Noor-Un-Nisa by Ku.Pa.Raja Gopalan

This is an English translation of “நூருன்னிசா”, a Tamil short story written by Ku.Pa. Raja Gopalan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

***

It must be about one week since I was released from the jail. One day, in the morning I was deeply contemplating reclining on a chair as to which of the lands the flood of my soul would flow into. I didn’t see any task which I could efficiently undertake. There was a lull in the National Movement and the Congress party’s efforts to rebuild the country were in disarray.

The postman gave me a thick bundle of newspapers along with a cover. I opened the cover, read it, brooding over on who, on this earth, could have written this lonely soul a letter. The letter written in English read as followed.

                                                  Madras Qulam Khader Khan, M.A., Pro. Deputy Collector.

My dear friend,

I don’t dare think you had forgotten me. As I don’t know where you are living, I haven’t been able to write you letters for these many years. But, now, the person who is behind this letter and our probable meetings in future after this, is none other my sister Noor-Un-Nisa.

She used to play with us during our school days. Do you remember it? She incidentally came across your name in a magazine published on tenth, and showed it to me. She could identify that it was you as she could keep as simple things as your initials in her memory for long. I sent a ‘Demi-official’ telegram to Vellore as she had suggested seeking the address of your residence. I just received the reply today. Do you remember the childish pledge we undertook at the age of twelve while studying in Trichy that we both would never get married without informing each other? This letter now intends to fulfil that pledge. My marriage is taking place in Chennai. I am sending the invitation along with this letter. You must attend my marriage.

With love,

Qulam Khader.

This letter at once got me rid of the darkness of my mind like a lightening. I had been growing very anxious at the face of a woman that appeared very frequently in my mind, got me love-struck all through these past ten years of my aimless roaming as a vagabond and six months of imprisonment for participating in the Salt-Disobedience movement. It was the face of Noor-Un-Nisa. The innocent face of a girl with the head scarf. Two naughty, complaining eyes in that face floating between eye lids wearing eye liners. The teeth line resembling jasmine buds amidst the rose flowers, slightly visible out as if biting the lower lip a little. It was her face that had dwelled in my mind, got me love-struck like an enchantress. Would she also feel the way I had felt? If not, she couldn’t have been instrumental behind this letter. Right? It seemed that she had called me out by my name from the crowd in which I was roaming incognito. It was an interesting story how the friendship between Qulam Khader and I had started. My father got me admitted into third grade in a middle school in Trichy when I was ten years old. Qulam was my ‘neighbour’ in the class. He was a young boy with some feminine appeal. One day he copied, wrote it down on his slate while I was doing maths in my slate. His secret act became open when his slate reflected the very mistake I made in my slate. The teacher found me guilty thinking that it was I who copied from his slate, and caned me. Qulam called me out, snapping his hands, while going back home that evening.

“Why didn’t you betray me?” he asked. I didn’t reply.

I wasn’t sure what he thought of after that, he asked me to board his car to go to his house. “I’ll leave you back home” he said. We got into his car. My long desire of travelling in car had thus been fulfilled. In fifteen minutes the car stopped in front of a palatial bungalow in Thennur. Gyasuddin Saheb was a big business man. It was said that he was a descendant of Arcot Nawabs. We saw him sitting, leaning over velvet pillows in the front hall of the house. A hookah pipe and a big vessel were placed before him. Big sized mirrors and portrait of various Mughal kings were decking all over the walls. A thick fragrance of incense sticks planted in peacock shaped marble holder was wafting through the air. Velvety carpets were spread on the floor. Qulam jumped off the car and went to him running and told something into his ears. That man gestured to me when I was standing nearly stunned at watching everything around me, and said “Come here”.

When I happened to meet Moulana Shougat Ali later in my life, I would invariably remember this man. Qulam almost dragged me to him. The man called out to his wife as he fondly stroked my back. His wife along with their two daughters appeared from inside. I could very well say even now without betraying my memory that she must be about thirty years old. Tall and very beautiful lady. The sound that came out of her anklets was rhythmic, regal for every step she walked steadily. The elder daughter Alima was short and stocky. The younger daughter, Noor-Un-Nisa resembled Qulam. She must be eight years old. Don’t ask me whether I had the ability of penning down everything this elaborately at that age. Definitely I didn’t have. What I am writing now is what all had got registered in my heart like photographs. The image of Noor-Un-Nisa stands tall as an indelible painting drawn in my heart,

When I saw her first that day, she was wearing a green skirt shining with embroidery, a light shaded yellow jacket and rose silk Thavani. She didn’t wear anklets, sandals, bangles in wrist, and rings in fingers. She had chiselled earlobes unlike protruding ones found among the Muslims in Karnataka. Her face is still carved in my heart. Her long eye brows and lock of hair were found pitch dark. She had tied her hair without plaiting it and it added up to her beauty. Her complexion did seem to have no comparison. Her eyes- words were insufficient to explain exactly how they looked. Were they looking like lotus? Or resembled fishes?- we could try explaining it with the mortal words of an amateur poet, if at all we wished to do it. Gyasuddin whispered something to his wife. She glanced at me a second, and told something to Alima. Alima went in, and brought a bag full of apples, oranges, and pomegranates. I would never be able to forget the eyes of Qulam’s mother, brimming with love when she gave me that bag of fruits. She stroked my cheeks with the fondness of a mother.

Qulam led me to the car, we boarded it. While leaving, I turned, looked at the doorway. Noor-Un-Nisa was looking at my face, biting the end of her scarf. The moment she looked into my eyes, she ran into the house. I and Qulam became thick friends since that day, we played together, gossiped together and fantasised about life building forts in the open sky. I spent most of my times in Qulam’s house. Noor- Un-Nisa used to be there when I was present keenly listening to our chatters. She would also play with us. Closing my eyes with her palms from behind seemed to be giving her immense happiness. I would also feel something inexplicable when she did like that. Her hands were as soft as rose petals. When she laughed cheerfully taking her hands off my eyes, I found dimples on both her cheeks. My heart would be filled with an unfathomable happiness, something beyond explaining in words. We had spent such wonderful days together till we reached fourth grade.

All of a sudden, my father was transferred out of Trichy and I lost contact with Qulam. How would I explain my happiness at receiving this letter that had come to me after twelve years? I boarded the train next day night for Chennai.

Qulam, sitting with me in that big bungalow full of his relatives and guests, was eagerly talking about our olden days. A music concert by one Mohammed Kasim, a singer of some repute was going on. Rose flowers everywhere. Everyone in the house was offered attar and rose water as copious as water. Qulam led me to a room upstairs. We were chit chatting for a long time. Qulam’s mother came there searching for him. On seeing me, she pulled her face inward, and covered it.

“Amma, do you know who he is? He is our…”Qulam didn’t complete his sentence. “Yes. I remember. How are you Thambi? She came forward as she fondly enquiring.

“I am good Amma.”

“Where are you now?”

 “I am in Trichy now”

“Are you married?”

“No”

I felt someone looking young was standing behind her, like a shadow as I was speaking with her. A minute long yearning came over- It should be Noor-Un-Nisa. Would she appear in front of me now? Next moment, I thought it was impossible. How would it be possible? She was a woman wearing purdah. Other than the petty reference in the letter Qulam had written, I didn’t mention anything about her while speaking. I was hesitant even to ask about her. Only after I was securely sure of not getting an opportunity to meet her, I grew comfortable with Qulam as usual while chatting. Qulam left me at about ten for bed. They had allotted me a separate room. I was rolling on the bed in the loneliness of that lonely room. As I couldn’t bear the electric light, I switched it off and kept the window doors open. The moon was throwing its cool light into my room through the window. Sitting on the bed, I was thinking of almost everything unthinkable in my mind. Weren’t she roaming other part of this house that time? Would she be aware of what my heart is feeling now? Impossible.

The desire of a flower comes out as its fragrance and hits one’s feelings. How would the waves of my longingness hit the shores of her heart? Impossible anyway. Why did she then bring me here using her brother as a tool in that letter? Has she fallen in love with me? ….How would I ask her this? My guileless heart was tremendously as troubled as a roaring ocean with pounding questions after questions. It was midnight, I didn’t feel sleepy. The bustle of the city settled down. I could hear only the howls of the waves afar that came floating in the air. Suddenly I felt an unusual desire exploded in my heart. Would it be possible for Noor-Un-Nisa to come at this hour to meet me? Or is she waiting for me to meet me at some unknown place?’ I thought.

I heard a sound of soft footsteps. Yes. It was Noor-Un-Nisa. She came near and stood by other side of the window. The same image of hers, with a little difference in her toned build for her age. I could see her face clearly under the moon light. Unable to assess my words as to what I spoke, I just mumbled, “Things happened as we feared. Didn’t it?”. She gestured to me, closing her mouth with her one finger.

She took out a cover that she held along her chest. “Read this letter only after going home. Leave this place in the morning itself. We have met, seen each other. That is it. No more delay even by a minute” she said, turned after a couple of steps. I noticed drops of sweat on her beautiful face, might be due to pressing anxiety. I jumped a leap, and grasped her hands, and we stood there looking at each other for some time. She released her hands off my clutch, very softly and left.

Qulam’s face hung as he saw me getting ready next day morning.

“Any problem?” he asked.

“I think a day is enough for now. We can meet some other day. I have some urgent work” I told him. In a short span of half an hour, I went out of the bungalow. On the banks of River Cauvery, sitting in my room by the window, I was again watching the same full moon through the window- but as a totally changed man now!

I read Noor-Un-Nisa’s letter again and again. It read as followed:

“You can keep this letter with you treating it either as my words or my existence in you. I am still unable to come out of the love I felt for you when we played together in Trichy. It might be because I feel that your image still stands in my heart as a statue. I am just dreaming that I have been playing with you all along with a never-dying youthfulness. My desire to meet you again in this birth has also been fulfilled. I am just going to spend my remaining days the way Jebunnisa, the sister of Emperor Aurangazeb, spent her days. It is very satisfying to hear your words you spoke to my mother that you are still unmarried. If you could live your remaining days without getting involved with any other woman having your heart aligned with mine, I would be able to live in this world without being worn-out. You don’t have to write me a reply affirming this commitment. I strongly believe that you would do it. It is the very basis of my life. I am always thinking about you, fully unmindful of what I am. We aren’t living as husband and wife in this world. We don’t need sexual gratification either. Let us not defile the full moon of ecstasy that blossoms in the sky of our sweet thoughts. I hope I sound right. Don’t I?”

Yours

Noor-Un-Nisa.

I felt Noor-Un-Nisa had come in person in the moon light and solemnly sought my words of pledge. I have been roaming in all possible mundane ways as ordered by my dearest enchantress. She just appears in front of me like a golden damsel the moment I think of her, encourages me in all the tasks I do and pacifies me by her soothing appearance in my mind when I am down with anxiety.

                                                             ***Ended***

“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 K. Saravanan. This is 38^th English Translation in the Classic Tamil Short stories Series.

Ku. Ra. Raja Gopalan

  “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 in the university. He was not much aware of Mani’s wife. He hadn’t even met her till 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 of women mingling with men equally and the importance of women 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 land lord 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 Bengalore silk saree, neatly leaving the ‘pleats’ and an old styled blouse in 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 house hold 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 which is not aware of anything called ‘modern life style and getting mingled up with men’, speak up to an unknown man?’ It seemed 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. You 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 asking him to come inside the house and sit’ He couldn’t make out anything out of it.

“No….I’ll come later” he spoke half way, 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 I have told you? What the heck is your problem in asking who it was? Nothing big would be lost if you could use one word more. He won’t drag you out holding your hands. Will he?’ He was spewing out the words.

 Just a week ago he got very much 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 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 the she was going to give him would make him happy, she remained silent till he spoke out as much 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 on his face. Further, he was annoyed with her for behaving more than the required limits which his advices had specified. Then why did she behave like that? ‘Was it just a plain obedience to my advices? 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. Till 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 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 on 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 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 an 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 child-like face with innocent look in 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 a 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 that confusions. I have to meet Mani and tell him everything’. Ramu was walking, preoccupied with these thoughts.  But he decided to have a first-hand 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 works, Saratha was combing, and plaiting her hair. Near to her, she had a plate full of loose, unstrung Kanagambaram flowers, a face mirror, ribbons, comb, and a fragrant oil bottle. When Mani entered home, he became furious at seeing all these arrangements.

“You call this rubbish as 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 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 hung with its weight. Don’t they?” Saratha told him.

“Who has told you to do everything which 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 which doesn’t have fragrance? The taste of women who wear blue pea flower on their head 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 to Mani’s face for a minute. She could see that his thoughts were clearly reflecting on his face. A deep sign of disgust appeared on her face as she had understood the insult he had just inflicted on her- on her femininity. She loosened her half-plaited hair, tied up, picked those kanagambaram flowers along with the plate and kept 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 thee yearning for her. Saratha came with glass of milk, 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, 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***

Note:

1.      Kanagambaram: (English Crossandra, Fire cracker Flower) a type of flower used for worship and wearing on head. 

Source: Ku. Pa. Raja Gopalan’s short story “Kanagambaram”

Translated from Tamil by K. Saravanan.    

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

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

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam  

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be safe with the door locked…”

“I know…I Know…you get lost.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kamala’s delight sounded a poisonous potion for Savithri.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think that way, Ammami!”

“Then, how will that be?”

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

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

“Can I continue reading it?”

“You can.”

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

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

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

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

“I feel sleepy today” Kamala told him.

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

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

“Yes. It’s over”

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

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

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

The young man stood a while, hesitantly.

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

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

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

“It’s me”

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

“It’s me…Seenu from Madurai.”

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

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

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

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

“How will you remember that? Will you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She heard Kamala clearing her nose.

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

                                                     ***End**