tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49609327117184093042024-03-09T06:14:56.967+05:30Short Stories by Abraham Tharakan.Copyright: Author.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-47343048876137568592012-10-24T16:41:00.001+05:302012-10-24T16:41:35.286+05:30Short Story: DANIEL OF THE MANMALAI CLUB<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.05pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A reason why the Manmalai Club was different from the
other planters’ clubs in the High Ranges of the Southwest corner of India was
Daniel. When the Club opened in 1921he was asked to serve drinks. The man
continued doing that for a little over five decades. He was lean and of medium
height. His left shoulder was, at least when I started going to the Club,
noticeably lower than the right. He attributed that abnormality to years of
pouring drinks from bottles into peg measures.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel had many stories to tell, but
never on a Saturday. That was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the day on which the planters, from top brass
to ‘creepers’ (trainees) gathered at the Club to relax. The rubber estates at
lower altitudes and tea plantations in the higher areas were extensive. The
nearest neighbour with whom one could have a drink stayed probably five miles
away. The evenings were long and lonely especially for the bachelors. They
looked forward to the Club Nights on Saturdays.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">To reach the Club one turned off the main
road through Murugan Gate, drove up the steep road, took a U-turn named
Dexter’s Folly and climbed further. Behind the tile-roofed club house was a
sparkling stream with an eight feet waterfall. But no one seemed to even notice
it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Once I remarked casually to Daniel, “The
Club should have been facing the brook.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After some hesitation he responded,
“Pearson sahib himself drew the plan. Spent nights.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I wasn’t blaming him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I know, sir. Sahib was going home on
four-month furlough. Wanted building completed before he came back. He gave
instructions to the contractor and also offered a fifty rupee bonus.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I suppose it wasn’t ready on time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel smiled and said, “On return, sahib
went straight to the site. The building was finished. He asked the contractor
to collect the balance due plus the bonus, and added, ‘Get the hell out of
here. I don’t want to see your face again.’ ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“But why?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“In sahib’s own words, ‘Dumb idiot, you
got it back to front.’ ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I laughed and asked, “Wasn’t he
blacklisted?” If that were done, no estate would give the man any work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sahib considered that,” Daniel answered.
“But he told us later that perhaps he hadn’t explained clearly enough to the
contractor and made sure that the man had understood.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Looking back I can see that the Daniel
yarns offered a kind of orientation course. They gave the newcomers, mostly
British, an insight into the history, ethos and élan of the planning community.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On Sundays too Daniel was busy till about
3 O’clock in the afternoon. That was the day Mark Hearth, an owner-planter
(most were company employees), had lunch at the Club. Earlier, when his wife
was alive, they used to have the meal together there. Even after the lady died
he continued the practice. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The ritual started precisely at 11
O’clock when Daniel served the first gin and tonic after Hearth settled down on
his favourite chair in the front hall. No one else used that piece of furniture
while he was in the Club. The old man would leaf through copies of Illustrated
London News, Punch and the Illustrated Weekly of India. He did not mind company
till he moved to the dining room. There he would sit alone at the same table on
the same chair that he had used for thirty-five years and more. He would top
off the lunch with a large <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crème de
menthe </i>and walk steadily to his Bentley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Once, as Hearth was leaving, the
international chief of Indo-South Asia Petroleum Company and wife dropped in.
They were on a private visit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">en route </i>to
the Periyar Game Sanctuary. Hearth instructed Daniel to attend to them, and
before boarding the car said, “Your tankers don’t come on time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Two Sundays later, the Managing Director
of the petroleum company’s Indian subsidiary and a colleague were at the Club
to meet Hearth. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sir”, the visiting MD opened the
conversation, “about your complaint to our world chief. We have checked our
tanker movements here for one year. Last month supply was delayed twice, but
that was due to landslips along the road.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I beg your pardon. What are you talking
about?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“When our Chairman came here two weeks
back you mentioned to him that our tankers don’t come on time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I don’t remember meeting your Chairman
or making any complaint to him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel cleared his throat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Yes Daniel,” Hearth asked. “What is it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sahib, it happened.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Hearth thought for a moment. “I’m sorry
gentlemen,” he apologised. “Must have been absolutely drunk.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">For the first time after his wife died,
Hearth had guests for lunch at the Club. According to Daniel, the planter and
the oil company chaps got on famously. After that, Hearth started attending
Saturday Club Nights again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A popular Daniel story was about a
Swedish lady.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“This memsahib was wearing white dress.
Very beautiful.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Pause.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“She was the guest of a sahib from Madras. He was very angry
later. And the other memsahibs wouldn’t talk to her.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Why? What happened?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“She climbed on the bar counter and moved
from one end to the other and back. All the sahibs jammed into the bar.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“What did she do?” I asked. “Sing or tap
dance or what?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“No sir, nothing of the sort. She
actually walked on her hands.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One visualised the scene and laughed. But
not Daniel. He was the type who would watch your face anxiously as you took the
first sip of the drink he had served and wait for your nod. Once that came, he
would break into a grin. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">An academic type of creeper from U.K. who had
befriended me from the first time we met, asked Daniel while we were having
beer, “Isn’t Murugan a Hindu god?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Yes, sahib.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Then why is our gate named after him?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“The locals,” Daniel replied, “gave that
name because of Amelia memsahib.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Why? Did she become a Hindu?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“No sahib, this Murugan was driver.
Memsahib was very upset after that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
Pritchard sahib got a job in Assam
and took her away.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was a pause before the rest of the
story unveiled. Pritchard had bought a dual control car to teach his wife
driving. One day they were going up the steep incline by the gate on the main
road. Murugan who was coming down with his lorry lost control at the sight of
two people driving the same car. His vehicle crashed into the granite wall of
the gate. He was badly injured and died later in the hospital. The owner of an
arrack shop a mile up said afterwards that Murugan had drank heavily.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One tale led to another. “What about
Dexter’s Folly?” my friend asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel laughed, covering his mouth with
his right hand and narrated the story. After a stag party on a misty night, Tom
Dexter, General Manager of Manmalai Plantations started back for his bungalow.
His deputy, Harry Barton was right behind. In the poor visibility, Dexter
steered his Vauxhall just a little before reaching the hairpin bend. The car
went into the six feet deep cutting. Following his tail lights, Barton landed
his Morris on top of his GM’s car. Because of the retaining walls of the road,
the vehicles were hemmed in. Daniel told us that later the DGM narrated what
happened immediately after the accident.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Dexter shouted out, “Is that you, Harry?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Yes, Tom.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Don’t have to knock that hard. You’re
always welcome.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The coolies rushing for muster early next
morning found their big sahibs sound asleep in their respective cars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The story didn’t end there. Though
personal hosting of Club Nights was uncommon, the next one was on Dexter. When
the party was in full swing he addressed the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, I
would like you to listen to a limerick I wrote.” There were groans all around,
but Dexter went ahead anyway.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At that point Daniel said “Excuse me”,
went inside and returned with a framed paper. It had been hanging in the bar
but I hadn’t bothered to read. Now I did, aloud:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">‘Driving down from club</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Loaded, on wintry night</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Dexter took the turn</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ahead of the curve.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“After the applause died down,” Daniel
went on, “Dexter sahib said that he would like to have the U-turn named
Dexter’s Folly”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I suppose,” my companion said, “the
proposal was carried unanimously.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“No sahib,” Daniel answered. “Barton
sahib protested saying ‘Tom that’s not fair. I was there as well’. Dexter sahib
answered, ‘Harry, DGMs do all the hard work. GMs take the credit.’ ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Many yarns went around about a character
named Croft but Daniel avoided them. There were two versions on how that man
got the nickname ‘Cross’. One said it was because he always carried a crossword
puzzle and pencil. The other view was that he was real cross for the others to
bear. He had, according to rumour, the dubious distinction of being the only white
man blacklisted by Paru and Devu, two beautiful sisters who were available to
interested sahibs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A pencil sketch of Daniel adorns the bar
along with various trophies. It was done by a Richmond
who was the South India manager of Imperial
Fertilizer Company. He was a well-liked man who made a business trip to the
area once a year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel was very proud of the picture. He
would say, “Sahib wanted me to stand with my hands on the bar counter. But I said,
‘Sahib, then it won’t be me.’ He scratched his head for a moment and said, ‘Oh,
yes, the trademark – your shoulders.’ “ After a pause Daniel would add, “Fine
gentleman. Once somebody asked him why his fertilizer prices were higher than
that of the competition. Richmond
sahib tapped his chest and answered, ‘my salary’. But almost all planters
bought from him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By the early 1950s the Communist-led
labour unions were becoming increasingly militant. Some of the British started
selling their estates. A chap who bought one of them found the going tough. On
his request the leading Indian planting family in the district sent him a
protection group of four men. They were from Palai, an area in the foothills
were youngsters grew up with six-inch knives tucked in at the waist and the
belief that if the weapon were drawn in a fight, the enemy should fall dead
from the blade.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">They became the targets of the workers.
Some trade union activists managed to kill one of them. The body was hung
upside down from a large jungle-jack tree. The workers and their families sat
around it in groups, lighting bonfires by nightfall. The dead man’s colleagues
had vanished.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was a matter of honour for the family
which sent the watchmen and the planters in general to recover the body. Most
of them gathered at the club. The District Magistrate and the Superintendent of
Police joined in the front hall where drinks and snacks were kept on a table in
a corner for self service. The officials explained that recovering the body was
not a problem but intelligence reports indicated that the union was planning a
confrontation forcing the police to open fire. What the Communists wanted were
martyrs. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As the discussions dragged on I moved to
the bar where Daniel was alone. After a while Manichan, an owner planter, came
and stood near me. “It’s a waste of time,” he said. “They’ll keep on talking
through the night.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He asked Daniel fro a glass of water.
That was surprising because he could polish off a bottle of Scotch on a long
evening. He finished drinking, placed the glass on the counter and turned to
go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Manichan sir,” Daniel who had been
watching him keenly said in a tone of concern, “I hope you are not going there
alone.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I am.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Watching him go, Daniel tried to remove
the empty glass from the bar counter. It rolled down and broke. That was an
unusual slip for him and he apologised. I wondered whether it was a bad omen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But Manichan returned about two hours
later. His clothes were slightly stained. He told me, “Boy, go tell them to
discuss about the funeral.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I looked at him questioningly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“The body is at the back of my Jeep. The
arms have to be broken to fit it in a box. Rigor mortis.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By then Daniel had placed a large whiskey
before Manichan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“But how did you manage?” I asked, rather
stunned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Rather simple. Drove to the spot,
climbed on the bonnet and cut the rope.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Didn’t they try to stop you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He shook his head and answered, “Taken by
surprise. And they know me. May be they guessed that the police wouldn’t
interfere immediately, and wanted to end the stand off somehow. What does it
matter?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Later that night Daniel told me that it
would not be the end. True enough, the two murderers of the guard were found
dead within a week. Everybody knew who did it but officially the police could
not find any proof. The three missing watchmen returned and the area remained
quiet for a long while.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that incident some planters had taken to
carrying firearms. One evening two Asst. Managers were practicing billiards for
the Inter-Club Meet at Cochin
the next week. Suddenly there was a gunshot just outside. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">They rushed to the front hall. A young
man was standing at the entrance with a pistol. A carcass lay in a pool of
blood at the other end. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“You killed Charlie,” the older among the
two said in shock. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“That one?” the young man asked. “My book
says when a jackal rushes at you shoot him. There may be a pack following.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The animal had adopted the club a year
earlier. He found a niche for himself in a hole on the side of the building.
Soon he became a pet of some of the younger members who named him Charlie and
fed him whenever they went to the club. The others did not mind because the
jackal never bothered them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Charlie was,” the other billiards player
who had a squeaky voice said, “part of the club. Who the hell are you anyway?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m
a member. Jacob Philipose. Hill View Estate. Was away in England for a few years completing
my studies. I didn’t know that in the meantime we started admitting jackals.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“That’s bloody well adding insult to
injury.” Words flew and finally it was decided to have a fistfight to settle
the score.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Daniel,” the senior Asst. Manager
ordered, “arrange the furniture on dance night mode.” That meant that everything
should be pushed to the sides leaving the wood-floored hall open.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Yes, sir,” Daniel responded promptly and
went inside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Minutes later he returned with an
unopened bottle of Dimple Scotch and the usual accompaniments. “While I
rearrange the furniture,” he said, “the gentlemen may like to drink. Pearson
sahib has entrusted me with some bottles to be served on the house at special
occasions.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Good,” Philipose said. “I’m thirsty.” He
sat down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel poured three large drinks. The
Indian took a glass, said “Cheers” and had a sip. The others joined after some
hesitation. A club boy came and screened off Charlie’s body.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Daniel disappeared again. It was quite
some time before he came back with cocktail sausages and bully beef tossed with
onions and spices according to the Club’s special recipe. He poured the second
drink for the three members and started rearranging the furniture. The pace was
slow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He was called again. Then, after pouring
the third round of drinks he said, “With your permission, may I suggest that I
remove Charlie and have the place cleaned up?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Yes, go ahead,” the senior Asst. Manager
said. “He must be given a decent burial.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“He was dear to us,” the other one added.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I’ll also help,” Philipose said. “I
recall some of the Syriac liturgy.” To demonstrate his knowledge he started
reciting the original Aramaic version of the Lord’s Prayer, “Abun da bashmaya…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Who wants Syriac,” the elder planter
said. “It shall be Anglican service.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At this point Daniel intervened saying,
“Charlie was not a Christian. To the respected members he was a pet. To me he
was a friend and companion. I have no family. I looked after him from the day
he came to the club. Please allow me to bury him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The senior Asst. Manager said, “Right
Daniel, we leave him to you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Thank you sahibs.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sorry, Daniel,” Philipose said. “I
didn’t know he was your friend.” After a pause he added, “Anyway, get us some
more whiskey.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The second bottle was only half full.
When it was nearly finished, Daniel told the members, “The chambers are ready.”
Finally the men moved to the bedrooms arms on each others shoulders and
singing, “Show me the way to go home.” Early morning Daniel woke up the Asst.
Managers so that they could reach back in time for muster.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The send off party for Walter-Smith, a
highly respected planter, was a memorable event. He gave a speech in his
soft-spoken manner mainly about the forty years he had spent in the High Ranges.
Before concluding he mentioned, “Some of you may know that during the War, I
was Honorary Livestock Protection Officer for this division. Quite a few of the
cows were dying. The blood sample of each dead animal had to be tested for
anthrax and certified by the government veterinary doctor. Every report stated
that there were no traces of any disease. I became suspicious. But one
certificate was different. I would like to present it to the club.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was polite applause.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Walter-Smith continued, “I’ll read it
out. Quote. This blood sample appears to be that of a senile old baboon of a
species, which hither to was believed to be extinct. Unquote. I have added a
signed Post Script that the blood sample was mine. I wanted to check the vet.”
He raised his voice to be heard over the laughter and added, “The moral of the
story is that there are no secrets in estate bungalows.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Only once did Daniel get into trouble.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">During the Second World War the club
bought a Murphy radio that operated on car battery and installed it in the bar.
Even on weekdays members went over to listen to BBC, and sometimes, Lili
Marlene. One day during a break in the news, while ‘Cross’ Croft sat at a table
with his crossword and others were discussing the War, someone asked, “Daniel,
who do you think will win?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The reply was prompt. “The King Emperor.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Why do you say that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Because Indian soldiers are fighting for
His Majesty.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Everybody laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Croft walked over to the bar counter and
asked Daniel, “What did you say?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sahib, I said,” Daniel replied with some
apprehension, “that King Emperor will win the war because Indian soldiers are
fighting for him.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Croft nodded and went back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next Saturday the members had a meeting
at the club at 5 p.m. in response to an urgent notice from the Hon. Secretary.
Pearson, the man who built the club, started the proceedings with the
statement, “I wasn’t given a chance to see action in the First World War. But
now I’m about to be involved with Second.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was suppressed laughter. Most of
the members had heard about his attempt to enlist in 1914. The recruiting
officer at Madras
politely pointed out that the upper age limit for joining the army was forty
years. Pearson who was forty-one then stared angrily at the man, said, “Don’t
blame me if you lose the bloody War”, and walked out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Obviously,” Pearson went on, “some of
you have heard the story. “Let me delve on it briefly because it is relevant in
the present context. I felt miserable about the rejection. Then I realized that
they also serve who stay back and keep the supplies flowing. Rubber, tea,
whatever.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The members cheered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Now,” Pearson continued, “let’s come to
the matter on hand. We have received a written complaint from Mr. Croft against
Daniel.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There were surprised looks and murmurs
among the members.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“There is,” Pearson went on, “a
procedural problem however. Daniel is the son of my former butler. I gave him
the job here. His address in the club records is still ‘c/o R.J. Pearson’.
Therefore it may not be proper for me to chair this meeting.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A senior member stood up and said, “You
are the President of the club for life. There is no impropriety. Let’s get on
with it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The crowd clapped in approval.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Mr. Croft,” Pearson asked, “is that
agreeable to you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The complainant replied with a slight
hesitation, “I’m not objecting.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After the petition was read out, Pearson
said, “Let’s take the last of the accusations first. Mr. Croft, why do you say
that Daniel’s loyalty is with Gandhi and company?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Because he always wears a Gandhi cap.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“If that’s an offence, the blame is with
the club management for permitting it. But when I placed him in the bar he
donned the same type of attire that is wearing today. Mr. Gandhi has nothing to
do with it. Shall we drop it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The complainant nodded in the
affirmative.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“The next point is that Daniel is
unpatriotic. Why do you say that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Most Indians are.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“That,” Pearson responded, “is a
generalization. The word patriotism has several meanings. Loyalty, devotion,
nationalism and so on. Talking about the Indians, many believe that we won the
First World Was because of them. It was not all quiet for them on the Western
Front. An estimate is that 65,000 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sepoys</i>
died there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Many of the members gasped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I’m not,” Croft said, “belittling
whatever contribution the natives made. But they can’t insult the white
soldiers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“But why do you say white soldiers? There
are coloured men from many parts of the Empire fighting for us. Even our
Americans allies have Negro soldiers.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The witnesses, altogether five, were
called. All of them testified that they had felt no offence at what Daniel had
said. Then it was the turn of the accused. His statement was brief: “I meant no
disrespect to soldiers of any country. May be I should have said, ‘Because my
son is fighting under Montgomery sahib in Africa.’ “</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The members were taken aback. Most of
them did not know about it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“4<sup>th</sup> Indian Division,” Pearson
explained. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After a short discussion with the Hon.
Secretary he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the verdict. Daniel shall
open the bar at 6 O’clock as usual.” He looked at his pocket watch and added,
“That’s precisely ten minutes from now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The members stood up and clapped as
Daniel walked towards the bar with tears running down his cheeks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">His son died on February 17, 1944 in Italy during
the bitter fighting for control of the Benedictine monastery near Monte
Cassino. Nobody in the Club except Pearson knew about it. I heard it years
later when he told my father over drinks at our bungalow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next morning I was the first one at the
club. After Daniel finished pouring the beer I asked, “Your son was a hero. Why
did you keep it a secret?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He gave me a surprised look and answered,
“Why make my patrons also sad with my personal tragedy?” He turned to the rack
behind him, ostensibly to arrange the bottles and added with a slight quiver in
his voice, “He was just twenty-two.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I quietly got up with my beer mug and
moved out to the front hall. I was twenty-two then.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">These days I hardly go to the club. An
era has ended and it is no longer the place it used to be. But every December 6<sup>th</sup>,
the few of us old-timers still remaining gather there and go to the All Saints
Church cemetery a mile away to spend some time where Daniel rests in peace.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">■</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Cross posted from:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/index.html">Song og the waves - Parayil A. Tharakan Blog</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Also see:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4960932711718409304" name="8856240127110401451"></a><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.in/2007/12/indian-village-remembers-its-irish.html">An
Indian village remembers its Irish ‘father’.</a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/05/irish-father-of-indian-cardamom-rubber.html">Irish
father of Indian cardamom, rubber and pepper planting</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/06/irish-planter-punter-soldier-playboy.html">Irish
planter, punter, soldier, playboy</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4960932711718409304" name="3382015537737996872"></a><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.in/2009/05/jj-murphy-irish-jewel-on-south-indian.html">J.J.
Murphy: An Irish jewel on the South Indian High Ranges</a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 10.2pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-63543970048274647972007-12-05T09:52:00.000+05:302007-12-05T09:56:08.079+05:30Story postings<p class="MsoNormal">The following stories are also posted in <a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/index.html">Song of the waves - Parayil A. Tharakan Blog</a></p> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/morning-after-storm-part-1.html">Morning After The Storm - Part 1.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/tyreseller.html">A Tyreseller.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/songs-of-sea-part-1.html">Songs of the sea - Part 1.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><a name="4144957086904610660"></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/crow-in-bonnet.html">A Crow in the Bonnet</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(25, 25, 25); font-weight: normal;">A VODKA STORY<o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/02/medicine-specialist.html">Flash Fiction: Medicine Specialist.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/02/short-story-bend-in-lake_10.html">Short Story: A Bend in the Lake.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/01/short-story-jesus-by-roadside.html">Short Story: JESUS BY THE ROADSIDE.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/01/story-of-story_20.html">The story of a story.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3> <h3><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://parayilat.blogspot.com/2007/01/wait-flash-fiction.html">Fiction (Flash): The Wait.</a><o:p></o:p></span></h3>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-38462364602032100712007-07-29T10:57:00.000+05:302007-07-29T11:44:02.447+05:30BIG ONE and 'BELT' CHACKO - concluding part<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%; font-style: italic;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I<span>n the morning when Chacko was ready to leave, Carlson opened two boxes of cartridges. He test fired one from each lot and handed over the rest along with the gun to Chacko. He also presented him a headlamp and an ammunition belt.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Before they parted the white man said, “Remember, Big One doesn’t know the power and range of this rifle.”</span> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko returned to Kadep alone. On arrival he went straight to the vicarage and had the gun blessed. Carlson was a Protestant and therefore his gun had to be purified before a Catholic could use it. Then he entered the old church. The smell of incense from morning mass still lingered inside. He presented the weapon and accessories at St. Anthony's altar and knelt for a long time before the statue of the dark robed saint. He took out a silver piece shaped like a crocodile, which Mariam had given, and deposited in the box for offerings.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >That very night Big One made his presence known. He razed to ground Janaki's fence on the canal side. The woman ran away screaming. By the time Chacko reached the scene the crocodile was gone. He rebuilt the structure and waited beside it with the rifle for several nights. Big One did not come. But when the hunter gave up the watch the beast demolished the fence again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko started going out on the lake at nights in a canoe. It was a calculated risk. Salinity in the backwater increased sharply during summer and there was an abundance of fluorescent planktons.<span style=""> </span>In the dark any disturbance would make the water sparkle because of the micro organisms. It was easy to locate and identify objects that moved. But there was an element of risk. If the crocodile floated log-like during slack tide, the telltale signs would be absent. The venture turned out to be futile anyway, and was abandoned. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter changed tactics. Late at night he would wait invitingly near one of the several mangrove forests by the shore or by a canal or on the embankments that protected the rice fields but nothing happened. He wondered why Big One didn’t strike. Was the crocodile trying to wear him out or waiting for the rains? He knew that as time passed his efficiency and alertness would wane.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Days crawled by.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The konna trees bloomed ushering in Vishu, the New Year that the Hindus celebrated. It fell in mid-April. Clusters of small yellow flowers hung from gray, leafless branches covering entire trees like splash of sunshine. But there was no brightness in Chacko’s heart. He was lonely. There was no one to talk to. People appeared to be avoiding him. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter evolved a new plan. After dark he would tie a live goat to a mango tree by the lakeside and wait at a vantage point on the branches. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After two uneventful nights of this routine, Ali the hunter from across the lake came to see him again.<span style=""> </span>The Martini Henry fascinated the visitor. No body in that locality had seen a weapon like that. The two hunters talked at length about Carlson, the training at Windermere Estate, and about Chacko's efforts to track down the crocodile.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Don't waste your sleep," Ali said, as he was about to depart. "Since there is fluorescence in the water Big One won't come at night. It's likely to be a daytime attack."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko smiled sheepishly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >He walked behind the Muslim till the edge of the courtyard as the man was leaving. "Perhaps," he stuttered, "we can team up now?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Ali turned around and gave him a long look. "Sorry," he said. "You make too many mistakes."<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko stood all alone watching the man walk away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Every morning and at bedtime Chacko used to say a cursory prayer out of habit, standing before a picture of St. Anthony. That night also he mumbled, "Please take care of us," and lay down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Soon the saint was smiling at him. The scene lap dissolved to show a coconut grove with patches of drying grass. In the background was a cluster of trees. The sun was bright. A golden colored snake, about a foot long and very thin, shimmered on the ground. It had a small hood. The minuscule emerald eyes were watching him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter woke up. He spent a long time trying to interpret the dream. The serpents that the Hindus worshipped, he knew, were supposed to be tiny golden reptiles. The belief was that humans could see them only if they wished to be seen. What was one of them doing in the vision that he had?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Next day the answer came to him. He remembered one morning at Windermere. Carlson was sitting at his office table with the GTS map before him. Chacko stood beside.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Tell me about these woods," the sahib said pointing to the marked areas on the map.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"They are sacred groves," Chacko replied.<span style=""> </span>"The Hindus venerate the serpent sculptures in them."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“How big are they?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Most of them are small. Less than half an acre.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"This one by the western shore?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko explained that it was the largest and the most important woods on the island. It was spread over two acres. The trees and the undergrowth were very dense. The canal that went past Janaki's house was its southern boundary. The lakeside was fringed with mangroves.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson had left it at that. Now the hint seemed clear to Chacko. He started walking by the grove every day around noon, passing very close to its edge. He was well aware that Big One’s foray would be unannounced, like death. His only hope was natures’ warning system – the rustle of the undergrowth if there was any movement in the grove.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Big One was there on the fifth day, for sure. Chacko heard the roar and stopped. A moment later he cursed aloud. The sudden realization that a Christian entering the sacred abode of the serpent gods or any one shooting into it would offend the Hindus, was a crushing blow. As the man walked away with slouched shoulders Big One bellowed repeatedly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter adapted a new routine. He started roaming the island extensively during daylight. Because of the ammunition belt that he wore constantly, people began referring to him as 'Belt' Chacko. Friends and relatives seemed to distance themselves as though contact with him might endanger them. He carried on nevertheless, inspecting the ponds and the canals, walking over the dykes and by the lake shore, and sometimes even venturing into the mangrove forests. By sunset it was back to the emptiness of the house.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Now there was a new phenomenon - nightmares. They occurred with alarming frequency. The theme was always the same and the scenes passed in slow motion with great clarity - Big One tossing little Mathai in his mouth and swallowing him feet first and the child screaming. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >At that point Chacko would wake up sweating and shivering. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Are you sick?" the priest asked when the hunter appeared before him one morning with a week's growth of beard and disheveled hair.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko shook his head negatively. “I need money,” he bumbled. “I'm going back to Windermere.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The vicar studied him carefully. "There's no man," he said perceptively,” who has not known fear."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Carlson sahib," Chacko continued, ignoring what the father had said, "offered me a job. I'll repay you from my salary."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The priest was silent for a while. Then he said, "Running away doesn't solve problems."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Big One won’t bother me in the hills.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Wrong. He’ll haunt you throughout your life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“At least,” Chacko said defensively, “my son would be safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“And when he grows up, he’ll know that his father ran away from a crocodile.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter was silent.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The priest opened a drawer of his table, took out some money and gave Chacko. He put both hands on the man's shoulders, gripping firmly. "Go if you must," he said looking deep into Chacko's eyes. "Only what God has willed can happen. I'll pray for you."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter hurried home and after packing, shaved and bathed. He sat on the black steel trunk that he was taking along. The bullets, ammunition belt and the headlamp were placed inside the game bag that Carlson had given.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Suddenly he remembered the bottle Janaki had presented while he was guarding her fence, saying, "This is a unique brew." He had buried it in a sack of paddy to keep the liquor warm, planning to give it to Luka. He retrieved the bottle and placed it also in the bag.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >There was plenty of time. The afternoon boat was only at five o' clock. Once he boarded the vessel he would be safe. Only the priest knew that he was leaving. Perhaps Big One as well, like the last time. But if the beast repeated that performance the rifle would be the answer. Then he realized that there was another possible scenario. The monster could quietly slip in close to the boat under water and get on board and in the ensuing melee a safe shot would be difficult.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko started sweating.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >He looked at St. Anthony's picture. He took it off the wall, came back and sat on the luggage. The saint would not only offer protection but also be a symbolic link to Kadep. He kissed the picture of the Miracle Worker and inserted it inside the bag and in the process, touched the bottle. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >He pulled it out after a moment of hesitation, removed the stopper made of dry coconut husk with his teeth and took a long swig. He kept on drinking. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"The son of Mathai is dead," he shouted abruptly. “The great crocodile hunter is finished.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >He flung the empty bottle aside and lay down. There were no dreams, no nightmares. The hollow tranquility was shattered by loud sounds at the front door.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko jumped up, snatched the rifle and backed against the wall, trembling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Chacko," some one called from outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >He composed himself and opened the door. The priest stepped in and said, "I came to check. You didn't take the boat yesterday."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"I must have overslept."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Yes," the priest said. "By more than twenty-four hours. It's nearing four o'clock."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After the visitor left, Chacko plucked two tender coconuts from a dwarf palm beside the house. He ate the kernels, drank the water and went back to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Life revived after hours. Fear was still there, like the original sin. There was, too, a sense of submission that fate could not be altered.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >It was back to the rounds.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >One afternoon, Chacko stopped by the lake shore a few hundred yards south of the jetty, where a retaining wall of granite blocks was built up to land level. He leaned against a coconut palm near the edge, resting the rifle by his side. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >His eyes surveyed the backwaters.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >It was a peaceful scene. The sky was a clear blue canopy over the expanse of the lake. Low tide had set in. There was hardly any breeze. Far to Chacko's right, a passenger boat was approaching on its way to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state>. Ahead of it was a country craft. To the left, at some distance, a bale of hay was floating near the shore. The water was clear along the embankment. Any movement there could be easily noticed. Behind him was a coconut grove and beyond that the bazaar. A couple of mynas were picking grasshoppers. Crows that perched on the palms were silent. A kingfisher dived to catch its prey and flew away. The tattoo of a woodpecker came from somewhere in the distance. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >No sign of any crocodile was visible.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Yet, for no apparent reason, Chacko was uneasy. Minutes passed.<span style=""> </span>There were still no danger signals but the premonition persisted. He looked for birds resting on the water surface. Normally that meant a floating piece of wood or a crocodile below. Instinct warned him to move away and he straightened up. His heart pounded. He started sweating profusely.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The motorboat was close now, the noise of its engine clearly audible. The country craft trailed far behind. The hay had drifted near the retaining wall, directly in front of Chacko.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >In a flash it came to the hunter's mind<span style=""> </span>the bale was floating against the tide! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko dived sideways holding the gun firmly, and rolled away. He heard a loud, slapping sound and knew that the crocodile had struck at the spot where he had been leaning moments ago. An earsplitting bellow from Big One followed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The battle cry!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko began rising to his knees, releasing the safety-catch of the rifle. The scene before him was blood chilling. The mammoth monster was out of the water, rushing at him with wide-open jaws. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >For a moment Chacko was unnerved but recovered quickly. The beast was only a few feet away when he pulled the trigger. The roar of the gun and that of the crocodile merged. There were frantic cries from birds flying away in panic. In the background was the chugging of the boat's motor. Passengers were shouting excitedly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Big One kept on coming.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Still holding the weapon, the hunter turned his face aside and put out his left hand in feeble defense.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After that there was darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Many hours later Chacko opened his eyes. There was excruciating pain in his ribcage. Slowly he became aware of the smell of alcohol and of medicinal herbs. When the haziness lifted he realized that he was lying on a table in the meat shop. The priest, the butcher and the local medicine man were beside him. He saw too the stump of his left arm neatly tied with smoked, green banana leaves.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Big One," the priest volunteered, "is dead."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko closed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Ends.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-70396706017588116892007-07-28T10:49:00.000+05:302007-07-29T11:46:46.749+05:30BIG ONE and 'BELT' CHACKO - 3<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">The child screamed.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko rushed to where his wife and son slept. In the dim glow from the turned down wick of the lantern that was in a corner of the room he saw Mariam, half awake, gently patting the child. The crying tapered off. He crouched and touched little Mathai’s cheek. It was warm and soft and still wet where the tears had rolled down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After a while he went back to his room. Many thoughts crossed his mind. Big One had accepted his challenge but he had failed to confront the beast. Why was he making so many mistakes? He had bagged his first crocodile at the age of thirteen and now, after eighteen years of exp</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >erience, he was performing like a novice. Was it because of some special power that Big One had? Was the creature really invincible?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >At daybreak Chacko saw that Nero’s open grave had been annihilated. The skeleton was a heap of jointed and broken bones. The harpoon and the bamboo stakes were flat on the ground and the palm leaf streamers that had turned light brown in the sun lay scattered. Sand was viciously dug up in several parts of the ravaged square.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Instinct told the hunter that Big One wouldn’t come there again. He would have to locate and kill the enemy. If that didn’t happen before the first week of June when the southwest monsoon normally arrived, the beast would have an additional advantage. In the torrential rains it would be almost impossible to spot him. The ensuing floods would favor the crocodile to mount an attack.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Panic gripped the island. Big One had been to Chacko’s house three times but not a single shot had been fired. That was proof enough for the people to reiterate that the crocodile was an evil spirit and unconquerable. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After deliberating for a few days Chacko went secretly to a Brahmin astrologer who lived thirty miles away. The man asked for his horoscope. Like most Christians, he did not have one. The astrologer made him sit before a set of squares drawn on the floor and squatted opposite.<span style=""> </span>He asked Chacko to name a flower and quote a number. The Brahmin made some calculations, moving his palms all the while along the sacred thread that was looped from his left shoulder to the right side of the torso. After identifying the star under which the hunter was born, he placed some small cowries on the squares and withdrew them systematically, chanting Sanskrit verses. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Minutes passed before the Brahmin started talking. Words came out slowly and his voice sounded as though it emanated from a great distance. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“There is danger,” the man said. “You have a powerful adversary who is not human. You did something wrong to acquire such an enemy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Perhaps it is anger against my father.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Your problem has nothing to do with your sire.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko did not respond.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“I can see,” the astrologer carried on haltingly, “water and land. I can also see you and a beast. And a row of stones. In the background there are two vague human figures. One appears white. The other is in a dark robe.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >There was a long pause. The Brahmin appeared to be straining to visualize the future. He opened his eyes abruptly and said, “I cannot see beyond that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko was confused. What the astrologer said made no sense to him. “Is my enemy evil?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“There is good and bad in all beings.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Sir, what I want to know is whether my opponent has supernatural powers.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“Supernatural power is what The Supernatural Power bestows. It might be there, might not be there. No one can tell.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“What should I do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The Brahmin considered the question and answered, “Shed all traces of pride. Purify yourself and acquire power. Pray to all your gods. The rest is fate.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Still confused, Chacko went to the church as soon as he was back in Kadep. He didn’t tell the vicar about his visit to the astrologer.<span style=""> </span>Without wasting time he asked, "Is Big One an evil spirit?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"I don't think so," the priest answered. "But there are many things in this world for which we have no rational explanation."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Father, I was confident of handling Big One. After all, I’m the best hunter in these areas. But now I'm beginning to feel a little uneasy."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The priest smiled. "Yes," he said, "I can see. That's a good sign."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Why do you say that?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"I know that you are capable of defeating Big One. But when a man is overconfident he's forgetting God. Without Him you’re nothing."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"What's you advice?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"You must," the priest answered, "approach the enemy from a position of strength. Trust in God. And pray."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After contemplating what the priest and the astrologer had advised Chacko asked Mariam to pack. Next morning, they went to the pier on the eastern side of the island. Mariam walked in front carrying the child, and a small steel box containing essential clothing on her head. Chacko followed a few paces behind her with his loaded gun. There were some ponds and canals along the route. The hunter didn’t rule out the possibility of a surprise attack be Big One. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After a long wait at the jetty, the passenger vessel going south from <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> to Alleppey, another port town, arrived and they boarded. It was one of the new crafts with a pentagonal wheelhouse on the roof, which were replacing the old paddle-wheeled steamers. The sleek motorboat would take about an hour to reach Vaikom, a small hamlet on the other side of the lake, where Mariam’s father lived.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The boat had traveled for nearly five minutes when Chacko heard the bellowing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Crocodile," some one shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The hunter looked. It was a strange sight, awesome. Big One was fifty yards away keeping pace with the vessel, which was beginning to pick up speed. He kept on roaring. Each time the beast did that he bent like a bow, head and tail above the lake surface. His sharp teeth were clearly visible. Water sprayed into the air from his flanks. When the tail fell back there was more spray.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Passengers were dazed. No one spoke. Mariam glanced at the beast once and started crying silently, clutching the baby to her bosom with one hand and counting rosary beads with the other. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >But Chacko was not worried. The beast was unlikely to attack the boat since he had exposed himself. The hunter considered using his gun but it didn’t have the range. He stood quietly, watching the antics of the crocodile that was mocking him in front of all those people. He was glad they were strangers. Nobody from Kadep was on board. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Big One submerged as suddenly as he had appeared. It would be months before he was sighted again. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko left Mariam and the baby at his father-in-law's house.<span style=""> </span>From there, traveling overnight on foot and by bullock cart he reached Kottayam, a trading center for hill produce and estate supplies early in the morning. He managed to get a lift in one of the trucks carrying provisions to the plantations in the High Ranges and by the afternoon reached his destination, the mist-shrouded Windermere Estate. That was where Luka worked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The man from Kadep was not used to the cold of the hills. That night he sat wrapped in a blanket, drinking rum with his brother-in-law and eating chunks of spicy bison meat. He could not help thinking how much better crocodile tails with its stored up fat tasted. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After a few pegs he explained the purpose of his visit. Luka had mentioned some time back that CF Carlson, the owner of the plantation, was a great hunter who had shot many tigers and elephants. He wanted to meet the Englishman.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson had returned recently from a furlough to Blighty. That was something he had missed for years because of the Great War. Next morning Chacko went to the owner’s bungalow. With Luka translating, he told Carlson all details about Big One except his blunder at the bridge. The white man was interested. He leaned back on a planter’s chair smoking a pipe filled with aromatic tobacco and listened attentively. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >When the narrative was over Carlson said, "Never shot a crocodile. But I'll take care of this one."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"No, sahib," Chacko protested quickly. "I must kill Big One."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >There was a flash of anger on the Englishman's face. "What the hell do you want then?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"A gun," the man from Kadep answered. "A gun that can kill an elephant."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"What do you think I am?" Carlson retorted. "A bloody arms dealer?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"No sahib," Chacko replied with respect. "I want to borrow the weapon."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Borrow? How do I know that you'll return it?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"I'm Chacko, the son of Mathai. You'll get the gun back, and the skin."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The crocodile hunter's training in modern guns began the same day.<span style=""> </span>The planter had a collection of weapons. The program started with a .22 rifle. Chacko’s aim and reflexes were superb. Gradually he became used to the weight and kick of weapons, which could drop a charging elephant in its tracks. The practice included quick shooting, fast reloading and firing from different positions. Chacko learned to roll with the gun and come up firing. There were detailed instructions on maintenance of rifles. The safety code in big game hunting was also taught. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson collected information on crocodiles from the Encyclopedia Britannica that he had, and books borrowed from the Planters’ Club library and friends. Relevant points were discussed with Chacko. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Now they had to decide on the weapon to be used. The man from Kadep had already become familiar with different types of guns. The Englishman explained about ammunition. Soft nosed bullets that exploded on penetration caused extensive internal damage. Some hunters preferred it for the first shot and followed up with a non-expanding solid for the kill. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >“There won’t be time,” Chacko said, “for a second shot.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson nodded. Range was not very important here. What mattered was power, and accuracy. He chose a Martini Henry. It was a good gun, which had range as well. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Using his influence with the government Carlson obtained the Kadep area sheet of the classified General Traverse Survey of India Map and spent a great deal of time studying the details. He and Chacko theorized about the possible methods and locations of attack by Big One and the techniques to be used by the hunter to trace the beast. The sahib admitted that crocodile hunting was unlike the big game that he knew, and perhaps more difficult.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The forests always gave useful indicators for a hunter, like spoors, droppings, waterholes, crumbled undergrowth, favorite foods of different species and the locations they were found, predictable habits of animals, scent, weather and temperature. Looking at the greenish ball shaped excreta of elephants, an experienced person could tell not only the direction in which the animals had passed but also the approximate time. When a tiger was on the prowl, birds and the smaller creatures in the vicinity scrambled away. A wounded buffalo was likely to veer away from the herd and circle back to its original track to attack the pursuer. Normally there would be at least a guide and a gun bearer on a hunting expedition. Some hunters waited on a machan, a platform erected at a safe height on trees with a live prey tied below, or when drummers ‘beat’ the forest to drive the animals that way. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Hunting crocodiles was different. These beasts normally searched for prey at night. They could go on for long periods without food and spent many hours of the day resting quietly at some safe haven. Their usual method of attack was to crawl up stealthily within striking distance, rush out at an incredible speed and grab the victim. Sometimes they attacked out of sheer vengeance. Crocodiles were more vulnerable on land and shallow waters. The lake offered them immense cover. It was extremely difficult to get a fix on a wily crocodile like Big One unless it made a mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Soon Chacko’s training was shifted to a stream near the estate bungalow. Live fish, submerged stones and driftwood that floated down the rapids were the initial targets. He learned to judge the deflection of bullets in water, the varying speeds at which objects moved in the current and the sudden changes in their direction. The next step was with green bamboo pieces tied to ropes and placed near the waterline. The hunter was made to walk along the riverbank at dusk. When someone positioned away from the line of fire pulled the string and the bamboo jerked up, he was to shoot. With practice his hit rate improved. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >To round up the training, there were instructions on long range shooting as well. In this, gauging the distance and the wind factor carefully and adjusting the gun sight appropriately for straight, upward and downhill shots were important.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Weeks passed and it was early March. One evening Carlson and Chacko were in the drawing room of the bungalow. The sahib was on his favorite leather upholstered chair smoking his pipe. The hunter from Kadep sat on a large tiger skin spread out on the wooden floor. A turbaned butler was mixing whiskey and soda for his master and acting as interpreter. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"In some countries," the Englishman said, "crocodiles were considered evil spirits. But in certain places like ancient <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Egypt</st1:place></st1:country-region> they were revered."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"My people too," Chacko said after a brief pause, "say that Big One has supernatural powers."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson looked at him sharply. "You don't believe that nonsense, do you?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The crocodile hunter didn't reply. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Carlson took a sip of whiskey that the butler had placed near his chair. "With all the training,” he asked, "aren't you confident now?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Chacko was pensive. "Back in Kadep," he answered, "one wouldn't know when, where and how."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"You're right," Carlson agreed. "A hunter's always alone to face the unpredictable.” He drank more whiskey and continued, “Out there in the forest I feel humble. And scared. A hunter is only a small speck in the great scheme of things. He’s an intruder into the fine-tuned mechanism of nature.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >The Englishman took a pull at the pipe and went on, “But sometimes one has to kill. A man-eater, for instance. Or a rouge elephant.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >There was a long pause. Each man was left with his own thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >After a while Carlson broke the silence. "</span><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >I can give you a job here</span><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >," he said, "</span><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >if you like</span><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Thank you. But I have to go. Maybe after I kill Big One."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >"Yes," the white man agreed. "Go tomorrow."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >In the morning when Chacko was ready to leave, Carlson opened two boxes of cartridges. He test fired one from each lot and handed over the rest along with the gun to Chacko. He also presented him a headlamp and an ammunition belt.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" >Before they parted the white man said, “Remember, Big One doesn’t know the power and range of this rifle.”</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 200%;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" > <o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-80689739882015980882007-07-27T09:41:00.000+05:302007-07-27T10:04:17.007+05:30BIG ONE and 'BELT' Chacko - 2<p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">He did not panic. An attack on the bridge by Big One was unlikely. The creature could not know whether the man was ready for another shot. Instinct warned Chacko against trying to flee. Crocodiles could run on land with a burst of speed and it was doubtful whether in his given condition he could out pace Big One. He stayed where he was, holding the empty gun and scanning the canal.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The vigil continued till first rays of morning.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">When Chacko finally reached home his black and white fox terrier, Nero, rushed out to greet him. His wife, Mariam, was standing on the front steps carrying their two-year old son. The baby was whimpering. She shifted him from one hip to the other and back again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Where were you?" she asked sharply. <o:p></o:p><br /></span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">That was unlike her. Usually she never questioned her husband’s activities. “I tried to shoot a crocodile,” Chacko answered. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Big One?" <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The hunter nodded, wondering how she had guessed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Mariam's face turned pale and she started breathing heavily. "He escaped?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Yes."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"I knew it," the wife went on. "The novena was interrupted for the first time yesterday. The priest's mother died. He went home and didn't return in time."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko did not respond. To him it was a mere coincidence. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Now we are doomed," Mariam continued hysterically. "Big One is a demon."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Shut up, woman," the husband said, but not harshly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">After a bath and breakfast Chacko took stock of the situation. He was certain that Big One would strike back. The beast had seen him clearly and would have picked up his scent. It could track him down without much difficulty. But he had no clue to the crocodile's whereabouts. The creature lived in some unknown, untraceable burrow. The conclusion was obvious. The field of battle and the timing of the attack would be decided by the enemy. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko inspected his hunting equipment. There was the old muzzle loader. To hunt crocodiles, one spherical ball was loaded at a time with extra gunpowder to enhance range and power. Then he looked at the harpoons with specially made coir rope attached to them.<span style=""> </span>Chacko could score a perfect hit from fifty feet. As soon as the weapon found its target the line would be secured to the nearest tree. The armory also included <i>thettali, </i>a heavy wooden bow on which metal tipped arrows were used. Another gadget was a piece of iron with anchor-like hooks at both ends. This would be concealed in the carcass of a small animal in the hope that if a crocodile took the bait the metal contraption would get stuck in its throat. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko knew that for Big One it had to be the gun. <i><span style=""> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Kadep's population became agitated when the news about the confrontation between Chacko and Big One spread. The hunter had concealed the fact that he had provoked the crocodile. The locals believed that Big One was on warpath again because the novena was interrupted, and that Chacko was picked for the attack since the beast's anger against Mathai had not subsided even after three decades. They feared that the wrath of the beast would turn to others as well. The priest was blamed for exposing them to the danger. Some parishioners petitioned the bishop for his transfer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">People were alert and on the look out for Big One. But weeks passed without any sign of the beast. Chacko began speculating whether he had seriously wounded the crocodile. That was unlikely. The pellets could not have penetrated the protective armor on the enemy’s back. One possibility was that both eyes were hit, blinding the beast. That too was doubtful. A more likely explanation was that the creature had gone into hibernation. That was common among crocodiles<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Then came the night of the new moon.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko had a habit of going out in the open to urinate before retiring. He normally did this at the base of a slanting coconut palm in a corner of the yard around his house. When he came out as usual on to the veranda that night Nero who had been barking for some time was near the steps, moaning now and blocking the way. That was not unusual. The terrier was prone to get agitated at the slightest provocation. Looking towards the leaning coconut tree that was barely visible in the dim light, the dog started barking again. Chacko ignored him and descended the steps. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Nero jumped out and ran ahead of his master in the direction of the tree, baying frantically. The hunter sensed danger. He stopped instantly, calling back the dog. Moments later he could vaguely see the crocodile detach itself from the lower portion of the leaning palm and fall upon the terrier. There was a pitiful howl from Nero as the jaws of Big One clamped down on him. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko was stunned. The attack had boldness, speed and precision. It had been planned and executed almost to perfection. The hunter had overlooked that crocodiles could recognize and remember the pattern of activity of other creatures. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Recovering quickly Chacko ran inside for the gun. After the encounter at the bridge it was always kept loaded with spherical ball. He came out, lit a torch made of dry palm leaves and searched the courtyard. All that he could see were some marks and a few drops of blood on the sand.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko returned to the house and sat on the front steps, glad that Mariam had gone to sleep. He wanted to be alone.<span style=""> </span>Nero had been like a member of the family. Mariam's brother Luka, who was a clerk at a tea garden in the hills, had given him as a pup five years previously.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Two days later, a middle-aged stranger came to see Chacko.<span style=""> </span>"I'm Ali," the visitor introduced himself, "from across the lake."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"I've heard of you," Chacko said. The Muslim too was a reputed crocodile hunter.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Mariam brought a mat and spread it on the floor. Ali sat down.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“I hunted with your father for a while,” the visitor said. “He was a fine man.<span style=""> </span>Learned many things from him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko smiled faintly, but did not respond.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“I heard the news,” Ali went on. “It’s a bad situation.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“I can assist you to hunt Big One.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko looked at the man sharply. It was surprising that someone would volunteer to fight the beast. That took immense courage. But he was piqued as well by the suggestion of help. Did the man think that he, Chacko, son of Mathai, was incapable of handling Big One by himself? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Send your family away," Ali advised. "I can move in here and we take on the crocodile together."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko remained silent.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“There is,” Ali continued, “no other beast like Big One. At times I wonder whether he is something more than just an animal. I wouldn’t go after him alone. With you, yes. But not with anyone else.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“Let me think it over,” Chacko replied after a while.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“You are the best hunter in the land. But even you may not be able to tackle Big One by yourself. A back-up shot would be safer. I’m good with guns.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko did not answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The visitor was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, “Look, I don’t want any money or the credit. Big One has to be killed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“Yes. I’ll finish him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Ali gave the younger man an appraising look. “I understand,” he said smiling, and left. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Mariam rushed out to the veranda after the visitor was gone. “You should have listened to him,” she said. “Let me take our little Mathai and go to my father’s house for a while. Ask Ali to stay here and help.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko shook his head. Seeking assistance would mean loss of face. There was no point in explaining that to Mariam. She wouldn’t understand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Big One returned days later. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">He came quietly in the night while Chacko was asleep. The hunter knew about the visit only the next morning when he opened the front door and peered through the soft haze outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;"><span style=""></span>Nero's skeleton was on the sand near the steps.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Thirty years back it had been Mathai’s remains. That at least had some finality about it. The man was dead, an encounter was over. But the death of Nero was only the beginning of a fight.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">For a long time Chacko stood staring at what was left of the dog. Finally he decided to leave the bones to rest where they lay. After making a square brick border with Nero's remains in the center, he fixed bamboo poles in the four corners, tied coir strings connecting them and hung cream colored tender palm leaves all around. Then he drove an old harpoon into the ground, near the skeleton.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Mariam watched from the veranda. "Please," she pleaded, "let's go away."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"No."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“At least,” Mariam kept on, “for the sake of our son.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“He’ll be all right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The woman shook her head. "You're fighting a demon," she said tearfully. "You can't win."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">"Keep quiet," the husband said angrily. "No crocodile can defeat me."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Mariam ran inside sobbing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko could see the well-defined trail of Big One, which was lost in the undergrowth beyond the yard. He knew that the track would lead to one of the nearby canals. There was no purpose in locating the exact spot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">A couple of days later Chacko went to a teashop in the bazaar. It was a thatched structure with two wooden benches on the sand floor and a samovar in a corner. A bunch of ripe, yellow bananas hung from a rafter. The moment Chacko entered, conversation ceased and people stared at him. One of them made the sign of the Cross. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The uneasy silence continued till the hunter was served the strong black tea that he had ordered. Then a customers asked, “Why don’t you go away from Kadep and leave us in peace?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“If you have no guts,” Chacko retorted coldly, “why don’t you get out?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">There was no response.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“Nothing will help,” and old man stated. “We’ll have problems till next year’s novena is concluded. St. Anthony is angry with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“All of you,” Chacko said, “are being foolish. Big One is after me. No one else is at risk.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“You can say what you like. The beast is evil. He’ll attack others as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“No,” Chacko said. “Before that I’ll kill him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The customers looked away from him. He drank the tea and walked out.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Big One returned again, on Christmas night. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">After the festivities, Chacko had gone to bed late. He was awakened from a disturbed sleep by strange noises outside and knew intuitively what was happening. He scrambled up from the mat he was sleeping on and grabbed the gun that was in a corner. Suddenly realizing that the beast could not be seen from his room, he moved to the front door wondering whether Big One was aware of his tactical disadvantage. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">He paused. It was quiet outside now. A sixth sense warned him that the crocodile was still there, waiting for him to step out. Going around the back way through the door near the kitchen, was also risky. The hunter didn’t know which way Big One was facing. He could cut through the thatching and get on to the roof, but if the beast were lying close to the outer wall of the house it would be impossible to see him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The child screamed.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-23424002496849466162007-07-26T11:11:00.000+05:302007-07-26T11:36:08.996+05:30BIG ONE and "BELT' CHACKO<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">[This is from the special collection of short stories that I have written, but not published yet. The critics, editors and other writers who have read the piece have rated it high. Some have suggested that it is excellent material for a good movie but I have not pursued that angle. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">Any way, I thought of sharing it with my readers. Hope you like it.]</p> <br /><br /> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">It was a fight to the finish between a man and a beast. In a way, it began because of a woman, and birds that came all the way from Siberia to <st1:place st="on">South India</st1:place>. The entire population of the sandy, palm-studded <st1:placename st="on">Kadep</st1:PlaceName> <st1:placetype st="on">Island</st1:PlaceType> in the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Vembanad</st1:PlaceName> <st1:placetype st="on">Lake</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> watched the conflict that lasted six suspenseful months with trepidation. It was clear from the outset that the duel would end only with the death of either or both combatants.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The man was Chacko, son of Mathai. The beast was a crocodile called Big One. A male. He was said to be thirty feet long and weigh about a ton. Chacko was six feet tall and powerfully built. He was thirty-one years old. No one knew the crocodile's age. The creature had been around for as far back as anybody could remember. The man was a famous crocodile hunter as his father Mathai had been before him. Big One had defied many great hunters for decades.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Large saltwater crocodiles and smaller muggers infested the backwaters around Kadep. At night they moved freely from the lake to the extensive rice fields and the several canals and ponds on the island. Apart from fishes and crabs they fed on birds, dogs and calves. Sometimes they killed humans too.<span style=""> </span>The island folk lived with the awareness of danger and were careful particularly after sunset. Many believed that Big One was invested with supernatural powers and was unconquerable. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Once a schoolteacher from the port town of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:City>, who was on a visit to his wife’s house in Kadep, narrated a story about crocodiles. According to him, in the ancient times there was a king in the north by the name of Golden Star. He had only one child, a son who was born with the head of a crocodile and the body of a man. Crocodiles all over the world were descendants of that creature. Bitter that his offspring was an object of ridicule, Golden Star decreed that crocodiles and men would forever be enemies and that there would always be one of those beasts with supernatural powers, which would be invincible.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Many of the villagers, who were unaware that the extremely intelligent reptiles were descendants of dinosaurs, believed the story. Big One was immediately identified as the unconquerable beast that Golden Star had predicted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">But crocodile hunters were tougher and unconcerned about myths. Skin trade offered big money. Dealers in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:State> were willing to buy any quantity.<span style=""> </span>Expert taxidermists processed the hides to manufacture shoes, handbags and other expensive items, which were in great demand in Europe and <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Big One was the most sought after catch. His skin would fetch a fortune because of the enormous size and the merchants were prepared to out bid each other for it. Even Samson’s, the leading trading house at <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:State> was interested in procuring the hide. Their plan, according to market rumor, was to bill the skin as the biggest in the world and to exhibit it in <st1:city st="on">London</st1:City>, <st1:city st="on">Paris</st1:City> and <st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">New York</st1:State></st1:place> where they had business connections.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Then came the death of Mathai. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The man went hunting one evening, and never returned. By next afternoon search parties were organized. They combed every inch of Kadep and the lake, but found no trace of the hunter. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko was one year old at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Four days after Mathai’s disappearance Big One surfaced in the lake. He held a decaying human body in his mouth just above the waterline and paraded up and down the lagoon. Men, women and children watched in horror from the shores. No one dared<span style=""> </span>to interfere.<span style=""> </span>Experienced hunters knew that there would be several crocodiles moving underwater. Because Big One was the dominant male, the other crocodiles had to swim at a lower level. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The macabre exposition continued for three days. On the fourth morning the remains of Mathai were found near the front steps of his house, dumped like garbage. The funeral posed a problem. The vicar of the local St. Anthony’s Church was reluctant to bury the bones in the church cemetery because no one was certain that the skeleton was that of Mathai. Finally he relented.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Thirty years later, another skeleton was to be discarded at the same place.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Even the hunters avoided Big One after that eerie event. The story about Golden Star made the rounds again and yet more people began attributing supernatural powers to the crocodile. In order to protect the islanders, the local parish priest began a nine-day annual novena to St. Anthony the Miracle Worker. It ended on the last Sunday before Advent, when Kadep celebrated the feast of the saint with pomp and pageantry.<span style=""> </span>Apart from Christians, members of other communities also attended the novena. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Crocodile attacks on humans stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko took to crocodile hunting when he grew up. It was not out of any conscious intention to avenge the death of Mathai. The spirit of adventure was in his blood.<span style=""> </span>He liked the thrill and the danger involved, and the money. Besides, crocodiles were the only interesting game left in Kadep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">There had been jackals years back, hordes of them, but they had left the island en masse suddenly. That was a mystery. On a full moon night the entire lot marched to the lake howling continuously, almost in a procession, and swam away never to return. Some people said that the exodus was because crocodiles had killed so many of the animals that their survival on the island was in jeopardy. Others believed that the divine snakes banished them in anger for desecrating the several sacred groves on the island. The woods were hallowed ground for the Hindus who lighted lamps at twilight before the stone idols located inside them and prayed to the serpent gods.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Even as a child Chacko had shown some inherent skills. He was very good with catapult and sling. His aim was near perfect. With one throw he could bring down mangoes from a high branch.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">At the age of eleven, while returning home after collecting cashew nuts from trees that grew sporadically, he caught a smell, like tapioca being boiled, and knew that a cobra was in the vicinity. Armed with a forked stick he moved around, alert for the hissing. He located the venomous snake and pinned down its hood with his weapon as it was about to strike. He pulled the reptile by the tail and banged it dead against a coconut tree. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Shortly after that event, which was much talked about on the island, a senior crocodile hunter took Chacko on as an apprentice. Under the man’s tutelage, the boy learned the importance of patience and total alertness. He developed the capacity to wait still and silent for long periods. His power of observation was heightened and his senses sharpened. In hunting, things like a slight rustling sound or a faint odor could be crucial. One had to correctly judge wind velocity and direction, tidal currents, and take into consideration factors like moon phases and their effects on animals, mating seasons and habits, and the vulnerable spots in the prey’s anatomy. A hunter was never to commit himself unless he was certain to score an effective hit. He always had to position himself downwind from the target. Chacko’s intuition, instinct and anticipation improved with training and experience. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">By the age of twenty-five, he was acknowledged as the best hunter in the area. He had killed several crocodiles and had earned a great deal of money, which was spent lavishly. But he did not go after Big One. People who were jealous of him said that he was afraid of the beast. That was not true. He simply had no score to settle with Big One. His father apparently had made some mistake and had paid the penalty. In crocodile hunting errors were invariably fatal. Chacko was confident that if he were to ever encounter the beast, there wouldn’t be any slip ups. He was convinced that he was a better hunter than his father had been. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The confrontation between Chacko and Big One began on a November night, a couple of years after the Great War. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">With the onset of winter, migrating common teals from <st1:place st="on">Siberia</st1:place> settled in the lake and the rice fields of Kadep, which were flooded after the October harvest when the farmers opened the sluices on the embankments to let in fishes and crustaceans. Chacko often hunted them because they were good table birds. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">While returning from such an outing one evening, he saw Janaki emerge from a pond near her house after bath, wearing only a wet loincloth that<span style=""> </span>clung provocatively to her body. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">He walked in to her hut.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Everyone in Kadep knew about Janaki. The young widow would receive only men of the upper classes. A few months previously, she had made history as the first low caste woman in Kadep to appear in public fully dressed, covering even her breasts. Wearing a top was a privilege reserved for high caste ladies those days. While Janaki walked nonchalantly to the bazaar in her radical attire, some prominent people of the locality stopped her and forced her to remove the offending garment. It became an open secret that subsequently some of the men who had chastised Janaki began visiting her habitat clandestinely and insisted her wearing the top throughout their visit.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Janaki rushed back and asked the hunter to sit on a mat on the narrow front veranda. She went inside the only room of the thatched hut and reappeared shortly, dressed like a high caste lady. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The hunter gave one look and said sharply, “Take it off.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The woman was startled. Her hands moved to the sarong.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">“Not that,” Chacko’s voice was harsh. His eyes indicated the upper garment.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Janaki nearly tore the blouse in her anxiety to comply. Chastened, she stood shyly, bare breasted now.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The birds in the game bag were given to the cook, an old woman who stayed with the widow.<span style=""> </span>Janaki led Chacko into the room. She opened a bottle of arrack specially distilled with herbs and poured some into an earthen bowl. As the man started gulping the light golden colored liquor, the hostess placed hardboiled eggs and onion and hot pepper chutney before him on a piece of green banana leaf. After a while, the sizzling sound and the pungent smell of the teals being fried drifted into the room from the lean to kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">It turned out to be a long night.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko hardly noticed the scent of jasmine that laced the air from the buds that were opening, when he finally came out of the woman’s habitat.<span style=""> </span>He was groggy and tired. It had been quite a while since he had consumed so much alcohol. The brew that Janaki had served was potent stuff.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">As he reached atop the raised footbridge across the canal beside Janaki’s hut, the man noticed a crocodile below. It had probably strayed there attracted by the odor of the teals. Crocodiles had highly developed senses of sight and smell. They could see in the dark, underwater, and because of binocular vision, had accurate depth and distance perception. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">In the pale moonlight all that Chacko could see was the top of the beast's head. He lifted the gun, took quick aim and fired. A fraction of a moment too late, he remembered that the weapon was loaded with birdshot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">There was an unearthly growl from down below, like rolling thunder. An immense mass rose from the water with surprising force. The crocodile was not close enough to fling its weight against the wooden structure. It hung in the air for a few seconds and fell back into the canal. Water swirled up the banks and shook the bridge.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">Chacko was absolutely sober suddenly. From the enormous size of the creature he knew that it had to be Big One. There could be no other crocodile like that. He had casually provoked the awesome beast. He knew that crocodiles were vengeful and had long memories. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;"> He did not panic. An attack on the bridge by Big One was unlikely. The creature could not know whether the man was ready for another shot. Instinct warned Chacko against trying to flee. Crocodiles could run on land with a burst of speed and it was doubtful whether in his given condition he could out pace Big One. He stayed where he was, holding the empty gun and scanning the canal.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;">The vigil continued till the first rays of morning.</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">© Abraham Tharakan.</p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-57748915409336546782007-05-28T11:24:00.000+05:302007-05-28T11:48:45.436+05:30The Bulldozer - concluding part<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Wait for my signal,” Gopan instructed the sergeant and approached the chief. He met the old man’s gaze, and said commandingly, “The machine will start now. Vacate immediately.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;">Village boss looked at him with dignity. He seemed calm and self-assured. “This is our home,” he said. “We are staying.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Do you see those men in uniform?” Gopan asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Yes. Why did you bring them? Are you afraid?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan ignored the slight and said, “They have orders to throw you out.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The headman silently turned to the villagers and made a sign. In a minute people vanished into their huts. All except one young woman. She stood alone in the morning sun.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Element of surprise was gone. The sergeant wouldn’t like that, Gopan thought.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Suddenly the young man with the chief spoke. “Don’t think we are fools,” he said abrasively. “We know that you want to sacrifice my wife and baby to strengthen your buildings. Kill me instead. But of course, blood of a first time pregnant girl is more effective for your purpose.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan shook his head. “We don’t require,” he said gently, “any sacrificial blood to stabilize our structures. No body makes such offerings. It’s an old myth without any basis.” After a pause he added, “Get your wife inside the van. We will take her to the hospital.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The husband laughed, brittle, high pitched. “To all those strangers?” he asked heatedly. “That would make killing easier. And put us to shame as well. In front of all those men and women!” He laughed again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The sergeant moved near the group quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Exasperated, Gopan continued, aware that he was exceeding his authority, “I’ll arrange temporary accommodation for all of you in an empty storage shed. Even free food.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“What?” the young villager shouted. “And have my son born<span style=""> </span>in public? Without the presence of our gods and the spirits of ancestors they will surely die, exposed.” He cursed profanely and spat.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The sergeant tugged at Gopan’s sleeve. They walked back together to the bulldozer. The engineer leaned against the machine. “What do we do now?” he asked. “Call it off?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s for you to decide, Mr. Nair,” the security man replied. “The job has to be done either today, or tomorrow. We could change tactics and proceed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan looked at him questioningly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Handle chief as before,” sergeant explained. “First two huts have only one male each. A combined total of seven including children. Six of my men will form two teams. Twelve will cordon off the huts in question. Squads dash in, do the flushing, and the dozer moves.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan had to make a decision. The determination and confidence he had felt when he woke up that morning were fast eroding.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""></span>“Others,” sergeant was saying, “are inside their huts with doors closed. Reaction time will be long. Concentrate on first two huts.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan noticed the headman giving another signal. As he and the sergeant watched, the woman started moving. She was full with swelling of new life within her and walked unsteadily. She stopped at the first hut and leaned against its sidewall, facing the bulldozer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan was perplexed. “What do we have now?” he asked. “Sacrificial lamb? Or bluff?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Could be either,” sergeant replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“They know they can’t win. Therefore they want a human sacrifice in atonement for abandoning their ancestors or whatever. In fact, they had special rituals earlier this morning. That’s why those flowers around the idols.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">In the distance, Gopan could see the steel plant rising over the shrubs and trees. When completed, it would be one of the most modern. “Rubbish,” he said. “Then why don’t they attack us?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Because many of them could get hurt. Women are expendable, not men. One offering and they can leave their gods and forefathers satisfied and go away with peace.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""></span>Gopan was thoughtful.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style=""><br /> </span>“We had,” the sergeant continued, “reported this possibility to DE sometime back.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">In that case I am the sacrificial lamb, Gopan thought.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It’s also possible,” the sergeant went on, “that our intelligence is wrong. As you said, it could be a gamble. But this situation is better for us. I’ll remove her as well to the van. Other details remain unchanged.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan wanted time to think. “Very well,” he said. “Brief your men.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""></span>Sergeant quickly moved to the guards and started explaining, drawing diagrams on sand with a stick. The chief, the young man and the woman were observing with rapt attention. There was apprehension on their faces.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan knew that the sergeant’s new plan was good, like the earlier ones. But somebody could get injured. And the old man might have more tricks up his sleeve.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The sergeant was back. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It’s a bluff,” Gopan said. “I’m going to call it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Well, you’re in charge,” the security man’s response was lukewarm. As an afterthought he added, “But I don’t feel comfortable about that husband guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Ignoring him, Gopan turned to the woman. “Get out of there fast,” he shouted, “or you will kill yourself and your baby. No body will bother much about an accident at construction.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The woman hesitated and looked towards her husband.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan addressed the driver loud enough for everyone to hear. “Get going. Stop only if I tell you to, no matter what happens.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The Sikh grinned. Motor was started and the machine came to life. Gopan followed on a side, keeping the woman in sight. The sergeant also went along.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">When the bulldozer had gone forward ten feet, inmates of the first hut rushed out.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The gap was closing. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Don’t cut it too fine,” the sergeant whispered to Gopan. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Time ticked away. The bulldozer was only about ten feet from the woman. The driver was not grinning any more.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Stop it,” the security man hissed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan realized with a sickening feeling that the woman was in shock. She could not have moved even if she wanted to. He was about to call it off when someone, perhaps a guard yelled, “Watch out.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">For a moment there was confusion. Gopan heard running footsteps and saw the Sikh driver jolt violently.<span style=""> </span>A thick streak of blood appeared below his right eye. The man pitched forward covering his face with both hands. A sharp, fist-sized stone bounced off to the sand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Bulldozer seemed to move faster.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan rushed to the machine. He was vaguely aware of the sergeant sprinting past him to the woman. He jumped on to the bulldozer. It was difficult to reach in over the slumped driver. Finally he managed to, and cut off the engine. The vehicle came to a jerking halt with a light thud.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">People were shouting. Villagers started streaming out of their huts. Security men immediately cordoned off the area near the bulldozer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan slid back to the ground in a daze. He walked away, aimless and disoriented. After a few steps he felt dizzy and sat down on the sand. Some guards quickly moved near him to provide close proximity cover. He managed to wrap his hands around the knees and rested his face on them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">There were many noises in the air – shouting, wailing, people talking loudly. They seemed to come from a great distance. Did he hear the word ‘sacrifice’? Gopan was not sure. He thought there was the sound of a vehicle being driven away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Later, from the haziness, the sergeant’s voice came in clearly, “This man will take you to the Club House. Get a room. Have some sedatives sent over from the hospital and try to rest. I’ll wind up here and meet you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Helping Gopan to the Jeep, the security man added, “Couple of sentries will be posted outside your room. That’s the procedure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">There was no reaction from the engineer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Late at night, while driving Gopan home after formalities were completed, the sergeant said, “The driver should be hopefully all right. A nasty cut and a broken nose. Lucky he didn’t lose an eye.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“The villagers,” The security man went on, “moved to Shed 7. GM has sanctioned free rations for them. They’ll be gone in a couple of days.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Servant maid opened the door for Gopan when he reached home. She looked terrified.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan went straight to the bedroom and switched on the light. Malini was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He sat on his side of the bed and started removing his field shoes.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Minutes passed. The silence was becoming unbearable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It was an accident,” Gopan said all of a sudden. That was the conclusion local police had reached at the inquest. There were no charges against anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It was an accident,” Gopan repeated, louder.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Malini took a long time to respond. When she finally did, it was as though she was talking to herself. “Nobody,” she said, “will bother much about an accident at construction,”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan knew that she had not repeated his statement sarcastically or with malice. He lay down heavily without bothering to change clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Again, there was Malini’s voice, far away and sad, yet with a tenderness that hurt. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Can’t forget as much as I try.<span style=""> </span>Way that man was crying against her body at the hospital. If only they could have saved the baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Her voice cracked. Gopan knew that her eyes were full. She was like that. Too soft. Too delicate.<span style=""> </span>That man killed them, he wanted to say. But it would not have helped. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Malini turned on her side, facing the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">It had been like that ever since – two and a half years!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Standing near the jeep waiting for Malini, Gopan sighed. The steel plant looked solid, massive. They did complete the job on schedule. He was a DE now. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan checked his watch. If Malini did not hurry, they would be late for the flight. There were other plants to build and more schedules to keep. ‘The Bulldozer’ had to carry on.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. As he exhaled, there was a touch on his arm. It was so gentle, so light that it could have been his imagination. He was afraid though to turn around and make sure. He kept staring ahead, wanting that moment and the emerging hope to linger.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Gopan, the plant looks magnificent,” Malini’s childlike voice filled his ears.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan Nair did not reply. He was thinking how fascinating, like a string of diamonds, distant lights appear when one saw them through misty eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; text-align: left; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-77977223469476513062007-05-25T11:20:00.000+05:302007-05-25T11:39:31.099+05:30The Bulldozer.<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p>Gopan Nair came out from the house into the pre-dawn chill carrying a blue fibre suitcase. He placed it carefully at the back of the Jeep and took a deep breath. That almost completes it, he said to himself with a sense of relief. The heavy luggage had been dispatched by truck the day before.<span style=""> </span>Only Malini’s leather travel bag remained. That would have to wait till she finished changing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">For a moment Gopan wished that he could go in and chat with his wife while she dressed. He used to do that three years back, during the first few months of their marriage. It was different those days.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan walked to the front of the Jeep where the young driver sat wrapped in a blanket. The man gave him a quick glance and looked away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan moved off with a faint shrug. That was how they treated him. Never friendly. It would be same at the new place too, he <o:p></o:p>was sure. His nickname ‘The Bulldozer’ would have reached there already. He did not care about that, did not bother with those who said things behind his back. They were not aware of the truth. But Malini was different. She should have understood.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">He turned around and looked at the steel plant some distance away, silhouetted against the gentle glow in the eastern sky. It was an awe-inspiring sight. The gigantic structure towered over houses of the township around it, glowing with thousands of lights. Half a dozen chimneys emitted gases of different hues that curled up softly in the air, making the picture alive. ‘The Site’, Gopan thought proudly.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">He had come there when ‘The Site’ was a large, almost barren tract of land in central <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>. There was one isolated village on it. Gopan could remember clearly the morning he stepped down at the improvised railway station. There were other engineers like him as well, and several workmen from different parts of the country. Most of them were young.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">They had formed themselves into a dedicated team, toiling to meet deadlines, sometimes working up to sixteen hours a day.<span style=""> </span>Life was tough initially, living in tents and eating from a makeshift canteen. But ‘The Site’ transformed rapidly. Roads were laid, water and power supply systems were established and a hospital, clubhouse and canteen were completed with record speed. In one year’s time the steel plant was taking shape, changing the skyline each day as construction progressed. Township also started to grow. Tents gave way to little houses of uniform pattern.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan Nair married towards the end of his second year there. Malini had been his junior in school. She was a quiet, kind - hearted girl, rather thin with long curly hair and dark eyes.<span style=""> </span>He took her with him to ‘The Site’ two weeks after the wedding. Leave was scarce because work had to proceed according to schedule. All that the big bosses were concerned about was to complete the project within the stipulated time.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">It was in trying to keep to the time frame that Gopan ran into problem. He had sensed trouble even as he stopped his Jeep in a cloud of dust at the village where work on a new sector of township was to commence.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">From his vehicle Gopan saw the elderly villager standing a few feet ahead of the path that lay between two rows of mud huts, holding a long staff firmly planted on the ground. The man wore a turban and a shawl was wrapped around his torso. His thick, white moustache drooped slightly at the ends. The man was in the shade of an old Banyan tree. On a square earthen platform at its base were statutes of gods and goddesses. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">There were men, women and children in the background watching silently.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""></span>“What do you want?” The villager asked harshly as the engineer approached. His eyes were hostile.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“You see,” Gopan spoke mildly, trying to explain. “We –” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The old man interrupted him stating, “You want us to leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“And go where?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan did not answer. The villagers were offered good compensation for their land months back. It should not have been difficult for them to find another location to settle down.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Go where?” the headman repeated bitterly. “Where am I to take those people, leaving behind ashes of our forefathers? We have been staying here for generations. This place is ours.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Your land,” Gopan said calmly, “is required for our project. That is why I am here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Project,” village chief said with sarcasm. “My project is my people. Do you know that one of those women is expecting any time? Her first baby. She will not survive a shift from here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Take her to the site hospital,” Gopan suggested. “They won’t charge you anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Your hospital?” The tone was abrasive. “They will kill her. And the baby as well. We have our own methods and rituals.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Controlling his frustration, Gopan said firmly, “You had plenty of time. Even last week I sent you a message that you should quit at least by today. This land now belongs to us. You have to go. At once.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The chief spat. “We shall not go,” he stated.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">This was contrary to what the Divisional Engineer had told Gopan. Now the only solution seemed to be removing them by force.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Well then,” Gopan said, “you will be evicted physically. I’ll be back with men and machines early tomorrow.” He turned abruptly and headed for the Jeep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“We shall be here,” old man shouted after him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">They were there too, when the engineer returned with a support team next morning. The previous afternoon he had informed his boss about the situation. The Divisional Engineer was appalled.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Listen,” DE had said, “take all the men you need. I’ll talk to the security chief. Work must proceed according to schedule. Don’t create any problem though. Handle it smoothly.” He paused momentarily, and whispered, “Confidential reports are going out next month.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Shall I,” Gopan asked, “put up a note saying that there is resistance?”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“No, no,” DE protested. “It may go right up to the GM. That would take time and our program would be upset. As I told you, confidential reports –”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Are due next month,” Gopan completed the sentence and got up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Actually,” DE went on, “it was the fault of revenue department. They should have given us vacant possession.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Why did you take non-vacant possession? Gopan suppressed the question and walked out.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="margin: 0in 22.2pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">In the morning, as Gopan was about to leave for the village, something else happened that disturbed him further.<span style=""> </span>Strangely, it had come from Malini. As he stepped out of the house, she called him from behind.<span style=""> </span>His grandmother used to say, he remembered, that calling back a person leaving on a mission, was a bad omen.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Malini went forward, touched her husband’s arm and asked, “Can’t you let them stay till the child is born?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I’ll see that she is shifted to the hospital.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“But Gopan,” the wife protested, “these people are superstitious. They have their own taboos and customs and beliefs.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“And half their babies die at birth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s in the hands of God.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan left without another word.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">He was still angry when he reached the village ahead of a van load<o:p></o:p> of security personnel and a bulldozer. The village chief was at the same spot where he had stood the previous day. He seemed glued to earth, a part of it, and so immovable. A young man was beside him. Gopan could see other villagers in huddles further away. Their faces were not clear in the morning mist. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Smell of jasmine hung heavily in the windless atmosphere. Gopan noticed white flowers scattered around the deities under the tree.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Security guards in khaki uniforms had scrambled out of their vehicle with batons and shields. Their sergeant, a big-made Anglo-Indian, started a drill. Commands shot out from him and his men followed them to near perfection. It was impressive.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan ignored the village chief who was watching with narrow eyes, and walked over to the bulldozer. The tough looking Sikh driver grinned.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Move her into position,” he ordered.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Still grinning, the Sikh manoeuvred the machine in line with a row of huts and stopped about twenty-five feet away.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style=""></span><br />The sergeant had finished the exercise. He went to Gopan and reported, “We’re ready.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.3pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“What do you suggest?”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“A swift action. Four men will block entry into first two huts. Twelve will push the crowd back if necessary. Simultaneously, four guards remove chief and his lackey into the van. That leaves four men in reserve. Plus the driver and me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“And we send in the bulldozer,” Gopan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Yes. But demolish only two huts and stop. Give them a chance to gather their belongings and leave.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Suppose they fight back?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Unlikely. Morale is low. They’re not armed. There may be some weapons hidden inside clothes. We can handle that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gopan hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It has to be done now,” sergeant stated with emphasis. “Delay might cause problems.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Wait for my signal,” Gopan instructed the sergeant and approached the chief. He met the old man’s gaze, and said commandingly, “The machine will start now. Vacate immediately.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Village boss looked at him with dignity. He seemed calm and self-assured. “This is our home,” he said. “We are staying.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 22.2pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-49217782801545408452007-04-26T19:21:00.000+05:302007-05-03T23:56:45.741+05:30Morning After the Storm - concluding part.<p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The fellow slumped to the floor as round nine started. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chathan</span></span> finished his bottle to the applause of the onlookers. Two of them had to help him home later. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chathan</span></span> laughed aloud thinking of that scene and how angry <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Neeli</span></span> had been.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">When <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Maran</span></span>’s wife brought dinner, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chathan</span></span> asked her to call her husband. After the eighty-fourth birthday celebration <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Thampran</span></span> had given him a bottle of brandy with a warning that it should be drank only a little at a time and slowly. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Chathan</span></span> had buried it near the front steps. When his grandson came, the old man asked him to dig out the bottle.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ve</span></span> rum,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Maran</span></span> said, “which my son gave.<span style=""> </span>Shall I get some of that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“No, I want <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Thampran</span></span>’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Maran</span></span> brought the bottle. “Don’t drink too much, grandfather,” he cautioned.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Chathan</span></span> laughed loudly. “During my coffin days,” he said, “I used to down a bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">arrack</span></span> a day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">‘You were young then,” the grandson reminded him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">I was young of course, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Chathan</span></span> said to himself. He clearly remembered being summoned to the Big House one night during the tenure of the first Communist government in <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Kerala</span></span></st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">State</st1:placetype></st1:place>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Thampran</span></span> had received news that Party activists planned to take over a hundred-acre paddy field of his the next day claiming that he had no proper title. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The area was enclosed by a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">bund</span></span> that had been raised from the lake decades earlier. A causeway connected it a piece of the mainland, which was also owned by the Big House. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Chathan</span></span> remembered hearing at that time the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Maharaja</span></span> had complimented the then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Thampran</span></span> on his endeavour and exhorted people to emulate him to increase rice production.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The supervisor who was responsible for protecting the field took only four people including <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Chathan</span></span> with him. They reached the place before sunrise and took their positions where the land-bridge joined. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">By mid-day the aggressive, slogan shouting procession by the Leftists over the causeway began. Women had sickles in their hands. Several of the men carried red flags tied to short clubs. When the demonstration passed the halfway mark, the defenders released their surprise weapon – mouse rockets, the type that was hand launched during festival processions as part of fireworks.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The first salvo, which was aimed just above the heads of the marchers burst about the middle of the column. Slogans turned to screams. The second round was directed at the leaders.<span style=""> </span>In a matter of minutes the attack was in shambles. No one was seriously injured.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Megaphones blared from the mainland, “Victory to the revolution. We shall take revenge.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Chathan</span></span> happened to be their first target. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Three men attacked him one night while he was returning from a temple feast. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Chathan</span></span> stabbed one of them to death and escaped, running straight to the supervisor’s house. He was immediately taken to the vicarage where the supervisor’s brother was the cook. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The siblings decided to hide <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Chathan</span></span> in an unused </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">broken</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"> coffin on the mezzanine floor of the large cemetery chapel, which was some distance away from the church. Every night the high caste cook carried food, water and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">arrack</span></span> to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Pulaya</span></span>. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Chathan</span></span> had no idea how long it lasted but one day he was brought out of hiding. He was told that the President in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Delhi</st1:city></st1:place> had dismissed the Communist government and the Big House had taken care of the police.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The thunder was back suddenly. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Chathan</span></span> had a gulp of brandy and started his dinner of boiled rice and fish curry made the way he loved. He late slowly, relishing every mouthful, and drank more.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">His mind began wandering. What would happen to the Big House after <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Thampran</span></span> died? Both his sons were in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>. They were unlikely to return permanently. Anyway, the relevance of the Big House was fading. New moneyed classes and power centres had emerged, but no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Pulaya</span></span> was among them. Would his people ever become rich and powerful? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Pulaya</span></span> Christians were still without any real position in the Church though decades had passed since their conversion. Even the Communist Party was dominated by the high castes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Suddenly the skies opened up. Rain came pouring down, lashed by strong winds. Repeated thunder and lightning rocked the earth. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Chathan</span></span> pulled around him an old blanket that the lady of the Big House had given, and took another swig from the bottle.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">He saw a figure approaching, flashing a torch. It was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Maran</span></span>. Standing at the door wearing a plastic raincoat with the hood pulled over his head. He shouted to be heard over the din, “Water is only about nine inches below the top of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">bund</span></span>.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“That’s bad,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Chathan</span></span> said. “There’s risk till the tide turns.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Yes,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Maran</span></span> agreed. “I’ll check again after some time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Raise alarm if the level goes up by another three inches.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Maran</span></span> was silent for a while. “Who will come, grandfather?” he asked as he was leaving.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The realisation sank in brutally. The boy is right, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Chathan</span></span> thought. Nobody would come. No one was bothered. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">bund</span></span> and the crop were at the mercy of the elements.<span style=""> </span>There was nothing that the old man or his grandson could do about it.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Chathan</span></span> drank more. Does it matter now, he asked himself. Even if the crop were wiped out, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Maran</span></span> would ensure that the old man had enough food to eat. Or he could always go to the Big House as long as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Thampran</span></span> or the Lady was there. He had spent his life for them. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Many events of the past came to his mind – <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Mathappan</span></span>’s tyranny, squaring off with the police officer, defence of reclaimed field, the man who fell dead from the tip of his knife, his days in the coffin. Did all that have any meaning? <span style=""></span>Or, was his too a dog’s life to be lived through?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The storm raged on. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Where was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Thampran</span></span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Chathan</span></span> had a sudden urge to see him. But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Thampran</span></span> would be asleep in the comfort of the Big House. He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">wouldn</span></span>’t come to check the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">bund</span></span>. He was not expected to. That was the job for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Pulaya</span></span>. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Nothing mattered now. It was the end of the world, the deluge. Drink and get knocked out. The floods would come and take him away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">He lay down with the bottle in one hand. After a while he heard the harvest song. It came from a distance but with great clarity. The music was back, carrying the pulse of nature with it. People cared after all. The granaries would fill. Haystacks would rise towards the sky. There would be dancing and games and merrymaking. “Hurry, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Neeli</span></span>, we’re late,” he called out and sat up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">There was no response. A gust of wind rushed through the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Where was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Neeli</span></span>? The curly haired, big-eyed girl that he had loved for so long? Oh, yes, she had died, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Chathan</span></span> remembered. He tried hard to recall her face but could only see the star, bright and shining – the star that gave life, the star that took it back. Yes, it was all in the stars. Written down. Fate.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"> <span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The harvest song still kept playing in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Chathan</span>’s mind above the unabated fury outside.</span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The storm blew over some time in the night and the morning was clear without any trace of clouds. The rice fields looked like an extension of the lake. Two of the palms on the dyke were uprooted and their heads that once swayed proudly against the sky were now under water.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Chathan</span> was found on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">bund</span>, lying near the breach.<span style=""> </span>His lips were touching the wet clay as though kissing the earth goodbye. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">A crow perched close by staring curiously at the body.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""> </span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-66150107659409732672007-04-25T17:51:00.001+05:302008-06-01T14:00:44.839+05:30Morning After the Storm - Part 4.<span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-style: italic;">When <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mathappan</span> died a few months later, neither <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chathan</span> nor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Neeli</span> attended the funeral. That was against convention, an offence in fact, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Thampran</span> took no notice.</span><span style=""><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span> </span></span><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Thunder had stopped, but the clouds remained. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chathan</span> reached the end of the embankment and turned towards his house. It was no longer a hut. There were four small tile roofed brick buildings on that plot.<span style=""> </span>The first one was his. It had a tiny outhouse in which he stayed. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Maran</span> occupied the main portion. Two belonged to his older sons who were both dead.<span style=""> </span>There was another son, the youngest, who had left home in his teens and was never herd of again. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Chathan</span> kept hoping that the boy was still alive and would return some day perhaps as a rich man.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Looking at the last building, the old man thought of his third daughter, a simple and loving person who was the prettiest among all his girls. Many young men were keen on marrying her. Then a middle-aged person from the south, who was said to be an expert in building <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">bunds</span>, came to visit an ailing relative in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kadep</span>. He stayed on. Everybody liked the polite and well-behaved <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Pulaya</span> convert who went to church regularly. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Thampran</span> deputed him to check all the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">bunds</span> in the fields of the Big House and give a report. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Those were the days when the Communist Party’s theatre group was performing to packed houses all over the State. Their dramas and songs were very popular. The themes, the tunes and the lyrics focused on the travails of agricultural workers. They appealed to the masses. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">After a month at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Kadep</span> the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">bund</span> builder took permission from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Thampran</span> and started an amateur troupe to perform a different type of play at the next <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Onam</span>, the harvest festival. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Chathan</span>’s third daughter was chosen as the heroine. The artists met at nights and rehearsed at the house of visitor’s relative.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The play was never staged. Two months into the practice, the hero who had a real life interest in the heroine leaked out information that the drama master was actually conducting study classes for the Communist party. The visitor disappeared as soon as the news was out, leaving behind <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Chathan</span>’s daughter pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">In due course she was delivered of a baby boy. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">One afternoon she dropped the infant while feeding, stripped off her clothes and ran out. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Thampran</span> arranged treatment for her at <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> by a specialist. With medication she seemed to be normal but a new trend developed. She started sleeping with every man who was interested. One day she was found hanging from a mango tree. It was rumoured that she had contacted some horrible disease. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Chathan</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Neeli</span> brought up her son and it was for him that the fourth house was built. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Those buildings were their own homes on land that now belonged to them. A new law stipulated that landowners had to sell homesteads to the tenants at prices stipulated by the government. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Chathan</span> and his two elder sons were entitled to ten cents each, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Thampran</span> had given the entire fifty-one cent plot. People said that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Thampran</span> was en-cashing what would have been a useless twenty-one cents bit of land. They <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">didn</span>’t know that it had been a free grant. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The houses were built with government subsidy and loans. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Thampran</span> also helped. Before the construction was over, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Neeli</span> passed away in her sleep. How many full moons had she seen? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Chathan</span> had no idea. Not that it mattered. She had come when he called, and they had been happy together. And suddenly she was gone. Birds died, dogs died, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Pulayas</span> too died. That was the end. There was nothing beyond. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Chathan</span> felt no emotion as he watched <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Neeli</span>’s body being engulfed by flames. There was only numbness inside.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">It was different later, in the darkness of the night. Lying sleepless on a single mat spread on the floor, he remembered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Neeli</span> saying the previous night that her major regret in life was that she could bear him only three sons out of the twelve children they had.<span style=""> </span>Those words turned out to be her last. He felt sad and lonely. He had never stayed away from his wife for more than a couple of days at a stretch except when he had to live in a coffin for months together.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Electric lights were burning bright in all the buildings. Power was free for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Pulayas</span>. The big TV of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Maran</span>’s son blared out loud music. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Maran</span>’s grandson sat on the front steps with a book. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Chathan</span> wondered how many direct descendants he had. He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">couldn</span>’t recall. But he knew that the land in his name would be partitioned into tiny bits after he died. Now even a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Pulaya</span> had to worry about such matters. One good thing was that the newer generations had fewer children.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Chathan</span> approached his great-great grandson and asked, “What are you reading?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“English,” the boy said without looking up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The old man felt proud. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Pulayas</span> too were learning the sahibs’ language. They enjoyed concessions and job reservations. But what was the use? Apart from a few exceptions like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Maran</span>’s son, most of them dropped out half way through school. They neither knew the work on land, nor were they qualified for any other job, and often ended up as trouble makers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Chathan</span> went to the outhouse and sat on the bed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Maran</span> had bought him. Initially he was frightened of falling off, but soon got used to the comfort. A bottle of toddy and a glass were kept in a corner of the room. In the olden days the opaque juice tapped from coconut trees and naturally fermented, was served in earthen pots and drank from coconut shells.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Maran</span>’s wife came in. She looked younger than her age. “Here’s some hot shrimp and coconut chutney,” she said. “It’s nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Good,” Chathan said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“I’ll bring dinner after some time,” the woman said and withdrew.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Chathan</span> turned to the toddy. He drank slowly, savouring the flavour. It was good, not the adulterated version that was widely sold.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">For decades <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">Chathan</span> used to visit the local toddy shop every evening. His usual quota was two bottles. But once he drank nine at a sitting. That was at an unplanned competition with a visiting <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Pulaya</span> who bragged about his drinking prowess. The fellow slumped to the floor as round nine started. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Chathan</span> finished his bottle to the applause of the onlookers. Two of them had to help him home later. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Chathan</span> laughed aloud thinking of that scene and how angry <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Neeli</span> had been.</span></p><br /><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continued at:</span></p> <div class="post hentry"> <a name="4921778280154540845"></a> <h3 style="font-family: arial; font-weight: normal;" class="post-title entry-title"> <span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/morning-after-storm-concluding-part.html">Morning After the Storm - concluding part.</a></span> </h3></div><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-74174818005218129382007-04-24T17:43:00.002+05:302009-05-26T19:44:54.006+05:30Morning After the Storm - Part 3..<p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">White <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Neeli</span> too grew up with the children <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chathan</span> and his wife subsequently had, and was married off in course of time. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mathappan</span> secretly offered some money for the wedding, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Chathan</span> refused to accept it.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Shortly after White <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Neeli</span>’s birth, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Chathan</span>’s name was almost changed. A senior priest from <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> came to the Big House with the local vicar.<span style=""> </span>The present <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Thampran</span>’s father summoned all his non – Christian low caste tenants and workers to assemble on the courtyard of the Big House. The senior priest preached that they were all headed for eternal damnation and could be saved only if they became followers of the true God, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Yesu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Christhu</span>. No one understood the sermon except the parts relating to what they would gain materially by becoming Christians and that interested many. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">When the padre had finished, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Thampran</span> got up and made a brief statement to the gathering: “There’s no compulsion to convert. Each one can decide for himself.” He went inside without even looking at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">cassocked</span> men.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The priest from <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> was furious but went around pouring water on the heads of those who came forward, chanting Syriac mantras and gave them new names – <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Pathrose</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Paulose</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Mathai</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Yohanan</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Lukose</span> and so on. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Chathan</span> remained <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Chathan</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Neeli</span> was glad of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">After that came the much-publicised Temple Entry Proclamation by the Maharajah of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Travancore</span> permitting lower castes to enter temples and worship. Till then, they could not even walk past a temple though cats and dogs could. It hardly made any difference to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Chathan</span> who knew no gods except the elements. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Neeli</span> was happy however and began visiting the nearby temple often. But she always had to stand far behind the upper classes and wait till they finished their prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Chathan</span>’s reverie was suddenly broken by the question, “Why are you sitting here?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">He looked up. It was his grandson, the watchman of the fields. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Bad storm’s coming,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Chathan</span> said, “and it’s new moon tonight. The tide will be stronger too.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Don’t worry grandfather,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Maran</span> reassured him. “The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">bund</span> is solid. I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">ve</span> been checking regularly.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Chathan</span> gave him a sceptical look.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Come, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">ve</span> brought you some toddy,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Maran</span> said showing the bag in his hand and walking ahead. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The old man followed slowly. His eyes roved over the field and the lake and the sky. He kept on scratching his left forearm. Paddy cultivation was still a labour of love for him. In the bygone days everyone was concerned and involved. Rice was sustenance. Growing it was a noble endeavour.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">They used to have songs for every step of paddy cultivation – for sowing, for harvesting, for threshing, for winnowing and so on. There was a rhythm in the growth o a plant and a tune to the counting of the measures of grain. Those were simpler times when people lived in harmony with nature.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The music faded with the changes that took place after the big war, in more ways and forms than <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Chathan</span> could understand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The first indication came with the visit of a distant cousin who claimed that the King Emperor won the war because the workers of the world supported him. He also said that <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> would be a free country soon. According to him all land should belong to the tillers. He wanted to unionise labour and fight for their rights.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Chathan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">couldn</span>’t fathom why anyone should be against a benevolent person like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Thampran</span>. The guest explained that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Chathan</span>’s lord could be an exception but most land owners and their people were exploiters and oppressors.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Chathan</span> drank heavily that night. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Neeli</span> tried to sooth him when they lay down but he pushed her away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“What’s the matter?” she asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">There was no answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Are you angry with me for some reason?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Not with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">They were silent in the darkness for a long time. Then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Neeli</span> spoke, “There is some truth in what that man said.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Thampran</span>’s good though.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Yes,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Chathan</span> agreed. But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Thampran</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">wasn</span>’t aware of all the details. Most of the supervisors took advantage o their position and made money on the side. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Mathappan</span> was mean. He took sadistic pleasure in tormenting workers in several ways. And Chathan heard again <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Neeli</span>’s sobs in the darkness of a night long ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“I’ll kill him,” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Chathan</span> said to himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Within a year there were Communist led uprisings at two places south of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Kadep</span> by agrarian workers wielding crude weapons. The army cracked down on them with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">machine guns</span>. No one knew how many died. Most of the victims were low caste workmen who were later hailed as martyrs of India's freedom struggle. The bodies were bulldozed into several ponds in those areas and sand was dumped over them. People fled form the trouble spots. Leaders went underground. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Chathan</span> was an active member of the squad organized by the Big House to prevent runaways and Communists from entering <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Kadep</span>. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The same year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Thampran</span> had a major problem. A large coconut grove belonging to him on a nearby island was involved in an ownership dispute. The contender was also a powerful person who claimed to be connected to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Maharaja</span>. He came with the police to forcibly take possession. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Mathappan</span> who led the defenders was arrested. On hearing that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">Thampran</span> went to the spot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">He asked <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Chathan</span> to stand right in front of the police officer in charge and told him, “You knock down the person I tell you to.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Then he turned to the law keeper and ordered, “Take off the handcuffs.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The policeman looked at the commanding face of the six feet tall <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">Thampran</span>, the broad-shouldered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">Chathan</span> ready to strike, and the crowd. He released the supervisor.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">That night too, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">Chathan</span> hit the bottle. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">Neeli</span> sat opposite him quietly for some time. Finally she asked, “Would you have really hit the police boss?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“I would’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">ve</span> killed him if <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Thampran</span> ordered.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">As the drinking continued, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">Neeli</span> asked, “What’s the problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">Chathan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">didn</span>’t answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">"Is it about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">Mathappan</span> supervisor?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Yes,” the man grunted. “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">Thampran</span> could have used someone else instead of me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">Neeli</span> put her arm on her husband’s shoulder. “You don’t understand,” she said. “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">Thampran</span> purposely humiliated that leech <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">Mathappan</span>. You were made his saviour.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size:100%;">When </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68" style="font-size:100%;">Mathappan</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> died a few months later, neither </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69" style="font-size:100%;">Chathan</span> <span style="font-size:100%;">nor</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70" style="font-size:100%;">Neeli</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> attended the funeral. That was against convention, an offence in fact, but </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71" style="font-size:100%;">Thampran</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> took no notice.</span><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br />
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Continued at.</span></span></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} h3 {mso-margin-top-alt:auto; margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; mso-outline-level:3; font-size:13.5pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/morning-after-storm-part-4.html"> Morning After the Storm - Part 4.</a></span> <o:p></o:p></span>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-57239674155097457442007-04-23T17:59:00.002+05:302009-05-26T19:40:48.669+05:30Morning After the Storm - Part 2.<p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%; font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“How’s the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bund</span></span>?” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chathan</span></span> asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >“It’s still there,” the young man said and walked away.</span></span>
<br />
<br /><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Fool, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chathan</span></span> said to himself, he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">doesn</span></span>’t realize that it is food that is growing in those fields. Did his grandson know that once the people nearly starved to death when the crops failed? That was during a great war in some far away land. They were saved because the granaries of the Big House were thrown open. Now <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Thampran</span></span> was left with only this stretch of fields after the government had taken away most properties of the large landowners and distributed them among the landless. Many who were left with smaller areas had stopped growing paddy because it was no longer profitable. They either left the fields fallow or reclaimed them for other purposes. <span style=""> </span>But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Thampran</span></span> continued cultivation to keep up the tradition.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Chathan</span></span> started walking along the dyke ignoring the lightning and thunder. Of the ten coconut trees he had planted on it to mark the tenth birthday of the present <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Thampran</span></span>, only six remained. For some reason he had been called to do that job. It was shortly after his marriage. Those days no body had trees on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">bunds</span></span> of rice fields because the shade was considered to be bad for the crops. Later on it became a common practice because the price of coconuts increased steadily.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The young <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Thampran</span></span> had come to watch the planting. He wore a white dhoti with a broad <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">gold thread</span> border. A gold chain with a cross, adorned his neck. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Chathan</span></span> felt that the boy was also the colour of gold. The supervisor escorting the young master had ensured that he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">didn</span></span>’t go near the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Pulaya</span></span>. But after he grew up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Thampran</span></span> used to talk to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Chathan</span></span> about the trees that they had planted together. Those palms symbolised a bond between the two. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The old man carried on along the embankment looking for telltale signs. But his eyes were weak and the light was poor. He could not make out small details like bubbles on the water surface of the field or tiny waves spanning out from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">bund</span></span> or water seeping in. The only thing to do was to go home and tell his grandson to be prepared. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Dykes</span> didn't break every year, but one had to be on perpetual alert.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">He stopped midway, at the sluice near the pump house. It was there that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">bund</span></span> had caved in for the first time in his memory. He had grown into a young man two years earlier. One night he had woken up to see people shouting and running to the dyke in heavy rain. He joined them. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Those who reached first jumped into the breach to form a human barrier against the gushing waters. Others that followed dived into the lake and came up with blocks of clay held against their chests and dumped them into the opening. The mud was reinforced with the fronds, hay and small branches of trees that the women had, pressed in by hand and pounded down by feet. <span style=""> </span>The gap was filled layer upon layer and the crop was saved. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Chathan</span></span> had felt grown up and proud of having been part of the effort.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">That was also the night of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Neeli</span></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Before they left, the supervisors who had come to the spot had distributed some bottles of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">arrack</span></span>.<span style=""> </span>The crowd moved into the large thatched boathouse and the men drank. Women sat separately chewing tobacco and gossiping. A few of them had a sip of liquor occasionally. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Chathan</span></span> knew that it would go on well into the night. He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">didn</span></span>’t fit in and wandered off aimlessly. By then the rain had almost subsided. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Minutes later he found himself in front of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Neeli</span></span>’s hut. They had practically grown up together. She was two years younger to him but had come of age. One call and she was with him as though she had been waiting all the while. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">
<br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Chathan</span></span> pulled out a plaited frond from a pile and they lay down together in the drizzle. Afterwards <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Neeli</span></span> cried silently, curled up against him. But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Chathan</span></span> was looking at the sky, at a lone star that shone through a gap in the cloud cover. Many decades later, whenever he recalled <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Neeli</span></span>’s face he would see that star as well. Sometimes he felt that she was of that celestial body and had returned to it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;">
<br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""></span></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span style=""></span>Soon they were married with permission of the Big House. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Thampran</span></span> allowed them to put up a hut on a plot beside the rice field. The arrangement had no permanency. Like the other tenants they too could be evicted any time without notice or giving any reason. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">The first child that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Neeli</span></span> bore was a girl. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Chathan</span></span> knew that he was not the father. The day after the wedding <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Mathappan</span></span> supervisor, a young man at that time, had called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Chathan</span></span> out from the hut in the evening and sent him to buy two bottles of toddy. They were to be left at the supervisor’s home. When <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Chathan</span></span> returned a couple of hours later, no lamp was lit in the hut and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Neeli</span></span> was sitting on the earthen floor staring into the darkness outside. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Chathan</span></span> realized what had happened. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Neeli</span></span> suppressed a sob when he tried to touch her, and moved away. <span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">There was nothing that a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Pulaya</span></span> could do about such things. It was part of their life. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Chathan</span></span> went outside the hut and lay on the sand. There was no star in the sky that night.</span></p>
<br /><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size:100%;">Everybody called the baby ‘White Neeli’. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The whole of Kadep knew who her father was. White Neeli too grew up with the children Chathan and his wife subsequently had, and was married off in course of time. Mathappan secretly offered some money for the wedding, but Chathan refused to accept it.</span><span style=""><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span>
<br /></span></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >
<br />Continued at
<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></span></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CTeresa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} h3 {mso-margin-top-alt:auto; margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; mso-outline-level:3; font-size:13.5pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-weight: normal;font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/morning-after-storm-part-3.html">Morning After the Storm - Part 3..</a></span> <o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-87883922517236385992007-04-22T18:04:00.003+05:302009-05-26T19:36:30.018+05:30Morning After the Storm - Part 1.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Chathan sensed danger the moment a clap of thunder woke him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Clouds had been gathering from early afternoon but the old man hadn’t noticed. He had dozed off leaning against a coconut palm on the bund that protected the rice fields from waters of the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Vembanad</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>. He held a fishing rod made of bamboo stick in his right hand but the bait had long been nibbled away by unseen fishes. He had not felt any tug.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">It had been bright and sunny when he had come there. That was after eating noon meal at the Big House. The lady of the house had told him that he could have food there every day. She was a kind-hearted person. But he went only some times, when there was real need. Till a few decades back a low caste Pulaya like him could not even enter the compound of the Big House, but times had changed. Now he was allowed to sit on the open veranda outside the kitchen and have a meal. He had a separate plate, which he washed himself and kept apart. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Today had been a particularly happy one for Chathan. As he was nearing the Eastern Gatehouse on his way out, Thampran who was standing on the front veranda had called him. He stopped and bowed. Usually Thampran would be inside the house at that hour, reading or watching TV. It was as though he was waiting for the Pulaya.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Chathan how are you?” Thampran asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“I am well, Thampran,” Chathan replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“Why do you walk in this hot sun? Wait at the gatehouse till it cools down.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Chathan did not respond but he was touched.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“You know,” Thampran went on, “you are older than me. Take care.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">That was true. Thampran had celebrated his eighty-fourth birthday the previous month. They said it meant witnessing one thousand full moons.<span style=""> </span>One of Chathan’s earliest memories was of watching from a distance along with other untouchables Thampran’s mother bringing the baby to the Big House after confinement at her father’s place. She had come in a boat that had a cabin. It was rowed by twenty-two oarsmen. A bigger craft carrying many boxes, baskets and bags had arrived earlier. Some of the baggage contained cakes, sweets, fruits and other delicacies. Most of it was later distributed among the tenants of the Big House. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Chathan waited on the outside steps of the gatehouse for a while because that was Thampran’s wish. He did not like to be there for long because he would have to get up every time a supervisor came by. Now there were only three of them compared to more than a dozen during his younger days. Mathappan supervisor was the only one to whom he had not shown that curtsy. He had no respect for the man. But that was long ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">A woman who passed by smiled at him. He knew that she was a relative but could not place her. She was wearing sari and blouse. Chathan felt amused. He could remember a young low caste woman being tied to a coconut tree outside the gatehouse and caned for covering her breasts in public. Only high caste ladies had the privilege of wearing a jacket or wrapping the torso with a shawl those days.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Mathappan supervisor was the one who had taken the initiative in punishing the woman. After that incident the then Thampran, the present one’s father, had ordered that all women of <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Kadep</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place> who wished to do so could wear upper garments. The high caste Hindus and Christians did not like it but none dared to question Thampran’s decision.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Chathan got up from the steps of the gatehouse and picked up the fishing rod and the coconut shell containing the bait of earthworms that he had left outside when he went in for food<b>. </b>Ants had got inside the shell. He threw out the worms and walked on. The sand was hot under his bare feet. A cool breeze blew from the west, carrying the smell of rain. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">At a respectful distance from the Big House, Chathan stepped into a canal, took the sheathed knife from his hip and held it between his teeth. Then he trapped some small shrimp by removing his loincloth and using it as a net. With sufficient stock of bait he went to the bund, cast the line and promptly dozed off.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Now, with the thunder he was fully awake and alert. He unconsciously scratched his left forearm. That was something he invariably did when tense. His eyes were on the two-week-old rice saplings in the field where the water level was much lower than that of the lake. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">If the mud embankment breached and outside water entered, the plants would be wiped out. Many of them would get uprooted, die and float around. Others, which had rooted would decay underwater. There would be no harvest, no celebration, and not enough to eat till the next season unless one had money or the patronage of the Big House.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Chathan looked at up at the sky.<span style=""> </span>Clouds covered it like a dark blanket. The breeze had ceased. The southwest monsoon had started with a couple of rainy days earlier in the week. But this time a severe storm was definitely in the offing. Chathan could sense from decades of experience that it would strike an hour or two before midnight. Now it was the ebb. High tide would begin around sunset and peak out during the gale. That would raise the water in the lake to a dangerous level bringing tremendous pressure on the dyke. The vulnerable areas of the embankment might snap. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Actually, crabs were the major culprits. However well a dyke was made and maintained, the crustaceans bore through it, creating small channels that would keep on enlarging as water trickled through them. One had to be on constant watch and repair such inlets promptly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">Someone was approaching over the bund. For a moment Chathan thought it was his grandson Maran whom Thampran had put in charge of paddy cultivation. But it was Maran’s eldest son. The old man felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. The boy worked in the port office at <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state>. It was Sunday, the only day in a week that he could be home with his family. Still he had come out to check the fields.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;">“How’s the bund?” Chathan asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />“It’s still there,” the young man said and walked away.</span></span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Read on at </span></span></span></span> <div class="post hentry"> <a name="5723967415509745744"></a> <h3 style="font-family: arial; font-weight: normal;" class="post-title entry-title"> <span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://abrahamtharakansblog.blogspot.com/2007/04/morning-after-storm-part-2.html">Morning After the Storm - Part 2.</a></span> </h3></div><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-54158825331266639552007-04-11T20:06:00.000+05:302007-04-11T20:19:39.400+05:30A Tyreseller.<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="Parayil%20A.%20Tharakan%20Blog%20-%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20http:/parayilat.blogspot.com/index.html"> </a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I reached <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:State> determined to succeed where my predecessors had failed.<span style=""> </span>Before boarding the taxi at the airport I had a good look at its tyres. That was a professional habit.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I dumped my baggage on the back seat and sat in front. “Chandra Mohan,” I Introduced myself to the well-groomed elderly driver, “General Sales Manager, Parat Tyre Company.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Krishnan.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Why don’t you use Parat tyres?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“What’s the difference, sir? They’re all round, black and made of rubber.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I had a good laugh and said, “Technology makes all the difference. You may not understand if I explain.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“My company purchases the tyres,” the driver said. “Kovil Transports.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Well, I came here to talk to them. They don’t buy from us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The driver shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I’m meeting one Mr. K.P. Nair around noon tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s the MD’s son.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“It appears,” I commented, “that Mr. K.K. Nair, your MD, is rather difficult to contact.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Not for his employees.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I had a dossier on Mr. K.K. Nair. He was from an old family, which had lost its wealth. At the age of eighteen he joined a local businessman as driver. He educated himself during spare time and obtained a university degree. His boss offered him a desk job but he wanted to strike out on his own and bought a second-hand taxi cab and later went in for a new vehicle. The fleet grew with amazing speed. Trucks were added. Then he diversified into other fields.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Tell me,” I said, shifting to a matter of personal interest. “Is there any restaurant here that serves genuine Kerala food?”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I doubt,” Krishnan replied. “Most of them provide a blend.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Next day, my meeting with Mr. K.P. Nair turned out to be reasonably successful.<span style=""> </span>We obtained a trial order with a promise that if proved good we would be in the list of regular suppliers. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">When the business part was over Mr. Nair said, “There’s a slight change in our lunch programme. I hope you won’t mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I had no choice.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Our cab drivers,” the host said, “file a report if they observe anything special about a client. Your driver yesterday noted that you like to try authentic Kerala cuisine.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I was impressed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I’m inviting you home,” Mr. Nair continued, “for lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">We reached the place in about twenty minutes.<span style=""> </span>An elderly gentleman dressed in white kurtha<i> </i>and dhoti greeted me and introduced himself, “I’m K.K. Nair.” He was the image of the cab driver that had dropped me at the hotel the previous day. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">After we sat down, Mr. Nair addressed me, “Can I ask a question?”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Of course, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“The quality of commercial technology,” he said, “is in achieving optimum performance by using the cheapest raw materials. Agree?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I was amazed by the near perfect definition. “Certainly, sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Mr. Chandra Mohan,” Mr. Nair continued, “every three months I’m a taxi driver for a day. Just to keep me reminded of my humble beginnings. Yesterday you happened to be my customer. I’m glad.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I couldn’t think of anything to say.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Ends.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">[Note: This story won 3<sup>rd</sup> prize in the Unisun-British Council Flash Fiction Contest, 2004 and was published in an anthology titled Winners 1. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I am publishing it again now in memory of <b style="">Chandy Mathew Pallivathukkal </b>who was the moving spirit behind Unisun Publications. He passed away at <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangalore</st1:City>, <st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place> on April 7. An MBA from IIM, Ahmedabad, he was the Chairman of Duroflex, and the Chief of Unisun Technologies Ltd., a company that has made great contributions in the field of solar energy. Chandy’s collection of short stories ‘Looking in, looking out’ was acclaimed by critics. Abraham Tharakan.]</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial; color: black;"><a href="Parayil%20A.%20Tharakan%20Blog%20-%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20http:/parayilat.blogspot.com/index.html">parayilat.blogspot.com/index.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial; color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-8969582955326229152007-04-06T19:43:00.000+05:302007-04-07T16:28:41.045+05:30Songs of the sea - Part 2.<p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Paru suddenly burst out crying. The doctor knelt beside her on the beach and hugged her. After a while she asked, “Paru, what’s the matter?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-style: italic;">“Amma died,” the girl replied between sobs, “because of me.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The doctor hugged her again, gave her a gentle kiss, and said, “I’m sure that you’re wrong.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, it’s true.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Would you care to talk about it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The girl nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >On the day of the waves, Paru said, she was walking back from the local shop with Amma around noon, carrying Dolly, her plastic baby. She wanted to chase crabs. That was something they did together often. Amma told her that it was too hot for the crabs to be out. But the daughter ran to the shore anyway and was surprised to find several of the little creatures moving around frantically. She called her mother who was waiting by the shade of a coconut palm at the edge of the sands. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Amma came out to the beach. She looked concerned when she saw the frenzied crabs.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >It was then that they heard the roar like a thousand motorboats racing together. Amma looked towards the sea once, lifted Paru and ran. She did not scream or shout for help but sprinted with all the speed she could muster, her blue and white checked dhoti flapping about.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >But not fast enough. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >When they reached the coconut grove the gushing waves overtook. The last thing Paru remembered before becoming unconscious was Amma trying desperately to reach her in the swirling waters and Dolly drifting away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The girl told the doctor between sobs that if she hadn’t stopped for chasing crabs they would have been safely home. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“My dear child,” the doctor said gently, “you’re wrong. Your house too was washed away.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >That was true, Paru thought.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >After months at the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">camp</st1:placetype> <st1:placename st="on">Paru</st1:placename></st1:place> and her father shifted to one of the few identical little houses that were newly built near the beach for the tsunami victims by some good people. Father said that it was theirs. Others who weren’t so lucky complained that Government wasn’t doing anything. There were protest marches and slogan shouting. The girl didn’t care. Now they had a home again.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Jasmine doctor had come to see them off to the new place. As they were leaving she had told the girl, “Paru, you’re a good girl. You are all right now. Look after yourself and your father.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Shortly after they moved to their new abode, grandma joined them. The old lady told the little girl that she shouldn’t worry.<span style=""> </span>Kadalamma wanted Amma at her palace and had called her. She was happy there and would come to see Paru one-day.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >And the girl waited. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >She would look towards the sea often during the day though the glare hurt the eyes, and went to the beach every evening. It was good that she hadn’t started school yet, she thought. Otherwise, when Amma came she might be away in class.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Her one great worry was whether Amma would get sick, being wet in the sea because Kadalamma’s palace was underwater. Grandma said no.<span style=""> </span>Would Amma stay when she came? No, she would have to go back. That was the rule. In the end everybody returned to Kadalamma’s castle, which was the real home. It had different tiers. The sinners and the bad people would be at the lowest, in the muddy filth of the ocean floor. Forever. Slimy snakes and fearsome fishes and craggy crabs would keep on nibbling at them. They would freeze and thaw, freeze and thaw, as the water temperature changed. That was bad enough, but knowing that it was coming, the wait for it, made them even more miserable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >It was frightening. Clutching grandma, Paru resolved silently that she would always be good. She wanted to be on the upper levels of Kadalamma’s palace where Amma surely would be. That was the place for good people. Grandma wouldn’t describe those parts of the castle except saying that they were beautiful beyond words. That didn’t make a picture in the mind. May be that was one thing the old lady didn’t know.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >That evening, after sitting up on the sands for some time, Paru lay down. The breeze had softened and caressed her hair gently. It felt nice and she drifted off to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Then her mother came.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Amma rose from the water suddenly and rushed to the shore where the daughter was. She looked more beautiful than she was when the waves took her. Paru ran forward. Amma lifted her, held her against the bosom and whirled around like a top. Amma’s clothes were dry even though she had just come out of the sea. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >They sat on the sand and talked. There was so much to tell each other. The girl gave details of the camp and the problems they had to face. She described the new house. Even now they had no money because the fish catches were poor. Father was always sad and silent. The mother explained that one had to be patient and bear the difficulties. She said that the situation would improve. Kadalamma was rearing large schools of fishes to be sent out to the sea for her sons to catch. The beach would soon see days of plenty.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Paru wanted to hear the song, which Amma had sung to put her to sleep on the night before the tsunami. It was about men venturing out to the endless sea on catamarans and women waiting anxiously beside wick lamps in windswept huts praying for the safe return of their husbands. Amma’s beautiful voice rose once again over the murmur of the waves. It lingered in the air briefly and faded away.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The mother described Kadalamma’s palace. It was made of innumerable types of seashells and pearls of sizes that ranged from little beads to huge boulders. The garden around the building had corals of different colours and lovely plants that swayed with the currents. Pretty fishes of varying hues swam around like little angels all the time. There was continuous music that often changed in pitch and tune and tempo like wind on the palms, and the waves danced in rhythm. Certain types of sea life emitted light and kept darkness away. Everybody inside the castle was happy and cheerful and loved each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Now the palace made a picture in the mind – clear, like a photo. There couldn’t be a lovelier place, the girl thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Amma, I want to come there,” Paru said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Of course you must.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Now. With you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“No Paru, only when Kadalamma calls.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“When will she call?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“When it’s time,” Amma explained. “After you grow up and have babies of your own.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“You mean real babies? Not like Dolly?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Real babies.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“But Amma, you’ll be very old by then, like grandma.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“At Kadalamma’s place each one would be herself.<span style=""> </span>Always.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The girl thought for a while. “Okay,” she said. “But will you come again?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“If Kadalamma permits. Now I have to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >By the time Paru awoke and scrambled up Amma was gone. After a moment of hesitation she raced to the water, thinking that she could follow her mother’s footprints, reach the palace and be with her. But there were no marks on the wet sand to guide her.<span style=""> </span>May be, Paru thought, Kadalamma had the waves erase Amma’s trail because it wasn’t time yet. She had to stay back. She had to look after herself and her father. And, she had to grow up and have babies of her own. Real babies. Not like Dolly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; font-family: arial;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Paru looked at the last remnant of the sun for a moment and turned around to the long way home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt; text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">■</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-7388955606836917612007-04-04T19:43:00.000+05:302007-04-04T20:09:04.108+05:30Songs of the sea - Part 1.<span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The little girl wearing a faded green dress sat alone on the deserted beach, a few feet away from the waterline, looking westward and waiting. She tried to flatten her hair that tossed about in the strong evening breeze with her hands but the strands wouldn’t stay back.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The sun was setting against a dull, cloudless sky. Waves rolled in with foam on their crests. Some new, colourful fishing boats along with the older ones were out in the distance on their way back home. Birds flew around looking for prey before returning to their nesting places. But the girl was not concerned with the details. She was watching the vast expanse of the <st1:place st="on">Arabian Sea</st1:place>. Somewhere under that water mass was the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">palace</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename st="on">Kadalamma</st1:placename></st1:place>, the Mother Goddess of all oceans and fisher folk. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Occasionally there was talk about the waves striking again. But the girl was not afraid. After they shifted to a small new cottage beside the beach, she went to the seashore every evening all by herself. It had become a routine. Sometimes when she was tired of sitting up, she would lie on the sand. Often she dropped off to sleep and had dreams that were mostly pleasant. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >She loved Kadalamma in spite of what had happened. Her grandmother had told her so many stories about the great ocean goddess who was kind, loving, and caring. It was only when her subjects broke the rules that Kadalamma became angry. And once that happened, the goddess was blind and raving mad. Someone somewhere would have breached the rules. That was why Kadalamma had sent the huge waves.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >One of her grandma’s stories warned that if a fisher woman went astray Kadalamma would take her husband away. The old lady had a song for it. She had songs for most of her yarns. She would sing exposing the few teeth she still had, clapping her hands in rhythm and then give the narration. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The girl didn’t know what ‘astray’ meant and guessed that it was something not good. But she couldn’t understand why the innocent man was taken away? May be it was to save him from the shame of his wife turning bad and the troubles of the world. People were always talking about problems and difficulties. Many of granny’s other tales though, were of men who braved angry seas and fought giant sharks and returned victoriously to become heroes. And they lived on. Strange were the ways of the grown-ups, the girl thought. When she asked her grandmother about it, there was a ready answer – the actions of bad people sometimes caused loss and hurt to good people as well.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Granny was away at the girl’s uncle’s place when the sea attacked. She had not seen Kadalamma’s fury. But the girl had, and remembered every little detail till she become unconscious during the rage of the waves.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >When she opened her eyes again that day, she was lying on a bench in the partially damaged schoolhouse near their hamlet and a tired-looking doctor was examining her.<span style=""> </span>Her father stood nearby with tearful eyes, along with other people. Someone was describing how she was found trapped among the fronds of a fallen coconut palm. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >She looked around and whispered, “Amma”.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Nobody answered. Father told her later that they were searching for Amma and other missing persons. Hope lingered for a few days and slowly turned to numb acceptance. The girl couldn’t even cry.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >They were housed in a crowded temporary shed after the tragedy. The girl didn’t like the place or the people there and kept aloof even from children of her age group. Some called her dumb because she hardly talked. Initially, food was scarce. Fisher folk were used to that during times of poor catches or when the men were careless with money. Then supplies started coming in regularly. The first lot of old clothes distributed to them were the type the sahibs wore, thick and warm. They were taken back and lighter garments were brought. The girl got three dresses. One was slightly torn and another a bit too large, but they were all nice. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Everyone was talking about tsunami all the time. It sounded like a girl’s name. However the girl realized soon that the word referred to the disaster that had ravaged their hamlet and had left a strange impact on the victims. People were grumpy and very irritable. They fought amongst them even over small things and always blamed government. She too was angry.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Then, one day, she got to see government.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >He came in a big, fat car accompanied by others in several vehicles, and Jeep-loads of policemen. Initially the girl was a little afraid but forced herself to look. Government was an elderly person with tousled hair and seemed like other men. His name was Chief Minister. He listened to complaints of the inmates, talked to important-looking people, and gave a speech.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The girl didn’t understand what was said. But after Government left, the grown-ups argued as usual. Some said that they would get new houses and boats soon. Others were doubtful. Many felt that people with Government would cheat the poor fishermen and make money for themselves. Her father kept out of such discussions. He was always sad and quiet. She felt sorry for him. She knew that he had loved Amma very much even though sometimes he used to fight with her. Men were like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >One night the girl saw the waves again in her sleep and woke up crying. She couldn’t stop. Some of the people in the camp cursed loudly because they were angry at being disturbed in their sleep. That hurt more and she wailed louder. Father carried her outside and they spent the rest of the night on the moon-washed sands. By morning the girl had high fever and started vomiting. The doctor said that it was partially a delayed effect of the shock caused by the tsunami and needed expert treatment. He sent them to a large hospital run by nuns in the nearby town.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >They were directed to a doctor who attended to tsunami related cases. The lady faintly resembled Amma. She wore a white coat over a pink sari, and smelt of jasmine. The girl secretly named her ‘Jasmine doctor’.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“What’s your name?” the doctor asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Parvathy,” the girl answered. “Amma used to call me Paru.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Shall I also call you Paru?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes,” the girl said with a shy smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >After examining the girl and asking questions, the doctor said, “You’re fine, Paru. Only a little frightened inside. We’ll remove that fear.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >The doctor went to the refugee camp frequently and took Paru for long walks along the beach. They talked a great deal, told stories, and played games. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >One day the girl asked the doctor abruptly, “Have you ever played chasing crabs?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“No. What sort of game is that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“You find little pinkish crabs on the seashore. Go near them and they start running. You run after them. It’s very exciting.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well,” the doctor said, “I missed the fun. There were no crabs where I grew up. But why did you ask?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >Paru suddenly burst out crying. The doctor knelt beside her on the beach and hugged her. After a while she asked, “Paru, what’s the matter?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Amma died,” the girl replied between sobs, “because of me.”</span></p><p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-right: 0.6pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >To be continued.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p></o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-33812969957774658282007-03-28T19:11:00.000+05:302007-03-28T19:27:47.903+05:30DEAD MEN IN TOWN - Concluding part.<span style="font-family: arial;">(If you haven't read the earlier parts of this story, click on the title.)<br /></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Dead Man looked disappointed. “Apparently, your accountant isn’t very smart,” was his rejoinder. As I started the car he added, “Do keep the Christmas Eve date.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">First thing I did on reaching home was to visit Koottil Bank’s website. Photo of the ‘special safe’ was quite prominent. There was one of Joseph Koottil Sr. as well, wearing or bearing a different body of course. Picture of the former Chief Minister placing one hundred and one rupees in the safe, was also given.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">How much money that iron box contains, I wondered. Five million? Ten? More? As a good citizen, I should report the matter to the authorities. I was aware that my reward would be twenty per cent of the unaccounted money seized. That should be sufficient to get my project off the ground.<span style=""> </span>After pondering for two days, I decided that to succeed one had to take risks, and contacted a senior officer in the Income Tax Department. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The raid came the next Saturday afternoon. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">According to the media, it was the largest search of its kind in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:State> till then. The bank premises and the three Koottil residences were combed simultaneously. The operation lasted well into the night. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Front page headline in next morning’s <i>Cochin Chronicle</i> summed up the exercise, “Koottil Bank Raid – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.” The only unaccounted money the tax sleuths unearthed was the former Chief Minister’s contribution. I couldn’t claim my share of Rs.20.20 even if I wanted to because the officials had ignored the find. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The aftermath of the raid was tumultuous. People from all walks of life, banker’s associations, and trade unions protested against what was generally considered as an unwarranted offensive action against a financial institution with an impeccable record. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Newspapers and TV channels picked up the story. Suddenly Koottil Bank was in the national limelight. A prominent analyst wrote an Op-Ed article in <i>Economic Mirror</i> titled “Koottil – A Rock Among Smaller Indian Banks.” Speculative reports about Koottil going public, international banks approaching them with tie-up proposals and so on were published almost daily. The financial community developed a sudden interest in local banks and big players began buying available shares on the quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was on fear mode. On couple of nights I dreamt of my mutilated body floating around in the <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:State> backwaters. Now even the Income Tax people were unhappy with me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Days dragged on and nothing happened. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Koottils might have let me go, I felt, because they hadn’t lost anything. Or had they taken a hit and kept quiet about it? Some one could have cleaned up the ‘special safe’ ahead of the raid. There were other possibilities as well. A tip off from the Income Tax Department couldn’t be ruled out. May be Dead Man had given his sons a ghostly warning. Or, perhaps, he had bluffed me in the first place.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On a sudden impulse I went to <st1:place st="on">Neptune</st1:place> on Christmas Eve, not really expecting Dead Man there. But he was at my table with the same body he had on at our first meeting, and greeted me warmly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“You are,” I said suspiciously after the orders were placed, “having the same body. I thought they came from the top of the pile.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dead Man laughed. “Money,” he said, “can do wonders. Now I have three bodies reserved for me at the cemetery. A small problem is that the clothes on them can’t be changed. They’re pre-fixed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">He went on talking. In two months he had practically become the boss of St. Patrick’s cemetery. That very night a dozen souls including the supervisor were in town enjoying at his expense. He had the freedom to go out whenever he wanted. But he was unhappy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Why?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I visited home in the morning,” he said. “As a spirit, of course. The fight between my daughters – in – law has flared up sooner than I expected. My wife is too simple to handle them. The sons would succumb to their wives and the Bank will be wrecked.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“That’s the problem with several family business establishments,” I said sympathetically. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I’m planning to tell the boys to sell out and go their separate ways. Now we’re getting fantastic offers.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Tell them?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“There’s a method of communication.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Fourth generation bank, and doing very well,” I said. “Aren’t you sentimental?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Sentimentality without discipline is dangerous.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We drank in silence for a few minutes. Then I asked, “Didn’t you bluff me about the ‘special safe’?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I told you once,” the reply came with vehemence, “that I’m an honest dead man. The money was there and I needed it. The day after we met I found an accomplice. We took what was required and I warned my sons to clean up. I knew you would squeal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Look here-”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“OK, I’ll rephrase it – I knew your patriotism would overcome particularly with the twenty per cent reward.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I looked away.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Have you found the money for your project?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Thought so. Tell you what. Apply to our bank for a venture capital loan. Say 1.5 millions. New players have a tendency to underestimate project cost. Employ a consultant the bank recommends.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“But,” I expressed my doubt, “will they help me after what happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Oh,” Dead Man was exasperated. “You’re a technician, not a businessman. Do you know how much market value you’ve added to the Bank? They’ll give you the money all right. Of course, the project has to be good.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The project was excellent.<span style=""> </span>Perhaps, I thought, I should follow his advice.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Are you really a dead man?” I asked suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“An entrepreneur who cannot decide things by himself, is unlikely to succeed,” he stated and ordered another round of drinks.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Ends.<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><b><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span style=""></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-14384526256606713862007-03-25T20:33:00.000+05:302007-03-25T20:51:35.394+05:30DEAD MEN IN TOWN - Part 2.<span style="font-family: arial;">(If you missed the first part, click on the title.)</span><br /> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">He had turned around, studying the crowd. “Oh, no,” he exclaimed suddenly and looked at me. “He’s here.”<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Who?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Our supervisor. The one in blue checked shirt at the bar counter. He’s drinking water because he doesn’t have money.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I saw the chap who had a faint resemblance to Frankenstein. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’re bluffing,” I said. “How can he identify all the bodies stocked at St. Patrick’s?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Look, I’m an honest dead man. There is some kind of a hologram on these bodies with the home cemetery code. He can read that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“But how -”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He interrupted me saying, “These are highly technical matters. I’m not competent to explain. But help me now. Apart from the main entrance is there any other door?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“There’s one from the side street. I don’t think they allow exit that way.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Our bearer was serving at the next table. Dead Man told him to get the bill.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Is the supervisor looking this side?” he asked after some time and drained his glass.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Tell you what. I’ll wait by the side door. The waiter is taking too long. When he comes, direct him there. That’ll also help me to exit that way. See you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He moved away quickly before I could respond.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When the bearer came, I sent him to the side door. He returned after a while to report that the ‘gentleman’ couldn’t be found. You’re a gullible ass, I told myself and ordered anther drink.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Frankenstein’ was still at the bar counter as I was leaving. I had half a mind to tell him that an AWOL from his cemetery was with me till a short while back.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I came out there was a hushed ‘pssst.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was Dead Man.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not again, I whispered to myself and said aloud, “Thought you were gone.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How could I? You were to have drinks on me but end up paying. That’s not the done thing.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Very correct, I said silently.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That stupid bearer took too long and I couldn’t go on waiting there. How much was it?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Never mind.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You have to tell me,” Dead Man said. “Come, let’s go.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Where?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I’ve to pass your car en route to the cemetery.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s it, I thought; five hundred meters and I can be rid of this creature.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“At the bar,” he said as we were walking, “I could have signed. Now how will I pay?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Forget it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Of course not." Koottils always pay up and also collect what is due to them. Tell you what. We meet here on Christmas Eve. Then I can relax. We’ll have cocktails and dinner and I’ll foot the entire expense.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Not again, I thought. “Christmas is still two months away,” I said. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Oh! Then how about the day after tomorrow? I’ll sneak out again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No,” I protested. “Let’s keep it Christmas Eve. Tentative.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You won’t turn up.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I didn’t deny that. We carried on in silence for a minute or so. Then Dead Man stopped abruptly and I followed suit automatically.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We’ll settle the account tonight itself,” he said. “If you need more money I can arrange that also. I mean big money.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How big?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Say, half a million rupees provided you have a good project. It’ll be an interest-bearing loan. Amortization on easy terms.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Strange coincidence, I thought. Or, had he selected me after doing a background check? “What I need,” I said, “is something like a million rupees.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dead Man considered that for a moment and said, “OK. That would mean more interest inflow than I require. May be I’ll give the excess to charity.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was almost sure that it was all a joke. “Why do dead men need money?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Signing in my son’s name would be exposed sooner or later. I must be able to pay directly. You’ll deposit the interest with restaurants I stipulate in the names I tell you. We meet once a month to review.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He pulled me to the outer edge of the footpath and went on to explain. He would allot amounts to the cemetery supervisor and others according to the cooperation they extend; they could sign till the credit runs out.<span style=""> </span>Kind of Dead Man’s Debit Card. Possibly the area supervisor for cemeteries and his boss would be covered as well. Thus Dead Man would buy freedom to roam around at will. “Money talks even in cemeteries,” he concluded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“But,” I expressed my doubt, “how’ll you manage the money in the first place? You’re dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Yes, I’m a dead banker who walks, talks and drinks. Often, apparent reality is the relevant one. You drive me to Koottil Bank HQ and en route sum up your project in five minutes. If I’m convinced that the project is viable, you wait in the car and I deliver the cash. In either case drop me back at St. Patrick’s.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My strange companion went on to explain that he knew all the security passwords and safe combinations of the bank. He could easily get in to the building at any time by the executive lift, which could be operated either by smart card or punched ID. He was the only one who knew the double code of their special safe; his two sons were privy to only one each.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Special Safe’ was where all their unaccounted money was kept. His grandfather had bought it when he started the bank. It was decommissioned after a new strong room was built. My ‘friend’ had it transferred ceremoniously to the reception area as a memento and placed a photograph of the founder on top of it. The much-publicized function was presided over by the then Chief Minister of Kerala who kept one hundred and one rupees inside it saying that a bank safe should never be empty.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Why didn’t you keep your father’s picture also?” I asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That would have diffused the focus. My photo won’t be there either.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The reception was apparently a low security area and nobody paid any attention to the safe. That was precisely the effect, which had been planned for. All the black money was shifted into it. This included funds of politicians, business tycoons and other important personages. There was lending of unaccounted funds too. Ten percent of the profits from that operation went to charities.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“But won’t the missing money be noticed?” I asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Because of secrecy concerns, the infrequent physical verifications are quick and not very accurate. The last one was a month before I died suddenly. Damned cardiac arrest. My sons won’t know how much I had drawn during that period.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was flabbergasted. Shortage of one million rupees may not even be noticed! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“What about documentation?” I asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No-fuss loan,” he answered and started walking again. “I hand over the cash tonight if your project sounds good. No papers. Conditions apply, though. But no small print, no hidden costs.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How can you,” I asked, “evaluate a project on the basis of a five minute verbal presentation?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That’s all it takes for a good lender to decide on an expression of interest. The rest are details.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How can you be sure of repayment?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You would be surprised. We have one of the best recovery rates among all banks in the country. Several factors are involved. Basically, most people want to repay loans. We are careful in lending. Funds utilization is closely monitored. We also give necessary guidance and timely assistance. In fact we walk a client through his project. Main thing is to ensure that debt servicing capability is maintained.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a brief pause he continued, and in the process answered a question that was in my mind, “Like some of the modern banks, we too are a bit goon-tech on the rare defaulters. Now I can even send a few spooks after them. For those who squeal on us the treatment is more severe.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I had to make a quick decision. Funds were offered without hassles to implement my dream project. But I had to deal with a dead financier and in black money.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We reached the car. “Without papers,” I said, “the source can't be shown. Don’t want to be in trouble with Income Tax. Thanks anyway.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dead Man looked disappointed. “Apparently, your accountant isn’t very smart,” was his rejoinder. As I started the car he added, “Do keep the Christmas Eve date.”</p> <span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-73582727887433642432007-03-23T20:31:00.000+05:302007-03-28T19:45:21.908+05:30DEAD MEN IN TOWN. Part 1.<span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin-right: 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">The evening rush was on. I found a parking space about five hundred yards away from my favorite restaurant and started walking along the crowded pavement. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Excuse me, sir,” someone said from behind.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Turning around I saw a middle-aged person who quickly caught up with me. “Have they opened the <st1:place st="on">Neptune</st1:place>?” he asked.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” I answered.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Good,” the man sounded pleased. “Do you happen to know how the place is?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Nice ambiance, tasty food, clean liquor. Prices are a bit steep though.” </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Well,” the stranger responded, “there’s always a premium on quality.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“True,” I agreed.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">The man followed me into the bar and seeing the crowd, said, “There’s no place to sit.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“I’ve a reservation,” I responded without thinking. I went to <st1:place st="on">Neptune</st1:place> occasionally and did some problem solving over dinner and three whiskies. Tonight’s agenda was the one million rupees I still had to raise as part of the promoter’s equity for my ambitious biotechnology project.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">“If no one is joining you may I use your table?” the stranger requested. </p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">I couldn’t say no. After we settled down my new found companion said, “You’re right. The atmosphere’s good. They were planning to open by Independence Day when I died.”</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">“Oh,” I whispered absentmindedly, looking for a bearer. All of them were busy. Finally, one carrying a tray of drinks noticed. He smiled and nodded. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">When I turned to the chap sitting opposite, something clicked inside my brain. “What did you say?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Sorry it slipped out. I said when I died -”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“You mean that you are a ghost?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Not technically. Ghosts are shapeless spirits. Don’t you see that I’m bearing a body? It would be more appropriate to say that I’m a dead man.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">May be he was putting me on. Nevertheless I took out my handkerchief and wiped off sweat that had appeared suddenly on my forehead and neck.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Don’t be frightened,” Dean Man said. “We’re quite harmless compared to many of the living.”</p> <p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal; font-family: arial;">Perhaps. But I was counting my options. There was none, really. If I left he might accompany me. I would rather be at a known place with real people than outside on the street with a dead man, friendly or otherwise.<o:p></o:p></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">The waiter came. That was a relief till he asked me, “Sir, are you all right?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Looks as though,” the being sitting across the table said, laughing, “he saw a ghost.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I gave him a dirty look and told the bearer, “Get me vodka on rocks. Double large.” If the chap was surprised at the change from my usual he didn’t show it and turned to Dead Man who ordered, “Grand Old Parr. Large. Cold water, no ice.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">The ‘fellow’ has taste, I thought.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Sorry, sir,” the waiter apologized. “We’ve no premium Scotch.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Red Label?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Yes sir.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“I’ll be signing. Koottil Bank account. Joseph Koottil Jr.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Very well, sir.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">When we were alone Dead Man explained, “That’s my elder son. Can easily duplicate his signature. In fact I taught him to sign. He hardly visits this place.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">At least his bill won’t be dumped on me, I thought with a sense of relief.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Might have heard of us if you stay in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state>. Fourth generation bank. Low-key operation, but fairly big and high tech. I advanced a bridge loan to the group that owns this place.” </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I knew of the bank. It was in the short-list of possible financiers for my project. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Dead Man obviously noticed my continued silence. “Don’t be so concerned,” he said. “Everyday people come across entities like me without realizing it. If I hadn’t inadvertently blurted out my status, you wouldn’t have known.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">That was true. But the problem was that I knew.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“There are,” Dead Man said, “others like me around. From St. Patrick’s cemetery alone – that’s where I am buried – three of us are out tonight.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Unconsciously I looked around the bar. Everybody seemed to be living human beings like me. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Drinks arrived and I took a gulp. My companion sipped his whiskey and said, “I’m on pins and needles.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I looked at him questioningly.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Sneaked out without permission. The cemetery supervisor may be on the prowl. If caught I’ve had it.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Warmed with vodka I asked, “Why, what would happen?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“We’re allowed only two outings per year – Christmas and Easter. First offence attracts cancellation of the privilege for five years. For repeat, the ban would be <i>sine die.</i>” He laughed suddenly and added, “Imagine a dead man using that phrase!”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I didn’t find it amusing. “Why don’t you,” I asked, “return quickly before getting caught?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">He shook his head and answered, “No way. I want to celebrate my birthday.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Oh, well, happy birthday,” I wished him, feeling rather stupid.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Thank you. By the way, the drinks are on me.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I ignored that and asked, “Shouldn’t you be visiting your family?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Thought of that. But the problem is that if they forgot my birthday I would feel bad. If they celebrate also I would feel bad.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I finished my drink and ordered another. Dead Man followed suit and continued, “There are other problems as well. I can visit the family only as a spirit. That’s faster of course. But to do that now I’ll have to go back to the cemetery and return this body. Then I can’t drink. Spirits can’t have spirits!” He laughed, rather sadly.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“You mean that even when you sneak out they give you a body?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“That’s how it’s programmed. It’s not case sensitive. Anyone who is leaving is offered a clothed carcass. Take it or leave it.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“Not one’s own body?”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">“No, I think that’s reserved for the Resurrection. This is from top of the stack. It goes by size. I think they are sterilized, micro-shrunk and stored. Some process blows them to actual size before issuing.”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">After a couple of minutes Dead Man said wistfully, “I would have been sixty today!”</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">The body he was sporting didn’t look that old. But then the program matched only the size and not the age.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">He had turned around, studying the crowd. “Oh, no,” he exclaimed suddenly and looked at me. “He’s here.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">To be continued shortly.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Click on title for part 2.<br /></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-40169998492990445302007-03-15T16:30:00.000+05:302007-03-15T16:52:42.555+05:30THE DEAD AND THE LIVING DEAD.<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in; text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style=""> </span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><span style=""></span>I’m on my way to see Kiran again. We have met only once, but no other woman has left such an indelible mark in my mind as she did. In spite of the time that has elapsed, every little detail of that meeting is still fresh in my mind. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Maj. Gen. Krishna Marar, a retired Indian Army officer, and I were on his lawn in Munnar, a small hill station in Kerala’s tea country, sipping whiskey and soda and watching a full moon rise over the mountains. After a while I followed the general’s sidewise glance and saw a tall young lady standing a few paces away, dressed in a dark-blue silk sari.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“My only child, Kiran,” the general removed the pipe he was smoking from his mouth and introduced us. “Mr. Samuel Mathai is a writer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I stood up chivalrously and said, “Hello, Kiran.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran came forward with great poise<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:admin" datetime="2007-03-15T14:40"></ins></span>, giving me a charming smile. After making her cosy on a cane chair she addressed me, “I’ve never met an author before. What do you write?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Well,” I replied, “articles mostly. A few short stories. This time it’s a novel.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s great,” Kiran responded enthusiastically. “Of late Indian authors have been doing very well.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Do you like novels?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Yes. The better ones.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“She reads a great deal,” the general pitched in.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“What’s your novel about?” Kiran asked. And, looking at the moon, added, <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Not one of those moonlight and roses stuff, I hope.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I laughed and answered, “Oh, no. Romance isn’t my genre. It’s about a young army officer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s interesting. A war story?”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Not really. There’s some action of course. But it’s mostly about the young man’s life. His loves and his hopes. The sacrifices. The pitfalls.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran nodded. “War,” she said, “is a<span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:admin" datetime="2007-03-15T14:41"></del></span> terrible business. Think of people dying, getting maimed. The misery endured by their families.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“But it’s a fact of life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“True.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“You don’t seem to like war novels.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Some are great. All Quiet on the Western Front, Across the Black Waters. Naked and the Dead was good too, but a bit raw for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“You’re nursing your drink” My host’s statement was almost a command. I smiled and took a sip.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran was staring at the horizon, lost in thought. Her shoulder length hair that was parted on the side shimmered in the moonlight.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Actually,” I said, “I came to consult your father on certain aspects of the book. I’d sent him a copy of the manuscript in advance.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran nodded and turning to her father asked, “How’s it, daddy?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gen. Marar took a quick puff on the pipe. “Good,” he answered. “In fact, very good, I would say. But some corrections and polishing are required. After all, it’s only an initial draft.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran had a serious expression now. “But a general’s view alone,” she said to me, “wouldn’t give sufficient dimension to a war story. You should know about the junior officers and the <span style="">jawans.</span> They are the army, really.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“All generals were junior officers once,” my host said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Okay, daddy,” Kiran said laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“You’re right,” I concurred with her. “I’ve covered that as well. In fact, a great deal of research has been done.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Good,” Kiran approved. “That’s essential. But what about soldiers’ wives, like me? They form a silent force behind every army.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Did I feel a tinge of disappointment that she was married? I wasn’t sure. “That’s an area,” I admitted, “I haven’t really looked into. Thanks for the advice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“My husband, Maj. Mohan Nair….”She stopped abruptly and looked with concern at her father who had choked on his pipe and went into a fit of coughing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Daddy, you’re smoking too much these days. Are you alright?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The general took out a handkerchief, removed his spectacles and wiped his brows. His face was flushed and his eyes blinked. He smiled with some effort and nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">After a few seconds Kiran asked me, “Where was I?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Your husband,” I reminded her.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile, “Before retiring daddy was his Div. Commander. That’s how we met, at a garden party on a moonlit night like this.” She paused and a faraway look came into her eyes.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">"He’s coming on leave next month," she added.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Mist was beginning to rise from the valley in soft, woolly streamers. It floated around in the gentle breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“We should go in now,” the general said. “It’s getting chilly.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran suddenly woke up from her reverie. “No, daddy, please,” she pleaded. “It’s quite pleasant, really. Let’s sit here a little while longer.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Mr. Mathai is a city dweller. He may not be used to it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I’m fine, sir"<span style="text-decoration: underline;">.</span><span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:admin" datetime="2007-03-15T14:45"></del></span><span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:admin" datetime="2007-03-15T14:45"></ins></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">After a thoughtful moment Gen. Marar said, “Okay,” and poured fresh drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I could,” Kiran addressed me, “provide you some material from the wives’ angle.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s very kind of you,” I responded. “I’ll take down notes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Shall I, daddy?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Later. We haven’t finished our discussion.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran could, I felt sure, furnish useful information that could be worked into the story.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“May I request you,” I asked, “to go through the manuscript and send me notes? If necessary, I’ll come back for a discussion after that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Fine. I’ll be happy to do that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The suggestions and anecdotes she sent are still with me. In fact, I’ve acknowledged her contribution in my book.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Oh, my!” Kiran exclaimed with a start and got up. “The baby’s crying. I have to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I couldn’t hear any child cry and wondered about the invisible mechanism by which a mother could monitor her little one. I stood up to bid goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I hope,” Kran said with a smile, “that your book turns out to be a bestseller.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“You must send me an autographed copy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“I certainly will.” I did, and her well-composed letter of congratulation is carefully preserved at home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Please excuse me,” Kiran continued. “Mine’s a spoilt child. Daddy pets her too much. I suppose all grandfathers are like that<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Abraham%20Tharakan" datetime="2006-10-25T18:12"></ins></span><span class="msoDel"><del cite="mailto:Abraham%20Tharakan" datetime="2006-10-25T18:12"></del></span>. Now I have to play the piano to put her to sleep. Good night, Mr. Mathai, and good luck. See you daddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I said good night and the general waved to her affectionately.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Kiran moved away quickly but gracefully. I watched till she disappeared inside the bungalow.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">There was emptiness about the scene now. My host began the procedure of refilling his pipe. I sat looking at the moon, which was clear above the <st1:place st="on">Western Ghats</st1:place>. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">A few minutes later, strains of piano drifted over to us. Soft, captivating. Trained fingers caressing the keys. The notes lingered in the air.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That’s beautiful,” I said spontaneously. “Kiran?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Gen. Marar looked up and nodded. “She’s very good. Her music teacher used to say that she hadn’t come across any one better talented.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Not surprising,” I said. “The way Kiran plays is fascinating. It’s a pity - ”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“That such a gift is being wasted,” the general completed the sentence for me. “Yes, it’s sad. She even composes. But army life isn’t the best platform for a musical career.” He put the pipe to his mouth to light.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">What Kiran had said about the army wives made more sense now. “Yes, I understand,” I commented.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“But she practices every morning. My wife – she died two years back – and I used to look forward to those sessions. I still do. They are so soothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“Where’s Kiran’s husband posted?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“He’s been dead five years.” My host stated bluntly.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">"Oh," I exclaimed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The general recharged his glass, pushed the bottle towards me, and continued, “Got it on an unnamed hill at the border. Officially, a peacetime casualty. It was one of those days of sporadic firing across the line.” After a momentary pause he added, “Half his face was blown off. It was an awful mess.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">A strange kind of heaviness seemed to have permeated the atmosphere and the mood changed tangibly. The music sounded distant, hardly audible. But I could visualise Kiran at the piano – beautiful, talented.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I helped myself to a stiff peg.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">“He was,” the general went on, “the son I didn’t have. Handsome. So full of life. And a good soldier as well. They had made an ideal couple.” He began lighting his pipe.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Mist was getting thicker and made an eerie haze in the moonlight. The mountain range could be hardly seen. The tmperature had dropped and I shivered slightly.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The pipe-lighting ritual took time. Finally that was done. The old soldier let out the smoke and stared at the horizon.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">The music was back. A different tune. We were quiet for a while, listening. Then the general drank more whiskey and said, almost in a whisper, “Cradle Song by Johansson Brahms. The lullaby is meant for my granddaughter. Well, a rag doll, really. The one that was Kiran’s favourite when she was a child. When the news about Mohan came, she lost the baby she was carrying. But her mind hasn’t accepted that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">There was heavy silence for a few moments. Then Gen. Marar said, “She’s almost normal in everything else.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">I looked away from him towards the house. Diffused light could be seen from the front door, like a lantern marking some distant grave.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">That was four years earlier. This morning’s newspaper carried Gen. Marar’s obituary, which concluded with the sentence, ‘Survived by daughter, Mrs. Kiran Nair.’<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB">Ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><br /><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-41449570869046106602007-03-12T15:56:00.000+05:302007-03-12T16:17:37.330+05:30A Crow in the Bonnet<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: right;" align="right"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 37.4pt;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 37.4pt;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 37.4pt;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 37.4pt;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 37.4pt;" align="center"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p><br /> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 3.3pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p><b><o:p></o:p></b>I used to think that crows were creatures of no consequence till the problem started one morning as I was leavening for the office. A crow was sitting on the hood of my Honda City, staring at me. It didn’t move when I tried shooing it away. When I swung my brief case the bird stepped back a little and started making noises as though it was trying to communicate with me. I ignored the creature and drove away. For a moment I noticed it follow my car, flying low.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">At the office my assistant, Shani, was ready with drawings of the prestigious shopping-cum-office complex that was to come up at a prime location in the South Indian port city of <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state>.<span style=""> </span>The meeting with the promoter of the project was at noon. <span style=""> </span>We went over the details once more. The job was good. Actually most of the credit was due to Shani who had developed very well with us. I made a note to mention her to our CEO again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">When we came down to the car park, the crow was on the roof of my vehicle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“That’s him again,” I said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Who?” Shani asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“The crow,” I replied. “Come, let’s take your car.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">My assistant gave me a curious look but said nothing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The builder liked the job we had done. For the umpteenth time since we started working on the project he repeated the story about the new town hall at his native place. It was a beautiful plan but when the structure was completed they found that there was no elevator or staircase to the balcony. Everybody laughed once more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I’m,” the promoter said, “approving the plan. Hope no detail is left out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Except perhaps a birdbath,” I blurted out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The client looked at me a little puzzled. Then he chuckled and a moment later my assistant and the others joined in.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Ram,” Shani said on our way back, “why don’t you buy me lunch? Some quiet place.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">We<span style=""> </span>stopped at a lakeside restaurant, ordered pizzas, vodka for me and Coke for Shani. It was nice being there with her, sitting at a table by a window that overlooked the backwaters. She was slim and tall and was always good company. Of late I had been seriously thinking of proposing to her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">After I had a few sips of the drink my companion said, “Ram, they took the birdbath business as a joke. But I know you didn’t mean it that way.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“No, I didn’t.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Well?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“It just came out.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Shani was nibbling at a piece of cheese pizza. I took a swig of the vodka, feeling a little foolish.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“What was that about the crow?” Shani asked. “When we were leaving for the client’s place?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You saw him,” I replied, “on the roof of my car. He was sitting on the hood when I was leaving home and followed me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">My assistant was silent for some time; she seemed to have forgotten the food. I ordered a second drink.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Ram,” Shani finally broke the silence, “half the crows of the world live in this city. Can you make out one from another?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“No,” I replied. “But this was the same one. I’m certain. And he’ll come again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“What makes you think so?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Because,” I stated vehemently, “he’s trying to tell me something.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You really believe the crow wants to talk to you?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Shani nodded slowly as though she understood. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">When we reached back there was no crow on my car or anywhere near it. In fact there was no crow for the next few days except the ones that flew about in the city. The first thing I did every morning was to look out for my bird.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Work was routine. Shani didn’t bring up the subject of the crow but it surfaced nevertheless. I sketched a logo for Eagle Educational Trust and showed Shani. She took one look and said, “Unacceptable,” and handed it back to me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Instead of the eagle that was intended, the image that I had drawn was of a crow. Suddenly I felt a deep, piercing fear.<span style=""> </span>What was happening to me? I looked at Shani. Her face was blank.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Now the crow was back. Everywhere. Even in my dreams. In the middle of the night I would wake up sweating, wondering what the bird that was sitting on my bed a moment ago was trying to tell me. Why did it fly off in anger leaving me awake and afraid to wait for the morning?<span style=""> </span>Why did the bird follow me wherever I went? Would it physically attack me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Shani soon found out about the pebbles.<span style=""> </span>While walking into my office room with me one morning she said suddenly, “Hey, your right pocket is bulging. Too much money?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I smiled sheepishly, took out the stones and kept them on my table. There were quite a few.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“For the crow?” my assistant asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes,” I replied.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Shani spoke to my secretary on the intercom, “Mr. Ram Kumar and I have something important to discuss. We don’t want to be disturbed. Thank you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Hey, I thought I’m still the boss.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You are,” Shani said. “Unless you let that crow takeover.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“That’s not funny.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Ram,” Shani said sitting down. “Going around with stones to defend against a crow just doesn’t seem normal.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You don’t understand,” I said rather irritated. “If he attacks me other crows also might join him.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Shades of Hitchcock. The Birds!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Shani, it isn’t a joke.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Of course it isn’t.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Crows can be ferocious. You’ve no idea what they can do to me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“But Ram,” Shani protested, “just think. Why should the birds gang up against you? In the first place, why should that crow attack you?”</p> <p class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 3.3pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-indent: 0in; line-height: normal;">“Because it’s trying to communicate and I can’t understand.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""></span>“Crows don’t talk to people.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Now I was angry. “Many things you don’t know about do exist. Some of the other creatures interact with people. Why not a crow?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Shani nodded and changed the subject.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Work went on as usual. Every few days the crow would appear, sitting on the car or perching at a window, staring at me. Its bloodshot eyes were frightening. I still carried the pebbles, but fewer than before so that they wouldn’t be too obvious.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">A week later came a surprise meeting with the big boss. Just Shani and me. The CEO came to the point straight away. “You’ve been,” he told me, “complimenting Shani so much that I have decided to promote her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“She deserves it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Thank you,” Shani murmured.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The boss continued talking to me. “She’s taking your place from next Monday. My plan is to promote you as VP, Commercial Constructions. You know the incumbent is retiring in about four months. Go on leave till then.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“But I …”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“In the last five years,” the boss cut me short; “you haven’t taken more than one week’s leave at a stretch. You must be aware that we have a generous holiday scheme. Have a good time.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The meeting was over. Shani followed me. When we reached my room I said, “You manipulated it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Not the promotion part.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Why the leave?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You need it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Perhaps I won’t have a job when I come back.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“That,” Shani responded, “depends on the crow.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I gave her a nasty look. “May be,” I said, “I’ll spend a few days with my mother.” In spite of my repeated requests to stay with me, she continued living with an old servant lady in our ancestral house near Guruvayoor, the famous temple town. The place was ideal for a short holiday.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Don’t,” Shani immediately killed the idea. “It’ll only upset her. Just phone and tell her you are going away on an advanced management course.<span style=""> </span>Look Ram, you need professional help. I’ve made arrangements at a rest house in the hills. They say it’s the best.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I see,” I said, thinking how easily I was being maneuvered. “So it’s all planned out. May I ask why you are bothering so much?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Because,” Shani replied, “I don’t like having around me colleagues with crows in their bonnet.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""></span>The rest house was beautiful, situated at an elevation of about five thousand feet in a beautifully manicured tea garden that looked like a green carpet spread on the hill slopes. A psychiatrist couple ran the place. Accommodation, food, and the ambiance were excellent. There was an arrangement with the tea company by which the guests could use the planter’s club facilities. The climate was invigorating. I rather liked the place and started enjoying the holiday.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I was given a thorough physical check up to start with. Subsequently the routine was quite simple. There would be about an hour’s session with the senior psychiatrist every morning. I was free after that. The planters were a friendly lot and I spent a great deal of time at the club. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">There were crows around the area, of course, but they didn’t bother me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">When I asked the doctor what kind of problem I had, his reply was, “We don’t give labels to the conditions our guests are in.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Have you,” I asked, “ever come across any case like mine?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“No. But once I had a patient who thought he was a crow.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“What happened to him?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“When I last saw him he was still a crow.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I couldn’t help laughing. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“C’mon,” the doctor said seriously, “it’s not funny. The poor chap had totally lost touch with reality. Your case is different.<span style=""> </span>You’re young and healthy.<span style=""> </span>There may be some reason behind your present problem that we don’t know about yet. Let’s work together and see.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The sessions were not particularly interesting. The doctor dug deep into my past, covering all kinds of subjects. To the best of my knowledge, none of my blood relatives ever had any psychiatric problems. Mine was a normal childhood except that my father who was in the army was reported missing at the border in 1971 and was never heard of again. But it didn’t really affect me. I was only four years old when he left home for the last time. That was shortly after my grandfather died. I had only a faint recollection of all those events.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">We were at it for over a month when the doctor felt that I was better and said that I could take a break. A matter that bothered me was that Shani hadn’t telephoned even once while I was at the rest house. She might have been busy with her new assignment. She didn’t have as good an assistant as I had. But she could have found the time to make a short call. I didn’t phone her because there was some hesitation, perhaps a lack of confidence. After all, she was sitting on my chair and I was in a glorified mental hospital.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">As I was leaving, the doctor said, “Remember, you’ve seen dozens of crows here but there hasn’t been any problem.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes, but my crow is back in the city,” the words came out of my mouth without any conscious thought. I noticed a shadow of disappointment on the psychiatrist’s face.<span style=""> </span>He asked me to meet him again after one month.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""></span>Back at home I was having a nightcap when I heard the crow. That was strange. These birds normally flocked together in their nesting place after sunset. I tried to locate the creature by beaming a torch through the windows but that was futile. The ‘cawing’ went on from time to time. I didn’t go out to chase off the offender. All the doors were locked and there was no means for the bird to enter the house.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">In the morning I thought of telephoning Shani but decided against it. My next destination was home and mother. She was overwhelmed by the surprise visit. As we sat chatting about many things, mother said, “A girl from your office visited me couple of weeks back. One called Shani.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Now it was my turn to be astonished. “Why?” I asked.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Said she had to make an offering at the temple. She knew I stay here and dropped in.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I had mentioned you to her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“You seem to have,” mother commented, “told her quite a lot. She spoke as though she knew us closely. Even asked questions about your father and grandfather.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“We’ve worked together for seven years.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Nice girl. She has to visit the temple a couple of times more. I asked her to come here again.”<span style=""> </span>After a short pause she asked, “Do you like her?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Ever thought of marrying her?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I did,” I admitted. “But not any more.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“But why? She seems to be the type for you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I changed the subject. How does one tell one’s mother that women don’t like men with crows in their bonnets?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">And the crows arrived by the hordes in the afternoon. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">It was mango season and they came for the ripe ones on the trees. They made a big racket, cawing and flying about and fighting among them.<span style=""> </span>And in that ungainly crowd was the one from <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> as well.<span style=""> </span>He flew past the verandah a few times, staring at me angrily. The home visit turned out to be a nightmare. Mother probably didn’t notice. I would have liked to take her back with me for a few days, but was afraid that she might get to know about my problem. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Once back at <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cochin</st1:place></st1:state> I telephoned and thanked Shani for looking up mother.<span style=""> </span>That was all. There was no talk about crows or the rest house or the office.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">It was a miserable, lonely life. There was nothing to do. I hardly moved out of the house during daytime, but the bird came there on a few occasions. In the evenings, after the crows had returned to where ever they spent their nights, I would go to my club for a while. I was playing so badly at Bridge that my regular partners avoided me. It was difficult to concentrate on books or even TV.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Then one day the crow got inside the house. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The maid who came in the mornings to clean up and cook must have left a door open against my strict instructions. I was listening to music when the bird flew directly at me like a dive-bomber. He would have pecked me, perhaps at my eyes, if I hadn’t tilted the chair back and it toppled. The servant rushed in with a broom and chased off the intruder. When I berated her for being careless she said rather casually, “Sir, it’s only a crow and not a cobra.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Now the moment of reckoning arrived. Suddenly there was the awareness that I couldn’t go back to the office again; it would be impossible to do any work. Perhaps some private practice was possible later on. When I told Shani my decision on phone, her matter-of-fact comment was, “I was expecting something like this.” After a brief pause she asked, “When do you plan to put in your papers?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“May be soon,” I replied curtly. “But it won’t help you to get another promotion.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">There was silence at the other end.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Sorry,” I apologized. “That was unfair on my part.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">It was a while before my colleague responded. “I would suggest,” she said, “that you wait till the leave is over. Anyway you have to see the doctor next week.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">So Shani and perhaps the entire office knew about that. But what really surprised me was her insisting on coming along with me to the rest house. When I introduced her, the psychiatrist said with a smile, “We speak on the telephone quite often.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">After the preliminaries the specialist started a brief lecture. “We are,” he said, “affected by things that happen to us, to others, and around us. And our background as well. Words, images, events stick in our subconscious mind. Children are more impressionable. Sometimes there is a carryover from youth. Your case has been quite a baffling one for me. But now, a rather unusual line of thinking has evolved.”<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I was all attention.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“What happens to people when they die?” the doctor asked and without waiting for an answer, continued, “Many Hindus believe that there is a series of rebirths before the soul finally blends with God. The surviving relatives have funeral rites performed to make the transit of the departed smoother. If that is not done the soul wanders aimlessly without salvation. Being a Hindu you must be aware of these.”<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“There is also a conviction that wandering souls possess the bodies of crows. To put it in another way, many people think that at least some of the crows represent souls of the deceased.<span style=""> </span>That is why after the final rites, a ball of rice is left out in the open for the crows to eat. Mind you, only the crows.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I nodded.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Now,” the doctor said, “we come to the crux of the matter. For all these we have to thank your colleague.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Shani?” I asked in surprise. “I thought she is an architect, not a psychiatrist.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Perhaps she’s in the wrong profession,” the specialist said. “ She spent a great deal of meaningful time with your mother.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“That’s what the visits were for?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes,” Shani said rather shyly, and then the story emerged.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Even at the age of four I had keenly watched my father perform the last rites for my grandfather and had asked many questions. When the report came that father was missing, there was talk about the final religious function for him. Nothing was done at that time because it was not certain that he was dead. After seven years when he could have been legally surmise to be dead, the topic came up again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Yes,” I interrupted the narration. “I remember that clearly. In fact I was keen on the ceremony being performed. But mother refused to accept that father was no more. She believed that he was living at some holy place in the <st1:place st="on">Himalayas</st1:place>. He was a pious man.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">The doctor nodded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I was,” I continued, “a young boy then and couldn’t insist.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Have you ever felt,” the psychiatrist asked, “bad about not carrying out your responsibility as a son?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Not really. But sometimes I’ve thought about it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Perhaps the crow is a manifestation of a dormant guilt feeling.”<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Are you suggesting,” I asked rather impatiently, “that the bird is my father asking help for his salvation?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I’m presenting,” the doctor replied patiently, “a possible reason for your condition.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“Let’s,” Shani intervened, “look at it from a different angle. Your father’s final rites haven’t been performed yet. As a son, it’s your duty to do that. It’s the normal custom that our community follows. Your mother also agrees now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">It was a small function by the bank of the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Periyar</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place>, which was molten silver in the early morning sun. Only mother, Shani, a priest and I were present. After the rituals were over we clapped hands for the crows to come and eat the rice ball but there were no birds in view. Mother suddenly looked worried. It was a bad omen if the offering was not picked up. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">Then it came. Just one crow.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“It’s the same one,” I blurted out. Everyone looked at me for a moment and then back at the bird. It finished eating and flew away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“I hope,” I said with a sense of relief, almost in a prayer, “the crow doesn’t bother me again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">“If it does,” Shani responded, “we can easily handle that, together. If you like.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;">I gave her a stunned look. She smiled and nodded. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p></o:p>Ends.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt; text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 3.3pt;"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in; text-align: right;" align="right"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -43.45pt; text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -0.6in;"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-56231053118906189902007-03-06T15:39:00.000+05:302007-03-07T12:22:36.274+05:30A Vodka Story.<span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span>The policeman escorting me stopped at the door of the Magistrate’s chamber and talked to a turbaned peon in hushed tones. He had promised to save me the ignominy of standing in queue along with the accused in other petty cases for the afternoon session of the Court. The shopping bag containing the booty recovered from my car was in his hands.<br /><br />It had been a pleasant drive from Bangalore that morning. Instead of the direct route to my destination, Calicut <em>via</em> Sultan’s Battery, I happened to pick up a hitchhiker and took the road through Bandipur – Madumalai Wild Life Sanctuary. A part of it was in Tamil Nadu State, which I could have bypassed. But the drive along the route was exhilarating.<br /><br />We stopped at the check post on the Tamil Nadu side of the border. A squat Head Constable accompanied by his assistant and a politician-looking young man took their time coming to the car.<br /><br />After checking my driving license and the registration papers of the car, the Head Constable asked, “Are you carrying any alcohol?”<br /><br />I suddenly remembered that Tamil Nadu State had prohibition those days and thanked my stars for not buying liquor at Bangalore where it was cheaper, to carry home. <br /><br />“No,” I answered.<br /><br />“What’s in that?” he questioned, pointing to the bag kept on the car floor.<br /><br />“I don’t know. It is a present. Haven’t opened it yet.” When I was leaving Bangalore, the friend with whom I was staying had placed it there saying, ‘Here’s something for you’.<br /><br />The constable opened the bag and triumphantly took out a bottle and examined it carefully. “Vodka,” he said loudly. “There’s one more.”<br /><br />The Head Constable nodded. “Do you have,” he asked, “a permit to carry liquor in Tamil Nadu?”<br /><br />“No,” I said. “Look here, I was on my way to Calicut.”<br /><br />“Should have been on that road, not on this.”<br /><br />“But I was stopped and told that there’s rouge elephant blocking that road.”<br /><br />The policeman laughed. “Not a dinosaur?” he asked sarcastically. “Who told you this fib?”<br /><br />“The man,” I replied, “to whom I gave a lift.” I looked around for him but he had vanished.<br /><br />“Did he stop you at the turning to Calicut?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />The Head Constable gave me an amused look. He got into the car and sat next to me. “Drive,” he ordered.<br /><br />“Where to?”<br /><br />“The Court,” he replied. “I’ll tell you the way.”<br /><br />There was a big crowd just off the road half a mile from the check post. “What’s happening?” I asked.<br /><br />“Cinema shooting. Some of the top stars are there. Your travel companion must be in the crowd”<br /><br />Bastard, I said under my breath.<br /><br />“Would you like me to pick him up?” the policeman asked. “Of course it won’t help you. He would deny everything. But I can shake him up pretty bad.”<br /><br />“No point.”<br /><br />“Actually,” the cop said after a while, “I would have let you go. After all you’re not a smuggler. But that local politician was there.”<br /><br />“My bad luck,” I said. “How long will the court procedure take?”<br /><br />“Depends on the number of cases ahead of yours. May be you’ll have to spend a night in the lockup.”<br /><br />“I want a lawyer.”<br /><br />“Sure,” he said. “I’ll get you the best as soon as we reach the court. But there’s another way.”<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“I’ll arrange for the Magistrate to see you in his chambers as soon as the Court adjourns for lunch. He’s fed up of these silly cases. You admit the offence and there’ll be a fine. It’ll be over in less than fifteen minutes.”<br /><br />That seemed to be the best option under the circumstance.<br /><br />When we passed a tea stall by the roadside the Head Constable asked me to stop.<br /><br />“The bottles,” he said, “will be confiscated. Why waste good vodka. Can I have it? A return favour.”<br /><br />I was silent, thinking.<br /><br />“If not me,” the policeman continued, “the court peon who seals the bottle will take it. Or someone else. What difference does it make to you?”<br /><br />“What do you plan to do?”<br /><br />“Do you have any water bottles in the car?”<br /><br />“There’s one on the back seat.”<br /><br />“That won’t do. You go to the teashop and get two bottles of water. Tell them that the engine seems to be heating up and you need to carry water.”<br /><br />I did as I was told.<br /><br />I was asked to stop again after a few minutes. Using the third bottle, which was in the car, the policeman executed a transfer trick. When he finished, we had two water bottles filled with vodka, two vodka containers with water, and an empty bottle!<br /><br />“Smart,” I said. The cop smiled. <br /><br />The Magistrate was a chubby man. He looked bored. After studying me he announced, “This may appear rather informal, but the Court is now in session.” Then turning to me he asked, “Do you require a lawyer?”<br /><br />“No, Your Honour.”<br /><br />“Good. They talk too much and waste the Court’s time.”<br /><br />The policeman briefly explained the case including my claim that I landed up in Tamil Nadu inadvertently. He took out the bottles and placed them on the Magistrate’s table. After scrutinizing them the Magistrate said, “We haven’t seen this brand here. Must be expensive. Made in Sweden.”<br /><br />“Only the container, Your Honour,” I said.<br /><br />The judge gave me a hard look. “And the contents?”<br /><br />“Water, Your Honour,” I replied without looking at the policeman.<br /><br />The Magistrate leaned back on his chair and asked me sternly, “Do you know the punishment for perjury?”<br /><br />“No, Your Honour, but what I stated is the absolute truth.”<br /><br />“But,” the judge rejoined, “it is written Absolut Vodka on the labels.”<br /><br />“True, Your Honour,” I said. “But the bottles are filled with water. Your Honour can see that the caps are not sealed.”<br /><br />The judge examined the bottle caps and frowned. He turned to the policeman and asked, “What do you have to say?”<br /><br />“Your Honour, I’m sure that what I confiscated was vodka.”<br /><br />The judge thought for a moment and pronounced, “ Since there is dispute about the contents of the bottles, we shall send them for lab test.”<br /><br />“But Your Honour,” I protested, “the verdict will have to wait till the results come.”<br /><br />The judge looked at me sympathetically and nodded.<br /><br />“Please, Your Honour,” I pleaded, “the test can be done right here. Vodka will burn. Water will not.”<br /><br />The judge turned to the policeman and asked, “What do you have to say?”<br /><br />The Head Constable looked pale. “I apologise to the Honourable Court,” he said. “I didn’t think of that test.”<br /><br />When we started back the cop went into peals of laughter. “You’re a smart one,” he said. “Escaped the fine.”<br /><br />I nodded and drove in silence. When we reached the halfway point between the court and the check post I stopped the car, told the cop that the rear tyre appeared to be flat and requested him to check. When he was out of the car I banged the door shut and drove away.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-21504355449747912952007-02-10T10:53:00.000+05:302007-03-03T00:58:23.669+05:30Short Story: A Bend in the Lake.<p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN-LEFT: 0in; TEXT-INDENT: 0in; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">The first morning back at the lakeside ancestral home in Kerala after sixteen years in the US, I woke up with a premonition that something unusual was about to happen. I looked around for my wife and six-year-old son. They were not in the room.</p><p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN-LEFT: 0in; TEXT-INDENT: 0in; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">I lay back quietly, fully awake and alert, listening to the once familiar morning sounds. What caught my attention immediately was the chugging of a motorboat at a distance. It was getting closer. Veronica, I thought.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Or perhaps it was a new vessel, which had replaced the old lady. I decided to get up and see before she passed the house. </p><p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN-LEFT: 0in; TEXT-INDENT: 0in; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">The boat was part of the scene. As a child, every morning I used to rush out to the jetty in front of the house to watch her pass by and wave to the ‘Captain’ who sat in the small, pentagonal wheelhouse on the roof. He invariably wore a navy-blue shirt. His hair was trimmed short and parted on the side. He had thick moustache. He would smile and wave back. I would stand there feeling very happy, and watch the boat move down the lake, hoping that some day the Captain would stop at our place. He was my childhood hero.</p><p class="MsoNormal">One aspect that used to puzzle me those days was that Veronica always went southwards only. I had never seen her return even though some times I had kept awake late to check whether she passed by in the night. My conclusion was that every morning they were sending out a different boat with the same name. But when I was a little older, the defects in this line reasoning became apparent. The boat was not new and looked the same every day. What happened to all those vessels that went south? Even if they were sending different boats, how could all of them have the same Captain?</p><p class="MsoNormal">One day I asked my father. He was leaning back on his favorite easy chair after lunch. A servant was standing at a respectful distance rolling out a betel leaf with lime and grated areca nut and tobacco for father to chew before the afternoon siesta. He did not laugh or ridicule me. He explained that Veronica plied a circular route. She started from Cochin, a port town to the north, went down the lake to a place called Shertally and returned along the eastern coast of our island. Then I began wondering whether the Captain had friends like me on the other side of the island. My great wish those days was to travel with the Captain all along his route.</p><p class="MsoNormal">That was all long ago. Then I was away in boarding school and college and came home only during the holidays. Those were lazy times of sleeping late but occasionally I used to see the boat and wave to the Captain. We remained friends. Then I went off to the United States and Veronica became part of another world.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I was glad to be awake in time to see her on my first morning back home after the long sojourn in America. A number of questions passed through my mind. Was it the same boat? And the same Captain? Surely, he would be very old now. If he were not there handling the wheel, would Veronica be the same?</p><p class="MsoNormal">Then I heard the bell from the boat. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I knew that it was a signal from the Captain to the engine room. For what – to change speed or to stop? Never before had I heard my friend give that signal. </p><p class="MsoNormal">As I was scrambling out of bed my wife came into the room. “The boat’s coming in,” she said excitedly. She knew all about my infatuation with Veronica.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I stared at her in disbelief. In my memory Veronica had never berthed at our place. She and her Captain were things mystique, entities that one were aware of, but did not directly come into contact with.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I rushed to the window and looked towards the lake. It was true. The boat had reduced speed and was heading for our pier. I could not see the Captain’s abode because a slanting coconut palm partially blocked the view. Tension started mounting inside me. I was virtually like a child at that moment. Was it the same Captain, my friend?</p><p class="MsoNormal">I almost ran to the landing followed by my wife and son. My excitement had spread to them. We watched in awe as the boat was brought alongside with expert seamanship. Veronica looked battered and ancient, something that belonged to another era. I was a little disturbed to notice that she hardly carried any passengers. There were all sorts of cargo - boxes, sacks, and bundles – merchandise from the port to remote destinations along the lake. It was sad to realize that the old lady was no longer a proud passenger boat.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The door of the wheelhouse opened and the man inside emerged into the morning sunlight. He stood on the roof of the boat, weather beaten and shriveled but somehow larger than life. His hair and moustache were all gray. He still wore a navy-blue shirt.</p><p class="MsoNormal">He stayed there watching us and smiling, for what appeared to be an interminable span of time till I started worrying that he might not come down at all. But he lowered himself gently on to the wharf. The Captain, the friend from my childhood, was standing right in front of me, an old man with lively eyes. He smiled and nodded to my wife and looked at my son with great interest. Turning to me he said, “He’s the image of you when you were that age.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">I smiled in agreement.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“When did you arrive?” the Captain asked. “Last morning the house was locked up.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“We reached in the evening.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Thought so,” the Captain went on. “Saw the front door open. When we came in closer, the boy was standing there. Like you used to.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“You know,” he added after a pause, “it could have been thirty five years ago.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">I nodded, wondering how old the Captain would have been three and a half decades back. To a child he was an old man even then.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m glad,” I said, “that you stopped here at last. I used to wish that some day you would.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">The Captain smiled. “I came here once before,” he stated. “When your father died.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">I was nine years old then. Some of the details were clear in my mind.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Mother lying on a cot and crying silently. The crowd. Priests chanting prayers. The muted band playing as the raft carrying my father’s coffin moved away into the sunset for the cemetery across the lake.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That morning,” the Captain was saying, “I saw the crowd. The servants and the tenants were beating their chests and weeping. Your father was a much respected man.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Mother died too,” I said.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes. I heard.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">After a few moments of silence the Captain said, “I’m glad that I could meet you today. Also your wife and son.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">My wife thanked him. But, really, she could not be part of what was happening – the first meeting of two old friends.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Well, aren’t you inviting me in?” the captain asked with an impish grin.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Sorry,” I apologized. “I’m so overwhelmed by your visit. Please do come in.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">The man took my son’s hand and we walked towards the house. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Grass grew in patches over the white sand of the pathway. The flowerpots, which were arranged on either side, were empty. The beautiful roses that once adorned them had withered away. What had been a well-maintained lawn years ago now looked wild with weeds.</p><p class="MsoNormal">The Captain was carefully observing the details. “The dovecote is deserted,” he said.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I looked towards the southern side of the house where the small tile roofed structure was. “Yes,” I agreed.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Isn’t it strange?” the Captain asked. “Birds fly away. People drift off. After decades of habitation a house lies vacant.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“We cannot always stick to one place,” I said rather defensively. Suddenly realizing that I had made that statement to a person who had done the same beat all his life I quickly added, “As times change, people have to look for new opportunities.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“You’re right,” my guest agreed. “I’ve two sons. One is an engineer at Bhilai Steel Plant. The other is in the navy. I can’t expect them to take over my job. There is a saying – as a tree grows old, the seeds scatter.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“No daughters?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That’s one gift God didn’t bestow on me.” </p><p class="MsoNormal">“Your wife?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Alive and well,” the Captain answered with a smile. “A good woman. The only thing she hasn’t reconciled to all these years is my daily quota of coconut toddy. Claims she can’t stand the smell!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">We were inside the house. The Captain showed great interest in the enlarged photograph of my father and the oil paintings of grandfather and great grandfather. </p><p class="MsoNormal">“Your son,” he said, “is the fourth generation in your family that I have seen. I remember your grandfather very well. Those were the days when I started on this route.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Grandfather had died before I was born. In the painting he looked impressive with handsome features and powerful eyes.</p><p class="MsoNormal">My wife brought coffee. The Captain smiled at her, took a sip and said, “Good.” The hostess was pleased.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Tell me about America,” the Captain requested.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I told him about my job in the States, described the places and people. He asked several questions with a deep interest. The queries were not naïve but quite intelligent and logical. He even asked about aerospace, which is my field. He was surprised to learn that America did not have the type of boats used in Kerala. </p><p class="MsoNormal">“May be,” he said suddenly, “I could sail Veronica to that country.” Then he laughed and added, “It’ll take too long. Anyway the wife won’t come along.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">After a brief pause the Captain said abruptly, “Well, it’s time to go.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Please,” I said, “have breakfast with us.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">My friend shook his head. “No, son,” he replied. “Have to go. Actually I came to bid goodbye. It’s a strange coincidence that you returned in time to make that possible.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">That was a little confusing but the Captain went on to clarify, “Today’s my last trip. This route is included in the government’s water transport nationalization scheme. They take over tomorrow.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said with feeling.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Well,” my friend said, “In a way it’s a good thing. I’m too old to keep this service going.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">I wanted to protest. But the Captain was right. He must have done that route for fifty years and more.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Actually,” the Captain continued, “I was planning to retire by the year end. A private operator had agreed to put another boat on this line. My idea was to shore Veronica. I stay by the lakeside. There’s enough space beside the house to keep her on blocks. That way she would have been near me always.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But you can still do that. You don’t have to surrender Veronica.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I have to, son,” the Captain replied sadly. “This is a minor, unimportant route. The government agency may not spare a boat for this line. There are still a few people who depend on Veronica. Then there’s the crew. Some of them are third generation. Without her they would be out of jobs.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">It was leave-taking. We accompanied the Captain to the jetty. As we approached, the crew started the engine and kept it idling.</p><p class="MsoNormal">There was a minute of silence as we stood on the wharf. Then the Captain turned to me and said, “I’ve a regret though. When she’s taken over tomorrow they’ll paint out her name and give her a number. That’s a very sad thing.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">It was shocking. Veronica was a lady with a name. But in a day’s time she would be just a number, an antiquated piece of impersonal mechanical contraption!</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But that’s terrible,”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” the Captain agreed. “It’s bad. But we can’t alter the process of change; we’ve to accept and adjust. The consolation is that to you and me she’ll always be Veronica.”</p><p class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="TEXT-INDENT: 0in; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">He winked at me, nodded to my wife and patted my son affectionately on the cheek. The old man then climbed over to the roof with surprising agility and went inside the cabin. The Captain was at the wheel. The bell sounded, the gears were engaged, and Veronica pulled out slowly. My friend waved as the boat turned to mid-channel and continued her journey.</p><p class="MsoNormal">We stood on the wharf for a long time, watching till the vessel became a speck in the distance.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Daddy,” my son asked, “what’s his name?”</p><p class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="MARGIN-LEFT: 0in; TEXT-INDENT: 0in; LINE-HEIGHT: normal">With a sense of emptiness I realized that I didn’t know. “The Captain,” I whispered.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When I looked again, Veronica had disappeared around a bend in the lake.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Ends.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span><span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-size:0;"></span><span style="font-family:Symbol;"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-INDENT: 37.45pt; TEXT-ALIGN: right" align="right"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-INDENT: 37.45pt"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-INDENT: 37.45pt"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-INDENT: 37.45pt"></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-16516863077428707012007-01-30T23:28:00.000+05:302007-03-03T01:00:47.930+05:30Short Story: JESUS BY THE ROADSIDE.“I’ll kill you.”<br /><br />The hissed statement came from right behind me. I was in an awkward position. The hood of my old Ambassador car was up and I was bending over the engine that had stalled on the deserted mountain road leading down to the plains from my friend’s cardamom plantation.<br /><br />Don’t panic, I told myself.<br /><br />“Do you hear me?” This time it was almost a shout. “I’m about to kill you.”<br /><br />It was a strange place where I wasn’t known. Obviously, there was some mistake. But murdered in error or otherwise, a dead man was a dead man.<br /><br />“Take all you want,” I said. “But don’t do anything drastic.”<br /><br />“Do you think I’m a highway robber?”<br /><br />“Sorry, didn’t mean that.”<br /><br />“You did.”<br /><br />“Okay, I did,” I admitted. “Why else should you hold me up?”<br /><br />“To finish you off.”<br /><br />A chill ran down my spine. The man apparently meant business. “But why?” I asked in desperation. “We don’t even know each other.”<br /><br />“I know you, great sinner. And you know of me.”<br /><br />Nut case? Drugs? Drunk in the afternoon? That was immaterial; I had to find a way out. The voice direction gave me a fairly good indication of where the assailant stood. But from my vulnerable situation it was impossible to whip around quickly enough to overpower him. And I didn’t know what weapon he was carrying.<br /><br />“I don’t,” the voice came again, “like stabbing people in the back.”<br /><br />I wondered why he made that statement. “That’s decent of you,” I responded.<br /><br />“Stretch your arms,” I was told, “sideways, palms open.”<br /><br />I obeyed.<br /><br />“Take one step backward and straighten up.”<br /><br />That was at least a great relief to my back.<br /><br />“Turn around slowly.”<br /><br />Now I was facing a young man who stood about ten feet away. His shoulder-length hair that was parted in the middle, and beard were neatly combed. The eyes were clear and focused and had an unusual intensity. His hands were behind the back.<br /><br />I looked up and down the road.<br /><br />“No chance,” the stranger said. “There won’t be any traffic at this time.”<br /><br />“Okay.”<br /><br />“Do you recognize me now?”<br /><br />“No, but you resemble Jesus Christ.”<br /><br />“I am Jesus.”<br /><br />I had anticipated something of the sort. “Jesus,” I said, “didn’t go around killing sinners. His mission was to save them.”<br /><br />“Was that the script?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Then we’ll change it in your case.”<br /><br />“Why?”<br /><br />“To kill you. Imagine tomorrow’s banner headline, ‘Jesus Slays Great Sinner!’”<br /><br />By now, instead of fear it was exasperation that I was feeling. If he were carrying a gun there wasn’t much that I could do. But if it was a knife, I had a fairly good chance of defending myself.<br /><br />“Why don’t you,” I asked, “shoot and be done with it?”<br /><br />“Can’t. I don’t have a gun.”<br /><br />“Okay, stab then.”<br /><br />“Not possible from this distance. If I get closer, you’ll fight me.”<br /><br />“Well,” I said, “you have a problem then.”<br /><br />“None whatsoever.”<br /><br />I stared at him, trying to understand.<br /><br />“Knife throwing,” he explained. “Can hit a flea at twenty-five feet.”<br /><br />He sounded convincing. “Bastard,” I shouted.<br /><br />The chap went into peals of laughter, throwing his head back first and then doubling up. I quickly moved a little closer to him.<br /><br />“They have called me that before.”<br /><br />“Okay mad man,” I almost screamed, “throw your damned knife.”<br /><br />“Not yet. Sudden death would be a relief to you. Sinners must suffer in this world and in the next.”<br /><br />The fellow started asking questions about my family – whom I loved most, how that person would react to my death, whether my wife would marry again, and so on. Then he described what would happen to my body after the execution. He would roll it down the mountain slope to the forest below. The animals and the birds would have a feast. Perhaps the skeleton would be found on some future date.<br /><br />“It could,” I said, “very well be your bones.”<br /><br />“How’s that?”<br /><br />“Because I’m going to kill you.”<br /><br />The man quickly brought his left hand forward in an underarm throwing motion. I leapt aside and steadied myself, getting a foot nearer to him in the process. But nothing was thrown.<br /><br />He laughed aloud.<br /><br />Rush him now, my mind whispered.<br /><br />In a split-second his right hand came up, holding a mini-dagger by the tip of its perfectly shaped blade. The handle looked colourful.<br /><br />”Hey, that’s a beautiful knife,” I said, thinking quickly.<br /><br />The man looked at the weapon and back again at me, and asked, “You really think so?”<br /><br />“Absolutely. Where did you buy it?”<br /><br />“Fool,” he shouted. “Which shop will have such a treasure?”<br /><br />“Sorry. Where did you get it?”<br /><br />“My grandfather had it specially made by the best blacksmith of those days. He was a great man, my grandfather.”<br /><br />“Great knife for a great man.”<br /><br />“The handle,” the man said moving towards me, “is ibex horn. See these studs. They are 24 carat gold. The stones are real rubies.”<br /><br />Perhaps what he said was true. “This must be,” I commented, “the finest knife in the world.”<br /><br />“Yes, it is.”<br /><br />“Can I have a feel of it?”<br /><br />“Sure,” he said, came forward, and handed over the weapon.<br /><br />That was incredible. I backed to the car door quickly.<br /><br />“Hey,” the man hollered, “Give back my knife,” and moved forward.<br /><br />I took out my Beretta from the glove compartment. The idea was to leave provided the car started and chuck the dagger to its owner.<br /><br />The moment he saw the gun the stranger screamed, “You’re going to kill me.” He turned around and raced away taking a narrow footpath that led down from the road.<br /><br />“Stop,” I shouted after him. “I won’t harm you.”<br /><br />There was no response. He had already disappeared.<br /><br />I was left holding his knife and wondering what to do with it. Abandoning the apparently valuable piece there wouldn’t have been right. One option was to locate the nearest police station and report. But I didn’t know the locality and had a four-hour drive ahead of me. Finally I went home taking the knife along.<br /><br />Next day I contacted my plantation-owner friend. His advice was not to bother. He said he would try and trace ‘Jesus’.<br /><br />Six weeks later a police inspector came home accompanied by a constable. He said they were investigating the roadside incident. I assumed that my friend had contacted the police. The officer said to call my lawyer if I wished, but I felt there was no need for that.<br /><br />The inspector wanted me to describe in details of what had happened that day at the roadside. The constable took notes. After the narration I was asked for the knife and told to see if there was any inscription on it. The word ‘Eso’ was etched on the hilt.<br /><br />Eso. That meant Jesus in the local language!<br /><br />The policeman stepped forward and asked me to place the weapon on the handkerchief spread over his palm. He wrapped it carefully and put it in a plastic bag.<br /><br />I was wondering why all the formality when the inspector asked, “Were you driving under the influence of alcohol that day?”<br /><br />“No. Had a couple of gins for lunch at the estate bungalow. That was an hour or so earlier.”<br /><br />“Are your driving license and the car papers current?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Gun license?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“We’ll be,” the officer continued, “taking the pistol into custody.”<br /><br />“What’s all these about?” I asked, feeling that something was amiss.<br /><br />“I told you we are enquiring into the complaint.”<br /><br />“What complaint? I just want to return the knife to its owner.”<br /><br />“Well,” the inspector answered, “we’ve received a petition against the person who was driving Ambassador car number KLK 1232 that day. We traced the vehicle to you.”<br /><br />He gave the details briefly. The allegedly drunken driver nearly knocked down the complainant, who protested loudly. The accused jumped out of the car with a gun, threatening to shoot. Then he noticed the valuable knife tucked in at the waist of the complainant and grabbed it. When the complainant tried to take it back, the accused pushed him over the edge of the road.<br /><br />“Who,” I asked after the initial shock, “has filed this complaint?”<br /><br />“One Eso.”<br /><br />Eso, grandson of Eso, I thought with wry humour. “Its all rubbish, inspector,” I said.<br /><br />“The man’s still in hospital. His shoulder, two ribs and thighbone are broken. Some woodcutters found him, almost dead.”<br /><br />I thought of saying, ‘Serves him right,’ but restrained myself.<br /><br />“I suppose,” the inspector went on, “you understand that the charges include robbery and attempted murder.”<br /><br />I nodded.<br /><br />“You can,” the officer added, “still call your lawyer because I’m arresting you. I can quote all the relevant sections if you like.”<br /><br />“No need,” I said, reaching for the telephone.<br /><br />Ends.<br /><br />Copyright: Abraham Tharakan.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960932711718409304.post-3706702828281083512007-01-29T12:33:00.000+05:302007-01-29T12:44:02.509+05:30Flash Fiction: The Wait.I’m sure that I fell in love with her only after my death.<br /><br />As the end was nearing I was afraid – the dread of the unknown. She was also in the room along with a few others, standing apart in a corner. Her eyes, which often met mine, gave a silent assurance that she would be there to see me off to the place I was going. That helped.<br /><br />She was crying quietly as I left.<br /><br />There was no wall, no door, and no veil to go through. I was in one world and a moment later in another. It was a surprise that I could still see humans and kept watching what was happening on earth. She was at the funeral as well, dignified, even beautiful, but I knew that her inside was lacerated. I wanted to reach out and sooth her.<br /><br />Was it then that I fell in love?<br /><br />We had been schoolmates in our small town. Later I became a travel journalist and a globetrotter. She stayed back, became a teacher, and went through a marriage that ended in divorce within two years. We met occasionally on my rare visits home. That was always enjoyable.<br /><br />What struck me about my new home was the emptiness that stretched out to infinity. I was alone. From time to time translucent images moved in the distance, some in a hurry, others slowly – spirits like me. But we had no communication between us.<br /><br />Sometimes I wondered how she would like my present abode that would be hers too some day. I watched her on earth regularly. She looked different – sadder, older, so lonely.<br /><br />I had no physical wants. Days and nights did not exist where I was. All that could be seen was the woolly nothingness. But time was aplenty. Not in units. Interminable.My entire earthly life was on show frequently. At each viewing new revelations emerged – the wrongs and rights I did, matters that I could have handled better, my failures, weaknesses, and so on. I was capable of much more good. And questions came up. Why did I hurt people? Why didn’t I help others as much as I could have? Why did I carry grudges?There was no feeling of guilt but only realisation, disappointment that I had not performed as well as I could have, and a sense of sadness.<br /><br />The greatest regret was that I failed to recognise her love for me. We could have been married happily, had a home, children.<br /><br />Then I started visiting her at night. I would sit silently on her bed watching the woman I loved. Some times I communicated without words. I knew she understood because of changes in her expression and the rare smiles. In the morning she perhaps forgot what had happened in her sleep or dismissed it as a pleasant dream.<br /><br />During one of my nocturnal visits she fell sick, suddenly going into a fit of coughing. She was perspiring profusely and clutched her chest, gasping. My inability to help was frustrating. I returned, praying that her death would be painless, and waited.<br /><br />I was unaware how long it took, but finally she died.Shortly, an image flashed past me. Was it her, looking for me? She didn’t know where I was in that vastness of space. Then it sank in – a soul had no visual identity without physique.<br /><br />What next? Rebirth? Resurrection of the body?<br /><br />The wait for my beloved continues.<br /><br />Ends.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13391953993560698130noreply@blogger.com0