Part 3 Flower
Chapter 31: Penang
Pandian alighted from the
Bangkok Express that halted at Perai railway station. The passengers rushed to
catch a steam engine boat leaving for Penang.
“Pandi”
The voice came from the left
side; Pandian turned his head. Manikkam strode through the crowd and came
running to him. He was wearing a white shirt and grey pants and a dark green
fez hat on his head. A cigarette was emitting thin lines of smoke on the corner
of his mouth. Following him came Abdul Kader in a lungi and a cap on his head
and Chellaiah in a veshti and vibhooti on his forehead.
Pandian looked at them
yearningly, almost nostalgically. ‘What
a change! What a change! In a very short span of time, we have all turned to
what we had been earlier and are still changing. The clerks wear pants, the
Muslims from Venkusa shops wear fez caps on their heads, and pawn shop
attendants are with veshtis on their waists.’
“Manikkam, Kader, Chellaiya”
Welcome… Welcome… Let’s be
graced with your presence.”
Manikkam was theatrical in his
entreaties while his left hand touched Pandian with a genuine love. Chellaiah
and Kader grasped his hands lovingly.
“Let’s have a coffee,” Abdul
Kader said.
“It gets late. We can leave by
this boat itself. Can’t we?”
“You can leave by the boat
leaving for Kola Perai. We have a car too.” Manikkam moved aside and told, “A
new shop has been opened there. Go, try Meekoreng there.”
“O.K. We may go there."
They boarded the car parked
outside the railway station. Manikkm drove the car.
“What is Resan doing? How is
he? How about Masanam and Muthaiah?”
“He has become an important
person in Bangkok with filthy money that gets spent like water. He says Bangkok
will be his city forever. Masanam and Muthaiah also follow his suit. I don’t
think they would come out of that city."
The car stopped in front of
the Sungking restaurant. They entered, occupied a chair in the southeast
corner, and sat around it.
“Is Navannaa around here?”
“Wouldn’t he have come here
had he been here? He left for his home on the first ship. The auditor is in
Singapore. Anbananda Adigal is in Epoh. I think Navanna would first visit
Pranmalai. Taking advantage of your absence here, he used to be our biggest nuisance
with his repeated admiration for Kalyani. Is she such a fine quality material
or what?”
“Very ordinary stuff. But this
man has found something in her and remains intoxicated."
The bartender came to them and
politely asked them their preferences. Manikkam gave him the order.
“Challaiah, where is Aavanna?
Has he gone to Medan? Or is he around here?”
“Even before the ship service
resumed, he left by lenj.”
“Why are you going to Sumatra
now? Manikkam asked. “If you want to go back home, you can get into the ship
from here.”
“I have to meet some friends
there. It is Medan city where I first joined for my duty.”
Plates with foodstuffs and
porcelain coffee cups reached their table. They began having meals as they
talked.
“I don’t like you going to
Sumatra at this time. It is chaotic everywhere. The situation may grow worse in
coming days.”
“I have already decided to pay
a visit there.”
“O.K. It is your wish,”
Manikkam said as his left hand fingers ran through his hair. He turned his
half-closed eyes to Chellaiah and asked, “Dei…. What are you doing? Eating
Meekoreng or just catching chicken?”
“Stupid stuff—full of fat.
They have cooked up some nonsense.
“Oh! Full of fats! Do you
think this is a ‘coffee and meals restaurant’ run by some Brahmins? It is
Sungking restaurant.
“As a special case, we can ask
them to make him a meekoreng made of pulse and brinjal.” Abdul Kader slapped
Chellaiah’s back with his left hand as he stood up, wriggling his body. “Don’t
betray your tummy, pal. Eat well,” he said.
“Deiii... you stout ass! It
seems all the nutrition from Meekoreng has got into your arms. The Chinese have
added some meat too. Do you know that?”
“Let him add whatever he
wants. All are meat anyway.”
They got into the car and left
for the jetty.
“I hope there is no trouble in
the Sundaram matter.”
“How’d we be responsible if he
died of a heart attack? Manikkam laughed. “Inspector Kuppusamy and Berkle
screwed him for three days. But the way he got them disappointed with his
skills had even left the inspector aghast.”
“I thought he was just an
amateur playboy.”
“I too thought so. The
inspector is aware that there is one more unidentifiable person involved along
with Natarajan in causing Sundaram's heart attack.”
“”How did he know Natarajan?”
“I don’t know. The inspector
surmises that the ‘other guy’ is me. He keeps nagging me to re-enact the scene
of the heart attack under the pretext of gaining some professional knowledge.”
Both laughed.
“Where is Natarajan now?”
“He is in Kuala Lumpur. We had
a damn tough time getting him out of this place. Every day he would pick fights
with one or another.”
“What about the Rakbirlal
matter?”
“It is over with Jarang camp.
Englishmen are smarter that way.”. He slowed down the car and stopped it. “They
are more interested only in the current accounts. If they’d wasted their time
digging out some useless old stuff, they would have been left with no time to
manage such a big empire.”
Pandian reached Penang on
Saturday noon hours and stayed there for the whole of Sunday and till Monday
evening. With the usual fervor of Tamils who returned to their motherland,
Pandian paid visits to Thanneer Malai, New Beach, and Snake Temple along with
his friends.
On Monday, he reached the
harbour with the entourage of his friends. Cryon! He didn’t notice the name of
the ship. It was the same ship that had carried him to Sumatra when he went
there for the first time. After undertaking numerous journeys in various oceans
during the war, it had now returned, ostensibly to take him back to Sumatra.
The time of departure neared.
He said goodbye to everyone and boarded the ship. The siren of the ship went
off loudly. The ship Cryon left for Belawan harbour at fifteen past five.
Men, cars, buildings, and
ships grew dimmer and finally disappeared from view.
Penang City and Malaya went
behind.
The crimson rays of the sun in
the west were growing dull gradually.
***
Chapter 32: Cryon
The ship Cryon was on its way
to Belewan harbour that sits on the shores of Sumatra. The moon, surrounded by
stars, was throwing its tender light in the sky. Pandian was standing on the
deck, holding its iron grills, watching the waves that danced with their
surges, splashes hitting the sides of the ship under the moonlight. The azure
skyline in a green hue and the surface of the sea that bore a green-yellowish
tint got mixed up, rose with a gentle swell, and sang a melodious, alluring
song.
Pandian’s right hand stroked
his forehead. “Why have these seas and skies been intimidating the human mind
and at the same time offering strength from time immemorial? Is it due to the
depth of the sea? Or is it due to its power of destruction? Or is it just due
to its purest state of nothing? Why do humans fear? Why does he feel happy? As
he possesses something called a mind, the purest state of nothing is possible.
Would that be possible for other living beings? If there is no mind, there will
be no confusion. Fame-disrepute, known-unknown, feast-starvation—all these
differences would become non-existent. What is the use of the mind? Can’t we
destroy it? What did Tiruchirapalli Arivazhagar pray to God for?’
‘O! God, give me a state of
purest mind which doesn’t fall into the ocean of relationships, holding one
after another.
‘Holding one after another!
Ah…what a foolishness…utter foolishness! Leaving one and holding onto another!
…’
‘O! Man, my friend! What did
you lose to hold onto another? Why? For what? Oh! Man, my friend, I left my
caste and religion and held onto associations and political parties. I burnt
down the old Puranic scriptures and now am reading newspapers. Despising
mythical, imaginary idols of deities, I am now worshipping the human puppets
that are very much visible to my naked eyes. I loathed the saffron-clad
Sanyasis while flattering secretaries loitering in different attire. While
denying to offer something to God, I am now paying subscriptions. I stopped
attending the temple car festivals while happily lecturing on the dais during
political conferences. Ignoring the wearing of Vibhoothi on my forehead, I am
now happily wearing some unknown insignia on my shirts. My mind, which had
truly understood the falsehood behind the claims of going to heaven, is now in
search of boundless pleasure devoid of miseries. I am a rationalist who has
broken the nexus of superstition, a man of scientific temper. It is knowledge that
ultimately stands by you. It is science that we need to take refuge in now.
‘O! Man, my friend, you are
cheated. Cheated. What did you leave so as to hold onto another? How could this
be better than the earlier one? In what ways do knowledge, belief, and science
fare better than superstitions and religions? It is foolishness. Just sheer
foolishness. Would swimming or not swimming under the sea be any different?
Would dissecting or not dissecting an atom make any difference? Would your
ability to foretell fortunes by way of communicating with distant planets make
any difference even if you couldn’t do so? With all these, the mind would get
only troubled instead of attaining a life with peace within. Would the
falsehood and envy disappear? Never. Would the pursuit of wealth and fame
disappear? Never. Oh! The great, learned men who have the expertise in magic,
physics, alchemy, and engineering! You tell us now, would the ascending lines
in the North and the descending lines in the South make any difference in the
existence of the crescent moon in the sky?’
He slid his hand into his pant
pocket and took out a cigarette packet. His right-hand fingers pulled out a
cigarette and placed it between his lips. His left hand brought a matchbox.
Right fingers pushed the drawer in, took out a matchstick, rubbed it on its
side, lit the cigarette, and threw it away half burnt into the sea. His mouth
puffed in, and his right hand raised up and gently pulled the cigarette.
Phoooooo... the smoke that went in through his throat and thus made the
interiors warm was now coming out in thin lines and circles. Again, Phooooooo…
‘Life without mind—would this act propounded by the saint Thayumanavar be
possible? If possible, why do we need this mind? Why then all these sensory
things?’
It is quite likely that the
purpose of our knowledge is to attain a life which is void of mind by
concurrently keeping all these distractions alive. An incomprehensible empty
confusion...illogical. Humans need to act with a clear mind according to the prevailing
realities of life. The state of doing nothing is death. The state without mind
is destruction. Why should one sit in meditation in a cave on a hilltop in
dense forests to attain such a mindless state? Why should one jump into fire to
attain it? Why should one control wind to attain it? Useless efforts...utterly
useless tasks. Just a handful of poisonous paste made of oleander roots would
be enough to see immediate results. Wouldn’t it?
He looked back with the
cigarette still emitting smoke through his lips. Men were sleeping on
bedspreads in rows like passive animals. ‘While thoughts rule, it is still
quite possible to have a stomach-filling feast and good sleep.’
He clasped the iron grills
again and looked afar, bending his head a little down. The silvery stars spread
across the surrounding golden flowers were twinkling in the greenish-blue
sky. The sea chuckled like a woman wearing a greenish-yellow sari. The gentle
breeze stroked the bodies. ‘Breeze…southerly wind… Sinna Mangalam. When was
that town born? Since the Sangam period? Is Sinna Mangalam aware of the
combined military campaign of three major kings of Tamil land against Pari, a
local chieftain of Parambu hills? Not sure of it. But it had been aware of the
army of Nawabs.’
“The Musalman is beating the
drums in Mettupatti.
He is chasing us and catching
us, the horseman!
We are women. What could we
do?
Our men have run away…
eunuchs!
The Musalman has come... aiyo.
The Musalman is here... aiyo.
The Musalman is beating the
drums in Mettupatti.
He throws us into his cart,
the horseman!
We are women. What else can we
do?
Are our men eunuchs and
abandoned us?”
During these conflicts among
local chieftains, the armies of the British and Maruthu Pandiayars were camping
in Sinna Manglam one after another. It was Sinna Mangalam where the army of
Colonel Spray, which conquered the Pran Hill fort which was once held by
Maruthu Pandiyars, was camping on the day before their last war. Before that,
Maruthu Pandiayar had stopped and chased away the army commanded by General
Innes in Sinna Mangalam. The pillar to which Oomaiyan (brother of Kattapomman),
who was hiding in Pran Hills, was tied by Muthuvairavan Servai, the servant of
Pudukkottai king Thondaiman, is still standing in Sinna Mangalam Perumal
Temple. The people of this town had stood united, irrespective of their caste
and creed, against the oppressive tax collectors Natham Linga Nayakkan and
Sivagangai Udaiyar Devan, who employed all their nasty tricks in the name of
tax collection against them. Ettappan’s secret agents and Thondaiman’s troops,
who came there to capture Oomaiyan, had stolen the agricultural products,
cattle, and money from the local people. Komandan Sayabu, born as Marutha
Nayagam, who successfully kept the robbers who claimed themselves as local
chieftains under control with his frequent ferocious campaigns against them and
later took an avatar as Yusuf Khan, alias ‘Khansa,’ had led his army through
the lanes of this town.’
It was very recent. Chinna
Mangalam had stepped into the world of modernity. He could vaguely remember
Daniel Master, brought from Suvisheshapuram, teaching English to the children
of traders in the market street, sitting on a rope cot in front of Nallan pond.
It would be dreadful to see him walk with his reddish dove eyes and khaki shirt
with elongated collars. There were umpteen women who fell in love with him
seeing his ‘Police’ shirt with big-sized buttons and half-trimmed moustache.
The fathers of the village
would quiz the children from Nadar Street who were learning English from him
with their stupid questions.
“Dei…how do you call my name
in English?”
“……..”
“Keluthi meen?” (Catfish)
“……..”
“What stupid English are you
learning? Engiileees! You rotten eggs! Yonder, comes the son of Valavanthaan.
He is a studious guy. Dei…Mariyappa….come here. How do you call your name in
English?”
“Vaccination”
“Keluthi meen?”
“Ai toppa”
After throwing away answers in
lightning speed, Mariayppan was standing, intently staring at them, shivering
with fear as to see what would unfold at his answers.
“He is born to a tiger. Isn’t
he? Ah…ah…ah… Mariayappan’s father, Neer Kathalinga Nadar, gave out a loud,
appreciative laugh at his son’s performance in English. Other fathers who were
watching it swung their palms across their sons’ backs as much as they could
exercise their strength.
“You, fool, born to a fool!
Why do you have to learn English? You better herd the cattle. See Mariyappan;
he is also a boy like you. You only know how to catch the golden beetles in
Avarangadu. Don’t you? Or are you going to swing in the banyan tree?”
“Children of dupes. See how
Panjangam Aiyar’s son reads English! The same teacher teaches him too. Doesn’t
he?”
“One has to be seriously
interested in studies.” Neer Kathalinga Nadar laughed again. “How could they
learn English if they spend their time playing and swimming with buffaloes in
Kanakkan pond?”
Some traders in the market
sitting on the carts pulled by mules picked up whatever came onto their hands,
be it rope or sticks, and thrashed their boys mercilessly.
“Aiyaiyo... don’t thrash me...
I will never go out to catch golden beetles anymore! Aiyaiyo... I will do
better in studies hereafter... Aiyo... Amma... I am dead... I am dead...”
Their mothers, who were
battling with smoke from ovens, came running to them, received a couple of
thrashes on their bodies, and somehow managed to pull their wards out of their
fathers’ merciless hands.
***
A big white fish jumped out of
the water amidst the dance of waves. ‘Would the fishes sleep?’ He glanced at
his left wrist. It showed 11.17. ‘Time to go to bed. While thoughts rule, it is
still quite possible to have a stomach-filling feast and good sleep. O! The
handsome man who lured the queen! While thoughts rule, it is still quite
possible to have a stomach-filling feast and good sleep’.
Chapter 33: Medan
Cryon reached
Belawan harbour on Tuesday morning. Ships of all kinds were found
everywhere—ships carrying troops, cargo ships, oil tankers, and warships. The
taxi strode fast on Medan highway. The Padang driver kept on throwing abuses at
white men as he drove the car through Labuwan, Pulubrayan, Kulukoor, Thana
Labang, Harrison Crossfield, and Mosky Straat.
People gathered in Chetti
Street and greeted Pandian. The contractor had gone to a nearby town. ‘What
happened to Rathnam?’ He joined the Indian National Army, and his whereabouts
are unknown. Where is Kalimuthu, army number 13?’ He had chosen a different
path. He left the shop and married a local woman. He had a tough time leading
his life. He had a shop selling greens in Debing Ding.
“Where is Aavanna? He is here.
Isn’t he?”
“He had been mentally upset;
he seems to have lost his mind. He behaves like a madman. He had gone to
Siyandar and was staying with his brother-in-law."
“Why? What happened suddenly?”
“He got a letter from his
native town. His youngest daughter, Amirtham, died of smallpox. From that day,
he seems to have lost his senses and has been sitting, always looking down. He
never speaks to anyone. It pains me to see him in that condition.”
“Pitiable soul! He loved his
daughter very much.”
“What can we do about it? It
is a pity anyway, but everything happens according to one’s destiny. Right?
Nothing is in our hands. It is just a void of luck, and we must leave it to
destiny. Is there any use if we keep lamenting about what had already left? Now
see… my sister’s son—the only heir to a property worth twenty lakh rupees. He
was studying for a B.A. in Trichy. I got a letter carrying a message that his
life had been taken away by the god of death due to a fever that didn’t even
last for three days. So, things happen as per the scheme of destiny. We can’t
do anything about it.”
***
Chapter 34: Ayesha
Thangaiya’s bachelor residence
in Nagapattinam Straat. It was an afternoon.
The house owner had gone to
the office. Pandian was sitting on a chair, stretching out his legs on a table.
He was holding a four-days-old Singaporean newspaper. The buzz of the street
came in through the windows. A mixed sound of Javanese Malay and Sumatra Tamil
came over and fell into his ears.
He could sense a wagon
arriving at the doorway and a lady getting off. The fragrance of jasmine
perfume was almost oppressive.
‘Who’s that? Is that she?’
The door was knocked.
“Please come in.”
With her eyes radiating
compassion, Ayesha entered, pushing the door in. She was wearing a violet
batik, a green silk kemeja, and yellow georgette.
“Pandeen…Pandeen”
Her voice gave him goosebumps.
He took his legs off reflexively at once and rose from the chair.
“It is ok… It’s ok… Please be
seated.”
His heart grew restless. ‘Why?...Why?’ He sat down.
She kissed him gently on his
forehead, ostensibly not touching it, with her lips that closely resembled red
berries as she groped her hands across his cheeks. There was no fire in it;
rather, it gave him a feeling of cold spring water.
In a flick of a second, the
fire that had engulfed his body a while ago got doused.
“My brother! My brother!”
She kissed him again on his
forehead—cold water, spring water, and snowy drops.
“Ayesha”
“Pandeen, it’s been almost two
years since I got married. Now I am your sister. I guess you are happy that I
got married, she asked him as she was holding the back of his head with her
left hand and adjusting his hair with her right hand.
“Yes… I am very happy. You are
my sister. Who’s your husband?”
“He is a good man.” She sat
down on a chair lying near.
“Why did you come here without
going back home... The war is over. Right?”
“Just to meet you”
“Pandeen, get a ship without
making further delay. If you don’t have money, I’ll give you”
“I have a lot of money. Why
are you so interested in getting rid of me?”
“You are not the same Pandeen
you used to be. Your eyes emit fire. Your words are intimidating”," she
stroked his forehead with her palm. “Don’t get involved with those freedom
fighters. Hell with those men and the Dutch.”
“Ayesha, you sound
informative! Freedom fighters...a relationship with them...doesn’t it sound
funny?”
“Your eyes emit fire. Your
words intimidate me."
“It is alright. Your words
sound so poetic. I hope you keep alright.
“I don’t have any problems. I
live a fulfilling life. My husband is at home. I have told him before coming
here that I am going to meet you. The wagon is waiting outside.”
“How did you get to know that
I am here?”
“My husband got the
information from Chetti Street. Please listen to my words. Get the ship as soon
as possible. Don’t get involved with those freedom fighters.”
“Thank you, Ayesha.”
“May I take leave now?” She
went near to him and placed a strong kiss on his forehead. “Please don’t forget
what I said,” she repeated again.
“Sure.”
“Slamat thingal”
“Slamat bale”
The fragrance from Ayesha grew
thin as she left him and disappeared finally. He heard the creaking sound of
the wagon pacing on the road.
***
It was the time of sunset.
Pandian was sitting, leaning back against the rear seat of a coach, pacing fast
towards the east. On both sides of the road were found many farmhouses. Beyond
the curtained windows was seen a dim, faint light. A mild voice on the radio
was coming from behind. The last batch of Dutch and Eurasians was returning to
their home. On the right, the diversion led to Polish Way. The semi-spherical,
slippery-towered Dovros Bungalow, built in green marble, was standing on a
corner. Ahead of it was the American consulate, Dermulan Restaurant, queues of
jeeps and cars, and a church in the opposite direction. Tall and well-built
frames of military officers were standing on an open podium lying in front of
the restaurant, under the flood of blue neon light with beer bottles in hand,
sweat on their foreheads, and splendid Dutch language dancing in their tongues.
The radio was yelling in a high pitch: “This is Netherland’s Indish Radio
station at Pattaviya.” The coach went past the railway track. At Hugga Straat,
the movement of men and vehicular traffic was thicker.
Pandian closed his eyes. ‘The Dutch who had gone away are now
coming back. The Japanese who were once ruling here had gone away. They might
return one day. These men might go back one day. How many empires had swayed
their reign on this land? How many different races had walked upon this land
with the pride of triumph? Tamils, Portuguese, British, Dutch, Japanese, and
again Dutch! Will this list end with them? Such an old city it is! How much
longer would this city stand such men? Empires appear and then disappear.
Metropolises appear and disappear. How many empires! How many cities! Pharaoh’s
Membis, Sumerian’s Ur, Iranian’s Susa, Pandian kings’ Korkai, The Great Chola’s
Kaveripattinam, Chera Kings’ Musiri—the city on the shores of the roaring sea,
much famed Malaiyur Thirupathi of King Shailendra. Is it the fame that commands
the enslavement of other races? Or is there any other reason for it? One can
find innumerable reasons according to one’s whims and convenience. What
happened to those men who attained fame by establishing empires? King
Asherbanipal, who built a palace for himself with the stones he brought by
making other kings carry it on their heads, died of self-immolation. The great
king Nebuchadnezzar became mad and walked on four legs like animals and died
chomping on grass. Alexander the Great fell unconscious in one liquor revelry
he arranged in Babylon while returning as the king of kings and died of
prolonged illness after that. Julius Caesar died after he was stabbed by his
close friend. Napoleon met with his end on a small island where he was
imprisoned. What is the price of fame? What is the use of fame? What is the end
of fame?’
**
The erstwhile colonel of the
Indonesian Republic Army, Kashim, who had come to Medan City as a pepper
merchant, met the erstwhile clerk in the Achin Company, Pandian, in the market
and had a long talk with him. Pandian arranged a building in Market Street and
started a business under the banner “Malasia-Indonesia Corporation.” He could
find a residence in Jalan Dorian.
Dutch troops kept streaming
in, their number increasing. British-Indian army troops were leaving the city.
Those who were waiting for ships to board hoped to return to their homes with
some handsome amount they could manage earning. The rifles and boxes of
ammunition in the armouries lying unaccounted were shifted to some other place
that night itself. Cash flowed from one hand to another.
As Pandian suggested, the
first division of the North Sumatra Guerrilla Force was given jungle warfare
training in the Dumas forest area. Pandian made visits to Dumas Forest whenever
he found it feasible. Just beyond the city limits was the government established
by the Forces of Freedom. He had to be extra vigilant while crossing the
border. That was it.
***
Chapter 35: Dilton
Pandian was reading a torn,
totally worn-out book. The birds, perching on the branches of a gambier tree
standing tall near the window, were chirping. The mutters of some inaudible
song sung by the Javanese domestic help and the clatter of utensils he was
washing floated through the air from the backyard of the house. Pandian was
going through the book, flipping its pages.
‘Babur, who established the
Moghul Empire in India, never celebrated the Ramjan festival twice in any
place, but at the same time, he never missed celebrating Ramjan. He had swum
across almost all the rivers that fell on his way, including the mighty River
Ganga. As he was always completely immersed in some activities, he had never
been mentally troubled.’
His left hand stroked his
forehead. ‘I have to keep myself going, fulfilling all my duties as best as I
can. If I keep myself busy with work, I will never fall into the trap of
confusion. What one must do and what one mustn’t. Whether to listen to one’s heart
or abide by the rules designed by the learned men. Learned men? Who are those
learned men? The ones who are accepted as learned by the people of this world!
Who are those people of this world? Are they those men who are known as
knowledgeable? How to identify those knowledgeable? With the help of guidelines
designed by the learned men of earlier generations?’
He heard the sound of a jeep
creaking in and knocking at the door.
“Please come in”—he sat
straight.
A well-built Dutch youth in
full military attire, with sparkling blue eyes, entered.
“I guess you are Mr. Pandian.
Aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am Pandian.” Pandian
rose from his seat.
“I am Dilton, Major Yohan
Kaiser, from Security Services. I am extremely happy to meet you.”
They shook their hands.
Pandian called out to the
servant and asked him to bring tea. They sat facing each other.
“First of all, I would like to
explain my visit. It is my personal visit. This visit doesn’t have anything to
do with my official rank. Do you know lawyer Dilton?”
“Yes, I know him. But not
closely.”
“When he was a prisoner of
war, you extended a great help to him, even by risking your own life. I have
come here to convey my thanks as he desired.”
“Help! When? I couldn’t get
you”
“On the Arnemia riverfront.
When the Dutch prisoners were digging sand”
“O! I remember! ‘Risking my
life’ and ‘great help’ are more of an exaggeration. It had tacit permission
from a Japanese officer as well. Is he related to you? Where is he now?”
“My father is no more. Within
days he got released from prison; he had already been on his
deathbed."
“My deepest condolences. He
was a very good man. Friend of Tamils. I have heard that he was one of those
Dutchmen who extended their support to the demand of Indonesians for
self-rule."
Pandian’s eyes were fixed on a
portrait of Toba Lake—“An ‘Ocean of Fresh Water’”—hanging on the wall opposite.
The Dutch major was smoking his cigarette, glancing at the back of his
left-hand fingers.
“My father insisted many times
that I meet you and extend all possible help that you may need. I wrote a
letter to Singapore as I learnt that you had joined the Indian National Army.
Meanwhile, I paid a visit to Borneo too. It was this morning that I came to
know that you are here.”
“I haven’t met you in Medan
City. Have I?”
“When the war started, I was
studying in Holland. Once the Nazi troops entered, I escaped to Britain and
joined the army.”
“I hope your mother is fine.
On the occasion of one New Year's Day, I paid a visit to your house to greet
you all on behalf of our company."
“He died in the prisoner camp
in nineteen forty-two.”
“I am sorry. I am extremely sorry.
War is cruel.”
“I am now more experienced in
wars.”
“I am also experienced a
little.”
“Pandaiyaan, I am ready to
extend all possible help that wouldn’t stand in my way to tarnish my duty. It
is an order of my father on his deathbed.”
“Thank you.”
“That said, can we talk a bit
freely? I know about your adventures in Malaya. The British Intelligence of the
14th Brigade has informed me this.
“Is it true? Am I that big of
a person?”
“Leave it. I want youngsters
like you to have a better understanding of the complicated problems Indonesia
is facing now.”
“It is my humble opinion that
there is no complication in this. The question we now face is not what is good for
Indonesians. What do they expect? Within days of their freedom, there is a
possibility of internecine rivalry among them, and they may die slitting each
other’s throats. But it is a different issue altogether."
“It is very difficult to
preach to the children who cry for knives. Right?”
“Yes. I am trained in history.
You have brought thousands of islands unrelated to each other together and got
many races speaking different languages united under a banner of one nation. I
am fully aware that the wealth, peace, and ruling class with no corruption,
which one couldn’t find in independent China, were present in this land. But
you did ensure that Indonesians were left without any rights in administration.
The impetuous mass would only understand the fact found in the second half of
the story.”
“The impetuous mass isn’t
bothered to distinguish good and bad either.”
“The question is about what
they like and what they don’t like.”.
The boy brought them tea. They
drank it.
“I believe that the
Indonesians and Dutch can live amiably as brothers, forgetting their bitter
past.”
“I don’t believe in what you
believe.”
Both remained silent for a
while. Dilton’s right hand was stroking gently over the tablecloth.
“It is your experience with
the British rule that makes you speak like this. The British are not permanent
residents of your country. So, they are least bothered about the welfare of
India. Here the situation is totally different. Even before the war broke out,
there had been nearly two and a half lakh Dutchmen living in Indonesia as its
permanent residents. Most of them were born here as its citizens.”
“You consider the Dutchmen
residing in Indonesia a good thing. But Indonesians think differently.”
“Sorry to interrupt. Let me
tell you something about me. My grandfather went to Medan and settled there. My
father and I were born in Indonesia. If so, which is my motherland? Indonesia
or Holland?”
“Nationalism is something born
out of one’s emotional bonds. Distinguishing languages, races, and other
differences is the main agenda of it.”
“Then what is my duty as an
Indonesian whose parentage is found in Dutch lineage?”
“Follow what your heart
says.”
“My heart yells out to crush
the militant Republicans of Indonesia and fly the Dutch flag high
everywhere.”
“Haven’t I told you that
nationalism is born through one’s emotional bonds? Everyone is expected to
perform their duty according to the best judgment of their heart. Nothing more
than that.”
“So, for every action, we do
need an anchor called the judgment of heart. Right?”
“It is just a protective
arrangement to avoid hurting oneself."
“With that protection, we can
do any damn thing—killing, burning, pillaging. Right?”
“Amen”
Dilton laughed. The layer of
suspicion built in him a while ago had now disappeared. As broad-minded young
men who gave a damn about the differences of race, language, and religion, both
were calmly smoking cigarettes with an air of possessing gumption to face any
situation.
“I have one more thing to say.
Soon after I came to Indonesia, I had two important tasks in hand to complete.
First, to meet you and extend my thanks. Second, it is to trace out the
Japanese man to avenge his killing of my sister.”
“Didn’t your sister board the
ship?”
“She was with her husband in
Brandon. Due to some unexpected accident, she missed the ship. Have you heard
of a Japanese army major, Sadavo Yamasaki? He was in Rangoon earlier. He came
with his troops in 1942 to Medan City and stayed there for some time.”
“You have anything to do with
Yamasaki?”
“He’s the one who killed my
sister. I understand that Medan was his last leg. I don’t know what happened to
him after that. I couldn’t find any traces of him.”
Pandian was sitting opposite
to Dilton, staring at him in singular sharpness. Both of their eyes met, and
Dilton’s flow got disturbed. ‘Why?
‘Why this look?’'
‘He is dead.”
“Who?”
“Japanese army Major Sadavo
Yamasaki”
“What? Is it true? How do you
know it?”
“I killed him.”
“What? What?” Dilton rose from
his seat instinctively, looked at Pandian intently, and asked, “Where? How did
you do it?”
“Near Medan city, at Kota Raja
Road”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Order from the top”
“Sorry to interrupt you. His death—you killed him—are
they true?”
“Yes. We followed him from
Singapore. He was staying in your house. I thought of finishing him off there
but failed. I had to change my plan. Please sit down."
“Then?” Dilton sat on the edge
of the chair, bending his torso forward.
“We intercepted his car on his
way to Sabang as we were aware of his time of departure.”
“Sorry once again. May I know
the reason behind his murder?”
“Order from the top?”
“Pandaiyaan, how am I going to
repay this debt?” He rose from the chair, extending his right hand to Pandian.
“My heartiest thanks. Do accept my thanks on behalf of Dilton’s family.”
“Please don’t exaggerate it.
It is just an ordinary wartime damage. Innumerable journeys…countless deaths in
between.”
“Yeah... so many. I thank you
once again. My heartiest thanks.”
They shook their hands and
stood in silence for seconds.
“I am always ready to help you
in all possible ways without tarnishing my duty. I get late. Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Will meet soon.”
“Sure…we’ll”
***
Chapter 36: Thangaiya
The Tonga stopped in front of
Thangaiya’s house. Pandian got off the carriage, climbed onto the steps, and
knocked on the door.
“Please come in.”
He pushed the door and went
in.
“You are very late.”
“I had some work in Madras
Straat.”
Thangaiya rose, called out to
a boy from the adjacent house, and sent him to Calcutta Straat to get them
coffee. He sat in front of Pandian.
Rajarathnam’s Thodi Raga telecast
from Singapore radio was wafting through the room.
“One must listen to
Rajarathnam’s Thodi Raga
in the midnight sitting in front of Karaikudi Ananda Madam.”
“Why midnight? Why Ananda
Madam?”
“Midnight, when the whole town
sleeps, is the best time to enjoy Nagaswaram. During the Karaikudi Chithirai festival, when the
procession reaches Ananda Madam, it will be almost midnight."
“What I know is all about only
Subramaniya Temple Marimuthu’s performance in Nayanam and Samithurai Annavi’s
concerts.”
“Have you heard of Marimuthu
Pillai acknowledging while listening to Rajarathnam’s gramophones that the
latter is essentially a little precocious, though very young-aged?”
Thangaiya looked up at the
ceiling and laughed his heart out and then asked, “Is Thillaimuthu writing you
letters? Had I known that he was in Taiping, I would have paid a visit to meet
him. Why had he gone there?”
“Both his elder brother and
younger brother are settled there, and he might have moved as he had got a good
job there. I received a letter only once from him after that. That’s it.”
“What is his elder brother
doing there?”
“He is a senior clerk in the
Mathewson estate. Very influential fellow.
“Thangaiya, I am planning to
leave Medan.”
“For your home? When?”
“No. Going to the jungle. I am
going to one of the camps of the Indonesian Independence Army."
“Have you gone mad or become
something else?”
“I have made up my mind to
live a life in the jungle from tomorrow. A guerrilla force is getting ready in
Dumas Forest areas. If we get an opportunity, we can show the Dutch army who we
are.”
“You have gone mad for sure.
No doubt. What will your army do with the broken guns? Your help in arranging
weapons by smuggling and getting them trained in warfare is just enough. Now
pack yourself up for your home. Or just keep quiet, minding your business.”
“You better wait and see what
Dumas forces are going to unleash.”
“Please have a thought about
the strength of the Dutch forces. How many aircraft, tanks, and cannons are
under their possession! You know it.
“Courage is all about winning
over someone stronger than us. Right?”
“Listen to me. It doesn’t
matter to us whether this country is ruled by the Dutch or Indonesians. Why
should we invite unnecessary troubles?”
“Unnecessary troubles and
useful troubles are one and the same. Mignali conquered
Punal Nadu. The people of that country seek the help from Aye Eyinan. What did
he do? He gave them succour and sped to the battlefield, yelling, ‘Fear no
more.’
“It is alright. What happened
to that ever-happy king of kings, Aye Eyinan, for risking his life on the
battlefield shouting, ‘Fear no more? He was lying on the top of Parambu Hills
under the scorching sun for days, keeping the remnants of his breath, and died
finally.”
“But it is a martyrdom. A
death with indelible fame” Pandian’s right hand rose above and said, “Death is
inevitable through the ages. One who lives today will die tomorrow. But there
will be no end to what is called glory? Right? As long as the Sangam literature
thrives, his glorious name will never be erased.”
They drank coffee and lit
cigarettes.
“Pandi” Thangaiya cleared his
throat and resumed his coaxing, “I am not going to ask you to change your mind.
But I have one thing I must say. I just hate falling into the trap of these
illusionary, fancy ideals called independence, equality, and brotherhood and
thus inviting unnecessary troubles.”
“Fancy ideals! They are a
beautiful structure anyway. Without fantasy, there is no life. No more ideals.
No more society. If there is no fantasy called chastity, will there be a
structure called family? Will there be an ideal family without this fantasy?”
“Human society has to march on
the way based on true knowledge without fantasy, is what I am saying.”
“Good. Which is the path based
on true knowledge? No one can say it in definite terms. According to the level
of one’s knowledge, truths would be perceived differently. If everyone acts
upon his findings of truth, there will be chaotic destruction everywhere. To
prevent it to happen, a fantasy called singularity of society was set as a
boundary to one’s knowledge. A knowledge which aims to attain knowing things
cannot be termed as knowledge. Knowledge is something which could discern good
from bad. Nachinarkiniyan says ‘knowledge is to understand good things in good
and bad things in bad”
“Which is good? Which is bad?”
“Anything that has been
prescribed by the society as good and bad, having the common welfare of
everyone in mind.”
“So, just to ensure we
shouldn’t cross the boundary, humans should accept anything even if it doesn’t
fit in the frame of knowledge. Shouldn’t they?”
“The unfettered knowledge and
little knowledge are same. A knowledgeable man who doesn’t like to become a
fool must set a limit to his knowledge. It may have different names. For
Thiruvalluvar it was the path of morality. For Manikkavasagar, it was the path
of devotion. For Thayumanavar, it was the path of moral conduct. Ordinary
mortals like us, it is the moral codes prescribed by our ancient learned men”
“Don’t we have the right to
re-examine what is good and bad in what you have named ‘moral codes’ prescribed
by our ancestors?”
“Definitely you have. Why
don’t we murder? It is just to prevent others from killing us. Why shouldn’t we
tell lies? It is just to make others believe in us. Why shouldn’t we lust after
other women? It is just to make our women not to lust after others. But we
can’t explain some moral codes so easily as this.”
“Ohoo! If crabs are said to
have noses, we have to accept it because it is told by a learned man. So, even
if I don’t understand something, I have to accept it anyway. Right?”
“What else to do then? The
learned man is Tholkappiyan. The one who interprets is Perasiriyan. We are just
kindergarten kids in front of them. When we have doubts, it is convenient to
rely on the codes designed by the powerful men.”
“So, you mean to say we can
fall into the canal if it was dug by powerful men?”
“Yes… you either swim or die
in that canal with a powerful man who is ready to push us all into it. What
else would this herd of human beings expect of this life? Nothing more than a
canal dug by a powerful man to jump into. The question is not who that powerful
man is. Lord Buddha? Führer Hitler? Jesus Christ? Or Comrade Lenin? The basic
question is whether he is really an all-powerful man or not. Is he capable of
making others accept his terms? If the one dictating terms is really powerful,
people will then be ready to fall into any canal he shows them. That said, it
seems the rule of this world is that every man and woman must fall into such
canals invariably one day. But the nature of this herd is that it just leaves
the canals and the timing of them falling into it to the discretion of that
powerful man. Neither are we shown the celestial land of pleasure called heaven
nor the worldly land of pleasure called earth. No one had ever seen it. When
someone is confident enough to climb onto a podium to yell at everyone that he
is capable of showing the masses any one of those lands of pleasure, the
multitude of people would be ready to stand behind him, waiting, and follow
whatever he dictates.”
“Isn’t there any way to escape
from those tricksters who keep the masses under their spell, claiming
themselves redeemers and making them believe whatever they say?”
“No... It is impossible. Even
if you escape falling into a pond, you can’t escape falling into a bog. Now listen
to this announcement from one such redeemer:
“Triton—Wonderful Triton algae
nectar. Skin Kiss. Superb soap that gives you flawless skin. A rare,
magnificent combination of stuff. This is the only soap in the world that
contains Triton Algae nectar. It is Skin Kiss, the soap that offers you beauty
and delight together. About a hundred doctors in Harley Street, London, do
recommend this. About a thousand actresses in Hollywood are using Skin Kiss
soap for bathing. Skin Kiss. Read it from either side—from the right or left;
it remains Skin Kiss. Wonderful beauty soap that contains Triton algae nectar.
Here are the superlative words of appreciation falling out of the fruit-like
lips of the famous actress, the golden-skinned damsel Kumkum Lola, whose
measurements stand at a whopping 38”-24”-38.” Listen to her words:
“It is Skin Kiss soap that I
rely on for taking a bath three times a day to maintain my silky skin. How do
then the men find me out no matter where I go hiding? It is because of the
pleasant aroma of this Skin Kiss soap. Even if I am far away, why does everyone,
no matter younger or older, seek pleasure thinking of me? It is nothing but
Skin Kiss soap’s sweet dream. It gives you pleasure and happiness of kisses
both in and out whenever you rub it onto your skin. If you love to have skin
like mine and to feel the pleasure of kisses, buy Skin Kiss soap today itself.
Never miss a day without Skin Kiss soap while bathing. Now you have listened to
the Skin Kiss experiences of the cine actress Kumkum Lola. Now listen to what
the ‘Light of Dance’ Jiljil Bala says about Skin Kiss!”
“So, down with turmeric! Hail
Skin Kiss” Thangaiya’s right hand threw a punch on the table. His eyes
glittered. He said, “Your beautiful voice fits doing fantastic business.”
“May be due to my familiarity
with doing business in the market. It might be true that turmeric gives you
glowing skin while the Skin Kiss soap causes itching, drying out your skin like
a sun-dried hide meant for making sandals. Ordinary people, especially the
fools in the upper strata of society, like no good for their bodies; rather,
they like only those so-called novelties, very often praised by scientists who
are good at throwing attractive words with the backing of some
pseudo-scientific proofs. They like novelty, novelty, novelty, and nothing
else.
“This is the new model, the
pig-faced car, introduced this year. There were only four doors in the earlier
tiger-faced model. But the pig-faced model introduced this year has five doors.
Remember! It is five doors. This new facility, which is not available in any
other model, has been specially designed keeping your comforts in mind. Don’t
forget! It is five doors. Now here lies a freshly introduced, triangular,
colourful bear-faced wristwatch! This is the only watch available in this world
that shows today’s date and day along with yesterday’s date and day.”
“Stop…stop… I feel that I need
that watch now. Dumping some unwanted stuff on someone’s head is also a type of
social service anyway. The business will flourish. Won’t it?”
“Ah…a saint once wondered at
seeing a huge number of unwanted stuff being sold in the market street.”
“As long as dupes are around,
there will always be experts in duping people. Let us keep this herd of human
beings aside. My question is simple. Can’t man, with his six senses, lead a
noble life in a world of nature without these complicated fancy codes of
conduct?”
“In life in nature, man is
perfectly a guileless animal. It is only in this fake society that man becomes
an animal hiding himself with clothes. Sooner or later, the fantasy about
clothes came in; it was certain that fantasies about chastity, property, and
deities would also come in. If there is no fantasy, there will be no specific
character assigned to society.”
“Let us suppose there is no
fantasy about gods. Will there be any loss because of it?”
“How to control the monkey
called mind that swings on the rope of desire? How to attain mental peace?
Desire doesn’t have limits. Thayumanavar sings like this: “Desire knows no
bounds. Even if they rule over the entire world, they would still like to sway
their power over the ocean. Those who are richer than the gods still like to
learn alchemy to turn everything into gold. Those who enjoy fame that would
stand forever shall still like to have the nectar of immortality."
“Fulfillment of one’s desire
is not dependent on one’s ability and eligibility alone. It is why the fantasy
about God had stipulated a limit to the vanity about human talent and efforts.
It is a boundary set to limit the limitless space of the mind.”
“We don’t have time to discuss
and sort out the issues of these divine fantasies. We can do it some other day.
I would like to know what had actually prompted my friend to fall on Ayi Eyinan
and Parambu Hills."
“The fantasy which has charmed
our Sinna Mangalam Pandian is nothing but a noble character to help the less
powerful who fight against more powerful enemies. It is a sweet fantasy which
fictionally talks about ideals like masculinity that help to cut open the yokes
of slavery. No in-depth research to dig out the facts of whether Eyinan and
Mignali had any conflict on women and land is required now.”
Thangaiya picked up the
cigarette box lying on the table as he laughed at it.
“It’s alright. What is the use
of coaxing a man who still fantasizes about knowledge, morality, seeking of
truth, and sins?”
“Thangaiya, there is no
greater stupidity than indulging in discussion that has no end. There is no
limit to it. Confusions would result in destruction. What is the truth behind
man-woman relationships? What was the basis on which the exemptions we find today
were made? Pharaohs of Egypt married their own blood-related sisters and
daughters to get children. Cleopatra’s husband was her own brother, arranged by
her father himself.”
“The social customs and
traditions would take different shapes according to the needs of society.”
“Yes. You are right. But if
the moral codes take such different shapes, there will be chaos, unbridled
chaos. So did come the standardization of moral codes.”
“Ohoo… It just means that
there are some codes of morality for the sake of society’s good. It means they
are just fantasies. To be very precise, they are just plain lies. Right?”
“Both are acceptable to me
anyway, be it a fantasy and lies. What we mean by it does assume significance.
If we don’t have a strong belief in something, we will lose our grip on life.
As you grow older with your faculty of discernment getting stronger, you are
more prone to developing dislike for your relationships, belongings, skills,
and accomplishments. Which is a permanent relationship? Which is our belonging?
Is there anything called undying talent? Or accomplishments? Nothing... nothing
is everlasting. So, there are a lot of beliefs to attain permanence in an
impermanent life.”
“Fake fantasies”
“I am not worried about how
you call it. Why do you believe that the earth rotates on an axis and revolves
around the sun? Did you see it? Or just believe what others had said? It is
just a truth based on a belief that occurred in someone’s mind that first
appeared as a fantasy. Do you have any idea about the equipment and the
calculations it made in order to arrive at the finding that light travels
186,000 miles per second? Both equipment and calculations were made of
measurements assessed in one’s imagination. Weren’t they? Listen to this verse.
I saw a peacock dancing in the
sky.
The peacock became a cuckoo.
The peacock became a cuckoo.”
It is just a plain imagination
that occurred in one’s mind. But isn’t it a better scene in every sense than
the ones in the plays of schemes enacted by liars and the iron dolls dancing in
puppet shows?”
“So?”
“We can’t differentiate
fantasy from truth.”
“Will of God and notions of
rebirth are plain ideas based on imaginations. You, I, the Atlantic Ocean, and
the Australian continent are conclusive truths from knowledge”.
“Ohoo… There is a guy from
Patha here. He has neither known anything about Madurai nor seen it. What is
Madurai to him now? Is it a truth or just a lie?”
“The existence of Madurai
doesn’t depend on the guy from Patha. He can very well ask people to know about
it or can go to Madurai in person if he prefers to know about it.”
“O.K. What about a person who
doesn’t know about Mount Everest?”
“Everyone can’t scale Mount
Everest to know about it. He has to believe in others’ words saying they have
seen it.”
“What about the planet Mars?”
“There is no way other than
believing in what those scientists sitting on earth say, probably with their
guesswork.”
“So, there are different ways
to understand different things. Right? Judging something as not existing if you
don’t know about it and passing it off as a lie if you don’t understand it are
fundamentally wrong. Right?”
“You try to get me confused
with your flair for argument. You try to make a point that the path of
knowledge is wrong. Don’t you?”
“No. I mean the knowledge
which is not controlled will kill mankind one day. Like a whore who would offer
either truncated or generous service according to the amount she gets,
knowledge would also adjust the human whims and expectations. The path of knowledge
has always helped to prove right the decisions sprouted from the seeds of one’s
desires. The path of knowledge which had once helped prove the mental
inferences of powerful people that the earth is flat, spherical, and elliptical
will remain prepared in future as well to prove any other contrary notions
about the earth being box shaped propounded intrepidly by any powerful person.
As long as the decision makers and the ones proving it right are the same, and
tools for proving it are made by those who prove it right, it gets easier to
prove anything.”
“You are just distorting the
path of knowledge. Ok. Leave it for now. Why do you poke your nose into the
conflict between Dutch and Indonesians?”
“We, the descendants of Ayi
Eyinan, hold a moral stand to help the wars fought against tyranny, no matter
where it is. Don’t we?”
“So, you are going to fight
the tyranny of the Dutch so as to bring in sovereignty for Indonesians. Right?”
“Truly speaking, it is my
personal choice. Of late, I have grown bored. I will have some peace of mind if
I could change my place and work for some time.”
“I don’t appreciate your
decision. Do revisit your decision again and decide.”
“I will let you know. May I
take leave now?”
“O.K. Come back soon, fully contented.”
Chapter 37: Gangsar
It was a Sunday evening. The
subdued lights of gas lamps, which used to be seen before the war, had shrouded
the city of Gangsar. The shops were found closed on Derbutan Street. Only the
Chinese streets and houses had their lights on, which one could see through
their windows. The bioscope playhouse on the westernmost corner stood illumined
with garlands of lights. Military jeeps and trucks were parked in the front in
rows. The youth—with their hands in their pant pockets, mouths wide open, and
eyes not batting their lids—were devouring “the fully endowed bosom” of an
actress hanging in the front wall.
In the east, there was a
police post in the Tri-Junction. The soldiers—three white men and two
locals—were sitting on iron chairs, smoking cigarettes. Some Indonesian youths
were chit-chatting with them. Those who were walking on the road took a
diversion at the tri-junction.
The Dutch troops were crowding
as usual at Bonhome Restaurant, standing in the middle of Van Leben Straat.
Piano music on the radio was wafting through the air. The clatter of
cutlery—plates, spoons, and cups—was mildly noisy as they hit the glass surface
of the tables. The Krammer Park was just opposite, and there were the school
arches under darkness on either side. Motor vehicles were standing along the
streets, and the drivers were found chatting with the passersby, smoking
tobacco.
The news bulletin telecast at
half past seven was nearing its announcement. The radio in Bonhome Restaurant
clearly indicated the time passing fast. “Pippip
Piptisisde Niromsh Patha…” The light went out suddenly, hand bombs
exploded, and the gunshots shook the surroundings. The miserable howling of
people running helter-skelter towards safer places filled in the streets.
Helpless yells from every corner of the streets, “Appi…appi…appi…” The gunshots
didn’t stop while the goading voices of the Dutch pressing emergency pervaded,
“Hot bar dum daya… hot bar dum
daye…”
The parked vehicles
disappeared, sped away in no time. The policemen sitting at the police posts
fell prey to the starving handbombs and Greek knives. The soldiers walking on
the streets fell on the ground. Houses, telegrams, and telephone exchanges were
blown up. The military men who were playing ‘pole’ games in their camps waiting
for the announcement from the radio were killed in the rain of bullets; within
seconds, the lights were out.
The Dutch military vans sped
away south, carrying the military equipment. The soldiers of the First Division
of the North Sumatra Guerilla Regiment were travelling in it!
The Gangsar attack shook every
nerve of the Dutch army. Who
attacked? How and when did they assemble and execute this attack? Who was the
mastermind behind this attack?
The Chief of Military
Intelligence, Dikurs, went to Gangsar, consulted all the Security Services
officials, and tried to infer from the available information. They could arrive
at one thing: the militants who attacked were well trained and belonged to a disciplined
striking force. What about the chief? He must either be a Japanese army officer
or a European military officer, they thought. But Major Dilton wasn’t convinced
with that; he had some other inferences in mind. ‘The one who led this attack is a Tamil man. A Moski Straat
clerk. How come he could lead this armed outfit? He had been trained in the
Indian National Army. Ha...ha...ha... Indian Nazi... Indian Nazi...” Dilton’s
voice was subdued in the fervent laughter that was throwing slurs.
The news of success by the
first division of guerilla forces spread to every corner of North Sumatra,
spread further everywhere, and resonated in every corner of Indonesia. This was
the first time when the Indonesian Republican Army personnel waged an attack
successfully on a big city that housed the Dutch army bases and caused huge
damage.
Who’s this man heading the
first division of North Sumatra guerilla forces? Is he the Muslim officer who
left the British army and joined the Forces of Independence? Or is he the one
who is the son of a poor Tamil labourer nipping tea leaves in Mabar Tea estate?
Pandian’s name and frame had
assumed different proportions in public fantasy. He was termed Raja Uttang—the
king of forests. He would fly
sitting astride on a white horse with an alloy armour on his body and a long
sword in his hands. Blessed soul by the Gods. Bullets would never pierce his
body. He is Raja Uttang. Hail him.
The North Sumatra Guerilla
force decimated the airport at Lampong City ten days after their campaign at
Gangsar. Three aircraft parked on the tarmac were blown into pieces. The oil
tanks were completely set ablaze.
This sudden lightning attack
had left the Dutch army terribly confused. Lampong city didn’t have much of
sympathizers for the Republican army. It was earlier guessed that the army of
Raja Uttang had stationed at the Medan-Gangsar areas. Would they be able to
penetrate a maiden forest in which even animals wouldn’t dare to roam and walk
a distance of thirty miles to launch an attack of this scale? Or are there two
similar striking forces under the command of Raja Uttang?’
Following the attack at
Lampong, was there an armed conflict at Sungai Limbian. A message came from
Medan that a column of the Dutch Motor Army had been scheduled to move to
Pilakang Mathi. Pandian’s forces were waiting in ambush to attack them. The
Dutch forces were going past Thithikichi. On either side was there an
impregnable, dense forest area. They were marching through the ruined sisal
groves lying in patches here and there. Sungai Limbian was approaching near.
The vehicles stopped abruptly,
creaking, crashing against one another. Some big branches of trees fell down on
the road, obstructing their path.
Bombs exploded, and tyres were
burst out. Shortly before they could recover from the shock of the attack, much
of the damage had already been done. The motor columns were unable to march
ahead, hiding behind trees but visible to the guerilla forces and facing
imminent dangers. The patrolling aircraft did some random circled sorties above
and dropped bombs indiscriminately without targeting anyone. But the guerilla
forces, by then, moved afar from the conflict zone long before the bombs were
dropped.
The ferocious campaigns of the
North Sumatra Guerilla forces did continue, spreading everywhere. The air force
bases were blown up, bridges were destroyed, railway tracks were damaged, and
go-downs were reduced to ashes in fire.
***
Chapter
38: Life in the jungle
Pandian was sitting on a chair
under a teak tree. The silvery stars in the sky gleamed and smiled. The waxing
crescent was throwing its cool light. The foliage around shone in golden green.
The fragrance of jasmine flowers was wafting in the air. Sweeter
fragrance…pleasant wind…pleasing moonlight.
The thought of his village
came over his mind and proved it depressingly heavy. My village… Sinna
Mangalam…Madurai…Sinna Mangalam…Madurai… I have to go back to my place. No more
guns... no more jungles... no more hiding... Life in the jungle is meant only
for animals and barbarians. I need my friends, women, books, and pleasing
scenes on streets.
The roars from the sea of
trees surrounding him so closely, oppressively, rose up a music of forest in
the air. ‘I can’t live in the
jungle anymore. It is not for me. I am a social animal. It is wrong to live
alone, having differences with loved ones. It is good to have a peaceful and
beautiful life with our people.’
He rose, ran his fingers
through his hair. ‘Enough of
this jungle life, living like a beggar. I must go back home without any more
delay. My trials in seeking pleasures and facing life with uncertainty are too
much for this young age. I have defiled my body with bad habits but am still
able to retain my mind as pure. My mental purity would bring me back the purity
of my body, which I had lost. The body is the basis of a healthy life. If the
body gets defiled, the mind would also get spoilt. I would like to lead a life
of peace. What I need is a life with good conduct. Without good conduct, there
will be no prosperity in life. Right conduct exalts one; it should be prized
above one’s life.’
***
Chapter 39: Medal
It was an evening. Drizzle was
breaking through the golden rays of the sun. Pandian turned back hearing the
footsteps. Three men—Kasim, the chief of the North Sumatra freedom fighters;
Colonel Lubis, the liaison officer of the Republican army; and his assistant,
Simbolon—entered the room.
After the initial
pleasantries, they all sat around the table. The attendant brought them tea.
Colonel Lubis slid his hand into his pant pocket and took out the “Abdullah”
vial. “It is my humble gift to Raja Uttang. We seized it from a Dutch major
last week”, he said.
“Thank you, Colonel, sir.”
He received the vial, screwed
it open, took out some cigarettes, and gave them to everyone. Lubis adjusted
his shirt with his left hand as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, holding
it between his right hand fingers.
“Major, the Republican Army
carefully examined your request.” Clenching the cigarette between his lips, he
adjusted his shirt with both hands. “We understand it is extremely difficult to
stay in the jungle for long. Would you appreciate our suggestion that you could
spend some time on vacation either in Shibolka or Limpong?”
“I must go home now.”
“Is there any possibility to
revisit your decision?”
“I am sorry.”
A deep silence followed it for
seconds.
Captain Simbolon poured out
tea into cups from the jug. All drank it.
“If then, it is alright.”
Lubis kept the cup on the table and said, “Both the government of Indonesia and
its people are well aware of the unparalleled service you rendered. I have come
here to honour you with the topmost gallantry award of the Republic on behalf
of the supreme army commander.”
“Thank you so much, colonel.”
A silence followed once again
in the room. They puffed on cigarettes in silence. The sunlight was growing dim
outside the window.
“Major, you may be aware of
the siege of the Dutch Navy. You have to go to Malaya first while going home.
Right? What is your plan to go to Malaya?”
“By some boat”
“It would be difficult to
cross the sea. The Dutch would have gathered information about you by now.”
“I believe I can make some
arrangements with the help of my friends in Medan.”
“I can make an arrangement to
take the route to the Philippines through Java if you want. But it will delay
your journey. We can’t do anything immediately about it now.”
“I believe I can cross the sea
from here.”
“Let it be your decision. I
have one more thing to discuss. You must have a lot of friends in Malaya. Will
you be able to arrange sending the cargo from here by hoodwinking the Dutch
navy’s siege?”
“I can do something about it
only after going there.”
“Inje Ahamed Bin Rahman, the
Republic’s representative in Penang, has the power to discuss this matter and
take a favourable decision. I’ll send him a letter.”
“Wherever I disembark in
Malaya, I would definitely go to Penang and pay him a visit for sure.”
Colonel Lubis rose from his
chair; others too followed him.
The next morning, there was a
parade of the First Division of the North Sumatra Guerrilla Strike Force.
Colonel Lubis decked Major Pandian’s shirt with the supreme gallantry medal for
his valour and gave a speech on him.
**
Pandian sent a message to
Muthu, alias Kampong Dara Mukhtar.
The reply came back negative.
“Not possible.”
Another message went to
Kampong Dara again. “This assistance should be extended by any means possible.
For money, you can meet Jalan Kuda Haji Ruslan Ali.”
A reply came from Mukhtar.
“After Monday, but before Wednesday, go to Alamelu’s house situated at the
western corner and send me a message from there. Do not enter Medan city at
night. A stringent curfew is in place. Don’t enter during the daytime too, as
there wouldn’t be a crowd around. Evening 5-7 will be the correct time. Do
follow the instructions from Alamelu. Market Straat Moping master has agreed to
arrange a ‘bird ride.’
***
Chapter
40: Kerk Straat
The yellow lights from the gas
lamps were glowing in the Hakka Straat. Vehicles were busy moving in both
directions on the road. Pandian was walking west along the left edge of the
road. He was wearing a blue shirt tucked into a greenish-brown lungi. On the
top, a khaki overcoat. A pair of slip-on shoes on feet. Jumadi and Iskant, in
Malay costume, were walking behind him at a distance on both sides of the road.
Rashid and Kartaviro were following these two men the way they were walking
behind Pandian.
A Dutch lieutenant standing
close to a jeep near Roxy Bioscope threw a frowning stare at him. Wearing a
rustic look of labourers working in tea estates, Pandian was busy walking
steadily with his mouth wide open and eyes squinting. His left hand rose to the
back of his neck at intervals and scratched it often.
He went past the railway
track. Kerk Straat. Dermulan Restaurant. Crowding army men. Rows of vehicles.
He walked along the walls of Mother Mary Church. Cars were speeding away. Men
were on the move. Occasional appearance of weapon-wielding soldiers. Tree
branches rustled. A glaring light on the top of the Davros bungalow.
“Stop.”
A Dutch corporal yelled at
him, parking his motorbike near the pedestrian path. His right hand brandished
a pistol while his left hand grasped his waist belt. Pandian stopped. Four
Dutch soldiers were coming opposite, chit-chatting. Pandian looked into the
eyes of the soldier who stopped him. Eyes brimming with suspicion!
Pandian raised his hands
skyward. The chit-chat soldiers went past them as if nothing happened. With his
intimidated look, Pandian looked through Corporal’s eyes. “Is he sure about my
identity? Or just a suspicion? Let me try something to get rid of him,"
Pandian thought.
“Sir… sir… Saya Kling... Sir… Saya didamilayu...
sir.
He was pleading with an
innocent face, not of a Malay but of a Tamil. His squinting eyes were watching
the Dutch corporal sharply.
The passersby slowed down
their paces and watched them standing at a distance.
“Tathang sam saya”
The corporal bellowed, asking
Pandian to come with him.
“Sir… Saya kling... Sir... Saya didamilayu...
sir.
His hands raised above the skyward signalled
something with a mild shake. A booming sound—the sound of a bullet from behind.
The Dutch man tried batting his eyelids. Pandian, with his raised hand,
delivered a hard punch in lightning speed and ran for his life in a second.
Bullets were showered that went past brushing his elbows. Pistols spewing
out…tum…tum…tum…
Holding a pistol in one hand,
Pandian jumped off and ran crisscross. Bodies fell dead. The soldiers appearing
from nowhere ran after him, followed him, and tried to shoot him down.
“Shoot him… Shoot him…”
The Dutch voices shrieked
aloud.
The four men who accompanied
him ran separately, fell onto the ground, and were delivering the bullets. The
passers-by took to their feet and ran helter-skelter. Some of them fell flat on
the ground and closed their ears.
A military warning bell went
off and was continuously giving out a shrill howl. Pandian jumped on his side,
shot back at the person chasing him behind, and ran again crisscross. ‘If I could manage reaching Davros
Bungalow, retaliatory fire will be easy as there will be mammoth pillars to
take cover behind,’ he thought.
A jeep coming from Kesawan
stopped there abruptly. The soldier jumped out of the jeep, aligned his Tommy
machine gun, slung it over his shoulder at his waist level, and let loose a
burst of fire from its nozzle...trrrrrrrr...trrrrrr.
Pandian fell on the ground in
the four-junction, hit by bullets. The rain of rounds again... Storm, flood,
earthquake, darkness, darkness, darkness, blood gushing out like a flood from
hands, legs, waist, chest… again pumping of a burst of fire into him.
Dilton, holding a Tommy gun in
his left hand, came running to Pandian, bent down, and examined who it
was.
“Heavens! Pandaiyaan! Raja
Uttang!”
The soldiers standing around
him looked astonished; their mouths uttered ‘Raja Uttang’ in a cataleptic
reflex.
“Raja Uttang! Raja Uttanag!
Raja Uttang!”
Dilton, straightening his
body, delivered instructions in sequence.
“Siberling! Get the road
blocked. Balstra! Disperse the crowd at Dermulan. Bring him a stretcher
immediately. Nielson, call the ambulance."
He unbuttoned Pandian’s shirt.
Blood…blood…blood all over his body and the floor. They lifted him, holding
each other’s hands under his body, joined the tables together, laid him on
bedspreads, and administered first aid.
“Pandaiyaan...
Pandaiyaan.”
Dilton was standing near the
cot on which Pandian was laid, watching him.
His body moved a little. ‘Kerkstraat, Mother Mary Church,
Corporal, bomb sound, sounds of chatters, and Dilton’s voice’
““Pandaiyaan...
Pandaiyaan.”
Pandian opened his eyes,
squinted at the glare, and batted twitchily. Words came out as if they were
from the netherworld.
“Good evening, Major.”
“Good evening, Raja
Uttang.”
He extended his hand to a
tumbler on the table near the wall.
“Please drink it. You are out
of danger. The doctor is on the way. Doctor Hewber”
Putting his hand under the
pillow, Dilton lifted Pandian’s head and held out the tumbler near his mouth.
The water, like fire, went through his throat, made his body burn with fire,
and offered him strength.
“What happened to my men?”
“Don’t know. A total of six
men.
“Will I live for some more
time?”
“No… No… You are absolutely
out of danger. Strong body. Sound mind. A very talented doctor is on the way.
Miracle medicines are available. Some sutures. Some days on bed rest. Then we
meet again, old Pandaiyaan."
“Hopeless”
“Nothing is hopeless. It is
the truth. What an unfortunate meeting it is anyway!”
“Whatever, we did meet
anyway.”
“It is the destiny of humans
to meet and then part away.”
“Parting is the result of
meeting. My eyes glare. What building is this?”
“Dermulan restaurant”
He switched off the light in
the front and came back.
“How long was it after the
shootout?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“How did he identify me?”
“I have given some of my men
your photograph.”
“Which one?”
“Binling Studio in Singapore”
“Oh! That photo with three
men?”
“It’s our plan to get all of
you arrested and deported to India by ship. This shootout, a totally
unexpected, unwarranted side effect.
“Oh!”
“A British consul, my father’s
friend, had promised me assistance.”
“That old Mallison?”
“Yes. He is obdurate in
safeguarding the welfare of British citizens."
“Yes! I know.
“Have some rest. The doctor
will reach shortly. I’ll be back in minutes after making a telephone call.
Dilton paced fast to the adjacent room.
Breath getting choked up.
Suffocating. Lumps in the chest and throat, falling deeper in nadir, an empty
space, a space of nothingness, injuries, blood, a space of emptiness, Penang,
Rajula, Nagapattinam, Madurai, Sinna Mangalam, neem oil in the market, wooden-wheeled
pushcarts creaking sounds, a man-sized bag full of tobacco, cajoling
pleasantries to avail it as soon as possible before it getting empty, open
ground in front of the Amman Temple, milky moonlight, games of Kabadi with
rustic songs of challenging others, Madurai Imperial Cinema theatre, South Veli
street, traders’ houses, Manjanakara Street, Kuyavar Palayam, Lane Number one,
“Have a look here”—endearing words in Malayalam. Medan city, Moski Straat,
Bilithone Straat, Ayesha, her golden ivory-like body, her sweet words, “Saya pongja sintha saya poogja raja,”
wars, plunders, five heads, Arnemia River, Rolls Royce lawyer Dilton, wooden
ship, Storm, Penang, Manikkam, Nanyang Hotel, Nee Soon Camp, Kota Baling,
Jarang Camp, Palavesamuthu, Rakbirlal, jails, Kalik Usman, Vilasini, Yamasaki,
Netaji, ‘You did your duty perfectly.’ Penang Natarajan, Sooliya Street,
Sundaram, “Anna, please spare me.” Bangkok, Kathiresan, Prophets, Medan Ayesha,
Thangaiya, jungles, battles, Gangsar, my home, my home, my home, medal, Kerk
Straat, bombs, Major Dilton, “Ah, what an unfortunate meeting.” Now on bed
asphyxiating in chest and throat, it’s me, grass, tree, bird, animal, land,
water, fire, air, sky; I am everything in this universe. Yessss, it is
me…everything…”
“Pandaiyaan... Pandaiyaan.”
Dilton came running, checked his pulse, and felt Pandian’s body become chilled,
almost frozen. He pulled the shroud and covered his body.
The ambulance arrived in,
stopped at the doorway, creaking.
Major Yohan Dilton’s mouth
whispered, “You, a fearless man! You, the courageous! Sleep now, sleep
now.”
***Ended***
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