A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலே ஒரு தோணி): Introduction

 

Pa. Singaram 

This is an English Translation of “Puyalile Oru Thoni” written by Pa. Singaram. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

A word from the translator:

To be very precise, it is my daring and audacious attempt that I have made up my mind to translate one of the classic novels of modern Tamil literature, “Puyalile Oru Thoni” (I have translated as “A Boat in the Storm”). It is considered to be one among the top ten best novels in modern Tamil literature. Its author, Pa. Singaram, an unassuming writer born in Singampunari town in Sivaganga District in Tamil Nadu, seems to have developed a distaste for the so called literary limelight. Despite having been gifted with enormous literary talent and writing skills, he had written only two novels in his entire life time. His second novel is Kadalukku Appaal, (i.e Beyond the Ocean. I am planning to translate this novel too under this title). His bitter experience of getting his novels published due to petty squabbles and priority politics prevalent in the publishing industry had forced him not to write anything more other than these two novels. His Kadalukku Appaal was published by Kalaimagal Publications only after the novel won the prize in a fiction contest.  

“Puyalile Oru Thoni” was written in 1962 and it didn't find any publishers. With the unrelenting efforts of one of his friends, Puyalile Oru Thoni was published in 1972 (after ten years it was written) by Kalaignan Publications. Many modern Tamil writers consider this as an important literary work published in Tamil in the 20th century. Several notable film-makers have expressed their desire to make this epic novel into a movie but conceded that it was an impossible task to do justice to the book. --- (Courtesy Wikipedia)

This novel has been written in the backdrop of Second World War in Indonesian and Malaysian regions. The novel is replete with conversations in Indonesian, Malay, and sparingly Japanese and German languages in an attempt to give an original flavour to the narrative. The meaning of those sentences needs to be inferred either with the help of subsequent paragraphs or just by assuming the nearest of its meanings. The author seems to be untroubled with the concerns of readers who might face problems in understanding “foreign language phrases”. He might have been under the impression that they do not play any decisive role in altering the understanding of narrative. As a translator, I faced a certain amount of difficulties not only in terms of paraphrasing it but also in finding correct spelling of those words in the event of being unable to find out their meaning. This has forced me to ‘invent’ my own spelling purely on the basis of phonetic transliteration of those words written in Tamil. These transliterations are not authentic. It is just a reception of their sound patterns in Tamil. This area will remain open for future amendments in the translation and will be amended accordingly as and when I come across their correct spelling and sounds either though readers or some accidental understanding. Till then, I request the readers to magnanimously adjust with my ‘invented’ spellings. After all, they will no way affect the literary merit and flow of the narrative and hence forgivable.  

The foreword: (It is a translation of the foreword to Second edition)

This is the second edition of “Puyalile oru Thoni”. It is a work of fiction written in the backdrop of Second World War in Malaysian and Indonesian regions. Other than the historical events and figures, the narrative doesn’t mention about anyone or any incident in particular.

Here are some explanations pertaining to the narrative:

Indonesia, earlier known as East Indian Islands under Dutch government is an archipelago with many racial groups and languages. The island of Sumatra which is seven times bigger than Srilanka is a part of Indonesia. Maidan, better known as Medan city and Belawan port lying near to it are located along the North Eastern coast of Sumatra. The language spoken in that region is Malay. The currency in vogue at that time under Dutch government was known as Guilder. It was roughly equivalent to 1.50 rupees. The Tamils would call it Rupee and Indonesians would call it Rupya.

Glossary of some important words used in this book

Annamer - contractors doing renovation works. Uppas – watchman, Kampong – Village, Kanthor – Office, Kitha – rubber, Ling – Tamil people, Kirani – Clerk, Sado – Carts driven by horses, Shakei – a type of Japanese liquor, Shamshu – Arrack, Thavakkei – Owner, Thuvan – addressing someone with sir, Matskappai – Company, Merdekka – Freedom, Independence, Bentheng – Fort.  (All these spellings are “invented” spellings. They are not accurate)

The city of Penang is located along the coast of Malaysia, which was earlier known as Malaya in the Penang islands. One Malaysian dollar was equivalent to 1.50 rupees. The Tamils would call it Velli.

It was a customary practice in those days that people other than the Chettiar community, who were into money lending business abroad were relegated to a status collectively known as Pillai. More often, the Malays and Chinese believed that all Tamils who were doing money lending business would necessarily be Chettiars. Any reference to “the person from Chettiar house” would only mean the profession; not caste. The building that housed the pawn shops were known as Kittangi (godown, warehouse). The building where the staff of pawn shops, agents, helpers working in pawn shops, cooks, and Nattukottai Chettiars stayed was known as the Nagara Viduthi, ‘The City Lodge’.

The Bank of Ulantha – Netherlands Urandal Company, The Bank of Ungakanjanghai – Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, Varaagan – 3.50 rupees (It was the currency known as Pakoda during the British rule), Vathaviya Patteviya (known as Jakarta these days) – the time taken by someone to close an account, Korankikaari – woman from Andhra Pradesh, Vennilai Kadan – The debt not yet compensated.

We wouldn’t be able to witness the scenes of cars in Tamil Nadu which our hero Pandian was fortunate enough to do so. Gone are the days where one could see the car agents roaming the streets with a bundle of bidi and match boxes in one hand and trip sheets and pamphlets for drama on the other, pencils on their ears and mouthful of nonsensical bluff. It was the time when buses were known as ‘cars’, cars as ‘pleasures’ and one tonner buses as biggest vehicles.

The portrayals of First Lane, Madurai and Pallar Street are just the depiction of their existence at that time. They have been converted into residential areas now.

Wilmette (Lemonade) was the name given to “coloured’ soft drinks sold in bottles.

A Military Division was a unit commanded by a Major General. An army (Sena) consisted of many divisions. An Army Group consisted of many armies. The strength of armies and volume of military equipment varied from nation to nation according to the requirement. (For instance, the 25^th Japanese Army which conquered Malaya consisted of sixty thousand soldiers. The 6^th Army of Germany in Stalingrad consisted of three lakh fifty thousand soldiers.)  

Wehrmacht – German Army, Panzer – A German striking force consisting of tanks, bullet proof vehicles, and soldiers armed with motor vehicles, Task Team – a team of naval soldiers depending on aircraft carrier ships as their major strength, B-24 – a notorious American bomber aircraft popularly known as the “Flying Fortress”, Kembithai – Japanese security services.  

Our readers must understand that one could buy roughly four to five Kilograms of rice for one rupee, and the jobs which are fetching two thousand rupees now were once done for the salary of somewhere between forty or fifty rupees. The value of thousand rupees that time is approximately equivalent to fifty thousand rupees now. (This foreword was written in 1985)

(The quarter of an Ana – approximately 1.50 Paise. This quarter of an Ana was worth of three pennies. Things were available to buy even with a penny)  

                                                                                                 Pa. Singaram

                                                                                                 August, 1985

.

***Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam  

Note: Chapter 1 “Kerk Straat” will be posted soon.

The City (நகரம்) by Sujatha

Sujatha 

This is an English translation of “Nagaram” a short story written by Sujatha. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam. 

***

….Madurai was the second capital of Pandiya Kings. The city of ‘Madra’ mentioned in the maps of ancient countries, the city of “Madhura” known so in the English Language, and the city of ‘Metra’ called by Greeks are one and the same. They all stand for the city of Tamil Madurai - Caldwell’s “Comparative Grammar”

The mural advertisements drawn on walls a foot above from the ground seemed to share harmonious life with each other in different hues- Nizam lady tobacco, RK brand’s sleeveless braziers, Warning- Fire of revolution on the way, Gospel assemblies, Haji Moosa Textile shop (Ocean of textiles) and Procession of carrying fire pots by atheists scheduled on 30.09.1973. 

It was just yet another day in Madurai. As usual the pots were waiting for the arrival of its owners in the ‘queue of meditation’ near water tap.  Small children were playing in sand without any fear of tetanus. Pandian Transport Corporation buses were busy throwing out the diesel smoke adulterated with local spirit. The policemen looking protein deficient, wearing stiff half khaki trousers were trying to regulate the movement of both men and vehicles. The bustles of the city resembled a random movement of particles in ‘Brownian’ movement. A thin and not so lengthy procession of some men wearing Khadar shirt was slowly moving on the left side of the road raising slogans against the government for not controlling inflation. Multitude of ordinary masses walking without sandals, the majestic imposing towers of Meenakshi Amman temple, dried Vaigai River and a bridge built upon it…it is the city of Madurai. 

Our story is about a woman who had come to this city. 

Valliyammal along with her daughter Papathi was waiting in the Out-Patient ward of Madurai Government hospital. Papathi had a temperature. When she consulted the doctor in the Primary Health Centre in her village, the doctor got her scared and hurried her to take her daughter to the Government Hospital immediately. She boarded the bus in the early morning for Madurai and …...

Now Papathi was lying on a stretcher surrounded by a group of six doctors. Papathi must be about twelve years old. The ordinary glass stones of her nose rings worn on both sides of nose were glittering in the hospital lights. A streak of Vibhoothi on her forehead. The hands sticking out of blanket covered up to her chest were looking bony. Down with high fever, Papathi was sleeping with her mouth open. 

The Chief doctor gently tilted Papthi's head and examined her eyes lifting the eye lids up. Pressed her cheeks gently and checked her forehead with his fingers. The Chief doctor was educated in the West and used to take classes for post graduate medical students. He was a professor. The doctors standing around him were actually his trainee doctors.

“Acute case of meningitis…Notice the…” 

Valliyammal was watching her daughter anxiously amidst their conversation. Everyone standing around her came forward one after the other, examined her eyes with an ophthalmoscope, and checked it with a torch if her pupil had any movement. They then jotted down their observations. 

“Get her admitted”- The Chief  doctor instructed.

Valliyammal looked up to their faces in bewilderment. One of them told her, “Amma…we have to admit this girl in the hospital. You please go to that man sitting over there. Where is your receipt?” 

Valliyammal hadn’t got any receipt. 

“It’s alright. He’ll give it…Hei….old man! Come this side” he yelled. 

Valliyammal went to the Chief  doctor and asked him,” Ayya…will my child be alright?” 

“Get her admitted first. We will take care of her. Doctor Dhanasekaran…I want to attend this case myself. See that she is admitted. Now time is up for taking classes. I will attend her once I am back” 

He left the place like a minister with his entourage following him. Doctor Dhanasekaran informed Srinivasan who was standing beside him to get her admitted and ran behind the Chief doctor.

Srinivasan stared at Valliyammal. 

“Please come here…ma. What is your name? Dei…scapegrace…bring that register” 

“Valliyammal” 

“What is the name of the patient?” 

“He is dead” 

Srinivasan rose his head, stared at her. 

“Patient means sick person. Who do you want to admit?”

“My daughter” 

“Name?” 

“Valliyammal” 

“You are playing mischief with me. Aren’t you? What is your daughter’s name?” 

“Papathi” 

“Papathi…thank god, I got it. Take this receipt and go straight and you will find a person sitting on a chair near the steps to upstairs. He is the income appraiser! Give it to him” 

“My child?” 

“Nothing will happen to your child. Let her sleep there. Hasn’t anyone accompanied you? You may go now” he told her and turned his attention toward his routine work, “Who’s Vijayarangam? 

Valliyammal didn’t like to leave her child alone. The queue and the stench floating around there had made her feel sick. She grew angry with her dead husband. 

She went straight, holding the receipt in her hand. The chair was empty. The back rest of it was thick with dirt. She showed the receipt to another person sitting near. He looked at her with his clumsy left eye that opened one fourth of its eyes lids as he was busy writing. “Wait…let him come” he told her pointing at the empty chair. Valliyammal wanted to go back to her daughter. She was caught on the horn of a dilemma which took a magnificent proportion in her illiterate heart whether to wait there or to go back to her child.

“Will it get delayed?” – she was afraid of asking him.

Finally the income appraiser came there slowly, evidently after admitting his son in law and sat on the chair. He sniffed a pinch of snuff three times, rolled her kerchief like a rope, wiped his nose and got to work with a renewed vigour. 

“Look here…everyone should stand in the queue. I can’t do anything if you come like a swarm of winged termites”

After a wait of thirty minutes, the receipt was snatched from Valliyammal when she stretched out her hand to give it. 

“Get it signed by the doctor. There is no doctor’s signature in this” 

“Where should I go to get it?”

“From where did you come here?” 

“From Moonandipatti”

The clerk chuckled at her reply. “Moonandipatti? Bring that receipt” 

She gave him that receipt. He flipped it a couple of times as if fanning himself with it. 

“What is your husband’s income?” 

“My husband is dead” 

“What is your income?”

She blinked, unable to understand his words. 

“How much will you earn a month?”

“If I get work during harvest season, I would get some paddy. Or pearl millet or ragi” 

“So you won’t get your wages in cash. Will you? It’s alright. I will write down your wages as ninety rupees”

“Is it for a month?”

“Don’t be afraid. They won’t charge you anything. Along with this chit, you go straight and take a turn on left and you will find an arrow mark on the wall. Go to room number 48” 

Valliyammal received that chit from him with both of her hands. As her simple mind was confused with the descriptions the clerk gave her, she was roaming in the hospital corridors like a piece of paper that was left free in the air. She was an illiterate woman. The number 48 had then slipped out of her mind. She was afraid of going back to the clerk to ask him again. 

Two patients, half sitting, half lying on a single stretcher with tubes inserted through their nostrils went past her. In another push cart was moving Sambar rice in a wide mouth cauldron. White capped men were busy walking here and there. In full make up, the lady doctors were going past in white coats with stethoscope hanging around their neck like garlands. Policemen, boys carrying coffee tumblers and nurses all alike were busy walking in all directions. They seemed to be in some indescribable hurry. Valliyammal didn’t know how to stop them to explain her situation nor knew what to tell them. She saw some people crowding around in front of a room and a man collecting brown colour chits with an ease of stacking up cards. Valliyammal went to him and handed him over the chit. He got it from her without any special attention. People were waiting outside, sitting on benches. Valliyammal grew worried about her daughter, Papathi. ‘She is lying there all alone’ she thought. The man who collected the chits was calling out the names one by one and made them sit in a row. When he called out Papathi’s name, he gave that chit to her and told, “This chit is not meant for this room. Go straight”.

“I don’t know where to go” Valliyammal said. 

He paused for a second, and stopped a person who went past him and told, “ Amalraj, show this woman room number 48” and turned to Valliyammal and said, “Follow him. He is going there”

She had to run behind Amalraj. 

There she found another group of people crowding around. A man collected the chit from her. The odour permeating the hospital and the weakness out of not having food since long had made Valliyammal feel slightly dizzy. 

After half an hour, she was called. She entered the room. Two men were sitting in the chairs opposite and scribbling something with pencil. One of them scrutinised her chit, flipped it again and again and said: 

“You are coming from O.P department. Aren’t you?” 

She couldn’t reply to this question. 

“It is written to admit the patient. But no bed is empty. You may come back here exactly at seven in the morning”

“Where should I come?”

“Here…the same place. You can come here directly. Okay? 

When she came out of the room, Valliyammal was very much worried about her daughter who she had left for more than one and a half hours. She didn’t even know how to go back to her daughter. All the hospital rooms were looking similar with the same person sitting in front of all the rooms and collecting the chits. In one of the wards, so many persons were lying on beds with their legs or hands lifted up, tied with bandages. In another ward, small children were crying, wrinkling their faces. Everywhere machines, patients and doctors – she was still unable to find the way to reach out to her child. 

She called out to one lady doctor and described the place from where she had left her child. “Many doctors were standing there, talking to each other. They asked me about my income. Some even told that I don’t have to pay any money. I have left my child there, amma” She narrated. 

She went by the way the lady doctor has shown her. The door was locked. The fear that was till then creeping into her heart had now become a fright. She started crying; stood in the middle of the corridor and wailed. A man going past told her to move aside and cry. It seemed that crying there seemed as uninteresting as the smell of aseptic liquids.        

“Papathi…Papathi…where will I see you again? Where will I search for you?” she kept walking, talking to herself. An entrance gate was visible that side. It was the exit door of the hospital. It was kept opened and only those who went out of the hospital were permitted through that gate. She could recollect that she had seen that gate. 

She came out. She now remembered that she had entered the hospital through another entrance after walking a long distance from this gate. She ran towards that entrance and reached the other gate. She remembered those wooden steps. Yonder, there lay the empty chair of the clerk who was appraising incomes! Yes…it was there!

The entrance gate had been kept closed. She could see Papathi still lying on a stretcher with her eyes closed. 

“Ayya…could you please open this door? My daughter is lying there” 

“Come at three. Now everything is closed” she begged him for ten minutes with all her possible efforts. She couldn’t understand his language as though what he spoke was in Tamil. She couldn’t understand what he had demanded of her. When he opened the door for someone and was busy touching his eyes with a petty amount he received, she rushed inside using that minute of his servility. She went running to her daughter, scooped her up in her hands, sat on a separate bench and wept. 

The senior doctor had had a cup of coffee after taking classes for M.D (Doctor of Medicine) students and left to visit the wards. He could vividly remember the case of acute meningitis he was handling in the morning. He had read about some new medicines published in B.M.J (British Medical Journal)

“I told you in the morning to get that case of meningitis admitted. Didn’t I? That twelve years old girl… where is she now?” he asked. 

“No one has been admitted today, doctor”

“What? Not admitted? I have told you very specifically. Dhanasekaran, don’t you remember that?” 

“Yes…I do remember doctor” 

“Paul, please let me know what had actually happened. How come it could have missed like this?” 

The person called Paul went downstairs and enquired the clerks sitting there. “You people simply write on papers to get them admitted. There is no space in the wards even to stand” they sulked.  

“Swamy…it is the Chief doctor that asks now”

“Is the case known to him?”

“May be…who knows?”

“I haven’t received any case pertaining to twelve years old girl. Even if anyone had come to me, I have told them to come only in the morning. Two or three beds will get empty tonight. If it is an emergency, you must inform us in advance. Or else just pass a word that the Chief has some personal interest in that. That is enough. Are they related to him?”  

Valliyammal stood clueless as to what she was going to do till next day seven O’ clock in the morning. The ambiance of the hospital was so much of intimidating for her. She wasn’t sure whether she would be allowed to stay with her daughter. Valliyammal thought for some time and scooped up her daughter, cuddled her along her chest, supported her head on her shoulder as the girl’s hands hung loose, she came out of the hospital. She boarded a yellow colour cycle rickshaw and asked the rickshaw puller to go to the bus stand. 

…

“What nonsense are you people talking? Seven O’ Clock in morning? The girl will die before that. Doctor Dhanasekaran, please get the Out-Patient ward checked. She must be there somewhere. If you don’t find a bed in that wretched ward, arrange a bed from our department ward. Make it quick” 

“Doctor, it has been kept reserved” 

“I don’t care. I want that girl admitted now. Right now!” 

The chief doctor had never shouted like this. The panicked Doctor Dhanasekaran, Paul and Miranda, the head nurse were on toes in seconds and ran to O.P ward in search of Valliyammal. 

…

“It is just an ordinary fever. Isn’t it? We can go back to our village, Moonandipatti. No need to go to the village hospital. It was that doctor from the health centre who got us panicked and chased us away to Madurai. Everything will be alright once we consecrate Vibhoothi with a jaggery cube”. 

“If Papathi recovers, I will donate two hand full of coins to Vaitheeswaran temple” Valliyammal prayed solemnly.

                                                    ***Ended***

The star he liked most (அவனுக்கு மிகப்பிடித்தமான நட்சத்திரம்) by Ashoka Mithran

Ashokamithran

This is an English translation of “Avanukku Miga Pidiththamaana Natchathiram”, a Tamil short story written by Ashoka Mithran. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam. 

***

Sriram was twenty one years old. His B.A exams were recently over and the results were to be out in the month of June. It was April now.

Ramasamy Iyer was his neighbour. He was a clerk in a pharmaceutical company. He had five children. First three were girls, the fourth one was a four year old boy and the last one was a girl, a toddler of nine months.  

Sriram had subscribed to an English daily. The newspaper would be distributed at his house at about six every morning. Since his regular newspaper man had to attend a court case that day, he had deputed his son to distribute the newspapers. When Ramasamy Iyer got up in the morning, he saw a newspaper sticking out the window grill. He didn’t know whose newspaper it was. After washing his face and drinking coffee, he started reading that newspaper so attentively. 

A tamarind vendor was on his way selling freshly collected tamarind for an unbelievably cheap price. Ramasamy Iyer came out of the house, approached the vendor to buy a Mananku¹ of tamarind. The vendor weighed two veesai of tamarind each time. Some wrapper sort of stuff was needed to take all the tamarind balls into the house. Ramasamy Iyer was holding a newspaper in his hands without knowing to whom it belonged. When he was taking the third tamarind ball in with the newspaper, he saw Sriram speaking to someone, enquiring about the newspaper man. Ramasamy went into home swiftly, threw out the tamarind ball, wiped the newspaper with the best of his efforts, came out and asked Sriram whether the newspaper he was holding in his hands belonged to him. Sriram nearly snatched it from his hands and opened it. The front page of the newspaper carried a full scape advertisement of a movie. A blow-up of an actress, often praised as the most beautiful woman in the entire South India was printed in the advertisement. Her beautiful face was found grotty with the half-cleaned patches of six veesai tamarind smeared on it. Sriram had an insurmountable crush on that actress. He reproached Ramasamy Iyer for his depraved intention of picking up someone else's newspaper. Ramasamy Iyer told him that he didn’t know anything and he found the newspaper inserted in his window grill. Sriram mumbled something inaudibly and started reading the newspaper. The face of that actress looked awfully ugly. Sriram muttered audibly, “fool”. Ramasamy Iyer heard it and asked him “What did you say now?” 

“I said nothing about you. Fool”- Sriram repeated it again. In the next fifteen minutes that followed, Ramasamy Iyer came out with his opinions that Sriram was a fool, scoundrel, cheat and rogue. Sriram responded that he also had similar opinions about Ramasamy Iyer. That day, Ramasamy Iyer went late to his office by one hour. 

A couple of days later, Sriram saw Ramasamy Iyer carrying a bunch of neem leaves in his hands. Sriram’s mother told him that Ramasamy Iyer’s son had small pox. Sriram had planned to go to the Employment exchange, Book store and then cinema. Soon after he left his house, he wrote an anonymous letter to the Health department and dropped in the post box. 

The day was completely hectic for him. When he returned home, it wasn’t fully dark. He felt that something was not alright with him, but couldn’t understand exactly what it was. His heart cried for peace. 

When he was drinking the coffee kept in the flask in slower sips, his mother told him that someone had informed the Health Department about small pox, some persons came to Ramasamy Iyer’s house when he was not there and took his son along with them to the cholera quarantine hospital. Iyer’s wife cried inconsolably, begged everyone who came there to spare her son. But they paid little attention to her words, nor tears and left with her four year old boy. No one could do anything. ‘It is the law here’, they said. Ramasamy Iyer’s wife wept hysterically, running behind them in the street like a mad woman. 

It caused immense pain in Sriram as he didn’t expect all these turn of events.   

Soon after Ramasamy Iyer came home from his office, he ran out of his house without even removing his office dresses. Sriram saw him running towards electric train station. The quarantine hospital which was housing the patients with infectious diseases was ten miles away from the town. 

Sriram was restless. He couldn’t even relish the food provided to him. He was watching the people walking on the street standing near his house compound wall. The time was past ten. The bustles of the town began to settle down. The railway station was at half a mile distance from his house. Sriram could vividly hear the sounds of trains passing through the station, the clangs of bell in the level crossing, and the sound of wheels rolling on rail tracks. This regular affair of the town going silent every night had never attracted his attention before this. The corner house boy studying in the medical college had also put off the lights. The parallel rows of houses were looking like dark shadows in the night. As his eyes got heavy, Sriram lied down on his bed. As he was unable to sleep, he got up, and came to the street again. He was wearing only dhoti. Everywhere it was dark and everyone was asleep. He was waiting alone in the street. At last, the one which had been keeping him under persistent fear, the one for which he was totally prepared to sacrifice everything in his world just to avoid facing it, did now appear in the corner of the street. It was Ramasamy Iyer. Arm supporting her, he was bringing his wife whose her throat seemed to have gone dry due to unrelenting sobs of pain. Sriram couldn’t have seen Ramasamy Iyer’s wife not more than some odd ten times during the past two years despite being their neighbour. She was such a woman who usually preferred to stay inside her house. Sometimes, Sriram used to think she must either be a dumb or handicapped woman. A woman of that unassuming nature was now coming in front of him, all the way crying throwing away all her inborn traits of being a passive woman. He learnt that she had begged everyone holding their legs and cried hysterically like a mad woman. 

Ramasamy Iyer and his wife entered the house. Their children who were sleeping till then without knowing anything that was happening around them, woke up suddenly and started crying in unison. Their mother wept along with them. That boy was her son, only son. He was just four years old. He would never leave her even for one hour. Now he had been thrown into some unknown area on the pretext of diseases he got infected. His mother wouldn’t be able to attend his needs when he needed her the most while lying sick. When he became thirty, she wouldn’t be able to provide him a mouthful of milk. They would throw him amidst thousands of lepers and cholera patients in an unfamiliar place. Not a single soul would be available to comfort that child. He would shake in fear. No one would be there to attend his natural calls. A heavy thug with big moustache would only be present to intimidate the boy. “O! My God! What sin have I done? Why do all these happen in my life? Why do you torture my boy without showing mercy?” 

Sriram couldn’t sleep that night. The boy died after two days. Since he was infected with small pox, they took his body directly to the burial ground without showing his face to his parents. 

After one month, Sriram summoned up his courage and entered Ramasamy Iyer’s house. Ramasamy Iyer was sitting on a recline chair. Sriram told him softly, “I want to tell you something about Raju”. Ramasamy Iyer’s son’s name was Raju. 

Ramasamy Iyer looked up to him, and asked, “What?” 

“Do you know who had informed the authorities about his small pox?”

“Hell with him. It doesn’t matter now. Does it?” 

“It was I who informed” 

Ramasamy Iyer looked at him sharply for a while and called out to his wife, “Kamu” 

His wife came out of kitchen. She was looking completely changed in the past one month. 

Ramasamy Iyer, pointing at her, told him, “Tell that to her” 

With heart filled agony and guilt, Sriram felt falling on her feet and washing it with his tears. Swallowing up everything that rose from his heart, he told her, “It was I who informed about Raju”.

He looked up to her, waiting for her obscene curses, and even prayed for it. But to his dismay she appeared as if she had regained all her old equanimity. 

She didn’t speak anything. 

****Ended*** 

 

1.    Old unit of weight, one Mananku is approximately equivalent to eight Veesai , i.e appx 12 kg (One Veesai - appx 1.6 kg)

Chellammal, an acclaimed short story by Puthumai Pithan

Puthumai Pithan 

This is an English translation of Chellammal, a famous Tamil short story written by Puthumai Pithan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam. 

***

Chellammal’s breath came to a standstill, her pulse slowed down and settled finally.  Chellammal became a nameless corpse now. It simply meant that she died in solitude of the city in the presence of her husband, at a distance of some five or six hundred kilometres away from her relatives.  

With sweat flowing like a stream from his forehead, Brahma Nayagam Pillai kept aside the bale of husk he was carrying in his hand and stared at the body that was alive as Chellammal a while ago. 

He closed the eye lids that were half opened, and kept the hands that were stretched out lifeless in an orderly fold on her chest. He straightened her left leg folded with a bend on one side and joined both the legs. He closed the lips that were slightly parted. Although the interiors of his heart could feel that Chellammal was no more, he didn't feel the same while touching her. Her breath came to a standstill that time.   

He felt that an unbearable heaviness had got offloaded from his mind as if he got his neck relieved of a heavy weight. The flood of his miseries did not breach its sluice gates to throw him into utter despair. He reconciled to the fact that the woman who had till then shared her life with him as his wife had got indeed relieved of her pains.      

But we shouldn’t come to a hasty conclusion that Brahma Nayagam had become an ascetic without any familial bonds while seeing him behave as a mature man and not shaken even at the shadow of death. We must understand that his father was not an enlightened soul like king Suthothana to bring him up with a fencing around his mind, protecting him against all worldly desires and finally take him till “Bothi” Tree. His father was just an ordinary mortal who had also faced three facets of life - poverty, disease and death.  

If we assume that Brahma Nayagam Pillai might have seen many ups and downs in his life, all those small “ups” he somehow managed to ascend, were nothing but the blunders of the “downs” that had kept descending perpetually. When he realised what life actually meant, he had anyway set off his journey from the “ups”.  

Brahma Nayagam’s father was such a rich man who owned just a piece of land fetching him some income to look after his family’s yearly requirements. If that piece of land was to be divided among his heirs, it would necessitate a division into fragments which would just be enough to feed his heirs from going hungry. Brahma Nayagam Pillai was his fourth son. As he was comparatively better at studies, his father got him educated leaving his other children with a minimum level of literacy which was just enough for them to read and sign letters. His fortunes helped his son to continue his studies at a distance of some five or six hundred miles away and somewhat kept him alive without going hungry. At an appropriate age, Brahma Nayagam was bestowed with luck of holding Chellammal’s hands in marriage, wearing her a toe ring on ‘Ammi’ and looking at ‘Arunthathi’ star.  

After Brahma Nayagam Pillai’s father died, the property was divided. While his elder bother managed the family debts related issues, preventing it from becoming a full- fledged litigation, Brahma Nayagam along with Chellammal took refuge in Chennai in search of livelihood.  

While Chennai offered him a life without peace putting him in fire test, Chellammal gave him a life without peace testing his mettle at home, not with her character but with her frail health. The condition of her body became so weak. Pillai had to face two pronged problems – persistent issues of livelihood outside and an insistent wound that eats up from inside at home!  

Brahma Nayagam was working in a cloth shop. The shop owner gave him an amount of wages which was just enough to keep two bodies alive. Chellammal’s disease ate up the half of it and further spread its tentacles out in the name of debts.  

The miseries that rose from Brahma Nayagam’s heart would first become a wound, then get healed and then become a scar. There was nothing known as date of salary. It was a customary practice that he would get a paltry amount as and when he was in need. It meant that he had to make a prior assessment of what were his probable requirements in coming days, strive hard to make his owner’s mind softer, remind him daily and beg him despite being fully aware that he would be disappointed. Finally he would return home with the money after every nerve of his perseverance was tested by his owner. It was how the company he worked was functioning. This was how he had to prioritise his requirements in instalments. Most of the times, he would spend the amount he kept for addressing one problem on another important need that would pop up abruptly. Then, he would spend the rest of his days using the occasional 'waterways'  called instalments to irrigate his boundless desert of livelihood requirements with the deftness of a snake trying to swallow its own tail.  

Chellammal’s body became so fragile. Her disease along with relentless mental agonies and hunger had made her permanently sick. Her healthy countenance in the morning would disappear in the evening. Considering her condition and the need of being frugal, Brahma Nayagam Pillai chose to live in a house without electricity on city’s outskirts with lesser bustles. He would start in the morning after filling his tummy and reach the place of his livelihood by walk with a food packet in his hand. When it got dark, he would return to his home when other able bodied people were sitting leisurely after dinner. His dinner would be decided only on the basis of Chellammal’s condition that day. If the house was dark and the outer entrance door was kept closed without being locked, then the prospect of satisfying the hunger of two living beings would be possible only after he lit the stove after washing his hand, legs, and completed all his rituals. While reaching home all the shops in that area would be closed which would in turn force him to manage his dinner with available ration at home. We must understand ‘available ration’ meant just shiny empty utensils lying there.  Even during such an ordeal, Pillai’s will power would never get shaken. He would ensure that his wife is served at least with hot water.  

Living in penury, Brahma Nayagam Pillai somehow managed spending ten years of his life in Chennai. At times, a spirited thought of visiting his native place did come through his mind. However, his ineptitude would fill in, with disappointment and helplessness from doing so. Further, his was very much frightened to think how things at his village would be.  

He used to discuss the ways and means to come out of his problems and the pleasures of undertaking a joyous journey to his native place with the dead body lying in front of him when it was able to breathe but couldn’t speak. When Chellammal would develop cracks on her already dried lips when she laughed at his words out of her occasional zeal. Their gossip about their possible village visits served as an aphrodisiac which rendered them forget their current problems.  

2  

That day, when Brahama Nayagam stepped out of his house in the early morning with the box in hand containing yesterday’s left over rice, he found Chellaamal moving around in the house. She told him that she would prepare his favourite horse gram paste and tamarind mixed side-dish for him so that he could eat sumptuously after his return in the evening. Then she left for the backyard with the ash of burnt chaff in her hands.  

“It is only today you could recover a bit from your illness. Don’t get your body tired unnecessarily” Brahma Nayagam paused a while after crossing the entrance door, and warned his wife. He pulled the doors from outside, balanced both the doors together with one hand, inserted his finger through the gap between the beam and door and latched the door brilliantly from inside. He pushed the door once to ensure that the latch had properly fixed itself in the hook, came onto the street and started walking. On his way, his mind was occupied with the thoughts that revolved around his shop owner’s disposition and Chellammal’s ordinary worldly desires.  

During their casual talk day before yesterday night, Chellammal told him while giving compress for her chest pain, “For Pongal, we need to cook with the rice brought from home. We can visit to our native place at least once. While coming, we can bring gooseberry Adai and Muruku vathtal too”  

Her words sounded commendably praiseworthy anyway. But he thought, instead of asking it, she could have either asked him to bring some tiger milk or learn some magic tricks from the Lord Brahma. Had she asked these, he would have never thought that they were impossible dreams.  

“Why not! Let’s see. Purattasi (a Tamil month) is not yet over. We need to think about Pongal only after that. Don’t we?” he replied.  

“You are right. But if only you inform this now, they will do something in favour of you” she explained the necessity of informing in advance. What she meant by “they” was his shop owner Pillai.  

“Diwali doesn’t get you bothered as you will get everything from your shop. But what will I get this year for Diwali?” she asked him.  

“Whatever you like, let’s purchase it. That is it. First, you sit straight with your head up” Brahma Nayagam laughed.  

‘What reason should I write in the credit register to get the money for her? Old debt has not yet been paid off! If I keep on increasing the debt, will they permit it?’ Brahma Nayagam was thinking about these all through his way. He entered the shop, kept his food packet and upper raiment in a corner meant for his exclusive use. “What happened Perama Nayagam? Why are you late by this Nazhigai? Do you think that someone will come here to open this shop? Alright…alright…go upstairs and bring the half piece of 703. Along with that, bring that bundles of vests kept in the North corner”- the order of his shop owner pushed him into his daily routine of the company. “One yard…Two yards…silk…dying thread….Salem… Kollegal…. Poplin… Twill….the sounds echoed as if Brahma Nayagam was sincerely praying to the God of his stomach. At nine, he went to his shop owner Pillai, explained his problems hesitantly, and packed three saris in his upper raiment for displaying as specimens. He, then, came out of the shop.  

3  

Brahma Nayagam kept the bag at the entrance, deftly inserted his fingers through the gap between door and beam with his usual expertise and got the latch released. A dog seemed to have been swallowed by darkness was howling in slumber. Its sound of yearning rose like a wave one after the other and faded gradually. 

Brahma Nayagam pushed the door, opened it and entered the house.  

There was no light in the house. He thought that she must have slept though the time was not up. He took out a match box from the entrance beam and lit the small lamp kept nearby. That lamp that emitted light like a firefly presented the darkness in its full intensity. His shadow in its dim light was looking monstrous on the wall.  

He crossed the hall and entered. Chellammal was lying, on her left with her left hand supporting her head under it, on a sari spread on the floor. The right hand was hanging lifeless on the other side. Her position revealed that she was not sleeping. Brahma Nayagam bent forward and showed up the lamp in front of her face. Her eyes looked up. Only a mild quiver on her chest. The breathing, though steady, was thin. He raised his head. 

While going to the back yard, he noticed the kitchen. The food was kept prepared in an orderly manner. Hot water was boiling in the stove.  

Unconcernedly he took some water from the tub and washed off his legs and hands. Entered the room again, tweaked the wick of the mud lamp and lighted it. He took out a piece of dry ginger and a match box from the niche nearby and came back to the inner hall. He lighted the standing lamp kept near the wall, and then sat near Chellammal. Her hands and legs were chilled. He poured camphor oil on his palm, firmly rubbed both the palms till it generated sufficient warmth and brought its pungent aroma near to her nose but in vain. He poured the oil in his hand and applied it on her nose and head with a mild shiver in his body. He, then, brought hot water in a utensil and gave compress on her hands, legs and chest. He could not administer it comfortably as she was lying on her one side. He turned her and laid her on her back and administered the dry ginger smoke again.  

After two doses of ginger smoke, Chellammal moved her head a bit aside to avoid the smoke wafting across her face. A very big sneeze that almost shook the entire body! She fell unconscious again. Once he blew the smoke again, Chellammal spoke something feebly, started weeping like a child and asked for water.  

“Here it is…please open your mouth.” He brought hot water in a glass and tried it on her mouth. But her teeth were clogged. Again, she fell unconscious.  

Brahma Nayagam used this time tested treatment that he learnt through his life-long experiments once again on her. She opened her eyes, mumbling something inaudible. He looked at him imperceptibly as if asking questions where she had actually been.   

“When did you come? Where is mother? How long would she be waiting for you after cooking?” she asked.  

Brahma Nayagam was an expert in giving soothing replies to such questions coming out of one’s misplaced consciousness and setting it right. It was not mandatory on his part that he had to give perfect answers to such questions every time. It was just enough if he could manage with some replies whenever she asked.  

Suddenly, Chellammal caught his hand and shouted at her high pitch, “Maa! Maa! Let’s go to our native place. If that wretched fellow comes here, he will tie me up here. Cheater! Cheater!”. Her voice became shrill. Brahma Nayagam wet a cloth in cold water with his left hand and put it on her forehead.  

Chellammal started gibbering again. She could not understand who was sitting in front of her. 

“Maa! Maa! When did you come? Did he send the telegram?” she asked.  

“Yes…just a while ago…I have just received a telegram. How is your health now?” asked Brahma Nayagam mimicking her mother. It had been five years since Chellammal’s mother died. When she blabbered like this in sickness, she would develop an illusion that her mother was still alive.  

“Maa! Please give me some water. He is always like this ma! He used to go to shop leaving me alone at home very often. When can we leave for our village? Who has tied my legs and hands? I will never ask you sari anymore? Please don’t tie me up. I can go to my village by crawling slowly. Aiyo…please leave me…What wrong have I done to you? Can’t you release me from this? Let me go to my place to meet my mother. After that, you may tie me up as you want.”  

Chellammal fell unconscious once again.  

Brahma Nayagam thought of calling the doctor. ‘How can I leave her just like this? It is far from here. Is it?’ he thought.  

Once again, he administered dry ginger medication.  

Her pulse rate was steady but slowing down.  

Slowly, the fear of her death had started looming in Brahma Nayagam’s mind. Neither was there the mental agony nor the pain of sorrow of disregarded words in that fear. Only were there a bitterness felt by the tongue of a sick person and a peace of mind that was deeper than it. Added to it, an exasperation of facing futile results despite working hard!!  

Chellammal mumbled something and turned her body other side.  

Brahman Nayagam turned towards her head leaving compresses he was giving on her legs and asked her to ascertain whether she needed anything as he didn’t hear what she had uttered. It was when he saw her breath turning normal. She started sleeping after being released from the clutches of unconsciousness. The signs of disease found across her face were now faded and left.  

It was not even ten minutes since she slept. Chellammal was awake again. She tried to reconstruct her scattered memories, scrutinizing her body as to why it became wet.  

“My head is aching.” She said indistinctly.  

“My body is paining inch by inch” - she closed her eyes slowly.  

“Don’t get your mind bugged up. Sleep peacefully. You will be alright in the morning” he said. 

“mmm” she murmured. She got up and said, “My tongue is dry…I need some water”  

“Please don’t get up. You might fall down” he supported her back, gave a glass of hot water.  

She touched the glass, and told him, “I don’t need this. Give me cold water. Tongue is very dry”.  

He tried convincing her not to take cold water, telling her it was not good for health in her condition and only warm water was good for her. As she did not heed his words, he decided that it was better to give her cold water than making her weaker by furthering the argument. He gave her cold water and made her lie down gently.  

In seconds later she closed her eyes, she opened it again, and asked him, “I am asking only you. When did you come? Have you had your dinner?”  

“I have eaten. You better sleep now. Don’t bother yourself with unnecessary thoughts one after the other” Brahma Nayagam said. His reply fell into her ears, not into her consciousness. Chellammal then slept.  

Finally when Brahma Nayagam settled on the Coco grass mat spread on the floor pointing towards the entrance, with a yawning, ‘Muruga’, he heard the crowing sound of rooster indicating dawn. The world had come out of its slumber. But it did not give a space for our Pillai to sleep for a while. He was sitting there holding his knees together. His mind was wavering from one place to another thinking about the past events unrelated to each other.  

It was dawn. The distinct clatters of women who were carrying ‘summadu’ on their head for selling vegetables and those who were selling vegetables in their push carts which they could purchase as their business did well, chased our Pillai away from the temple of his contemplation. He entered in, bent forward and watched her closely. With her hands folded in support of her cheeks and lips curled on one side, she was lying asleep.  

‘Something hot while she getting up should be given as it would help her delicate stomach’, he thought. He went inside the hall, lit the stove and then went to the backyard.  

When he returned with a chant of ‘Muruga’, smearing ‘vibhoothi’ on forehead, he saw Chellammal sitting on the bed, tying her untidy hair. She looked up to him with a whine.  

“How do you feel now? It seems that you have slept well.” Brahma Nayagam said.  

Slightly tilting her head, Chellammal scratched her scalp with her fingers, arched her eye brows, and asked him, “My whole body is so weak as if I were beaten up every inch of my body. If I get something hot to eat now, I may feel good”.  

“I am preparing coffee with palm sugar. After brushing your teeth, have it as you like. Do you need hot water for brushing teeth?” asked Brahma Nayagam.  

“Keep the hot water at the backyard. I will go after a while and brush my teeth.” replied Chellammal.  

“It sounds damn stupid what you talk…have you forgotten how you were struggling yesterday? You should not move unnecessarily. Should you?”  

“I am unable to understand what had happened to you. You have grown so brazen these days” Chellammal collected her dress and got up. Her legs were trembling.  

Gasping heavily, she anchored her palm firmly on the wall to get up. Brahma Nayagam came forward reflexively and grasped her shoulder.  

“Take me to the backyard. Let me brush my teeth. I am unable to stand” she told him.  

Somehow dealing with her obstinate arguments niftily, Brahma Nayagam took her to the backyard carefully and made her sit.  

After brushing her teeth, when she came back to her bed with the persistent complaints about her frailty, her body was found completely weak. Soon after she lied down on bed she was overtly exhausted and she closed her eyes.  

Brahma Nayagam brought coffee after making it warm and told her, “It is now suitable to drink. Don’t complain that it has become cold”. She could not even reply to this. She just raised her hand, swayed it dismissively. After some time, she opened her eyes slowly. Anchoring her palm on the floor, she rose and sat with visible difficulties.   

She dipped her fingers in coffee in the glass and told him, “It is not hot at all. Are there any remains of ember in the stove? Keep this on it and then bring it to me?”  

“Keep it aside. I have some more hot coffee. I will bring that”. He brought hot coffee in a separate tumbler. She gave herself a chest compress with that hot coffee, she started drinking it leisurely in small sips. She asked him, “What did you eat?”  

“There was some old rice. I just had a ball of it. Please drink the coffee fast. Let me go to the doctor for consultation” he told her.  

“I don’t need any doctor anymore. I need nothing. Nothing has happened to me. Don’t waste your money. If I eat something sour, I may feel good. There was some fermented Dosai batter. Wasn’t there? What did you do with that?” she enquired.  

“Fermented…sour…nonsense. Go to sleep after drinking coffee. I will bring the doctor. It seems that you have totally forgotten how you were yesterday.” he stood up.  

“Why are you wasting that coffee? You can drink it.” Chellammal told him.  

Brahma Nayagam went out in search of a doctor and brought a Sidda Medicine expert who was looking more like a famine hit soul. When they both entered the house, Chellammal was not found on the bed.  

The sound of Dosa being roasted in oil was heard from the kitchen. He requested the doctor to sit on the mat and entered the kitchen.  “Whatever I say, it never gets into your ears. Are you still a kid?” Pillai rebuked her.   

Sweating profusely, Chellalammal was busy with the task which was notably beyond her capability at that point of time. The dosai batter was found spilled over as her hands were trembling. One dosai was found completely burnt. She was watching the Dosai pan along with all her other paraphernalia such as oil, chilli powder etc with the hope that the forthcoming dosai would come out perfectly. 

 Chellammal looked at him, smiled.  

“Enough of your smile. Stop it. Doctor has come. Get up” he lifted her holding her hands.  

“Let me take out the dosai pan and then come. Wait”  

“First you get up” he removed the dosai pan from the stove with the help of a trowel.  

“You may leave. I will come myself in a while” she adjusted her untidy dress, tottered, followed him and somehow managed to sit on the mat.  

The doctor examined her pulse. He asked her to stick her tongue out, and examined that too.  

“Amma! In this condition, you must not walk. Your body has become very fragile as you lack strength. You must drink only milk porridge for another three days. Once you gained some strength in your body, we can start giving medicines. Please stop drinking coffee for some time. Only milk in the morning and night. Porridge in the afternoon. You must not move out of bed under any circumstances. Sir…in case if she falls unconscious, mix this red metallic oxide with honey and apply it on her tongue. Apply this oil on her nasal septum and temple. I will come again after three days. He left after charging one rupee for the medicines.  

“What is the need of bringing a doctor for this silly matter with a suggestion of drinking milk porridge? Aaiiii…I am not a sick person. Ain’t I? We don’t need a doctor to diagnose that my body is weak. Do we? Isn’t quite common that humans will get unconscious? Let it come…it will go the way it came.” Chellammal reasoned. 

 At this time, a voice came from the entrance. “aiya …aiya..”  

“O! Is it Munusamy? Please come in. They have sent you here to enquire why I have not come. Haven’t they? Inform them that my wife was not well yesterday; she is fortunate that she is alive today. Tell them I would come tomorrow if possible. Munusamy! May you do a favour for me? There is a cow shed in the opposite division. Milkman Naidu will be there. Tell him that I had called him, and bring him here” Brahman Nayagam sent him.  

“Don’t find excuses in my name for not going to the shop. Go to the shop and bring your salary” Chellammal told him.  

“O! I forgot to tell you. Yesterday I brought some sample saris for you. Have a look at them. Select one which you like.  We can return the ones which you don’t prefer” Brahma Nayagam brought that bundle in front of her.  

“I saw the bundle in the morning. I thought of asking you about it. I too forgot it” Chellammal opened the bundle and took out those three saris, flipped them one by one.  

“I like this green colour sari. How much does it cost?” she asked.  

“It is none of your concern. Select the one you like.” He kept the green colour sari in Almirah, packed the remaining two in a bundle and kept it at a corner of wall.  

“I am again warning you. Don’t waste the money on unnecessary expenses and stand helplessly in the end. Take my words seriously” Chellammal admonished him.  

He arranged milk for three days with milkman Naidu who just came to meet him. He told Munusamy to get fifteen rupees from the shop owner in his name and asked him to deposit the sari bundle with the shop owner.     

4 

That day, the condition of Chellammal’s body was becoming worse ever since she lay on the mat. Body temperature shot up. As he was busy attending her in the afternoon, the milk porridge prepared for her had become cold like a paste. Brahma Nayagam tried to give it to her hot by mixing hot water. As she had developed allergy due to weakness, she vomited it at once. But the feeling of nausea did not stop. As the allergic reaction continued, Chellammal kept on vomiting again and again. As a result, her body became weak and all the old issues started popping up their heads.  

Other than his aching hands due to consistent massaging of her hands and legs sitting beside her, he could find no improvement in her health. At 3’O clock, Chellammal became fully unconscious due to excessive tiredness. Now she became anxious that she would die at any time. At times, her nose and hands developed convulsions and got pulled inwards.  

“Something is serious with my health. I don’t feel good. Why can’t we consult another doctor?” Chellammal asked.  

“As the body is weak, you are feeling like this. As I have told you, you should have taken rest without troubling your body. Don’t be afraid. Everything will be alright.” Brahma Nayagam assuaged her.  

Seeing her condition, he too felt that something was amiss. “The milk man will arrive shortly. After keeping the milk, I will go to the doctor and bring him here. Should I write a letter to Kunnathur aunt to come here?” he asked her.  

“What is the use of writing to her? Is it possible for her to come here all the way travelling that distance alone? Can you prepare coffee with palm sugar for me? This vomiting might stop with it” Chellammal closed her eyes.  

“Stuff this piece of mango seed in your mouth. I will bring coffee in a while.” He went into the kitchen. When he was about to make the water hot in a utensil with the remains of ember in the oven, the milk man came. 

 Brahma Nayagam kept the palm sugar coffee near her. He poured the boiled milk in a separate utensil and went out of the house to call the doctor.  

“Come soon. My condition is getting worse I guess.” She told him without opening her eyes. Her condition was almost lifeless. The creak sound of the outer door announced the exit of Brahma Nayagam Pillai.  

When he returned home, it was already dusk. He was waiting in front of the house of a petty LMP for his arrival. But he did not arrive. As his fears became many fold as they were immensely influenced by his imagination, he kept a letter mentioning his address begging him to come immediately and returned home.  

What he saw after entering the home left him hell shocked. Chellammal was lying unconscious near the front yard. The coffee which she had drunk just a while ago was seen vomited, spilled all over the place. He lighted the lamp immediately. He wiped off her body reeked of vomit, with hot water, lifted her, and put her on the bed.      

He mixed the red metallic oxide the doctor gave, with honey and applied it on her tongue. He applied the oil on her nose, hands and legs. She could not regain her consciousness. Her breath was slower. He was trying to bring her consciousness back with liberal application of oil on her body.  

A rickshaw arrived in at that time. “Sir…is there anyone inside?” the doctor called out and came in with his hand box and poverty stricken appearance.  

“Thank God…You have come at the appropriate time.” Brahma Nayagam received him with his endearing words.  

“What had happened now?” the doctor sat beside her and examined her hands. He tried to open her mouth. Her teeth remained clogged.  

“Bring a match box if you have. I need to give her an injection” the doctor told. 

Brahma Nayagam ran to the kitchen, totally oblivious that one match box was available in the entrance beam. While waiting for Brahman Nayagam, the doctor looked upward and accidentally saw a match box kept on the entrance beam. He lighted the spirit lamp and sterilized the injection needle in the flame. Brahma Nayagam brought a match box with an over flown ignorant smile. He was profusely sweating. The doctor asked Brahma Nayagam to hold her hand near the light and injected the medicine into her body. Both were looking at her for a couple of seconds.  

Chellammal started whining, moved slowly.  

The doctor kept all his equipment in his box unhurriedly. He asked Brahma Nayagam to bring some soap nut powder. Brahma Nayagam gave him a piece of white soap which he used for washing his dhoti. The doctor washed his hands silently and told him, “It seems that she is sleeping. Don’t wake her up. In case if she is awake, give her milk. You know… it is very uncomfortable for you to keep such cases at home sir…Better take her to hospital”. The doctor left with his medicine kit box.  

Brahma Nayagam followed him and asked softly, “How is she now?”  

“I can’t say anything now. Come to me in the morning to inform me of her condition. Let us consider something appropriate after that. Please give quarter of an Ana to this rickshaw puller”- He boarded the rickshaw. The coins he was holding in his pocket now went to the hands of that ‘human bull’. He stood there for some time watching the rickshaw leaving and went inside his house.  

Chellammal was sleeping.  

Without making sound, Brahma Nayagam went near to her, sat beside her. His eyes were glued upon her, watching her with an apprehension that she might get up if he touched her.  

A fly sat on her chest. It seemed that it didn’t like to sit on the soft cloth on her chest. Again it went up flying and sat on her palm. Again it went up and was flying in circle as if it got confused where to sit. At last it sat on her lips.  

“thooo…thooo” she got up spitting it out, wiping her mouth with her elbow.  

She kept staring at him for some time.  

“You don’t show any mercy on me. Do you? How could you leave me like this? ” she scolded him. 

“When I am not here, you should not move here and there” he caressed her cheeks tenderly.  

“It seems that I will die for sure. So don’t make it unnecessarily grand” she told him as she closed her eyes.  

“As your body is exhausted, you feel like that. Can I press your legs?” he endearingly stroked her legs.  

“O…God! My entire body is aching. I feel extremely cold from inside. Hold my hands and stay with me.” She grasped his hands with both of her hands and closed her eyes. 

She was silent for a moment and the told him without opening her eyes, “I want to meet my mother.”  

“Why not? I will send a telegram tomorrow. What a big deal about it!” Brahma Nayagam said.  

A fear began to haunt him. ‘Has she lost her senses’?  

“uumm…Don’t waste your money. Letter is enough. She will not come anyway. Will she?” “You please go to the shop tomorrow” Chellammal told him.  

“Please don’t think about unnecessary things. Sleep well” he released his hands from her hands and stroked her forehead.  

“It is paining. I feel thirsty. Need some hot water” she asked.  

“Hot water will make your stomach upset. Just now you have vomited” he took her hands into his palms and looked at her face. The gleam of countenance which was present on her face in the morning was not present there now. Her lips became dull bluish in colour. She licked her lips often to avoid it becoming dry. 

 “I feel something palpitating faster in my chest” she told him.  

“It is all because of weakness. Don’t be afraid.” he massaged her chest slowly.  

A second later, she asked him, “I am hungry. Give me that milk. I will sleep”  

“Just a second. I will bring it” Brahmam Nayagam ran inside. To his shock, the milk was lying spoiled. There was a dried lemon on the rack. He squeezed it in the hot water, mixed some sugar in it, brought it to her and sat near to her. He brought the heat of lemonade down to the level of comfortable sip. 

 “Chellamma” he called out her softly.  

There was no reply. Her breath was steady.  

“Chellamma, the milk has become bad. I will give you lemon juice. Drink it and sleep.” 

She moved her head sluggishly to indicate “yes”.  

He poured it in a small glass and fed her into her mouth carefully. After taking two sips, she bobbed her head in denial.  

“Why…that lamp is….?” She did not complete the sentence. Her whole body shook with a hiccup. Her chest went up once and came own before subsided. Her legs and hands were pulled inwards with spasms.  

Once her tremors got settled, Pillai gave her lemon juice. It spilled out on both sides of her mouth.  

He kept the glass aside and touched her.  

Only body remained there.  

Without taking off his hands, he watched his gigantic shadow on the wall. It was looking as if its big hands were digging out the life of Chellemmal from of her chest.  

He tried all the remaining medicines on her body that the Sidda Doctor gave him.  

Soon he realized that it was beyond his hands, he tried husk compress on her.  

A drop of sweat from his forehead fell on her eye lids.  

He closed the half opened eyes. He stretched out the legs fully which were crumbled due to seizure.  

He kept the hands folded on her chest.  

Sitting beside her, he heard the sound of boiling hot water hitting somewhere in his consciousness. 

He went inside, made hot water warm enough which Chellammal usually preferred for cozy bath.  

He brought the body. ‘Chellammal was never this heavy. But it is very heavy now. Isn’t it?’  he thought.  

The head was not steady. It slid down on one side.  

He made the body sit on its back against his knees, bathed it with cauldron full of water. As he didn’t know the place where the turmeric was kept, he did not give her bath with it. He wiped the body with his towel.  

He carried it again inside and laid it on the bed. He covered it with green colour sari which he had bought for her. He smeared Kumkum and Vibhoothi on its forehead. He lit a standing lamp near her head. He remembered frankincense which he purchased long ago for Saraswathi Puja. He sprinkled it on ember and kept a basket full of paddy.  

He performed all funeral related ceremonies scrupulously he was supposed to complete, and kept looking at her.  

He felt suffocated in the hall. He came to the outer entrance and stood on the street.  

The needle like icy wind patted his body.  

Among other stars strewn around in an undisciplined manner, the conglomeration of Trisanku star system fell in his eyes. He did not know anything about astronomy. The legs of the Sanku constellation were caught in the tip of a tall, black, sharp tower, unable to rise or set in.  

“Aiya...” Munusamy called him.  

He gave him some currency notes. “Owner gave this. How is mother now?” he asked Pillai.  

“Mother is dead. You keep these notes with you. I will give you a message for sending a telegram. After sending it, do inform this matter to the owner too. While returning, inform the barber as well” he told him.  

He spoke calmly. There was no tremor in his voice.  

Shocked, Munusamy ran away to send the telegram.    

Brahma Nayagam Pillai came in, sat. He speckled some more frankincense powder in the ember.  

The fly once again flew around her body and sat on the face.  

Brahma Nayagam kept on fanning slowly with a leaf fan to prevent it from sitting. 

In the early morning, a sound of dirge from double conch was heard outside, seemingly to suppress the duplicity found in the dirge of the woman who sang it without genuine grief.  

                                              ----End----

 

Translated from Tamil: Saravanan Karmegam 

Source: A complete works of Puthumai Pithan (புதுமைப்பித்தன் சிறுகதைத் தொகுப்பு) compiled by Vetha Sagaya Kumar, Puthumai pithan Pathippagam.