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| Pa. Singaram |
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 towards 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 estuary first turned green, then bluish and then
finally carried a hue that appeared somewhat dark-blue partly due to mixed hue of blue and black; Incessantly moving water formed robust curls of
waves only to come back again to hit the sides of the ship with roar….
It is
Thursday. Isn’t it? 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 entrance arch
of the market 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 kept slant with a Petromax lamp in front
of them, raise their hands holding the opened bottles of lemonade and drink it.
On the right, are found the shops lined up towards north where traders are busy
selling leaves and tubers. On both sides of the road that runs in front of market’s
entrance, are found 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 these 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
scheduled next day.
“Come on lad…come on…missing this chance will cost you dear…if the 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 make shift shops made of mud, lighted by tiny clay lamps, laying in a row just opposite to mortared buildings on the right.
Some boys wearing shabby dirty towels, sitting on the ground with their legs folded with tobacco wastes grouped in handful of heaps in the front on some pieces of jute cloths, were busy announcing its prices aloud.
“Come on lad…come on…missing this chance will cost you dear…if the day is gone, it will be gone forever…Original Darapuram tobacco…one heap is three fourth of a paise…just a three fourth of a paise for one handful….come on lads…come on….”
The children of Sinna Mangalam Market traders are learning business and try to earn money on their own by selling tobacco wastes 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 cost you dear…if the day is gone, it will be gone forever….come on guys….come on…”
“Look here…the beauty of 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 fourth of a paise…”Pandian, with his Aruppokkottai dingy towel tied on his waist and round shaped tuft on head rose from his place and pleaded him.
“See here
boy…don’t go that pricy…come down a bit”
Konar bent
a little and 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 price…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 his waist knot of his dhoti, nonchalantly, took out quarter of an Ana
and two penny 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
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..I
won’t be losing anything if not I get a penny more. Will I? Mmm…collect it”
Pandian collected all tobacco handfuls together and put them onto
Kirunkkankottai Chettiar’s towel 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 tied
the tobacco into one bundle with his towel and walked towards the gate.
“I have
sold everything...ah…ah…ah”
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.
“Dei…don’t
you know who first sold everything in the last market” Dammanna burst out and
then resumed his enticements in high pitch. “Come on lad…come on…missing this chance
will cost you dear…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 the market with a dark wooden box carved with brass flowers holding it in his left hand. Uthirpatti Ravuthars who run their meat shops in the north east corner of the market pack the remaining meat pieces in banana leaf, roll it with a cloth and hang it on their left shoulder 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 torch light 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 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, swinging his right
hand drawing circles in air while holding the rug under his arm pit. “Boom….Boom….boom...-
sooner did he reach the entrance of the market, did fall out a song from him.
“On
the river bridge
Abdul
Kader’s motor cycle
Flies
like wind- my dear
Flies like wind”
He turned towards east. On the left, were found street shops selling saris along the market building. Busy sale under lantern light - saris with caltrop designs, papaya’s colour, colours designed with needles, Salem ‘kundanji’ 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 were there 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, pawn shop run by Kanadara Manikkam Chettiar, a coffee club shop of Palakkad Iyer, Vazhavanthan shop that sold roasted Bengal gram, and a shop selling nine types of grains run by Karunkalakudiyar where ‘Bear’ Soonaa Paanaa was found leaning casually on his seat in cash 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?
If
measured by Ulagappan’s padi, it is nine and a half…
How
much does a padi of green gram Maanan?
If measured by Palaniyappan’s padi, it is eleven…”
After
passing Chellaiya’s shop, was there an idli shop run by a Tirunelveli
Saivaite woman. Both elder and younger sisters in white clad with vibhoothi
on forehead and Tulsi necklace 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…Marukolunthu, Jasmine, tail grape….”
He slackened his speed, turned his head and walked perusing the tables where sugar
sticks were kept.
“Dei…are you absent minded?”
the oil shop owner Nagamaiya Chettiar admonished him.
“No…I am
alright” Pandian retorted.
“Mind the
traffic boy. Be careful while walking”
Without
looking him back, 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 left and the road that
ran into the village on right were crowded. There were shops in rows on both
sides of temple street. On north, were there 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.
The north
facing shop of car agent Naavanna Paanaa is on the road running towards east.
Drivers with cropped hair and tongue like collared shirts are standing
in front of it. “Dollar’ Rajamani Iyer, ‘Sudden Brake’ Kondalsamy Naidu, ‘Tube’
Bhavani Singh are all standing, chewing betal 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 Appayi Chettiar snacks
stall, located adjacent to Selva Vinayagar Temple. Masala beans and Spicy
balls- famous in that area are sold against their enduring demands.
“Give me
masala beans for three quarters of paise” Pandian entered the crowd, pushed
others behind and extended his coin to the shop keeper. Chettiar gives him some
beans on a stitched parrot tree leaves, neatly tied with dried banana fibre.
Pandian comes out of the crowd, opened the packet and starts eating the beans
as he walks southwards.
…….
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 snacks stall…tamarind Vada sold
by Rajali paatti. One could sit comfortably on the dusty street and eat pittu
bought from Santhaipettai Periyayi and Paniyaaram bought from Valliyakka
staying at the edge of pond. Those days were gone…gone for ever. It was the age
of innocence, knowing no art of hiding anything’
…..
The waves
were relentlessly hitting the sides of that wooden ship, rose, fell, sprinkled
in drops.
….
The ground
in front of the Maraiyammam Temple in Sinna Mangalam Nadar Street was bathing
in the dim moon light. Young girls with their plaits looking like rat’s tail
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 Thali
With
my golden cane
I am coming…coming….coming for you”
The sound
of drums played in the Pallar Street lying beyond corn fields in the east was
floating in the air. Their mothers who came out of their houses one after the
other 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’ 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 cheered the players up. The
songs sung by the players echoed vibrantly.
“On
the steep mountains
There
were two elephants.
The
older one fell off unconscious
The
old elephant…old elephant….old elephant…”
A group of
mothers came running to pick 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 to his house. The sound of drum was still heard from the slum area in the east. On the west, the sound of boys playing “Kittippul” on the road was heard.…
Under the dark blue sea waters, 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-fully cleaned and cleansed with cow
dung water. They are carrying either baskets filled with paddy grains or pots
filled with water on their heads and waists while their children tailing them
with running noses, and some of them are sitting on verandas with their dirty
saris and untidy hair segregating paddy husk, measuring rice.
“Have the
cattle from the herd left, akka?”
“You
ignoramus lady! They have left long ago. The train to Madurai has already
arrived in?”
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 grass lands lying in the north across the river in the morning and return
home in the evening. The big watch tower clock in the Union Office building was
not trustworthy. One day it rang six in midday. It was the biggest funny
incident the entire village laughed at. Kaduvetti Servai, the bill collector
told that the clock had stopped working as it was not wound with the key.
Sevuka Moorthy Ambalam, the Union Chairman told that it was due to improper
oiling of machine. The women of Sinna Mangalam were not in mood to believe all
those petty excuses…
Since then,
the women passing by the Union office in the morning and evening while carrying
their pots filled 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 it was due to not feeding it with rice”
The women,
who are sun drying the boiled paddy grains spread across in rectangular shapes
under scorching sun on Nadarpettai streets and the road adjacent to Pettai passing
North-South through the village, are found crushing handfuls of paddy grains
between their palms to check its crispiness and putting them into their mouth
while simultaneously turning up the paddy, sun drying it with their feet as
their bodies moving 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…how much is the price
you are selling 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 temple pillar with the
book “Big Letter Desinku Rajan” on his lap and recite 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 throws 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 corn field. At the corner of Kannakkankundu in the north
east direction there are aloevera 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 would
be beaten. Semi arable ground nut field in the front, and a lonely high ground
just adjacent to it. Then comes stone trenches. Beyond it, woods where demons are
said to roam.- it is the place where the headless torsos roam, laughing wildly,
and the flesh eating ghosts perform their riotous dances in the midnight.
Vallimuthu is singing behind:
“Catching
a garden lizard
And
wear it a pair of stud 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 Nadar
community.
“I have
caught two dragon flies” Theriyappan jumps with joy.
“Dei…give
me one” more hands stretched to grab one from him.
Theriyappan
doesn’t turn his head. He 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….aiiii…aiiii”
the boys are yelling, and jumping with joy.
The
garden’s fence is shining under sun light. Six faced greenish cactus plants are
standing like pillars 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, scarlet gourd
creepers, little wild gourd, Intan, Thumbai plants that have shed their fruits
are found between those ‘pillars’. Inside the garden, lemon fruits, guava, 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.
Yes…the
troubles are great!
Due
to the husband who I married
Amidst
the sound of drum beats,
the
troubles I faced are great di…
the
troubles I faced are great di….”
“Dei….he is
there inside” they walk past. On the north of garden, there was a well equipped
with a ‘balance’ and a stone bed around it. Two persons are pumping out water
and filling it in stone water tubs. Many are bathing; some of them are washing
their dhoti on the stone built around it; some of them are rubbing their back
on the rough surface of thin man-sized tiles fixed on the wall; on this side of
the well, were there a tall rosary pea tree, golden oleander trees grown along
thorny ridges; unwilted jasmines, moonbeam plants, a Ganesh temple under the
shade of neem and peepal trees stand with their branches tangled. Three persons
in wet dhoti and vibhoothi smeared all over are performing ‘thoppukaranam’
in front of it. To the north of Ganesh temple, there was a school- all visible
through the fissures found in Kanakkankundu fence.
Along the
northern edge of pond, boys from Komutti street wearing jasmine flowers on
their plaits arrive in and take a turn toward 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 has been handed over along with its building due to some internal
conflicts. Eldest tutor Arumai Nayagam with his silver wired spectacles on his
nose and a thick cane in hands, is sitting at the entrance. The boys climb on
the steps, 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 have memorised in raga
taught by the pastor.
“The
father in the heaven is our good shepherd.
I
will never face disgrace
He
showers his grace upon me
On these green grasses.”
Once the
song is 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
the heaven. Please offer us 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 by a big blue colour car once in 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 speaking something else. My uncle has
told you can speak English only when you study B.A”
They
hastened their walk through market road for their lunch. The air blower in
Sankaran Asari’s iron workshop is in move and the flames rise high. Asari is
making axis of carts. Near to it buffalo owner Nayakkaramma’s house and a
Maratta Military Club and ‘fat’ Ravuthar’s hoof shoe fixing shed. Ravuthar is
fixing shoes on a bull’s hooves lying by the road with the ropes tied around
its body. The way to drinking water well; then comes ‘frontal tuft’ Malayali
Velayutam’s saw-godown; then the houses and Union office. Kaduvetti Servai, the
bill collector is standing in khaki uniform with a sandal vermillion on his
forehead and a bundle of documents held under his arm pit.
“Eppo”
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 gramaphone discs. ‘We
can leave after listening to one ‘disc’’. “Amaravathi unthanukku
azahgaana kalayanamaam” song is 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 betal leaves, is sitting in front of the shop and turns his
attention to the boys.
“Hei…students
studying in school have no business looking around here. Get out of this place”
The boys
run to their homes.
***End***
Note:
Chapter 13 “The Dance of the sea” will be published soon.
