It was so unlike Aulakka to wander away from home and be lost. Distraught with anxiety, Pathumma his wifewas panting for breath and remained awake for most part of that ill-lit night. Towards the wee hours of the night, weary, she brought herself to recline against the pole. The very pole that had until yesterday supported the awning over the three steps leading into her house. And instantly, she had crashed out into an agitated sleep chockfull of nightmares. Three hours later, against a blurry dawn, she was woken up by a man in hot haste entering her hen scratched yard. Without flinching, the bloke broke the news that he had found her husband lying lifeless in a shallow rainwater stream across the fields, with his blotchy tongue lobbed out. Troubled as she was, Pathumma was in no state of mind to receive such dismal news at the start of day. She shooed away this April’s fool with a sweep of a worn-out broom, not forgetting to shower him with the choicest of invectives.
Father of seven daughters, Khadija, Maimoona, Sunaina, Zareena, Aisha, Zuleka and Rubina, Aulakka had braved life head-on pounding beaten rice and selling it door to door from dawn to dusk. Often, at the twilight hour,he’d invariably have his daughters sit downand with his eyes glazed over, speak to them of the kind of men he would find to marry them off to. Soon after, he’d count the earnings of the day and then drop one third of it into the till-hole carved into the sturdy bamboo mast that held his thatched roof in place. Besides, he had kept saving a rupee here and a rupee there to be able to afford their trousseau when the time came. Each of them, he detailed, would be adorned with gold kumaths and a pair of alikats to adorn her virgin face. Aulakka had often listed out the bridal goods comprising no less than a rich pair of anklets each to add a jingle to her every step, a band to deck her slender waist, all in silver, in addition to a sequined head cover to veil her kajal-decked eyes and two dozen glass bangles speckled with sparkle to caress her henna stained hands. He had assured them that guests would be welcomed with a feast of beaten rice rolled into and sweetened with jaggery and freshly grated coconut, accompanied by ripe bananas, and a drink of Rooh Afza, and seen off with ghee rice topped with spiced up lamb curry.
Khadija, the oldest among daughters nudged the youngest but one and whispered,
If only the luckless could refrain from daydreams, it’d save them from a lot of heartache.
She had then gone about her business of serving the family their night fare of rice gruel and brine-soaked cuts of green mangoes garnished with a dash of ghandari chili paste. As if reading her thoughts, Uppa, as they fondly called their father,had whispered a prayer to the heavens above,
Bismil-Lahir-Rahmanir-Rahim.In the name of Allah, the most beneficent, the most merciful.
How I wish Allah would favour me with that lottery,which is due for draw anytime now, …
The entire village was in the know of how Aulakka did invest in each cycle of the three state sponsored lotteries by Kerala, Karnataka and Assam. Nothing had come of it in all these years, except the nickname he had earned for his obsession-Lottery Aulakka!Nevertheless, it hadn’t deterred him from chasing dame luck. A couple of hundred thousand rupees was all that was needed, he had estimated, to put up a decent roof over his head and see his daughters married off with wedding songs blaring from a loudspeaker and blessings gushing forth from his fatherly heart.
And before soon, it was April, the time of the year for weddings and waggishness as well. And for Aulakka, the big draw was around the corner and that had raised his spirit. Regretfully though, the month also had the jobless idlers in cahoots with it, with gags up their sleeves to be let loose on the gullible.
On that fateful day, with his meagre mid-day meal having been done, Aulakka was known to have set out of his house with a basket on his head,heaped with fragrant and crisp beaten rice, to roam the village and dispatch the merchandise. Hovering about the place were also the habitual loafers. Spotting Aulakka on his way out, one among those with the notorious red grin had stepped forward and begun to bait him with inebriated cheer.
Chuck that worthless load, won’t you? Hey, haven’t you heard? … Bring out your lottery ticket, the KL series, the one numbered KL7894316270R. Benevolent Allah be praised for His mercy on the dim-witted like you… you’ll be a rags to riches Panakkaran in no time, no longer the wretched lottery loser that you are,…
The guileless man that he was, Aulakka had tarried but for a moment before he lowered his basket. Continuing to be apprehensive,he had dallieda wee bit more to gauge the intentions of each one of those louts. Given their disposition, appraising their intent didn’t come easy to him.
Eventually, having given them the benefit of doubt, Aulakka had ducked into and come out of his one-room house with kitchen, bath and bed, all rolled into one, in his indigo-washed, pillow-pressed crisp white mundu and shirt. He had then meticulously tucked the ticket, the KL series under his turban with the diligence of asurgeon.
By now, the smutty crowd had begun to egg him on, leading him through the village into the town square, more precisely to the lottery vendors window. Under the watchful eye of the surging crowd, Aulakka, it is said, warily brought out the ticket. Having caressed it wrinkle free, he had then placed it on the counter-top expecting the agent to honour his claim. Instead, what followed was a weighty silence conveying a million concerns, making Aulakka look around.He thought that for some reason the entire village had gone wide off the mark with eyes bulging big and in calculated deliberation the hands too were raised a little above the shoulders, with its frenetic fingers flailing and lips contorted. It hadn’t occurred to him that they were signalling a something message to the officer who was one of their kind, someone who was well versed in the ways of that township. An edgy Aulakka alerted by the goings on had nearly retrieved the ticket from the counter-top for fear that one of them might divest him of it, when, the man in charge moved like quicksilver and put his hand on the ticket to block him. Soon afterwards,he pretended to match the digits against a long series of numbers on the display board and when done heaved an audible sigh. Hepaused for seconds seven before picking up his breath to introduce a twist to the goings on. He was heard declaring in everyone’s hearing,
I’m afraid, not this one Kaka, … but the other with the green border, …
The tomfoolery being lost on Aulakka, his faith now restored by the dream merchants’words, he did an about-turn and huffing,and puffing ran the distant run home, to fetch the green ticket with the incorrigible village coterie for company.
Yendeh Rabba! So, this is the ticket! Aulakka had exclaimed and expeditiously emerged out of his hut a changed man, with the green-bordered strip of paper held aloft for everyone to see.
Flanked by his daughters, his wife Pathumma had stood staring at the man of the house not quite getting what the rabble was up to. In an equally unscripted development, it saw Aulakka stop abruptly, retrace his steps, nip Khadija’s nose and re-enter the house to the disappointment of the pack that wished to see the plot climax. However, in twinkling moments it was relieved to see him re-emerge, merely to hurl into the yard the only pair of earthen cooking pots he possessed and a weather-beaten skillet. Next followed the sack of beaten rice, a couple of coconut ladles, a worn-out broom, threadbare mats and sheets, a little patchwork pouch with girlie-girlie trinkets which belonged to the lassies and change of clothes. That was not all, they also witnessed a treasured clay pitcher break into smithereens. Other than these meagre movables, belongings he had none. Tailing this, the baffled family had failed to stall the man from pulling down the roof over their heads, which stood just a couple of spans above him. When his turbulent mission was accomplished, Aulakka had stood tall in the middle of the rubble, thumping the erect mast with the brimming till, to behold his heroic act of having binned out poverty of a lifetime and associated anguish with all his might.Three decades hence, the mob still remembers the sunny smile a triumphant Aulakka had flashed at the women and his utterance before he joined it.
Panakkari Pathumma, stay put and watch for me getting back on an elephant, he had proclaimed with his chest swelling, to his ever-grounded woman.
Hours had lapsed since that ill-fated outburst. The girls with tears streaming down their faces had remained huddled below part of the sagging roof that stood testimony to their father’s asinine outburst. Pathumma, weary from staring teary-eyed at the distant horizon for signs of her husband’s return had fallen asleep as afore mentioned, leaning against the post supporting the awning over the three steps. It was there that she was woken up by that star-crossed milk vendor, April’s fool or otherwise,whose call it was to hurry towards her humble abode, now reduced to an irretrievable wreck, to inform her that he had stumbled upon Aulakka, lying motionless.
Every Fools Day since, the town is ominously quiet, and the folk with crossed hands touch their ears at any reminder of Aulakka and exclaim, tauba, tauba. No Fools Day for them. Not after the way the fallow hoi polloi had hounded him for the green slip of paper in a sham attempt to appropriate it; not after an evening of endless catcalls culminating in the bellow- ‘April Fool, April Fool!’ Their guffaws had been loud enough to shatter Aulakka’s dreams and send his heart pounding like the pounding of the pestle he had lived with all lifelong.
A quarter century, hence, the millennials refuse to understand why this restraint from a little tomfoolery on Fool’s Day. The village elders insist that they keep off as Aulakka is known to be prowling about the night to collect his prize money and smite fools standing in his way. Pathumma has long succumbed to Allah’s will and is nearly forgotten. The daughters, save Rubina, with their knobby hands continue to pound and sell beaten rice. Regretfully, no fool worth his salt has had the heart to gift the damsels henna enough to colour their lives.
Decades after the infamous lottery episode, an insurmountable Rubina intuits the presence of Aulakka whenever her nose tingles from the whiff of the beaten rice being pound. With her nostrils flaring to take in the aroma, she vouches for it that she can every so often hear the jingling coins dropping into the deep bamboo till. She didn’t seem to fathom that the twilight hour had passed, and that there had been no sign of the arrival of the baraat to claim her for a bride in all these years gone by. Routinely, Rubina could be seen reminiscing sitting beside piles and piles of beaten rice flakes,
Before long, my groom will sit by my side and Nikah will be uttered. We shall then eat the sweetened beaten rice from the same platter and gulp down the scented Rooh Afza, if only to sweeten and stain my lips to a deep claret. At long last, when it is time for me to cross the fields and step into the boat to join my groom waiting to feel my warm touch on the other side of the bank, I shall steal a look. For one last time. I’m bullish of spotting Uppa standing on the receding bank to see off his little girl. All decked with a sequined lotus pink veil and adorned with shimmering drops of gold and silver ornaments;besides being escorted by a procession of glowing lanterns mirrored in the water to the accompaniment of the dancing ripples vying to caress her coloured feet stepping out of the boat.
The chilly splash of water against her coloured feet brings Rubina out of her musings making her orate to anyone willing to lend an ear,
Believe it or not,that’s so like my Uppa! The man the village elders resurrect every Fools Day to facilitate his resolve to realise his claim.For so long, this village will not suffer fools.
Glossary:
Alikath-It is an earring with flat tiny leaves hanging from it,worn by Muslim women in the Malabar area of Kerala. Traditionally, women used to pierce several holes along the ear and the alikath hung from each hole. Some women had up to eight alikaths in each ear.
Ghandari-hot bird’s eye chilli
Kaka-uncle in Malayalam
Kumath-a heavy pendant earring hanging from the earlobes worn by women in Malabar area of Kerala
Mundu-a length of seamless cloth used by men in Kerala to wrap themselves waist below
Panakkaran-a wealthy man
Panakkari –a wealthy woman
Pari-a fairy in Hindi language
Rooh Afza-a non-alcoholic concentrated squash. It was formulated by Hakeem Hafiz Abdul Majeed in 1906 in Ghaziabad, India, and is manufactured by the companies founded by him (Wikipedia)
tauba tauba-an expression indicating repentance, in Hindi
Uppa-father in Mappila Malayalam spoken in parts of Kerala
Yendeh Rabba-my God
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