Rising Heat, page 5
Chapter 3
Whenever Amma’s brother and sister-in-law visited, Amma couldn’t hold still for a minute. He was Amma’s only brother, older and, more importantly, slightly better off than them. That was why Amma was in a frenzy that morning, as if possessed by a spirit. How many times would she walk back and forth between the house and the veranda! She held a flask in her hand and walked into the house. Then she turned back and went to the veranda as if she had forgotten something. Then she stopped to talk to them. And to Akka. Akka mumbled something quietly to herself. Appa and Maama were in conversation. His Annan was on the cot, curled and twisted like a tied-up sack. Even though the boy was awake, he continued to lie down and did not get up.
It was all the exhaustion from the day before. The boy’s irritation and anger at Amma had still not been assuaged. How sharp-tongued was this same Amma just the day before. Look at how she was fluttering about gleefully on seeing her brother and sister-in-law! If not for Appa, he would have lost control of himself in his ire. And wouldn’t have recovered from the fizzy light-headedness. Or the shame he was subject to—as if he was stripped naked, tied to a pole and whipped. All this over a paltry issue.
It all started two days ago in school. The boys were chasing each other around playfully in their classroom. The maths teacher had not yet arrived. The boy and Ravi were very close. They had plenty of petty fights and angry exchanges between them also. Sometimes they threw blows at each other and brawled quite fiercely. When the maths teacher did not show up, these two suddenly began to chase each other around the class. He jumped over desks and benches but Ravi chased him relentlessly. The whole class was chaotic and no one knew what was going on. Ravi chased him everywhere and finally caught him in the corner of the class. In the giddiness of his victory, he pinched him on his hand. Once on his cheek. Once on his hip. And as he pinched him on his thigh, he shouted out, ‘Dei, he isn’t wearing any underwear!’
Senthil, Murali and Balu all got together, surrounded him and pinched him hard all over his front and back. They mocked and laughed at him. He shrank into himself and held on tightly to his shorts. His eyes were brimming with tears and on the verge of spilling over any minute. The pain from all the pinches was also unbearable. Until then, he didn’t think that not wearing underwear was something to be made fun of. Ravi pulled him aside later and explained himself. With guilt.
‘Dei, I did all that in the madness of the moment. Thoughtlessly.’
‘It is okay, da . . .’
‘Are you not wearing one only today or do you not wear one at all?’
‘Should I be wearing one? I didn’t know, da.’
Ravi gave a very awkward smile. He said after a little while, with some reservation, squirming the entire time, ‘You are a total country bumpkin, da. We are in tenth standard. We are going to be in plus one next year. We have to wear full pants like college students. We are now older, aren’t we? Wear underwear, da.’
At home, the boy couldn’t ask just anyone to buy underwear. He was too embarrassed to walk into a store and buy any by himself. The commotion they had created in class the other day was eroding his peace. With extreme reluctance, he bought a few from a vendor at a street corner. He kept the underwear in a bin. Amma was gathering clothes to wash when her eyes fell on them. ‘Whose are these?’ she asked.
‘These are mine, Amma. I bought them.’
‘Why now, we seem to have crossed international borders here. Is your penis not staying down if you wear only your shorts?
Amma’s words fell like a scythe on his chest. He burst into tears and cried loudly. Appa came running and held him against his chest.
‘Get lost, you donkey of a woman! Don’t you know what to say to your son?’
‘What does she know? I will buy you better ones. What does she know about current trends? Will you cry for all this now?’ But Appa’s words did not mend the wounds. He didn’t eat dinner that night. Appa tried pacifying him in several ways and gave up after a while. Amma got a lot of scolding. That gave him some satisfaction.
‘Let it go now. What would Maama and Atthai think if I keep lying down like this just because I am angry with Amma?’ He got up and came out. Appa and Maama were sitting on the cot, Atthai was sitting on the plinth. She saw him and made a comment without moving her heavy body, tilting her head slightly from where she was.
‘So, the master had to sleep in until now? Kids who study well would have woken up early and started studying by now. But you?’
‘When did you arrive?’ he politely inquired with a wide grin and tried to slip away to wash his face. His eyes were puffed up and red.
He didn’t know why the two of them had come over so early. Maama was a masonry foreman. They lived in Karattur. Atthai always spoke in a chiding tone. Her eyes grew large, her nostrils flared up and her lips alternated between being bunched up and spread out when she spoke. She had a dominating demeanour. Maama was docile. Since the boy was so used to them, he wasn’t being particularly mindful around them.
‘Why don’t you come by . . . Maama has brought half a dozen jackfruits. Who’s there to eat all that? If you come over, you can bring some back, can’t you?’
‘I will come, Atthai.’
Appa and Maama were engrossed in their conversation about politics and paid no heed to them. Both of them were ardent fans of ‘Thalaivar’, ‘the revolutionary leader’, one of the two most famous actors of that time who went on to become the chief minister of Tamil Nadu eventually. There was not a Thalaivar movie that Appa had not watched. He did not watch anyone else’s movies either. He didn’t care at all for the other popular actor—‘Thilagam’, as he was known. The actor of all actors. ‘Thoppaiyan’ was what Appa called him. Pot-bellied. Earlier, there was a Rama Talkies where they screened Thalaivar’s movies back to back once every week. He always went only for the second show. Occasionally, he took the boy along as well. They would clean sand off the floor and watch the movie sitting on it. It was a miracle that the talkies had not exploded into bits with all the whistling and cheering from the fans. They were building a bigger movie theatre in Karattur town.
‘From now on, there won’t be any more dawns for the party with the symbol of sunrise. Back then, he partnered with that lady and managed to win.’
‘That was a higher-level election. Even though that fell apart, it was Thalaivar who won here. As long as he is alive no one can move him from the position.’
‘One should take heart. And look at that Thoppaiyan. An absolute miser who wouldn’t even shoo a crow away while he is eating for fear of losing crumbs to it. But this man, he doesn’t have any children, any successor. He will give away all that he has to the people.’
Because the two of them were in complete agreement, they could talk for hours on end like this. And if they started talking about movies, they would go over them scene by scene and relish every detail. They didn’t need food, water. He seated himself next to his aunt. Atthai called for Akka.
‘So, Pille, what are you doing here? Why don’t you come home? Stay over for about ten days. You will be good company for our Geetha too.’
‘How can I, Atthai? I am leaving to go to work now. They have started building homes in the colony. The plastering work is going on in full swing. There are groups of masons, people who have come here from god knows where doing this and that. What they don’t have are labourers. That’s what I’ve been doing these past ten, fifteen days.’
Akka was astonished even by the smallest of things. She would gather books full of pictures and pore over each picture with the fascination of a little child. Her eyes would grow big. In the excitement of seeing something that she had never seen before, a giggle would escape her. She couldn’t contain herself even when just watching black ants marching by. ‘Look here!’ she would say, pointing out to them with the euphoria of having found the eighth wonder of the world. She knew all about the matters of the colony too. ‘We have all seen a brick. But a cement block?’ she exclaimed when she saw one for the first time. And talked about it the whole day. But her fascinations weren’t worthy of Atthai’s attention.
‘They let you bear the burden of sand and stone in this scorching heat? Are your father and your mother going to live and feed themselves with the money that you earn? Mm . . .’
Amma served coffee to everyone. Atthai and Maama still hadn’t brought up the reason for their visit. ‘If you come home, you can bring back a few coconuts, can’t you?’, ‘There’s a ton of guavas at home. If you visit us, you can bring them back with you, won’t you come?’ Atthai went on and on, as if they had never seen any of that in their lives before. He grabbed a book and sat with it, pretending to study.
Atthai had two small measures of land in which they had cultivated a garden. She acted as if everything in the world was available there. If his family visited them, they returned with maybe one small bag of a fruit or vegetable. But, before their land was taken away for the colonies, every time Maama and Atthai visited them, they took back with them bags and bags of chillies, cucumbers, lime toddy, palm fruits—you name it! Only, they talked as if everyone’s lives depended on their garden.
After rambling on for a while and beating around the bush, they finally came to the point.
‘So . . . what brought you here this early today? Are you going elsewhere after this?’
‘Where else would we go? We have come only to see you all, since it’s been such a long time.’
Maama put his hand into his beard and fiddled with it. Maama always sported a long, unkempt beard, like a sage. It was white and looked like bleached palm fruit fibres. He would make a ‘vrrk, vrrk’ sound when he scratched it.
Atthai continued on. ‘Why say all that? As a matter of fact, we have come here for a reason. He has spent so many years now as a masonry foreman. Going forward, we are thinking of setting up weaving looms.’
‘Oho, that is a good thing. Have you already identified a location?’
‘That’s where I am short of a little bit of money.’
‘You can possibly take a loan on your house, maybe?’
‘Yes, we could. But we wanted to ask our family and friends before we did something like that. We all always have a few people who would never say no when sought for a favour. Don’t you agree?’
‘That is true, indeed.’
Maama was still scratching his beard. His mother and sister were sitting inside, in the midst of the smoke from the stove. Yet, their attention was on every word being spoken outside. The conversation continued between Atthai and Appa.
‘From my maternal house to the place I am married into, there has been no dearth of trouble. I have lived a life worse than that of a dog. In spite of that, we don’t have any debt with our relatives. Even if that meant us not having anything to feed ourselves.’
‘Who is denying all that now?’
‘I had already informed Pille about this. We want to ask you now. You have some money in exchange for all your farmlands, isn’t it? If you lend us that money, we will pay it back with whatever interest people around here are paying. Or, if you want partnership, that is an option too. Even if we are very close relatives, this is a matter of money.’
‘Look here. I don’t know anything about weaving. I can’t invest money in a business I have no knowledge of. I am also not sure if we are in a state where we can lend you the money. There are four acres of land that have come up for purchase. Out here, in Chinnur. I am trying to see if I can buy that.’
‘But you will have some money left?’
‘I got twenty-five for the farmlands. Two or three thousand went into repairing this house. When we moved here from the farms, this house was hardly inhabitable. So, whatever is left after that is all I have. I may not have enough even to buy the land. I too may have to seek a loan from someone.’
‘What would you get out of the land? Why would you want to sink your money into that? If you put it in weaving, you can see money then and there. Right now, this is the busiest business.’
‘Whatever is spent on a land will never go to waste. Are termites going to eat away the land? I will rear a few goats and live out of that. Our god is but this land.’
‘Well, that’s not what . . .’
‘Why talk about this any further? Please talk to someone else to raise your capital.’
‘Are we going to eat your money? Or take the money and run away?’
‘Who said anything like that?’
‘We came here because you are our relative and we thought that you would help . . . Get up now. Let’s go.’
They both got up to leave. Appa didn’t say anything. He sat staring still like a yogi in deep meditation. Amma came running from inside, calling after her brother. Atthai didn’t seem to be bothered even a bit. She held her face tight like an inflated lorry tire. The boy ran in front of them crying ‘Maama . . . Atthai . . .’ But nothing changed their minds. They kept walking away. As they walked away, Atthai said, ‘What difference does it make to have relatives or not, if they are no help in times of need? If they visit, that’s two sacks of rice expended. If they don’t, that’s two sackfuls of rice saved.’
After that, Appa did not wish to spend two sacks of their aunt and uncle’s rice. Only his mother talked ceaselessly about her family’s grand stories. How else could she express the love she had for her sibling?
Amma lay curled up in a ball and didn’t get up. She made something to eat only because she had to. She didn’t go out anywhere. All day, the women would get together and play thaayam on the neighbour’s plinth. Sometimes it went on into the night too. When one left, another took the spot to continue the game. Amma hadn’t gone over to be part of it for a couple of days now. In fact, they all went to the movies the day before—all the ladies from Rosakka’s house and Kariamma’s house. His sister alone joined them. Ever since they had moved here, Amma always went with them to the movies. She would add hair extensions to lengthen her hair and make a large bundle out of it, much like an appam pan, on the backside of her head. And border it with a ring of stringed jasmine and crossandra twirled together. This set off Appa into utmost annoyance. He would say quietly:
The carefully braided hair bun is reeking of illness
The lord who went away still hasn’t come back
The carefully combed hair bun is hosting bats now
The lord who promised to come back still hasn’t come back.
If those words ever reached her ears, wonder what all she’d have to say about that. And what troubles that would lead to. But she didn’t go to the movies that day either. She remained lying down with a perpetually puffed-up face and teary eyes.
Appa didn’t pay attention to any of that and went about his business. He had been leaving home at about the time the rooster crowed in the morning the last couple of days. Sevathaan from Seethakattu came to pick him up. He was the agent who was facilitating the purchase of the land. Quite a busybody, he was trying to secure at least two acres of land for Appa. It was his involvement in this effort that none of them at home liked. They feared that he would leave them in the lurch somewhere, somehow if they trusted him completely.
In reality, the whole village was wary of him. As soon as he was spotted a distance away, voices were hushed instantly and the discussions continued in murmurs. He was a big man. He had a thick, dark moustache and his eyes were always red, like the scarlet ivy gourd fruit. ‘What does he have to worry about, he has clout wherever he goes. One needs to suitably fit a role to be like that,’ said a man from Pottukaadu loudly once which Sevathaan overheard in passing. In fact, the man was speaking quite proudly of him and with good intent.
‘How dare you suggest that I be called a loafer, a rogue, to my face?’ he snarled and began to wave a knife that he pulled out from his hip. The man from Pottukaadu froze, completely clueless about how to react. He slipped into the forests as soon as he could. Sevathaan pulled out the knife for everything. Even though there hadn’t been a scratch made with that on anyone, the fear was that he was big and rough and somehow harmful.
The days that followed his winning the card game were marked with his mockery ringing through the village. And there were days when vessels went missing in his house. Those days he bore a scowl on his face. His wife looked like a stick figure and invoked an image of a withered ascetic who barely spoke and spent long periods of time in meditation. She was quite pitiable.
Sevathaan was also involved in politics. He was in Thalaivar’s party first. When the party with the sunrise symbol coalesced with the lady in national politics and won the local elections, he joined that party. When Thalaivar won, he moved back again. ‘From now on, this is the one until death.’ He often brought home men in veshtis that were marked in party colours and would create a din. Whenever he saw the wooden-legged Veeran alone, his face turned sour. As if he had just swallowed a shot of neem oil. Veeran belonged to the communist party. They acted as if their enmity spanned over generations.
Sevathaan usually arrived at their house right at the time the rooster crowed in the morning. ‘Maama, Maama!’ He sounded like a rooster calling out to a hen to feed on. With his basket-like head full of hair and sideburns that came all the way down his jawline, a look inspired by Thalaivar, he maintained quite a presence even at that hour of the day.
‘And, Maaple,’ he’d say to the boy, ‘at least you should study well. We will find you a job. I will talk to Thalaivar and I will get you one,’ and plant a strong pat on his face. One that made the boy’s facial bones feel like they were going to crumble!
It was only recently that he was in town for ten days in a row. And that was very unusual. Two days, maybe three, but you couldn’t find him around here for longer than that at any time. He travelled out of town for a week or ten days all the time. Sometimes he came back looking like a beggar. Sometimes he was dressed sharply and would sparkle. His family had somehow managed to keep it going all this time without depending on him.
