It was a Friday afternoon in January. The widespread Neem with several sturdy and innumerable small branches made the atmosphere cool. A couple of dogs growled and fought in the street nearby. From his thatch-roofed sundry shop,Venu watched Naga, Subbu, and Raman who stood in front of the shop talking tirelessly, full of energy.
Venu never talked or looked at the stout Naga ever since he had called him “Cat eyed stupid lame!” a couple of years back when they’d had a bitter tiff. He had struck him on his head with his crutch. Watching them, he wondered how cheerful those boys were, all seventeen, about two years younger than he was.
Seated at one end of the bench, old man Chari, his forehead marked with a red vertical holy line from the bridge of his nose, and the thread across his torso, with ‘The Hindu’ spread out on his lap said, “Kamaraj Nadar, controlling the Tamil Nadu Congress Committee is a natural kingmaker of Madras Presidency, they say. On the other hand, at the center, it’s just five months after independence, and we can already feel we were better off when ruled by the British. My grandfather used to work directly under Sir Thomas Munro as an interpreter. He used to,..”
“You are a shame to our nation.” His middle-aged friend Sagayam at the other end of the bench interrupted. With the silver cross hanging from a thin silver chain at his chest, he wore a baggy white shirt and a dhoti.
A host of sparrows flittered skyward from the upper boughs as Chari laughed boisterously in response. “Ha ha ha, I’m only saying that we needstronger leadership.”His clean-shaven face glittered with tiny drops of perspiration as he flipped the pages of the previous day’s newspaper after adjusting his upper cloth and the tuft at his nape. He handed Sagayam a few sheets that he’d finished reading.
As usual, customers frequented the shop in front of the small red-tile roofed house for their needs of beetle leaves, areca nuts, Wrigley or Orbit peppermint, Lux or Mohan sandal soap, Britania biscuits, and filter cigarettes. Venu would get busier every Wednesday when he had to order goods and help the unlettered rural folks write letters.
When Venu espied freckle-faced Arthur, in pale khaki and white, approaching, he hurriedly caught hold of his underarm crutch placed at the corner. A few partly dried whole sugar canes, the leftover of Pongal, the harvest festival, collapsed on the floor. For a second, contemplating on bending to pick it up, he decided to do it later. ‘Tuk,..tuk’ he went up the steps hurriedly into the house, calling his grandfather. The bend at his right ankle made the leg shorter than it should’ve been, but the contracture at his hip gave him a distorted limp. A family that had come to consult with his grandfather about horoscope matching was leaving.
He waited for a few seconds and said, “Thaththaa[1], make sure he leaves immediately,” and returned quickly to his seat. “Who?” Venu didn’t reply. His cat eyes remind me of mine, Venu thought bitterly.
As if continuing from where they had left, Sagayam asked suddenly with approbation “What’s wrong with Pundit Nehru’s leadership? Gandhiji is there to mentor him.”
With derision, Chari said, “Gandhi? Nehru might do better without him. I still remember my visit to Madurai two years back. What a crowd in Race Course ground in Pudur! And in the end, he walks away without giving his speech. The notorious arrogance of the Congress,” Chari gave an expression with distorted lips.
“My father was there. That was the fifth time Gandhiji had come to the city, and yet the crowd behaved boisterously. The continuous noise made it impossible for him to make his speech. He appealed to the crowd to stay calm.”
“But no one could hear what he said.”
The boys were booing at and teasing each other. “You all talk, no action,know only to talk,” said Naga, with a serious face. “Beat me in a race before you can open your mouth,” said the talkative Subbu. “Saridaa, let’s swim diagonally from the opposite corner all the way to reach this corner near the shop,” Raman planned.
They came to buy three bananas while Naga stood a few yards away staring into space. The trio circumvent the large pond to reach the other corner.
Arthur stood there trying to take a good look at Venu, who eluded his gaze turning his face to stare at the temple pond.
With gentle ripples on the surface, complimenting the mild breeze, the greenish-brown water glittered in the soon to set sunshine. The pond stretched approximately a little more than two hundred meters long and less than two hundred meters wide.
“The microphone on the stage was but a gimmick. The British government purposely didn’t supply electricity. So, Gandhiji thought he could still speak if theywere silent. But the crowd got anxious when they could not hear him.”
“He should’ve waited. The noise level did come down.”
“But, in seconds the crowd was back in full volume. The organizers could not achieve a minimum of silence. So, Gandhi announced that he would not speak.”
“You should’ve seen him stretching his limbs on stage, stubbornly not opening his mouth. Sathyagrahi!” Chari mocked.
“That’s a false statement. Gandhiji waited for the crowd to disperse and only then he got up and left the venue quietly.”
“Very well informed, aren’t you?” Chari said with sarcasm. Looking at the sports section, he commented, “India all out for 58 in Gabba. Late news though, Donald Bradman scored 185 in the Cricket Test.”
“Oh!”
“What an expression!” Chari sulked puckishly.
Inside the house, Arthur asked, “Can’t he even look at my face?” Grandfather did not reply. Soon Arthur said, “Okay, we should at least get him a forearm crutch. I’m waiting for news from Madras on that. It will be very convenient for him.”
“But he wants to save money and buy it himself. And he insists that he’s fine with this one,” Grandfather replied in a low voice.
“It pains me to see him like this,” Arthur said in English, more to himself.
“They diagnosed it as polio only after several weeks, and by then the damage was done. Rest and good food were recommended. But with hardly any food to eat… and nutritious food was a rare commodity in our village up the hill.”
“I’m aware of all that. Blame it all on my bad luck that I could not reach out to you sooner.”
“My daughter had to die without even taking a look at her newborn..it saddens me..” Grandfather said wistfully and soon managed to ask, “So when do you plan to leave for Leicester?”
“Clara keeps saying that’s not her home and only Kodaikanal is. She says she is more a Tamil than a Briton. Born here, it’s natural that she feels this, but it’s unbelievable how a thirteen-year-old can talk so clearly and obstinately. I am caught between the mother who longs for her homeland and an adamant daughter. They keep arguing all day.”
Grandfather kept silent. But when Arthur said, “I wish to buy this house for Venu,” he said hesitantly, “We have no trouble with paying the rent.”
On the bench, Sagayam continued where they had left, “And when Gandhiji addressed a public meeting in Upper Coonoor, people had walked miles from estates and villages to see him. He’d stayed at Mount Pleasant.” Chari just nodded.
“Gandhi signed in the visitor’s book at the Meenakshi Amman temple on that visit. He wrote, ‘I am happy; my longtime desire has been fulfilled.’ Harijans were allowed into the temple. Thakkar Baba accompanied him. V.I.Munuswamy Pillai also went along with them. He belongs to my village.”
Without looking up, but with a mild cynicism Chari said, “And Nadar quietly followed along wherever Gandhi went those days.”
The boys plunged into the pond together with a jubilant cheer followed by a big thud from the shop. Everyone involuntarily turned to glance.
“One gram of gold costs eight rupees eighty sixpaise, and yet we get to see ladies adorning head to feet with gold,” Chari said. They were looking ata pair of newlyweds who walked a few feet apart from each other on the other side of the road. The chocolate complexioned young girl, clad in a bright red sari, with a long oiled plait touching her knee, face bent to look down at her feet as if searching for a needle on the road, walked behind her husband.
“I’ve never in my life heard of gold sold at such high price.”
“People are heading to watch Nam Iruvar, first show. Have you watched?” showing his two fingers Chari nodded in affirmation. “Twice.” He had just started his ceremonious betel leaves munching.
Venu heard Arthur telling grandfather, “Clara’s mother insists she would go back alone if required. She suspects I am inclined to stay back for Venu’s sake.”
“I think you should convince the child and go back. I’m here to take good care of him. Not to worry.”
“Clara is unaware of having a half-brother. Her mother in the depth of her heart has a soft corner for Venu but opposes my idea of introducing Clara to him. And we would have to start from scratch if we go back. Selling off all the properties here would still not suffice.”
The pavilion in the middle had a short tower that looked almost dilapidated. Subbu and Raman went up holding on to the solid structure, upon reaching the shelter to lie down to rest on the floor with legs and hands spread out, as if crucified. They marveled at the panoptic view from there.
Gesturing towards the pyol of the house Venu smiled at Ismail who came in his bullock cart to unload the sacks of goods. He turned to watch the pond.
Naga swam forward slowly as he looked back at his buddies. Burned out, he seemed to struggle. Must be muscular cramps, Venu feared. “Any of you swim?” he asked generally facing the customers and the duo seated on the bench.
Shaking their heads, “No,” both of them said in unison. “But you only know to talk big and fat,” Venu thought. “Wait a while. I’ll come and pay you,” he said to Ismail as he suddenly got up.
“Thaththaa, look after the shop,” he shouted as he grabbed his crutch and hurried.
“It’s not as if this is the only shop around. I can get my cigarette anywhere,” a troubled youth said aloud as he mounted on his bicycle and pedaled away.
Tuk,…tuk,…tuk…bare feet Venu looked dauntless as he went fast down the steps. Leaving the crutch in a hurry, he dived right into the water to swim fast towards the middle.
Ready to plunge, Arthur asked stupefied with a worry, “Can he really swim?” Pulling him back Venu’s grandfather said calmly “Yes, he can.”
Naga sank deep twice to surge back up to the surface with a splash. With hands turning rag-like, his head was slightly visible every few seconds. Having gulped a lot of water he seemedalmost to drown. An astonished crowd gathered to watch.
Subbu and Raman were standing at the central pavilion shouting, “Naga, Naga!” Trying to caution them, Sagayam shouted at the top of his voice, “Stay right there. Don’t jump into the water!”
Ismail untied the bulls from the cart and tied them to the tree leaving a bunch of fresh green grass for them before rushing to join the crowd.
Halfway,Venu swam fast. With a short pause in his forward stroke, he decelerated, as if to tap out most of the efficiency, glided forward. He accelerated immediately but with much difficulty. His adapted swimming astonished all those who watched. He reached the place where Naga was struggling to surface.
The crowd started speculating on who would survive. “Neither,” said many.
“Poomaa, poo. Malli, mullappoo,” a flower seller walked briskly balancing the shallow basket of jasmine strings on her head. Unable to contain her curiosity, she joined the crowd to take a look.
Many pedestrians, cart drivers, cyclists, and a motorist, stopped to join the crowd.
Near the pavilion, Venu pulled Naga to the surface and slapped him twice holding his head by his hair, but Naga did not open his eyes. Panting for breath, Venu pulled him by his tuft and swam back swiftly. The crowd watched spellbound when the boys disappeared under water more than once.
As soon as Venu reached the steps, a group lifted Naga. Pressing his stomach hard could not help, and so Ismail’s bullock cart was turned sideways, and Naga was tied flat facing down on the wheel with a rope and rotated very fast.
Soon, Naga vomited water with all the undigested banana and biscuits. When he opened his eyes, he looked frightened. Soon Naga’s mother and sister came wailing. The temple bell started ringing for the next few seconds when most of them scurried towards the temple.
Exhausted, attempting to gather himself, with eyes closed Venu laid on the bottom-most step. With pond water all around, it looked like he was floating in still water. Arthur rushed near him and watched his tall, slender structure with a tanned complexion, his wet clothes rising up and down in rhythm.
Hesitating, he picked up the crutch and left it reachable near his right hand. With no one around, he bent down to say, “It’s okay if you won’t call me ‘father,’ but I did not betray your mother. I swear by God! You’ll understand one day that it was the rough play of destiny.”
Venu’s grandfather ascended the steps with a large glass of steaming rich coffee in hand when Arthur climbed up the steps looking around.
With the sun almost down, slowly darkness crept in. The stench of dung and cattle urine filled the air as Ismail tied his bulls back to the cart.
The youth with the bicycle returned to the shop, “My folks at home are weeping,” he said and continued to announce, “Did you hear the latest news on the radio? Gandhiji has been shot at Birla house in Delhi, just an hour back.” After looking sharply at Ismail for a few seconds, he went on to add, “They say it’s a Muslim who has shot him,” and rushed off as if he had been assigned the duty to convey the news to the whole town.
Ismail looked worried,and his frightened face looked skyward showing up both his palms “Ya Allah!”
“That’s most unlikely. In all the previous attempts, very distinctly, only Hindus were involved. I am sure, a Muslim would not have shot at Gandhi,” Arthur said reassuringly as he watched Venu sauntering to his shop. Tuk,…tuk,…tuk… He was more intrigued than ever before by the bright glow in his eyes in the dark, that resembled his own.
[1]Thaththaa – Grandfather
