A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலேஒருதோணி) by Pa. Singaram (Chapter 2: The Plunder)

Pa. Singaram

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.  

Chapter 2: The Plunder

The chaos that was orchestrated around Thana Labbang Park was extremely frightful. Was it just a dream or was it actually happening? People were running amok here and there, holding bundles of cloths on their heads and hands. Bales of cigarettes, spare parts of bicycles, radio boxes, books, new pens, button cards and chocolate boxes were found scattered all around. Those who happened to run past that area picked up the things strewn on the floor as much as they could and collected the things that fell from people who were running ahead of them. The mixed sounds of “flock of humans” were reverberating on the north and south sides of the park. 

Silverware, glassware, tables, chairs, linen bed sheets, and velvet window curtains were seen taken away from Tibur Hotel. The ‘Flag of Freedom’, freshly wrapped around the dark greenish bronze statue of Karuda, was flapping in the wind. 

Three men who were going towards north in Belawan Street took a turn to right. Vidde Soseeththaath– the building once functioned as White People Association stood limbless after losing all its appeal. The manic sound of fire that engulfed Peppe Yem petrol bunk in the north which was set ablaze a day ago was now clearly audible. Sounds of barrels blasting in fire were also heard – traaa….ammmm…..traaaa….ammmm. Godowns of companies were found demolished. The crowd of humans thronged into it like a swarm of winged ants with furious uproar- the frenzy of looting. Outside, men were pacing fast and falling down holding oval tins, tyres, boots and torch lights. 

The crowd of human beings was tottering with the loads of loot. All eyes were filled with a singular aim- Loot! Loot! Loot! None was there to question them. None was there to stand on their way to stop them! One could take as much as he could if he preferred so, and keep as much as he could if he had enough space. Loot! Loot! Loot everywhere. 

A crowd riding bicycles was coming from the railway station. The creased daggers kept in leather sheaths were clearly visible. Both the men who came by bicycles and the ones who were busy looting were shouting in unison – “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”

“Let’s move!” Pandian lifted his leg from the ground and started pedalling the bicycle. They took a turn at Pinjai Way. The pearl like water was flowing towards sea in the north through River Bridge and the banks with thick growth of grasses and reeds. The crimson colour birds looking like Mina were found hopping. 

A mixed uproar of chaotic noises and howling came from Bentheng area.  The cycles turned towards left. A flock of men was dancing with its mouth wide open and eyes filled with craze. 

“Yaa…Ali! Yaa…Ali!”

Pots, vessels and other sundry items were found scattered. Tables, chairs. Mattresses, and pillows were burning. The Dutch soldiers who were trapped in Medan City and those who couldn’t escape due to their ill health were howling, unable to bear the beatings. Blood was streaking out from their head as their skulls were broken. 

“Yaa…Ali! Yaa…Ali!”

They pulled the women out of the fort. Those hapless women standing without cloths were hiding their faces with hands and crying helplessly.“Aiyaiyoov…O Mariyaa….aiyaiyoovvv” 

They were dragged, pulled by their hair, hands and legs to the grass bed that lay in the front. They were lying nude on the grass as unknown faces standing around, staring at them. Under the clear sun light, with the full view of villagers, with the full view of the world, with the acknowledgement of both ears and eyes of everyone around, they were raped in full public view. “Aiyaiyoov…O Mariyaa….aiyaiyoovvv” 

The sun was watching; the land was holding them; and the villagers were enjoying the show. 

Pandian turned his face and quoted a sentence from an old Tamil Literature. “Ah…the penance of saints and the chastity of women won’t be given respect if they are not guarded by able bodied men” 

“Pandi…” Thangaiya gently touched Pandian’s back and told, “Have you ever thought even in dreams that you would be destined to watch such a show at this place?”

“This is the result of factors that come together at an opportune time. Let’s move” 

“Yes…nude soldiers won’t like the ones with cloths”

The bicycles climbed on the bridge and then went down.

The scene enacted around the park remained unchanged. People were running in Belawan Street in the north and Kesawan Street in the south, hitting each other and falling down.  

“We can understand the importance of our ancient literature only when such things happen” – his hand pointed at the rear and uttered, “A man without fetters is a very dangerous animal. Isn’t he?” 

“Koolavaanigan Chathanar ¹ must have written the lines only after witnessing such scenes- the penance of saints and the chastity of women won’t be given respect if they are not guarded by able bodied men” Thangaiya remarked. “My English teacher Ambalavanar used to quote this line quite often”

“I was also thinking about these lines” 

They could see a big crowd assembled in front of Davros junction. The upper part of a military truck marching towards Bolonia was visible above human heads. Both the men turned to Avudu Market. 

Some Sikh watchmen were busy talking to each other rolling their eyes and waving their hands near Thaiseen shop. They walked through Mango Tree Street and went down towards South. 

The Dutch bungalows were found locked. Grass beds were looking like green carpet. Flowers blooming in creepers that had grown thick were obstructing the view of wall. Asliya flower beds with dense red flowers. Magnolia trees with white flowers radiating an intoxicating fragrance…. ‘No violence in this street so far.’

The pillage in Juliana Way was ghastly. The looters were carrying window panes, ash trays, cloths and whatever that came to their hand in bicycles and tongas. Some even spread their lungi on streets and bundled up their booties. It appeared that radios and refrigerators were already taken away by the people who had looted before them.  

The Beatrix Lawn looked like a human ocean. Army godowns were located in that area. Fully fuelled lorries, cars and motor bikes which were kept ready for rapid discharge during war went out one after the other and disappeared with the speed of wind. The godown entrance witnessed a nasty fight among people to claim the loots. Those who displayed courage could overpower others and get away with the vehicles. Suddenly, the sound of gun shots filled in the air…

“tum…tutummmm….tututtummmm”

Some policemen commanded by Inspector Wickelman came running in front of them, shooting in the air holding the guns above their heads.

“Avaas…Avaas” their thick voice of warning followed the bullet sound. 

In lightning of a second, Pandian turned his bicycle and drove faster. ‘These policemen have come from nowhere. The Japanese army might have ordered them to contain the plunder’

As far as the distance he could see, many were riding bicycles with their crooked torsos. The sound of footsteps of those who were running on both sides of the road was rhythmic. Thillaimuthu came running from behind and overtook him. 

“tttttt…..trrrrrr…..tatatrrrrrrr” gun shots from Tommy guns! Japanese soldiers were moving in bicycles in lightning speed! The sounds of soldiers running fast were reverberating in the houses.   

“tttttt…..trrrrrr…..tatatrrrrrrr”- gun shots continued. Two airplanes were flying low in circles in opposite directions.

Pandian and Thillaimuthu entered Moski Straat at the same time. Thangaiya reached there after some time. 

After eating at Fat Goose’s hotel, they left for their places. 

                                              ***End***

Note:

1.      Koolavaanigan Chathanaar-  The poet who wrote one of the five epic stories of Tamil literature “Manimegalai”

Coming up next: Chapter 3: "Five Heads"

A Boat in the Storm (புயலிலேஒருதோணி) by Pa. Singaram (Chapter 1: Kerk Straat)

Pa. Singaram

Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

·           

Chapter 1: Kerk Straat 

It was still dark in the morning. The street lights were found turned out. The rain had just thinned down, drizzled and stopped. The people of Medan City are standing on both sides of streets waiting for the arrival of Japanese troops. The overpowering presence of Mandarin language subdues the meek chatters of Malay and Bahasa languages spoken in the crowd.

That street, known as Kerk Straat, passed through the town from the East to West. The soldiers of Portugal and Britain had marched through this street from West to East when this street was just boggy with mud and sludge along with thickly grown “Neeppa”bushes¹ on both sides, and before the Dutch became dominant there. Before that, the Arabs who brought about the tenets of Islam and rare things on ships and the Tamils who introduced the principles of six faiths, and rare forms of arts by magnificent wooden ships even before Arabs, had walked though this route towards East. Now, the people are standing, assembled in large numbers to get a glance of the troops of the Great Japan who are expected to arrive in from the East. 

Pandian, who worked as a senior clerk in the firm of Annamer² Khader Mohideen was coming from north side along the Kesawan Street. He was tall, erect wearing a trouser in some unidentifiable colour and a white shirt. His footsteps, uniformly stomped on ground, produce a patterned sound. A live cigarette is emitting smoke in his mouth. 

“Tholung laalu sikket”, he went past the book shop in the corner of the tri-junction bidding people to pave him the way, took a turn on left in the Kerk street and stood in front of Dermulan restaurant. 

The light became brighter in the East and drove away the darkness. Everything was clearly visible now. He drew cigarette smoke deep in, blew it, walked towards the corner of the weekly camp book stall and glanced through the shiny metal road that lay before him. That broad road which was leading to Sultan’s palace had got some elevated platforms built at intermittent distances in its middle. The trees standing on those platforms were fanning their leaves in the morning breeze. On one corner, was there Davros bungalow and on the other a cathedral of Mother Mary. Yonder, large shops were located on both sides of the road- Thokkovan Toppol, Cournier, Whiteaway, Altenburg, Bayers…

The sun light was now visible spreading its rays across. The chirping of birds became dense in trees. The mixed chatters and people brushing against each the other increased in the crowd. Everyone stood there were craning their heads forward, and looking towards eastern direction to greet the Japanese army which was on its way to conquer Medan city. 

The semi spherical, silky marble tower of Davros Palace was shining in greenish yellow under sunlight. The tops of trees that looked in bunches were decked in golden colour rays of the sun. The chirpings of birds grew louder. Suddenly, a loud noise of reception came from the eastern direction. 

“Japan…sooda daathang! Japan sooda daathang!” 

Tumultuous uproar, clapping of hands, boisterous noise. Three bicycles were coming in a row in the front. Japanese soldiers in dirty cloths and shining Tommy guns were marching forward with big bundles on their back. The creepers and plant leaves were found inserted on their bodies and vehicles. 

“Banzai…Banzai…Banzai” 

The bicycles were coming in fours in rows now. Dirty bodies which hadn’t taken bath for so long- Iron caps, Water jugs, the shirt pockets stuffed with some unknown materials and bundles that contained tools kept in the pillion.  

They were driving bicycles in a straight line, marching towards tarmac and Dutch building in Bolonia. 

Pandian was standing there, completely astounded. ‘They are the soldiers who had conquered Singapore. Aren’t they? Is this the Japanese army which had tasted victory by invading simultaneously in different directions on many places located thousands of miles away from each other?’ 

Nearly hundred soldiers might have crossed that street. The march of bicycles stopped on that smooth black road after that. The uproar rose again from the eastern direction. 

“Banzai…Banzai…Banzai…” The bicycles had started rolling again on the road. Now the soldiers smiled at the onlookers without parting their lips. Amidst their march some military officers in olive green woollen uniform with unfriendly countenance riding motor bikes emitting loud noise made a brief appearance and then disappeared.

The crowd dispersed. About ten or fifteen onlookers entered Chukkamuliya Street and walked towards the direction where the Japanese army was marching. Some men from the crowd followed them. Then, many in large numbers started moving, half of them running and half of them walking towards the western direction. 

Pandian looked to North and then South. The villagers were walking towards tri-junction in groups. A sort of pride was radiating on their face, their walk with royal gait, and eyes looking sharp as if expecting something.

He turned to North and walked down in Kesawan. The shops were closed. Two Chinese men were standing near a restaurant opened very recently, and were talking to each other secretively. An old Chinese lady was whining under a Champak tree in the front yard of Limpin Sheik bungalow situated on the right. 

Some Chinese children were playing in the front - poor guys! Without knowing anything about these developments, they came running and shrieked. 

“Banzai…jeep un maai” 

On the left, were there Heppalaine bread shop, Blank kens Chattered bank, and Ban Hin Lee. On the right were there located textiles shops in a row run by Sindhis, Asomul, Mathaani, Kimat Rai and Daulat ram. 

“Hei Panthiyaan…Panthiyaan…” he heard someone calling him from behind. He turned his head and saw Lim Theng, the younger brother of Khyam Lim standing near the half opened door of the latter’s bicycle shop.

“I’ll come there” 

“Please come in for a second” 

He entered the shop. 

“The villagers have planned for a plunder”. Khyam’s voice was loaded with terror. He gave Pandian a packet of cigarette and told, “The servant has just informed this a while ago”. 

“It seems to be true” Pandian pulled a cigarette from the box and lighted it. “They must be having their eyes on this bicycle shop. Be careful.”

“Where is Annamer?”

“He has gone to meet the village tax collector”- told Pandian. 

“Chettiars?” 

“They have also gone there. They have the support of Bengalis”

“Why haven’t you gone there?”

“There must be someone here to watch all these. Mustn’t it?” 

“Food?”

“I can manage it somewhere”

“You are a Tamil. But I am a Chinese with a family to look after” 

“Nothing untoward will happen in this street. Keep your women indoor. All these troubles will die down in one day. Everything will be normal by tomorrow” 

“Feeling positive is the only way now”

“Yes…see you later, friend” 

“You can come to this shop any time. Or else you can send someone.” 

“Thanks”

He started walking. He could hear Lim Theng shutting the shop door. 

“Independence! Independence! Independence!” 

A group of people riding bicycle appeared from the northern side of Thana Labbang. The crowd consisted of teachers, students, clerks and other sundry. They were carrying “Independent Indonesia” flags in different sizes and appearances. The flags seemed to have been stitched in a hurry within very short time. 

“Hail Indonesia! Down with Holland! The cyclists entered Kesawan pouring out their wishes for long life to Indonesia and death to Holland. 

“Independence! Hail Indonesia!” – Yasin, the clerk working in Municipality waved his flag at Pandian on seeing him. 

“Independence! Hail Indonesia!”

Pandian raised his right hand, and shouted back with his closed fist.- “Independence! Hail Indonesia!”

A tonga came from Grand Hotel side. 

“Down with Holland! Down with China! Down with Chettiars!”- The tonga driver screamed as if tearing off his throat pit. 

Pandian turned his head. 

“Ah…hello Sir…sir” 

Sainuddin, the tonga driver who used to visit pawn shops of Moski Straat unfailingly daily, bowed his head and greeted him.  

“Hello…Sainuddin”

“They are charged with frenzy. Scoundrels…hi…hi…hi…” – the tonga driver pointed his whip to the direction of Crossfield where the soldiers of ‘Independence’ Soldiers were marching, and laughed eerily. A streak of smile spread across Pandian’s face. Sainuddin asked Pandian to get into his tonga. Pandian thanked him and entered Hutton Bagh Street.

“Hello sir…welcome”  

The watchman Siraj-ud-daula Khan, smoking a ‘hookah’, sitting with his folded legs on a woven cot under Harrison Crossfield building, greeted him.

“Hello Nawab Shahi” 

That “Bengali Nawab” greeted him again with his usual smile. The watchman’s mind was fully occupied with the bliss of hookah smoke, utterly indifferent to the chaos that had been let loose around him. 

On the left, the Moski Straat- Chettiar Street, was lying like an orphan. Both Kithada dental hospital at Keezhpakkam and Matshu Vokka shop selling tennis rackets owned by Japanese men were found locked with seals. There lay the carpenter shop of Dan Lim, the widower old man living with his two grown up daughters. The shop door was locked from inside. Beyond that, were there buildings that were housing pawn shops, Venkadachalam’s Singapore salon, a betal leaves shop run by Vellaichami, an erstwhile cook. The Market Straat ran across from east to west amidst these entities. On the west, was there a lane floored with cement adjacent to Notary office. Following that, pawn shop buildings were found in rows. The office of the renovation work contractor Khader Mohideen was situated somewhere in the middle. On this side of the Market Straat, were found Chin Lam coffee shop and Mamundi Asari’s workshop. 

He left the platform and climbed onto the first floor that remained closed, unlocked. The sound of his footsteps upset the tranquil of the street. The doors of buildings standing in yellow and blue colours were found dusty and tightly closed. He went past the office of the Annamer, reached the coffee shop and knocked its door. 

“Who’s that?”- A daunted voice came from inside.

“Panthiyaan” 

The wooden slippers approached the doorstep. Chin Lam, who was fondly called as” Fat goose” by the people of Moski Straat opened the door. The door was shut as Pandian went in. 

“Coffee, Sir?” 

“Yes…bring some coffee” 

“The Fat Goose” brought coffee in a porcelain cup along with Murad cigarette box and enquired about the situation outside. 

“Don’t be afraid. There is no danger” he drank the coffee in one gulp, picked the cigarette box and walked towards the door. 

The thin sound of lullaby sung by Fat Goose’s wife was heard from the back yard. 

“laai…laai…laai…laaaa…aiiii! Lav…lav…lav…laaa…aaaiiii” 

Pandian reached office, opened the door and locked it from inside. The very next minute he heard the door being knocked violently. He opened it only to see Thangaiya, the clerk of Chartered Bank and Thillaimuthu, the teacher working in Methodist School standing with their bicycles.

“The chaos has just begun. Come out to see it” Thangaiya called him. 

“Please come in…give me five minutes. Have a seat here.”

They leaned their bicycles against the corner of the wall, went in and sat there. 

In a quick move, Pandian climbed the stairs very fast.  

                     *****                                                                          

Note :

1.       A type of palm tree. Its leaves are used to make roof in substitute of coconut leaves.

2.       The contractor doing renovations works. 

Coming up next: Chapter 2 - “The Plunder”.    

Note : 

1.    A type of palm tree. Its leaves are used to make roof in substitute of coconut leaves. 

2.    The contractor doing renovations works.