joined the Forces of Independence? Or is he the one who is the son of a poor Tamil labourer nipping tea leaves in Mabar Tea estate?

Pandian’s name and frame had assumed different proportions in public fantasy. He was termed Raja Uttang- the king of forests. He would fly sitting astride on a white horse with an alloy armour on his body and a long sword in hands. Blessed soul by the Gods. Bullets would never pierce his body. He is Raja Uttang. Hail him.

The North Sumathra Guerilla force decimated the airport at Lampong city ten days after their campaign at Kangsar. Three aircrafts parked on the tarmac were blown into pieces. The oil tanks were completely set ablaze.

This sudden lightening attack had got the Dutch army terribly confused. Lampong city didn’t have much of sympathizers for Republican army. It was earlier guessed that the army of Raja Uttang had stationed at Medan- Gangsar areas. Would they be able to penetrate a maiden forest in which even animals wouldn’t dare roaming and walked a distance of thirty miles to launch an attack of this scale? Or are there two similar striking forces under the command of Raja Uttang?’

Following the attack at Lampong, was there an armed conflict at Sungai Limbian. A message came from Medan that a column of Dutch Motor army had been scheduled to move to Pilakang Mathi. Pandian’s forces were waiting in ambush to attack them. The Dutch forces were going past Thithikichi. On either side, was there an impregnable, dense forest area. They were marching through the ruined sisal groves lying in patches here and there. Sungai Limbian was approaching near.

The vehicles stopped abruptly, creaking, crashing against one another. Some big branches of trees fell down on the road, obstructing their path.

Bombs exploded, and tyres were burst out. Shortly before they could recover from the shock of attack, much of damage had already been done. The motor forces were unable to march ahead, hiding behind trees but visible to the guerilla forces and facing imminent dangers. The patrolling aircraft did some random circled sorties above and dropped bombs indiscriminately without targeting anyone. But the guerilla forces, by then, moved afar from the conflict zone long before the bombs were dropped.

The ferocious campaigns of the North Sumathra Guerilla forces did continue, spread everywhere. The air force bases were blown up, bridges were destroyed, Railway tracks were damaged and go-downs were reduced to ashes in fire.

                                           ***Chapter 37: “Gangsar” ended.

Chapter 38 “Life in forest” will be posted soon. 

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி) by Pa. Singaram Chapter 36: Thangaiya

 

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam

***

Chapter 36: Thangaiya  

 

The Tonga stopped in front of Thangaiya’s house. Pandian got off the carriage, climbed onto the steps and knocked the door.

“Please come in”

He pushed the door and went in.

“You are very late”

“I had some work in Madras Straat”

Thangaiya rose, called out to a boy from the adjacent house and sent him to Calcutta Straat to get them coffee. He sat in front of Pandian.

Rajarathnam’s Thodi Raga telecast from Singapore radio was wafting through the room.

“One must listen to Rajarathnam’s Thodi Raga in the midnight sitting in front of Karaikudi Ananda Madam”

“Why midnight? Why Ananda Madam?”

“Midnight, when the whole town sleeps, is the best time to enjoy Nagaswaram. During Karaikudi Chithirai festival, when the procession reaches Ananda Madam, it would be almost midnight”

“What I know is all about only Subramaniya Temple Marimuthu’s performance in Nayanam and Samithurai Annavi’s concerts.”

“Have you heard of Marimuthu Pillai acknowledging while listening to Rajarathnam’s gramophones that the latter is essentially a little precocious though very young aged?”

Thangaiya looked up at the ceiling and laughed his heart out, and then asked, “Is Thillaimuthu writing you letters? Had I known that he was in Taiping, I would have paid a visit to meet him. Why had he gone there?”

“Both his elder brother and younger brother are settled there and he might have moved as he had got a good job there. I received a letter only once from him after that. That’s it.”

“What is his elder brother doing there?”

“He is a senior clerk in Mathewson estate. Very influential fellow”

“Thangaiya, I am planning to leave Medan”

“For your home? When?”

“No. Going to the jungle. I am going to one of the camps of Indonesian Independence Army”

“Have you gone mad? Or become something else?”

“I have made up my mind to live a life in jungle from tomorrow. A guerrilla force is getting ready in Dumas Forest areas. If we get an opportunity, we can show the Dutch army who we are”

“You have gone mad for sure. No doubt. What will your army do with the broken guns? Your help in arranging them weapons by smuggling and getting them trained in warfare are just enough. Now pack yourself up for your home. Or just keep quiet blowing out your whistle”

“You better wait and see what Dumas forces are going to unleash”

“Please have a thought about the strength of Dutch forces. How many aircraft, tanks and cannons under their possession! You know it”

“Courage is all about winning someone stronger than us. Right?”

 “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter to us whether this country is ruled by the Dutch or Indonesians. Why should we invite unnecessary troubles?”

“Unnecessary troubles and useful troubles are one and the same. Mignali conquered Punal Nadu. The people of that country seek the help from Aye Eyinan. What did he do? He gave them succour and sped to the battle field yelling ‘fear no more’.

“It is alright. What happened to that ever-happy king of kings, Aye Eyinan for risking his life in the battle field shouting ‘fear no more? He was lying on the top of Parambu hills under the scorching sun for days, keeping the remnants of his breath and died finally”

“But it is a martyrdom. A death with indelible fame” Pandian’s right hand rose above, and said, “Death is inevitable through the ages. One who lives today will die tomorrow. Will there be an end to what is called glory? As long as the Sangam literature thrives, his glorious name will never be erased”

They drank coffee and lit cigarettes.

“Pandi” Thangaiya cleared his throat and resumed his coaxing, “I am not going to ask you to change your mind. But I have one thing I must say. I just hate falling into these illusionary, fancy ideals called Independence- equality- brotherhood and thus inviting unnecessary troubles”

“Fancy ideals! They are a beautiful structure anyway. Without fantasy there is no life. No more ideals. No more society. If there is no fantasy called chastity, will there be a structure called family? Will there be an ideal family without this fantasy?”

“Human society has to march on the way based on true knowledge without fantasy is what I am saying”

“Good. Which is the path based on true knowledge? No one can say it in definite terms. According to the level one’s knowledge, truths would be perceived differently. If everyone acts upon his findings of truth, there will be chaotic destruction everywhere. To prevent it to happen, a fantasy called singularity of society was set as a boundary to one’s knowledge. A knowledge which aims to attain knowing things cannot be termed as knowledge. Knowledge is something which could discern good from bad. Nachinarkiniyan says ‘knowledge is to understand good things in good and bad things in bad”

“Which is good? Which is bad?”

“Anything that has been prescribed by the society as good and bad having the common welfare of everyone in mind”

“So, just to ensure we shouldn’t cross the boundary, humans should accept anything even if it doesn’t fit in the frame of knowledge. Shouldn’t they?”

“The unfettered knowledge and little knowledge are same. A knowledgeable man who doesn’t like to become a fool must set a limit to his knowledge. It may have different names. For Thiruvalluvar it was the path of morality. For Manikkavasagar, it was the path of devotion. For Thayumanavar, it was the path of moral conduct. Ordinary mortals like us, it is the moral codes prescribed by our ancient learned men”

“Don’t we have the right to re-examine what is good and bad in what you have named ‘moral codes’ prescribed by our ancestors?”

“Definitely you have. Why don’t we murder? It is just to prevent others from killing us. Why shouldn’t we tell lies? It is just to make others believe in us. Why shouldn’t we lust after other women? It is just to make our women not to lust after others. But we can’t explain some moral codes so easily as this.”

“Ohoo! If crabs are known to have noses, we have to accept it because it is told by a learned man. So, even if I don’t understand something, I have to accept it anyway. Right?”

“What else to do then? The learned man is Tholkappiyan. The one who interprets is Perasiriyan. We are just kindergarten kids in front of them. When we have doubts, it is convenient to rely of the codes designed by the powerful men”

“So, you mean to say we can fall into the canal if it was dug by powerful men?”

“Yes…either to swim or die in that canal with a powerful man to push us all into that. What else would this herd of human beings expect of life? Just a canal dug by a powerful man to jump into. The question is not who that powerful man is? Lord Buddha? Fuhrer Hitler? Jesus Christ? Or Comrade Lenin? The basic question is whether he is really all powerful man or not. Is he capable of making others accept his terms? If the one dictating terms is really powerful, people will then be ready to fall in any canal he shows them. That said, it seems the rule of this world that every man and woman must fall into such canals invariably one day. But the nature of this herd is that it just leaves the canals and the time of them falling into it to that powerful man’s discretion. Neither are we shown the celestial land of pleasure called heaven nor the worldly land of pleasure called earth. No one had ever seen it. When someone is confident enough to climb onto a podium to yell at everyone that he is capable of showing the masses any one of those lands of pleasure, the multitude of people would be ready to stand behind him waiting and follow whatever he dictates.”

“Isn’t there any way to escape from those tricksters who keep the masses under their spell claiming themselves redeemers and make them believe whatever they say?”

“No…it is impossible. Even if you escape falling into a pond, you can’t escape falling into a bog. Now listen to this announcement from one such redeemer:

 “Triton- Wonderful Triton algae nectar. Skin Kiss. Superb soap that gives flawless skin. A rare, magnificent combination of items. This is the only soap in the world that contains Triton Algae nectar. It is Skin Kiss, the soap that offers you beauty and delight together. About hundred doctors in Harley Street of London do recommend this. About a thousand actresses in Hollywood are using Skin Kiss soap for bathing. Skin Kiss. Read it from either side- from right or left, it remains Skin Kiss. Wonderful beauty soap that contains Triton algae nectar. Here are the superlative words of appreciation falling out of fruit-like lips of the famous actress, golden skinned damsel Kumkum Lola whose measurements stand at whopping 38”-24”-38”. Listen to her words:

“It is Skin Kiss soap that I rely on for taking bath three times a day to maintain my silky skin. How do men find me out no matter wherever I go hiding? It is because of the pleasant aroma of this Skin Kiss soap. Even if I am far away, why does everyone, no matter younger or older, seek pleasure thinking of me? It is nothing but Skin Kiss soap’s sweet dream. It gives you pleasure and happiness of kisses both in and out whenever you rub it onto your skin. If you love to have a skin like mine, and to feel the pleasure of kisses, buy Skin Kiss soap today itself. Never miss a day without Skin Kiss soap while bathing. Now you have listened to the Skin Kiss experiences of the Cine Actress Kumkum Lola. Now listen to what the ‘Light of Dance’ Jiljil Bala says about Skin Kiss!”

“So, down with turmeric! Hail Skin Kiss” Thangaiya’s right hand threw a punch on the table. His eyes glittered. He said, “Your beautiful voice fits doing fantastic business”.

“May be due to my closeness with doing business in the market. It might be true that turmeric gives you glowing skin while the Skin Kiss soap causes itching, drying out your skin like a sun dried hide meant for making sandals. Ordinary people especially the fools in the upper strata of the society like no good for their body, rather they like only those so- called novelty, very often praised by scientists who are good at using attractive words with the backing of some pseudo - scientific proofs. They like novelty, novelty, novelty and   nothing else.

“This is the new model Pig-faced car introduced this year. There were only four doors in the earlier Tiger- faced model. But the Pig-faced model introduced this year has five doors. Remember! It is five doors. This new facility which is not available in any other model has been specially designed keeping your comforts in mind. Don’t forget! It is five doors. Now here lies freshly introduced triangular, colourful bear faced wrist watch! This is the only watch available in this world that shows today’s date and day along with yesterday’s date and day.”

“Stop…stop…I feel that I need that watch now. Dumping some unwanted stuff on someone’s head is also a type of social service anyway. The business will flourish. Won’t it?”

“Ah…a saint wondered at seeing huge number of unwanted stuff being sold in the market Street”

“As long as dupes are around, there will always be experts in duping people. Let us keep this herd-human beings aside. My question is simple. Can’t man, with his six senses, lead a noble life in a world of nature without these complicated fancy codes of conduct?”

“In the life in Nature, man is perfectly a guileless animal. It is only in this fake society, man becomes an animal hiding himself with clothes. Sooner the fantasy about clothes came in, it was certain that fantasies about chastity, property, and deities would also come in. If there is no fantasy, there will be no specific character assigned to society.”

“Let us suppose there is no fantasy about gods. Will there be any loss because of it?”

“How to control the monkey called mind which swings on the rope of desire? How to attain mental peace? Desire doesn’t have limits. Thayumanavar sings like this: “Desire knows no bounds. Even if they rule over the entire world, they would still like to sway their power over ocean. Those who are richer than the gods, still like to learn alchemy to turn everything into gold. Those who enjoy fame that would stand for ever shall still like to have the nectar of immortality”

“Fulfillment of one’s desire is not depending on one’s ability and eligibility alone. It is why the fantasy about god had stipulated a limit to the vanity about human talent and efforts. It is a boundary set to limit the limitless space of mind”

“We don’t have time to discuss and sort out the issues of these divine fantasies. We can do it some other day. I would like to know what had actually prompted my friend to fall on Aya Eyinan and Parambu hills”

“The fantasy which has charmed our Chinna Mangalam Pandian is nothing but a noble character to help the less powerful who fight against more powerful enemies. It is sweet fantasy which fictionally talks about ideals like masculinity that helps to cut open the yokes of slavery. No in-depth research, to dig out the facts whether Eyinan and Mignali had any conflict on women and land, is required now.”

Thangaiya picked up the cigarette box lying on the table as he laughed at it.

“It’s alright. What is the use of coaxing a man who still fantasizes about knowledge, morality, seeking of truth and sins?”

“Thangaiya, there is no such great stupidity than indulging in discussion that has no end. There is no limit to it. Confusions would result in destruction. What is the truth behind man-woman relationship? What was the basis on which the exemptions we find today were made? Pharaohs of Egypt married their own blood related sisters and daughters to get children. Cleopatra’s husband arranged by her father was her own brother”

“The social customs and traditions would take different shapes according to the needs of society”

“Yes. You are right. But if the moral codes take such different shapes, there will be a chaos, unbridled chaos. So did come the standardization of moral codes”

“Ohoo…it just means that there are some codes of morality for sake of society’s good. It means they are just fantasies. To be very precise, they are just plain lies. Right?”

“Both are acceptable to me anyway, be it fantasy or lies. What we mean by it does assume significance. If we don’t have a strong belief in something, we will lose our grip in life. As you grow older with your faculty of discernment getting stronger, you are more prone to develop dislike for your relationships, belongings, skills and accomplishments. Which is permanent relationship? Which is our belonging? Is there anything called undying talent? Or accomplishments? Nothing…nothing is ever lasting. So, there are a lot of beliefs to attain permanence in an impermanent life”

“Fake fantasies”

“I am not worried about how you call it. Why do you believe that the earth rotates in an axis and revolves around the sun? Did you see it? Or just believe it what other had said? It is just a truth based on belief occurred in someone’s mind that first appeared as a fantasy. Do you know the equipment and the calculations it made in order to arrive at the finding that light travels 186000 miles per second? Both equipment and calculations were made of measurements assessed in one’s imaginations. Weren’t they? Listen to this verse.

I saw a peacock dancing in the sky.

The peacock became a cuckoo.

The Peacock became a cuckoo.”

It is just a plain imagination that occurred in one’s mind. But isn’t a better scene in every sense than the ones in the plays of schemes enacted by liars and the iron dolls dancing in puppet shows?”   

“So?”

“We can’t differentiate fantasy from truth”

“Will of God and notions of rebirth are plain ideas based on imaginations. You, I, Atlantic Ocean, and Australian continent are conclusive truths from knowledge”    

“Ohoo…There is a guy from Patha here. He has neither known anything about Madurai nor seen it. What is Madurai to him now? Is it a truth or just a lie?”

“The existence of Madurai doesn’t depend on the guy from Patha. He can very well ask people to know about it or can go to Madurai in person if he prefers to know about it”

“O.K. What about a person who doesn’t know about the Mount Everest?”

“Everyone can’t scale the Mount Everest to know about it. He has to believe in others’ words saying they have seen it”

“What about the planet Mars?”

“There is no way other than believing in what those scientists sitting on earth say, probably with their guess-works”           

 “So, there are different ways to understand different thigs. Right? Judging something as not-existing if you don’t know about it and passing it as a lie if you don’t understand it, are fundamentally wrong. Right?”

“You try to get me confused with your flair for argument. You try to make a point that path of knowledge is wrong. Don’t you?”

“No. I mean the knowledge which is not controlled will kill mankind one day. Like a whore who would offer either truncated or generous service according to the amount she gets, knowledge would also adjust the human whims and expectations. The path of knowledge has always helped to prove right the decisions sprouted from the seeds of one’s desires. The path of knowledge which had once helped prove the mental inferences of powerful people that the earth is flat, spherical, and elliptical will remain prepared in future as well to prove any other contrary notions about the earth being box shaped propounded intrepidly by any powerful person. As long as the decision makers and the ones proving it right are the same, and tools for proving it are made by those who prove it right, it gets easier to prove anything.”

“You are just distorting the path of knowledge. Ok. Leave it for now. Why do you poke your nose into the conflict between Dutch and Indonesians?”

“We, the descendants of Aya Eyinan, hold a moral stand to help the wars fought against tyranny, no matter where it is. Don’t we?”

“So, you are going to fight the tyranny of the Dutch so as to bring in sovereignty for Indonesians. Right?”

“Truly speaking, it is my personal choice. Of late, I have grown bored. I will have some peace of mind if I could change my place and work for some time.”

“I don’t appreciate your decision. Do revisit your decision again and decide”

“I will let you know. May I take leave now?”

“O.K. Come back soon, fully contented”.

 

                                           ***Chapter 36 “Thangaiya” ended***

Chapter 37: “Gangsar” will be posted soon.