Rising Heat, page 14
‘What, Maamoy, dispersing manure dirt, is it?’
Appa dropped the hoe and came over. The half-filled basket sat there with its mouth open wide like a small rock cave. As soon as Appa stopped filling the basket, Amma put it upside down and sat on it right there in the field. A labourer was walking along the edge of the field. When Sevathaan saw him, he hailed him. ‘What’s going on, Payya?’ The labourer left his cycle at the edge of the field and walked towards them.
‘Whenever you tell me to, I will come, Ayya.’
‘It won’t be possible this week. Come on Monday next week. We will get it done. Why lock horns with your father in his old age? We will calculate a settlement somehow and finish it. You come then, okay?’
‘I will. Okay, may I take your leave? I need to go to the colony on some work.’
He left. Sevathaan looked at Appa and said, ‘What, Maama?’ Appa looked him up and down and broke into a thin smile. Lately, they didn’t see much of each other. Sevathaan had a lot of work to do. He had also become an important man. Appa didn’t have any work with him. He looked at him with surprise and said, ‘The great chief has come seeking me. Of what service can I be?’
He dropped his voice, like someone speaking subserviently. Sevathaan grimaced as if embarrassed.
‘What, Maama, you too? A few of these ignorant fellows got together and keep referring to me as chief. But you too?’
‘But if I don’t, won’t you get angry with me?’
‘Let’s leave those donkeys alone. I came here to talk about something very important with you. Have you already ploughed the fields?’ Evidently, he wanted to divert Appa from going further down that direction.
‘Hmm. After the manure is dispersed, the land will be tilled.’
Along the well were boulders just the right size to sit on, as if they were cut out to be that way. They all sat down on them. Sevathaan turned around to the boy sitting with a book and inquired when the exams were to begin before he delved into his main subject.
‘You have four acres, don’t you? Why don’t you give away two acres, I will get you a great price for them.’
He asked without any hesitation and got straight to the point. Thatha came to join them, supporting himself on his walking stick, and sat down on the covered plinth. He stretched his feet as if a broad stone lay between them. Sevathaan, who stopped talking when he saw him, continued, ‘Maama . . . you are an older person. Please don’t oppose what I say.’
Thatha removed the towel that he had wrapped around his head and put it on his shoulders, slowly turning towards him. His face was puffed up. His body was dried up and shrivelled. His legs were swollen. He spoke while struggling to breathe normally.
‘Maaple . . . you were the one who got us this field. We don’t deny that. But that doesn’t mean we have to give it up because you say so. Somehow, we gave away our fields that were like gold to the colony. Even though God took away my sight, he has given me this staff to be able to at least totter around. Please don’t snatch that away from me . . . Maaple.’
His voice faltered. The tears were on the brink of bursting out. Very calmly, he composed himself. Annan stood next to him and spoke in a frenzy.
‘What do you know that you’ve come here now? You miserable old man! Why can’t you just lie on your cot and wait to be taken away? Why are you here sucking my life out?’
‘What did I say now?’
‘To hell with what you said. Just get lost.’
Thatha didn’t say anything. Sevathaan scowled. Amma hugged the portia tree and glared at Thatha. Appa’s head was hanging down. The boy, on the other hand, was so enraged he wanted to knock his older brother out cold. That immature lad who picks leftovers in the cinema theatre! That drunkard! How dare he speak like that to Thatha!
‘Okay then. I won’t say anything. You continue.’
He got up with the help of his stick and walked away, leaning on it. He looked like he could fall any minute. It would take only a small pebble. He walked putting so much pressure on the stick, as if he could bury all his burden in its strength. Until he crossed the well and went across the ground, no one said anything.
‘You give small lads some rope and see how they behave. Don’t they know how to talk to older people? Why does a foot-long dog need a foot-and-a-half-long tail?’
Sevathaan spoke as if he was chiding Annan. Amma reacted before Annan did.
‘That is how people who are as good as dead should be spoken to. Otherwise they won’t let you prosper, neither will they let you die. You continue, Payya.’
The sun was scorching. The goats in the pen were bleating. It was time to let them out to graze. If they were left to graze before the sun was fully up, they would fill their stomachs at least a little bit. Appa kept looking at the goats as he spoke.
‘What is the urgency to sell the lands now, Payya?’
‘We too have to understand the conditions of the village and be accommodative, Maama. Kids born yesterday are talking about rickshaws and lorries and finance companies. They drive around and see some money in that. This Payyan too is about twenty-five years old. Only if he has a shop or something to his name will the families with a potential bride feel he is worthy. And three or four of them will come forward to give him their daughters. We managed to give away the daughter in marriage in a good way. You took care of a necessity but there’s another one too, isn’t it? Can you forget him just because he is male? What do you think about what I am saying, Maama?’
He paused a little while, as if to check the impact of his words. Appa was crouched and meddling with a stick in his hand. The boy had put his book far away and was biting his nails, waiting anxiously to see what Appa was going to say. Amma and Annan stared at Appa without batting their eyelids. It seemed that Sevathaan had come over to have this conversation kindled by the two of them.
Sevathaan went on. ‘This Payyan knows a thing or two about running a soda shop. He says let’s set up a cool-drink shop in this hot season. I too think this is a good idea. What do you make from farming? In the end there won’t be enough to farm, Selvandharan said, and you know that too, don’t you? These days, the land value is pretty good. Right now, they will offer to pay forty thousand even for your land. I will get you fifty. If you give two acres, that will make it a lakh. What do you say, Maama?’
Appa nodded his head up and down. He was afraid to look up in case the tears crashed out, breaking the dams. He swallowed, wetting his throat with his saliva.
‘Is selling the land the only way to set up a shop?’
‘Then what? It’s not like you have earned so much and stacked away bags of money somewhere. If instead of buying this land, you had entered into a partnership with my brother in the weaving business, we would have been doing okay today. Somehow, they saved a little here and there and have made it good for themselves. But didn’t this man say there was no way he would partner with them?’
Amma’s words kept falling like crumbling termite colonies. Appa lifted his head and gave her a look. His eyes were swollen and red as agave fruit.
‘Go away. Go, let the goats out.’
Amma stood there mumbling as if she didn’t hear what he said. She bundled up the loose end of her sari into a ball and covered her mouth with it. She looked like she was in a house mourning a death. Sevathaan continued. ‘Maama, we have to adapt ourselves to the changing times. Don’t keep saying “farming and fields” like your father did. You know you are getting one lakh. Give twenty to your son. Let him set up a shop. Put twenty in your younger son’s name. If he continues to study, he can use it for that. Or else, he can do what he wants with it. It will be his choice. We don’t want to wish harm on anyone. Then use ten to pay back any debt you may have. Give the daughter one or two. She is pregnant right now. And he doesn’t come with anything. If it was some other man, he would never have lived with her after what she had done. Put the rest of the fifty in financing and join that venture. Aren’t finance companies doing so well these days? Every month you will get one or two even after paying interest. You will still have two acres of land, right? What are you going to unearth from farming, Maama?’
Appa pushed back. ‘If the fields aren’t worked on, they aren’t going to go anywhere. Somehow we can see some money coming from it. Payya doesn’t need to go to the shop to work. None of that. All he needs to do is take care of a few goats and deliver clean water to a few houses in the colony. They don’t have good water sources and are desperate. If he goes the distance on his cycle, he will be done in an hour. He will make a hundred, hundred and fifty a month. If we set up a shop and it goes under, then we would have to sit and look at each other’s faces with all the money gone.’
In spite of Sevathaan doing his sales pitch, Appa did not budge. He had no desire to part with the soil. Sevathaan sat cawing away, but Appa took his time to think and respond patiently. His thoughts began to try Annan’s patience.
‘Of course, and I will go to wash the feet of the colony folks. You keep coming up with ideas like this all your life. Just split up the property that is supposed to come to me. I will do what I want with it.’
Annan’s words agitated Appa. He ground his teeth audibly. Tears gathered in his eyes. It was really sad to look at him. The boy wanted to run to him, give him a hug and console him.
‘You were born to my dick and you think you can advise me? Get lost. If you are so smart, go to court and claim what you can. You won’t get a single paisa while I am alive.’
‘I am talking politely because you are my father but you put on a show! You think I will leave you alone? Just wait, I will break your leg, put you on a cot and feed you porridge.’
‘Dei, dei,’ cried Sevathaan as he grabbed Annan, but he still flung a rock at his father. A sharp stone, it struck Appa’s leg. ‘Aiyo . . .!’ His leg was covered in a stream of blood. ‘Dei!’ Appa screamed as he got up, grabbed Annan by a flock of his hair and punched him on his back. Annan bent down and bit him hard, in an act of frenzy. The boy ran to them and dragged Annan away from Appa. Amma too came running and dragged Annan by the hand. Sevathaan held Appa. By the time they managed to separate the two of them, everyone was out of breath. The field was full of footprints, as if two street dogs had fought one another. Furious, they glared at each other and heaved.
‘They are both waiting, determined to take me to the grave. Where can I go and cry my sorrows away?’ cried Amma.
A month after that, they all went to sign the land deed.
The temple chariot stopped at the corner of the Kooli temple. A crowd held the large rope to pull it; the people surrounding the chariot moved with it. It was only when the gigantic chariot was pulled that the crowd was so big. The faded fabrics used for decoration filled up with air like an umbrella and shrank back again. The chariot moved slowly, like an old man struggling to walk. The wheels of the chariot were akin to the back of a labourer who lifted sacks for a living. The priest who was seated on the dark legs of the chariot was drenched in sweat. The ones that sat alongside the sculpture of the deity lit camphor one after the other, allowing for a slight breeze between them. ‘Aragaro!’ cheered the people as they pulled the chariot forward with their might; the people who propelled the wheel with thin planks ran along with them. The hands of the devotees existed only to be lifted above the heads in prayer and to pat their cheeks in repentance, or so it seemed. Children who were crushed in the crowds hid behind saris, scared stiff and too frightened to even cry.
Young men focused on weaving in with the young ladies in the crowd were reminded constantly by the big-bellied policemen, who were intolerant of their youth and eagerness, that they held the power with lathis in their hands. The fragrance of jasmine flowers was everywhere. Even really old women had some stringed flowers tucked in their hair. In the dry, discoloured hair of the village women, these flowers stood out sharply. Children who managed to gather balloons had no space to jump about and play with them, and wilted. It was more engaging to watch them than the slow-moving chariot.
This was the same chariot that otherwise stood parked, empty-topped. Once a year alone it gained a new brilliance; although, even otherwise, if you went by the chariot every day and observed it regularly, it would seem to have some life in it. When the festival season arrived, the pride was transcendent. People found joy in seeing it together. When a crowd gathers around something, even an ordinary feat becomes astonishing. The brass figurine of the deity used in the festival, the utsavamurthi, which usually sat in a corner of the temple with no one paying any attention to it, gained a new sparkle during the festival. The sparkle could be from the conceit that the utsavamurthi must feel knowing that minister Kandhasamy himself bowed to it in reverence and inaugurated the pulling of the chariot by touching the thick rope. While the power-wielding elite glittered in white, the commoners gathered all their strength and drew the chariot; it was their hands that had scabs.
People gathered like flies at the water and rest shelter that was located at the tip of Keezhur Road. Apparently, some youth association had had the good heart to set one up for the benefit of the crowd. In the olden days, water and rest shelters were located in each village. People who walked several miles to watch the chariot would stop along the way and drink water at the shelters. The bullock carts filled the streets with noise. Nowadays, those vehicles had reduced in number. People came hanging on the footboards of buses, spent a little time watching the crowds, and returned home hanging on footboards. Several of the water and rest shelters were removed since no one used them.
They stopped the chariot with the thin planks. There was so much fatigue on the face of the utsavamurthi that had sat on the chariot the entire way. He had to rest at least for a little while. The mid-afternoon sun was scorching like fire. It looked bearable in the morning but became intense as time passed. It was the season of rising heat. People walked towards the festival shops and carousels. The chariot would be drawn back out only in the evening, around the time that the sun went down.
The boy and Vasu walked towards Annan’s cool-drink shop. It had been more than twenty days since Annan had opened his shop. The boy had gone there only a couple of times so far as his exams had been going on. After the exams were over, he detached himself completely from Murali, Kadhir and Gopal. He began to avoid them, fearing their teasing. In spite of that, they still managed to corner and torment him every now and then. But ever since he began to spend time with Vasu and Durai, who both worked at the buffalo agency, he didn’t miss the others much. It was a good way for him to sever his ties with them.
On a piece of land completely covered with black thorn bushes, there had once stood a goat farm. But all that was left of it was a milestone that was installed by Kamarajar in the fifties in the corner of the road with the words ‘goat farm’. This land came to the notice of the housing board. Immediately thereafter, the animal husbandry department woke up. They decided to use the land—that was otherwise not being used for anything—to house a buffalo shelter, and bought ten buffaloes to begin the operation. Vasu and Durai worked at that agency. Between going to the theatre or playing thaayam or simply chatting with the two of them, the boy’s vacations passed steadily.
If only the results of his exams were announced, he could run away to some place. Until then, it was a big tug of war between him and the days that passed. The days were long. The nights were longer. His lazy mind was beginning to get covered with anthills everywhere. Loneliness made him think all sorts of thoughts. Empty dreams floated everywhere in his mind. At any time, the dreams dissolved into issues. Even a small incident got blown up into something monumental in his bizarre thoughts. Just a gentle movement of a leaf and he created a whole kingdom out of it. His imagination, though, showered on his lap victory after victory. Thoughts that were controlled and tucked away in some corner all sprung out with fervour and danced away unfettered. He lost himself. It seemed that loneliness was going to pull him apart into pieces and devour him like steaming hot food.
To everything, his answer was, ‘Let the results come out, I can run away somewhere.’ Into a crowd. Not a paltry crowd of four or five people, but of a thousand. He would be indistinguishable. He consoled himself with a variety of reasons.
‘Is this your shop?’
‘Mm, yes. Come, let’s get something to drink.’
The entryway was fully covered with cycles parked by the people who had come to see the temple chariot. Amongst them was Appa’s Swega. The shop was crowded. Appa was at the cashier’s. Annan was inside somewhere, apparently. A small lad was serving everyone. The boy and his friend sat on the front bench. Appa saw them and asked, ‘Would you like some rose milk?’
The boy didn’t say anything. Appa’s eyes were the colour of red earth. Sweat covered his now loose and limp face and dripped down it. His mouth bore a crooked and split smile. His head rocked very gently. His hands struggled so much even to simply receive a payment, keep the money inside and provide change. He went inside a few times. The voice that had chided Annan was splattering words.
The boy felt disgusted to even look at him. He turned his gaze to the road and the bench. Some strangers were walking around. His heart was burning. He comes and drinks here too. Appa was getting worse by the day. Annan had asked him to come to the shop that day because it was going to be very crowded. Appa wore a shirt and veshti that he took out from a box and had come here on the Swega.
Riding the Swega made Appa think he was on top of the world. It made him feel that he had risen to the position of ruling a country. He drove it at an uncontrollable speed. The way he twisted the accelerator—it was only a matter of time before the vehicle was going to fall apart! He had already fallen from it twice. And Annan once—he hit his jaw and had to have two teeth extracted. His cheeks had swollen up like balloons. It was the boy who took Annan on his bicycle to the hospital. Annan sat with him on his cycle, covering his face. The shop had to remain closed for four or five days. Driving drunk—at times like that, what seemed to assuage him was the thought that both of them were incorrigible.
