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| Ki. Rajanarayanan |
The villagers used to address Thathaiya Nayakkar ‘Appurani Nayakkar’ (Innocent Nayakkar)
He was a farmer. He would never poke his nose into others’ affairs unnecessarily. His penchant for agriculture was something that would make anyone envious. There used to be an orderliness in everything he handled. No one could have seen his face raging with anger. He carried a smiling face and a radiance all time. No one would say he was sixty year old man. His hands were very muscular like a trunk of an elephant; well-built body; grey haired head; greyed moustache with the tint of saffron caused by frequent spitting out of betal leaf juice. Irrespective of distance, he always preferred travel by foot. He would go to neighbouring places only twice or thrice in a year. He would go to kovilpatti, the town located ten miles away from his village, and bring all the items required for his family all the way carrying it on his head.
On that day too, he went to Kovilpatti. He kept all his belongings at a house on the outskirts of the town and came back after watching movie. It was a scorching summer. The moon was throwing its milky white light. He spread his towel on the outer Veranda of the house. He could not sleep as the bed bugs and mosquitoes were eating up his sleep.
‘How could these people sleep peacefully closing their houses in this hot summer?” Nayakkar wondered. He smiled at himself.
He was struggling for long time to get sleep and finally when he was about to close his eyes, he heard a helpless voice of a woman and got up instantly.
“Aiyo…amma…is there no one else who could stop this injustice? Aiyo…aiyo….an intense helpless voice. Thathaiya Nayakkar reflexively got up and sat. He gave his ears to that voice attentively.
“You sinners!...Aren’t you born with sisters? Is it just what you are doing now? Aiyo….Isn’t there any one to stop this?”
Nayakkar jumped off the veranda and came onto the street. He bent down and collected two big stones of coconut size, stood firm and called out.
“Who’s there?”
His heavy and masculine voice hit somewhere and echoed.
“Stop there. If you move, one single throw. Your head would fall off like a palm fruit.”
The owner of the house came near to the window hearing his thundering voice but did not open the door.
“Yov..yov…Nayakkar…have you gone mad or what? Come and sleep. Hundreds of things would take place in the town. Why do you mind others’ business? Be at peace minding our problems and us. Why do you disturb your sleep with your impertinent tongue? Be quiet, come and sleep.”
Nayakkar felt that something was wrong. At that time, a woman came running towards him with her hair blowing untidy in air. She came and clasped his legs.
Nayakkar took a step backward. But that woman tightened her grip and held his legs tightly.
Four men came running fast after her. Seeing Nayakkar, they hesitated to move forward. Two among them were standing at a distance.
“Sir, you please keep calm. It is a fight between husband and wife. Please don’t intervene in this matter”- One of them told.
“No…it is injustice. You only have to save me”- the woman bobbed her head violently and clasped his legs even more tightly.
Nayakkar consoled her and lifted her by her armpits as if he was lifting a child.
“O..my Mother….don’t be afraid. As long as I am here, no harm would come to you. Please tell me what has happened? He asked her affectionately. That woman narrated exactly what has happened.
…..
Bolammal was married to a person in a village some four miles away from Kovilpatti.
That day evening, she fought with her husband. Her husband who never raised his hands to beat her, had beaten her very badly that day.
Bolammal got angry with her husband and left the house for her mother’s place somewhere in the South.
Once she reached here, it got dark. She was walking with an intention of staying at one of her distant relatives there. But they were not there as they had changed their house. It was when she was enquiring about their house, she happened to meet those men.
They told her that they knew the location of that house and they were also residing near to that house. They further told her that they were also going to their home. Bolammal believed what they had told. Those men collected the information about her fight with her husband and her name from her by being friendly with her.
They compelled her to eat the snacks they bought from an ‘afternoon’ shop.
“That house is afar. It will get late reach there. We understand that you must be very much hungry. Don’t be shy. Have it” – they coaxed her affectionately.
When she was eating the snacks, they heaped abuses on her husband till their mouth got its fill.
“Even if you die, don’t let that fellow face you. Is he a human being? He has beaten you as if he has beaten a bullock. What a pity” – They told.
Hearing this, the thought about her family came over Bolammal’s mind. Her eyes welled up with tears. The coffee she was drinking turned bitter and she disliked it. She kept it aside and got up.
“I have to go early. It gets late.” – growing tense she started walking faster.
They brought her to the outskirts of the village. While walking they were teasing her.
One of them caressed her back and told-“Merciless fellow…see how he has beaten her that it got swollen like this.”
Bolammal got alert. She looked at him sternly. The hands caressed her back fell down at her irate eyes. Next moment, her eyes became teary thinking about her helpless condition.
“ Brothers…How could you behave indecently with a hapless woman like this? Isn’t a sin? – she begged their pity.
“ Aiyo! Why did I leave my home like this? I don’t know what all else would happen now?- Bolammal thought remorsefully.
As she came to a point of determination, she decided not to move further and stood like a fixed nail on the ground. Refused to move an inch further.
“If you touch me, I will shout and call out everyone. You will get the respect you deserve then.”- Bolammal hissed.
Some persons were passing them. Hearing their scuffle, they stopped and enquired the persons standing near to Bolammal. “ What’s the matter?”
“ Nothing. Nothing else. Just a petty fight between husband and wife. That is all.”
“O…is that all?”- the passers-by left the place.
Those who witnessed their episode broadcast through the street thought that it was a petty fight between husband and wife.
As the time passed, the presence of people grew thin there.
Now they got emboldened and caught hold of Bolammal’s hand and dragged
her.
Hardly a word was left that she did not cry out; There was no abuse left that
she did not utter; There was no god left that she did not pray to; But there
was none available there to protect her, to wipe off her tears.
….
Upon hearing all these details, Thathaiya Nayakkar became terribly angry. He
stared at them with his angry eyes.
But, that curly haired bulky man came in front of Nayakkar and politely
represented his case.
“Sir, I request you to listen to what I am saying. You are like my father. She
is the daughter of my own maternal uncle. She has been married to me for five
years. This fight has been there for these five long years. When I come home
after toiling myself breaking my bones, she won’t be available at home. She
would come only in the morning. I had to roam around the entire village
searching for her. For how long could a legally married husband bear this?”
At this time, the owner of the house where Nayakkar was staying, Sundaram
Chettiyar came out of the house. Others households too accompanied him.
One of the buddies of the curly haired man standing at the distance came near
to them.
He told curly haired man-“What a nuisance! Has it started again? Had it been
myself, I would not be crying to set her right, rather I would have divorced
her. You are the perfect example of a Married Bachelor brother.”
Telling this, that guy smiled at Thathaiya Nayakkar.
Bolammal spat on his face. “Thooooo”
“Spit on me! Spit on this shameless fellow! You will spit. Wont you? It was my mistake
that I brought you up thinking you are a girl without mother. If I had broken
your hand and legs at an appropriate time, you would not have brought this much
trouble. What could he do for my mistake?. You, the daughter of whore!”- the
curly haired man jumped upon her furiously.
“Eeeell….” Bolammal screeched. Suddenly she fell down on the ground like a
chopped palm tree.
The stones that Thathaiya Nayakkar was holding slipped from his hand and fell
down on the ground. Being mentally vexed, he sat on the veranda.
Like a kite picking up an innocent chicken, they left the place carrying
her.
….
It seemed that a heavy rain has just stopped in that street. Everyone went
inside their house and locked themselves.
But Thathaiya Nayakkar could not sleep.
After some time, the same helpless screech of that woman was heard again.
He stood up, now decisively. He walked towards them to know what they are doing
with that woman.
If assessed the situation with the direction from where the voice was coming,
it was understood that they were not going towards the village.
Nayakkar's palpitation and restlessness increased. A feeble voice was coming
from the bottom of a Single Eyed Bridge located on the road at some distance
away. The sound stopped abruptly. Thathaiya Nayakkar ran towards that
direction. He heard a ‘Shhhh’ sound coming out from a hiding. Following that, three men
came running fast towards Nayakkar.
“Don’t come near…Run away….run away…” They were screaming and kept running
towards him.
Thathaiya Nayakkar bent and collected two big stones. His shoulders became
tight. His chest was infused with fresh air and got expanded. His
height got straightened. His appearance evolved into an impressive bulk of
eight feet.
Nayakkar brought his left leg a step forward and released the stone with full
force from his right hand. The stone travelled with lightning speed in the air.
“Aiyo…amma. I am dead'- One of them fell down.
Within the fraction of a second, second stone from the left hand went to the right
hand and tore the wind with ‘uiiiing’ sound.
Suddenly a big branch of a tree broke and fell down. The stone missed its
target.
One of them fell down; Nayakkar stood stunned for a second at seeing other two
persons came running towards him.
There was no time to bend again to pick some more stones. They had come that
near to him.
He hoodwinked them by stepping backwards at the right side but ran forward
faster. He saw the person hit by the stone writhing in pain. Again he hoodwinked them
by stepping backwards at the left side but ran forward faster. He then lifted
the person lying on the floor with his two hands looking up the sky, mustered all
his strength in his hand and threw him to the floor with a forceful
swing.
Two more whistle sounds were heard. ‘ushhh…usshhhh’
The curly haired man came out of the bridge like Yama Dharma Rajan (God of
Death). He was holding Bolammal’s hands very tightly.
Bolammal was standing without any dress on her body. Part of the cloth
thrust inside her mouth was hanging outside her mouth.
Nayakkar jumped upon the curly haired man ferociously. He gave a very tight
slap on his cheek and kicked him. He could not take on Nayakkar’s
ferocity.
He fell on his back and closed his eyes only to open it a while later. The cloth was
removed from Bolammal’s mouth.
By the time, the henchmen of curly haired men surrounded Nayakkar. One of them
had a long sword. It was shining in the moon light.
Thathaiya Nayakkar understood his end that was waiting for him. He could have
escaped but he did not opt for that.
“Please leave this place immediately” – he gave instructions to that
woman.
Bolammal stepped backwards and started running. One of those men ran behind her
and caught hold of her hands. She could not move. Now there appeared two
enemies.
Nayakkar raised his hand directly against the sword holding man and called out
as if he was seeking help from someone behind him. “ Please come here…please
come here”
The sword man turned back. Nayakkar pushed him down to the ground on his
stomach, twisted his hand with his one hand and held his head with another. He
then kicked his waist and broke it.
The sword dropped from his hand. Before Nayakkar could pick it up, the curly
haired man could manage to pick it up.
Once the grip got loosened a bit, the person lying on the floor wiggled
Nayakkar’s legs like a snake. Thathaiya Nayakkar could not balance and fell
down. He tried to get up with one hand on the floor and the another hand
raised.
“Shhhthaakkkk”
The raised right hand of Thathaiya Nayakkar was chopped off in one swing of
sword. Bolamma screamed ‘Aiyo….Aiyo….” In order to avoid his neck receiving the
blow, he raised his left hand to stop him. The curly haired thug chopped off
his left hand too.
He then mustered all his strength and kicked the person holding his legs
violently aside and managed to get up. With the same furiousness and yelling ,
he hit the stomach of curly haired man with his head and pushed him down.
The curly haired man was thrown into the air and fell off at the distance of a
couple of yards.
Thathaiya Nayakkar was running here and there without any target. The blood was
gushing out of his both the shoulders as if being pumped by a water gun.
Nayakar kept on falling down, getting up and trying to hit with his
head.
“You brutes! Low born scoundrels! Impotent assholes!. There is something called
Dharma. There is someone called God.”- He was roaring with pain.
“My God…My mother like child! I am unable to help you out ma. It is pity that I
did not have enough strength to kill these dogs to save you. O…God. Aren’t you
there?”- Thathaiya Nayakkar cried and hit his face repeatedly on the
rough surface of the ground.
…..
Those men left the place thinking that the situation would not be in their
favour if they stayed back any longer.
One of them went ahead dragging Bolammal holding her hair.
The cry of Bolammal was heard for a while. After sometime, that too stopped.
Silence….a deadly silence thereafter.
Thathaiya Nayakkar was dying at a faster rate.
He could see the things around him getting dimmer and then clearer.
When he was conscious, the first thing which he remembered was the heavy spear
with wooden rod that he kept in the south corner of the hall in his house. Then
the smiling face of his only daughter Vengadammal came to his mind; the
innocent face of his grandson Srinivasan also came to his mind.
Nayakkar tried his best to regain his strength and called out loudly his host
Sundaram Chettiyar. But there was none to answer his voice.
His voice was echoed in the Kathiresan Kovil mountain and came back with
‘Sundaram Chettiyar’… ‘Sundaram Chettiyar’.
These were the last words that came out of his mouth.
“Water….Water.”
The horizon embraced its dawn next day. The air was calm and breezy.
A crow which came from nowhere perched on a tree and gazed at Nayakkar’s dead
body with its tilted head. It made a circle above Nayakkar’s head and cawed
thrice.
Two shepherd women came along that way with curd pot on their head.
They stood stunned at seeing the hands severed body of Nayakkar soaked in blood
and started screaming.
One old woman with the curd pot on her head amidst the crowd that was standing
near the dead body wiped her eyes with the hem of her saree and left.
“What a pity! Whose child is this? Which scoundrel has committed this
sin?” she left the place murmurring this.
*Translated from Tamil into English by
Saravanan. K
Note:
This short story was written by the famous story teller, Sahitya Adademy Award winner Ki. Raja Narayanan (known for his unadulterated depiction of rustic life of southern Tamil Nadu in his short stories). It has been taken from his short story collection “Kadhavu” (Door), Annam Publication, Thanjavur. This short story was first published in Thamarai magazine (Now it is not functional) in April 1959.
The literary language of Ki.Ra is a simple one in its genre. Translating his words may seem to be easy due to its visible simplicity. But translating the essence of its rustic simplicity is not that simple in English as the English language is not well equipped with the required cultural essentials to be truthful to the soul of Indian villages and its narratives. It is a sin required to be committed by any translator due to the requirement of wearing a fake sophistication while translating stories of writers like Ki. Ra. This translation does wear that sophistication too. The readers would forgive me for it. They ought to do it because they are as helpless as I am.
