Janaki…….
Posted by Moe M in Uncategorized on December 8th, 2011
Janaki……..
The scene that unfolded below me is something that never ceased to fill me with a feeling that I simply cannot describe - it is a feeling to be experienced not explained.
The soft light of the morning sun that embraced the village and the smoke gently rising from most of the homes - some through the small chimneys while most through the thatched roofs of the simple mud dwellings lent the scene a surreal look that like I said only can be experienced.
My village comprised of four tharavads - of the landlords of the village with each tharavad a considerable distance from one another amidst large swaths of paddy fields and coconut groves. Then there was the village temple and then there were the simple dwellings of the people who worked in the fields and homes of the tharavad people.
All this I could see from way up the hill as the bus slowly made its way down. There was one dwelling - a simple hut that always called out to me and misted my eyes- every time I came to the village and one particular resident of that hut…..
Janaki……….
“Oye Kuttappo…….po-po-po-po” the call would echo - My uncle would shout this out from the verandah of our tharavadu and his voice would waft across the fields and the echo slowly fading - and then in a few moments the reply would waft across the fields “Oyeeeee” In a matter of five or 10 minutes he would be there in our yard. He would stand with his hands folded and the towel he wrapped around his head , he would remove and hold it in both his hands - he would never enter the tharavad - he would stand on one side - I learned about the caste divide that ran rampant and still does - from Kuttappan - or rather from the way he conducted himself in our tharavad.
One day my uncle called out to Kuttappan and never got the answering call back - so he told me “Eda mone go over to Kuttappan’s house and see if he is there? I looked at my uncle with some hesitation and he said “no no you go I wont tell Amma”. Amma was his mom and my grandmother who frowned on anyone going to places tharavad people should not go. My uncle cared less he was more forward.
So off I went and I loved walking through the narrow paths that cut through the fields, the sights and the smells were wonderful - fresh smell of the paddies, the water in the fields and the little fish that swam in the water amongst the paddy stalks. Occassionally I would see a rat snake slither across the paddy field dividers - and glide away in the waters. Most of all I loved the breeze that seemed to be present all the time - that swayed the tall grass and then washed across me.
In about a few minutes I reached Kuttappan’s house or rather his hut. It was thatched with palm leaves, and the walls were covered with thick mud, with tiny windows which had wooden bars on them. There was the smoke that made its way through the thatched roof, and rose up and vanished into the tree tops that hung over the hut. The front yard was neatly swept and the hut though tiny had a snug look about it.
I stood outside and hesitatingly called out his name “Kuttappan Chetta”, “Kuttappan Chetta”. “Acchan is not here” said a voice behind me wrapped in laughter. I jumped startled cause it was very quiet there and turned around. There she stood - a thin towel wrapped around her head, bright eyes, ebony skin, laughing away. I stared at her and she asked in rather nice way “What? have you never seen a girl before?”
I kind of swallowed and said “um um no no no it is not that, you startled me coming unannounced from behind me”. She laughed again and I looked at her and she said “Why did you address my Achan as Kuttappan Chettan?” “You are from the tharavadu and every one from there calls him by his name?” “Cause he is older than me that is why”, I replied.
“Achan is not here, he said he was not feeling well so he went to see the vaidyan (the local doctor) “, she said and added “When he comes I will ask him to come to the Tharavaadu” . ” No, no”, I said “Don’t let him take rest, I will let them know”. She looked at me as if I said something out of the norm. “That is what everyone tells us when we tell them anything about Achan. They say tell him to come when he returns” . “Anyway I will tell him that you came from Tharavaadu” and she slowly turned to enter her hut. “What is your name”? I asked her. “Janaki” she said and added that everyone calls me Janu” and went inside again laughing and saying” cannot believe you called Achan, chettan”
I smiled and walked back to the tharavadu - told my uncle Kuttappan was not feeling well and has gone to the doctor and I told Janaki to tell him not to come when he returns.
It was not that I had seen Janaki before, I had seen her on a few occasions walkinng with Kuttappan in the distance, not seen her close though, and I had never spoken with her till today and never knew her name either. I liked her - no no not in the way of a boy -girl but just she seemed very nice and I liked the fact that she had a wonderful laugh.
I did not see much of Janaki but then whenever I got to see her either near her house or walking down the paddy fields she would pass me by without looking at me with her head bowed down and the moment she passed would softly mutter “Kuttappan Chettan” and burst into peals of laughter and run. I would look after her and smile. Now she would do so only if was alone or with my favourites cousin to whom I told about what happened that morning. She was the sweetest of my cousins and we hid nothing from one another. When others were there she would only talk to the elder and my cousin and that too in a very respectful manner.
Every holiday i would be in my village and each time I saw her Janu was blossoming as a beautiful person. Every time she saw me she would not say anything - till she crossed my path and then the familiar “Kuttappan Chetta” would fall on my ears followed by her wonderful laughter. One morning as I was walking down the paddy field path, she was there and as usual the moment she crossed me heard her familiar “Kuttappan Chetta” and then after a few moments I heard a splash - I looked back and there she was amongst the paddy in the water on her back. I walked quickly and reached out my hand for her to hold and raise herself up - there was a brief hesitation and then she reached out and held my hand - her hand felt soft in mine and so tender.
I pulled her up and asked her what happened. She seemed a bit shy and said that after calling out “Kuttappan Chetta”, she would always walk with looking back as to whether I would look back. Today she just missed her footing and that was that. This was the first time I had been this close to her, cause when I pulled her up and out of the water she was so very close to me that our bodies were nearly touching.Even after a dip in the holy waters of the paddy field there was that earthy fragrance about her.
We just stood there for a moment and then she started laughing - and said she felt so silly after taking the fall in the water. She looked so beautiful, wet hair, water streaming from her wet hair over her face, and at that moment I felt the first tug in my heart. I said to myself “Oh my I am falling in love with her”. I just gazed at her. She stopped her laughter when she saw me gazing at her and then she slowly remove her hand from mine - it appeared to me rather reluctanly- and walked away. I stood looking after her but she did not turn back and look.
I told my cousin what happened and she did not say anything, but had a worried look on her face. She asked me “Are you serious, this is just something that happened and rushing in your feelings is not good, but then you are nineteen and you know better”. I did not see Janaki for the next few days . One evening as I was returning to the tharavaadu from the temple, I heard a soft voice behind me “Kuttappan Chetta”. My joy knew no bounds and I turned back. There she stood with a smile on her face. She said she was in the temple after her prayers and was talking with the temple workers when she saw me leaving the temple and decided to come behind me. Her smile then faded and she wore a serious look .
“Don’t ask me why I made that decision since I know it is not right”. As we walked slowly back she told me “I am not educated, never been beyond the 6th class, cause I had to stay home to look after my two brothers and sisters, since both my parents had to go to work”.
She then said “Still I can see in someone’s eyes when they have feelings for someone. I saw that in your eyes when you pulled me up when i fell. I don’t think it is right. You are from the Tharavaad and I am just one of those who are considered untouchable and it is simply not right for us.” “I have feelings for you but they will just be that and let us not start something that will in the end only cause hurt and nothing else”. Her voice cracked as she said that and her eyes misted. ” I am going now” she said simply and walked away. I just stood there watching the graceful walk. She did not look back.
I never could understand why my grandmother or anyone there said anything to me when I talked with her or walked with her - maybe they knew that nothing would come out of it and it is just two people talking. I was surprised by the fact , that being as convervative she and many others were, she never questioned me nor did anyone else.
Whenever we met our conversations were just simple conversations nothing about feelings that lay buried deep. She never again said “Kuttappan Chetta” when she passed me by - maybe she just wanted it to die away so that she would not hurt and I did not blame her.The holidays were over and I was back in the city, did not get to see Janaki before I left nor tell her goodbye till my next visit. It bothered me that I could not do so but then in a way I felt was better.
I received a letter from my cousin saying that Janaki married a relative of hers and moved to Chennai with him and before she left she talked to my cousin and told her everything - about her feelings for me and my feelings for her but that it was best that it stay the way it should.
I got a jo moved miles away from home and my village which made it hard for me to go back home or to my village every year - in addtion the nature of the work was such that getting a three or four days off was a luxury. So when ever I got time off it was to my parents that I went to most of the time. My grandmother by then was staying with her oldest son in Bangalore so I did not have much to go back to the village. My cousin and I corresponded very frequently, I asked her once about Janaki, but when she replied she had a simple message “It is time you forgot her”. After than I never enquired about Janaki nor did my cousin mention her at all………….
……….The bus jolted to a stop and I was came out of the trip down memory lane. After a seven year gap I was back in my village.Nothing had changed - I noticed that while on the bus and while alighting and walking to the Tharavad. I had come to attend my niece’s wedding returned to my village after some years to attend my cousin’s daughter’s wedding.
It was wonderful to be back in the village. I had a few days off and it was wonderful - breathing in the refreshing air and walking down my favorite paddy field dividers and to the temple. Nostalgia flooded my mind but then I pushed it away. The wedding was wonderful as weddings generally are. Most of the people from the village and come. I scanned the faces and my heart skipped a beat. There she was standing in the crowd trying to make herself inconspicuous - and our eyes met.
She stared for a moment and then in the moment I turned to talk to one of my relatives and looked back, she was gone. I looked every where in vain but did not see her at all. I knew that she had gone and would not stay for the sadya. I wanted to get out and see where she had gone. I looked around and my eyes fell on my cousin’s and she knew what could have happened and she shook her head indicating “No”
Two days before I was to leave I was walking down the paddy field path late one evening when I saw her walking slowly towards me, she hesitated as she reached me but then she walked past me as if I was a total stranger.
No words came to my mouth and I just walked on. “Kuttappan Chetta” a soft voice came from behind. I turned around and there she stood - laughing - the same laughter, and she looked more beautiful than before. Without even thinking I hugged her - for a moment she fought but then hugged me in return and there were tears in her eyes. After a few moments we pulled away and then without a word she turned and walked away - I stood there looking at her as she slowly disappeared in the distance never once turning back..
I never saw Janaki again - but I knew in our hearts our love for one another lives.. There was one other thing - she never called me by my name or anything else and I guess she did not have to.
Sharada
Posted by Moe M in Uncategorized on January 20th, 2011
Sitting in the verandah of the Tharavaadu, she watched with a detached mind, as the wind played with the leaves that carpeted the ground. Some of the leaves were lifted and carried hither and thither while some cartwheeled across the ground to form heaps here and there.
She could smell the monsoon that would soon envelope the house and the village, with a cool refresh. She loved to watch the water cascade, as the rain fell in sheets,through the gutters in the roof and fall in the inside courtyard of the house. She could not bear to trade that for anything else.
The holidays were over,the laughter and noises and the thwack of open palms against the balls made of palm leaves had been replaced by heavy silence. the bags were packed, goodbyes till the next summer were said with a hint as to when the tharavaadu would be carved out in the name of partition.
How life changes - from children who would run to her or her husband for the hug or lying on their laps as they sang lullabys or asking to be fed - their demands had slowly changed and from happy siblings to a competition to curry her favor as to who would get the choicest portion of the property. Siblings in name only it seemed - what mattered most was who would get the piece de resistance? It was the house. It was huge and they knew it would fetch untold weatlh in the real estate market. It was constructed with the finest of timber and of solid foundation that many people had expressed interest in purchasing it.
Each one of them was more interested in whispering ill about the other. Even their spouses were none the worse. It was not as if her children were poor or in want. They were very well off with enough to feed atleast a couple of generations - yet the all encompassing greed had them in its unforgiving embrace.
She was both happy and sad that her hubby was lucky to take the early journey out to the great beyond, leaving her with the burden of dealing with her children. Her children would call her to go live with them, but she could not bear the thought of leaving her beloved house - and also she knew they would tire of her just as easily and then would start passing her around like a hand-me-down . Here she was in her own world, she could do what she wanted and had to answer to no one.
Here she had the help of Janaki, who had been staying with them ever since she was born - her mother, whoever it was, had left her on the verandah of the house and from then on she was part of the family - she went to school with her children, and after Sharada’s husband died Janaki stopped school and stayed back home helping her with everything. Why she did that Sharada never knew and never asked. She learnt long ago never to ask Janaki anything - she did what she wanted minus an explanation and what she did was for the good of Sharada.
“What will I do Janu, what will happen when I am gone?” she would ask Janaki time and again. “Amma, don’t worry, things will always have a way of turning right. Especially for those with goodness in their hearts” Janaki would patiently reply each and every time. “I don’t know Janu, I don’t know”, she would sigh. Janaki would just shrug her shoulders and scold her for thinking such thoughts.
The family gathered in the main hall on the house. The cremation was over a few days ago. It was as if there was no one called Sharada who existed there. Other than a few gloomy faces - which was mainly probably in anticipation of the reading of the will there was a sense of relief in the air. Each sibling walked around as if they would get the house and already started planning as to what needed to be done. Janaki left after the cremation to live with a friend of Sharada who was elderly and need some help and who lived in another town. She did not want to see the bickering and the ensuing “battles” that may be fought and she also knew that they would have asked her to leave anyway.
They eagerly waited for the reading of the will. The lawyer Sankara Narayanan without much ado went ahead with the proceedings. The basic things like vessels, furniture, etc etc were divided up amongst the siblings. No one was interested in that.
“The house, the house”,Sankara Narayanan intoned “is to be shared by all the siblings” - no one sibling would get the house. This was met with anger - and each of the sibling cursed their mother, but then what the hell, they could still sell it make considerable money and yes they will have to share in the spoils along with the property whcich would be divided up.
Continuing with the will Sankara Narayanan paused, a strange look played upon his face, he blinked, rubbed his eyes again and then gave a small smile, and then burst into laughter.
“Why are you laughing?” the siblings demanded? “nothing, nothing but here is the way your mother willed the property surrounding the house. It all goes to Janaki” he said. “What” the siblings were incensed - she of unknown parentage gets the property. Mother how could you?” They cussed her and cussed Janaki, but then they calmed down. They will buy the property from Janaki at face value and then sell it, but still thinking of having the part with some money made them upset.
“That is not all”,said the advocate. “Janaki cannot sell the property till she is 65.”
The Rope
Posted by Moe M in Uncategorized on August 30th, 2010
The flickering light from the candle threw ghostly shadows
upon the bare walls of the prison cell where the condemned man sat. He would not embrace sleep,
though it beckoned him time and again.
He wanted to last it out till the morning cause he knew come morning the
sleep would be eternal.
His mind stirred as he thought of the coming day. The day he would walk the hundred or so
feet to the small chamber and up the steps and a rope would turn off the his
life’s light. He was not afraid.
He took a life and he had to pay for it. It was that simple.
The ghosts of those who he had sent away now seemed to
surround him on his last day.
While a few mocked him, most of them just hovered around as if,
waiting..
It did not bother him.
?Let them be?, he said to himself.
He remembered the first - a young man - who cried and
pleaded - saying that he was innocent - then there was the old man who simply
told him - “do it”. How
many people he had sent - some died with god’s name on their lips, some cursed
him, some smiled. The ghosts all
knew that soon he would be one among them. There was one ghost who would never
come. The one whose life he took
in anger. One that he wished should
never have happened and the one that now was costing him his life. He wished
for that one person to come back to life.
No not for his sake, but for the sake of his wife. She needed his help and without it she
would be gone in no time.
He had no last requests - The traditional last meal - he
refused. He could not eat. Not because he was tensed, but simply
hunger evaded him. The one request
he had, he knew, no one could ever fulfill, no one, not even God. The life of the one he took.
He wondered what they would be going through. The family of the one whose life he
snuffed. They would cheer his
passing. Maybe spit upon his
body. It did not matter what they
did. His would merely be a
body. He wondered about his wife.
How would she handle after he was gone.
Would the people shun her?
Would they call her names?. Would they turn away from her? He shuddered
at the thought and a tear rolled down. He could hear her screaming at him
“Don’t, don’t, it is not worth it” as he beat the man who hands had
defiled her to death.
The deceased whose family were part of the powers that be
had no difficulty in making sure that the judge handed down the “Rarest of
the Rare” sentence upon him, and also that the sentence was to be carried
out fast. It was not for his sake
he wanted the dead brought back to life but for the sake of his wife who would
have to live while he was sent to meet his maker.
The flame sputtered and then died. Darkness enveloped him as he sat. How long he sat he never
knew. Soon lights approached the
cell. He knew it was time. They asked him if he wanted a glass of
tea. He simply shook his head and
whispered “Please make this fast”. Their faces were all wreathed in sorrow. The warden had tears in his eyes but
they had a duty to do.
They broke the basic rules. They did not tie his hands behind his back. The let him walk the short steps up the
incline to the gallows. He stood
there, smiled at the hangman. The hangman was weeping, but he said, “You
have to do what you have to do. It
is your duty and do not ever think what you did was wrong. God will always forgive you and I will
also forgive you.? His hands were tied. The hood was placed over his head. The warden had told him to nod his head
when he was ready. A quick prayer
under the hood and then thought to himself with a smile “The hangman being
hanged and the hangman’s brother the hangman”.
He nodded his head.
Trash-dition
Posted by Moe M in Uncategorized on July 13th, 2010
“Tradition,
My Ass” she said to herself. It was something she had never cared
for - tradition to her was as useless as her appendix. One she never wanted but
was there.
She could never figure out the whole
shennigan that went with when a girl came of age. Sitting in class one
day, and suddenly blood - the stupid guys in her class freakin out - her
teacher giving her a knowing look….. then at home all the goofy celebs that
went with it. For crying out loud - celebration in anticipation of having
to go through few miserable days every month.
“Tradition” She used to laugh when guys came a calling with
their families to see her aunts . Two of her aunts were of marriageable
age and she would try not to roll on the floor laughing. The guys would
come and her aunts would step out decked up and act so coy and
virginesque as they could be - heck little did those folks know that both
of them had wrapped their legs around the neighbourhood boys and if the guys
thought they were gettting virgins then she was Saint Mary. She knew her aunts
would be trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the whole charade they
were playing just to appease the elders in the name of Tradition.
“What a boat load of shit”, she thought to herself.
Anitha’s family
was rich –which was an understatement – they dabbled in everything possible –
without going too much over the boundaries of law – and they were known, very
well known – not a single event was ever conducted without one member of the clan being involved. They were as conservative as could be
too – this benefited the pundits,
the priests . A whole bloody
cottage industry in religion has sprouted in our town cause of my family»,she
used to say to her friends.
One of her uncle’s who literally
walked around with the Gita - preached the gospel at the temples, and who
remained a bachelor to answer to some higher calling and who would
condemn those who went astray - used to touch her in a way that was more
than an affection.She once tried complaining and all it ended up was her
uncle;s word against her - that she was in her teens and had the urges and he
was easy prey for her. The elders were irate. How dare she sully
the name ofa holy man and that too the beloved uncle, brother, nephew,
son. Her parents and grandparents screamed at her, her parents pummelled her
with fists and what not, for accusing her uncle - when in fact they said she
was the one who could not curb her desires.
So she did just what they accused her of. It was easy - She won over the
‘affections’ of the cutest guy in class and they had as close as they could to
some intimate moments - the kind where she did not have to bid adieu to her
Virginity. She had
quite some moments with her schoomates - never had a steady one - since though
she liked one or two of them - there were more interested in getting one thing
from many and not many from one. “Bloody Pricks. Well well Shit
Happens”she consoled herself. She had an eye only for the good
lookers at school. You ain’t good then you ain’t my food and Anitha has no use
for you - maybe be her messenger boy and there were a many who would do what
she wanted in the hope of…..
Then came college - “Well I bid adieu to my virginity” she said
to herself. - oh my imagine what would have happened if the so called upholders of morality had
come to know of it - especially her sandal paste smeared Gita toting uncle -
oooooooooooooooh. There were two or three guys who she shared intimate
moments with in college - the rest she ignored - not up to her taste and some
of them as usual branded her the”Whore of Babylon” Well she could care less.
All those guys would go and open their zips and take dips at the local House of
Joy.
Then marriage - ofcourse they, her parents - the Grand Dickhead of her Uncle -
found some guy rich but with looks that would have put a horse’s behind to
shame - or so she told herself - she could have said no and thrown a tantrum -
but then her mom pulled the oldest trick in the world that parents do -
“I will kill myself if you don’t agree to the marriage, and your dad has
all these problems and it will kill him if you say no. Do you want to be
called a murderer blah blah blah and if you don’t get married - then your
sister cannot get married - blah blah», «He is also from our own community and
a well respected man blah blah». She tied the knot.
“Guess what? he said laughing out aloud when she told him that she was not
at all interested in the marriage and did it cause of the bedlam. “Neither
did I”, he said - but then my parents had their status in mind and your
family name added to the lustre and also threatened to cut me off their
will”. She spent the first night and all the other nights in another
room. He spent the first night with one of his many who used to warm him
before marriage.The amazing thing was, she told herself “I never strayed
and never felt the urge”. Not that she did not want to, but for some
reason she did not. Guess I did it to prove a point. There was no anger
of bitterness between them. In a way they respected one another.
They were two married acquaintances living under one roof - each doing their
thing but attending all events together.
The room was quiet and the only ones who came and went now were the nurses and
the docs. The only thing that entered her was the IV needle and the
hookups to the various contraptions that monitored her heart, her pulse, etc
etc.Her husband came once in a while. She had no regrets - what would he do
anyway other than sit there in the corner which she would have hated. Most of
the time her only companion was loneliness and the only sounds apart from
the hushed tones of the docs and the nurses were the beeps of the
monitors. Her family hardly came to see her – she did not want them to
come and see her, if they came she pretended she as sleeping – they would sit
awhile and then leave.
She closed her eyes and lay and then felt something wet fall on her hand , she
opened her eyes and there he stood - the guy Vinesh or something like that
- who was in her class from the first grade till college - the one she
would recoil everytime he looked at her or smiled at her. She used him as
her messenger boy or man friday to do this and that and always abused him - but
he would never get upset or angry. He was happy to serve her. She
lay there looking at him - neither angry or happy -just a feeling that
there was someone who cared for her. Then she did the unthinkalbe - as far as
she was concerned - she reached for his hand and his eyes were filled with
tears. She held it for a moment - surprisingly the warmth of his hand was
a soothing comfort and she thought to herself what all rites her family would
put her through - as she drifted off………………..
the only sound was the steady beep of the monitor
-
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