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 back yard of the house when she was busy cleaning up the puddles of rain water 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 sun light falling into the house, and touched the red mud wall that had already begun losing its lime layer. His 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 cloth line, he was looking intently at a wet, green Peepal leaf shoot swaying in air, sprouted from the crevice on the wall above the back yard 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 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 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 Kunkumam² vial, took out some amount of it with the tip 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 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 sun light 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 a support below so that the tiles can be arranged in order. But we can’t touch it now as it 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 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 which 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 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 could 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 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 food stuff littered outside the garbage bin. They rose 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, ran fast as if being chased by someone.

“Can we have coffee?”, asked the bicycle rider, stopped his bicycle, and tightly tied 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 today evening”

Chithabaram nodded his head. The bicycle man parked his bicycle outside, 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, no matter even if it is her ‘thali⁵’ which she hasn’t even changed it since her marriage. She should have been a little more matured. 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 hands 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 what he had told, touched the water kept the tumbler with his finger tip, 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 bicycle with a forceful slap of 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 leaving.

The sun light 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 sun light. 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, peeked in. There was an easy chair lying on the veranda with a grill enclosure. Near to it was there a small dirty stool with a copy of The Hindu newspaper kept folded on it. A casket of betal 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, 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 bicycle bell woke him up. A small bicycle painted in attractive yellow and red colour came out ringing its bell. A boy wearing half pant 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, smiled at him brightly and 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 canvass 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 have just come 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 rose 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 gross of a nuisance. To be right, she has every right in 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 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 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 bicycle bell was heard from the hall. Vaithyanathan paced fast in 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, changed its legs and started galloping on the opposite direction. The woman who was chasing it stopped running, stood, gasping, and was helplessly watching the buffalo disappearing 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 rain water 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 gate keeper 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 gate keeper 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 make-up like a toy girl, without parting her lips, contacted the guest through 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 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 it 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 sound proof 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 the five. As all of them introduced themselves to Chithambaram in a submissive tones, 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 to him. He was bald headed, with 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 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 what 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 it 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 worth of anything.

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

“How old is she now?

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

No any 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 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 work I was doing did command such a need of it. No one would openly be vocal about it. It was during that time, she had had appeared in a couple of movies. Her mother came 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 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 be knowing 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 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 Telugu and Hindi film industry 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 very big amount at that time. It wasn’t even one year fully completed since the conduct of puja, she started acting as heroine in movies. She became an unstoppable phenomenon after that. In less than ten years she became a super star. Carrying her this fame along with her, she went to Hindi film industry and acted there in just two movies. She became a very big star in Hindi film industry too. She earned name, fame and money on par with Amitabh Bachchan. It was her luck that had clean chit of 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 respects. 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 display of goddess Shakthi’s blessings. She was simply an embodiment of blessing of goddess Shakthi with all its magnificent demonstrations.

When he completed his talk, other than the steady blowing sound of 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 life for its sake. It ought to happen in one’s life at right moment. If not, we can’t do anything about it. Oftentimes, even if such Yogam- the blessed moment, coincides in one’s life process, it will last only for a shorter period of time. Woman like her, having its blessings for a great span of thirty years is very rare, and may be one in 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 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 shirt 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 the five fell on 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 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 him a brown colour cover, and beseechingly requested, “I beg 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 his eyes glare when he came out of the hotel. He took out his umbrella, unfolded it, wore his black sun glasses 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 in 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.

 

Source: “Shakthi Yogam” a short story written by M. Gopala Krishnan.

Translated into Tamil by Saravanan Karmegam.

Notes: