Chapter
15: Merriment
…..
The bruises
of war in Penang city were being healed up and slowly disappearing. Wooden
ships with their sails were crowding in the harbour. The Tamil merchants who
brought the materials from different destinations met each other in the market
and discussed their business. The ones who met their friends unexpectedly
shared their past life gleefully forgetting the turmoil of their present.
Days became
weeks, and then months and it went on. The terror of war did wane slowly and
began disappearing. The people of Penang sprang in to merriment in full swing.
Near stampede in every fun house and movie halls. The hotels ran short of
accommodations. Currency notes in stacks were moving from one hand to another
in casinos.
One could
see without fail the pair of Pandian- Manikkam in Windsor Drama every day. It was the time when those movies that were released
before the war had been shown frequently in theatres. Actresses like
Vasunthara, Rajakumari and Vasantha were being critically assessed by youths in
the verandas of houses and amidst the smoky screens of theatres. The local
women, as the custom of their mother land demanded of them, would enter the
movie halls with their heads lowered.
Shortly
after the movie began, both of them would leave the hall and walk along the New
Beach. It had been long since the blue lamps erected there became
non-functional. The hotel in glass enclosure is found closed. Long gone were
the days when they would ogle golden hued women walking across with their
elegant swings while drinking coffee, sitting in the cane chairs placed in the
sea shore - garden illumined by the tranquil lights from the mixed beams of
various colourful auspicious lamps.
After the
stroll on beach, they would go to New World, known otherwise as Wembley Fun
house. It was the place of plays, circus, dance and other forms of merry
making. Other than these one could watch the near real scenes of floral
gardens, hunting scenes and regal appearances on thrones which were once
popular in the ancient plays enacted by Panjang Leela Vinotha Sabha and had almost
become obsolete in dramas in Tamil Nadu.
“Hei…Mantreee”
“Yes Majesty”
“Are we
getting rain thrice every month?”
“Yes.
Majesty”
“Do Brahmins
recite mantras as the Vedas demand of them?”
“Yes.
Majesty”
“Do women
live as per the tenets of chastity?”
Yes.
Majesty”
Very good.
Nice to hear it”
There was a
famous, very beautiful Chinese woman in Wembley Fun House. She could be seen
near nude every time. There was a hall always filled with old men stampeding to
have a glance of dancers who would display their body parts in dotting beams of
lights.
The Tamil
men used to go to Nanyang Hotel, a popular hotel among Tamils. It was a place
of flesh trade where one could witness a rare sight of Tamil men behaving true
to their self. Rich men, labourers, educated and good-for-nothing fellows – all
would be equally treating each other.
The
hotelier Panjang who had hard learnt the likes and dislikes of Tamils due to
his years- long association with the latter would be very busy catering to
their needs as per their requirements. He was an enviable expert in his field-
who would like what, young or old, thin or fat, goat or cow, and who among his
customers wouldn’t like to face whom- literally he knew everything.
His skills
in articulating “Come in Master…come in” along with his rolling eyes and folded
hands to get his customers fall into his hospitality did in fact run short of
apt words that could explain it. Panjang was such a talented fellow that he could
make someone completely new to Malay language understand all the necessary
fundamentals through his sign language.
One could
meet some eccentric and weird Tamil men living in Malaysia in that Nanyang
Hotel. Mr Night Bird-he would go to bed at six in the morning and get up at six
in the evening, brush his teeth, have breakfast and then start his daily
chores, and then Mr Double V who would try to fly by swaying his both hands
like wings after an ounce of ‘mood enhancer’ going down his throat, and then Mr
Alhaj who would prove with all documentary proof that Prophet Mohammed was
actually born in Kayalpattinam, and then comes Paanaa Zhaanaa who would come
with a big bag full of stalk-removed jasmine flowers to spread it on beds, and
then a rich man who found happiness in spending money in gambles for others,
and the Mr Kaanaa…who was said to have interest in appreciating himself with a
sari on in front of mirror…and many more like this.
Pandian went to another island1 to meet a
person from Chokkalingapuram and returned to Penang only next day morning. His
boat reached the bridge at nine. He alighted from the boat and was walking down
into China Street.
“Paavannaa…Paavannaa….”
He heard someone calling him from the Nagarathar Lodge
from the right. ‘Is it Navaanna?” He turned and looked. Navannaa was standing
on the steps.
“My greetings! I am surprised to have your sudden
appearance. When did you come?”
“I came yesterday. I enquired about you at Ravuthar’s
store. I was informed that you had gone to that island. Anything important? I
hope everything is well”
“All is fine. Have you brought any materials?”
“I found it difficult to while away my time there. I had
brought some items. You are going to settle down in Penang. Aren’t you?
“I am just here now. Nothing more”
“Please come in”
They went in.
Chettiars from different classes were found sitting
there, leaning against walls, jotting down the expenses incurred on small
pieces of paper and gossiping about war. Those who were with shaven heads and
“Narmadi ‘dhoti looked at him for a second along with Aiyakannu and turned
their face other side. Those who had their hairs finely ‘cropped’ and were
wearing bordered dhoti greeted him.
“Please come”
Naavannaa introduced Pandian to his friends.
“You must be aware of grocery shop owner Sivalinga
Nadar from Sinnamangalam. Aren’t you? He is his son. He was working in my
uncle’s shop in Medan for some time. Now he is working at another shop
elsewhere”
A fair complexioned man went near to him.
“Your father was very close to my father. We are from
Nerkuppai. We used to procure stores from your shop in Sinnamangalam”
The conversation that ensued after that was about
Sinnamangalam- Bathing in the stream of River Palar, dance of Kazhuvan wearing
the garland of entrails on the sixth day of festival, the erudition of
documentary writer Ahmad Jalaludin in Villi Mahabharatam.
(The Chairman of Union board Sevuga Murthy Ambalam:
“O! My elder brother’s son! I pray to you to explain the song ‘That long bluish
mountains, rain and clouds’ in detail. It’s been so long since I listened to
it”)
(The opinions of Nadar Street women: That guy,
Palayampatti Nadan. He is the descendant of Therimuthu’s ancestors who had
sacrificed his head for offering succour to the needy. Now he has befriended
with thieves and goes with them for waylaying. If it is not a bitterest of
time, what else would it be then, ladies?)
Tirunelveli Saivaite Achi Idli shop- coriander coffee,
cleanly dunged floor and glittering brass tumblers.
Notes from Gomathivilas Sangaramurthy Pillai: “Just a
low caste woman! She is no way a Saivaite Achi…even my tongue hesitates to
utter what caste they belong to. They hail from some unknown places and just
making every one of us fool around here”
Being oblivious of the sea waters that separated their
mother land and Penang, they were enjoying the visuals of Chetti Nadu.
The diversion to Thekkur. Peacocks are roaming,
dancing with their plumage, travelling in flocks from various places towards
Lord Murugan’s abode at Pazhani seeking his blessings. The eyes of Kavadi carriers
dancing in frenzy of devotion piercingly scrutinize the universe around them;
their bodies jump up unable to steady themselves. “Vel…Vel…” their
frenzied calls rise up to the firmament.
Kannathal festival in Nattarasankottai; Mariyathal
Festival in Konnaiyur; Koppathal festival in Karaikudi. Women wearing Kandangi
saris, their hairs coiffed into axe like buns, faces cleansed with turmeric
paste, and the toe rings jingling were moving here and there. Amid the colour
of silk, white was prominent- White…White…White...; Floral white, Diamond white
and cloth white. Fragrance…fragrance…fragrance…fragrance of jasmines, fragrance
of Javvathu powder, and the scent of mouth fresheners. The sweet music from
Nadhaswaram was wafting through air and sings lullaby under the moon light.
Musical concerts of Thiruvaduthurai Rajarathinam, Thiruvidaimaruthur Veerusami,
Thiruvenkadu Subramaniyam and dance programs of danseuses were arresting the
attention of every one. Thirupathur Pakkiyam, Thirukokarnam Sethu,
Thirukoshtiyur Chellam….
Nachandhupatti
local ‘minor’ Seenaa Thaanaa was standing in front of a big, black colour car.
He was holding a whip made of stingray fish tail in his right hand while his
left hand was fondling his hair and adjusting it. The woman shining like a diamond
sitting beside him was recently brought by him from Vaitheeswaran Temple.
Yonder, seen a man with betal leaves casket in hands. He was the local Senior
Amabalakarar of Sathiyakudi. He was the most prominent land owner in that area.
Though most of his properties were either acquired through coercion or
intimidation, there lay some barren lands he had inherited. Despite everyone
knowing about the men standing behind him having their hands folded across and
their mouth remained shut, no one would dare open their mouth to speak the
truth lest their limbs, cattle and households would be in danger. On the south,
the one standing with Cola silk Dhoti, Egg brand vest and diamond brand towel,
surrounded by his henchmen was ‘Pavun’ Raavanna Maanaa. It was he who would
give prostitutes ‘Pavun’ coins2. If someone wanted to talk about
‘charges’, it should be in ‘Pavuns’. Over there, seen a grey- haired old woman
standing in front of the temple, folding her hands in obeisance was the one who
would generously give away money to youngsters who fall in age bracket of 16 to
18. No one could cheat her of their age. She was so skillful that she would be
able to assess one’s age by feeling their spine with her fingers. The person
coming behind the god’s idol chanting Devaram songs, wearing Rudraksha beads
around his neck and bars of vibhoothi smeared all over his body was Mr
Thadhankulam Senaa. He was so crooked that he gained notoriety of swallowing
the very shop of chettiar to which the chettiar had sent him to work with full
faith. Now his property must be about ten or fifteen lakh of rupees. He had taken
up the renovation works at Anjanur Siva Temple. Pitiable Chettiar! He is now
roaming penniless mendicant, in saffron clad, chanting songs with a begging
bowl in hands in Pazhani.
It was
midnight. The surging festival crowd grew thick, ramming against each other.
Suddenly a shrill scream of a woman was vividly heard tearing open the mixed
voices of crowd.
“Adiye
Thenamma! Look this side! That rascal from Thirupathur keep pushing his way
towards me”
…
The boy
brought coffee in tumblers. The conversation took a turn on
famous whores of Chettinadu.
“Moonaa
Roonaa, do you know about Piranmalai Kalyani?”
“Who’s
that? The one living in North Street? I heard she was involved with someone
remotely related to Saanaa Moonaa…”
“It was long
ago anyway” Naavannaa grew red.
“It’s
alright. No use in remembering that pretty Kalyani now. Isn’t it?” the “Murrel
Fish’ Nachiyappan said exasperatingly with a yawn. “Come, let us try our
hands in a couple of cards”
Naavanna
rose, tightly tying his dhoti and told: “I have some pending work back home. We’ll
meet other time.” Pandian too got up.
“You could
join a couple of games. Couldn’t you? It’s alright…I did miss that you don’t find
such things comfortable. mmm…Once it gets dusk, I would make a visit to
Ravuthar’s shop”
Pandian
walked towards North. Mixed sound of Hindustani songs was coming from Shobharam’s
grocery shop. Four Chinese men who were sitting on bamboo chairs on the left of
shop’s veranda were picking their teeth and spitting out spittle in unison. The
Tamil coolies working in the harbour were running towards south with their dirty
dhoti and unkempt hair.
He turned
to Pitt Street. Chinese and Tamils were standing in the temple with their hands
folded in obeisance in front of the deity, Quan Yin, a powerful goddess
said to be proffering any boon one demands. The smell of incense sticks and frankincense
powder was wafting through the air. Some Chinese men who ran the business of
making on-the-spot-order fast food on walking platforms were carrying their
utensils and stove with live embers packed in a bundle, on their shoulders.
Pandian
walked down, thinking about the Sun Light Book shop.
***Ended***
Next:
Chapter 16: “Nanyang Hotel” will be posted soon.
