Showing posts with label Thi. Janaki Raman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thi. Janaki Raman. Show all posts

Friday, 4 October 2024

Ablution (கங்கா ஸ்நானம்) by Thi. Janaki Raman

 



Original: Ganga Snanam (கங்கா ஸ்நானம்)

In English: Saravanan Karmegam


Chinna Swamy was standing on the banks of the river Ganga, watching it flow, swirling and eddying. The banks looked as high as three quarters of a coconut tree. The blue light coming from a nearby storied house was falling on the water dimly. The thoughts oscillated between water and his home, rendering him almost oblivious to either Ganga or Kashi.

His wife asked him something.

“….”

“Listen here.”

“Mmm.”

“The width seems double that of the Cauvery River in Kumbakonam. Doesn’t it?”

“Mmm…it looks so." 

He felt someone laugh. His back shuddered once with a deep chill.

“You are still unable to forget that. Aren’t you?” She glanced at his face as she was washing her legs in water.

“Mmm”

“You haven’t bathed yet. How much longer would I stand here?”

He climbed down the steps further into the water." “It’s said our karma would never leave us, even in Kashi. Now you see... that scoundrel is standing right in front of me.”

“Let him stand. Let him. He must have bathed in the Ganga yesterday. My mother Ganga would have washed all his sins away. Why should we remember all those things now? You please take a bath now,” she said, getting into the river, and chanted, “O! Mother! My Mother Ganga!” and bathed with her heart full of happiness.

“It is easy to say not to remember anything. Now, in a short while, I have to face him. What if I am destined to share some words with him? The very thought of it gets me astounded. It is that the remaining thousand rupees, apart from the three thousand rupees, have brought us here. Right? Would we have dared to visit this place if it had been only for the sake of my sister? Or would that have been so destined for him to visit here before us? What is God doing in this? He is just playing with my destiny?”

“I too don’t understand all these that clearly. But we can think of it after taking a bath. We can inform our landlord and leave from there with our luggage to find some other place to stay. You please first take a bath. Mother Ganga would offer us some solution.”

A boat went past them with its steady noise of rowing.

Chinna Swamy again felt someone laugh. He too felt like laughing. He stepped into the water, got into it, and bathed fully.

"Gosh, the water is as chill as crystals.” He scooped a handful of water and gently dropped it through his fingers. His body shuddered once. The tenderness of water coupled with the weird circumstances that tend to mock at his situation. Would anyone ever believe this coincidence?

**

The train reached Kashi at about eight in the night. Our travails with the crowds in the train, layers of coals, dust, and dirt of three days, the reek of old butter from the co-passengers who boarded the train at Nagpur, and rushing crowds in louse-ridden shabby shirts and Veshti—all disappeared the moment we set our feet in Kashi, and an inexplicable peace and an innate desire to see the River Ganga overwhelmed our hearts. A man from a Tamil priest who settled in Kashi a few generations ago had come there to receive us.

As we sat down, keeping our luggage in the house, the owner came to me and asked, “Where do you hail from?”

“Savukka Natham”

“From Thanjavur district?”

“Yes”

“We are also from Thanjavur district. But we own nothing there now. We had long become the men of this city, Kashi, since the day my grandfather settled here.”

He went to Vaitheeswaran Temple last year to have his second child shave off his hair.

“You went there from Kashi?”

“Why not? Even if you go to the seven heavens, we can’t get rid of our family deity. Can we? Kashi is a place where we had settled. But my family deity is still the god Vaithyanathan.”

Chinna Swamy couldn’t help laughing when he was washing off his three days of dirt, thinking of the house owner’s longings for his native, which reared him up on its laps three generations ago.

“Last time I visited Vaitheeswaran Temple, Sirgazhi, Kumbakonam, Thiruvarur... not a place left. Somewhere near Thiruvarur, a man did come here a day ago. Right?” He asked an assistant standing near him.

"Yes, he is from Vilancheri. Do you know it?” The assistant turned, adjusting his thick glass eye frame.

“Vilancheri? My sister has been married off there. We had come here with the help of money she gave me.”

“Then you must be knowing this man as well.”

“Who’s that?”

“He came here yesterday early in the morning, probably from Prayag. His name is Duraiyappa. He has gone to the temple to see the puja.”

“Duraiyappa…?” Chinna Swamy’s head spun as if a thunderbolt had descended on it.

“Yes”

“Dark man, cleft-chinned?”

“Yes”

“On his forehead, on its right, is there a scar?”

"Yes, it is the same man. He’ll come back any time after watching Puja given to God, Visweswaran.”

“O.K.”

Chinna Swamy grew restless and felt someone laugh. It seemed Duraiyappa himself was laughing at him. A devilish laughter. ‘How come this scoundrel is here? How could he opt this time to come here? That too, when I am here at the same place where he stays.’ A barrage of unanswered questions hit his mind. His entirety shook a little. “This bloke? Now? At this place?”

He came out of the water, towelled his hair, put on a new silk cloth, got into the water, washed his legs again, smeared some Thiruneeru on his body, and sat in prayer. His wife was changing her sari.

“I have to, now, face this chap. Whose mischief is this?”

Elder sister kept whining about visiting Kashi quite often. After three years of family life with her husband in Vilancheri, she returned to her parent’s house in her fourth year. Thankfully, Father and Mother were not there to see all this amusement. Her husband became bedridden on the seventh day after she left him. On the eighth day, he died.

She returned to the place from where she left, like an unfamiliar man stranded in a forest. Yearnings and diseases started fast eating up the woman who had lived three years in confinement and faced the ignominy of an unlucky woman who wiped off every fortune from home. She asked me to sell her husband’s land. Now I had four thousand rupees in my hand—the price of it. She remained conscious till the day before her death and told me:

“Chinna Swamy, Duraiyappa isn’t aware of my pathetic health condition. Had he known it, he would have paid a visit here. How much do we have to pay him?”

After due calculation, it stood at three thousand and forty-seven rupees.

“Don’t ever beg to condone this amount. You have to pay him off without leaving a paise. Do you understand it?”

“First, get well, Akka. There is no urgency for it now.”

“No. I won’t make it anymore. I know my condition, Chinna Swamy. I thought of going away from this world after seeing that debt being paid off. It didn’t happen. You do it now.”

“O.K.”

“Some amount of thousand rupees will be in balance. I dreamt of living in the fantasy of visiting Kashi with that amount. It didn’t also happen. You and your wife go to Kashi and bathe in Ganga, bearing me in your hearts. And you can use that amount for travel expenses on trains and other lodging requirements. You must not bear a penny of expenses from your pocket.”

The next day, there reduced the total count of my family by one. ‘Is it for what you were born, lived, and died meaninglessly, just to pay off the debt your husband had left?’

After a month, Chinn Swamy left for Vilancheri with the remaining three thousand and some odd sum. When he reached Vilancheri, it was already dusk. The wind was chilly. One could keep watching admiringly Duraiyappa’s house, veranda, and doorway. Exclusively shiny, smooth surfaces! Duraiyappa was leisurely reclining in an easy chair.

“Mama”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me.”

A hurricane lamp was dangling above my head in the main hall.

“Me? Who’s that?”

“Chinna Swamy”

“Oh! Our Chinna Swamy”

“Yes… Mama.”

“Please come in. Come in. When did you come?”

“Just a moment ago.”

“So pathetic… Sundarambal is no more.”

“Yes…Mama. That’s all her luck to be here.”

“Any serious ailments in the body?"

“No ailments in body. Just unfulfilled desires.”

“Pch…Hell with the chores! Neither he nor you are lucky enough. The villagers were chomping on it for quite a while about it. May I know the reason behind your troubled journey to come here now?”

“I came here to settle a pending matter, Mama.”

“No big deal about that pending matter. Does it?”

“Akka summoned me the day before her death and asked me to calculate the amount to be settled. She wasn’t comfortable going with this burden.”

“Pch…debt…what’s the big deal about it? Any big deal about this big debt or what?”

“It stood at three thousand and forty-seven rupees at that time.”

“Mmm.”

“It is one more month added now. Right?”

“Yeah…I would be able to purchase a village with that one-month interest amount. Wouldn’t I? You fool.”

“Can we calculate it now? I have come ready.

“Have you brought the money?”

“Yes…I have brought”

“Why take trouble now? I am very tired. I have been standing in the field since morning. Feeling hungry. Sleepy too. Isn't it a good idea if I receive it in the morning?”

“O.K”

‘Is it for this petty matter that you took the trouble of travelling this distance by train and bus?”

"Isn't it my duty to undertake that trouble?”

“You, a fool! Had you written me a letter, I would have come there to collect it. Why this unwarranted troubled journey?”

“It wouldn’t look good. Handing it over to you in person is respectful. Isn’t it?”

“O.K…O.K…We can settle it in the morning. You may leave now.”

“Then keep this cash with you now. We can settle it in the morning. I am going to sleep here. The wind is cool here.”

“You want me somehow move away from my seat. Don’t you? It’s O.K. Give it to me.”

Chinna Swamy gave him the bundle of cash. Duraiyappa kept it in his safe and locked it.

“Please come in washing your legs. Let’s have dinner together.”

After dinner, they were chit-chatting till midnight. The village used to go to sleep by half past six. The place became quiet without the bustle of the village, except for the chirping of crickets. The bells hanging in the necks of bulls sounded somewhere. A child was crying elsewhere.

Duraiyappa gave Chinna Swamy a bedsheet and a pillow and went in, locking the door. Chinna Swamy lay on the veranda, with his thoughts growing perceptive. “What a big man Duraiyappa is! He is really a great soul! How respectful he is! How lenient in negotiating hard things! When Chinna Swamy got off the bus that evening at Vilancheri corner, he heard someone praising Duraiyappa’s ‘offering food’ to everyone. One could get food at Duraiyappa’s house, no matter who he is and when it is. He is popularly known as “Annadada”—the man who offers limitless food to everyone—throughout the district. In every train journey, one would be able to meet at least one passenger who would praise it. What a difference! A beauty of politeness that comes in handy to the great souls’

The cool wind that was blowing a while ago also stopped. Chinna Swamy fell asleep.

In the morning he had a breakfast with four crispy dosa, some curd along with the last dosa, and a coffee that prompted one to wonder about its taste, a salubriousness fighting the sunlight in the hall after meals, the floor that knew no sunlight—a sort of coolness filled in Chinna Swamy’s heart.

Duraiyappa came with a deed document, sat in front, put on his spectacles, and closely scrutinised the document. After a diligent calculation, he looked up to Chinna Swamy and said, “So, can we now make the entry as settled?”

“Mmm,” Chinna Swamy said.

“O.K. Take out the cash”

“You are keeping the cash with you,” Chinna Swamy said, smiling at him mildly, wondering if Duraiyappa might have confused it with something else.

“You say money is with me?”

“Yes…Mama. You kept it in the safe last night.”

“What did I keep?”

“Don’t be funny, Mama…I gave you three thousand and forty-seven rupees. It was bound with thick, red-coloured papers as a bundle.”

“Don’t be silly, Chinna Swamy. Don’t be silly like a kid.”

“Am I silly? You play funny Mama.

“Mama or son-in-law…does it matter anyway? Take out the cash. I get late for the field. Don’t get me late.”

“Mama…please check your safe once again.”

“Again playing funny! Haven’t you brought the money with you?”

Chinna Swamy started to feel his stomach rumble. At the same time, he preferred to believe that Mama was still playing pranks with him.

“Please bring it, Mama…”

“What nonsense are you up to? You keep telling me to bring it. Is it time to play pranks?”

“Mama…I am telling you the truth.

“It’s alright. I get to leave now. I have work to do.

“Mama…Mama”

“Leave your Mama now.

“That red-coloured bundle, Mama?”

Chinna Swamy stood terribly stunned. He felt his abdomen growing heavy as if a big stone had fallen into it.

“Did you come by train or bus?”

“Bus”

“Where were you keeping the cash?”

“In my bag. I brought it very carefully and gave it to you. You told me we could settle it in the morning, gently sulking that I was trying to move you away from your chair, and you kept it safely in your safe.”

“You are a sinner! How skillfully you could narrate it as if really happened?” Duraiyappa yelled in a high pitch; his face looked pale as if slapped by some demons. “Come here to see the… My entire body coils with shame,” he shrieked and went in, opened the safe, and exposed its interiors. Opened other iron boxes and wooden boxes. Look well…See it with your own eyes.”

Chinna Swamy was standing still as if severely smacked on his head. He ran to Durayappa’s wife and then ran out. He took his complaints to the accountant and village headman as his tongue dried up, lips shivering, and the body trembling. The men of that village came there. Duraiyappa was sitting like a madman, reclining in his easy chair. The almirahs in the hall were kept open. Clothes and utensils were found strewn around the floor.

Everyone blinked, knowing nothing of what happened.

“Mama…what is all this? He is saying something,” the village headman said.

“I first thought he was playing funny. But he kept pledging it is true again and again. It is nothing short of a big thunder-like blow on me. So I simply sat down, totally beaten. You can very well rummage the whole house.”

The village headman and his men inquired about everyone and everything again. Chinna Swamy cried helplessly. They searched everything again.

“I never thought that you would betray me like this, Mama.” Chinna Swamy sobbed silently as his voice grew heavier.

“You, the sinner! Let your mouth rot. He is our Annadada, da! He is a saint-like man! He has offered food in heaps like hills. Never raise your voice against him,” the accountant admonished Chinna Swamy.

A train was passing on the Ganga Bridge at a distance under darkness. Chinna Swamy came there from a distant place and got entangled with the men of Vilancheri Village, complained to everyone, cried in front of everyone, begged almost everyone, and at last grew stoic at everything around him—but what did he exactly win at last? Duraiyappa went to the court. The travesty of judgment came with a compromise—that Chinna Swamy had to settle the amount without interest. When Chinna Swamy refused to accept the verdict, he was intimidated by the judge that he would pass the judgment, making Chinna Swamy pay full payment with interest. At last, accepting this compromise by way of settling it with his own money…

‘It had been four years now since all this drama was orchestrated. Now I had come to Kashi to fulfill my elder sister’s second wish. But on the very first day, God is testing my nerves by sending Duraiayappa to the same place where I am staying. Chinna Swamy delved into thoughts.

Chinna Swamy’s wife was still sitting in prayer. Would anyone believe it? Let alone what had happened. Would anyone believe what is happening today?’

“Can we leave now?” His wife asked him, Rose?

“Mmm.”

Chinna Swamy rose. Climbing on two steps, he stopped and said, “Wait, I couldn’t pray. My heart was just resenting Duraiyappa for his deeds.”. He then got into the water and bathed again.

“Do have an ablution to wash away his sins as well,” his wife said.

When he came out of the water, she said, “Don’t dig out the old things when you meet him. If he had come back, do strike up a casual conversation, thinking that you have washed away his sins by performing an ablution. If he hadn’t come back from the temple, we would pack up and leave the place immediately before seeing his wretched face.”

“Let’s see what is waiting for us.” Chinna Swamy turned north, glanced at bathing bays emitting lights, and climbed on the steps.

                                                               **End***

Wednesday, 8 June 2022

“Payasam” by Thi. Janaki Raman

This is an English Translation of “Payasam 1”, a short story written by Thi. Janaki Raman. Translated from Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam.

***

Samanathu stood in front of the podium under the Peepal tree and looked at the lord Ganesh made of stone. Gently patted his temple. Under the guise of Thoppu karanam 2, he held his ears and simply displayed a mild jerk in his body up and down.

He felt that someone was telling into his ears: ‘You could very well fold your knees fully, sit, and then stand for at least four times. Couldn’t you? Who else has the strength that you have? You are not like Subbarayan, who is destined to be permanently sick in life. Are you? You don’t suffer from joint aches, blood pressure, and spinning head like Subbarayan. Do you?’ No one has actually uttered anything to him. It was he who was speaking to himself. His inner voice further told him, “It is true that I am seventy-seven years old and Subbarayan is sixty-six years old. So what? But who, among us, will be assessed seventy-seven? Will it be I or he? Will it be just enough if someone is able to earn fifteen or twenty lakh rupees? Will he be able to get this kind of rock-solid chest like the bottom of a coconut leaf stalk? Will he be able to get this kind of thick, stone-like muscles in his hands and calves? What sort of marriage is he conducting? Stupidity! The entire world has been invited for it. Hasn’t it? With all this fanfare with drums, tying the Thali 3, getting the last daughter married off, and sending everyone off with the bundles of cooked rice, what the hell are you going to do after that? You would just sit and eat the wheat porridge and swallow some medicine tablets and wipe your body with the hot water as much as you like. Wouldn’t you? Would you be able to come even for a day like this to the Cauvery 4, swinging your hands and legs, to take a bath?’

Samanathu looked around. The Peepal tree leaves were speaking something gently, rustling. Men, women, and children alike who had already taken a bath on that side of the river and those who were on their way to take a bath on this side of the river were going past the narrow lane that led to the river Cauvery. Three-fourths of them were unknown faces—with silk sarees and empty pots while going and wet sarees sticking to their bodies and pots filled with water while coming back—sand particles sticking to the wet soles, dotted like pepper balls. Like tender green stems, a child, five or six years old, came nude after bathing. Having changed their dresses on the riverbank itself after bathing in the Cauvery, some wearing faded blue Salem silk-bordered dhoties were coming. Three-fourths of them weren’t known faces.

“Isn’t it all for marriage?” a loud query. That faded blue dhoti? asked.

“Yes,” Samanathu replied, looking at his face with tons of questions in his eyes. He asked him in his mind, ‘Why are you shouting like this? Do you think I am deaf?’

“Aren’t you able to identify me?” That embroidered dhoti asked him again. “It’s me. Brother-in-law of Sita, Madhura”i

“O… Is it? Yes…yes… Now I could identify. I couldn’t make it out in a single glance. The food stuff hasn’t been made yet. Please go there. You might have travelled throughout the night on the train.” Samanathu displayed his hospitality.

“He…is Subbarayan’s chithappa 5. Being the eldest of the family, he is the one who is looking after everything.” The Madurai Dhoti introduced him to another washed dhoti standing nearby. He then left.

“He is the one….” He started adding up some more, introducing him further.

“You please go… I will come in a while after bathing.” Samanathu sent them off.

His voice from inside said, “Brother-in-law of Sita? Subbaraya! ...How were you able to give birth to seven girls? For each girl’s marriage, you are bringing a train full of your relatives, sons-in-law, and brothers-in-law. Before I step into the Cauvery River, I don’t know how many brothers-in-law I am going to encounter.’

Leaving the Peepal tree, he started walking towards the river Cauvery, making the ground shake. Tucking up the end piece of his waistcloth in his waist, he was wearing a Kachcham 6 folded up to his knees. A double fibred towel on his right shoulder, an open rocky chest, a hollow stomach, eyes without overgrowth of eye muscles, and fully functional ears—Samanathu glanced at all of them once by himself.

Before his feet touched the Cauvery riverbed, he could hear the sound of Thavil 7 from the street, followed by Nagaswaram 8. ‘Muhoortham 9 had been fixed after half past ten. The time isn’t even eight. But these guys have started hitting the drums. They need to while away their time somehow. Don’t they? In the very similar manner, Subbarayan too gave birth to seven girls without knowing how to while away his time. Didn’t he?’

The water was flowing in three-fourths of the river’s spread. The remaining part of the river was sand. He was tramping with his heavy steps on sand.

The sound of drums was heard feebly at the distance. They might call him. Elder of the family. ‘Subbarayan would come to him, addressing him as Chithappa…Chithappa…If not he, his brothers would call me so- as if I am making everyone dance to my tunes. Let them call…’

Samanathu looked around—to his left.

Across the river there seemed to be a bridge looking anew. It was a new bridge. ‘Is it Subbarayan who is walking there? No…No…. Many people are walking over there. Lorries are moving. Loaded carts are moving. Pedestrians walk over there; everything bears the resemblance of Subbarayan. Even trucks and bulls look like hi’m. It was Subbarayan who brought that bridge to the town. Had he not been there, the bridge would have been built somewhere forty kilometers away from there. Such was his influence in the government.

At the rear side of his right—in Vellalar Street—smoke was coming out—the smoke emanating from jaggery making. ‘On the other side, the field of Johnson grass with flowers—half of those flowers were found blossoming like coral flowers shining in the morning sunlight. They look like Subbarayan while looking at them closely. It was Subbarayan who brought sugar cane to that town. Opposite to the town, on the other side, these smokes and sugarcane industry smoke—everything was brought by Subbarayan. Yonder, that school, it was also by Subbarayan. That cooperative society beside the bridge—again by Subbaraya’n.

“Why are you burning with jealousy? Isn’t he your elder brother’s son? It is now nearly twenty years since I came to this house after marrying you. Half of the days, either it was old watery rice from the previous day or some Vatha Kuzhambu 10 and this coral mound—I didn’t enjoy anything other than these. Did I? Were you and your brother able to send even those four rupees of monthly wages to Subbarayan? You had brought him, telling him that he was your relative, and got him educated at the rock fort, praising him that he was very good at studies. Didn’t you? Were you and your elder brother able to complete at least his education? With your futile attempt of making him jump off three-fourths of the well, you had dragged him home during the final year, discontinuing everything. He came back, angry, roamed around, and became feeble. Then the goddess of wealth came to him, danced in his family…”

Samanathu was no longer willing to listen to this rant. It was his wife’s voice. Now he was able to listen to it in the air. Around seven or eight years ago, he had heard her in person.

‘It was true that I couldn’t get him educated. He came to the town. Then ran away. Went to the fort and started a career as an accountant. Picked some fights there. He borrowed some amount from one of the customers of the shop and established a grocery shop with half of the share as profit. Whether it was his sheer luck or his face or his character, no one knew. His shop grew leaps and bounds and became a wholesale shop from a petty shop. Procured paddy. Black grams and pulses in trucks and amasses a wealth of twenty lakh rupees in twenty years. He had purchased one-fourth of the land in the local village itself.

He divided his own earnings and gave half of it to Samanathu. Samanathu was angry as his part fell outside the village. Not only that, it was lying far beyond the riverbed too. He fought with him. Only at that time did Valambal tell him, “What the heck is it! Is it your rightful demand? Or is it your grandfather’s property? Or has your father earned it? It was all his single-handed earnings, and he has given it to you as he has regard for his Chithappa. Your complaints sound just as frivolous as your complaints about a cow you have received as a charity not having proper teeth and tail. You better shut your mouth and accept whatever he gives. If the people come to know about it, they will laugh at you. Had I been one among the village elders….”

“Even otherwise, you are now a different woman. Aren’t you? On seeing you the way you dance, talking in favour of him, I am unable to make out whether you are my wife or my elder brother’s wife.”

Thooo…enough…enough of your nonsense.” Valambal moved aside.

“mhha… A sound of laughter like a cow came out of his throat pit—a laughter of pride. A pride with stupidity. Then he followed Valambal, trying to coax her. “Don’t be angry, dear… I just checked how your heart responds to it.”

“Enough of it… Please don’t talk to me.”

For the next three days, Valambal didn’t speak to him—for this stupid mischief.

There was no property dispute till she died. Now the property was divided. He had accepted it too… Now what's next? ....”

But he couldn’t get the whole of his share. Samanathu’s Valambal was not alive in this world now. The first two children she gave birth to were not alive now. The third one was a girl—she was also no more. The fourth one was a girl—she lost her husband in the third year of her marriage and now settled in her mother’s home. Wearing a brown linen saree, she left her husband’s home and came back to her mother’s home. As per the family tradition, they shaved her head off and got her to wear a brown silk saree. Her marriage took place on the same stage along with Subbarayan’s third daughter’s marriage.  

Fifth was a boy—a painter living in Delhi. The sixth one was a boy—he was attending to the nuptial errands in the marriage of Subbarayan’s seventh daughter like a domestic help. It was he who had hurried him up to take a bath in the Cauvery, telling him, “Please go and take a bath quickly. Who else is here as elder other than you?”

Samanathu tied his towel around his waist, put a knot in it, got into the water, plunged into the water fully, and wiped his body.

A bus was going on the bridge. One bundle of banana leaves, a bicycle, four or five bales, and a bundle of sugar cane were kept on the luggage carrier of the bus—everything bore the name of Subbarayan. ‘I want to strangle that fellow by his neck, shaking him till his eyeballs come out… and putting all the women of his family into a rug sack…’ He gritted his teeth.

You may throw them into the Cauvery. Only then can you be doomed forever in hell without being able to come out of it. Go there immediately.

It was she… She… It was Valambal. Yonder, it looks like her on the black washing stone. Dark in complexion. Wavy hair. String of corals. Thick stud. Body without blouse. Medium built. Many a time he had come to the river, took a bath at a distance while she was taking a bath in the Cauvery. He had groped her as if he was looking at an unknown woman through the corner of his eyes. ‘That day, while changing the wet saree, struggling to cover her waist and calf, standing in the empty space of the riverbed, he was ogling at her; at that moment she glanced at him, the way he became shy as if he was someone not related to her—everything is still visible! Why did she leave for her heavenly abode well before me?’

“He gave you half of what he had earned and shared the remaining part with his brother. Even his children would get very little as their shares. Then why are you burning with so much jealousy?” She shook him on that day, washing him off in the Cauvery River.  

‘A colossal being! She stood for what is called righteousness till her last breath. Didn’t she? What a sense of rectitude! You have kept me as a human being, my dearest. Haven’t you? Now you have left me,” he mumbled. Tears rolled down his eyes. Turned back. The next washing stone was somewhere afar. No one could have heard him. Even if they had heard, it would have sounded like slogans.

‘Narmade Sindhu kaveri…’ he murmured slokas, wrenched his dhoti, wiped his body, wrenched his loincloth, rinsed it, and tied it around and started walking after smearing vibhoothi 11 on his body. (Subbarayan would keep calling him fondly Chithappa …Chithappa. Poor fellow!)

Nayanam and Thavil were approaching near. He stood in front of the Peepal tree podium, worshipped Lord Ganesh and stone cobras, and left hurriedly. He entered the street. The whole village was sparkling like a new bride. New sarees, jewels, reddened feet, fair complexioned calf muscles, and faces frequented each household. At some verandas, some were playing cards. The street was full of persons wearing neatly washed dhoties. Every corner of it echoed the chaotic noises of children.

“So grand of a marriage to attest Manaluran’s name,” Samanathu mumbled to himself. His family did not belong to that village. Three generations ago, his ancestors emigrated from Manalur in search of a livelihood in priesthood jobs and settled here in a small hut at the corner of Agraharam12. But now, it had acquired its own land in the form of houses in the middle of the street itself. Yet the title, ‘Manalur,’ didn’t leave them. How could his pride that resulted after subduing the locals not manifest itself in Samanathu’s eyes and walk at that moment? Let it be visible for everyone in that village to see.

Both his house and Subbarayan’s house were standing adjacent to each other like brothers. With the canopy covering both the entrances, both the verandas were full of crowds wearing new dhoties. Inside the halls were flowers, beds, noises of children, and trunk boxes.

He walked past, went inside, wore his dhoti, went to the backyard, washed off his feet, came back, and sat down to pray. Earlier, the pictures of Lord Krishna, Lord Ram, and Lord Ganesh would hang on the walls of that room in a row. Now, Lord Ram, Lord Krishna, and Lord Ganesh were sitting in the Almira of the prayer room. The paintings drawn by Mathu were now hanging on the walls.

Mathu was his third son. He didn’t come to attend the marriage. He wouldn’t be able to attend every marriage of Subbarayan’s progeny. Would he?  

“Appa”

It was his daughter who called him. She was standing with her linen saree, covering her head.

“They are going to call upon the bridegroom and change the garlands. The procession for ‘parting mendicant’ is about to start. Please go there. You may conduct your prayers tomorrow.” She told him.

“It is ok… It is ok… I will come in a while. You may leave now.”

She looked up to him. Stood bewildered.

“Why don’t you leave now? Haven’t I told you that I would come in a while? Only this work I have.” His last words didn’t fall on her ears.

Tonsured head. She was thirty-one years old. Youthfulness of twenty was exhibited both in her cheeks and eyes.

“I told you to leave. Didn’t I? You go. I will be there.”

She left, gently closing the door. He felt that something was burning up to his neck.

He looked around. Everywhere are the paintings drawn by Madhu. Looked at them intently. He felt like laughing. In one painting, it was nothing but a full knee with an eye and a comb inserted in it. Another painting looked like a girl. One of its legs was a pig’s leg. She showed the interiors of the stomach, tearing it apart. Four knives, a milk tin, and a curled baby body were there inside. Another one was a lotus flower. A slipper was kept on it. The half of the slipper had a moustache drawn on it.

‘What nonsense are these?’ He stood stunned at seeing them and kept watching them with his mind lost in one point. ‘Legs are aching. Aching legs…to me. Alas’!

The sound of drums.

“Appa…they are calling you.” The linen head peeked in once again. Such a small face.

“Yes… I am leaving.”

Chithappa… Where have you gone?”

It was Subbarayan’s voice. A panting voice. Hunchback.

The bride and groom exchanged their garlands. It was said that watching them along with the swing would bring one all the gains of the Punya 13 of having a glance of Parvathi-Parameswaran and Laxmi-Narayanan. Even the widows from that village were standing at all nooks and corners. Everyone was laughing, showing their teeth everywhere. Broken teeth, stained teeth with dirt, corroded teeth, widowed teeth, toothless teeth. Even the cook was also present there.

‘Kannoonjalaadi nindraar…’

Nayanam player played that ‘song’—in’ swings.

Samanathu felt asphyxiated. He moved from there silently. He walked along the backyard to get some fresh air. The hall was completely empty with none, not even a fly or crow. Going past the back yard entrance was the last yard. No one was there. Gigantic ovens were burning with flames. The fire was thick. Everything was boiling in cauldrons. Behind the jute sack curtain, one boy, oil-skinned with dirty poonool 14 was cutting cucumber. No sign of any living being around there. Parvathi and Parameswaran were busy exchanging their garlands.

On this side of the gigantic stoves, a huge cauldron was kept on a platform. Waist height—up to abdomen level, payasam was kept inside. Its aroma is coming out. Grapes and cashew nuts were floating on its surface. How could they lift it and keep it on that platform? It could be lifted only when two persons lifted it like a palanquin with the help of wooden sticks inserted into its upper rings. The quantity of payasam was sufficient for nearly four or five hundred persons.

‘I can turn it upside down single-handedly.’

Samanathu held his breath, pulled the cauldron on one side with both hands, and flipped it on one side. ‘Poooo….very simple task… The next second, the waist-high cauldron flipped its sky-looking mouth on one side and fell flat onto the ground. The payasam flowed into the gutter.

The cucumber-cutting boy came running.

“Grandpa… Grandpa…”

Samanathu felt as if sand were crawling on his face and skin.

‘This fellow comes running with Arival Manai 15 in his hand. Doesn’t he?’  

His hands and legs started shivering. Tongue lost its balance.

“You fools! Where have you all gone, leaving this big rat to swim in the payasam? You have made this much payasam just to feed this gutter. Haven’t you? You scoundrels! Don’t you have even a plate to close it?”

A servant maid came running towards him.

“O! My elder master! What happened?”

Amaandi…. Hadn’t your elder master seen, all would have gotten payasam with a rodent. Get lost from here. Go, play in swings with your garlands.”

Another five or six persons came running.

That liner-clad girl also came running, covering her head.

The servant maid explained everything to her.

“Appa… How could you topple this big cauldron?”

A shade of gloom spread across her body and tender, milky face.

“Get away from here… A sharp shout came out from him. “Hadn’t I been there, you all would have gotten rat poison, not payasam.”

The girl threw a pricking stare at him. Can an eye carry such a bush of thorns in it?

Samanathu couldn’t face that bush. He turned his head and yelled, “Where is that stupid cook? ...he left the place and went towards the hall.

Pe…pe…pe…pe…

Pae…pae…pae…pae…

The Nayanam was playing the swing song in the Anana Bhairavi raga.

It seemed that Valambal was singing that song.

                                                   ***The End***

Note:

1. Payasam: A sweet porridge made of rice powder.

2. Thoppukaranam: A way of worshipping by doing ‘sit-ups’ and holding one’s ears.

3. Thali: A sacred yellow-colored thread worn around a woman’s neck as a symbol of being married.

4. Cauvery: River Cauvery, flowing in Tamil Nadu.

5. Chithappa: Younger brother of one’s father.

6. Kacham: A type of waist cloth worn by men.

7. Thavil: a type of musical instrument made of hide.  

8. Nagaswaram: a type of wind musical instrument.

9. Muhurtham: an auspicious moment/time.

10. Vatha Kulambu: a type of stew made of dried vegetables.

11. Vibhoothi: a sacred ash, applied on the body and forehead.

12. Agraharam: a distinct residential area earmarked for Brahmins.

13. Punya: The good effects earned through good deeds.

14. Poonool: A sacred thread worn by some sections of people.

15. Arivaal Manai: A curved cleaver with a sharp edge facing the user, fitted on a wooden frame held down by legs, used for cutting vegetables.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

  


Thursday, 31 March 2016

Ravanan's Love (Ravanan Kathal) by Thi. Janaki Raman


A word before reading this short story
: Thi.Janaki Raman has taken poetic licence in this short story to recreate an imagination to explain the reason behind the curse on Ravanan why he would not touch women without their consent. Those who know Ramayana might understand what it is. He abducted Sita along with the land (as per the version of Kamba Ramayana) where she was standing, without touching her. Till his death he did not touch her. Interpretations could be many. The reason creatively imagined in this short story is logical and beautiful. 

……     

 

Ravanan’s Love (ராவணன் காதல்) 

 'Is it a lightning?' 

The lightning flashed amidst the clouds thickly gathered in folds. 

'Is it lightning? Lightning in the white clouds?' Ravanan looked at him intently.

The lightning was coming by walk—she was a woman. Her body was shining like a conflagration of lights. The green sari illuminated with the velvetiness and pastiness of a tender stalk was fluttering untidily. She was walking, not being able to adjust it. No eyes of space of emptiness! No more life! No need to feel ashamed.

Ravanan looked at her astonishingly with his eyes wide open. It was looking like a fully blossomed coral jasmine walking. Enviably taller, well-toned shoulders; it seemed that the hem of her sari would slither down from the shoulders, descending her neck.

Her height only arrested his attention first. Not only her height! ...All parts of her body were developed proportionately to her height. He intently gazed at her from head to toe. Curls of her locks, slide of her shoulder, curve of her eyes, bend of her elbow, arch of her back, twirl of her waist, softness of her knees, and slide of her high heels—it was a body made of slides, twirls, and softness. The Creator made her with all the known curves and tenderness available in the bright materials. For Ravanan, she appeared like a manifestation of God’s best possible imagination, an embodiment of femininity. She was an ultimate attempt of God who tried to recreate beauty. As far as beauty was concerned, her build seemed to be the final word for Ravanan. Her beauty seemed to be an unattainable feeling indescribable in words, just like the truth, which is beyond even the tenets of the Vedas. 

Stunned, stood the king of Sri Lanka, looking at her fully gifted body.

Her appearance even fit the word used to describe a well-built male. 

Her well-grown and lustrous body evoked a suspicion whether she belonged to the breed of Asura. But her body was shining with light and radiance of crystals. Her appearance with the dominant divine daintiness among the Five Elements could be found only in Apsaras.

Ravanan was spellbound. 

'She is meant only for the bravest. She is meant only for the one who is courageous, high-spirited, and an embodiment of masculinity'. 

Ravanan reassessed his appearance once more through the mirror of his mind. He saw his hill-like body. He saw his courage, which cowed the Devas. He saw his divine lustre attained through the unrelenting penance, which brought him the control of the Three Worlds.

The next moment, his majestic bulk obstructed her way. She got frightened. 

“Be not afraid, who are you? “ 

“..........................” 

“Be not afraid; tell me. Who are you?” 

“Punjigasthalai” 

“Are you an Apsara?” 

“Yes.”

“Hadn’t Brahma created any other beauty after he created you?” 

“Who are you?” 

“Who am I! Who else can have the power of penance to roam around this space of the universe with his earthly body, except Ravanan?” 

“Oh...you are the King of Sri Lanka!” 

“King of Three Worlds... Why do you run? Stop there. For what do you run? What is the use of running anyway?” 

There was no use in running anyway. She stopped. He looked at her eyebrows raised due to fear, frightful eyes, and palms holding each other.

Curved and shaped Hands, long and sharp fingers, a row of narrowing nails showering sparkles—Ravanan came closer.

“Where are you going?” 

“To Brahma.” 

“Why? To see whether he has created yet another beauty like you? Do not worry. All his talent has come to an end with you.” 

“I got to go.” 

“Why are you so frightened? You carry an appearance and build of a courageous lady, and this fear does not suit you.”

“I got to go.” 

“Why?” 

“I am on my way to pay my respects to Brahma. Leave me now.” 

“Are you going to pay respect to him? Or he is going to pay respects to you?” 

“What insane are you speaking?” The words of an ordinary lecher have given her this courage.

“Do we not taste the grapes cultivated by us? Do we not eat food cooked by us? We do not put them aside by not tasting them just because they are our creation.” 

“This abundance of absurdity comes out of Ravaneswaran’s mouth? Doesn't it” ? 

It was true anyway. He did not speak all these with his sense. He was standing, inebriated, in front of her, looking at the curvature of her ankle. The body was under fire. Eyes got dull with lust. Sense became senseless.

“I do agree that my sense has got rotten. What should I do?” 

“Please leave me now.” 

“I stopped you just to leave you or what?— It seems that I won’t be able to leave you even if I like. How was it possible to blend both these softness and roughness together? Brahma, the Great, is indeed a conjuror. “Is it possible to blend gold and flower? But such an impossible task of art has become possible in your parts. This riddle still perplexes me.” 

His eyes pierced her like an arrow. She pulled the hem and covered her breasts.

“Why are you troubling me when I am on my way to conducting puja?” 

“Do you really have to go?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have taken me in your control. My love is tangling now without any support.”  

“It sounds silly.” 

“What.”

“Your love has become a fully grown plant from seed and sprouted in no time?” 

“I understand what you say. You say love is the similarity and unification of minds.” 

“For two hearts to understand each other, they need time. Otherwise there is no meaning in the word ‘love.’” 

“It sounds amusing.” 

“What?” 

“If love is the similarity of minds, I can love my brother Kumbakarnan, who is always snoring. There will be no need for only men and women to fall in love with each other. Has Brahma created men and women just for this similarity of minds?” 

“How can a man and a woman live together if they don’t like each other?” 

“Even if they love, why should they live together? A man and a woman should only live together, or what? It is the carnal desire that binds men and women and makes them lovers. If love is not about the body, the distinction between male and female should not have been made. Brahma would have gotten satisfied after creating a sexless being by combining the body with life. Then what is the necessity of your feminine grace, elongated ascending eyes, beautiful body with curves and slides, striking nostrils, broad chest of men, well-built shoulders, and courageous appearance? In order to fall in love with a beautiful body, which is beyond words and can only be felt, you don’t require time.” After seeing your beauty, I am besotted. If so, are introduction, friendship, and time essential to falling in love?” 

“Your licentious words pierce my ears. I have not fallen for you. Leave me.” 

“My lust has got its leash of life. My intentions have to be fulfilled.” 

“My intentions only have to be fulfilled. My hatred should only be justified.” 

“Everyone won’t get their intentions fulfilled.” She started running. But the hands that conquered the Devas got hold of her hands. The next moment, the emptiness of space became her only dress. Her fully blossomed, beautiful, lengthy body, which looked like a rare breed of horse, was lying on his hands. Her endless beauty had brought him down. For him, even the resistance offered by her body seemed to be a beauty resembling rain and storm. She wriggled as if she had fallen into the fire. The courage that once won the three worlds had won her now.

Punjigasthalai went to Brahma and cried helplessly. Ravanan was standing in front of Brahma like a criminal. But not with the bowing head. Even if I am broken into two pieces, let it be. But never bow my head in front of anyone—his natural sense of arrogance ruled him.

“Grandpa, why did you call me?” 

“Performance of penance is something beyond the capability of ordinary mortals. The penance you performed was the best among the penances. By performing penance amidst five types of fire, you have acquired all the rare powers. You have got control of all three worlds. I called you as I was immensely sad after hearing that the senses of this kind of unparalleled saint had gotten rotten.” 

“My senses have not gotten bad!” 

“You could show your courage you gained through the impossible penance only to a poor lady. Is it?”

“Is it related to Punjigasthalai?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why have you created Apsaras? Is it just to entertain Devas?” 

“Only for Devas.” 

“Why so?” 

“They have become Devas due to their good deeds.” 

“So this pleasure is the only gift for their good deeds. I have become the God of Three Worlds due to the power of my penance. Hence, I too have rights over her. If considered in the right manner, I can only own her. These Devas are eunuchs. Brave blokes who just run away with fear and their dresses coming out once they see me! People of Indra who have become “Nabumsagan.” They are here to prove the proverb “subjects are just like their king.” For these kinds of men, will the absence of Apsaras be a matter to be worried about?” 

“I didn’t call you upon here to hear your opinion about Devas. Is it true that you molested her?” 

“Yes. It is true.” 

“Why did you do this disgraceful act?” 

“For why? What kind of question is this?” Is it not a highly laughable question? Moreover, was it a disgraceful act or what?”

“Is what you had done not a disgraceful act?” 

“How could it be a disgrace, Grandpa? The unparalleled beauty of Punjigasthalai has shown me what ecstasy is. It enslaved the bravest of the brave. Is it not a resolute proof of the heights your art of creation has attained?” 

“Is it the way a saint-like person behaves?” 

“What could my penance do in this case? Penance offers power and strengthens masculinity. Can it stop the mind or what?”

“Was it not true that Punjigasthalai did not love you?” 

“I loved her. The beauty of this whole universe has descended upon her body. I was smitten by it. It is true that I molested her. But how could you say that it is wrong?” 

“Was it not wrong? Do you say it is the right act?”

“Based on which justification do you conclude it is wrong? I simply could not understand. What I have done is a simple natural act of instinct. The way I got infatuated with her beauty was completely natural. It was an obsession not owned by me at all. It was the temptation of the beauty itself. According to the rule of nature, it was a right act anyway.” 

“Is even possessing her against her wishes also a right act?” 

“Grandpa, beauty is created to feel it. It cannot be given to Devas alone. Beauty is common to every living organism. As far as Punjigasthalai is concerned, I too have the same right that Devas have. If you think that what I had done is wrong, you should have given me the power simultaneously to control my mind from falling for the beauty you created.”

“So is it my mistake that I created her?” 

“Almost true...you are responsible for it. My penance did not help me to control my mind. This trouble would not have occurred if I had not been perturbed by the beauty beyond the power of my penance. 

“How could your penance help you? Controlling the mind is not the purpose of penance. Controlling the mind itself is penance. Standing without disturbance for half a Nazhikai (unit of time) amidst all the temptations is a thousand times bigger penance than standing amidst the five types of fire. The way you justify your actions in the name of nature is nothing but absurdity. Life has been given to you with the independent faculty of discriminating good and bad. Conquering nature is the way of life.” 

“But my penance did not help me in winning the nature.” 

“Your penance belongs to an inferior quality.” 

“But you have offered me the array of boons only for those inferior quality of penances.” 

“You are still standing at the place where you have started. What is the use of talking about it again and again? If the creator gives everything, then what else will remain for the created? Your misplaced sense has made you argumentative. Animals will only justify that molestation is a natural instinct. The purpose of your noble birth has been defiled herewith. You accept that you could not control your mind. If you, hereafter, touch any other woman without her consent with the intention of molesting her, your head will burst into a hundred pieces. Now you may go.” 

The curse descended upon him with the voice of thunder. 

The accused smiled. 

“Grandpa, you have cursed me in haste. If you give the power of controlling the mind, your creation would end up in a mess. What to do? Artistes cannot perform anything at the assessment of reason. It is not surprising to see that even the Creator himself is a fool. He went away with a smile.

***