A Boat in the Storm Part 2 (10- 20 chapters)

Part 2 Buds

Chapter 10: Aavanna 

When the Indonesian-Malaysian region was under the control of the king Shailendra of Srivijaya, and even before that too, the commercial ships of Tamils were busy travelling on the sea in groups in search of new harbours. There was a time the naval fleet of Royal Cholas was navigating on this sea, making this entire stretch tremble with fear. 

There was a close commercial relationship between King Shailendra and the Cholas. One of the Shailendra dynasty kings, Srimara Vijayothungavarman, built a beautiful Buddhist monastery known as Sudamani Vihar in Nagapattinam in memory of his father during the reign of King The Great Rajaraja Chola. Another Shailendra king sent his navy in support of the Cholas to fight against the Singhalese. Later, the conflict between them to dominate the sea proved to be an irreversible reason for the decline of the Shailendras. 

In 1025 AD, the columns of King Rajendra Cholan’s warships descended on Indonesian sea waters and destroyed the ships of Shailendra, burnt them, drowned them, and completely routed his naval fleet. The army that flooded into the land pillaged the capital of King Shailendra, Srivijayam, and Malaiyur—a big commercial town—and burnt them down. The king of Srivijayam, Shankiram Vijayothungavarman, was captured. It thus set off the beginning of the Shailendra Empire’s decline.

After Shailendra, a kingdom called Maya Pahit came to power. It was followed by petty scuffles among smaller kings. Then came the flood of Islamic invasion—an unstoppable deluge of sorts. 

The legacy of the Chera, Chola, and Pandiya kings’ warships that once roamed in these tri-waters had become a dead dream, reduced to a mere fantasy, an old story, a buried treasure, and it had disappeared from the memory long ago. Some of the Tamil people who hailed from the pedigree of those warriors who once descended on this land and burnt down the ships of King Shailendra and demolished his forts and armaments are now travelling in a ship from Sumatra—which was once upon a time a part of the ancient kingdom of Srivijaya—to Malaya, another region sharing a similar backdrop of the history. Their journey hadn’t been propelled by a desire to discover something novel by crossing seas for the betterment of their life by using their discovery; rather, it was a journey in search of mere livelihood. The sailing vessel was owned, built, and driven by the Chinese. It was loaded with commercial cargo and was on its way towards Penang harbour in the Malacca Sea. 

It was the time of sunset. In the west, the crimson rays of the sun were glaring on the edges of stones. The circular-shaped sun was touching the horizon and spinning at a faster rate than the speed of one’s thoughts. The extraordinary thrust of its movement was visible on the sea as well. As long as one’s eyes could reach, there lay a salty and limitless expanse of sea. 

The ship was moving. 

Ai Liang, the captain of the vessel, was lying in his narrow, hole-like cabin with his head resting by a copper lamp, under the stupor of his cigar smoke. 

Pandian was sitting on the upper deck, hanging his legs over the side, facing the sea in the west. He turned his face east. The moon was rising in a golden hue. The stars that looked like tiny silver flowers strewn on the sky started glinting. The salty wind combed his hair and made his dress flap. He turned to the west, ‘Ah…Nagapattinam, Mamallapuram, Korkai, Poombuhar! How many ships would have brought the loads of Chinese silks and red corals in exchange for cotton cloths and white pearls to these harbours! How many merchants and sailors would have drowned along with their ships in the storms? Where did they leave from, and where did they go? How did they die? No one knew. Who was that General Yamomotto who had led the army of Tamils who once destroyed the mighty empire of Shailendra? No one knew.’ 

“Paavannaa, come this side. Let us attend to the cries of our stomach.” 

Pandian jumped in. 

They spread a mat on the tea leaves boxes stacked in order and sat on it. They opened the lids of porcelain cutleries, scooped out cooked rice and some side dishes from it, placed it on banana leaves, and started eating. 

“When I came to Medan city for the third time, we were informed not to alight from the ship for four days at Belawan port. They told it was due to cholera or some disease spreading in the Malay region. It must be either in nineteen thirty or thirty-one. It was the year when the business of Koppanapatti Naavanna Moonaa went south and met losses,” said ‘Dried meat’ Annamalai Pillai, struggling to spit out words through his mouth stuffed with rice. 

Angamutu announced that Navannaa Moonaa’s business went into loss in the year nineteen thirty-one. In that year I went to work in their pawn shop in Penang, he told. 

“Angamuthu is a pretty talented guy,” Shanmugam Pillai declared. “He just ensured that Navannaa Moonaa’s business, which once flourished in eight directions, met with loss in the very third month he stepped into it. Didn’t he?” 

“Not only flourishing in eight directions, it was at its peak at that time.” Aavanna’s right hand was busy wiping the banana leaf clean without leaving any trace of rice grain. “Business at its peak means not something lesser. The very mention of Naanaa Moonaa's business would make the English lord—not the one sitting in Medan City, but the one who controls everyone from London—think for a second to travel by charter plane to meet him.”

Aavannaa’s head was bobbing agreeably. His left hand picked up the towel lying near him and wiped his face and the nape of his neck. His eyes went right to where Nallakannu Konar was sitting. 

“Maple, have your stomach fill. How will you beget children after going to your place if you eat in this quantity, like chicken?” 

“Machan, I am contented with what I had got. Your sister is already lying weak with her waist broken. You don’t worry about it now…. Do continue what you were talking about. Was there any hidden conspiracy behind the fall of Naavanna Moonaa's business? Was there any pending due in his circle that hadn’t been paid off? Or did any ‘rodents’ walking with two legs cause him any such damage?” 

“I am very certain that nothing of such things could have been the reasons for his fall. It is just his time. His time had come. That was it. Rangoon Shop, this man…that man…everyone was speaking about different possibilities. It was a high-profile case. What comes to us now may not hold water. No one knows who had set it afire, but the truth was that the whole haystack was burnt down. A ship that left with his merchandise crashed into icebergs…” he bit his lips. His head was shivering, and lips murmured, “Velayuthaa…Gnanapanditha…” Let’s pray to Thanni Malaiyan. Nothing bad would come near to us." 

Others got shocked and wrinkled their faces in disgust at Aavanna’s inauspicious utterances.

“Hello, Paavannaa.” He turned left and asked Pandian, “No comments from your side?” 

“I am very hungry.” 

“Yes… Yes… I saw you sitting on the deck and eating the salty wind for a long time.” 

Andiappa Pillai rose, holding his hip with one hand, walked a few steps, and threw away the banana leaf into the sea. “It is this pain in my waist area that has been tormenting me. My body was completely alright before coming to this place… Velayautha… Gnanapandiathaa…” 

“The real culprit is the water we drink here, Aththaan.” Nallakannu Konar opined, spitting out spittle into the sea, clearing his throat vigorously. “Useless water…full of sulfur.” 

“Nothing to complain about water. Everyone drinks the same water anyway. We are not a special species. Are we? It is due to the ailment in the body. O.K. . . . Let’s make our bed." 

They levelled the floor, made their bed, and sat down. 

The surface of the sea reflected the moon and the stars glinting in the sky. The wind blew across gently, caressing everyone’s body. The sound of waves hitting the sides of the ship was heard in a synchronous pattern. 

All their discriminatory behaviour during their time in Moski straat was evidently disappearing, and there appeared to be an amiable relation among those Tamil men who were floating on the sea. They broke the fetters of scorn with which they would usually treat each other earlier and started sharing their hearts instead. The topics of their conversation ranged from boarding the ship after selling all their properties back home, to building a house after buying lands, to getting married and settling with children. 

Andiappa Pillai picked the betel leaves one by one, wiped them on his palm, nipped their stalk and tip, and pulled out their centre stalk gently, applied a mild coating of lime on its back, and thrust them into his mouth and spoke:

“In 1902, I boarded the ship and came to the Kaanaa Cheenaa Vaanaa shop in Epoh. Sivasangaran Pillai was my owner. Do you know who he was? He was the one who got his daughter married off to the son of “Aththaruthi” Muthukaruppa Pillai. He owned a stretch of neem trees, and it is said that he went out sitting on a horse and cut off the turfs of his enemies. You may be aware of Koonaa Paanaa Zhaana—the father of our benefactor Avichi, the elder brother of Arasappa Chettiar. He would sell the items in bulk at Rangoon Market and bring money in abundance, which anyone would find it difficult to count. The business house of Koonaa Paanaa Zhaanaa is a big ship like Chartered Bank and the Bank of Holland. The total transactions made in Moski Straat would not even stand anywhere near one day's transactions made in that business house. I have heard Cheenaa Vaana telling this. While selling his items in the Rangoon market, he had witnessed the senior Marwadi vendor’s son getting up from his seat and paying respects to Koonaa Paanaa Zhaanaa when he walked down the Mogul street. Having business with that house was akin to maintaining a Tehsil under the British Empire. The sound of counting cash and stacking them up in bundles by the boys and attendants in that pawn shop from dawn to dusk would reverberate around like that of one coming out of castanets. Opening up the boxes would show the jewelry and documents mortgaged being neatly packed in covers with the customer’s names scribbled on them and stacked one above the other. The bank staff wouldn’t close their daily accounts and would rather wait till the cash from Koonaa Paanaa Zhaaana reached them, no matter how long it was delayed. Gone are those days. Now every place is a business house, and everyone is an owner. Leave it. What was I telling you about?

“You got diverted when you were talking about your coming to Kaanaa Vaanaa Cheenaa shop in Epoh.” 

“Yes… I was there for a brief time. Cheenaa Vaanaa was a very smart man in his business and a good-natured person as well. But when it came to giving a salary to his men, he would become a class miser. Then I went back home and stayed there for a couple of months before coming to Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa Sithiyavan business house. That job was also for counting cash at a pawn shop. I was very young that time. Then I was shifted to their shop in Penang and shuttled between the shops in Penang and Kuala Lumpur. Its owner was ‘Vidaakandan’ Thittani Chettiar, a classic case of a person known for his obduracy. It was a big traditional business house. He was very liberal in his dealings. I was employed at his shop at that time; I could purchase land and construct a house myself. At twenty-two years old, I got married too.” 

The “Obduracy” Chettiar was like a thunderbolt in summer. The moment he got angry, he wouldn’t see who and what was standing in front of him. The words would be so acerbic, and he would never budge an inch down from what he believed was correct. He would brag that he would have no qualms about even slaughtering an elephant in the name of God for the sake of getting half a yard of land. He even challenged a big Jamindar and spent about one lakh rupees to bring a whore called Muthu Meenakshi from Viralimalai. As he vowed, he brought her and kept her as his concubine in a marble bungalow he had built exclusively for her. 

“Aithaan, that house is on East Raja Street. Isn’t it?” 

No. It is the house of ‘Aeroplane’ Soona Paanaa for his lady, a Parsi woman. What I am talking about is located somewhere near Pallavankulam. Have you seen Muthu Meenakshi? No one would be able to see her with his mortal eyes—such a brightness of the sun. But she died very young. Then he brought a Korangi ¹ woman somewhere near Kakinada and kept her in that house. Once he came to know that she was an ass whoring around with men, he kicked her out of the house and brought another woman from Kerala. She looked very fair in complexion, like an English lady.” 

-The one who had arranged her for him was a lawyer in Madurai. The commission amount for this task alone was nearly eleven thousand rupees. Her husband was given a very huge sum of money to get her divorced. Apart from these known cases, there were many more. We are not quite sure about the number of such liaisons. Our Chettiar was very weak in the matters of women.” 

-I have already told you that Chettiar would never distinguish who and what was standing in the front when he got angry. Right? It was my first trip. I worked as an attendant and went back home. I had some pressing financial need. I missed paying off an installment of tax. The authorities showed up in front of my house all of a sudden to take possession of my house. I went to Chettiar to get some financial assistance from him. He was sitting in the hall. Sooner he saw me, he told me to go to Pudukottai to complete a work. As I went near to him and told him that I would attend to the work in the evening, he got terribly angry and threw some harsh invectives at me and left in his car. I was sitting in the veranda, knowing nothing about what I was supposed to do after that. I didn’t have enough money to arrange a car to go to Pudukottai. Chettiar used to give me a sufficient amount of money for each allotment of such works, but that day, as my bad luck would have it, he forgot to give it. I didn’t insist, as I was confident of getting it in Pudukottai by telling Chettiar’s name. My hopes of approaching his wife went bleak as she was very sick lying on the bed. My hunger pangs went awry and became simply uncontrollable. I became so hopeless thinking about my pathetic situation of having come down to my owner with an enormous amount of faith in him, who I thought would extend all assistance as my rock-like support. The installment of tax was to be over by that evening. If they removed the door from my house, how would I go out and face people around? My heart burst out in angst at the very thought of it. Suddenly I felt that my head was spinning and fell on the floor. I didn’t know whether it was a dream or something else, that I felt someone was strangling my neck and pushing me down into water. My body was sweating profusely. That time I heard a sound calling out to my name as if it came from a well. I got up immediately, rubbed my eyes, and only saw Chettiar’s wife, Achi, who had been lying sick in bed just a while ago, standing at the entrance and calling me like my own mother. Soon as I saw her, I broke into tears.” 

- Seeing me crying, Achi rebuked me, “You! A good-for-nothing fool! Why are you crying like a small baby rubbing your eyes? She asked me to wash my face and legs to have food inside. I told her, in a stammering voice, “Achi, the authorities have come to take possession of my house.” She was so kind and authoritative in her assertion, “How dare they take possession of your house when your Chettiar stands like a rock behind you? First you come in and have your food, she told. I went in and had food. Achi told, “You idiot! How could you give importance to some words Chettiar uttered in a fit of anger? Chettiar had gone to that fun house run by a man from Kerala. Let that bloke die and be laid on a bier. He has taken birth to ruin the entire clan of Chettiars. Hasn’t he? Chettiar has lost some ten or fifteen thousand rupees in gambling. That was why he was not in his senses and uttered some words in anger: Leave it anyway, she told. “You have come here with such an urgency. Anything important?” she asked. I explained everything to her. Without uttering anything more, she went in, opened her safe, and gave me thirty-five rupees. Along with it, she offered me sweets bought from the Madurai-Nagapattinam Aiyar shop, Malkova mangoes brought from Salem, some breads and cakes bought from shops, some balls made of rice powder at home, and Murukku and Adhirasam—all kept in a palm leaves basket. Why I am telling you all this is to bring it to your notice that a noblewoman of such nature was living those days….” 

-Later, Chettiar became known for his wide array of philandering ways of living. He would pick fights that were very frivolous in nature and be adamant in not budging his ways, as his nickname ‘obduracy’ suggested. Despite his reckless way of living outside, he had a strong support system back home in the form of his wife sitting like Goddess Mahalaxmi. Theena Moonaa Roonaa Theena had a very prosperous business with his flag flying high in all directions. One should have been blessed to have a good woman as his wife. Even today, if Arasappa Chettiar could exercise his regal influence all over six districts in the Madras region and our side, it is because of the auspicious time Achi stepped into his home. Even if she touched sand, it would become gold. No one would raise any questions about her magnanimity in providing anyone food coming to her home. Would they? Anyone passing through her home would be served with sumptuous meals. Even if someone is blessed with lakhs of rupees, he needs to have a heart of that kind to serve food to unknown people. Doesn’t he? Chettiar didn’t return from Pudukottai. So I left for my village after bidding her goodbye. 

-Next day, the dawn was too early, and the day got longer. The Chettiar went to Maanaa Roonaa’s house by his car and sent a person to bring me there. I was getting ready to go to the field and was eating the previous day’s rice. I wouldn’t be able to explain the mental stress I was undergoing at that time when I got his call. I thought he must have come there to shout at me for returning from his home without informing him. I felt it would have been a better deal sitting on a riverbank and earning my livelihood by shaving off everyone coming by that way instead of doing errands at Chettair’s house. As I didn’t have any other way to escape, I decided to go there. I went. He asked me to sit in a corner. I did. After some time, he bid goodbye to Maanaa Roonaa and left his house. He asked me to get into his car. I got into it. The car was rolling away towards Theradi. He asked me: 

“Why did you leave without informing me? Did you have your food at home? What is the matter?” 

Sooner he asked me this question, my palpitation increased. I became completely void of a minimum realization that I was speaking to my owner. I almost yelled at him while explaining him everything. The balance tax amount was not paid. I had given away to my uncle the money I had kept for meeting some emergency needs. The money that was supposed to reach me after selling the paddy grains didn’t arrive in time. But the authorities showed up suddenly and threatened me that they were going to take possession of my house. I raced away to Maanaa Roonaa's house only to know that everyone at his home had gone to Trichy to attend a marriage. I didn’t like to seek alms from anyone. I believed in my owner as my rock-like support and ran to him after getting some amount from Wood Grinder Ravuthar for renting a car. But when I met you, you chased me away to Pudukottai without even asking me why I had come so urgently to meet you. I went and attended to the work you had assigned. But despite my earnest attempts, I couldn’t get the work completed. I came back. I am now explaining to you how you were rude in spitting venomous words at me.” I couldn’t speak more as my throat gets choked up…. 

- He then extended his hands with a bunch of five ten-rupee notes and asked to accept it. I told him that Achi had given me thirty-five rupees, I had my food at her home, paid the tax amount, and received the amount of the paddy sale as well.”

“It is O.K. Add this amount too with it. Don’t keep this amount under credit. I spoke those words in anger," he told me, and left in his car after leaving me as I received that amount from him. 

His cook later told what had happened on the first day after he returned from Pudukottai. Immediately after he alighted from his car, he went into his house, opened the almirah, took out brandy bottles, and started drinking bottle after bottle and reportedly told the cook that he had scolded his attendant and chased him away for not being able to complete the work, but now he himself had come back without completing his work. Now who would scold him and chase him out? Yelling at himself, he threw those bottles and glasses over the mirror and broke it. Achi came running to him, caught his hands, and led him to bed and had him lain there. Other than Achi, no one would have the courage to go near him in such situations. In the morning, as the rooster woke him up, he arranged a car and left for Tirupathur.” 

“I am telling you all this to bring it to your attention that there lived such big-hearted owners. It is true that the wagers work hard and the owners amass wealth. But can we assign such a status to all owners? We have ‘Rotten Brinjal’ Pazhaniappa Chettiar, who was nothing more than a cheapskate among us. Haven’t we? Persons like him are more in number here. His property is worth some twenty or thirty lakh rupees. But he would walk seven miles in scorching heat and reach Thekkur market. He would then wait under a tamarind tree till dusk so that he could pick rotten brinjals which were not sold in the market. His wife was one step ahead of him. Her legendary miserliness was such that she wouldn’t even try to drive away flies with her rice-soaked hand. Even if someone proved his hunger by taking out his entrails and putting them on his palm, she would not feed him a morsel of food. She would keep all those rotten brinjals safely in the almirah and would issue them to her cook by strictly rationing them. She would sell the remaining snacks in the street and make money out of it….” 

“Chithappu, even if the river is flowing in full spate, the dog needs to drink water only by licking it. Doesn’t it?

“This is nothing but a character one inherits from their ancestors, son. Inheritance of petty-mindedness! What had happened to that money that he earned with all his might? They didn’t have children. They brought a boy from his circle of relatives. He was wearing Rudraksha beads around his neck and holding the holy book of Thiruvasagam in his hands till Chettiar was put to rest on the bier. Then he showed what he was truly made of. He had one concubine each in every village. Each woman was kept in separate bungalows. He spent his whole day either drinking or playing cards. In a very short span of two years, he was infected with all possible diseases of wrong living and died of tuberculosis. Now all the assets of ‘rotten brinjal’ Chettiar are in the hands of some unknown people, and they are staring at its uncertain future.” 

“Yes… Yes… our Viveka Sinthamani 2 also says so in the form of advice from a mother to her daughter who is a whore. ‘The assets which are not spent in a righteous manner will ruin under the influence of wines and schemes as per the will of God Brahma.’ It seems that this is true in his case…” 

“You are right. You know money is lying with almost everyone. But one needs to have a good character. That day, I met a man in Madurai. It is being said that one can mention one’s place, but not his name. But in this man’s case, I shouldn’t even utter his place’s name. Let us suppose he was just a bloke. He travelled in a big car that looked like a ship and was doing some business in Madras. That fellow was a pimp and was the one who had arranged women for my Chettiar. Now can we afford to talk about it with the same tenor? Everything has changed now, upside down. A complete change, like flipping a dosa. It was once said that the flag of the British Empire would never come down. Now see for yourself. It has fallen onto the ground and is still unable to regain itself. The Japanese flag is now flying on the Singapore fort. A complete change, like flipping a dosa! It is all about nothing other than money. Money that rules. Money... Nothing other than that. If someone has money, he seems to have been allowed to do whatever he wants. Doesn’t he? Possessing money alone is not enough. One should have a heart of charity. One needs to be brave enough and do good things for poor people in life to earn a good name. Even dogs have money these days. Aren’t they? In America, in one of the millionaire’s houses, four crores of dollars have been invested in the name of his dog. The dog has its separate bungalow, car, servants, and a place to rule. What is the use of all these? All it could do was lick the used plates to eat its food. The moment you pick up a stone from the ground, it will run away. No matter how many crores of money it has, it still remains a dog anyway. It will never get rid of its character. Rajagopal asked about it that day. There was a reason in it. A deep scrutiny of it will prove that money wouldn’t be useful even to clean up your tongue. If someone is hungry, he can’t eat money. He has to get rice and cereals to cook so as to satiate his hunger. Right?” 

“How could you say so easily that money can’t do anything? Why are we then floating on this sea? Isn’t it for in search of that money?”

“Yes…you’re partially right. But you can’t find permanent peace in money. Money is incapable of being with you always. It will come to you today and will disappear tomorrow. After that it will come on its own volition and again disappear on its way. Where is Lamsin now, the company which ruled this land once, having no parallel to challenge it? Where is Naavannaa Moonaa Business House now, which had its business in almost sixty-six towns? Where is Khader Bhava Ravuthar, the one who used to eat only in golden bowls? Is there any sign of their existence seen anywhere now? Money comes…and then goes. Where does the money come from? Did you bring it from the womb of your mother? No…it comes to you by the means and ways you adopt in life.” 

“Aithaan, the money from selling a dog will never bark at you. Will it? Money is money after all.” 

“I do agree with it. It is true that the money coming from selling dogs will not bark at. But the one who sells dogs will get the character of dogs. Ok. Let us suppose that you get money through various means, and it becomes yours finally. Now what's next? What is the use of safeguarding it like a genie? Keeping the money securely in your safe, leaving it to be eaten by fungus, is no way better than throwing it away for wrong deeds. When you are being carried on a bier to the burial ground, the gold, diamonds, your bungalow, and the cars you have accumulated won’t come along with you. Will they? Before burying you, they will remove even the thread from your waist. Even if you have boxes full of cash back home, it won’t stop your breath from abandoning your body. Our ancestors have written that even the kings will become a handful of ash one day. So, no one denies your aspirations of doing a couple of professions, eating well, earning enough for your wife and children, and building a house. Apart from all these, if you have something left in hand, you must do some charity work for the poor to get a good name. If you can build a hospital, a school, a travellers shed, or a drinking water facility, it will stand forever as a permanent light and will speak for your fame and name for generations to come. Will all your lakhs and crores of money stand like this for generations? Mmm…” 

“Our Chettiar lived in his own way and ruined all his money. Despite his philandering, his wealth kept increasing as if sprouting out of a spring of wealth, may be because of Achi’s lucky presence. He had accumulated more wealth than his father before his death. Even though he was a class spendthrift, he was a talented man in his profession and was very frugal in his accounts. If he found his account meant for Goddess in Pudukottai is missing, all his servants will have their worst day in life. He died of carbuncle. Two doctors were brought from Bombay to treat him but in vain. On the fourth day after his death, it was Friday morning, and we heard the temple bell clanking incessantly. Achi also died. When they carried the mortal remains of Sivagami Achi through one doorway, the Goddess Laxmi, who was till then living in that house, went away through another doorway. After that, how much longer could one live with the available resources? It was just a flick of a second one winks at his eyes. Everything is gone. The flag that was blowing in eight directions in Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa business house was brought down. Once it was brought down, it remained brought down forever. No child has yet been born to hoist the flag again. Velayuthaa... Gnanapanditha..." 

After Chettiar’s death, it was the reign of his children. All were complete idiots. They were not even aware of their assets and their related accounts. All they knew was just drinking, playing cards, and picking up street whores in cars. They didn’t even know the difference between a savings account and a current account, and if someone working under them reminded them of their ignorance, they would take it as an affront and insult him for his guts to advise them. We were working there for a long time and left the job, telling them to take care of their destiny. If they didn’t know how many zeros for one lakh and what exactly was meant by counter interest, why the heck did they assume themselves far superior to others? They were not their talented father to find faults in a single scrutiny in the accounting done by Atharuthi Muthukaruppa Chettiar. Our Chettiar was a very talented man but died without ensuring their sons learn some elements of his professional standards.”  

While everyone is curious about knowing the fall of ‘Obduracy’ Chettiar, I am asking them to see the causes that were responsible for his fall. Achi had five children like Panja Pandavas. Two of them died early. The remaining three would look royal in appearance like their father. But it was only in their appearance. They were otherwise completely useless fellows, good for nothing. They didn’t even know how to earn a penny on their own. But they had all the comforts of life one could ever imagine. Their father was a spendthrift anyway. But his pattern of spending was different. He would earn a rupee and spend only a quarter of it. But these chaps ruined whatever was available in their hands. Nothing is wrong with going after women. It was O.K. It was alright anyway. But do bring a beautiful lady of your choice and keep her with you upon some monthly maintenance amount. Do visit her quite often like a king. Licking the garbage wherever it is found is not the way one has to lead his life. Isn’t it? You could see them standing in Karaikudi Sunnambukara Street, Madurai Mottai Gopuram Street. What business did they have with the sons of Topper Mama? Can they afford sharing relations with those idiots? Useless fellows.” 

Once I went to Karaikudi for some work. When I was in my village after attending to it, I thought of paying a visit to my owner’s house. I tried my best not to go there. Despite my efforts to restrain my mind, I was obliged to accept its demands and went there by arranging a car from Pudukottai. As I thought that I was like his son, I did it. Sooner I saw their wives at their home on my going there, my heart literally burst out quietly. One of their wives was in white, whom I thought at first was a widow. Later I learnt that she was English-educated and roamed in the house with English slippers. Another wife had sent a car to Karaikudi to bring Briyani for her and was chomping it on from the tabletop by sitting with her legs crossed. There was no one in that palatial bungalow to receive a visitor with polite greetings. The veranda where my senior Chettiar used to sit and talk aloud like a lion was lying filled with filth. The picture that was hanging in the front hall used to be visible to anyone entering the house, bearing the portraits of Chettiar and Achi drawn by a Bengali painter brought from Calcutta; it was missing, and a picture of a man probably born to a couple of donkeys and a woman who seemed to have shed everything hugging each other was hanging there instead. Almost everything was visible above her waist. The portrait of Lord Murugan had a thick layer of cobweb obstructing visibility... Do you think a house of this kind would ever prosper? Now I am asking you whether you all need any more reasons that would have warranted his pathetic fall other than these?.” 

“A contemptible asshole called Muthuramani with a big moustache got pally with the elder son of Chettiar. Extremely an inferior fellow. Looking at his untidy and shabby hair and thick sideburns and the eloquence of spitting out unimaginable vulgar words, one wouldn’t dare conclude that he was from the Chettiar community. Even at the tender age of sixteen, he was whoring around with different women and got pus-oozing blisters all over his body. He was the minister-like advisor to the elder son of Chettiar. It was this scoundrel who dragged Chettiar’s son everywhere to ensure the definite fall of the latter. These two men were always found busy in the fun house at Memalai, either with drinks or women or cards. If money was needed, they wouldn’t demand it from the legitimate people. They would get it from anyone coming on their way and put their signature on any damn stamp paper extended to them. There was a group of pawnbrokers with a bag full of cash and printed stamp papers in hand looking out for such men who were in need of money in return for putting their signature on the stamp papers. While the eldest one was like this, the middle son would never move out of Chennai. He had an actress at home as his concubine. It didn’t matter how far the place was; if he came to know of a horse race being conducted there, he would attend it unfailingly along with a cart full of his entourage. Every penny spent on them would be his responsibility. The clerk back home would keep receiving telegrams from him almost daily demanding money. The last son who had gone to England to pursue law to become a lawyer preferred to stay there. The expenses on his head were almost double those of his two brothers. The collective recklessness of these three blokes shook the very foundation of Theena Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa business. That time, a rogue woman was earning her livelihood at the Memalai fun house by entertaining men with three young ladies she had brought from Kerala. The elder son had liaisons with all three of those women. Those three ladies used to bluff that they had come from the big pedigree of a Jamindar family. This bugger, the elder one, used to brag that he could manage a secret affair with such high-profile ladies hailing from a big Jamindar family. A class ignoramus! He didn’t even have the minimum wit to ask himself how those women could speak so highly of their genealogy while being involved in something as lowly as the profession called prostitution. Anyone could easily bluff that ghee is spilling out of finger millet. But the one who listens to such nonsense needs to be wary of being fooled. Isn’t it? He bathed those girls with cash in thousands of rupees whenever they demanded it. It was said that he made a puberty capping in pure diamonds for the second woman. Then came another woman who was prostituting in Madurai’s Kusavapalayam Street—they brought a very fair-complexioned lady, taught her some Brahmin dialects, and introduced her to him as the daughter of an Iyer, a lawyer living in New Street. They told him that she had been madly in love with him and made him spend money on her as well. All they needed was just a commission amount of five rupees for an arrangement of liaison, no matter who slept with whom. But one wouldn’t be permanently lucky enough to be supplied with an inflow of money to toss it at anyone they wanted. The creditors understood the dynamics of this transaction and stopped giving money to him. The Chettiar families believed that it would be shameful if one mortgaged his physical assets. It was at that time he fell into the trap of Nattarsankottai Sinnakannu Pillai, an extremely greedy man without any scruples. Pillai gave him money without asking any questions and appropriated every piece of the latter’s assets in his favour by obtaining his signature on plain stamp papers. The two younger brothers didn’t even bother to know what was happening behind them. They would happily sign on the papers sent by Pillai whenever he gave them money for every petty thousand or two thousand rupees, an amount that they actually required for their day-to-day entertainment. First the agricultural land in Uthanur was gone, then one hundred seventy-seven acres of land irrigated by the Mullai River in one go were gone, then nearly forty-seven properties, such as houses and shops in Madurai on West Masi Street, East Masi Street, North Veli Street, and East Marattu Street, were gone. Then followed the assets located in Pudukottai, Trichy, and Madras…” 

 

When this is a local affair, you must know about the very significant events that occurred abroad. They sent a fraudster called Sabanayagam Pillai to a Kuala Lumpur shop with a power of attorney. He was a Northerner, belonging to some lesser-known caste. Such a crook he was, he arranged for his own son’s wife to sleep with the elder son of Chettiar. Then what next? He became the proxy ruler, and whatever he uttered became the rule. Once the time was ripe, he smeared a big naamam with the mixture of a bucket full of lime3 on the Chettiar’s son’s forehead. On seeing this fraudster, the agent from Penang grew emboldened to play his role as a bigger cheater than the previous one. Then almost all the attendants and supervisors in all his shops in Epoh, Malakka, Serambon, Moovar, Sathiyavan, and Alor Setar were also very meticulous in cheating him. It was all just as short as a patting of one’s eyes; the whole business house of Theena Moonaa Roonaa Theena that once ruled the eight directions with its unflinching flag fell, crumbled, and disappeared in no time. The building in Kuala Lumpur, where Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa did his business in five thousand, ten thousand, and fifty thousand rubber estates, lead fields, and properties like agricultural lands, now has only one petty pawn shop run by some boys whose volume of business is not more than fifteen rupees or ten rupees. There was nothing wrong with the business house. It was the owner who failed it. It was the owner who failed it!”

“When our Chettiar’s father established his business in Kuala Lumpur, the place had nothing but some small huts. The place was boggy everywhere with the unbearable torment of mosquitoes. You might have seen a picture hanging in our Kuala Lumpur shop. It was taken by our Chettiar during a dinner offered by a rice wholesaler when he came to Malay Top. Our Chettiar, an English lord who bought a charter plane, the president of Hong Kong and Shanghai Banks, the senior English lord—that day the senior lord was not at the station; a Tamil man was looking after the Ayarmanees Estate in his place—was a very good singer in our dialect, the eight-storey house’s owner’s youngest son, the one who married an American lady—all these six persons were sitting on a chair. The ‘Rice Owner,’ Salt wholesale owner, owner of Mayil shop, Leelaram—the owner of the textile shop, lawyer Sitramabalam, Nagore Marakkayar, Sangvi Doctor, and some Brahmins were standing behind them. You must know something about this rice wholesale owner. The value of his assets must be about forty crores of rupees at that time. Even if you collect completely all the amount of our Chettiar’s business, you can never stand anywhere in front of his asset value. In his earlier days, he came from China with a single piece of clothe on him and was selling rice here. Then he started a coffee business. As he wanted to open a full-fledged shop, he thought of approaching Theena pawn shop to arrange some cash in addition to his savings. “Urine Leaking” Raman Chettiar was the agent in the Kuala Lumpur shop. It was he who got our Chettiar’s son educated in medicine. He was not at home that day. The senior attendant, Karuppan Pillai—a Maravar community man—was sitting in the pawn shop. Our Chettiar, who came to Kuala Lumpur after inspecting his other shops in Malay Top, was sitting on a chair as his last leg of visits. The rice wholesaler was a very young man. It was said that his hair would stand erect like iron rods. He asked Chettiar for an amount that he could pay back in installments. Karuppan Pillai asked him how much he needed. The ‘Rice Owner’ told him a very small amount. Karuppan Pillai denied him a credit of amount rejecting his request on the pretext that Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa wouldn’t entertain any small amount of credit just for the sake of getting a meagre interest. Though Karuppan Pillai was well settled in his village, his children have become spoiled brats. Now he is very aged and unable to walk. He has to attend to all his needs without moving from his place where he is sitting. Even today, ‘Rice Owner’ used to remember those moments and tell stories about how he was blinking helplessly when he asked for financial assistance from Theena Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa pawn shop. He would inquire about the clerk whenever he made visits to Kuala Lumpur. Karuppan Pillai was suffering from smallpox and had severe scars on his face.… 

The ‘Rice Owner’ must have seen the face of a fox 4 that morning to be very lucky that day. The Chettiar, who was scrutinizing the registers, raised his head and looked up at him. The rice owner also looked up to him. No one knew what went on in Chettiar’s mind until he asked his subordinates what that Chinese man was standing there for. It was the day the Goddess of Luck went to the ‘Rice Owner’ and garlanded him, and no one could stop his growth afterwards. Chettiar was the type of a man who would just consider who the man was; he would never get into sundry details of whether that man was capable of repaying the debt. Another matter of interest was that the Chettiar didn’t know how to speak Malay until his last breath. Karuppan Pillai explained to him the reason why the Chinese man had come to their shop. Chettiar glanced at the Chinese man once again for a second and told Pillai, ‘This boy seems to be very energetic and flamboyant. Extend him some assistance’. From that day, the ‘Rice Owner’ witnessed a consistent growth in his business. The growth was not in ordinary terms; it was a mammoth growth in inexplicable terms. Seeing his probity in business dealings, every pawn shop owner was happy to extend him loans of any amount. He established a full-fledged shop and then entered the rice business. No one could stand his business acumen. He extended his influence all over Malay Top and acquired rubber estates, lead fields, and agricultural lands in every village. He started operating his own shipping service and constructed a mill in Hong Kong. He built a thirty-two-story hotel in Sangapattinam as if declaring to everyone that he had constructed one such building that no one would be able to see in all eighteen colonies of the white men. In spite of accumulating this much wealth, he never failed to be loyal to our Chettiar. He used to address our Chettiar as ‘Owner sir’ till his last breath. 

It was the time when Chettiar was actually counting his final days. He had gone to Vanthaviya to attend a meeting with the Governor of the Holland Government to sort out a misunderstanding with the government. A telegram was received in Kuala Lumpur that Chettiar would not live for more days. I was working in a Penang shop at that time. Soon after he heard the news, the ‘Rice Owner’ informed the Holland government in Vanthaaviya and arranged a special aircraft. The special aircraft left from Calcutta when the village received a telegram about Chettiar’s death. The rice owner alighted in Madras, arranged a car from there, and left for our village. In the meantime, everyone at home was waiting in advance with all the funeral arrangements, such as silk dhoti, ornamental towels, and perfumeries. 

He gets down at the village. The mortal remains of Chettiar were burnt in fire like flames in the brightest colours. No one would forget and would never be able to explain in words the way the ‘Rice Owner’ cried that day and yelled in his language at seeing Chettiar’s pyre. He returned to his country only after paying rich tributes to the Karaikudi Koppudaiyaal Amman Temple and Pazhani Murugan Temple and extending alms liberally to many poor persons. When he heard a rumour was being spread that the foundation of Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa business house was shaking, the ‘Rice Owner’ sent sixteen thousand rupees immediately to the eldest son of Chettiar and assured him that he (Chettiar’s son) should not worry about the debts and all the debts would be paid off irrespective of their volume and asked Chettiar’s son to come to meet him. Despite his frequent telegrams, he received no reply. When his manager informed him that the Chettiar’s son was found nowhere, he was shocked and contacted the Chinese Council in Calcutta through telegram. The council, along with the cooperation extended by the Indian government, launched a countrywide search for Chettiar’s son. He wasn’t found anywhere. Actually, he was settled with a whore somewhere in Ooty. Look at his turn of bad luck! The goddess of prosperity, who had deserted him once, did come back and was searching for the elder son of Sivagami Achi, but the Sivagami Achi’s son was lying on the lap of a whore hugging her! If the time is up, despite one's genuine efforts, no matter how truthful it is, everything will come to an end. Velayuthaa! Gnanapandithaa!”

You could have never seen a business house like Theenaa Monaa Roonaa Theenaa, and you could never get a chance to meet another ‘Obduracy’ Chettiar in your life. You would never be able to meet a noble lady like Sivagami Achi as well. She was a wife of one of the richest men of his time, but you wouldn’t find any trace of such arrogance in her attitude. She would never utter even a single word that could hurt the feelings of the poor. What is the use of thinking about all these now? She didn’t distinguish between her sons and other servants. As long as she was alive, there was no difference in food prepared for her family members and servants, unlike in other rich businessmen’s houses. Everyone would get the same food made for Chettiar. It was the golden period of Sivagami Achi. Now it is gone. Everything has become European now, be it a zigzag parting on one’s head, smearing talcum powder on faces, wearing stylish blouses, or wearing uncomfortable modern slippers and dancing while walking. You might have seen one thing! Highly educated ladies and ladies from rich families have stopped breastfeeding their infants as they think breastfeeding makes their bodies unattractive and saggy. What sort of a body is theirs! What sort of a birth is theirs!

After I left Theenaa Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa business house, many big business houses offered me employment. I didn’t like to work anywhere after that. I thought of opening a small shop in my native place. Meanwhile, my uncle asked me to come to Medan City to do business there, promising to extend all possible help to make a mountain out of a molehill. I went there and understood they were just empty words. I wasn’t accustomed to petty transactions. My association with Theena Moonaa Roonaa Theenaa shop had made me experienced only with big financial transactions. Moreover, the place was also new. While other people earned a good fortune, I was struggling there. I would say in simple terms that my time was not good. When I left my native place, I was just thirteen years old. In the last forty years, the days I stayed at my native place wouldn’t be more than ten or twelve years. My two sons are selling goods in Burma Top. I don’t know how their business is doing. I just move on with my immense faith in Thannimalaiyan Murugan. I got my two daughters married off, and my last daughter, Amirtham, is at home. I was planning to close all my accounts this year and settle in my native place. Before that, this war had come as a curse in my life. It would be better to do some small business back home instead of seeing these wretched faces of Malays and Chinese every day here. The people in the village also lead their lives. Don’t they? It is we who believe that something big is waiting for us on the shores of foreign lands but get eventually humiliated every day. With the blessings of the god almighty, I own some agricultural lands. It will feed me without letting me go hungry. When I think all three of us are living in foreign lands, leaving our native place, it pains me a lot. Apart from this agony, one more pain has been tormenting me day and night like a saw cutting through my heart. When I set off on my journey here, my last girl, Amirtham, nagged me to give her a set of bangles. As she was so adamant, I became angry and beat her. The very thought of it gets my heart aching with an unbearable mental agony.”. 

When I was about to leave my place, my daughter Amirtham caught my legs and cried, “Appa, make a set of two bangles for me.” She started nagging me, holding my hands. Andiappa Pillai tried his best to comfort her but in vain. She started crying. Unable to bear her nagging, he thrashed her with a loud yell.

Amirtham fell on the floor and became further adamant, kicking her legs in the air. “Appa… I need bangles…”

Tears welled up in Aavanna’s eyes. He remained silent for some while. The tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks like pearls. His mouth stammered something inaudibly.

“What sort of a worthless fellow I have become! Why the heck am I earning money travelling across seas? I don’t have the heart to make a set of bangles for my own daughter! When am I going to meet this poor soul again?” 

The tears started rolling down his cheeks. He covered his face with a towel, holding it with his two hands. 

Amirtham was still lying on the floor, crying incessantly in demand of bangles.  “Appa, I need bangles. Appa, I need bangles." 

His wife and two other daughters tried to comfort her.

“You are my gold! Aren’t you? You are a very good girl. Please get up. Once Father comes back from abroad, he will give you five sets of bangles. Now please get up. We can go to Seeni Chettiar’s shop to buy some good bangles for you. Aren’t you my sweetheart? Aren’t you like my eyes? Please get up...and give your father a warm send-off. It gets late."

The tender body of Amirtham was still rolling on the floor, relentlessly demanding bangles. 

“Appa, I need bangles. I need bangles, Appa!" Pillai emitted an exasperated yell as if his heart was torn to release such a yell. 

“You're such a merciless ass! You rugged scoundrel! Why should you need children if you don’t understand their importance?” 

He started knocking the top of his skull with his right hand. His whole body was shivering.

“Athaan…Athaan… Please don’t lose your heart. Nallakannu Konar comforted him with his feeble voice. “In two months, this wretched war will be over. With the blessings of Goddess Azhaku Nachi, we all can go back to our homes and buy as much as we could for our children." 

Others watching him cry with a towel covering his face chose to remain silent, probably unable to bear the pain of watching him in that condition. 

The shiver in Aavanna’s body came down gradually and then disappeared finally. The towel that was covering his face fell off. 

“No use in mourning our fate. It is all our destiny”," he wiped his tears. “Let us make our bed. Gnanapanditha” 

They lay down on their beds. The ship was moving slowly, in search of Penang port. 

Note:

1.      Korangi- It is a small port in Andhra Pradesh. Since people from Andhra boarded ships for different countries from that port, the Andhra people were known (in the lands where they went) by this port’s name. 

2.      A Tamil didactic treatise.

3.      Applying ‘Naamam’ means cheating someone in a big way. Naamam is a religious symbol drawn on one’s forehead mostly by the Brahmin community. If someone is cheated, colloquially it is said that he has been given Naamam on his forehead. 

4.      It is an idiomatic expression to denote luck; luck will favour someone if he wakes up facing a fox.

                                                                      ****

Chapter 11: Madurai   

The sun rose as if coming from the bottom of the horizon. A shoal of tiny fishes looking like zigzag eels was playing underwater. The sea, with its waves surging up and down, seemed to be moving smoothly. The sky at the horizon that had appeared in a grey hue till then had become like a fire in an orange colour as it received the crimson rays of the sun. The flame of light that shone at the point where the sun and water got mixed up did offer a clumsy view to one’s eyes.

Pandian closed his eyes. ‘Once this war is over, I have to go to my place by the first available ship. I should go to Nagapattinam instead of Chennai, where the customs officials would check the neatly folded clothes by throwing them jumbled and crushing the pillows. From Nagapattinam, I can go to Trichy and then to my place. If not by this route, I can go via Madurai, where I can stay in Mangammal Lodge right in front of the Madurai Railway Station. I can stay there for a day, meet my friends, and take a round in Madurai city—Town Hall Road, Bhima Vilas, the first-ever club hotel that introduced the habit of eating snacks on tables in Madurai. Madura College high school. The stinking Perumal Temple Theppakulam, filled with thrown-away food, garbage, and overgrowth of algae. Going past Masi Streets comes West Tower Street, followed by the Victoria Lodge and Military Hotel. Saminatha Pillai, the owner of the hotel, with his round-shaped tuft, a sandal vermillion on his forehead, studs embellished with red stones, and clean clothes on, would be sitting on a mat at the corner of the front veranda. Small reddish eyes. A smile that was spitting out hatred. He would receive the cash from the people who had their meals in his right hand, mumbling something inaudible, and throw it under the mat by lifting it with his left hand. On this side were the Uduppi Hotel and Ajees perfume shop and the diversions to Anumantharayan Temple Streets. The ‘Topper Mamas’ would be busy looking for customers, and the local hoodlums would be on the prowl for weaker men to loot.

There were looters roaming around known as ‘three ticket’ cheaters—they were double dealers who would fake brass chains for gold chains and sell them at a lower price, citing an emergency. The Fund Office was nearby. The yells of Marwadi businessmen at the entry of the temple tower would fill the air.  “Pick anything you like just for an Ana. Pick anything you like just for Ana.” 

Then come the Chithirai Streets. There would be street vendors selling Salab Misri Halva under gas lantern lights with a big photo of some unknown beefcake kept leaned against a wall, quacks selling medicines for syphilis, fraudsters selling ‘energised’ pendants for both diseases and demons, those who would claim selling the original treatise of Kokkegam containing all 64 poses of sexual intercourse, and the cons selling the so-called antidote to scorpion bites. The crowd in front of the temple and the howling of baniyas.  “Ek baniyan dho ana.”. 

Aththur Sayabu was selling tooth powder near the gateway of Puthu Mandapam. A crowd under the spell of his captivating humour would stand assembled in front of him. Sayabu would deliver his talk: 

“Is there any difference between this and that? Will the deity in a Brahmin’s house look in red, while the deity in a lower caste man’s house looks in black? Or will the deity in a Muslim’s house wear a turban, while the one in a Christian’s house wears a cross? God remains always God. Everyone here is a human being. But my tooth power is not like that. Tooth powder doesn’t mean that it is a powder made of teeth smashed and pulverised. It is a powder for oral application. Hihihihi…. Tooth powder has its advantages and disadvantages. It is made scrupulously following the procedure prescribed by our sages, the Siddhas. Get one pocket of it and use it daily. Don’t fall for those pockets sold in shops wrapped in shiny papers with women’s pictures posing nude. Don’t fall for their bodies. It is like jaundice—it goes with our old adage. Doesn’t it? – A beautifully coiffed hair festooned with screw pine flowers will only contain lice and nits in it if opened. They would keep the coloured sand in it. So, listen to my words and get one pocket of it. Rub your teeth with it every morning. All your dental issues, like tooth pain, swelling, bleeding of teeth, and smelly mouth, will disappear in no time. Come here. One pocket for each one of you here. Believe my words. If you lose your teeth, you will lose your words too. If your mouth smells, your wife will turn the other side, showing her back to you. Then what? You will keep yawning like a dog on heat all throughout the night.” 

‘How fast are the cities changing? The city of Madurai seen in 1941, when I returned, and the one that I saw when I had joined a higher secondary school looked completely different from each other. This was the time way before Lashrado Shenai was posted as the Commissioner of Madurai.’ 

Half of the streets would be covered by “Governor Hoardings” sticking out of city buildings. These governor hoardings stood erect with the support of poles and wooden planks covering the sides. Shops roofed with tiles were functioning above, and the people who depended on garbage bins for their daily sustenance were living under its wooden partition. It was under this roof where all their births and deaths were taking place. 

The place where the bus stand was once functional is now the place of the Thursday weekly market. You could buy anything there—from balls made of red sand to spare parts of motor engines and from as easily available things as Thumbai plants to extremely rare items such as tiger teeth. 

No one knew when the ‘cars’¹ would leave and from where. The cars would roam on the city roads. The agents holding the bars in the car, half of their bodies hanging out, would call out to the prospective passengers aloud by yelling out the names of different destinations. Once they got a sufficient number of passengers for those destinations, they would alight other passengers along with their luggage from the ‘car’ at some unknown places. Any complaint, even made inaudibly, would end up with them being beaten. It all happened before the arrival of Lashrado Shenai as the commissioner of Madurai Municipality and his meticulous efforts to streamline the transport system by establishing a bus stand and standard time schedule for ‘cars’ to leave a particular place at a particular time for a particular destination. 

Sometimes three or four cars used to ply for the same destination. The cars would run into rivers, village tanks, and fields after they left the bus stand, trying to overtake each other. The incident in which ‘Krishna Jeyam’ car driver ‘dollar’ Rajamani Iyer, on his way to Sinna Mangalam, in an attempt to overtake Chithambara Vilas car driver Rajamunni Menon, drove his car into a water-filled village tank and overtook the latter, went on to become a famous legend in the history of Motors. 

The shops selling cooked rice were found lined up along the street known as Sotru Kadai² Street. Fully polished big cauldrons shining like golden pots, with Vibhoothi and sandal-kumkum bars smeared on them, were kept on three-legged stools in the front veranda of shops. A person wearing a shirt and Vibhoothi on his forehead, sitting on a wooden board near them with his legs folded, would call out to the passersby aloud walking on the street, “Please come... hot rice... with mutton stew... hot rice... Please come. Please come."

The owners of material-loaded vehicles from the western region, after eating to their stomachs full, would often throw a fold of betel leaves offered free of cost after meals into their mouths and go out with belching sounds.

“They have soaked the rice in lime water. I couldn’t eat it more.” 

“It can’t be called a club hotel. If you want one such hotel, you can’t get anything better than the one run by Kundathur Nayakkar in Dindigul. What food they offer! Extremely delicious. You wouldn’t find any complaint with it. Every day you'll get intestine stew. If meat is not available, they will give you a stew made with goat heads. Every Thursday he would offer soup made with Veldt grape and soup made with genuine catfish.” 

It cost one ana to watch movies in the Imperial Cinema. Those who were sitting above on ‘chairs’ would spit out their betel leaves spittle on people sitting below. The ones sitting on the floor would throw invectives, possibly invented with all human flesh, at them to register their protest. “Deiiiii…….”

It used to be Edifo Lo and Duglus Fair Fangs movies. The audience would shout along with the actors. “Eiii. Turn your face this side... Your enemy is coming near. Don't leave him. Give him a punch. Punch him hard. Eiii, helper! Come soon. The enemy is abducting the actress. Yes, here comes the actor! Punch that fellow! Yes, punch him like this. What a punch it is! Half moustache Charlie Chaplin was making the audience laugh till their ribs got broken with his funny acting! Herald Loid, the one with spectacles! Characters running on screen without voices! The horses were hopping, running fast! The guns are spitting out fire. ‘Don’t miss watching this spectacle! It is a wonderful movie full of fencing, jumps, magic works, and romantic scenes. The “kick expert” Edifo Lo’s swing of whip, a scene that would make anyone filled with ecstasy.” 

It was a small movie hall with a tin thatch. In the bigger movie hall with a tin roof, a film by Kittappa, a famous actor known for his sweet voice, Narpathu Veli Nilam innum Nattagavillai, was shown. Then came the queen of music, Sundarambal, and freedom fighter Viswanatha Das with his amputated hands in Katharkodi Kappal Thonuthe. The list of actors and actresses that dominated the scene was long: Rajalaxmi, Velambal, Rukminibai, and The King of Hormonium. Khader Basha, ‘Sthree part’ Anandaraman Iyer, ‘Hindustan Hawai’ Nataraja Pillai, Buffoon Shanmugam, ‘Comic” Samanna, and joker Ramudu. “Rajambal” was a special drama acted by Rajambal herself. Savukkadi Chandrakantha by Original Boys Company, Bombay Mail, and Rajabhakti... 

There had been a whole slew of mysterious events that students discussed among themselves with fear and angst—the human sacrifice given by a white engineer while constructing the Big Bridge, how an English sergeant followed a Kerala Black Magician carrying a Brahmin woman who was in her first pregnancy like a lamp in the air to sacrifice her in the Tathaneri burial ground, how the sergeant shot him dead on the slope on the other side, and how the police sub inspector Balasingam had thrashed the notorious hoodlum Keru Sahib, tied him up, and dragged him out onto the street. 

Madurai is known for its countless festivals—the Chithirai Festival, the Puttu Festival, the Theppam Festival... the list goes on. Ahh… If it were the Mariyamman Theppam Festival, people would sit in the coconut groves lying between the Vaigai River and Vandiyur Theppakulam and enjoy their meals while simultaneously relishing the visual treat of the festival. Women chewing betel leaves would chide their children playing carefree, with their red coloured spittle spilling out from their mouths. The water, seemingly confused with the lights emitted by earthen lamps lit along the interior walls of the pond, would glint as if being gored by an array of countless golden spears. The Theppam ³ would then be left floating on water when the full moon ascended above the coconut trees and showered its cool breeze of light on both land and humans by throwing them into the deep spell of inertness.

‘It has been ages since I last saw the Madurai Theppam Festival in Tamil Nadu. Now the time and places have changed. This is a ship floating now on the Malacca Sea carrying passengers who are on their way to Sumatra from Malaya due to the Second World War, driven by some commercial interest. 

The waves were coming one after the other; the waves formed one after another from the earlier ones were hitting the sides of the ship hard as if trying to tumble it down, but in vain. That ship, propelled by the force of wind, was moving in search of Penang harbour. 

“Paavannaa… thinking something very seriously, that too in the early morning?” 

Aavanna, who was busy taking out processed milk tins and coffee powders from the basket, yelled at him. 

“I was just relaxing in this morning breeze.” 

Nallakannu Konar was boiling water, sitting at the corner on the opposite side. Others were asleep. 

Notes:

1.    In those days, buses were called cars, and conductors were known as cleaners.

2.    It is known as Meenakshi Temple Street today.

3.    A makeshift temple floated on water (with a deity in it).

 

 

 Chapter 12: Sinna Mangalam   

The ship was on its way towards Penang harbour in the deep sea. The journey that had started in Belawan harbour on Monday did continue on Tuesday and Wednesday and was still continuing on Thursday too. Pandian was holding the rope stockade on the upper deck and looking west, as the sun was setting in the west, descending slowly from the mid-sky. The water that looked muddier as it got mixed up with the slush of the estuary first turned green, then bluish, and then finally carried a hue that appeared somewhat dark blue, partly due to the mixed hue of blue and black; the incessantly moving water formed robust curls of waves only to come back again to hit the sides of the ship with roars.

Ah…It is Thursday. The evening sets in as the Sinna Mangalam market is filled with the aroma of neem oil. The trader from Melur, who used to sell jaggery-laced buffed rice balls behind the man-sized basket kept near the arch of the market’s gateway, was counting the coins he earned that day on a jute rug. The accountants and henchmen of Dindigul Ravuthar, a local leaseholder in the market, are sitting under a partition sheet kept slant with a Petromax lamp in front of them. They raise their hands holding the open lemonade bottles and drink it. On the right are found the shops lined up to the north, where traders are busy selling leaves and tubers. On both sides of the road that runs in front of the market's entrance are found the rows of tile-roofed open shops on cemented platforms. The mixed voices of transactions of traders who are busy dumping their items in bales in those shops fill in the air. Bales of paddy rice and vegetables are loaded into carts from the open shops at a distance for Thekkur Market that has been scheduled for the next day. 

“Come on, lad... come on... Missing this chance will dearly cost you... If this day is gone, it will be gone forever... Come on, guys. Come on.”

A relentless sound of enticing customers comes out beneath the tamarind trees that are as old as the Kings Maruthu Pandiars. Those trees are standing beyond the hole-like makeshift shops made of mud, lighted by tiny clay lamps, lying in a row just opposite to the mortared buildings on the right.

Some boys wearing shabby, dirty towels, sitting on the ground with their legs folded, keeping tobacco leaf wastes grouped in a handful of heaps in front of them on some pieces of jute cloth, were busy announcing its prices aloud. 

“Come on, lad..." Come on... Missing this chance will dearly cost you... If the day is gone, it will be gone forever. Original Darapuram tobacco... One heap is three-fourths of a paise. Just three-fourths of a paise for one handful. Come on, guys. Come on….” 

The children of Sinna Mangalam Market traders are learning business and trying to earn money on their own by selling tobacco waste in small handfuls that they had collected either from their fathers’ shops or their relatives’ shops. 

“Come on, lad..." Come on... Missing this chance will dearly cost you... If the day is gone, it will be gone forever... Come on, guys. Come on.

“Look here...the beauty of the shop laid by Sivalinga Nadar’s son!” 

Sinna Adaikkala Konar of Kirukkankottai went near to the boy. 

“You can have all three handfuls. One part is just three-fourths of a paise." Pandian, with his Aruppokkottai dingy towel tied to his waist and a round-shaped tuft on his head, rose from his place and pleaded with him. 

“See here, boy." Don’t go that pricey. Come down a bit.”

Konar bent a little, took a sniff of tobacco, and lifted his head.

“It is okay. I also get late. Collect all these three bundles for one and a half paise,” Pandian told. 

“It isn’t worth that cost... You keep increasing its price at your whims.” He again bent down and probed the tobacco, digging it up a little. “Let me be lenient a bit, as you are a known chap." Bhatatbi Chettiar’s son Dammanna and Armugam Nadar’s son Palanisami—both from Melpakkam—and Karayi Ravuthar’s son Muthalibu and Chokkan Chettiar’s son Nallamuthan—both from Keezhpakkam—grew jealous at Pandian’s turn of luck while resuming their loud chants. “Come on, lad...”

Konar opened the waist knot of his dhoti nonchalantly, took out a quarter of an Ana and two pennies, and gave it to him.

“I have only this much.”

“Try some more from your pouch. Don’t miss it for a penny. It is a very good quality tobacco,” Pandian told.

“I can give it to you only if I have it. I say I don’t have it. Take this. Cherishing relations is more important than money. Take this.

“O.K…A penny wouldn’t make any loss. Would it? Mmm…collect it.” Pandian collected all tobacco handfuls together and put them onto Kirunkkankottai Chettiar’s towel that was stretched out to him like a cradle. “A fine-quality tobacco from Meenampalayam is on the way for the next market. Do come there,” Pandian reminded Konar.

“Coming to the market? Let me consider if I stay alive.”

Konar fastened the tobacco leaves into one bundle with his towel and walked towards the gate.

“I have sold everything.”

A cry of triumph and laughter of pride came out of him simultaneously. He spread a jute rug on the floor and sat on it.

“Deiii, you know very well who first sold everything in the last market?" Dammanna fumed and then resumed his enticements in a high pitch. “Come on, lad. Come on. Missing this chance will dearly cost you. Genuine Darapuram tobacco. A packet just for half a paise. Come on, guys, you won’t get another chance after dusk. Come on, come on.”

He was joined by other voices, which too started reducing their prices, and called out to the kings of that market. 

The bustles of the market are slowly waning. The perfume shop owner, Samithurai, gets ready to leave holding a dark wooden box carved with brass flowers in his left hand. Uthirpatti Ravuthars, who run their meat shops in the northeast corner of the market, pack the remaining meat pieces in banana leaves, roll it with a cloth, and hang it on their left shoulders while holding the balance under their right armpits. They are walking, thinking about Nadar Street, where they could sell the remaining meat pieces as dry salted meat pieces. Mohammed, a peppermint seller, is pushing his bicycle, from which columns of marble balls, plastic, and fake coral balls are dangling on both sides. He moves slowly, throwing the glaring light from his big battery torchlight he is holding in his right hand on both sides. Women from Mettupatti are hurrying up to get away from there. Carts rolling away with a cracking noise are streaming in from the northern side. The sound of folk songs sung by the bard Muthukutti was floating in the air. 

“A silver-hilted sickle

It is the curved sickle of Vellaya Devan.

A shell-hilted sickle, my golden lady!

It is the brutal sickle of Santhana Devan.

Aaa…eee…eeeiiii

Chariot after chariot

Set them all ablaze.

In the light of flames, my golden lady!

Plundering the south street

Aaa..eee..eiiii…

…

The army of Vellaya Devan breaks open every household.

And the Pallar army of Santhana Devan

loots the booty in bagsful.

My golden lady!

"Aaa...eeee...eiiiii…"

“Let’s move. It gets late." Pandian rose and folded his rug.

Others didn’t move and wanted to wait to try some more time.

“Let me leave,” he started running, tilting his head on one side and swinging his right hand, drawing circles in the air while holding the rug under his armpit. “Boom….Boom….boom... as soon as he reached the entrance of the market, a song fell out from him.

“On the river bridge

Abdul Kader’s motorcycle

Flies like the wind, my dear.

Flies like wind.” 

He turned towards the east. On the left were found street shops selling saris along the market building. Busy sale under lantern light: saris with caltrop flower designs, papaya’s colour, colours designed with needles, Salem ‘kundanju’ bordered dhoti, Aruppukkottai towels, Paramakudi skirts. There was a row of grass bundles sold by Arasanpatti women in front of the shops; on the right was a ‘club’ hotel called Gomathi Vilas Hotel—an Original Thirunelveli Saivaite hotel run by Sankaramoorthy Pillai that cooked delicacies in earthen pots; Abubakkar’s shop selling tin materials; a pawn shop run by Kanadara Manikkam Chettiar; a coffee club shop of Palakkad Iyer; a Vazhavanthan shop that sold roasted Bengal gram; and a shop selling nine types of grains run by Karunkalakudiyar, and ‘Bear’ Soonaa Paanaa leaning casually on his seat in the cash counter and running his fingers through his beard parted in two halves. 

“How much does a padi1 of rice cost, Maanan2?

If measured by Azhagappan’s padi, it is five and a quarter...

How much does a padi of black gram cost, Maanan?

If measured by Ulagappan’s padi, it is nine and a half...

How much does a padi of green gram cost, Maanan?

If measured by Palaniyappan’s padi, it is eleven.”

Going past Chellaiya’s shop, there was an idli shop run by a Tirunelveli Saivaite woman. Both elder and younger sisters in white clad with vibhoothi on forehead and Tulsi necklace hanging on neck are selling the crowd idlies and Coriander tea.

Knee-high tables of sugar stick sellers have been placed in front of the shop. A small oil lamp is burning on each table. On the floor are found banana leaves spread with flowers kept in heaps. The women from Kodukkanpatti are calling out to customers aloud, “Flowers for sale... southernwood, Jasmine, Tail Grape..."

He slackened his speed, turned his head, and walked, perusing the tables where sugar sticks were kept.

“Dei… Are you absentminded?” The oil shop owner, Nagamaiya Chettiar, admonished him.

"No, I am alright,” Pandian retorted.

“Mind the traffic, lad. Be careful while walking.”

Without looking back at him, Pandian hastened his steps.

‘Meda’ Gopal Chettiar’s Pattanam sniffing-powder shop was at the corner along the market’s wall. Selva Vinayagar Street that ran on the left and the road that ran into the village on the right were crowded. There were shops in rows on both sides of Temple Street. On the north were Nallan Pond, Komutti’s Well, Ladasamy Ashram, Valaiyar Street, Peanut Fields, Toddy Shop, Farm House of ‘Puthaiyal Eduththan Pillai, untrimmed palm trees, tanner cassia fields lying beyond the plantation where two rivulets merged, a grove where bears used to graze, and Ellaiyamman Temple—this is the ancient northern boundary of Sinna Mangalam.

Car agent Naavanna Paanaa’s north-facing shop is on the road that runs towards the east. Drivers with cropped hair wearing shirts having tongue-like collars are standing in front of it. “Dollar’ Rajamani Iyer, ‘Sudden Brake’ Kondalsamy Naidu, and ‘Tube’ Bhavani Singh are all standing, chewing betel leaves and smoking cigarettes. Trading of ‘Monkey Mark’ kerosene is in full swing. The boys standing behind the stacked tin barrels are busy scooping it in measurements and pouring it out. The shop glitters under a big gas lamp. Opposite to it is the Appayi Chettiar snack stall, located adjacent to Selva Vinayagar Temple. Masala beans and spicy balls, famous in that area, found their soaring sales due to their enduring demands.

“Give me masala beans for three quarters of a paise." Pandian entered the crowd, pushed others behind, and extended his coin to the shopkeeper. Chettiar gives him some beans on Portia tree leaves stitched together, neatly tied with dried banana fibre. Pandian comes out of the crowd, opens the packet, and starts eating the beans as he walks southward.

…….

Sitting on the ship’s deck in the middle of the sea, Pandian’s left hand gently rubbed his forehead. ‘Will those days return? ...one could run, swinging his hands in circles...eat masala beans from Appayi Chettiar’s snack stall...tamarind vada from Rajali Paatti’s shop. One could sit comfortably on the dusty street and eat pittu bought from Santhaipettai Periyayi and paniyaaram bought from Valliyakka residing at the edge of the pond. Those days were gone—gone forever. It was the age of innocence, knowing no art of hiding anything'. 

…..

The waves were relentlessly hitting the sides of that wooden ship and rose, fell, and sprinkled in droplets.

….

The ground in front of the Maraiyammam Temple in Sinna Mangalam Nadar Street was bathing in the dim moonlight. Young girls with their plaits looking like rats’ tails and skirts were playing ‘hide and seek’ games. Ranjitham, sitting on a big stone mortar lying on the edge of the ground, was loudly prescribing something to them.

“Block your eyes.

Bite your ears.

How many fruits are there?

Two…

One for you

One for me

Run…run…runnnnnn."

On the south, just opposite to Kuppaikaattu Vasal, boys were playing Kabaddi.

“It’s me… your father

Grandson of Nallathambi

I have come to play with my silver cane.

I will come to tie the thali.

With my golden cane

I am coming...coming...coming for you.” 

The sound of Urumi, dual-headed drums played in the Pallar Street beyond the cornfields in the east, was floating in the air. Their mothers, who came out of their houses one after another, shouted at their children in varied moods, “You donkey! It is already late. Come in…. My dear girl, why don’t you please come in? ...Enough of your jumping. You...my pain! Come in…”

The girls stopped playing ‘hide and seek’ abruptly and left. 

“To everyone’s house

Broad beans for rice

The houses with children

Snake gourd for rice...” 

Kabaddi continued. The elders were standing around and cheering the players up. The songs sung by the players echoed vibrantly.

“On the steep mountains

There were two elephants.

The older one fell unconscious.

The old elephant…old elephant…old elephant…” 

A group of mothers came running to pick up their wards in order to make them sleep at the earliest.

“Deiii… Pandi! Will you come now, or should I tell your father to get you a couple of beatings?

“Aiyo… I am now leaving." Pandian whined and walked away to his house. The sound of the Urumi drum was still heard from the slum area in the east. On the west, heard the blare of boys playing “Kittippul” on the road. …

Under the dark blue seawaters, Pandian felt something was moving. He looked at it closely. ‘It must be a big fish or something else living in water.’

…

Women are found walking to and fro by the streets that are fully cleaned and cleansed with cow dung water. They are carrying either baskets filled with paddy grains or pitchers filled with water on their heads and waists while their children are tailing them with running noses. Some women with their dirty saris and untidy hair are sitting on verandas husking the paddy grains, measuring rice.

“Have the cattle from the herd left, Akka?”

“You ignoramus! They left long ago, and the train to Madurai has already arrived.

The arrival and departure of cattle was the yardstick of Sinna Mangalam women to keep watch on their times. It is a universal truth that the cattle, as usual, would leave for grasslands in the north across the river in the morning and return home in the evening. The big watchtower clock in the Union Office building was not trustworthy. One day it rang six at midday. It was the biggest funny incident the entire village laughed at. Kaduvetti Servai, the bill collector, said that the clock had stopped working as it was not wound with the key. Sevuka Moorthy Ambalam, the union chairman, said that it was due to improper oiling of the machine. The women of Sinna Mangalam were not in the mood to believe all those petty excuses...

Since then, the women passing by the Union office in the morning and evening while carrying pitchers with drinking water collected from the village well on their heads and waists used to pass witty remarks at the Union office clock, throwing their eyes at it.

“Will it now ring in the midday or midnight?”

“What an excuse that man gave! It wasn’t wound with the key. Was it? Good heavens, he didn’t say that as it was not fed with rice.”

The women, who are sun-drying the boiled paddy grains spread across in rectangular shapes under the scorching sun on Nadarpettai streets and the road adjacent to Pettai passing North-South through the village, are crushing handfuls of paddy grains between their palms to check its crispiness and then putting them into their mouths while simultaneously turning up the paddy, sun-drying it with the swings of their feet as their bodies move pleasingly.

‘Akka, did you meet his sister in Madurai?”

“No… I haven’t. We didn’t stay there for long. As soon as we had our meals at my brother’s house, we left for Kalloorani by car.”

“She has been sick for some time. She is now six months pregnant. What is the price you have fixed to sell Sirumaniyan rice?

Though it has been more than three generations since they migrated to that place, the ‘Southern’ slang in their speech was still lively.

In the morning, the traders coming to the market would spread onion, turmeric, and chilli on the Amman temple ground in heaps and collect them after winnowing it. 'Bloody-eyed' Arunsunai Nadar would be leaning against the temple pillar with the book “Big Letter Desinku Rajan” on his lap and reciting some sentences he had memorised from the book.

‘Dawood Khan signalled the cavalry.

Soon surrounded the soldiers.

Despite Raja being surrounded by thirty thousand soldiers

Desinku Raja laughed at them all.

Raja Desingu held two big swords in both hands.

Descended it with force, ‘raamu raamure devuraa.’

‘Ranku ranku Devuraa"—another swing of swords.

Cut them into pieces and throw them all

Rolled heads after heads on ground

And

Tears everyone apart..." 

Pandian is walking towards his school carrying his schoolbag on his back, with his liberally oiled head and Vibhoothi smeared on his forehead and neck. His mouth was chomping on seedai.

A group of students goes past the cornfield. At the corner of Kannakkankundu in the northeast direction, there are aloe vera bushes with greenish thorny petals in round shapes, yellow flowers, and violet-red fruits. One could eat them after removing the thorn from its head. But his family shouldn’t know about it, lest he be beaten. Semi-arable groundnut field in the front and a lonely high ground just adjacent to it. Then come stone trenches. Beyond it, the woods where demons are said to roam free—it is the place where the headless torsos roam laughing hysterically, and the flesh-eating ghosts would perform their riotous dances at midnight. Vallimuthu is singing behind:

“Catching a garden lizard

And wear it a pair of studs in its ears.

Let us beat the drums.

Let us beat the drums.” 

A small garden lizard is wriggling its body in his hands. They are going past the fence on the road lying between Kanakkankundu and a park owned by the Nadar community. 

“I have caught two dragonflies,” Theriyappan jumps with joy.

"Dei, give me one.” More hands stretched to grab one from him.

Without heeding to their appeals, Theriyappan opens a box where he has kept his writing chalk sticks, takes out a thread, ties it on its tail, and releases it to fly away.

“Aiiii...” The boys are yelling and jumping with joy.

The garden’s fence is shining under the sun. Six faced greenish cactus plants are standing like pillars guarding around it. Big-sized flowers in round shapes, in white, are sprouting, blossoming, and smiling on the branches of those ‘pillars’ sticking out through the cloth fence. Ripe bitter gourd, creepers of scarlet gourd, little wild gourd, Intan, and Thumbai plants that have shed their fruits are found between those ‘pillars.’. Inside the garden, lemon fruits, guavas, and pomegranate fruits are found hanging on trees. If the watchman Mayileri is not visible around, one can sneak into the garden through the breaks in the fence and pick a couple of fruits. They hear a song coming from the garden.

"The troubles I faced are great.

Yes, the troubles are great!

Due to the husband whom I married

Amidst the sound of drumbeats,

The troubles I faced are great.

The troubles I faced are great di….” 

“Dei... he is there inside,” they walk past. On the north of the garden, there was a well equipped with a ‘balance’ beam and a stone bed around it. Two people are pumping out water and filling it in stone water tubs. Many are bathing; some of them are washing their dhoti on the stone fixed around it; some of them are rubbing their back on the rough surface of the thin, man-sized tiles fixed on its wall; on this side of the well, are there a tall rosary pea tree, golden oleander trees grown along thorny ridges, unwilted jasmines, moonbeam plants, and a Ganesh temple under the shade of neem and peepal trees standing with their branches tangled. Three persons in wet dhoti and vibhoothi smeared all over are performing ‘thoppukaranam’ in front of the temple. To the north of the Ganesh temple, there was a school—all visible through the fissures found in the Kanakkankundu fence.

Along the northern edge of the pond, boys from Komutti Street wearing jasmine flowers on their plaits arrive in and take a turn right.

On the south, there stands a school run by Christians; it was once the building that had housed Palaniyandavar School, owned by the erstwhile Sinna Mangalam Nadar Association, but had been handed over along with its building due to some internal conflicts. The eldest tutor, Arumai Nayagam, with his silver-wired spectacles on his nose and a thick cane in his hands, is sitting at the entrance. The boys climb on the steps and enter the school without making undue noise with their heads looking down.

The first session would be Bible. The students would stand along the wall with their hands folded across their chests and recite a psalm they had memorised in a raga taught by the pastor.

“The Father in heaven is our good shepherd.

I will never face disgrace.

He showers his grace upon me.

On these green grasses.” 

Once the song was over, the tutor would conduct a mass prayer. Others would accompany him and repeat him aloud.

“O! Our father in the heavens! Let us all be absolved of our sins. Let your kingdom prevail. Let this earth be benefitted by your grace just the way it benefits heaven. Please offer us the food destined for us each day. Please forgive our sins the way we forgive the ones who sin against us. Please save us from vices without forcing us to enter the toils of life. The kingdom, power, and glory—all forever belong to you. Amen”

A white pastor used to come there in a big blue car once a month from Madurai. Sometimes his wife and children would accompany him.

"Dei, do you know even small children abroad would speak English?" See that puny daughter of Durai! How beautifully she speaks English!”

“No… No… What she speaks can’t be English. She must be saying something else. My uncle has told you can speak English only when you study B.A.”

They hastened their paces through the market road for their lunch. The air blower in Sankaran Asari’s iron workshop is moving, and the flames rise high. Asari is making axes for carts. Near to it is buffalo owner Nayakkaramma’s house, a Maratta Military Club, and ‘fat’ Ravuthar’s hoof shoe fixing shed. Ravuthar is fixing shoes on the hooves of a bull lying by the road, tightly tied with a rope around its body. The path to the well with drinking water; then comes ‘frontal tuft’ Malayali Velayutam’s saw-godown; then the houses and Union office. Kaduvetti Servai, the bill collector, is standing in a khaki uniform with a sandal vermillion on his forehead and a bundle of documents held under his armpit.

“Epoh” Muthurakku Pillai’s grocery shop is situated at a turn on the road that leads to the village in the south. Then comes Dandayutham Chettiar’s commission shop. ‘Minor” Kadarkarai Nadar’s sandal perfume shop... He has gramophone discs. ‘We can leave after listening to one ‘disc. “Amaravathi unthanukku azahgaana kalayanamaam” song was just over. The boys are eagerly waiting for the next song. Periyasami Pillai, holding a disc in his hands, oblivious of their presence, adjusts his shirt and scratches his back with the tip of his handmade fan.

Soap seller Chellaiah, chewing betel leaves, is sitting in front of the shop and turns his attention to the boys.

“Hey… You, the students studying in school, have no business looking around here. Get out of this place." The boys run to their homes.

                                                               ****

Chapter 13: The dance of the sea 

 

It was the fourth day. They were sitting on a green rug spread upon tobacco bales and playing cards. 

“He is a lucky guy to get a big share in the game,” said Shanmugam Pillai as he was taking his vest off. 

“Big share? How big is it? It isn’t born to an elephant? Is it?”

There followed a cheeky talk filled with mutual sarcasm and exchange of banter. The people from Thirupathur had a unique manner of teasing each other. Their insinuations would have no harsh words in them yet be inflated with high temper expressed in words articulated in a specific manner by braiding them together. If someone wants to relish the nicety of their talk, they can pay a visit to the town ‘car’ stand. 

Cars are standing here and there. The ‘car’ agents are busy roaming with pencils on their earlobes, trip sheets in hands, and beedis in mouth. Their yells resonated with the tunes of the car stand. “Kunnadi-kaaradi-devottai¹,” Devottai! Singampidari²- kottampatti- Natham! Natham! Natham!

Vandu meesai³ Kaanaa Roona comes running out of Hussein’s shop and yells, “Move away. Move away. One tonner royal mail is coming. Those who’re going to Pudukkottai come fast. I have only five minutes.” Kannayira Vilas bus comes there. The ‘cleaner” mounts onto the top to clear all bales, utensils, and pots bundled up, kept stacked up to a man’s height on the top of the bus, and throws them away onto the ground. Driver Sultan jumped off his seat and gave a friendly slap on an agent’s back and asked him, “Machan, how come his eyes look so heavy this early? Anything spicier?”

“Kaanaa Roona has been suffering from an upset stomach and on herbal concoction every morning," drama contractor Nallakudiyan Servai remarks with a sympathetic note. Boys, standing around the buses, yelling nonstop, are busy enticing the passengers with Murukku, freshly cut tender coconut, and bunches of bananas kept on platters. An enticing song with tin musical instruments is heard from lame Muthaiah's palm-leaves-roofed shop in the northwest. 

“Saavanna Lenaa colour⁴  sir…. Try its taste once. I’ll give it with ice cubes, sir. Very good ‘colour’

"Hello, old man! Where are you going?” 

"Natham"

“What? To Natham? Listen to me, Aiya. Why do you guys, going to Natham, board this bus? Look yonder! There is a bus standing under the tamarind tree, looking like a broken garbage vehicle. You go there and fall into it. Hell with your Naaaatham?” 

Sivagangai car agent Meerasa was sitting on the floor, squatting, and toying with a beedi in his hands. He lit it after removing its tip with his teeth.

“It is said that even dogs won’t die in Natham. But they are going there for procuring materials. Aren’t they? Paganeri car agent Veerappan remarked as he wrapped his towel around his head. 

“Who knows for what hell are those useless men going there? They have barged into the bus like their Natham’s uninvited demons. Today’s collection will dip to nothing. Hell, with their Naaatham!” He grunted furiously, spat out spittle, and puffed on beedi as he closed his eyes.

“Maple! Watch out for the beauty of those Natham men traveling." The Paganeri agent opened his dhoti and took out a packet of beedi and a matchbox. “Their ears stand erect like that of meat seller Singam. Don’t they?"

“Meerasa! Hei…man… Look there… Isn’t it the royal gait of Sovanna Maanaa? They walk like peacocks decked with rattle,” screamed driver Aani Muthu Servai, who was standing in front of Nagappan’s petty shop adjacent to Vande Mataram Iyer's shop while stuffing tobacco leaves into his mouth.

“Let them leave, Mamu... Pitiable fellows! I think this is the right time for them to eat hay. That’s why they have left for that cattle shed.” 

“You, the spoiled brats!". “Torrent of words”,” Somasundaram Pillai turned his eyes to Meerasa. His silver tongue echoes. “Why are you buggers whiling away your time shamelessly, leaving all your pride and ego behind at this place where some good men do often visit? Enough of your hopeless existence of being a burden to this earth like a stray bull devoted to the Singampunari temple. Manamelpatti Pambaiyan needs some workforce to make a fence. You all better go there.” 

“Sovannaa Maanaa! Please be gracious enough to send my daughter-in-law to Colombo by ship.” 

“The king of Abyssinia has started selling tea there⁵. She can also join him to make tea. The fortunes might take an upward turn.” 

“No. If they go there, they will also wear a cap and grow a thin beard. Wrapping the sari around them, if they walk with a yellow shirt and green colour overcoat, one would definitely grow suspicious, whether it is the son of our Seethakkali Sarkkarai Ravuthar or some prince of Hyderabad Nizam. So it is better they spend some time learning the art of making fences with Pambaiyan for a couple of months.” 

(Stores in charge Mani Iyer, who just came out of the ‘Club’ shop with his dirty, oil-soaked towel wrapped around his waist and beard not shaved for ten days, was mumbling, "Who's instigated our “Torrent of Words, Pillai, at this hour? Now he will become unstoppable.") 

“Mamu… Please let him go. It is the time to relish toddy. Why do you stand in his way at an inopportune time?

“Aren’t you those guys who were howling in search of bones without knowing where you hid it? Retract your tails and get out. Look there. The messengers of the God of Death come running to us with the rope of death in their hands. If you get delayed, you will be stuffed into coffins. Where is your identity card hanging on your neck? Have you eaten that up too, thinking it is bone? As you buggers have the nerve to carry trip sheets in your hands, the womenfolk around here have become so fed up with the very mention of drivers. Even after Manamadurai Seeni has brought out all your misdemeanours in his gramophone records, you all have never mended your ways. Even the rain has become rudely irregular, as it is unable to bear your immoral ways. We could only get paddy grain of four and three-fourths of padi for a rupee. To the north of Madurai, the womenfolk are...” 

The question from a man carrying his belongings obstructed his flow.

“Hei... you want the bus going to Sivasangai. Don’t you? ...why do you need to board the bus? Listen to my suggestion. Buy some roasted grams for one and a half rupees, hang it on your waist, and then start walking, swinging your hands and legs.” 

“Sivasangai... the bus is about to leave. Only two minutes more." Meerasa’s voice yelled out in a high pitch. 

“Sivasangai…Sivasangai… come fast…” 

“If you walk down by tiny steps, Sivaganga would appear in front of you late by evening. So don’t ever get closer to these ‘car’ chaps. If you dare board their ‘tin sheeted’ cars, you will regret it later for sure.” The speaker’s right hand pointed to the Saminatha Vilas bus and Meerasa. “As soon as their bus reaches the plain ground near the Banyan tree, they will stop it and dismantle its spare parts with an excuse of repairing it. Then what? You would have to sleep keeping your head on your folded knees. So dear man, listen to my words." 

****

The sun, which had been very harsh till now, suddenly disappeared from view. The air became sultry. Pandian rose, looked up, and examined the sky. The bundles of clouds were found scattered and grew thicker and darker. The waves were looking silky as if they were glistening with oil. The wind was still, and the atmosphere was suffocating. On the other corner, the sailors who were looking at the sea and sky intently turned suddenly, ran along with the captain to the ship's mast, and tightened the ropes. An unintelligible trace of worry was writ large in what they had felt. Everyone rose, looked defenseless, and looked at each other’s faces that were filled with fear. 

The lightning flashes cut through the sky with shaking thunders. At the same time, an impact with an inestimable speed and weight shook the ship, its people, and materials on the deck. The sky seemed to have been broken, and a torrent of floods gushed in. It was a storm. Both wind and rain were at the peak of their ferocity. The waves and their movements weren’t visible, and it seemed to have merged with the wind. The ship jumped up and down and spun in an axis like a spin top. First to the right, then left, then right, and then left. It wavered from one place to another, jumped up, then fell down, struggling to stabilise its hold. There was a cracking sound as if bones were breaking. Everyone could see sea water going up above their heads. “We are dying... or going to die very soon.” - The death—our body getting rotten, eaten by fish, sunk to the bottom of the sea at an unknown place. The darkest of darkness. Darkest night everywhere. Sea…rain…cyclone…sky… He was lying, holding a thick rope that was hanging somewhere. It looked like falls... Cascade of salt water...falls of sea... A flash of lightning... the hole of the captain... shadowy images moving across, sharks, their saw-like teeth, and the cyclonic rain along the howl of winds...

Bodies are getting tired, and senses are growing cataleptic. The dance of demons—with the ship spinning, jumping up, swaying, and fearfully dancing. The noise of something cracking up. We are going to meet our death with our bodies getting rotten, eaten by fish, and sunk to the bottom of the sea at an unknown place. We are going to die... No, we won’t die. We are dying.'

Suddenly there came an intimidating calmness where the sea and sky were found separate. 

The sea captain shouted from a wooden enclosure. 

“Come here, come here... Lekas…lekas…"…"

Pandian rose. All the ‘bodies’ that were hiding in almost every corner raised their heads slowly. The ship is not steady. The waves, looking like a mountain range, hit the ship. The people on the ship totter and run.

The sky, sea, wind, and rain came together once again. The sky spews lightning like fireballs. The torrent of floodwater gushes in. The air gags the breath, and the sea is in its worst form of lethal dance. The ship jumps up and then falls down and then breaks up. We are going to die... going to face death with our bodies getting rotten, eaten by fish, and sunk to the bottom of the sea at an unknown place. Sea water on our faces, on our bodies, on our hands and legs, and the dresses strangling every part of the body and cutting it like a saw. Death…death….death. The wooden pillar... the stone pillar... the iron pillar... and our pillar of life. The ship hops up, falls down, spins, sinks, and floats. Jumps up again and swims. Coarse feeling of chillness. Noingggg….puingggg…..noingggg….puingggg. The Chinese demons of thunder and lightning throw themselves upon. Bales and small bundles fall off and disappear. The ship jumps up, falls down, and cracks up. The ship spins as if having lost its axis. The sea waves are still hitting it. 

‘What’s this? Sunlight! Sun…Sun….Sun... The ship’s deck is full of water, and the mast is found broken. The sailors are trying to pump the seawater out that was gushing into the ship through holes. They are fixing the holes and placing chunks by cutting wooden pieces and chiselling them. 

The boxes containing tea leaves and bales containing tobacco leaves were floating on both sides of the ship. 

Pandian is standing, hell shocked, at seeing the sea on all four sides. He couldn’t assess the duration of the dance of the sea. No one could watch the clock to see when it had started, when it had ended, and how long after the dance had ended. When they glanced at the clocks, they saw it all had stopped working. 

The ship is on its way without anyone’s control. The boxes and bales thrown out by the sailors during the dance of the sea are floating along with them. No one has fully come out of the cyclonic terror yet. The captain, Ai Liyang, has gone into his hole and smoked his hookah. How far is Penang from there? When would they reach there? No one was there to answer these questions. 

The captain went to the deck at night and conducted a round of scrutiny over the sky and sea and then scratched his head. Pandian went to him and asked about the situation. The captain replied in a mixture of both Malay and Chinese.

“No need to worry now. We would be able to see the shore in a couple of days.” 

No one ate that night and did not even talk. 

The next morning, the sun rose. The sea waves hit the sides of the ship, chasing one after the other. Both birds and fish were playing on both sides in groups. 

The ship was floating visibly at the whims of the sea. 

Day became night and then became day again and then became night. The dim light of the crescent moon was glittering. The salty air caressed everyone’s body. A shoal of seacows was following the ship, displaying their backs with snorts like grunting buffalos swimming in village tanks. The waves were calm and gentle. 

On the fifth day evening, after the dance of the sea, some greenery along the horizon where sea and sky met was visible. Approximately after half an hour, the lights of fishing boats were visible. 

“Shore! Shore! Shore!"

The next day, in the forenoon, they were nearing Penang harbour. 

The clock tower is visible. The vehicles and men moving along Weldtki Street came into their view.

The ship reached the shore and beached. The ships that would undertake long journeys were crowding the shoreline. The question that came from every ship was, 'Where are you coming from? Where are you coming from?’

“Belawan…Belawan”

The travellers going to Sumatra alighted from the ship, went to the shore in small boats, crossed the walking bridge, and entered customs office and produced their travel permits. 

“Thamir? The Japanese officer roared at them. 

“Yaa. Masta… They bowed their heads as a mark of acknowledgment that they were Tamils. 

After a few seconds of initial scrutiny, the officer gave them their permits back, affixing them with his stamps. 

They walked through Market Street and entered Chetti Street, which was known as Penang Street. The street bore nearly an empty look except for a couple of people striding in it. 

Pandian set out to go to Seeni Mohammed Ravuthar’s shop. Andiappa Pillai and Nallamuthu Konar told him that they were going to the Seenaa Kaavanna shop on Queen Street. Others informed him that they would decide where to dump the materials after having it discussed with Maanaa Roonaa shop.

“After having your meals, all of you come to my place. We can share the burden of the cost of materials after assessing the total loss in the sea per head,” Andiappa Pillai told and walked north.

"Yes, that is how it ought to be,” Shanmugam Pillai replied on behalf of others. 

 

Notes:

1.    Kundrakudi, Karaikudi, and Devakottai are names of towns in Sivagangai District. 

2.    Singam punari is a small town in Sivagangai District.

3.    Vandu Meesai: Moustache that looks like feelers of insects. 

4.    Colour- local soft drinks are known as ‘colour’ in rural Tamil Nadu. 

5.    After Abyssinia was captured by Italy, the king Heiley Selassi escaped his country and was running a tea stall in Colombo. This news had been published in newspapers. 

 

Chapter 14: Penang

At Sunny Mohammed Ravuthar’s shop...

The accountant with a blue colour cap, sitting behind the table equipped with a thick glass enclosure, greeted him while still busy with writing something on paper.

“Salaam! I am coming from Medan, from Peeyanna Kaavanna shop.”

“Salaam! Have a seat." Abdul Khader rose and brought a stool lying near. “Aii… Kashim, bring some water. Run fast. You have come by boats? Haven’t you? How’s your journey?”

“Yes. I came by boat. The journey wasn’t bad anyway. Is the master here? My owner has given me a letter to be handed over to him.

“Father is upstairs. We can let him know.”

Pandian took out an envelope and placed it on the table. Abdul Khader took it in his hand to open it but didn’t as he saw the inscription “To be opened only by the addressee” on its cover. He kept the letter down on the table.

Kashim brought a tea jug and some bags.

“Hey... Make hot water immediately, as he needs to have a bath. Keep all these boxes and bedrolls upstairs and inform father that someone from the Medan Peeyanna Kaavanna shop has come to meet him.”

“I don’t require hot water. Cold water will do.”

“No…No… You need it to get rid of tiredness from the ship journey,” the accountant intervened.

“O.K.”

They had tea.

The boy collected the jug and cups and left.

A sound of someone coming down the wooden steps was heard. With his long grey beard and a white cloth cap sitting perfectly on his fully shaven head, Ravuthar showed up in front of him.

“Salaam!” Pandian got up.

“Salaam…Salaam… Be seated, Thambi..." Ravuthar sat down and told his assistants, “Ask them to bring some water for our guest.”

“Just a while ago, we had it.” Pandian sat and held out the envelope.

‘Did you ask him to make hot water?” He inquired as he received the letter, opened it, and read it.

“It’s being made.”

Ravuthar folded the letter, kept it in the cover, held it out to his son, and asked him to keep it in the safe.

“It’s nine days of voyage. Isn’t it?”

"Yes...due to the cyclone en route, it had got delayed. We have thrown away some of the materials into the sea.”

“Insha Allah, you all have reached safely. That is enough. Money doesn’t matter as we can earn it anytime.”

As they heard about the ‘person from Medan,’ the shop attendants and other shopkeepers inquired about their relatives living in Medan. He explained everything. Dropping of bombs, plunder, etc.—their conversation did grow longer. Ravuthar cleared his throat and said:

“Thambi, it gets late. First, take a bath and get yourself refreshed.”

The crowd, which thronged to see ‘Medan Man,’ slowly dispersed. Abdul Khader led Pandian to the bathroom.

“My friend has given me a letter for one Manikkam, who is working in Thana Mera Estate as a clerk. And I need to know about an attendant living in Kuala Kangsar.”.

“All the rubber estates are now full of wild grasses grown everywhere. Manikkam is my schoolmate. Now he is working in a radio station here. We can meet him after some time. We have a shop in Kuala Kangsar. Our accountant is going there tomorrow. He could bring us some information.”

Pandian and Abdul Khader went out in the evening. The bomb-stricken buildings in Chetti Street and Market Street on the way were standing in shambles. Some grocery bags were found stacked up in the pawnshop buildings.

“Aththaa! Where are you going?” asked attendant Chellaiah as he locked the pawn shop owned by Aanaa Seenaa Vaanaa Yeenaa.

“Hey…man! It seems the real native shoppers have been reduced to being at the mercy of others. You see, even the petty pawn shoppers have become our competitors. Aren’t they? Has Chithappa left the shop?”

“He went to your shop and must have left for home from there.”

A couple of attendants and Muslim traders working in grocery shops went past and walked west. The sound of pulling the latches to ensure proper locking was heard from the row of shops on the opposite side.

“We have received supplies from Sumatra. He is Pandian. He has just arrived in from Medan.”

Chellaiah and Pandian greeted each other, folding their hands with a smile.

“He is Chellaiah. His owner is very close to us. In a way, he is related to us like our father’s younger brother, Chithappa. We are going to get our sister—my Chithappa’s daughter—married to this guy.”

“Ok…Ok… Enough of your storytelling. Let’s move.”

They were walking west, walking past shops and buildings crumbled in shambles. The chariot house of the Thandayuthabani Temple was found broken unidentifiably. No trace of a living sign of Hassan Hussain shop anywhere around. Then came Sooliya Street1. They turned north. Sayeed’s shop was kept open with the plates full of snacks and teacups. Three brothers were busy serving the customers. The orders are passed to the kitchen inside with intermittent louder shouts: ‘Three Appam and Chicken Roast, Two Dosa, and Fish Curry!' Five Idiyappam and coconut milk." 

Then he crossed the Pitt Street, which seemed to be under slumber with its platforms lined up with wooden materials stacked up. Black sparrows were crowding the tree branches, flying over and below electric lines and screeching. A swarm of pigeons at “the Sea Captain Mosque” was playing around. 

Abdul Khader stopped and said, “Let’s take an auto.”

“Better we walk. It will be relaxing for the longer confinement in the ship.”

"Ok, we can walk,” Chellaiah told.

They walked along Sooliya Street. The building on the leftmost corner had a coffee shop at its bottom and a hotel upstairs. Silhouettes of men and women were caught in sight behind windows; they were moving up and down the steps.

“The entire business is gone. Only this business is running with its usual sheen,” said Abdul Khader, turning his eyes somewhere in the west.

“No matter what happens, this business will go on without hassles." Pandian stretched out the Murat cigarette he had brought from Medan. “This business is something born with humans. Other businesses are just man-made.”

“No… I don’t smoke,” Chellaiah waved off his hand.

Abdual Khader and Pandian pulled out a cigarette each and lit it up.

“Salaam Alaikkum"—the man wearing a turkey cap, green blazer, and a striped lungi—greeted with his hands folded across his chest.

“Alaikkum Salaam” Abdul Khader reciprocated his greetings.

Shops selling slippers and medicines, tailoring shops, tin sheeted shops, remnants of walls with thick undergrowth, thickly overlapping tonal sounds of Mandarin language all around—on both sides were piercing through the eardrums. Varnished Chinese tables brought in rickshaws to the Hong Kong Hotel, and satin shirts designed with floral patterns folded neatly were being taken inside. There, heard the sound of the "Majong” game upstairs. Puvakui Cheng’s shop, which had once been very popular, selling for so many years exotic items like pens, watches, and leather boxes to Tamils who would return to their native places, was now lying flat without a sign of its existence.

“It is Puvakui Cheng’s shop. Isn’t it?”

“Yes”

“I had bought a watch from the Puvakui Cheng shop when I went back to my native place,” Pandian showed his wrist.

“Just one bombshell. Everyone—his wife, children, and servants—died on the spot. He had his house upstairs.”

They went up Penang Road and then turned. Odiyon cinema hall lay limbless. The woman wearing jasmine perfume and green kemboja comes in front and wriggles her body voluptuously. The people leaving the Queens Theatre were dispersing and walking scattered on roads.

A black Jaguar car whooshed past fast towards the east, producing an enormous noise.

“He is Major Ichiyama of the Japanese Military Police.” Abdul Khader said. “Bloody bastard he is.”

Pandian turned, but the car disappeared on Leith Street.

They walked west.

The jingling of cycle rickshaws grew louder. The police headquarters building is standing with the bruises of a bombshell. Winglok Restaurant and greyish Winsor Drama, which releases Tamil movies, are busy awaiting an appeal of cinematic charm for the upcoming shows. The crowd of Tamils—both men and women—was thronging there.

They took a turn on Burma Road. It is a blue-colored house adorned with plant pots at Rex Theatre, Madras Street. They climbed on the steps and went upstairs.

The young man in a white shirt and sandal-colored pants standing in front of the mirror with a comb in his hands turned to them. Agreeably complexioned, his face exuded the shine of knowledge.

Abdul Khader introduced Pandian to him.

“You are from Sinna Mangalam. Aren’t you? My mother’s birthplace is Vengaipatti, just near to it. “ Do you know Rangathar Machakalai Konar? He is my uncle, the young man said.

“Good to hear it. He is my uncle too. He used to come to our shop.”

They sat around the round table.

Pandian stretched out his hand and gave him the letter from Thangaiah.

Manikkam opened the cover and read the letter. “Thangaiah is my school friend. This man too..." He pointed to Abdul Khader and placed the letter on the table.

Manikkam inquired about the Sumatra Tamil people and voyage. Pandian explained everything.

“I have a desire to travel in a wooden ship with sails. Let’s have a coffee in Ken Cheng.”

"Okay, we can leave." Chellaiah rose.

They went down the stairs and left.

                                                         ***Ended***

Notes:

1.    Sooliya: The Cholas. It was known as Sooliyan in Chinese. Though initially it denoted the people from the Chola kingdom, it was later used to describe Tamil-speaking Muslims.

 

Chapter 15: Merriment

The bruises of war in Penang City were healing up and slowly disappearing. Wooden ships with their sails were crowding in the harbour. The Tamil merchants who brought the materials from different destinations met each other in the market and discussed their business. Those who met their friends unexpectedly did share their past lives, gleefully forgetting the turmoil of their present.

Days became weeks, and then months, and it went on. The terror of war did wane slowly and began disappearing. The people of Penang sprang into merriment in full swing. Near stampede in every fun house and movie hall. The hotels ran short of accommodations. In casinos, currency notes in stacks were moving from one hand to another.

One could see without fail the pair of Pandian-Manikkam in the Windsor Drama every day. It was the time the movies that were released before the war had now been shown frequently in the movie halls. The youths were busy assessing the performances of actresses like Vasunthara, Rajakumari, and Vasantha in the verandas of their houses and amidst the smoky screens of theatres. The local women, as the custom of their motherland demanded of them, would enter the movie halls with their heads lowered.

Shortly after the movie began, both of them would leave the hall and walk along the New Beach. It had been long since the blue lamps erected there became nonfunctional. The hotel in the glass enclosure was found closed. Long gone were the days when they used to ogle at women in golden hue walking across with their elegant swings while drinking coffee, listening to the mild music from the hall, and sitting in the cane chairs placed in the seashore garden illumined by the tranquil lights from the mixed beams of various colourful auspicious lamps.

After the stroll on the beach, they would go to the New World, known otherwise as Wembley Fun House. It was the place of plays, circus, dance, and other forms of merrymaking. Other than these, one could watch the near-realistic scenes of floral gardens, hunting scenes, and regal appearances on thrones, which were once popular in the ancient plays enacted by Panjang Leela Vinotha Sabha and had almost become obsolete in dramas shown in Tamil Nadu. 

“Hei…Minister”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Are we getting rain thrice every month?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Do Brahmins recite mantras as the Vedas demand of them?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Do women live as the tenets of chastity demand of them?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Very good. Nice to hear it.”

There was a famous, very beautiful Chinese woman in Wembley Fun House. One could see her almost near-nude every time. There was a hall that used to be filled with old men stampeding to have a glance at dancers who would display their body parts in the dotting beams of lights.

The Tamil men used to go to Nanyang Hotel, a popular hotel among the Tamils. It was a place of flesh trade where one could witness a rare sight of Tamil men behaving true to themselves. Rich men, labourers, educated, and good-for-nothing blokes—all would be chit-chatting with each other without any display of class distinction.

The hotelier Panjang, who had hard learnt the likes and dislikes of Tamils due to his years-long association with the latter, would be very busy moving around catering to their requirements. He was enviably an expert in his field—he knew everything literally as to who would like what, young or old, thin or fat, goat or cow, and who among his customers wouldn’t like to face whom.

In fact, words would fall short to explain his skills in getting his customers to fall into his hospitality by way of his unique articulation of “Come in, Master...” along with his rolling eyes and folded hands. Panjang was such a talented chap that he could make someone completely new to the Malay language understand all the necessary fundamentals through his sign language.

In Nanyang hotel, one could meet some of the eccentric and weird Tamil men living in Malaysia. Mr Night Bird-he would go to bed at six in the morning and get up at six in the evening, brush his teeth, have breakfast and then start his daily chores, and then Mr Double V who would try to fly by swaying his both hands like wings after an ounce of ‘mood enhancer’ going down his throat, and then Mr Alhaj who would prove with all documentary proof that Prophet Mohammed was actually born in Kayalpattinam, and then comes Paanaa Zhaanaa who would come with a big bag full of stalk-removed jasmine flowers to spread it on beds, and then a rich man who found happiness in spending money in gambles for others, and the Mr Kaanaa…who was interested in appreciating himself wearing a sari in front of mirror… and many more like this. 

Pandian went to another island to meet a person from Chokkalingapuram and returned to Penang the next morning. His boat reached the bridge at nine. He alighted from the boat and was walking down into China Street.

“Paavannaa…Paavannaa….”

He heard someone calling him from the Nagarathar Lodge on the right. ‘Is it Navaanna?” He turned and looked around. Navannaa was standing on the steps.

“My greetings! I am surprised to have your sudden appearance. When did you come?”

“I came yesterday. I inquired about you at Ravuthar’s store. I came to know that you had gone to that island. Anything important? I hope everything is alright.”

“All is fine. Have you brought any materials?”

“I found it difficult to while away my time there. I had brought some items. You are going to settle down in Penang. Aren’t you?

“I am just here now. Nothing more."

“Please come in.”

They went in.

Chettiars from different classes were sitting there, leaning against the walls, jotting down the expenses incurred on small pieces of paper, and gossiping about war. Those who were with shaven heads and “Narmadi" dhoti looked at him for a second along with Aiyakannu and turned their faces other side. Those who had their hair finely ‘cropped’ and were wearing bordered dhoti greeted him.

“Please come.”

Naavannaa introduced Pandian to his friends.

“You must be knowing the grocery shop owner, Sivalinga Nadar, from Sinnamangalam. Don’t you? He is his son. He was working in my uncle’s shop in Medan for some time. Now he is working at another shop elsewhere.”

A fair-complexioned man went near him.

“Your father was very close to my father. We are from Nerkuppai. We used to procure stores from your shop in Sinnamangalam.”

The conversation that ensued after that was about Sinnamangalam—bathing in the stream of the River Palar; the dance of Kazhuvan wearing the garland of entrails on the sixth day of the festival; and the erudition of documentary writer Ahmad Jalaludin in Villi Mahabharatam.

(The Chairman of the Union Board, Sevuga Murthy Ambalam: “O! My elder brother’s son! I pray to you to explain the song ‘That long blue mountains, rain, and clouds’ in detail. It’s been so long since I listened to it.")

The majestic appearance of Adaikkalam Katha Nadar (the Nadar who ensures refuge) going to roadsides: Glasco silk Veshti, Fuji silk shirt, waist belt made of tiger hide, Westend wristwatch, and creeching slippers.

(The opinions of Nadar Street women: That guy, Palayampatti Nadan.) He is the descendant of Therimuthu’s ancestors, who sacrificed their heads for offering succour to the needy. Now, he has befriended thieves and goes with them for waylaying. If it is not the bitterest of times, what else would it be then, ladies?)

Tirunelveli Saivaite Achi Idli shop—coriander coffee, cleanly dunged floor, and glittering brass tumblers.

Notes from Gomathivilas Sangaramurthy Pillai: “Just a low-caste woman! She is in no way a Saivaite Achi. Even my tongue hesitates to utter what caste they belong to. They hail from some unknown places and are just making every one of us fool around here.”

Being oblivious to the sea waters that separated their motherland and Penang, they were enjoying the visuals of Chetti Nadu.

The diversion to Thekkur. Peacocks are roaming, dancing with their plumage, traveling in flocks from various places towards Lord Murugan’s abode at Pazhani, seeking his blessings. The eyes of Kavadi carriers dancing in a frenzy of devotion piercingly scrutinize the universe around them; their bodies jump up, unable to steady themselves. "Vel...vel,” their frenzied calls rise up to the firmament.

Kannathal festival in Nattarasankottai; Mariyathal festival in Konnaiyur; Koppathal festival in Karaikudi. Women wearing Kandangi saris, their hair coiffed into axe-like buns, faces cleansed with turmeric paste, and the toe rings jingling were moving here and there. Amid the colour of silk, white was prominent—white…white…white; floral white, diamond white, and cloth white. Fragrance...fragrance...fragrance...fragrance of jasmines, fragrance of Javvathu powder, and the scent of mouth fresheners. The sweet music from Nadhaswaram was wafting through the air and singing lullabies under the moonlight. Musical concerts of Thiruvaduthurai Rajarathinam, Thiruvidaimaruthur Veerusami, Thiruvenkadu Subramaniyam, and dance programs of danseuses were arresting the attention of everyone. Thirupathur Pakkiyam, Thirukokarnam Sethu, Thirukoshtiyur Chellam...

Nachandhupatti local ‘Minor’ Seenaa Thaanaa was standing in front of a big, black car. He was holding a whip made of stingray fishtail in his right hand while his left hand was fondling his hair and adjusting it. The woman shining like a diamond sitting beside him was recently brought by him from Vaitheeswaran Temple. Yonder, seen a man with a betel leaf casket in his hands. He was the local senior Amabalakarar of Sathiyakudi. He was the most prominent landowner in that area. Though most of his properties were either acquired through coercion or intimidation, there lay some barren lands he had inherited. Despite everyone knowing about the men standing behind him having their hands folded across and their mouths remaining shut, no one would dare open their mouth to speak the truth lest their limbs, cattle, and households be in danger. On the south, the one standing with a Cola silk dhoti, an egg brand vest, and a diamond brand towel, surrounded by his henchmen, was ‘Pavun’ Raavanna Maanaa. It was he who would give prostitutes ‘Pavun’ coins. If someone wanted to talk about ‘charges,’ it should be in ‘Pavuns.’. Over there, a grey- haired old woman standing in front of the temple, folding her hands in supplication, was the one who would generously give away money to youngsters who fall in the age bracket of 16 to 18. No one could cheat her of their age. She was so skillful that she would be able to assess one’s age by feeling their spine with her fingers. The person coming behind the god’s idol, chanting Devaram songs, wearing Rudraksha beads around his neck and bars of vibhoothi smeared all over his body, was Mr. Thadhankulam Senaa. He was so crooked that he gained notoriety for swallowing up the very shop of the Chettiar to which the Chettiar had sent him to work, with full faith in him. Now his property must be about ten or fifteen lakh rupees. He had taken up the renovation works at Anjanur Shiva Temple. Pitiable Chettiar! He is now roaming penniless, as a mendicant, in saffron-clad, chanting songs with a begging bowl in his hands in Pazhani.

It was midnight. The surging festival crowd grew thick, ramming against each other. Suddenly a shrill scream of a woman was vividly heard, tearing open the mixed voices of the crowd.

“Adiye Thenamma! Look this side! That rascal from Thirupathur keeps pushing his way towards me.”

…

The boy brought coffee in tumblers. The conversation took a turn on famous whores of Chettinadu.

“Moonaa Roonaa, do you know about Piranmalai Kalyani?”

“Who’s that? The one living on North Street? I heard she was involved with someone remotely related to Saanaa Moonaa."

“It was long ago anyway,” Naavannaa grew red.

“It’s alright. No use in remembering that pretty Kalyani now. Isn’t it?” The ‘Murrel Fish,’ Nachiyappan said exasperatingly with a yawn. “Come, let us try our hands on a couple of cards.”

Naavanna rose, tightly tying his dhoti, and said, “I have some pending work back home. We’ll meet another time.” Pandian too got up.

“You could join a couple of games. Couldn’t you? It’s alright… I did miss that you don’t find such things comfortable. Mmm… Once it gets dusk, I would make a visit to Ravuthar’s shop.”

Pandian walked north. Mixed sounds of Hindustani songs were coming from Shobharam’s grocery shop. Four Chinese men who were sitting on bamboo chairs on the left of the shop's veranda were picking their teeth and spitting out spittle in unison. The Tamil coolies working in the harbour were running south with their dirty dhoti and unkempt hair.

He turned to Pitt Street. Chinese and Tamils were standing in the temple with their hands folded in obeisance in front of the deity, Quan Yin, a powerful goddess said to be proffering any boon one demands. The smell of incense sticks and frankincense powder was wafting through the air. Some Chinese men who ran the business of making on-the-spot fast food on the walking platforms were carrying their utensils and stove with live embers packed in a bundle on their shoulders. 

Pandian walked down, thinking about the Sun Light Bookshop. 

                                                                            *** 

 

Chapter 16: Nanyang Hotel 

That big room, “Marriage Hall," facing Kimberley Street, in the Nanyang Hotel had been kept booked in the name of Manikkam. The estate owner from the other side of the island, Muthazhaku Pillai, requested to allot the marriage hall on that date. 

“Chooda Lisaalv”

Jaggaria Marakkayar from the Market Street employed all the tricks he knew to get it allotted on that date, but in vain. 

“Chooda Lisaalv”

Bansiyang, the businessman from Beach Street, literally begged and told him that he needed it for some traders coming from Bangkok. 

“Chooda Lisaalv”

It was fifteen to nine in the night. Manikkam, Auditor Jeyaraman, Anabananda Adigal, and lungi shop owner Kumaravel alighted from the rickshaw, entered the building through its rear entry, and climbed on the stairs.

Lingwan, who was sitting on a three-legged bamboo stool behind the stairs, rose on seeing them and greeted them with an indecipherable grin on his face.

“Come in, sir... come in.” 

The mixed sounds of ceramic utensils’ clanks and nasal noises of Chinese men were coming from the Kode coffee centre in the front.

Panchang, the owner of the hotel, standing on the steps at the doorway, greeted them. 

“Come in, sir…come…come…” 

Next to the steps was lying a table with a marble top and some empty chairs around it. Straight above the head, an electric lamp was hanging. Manikkam walked in front, running his left-hand fingers into his hair. “No one is visible around here. I think the business runs so well. O…today is Saturday...isn't it? A mixed noise of some people teasing each other came from the big room in the rear, which customers usually referred to as ‘harem.’. They would come out to show their faces only when the so-called ‘chaste women,’ who had never stepped out of their houses, called out to them.

The rooms on both sides seemed to have people inside. There, heard the hasty voices through the wooden partition walls, erupting out of feigning feelings and the sounds of furniture items being moved.

The door of room 16 that was left half closed was suddenly pulled in with a thud and closed with a latch. 

“It is Koolavaanigan Sathaiya,” Adigal mumbled as he was stroking his beard.

Anbanandar had an acute sense of observation at places like these. Just a tip of a small finger was enough for him to assess the person behind it. 

They went to the ‘Marriage Hall” and sat there. Panchang went to them with coffee mugs and ceramic plates. He kept them on the table and stood there scratching his head. Manikkam gestured to him to leave them. Panchang told them that Mariyam had arrived in from Eppo as he was leaving. No response from them. 

Lungi shop owner wrung his right hand excitedly. ‘It seems that there must be some new faces in the harem. I can ask them to come here. Already running short of time. This guy is just adamant and never listens to anyone. Eppo Mariyam… Who’s that? Mariyammm…Mariyammm… Epoh Mariyamm…. Oh my god! Is it that buffalo? I just can’t handle her. That bearded fellow is only fit for her. She is a Chinese woman from Alor Setar. What a name! Simlan might have come. Let me wait for some more time.’ 

“Those men from Sumatra, Pandian, and Naavannaa are coming here,” Manikkam announced as he was pouring tea into the cups.

“We can add up Sathaiya too,” Adigal told. 

“Sathaiya, our revered Guru of the sweet Tamil language, is now doing empirical examination on the secret behind the birth of Manimegalai." Manikkam pointed his right hand to the rear. “It is very difficult to get him out of room 16 now.” 

The coarse voice of the auditor rose up, drawn out in singing. 

“Buddham Saranam Kachaami

Dhammam saranam kachaa...ami

Sangam saranam kachaa...aaa...mi.”

‘I strongly condemn your denigrating words about Sathanaar.” Adigal grew furious and shouted. “If you insult the great men of our past like this, how would our Tamil language flourish?” 

“Adigaaal! Let your anger calm down. Manikkam waved his hands, beckoning his intention to calm him down. “Forgetting that the great men of our past were also mortal beings is the reason why the Tamil language didn’t flourish and got perished.”

Adigal stroked his beard, closing his eyes.

“Since this statement comes from you, this issue ends up here. Had I uttered this, he would have chopped my head off by now,” the auditor rubbed his neck, faking fear.

“If the mother goddess of Tamil gives me orders, we would chop off anyone’s head for that matter,” Adigal thundered. “No matter whether they are our close relatives, wives, or children.” 

The cracking sound of a cot shaking and someone moaning reached them from the adjacent room. 

“The genesis of birth is indeed a repugnant one"—the auditor’s eyelids closed. 

“The very thought of it gets me puked up.” Adigal covered his nose with his left hand. 

“Let it be... We can’t do anything about it. Can we?” The lungi shop owner grew furious. Does that mean that we all can take off our dhoties and run into the forests of Pilas?” 

“Kumaravel! Be calm. Be calm.” The auditor intervened with emotion-filled words as if he were trying to prevent a deluge. “I used to hate hasty decisions. Those who are involved in despicable acts in fact will become despicable themselves—like those who eat beef become bovines and those who eat greens become leaves. So, if you intend to indulge in any such despicable act, let us first consider taking Somapanam as a preventive measure to avert the ill effects of such action.”

The sound of some men climbing on the stairs was heard. 

Pandian’s voice rose high and precluded his arrival. 

“Kalai naadiya thamizhnaadudai sezhiyarkiduthiraiyaa”

Malainaadiyar mangoliyar manaiyirkadaithiramim” 

(For the king Pandian, who hails from Tamil Nadu, which is known for its penchant for nurturing art and culture, let the doors of women from Kerala and Mongolia be kept open.)

Next followed Naavannaa’s voice.

“Mazhalai thirumozhiyil sila malayum sila thamizhum.

Kuzharitharu kunanaadiyar kuruki kadai thiramin” (The doors of women hailing from the east who speak a bit of Malay and Tamil in lisp be kept open.) 

With a laugh, both of them entered the 'marriage hall’. 

“Only now do I have the privilege of knowing Naavannaa’s in-depth knowledge in Tamil." Manikkam sat straight and threw off a grin.

“Pawn shop building has a lot of things to offer. Naavanna has actually mastered Kalingathu Bharani,” Pandian told as he pointed to Naavannaa. “Get us coffee.” 

Manaikkam’s finger pressed the calling bell. The server boy came running. Coffee was ordered. Those who came there sat down. 

Pandian took out the cigarette box from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and tossed the box onto the table. The boy came with coffee mugs and saucers, kept them on the table, and left. Panchang came running anxiously and begged them to keep the doors shut. 

“Piikkilu…pooso poognjaa oraang." Manikkam burst out. 

The hotel owner bent down a little and hissed something into his ears. Manikkam bobbed his head and gave permission. Panchang shut the door and left. 

“My dear men! Now listen to me,” Manikkam told them as he stretched out his legs.

"Mr. Subramani, who is otherwise popularly known as Malaya Thiruvalluvar, and the revered lady Valliyammai, residing at Datho Kiramat Street, popularly known as Kannaki of Kaliyug, are leading a chaste life according to the tenets prescribed by the great men and are now entering room no. 9, better known in our circle as Rathikeli Vilasam.” 

“Where is Kovalan then?” The lungi shop owner lowered his head a little. 

“He had gone out—I mean to Thirukadaiyur Madhavi’s house—on some business call.”

“Ah…ah…ah….” Adigal let out a burst of laughter, stroking his beard. 

“Perfect match of names,” Lungi shop owner remarked. “Subramaniyar-Valliyammaiyar"

“Their sobriquet is still better than that. Thiruvalluva Nayanar-Kannaki Nachiyar,” the auditor raised his hand up, pointing towards the hill lock. 

Stunned at this statement, Adigal turned his face to him and watched him in singular keenness, speechless, unable to decide whether to laugh or chide at him.

The lungi shop owner bid them goodbye and left with an excuse of having some important work somewhere. 

The stout, red-bodied Sathaiya came in. 

“Welcome… Welcome…Let your visit be a good one." Anabananda Adigal greeted him. 

“The Guruji of our sweet Tamil language! Welcome!” Auditor Jeyaraman’s eyes narrowed. “Let his health be nourished,” he said. 

“Koolavanigan Sathan¹ may have a seat." Manikkam showed him a chair. 

“Thank you.”

They heard a mixed sound of some people climbing on stairs with definite steps.

“Japanese military police,” Manikkam announced, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “They are the merciless henchmen of Major Keniyochi Ichiyama.” 

The boy came running and alerted them in a lowered tone before darting out, “Japanese military police... Japanese military police.” 

Seconds passed in silence. 

The Japanese Army lieutenant entered their room, leaving two of his corporals standing guard at the door. 

“Cheekku”

He glanced at Adigal’s face and his dark beard intently and roared again.

“Thamiro…Masta… Adigal got up and politely told him with his head bowed. 

“O…Thamiro… Thamiro Jotho"

He threw his eyes around the room once and waved his hands, gesturing that there was nothing more to see, and left the room.

They heard the Japanese men climbing down the stairs and leaving by their cars after conducting intimidating inquiries with growls and stomping of boots on the floor in adjacent rooms. 

Adigal rose; his hands were stroking his long beard. He started singing. 

“Let us start our kitchen.

Let us make our rice.

Let us be served with a generous amount of toddy.

Let the women singers 

Sing their heart-rending songs.” 

The auditor rose and gave out a yell aloud. 

“Panchang”

Adigal’s singing got interrupted. 

“Panchaa...ang” auditor’s calling pervaded every corner of that hotel and echoed.

 

Note:

*Koolavanigan Sathaiya is the author of one of the five Tamil epics, Manimegalai. He was a Buddhist. (Koolavanigan means the one who sells grains.) 

 

Chapter 17: Assembly of Tamils  

The full moon, shining in a perfect circular shape, is throwing its light on a sprawling orchard full of tall trees standing along the broader banks created in the course of the downstream flow of the river. The sweet breeze of Tamil land is blowing across. Some men from the city of Madurai are whiling away their time merrymaking. The golden bowls brought by the ships of Yavanas are filled with purified toddy and shining with smiles. The singers are singing songs with Palliyam (a musical instrument). The danseuses are busy dancing.

As the singing and dancing are over, those ‘wise men’ now indulge in pouring out truths as much as their brains could fathom and discuss it.

Suddenly a war cry of drums announcing impending war is heard—the Kannada and Andhra soldiers wielding spears, the cavalry of Maratha soldiers, and the British and French soldiers sitting in cannons appear one after another, quickly running.

The men sitting in the court start running, disperse, keep running, running…and then disappear.

The scene slowly fades away… fading slowly… and finally disappears.

(Beyond the window grills of Penang’s Nanyang hotel, the pleasant moon spreading its rays in golden and yellow is rising slowly in the horizon. The stars around it are emitting sparkling smiles. Inside the hall—the faces... yes, they resemble Tamil faces.)

Navannaa sings: 

“The pasty saffron powder strewn around

From the coition of men and women

Totter of inebriation everywhere.

It is Madurai, the city of southern kings.”. 

Auditor sings:

“The morning seen with rainbows 

Like the flowers strewn around

By the people who bargained in the evening.

It is Uranthai (Uraiyur), the city of spear-wielding Great Cholas.” 

Adigal sings: 

“Elephants extend their trunks to their partners.

In the play of love, the land gets wet with their sperm.

and boggy as they trample on it.

It is Vanji, the city where sweet streams of river flow.” 

Manikkam: My dear Tamil friends! These verses are available in Muthollayiram. They indicate the deteriorating social conditions of Tamil Nadu. Try reciting it once yourself. You would find that they talk about only carnal pleasure... sex... and only sex.

Pandian: Any society which seeks pleasure in sex and crosses its limits due to its arrogance of being wealthy would definitely run into ruins.

Manikkam: Sex is a cousin of arrogance. The price of its arrogance is transgression. And the result is ruin.

Pandian: Any society which is destined to face its ruin would first nurture the boundless desire for sex. Unbridled sexual pursuit needs money. This gives birth to a belief that one can do any sin in life for money. This belief that money is everything results in debasing the factors that keep a society intact and the eventual disappearance of personal values. The humane characteristics of humans would thus get faded away. The best example to explain this is the decline of Babylon.

Adigal: Do you mean the pursuit of sexual pleasure and wealth is fundamentally a sin? If the materialistic pursuit is for satiating sex and the wealth is used for charity, then you must accede to the fact that both sexual pleasure and wealth are very essential to life.

Pandian: What Adigal means is the pleasure and wealth one seeks while being within family life. Here, the pleasure means the happiness of giving away charity and earning wealth with one’s sheer talent and hard work through the means that do not harm others.

Manikkam: Why did Babylon, which was once called the light of the world, perish? The history declares that it was due to the perpetual pursuit of pleasure. During its ending days, the youths of that metropolis were roaming the streets wearing golden floral garlands around their necks with colourful pastes on their cheeks, eyeliners in their eyes, and lipstick thickening their lips. All types of immoral relations emerged. The time arrived when one did feel that he didn’t have to feel ashamed of its public display.

Pandian: When the Babylonians were relishing their pursuit of pleasures, their arch enemy, Cyrus, the Persian king, invaded their land. The enemy was at the doorstep, demolishing their fortress, but there was no one to stop him. The men who had the responsibility of stopping him were roaming with coloured pastes and golden coloured floral garlands on the streets and dancing like eunuchs. The Big Temple priests, who were scheming to kill the king of Babylon, opened the fort’s gates and gave the enemy easy entry. Let this ruin of Babylon remain the greatest lesson on this earth for others to learn.

Manikkam: How did Sumeria, Syria, and Phoenicia decline and disappear? The cities of Urr, Nineva, and Dyer were ruined and buried. Why? It is all because of the pursuit of pleasure... pleasure... pleasure. Sex is a cousin of arrogance. The price of it is transgression. And the result is ruin.

Pandian: Why did it so happen that the land of Tamils had been a puppet for thousands of years? Be it Malikkafur, or Zulfiquor Khan, or Kambana Udaiyan, or Laxmana Nayakkan, or Shahaji, or Vengoji, or Duple, or Clive. They could plunder this land as they liked. Couldn’t they? It is all because of our ancestors’ proclivity towards seeking out pleasure. I am talking about those men who were at the helm of affairs. Most of the Tamils, be it present or past, are addicted to the pursuit of pleasures. Unbridled pleasure is the enemy of one’s masculinity, the enemy of one’s wisdom. It is indeed a wonder that we could escape without being uprooted like Sumerians, Syrians, and Phoenicians. Isn’t it?

Adigal: This instance is one of the finest examples that proves the unparalleled stature of the Tamil community. Dear friends, it is the finest example anyway. Sumeria, Syria, and Phoenicia were all gone. But our Tamil society has still been thriving since ages when sand and stones weren’t even formed. How? It is the exclusive characteristic of our Tamil society.

Sathaiya: If there is one good reason for the Tamil language to have lived for ages, I wouldn’t suffer from any inhibitions to say that it is nothing other than the Tamil language. What is it that the Lord Shiva, the magnificent god with his third eye, scrutinizes while sitting along with the learned courtiers? What is it that was born in the Pothigai hills, pampered by the fame of South kings, and nurtured under the aegis of Sangam? What is it that gave birth to Valluvan and Elango in this world? It is our chaste Tamil language...ancient Tamil language...evergreen Tamil language. It is the symbol of Tamil pride. It is the maiden goddess standing guard forever to save the land of Tamils.

Manikkam: If you want to uplift the Tamil society, you must come out of this inebriated talk about the Pothigai hills. Till then, no constructive efforts would find their way. Utterances like ‘See the Thirukkural’, See The Silappathigaram, See the Tanjavur Big Temple’, ‘See the grand dam built across the Cauvery River’ are often being raised without much of meanings attached to it.  

Adigal: Meaningless utterances? What do you mean by it? Tell me now which race had displayed such a mammoth body of writings and inherent strength before Tamil. Tell me… Tell me…”.

Pandian: Adigal’s words prove how important it is for one to get trained in world history. Many centuries ago, before the Tanjavur Big Temple and the Grand Cauvery Dam were constructed, pharaohs of Egypt had successfully completed pyramids. The Babylonians had already built a tunnel fifteen feet in breadth and twelve feet in height under the perennially flowing Euphrates River.

Manikkam: It is pertinent to note here that the Tamils do not enjoy any special status in the field of literature as well. Many didactic pieces of literature nearly akin to the Thirukkural had been written in many parts of the world. As far as our epics are concerned, there's nothing much to say about them.

Pandian: Recently I have read the translation of a letter of advice written by an Egyptian minister, namely Fda-hothaip, to his son. It appears that he could have written it after mastering the Thirukkural. But the only disappointment is the period it was written. That letter had been written three thousand years before the Thirukkural was written.

Adigal: You wouldn’t dare speak such things if you knew the profound books of Tamil land that were either burnt down in fire or drowned under water and the tall buildings that went into ruins. Never you dare…Ahh... Who else knows the pride of Tamil? It is the waters and fires of the olden city of Madurai that know it all.

Pandian: Many a good ancient book and glorious citadel in different countries had gone to dust. It is not an exclusively special attribute only to Tamil Nadu. It would thus be foolish to be proud of such things. Sophocles, the great Greek playwright, had written more than a hundred plays, but we had access only to seven.

Adigal: Sophocles? Who’s that guy?

Pandian: Adigal may not know about him. Had he known about him, his literary outlook would have been diff...

Sathaiya: You both were born as Tamils. Yet, you are speaking with furtive motives without any attachment towards Tamil. Aren’t you? Are you trying to say that Tamil is the meanest language ever spoken in the world and Tamils hadn’t done anything productively?

Manikkam: The achievements of Tamils in literature and some other fields are indeed laudable. But it is wrong to be assertive that one would never find a better language than Tamil and there wouldn’t be any more talented persons other than Tamils. There is nothing wrong in being proud of one’s race, its antiquity, and its achievements. But it should be based on facts.

Pandian: The pride that is being built on deceptive beliefs would turn into self-pity when it meets with reality.

Auditor: True... true...

Navaanaa: It is alright. Now tell me the way in which Tamils, along with others from this Indian subcontinent, could march on the path of progress. Tell me that.

Manikkam: The first and foremost requirement for progress is hope. Secondly, we must get rid of old habits that do not suit the present and be ready to grasp the new opportunities.

Adigal: Tamils are not the ones who wish to live in the past with false pride. I would like to remind you of our great men’s words, “Let the old go away and then embrace the new.”. We do it anyway.

Manikkam: Good to hear from you. But how far are we serious enough to follow these golden words? What are the destructive forces afflicting our country? How many of us are capable of explaining the reasons as to why those evil forces haven’t yet disappeared and the means of getting rid of them?

Navannaa: The worst evil among all is caste. It should be exterminated first.

Sathaiya: It is because of the caste system; one caste is able to exploit other castes.

Manikkam: Exploitation doesn’t have anything to do with caste. Those who do a particular type of job would get some amount of expertise in it and get used to the type of living standards it demands. For instance, a lawyer, no matter whether he is a Brahmin or Muthaliyar, his sole motive in life would be nothing other than winning the cases and amassing wealth from his clients as much as he could. Those who run industries, no matter if he is a Chettiar or Nayakkan, his singular aim in life would be producing materials with the lowest investment and selling them at the highest prices and thus ensuring an enviable profit margin.

Pandian: No matter the person is from the Chakkiliyar caste or Jain community, if he happens to be a shoemaker, his only aim in life would be to see a greater number of cattle deaths and a subsequent slash in the cost of hide.

Auditor: As long as the caste pride doesn't perish, there is no salvation for our people.

Manikkam: The requirement of a collective safety cover for a society is the reason why the caste system had turned into an aggressive mode of expression. Since our country was ruled for ages by kings and looters who had no set morals, ordinary people’s innocuous arrangements so designed for their personal safety network had now grown into a strong, frantic attachment towards caste generations after generations. Only when a situation comes in which both individual and collective appeals would bring out the similar nature of justice will the caste system lose its relevance.

Pandian: The importance of caste is likely to wane shortly. People from villages are moving to urban industrial towns in large numbers. There would be no need to ask someone of his caste when everyone is working under the same roof of one industry, wearing similar uniforms, and doing similar jobs.

Sathaiya: It might take long to reach there. Inter-caste marriage is the only potent weapon that can eliminate the caste system.

Adigal: Yes… Yes... Yes.

Naavannaa: I too think so.

Auditor: This is my viewpoint too.

Pandian: The caste system cannot be eliminated by the mere display of the relationship between lower caste Athanur Nandanars and higher caste Thillai Moovayirathaar. Clarity of thought is the primary requirement for any social reforms.

Sathaiya: What is the genesis of the caste system, which takes away the productive energy of our people?

Pandian: A social structure emerges according to the demands of its time and place. The caste system prevailed in almost all the societies under different names. In due course, it had changed its colours. So we need not be ashamed of our caste system. The question is whether the caste system in its present shape is still relevant to in the present situation or not.

Manikkam: Those who are fighting for their caste are not exactly fighting to safeguard the inherent benefits of caste; rather, they fight just to gain advantages in the name of caste. All a Tamil man wants today is money, a good job, and an educational degree. Let’s not get into scrutinizing whether these ideals are perfect in themselves. If one could attain all these without the help of caste, or if one cannot get all these just with the help of caste, no one would insist on caste discrimination. The demon called caste would die by itself.

Navaanaa: No differences of opinion in annihilating caste. But would just the annihilation of caste be enough to take this society to progress?

Pandian: Of course not enough. As far as I know, the elimination of caste shouldn’t be our priority. Spreading an inclusive understanding should be our first priority. For a broad mind stemming out of natural intelligence, these discriminations based on caste, religion, race, and language are just childish demarcations.

Adigal: It is alright anyway. What is the actual cause of Tamils’ debasement? While other communities that are visibly backward in many aspects are marching on a progressive path, why is the Tamil society lagging behind?

Manikkam: Societies also have birth-growth and aging-death just like humans. The societies that refuse to acquire renewed strength with the changing times will acquire the character of a bull yoked onto an oil-crushing machine and spend their remaining days like live corpses. Sometimes they would perish too.

Adigal: What should we do first for the betterment of our society?

Pandian: We must change the ‘frog-in-the-well’ attitude of Tamils. Along with it, we must take steps to spread the sense of duty among them to ensure that the action plan we have derived out of intense scrutiny is being followed scrupulously.

Adigal: Yes... Yes... Let’s put it aside now. Friends, I have a doubt bugging me for long. The Thondaiyars, who fought striding obedient elephants; the Cholas, who used to beat drums whose noise would intimidate rains; Kongars from highlands commanding a brave army; the royal Cheras, who ruled with an army of shining swords—where are the descendants of these royal men, and what are they doing now?

Pandian: They are collecting rubber in Malaya.

Manikkam: They are tweaking the tea leaves in Sri Lanka.

Naavannaa: They are carrying loaded bales on their backs in Burma.

Sathaiya: They are cutting sugarcane plants in Guyana.

Auditor: They are begging everywhere in the Indian subcontinent.

Adigal: O! Tamils! Isn’t there any way to change their pathetic state of life?

Pandian: Yes. There is a way.

Naavannaa: O! Tamils! It has dawned. Birds are screeching. The rustle of Chinese businessmen has started. Let’s move now. Get ready.

Pandian: Yes. We can leave now.

Adigal: Yesterday’s darkness has gone, and there appears a light of a new day. Let’s leave.

Manikkam: Yes. We may leave. It gets late.

Sathaiah: It has already dawned. We ought to see what the new day has in it for us. Let’s take leave.

Auditor: Let’s all go and face all the troubles of life. Come with me. 

(The Nanyang Hotel’s “Marriage Hall’ scene fades away. Fading away... and disappearing.)

                                                                     ***

 

Chapter 18: Midway

The Japanese Admiral Yamamoto remained restless as he knew that the war between Japan and America would be brought to an end only in the Pacific Ocean region. America’s naval and air power were growing stronger, faster, day by day. On the other hand, the condition of Japanese forces was becoming worse. Japan found it extremely difficult to stand against the highly organised army of its enemy, who possessed robust financial wealth and incomparable ability to build wartime infrastructure. 

Yamamoto designed a war strategy called “Midway-Aleutian” to hoodwink the American Navy stationed in the Pacific region and pull them into a zone of destruction before the latter could gain strength to become an indestructible navy. According to the plan, the striking force of Admiral Nakumo left for the place of operation. A small fleet of navy under the direct command of Yamamoto was patrolling along the Marianne harbour area in readiness to take part in any action, if called for. 

Reminding the manner in which they marched to destroy Pearl harbour, the air columns of Nakumo under Commander Puchida left for the Midway Island strip. But this time, the American Air Force, having been equipped with the intelligence about the possible surprise attack the Japanese striking force was planning to unleash on them, kept its warplanes and columns of tanks ready to face the Puchida’s eagles.

The bombs exploded, tanks fired, planes were burnt, and ships were drowned. 

When Puchida’s warplanes were busy attacking, the columns of powerful American tanks emerged on the south of Midway Island and let loose their bomber planes, torpedo aircraft, and other warplanes after accurately knowing half of their enemy aircraft was deployed for attack and the other half was busy fueling at their motherships. As he was overtly confident of the opportune time of attack, Nakumo didn’t even keep the minimum number of airplanes for peripheral security and had them deployed on the war front. This made the task of American warplanes pretty easier.

In the war that ensued after that, for three consecutive days in the sea front around Midway Island, day and night, Nakumo lost four aircraft carriers, several cruisers and destroyers, and so many warplanes. 

On the basis of initial radio messages, Admiral Yamamoto arrived at the conclusion that there was only one American aircraft carrier left and ordered Admiral Kondo and Admiral Hosaka to leave immediately to assist the striking force so as to decimate the enemy task forces and got himself ready to leave with his columns for the war front. It was at that time he received the final message from the commander of the striking force: “Four enemy aircraft carriers are patrolling the war front, and he doesn’t have even one in good condition.” 

Yamamoto had only one small aircraft carrier left at his disposal. As he understood the imminent gravity of the situation, he ordered all three striking forces to withdraw from the war front and retreat immediately. 

The important reason why Yamamoto’s Midway attack plan failed was that the American intelligence agencies were able to decode the secret code language of the Japanese Navy. All the secret details pertaining to the date of war, participating columns of striking forces, and mode of attack were known as far as a month ago to the American navy commanders who had been clandestinely eavesdropping on the radio signals of the Japanese navy. 

Midway was the turning point in the Pacific war front. After that, there were conflicts to gain control over the Solomon Islands. Guadalcanal Island, which once witnessed the heaps of dead bodies and river of blood, was now under the control of America and fast becoming the most prominent war base. 

Hitler’s army being stopped at the entrance of Moscow city was one of the most prominent events in world history. The German troops that entered the southern part of the city captured the Pravda building, the heart of the communist propaganda office. The Nazi swastika flag was flapping on its top. In the north, German tanks made a forceful entry into the city of Kilky that formed the city’s boundary of tram transport. 

It was the time of dawn. The final and categorical order was awaiting to be passed anytime to strangle the town and capture it and bombard the Russian government’s Kremlin building and reduce it to shambles.

The columns of panzers and striking forces were standing ready. 

It was at that time…

The war cry of the Red Army was heard. Tanks fired shells, shaking the sky and earth. The rolling sounds of monstrous tanks in snowy hues filled in the air. The skiing chariots came down rolling fast along with soldiers of the east in white woolen military attire. General Rokossovsky’s¹  Siberian army jumped into the war. 

“Siberians have arrived. Siberians have arrived." 

The Russian army columns were happy, and the clamour of cheers rose everywhere. 

After dispatching his Siberian army troops to stop the German striking forces, who were fast marching on the Relev highway, General Jukhav decimated all the defending German forces in waves like intermittent spells of attack. 

Wehrmacht troops took to their toes and ran away from the battlefield. The world understood that what had happened to Hitler’s army on the Russian war front was exactly the same as what had happened to Napoleon’s army long ago. 

Most of the Russian generals were not yet confident of taking independent decisions and changing war strategies according to the prevailing ground situations. On the other side, the defensive attack strategies adopted by the German General Manstein² who was brought back from the southern war front to revive the demoralized German troops, started giving positive signals of revival. The German troops stationed in the east could thus escape the total wipeout amidst the harsh, cold, rainy days amidst the looming disaster around them. 

The cold, rainy winter days were over, and the spring season set in. The Russian soil grew parched, lost its moisture, and became hard. The German army, which could somehow stage an escape from the boggy soils of Moscow, now rose with renewed vigour to launch fresh attacks. 

The Supreme Commander Hitler’s order thus came to launch attacks on the southern front.

Strong army columns of nearly twenty lakh men under the command of Field Marshal Fyodor Vanbok were marching forward east, devastating every enemy troop that stood in their way. On the sixth week, Germany’s Kleist Panzer group, the right-hand air power, entered the Calcium oil fields, and the 6th Army Division under the command of General Boulez reached the Wolka River bank and began its offensive action on Stalingrad city. 

Suikkov’s troops standing guard at the city found themselves in a very deplorable situation as they were unable to bear the brutal attack of German forces. The commander of Stalingrad sent an emergency message for help only to receive a ‘no’ from the newly appointed South Pole Commander Jukhav. 

The relentless war continued in every corner of the street, almost in every house, in every room, for many days and nights and weeks. 

Dead bodies were found everywhere. Heaps of rubble from bombed buildings and the remains of aircraft that fell down after being shot were found in every corner. Tanks and cannons and broken vehicles offered a gory picture everywhere.

The most critical time in the life of a soldier on the war field, in which he would be utterly confused and oblivious of his existence, was fast approaching. 

At that time…

The army of Varuttin from the north and the army of Yeramenkho from the south appeared all of a sudden like a flash and completely routed the entire troops of the third and fourth army divisions of Rumania, subdued them, moved ahead, and decapitated the German wings. On the western front, the troops of Rokossovsky emerged as if with some magic power, grew in large numbers, and strangled Germans from behind and rendered them helpless with a crude attack. Suikkov’s soldiers marched ahead frantically to tighten their noose around the Nazi Germans’ throats. 

The ones who came to lay siege were under siege. 

The circular deployment of Jukhav tightened its noose and kept tightening it further. The sixth division of the German army, which was once famous for its victories on many battlefields, was now lying with broken limbs and wailing. 

The German War Board ordered the Dane Region Commander Manstein to break the Russian siege and pave the way for the sixth division of the German Army. In effect, Manstein diverted a part of his troops towards the north. 

The reinforcements were nearing Stalingrad, thirty-five miles away. 

That time…

The Malinovsky’s Ukrainian army, which was waiting in ambush for the arrival of Manstein’s forces, waged its attack on the latter and destroyed it.

Manstein and Malinovsky fought the battle tooth and nail for ten days. The “Dane” commander employed all his hard-earned, world-famous battle skills and tried to sneak into the enemy cordon but in vain. Since I-Thermovec warplanes and aerial rockets used by the Red Army for the first time could destroy the major part of the fleet of tanks, it became an absolute necessity for Manstein, who was left alone without any air power, to retreat so that he would be able to save the panzers that were facing the danger of being wiped out in the Cassia cordon. 

And thus, the battle of Stalingrad came to an end.

German Commander Field Marshal Fredrick Van Boulez, along with twenty-three generals and ninety-six thousand soldiers, surrendered before Colonel General Rokossovsky. The total number of German dead bodies collected and burnt was nearly one hundred forty-seven hundred, and those who were reported missing were nearly one hundred thousand.

After this war, there ensued the Kursk War, which the military strategists still consider as one of the most terrific wars ever fought during the Second War. The loss reported on both sides in this war that lasted up to eight long days stood at a staggering three thousand warplanes, four thousand tanks, and thousands of soldiers.

It was the last and biggest surprise attack of the German army that ever occurred on the Russian war front.

In northern Africa, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel’s Africa core unit, which was getting ready to capture the Suez Canal, was defeated by the recently strengthened eighth division of the British Army at El Ala Fishing harbour. The defeated army unit retreated and took to its toes. 

The American troops descended on the Moroccan shores and established their base there. 

The emergence of the Indian Independence Association did serve as a panacea in alleviating the woes of Tamils who were living in East Asian regions in miserable conditions due to war. Thousands of Tamil youths joined the Azad Hind Force, the battle wing of the association, and were receiving military training. 

                                                                          ***

Notes:

1.    Marshal Constantine Rokossovsky was imprisoned for four years upon the charge of conspiring against the Communist regime. After the invasion of Germany, he was discharged and made the general of the First Division of the Siberian Army. Later he became in charge of a group of military divisions and played a pivotal role in the military campaign that led to victory in Stalingrad and was decked with the rank of Field Marshal. 

2.      Field Marshal Erich von Manstein was the best among the German commanders. He was an expert in offensive attack, defensive attack, and devising war strategies. He was the mastermind behind Western Europe’s revival in the 1940s. It was reportedly said, “Stalin had once mentioned that he (Stalin) would have appointed him as the chief of Soviet Russia’s War Committee had he not been Hitler’s general.” 

           

 Chapter 19: Nee Soon training camp.

Pandian joined the Military Officers’ Training School at Nee Soon, learnt war tactics, and participated in field assessment trainings with great interest. Under the short-term courses, some school teachers, colonels, majors, and captains taught the cadet officers with the best of their ability the importance of weapon training, leadership qualities, taking decisions at the time of crisis, finding solutions, and precision task execution. 

It was in the Nee Soon camp that Pandian came to get acquainted with his dearest pals, K. K. Resan, alias Kathiresan, son of Karmega Konar, and R. C. Masanam. While the former one was born in Malaya, brought up, studied, and employed there, the latter came to Malaya to take up work arranged by his elder brother just a week before the war in South Asia broke out. Resan was erudite and a man of sharp intellect. Though he was unable to read Tamil, he had known a lot about Tamil Nadu through English books and magazines. Masanam was just opposite to the former. He had a deep-rooted worldly understanding in mind that he would remain educated only to a level that could help him meet the very basic requirements of life. But he was as intrepid and competent as Resan. 

During his stay in Nee Soon, Pandian used to have hot discussions with Manikkam and Resan. In their debates, they would deeply examine the principles of freedom, democracy, equality, duties, and conduct. In the very prime of their youth, they fancied that they were going to change Indian society and strongly believed that they were fit enough and had possessed every skill that was required of them to do that. They examined all the possibilities of its execution with great interest and empathy. What could be the best method of casting votes in a country like India, where the number of illiterate masses is higher? Vote per head or vote per eligibility? What are the parameters based on which one's eligibility should be defined? Which is the best-suited jurisprudence for our country, where the number of litigation-infested masses is higher? They discussed such topics at length as if the destiny of India had been handed over to them. They examined... lived in fantasy. It was the time the hope in youths was overriding. It was the time the tendency of fantasizing was dominantly found due to the exigencies of war.

India’s independence and making food, cloth, and shelter available to everyone after independence remained their aim, closer to their heart. Talking about it and devising plans for executing it were their only hobbies they loved. They believed that these three basic needs of people would be readily available to everyone without any hassles immediately after independence. A single order would suffice: Everyone would get food, clothes, and shelter. It was the time their youth was filled with the dreams of hope. 

They were permitted to visit the city once a week. The name of Singapore had then been changed to the sea town of Siyonan Tho-Then. Shiny girls and new vehicles were not seen in Raffles Square. Prostitutes were on the prowl with their lurking eyes. Gone were the days of British lords. Now the Japanese army men were provided separate lodges and different whores to enjoy. 

The procession of Tamil students would end in Kachi Moideen restaurant on Serangoon Road. 

The ‘half’ vegetarian Chellaiya digs the foodstuff in the plate half-heartedly, and the ‘full’ vegetarian Mani mixes rasam with rice and eats it.

“Mani,” Pandian called him out, holding a piece of chicken in his hand. “Do you know what the Janagan’s Guru Yagjnavalyan had told about eating beef?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“Eating beef may be a sin. But if my teeth don’t get hurt, I would eat it for sure. This is what that pure Brahmin had told." 

Four or five lungi shop owners and some men from Puducherry entered the hotel, busy talking among themselves. The chairs were moved here and there. The sound of preparing fresh food rose. 

“Manikkam, is it true what Pandi says? Or is it just a scheme cooked up?” 

“I am not quite sure whether Yagnavalyan had eaten beef or not. But what he is said to have told is being believed true. The stuff that is not soft while chewing must be out of our menu. This is what he meant. The Brahmins of the Vedic period wouldn’t relish a feast if beef was not served. Beef was abhorred later as it was known that it didn’t suit the climatic conditions of our country.” 

“In Tamil Nadu, our ancestors had also eaten beef,” Pandian remarked. 

“What?” 

“My dear Tamils!” Pandian spread his palms wide. Listen to this now to know what Kudavayil Keerthan had mentioned about our ancenstors’ beef-eating habits, which they boasted of.

“Kalserbu irunthu kathuvaai kurambai

Thaazhi muthal kalitha kozhilai paruthi

Pothi vayitril ilangaai pedai ootti

Pokil pilandhitta pongal venkaal

Nalkoor pendir alkal koottum

Kalanku munai siroor kaithalai vaippa

Kozhuppaa thindra kuurm padai mazhavar”

“Do you understand the meaning of this verse? It happened during the Sangam period.” 

“I don’t understand its meaning. But what you say is untrue. Tamils... eating beef! It is just impossible.” Abdul Khader wrinkled his face. “Those who ate must have come from the northern side,” he said. 

“What Keerthan had mentioned is about Tamil soldiers. Koorm padai mazhavar” 

“Before that, our ancestors had eaten elephant meat too. Here is the evidence. Thondiyamur Sathan mentions it.”

…Puli tholaithunda perum kalirtrozhi oon

Kali kezhu maravar kaazhkkol ozhinthathai

Gneli kori siru theemaatti olithirai

Kadal vilai amizhthin kanam saal umanar

Sunai kol theem neer sotrulai koottum…

“This is a part of that verse. We understand that soldiers and salt vendors ate elephant meat." 

“Some idiots must have written this nonsense under the inebriation of toddy.” Abdul Khader remarked. “Beef... elephant meat... Don’t you think that these could be something called ‘insertion of false things’? These verses must be one of them. Mustn’t they?” 

“This verse has been accepted by our great literary men as the purest form of our literature. You can imagine now what else those who ate elephant meat could have done in the society.” 

“This is what you are very good at. You would dig some nonsense out of some garbage and cook up your stories. Now it gets late. Let’s take leave.” 

“Pandi! A Saivaite from Tirunelveli is running an idly shop near Karaikudi Keezhaiyoorani. Have you ever gone there to have it?” Nagappan asked. 

“Why? Is it that good sort of an idli? I think they make it in earthen utensils. Right?” 

“Speaking this kind of spoof is the only thing you know. You have it once. It is soft like a sponge.”

“O.K. Once I land up in my village, my first job is to go to Karaikudi Keezhiyoorani.” 

From the southern end, one of the tragic melodies of Thangavelu, who was washing his hands, was heard in a soft voice.

“In Karaikudi, on Kallukatti Street

Amidst the crores of people, at the entrance of Koppathal shrine

While putting Mavilakku, my son came running.

And handed over a telegram to see my Thali broken.” 

A complementary song to it emerged from Nagappan.

“Adiye! No matter; it is Karaikudi.

No matter; it is Kallukatti Street.

No matter if it is amidst crores of people

No matter, it is the entrance of Koppathal shrine.

When the king of death comes

Who are we to stop him? 

They left Kachi Moideen hotel. It got dark. Passersby were seen walking here and there. The dim light, as if wearing masks, was seen in the buildings. The cadet officers strode fast towards the training camp.                                 

 

 Chapter 20: Kota Baling

 

After passing the qualifying examination at the Military Training School, Pandian took charge as Second Lieutenant of the 4th Guerrilla Squad of the Shungai Duva camp. 

The camp was situated in the middle of a forest that stood untouched on the eastern side of the Alor Setar-Singapore Highway. The forest area where the camp was located fell under the ninth military division of the communist guerrilla forces of the Anti-Fascist Army. While going to attend the jungle warfare training, the troops of the Indian National Army used to come face to face with those guerilla forces. It was an unwritten, unspoken understanding between these two forces that they would recognize each other yet move away as if they were unfamiliar. There were occasional clashes between them on account of territorial dominance. Such petty skirmishes would be immediately resolved with the intervention of responsible elders, and the usual practice of giving way to each other would then be restored. But one day, a potentially big, unexpected trouble erupted in the late evening.

A Japanese army major, namely Aramakki, along with his five assistants, had arrived there to impart special training in jungle warfare to the 4th squad of guerillas who were getting ready for the battlefield on the Burma war front. It was decided that Aramakki and his team would leave along with one section of guerilla forces for the forest to impart them the training.

On the first day, the training went without troubles. On the second day, while the squad that had gone to attend training was returning, bullets were fired at them from both sides near the Kurankukal area. A Japanese corporal and a Punjabi soldier were injured. As the Japanese men were present on the spot, the team couldn’t meet the commanders of the Anti-Fascist Army and thus allowed the situation to go out of control, which resulted in Indian soldiers firing at them back. The soldiers shot some rounds, jumping and hiding behind bushes and trees for some time, and then got tired and retired to their respective camps.

The camp commander, Chotturam, told the Japanese major that he wanted to keep the special training in abeyance for some time. Since that training was arranged on the special request of the Supreme Commander of the Indian National Army, Major Aramakki insisted that the camp commander should give in writing that he wanted to keep the training in abeyance so as to avoid the nuisance of Chinese ‘monkeys’ roaming there. Since a very strict order had come from Netaji about training, Colonel Chotturam didn’t want to limit himself with undue restrictions.

Having decided to hold a talk with communist guerillas, Chotturam sent a messenger to Pandian. The next day, at about half past nine in the forenoon, Pandian and Havildar Nallamani went inside the forest. After reaching the banks of the stream where they would usually come across the guerilla sentries, they went near to the dense vegetation of a fully grown Jati tree. 

Pandian asked Nallamani to sing a song aloud. Nallamani sang his favourite ‘herding song.’

‘With these petty, stupid seven songs, 

I can’t herd. 

this pack of two hundred thirty-six goats…

Do have Sandi Sinnan with you.

O Samy

Have him. O...O...O...

 

“Ha…ha…ha…song…song…song…” A Chinese soldier sitting guard at the treetop laughed in broken Tamil. 

“We are your friends,” Pandian looked up and told him in Malay. “We have come here to meet our friends. Please get down,” he added. 

“Just a minute.” The Chinese man in military attire spoke in clean Malay and jumped off. Three Chinese men appeared from behind the bushes. 

They led those Tamil men, wrapping a cloth around their eyes, to a hut made with leaves and wood where the guerilla commander stayed. 

With a tall frame and the scars of chickenpox all over his face, the appearance of that guerrilla commander exuded a resplendence usually seen in men who lead wars with confidence. They couldn’t assess his age. He must be from the Hukka group. His words were very succinct.

“We don’t object to your coming into the forest and attending the training. But if you are accompanied by Japanese men, we will fire at you. All the Japanese men who have come to your camp must get out of this area by tomorrow evening. If they don’t, our firing will resume. Nothing more to discuss on this issue. You may go now." 

Pandian returned to his camp and informed the colonel. 

Colonel asked him, “What are we supposed to do then?” 

“We can take a chance to fight the Chinese. We can put an end to this problem as to decide who dominates whom.” 

“If such a skirmish gets over in a day, we can think of taking a chance. We can’t afford to fight them daily. We are sitting somewhere in the middle. Those men are roaming around all over the forest area, almost invisible. They don’t have a fixed location. Even if we take a calculated risk of fighting them, what is our strategy to place our troops? Which is the center of attack? Another very important disadvantage is they know our strength, whereas we are not very certain about their actual military might. How many of them are deployed? How many of them are armed, and what type of arms do they have? Now you may have an idea why the Japanese army is not very serious about confronting them face to face.

“I understand. We will make Aramakki believe that hundreds of guerillas have been deployed with a plan to demolish the Jimpon Bridge. He would surely leave for his headquarters to inform this.” 

“Do you think he’d believe this kid's story?” 

“No matter if he believes it or not. He’d certainly think it is his duty to inform his headquarters of this information that had fallen into his ears amidst wartime. We can add some spice to it by telling him that the Chinese men fired at us as they grew suspicious of Japanese men spying on them.”. 

The next day, Major Aramakki and his men left the camp. In another two days, a message came from the Japanese Army Headquarters that Aramakki had been assigned an important task elsewhere, and he, along with his men, wouldn’t be able to impart special training in jungle warfare. 

…

As he stood first with exemplary training records, Pandian was one of the 35 officers dispatched to the secret camp at Kota Baling to get trained in specialized warfare. The Kota Baling camp was located in the interiors of jungles where even monkeys didn’t dare enter.

The camp commander was Colonel Kattaragama. He was said to be born to a Sri Lankan father from Yaazhpanam and a Japanese mother. There were two trainer officers to assist him: Captain Jiro Matchudaira and Captain Kenji Yagawata.

The colonel and his two trainer officers put the trainees into an extremely backbreaking training for six months.

-How to send the secret message to one’s troops from a forest area where the enemy troops are deployed? What are the measures of sabotage one must take in order to create internal chaos in the villages under the control of the enemy? How to devise plans to hoodwink the armed enemy standing in the front? What are the swift steps one has to take in unarmed combat? - These were the lessons taught in the Kota Baling secret camp.

After the training, Pandian was sent to the fifth guerilla unit functioning in Jarang Camp after being promoted to a higher rank. 

***