The breasts (Paarkudangal) by M. Gopala Krishnan

 

M. Gopala Krishnan

This is an English translation of Paarkudangal, a Tamil short story written by M. Gopala Krishnan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

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I am standing on that long, empty temple corridor, glancing at a thin-waisted sculpture of a woman carved on the stone bearing the face of Yali 1. My eyes, fixed on its breasts, are staring at them absorbedly. I look around and see none. The pigeons dwelling in the holes of temple towers flap their wings, fly across, and settle down. My eyes fall upon the breasts of the statue again. ‘Was it just an imagination of the sculptor? Or was it just the way she stood for a pose before the sculptor?’ Every pillar has been carved with at least one woman statue. All their breasts are looking similar, in the same size. My fingers grew jittery, longing to touch them to feel it. Why did they make these voluptuous beauties stand in these temples? It will be so much more embarrassing if someone happens to see me ogling at their breasts. Isn’t it? Everyone wants to look at it. They move away, glancing at them sideways as if they are not interested in them. But their heart will still be longing to have a close watch on them. Won’t they? I had also stood in front of a mirror, amazed, comparing the curvaceous frame of the sculpture with my body while changing my dresses. My body is not like hers. So what? She is a statue, just a stone statue. But I am a truth standing in flesh and blood. I look beautiful when I smile. Do I look beautiful? I feel like laughing at once when I think of it. Laughing gets difficult anyway since the mere try of it pains a lot.

The lips are dry and painful. Thirst. I need something to drink. While licking the lips with the tongue, it awfully tastes salty and bitter. This odour! A sharp odour that burns the tips of my nose. I am very much familiar with this pungent odour. While climbing down the stairs on the western side of the second-floor nestling in elongated leaves of naval trees, I used to cover my nose to avoid this stench. It is the same pungency! Adjacent to the steps was a chemistry lab. The lab girl will be explaining some blue liquid boiling in the beaker and calling it either some element or mineral, with her elegant curly lips. Is it Suganthi’s voice? Is she speaking in Malayalam? Possibly not. I am so sure that someone is watching me so closely. I want to open my eyelids to see who it is. But the eyes are too heavy to open. This touch seems to be that of a woman. Does that Malayalam-speaking voice belong to this woman? What is she doing exactly here? She has masked my eyes so that I wouldn’t be able to see anything. Hasn’t she? I feel a sharp, sudden prick somewhere, and it moves further slowly and spreads all over my body. The pain seems to have so many legs. Doesn’t it? The millipedes have hundreds of legs, but they say horse has thousands of legs. Is this stench an odour of pain? Are they the waves of pain in the ocean of emerald in which my body now floats?

As the waves hit the shore ferociously, Manisha2 comes running. Her blue dupatta flies away, flapping in the wind. Now the scene is in slow motion. Her big, beautiful assets move up and down in slow motion. Tiny lights around the screen are sparkling3. When I sulked, “What poor taste it is,” he, sitting beside me, glued his eyes on the screen and did not move his eyes away from it even for a minute. No matter if it is running or jumping, it is I who know all its discomforts. “Men are privileged species; they can leave the place in any emergency at any time, run anytime they want, and fly away anytime they like. But we aren’t like them. We need to leave our place at least two minutes in advance. Only then does walking slowly become possible. Even your slow walk would attract hundreds of eyes in the street. If you run, it will multiply into thousands. Every eye will be waiting to see your dupatta flying away and half sari sliding out, Chandra aunty would warn me into my ears while fastening the ribbon tightly in my hair. Aunt’s body was a well-built one. Even her ordinary walk would make her assets shake up and down. Now, where is she? She was also visiting the hospitals during her old age. I must ask her what had happened to her after that. I asked him to give me her mobile contact number. But I am sure that he would have postponed it. Or he would have concluded himself that talking to her at this hour was not really needed. 

The expanse of emerald green still pulls me towards it. The softness of mosses in the water caresses my feet. I am being pulled into the deepest depths of the ocean. It is not cold, and rather it is warm. The air bubbles coming out of the breath of fishes come near to me. The fish do not have such torments in their lives. I have heard that whales are mammals. If a whale is a mammal, won’t its breast shake when it swims, jumping up above water? Aunt Chandra once told me while giving me an oil bath, “See…my dear girl. Now, you have become a grown-up girl. You shouldn’t wear tight blouses. You should make your dresses in such a way that it covers both your shoulders and neck.” Her words left no impact on me at that time. It was only in my eighth grade that I understood that it was something giving me an enduring sensation, something beyond a meek, ordinary outgrowth of one’s body. A secret sensation coupled with fear. Seeing them in the mirror while changing my dresses, my eyes got attracted towards them. This curiosity further forced me to look at my friends attentively. So many unanswered questions started hovering around my brain. Though she would discourage me with a gentle whack on my head if I asked my aunt about this, she would explain it earnestly while lying beside her or making plaits on my hair under the guise of rebuking me for being impudent with such questions. It would be both embarrassing and dreadful listening to her.

It is the fear that still carries me on its head. It carries me everywhere from lab to lab. How many tests! How many queries! All medical gimmicks were performed on my nude body! I don’t remember whether it was my ninth class or tenth class. A maternity specialist took a special class for girls. Her name sounded bizarre, named after a star, Thiruvonam. Yes…her name was Thiruvona Selvi. How beautifully she taught us to check our breasts with our own palms! She taught some simple testing techniques while changing our dresses. I just followed her instructions a couple of times and then stopped. There wouldn’t have been any need for being enslaved to these tests and persistent fear had I followed those simple tests unfailingly. These tests are horrible! One lady once asked me to stand, pressing my breasts against a glass surface after removing my blouse. Who’s that? Christina? She must have seen so many women endowed with different sizes. Mustn’t she? For her, they are just some balls of flesh, groups of tissues that are put to the test and incapable of evoking feeling in her. But all are not core professionals like Christina. There was one Krishnamma, with a mild growth of moustache, who used to stare at me while cleaning the glass surface and wouldn’t deliberately allow me to put on my blouse even after the tests were over.

I hear a sound of someone walking in, approaching me faster. I am unable to open my eyes. I could feel someone standing by my bed. As I tried to ask, ‘Who’s that?’ I felt an excruciating pain as I tried moving my lips. I may feel good if I had some water. Neither could I move my hands nor open my eyes. Is my fear still keeping me on its lap? Or is it what death is? Am I dead now? Never. It is not possible. If I am dead, I won’t be able to feel this odour, this warmth. The sound of steps falls into my ears very clearly. The sound of death wouldn’t be this softer. Would it? Wild buffalo is the vehicle of Yamraj3 known for its lightning speed, wouldn’t walk this soft.

Where is my husband? Had he been here, I would have hidden myself behind him. He will do nothing to alleviate my fear even if I tell him my fears. All he could do was nothing more than throw his sharp eyes at me. A mild nod of his head. All his contributions to lessen my worries will come to an end with that smart nod. He didn’t even try to be okay with anything that he had handled. Did he? He didn’t even find complete pleasure in me. If he had had that experience of finding it out, he would have discovered all my fears by himself too. The intensity of lust is very short-lived, only in the beginning, to be precise. How fast he would finish off everything! He would turn his back to me well before I could understand what it was, and whatever happened after that was all only my shameless moves. Weren’t they?

These black stone statues, standing fully endowed, are not shy of themselves. Which temple is this? Each of those statues is capable of performing magic of arresting one’s attention. Those statues are not dressed up. They stand in broad daylight without hiding their assets. If those busty things are not covered with cloths, this world won’t see these many problems. It attracts attention only when it is half exposed, half hidden. The torment starts when the mind tries to find out the stuff half hidden through its imagination. If fully exposed, nothing will look different as all will look the same. The unresolved madness of millennia will get resolved in just a matter of seconds. This is the secret that makes all men alike sleepless. Art and poetry are nothing but empty babbles. Aren’t they? How many sensuous descriptions! How many similes! If all these aspects are filtered through, all the romantic stock of our literature will become miserably thinner. One poet compares the shrunken breast to one’s poverty. Another one cries that it is the benevolence of a generous person. Both Andal and Meera4 have talked about it. Were they also tormented by its burden? 

Are they really a burden to the womenfolk? One shouldn’t have any doubt about it. It is just torture. One has to face the agony of being very careful all the time. The dress shouldn’t slip out; it shouldn’t be worn loose; it shouldn’t be visible outside the contours of garments. While climbing up and climbing down the stairs, one should be alert that it doesn’t shake. Why should one have all these troubles just because of an additional part of the body destined to carry babies? Isn’t that all? This world never prefers to treat it that simply. Does it? There are thousands of eyes always awaiting, keeping themselves open to have a glance at them.

This man is in no way different from those eyes. On that night, when he came near to me, I was shaking inside with a fear of the unknown that accompanied his approach. He didn’t even give me time to prepare myself for the next. They were the ones he was all the way longing to see so impatiently after removing my dress. Weren’t they? A spectacular ecstasy on his face on seeing them! A restiveness. How forcibly he grasped them into his hands! It still pains. The boorishness of his clench! After that incident, at the stroke of night’s fall, my body would start shivering at the very thought of him approaching me with beastly speed with his swaying hands. They were his only targets of pleasure on my body. Weren’t they? Yet, he wasn’t satisfied with them. Many a night, he had told me without any compunctions that they could have been still bigger in size. I was clueless as to what reply I must give to this stupid observation. Everyone’s body has its own curves and crooks. Isn’t it?

Someone touches my shoulder, shaking me, grasping my left hand fingers. Who could that be? Is that him?

I am not very certain about it, notwithstanding the fact that I am very much familiar with his touch. A voice is heard near my ears and then moves away.

“Malini” … Yes. It is my name. Is he the one calling me up? There hasn’t been any instance so far in which he addressed me with my full name. He called me up ‘Malu.’ If I am able to open my eyes, I will feel good, I think. I am still unable to get rid of the heaviness that is pressing down on my eyelids. I moistened my lips with my tongue. Paining much. “Give her some water, someone softly ordered, with a tinge of Malayalam in the voice. “Feed her slowly…slowly…” Drops of water on my lips—a spring that brings back my life. As it goes down through my throat, my nostrils feel the whiff of it. Is it his scent? Or is it the scent of Dettol? Is there any more scent along with it? Or is it the pleasant whiff of cough syrup?

When I was lactating, my body smelled of milk stench. While coming near to me, he used to crinkle his face with a sulk, yet wouldn’t miss caressing it. If I asked him whether they now looked in proper size he had wanted them, he would deny bobbing his head. “What I want is something different…something that looks like a copper idol,” he would say. His disappointed voice would pull my heart away from him.

Putting my little baby, crying in soft sobs and kicking his tender legs in the air on my lap, cuddling him against my breast, and glancing at him when he suckles, pressing his gums upon it with his eyes closed, is nothing less than a moment of bliss. It is a dream of both pain and pleasure. The frenzy of the baby hitting the breasts to take out milk from them. How painful the breasts are when the baby doesn’t drink milk from it for long! Excruciating agony. The drops of milk gushing out, spilling all over while pressing the breasts hard to relieve the pain. It has a typical taste, sweet yet not completely sweet. The left breast is sagging as the baby has been pulling its nipples down frequently while suckling as I lie on my side cuddling him against my breast. He didn’t leave suckling till he reached two years. He defied all my attempts to make him forget suckling. He became so infuriated when he tasted the layer of neem oil applied on my breast. I am still unable to forget the slap I gave on his back as I was unable to bear the pain of his furious bite on my nipples. At one point, he despised suckling it. Stopped it. Never came back to it even if I tried to feed him with it. He smiled at me. I started crying.

Where is my little doll?

I must have been lying down here for a very long time. Mustn’t I? Is it since yesterday? Or the day before yesterday? Who was that doctor who talked to me with a smiling face? Was it Suganthi Varatharajan? I couldn’t be attentive to what she spoke. The fear was very much overpowering. I grew suspicious of everyone. Everyone seemed to be trying to hide something from me. It all started with a petty pain from a mere touch. Was it on the right or left? I brought it to their notice only when the pain became so unbearable. He was also not very serious about my complaints in the beginning. Only after my persistent complaints about the pain did he decide to take me to the hospital, that too, in the fifth week, followed by one month of visits to hospitals. The pain was aggravating, bringing me almost under its tight grip. It was in one of my visits to Suganthi that I got all my doubts cleared, yet I was afraid of asking what it was. She just told, “A small surgery.” These many tests just to conduct a small surgery! How many times must the radiation have penetrated my body as if chopping it off into pieces! I got simply bored with the terms MRI and tissue analysis. He was also tight-lipped. His eyes were teary, and his voice wasn’t coherent. He would just utter something out of some needs and then quickly whisk away. They took me to the operation theatre in the early morning. He brought me in a bed to the operation theatre grasping my hand. They stopped him at the entry, took the bed in, and closed the door. I was strictly instructed not to eat anything after ten o'clock from yesterday. I didn’t even drink water. Emerald greenish hue filled in the room. The window blinds were swaying in the air. A mild humming of the air conditioner blowing out cold air. Wearing a green colour surgical attire, Suganthi entered the room as the nurses and other doctors were busy in their respective assigned tasks. She came near and smiled at me. The streak of kunkumam worn between the partings of her hair was visible sparingly. “Just a small injection,” she told, nodded her head, and left. A chilling pain in the spine drove me mad. She came to me after some time and asked something. I could see the movement of people, and a lock of her hair was visible outside her green colour cap. I could feel that they were all doing something to me, bending over towards my body. But I couldn’t see what they are exactly doing. Are they crating? Are they going to cut them off? What are they doing? I could understand one thing for sure—they got me to get rid of the fear that has been engulfing my psyche.

Was he waiting outside? Was the same fear hiding itself near him? What might he have thought of? What might he have told about my problem? He was never attracted to me anyway. Now this problem added to it…will they remove all? One? Or both? How could they have removed them? Like the way Kannaki tore her breasts and threw them away! Did she tear the left breast off with her right hand and throw it out in the air? How come that milk pot could emit fire? Madurai was set ablaze. Wasn’t it? Did Kannaki too have this problem? Didn’t she? Not only she…all women have the same problem. She was so daring that she could tear her breast off and throw it. Here I am lying on the bed, giving them away. Many women still safeguard them strictly under their braziers.

Is wearing braziers necessary? Will he remember this question I asked curiously as a newly married bride? If he now asks me, “What is your size?” what could be my reply? I can run like female athletes henceforth. No more hesitations, no more worries that it will shake up and down while walking and running. Removing both will be seriously comfortable since removing only one will become cumbersome. Did the doctor mention it? I heard her telling something with a smile, bending over to me as her hair streaked out. She must have told about it, I guess. Is it one or two?

I have heard that Goddess Parvati has three breasts. Poor woman! I have these many troubles with just two. With three, it will be torture for her. Will it grow again like nails clipped once or hair that is trimmed once? No…it should not. If it grows, all other ailments associated with it will also grow along with it. How pathetic it would be to see a group of tissues that bears life in it could develop into such a deadly cancer? Is it possible that a gland that produces milk could release poison? If it grows again, I have to undergo the same torments of tests, injections, and medicines. Some persons covering themselves in green colour attire, wearing masks, would come near and chop them off again with their laser knife. I don’t need them to grow again; I can’t bear it being chopped off again. I must tell him all.

Will he approach me after this? Every time he approaches me, it is the spot he used to begin all. Will there be scars at the place where they were cut off? They would be looking like those broken statues. Wouldn’t they? Would they have stitched the open skin after removing those fleshy rounded assets? When could I see that spot again? Now it is logically acceptable that he would move away from me. I don’t think he would leave me alone. If he suffers from something like this, would I be able to leave him alone? No one can run away from each other. Both are impeding each other from running away. Aren’t we? Poor fellow! Must be feeling dejected. He must have been afflicted by the fear of having faced everything closely all alone. Medical expenses run in lakhs of rupees. He must be feeling miserable now and struggling to get out of this unending darkness in order to see some light out there.

I could feel some shade of light in my eyes. Now I am able to move my eyelids. Are the doors of the emerald sea opening now?

Am I floating in the air? Or just lying down? The body seems to be weightless. Leaving my memories alone, has my body melted into nothing? Feeling thirsty. I moved my lips. It pains. Some drops of water are flowing down from my mouth. Is he sitting near me? No… I don’t think so. I opened my eyelids. I could see an image of a person bending over towards me. Blue light in the backdrop. The moment I clucked my tongue on my lips and drank, I heard someone saying, “Very good.” They tried shaking my right shoulder. Voice of a woman: “Are you able to open your eyes now?” My left eye opened a bit. At once the heavy eyelids gave way; the light spread in the front as if covered with snow. Behind the snowy dimness was her face seen through the gap of opened eyelids. “Look at me this way…” she gently touched my jaw and turned to her. Now I could see everything clearly. A portrait of a sunflower on the wall. A door on the left. It just opens, and a person comes in. There he is. I close my eyes once and then open them. He is standing beside me with his disheveled hair and tired, sunken face.

“Malu…” he grasps my hands softly. Tears rolling down my cheeks. “Don’t cry. You will be alright…” Tears roll down his cheeks too.

The woman warns, “Let her not strain herself.” I gaze at his eyes as he sits on the chair. What should I ask him first?

I have to see myself in the mirror. Only after that could I muster the courage to ask him anything. “I was waiting for the moment you would open your eyes, he says, wiping his tears. “When was the surgery over?” I ask him, a question for the sake of asking. “It was over by half past ten yesterday morning. They kept you under observation till morning today and brought you here at about eleven. You didn’t open your eyes all day,” he says, his voice drowned with heaviness.

“What is the time now?”

“Half past six in the evening”

Time for lighting the home. The house had been left unattended without lighting lamps.

“Where’s our boy?”

“He’s gone out with his grandpa. He’ll be back soon.”

I know these are unimportant questions. Just a customary start to my conversations with him. The questions I wanted to ask him are totally different from these simple, perfunctory queries. Where and how to start?

I guess he is also reeling under similar conflicts in mind. What to tell him first? How to tell him that? Suganthi must have explained everything to him. Now, how is he going to tell me all these?”

My muscles started aching. Let him start himself. If I don’t get any convincing answers to any of my questions from his talk, I will later consider asking him that. There was no pressing urgency to ask him now. Is it one or both? Did they just remove some of its problematic interiors or remove it completely? Will I able to see that chopped group of flesh?

I closed my eyes.

I am standing in that long corridor again.

I heard a voice from somewhere. “The statues in all the temples stand broken. Handiwork of some miscreants. Look at the spots where they have tried their hands to maim them! Lowly births! They are also born to their mothers and suckle milk from their breasts. Aren’t they?”

Standing there is a thin-waisted sculpture of a woman carved on the stone bearing the face of Yali. She is standing with her right hand raised upward. The breasts of her elegantly erect frame are found mutilated.

 

                                                              ***Ended***

Notes:

1.      A Hindu mythological creature, portrayed with the head and the body of a lion, the trunk and the tusks of an elephant, and sometimes bearing equestrian features mostly found in South Indian temples.

2.      Manisha- Manisha Koirala, a film actress.

3.      A scene in the movie “Bombay” by Maniratnam, a famous Tamil film director. 

4.      Female devotees of Lord Krishna. 

 

Shakti Yogam by M. Gopala Krishnan

 

M. Gopala Krishnan

This is an English translation of Shakti Yogam, a Tamil short story written by M. Gopala Krishnan. Translated into Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam. His other stories Iravu (The Night), Vaal Velli (My flowers are not fragrant), Oothanira viralgal (The hue that my fingers hated), Rasigan (Subbuni and his femaledeities), and Thunbakani (The fruits of misery) are also available in this blog. The translation of Paarkudangal (Milk pots) will be published soon.

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Mathanki called out to her father, Chithambaram, the moment his head showed up at the backyard of the house when she was busy cleaning up the puddles of rainwater at the kitchen entrance with an old cloth and squeezing it into a thin-bodied bucket. “Appa, if the rain continues like this, we will be left with nothing. Look at this wall! It is standing as if it is waiting to crumble.”

Chithambaram looked up as he was drying his hair with a towel. The black palm tree trunk beams holding up the flat tiles cuddling one another in a disorderly manner were found partially bent inward. He bent over to avoid his eyes from facing the bar of glaring sunlight falling into the house and touched the red mud wall that had already begun losing its lime layer. He felt a chillness in his palm.

Kamaladevi was trying to chase a frog away hiding in the wet, mossy crevice between the corner stone and the wall with the twig of a broom, laughed, and said, “It was a nuisance all through the night. Incessantly croaking! Didn’t allow me to sleep. Look at its impudence…after doing all these, it doesn’t even budge an inch to move away from here, rolling its eyes.”

Thirubura Sundari, who was chopping lemons, asked him loudly, “You will have your lunch here. Will you?” The hall was filled with the sour odour of lemons.

Putting his wet towel on the clothesline, he was looking intently at a wet, green Peepal leaf shoot swaying in the air, sprouted from the crevice on the wall above the backyard door.

“The court adjournment is in two days. You remember when it is. Don’t you? Do speak in finite terms with that useless lawyer to bring this case to an end at least this time. Both the lawyer and the litigation have become as old as the case, which is unduly stretched longer.”

“Akka! Today’s Hindi tuition in the evening will be conducted in the temple prayer hall. Won’t it be?” asked Kamaladevi, throwing off the twig aside, bit the frazzled tip of her shirt collar once and spat out its stitch, picked one lemon from the basket, and started rolling it on the floor under her palm. 

 

‘I have used all the rug sacks to squeeze the water out. Where else can we go now other than that place?”

Chithambaram stood in front of the puja almirah on the left of the kitchen and saw the flower basket empty. He peeked out and asked, “Hasn’t anyone picked the flowers today?”

Without lifting her head, Kamaladevi laughed and replied, “The rain has washed away all the hibiscus flowers grown in the plant meant for Ambal1 ”

Unavailability of hibiscus flowers didn’t bother him much anyway, and he stood in front of the Goddess Ambal with his eyes closed. His hands reflexively groped in search of the Kunkumam2 vial, took out some amount of it with the tips of his fingers, chanted some slokas, and offered his prayers to Ambal. As though his lips were mumbling his usual slokas, his mind remained unfocussed. The sweat was rolling down, and the tip of his nose was shining with droplets of sweat.

Kamaladevi was laughing at something so feverishly. She was fond of laughing at everything that she came across. At the moment he opened his eyes, a drop of sweat fell down from his nose tip. She laughed once again, this time louder. “Bhagavatheeee….” Chithambaram stood for a while as if in a trance and then relaxed his hands, took out a good amount of Kunkumam—saffron vermillion powder—in his hands, and smeared it on his forehead liberally. He then came out, bent over a bit so as to avoid hitting his head with the beam above the door.

As he was about to leave the house with an umbrella, he paused a second, glancing at the tender foot of the baby sleeping in his cradle, moving his limbs in discomfiture. “Look at this boy Mathu…seemed to have wet himself”—the baby’s whining grew stronger as he was talking to her.

Kamaladevi came running, excited. “O! My small doll! Got wet? Come to me.” She scooped him from the swinging cradle into her arms and removed its drape aside, sticking to his body.

“Why did you scoop him up now? He will point at my breast now and hit it with his head in demand of milk. I can give it to him if only I have it. Right?” She glanced at him standing near the door for a moment and then entered the kitchen with a snort. “Tend to him for a second. I will be ready with some boiled milk.”

He folded his towel and wrapped it around his neck, unzipped his bag, and examined its contents once. He put on his rubber sandals, torn at its heel with due care, and glanced back once before venturing out.

The sunlight was harsher, as if it had descended with a purpose of drying out the wetness of morning rain. A heavy voice stopped as he was busy walking, holding the tip of his dhoti—“I “thought of meeting you well before leaving the house on your routines.” Chithambaram looked up at him. It was Chinnamaruthu. He was standing at the side of a meat stall; on seeing Chithambaram, he dropped his dhoti down and threw off his bidi. Chithambaram stopped, absorbedly gazing at the sharp edge of the butcher knife chopping the meat into tiny pieces.

“Only a couple of hands would be enough to lift it above for giving support below so that the tiles can be arranged in order. But we can’t touch it now as it is very wet. Let the rain stop before we decide anything about it. It will cost nearly ten thousand rupees. You get it ready, and we can replace those old palm tree planks with new ones. We can start the work once the rain stops.”

He nodded his head, said, “It is alright,” spread the hood of his umbrella, and resumed his walk, grasping the tip of his dhoti.

Pidari pond was brimming with water that the bathing steps were found submerged under water. Crows were flying around the old lady sitting with her ‘Appam3’ on the porch of the Ganesh temple on the western side of the bank. The Kumbeswaran temple bell clanged once. When he was carefully trotting along the edge of the boggy track that had become unsuitable even to put one’s leg in, a cycle that had just paced past him stopped at a short distance, almost tottering. The rider, with a dirty Poonool4 running across his torso, turned back, got down from his bicycle, and came to Chithmabaram with a broad grin on his face. 

“There is a purpose why the road gets boggy in rain. It is to ask men not to be bold enough to walk on it with clean dresses on them. Isn’t it? If then, how dare you walk on it?” the rider told him teasingly and came near, pushing his bicycle, with his frontal incisors strongly sitting upon his lower lip. Chithamabaram folded up his umbrella, tucked it, and sharply looked at the drops of sweat shining on the rider’s bony back.

“Fortunate are you! You have a bicycle to go without having to risk your hands and legs getting dirty. Aren’t you?”

The street dogs were tearing the leaves thrown away with leftover foodstuff littered outside the garbage bin. They raised their heads at regular intervals and gave out some random barks as a sign of warning, reminding the snorting pigs roaming in groups in the vicinity along the gutter not to venture into their area. Covering their nose to avoid inhaling the stale odour of damp garbage in the air, both of them reached the corner of North Mada Street, stopped there, and looked around as if getting perplexed about the path they needed to select for walking further. Pigeons were found perching on the peripheral wall of Kumbeswaran temple. A stray horse crossed their way, running fast as if being chased by someone.

“Can we have coffee?” asked the bicycle rider, stopping his bicycle and tightly tying his dhoti against his waist. Chithambaram’s eyes were fixed on the folds of his dhoti.

“Don’t worry. It is there in safe custody. Let’s have coffee first”—the” bicycle man’s frontal incisors sat upon his lower lips again, this time strongly.

A lady standing at the entrance of Mangalambika Hotel with a basket full of crossandra flowers waved her hands at him and called him out. “Ask your younger daughter to meet me. I have an order for a garland to complete by this evening.”

Chithabaram nodded his head. The bicycle man parked his bicycle outside and went in, bending his head down. Chithambaram followed him. As they sat on the three-legged chairs, they could feel the air filled with the aroma of snacks sparking their hunger pangs.

“I was thinking of meeting you for the last two days to have a word with you. But I couldn’t do…” the bicycle man said, looking at Chithambaram fixedly, as he fondly massaged his Poonool.

“Our Sundari is often seen talking closely with that insecticide seller. What sort of an important talk might she be having with him?”

He looked into Chithambaram’s eyes penetratingly, paused hesitantly till the latter encouraged him with an expressionless face to go ahead. “Mm…carry on…then?”

Coffee arrived along with the aroma of its decoction. “Hot vadas are also available. Can I bring two for you?” the hotel attendant asked them.

They both bobbed their heads, said no to Vadas, and poured the coffee onto saucers. With the proper mix of ingredients, the aroma of coffee portended its taste on their tongues well before they could taste it.

“She might be a child. Her anger precedes in everything, even if it is her ‘thali5’ that she hasn’t even changed since her marriage. She should have been a little more mature. On the other hand, the boy is also equally adamant. Now see…everyone has been dragged to the court. The problem won’t get over if you prefer to turn your blind eyes to it. Will it?”

Chithambaram drank coffee in slow sips, enjoyed it fully, and shook his head.

“Every bugger here is trying his hand on her knowing that she doesn’t have anyone to stand by her. Isn’t it your responsibility to advise her?” the bicycle man told.

Chithambaram again nodded his head agreeably, as if giving him a sign that he knew everything he had told, touched the water, kept the tumbler with his fingertip, and wiped his lips. Clearing his throat, he said in a low tone, “Advice? You are right. She needs to be advised. But it is not I but the Goddess Ambal that has to advise her. SHE knows everything. Doesn’t she?”

He took out one rupee coin, placed it on the table, and wrinkled his face as he had kept the balance in the pouch tightly tied around his waist.

“You would find everything ending only with Goddess Ambal. Wouldn’t you?” His friend dusted the green colour seat of the bicycle with a forceful slap of his palm, released the bicycle from its stand, and said, “Your younger daughter is also now grown up. I will be happy if your Ambal shows her some way for her better life.” He jumped onto his bicycle and left without waiting for Chithambaram’s reply. Chithambaram stood there watching him leave.

The sunlight outside was harsher. The crossandra flower-selling woman was also not found. Baskets of chrysanthemum flowers were being unloaded from the trucks. Chithambaram was walking past the Motta Gopuram—the incomplete tower—with his umbrella unfolded. The water in the Golden Lotus6 pond was gleaming in the sunlight. He noticed a man carrying sweet lemons stuffed into a net bag. At once Chithambaram’s eyes fell on the image of a rose tattooed on his dark arm; his lips started mumbling reflexively, “Eswareeee…”

He went to Vaithyanathan’s house and peeked in. There was an easy chair lying on the veranda with a grill enclosure. Near to it was a small dirty stool with a copy of The Hindu newspaper kept folded on it. A casket of betel leaves nearby.

“Please come in…why do you stand outside? A silvery voice called him out from inside.

In seconds, the image of the face owning that voice rose up in him as he had a glance of it when she turned to his side for a moment, throwing her wet tresses with a bun at its end behind her back. Her nose ring emitted a flash of shine when the sunlight fell on it.

He sat on the easy chair and closed his eyes. The crimson lips of that smiling face still carried the shiny wetness. Fully bloomed hibiscus swayed gently in the air. His lips shivered as he murmured, “Shambaveeeee.”

“kkkriiiing…kkkriiing…”—the sound of a bicycle bell woke him up. A small bicycle painted in attractive yellow and red colour came out ringing its bell. A boy wearing half pants was riding the bicycle, holding its bar suavely. His milk teeth were holding up his lower lips, and his eyes were radiating with the sense of enthusiasm and adventure. He rang the bell again, faster this time.

“You are going to run over this grandpa. Aren’t you?’ The bicycle stopped suddenly as Chithambaram asked him this question. He looked at him sharply once. His lower lips were released from the clutches of his teeth, he smiled at him brightly, and he started ringing the bell again. He turned his bicycles with his tender hands and disappeared into the house. A moment later, his face with those shiny eyes peeked out. The bell sounded, ““kkkriiiing…kkkriiing” again.

“You love playing with this grandpa. Don’t you?” Vaithyanathan entered the house with the fresh odour of sweat as he was taking off his canvas shoes.

“I am just coming from the ground. It is already late. I have made you wait for long. Haven’t I?” He wiped his face with a towel and sank his body into the easy chair.

“It isn’t too early. I just came a while ago,” Chithambaram tried to smile at him.

“Has she offered coffee? He asked him and called out inside without waiting for his reply. “Can we get some coffee?”

Chithamabaram raised his head, waiting for her voice. “Just a second…I will bring it,” he heard her voice. The same visual in his mind. The same flash of nose ring and the dance of hibiscus flower!

“Mathanki’s mother-in-law has become a gross nuisance. To be right, she has every right to this property. Her name occurs under the nominee clause. I think it must have been entered long ago before the marriage. It hasn’t yet been changed. Also, the copy of the insurance policy is actually with her. She has done everything possible and somehow managed to get the money herself. Now it is only her mercy that matters in this case, if at all we need some money from it.”

The aroma of coffee distracted Chithambaram’s attention. He raised his head and looked up at the entrance. Seeing the servant maid bringing the coffee cups on a tray, he hung his head down in disappointment.

“Mathanki’s mother-in-law strongly believes that her son died in the accident because of her. Her anger and angst haven’t come down yet. She even refuses to accept the fact that she has a grandson. She is yelling that the boy is not her grandson. I am standing so clueless.”

Vaithyanathan drank the coffee in slow sips, swaying the saucer gently.

“The coffee tastes extremely horrible. Doesn’t it?”

Cithambaram shook his head. ‘Yes… the coffee was not tasty.’

“Isn’t there any solution to this problem?” Chithambaram rose as he asked him; his voice sounded hopeless.

Drinking the last sip of coffee, Vaithayanathan clucked his tongue upon his lips. He got up from the chair, wiping his face with the towel. “We can examine it further. The legal heir certificate mentions the names of these two. So we can lay claim to our share on anything like a house and land that stands uncovered under the policy. It will take some time. You don’t worry about all these. We can do our best in this matter.”

Again the clanking of the bicycle bell was heard from the hall. Vaithyanathan paced fast and enthusiastically.

Chaithambaram unfolded his umbrella as he stepped out onto the street. He stood hesitantly in the empty street as if being confused as to which direction he wanted to go. He then decided to walk towards the east. A buffalo came running from a lane on the right; on seeing him, it changed its legs and started galloping in the opposite direction. The woman who was chasing it stopped running, stood, gasping, and was helplessly watching the buffalo disappear as her hands were resting on her hips.

When he crossed the Sanku Bridge, he could see the magnificent façade of that hotel. Chithambaram hastened his steps. His body was bathing in profuse sweat. Some dirty sparrows were taking a dip in stagnant rainwater on the road and flapping their feathers. Yellow colour cassia flowers fallen from the trees were found crushed under vehicle tyres in pulp sticking to the asphalt.

The gatekeeper standing at the entrance of the hotel stopped him. At the very moment he thought of going back, he mentioned the name of the person he intended to meet there. Not fully convinced with his words, the gatekeeper opened the door and let him in half-heartedly. The cool air slapped his face. He dropped the fold of his dhoti down and walked in. The hall was decked with beautiful ornamental lamps and foot-sinking carpet. The receptionist, standing with the ever-fresh-looking makeup like a toy girl, without parting her lips, contacted the guest through the telephone and informed him about his visitor. She pointed to a broad, luxurious sofa and asked Chithambaram to wait there for some time.

Chezhiyan came running to him at once when the doors of the lift opened, grasped his hands tightly, and shook it softly.

“Please come… Let’s go to the room. Friends are waiting there.”

Chithambaram removed his spectacles and kept them in his pocket. He drew his breath in, paused it for a while, and observed it slowly closing his eyes. The lift was moving up without making noise. Chezhiyan gave him the way and stood aside submissively as they entered the corridor.

It was a long corridor illuminated with dim light, decked with a soundproof carpet. Chezhiyan knocked at the room door softly. The door opened immediately. As they entered in, all the persons sitting there, at once, got up from their seats on seeing him.

“This is Chithambaram” ayya”—Chezhiyan fell flat on his feet and paid his regards as he introduced him to everyone. Chithambaram stood erect; his finger was on his glabella, and his eyes were closed. He then had Chezhiyan rise from his prostrate and blessed him with a tinge of kunkumam on his forehead.

Chezhiyan introduced all five. As all of them introduced themselves to Chithambaram in a submissive tone, Chezhiyan bent over to him and requested whether he needed anything for his refreshment.

“I have heard that Nannari Sharbath in this hotel tastes good. Could you please order one?” he asked.

As Chezhiyan signalled, one of those five persons pressed the calling button. 

“I was just talking about you with them.” Chezhiyan sat near him. He was baldheaded, with a broader jawline. His body looked frail; that readily explained his sufferings from diabetes and high blood pressure.

One of them spoke, hesitantly, “We never thought that he would be this simple in his appearance.” The heavy frame of his body couldn’t fit properly in his pale yellow full-sleeve shirt, and it was swelling out of it. The glow on his cheek folds proved his daily intake of high-quality liquor.

“I too thought that he would come with a saffron kurta, neck full of rudraksha beads, and long hair.” The one who pressed the calling button to order Nannari Sharbath told us as he picked up a pillow, keeping it on his lap.

Chezhiyan glanced at Chithambaram and chuckled loudly.

“It is true that people believe in such people only if they carry such attire. I am unable to do that. All I could do is nothing other than what Ambal obliges me to do.” Chithambaram said.

Chithambaram unfolded his palm and examined it once. He closed his eyes and opened them after a while as if wanting to tell them something and said, “Switch on the television.”

Chezhiyan turned his face, with a question, “What happened, Ayya?”

“One important news is awaited now. It must be telecast now. I just wanted to watch it"—his eyes were still fixed somewhere.

“Actress Parkavi’s death is the only important news today.”

Hearing these words, he closed his eyes and said,” Have they announced it?”

“Yes, ayya. They announced it in the morning. Do you know her?” asked Chezhiyan.

All of their eyes were transfixed on his face, sharply. “Why does he think about the death of an actress this deep?

Chezhiyan was waiting for his words.

“She must have left acting some ten years ago. Mustn’t she have?” His question carried no tone worthy of anything.

“Must be. She has acted in a petty role in one Tamil movie recently. It has been long, maybe more than eight years, since she last acted in a Hindi movie.”

“How old is she now?

“She is fifty-eight years old if the news reports are right.”

No immediate response from him. The door opened, and chilled Nannari sharbath in thin, elongated tumblers was brought in. Chezhiyan gave him one tumbler. Chithambaram drank a sip from it and took the second sip after some interval. Keeping it aside, he cleared his throat once as he wiped his lips.

“When I met her, she was just fourteen years old. No bigger than a child. I still remember the way she used to laugh graciously, rolling her big eyes. It was the time when most of the people in the cinema industry were known to me. Many famous actors and actresses used to meet me in private and ask for conducting ‘it.’ Everything should be done in utter secrecy. The nature of the work I was doing did command such a need for it. No one would openly be vocal about it. It was during that time that she had appeared in a couple of movies. Her mother came to know about me from some sources and requested me to come to their house. She wanted to know about the future of her daughter. I explained the nature of Puja, its conduct, and its mandatory requirements. As she was already aware of its requirements, she readily accepted all my terms. I told her that I would return to her to conduct the puja after fixing an auspicious day, and she should be ready with all the requirements of puja. Most of the people who are initially enthusiastic about the puja usually evade conducting it at the eleventh hour. Only a handful of people, say, two in a hundred, will have the courage to see through what it is. It is again nothing but the blessings of Ambal. Without HER consent, nothing would move here. No one should be in the room during the puja other than the person the puja is conducted upon. She should be completely nude. Those who are the followers of Shakthi worship must know what a woman’s body means to the worshippers of Shakthi. I went to their house on the fixed date. She had kept all the arrangements perfectly. I wasn’t sure about her skills in briefing her daughter about the puja. I understood she did her part well when I was that girl coming to me with no cringes at all. The puja was conducted for about one and a half hours. She was fortunate enough to have the complete blessings of Ambal. That child was gifted with enviable luck, and she manifested all the signs of it. As I completed the puja, I told her mother that her daughter would rule over the entire film industry for another thirty years. Not only in Tamil, but in the Telugu and Hindi film industries too, she would become an uncrowned princess, bringing everyone under her spell. Her mother couldn’t stop crying. She lay prostrate at my feet and gave me ten thousand rupees. It was a very big amount at that time. It wasn’t even one year fully completed since the conduct of puja; she started acting as a heroine in movies. She became an unstoppable phenomenon after that. In less than ten years, she became a superstar. Carrying this fame along with her, she went to the Hindi film industry and acted there in just two movies. She became a very big star in the Hindi film industry too. She earned name, fame, and money on par with Amitabh Bachchan. It was her luck that she had a clean chit for everything. Whenever she comes either to Chennai or here, they will send me a message unfailingly to meet them. Never failed in giving me due respect. After the death of her mother, I didn’t meet her. I wasn’t sure if she had no time to meet or simply had forgotten me. To be very right, I have never seen such a display of goddess Shakthi’s blessings. She was simply an embodiment of the blessing of the goddess Shakthi with all its magnificent demonstrations.

When he completed his talk, other than the steady blowing sound of the room air conditioner, no sound was heard. He started drinking Nannari Sharbath in slow sips. Everyone remained silent as if they had been completely possessed by the story he narrated.

Chithambaram resumed his talk again. “You might be thinking that this old man is simply bluffing that he had seen the actress Parkavi nude. It is how we, humans, tend to conclude. I don’t find it wrong. Shakthi Yogam is just a miracle. Many have waited for that opportune moment and even given away their lives for its sake. It ought to happen in one’s life at the right moment. If not, we can’t do anything about it. Oftentimes, even if such a Yogam—the blessed moment—coincides in one’s life process, it will last only for a shorter period of time. A woman like her, having its blessings for a great span of thirty years, is very rare, and maybe one in a lakh.

Everyone remained frozen, almost unable to speak.

Chezhiyan asked him as if attempting to break that dead silence, “From whom did you learn this?”

Chithambaram smiled at him. “Can you bring one more Nannari Sharbath? he asked gently, running his fingers across Kunkumam on his forehead.

“No one can teach this to anyone. You must have the sanctions of goddess Shakthi. It will happen on its own once you have it. It is SHE who tells me what to do. I just execute it. It is as simple as that. I am not sure whether Chezhiyan has told you about its real facet. It is like grasping the tail of a tiger. Neither I nor the tiger could leave each other.”

This time, he drank the whole glass of Nannari Sharbath in one go.

“It is getting late. May I take leave now?”

Chezhiyan got up; the pale yellow colour shirt man also moved forward. “Ayya, it is just to remind you of the matter I discussed earlier. He is the one who wanted to meet you. An important matter is to be resolved with your help. He will have your audience in private whenever you find yourself comfortable.” 

Chithambaram looked up at both. The yellow-shirted man was standing so submissively, wiping his sweat on his forehead.

“I have told you earlier. Haven’t I? It is Ambal who could say when and where. I can’t say anything on my own.”

As he rose from the seat, all five fell at his feet readily as if they had planned it earlier. Mumbling some slokas, he blessed everyone with kunkumam. He slung his bag on his shoulder as everyone paved him the way; standing aside, he clutched his umbrella in his armpit and said, “I take leave now.”

“I will arrange for someone to take you to your home.”

He waved his hands dismissively, “No… I have some other works. I can walk home. Don’t trouble yourself for my sake.”

“Ayya, please wait a second.”

Chezhiyan stretched out his hand, handed over to him a brown colour cover, and beseechingly requested, “I beg you not to take this offer as presumptuous on my part. It is just a small token of respect. You mustn’t deny it.

Chithambaram put his hands on Chezhiyan’s shoulder, laughed, and said, “I had just told you about ten thousand rupees that Parkavi’s mother gave me. Hadn’t I? There is a Shakthi Peetam in Guwahati. Its name is Kamakhya. It is a very important temple. I had already given the amount to that temple.” 

The harsh sunlight outside got in his eyes and glared when he came out of the hotel. He took out his umbrella, unfolded it, wore his black sunglasses, and started walking. It was extremely hot out there.

                                                       ***Ended***

Note:

1.      Ambal – Goddess Shakti. Incarnation of Goddess Parvati.

2.      Kunkmam- saffron colour vermilion powder.

3.      Appam- a kind of South Indian dish similar to dosa.

4.      Poonool- A sacred thread worn by a section of people on the upper body.

5.      Thali- A yellow colour thread worn around a woman’s neck as a sign of being a married woman.

6.      Golden Lotus- A brass or gold lotus left floating in ponds in some temple complexes in South India.

 

Fruits of Misery (Thunba Kani) by M. Gopala Krishnan

M. Gopala Krishnan

This is an English translation of Thunba Kani, a Tamil short story written by M. Gopala Krishnan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.  

                                                                 ….                                                                 ….

Guna hesitantly entered the room, which seemed to have been filled with thick shadows of gloom. He stared at Yugan’s face in the dim blue light. It resembled the face of the infant Jesus glowing with peace and a grin. Watching him keenly, he bent towards his face and observed his chest pit closely. He tried to observe the movement of his breath. Guna’s fingers trembled when he brought them near to the boy’s nostrils. Moments of silence. He was waiting with an overwhelming anxiety for his breath. A streak of warm breath went past the tips of his fingers. He was relaxed, rose, and released the breath that he had had been holding up till now and started observing the boy’s chest again. ‘Yes… it is moving.’ It went up but came down only after an interval of irregular gaps.

When he felt vaguely that the child was alive, his chest heaved with a strong sob. Biting his lips in distress, he touched the Bible kept near the pillow, drew the cross across his chest, and came out without making any sound. The distress built up in him burst into an inconsolable sob.

He was standing in front of the portrait of Jesus Christ carrying lambs in his hands. ‘O! Lord! I thank you for giving this child one more day. Bless him to pass this day too without pain and torment. He is just another lamb that has taken refuge in your hands. Save him from his miseries.’

“Tell me what is special today?” he heard Archana coming from behind. Wiping his eyes, he turned back and saw her approaching him, eyes filled with curiosity. Guna was aware of what she was asking. He had been being nagged by the same question since last night. Yet, he asked her as if he wasn’t aware of it, “Today? It’s Friday. Isn’t it right?”

“You don’t remember anything. Do you? You are only good at remembering your office chores. Today is August 14. Pakistan’s Independence Day. I hope now you remember what it is today.” She looked up at his face eagerly. He shook his head gently, affirming it was Yugan’s birthday.

“This is the birthday dress he loved most, Shaktiman attire,” she said, opened the box, and took it out. She bought it three years ago. The scent of that dress in blue and red hadn’t even faded yet.

In seconds, she started sobbing, pursing her lips. “I couldn’t see him wearing this even once. It is not possible in the future too. Isn’t it? She broke down before she could complete her sentence.

He pulled her gently towards him and hugged her. The lock of hair escaped her plait and was swaying in the air, stroking his face. As her warm tears rolled down his chest, he lifted her face and wiped her tears—the face that had lost its sheen and looked dark with thick dark circles under the eyes. Hollowed cheeks have not yet lost their dryness of tears. She asked him with her dried lips shivering, “What number—his birthday—is today?”

‘Eight years over, and it is the start of the ninth year.’ “He has completed his eight years.”

She looked at his face as if waiting for him to complete what was destined for them next. He wouldn’t be able to tell her that. Despite knowing it, she asked him, “How old is he now?”

Guna shook his head emptily. She caught his shoulder as he tried turning his face away from her.

“Tell me that first before you leave,” she shrieked in a high pitch.

As he gazed into her face, she slapped him on his cheek, caught his hair, shook it violently, and shouted, “Tell me his age. How old is my child today?”

He pushed her hands away, unable to bear the pain of the slap. She was about to fall down.

He caught hold of her before she fell on the floor. She sat on the floor, hand supported, and moved slowly towards the door, pushing his hands away from her in anger.

“All children will be nine after eight. But for our child, it is now three after completing four. Is that right?” Her anger had become manifold.

He remained silent. She pulled him towards her when he was least prepared, folded her fists, and pummelled on his chest angrily. His shirt buttons came out and scattered all around, leaving him wounded by her untrimmed nails.

“Why did you punish my child like this?” She shrieked in desperation, crying, coupled with anger. “Why am I not able to celebrate my child’s birthday like other children? What the hell did you do that had left me suffering daily without even knowing if he is alive or not?” She cried inconsolably, slapping her breasts as her welled-up tears rolled down her cheeks.

                                                                       ***

“How many times do I have to tell you not to pull it forcibly?” Archana shouted at Guna, holding her hair tightly.

“Please bear with it. It is completely tangled. It’s been one week since I made plaits after you had a head bath.” Guna was patiently combing her hair.

“Enough of it, as decking it more gets me nothing. The child may wake up”—she got up and pulled her hair from him. It was less dense with more grey strands.

“It was swaying up to my waist. Wasn’t Guna? You would lovingly call it ‘black casuarina.’ Wouldn’t you? - She glanced at him with a smile, shook her head, and left at once.

“Wait a second.” He clenched her hand, stopped her, and fixed a vermilion sticker on her forehead.

She stared at him intrusively. “I am sorry. This much trouble is all because of me. Right? You shouldn’t have met me. You wouldn’t have faced these troubles, like giving me a bath and combing my hair like you do to small children. Would you? ”. Tears welled up in her eyes. 

Guna wiped her face and told him, “You can have your food now before he wakes up.”

Wiping her tears, she stood under the portrait of Jesus Christ. ‘All my sincere prayers mean nothing other than taking his life as soon as possible.’ She stood as if in a trance, hands folded together. Her lips were shivering.

It was when Yugan screamed as if he was waiting for that right moment.

Guna ran out of the kitchen, and Archana screamed, following him, “O! Jesus!...” racing to Yugan.

With his head pulled behind and body contorted, Yugan was lying there, still screaming. Guna sat beside him and pulled Yugan’s shoulder on his side. Like a flash, Yugan caught Guna’s hands, climbed onto him, and shrieked as he pressed his face onto Guna’s shoulders. Guna tried to calm him down, “You will be alright,” as he stroked Yugan’s back, bearing his whole body weight on him. As his screaming shot up, his hands cuddling Guna’s neck tightened their grip more.

Caressing Yugan’s head endearingly, Archana’s eyes were welled up with tears, and her lips trembled with chants. ‘O! Jesus! Be not angry on him; be not harsh on him; don’t punish him. My Lord! Show some mercy. I am already tired. All my bones have become weak. Heal it and bless me.

At the very moment Yugan’s screaming stopped, Guna emitted a sharp, violent shriek. Yugan’s teeth were half buried on Guna’s shoulder, as he had bitten so hard with all his might. The pain was so unbearable that Guna almost lost the balance of his senses.

Guna tried pushing him away. Yugan left his shoulder once, pounced upon him again, and bit.

“Guna…leave him…just leave him down.” Archana yelled at him and pulled Yugan back.

“You are alright, baby… you’re alright…” Guna stroked Yugan’s back, trying to calm him down, and gently pulling him away. No sooner had Yugan lifted his head, nothing short of a second, than he started jerking it violently. Guna had him lain on the cot when Yugan loosened his grip on his body. Yugan’s hands were waving in the air, looking terribly restive. Guna wiped the frothy saliva on the corner of his mouth. His whole body started calming down slowly from its initial dreadful shaking. Guna wiped the sweat on his forehead with a small towel and gently massaged his neck and hands.

“Now he is okay… He is alright now.”

Archana sat beside him, made a sign of the cross on Yugan’s forehead, and ran her hand fondly on his face. 

“He will be asleep soon. He is alright now, told Guna, rose from his seat.

Archana kept staring at Guna’s shoulder. There were two tiny blood droplets on the spot where he was bitten. She went out, still her lips shivering with some chants, and brought some ointment.

“I shouldn’t apply this without properly washing the wound. I will apply after sanitising it. You may leave him now…”

“No…let me stay with him.” - She sat with the Bible on her lap.

‘My Lord! How much longer do I have to bear this suffering? You are merciful; release me from this misery. My bed floats on tears every night. My cot drenches in tears of sob. My eyes are swollen in my gloom. Oh! All those vices and evils! Leave me. 

…..

Christopher Gunaseelan was standing on a small podium of the Sports Club of the office with his head bowing down and holding his hands together. His colleagues were sitting in front of him, looking at his face. Other than the sound of ceiling fans, no other sound was heard there. It was an unusual meeting in which all the officers, attendants, and support staff were called upon to assemble in one place.

Some of them were perplexed as to know whether the person in front of them was actually standing in his capacity as the secretary of the club or as the Assistant Regional Manager. As a secretary of the club, Gunaseelan never ceased to be a very cheerful man. He was very amiable in nature to get along with anyone he came across. But as a manager in the office, he was just like a roaring lion. Even his regular walk without any signs of hurry would leave its effect on his colleagues. Neither would he shout at anyone nor throw away any files in their face in anger. Just a stern look from him would be sufficient to get all the work done in time.

To be right, they were sitting, visibly embarrassed to see him standing with his hands folded. Everyone wanted that meeting to be over at the earliest. Though he didn’t say anything about his problems, everyone knew about the torment he was undergoing at his home.

“My dear friends, I sincerely thank you all for coming over here at my request. You all know well why I have called you here. I should have met every one of you personally with this request. As I am not in favour of doing that, I decided to meet everyone personally at one place. This meeting is intended for seeking help from you all. I may have been very harsh with you in the office or could have caused hurt in some. I am much younger to most of my colleagues here. I sincerely request you all not to keep any such grudge in your hearts and help my family to breeze through the problems.”

He halted his speech for a moment, as he felt a mild tremor in his voice. A brief silence followed. Everyone appeared to have shared his anxiety.

“My son, Yugan, is an eight-year-old boy. Most of you know him well. You could have seen him during the functions of our club and picnics. He had performed on this podium, singing and dancing.” Again, his speech halted for a second. He drank a gulp of water from the bottle kept nearby. “Today is his birthday. He is lying on the bed seeking the blessings of Jesus Christ.

I am hopeful that Jesus would never abandon his children. I am afraid that he had mistakenly handed over the wages of my sins to my son instead of giving it to me. He is a small child. He deserves pity. He is lying, unable to move his limbs like a toy at this age when he ought to be an exuberant kid. All that he knows now is nothing other than pain and torments, leading a life in hell. I have tried my best to get him cured. As it is a congenital disease, no medical miracle had any effect on him. It is a complex riddle not yet resolved by modern science. I am miserably failing in my efforts to assuage my wife, Archana. After all, she is his mother. I am running short of words to get her strong. It is now you could all only help me in this crisis. Jesus seems to be not paying heed to my prayers. I request all of you to pray for me. Perhaps He might heed your collective prayers. If I am a sinner, let him punish me, but spare that small child. You may worship different gods of your choice. You may follow different faiths. Please pray to your gods and faiths. Pray a minute for Yugan and Archana. All I want from you is nothing more than this. I beseech you to spare a minute for praying for both of them. I will remain ever grateful to you all.”

He was standing with his head looking down, not crying, and was strong enough to conceal his emotions. Many of them sitting in the front were crying, and apparently the number of women crying grew, and their whimpers filled in the hall.

In an effort to get the ambience normal, the secretary got up and announced, “Let us pray for Yugan.”

Everyone stood up, folded their hands, and prayed. Guna was standing, head still looking down.

…

It was on that day, when Yugan returned from the school, that the shadow of impending miseries also accompanied him into the house. It had been just a couple of months since he joined his first grade. Keeping his school bag, he remained lying on his bed and didn’t come out of the room. Archana called out to him after keeping his food ready, “Kuttimaa…have your food.” As she didn’t get any reply from him, she peeked into the bedroom. He was lying there, curling his body. She touched his forehead and asked him, “Kutti…are you tired?” Her fingers could feel that he had a high temperature.

She inserted a thermometer under his armpit to ascertain her suspicion of him having a fever. Seconds later, the mercury displayed 102 degrees. She called Guna on the telephone, but to no avail. With a wet kerchief, she gave a cold compress on his forehead, fed him a measured amount of Crocin syrup, and phoned her husband up again. He didn’t pick up her calls.

She then dialled Dr. Sathya’s number and informed her about Yugan’s condition. She tried to wake him up. His fever had come down due to sweating. She changed his dress and gave him “Boost” to drink. He couldn’t drink it. He lay weak, curled his body while going by auto rickshaw to meet the doctor.

When she reached the hospital, he had a high temperature again. Thermometer showed 102 again. After the initial check-up, Dr. Sathya told her, “Seems to be an ordinary fever. I will give him an injection before keeping him under observation. Have you informed Anna?”

“I phoned him up, but he was not available. If he calls me back after seeing my missed calls, I will explain everything to him. I had left my home as it was, unattended,” told Archana, as she was conspicuously worried about the condition of her son.

When Guna arrived at the hospital at seven in the evening, Sathya couldn’t explain him the exact cause of the problem. “All the tests—blood and urine—are over. There is no sign of infection. It is not due to food poisoning either. But I fail to understand why his fever hasn’t decreased. Let’s wait and see.”

Other hospital formalities, like medicines, tests, and consultations done confusingly one after the other, had left Archana totally petrified.

The next day, Guna left home as he had some important work in the office and could return home only in the night. Yugan could move his body a bit at about half past eight in the night after two full days ever since he fell sick, lying immobile without even opening his eyes. He now had no temperature. Archana was in prayer, with her eyes closed.

‘My Lord! How much longer will you keep me away from you? How many more days are you going to hide your face from me? How many more days will I be fighting my torments myself?’

Archana sprang up suddenly, almost jerked, as she heard a feeble sound, ‘Amma…’ coming out of Yugan’s dry, cracked lips. Unable to believe her eyes seeing her son wake up, she screamed reflexively, “Kuttima…look here… Mummy is here.”

While returning home the next morning, Yugan complained, “I didn’t attend the school for two days. Did I? My class teacher will scold me, ma. Won’t she?”

Archana’s fears left soon after Yugan started having two morsels of rice mixed in rasam. While seeing him playing cricket that evening, Archana thanked Jesus, ‘My Lord! You are the shield of my life. You are my virtue. You are the one who holds my head up. Thank you. 

***

One day, after two months—when they were returning from a Sunday prayer in the second week of October—Yugan started crying again. Sitting in the front seat of the car, he whined and complained that he had severe pain in his body.

“Stomach ache? Did you relieve yourself properly in the morning?” Guna asked without taking his eyes away from the road.

Archana caught his shoulder gently and said, “You may be hungry. Once you have your food at home after we reach, you will be alright.”

“It is paining me…” He twisted his body and cried.

While entering the house after alighting from the car, Yugan caught Guna’s legs and said, “Pa… it is paining. Please lift me, pa…”

As soon as he lifted him after opening the door, Yugan hugged Guna strongly. His hands tightened their grip around his neck. Guna massaged his back, trying to calm him down. Yugan had a temperature again. It appeared that the pain had taken over his body completely.

Sathya didn’t stop with the regular tests this time. “I feel something is going wrong in his case. I am unable to ascertain anything now. I have consulted my senior surgeon about this problem. I had my reservations about it when he recovered last time because his recovery didn’t hold answers to all my suspicions. When I told about it to my senior doctor, he was of the opinion that we would assess it later if his fever recurs. Now he has body pain along with fever. Let Archanna not know anything about it now. She would get panicked unnecessarily.”

On the third evening, when they returned home, the pain had reduced. He left for school the next morning as usual, and Archana also forgot it.

On the other hand, Guna still remained in contact with Sathya because he was very much worried after she had told him that some reports were awaited from Mumbai, and she could say anything certain about Yugan’s condition only after a scrutiny of those reports. 

He was unable to concentrate on the Sunday prayer at the church.

‘The skies are manifesting the magnificence of the God. The expanse of the sky explains the wonderful artwork of God. Each day passes this message to the next day. Each night passes this wisdom to the forthcoming night. It doesn’t have words, nor talk. Their voice would never fall into our ears’ —his lips were emptily murmuring them.

As he got busy with his office work, it almost went out of his mind that he didn’t receive any call from Sathya. When he met her on another occasion, she told him with a friendly grin, “Sorry, Guna… I was busy with some work. Those lab test reports had come pretty earlier. I would have told you if I had found something wrong with it. Wouldn’t I have? Now there's nothing to worry about. You may inform Archana about it.”

Guna remained unconvinced with her words even after she sounded positive. He couldn’t concentrate in the Carrom board game. As a regular winner of trophies, Guna’s pathetic performance in the game left everyone astonished.

He was watching Yugan consecutively for some days, quite unlike his regular casual observation, only to find nothing unusual in his behaviour. His fears and apprehensions about his health grew subsided as the days passed.

His happiness didn’t last long. He got a call from the school when the half-yearly examinations were due to commence. When he reached the school directly from his office, Yugan wasn’t in the classroom. The sickness, which seemed to be dormant and suddenly got unleashed from his leisure, had started showing its face again.

“He has been running to the toilet since morning. Something is not okay with him, I guess. When his class teacher explained, Guna heard Yugan calling him from the other side of the veranda, “Daddyyy..." He was almost dragging his body, his face looking dull.

“He couldn’t sit for the exam. It shouldn’t bother you anyway at this hour. Take him to a doctor now.” His class teacher fondly caressed his head.

No sooner had he entered the house than he ran to the toilet. Archana made a concoction of lemon water mixed with cardamom and gave it to him. He vomited as he couldn’t drink it. He ran to the toilet again. It seemed that all the liquids available in his body were drained out. His legs were tottering, and he was totally exhausted, and his eyes closed.

“Dehydration… I will give him drips. You don’t worry,” when Sathya inserted the needle in his right arm, Archana sobbed.

“My Lord! Why do you put this simple child into such a test?” she kept grumbling, praying.

Sathya assisted him to recover in a couple of hours and warned Guna, “You ought to be cautious, Guna. I wouldn’t be at the station for two days. Once I am back, I will contact you. Take care.”

He was waiting for the calls from Sathya with fear and anxiety. She called him on Tuesday. He went to her clinic while returning from the office. Guna could see the traces of change on her face even when she received him with a cheerful face.

“I wanted to convey this matter when you were here last time. Since I was not sure about what I had felt, I didn’t. We can’t say the test results received from Mumbai are final in itself. There are always some chances of results being proved wrong. What I am trying to say is that we must not come to a conclusion about Yugan’s problem at this juncture.” Her inscrutable words had, in fact, increased his anxiety.

Sathya flipped the pages of the reports and carefully studied them. She pointed at a portion of the test report printed in block letters on the last page and said, “Here is the result of his blood test. These tests are advanced tests, unlike the ones we normally do here. Only a part of it gets me worried.”

Guna became impatient. Her words sounded like something beyond his comprehension. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“Nothing big. Just a doubt. I have told them to send this sample to a lab in the USA. Let them examine it and submit the report.”

“What if they conclude the same…”

Sathya removed her specs, kept them on her table, looked at Guna, and said without mincing words, “Then we can conclude that Yugan is suffering from something very serious.”

“What type of serious is it?” Guna asked her nervously. Her heart sank with innumerable thoughts in the fractions of that second. ‘Will the countless hands of death descend as storm upon Yugan to claim his life? My Lord! Is that you want? Is that for you had given him to us?’

“Let us not be unduly concerned about it now. We will decide after the results come.”

His fingers were fidgeting with the marble ball on the table. His lips were shivering. He rose and said, “Please…just a second.” He went to the balcony and lit a cigarette with his trembling hands and drew a good amount of smoke in. He stood there staring at the stars twinkling in the sky.

He remembered a psalm: ‘The men are too petty in your world to remember in front of your magnificent creation of sky, its moon, and stars? Aren’t they?”

“Guna, let’s not come to any conclusion now. We need to observe the symptoms first. Excessive temperature, diarrhoea and body pain are some of the major symptoms. Such cases are very rare. Some doctors have done their specialisation in this subject. We can consult them. Before coming to a conclusion, please don’t tell Archana about this. When she was explaining Guna, he got a call from Archana.

“Are you still in the office? When are you coming home?” Archana sounded normal.

“I am on the way.” He hung up the phone and told Sathya, “I am getting nervous these days even at the ordinary ringing of telephones.”

***

From then onwards, Guna’s approach towards Yugan became not as the same as it used to be. He used to wake up in the night and stand near Yugan, keep staring at him. While he was frightened at anything Yugan did, he was more frightened when Yugan didn’t do anything. He called Sathya for every silly observation and sought her guidance. 

“I shouldn’t have told you anything, Guna. You get frightened even if he smiles. Don’t you? Please relax. It seems that you would make him genuinely “sick”—Sathya rebuked him.

The marks he got in math in a classroom test last week left everyone stunned. He had got fourteen out of fifty. When Archana was attributing his low marks to his sickness and the lack of concentration due to it, Guna was watching him. Yugan was examining his answer papers again and again.

“I have written the sum of eight and three twelve. How could I be that careless, Daddy?”

It didn’t stop with that alone. He couldn’t perform even the simplest tasks without making mistakes.

One day on his return from school, he fell on Guna’s lap and cried fervently. “Daddy… I am unable to remember anything. The class teacher scolds me. I couldn’t even tell her the table of three.

Guna collected all his class notebooks and scrutinised them after Yugan went to bed. All the pages he had recently used were full of underlines and multiplication marks made in red ink. His handwriting was also not as neat as it used to be earlier.

“We had already expected this symptom, Guna. Hadn’t we? All the symptoms we have witnessed so far were found on his body earlier. Now it is in his brain,” Sathya told him as she closed her laptop.

“Can’t we do anything about it?” asked Guna, despite knowing what the answer would be.

Sathya nodded her head and said, “Let us try. I am not sure about how to go about it.”

“I haven’t disclosed anything to Archana so far. How many more days could I manage it like this? What will happen next?”

She opened the laptop, switched it on, and browsed its screen calmly. Shrugging her shoulders, she heaved a big sigh and said, “It is of no use, Guna. I don’t want you to get frightened by all these. I request you not to search anything on the internet. You will be unnecessarily confused with it. Better we face it when it slaps us. Leave it now.”

Archana was sitting in prayer for a long time when Yugan had slept after two full days of sleeplessness. In her imploring voice to God, an untold fear was resonating. She sat beside him, making a cross on her chest. As though he were lying down, closing his eyes, he could feel her staring at his face.

“I could understand that you are hiding something from me.”

Guna opened his eyes as the tears fell on the back of his hands. He rose and sat.

“Please don’t get yourself stressed keeping everything within you. Do share it with me, whatever it is. I know he is not as he used to be. Don’t I? It is I who am spending more time with him daily than you. I have been with him. I could understand something is wrong with him. Couldn’t I? What did Sathya tell you? I could have asked her directly. But I don’t want it for some obvious reasons….”

Mother Mary’s face was shining with mercy in the dim blue light. ‘Do I have the courage to tell her?’

“It’s nothing. I get worried as he falls sick very frequently…” He couldn’t look into her eyes.

“His condition is not normal. He is facing difficulties even to speak. He tries to say something but couldn't, as if he got choked up. You know what is actually ailing him. Please tell me what it is. I couldn’t stand beyond this point. I can face whatever it is.” She got up and went near to the portrait of Mother Mary. Her fingers drew a cross.

Guna came out and stood near the Jesus Christ’s portrait. Archana, standing near to him caught his hands tightly.

***

Sathya came to Guna with her Dettol-cleaned hands, wiping them, and touched his shoulder and told:

“Could you take off your shirt?”

He looked up, stunned at her words, and retorted, “What?”

“You mustn’t ask questions to the doctor. Do what I say.

“I am not your patient who has come to you for treatment. Keep your fun with you. Why do you ask me this?”

As she pressed his shoulder with her fingers where she was touching, Guna moved a bit. “It is painful. Isn’t it? This is the reason why I asked you to take off your shirt. Let me examine it.”

“It is not a big issue. Only a small wound. I have applied some ointment. I will be alright,” he said.

“It is an injury that deserves a medical examination. Isn’t it? She insisted.

Guna unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She examined his back as he sat on the chair. They found two blood-clotted bruises from teeth bites on his left shoulder and dark scars. Small and big marks of teeth bites were found on his right shoulder too.

She wiped those wounds with a cotton ball soaked in a warm Dettol mixture. She applied an ointment brown in colour over it and picked a vial among the medicine bottles kept on the table. As she hit its head gently with a small knife, it broke with a mild crunch and fell into the dustbin. She collected the liquid from the vial through a syringe and gently pressed its bottom to push out the air trapped inside. As some drops speckled out, she inserted the needle into his left arm.

“If I didn’t ask you about these wounds now, you would keep receiving those bite marks again. A human bite is also poisonous. Do you know it?”

“How did you come to know about them?” he asked her as he was putting on his shirt.

“I visited your home a couple of days ago. I saw you bearing these wounds on your back when you came out of the bathroom after bathing. I have read that people with these symptoms would have a tendency to bite others. But I failed to predict it in Yugan’s case. It must have been very painful for you. Mustn’t it?”

Guna thought for a moment how Yugan would bite him violently on his shoulder; seconds later, Guna lifted him on seeing him crying, writhing in pain.

“He bit me, not intentionally though. He does it due to his unbearable pain. When he did it for the first time, I used to leave him down. As I understood it later, he does it without actually being aware of it; I became so used to its pain.”

“Don’t talk foolish. When you are sure that he would bite you again, you must avoid lifting him.”

“I can’t remain quiet when he screams with unbearable pain, Sathya.”

She looked at his face intently as she sat washing her hands and told, “Periyamma came yesterday. I have informed her about this. Father has also explained it, I guess. While the condition of Yugan makes them concerned, they are so stubborn that their ego hasn’t still permitted them to come here. You are also equally stubborn and not ready to compromise. Aren’t you?”

Guna laughed. “Compromise! What sort of a compromise are you talking about? They only need me and my child. Not Archana. Is it a justifiable stand?”

Sathya adjusted the lock of her hair, glancing at the wall clock, and said, “If they remain adamant despite knowing the condition of this child, they are just incorrigible. Nothing more to say about it. Spare them in their world.”

***

‘O! Jesus! You are a good shepherd. Aren’t you? Do send someone from your reign for my help. Here lies your son on my lap seeking your mercy. Aren’t you able to hear his feeble sound of hunger? Aren’t you aware of his torments? Aren’t his painful whimpers falling into your ears? I can’t leave him on the floor even if I want to boil milk, as it would leave him with excruciating pain and make him cry. If I keep him on my lap, he wouldn’t feel the pain. But for how long could I keep him on my lap? My Lord! Do show some mercy.’

Looking at the entrance door kept open, Archana was crying helplessly. Yugan was lying on her lap, struggling with less space with it to accommodate his grown-up body of eight years old. He was whining as a stranded kid with his eyes evoking fear, and the lips curled. To accommodate him, Archana moved her left thigh away a bit. Tears welled up in her eyes, rolled down along her ears, and wetted her night dress. No sooner had she completed cleansing him of his feces, wiping his body, and sanitised with powder than he started screaming fiercely, a vicious cry shaking the interiors of one’s soul without any prelude of any prior indication or mild sob. Seeing him crying in an extremely sharp high pitch, with the nerves on his neck bulging up and his hands waving in the air violently, one would definitely feel some pain in their stomach.

‘My Lord! It is you who has always blessed me with your mercy. It is you who could now lend your helping hands to me. No one would perish in your reign. Your mercy that always descended on me as water to quench my soul whenever I was thirsty should descend on me this time too.

She could see two silhouettes at the entrance. Archana bent her head as a mark of conveying her gratitude to Jesus Christ as she saw those two persons peeking their heads hesitantly. Her hands drew a cross in the air on seeing them.

‘O! My father! I know you would never abandon me. Here came your saviours’.

“Please get in. It is my father, Jesus Christ, who only has sent you to me.”

The appearance of Archana and her words got the visitors perplexed and made them hesitant.

“I guess this is Guna sir’s house. Isn’t it? - One of them, a young girl peeking her head into the house, adjusting her dupatta. The man who accompanied her removed his shoes and came in.

“Yes…this is Guna sir’s house. Please come in. You should do a favour for me. I have kept the milk in the kitchen. Could you please bring it to me? If I put him on the floor, he would

cry again” Archana showed them the direction of the kitchen beseechingly. The young lady walked to the kitchen.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, she could feel the stench filling the air in the house. She covered her nose and stood hesitantly as to which milk bottle she should pick up from the kitchen slab.

“Yes... it is the one. Please bring it here.” Archana turned her head and told her. The young lady brought the milk bottle and gave it to Archana.

The young man sat on the floor, folding his legs, and looked at Yugan. It appeared that he wasn’t prepared to see Yugan’s condition as this worse, albeit aware of the fact that a child’s physical appearance didn’t have anything to do with the present state of sickness. The young lady also sat beside him.

“We are working in the same office where Guna sir is working. We were on our way to a ‘wedding reception’ today. As we are aware of this problem, we decided to pay a visit here. “Sir’ has told everything about it.”

Yugan drank the milk but spat it out in the next second. “Why doesn’t my Kuttima like milk? You are my dearest. Aren’t you? Have a little milk, my dear boy. I will give you something better after you drink it. My boy…please have a sip.” - The young lady was watching Archana’s face with disbelief and dread as Archana was trying to coax him into drinking some milk, tilting his head a bit behind. The milk spilled from his mouth with the coarse sound that came out of his throat.

Archana wiped his mouth, looked up at the young woman, and said, “This is how he struggles every day. He would drink a gulp and then spit it out all. This won’t help his hunger. Will it? Then, he will start crying. He should have some energy left in his body even for crying. Shouldn’t he?” Archana kept the milk bottle aside and had him lain a bit comfortably on her lap. Yugan pressed his head against her stomach and turned a little.

“What’s your name?” Archana asked her as she was running her fingers through his hair.

“Sanjana. I am working in his office.”

“I am Saravanan. You had met me earlier. You brought your son to my marriage.”

Archana lifted her head, rather enthusiastically. “He used to be very active in those days. You wouldn’t find him at one place. I brought him to your marriage. Didn’t I? He looked like a rose. Now all his charm is gone. See yourself how he is looking now. Nothing is alright with him. But your Guna sir doesn’t seem to be worried about anything happening here. His office is most important for him. No matter how painful it is here tending to him, it never affects him because his sole aim is nothing but going to his office. The servant maid has taken leave for four days as she had gone to attend some function of her relative. She will come only after two days. My troubles with him will remain the same till she comes back, and I will keep my eyes on the entrance door all through the day waiting for some visitors to turn up who could be of some help at this juncture. There are a lot of works yet to be done, like washing and making him sleep. I only have to do all. But Guna would come only in the night.”

In order to divert the topic, Saravanan asked her, hesitantly, “You were also working in our office. Weren’t you?

A flash of happiness spread across her face and then disappeared. “I don’t remember anything now.” She deeply gazed at the milk bottle, fixedly, as her fingers were still softly running through Yugan’s hair. “It was a Sports Day celebration when I first met him. You know that he was the Sports Club secretary. Don’t you? He still holds the same position. He was standing stiff with a white T-shirt and pants. I was just a volunteer. It had been eight months since I joined my job. As the sun was very harsh that day, I just sat under the Samiyana canopy, not even for two minutes. He came there and started shouting at me, “If you like to spend your time under shade, you shouldn’t have joined in this job. Go to your position.” I was terribly angry at him for his discourteous demeanour. I got up and left the place with my visibly irritated face. The whole day went on with our faces sulking at each other.”

That time, milk was spilling from Yugan’s mouth. She took a small towel kept at the corner and wiped it gently. Folding it, she again looked up and continued with a smile on her lips, “One week later, he came to my house and asked my parents to ask for my hand in marriage. He didn’t even inform me about it in advance.”

As she was narrating her story enthusiastically, her face was seen lit up, almost forgetting her son lying on her lap.

“What was your parents’ response to your marriage?”

“My parents were not happy with this alliance. They wouldn’t think of getting me married even out of our caste. He is a Christian. They said categorically, No.”

“What about you?”

Archana looked down, with a shade of shyness on her face, and said, “As I was angry with him, I was perplexed at his impudence, that how he could dare ask for my hand with his face and tell me I love you. I didn’t approve of his proposal. It was only Latha's sister who was working with me, saying by hugging that I was so lucky to have him since he had selected me as his choice while a great array of women were eagerly longing for his attention and I shouldn’t miss him in my life. I wasn’t even aware that the news had spread throughout the office in just a couple of days. Since I also came to know more about him, I gave my consent to the proposal, and our marriage took place in the church after three months in the absence of our parents.” 

Tears rolling down her cheeks, she sobbed, curling her lips, and said, “Now I regret my decision of getting married to him. My parents weren’t happy with my marriage when they came to know about my son’s condition. None of them came to visit me as I got married against their wishes. It is all my sins that have come down on my son. Your Guna sir will leave for his office with his perfect attire as if none of these problems I face do not affect him. “

Yugan started crying, wriggling his body. He turned his head, twisted his body, and cried, throwing his hands in the air. Sanjana felt a shiver creeping into her body when she heard the deafening sound of his cry. It seemed that all his pains took the form of a cry and echoed in the walls.

“You are alright, my boy… Look at me… Anything you need, my boy?” Archana had him lain on the floor as tears were still flowing down. As he threw his hands in the air, one of its strong swings hit Archana’s face brutally, making her lose balance. She pulled her head back a moment and then bent forward, clenched his hands, and massaged his chest softly. 

Saravanan was shocked, looked helpless, and asked, “Why is he crying like this?”

“You better ask this question to your Guna sir. Is he crying telling me the reason why he does so?” - She turned her face with a jerk and spat out the words furiously. Yugan’s body was twisting in uncontrollable fits.

Saravanan caught his legs. It was shaking with high temperature.

“He will cry with pain for two minutes before he calms down. Then he will be alright for some time. Not knowing where it pains or how it pains, he will just scream with a deafening cry. The body will also have a temperature like this at that time. I am standing utterly helpless now. It seems that even God has abandoned us. No use of blaming anyone at this juncture.

Sanjana couldn’t control her emotions, cried, and got up as Archana was talking about her son.

No sooner had the stiffness of his twisted body begun to relax than his crying started coming down. When Saravanan released his grip from Yugan’s legs, they hung loose as if lifeless. 

“Please help me to lay him on the bed.”

Sanjana made the bed with the small mattress kept rolled there.

“Spread it on the mattress.” Archana gave her a rubber sheet. Yugan had stopped crying when she laid him on a thin, folded cloth above the rubber sheet. His eyes were fixed somewhere. His mouth was slightly twisted and drooling. When Archana adjusted his shirt, he called her out, which sounded like a lisp.

“This is how he could call me now. You know well how talkative he used to be. His words used to be very clear without any tinge of lisp. Now he is struggling to pronounce the word ‘amma’—Archana’s voice broke, crying, and slowly she got up.

“Please keep a watch on him for a minute. I am going to the toilet. I will be back in seconds. I didn’t have time to relieve myself since morning. I have kept some milk in the stove. Please make it hot and keep it here. Before he cries again, I could feed him.” Archana told her as she walked to the toilet, almost tottering.

Yugan smiled with his lisp, throwing his hands in the air again.

Sanjana wiped her tears as she saw Archana coming back with her regular chants of prayer.

***

After making a cross on Yugan’s forehead, the pastor was standing silently, closing his eyes, and his lips mumbled some prayers quietly.

“Let all the blessings of our lord be bestowed upon this child. Let the magnificence of our lord be on him to ward off all the evil spirits that have been obstructing his way since long. The fruits of miseries will never touch the pure souls. Let him be at peace hereafter and be released from the clutches of torment to see the light from the sky. Let the music of our lord be heard in his ears.”

Yugan was lying immobile, his eyes fixed somewhere with no movement. His head seemed to have been bulged up, joints swollen, nose grown thicker, and his stomach swelled. He was lying on Archana’s lap with all his heaviness. Archana folded her hands and prayed as she wiped the saliva from his mouth. She seemed to have forgotten that she could shed tears. With her inanimate eyes and cracked dark lips, she also looked extremely exhausted in the hands of burden caused by the unbearable misery lying on her lap.

As he came to the doorstep, the pastor placed his hands on Guna’s shoulders and said, “He looks like a newborn baby. Sometimes, even good people are also tested by God. It is indeed very painful to see Archana in this condition. No one could bear the pain of watching one’s own child wriggling in agony in front of them. Leave it to Jesus Christ and take good care of them, Guna.”

When Guna came in, he found Archana sitting with a Bible in her hands. Yugan’s eyes were fixed somewhere, and he was licking his lips, sticking his tongue out.

Guna sat beside her. He touched Yugan’s slightly folded legs tenderly. Yugan smiled with a bout of mild sound as if tickled. When he wiped his drooling saliva from his mouth, Yugan laughed again.

Archana, with tears, was busy reading the Bible.

“Let the day I was born be perished. Let that night, which announced the birth of a baby boy, be condemned to darkness forever. Let my lord from above not look at it. Let the dense darkness and deadly night devour it. Let the dark clouds cover it. Let that night be possessed by devilish darkness. Let it be removed from the year’s count of days. Let that night be empty and perish. Let all stars of that dawn be dark forever.”

***

Yugan was grinning at the colourful balloons and paper flowers fluttering under the ceiling fan. His pink gums were visible as he had lost most of his teeth.

Archan brought a big plate with a cake in the centre and said, “My dear Kuttima… Love to see your smile, baby. I am coming to you,” as she was walking towards him.

Yugan laughed, kicking legs in the air.

She called out, “Guna, where are you? Come here immediately. If he starts crying, we wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

She inserted some candles in the cake and paused for a while.

Guna was standing under the portrait of Jesus Christ, picked up the Bible from the table, and opened it with a prayer with his eyes closed. He then opened his eyes and read out a psalm that appeared on the page he opened.

“I will make a path in the desert. I will make the stream appear in the desolated space. All the animals in the forest will praise me. The jackals and ostriches will honour me.”

“Can you carry him with you so that I could cut the cake?” Archana told him as she was lighting the candles.

Guna lifted him and had Yugan lean against his shoulder while Archana cut the cake. When they sang his birthday song, “Happy birthday to you…Happy birthday to you…Happy birthday to Yugan… Happy birthday to you.” Yugan rolled his eyes and stared at them, laughing. He shook his body once with shock when one of the balloons flapping in the air blasted and laughed merrily again.

Archana put a piece of cake into his mouth. Her tears were gleaming in the candlelight. Yugan flipped his tongue as he savoured the taste of cake and licked his lips. Unable to carry him for long, Guna laid him on the bed. As soon as he lay on the bed, he started kicking his swollen legs violently in the air.

“Okay, dear boy… I am here…here with you. Daddy is always here.” Guna tried to calm him down, sitting near to him. Archana kept the cake plate on the table in front of Jesus Christ, wiped her hands, and stood silently with her eyes closed. Yugan’s yelling grew stronger, and he started screaming ferociously, with his usual blind kicks into the air.

***

Archana’s scream in the midnight woke up everyone. Guna got up from the floor and saw Archana holding Yugan on her lap and patting his cheeks.

“Guna, look at him. I am very scared, Guna. My boy… Look at me… Look here… Your mother is here. Look at me… Oh! My lord… Give him back to me. Don’t snatch him away from me.”

Guna looked at Yugan’s frail body for a moment intently. It was lying without any movement. His tense eyes were fixed on Yugan’s chest, waiting for its breathing movements. His chest didn’t give any sign of movement for long. Guna brought his trembling fingers near Yugan’s nostrils to feel the breath.

“Check for his breath properly…check it… You have killed my baby. You didn’t even let me know what his problem is. You sinner! I did give birth to him not for this day. I did rear him up with all my care and affection not for this day.”

Archana’s wails didn’t move him, as he was nearly certain that Yugan’s abdomen was still warm, though he was lying speechless.

“I will call Sathya… Just wait a second. Guna came out of the room and paused a second in front of Jesus Christ before he took out the phone. The lord’s smile under the night lamp touched his soul.

When he went in, he saw Archana rubbing Yugan’s palms.

“Do something, Guna… Why the hell are you standing like a moron? You think you will get rid of this burden. Don’t you? Take my words…if anything happens to my son, I will never spare you. You idiot… Do something immediately,” she yelled at him, feverishly.

Guna took Yugan’s legs on his lap and felt so helpless that he broke down as he rubbed Yugan’s feet.

***

Yugan’s body, with a big head and a shrunken torso, was kept in a coffin in his very birthday dress. The pastor was to utter the final sentence of the oath, waving the cross he was holding in his hands above the coffin. “The lord gave, and he has taken him back. Now our child has become part of our Lord’s kingdom. His pure spirit has merged with the light of heaven. Let his blessings be spread everywhere in this house. Let the peace prevail. Let the pain and tears of the past disappear. Only the blessing of our Lord will remain filled in there hereafter. Let us submit our son to Him. Every aspect of his long journey will remain virtuous for him. Amen” The pastor completed his prayer, waved the cross above the coffin once again, and stepped back.

Archana was lying unconscious.

***

2

The pigeons perching on the edges of the extradoses of the church flapped their wings and flew away when the church bell rang. The sunlight penetrated through the windows fixed with coloured glass. Archana was sitting in prayer, with her eyes closed. The soft fragrance of flowers filled in the air. She brought to mind the face of Mother Mary and the infant Jesus sitting in her hands. She thanked God for His benevolence in selecting her as His dearest.

Guna made a cross on his chest and got up. He stepped back and looked up without making noise. A portrait of Good Shepherd was hanging just above the window. With his untidy hair blowing in the air along with his untrimmed beard, the boundless compassion reflected on the face of the Good Shepherd holding a shepherd’s crook made him spellbound. ‘Now what I have received is just a drop of that boundless mercy.’

Archana’s face was gleaming with a new shine. She was now relaxed after the shades of her miserable days were just over. Dark circles under her eyes were still not disappeared. When she came near to the portrait of the good shepherd, she smiled softly.

“It is he who has come again in my womb, Guna. I could feel him.” Her dull voice carried the freshness of newfound enthusiasm and happiness.

As he sat near her, she sounded apprehensive, “I am scared for some obvious reasons, Guna.”

Guna grasped her hands and pressed them gently against his. “Be brave. You wanted to give birth to Yugan again. Didn’t you? It was your prayer. Wasn’t it? The god has given you what you asked for. If then, why are you scared?”

Archana looked above, fixed her eyes on the Son of God standing at the centre of the extrados carved with elegant architectural designs, and told, “Everything should be alright. I understand Sathya had told you something about it. I don’t want to know all these. All I want is for the lord to bless my baby without any problems.”

The church bell clanged once again.

***

Archana stood under the white Mother Mary statue in the hospital hall. The candle flames were flickering in the wind.

“I will wait here. You go there and meet them.” Archana sat on a bench there.

Guna knocked on the door of the consultation room and entered. Sathya was carefully listening to her senior physician while he entered. On hearing him coming in, Sathya turned her face towards him and signaled him to come near.

“Please come, Guna. Have a seat.” The senior physician with grey hair and thick specs was leaning on his chair. On seeing him, he sat straight.

“Congrats, Guna. It is good news. Where’s Archana?” The senior doctor extended his hands to him.

Holding his hands without much enthusiasm, Guna smiled at him and said, “She is sitting outside. Should I call her in?”

“No…No…not needed.” The doctor nodded his head in denial of his request and said, “As she will get unduly confused with this, it is better she is not aware of all these.”

Sathya filled some water in a glass, drank it, and started reading something seriously from her laptop. Guna asked her, “What should I do now? All my doubts are still not cleared. I am seriously confused and scared too.”

Sathya closed her laptop and told him reassuringly, “Nothing to worry about, Guna. The report doesn’t have anything to get you scared. Archana hasn’t even completed two months of her pregnancy. A sample from her umbilical cord has to be collected for sending it to a lab in the US. They will give the report in a fortnight.”

As she paused talking, the senior doctor resumed, “As far as this Hunter syndrome is concerned, it is relatively riskier if the first and second babies are boys. If the second baby is a girl, there is not much to worry about it.”

As he continued his talk, Guna felt that his head was spinning. ‘Why this unnecessary pregnancy? Those miserable days of giving birth to a boy only to lose him in the hands of death were just enough for my whole life. Weren’t they? I cannot afford to face yet another uncertain test of my life. It was true that we had thought of something such as this one, which might prove to be an antidote to the distress of Archana. But what would happen if it turns out to be another potential trail leading us to a much more horrible despair? It is

the Jesus Christ that decides everything in life. All I could do at this juncture was nothing but walk, leaving everything at His feet for His disposal.’

“If your first baby had been a girl, I would have stopped you from going ahead with this pregnancy. All such cases we deal with are almost similar in nature. If the first baby is a girl with this syndrome, no matter if the second baby is a girl or a boy, it will definitely be born with that syndrome. In your case, such a thing didn’t happen, and you are lucky that way.”

‘In the kingdom of God, nothing is without luck. When Yugan was born, we were so happy that all our relatives who stood away from us would come back to us, for at least, with an excuse of seeing our son. To our dismay, none of them came to us and remained away as if we should be contented with none other than God. They all must have been filled with the wicked pleasure of taking vengeance against us.

“We are waiting only for your approval. First, you have to give concurrence for this test. Secondly, in case the result is positive, abortion is the solution. You must be ready for it.

The doctor gazed at the gloom spread across Guna’s face, inched forward, and told him, “Guna, you don’t have time to think more because we have to act swiftly if at all we decide to terminate the pregnancy after we receive the reports. Any delay will end up in serious trouble for your wife. I guess you understand what I am saying.”

Sathya touched Guna’s shoulders. He drank water as he opened his eyes. He looked up to the doctor and innately wanted to meet Archana.

“Sathya… What are all these? You all kept telling something. Why do I have to go ahead with it? I couldn’t even understand what sort of problem this is at all. I feel that I can’t afford to bear all such things now.”

Sathya touched his shoulder again. She opened her laptop and showed him the screen and said, “Gave a glance of it. This world is replete with lakhs of people like you. An exclusive organization is working for such affected people. They give consultation and assure that treatment is also possible if the disease is diagnosed before it reaches a critical stage. We will think about all such options only when the test results turn out to be positive. If it is negative, we don’t have to worry about anything.”

Guna reflexively touched the cross dangling on his neck. ‘Other than submitting myself to the benevolence of God, I don’t find anything worth at this time.’ Guna thought for a while, rose, and told the doctor, “Everything happens as per His guidance. I also think that the test needs to be done anyway. Could you please fix the date for the test? I will inform Archana about it.”

When he came out, he saw Archana standing in front of the Mother Mary statue with her eyes closed. The light of all the candle flames flickering in the air was falling on her face.

***

Archana warned Guna, who was walking along with his eyes closed, “Don’t open your eyes till I tell you to.” Her voice reflected her happiness.

She had already taken control over the corner room, which they were using as their bedroom, a week ago. She had placed her cot in the room on the right adjacent to the hall and didn’t allow anyone even to peek into that room after that.

She opened the door slowly and told him, “Now open your eyes slowly,” as she pushed him in gently on his back.

Guna opened his eyes. It was fully dark.

Archana laughed to her heart’s content and asked him, “You couldn’t see anything. Could you? Wait a second. Let me switch on the light.” He could hear the sound of the switch being pressed. The light filled in the room in a second.

The room bore an appearance of a completely different room. Curtains in a light rose hue with thinly drawn designs of small flowers were flapping elegantly. Green leaves with climbing creepers on the wall painted in light yellow. Butterflies fluttering their tiny wings. A small, beautiful bed. Different types of toys on the shelf— Chota Bheem was standing with his hands folded across his chest near the red colour teddy bear. Elephants, horses, and dinosaurs were standing above; shiny cars and cycles in different colours were standing below. A push walker is in the left corner of the room. Another push cart with small ringing bells. 

“This is our Kutti’s room. See for yourself how I have made it for him. Is it looking good?” She looked at his face, brimming with pride.

Guna stood totally amazed. “You have done a wonderful job. Haven’t you? You haven’t even let me know about it.”

“I just wanted to give you a surprise. Once this naughty guy jumps out of my womb, he won’t allow me to move an inch, and that is why I have bought everything he needs,” she jumped out of joy, holding her cheeks.

Guna twisted her ears lovingly and said, “If you’d told me, I would have done my part too. Hadn’t I?” and hugged her, sat on the cot with her as she came near to him.

She has changed a lot in the last two weeks. Archana, who used to be a nightmare for him with her weeping and angst, was now absent. Cheeks were shiny, and her face exuded a clarity of sorts, and her eyes were brighter, radiating a sense of being complete.

Turning the pages of a colour book containing large pictures, she asked him, “When do you have to meet Sathya?”

Before he replied, he heard his mobile phone ringing in the hall.

“Wait a second. Let me bring the phone.” He went out and checked the mobile.

It was a call from Sathya. Anxiety filled in his heart. Although he was waiting for her call for the last two days, he wanted to disconnect the call now for reasons unknown to him.

“Who’s that?” Archana asked him as she came out of the room. She was holding a cotton-stuffed chicken toy in her hands.

Guna pushed the green caller sign up on his mobile and put it in his ears and said, “Hello, Sathya.” Archana’s face grew gloomy for a second the moment she heard the name of Sathya.

“Ok. Sathya… I will be there soon.” He hung up the phone, looked up, and strained to bring his face to normal as soon as he saw Archana. He tried to smile at her.

“What did she tell? What is this Guna? Why are you sweating this much?” She went near to him, wiped his sweat from his face, and looked at him penetratingly.

“Be frank, Guna… What did she say?”

He caught her shoulder tightly and looked her intently, smiled at her, and said, “She said nothing serious. She just informed me that the reports will be arriving tomorrow morning. She asked me to come there at ten.”

She heaved a sigh of relief but threw her eyes on him, not yet fully coming out of apprehension. “Are you sure? She didn’t say anything other than this. Did she?”

Guna tapped her head endearingly, smiling, and said, “Get yourself right from her if you like.”

She hugged him. Her body was shivering. She could hear his anxious heartbeat when she leaned on his chest. She looked up and said to him, “I am scared.”

He wanted to say that he was also scared like her, but without telling it, he gazed at the portrait of Jesus Christ on the wall. The Son of The God smiled at him with his eyes shining with compassion.

***

Guna was looking absorbedly at his newborn baby, making mild sounds, hands waving in the air with its fingers tightly closed. A small head with dense hair. A fresh hue of tender baby skin. A reddish, clot-like mark near the right eyebrow.

“Don’t stare at the baby like that. Parents’ appreciative eyes will bring bad omen on them, people say.” Archana lay down on her side, as she was very tired.

“I was just examining who he resembles.” Guna sat on the chair.

“No one could identify anyone’s resemblance in four days of birth. All that they say is just an expression of their happiness, Archana told him as she was fondling the baby’s feet, sticking out the cloth. The baby pulled its legs in with a mild shiver. “It is he who has come to me again. None of my prayers went unanswered.”

Someone knocked at the door. Guna got up. Sathya entered the room with her usual exuberance, “How is the junior doing? Not making much noise? Doesn’t he”? It seems he has not yet fully slept and looks tired.” She bent towards the baby and smiled at her.

“He is fond of sleeping at this hour so that he could ensure we wouldn’t be able to sleep even for a minute in the night.” Guna told Sathya, crackling his fingers.

“You don’t have anything better to do. Do you? You can take good care of him all through the night. Can’t you? As soon as you are back home, going to your office will become your routine anyway. So you won’t tend to him for long. Will you?” - Sathya picked a sugar cube, put it into her mouth, and kept talking to Guna.

Again the sound of door knocking. Sathya stopped Guna when he tried to move away from there and said, “I think we have got a new visitor to our tiny doll. Wait. Let me see who it is.”

Archana adjusted the shawl, and Guna looked at her questioningly. Archana’s mother entered the room, as if burdened with loads of reluctance. Not looking at them both, she went to the baby straight. Guna greeted her warmly. Archana looked at her mother’s face. She didn’t speak any words. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Have a seat, aunty… Eii…my tiny doll… Here is your grandma. Open your eyes and see,” Sathya told the baby, holding and gently shaking his hands. Without turning her head, Archana’s mother looked at Archana for a moment and looked down.

“Here are the people you must see, my dear Kutti… You must have a glance at this surprising visit of those who were least bothered to know if their own daughter was alive or dead but now have come to see you.” Archana wiped her tears.

Guna slowly moved out of the room.

“This is not the right time, Archana…” When Sathya tried to intervene, Archana’s mother calmed her down and said, “I don’t see anything wrong in her words. When she was standing alone without anyone to comfort her after her son’s death, I remained stubborn like a stone. Didn’t I? Let her vent out all her” anger”—wiping her tears, she caught Archana’s hand excitedly.

As their words had fallen silent, their weeping became stronger. Archana broke down, shedding warm tears filled in her eyes.

The baby kicked in the air and stiffened the body as if in an attempt to push it away and started crying.

“It seems Kutti couldn’t bear your emotional bursts.” - Sathya removed the blanket, only to see the bed was wet and rebuked, “What sort of a naughty boy are you? You have wetted the cot instead of your grandma’s lap.”

Archana asked her mother, when the latter was washing her hands in the tap in the corner of the room, “Is Father aware of your coming here?”

Wiping her hands, she lifted the baby and kept him on her lap. He stretched his body once, licked his pink lips, and paused for a second.

“No. He doesn’t know.”

“Is he aware that this baby is born?”

“Yes. He knows. It is he who has told me about it.” – She fixed her eyes on the baby, looked at him for something, and lifted her head. “He is still angry with you.” She paused for some time and then said, “I am also still angry with you.”

Archana glanced at Sathya, smiled at her, and told her mother, “It doesn’t matter. Even after my only son died and got buried, if your anger still remains, hell with it. It doesn’t matter anymore. Does it?” - A drop of tear rolled down from her eyes.

“Nothing to worry about it too. He will also come soon. Everyone will come to enjoy playing with this Kutti,” Sathya, as usual lively in her talk, picked one more sugar cube and put it into her mouth.

“May I come in?” Guna peeked in with two glasses of fruit juices.

***

“The blessings of my lord fill in the land as rain. It is his mercy that lights up everything here. Those who seek succour in his kingdom will never face any problem in their life. Let us all pray to our lord, our Jesus. He is everything for us. Let us kneel down in front of him. Let us surrender on his feet. Amen”

The pastor climbed down the pedestal after completing his prayer. Everyone left the place making a cross against their chest. The silence that prevailed just a while ago there was disrupted, and a mild bustle followed it.

Guna’s mother and Archana, carrying the baby on her lap under the thick foliage of a neem tree, got up at once when they heard the church’s bell clanging. “The prayer seems to be over.” The baby shuddered his body hearing the clanging of the church bell and cried.

“O! My dear kutti… You are scared of the sound. Aren’t you? No need to be afraid, my dear Kutti… Come with me.” Guna’s mother took the baby from Archana and walked towards the church.

Archana went near to Guna, visibly standing with a sense of fulfilment and happiness, and asked him, “Make a guess of the name we have decided to give our baby.”

Guna knew well that it was the same question from her being directed at him every time but with no answer from him. He pursed his lips as usual. By that time, they went near to the prayer hall and saw some were waiting for the ablution of wisdom.

“Can I tell you his name?” Guna’s father asked as he wore his spectacles after cleaning them. His hair, trimmed very closely to the scalp, was shining white. Freshly shaved cheek skin was looking thick. He was in a clean white attire. Archana stepped back a few feet.

“I have grown bored listening to this question ever since he was born. How come you would find out a name all of a sudden?” Guna laughed.

As the crowd standing in the front moved ahead, praying and making the cross, Guna’s father inched forward quite submissively. Guna was standing on his left. Guna’s mother gave the baby to Archana.

The pastor came near. A silver cross was dangling on his chest, shining. He smiled at them. Both Guna and his father chanted some psalms and stepped back, giving him the way. As he passed them with a mumble, ‘God bless you’ without parting his lips, he stopped seeing Archana, his eyes fixed on her.

“You all have the blessings of Jesus Christ, and you will be blessed with good things in your life.” He drew a cross on her forehead, saw the baby in the hands of Guna’s mother, and smiled at the baby. He bent a little and made some incomprehensible sound at the baby. The baby rolled his eyes, paused a second, and started kicking his legs in the air. He rolled up his lips and speckled his spittle.

“He seems to be very naughty.” The pastor moved aside and wiped his face. Embarrassed, Archana stared at the baby, rolling her eyes and faking her anger. It didn’t leave any impact on him. He again rolled his lips and made a sound p..rrr…rrr…rr…rrr,…rrr, …rrr, emitting spittle on her face.

The church bell clanged again.

The baby smiled this time hearing the bell sound. “What’s the name you have in your mind? the pastor asked Guna’s father.

He made a cross, looking at Jesus Christ, standing on a marble pedestal as an embodiment of light of mercy in the centre of the prayer hall, looked at Archana, and said with a sense of satisfaction, “My daughter-in-law has already decided. I think she wants to disclose it only in your presence.”

“O! That is great. Then, tell me his name. Only then could we name him with the blessings of God.

Archana took the baby from Guna’s mother’s hands and passionately stared at him for a moment, holding him in her hands as the sunlight passing through the window glasses fell upon his face. She bowed her head in front of Jesus Christ as the baby smiled at her and said tenderly, “Anand.”

Guna’s father signaled something with his eyes to Guna. Guna took out a bundle of currency notes from his bag and put it in a box kept for accepting offerings on the pedestal.

The pastor sprinkled the holy water from the marble bowl on the baby’s head and made a cross on his forehead. As the water droplets fell on him, his body shook mildly once, he kicked his legs, and he cried.

“Let the blessings of God be bestowed upon him fully. Let all the wealth of our Lord’s kingdom be accessible to him. With our lord’s blessings, he will get the best of education, health, eminence, and fame. Let us name this baby, who has been bestowed upon all the choicest blessings of our lord, Anand. Let us call this baby who has become one among the herd of Good Shepherd Antony. Let the blessings of the Lord be with you always. Amen”

The church bell sounded again. Anand gazed at them cheerfully with his big eyes, rolling them.

***

The mount of Pazhani was standing majestically with its peripheral wall painted in white and saffron colours and its tower. The place where people offered their hair was not crowded that day. A peacock sitting on the roof fluttered its feathers, flew, and perched on the branch of a tree.

Archana laughed at Guna’s predicaments as he was trying to hold his dhoti onto his waist as it was slipping frequently. Archana’s mother commented on seeing her daughter, “It is now only I could see my old Archana.” Her comments made Archana’s father nod his head in approval.

“Please be careful. Hold the boy properly,” the old barber prayed to the Mount Pazhani, folded his hands, and warned them in his customary tone as he put a new blade into his razor.

Archana’s brother was holding the child’s head. “I don’t want to be shaved off…” The child pursed his lips and cried.

“It is nothing to get worried about, my boy… Look here… I am sitting with you. Aren’t I? You shouldn’t be scared. I know you like ice cream. I will get you one. “ Archana sat and knelt down beside him. Looking at her face, Anand refused to budge again, “No… I want nothing.

The old man sprinkled some water on Anand’s head and signaled to Archana’s younger brother to hold his head. He started shaving off his head from his forehead, inching it deftly, unconcerned about Anand’s growing wails.

Children playing around came running there.

Archana’s chithi came to her and asked, “Has he completed his three years?”

“He will complete three by the end of this coming December, Chithi.”

“What about his schooling?”

“He is studying in Pre. K.G.”

“It’s been ages since we all came to the temple together. I am very happy to see this today, Archana."

A monkey climbed down fast from an asbestos roof, jumped on a water tank, and sat there.

“Grandma… Look there… A monkey is coming,” a girl with twin plaits shouted.

The monkey stared at them, rolling its eyes, and then intimidated them with the display of its teeth. A boy wearing spectacles tried to shoo it away, waving his hands at it. The girl in twin plaits warned him, “Dei…don’t do that. It might pounce on you and bite you. By this time Anand’s wails had greatly subsided. He was sitting with his running nose, looking down.

“That is it. It’s over.” The old man folded his razor holder and got up from his seat. The hair strands fell down from his dhoti. Anand, getting down from the lap, ran his hands on his plain scalp, glanced at his shaved-off hairs below, and looked up at the old man.

“Hot water is ready. You can give him a bath.”

Anand kicked on the ground as he saw the monkey hanging on a branch. He saw his father coming to him holding his dhoti tightly, wrinkled his face, and called him out, “Daddyyyy.”

Archana went to him from behind, ran her hand on his head, and teased him, “Mottai…” Anand turned back, grinned at his mother, and jumped onto her hands.

A crowd carrying Kavadi yelled, “Pazhani malai muruganukku arogara” (Hail the Lord Murugan dwelling in the Mount Pazhani) and went past them.

***

Guna got irritated with the incessant calls coming in on his mobile phone. He picked it up and understood that it was the eleventh call from Archana.

“I told you not to disturb me as I would be engaged with an important work today. Didn’t I?”

“Anand’s class teacher called and asked me to come to the school immediately. Is he…?” Archana couldn’t continue her talk.

He stood frozen for a moment. ‘He left for the school, waving his hands, with his usual enthusiasm. Didn’t he?’

“It is alright. You please don’t get panicked. Get ready. I will be there in minutes.”

Despite his sincere efforts to concentrate on the road without thinking about anything, fear and anxiety started descending on him slowly. ‘It can’t be anything serious. Must be something normal. I shouldn’t get unduly scared of something”—he’ tried to calm himself down from his invisible fears. His right hand rose and marked a cross reflexively.

Archana was waiting for him at the entrance.

As she got into the car, he asked her calmly, “What did his class teacher tell you?”

“She told me that he’s fallen sick and come immediately. She said nothing more than this. I am scared, Guna…” He saw her fingers trembling when she wiped her tears.

He parked his car and walked along the long road where Indian cork trees were standing in rows. Archana was walking along with him, holding his hands. Noise of children playing games on the ground. A sprinkler was rotating, sprinkling water all around on the grass bed sprawling in front of the main administrative building of the school.

On seeing Archana, the class teacher came out of her restroom.

“What happened?”

“Nothing to worry. Please come in. He is sleeping in the health clinic.

Guna was walking on the long veranda, deeply praying to the lord within.

“I could see him only in the second period. He was lying, looking very tired, on the desk. When touched, I could understand he was suffering from a mild fever. Only after that did I call you.”

It was a small room, opposite to a board with colourful paintings. As the ceiling fan was running at the minimum speed, they saw Anand lying on a small cot kept along the wall.

Another bespectacled teacher came to them and smiled at them. “He had a mild fever. I have given him Crocin. Now he is sleeping.

Guna went near to Anand and touched his forehead.

His body had a high temperature.

                                                     ***Ended***