Rising Heat, page 12
In spite of her cautiousness, trouble found its way. Last evening, the women who delivered milk had all stood whispering amongst themselves near the lake’s water channel. Appa, who was grazing the buffalo on the banks, couldn’t contain himself and asked them, ‘What’s the buzz about?’ For a few minutes, there was silence, like when the crows that were cawing away stopped suddenly. Breaking that silence, Velakka turned towards Appa, fidgeted with a corner of her sari and said, ‘Nothing much. One of the housewives from the colony wrapped up her things and ran away in the middle of the night without telling anyone.’
‘Then?’
‘Yesterday, she was standing outside her house in her full figure, Thambi. She even asked if I had any milk left over. I said no and left. And before sunrise she vanished!’
‘But why?’
‘Looks like she couldn’t bear the burden of all the debt. If you keep borrowing in all directions for sixty per cent and hundred per cent, you have to pay it back at some point, don’t you? Otherwise your home will find its place in the street.’
Pavakka couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and broke her silence too.
‘Your wife is the one who provides milk for her. Wonder how much she lent her.’
‘Some say it was five thousand. Some say it was two thousand. The village says all kinds of things, no one knows for sure. Do you know how much she had lent her, Thambi?’
‘How awful! Wonder how much she lent, this fool. I know nothing about that . . .’
‘But do you not ask her anything about all this? In that case, this is how things will be if a woman does things on her own!’
Velakka added oil to the fire and spread it even more. When Appa returned home with the buffalo, Amma was coming back from the colony with teary eyes and a reddened nose at the same time.
‘I work so hard that my bones stick out but you give a hot fomentation to some unknown man instead?’
‘How much did you lose, di?
‘Do you know where that man is right now?
‘Do you know which village he is from?
‘Do you know if he has any relatives around here?’
For all of Appa’s questions, tears were the only response. Her crying without explanation infuriated Appa and he beat her up to take out his frustration. If it hadn’t been for Nachakka who happened to be passing by and came running to peel him off her, screaming, ‘What is this, Maama!’ he may have even killed her, who knew. He had destroyed Amma’s fragile body. But who could be blamed? The couple who took the money had run away with it, leaving no name or address behind. No one knew where they had come from either. When they asked the neighbour, he seemed to be clueless.
‘They never spoke much to us, so we also didn’t bother with getting to know them. When they didn’t want to know us, we too decided it was best to mind our business.’
The boy was the one who interviewed the neighbour. Hearing the neighbour’s response made him very angry. What sort of logic was that? If the house next door were to get broken into, that’s when the neighbours would suddenly be hard of hearing. If someone mentioned it in the morning, they’d probably say, ‘I thought I heard something in my dream.’ He cursed them in his mind, cleared his throat, spat out, and took his cycle to return home.
What was lost was lost. They still didn’t know how much the loss was. ‘What is the point in talking about it again and again? Let us move on and take care of what needs to be done going forward,’ everyone said as if talking about someone’s demise, and yet, kept talking about it reminding them about the loss over and over again. The milkmaids were secretly really happy. Those were the minds that couldn’t wait for one among their own to fall. Their faces, though, dripped with innocence.
The boy was sitting on the plinth, writing something. Amma kept lying down. She wasn’t ready to listen to anyone. He even took some food on a plate and tried to feed her. Um hm. No. Just then, Dheenambal came by with her daughter. It must have been about a year since her husband died. She was taking care of three little children on her own.
‘Is Akka not around?’
Appa, who was gathering cow dung, looked up and said, ‘She’s lying in there. Call her.’ She called out for her but Amma didn’t budge even though she had heard her. She must have thought that Dheenambal had come to inquire about the missing money.
‘Dheenambal Akka has come to talk to you about something. She’s calling you. Get up and come,’ the boy stopped writing and said loudly.
Amma straightened her crushed body, stretched it back and came out. She wiped her swollen eyes with her sari and sat at the threshold of the entrance door. She was blinded by the daylight.
‘What is it, Dheenamba?’
‘Only because you recommended, I let this child help with the daily chores in that household. Don’t they know how much a ten-year-old girl can do? Didn’t that lady also bear a daughter? That Satan. Wretched unlucky bitch.’
She didn’t care about the state Amma was in. Her moans could be heard all the way to the road.
‘What is the matter, tell me.’
‘Look at this, how her back is swollen in lumps. Absolute lawlessness. She has hit the child with a branch. May she bear worms instead of children! Such a small child, if she is asked to carry a whole pot of water, can she do it?’
‘. . .’
‘She fed my child spoilt food apparently. Not even a dog will eat that food! My child had to eat that food and then wash all their clothes. Doesn’t that lady have any brains? That butt of a donkey. What is the point in talking about her? I have to curse that man out. The one who orphaned all three like this.’ And she started scolding her husband. In between her sobs, Amma asked her, ‘What do you want me to do now?’
‘Mm . . . I left her there because of you. You should have to listen to my words at least a little bit.’
‘Yes, you left her there because I said so. Who is denying that? That lady asked me if I knew any young child who could help her with her chores. I knew you were struggling to make ends meet. So I told you about that job. Now if she is treating her like this just stop sending her.’
‘But shouldn’t there be some sense of justice? The child from Singaram’s house is also going to work at someone’s house like this. Apparently, that lady takes care of her as her own. Doesn’t she have any compassion? I may not have enough to feed her but I won’t let her be beaten by that devil of a lady.’
‘Stop it, Dheenambal. If I hear of any other good place looking for help, I will let you know. I too thought she would take good care of your daughter. But if she is like this, why send her there?’
Amma spoke while opening her eyes slowly. Her body had not seen food for two or three days and she was struggling a lot. Dheenambal walked away, scolding anyone she could think of along with her child. Poor little girl. Her face was shrunken and lacked any sparkle, like a copra being dehydrated to extract oil. Appa found yet another reason to vent his anger on Amma.
‘Why do you need to be in others’ business? If the colony people suffer, does that become your problem? Look at this face that is finding work for some other! Like we don’t have enough on our plates already.’
And it began again. When would this stop? How many arguments were yet to happen? He shut his book and started walking. It was beginning to get dark. He went by the banks of the lake. And kept walking. What would happen if he kept walking like this? He did not ever want to go back home again. But where would he take a bath, eat, change his clothes? Were all those things important? Could he not roam around like a homeless person without having to worry about mundane chores? No matter how far he walked away, he knew he had to return home. But there was not a hand to assuage him. Not a shoulder to cry on. What should he do? Where should he go? Che . . . A rock looked inviting. He spread his hands on its surface and lay down. The warmth from the rock was soothing. He wanted to lie there and not move at all. The humming of the nocturnal insects began to get louder but he was oblivious to everything around him, including how much time passed.
Chapter 8
It was heart-wrenching to look at Kuppan. He was barely recognizable. He needed a stick to support himself and was barely able to pick up his feet from the ground as he walked. His skin was indistinguishable from his veshti, which looked like it had been soaked in cow dung. The body which was once tough as a rock was now dry and loose. He was breathing audibly through his toothless mouth. He had got himself a pair of spectacles from a free eye-care camp for his cataract. Yet, he couldn’t see anything. He was managing simply with his familiarity of things and by using his fingers to feel. He had a vessel that hung from his shoulder with a rope. In it was a collection of foods from different houses of the colony that bubbled from fermentation. Gopal clapped and stopped the man who was struggling to make his way in the dark.
‘Ey, Kuppa . . . any specials today?’
Kuppan paused, put his hand over his eyes as if he was protecting them from the midday sun and said, ‘Who is this, Saami?’
‘He is quite the conniving fellow, da!’ murmured Murali. ‘Is the “Vasantha Maligai” full today?’
Kuppan said, ‘What was that, Saami?’ towards the direction of the voices like a deaf person. The little tent-like structure that he erected to sew and mend people’s slippers had come to be known as the ‘Vasantha Maligai’ after a movie in which a house with the same name was the breeding ground for nefarious activities. There were always four or five people in that shop. Farm labourers gathered there and chit-chatted in a localized version of the Telugu language.
‘Mamoy, emi sangathi?’
‘Ora ittanadu veli vecchiniki pillithiriya?’
‘Peddhaiyya, aa itta kaadhi rugal icchana?’
Kuppan had the responsibility of passing information to everyone. If the colony folks needed labourers for any work, they would spread the word through him. The women would comb their dried and discoloured hair back and into braids and sit at his shop. Their mouths were always reddened from chewing betel leaves. The way they spoke, shaking their heads in merriment, and laughed, twirling their tongues, would draw people waiting at the bus stop to join them. Kuppan also did the job of pimping out women. Those who were collecting dust with no work after the forests were destroyed had become mere bodies. At least the men found themselves odd jobs like chopping firewood, building fences, sizing logs or weaving. What could the women do? If both husband and wife didn’t work, there was never enough to fill a stomach. There were children too, one after the other, to feed. Of the salary earned, half went into Sevathaan’s pocket via his liquor store. That was why Kuppan’s shop became Vasantha Maligai.
Kuppan didn’t identify the boy who was with his friends. He too kept quiet so he couldn’t be recognized.
‘So, shall we come by after ten at night?’
‘Don’t, Saami, don’t do that.’
‘Don’t try to trick us. We came the other day too. You forgot about that, didn’t you? You thought we were new customers?’
‘You young children don’t do it, Saami.’
Murali’s ash-laden lip was twitching in the dark.
‘Yow . . . you speak as if we are just old enough to drink milk. You do a job like this. And you want to advise us too. Come here now.’
He took him to a hidden spot behind the tamarind tree. At a distance was the sound of a blaring horn. Only the bus named ‘Cho Vilas’ drove by this fast. If the driver put his hand on the horn at Odaiyur where he started the bus, he took his hand off the horn only after reaching Karattur, the last stop. He always drove in such a rush. From out of the blue, he flew past them, flashing his blinding lights for a brief minute. Murali joined them after sending Kuppan away.
‘This old man is a smart guy, da. He tried to pull a fast one on me.’
‘So, yes or no?’ asked Gopal eagerly.
‘Yes, of course!’
‘Should we take him too?’ Kadhir, short for Kathirvel, asked, pointing to the boy. The boy’s hands were shivering. He was nervous. He was sweating even with the cool breeze. The more he wiped his fingers on his lungi, the more they sweated. Should he join them and see what this was all about? They all had done this two or three times already. It was Murali’s Maama who first initiated them. He had coined the phrase ‘writing with a pen’.
‘Where do you want to take him . . . So he soils himself?’
Their laughter in the darkness damaged his ear unmercifully. It echoed in his ears as if they were all mocking him. He got really angry. ‘As if these guys know it all. Like only they have everything.’
‘If we get caught in some awkward situation, he wouldn’t know to run away, da.’
‘Then it will be the story of the one who ran away and didn’t get caught and the other who stopped to piss and got caught.’
Again, they all laughed, mocking him. Murali bent down and laughed so hard his stomach hurt.
Gopal had tears in his eyes from all the laughing. They all got such joy from teasing the boy. Kadhir quoted a tag line from an advertisement, ‘Say that once again?’, and laughed, hearing it all over again. The boy felt as if he was standing naked and being spat on. Loafing rascals! You think I can’t do it? You think I don’t have the guts to do it. I will show you. He stood in front of them and said sharply, ‘Let’s go right now, I’m ready.’
‘He has pride for sure. Let’s see what else he’s got.’
Barely controlling his laughter, one of them said, ‘Are you coming for sure? Think harder once more.’
He was close to crying at this point. He showed his fury on his face and said, ‘Why, you don’t believe me? Let’s go right now, da.’
There was still time before 10 p.m. If they slowly circled the area once, that would take care of it. They got off their cycles and walked. In the boy’s mind was an inexplicable guilt. He said all that he did in bravado. But was it right? What would happen if someone from home came to know? But he also wanted to do it. He was curious to find out what it was all about. It was an itch within him. But was it right? He assuaged himself, thinking, This is hardly a habit like it is for them. It is only this one time. And then never after. And not only that. No more hanging out with these fellows.
The streets were mottled with light. He had long stopped being able to identify any landmark to figure out where they were. Then he saw Muthu’s handcart. Muthu ironed clothes for a living. He had stopped going to people’s homes to take orders a long time ago. He ironed clothes only in the cart. Whenever the boy passed by, Muthu would ask, ‘Why don’t we get to see much of little Saami these days?’ as he pressed his clothes. But his wife still went to every home to collect clothes without fail.
‘Hey, they have announced the dates for the examinations. When are we going to study?’ came Kadhir’s saddened voice.
‘Why are you thinking about that at this hour?’ said Murali, wincing. ‘My blood is heated and I am so turned on right now. Don’t spoil it for me.’
When they entered a particular street, it occurred to the boy that his Periappa’s house was on it. ‘Dei, let’s not go through this one,’ he said. They went through the next street. Periappa had bought a house in the colony itself and moved into it. He now owned two houses there—he lived in one and rented out the other. If his Periappa saw him in that area, he was sure to get reprimanded. ‘What are you doing with the boys from the colony?’ he’d question him.
‘Look at this fellow, still afraid of his Periappa, da.’
‘Don’t you act too smart. I know all about when you get scared too. I will make sure to point it out then.’
The streets were barren. The vadhanaram trees spread their canopies like umbrellas and cast shadows. Watching them move gently in the light from the lamps was fascinating. Why not just stay here with this beautiful moment, he thought to himself. Did he have to go with them? They went past those who were confined in their homes. Gopal walked while talking about something with his eyes open wide. What direction were they headed in? Were they lost?
‘Where are we going?’
‘Right now, we are going to Kadhir’s house. There is no one home. There is some dosai batter there. We’ll buy a couple of eggs. By the time we finish eating, it will be ten. We can go by the lake after,’ Murali explained, batting his eyelids. ‘All this extra effort because of him. We shouldn’t have brought him along.’
He has this pride that he is the oldest of us all. He is brash and thinks he can take care of anything that comes his way. He likes to stir the pot and trap us in his web by deceit. No point blaming him, though. This is my weakness. Why this weakness? Because I want to find out what it is all about. My eagerness, my impatience to find out about it. But at this age, is it right to ignore studies and go after things like this? Why are we after such things? But would I even be able to study if I was at home instead? There are fights, arguments all the time. This seems much better than being there and going crazy with all the screaming. Appa is a drunkard. Annan is an alcoholic. But I’m not going to drink and cause any trouble. No one knows about this . . . but is it okay to do it just because no one knows about it?
Incoherent thoughts dawned upon him. He was spiralling in and out of cognizance, barely aware of what the rest were talking about.
‘Why are you walking so quietly? Are you afraid?’
Murali’s mockery of him whenever he wanted to. That crooked smile that made his lips disappear. His constant belittling of him!
The boy denied it immediately.
‘Not at all . . . I was simply listening to your conversation.’
‘Well, if you are afraid, stop right now. Otherwise, you can’t blame us for this and that.’
‘Hmm.’
There was no one at Kadhir’s house. The rooms were filled with picture frames, deer antlers and fake tigers. Even though he was a teacher, Kadhir’s father had a lot of interest in hunting. Kadhir and Gopal went in to make dosai and omelettes. The boy lay down on the bed with his face buried in a pillow and asked Murali, ‘Have you seen this movie Unarchigal, with Ilavarasan?’ The movie was about a young lad who dies eventually of a sexually transmitted disease.
