Rising Heat, page 22
Annan became quiet listening to what Appa said. After seeming deep in thought for a while, Appa spoke again.
‘There is house available for fifty thousand next to the triangle near the mango forest itself. We will give him five thousand more and buy it. What else to do? It is what it is. That whole land was ours. Now we cannot afford to buy even one house over there . . . Of what is left over, we will give the girl ten thousand. We haven’t given her anything since she had the boy. We can also arrange for you to be married if you mend your ways. Are you going to continue to loaf around like this?’
There was no opposition to what Appa said. It was decided that they would buy a house in the colony and move there. Appa embarked on finding a good price for the land.
The milkmaids informed them that Mani lay dead in the colony ditch. After looking for the dog everywhere for two days, they had assumed that it chose the colony as its refuge to live in from then on and stopped looking for it. The boy had thought he should check at the few houses that it frequented in the colony but Appa and Amma didn’t think that was needed. With all the human-related problems they had to deal with, who wanted to add this to the pile?
At first, he thought he would bury it somewhere in the colony and set out with a basket in hand. Everyone laughed at him for bothering to bury a dog. They looked at him in bewilderment. The dog is lying dead somewhere. Why bother burying it? ‘Who knows where that corpse lies?’ It had been two days since it had died. Apparently, it was full of worms. Should he risk getting infected himself?
He didn’t pay attention to anything that they said. The dog had spent most of its days in the forests. When it knelt down and affectionately licked his face, he didn’t notice its stench then. When it curled its tail and laid on the lap, that love was needed. When it followed him around everywhere in the forest, he wanted to pick it up and cuddle it. Today, just because it was infested with worms, should he get squeamish about burying it? He was getting irritated with the people mocking him.
Mani had not been well for a few days. After it got injured by the bike, the wound on its testicles never healed and became a lump instead. Even then, it used to go to the colony, limping all the way and back. It lost a lot of weight and came close to weighing nothing. It was shrinking slowly. If it had lived a little longer, they themselves would have moved into the colony. But, it ostensibly was in a hurry. Unless it was the sorrow of not having a speck of land ever again that pushed it over. That it couldn’t roam around the fields freely. Nor drag over bandicoots again. It couldn’t round up the goats that wandered away while grazing and bring them back. There wouldn’t be any connection left with the land. It would have had to stay confined within the four walls of the house. Maybe roam about in a couple of streets, perhaps. That would have been it. Maybe it feared all that and decided to die instead?
He didn’t know which ditch it was in. He asked Thanaya Paati who was bringing sewage water. She pointed to a ditch down below.
‘Look in there. The wretched stench is unbearable.’
The dog’s life had begun on four square measures of land. It ran to all sorts of places, fell, got wounded and finally went back to the same place to meet its end. Its world was very small. Home, the goat pen and the cool shadow of the coconut trees. It roamed only within these spots. Sometimes, it did not get any food for a couple of days. Occasionally, someone would add water to old rice and pour that for the dog. Drooling, it would lick that clean. Ticks had taken over its body. Unable to bear the pain, it howled with irritation and bit itself in several places to assuage the pain.
Once, during mating season, it went looking for bitches. When it was in the throes of mating, it got stuck in some thorn and struggled to free itself. Like tugging lizards from a fence, it pulled in one direction to free itself from the thorn and the female dog pulled the other way. The whole thing was one embarrassing situation. Young boys who came with their grazing goats flung stones at it and snickered with their palms over their mouths. Towards the end of the mating season, it was covered in rashes. The dog was terrible to look at. They used to try smothering it with kerosene and other different ways to cure its afflictions. It lost all its hair, became bald and looked like it was going to die. By the time they brought it back to normalcy, offering prayers on its behalf, it seemed as though it had been rescued from the jaws of death.
It knew every nook and corner of the fields. It would keep going back to the same spot over and over again, sniffing at it. The dog would spot all the rat burrows. If it spotted bandicoot tracks, it would bark and oust them. Those four measures of land were its life. It didn’t know anything beyond it. It had intertwined itself with that soil. It would kick up dust and enjoy the scent of the soil. If the wind kicked up the dust, though, it would close its eyes and howl sadly. But it would still breathe in that air and enjoy it. Even the buses that go up and down the tar road were unknown to him. It had one place for itself. One attachment. All the world’s emotions and experiences were within that space for Mani. It had never liked coming out of that world. It wanted to become one with that soil. But who let it be?
He looked at the spot where the dog lay dead. He couldn’t recognize it. Only its teeth helped identify it. The dog’s skin looked like a wet black cloth, and the stench choked his insides. There was nothing there that could possibly have been identified as Mani. Worms squirmed around. The bloated body looked damp and overripe. The swollen stomach had burst open and the whole place was reeking of putrid flesh. For a second, even the boy felt defiled. Later, when he thought about it, he had tears in his eyes. He wanted to burst into tears and let it all out. Even if he did, there was not a hand to console him in that concrete jungle. He couldn’t tolerate the smell in spite of all the love and affection he had for the dog. He looked up to get some fresh air, then bent down a little uncertainly to pick up the dog’s corpse and put it in the basket. He felt as if he had accomplished something of great significance. Finding his spirit again, he made a cloth pad, placed that on his head and mounted the filled basket over it. He started walking.
The problems the dog faced ever since it was thrown out of those lands danced like ghosts in front of his eyes. He recalled how, when they moved from their lands into the valavu and he had to go in search of the dog, it would keep slipping from him through the thorn bushes. Now it felt as if that had happened hardly a while ago. How many events had occurred and disappeared into oblivion. And throughout its life, the dog had suffered, always seeking stability but never achieving it. First the lands, then the valavu, one after the other, the changes were constant. Even after the colony was inhabited, it didn’t stop seeking its world. It tried to belong to the houses in the colony. But how many times it was hit! The last one was by the motorcycle—that was the final straw. Perhaps it would have lived a few more days if not for that incident.
Uprooting the little dog that was content in its little world and putting it in the middle of an expanse and asking it to breathe had overwhelmed it. It struggled to breathe. It tried various ways to stabilize itself but it just couldn’t. The gasping continued until the end. The protection the four measures of land gave it, the wide open outside didn’t. Yes, there were troubles in its little world too but the ones outside were far worse. The most severe had been the suffering that came from the dog’s inability to adapt from an accustomed life to one completely alien and unknown. That was what had finally defeated the dog. Licked it clean and tossed it out. And now, only in death could the dog’s life find redemption.
He placed the basket down and dug a hole. He folded his lungi up. His torso was bare. The soil was loose around a young coconut sapling. He dug deep. Otherwise, some dogs may drag it out. Let it lie in peace in one spot at least in death. Let it remain drunk with the smell of the earth. He checked once if the length was sufficient and then positioned the dog in the grave. The worms scattered everywhere. His hands ached to cover his nose. Once he reminded himself how he used to hold that body with his own arms as he placed it in the grave, he was able to bear the smell. He pushed the soil back in the hole. Little by little, the body was covered. He felt dizzy. His eyes glazed over. His hands trembled. He pushed in all the soil, placed a few stones on top of it and pulled himself up straight. In the middle of the day, he straightened his weary body and stood up.
On his back, covered with a sheen of sweat, he felt the stinging heat of the sun.
Glossary
Aaya grandmother; grandmother-like elderly woman
Akka elder sister; any older, sister-like female
Aiyo exclamation of concern or distress
Amma mother
Annan elder brother
Appa father
Atthai father’s sister; mother’s brother’s wife
arivalmanai cutting instrument with a wooden or metal base and a vertical, curved metal blade with a coconut scraper at the free end
Ayya sir
Chithappa father’s younger brother
Chitthi father’s younger brother’s wife; mother’s younger sister
Da, dei term used in casual conversations amongst male contemporaries but disrespectful or degrading when used at a male who is older or from a higher caste or strata of society
Di term used in casual conversations amongst female contemporaries but disrespectful or degrading when used at a woman who is older or from a higher caste or strata of society
dosai crepe-like dish made with rice and lentils
Ey disrespectful way of calling someone, especially someone older or of a higher caste
kali thick porridge made with millet flour
kallu alcoholic drink made of fermented toddy
Karagaatam folk dance involving balancing pots on one’s head
komanam strip of cloth held in place by a string around the waist to cover the private parts of a man
Kumbabhishekam temple consecration festival that occurs once in twelve years, usually preceded by renovation of the temple
kuzhambu spicy stew often made with vegetables and/or meat
lungi long piece of cloth wrapped around the waist that covers the whole lower half from waist to ankles, similar to a sarong. Usually casually worn by men. It has patterns or prints; the cut ends are sown together
Maama mother’s brother; a polite term for addressing or referring to an older, distant relative or person from the same caste
Maamoy casual, endearing way of saying ‘maama’
Maaple nephew; son-in-law; brother-in-law
mani bell
Paati grandmother
pandakaran potter; one who works with clay
Payya son; boy
Periappa father’s elder brother
Periamma father’s elder brother’s wife; mother’s elder sister
Pille daughter; girl
Saami respectful way of addressing landlords and their family members, and people holding important positions
in society
Thalaivar leader; a term that the late Dr M.G. Ramachandran came to be known as fondly by the people of Tamil Nadu
Thambi younger brother
Thatha grandfather
Theluvu non-alcoholic sweet-palm toddy
thundu towel
valavu cluster of houses very close to each other, sharing a common street; sometimes all the houses are located within a fenced area
veshti long piece of cloth wrapped around the waist that covers the body’s whole lower half from waist to ankles. It is formal attire and usually white with thin stripes along the top and bottom edges. The cut ends are loose
Yow annoyed and impolite way of addressing a man by a woman
Acknowledgements
My foremost thanks to writer Ambai and Kannan Sundaram from Kalachuvadu for aligning the start for the successful completion of this work. I am immensely grateful to them for this opportunity.
I am very grateful for the tremendous resource in Indumathi Mariappan who helped with the nuances of the Konganadu Tamil dialect, to Ashima Unni for being not only the much-needed second pair of eyes but also for her voice of reason when doubts filled my mind. I am thankful to my dear mother for spending several hours of her very sparse time checking my work, in the midst of planning and arranging a wedding.
I thank the editorial team at Penguin Random House—Ambar Sahil Chatterjee, Manasi Subramaniam and Shreya Chakravertty were not only kind and patient in their guidance, but also professional and highly attentive to detail. The cover art is fabulous.
I save my deepest gratitude for my family but most of all, for my husband, Shankar Radhakrishnan, who continues to fill the voids I create with immense patience. And last but in no measure the least, to my wonderful little boy, Vishak, for being a boundless source of joy and for inspiring to always rediscover.
Los Angeles
Janani Kannan
22 February 2020
ALSO BY PERUMAL MURUGAN
One Part Woman
Kali and Ponna’s efforts to conceive a child have been in vain. Hounded by the taunts and insinuations of others, all their hopes come to converge on the chariot festival in the temple of Ardhanareeswara, the half-female god. Everything hinges on the one night when rules are relaxed and consensual union between any man and woman is sanctioned. This night could end the couple’s suffering and humiliation. But it will also put their marriage to the ultimate test.
ALSO BY PERUMAL MURUGAN
Trial by Silence
At the end of Perumal Murugan’s trailblazing novel One Part Woman, readers are left on a cliffhanger as Kali and Ponna’s intense love for each other is torn to shreds. What is going to happen next to this beloved couple? In Trial by Silence—one of two inventive sequels that picks up the story right where One Part Woman ends—Kali is determined to punish Ponna for what he believes is an absolute betrayal. But Ponna is equally upset at being forced to atone for something that was not her fault. In the wake of the temple festival, both must now confront harsh new uncertainties in their once idyllic life together.
ALSO BY PERUMAL MURUGAN
A Lonely Harvest
In A Lonely Harvest—one of two inventive sequels that pick up the story right where One Part Woman ends—Ponna returns from the temple festival to find that Kali has killed himself in despair. Devastated that he would punish her so cruelly, but constantly haunted by memories of the happiness she once shared with Kali, Ponna must now learn to face the world alone. With poignancy and compassion, Murugan weaves a powerful tale of female solidarity and second chances.
THE BEGINNING
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HAMISH HAMILTON
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This collection published 2020
Copyright © Perumal Murugan 1991
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © Ahlawat Gunjan
This digital edition published in 2020.
e-ISBN: 978-9-353-05838-8
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Perumal Murugan, Rising Heat
