Rising Heat, page 6
Amma’s contention was that associating with him was a precursor to losing all their money. ‘This awful wastrel of a dog will blow away even the little money we have and bring us to the streets. If you join with the good, that’s smart and makes sense. But if you join with the devil? That money will only end up funding drinks and dancers. This dog won’t spare even the pyre pot.’
The part about not giving money to her brother never came up even by mistake. But Appa knew that that was the main reason for all this.
‘Aammam, if I had dumped this money on your brother, you would have had no issues with that. You think I will go to that miser? I will drink to that entire amount. And spend it on prostitutes. But not a single paisa of mine will go into your brother’s hands. Remember this. And his wife, what sort of a woman is she? Feeding us two bags of rice every year, indeed! Like we are all lined up outside her house with our tongues sticking out in hunger. It was hardly meagre, the loads of things they have taken from here when we had the lands. Don’t you think she should at least have a little sense of gratitude for all that?’
They fought like mongoose and cat, gouging and tearing each other to bits with words. Amma had another concern too. If Appa bought land, then they would move from the valavu to live on that land. Right now, Amma was very happy and satisfied where they were. There was no work to do as such. She didn’t have to work in the farm. She didn’t have to tend to the cows and buffaloes. Cooking and eating on time, chatting, going to the movies once a week and playing thaayam in her spare time. Would she want to leave all this behind and live in loneliness on some godforsaken land somewhere? That came up in the arguments too.
‘Take a look at this man, wanting to buy lands, indeed! Why don’t you just buy a cemetery then? You can bury me in there once and for all.’
Amma looked very different with her dishevelled hair, the way she swung her arms around and cracked her fingers as she lamented. Living in the valavu had changed her so much. Akka didn’t show any concern for Appa or Amma. She heated up the water for herself every morning and spent half an hour in front of the mirror trying on different patterns of pottu before she left for work. She had only one thing to add: ‘Appa, find some land in this general region. Not someplace far. Where else will I find a job like this?’
She spoke about her experiences of being a labourer with such relish. By the time the brick she described passed from one hand to another and reached the top, she’d behave as if she was there receiving it. She couldn’t think of leaving that job and moving elsewhere. Appa took that into consideration.
‘Why, dear, would we go away from here? We’ll be somewhere close by. We’ll find a place adjacent to this village,’ he said, letting his love flow through his words. He had a soft corner for Akka.
For him, the very thought of moving out of this place was liberating. The torture of being stuck in a mouse’s hole would be over. There were always people around all the time in the valavu. Nothing could be done in privacy. Someone would wiggle their way into the business halfway through and lead the effort in a different direction. Then turn the course completely. Slowly, they would make it their own. Living in this valavu was like being shackled. Fewer people worked in the farms; the number of people seeking work in Karattur town was increasing. They were perpetually in a hurry, frenzied like they were walking on hot water.
If Appa bought the land, the boy could play outside again. Jump into the well. The idea of being out in the open again filled the boy with excitement. The only person who was a little aloof from the whole thing was Annan. By the time he got back after finishing his work at the movie theatre it was late into the night. He woke up leisurely at ten the next morning and left again. He didn’t have a clue about what was going on in the house. No matter what happened, though, he wasn’t going to kick or scream or create a scene.
The boy left with his Appa and Akka early one morning to see the land that they were going to buy. They didn’t breathe a word about it to Amma. Still, she somehow managed to find out about it. The land wasn’t that far away. It was to the south of the valavu and Odaiyur main road. There was only a narrow separation between the lands they used to own and this one. They had to cross the lake to get there. From here, it looked as though the tail of the colony was broken. To the east of the panchayat road was Aattur. The west belonged to Chinnur. The land was to the west. But it wasn’t a problem even if they had to switch villages. They all liked the land a lot.
There were portia trees everywhere they looked. They were very yellow and their petals looked like long fingers bunched together, with the fingertips alone slightly parted. There were about ten or fifteen vadhanaram trees too. Amidst the trees, in a curved shape bending in and out, was a palmyra shed. The walls had crumbled and the palmyra thatches were all but rotten and on the verge of sliding off. The old lady who used to live there was dead. She left behind two sons and a total of eight acres. The older son’s four acres alone had come up for sale. He too had passed away. It was his wife who was selling the land. The boy and his sister loved the new place. Appa was keen on moving ahead with the deal. He too had an important reason for that.
‘Mamoy . . . you must taste the palm extract from this tree. It is nothing but nectar! Chinnaan does the climbing. He has the same lucky touch as his father. If I’m in town, I seat myself over here by midnight itself.’
Sevathaan made a salivating sound that shook his sideburns. He must have used that reason to get Appa to settle on the deal. He then pointed to the well and said, ‘Maaple, this well used to supply water to the entire village at one time. It has gotten a tad bit salty lately. But that’s no issue; if we get the irrigation set-up installed, water will come gushing out. There are going to be such lush crops of millets and cotton, you just watch.’
That there was a well was in itself significant. Some wells were conical—they were wide at the top and became narrower as they went deeper. One couldn’t jump into those types of wells in any season. This well was of the same width all the way down. The water within stood still, touching the steps within. The boy wanted to jump in right then so badly. And as for Akka, the colony wasn’t that far from there. ‘I can lean over and grab it.’
Even before Amma knew about their visit to the land, she had already found out everything about the land. When they returned from their visit, she all but knocked them on their heads with an oar. She shook them to pieces.
‘Would anyone who has ever set his eyes on that old witch want to buy the land she lived on? She died rotting, all alone. And all the drama she created when she was alive and well! Will anyone with family and children ever agree to live on a land adjacent to where she lived? And just because your father said so, you—you two donkeys—went to see that place now? Do you not have any sense? Does it hurt you to live in the cluster?’
Neither of them opened their mouths. If they did, they knew they would only get more of that.
‘Look at how quietly they stand, as if they were born to a mute father.’
Again, there was a battle between Amma and Appa. But Appa didn’t budge even a little. ‘We are going and there is no change to that.’
‘How long can I continue doing menial jobs? My Annan is setting up a weaving business apparently. Thambi is running a cart business. I will have at least four acres of land to my name. I will toil on that.’
‘You could do something different like your Annan. Do you have to put all your money in that soil?’
‘If I put it in the soil, where is it going to go? It only becomes treasure, di. Look, you can give me a thousand reasons. I am still going to buy that land. You can either come with me. Or you can stay here. The children and I are going there. We will feed you a ladle of porridge until the end.’
Amma’s face was hot as a burning cinder. The force of her breath was enough to fell a person standing across from her. With all her pride, she ran to the cot and fell into it.
‘Ever since we moved to the valavu, she has grown used to sitting and eating without working. Why would she want to exert herself and do any work? Let her lie there, ugly wretch.’
Two days later, Appa went with Sevathaan and sealed the deal. He paid two thousand up front. In six months, the deal would be completed. The boy brooded over the hostility that was going to last for six more months in the house until his head began to weigh like a rock.
Chapter 4
It was an ungodly hour. Must have been twelve or one at night. There was a knocking on the door. Appa would wake up to the smallest sound. He got up and opened the door. It was Thatha and Paati. ‘Amma . . .!’ he burst out in disbelief and everyone woke up then. The two of them were standing drenched to their bones and shivering like fledglings. Thatha was shedding more tears than the water on his back.
‘Payya . . . look at what I’m reduced to! We came running all the way with just the clothes on our back.’
Appa didn’t say anything. He held his father by the hand, brought him indoors and gave him a towel to dry himself with and a veshti to change into. Paati changed into another sari. They still could not grasp what had happened.
Thatha could not speak at all. He was sobbing and stammering. And seemed very agitated. He then cupped his cheeks and sat quietly, resting his elbows on his legs. Paati was the one who told them what had happened, little by little. It had been pouring for the last four days. Even though it went down to a drizzle occasionally, the rain never let up completely. If one stepped out thinking it was just a light rain, it became a dense downpour in an instant. The roads were all covered in mire. No matter which direction one turned to, it was wet all around. Nothing much was getting done. People still rushed to work with umbrellas and upturned wicker baskets. The lake that lay dried up and barren woke up suddenly from its slumber. But this rain definitely couldn’t fill the lake. And even if it did, the water wouldn’t come as far as their backyard.
It was a very remote spot that used to be under cultivation earlier. If the lake got filled up, this region got just a little wet. That’s why they had built a platform there and put the shed over the platform. There was a two-foot-high pile of sand that was above land level. No one expected the water to reach the shed. Thatha and Paati had put their cots indoors and gone to sleep. Even though it had rained for three days continuously, they knew that the lake was not even a quarter full. Paati woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. When she put her feet on the floor, they were met with ice-cold water everywhere! If the water had reached beyond the levee, this was surely a big storm! She woke up Thatha frantically and went out.
It was roaring outside. As though a large mob was fuming loudly and rushing towards another mob. It was a massive flood raging with the mission of filling every vacant spot in and around the lake with water.
‘As soon as we placed our feet outside, the water crashed upon us in waves. There was no other sound around us. Only the crashing and piercing roars from an invisible corner. I was frightened to the core. Didn’t think of any of our belongings. There were ten chickens but we didn’t look for them either. We didn’t think of saving anything else. Only our lives. We held our lives in one hand and held each other with the other throughout. The water level was above our knees. We could barely get in and wade through it. You know how the black mesquite thorns are everywhere too. We placed each step carefully, and till we slowly climbed out of that place, we weren’t sure if we were going to die or survive.
‘It seems that they may have opened out the waters from Karattur. Otherwise how will so much water get here? It has been so many years since this lake was built. I have never seen water like this before.’
There was a large pond right in the middle of Karattur town for all the waste from the surroundings. That pond always stood stagnant, topped with a coarse froth. All of Karattur’s waters drained straight into it. Only when that big pond was full did they open it up. When they did do this, it ran over the roadways and stank up the city as it moved away. It then flowed via Keeravur to reach the low-lying area and make its way straight to the lake. It was only during such times that the salts from the leather hides were washed too. The lake had overflowed because the pond water had been released.
Paati’s body could not handle the cold from being drenched in the rains. She shook violently. Her teeth rattled. It was a strange sound. The boy and his father wrapped her in a blanket, laid her on a cot and set out in the rain. If the water was still not high, they could, maybe, save the chickens and some things from the shack. Thatha wanted to go with them too.
‘You just got here and were soaked through. Why do you want to be in the rain again? We will go over and check on things.’
Even though Appa tried to dissuade him from joining them, Thatha did not listen to him. They took a kerosene lamp, covered themselves and their heads with sheets made from jute sacks and set out in the rain. They struggled to walk on the roads as they were copiously covered with puddles blended with softened soil and slush. How had those two poor souls waded through all the mire without any light? The boy held his grandfather’s hand protectively. Appa walked ahead with the lamp. It was still drizzling, with tiny raindrops. The skies were black and made the eyes giddy. They crossed the dense thorny shrubs by the goat sheds and walked on tar roads into the colony.
The cart road had vanished and a wider, newer mud road had been built on top of it. On both sides were half-built structures. In the dark, some looked tall and some others were shorter; they looked like the ruins of cities of the past. In all directions were piles of sand and gravel like men crouched in the open, defecating. Just the thought that the two of them had crossed all this by themselves made the boy’s eyes well up.
In their old age, they had been left isolated, punished by imprisonment on an island. From the comfort of having their sons close and grandchildren crawling over their backs and heads they were forced to endure the torment of complete separation; the whole family was shattered like a coconut that is smashed to smithereens as an offering to a temple deity. In all the dangers of wading through the treacherous rains, they didn’t have even one hand to hold on to for support. ‘You are my support and I am yours.’ How much their hearts must have cried as they walked alone on that path full of potholes and slippery ground in the nearly pitch-dark night. When one slipped the other must have held on tightly. The boy was struggling to walk even with the light from the lamp right now. How hard it must have been for them to take a step away from their dwelling place with only what they were wearing to save themselves. Their minds must have been filled with concern for the things they had left behind. Even if it was a tiny toy, would anyone have the heart to abandon it? How proud Paati was of every item she owned. ‘These were all given to me as gifts by my mother for my wedding!’ Every object bore a little bit of Paati. In spite of having three sons there had been no one to turn to in the middle of the night. No hand to hold for support. Not a dog would have been out when they entered the valavu. They would have gone looking for a warm and dry spot away from the rains. Even a dog had a better life than his grandparents . . . ‘Appa!’
He held on to his Thatha’s hand tightly. He wanted badly to have him rest on his shoulder and give him a big hug. Fear taunted him even though he was walking in the company of his father and grandfather. How did the two of them conquer their fears when they were walking alone, wandering in the open, on streets devoid of people? And the kinds of fears they must have seen in their lifetime! Perhaps the experiences that life had handed out to them had chased any fears far away. There was a flood. And the waters had entered their house. They had had to hold their lives in their hands and run for safety. All that wouldn’t have affected them much. Sufferings are not always difficult when there are faces nearby to utter words that can soothe the heart. Let the misery weigh like a mountain on the mind. A chisel in the form of a tiny hand of solace is all that is needed to destroy that mountain. When they were standing in the middle of the roaring floods that rushed to attack them there were no hands offered in support. There was no one to talk to. The incontinence of old age would have hurt them even more. When they waded through knee-high waste, avoiding thorns, their solitude would have pricked them harder.
What sort of people were these sons who pushed the elders to the pit and entertained themselves by watching them from atop hills? Just what were they going to lose if they had them live along with their families? They didn’t need a palace. If they were given a space as small as the palm of a hand in a little corner, they would still live within that. Thatha’s erstwhile tall figure had shrunk to the span of the thumb and the pointer finger. He moved like a buffalo calf that, shrivelled from deprivation of milk, dragged its body as it walked—even his own body seemed a burden to him.
If people like Murugan were around, at least they would have come forward to help them. Once the foundation work was done, most of them had packed their bags and left. The few that were left had found places for rent elsewhere and moved away. The masons and helpers who had come to erect the buildings had all found a hut or a hole to rest in after they left work in the evening. There was no one left in the vicinity even to notice their absence if Thatha and Paati were to be murdered. Just a few watchmen who’d be sleeping sprawled in one of the completed houses in the colony. Those lucky men.
The road was fully blocked by sand and gravel. They walked along its edges past houses that looked complete. The cement blocks appeared dark. The lamp burned anxiously in his hand. ‘You call this a house,’ murmured Appa as he gave a wall a kick. The wall crumbled down to nothing. The boy and his grandfather stepped aside. Appa acted as though he was possessed and kicked one more wall down. The lamp moved up and down, fell down, got back up and fought for its life. The sound of the falling blocks was dampened by the rain. The walls that stood proud were now turned into a pile of rubble. Once two walls fell, the house beyond opened up fully to them. Appa was at the crest of his anger. He moved towards the next wall. ‘Payya, Payya . . .’ called out Thatha worriedly. The boy, on the other hand, stood petrified.
