One Part Woman (16 page)

The marketplace was full of flame torches. In the brightness of those flames, the light from the little lamps that hung under the carts appeared muted. Her mother decided to open the packed food, knowing that it would take a long time to walk around the streets and then return. Ponna was not hungry; all she felt was a tightening of her stomach, but she ate whatever her mother put on her plate. Whenever her mother packed food for just one or two days, she added onions. It had a distinctly wonderful taste. But right now Ponna could not taste anything.

Her father decided not to go into the market. ‘I have seen it for so many years,’ he said. ‘Who wants to walk all the distance now? It tires my legs. You two go. I will guard the vehicle.’

He kept repeating to them that they should be very careful when they went into the crowd. He asked them to be mindful of the chain and the taali pendant round their necks. He then told his wife not to keep money tied to the end of her sari, but to keep it in a pouch and tuck it into her garment close
to her waist. ‘All sorts of thieves will be roaming around today.’ Then he added in a muffled voice, ‘Cover your chest properly. These dogs have wandering hands.’

He wouldn’t sleep so easily. If he stood around with the others minding their cart and bullocks, he wouldn’t know how time went by. Finally, he asked them to return to this spot if they lost each other in the crowd.

Her mother lost her patience. ‘Come, let’s go. He’ll keep telling us something or the other as though we are little children.’ She dragged Ponna along and stepped into the market.

It was an ocean of human faces. Little patches of darkness lay here and there, challenging the light from the flame torches. Human bodies were rubbing, banging and pushing against one another. To Ponna, they all looked like worms crawling on top of each other.

‘Don’t think this is the only crowded place!’ her mother said to her. ‘Today, Tiruchengode is like this everywhere, on all four sides. Even children and old people from the nearby villages have come. Take a look.’ But all that she said was mere meaningless noise to Ponna’s ears.

They walked past the market and arrived at a corner that was lit by five lanterns hung on large iron rods. These were permanent lanterns. But to manage the extra crowd, more light was needed. So, there were flame torches or more lanterns kept at regular intervals. There were also men in charge of these lamps, and they were running around making sure every place was lit. Right below the bunch of
five lanterns were three flower shops. Ponna’s mother bought some jasmine and kanakambaram flowers strung together and decorated Ponna’s head with it.

It was only rarely that Ponna wore flowers. When she went to some function, she wore just a pinch of a flower. In her opinion, her lacklustre hair—ravaged by the sun and the heat and all the wandering around in the fields—didn’t deserve to be decorated with flowers. In the early days of their marriage, Kali really liked it when she wore flowers. He’d pluck wild jasmine from creepers growing over the bushes in the fields and bring them home. They were small but incredibly fragrant. If she wore even ten of those flowers on her head, people four houses away were drawn by the scent. The local belief was that that particular flower’s scent attracted snakes. So she asked Kali not to go looking for the creepers.

Some days, he brought cactus flowers. Those too were found on the edges of the fields. The plant was prickly, and the flower was mild ochre in colour. It did not have much of a fragrance, but if she brought it close to her nose, it smelled of sour toddy. It was really beautiful to look at, and a handful of the flowers made a lovely string. To avoid having to go looking for flowers, Kali brought some kanakambaram plants and a jasmine creeper and planted them along the little canal. In just a few days, they burst forth with blossom. Then it became a major task for Ponna to pluck them, string them together and to comb her hair just to wear the flowers. She was enthused at first, but the novelty soon wore off. Those
who wanted flowers came to pluck them from the plants. They blossomed abundantly. She’d stand under the shrub and lament, ‘The plant that we plant grows; the seed that we sow blooms; is it only me who is the wasted land here?’

Shouldn’t she have given Kali a child at least in thanks for his love for her?

A lot of people were bathing in the large sacred pond. Even in summer, the pond was more than half full with water. All it needed was one rain, and water from all over Tiruchengode flowed into the pond. The place was well lit on all four sides. The workers were chasing away those who were jumping into the pond, and asking the spectators to keep moving. There were many men and far fewer women bathing in the pond. Whenever she looked at the pond, Ponna was reminded of the incidents involving Kali’s grandfather, which his grandmother had told them about.

On one such day several years ago, Sadayappan, Kali’s grandfather, went to see the festivities. Though quite short in stature, he was a very shrewd man. It was the day the big chariot was brought out.

The British officer who had come to ensure law and order arrived near the holy pond with his retinue of lower officers. He was an enthusiastic man and loved contests. Seeing the number of people gathered for the festival, he began to think of some kind of a contest or another. That year, the pond was so full that waves rolled on it. There had been two or three excellent bouts of summer rain. There was quite a crowd at the pond in the daytime. On one side, five or six boys were throwing stones into the water. The aim was to see who could throw the farthest. That gave the British officer an idea and he sent out an announcement with the parai drum the very next day.

The news reached several villages. The news was that on the fourteenth day of the festival, when the gods would return to the hills, a stone-throwing contest would be held
on the banks of the temple pond. All contestants had to stand on one side of the pond and aim their stones towards the opposite bank. The stones should reach the other side of the tank without falling into the water. All those who managed to do that would receive one rupee as prize. And all those who lost would receive a whiplash right away right there next to the temple pond. Everyone would get three chances. It seemed that the idea was to design a contest which nobody could win.

The contest was all everybody could talk about that year. One rupee was a big amount. Some people who were determined to win the prize landed up at the temple pond the day before the actual contest and started practising their throws. The British officer had to issue an order prohibiting it.

The next day, a great crowd gathered around the pond. They had all come to watch the contest. The contestants themselves were hesitant. For, if they lost, they’d have to endure a whiplash, though the officer had ordered that the whiplash should not be so severe that it peeled away the skin on their backs but should merely create a sound effect. Gradually, the contestants started stepping out of the crowd. They had to stand on the east bank and aim their stones on the west bank. The stones were big and round like ostrich eggs, the kind of stones one used for the game of fifth stone.

Many started receiving whiplashes. Only one or two stones managed to cross even half the length. This provided the entire day’s entertainment for the people. The moment someone received a slightly severe whiplash, his friends and
relatives were outraged: ‘Wretched white dog! Isn’t there a limit to the game? He wants to throw stones from this side to the other. May stones fall upon his house! May people throw stones at him!’ But they continued to stand and watch the rest of the contest.

The British officer did not budge from his spot. Even when he dismounted the horse, he stood right there. Since he could not bear the heat, he constantly drank something or the other. When the heat got too much for him, men came running, stood by his sides and fanned him. It was an imported fan made of palm fronds and had beautiful pictures drawn on it. The contest had started in the morning, and even by the afternoon, no one had won. The officer could not stop grinning. When he realized no one was going to win, he increased the prize money to ten rupees. He wanted to make more people participate and watch them receive whiplashes.

The moment they heard of the new prize money, a new line of contestants got ready. These men, with their dhotis tied tight around their loins and their turban cloth tied around their waist in deference, and running to throw stones, must have looked like bizarre creatures from another world. Every time someone lost and was given a whiplash, the officer smiled. If someone’s stone managed to cross more than half the distance across the pond, he raised his eyebrows in wonder.

Kali’s grandfather, Sadayappan, arrived there only in the late afternoon. Seeing the crowd around the pond, he
inquired what was going on and watched the contest for a little while. After walking around the pond twice, he decided to participate. He was used to taking aim and throwing stones. He had practised it while herding goats in the forest. He could aim a stone sharply at a goat’s hind leg. Most of the time, his stones could cross a square measure, which was over half an acre. Whenever he aimed a stone into the lake, at least one dead fish rose to the surface. All those who had come with him from the village now whistled and cheered him on.

He removed his dhoti and towel and stood in his loincloth, which was strung on a thread made of aloe fibre. It was wide in the front, and at the back, it hung like a long tail. His appearance was a source of mirth for the officer. Sadayappan felt like telling him, ‘I feel like laughing looking at you, officer, wearing so many clothes in this heat.’ But if he even smiled, the officer would detect the sarcasm in it, and that would blow up into a big problem. So, he controlled himself.

He stood on the farther edge of the east bank of the pond and came running at great speed towards the water. He looked like a bandicoot rolling down. Everyone looked silently at the pond. His stone flew more than halfway across and fell into the water with a plop. No one else had managed to reach his stone that far in his very first throw. The crowd clapped and cheered. The officer couldn’t laugh now. With his mouth open in wonder, he kept staring at Sadayappan, who now came running again from the outer edge of the bank to cast his stone. Everyone was keen to find out how far this one would go. It crossed three-fourths of the distance
before falling into the water with a splash. The crowd went berserk. The officer was wonderstruck.

The third time too Sadayappan came running at great speed. The crowd was absolutely convinced that this time the stone would reach the other side of the pond. And—it did. No one could see where the stone fell. One of the men who had been appointed to keep a watch on the game lifted a stone from the ground and shouted out to the crowd. Sadayappan was then lifted by the crowd in celebration. Many of the spectators were keen on finding out who he was and from which village. Suddenly, Aanangur Sadayappan’s name was on everyone’s lips. Until then, no one had known him. He had stayed confined to his field. But within a few minutes, he had become famous.

The British officer was nonplussed at the development, but without showing it on the outside, he joined in the celebration. He got off the horse and shook Sadayappan’s hands and patted him on the back, while Sadayappan stood hunched in deference. In front of the entire crowd, he was awarded the prize money of ten rupees. Kali’s grandmother pointed out to the land where the barnyard now stood and told them that it was with those ten rupees that the land was bought.

There was no British officer next to the temple pond this time. That happened forty or fifty years ago, and many other officers came after him. Whenever anyone asked Sadayappan how he managed to do what no one else could, he said, ‘I just prayed to Sengottayan and Pavatha and flung the stone.
It must have been them who made sure the stone fell where no one could see it.’

When Ponna wondered how he managed to do that, Kali’s grandmother lowered her voice and said, ‘I haven’t told this to anyone. He is dead and gone, too. That British officer too is not around now, but it is the British who are still ruling. If they hear of it, they will lock us up in jail.’ There was fear in her voice.

‘I won’t tell anyone, Grandma. Share it with me,’ said Ponna.

Grandmother narrowed her eyes and said, ‘If they come to know, they might rampage through our land, dear. Don’t tell anyone.’ She made Ponna promise before she shared the secret.

When Sadayappan walked around the pond, he made note of the fact that they did not allow anyone to hang out on the other side of the pond. There was just one man allowed there, who was supposed to observe where the stones fell. Sadayappan was certain that his throw would reach the stone at least three-quarters of the way. He decided that he would try a trick to get the stone to the other side. Well, if they found out, he would just get some extra whiplashes. Won’t his robust body bear that much of an onslaught? he reasoned. He could have thrown the very first stone three-fourths of the distance, but he controlled himself and let it travel only half the way. This way, he could build up the next throw to three-quarters and gain people’s confidence that he would eventually win. In fact, his third throw rested entirely on the strength of this confidence.

When he receded to the outer end of the east bank to start running for lead, he pretended to have dropped the stone. While bending down to look for it, he picked it up with his left hand, while his clenched fist just gave the impression of holding the stone. He then gently dropped the stone that was in his left hand and ran with his clenched right hand that appeared to be holding a stone. No one suspected anything. Everyone’s attention was focused on seeing where the stone would fall in the pond. And since it did not fall anywhere inside the pond, they all concluded that it must have fallen on the other bank. The man on guard on the other side was scared that he would be chastised for slackening in his job, so he picked up a random stone and proclaimed, ‘Here! This is where it fell.’ This was the secret of Sadayappan’s victory.

Ponna was shocked on hearing this. Was it right to make one’s living through something that was earned by cheating? She even suspected that was the reason for their being childless. He might have been a British officer. He might have been a cruel man who dealt people whiplashes. Wouldn’t Sengottayan and Pavatha make sure he was punished adequately for that? Was it all right to cheat him and take ten rupees from him? Was it good for the family? Weren’t there thousands of people around the pond that day? Didn’t this mean the money was received by cheating everybody? It might have been a big achievement for him, but …

It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d spent the money on some temple expenses. It would even have been all right if he’d wasted it away in food and drinks. Instead, he bought
land and made sure the consequences of his action went down generations. That’s why god had ensured there was no further heir. Ponna brooded over this for a few days. Since she didn’t want to upset Grandmother at her age, she didn’t say anything. But when she shared her concern with Kali, he laughed.

‘Do you think no one would have known if he had no stone in his hand and just made a gesture of throwing it? Do you think that British officer was an idiot? The stone that my grandfather threw would definitely have reached the other side. Do you think he was an ordinary man? He might have been short, but he was very strong. Don’t worry about this,’ he said.

She insisted that they should sell the land and spend the money on rituals. She said whatever land would be left after that would suffice. He was not at all in agreement with her about selling the land. Which farmer would so easily agree to let go of his land?

‘If you think this is definitely the reason, we could go ahead and do it just for the sake of a child. But I don’t believe it is so. I say this for you,’ he said.

Soon after, Ponna took her mother-in-law along, took a bath in the temple pond and went to the base of the hill and made an offering. When Kali’s grandmother was on her deathbed, she asked her: ‘Are we suffering the consequences of that, Paatti?’

With tears in her eyes, Kali’s grandmother said, ‘We prayed to god, consulted him with flowers and bought this land with his blessing, dear one. So, nothing will happen because of that.’

Only after that did Ponna feel a bit consoled. She was determined to complete her offering as soon as a child was born.

Now, they moved beyond the pond and towards the bungalows. There were small stalls lining the road. People could buy rice puffs and mochai seeds and eat as they walked along. The smell of jaggery attracted them. ‘Shall we buy something?’ said her mother, but Ponna was not interested in anything. They walked past the crowds into the west chariot street and the north chariot street. There was a big market under way there. It had plenty of bangle shops. Her mother compelled Ponna and made her wear some new bangles. She also bought some hairpins. Ponna stood there as if she was somehow disconnected from all of it.

When they walked towards the east chariot street, they saw that the lights were brilliant there. In the light of the moon above, the big chariot appeared magnificent. It looked like its sharp roof could pierce the skies. Though the chariot had reached its spot after making its rounds, its giant ropes still lay on the street. People were touching the rope in prayer. That entire street was full of steel merchandise: cast-iron work, spades, dosai pans, sickles and other such stuff. There were crowds in front of every shop. She could hear voices bargaining. When she got up after bending down to touch the large iron chain that lay in the middle of the road like a large serpent, she couldn’t find her mother.