 |
| Pa. Singaram |
Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.
·
Chapter 1: Kerk Straat
It was still dark in the morning. The street lights
were found turned out. The rain had just thinned down, drizzled and stopped. The
people of Medan City are standing on both sides of streets waiting for the
arrival of Japanese troops. The overpowering presence of Mandarin language subdues
the meek chatters of Malay and Bahasa languages spoken in the crowd.
That street, known as Kerk Straat, passed through
the town from the East to West. The
soldiers of Portugal and Britain had marched through this street from West to
East when this street was just boggy with mud and sludge along with
thickly grown “Neeppa”bushes1 on both sides, and before the
Dutch became dominant there. Before that, the Arabs who brought about the
tenets of Islam and rare things on ships and the Tamils who introduced the
principles of six faiths, and rare forms of arts by magnificent wooden ships
even before Arabs, had walked though this route towards East. Now, the people
are standing, assembled in large numbers to get a glance of the troops of the
Great Japan who are expected to arrive in from the East.
Pandian, who worked as a
senior clerk in the firm of Annamer2 Khader Mohideen was
coming from north side along the Kesawan Street. He was tall,
erect wearing a trouser in some unidentifiable colour and a white shirt. His
footsteps, uniformly stomped on ground, produce a patterned sound. A live
cigarette is emitting smoke in his mouth.
“Tholung laalu sikket”, he went past the book shop in
the corner of the tri-junction bidding people to pave him the way, took a turn
on left in the Kerk street and stood in front of Dermulan restaurant.
The light became brighter in
the East and drove away the darkness. Everything was clearly visible now. He
drew cigarette smoke deep in, blew it, walked towards the corner of the weekly
camp book stall and glanced through the shiny metal road that lay before him.
That broad road which was leading to Sultan’s palace had got some elevated
platforms built at intermittent distances in its middle. The trees standing on
those platforms were fanning their leaves in the morning breeze. On one corner,
was there Davros bungalow and on the other a cathedral of Mother Mary. Yonder,
large shops were located on both sides of the road- Thokkovan Toppol,
Cournier, Whiteaway, Altenburg, Bayers…
The sun light was now visible
spreading its rays across. The chirping of birds became dense in trees. The
mixed chatters and people brushing against each the other increased in the
crowd. Everyone stood there were craning their heads forward, and looking
towards eastern direction to greet the Japanese army which was on its way to
conquer Medan city.
The semi spherical, silky
marble tower of Davros Palace was shining in greenish yellow under sunlight.
The tops of trees that looked in bunches were decked in golden colour rays of
the sun. The chirpings of birds grew louder. Suddenly, a loud noise of reception
came from the eastern direction.
“Japan…sooda daathang! Japan
sooda daathang!”
Tumultuous uproar, clapping of
hands, boisterous noise. Three bicycles were coming in a row in the front.
Japanese soldiers in dirty cloths and shining Tommy guns were marching forward
with big bundles on their back. The creepers and plant leaves were found inserted
on their bodies and vehicles.
“Banzai…Banzai…Banzai”
The bicycles were coming in fours
in rows now. Dirty bodies which hadn’t taken bath for so long- Iron caps,
Water jugs, the shirt pockets stuffed with some unknown materials and bundles
that contained tools kept in the pillion.
They were driving bicycles in
a straight line, marching towards tarmac and Dutch building in Bolonia.
Pandian was standing there,
completely astounded. ‘They are the soldiers who had conquered Singapore.
Aren’t they? Is this the Japanese army which had tasted victory by invading
simultaneously in different directions on many places located thousands of miles
away from each other?’
Nearly hundred soldiers might
have crossed that street. The march of bicycles stopped on that smooth black
road after that. The uproar rose again from the eastern direction.
“Banzai…Banzai…Banzai…”
The bicycles had started rolling again on the road. Now the soldiers smiled at
the onlookers without parting their lips. Amidst their march some military
officers in olive green woollen uniform with unfriendly countenance riding motor
bikes emitting loud noise made a brief appearance and then disappeared.
The crowd dispersed. About ten
or fifteen onlookers entered Chukkamuliya Street and walked
towards the direction where the Japanese army was marching. Some men from the
crowd followed them. Then, many in large numbers started moving, half of them running
and half of them walking towards the western direction.
Pandian looked to North and
then South. The villagers were walking towards tri-junction in groups. A sort
of pride was radiating on their face, their walk with royal gait, and eyes looking
sharp as if expecting something.
He turned to North and walked
down in Kesawan. The shops were closed. Two Chinese men were
standing near a restaurant opened very recently, and were talking to each other
secretively. An old Chinese lady was whining under a Champak tree in the front
yard of Limpin Sheik bungalow situated on the right.
Some Chinese children were
playing in the front - poor guys! Without knowing anything about these
developments, they came running and shrieked.
“Banzai…jeep un maai”
On the left, were there Heppalaine bread
shop, Blank kens Chattered bank, and Ban Hin Lee. On the right were
there located textiles shops in a row run by Sindhis, Asomul, Mathaani, Kimat Rai
and Daulat ram.
“Hei Panthiyaan…Panthiyaan…”
he heard someone calling him from behind. He turned his head and saw Lim Theng,
the younger brother of Khyam Lim standing near the half opened door of the
latter’s bicycle shop.
“I’ll come there”
“Please come in for a
second”
He entered the shop.
“The villagers have planned
for a plunder”. Khyam’s voice was loaded with terror. He gave Pandian a packet
of cigarette and told, “The servant has just informed this a while ago”.
“It seems to be true” Pandian pulled
a cigarette from the box and lighted it. “They must be having their eyes on
this bicycle shop. Be careful.”
“Where is Annamer?”
“He has gone to meet the
village tax collector”- told Pandian.
“Chettiars?”
“They have also gone there.
They have the support of Bengalis”
“Why haven’t you gone there?”
“There must be someone here to
watch all these. Mustn’t it?”
“Food?”
“I can manage it somewhere”
“You are a Tamil. But I am a
Chinese with a family to look after”
“Nothing untoward will happen
in this street. Keep your women indoor. All these troubles will die down in one
day. Everything will be normal by tomorrow”
“Feeling positive is the only
way now”
“Yes…see you later,
friend”
“You can come to this shop any
time. Or else you can send someone.”
“Thanks”
He started walking. He could
hear Lim Theng shutting the shop door.
“Independence! Independence!
Independence!”
A group of people riding
bicycle appeared from the northern side of Thana Labbang. The crowd consisted
of teachers, students, clerks and other sundry. They were carrying “Independent
Indonesia” flags in different sizes and appearances. The flags seemed to have
been stitched in a hurry within very short time.
“Hail Indonesia! Down with
Holland! The cyclists entered Kesawan pouring out their wishes for long life to
Indonesia and death to Holland.
“Independence! Hail
Indonesia!” – Yasin, the clerk working in Municipality waved his flag at
Pandian on seeing him.
“Independence! Hail
Indonesia!”
Pandian raised his right hand,
and shouted back with his closed fist.- “Independence! Hail Indonesia!”
A tonga came from Grand Hotel
side.
“Down with Holland! Down with
China! Down with Chettiars!”- The tonga driver screamed as if tearing off his
throat pit.
Pandian turned his head.
“Ah…hello Sir…sir”
Sainuddin, the tonga driver
who used to visit pawn shops of Moski Straat unfailingly daily, bowed his head
and greeted him.
“Hello…Sainuddin”
“They are charged with frenzy.
Scoundrels…hi…hi…hi…” – the tonga driver pointed his whip to the direction of
Crossfield where the soldiers of ‘Independence’ Soldiers were marching, and
laughed eerily. A streak of smile spread across Pandian’s face. Sainuddin asked
Pandian to get into his tonga. Pandian thanked him and entered Hutton Bagh
Street.
“Hello
sir…welcome”
The watchman Siraj-ud-daula
Khan, smoking a ‘hookah’, sitting with his folded legs on a woven cot under
Harrison Crossfield building, greeted him.
“Hello Nawab Shahi”
That “Bengali Nawab” greeted
him again with his usual smile. The watchman’s mind was fully occupied with the
bliss of hookah smoke, utterly indifferent to the chaos that had been let loose
around him.
On the left, the Moski Straat-
Chettiar Street, was lying like an orphan. Both Kithada dental
hospital at Keezhpakkam and Matshu Vokka shop selling tennis rackets owned by
Japanese men were found locked with seals. There lay the carpenter shop of Dan
Lim, the widower old man living with his two grown up daughters. The shop door
was locked from inside. Beyond that, were there buildings that were housing pawn
shops, Venkadachalam’s Singapore salon, a betal leaves shop run by Vellaichami,
an erstwhile cook. The Market Straat ran across from east to west amidst these
entities. On the west, was there a lane floored with cement adjacent to Notary
office. Following that, pawn shop buildings were found in rows. The office of
the renovation work contractor Khader Mohideen was situated somewhere in the
middle. On this side of the Market Straat, were found Chin Lam coffee shop and
Mamundi Asari’s workshop.
He left the platform and
climbed onto the first floor that remained closed, unlocked. The sound of his
footsteps upset the tranquil of the street. The doors of buildings standing in
yellow and blue colours were found dusty and tightly closed. He went past the
office of the Annamer, reached the coffee shop and knocked its
door.
“Who’s that?”- A daunted voice
came from inside.
“Panthiyaan”
The wooden slippers approached
the doorstep. Chin Lam, who was fondly called as” Fat goose” by the people of
Moski Straat opened the door. The door was shut as Pandian went in.
“Coffee, Sir?”
“Yes…bring some coffee”
“The Fat Goose” brought coffee
in a porcelain cup along with Murad cigarette box and enquired about the
situation outside.
“Don’t be afraid. There is no
danger” he drank the coffee in one gulp, picked the cigarette box and walked
towards the door.
The thin sound of lullaby sung
by Fat Goose’s wife was heard from the back yard.
“laai…laai…laai…laaaa…aiiii!
Lav…lav…lav…laaa…aaaiiii”
Pandian reached office, opened
the door and locked it from inside. The very next minute he heard the door
being knocked violently. He opened it only to see Thangaiya, the clerk of Chartered
Bank and Thillaimuthu, the teacher working in Methodist School standing with
their bicycles.
“The chaos has just begun.
Come out to see it” Thangaiya called him.
“Please come in…give me five minutes.
Have a seat here.”
They leaned their bicycles
against the corner of the wall, went in and sat there.
In a quick move, Pandian
climbed the stairs very fast.
*****
Note :
1.
A type of palm tree.
Its leaves are used to make roof in substitute of coconut leaves.
2.
The contractor doing
renovations works.
Coming up next: Chapter 2 - “The Plunder”.
Note :
1. A type of palm tree. Its leaves are used to make roof in substitute of coconut leaves.
2. The contractor doing renovations works.
