Showing posts with label Pirapanjan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pirapanjan. Show all posts

Sunday, 2 January 2022

Marie, the Prodigal (Mari enkira aattukutti) by Prapanjan


Prapanjan
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  • This is an English Translation of "Marie Enkira Attukutti", a Short Story written by Prapanjan 
  • Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 
  • To read the Tamil version of this story click here 
  • This is 16th  English Translation in Classic Tamil Short Stories Series

“Tamil sir…I am thinking of sending Arputha Mariee home with her T.C" the Head Master told. 

“Which Arputha Mariee are you talking about?” I asked. 

“You ask this question as if there are umpteen Arputha Mariee in this school. Don’t you? She... that one!...the one studying in tenth class” 

I tried to recollect Arputha Marie’s face, folding up the daily newspaper, kept aside. Yes…I got her. The belligerent face of a girl student-always chomping chewing gum as a sign of her utter disregard for school, teachers, boys, girls, rules and regulations alike, discourteous and impudent as if saying, ‘I don’t give a damn about all of you…you blokes are just nothing to me’-came over my mind. She was my student too. 

“Sir…Why do you want to issue her the T.C ?” 

“For why? I believe you are only in this world. Aren’t you? She is your student, I guess. Isn’t she? 

“Yes…she is. She comes to the class at times whenever she feels comfortable as if she is doing favour for me.” 

“You have seen her yourself what type of a student she is.” He threw an attendance register heavy enough for two men to carry and a couple of files in front me.

“See…see it yourself. She had attended the class for just twelve days during the last six months. I am also writing letters to her home every month. She wasn’t even bothered for a second to visit the school campus at least for the sake of courtesy to enquire about the bugger who had written that letter. Has she? Never. She remains least bothered about anything, no matter, it was me or my letters. We are considerate to admit her with a medical certificate, but how could we do it without her coming over here? She comes to the school just like our D.E.Oas per her whims. Doesn’t she? Even during such rare occasions of her attendance, she is not coming like a student. Is she? Che…che..che…How could I describe her impudent attitude in my words? She comes by a French bicycle as if sitting on a calf, wearing pants. It is pants…pants! You know what kind of pants are they? She comes with skin-tight pants like a frame of a photo, making every one of us anxious with a fear that it would tear off at the slightest of a movement. You have seen her shirts. Haven’t you? She comes with her shirt, with the top two buttons unbuttoned. Above that, a chain like a brahminy blind snake. It is swinging here and there like a tail of a fan. She should be modest enough in her dress in the presence of boys. Shouldn’t she? Pitiably, no uniforms, rules and regulations are respected in this school. I know you must be enjoying all these. Right! 

“You are mistaken sir…” 

“I know…I have spent forty years dealing with this kind of affairs. I know human psychology Mr Tamil.

“Tamil sir…I know psychology. How old are you?” 

“Twenty nine years sir” 

“My experience alone is forty years”

“Sir…but there is no such rule banning pants and shirts in our school. Is it?”

“There is no such rule permitting the students roam around naked either. Is it there? She is just eighteen years old. After repeated failures, she had reached tenth standard just a year ago. During my time, a girl of eighteen would have given birth to two children, with one sitting in the waist and another on the shoulder. Apart from that, they will be expecting one more baby too. Do you know what did she do that day last month? I mean, the day she came to the school as if was doing some favour for us mercifully. Within the six hours…hardly it was six hours sir. She was standing at the school entrance, chit chatting with some rogues- the ones you guys would call urbanely ‘friends’. Our history teacher Mahadevan…you know him. Don’t you? He went to her, advised her not to behave inappropriately at the school entrance and requested her to come to the class. Do you know what she had told him?” 

“mmm…Carry on sir” 

“She had asked him if he was jealous of those guys, that too, in front of those rogues. He was close to tears, came to me and wept. When I asked her about it, she told me, slamming on my face, that I was responsible for the affairs only inside the school compound and I didn’t have authority over her outside the school compound. To whom did she say this? To this Narasimman!!....” 

The Head Master’s face was reddened, as he was working up to his fury.  

“Her audacity didn’t stop with that alone. She fought with Physical Education Master in the evening. He taught her physical exercises, inadvertently touching her body as a part of teaching. It appeared that he might have touched her inappropriately. Do you know what she had told him?”

“She must have told him not to touch her inappropriately”

“Had she been a human being, she must have told that. Mustn’t she? But do you know what that girl had told him?” The Head Master was holding his head with his hands, his face in cold sweat. “She asked him whether he wasn’t sleeping with wife. That poor fellow PET Master Padmanaban had gone on leave immediately. Now, enough is enough. I too have four children. I can no longer bear this torment of these kinds of rogue elements and take ill with blood pressure. Let’s get rid of that ass” 

“If we issue the T.C now, she wouldn’t be able to appear for SSLC3this year. Her whole life will be spoilt” 

“That ass itself is not worried about it. Why do you worry about it?” 

 

***

I couldn’t remain unconcerned about her. It is not my character too. Moreover, Marie, a Kid is a small girl. She has not committed any big sins. Has she? Even if committed, any big deal about it? I am not a clean, virtuous man to throw stone at her, killing her? Am I?”         

I told everything to Sumathi. She also repeated what the Head master had told. 

“Why are you inviting trouble for yourself unnecessarily like these? From your words, I could understand that the girl appears to be a mischief monger. She might not take your words seriously and insult you” she told. 

I convinced her somehow and took her to Marie’s house one day evening. 

Her house was not very far from my house. Her house was an old house, with a veranda, frontal area thatched with tiles, located adjacent to the rear side of the row of houses situated just opposite to the railway station. It was twilight. The veranda was dusty and found not mopped for long time. There were some costly chairs and sofas in her house. But they were lying disorderly like a marriage hall. 

“Marie”-I called her out. After I called her thrice, a voice came from inside,’ Who’s that?’. Marie came out, wearing a lungi, hair dishevelled and crumbled clothes as if she got up from bed a moment ago. 

She was surprised at seeing me and it was very much visible on her face. She must have been doubly surprised at seeing my wife. 

“Please come in sir…please come in…” she welcomed both of us together, arranged the chairs in order. I and Sumathi sat on the sofa. She sat of the chair in front of us at our behest. 

“Have I woken you up…ma?” I asked her. 

“It’s alright sir” she bent her head down shyly, adjusted her hair falling on her face. 

“How come you are here?”

“Just nothing. We were going to the beach. Your house is on the way. We just entered your house as I thought of meeting you because it has been very long time since we met. Uninvited guests. Are you unwell?” 

“You have smelt balm. Haven’t you? I have a light head ache sir…What would you like to have?” 

“We had it already. Is there no one at home?” 

“You call it home. Don’t you? Home means there must be a parent. But my father is gone. I don’t mean that he is no more. He had just left us. However, my mother has not left me fully. We meet at times. Even if we meet once in two days, it will be too much for us. That’s why I termed that it is not a home. I feel that I am staying in a lodge.” 

Her words troubled me indeed. She looked like a poor child begging for alms with a crushed aluminium plate in the nights. 

“How do you manage your food?”

“Most of the times, I will eat wherever I like when I am hungry. Only from hotels . When my mother stays at home, she would prepare something. But I would prefer hotel food to my mother’s cooking. I don’t say it would taste bad. I couldn’t eat thinking it was my mother’s love. She wouldn’t cook thinking it was for her daughter either.” 

Sumathi asked her presumptuously. “Isn’t she your mother?”

“Yes. She is. But she is living with someone now. I don’t like that man. He also doesn’t like me. Later, I reconciled myself that they are living their life and I have to live my life somehow”         

A pall of taut silence descended upon us. I was looking at the wall clock that had stopped long ago as it was not wound up. 

“Marie…If you come to the school, you will feel the change. Won’t you?” 

“For whom? For whom should I study sir?” 

“For you” 

“ppchh” she sulked. I thought that I should stop talking anything more. 

“Can we go to the beach? You may also join us” 

“Can I come too sir?” she asked him, astonished. 

“Please come.” 

“I will be back in minutes.” She sprang to her feet. Ran into the house. 

I looked at Sumathi. 

“Poor girl” Sumathi told. 

“Who else is not poor? Isn’t her mother, who had left her living somewhere, poor? Isn’t her father poor? All of us are, in one way or the other, poor anyway.” I told her. 

Like a just-blossomed flower, a road side tree that got wet in rain and a pebble of a stream, Marie appeared in front of me. She was wearing pants. She had tucked in her shirt. She was looking beautiful in that dress. A dress is something which one wears for comfort and matching their physique. Isn’t it? 

“You look smart” I complimented. 

“Thank you sir…” she laughed heartily. 

We were walking towards the beach. I was walking in the middle, flanked by them on both sides.  

The beach was looking happy. The children were playing merrily, riding on the stone horses. The parents enjoying their children playing. Young boys and girls infusing life to the world. Tasty grams roasted in the sea sand. 

Adding colours to the life of children, the balloons were flying. We sat on a chair, bought ‘Pea Sundal’from Iyer, and ate it. 

“Get me a kara vadai sir” Marie asked. I got one for her. She ate it. 

“I didn’t have lunch in the afternoon sir…Felt lazy. Slept well.”

“You will have dinner with us tonight. Will you? Sumathi asked her. 

“Let me have it other day akka” 

“No…other day. Today you are coming.” 

While coming, Marie held Sumathi’s fingers with hers, walking a step behind her, and chit chatting with her. I was walking a step ahead of them.

Sambar and fried brinjal were only available in home along with some dried anchovy deep fried in the afternoon. 

“Fantastic akka…!! Sambar and dried Anchovy are terrific combination akka” Marie told. 

*********

Marie was visiting my home these days regularly in the morning and evening without fail. She had idli, the regular breakfast only at my home. We prepare either idli or Dosai in the morning all throughout 365 days of a year. “Marie…If I hide the grinding stone, Sumathi will have a heart attack. You know!” I would tell her. On hearing this, she would laugh incessantly as if about to be rolling on the floor. During evenings, her life was mostly spent only in our home. It would be fun to look at her sitting on the floor, folding her legs with difficulty due to skin tight pants and assisting Sumathi in chopping onions. 

“Hi…Marie…You are a modern girl roaming around the town in bicycle. But here, you are cutting the onion for her. Aren’t you?” 

“It’s only very thrilling Sir. Chopping the onion with tears up in eyes is nothing lesser than a terrific experience. Aiyo….this terrific experience!” She told. 

“Sir…Can I ask you one thing?”

“Why one? You can ask more” 

“Sir..I am asking you seriously. I hope you don’t get troubled by my frequent coming to your home? Do you?”

“Certainly not.” 

She remained silent for a while. Then asked. 

“You are able to accept me who has been branded as spoiled brat and feed me at your house. Aren’t you? Why do you do all these sir?” 

I felt laughing. 

“You mad girl! Who else aren’t spoiled in this world? No one can be spoilt. Do you know that? I presume that you feel guilty about yourself as a spoilt one. Right! Please come out of that. Not only you, your mother, your father and anyone for that matter, no one is bad here”. 

“Just to avenge my mother, I am behaving like this sir” She told. 

“I know that” I told her. 

It must be about ten days, I think. Marie asked me one day. “Why didn’t you ask me that I am not attending the classes?”

I looked at her face. Two drops of tears were about to fall down from her eyes. 

“You must rebuke me sir…You must slap me and ask why I hadn’t attended the school. Just because there is no one in my life to reproach me for my impudence, I have become a spoiled brat like this. No one has showered love on me like this earlier. Only those who give love have the right to admonish. Don’t they?” 

“I was just waiting to see you have this realization for yourself.  No big damage has happened yet. Better late than never. Let’s start anew from today. Just think that you have joined tenth standard today. We are going to the school from tomorrow. Aren’t we!” I told her. 

Marie sobbed inconsolably, covering her face with her hands. 

                                                        ***End***

Note: 

1.    Transfer Certificate- a certificate issued to a student after the course is over. 

2.    District Education Officer 

3.    Tenth Standard (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) 

 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 

Source: www.azhiyasudargal.blogspot.com(Marie enkira aattukutti- Short story by Pirapanjan)