Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.
Chapter 8: Serdang Way
Pandian was climbing down the stairs from the Dyongwa
Restaurant’s upper floor. The dim shadow of Navanna was seen tottering on the
steps bathing in poor light as he climbed down. The cigarette he was puffing on
between his lips a while ago was found lying near the last step and emitting
smoke from its still-alive tip.
Both of them came down to foot path, stood there.
Navanna’s articulation of words grew wobbly due to
inebriation. “Pavanna, Please get me a taxi. After Colombo Straat, I can walk
down to my shop. Pavannaa…Pavannaa. Have you ever been to Colombo?
Columbu…Columbu…Columbu…” he placed his left hand over Pandian’s shoulder and
threw an enigmatic stare at him under inebriation. “Columbu is a good place.
Mkmm…mkm…he cleared his throat vigorously and spat out spittle, smoothened it
under his foot and kept rubbing it for a few seconds. “mmm….mmm…Pavannaa, here
look at me…hello Pavannaa…Look here….You know Pranmalai Kalyani. Don’t you? O!
Kalyani! My Kalyani! What a body! What a body! It will bend like a bow. She is
the one who shoots her arrows with her bow. I am her dearest. She would hug my
neck. Mmm…mmm…You can see clearly the colour of chewed betal leaves getting
down through her throat in red….mmm…mmm…mmm… krrrr…krrrr”
Tongas were running from both ends of the road.
Pandian was keenly looking through the road lying in
front without lamp posts trying to find a Tonga driver known to him.
“Ahmed”
“Yes sahib…”
The Tonga came near to them.
“Colombo Straat, the house of Marimuthu, adjacent to
twin Red Sandalwood trees. Once he gets down, please have him reach his house”
“Ok Sahib...”
Pandian led Navannaa by his arms, boarded him into the
cart and extended changes to the driver. Ahmed received it a and kept in his
pocket and turned his tonga.
“Pavanaa…see you again…I can alight myself…mmm…mmm…”
Panadian strode towards north. Two Tamils wearing
lungis and blazers covering their necks driving bullock carts came in the
front.
“Hello clerk sir…our humble greetings! How come you
are seen in this area at this hours?”
“To Tan Poling house”
“O.K. Carry on”
A woman with inviting fragrance of mint flowers on her
body was standing in darkness on pavement, shrugging her shoulders and
voluptuously twisting her limps. A Chinese man looked at her intently and left.
The durian fruity odour coming from the bazar side was thick and overpowering.
He stopped a taxi that came from the South.
“SerdangWay”
“Ok…Sir…”
The taxi rolled on the road.
He groped for cigarette in his shirt pocket but
couldn’t find his cigarette box. ‘Where did I lose it? He moved his
right hand around his shirt pocket. “Yes it is here.’. He pulled out a
cigarette, held it between his lips and rubbed a match stick against match box.
It put out. Tried another match stick. It also put out. It was the third match
stick. It burnt with flame. He lit the cigarette with it. ‘O God what is it?
The entire match stick was burning with fire. Is it a brand? No…” He put
out the fire by shaking it in air, and threw it away. ‘Why three attempts to
lit a cigarette? Is it that my hands are shivering? Or is it just the wind that
had actually troubled me? Chee…Chee...it is my sheer foolishness. It is just
for a day. Heaven won’t fall down for this slip of one day.’
He sank back, sat with his legs folded. The gentle
easterly breeze was blowing across. A couple of human silhouettes were visible
in dim light and disappeared. The body was out of his control, unable to rein
itself. ‘Without reining the body, the mind can never be brought under
control. No one can fulfil their carnal desires with the help of one’s
intellect. It is all about body, mind, desires and conduct…Arivazhagar, the one
who won the heart of a queen says like this:
“Align
yourself
With
the life force of breath.
Bring
it under the control of
mammoth
mad elephant called mind.
If
done, let you be praised as Yogi,
embodiment
of yoga in three worlds
by
the wise men.
This
simple soul will live for ever on this earth.
As
long as I live here,
Bless
me with eight noble powers,
perspicacity
to fully read the elegant hymns of four Vedas,
and
all the choicest blessings a small king enjoys
under
his regal umbrella.
O!
My Goddess! My Devi!
My
golden swan!
My
mother who rules the entire universe
With her millions of subjects.”
‘O!
The devotee! Noble son of Kediliyappa Pillai! Mattuvar Kuzhali’s better half!
The Great Arivazhgar who charmed the queen! You had clearly explained the
truth. That too with an enviable clarity! Fine. But tell me the means to
control the mad elephant called mind. May you explain that too. How to tame it?
Obstacles are everywhere. The body obstructs the mind and the mind troubles the
body…’
The cigarette smoke entered his eyes and hurt it. ‘Chee….body and mind are essentially nothing, just an illusionary things. The distinction was made by humans. O! The devotee! Was that the reason why you died at the very young age being not aware of the means to tame your mind? That too, in that empty barren land. O.K. Let’s not speak about it. How come Akilandeswari, the Goddess who ruled the entire universe looking after her billions of subjects did abandon you? Weren’t you able to acquire the art of focusing the mind? Or was it because of the fact that the Goddess, Akilandeswari, didn’t look after you as she had been bereft of motherly feelings towards you since she is still a spinster herself?
Five military trucks went past him one after the other. He took out the cigarette from his lips, glanced at it. The tip was still burning with smoke. He puffed on it. ‘Chee…what nonsensical narrative is it? I can consign my mind for a short duration to the celestial world where nobility of one’s character is respected. Just for a short time. Very short time. But on earth, food with six types of tastes! Different types of wines! Women with eyes resembling fishes, words sounding with the sweetness of milk, narrow waists, and small foreheads resembling crescent on the earth! Are these women created just to pull down the men who fly in the air of imagination with their wings? Is she a storm, a fire or a rain to make all men fall under their feet, blunt their reasons with a simple throw of her eye sight? Had all these taken birth as devil enchantress taking the form of women?’
‘The
devil enchantress in the form of woman; caught me in its hands
Intimidated
me with her eyes; blunted my senses;
Threw
me into deep pit full of filth and snatched away everything from me;
And
I remained a soulless being without thinking about you My Lord!
The Lord of Kanchi!’
“O! My Lord
of Kanchi! What could this poor helpless soul do when the great man like
Pattinathar couldn’t succeed taming his mind? Please tell me whether there is
any justification in blaming this poor man! O! You are here! O devotee! Aren’t
you the same saint hailing from Poompuhar? I am addressing you. Only you. Do
you hear me? I have just thought about you. But to my dismay, you are standing
alone on the street with a begging bowl in your hands. The bowl is empty. Isn’t
it? Why so? Haven’t you come across anyone yet who would be searching such
mendicants to offer them food with the melting hearts? O! My Lord! You
shouldn’t get angry with this petty soul for telling this. Will your fasting be
of any use in this Kaliyug? If you go onto the streets and sing some
songs and beg, you will be able to earn some rice to fill your tummy. Won’t
you? If you need rice to eat, listen to my words carefully. Firstly, you need
to go to Kesaavan Street and put on a shirt with floral designs. No issue with
your beard. You can leave it after a cosmetic trimming. Do you have turmeric
paste for face? If not available, just apply Vibhoothi liberally on your face
and rub it across with your loin cloth. Your face will look as if you have
applied talcum powder. Tell me the movie songs you know. Don’t you even know
the song “O Penne..vaa…vaa..Inbam thaa…thaa” ? (O! dear lady! Come to me;
give me pleasure). Or will you be able to deliver sharp dialogues from the
movies? You don’t know that too. Do you? O.K. Do you know how to dance Madman
dance? That dance...jumping and shaking your bums. You don’t know that too. Do
you? What else you are confident of doing then? All you know is just gobbling
potful of rice in one go? Isn’t it? O! Lord! You are so rustic and knowing
nothing. If you keep singing your favourite nomadic songs, no woman from any
house will give you food. That too coming to your place with the heart full of
hospitality. If you could save one third of your begging in a day, you can very
well enjoy a matinee show. It is alright my Lord! You have your way of living.
My words will never get into your ears. I
wanted to ask you something. You must be aware of Maavanna Kovanna Maarkaa
Kovalan Chettiyar in Poombuhar. Is there any one of his descendants still doing
business there? What an affluent man he was! Now no trace of their lineage is
found anywhere. When Kovannaa went to Madurai’s South Avani Street to sell the
Thali of his wife- sorry- it was not Thali it was an anklet, he got killed due
to some connivance of jewellers there without even leaving a fire to put the
child- again sorry, my tongue gets twisted- without even leaving a child to put
him fire. Child…mmm. Without a child to fire her pyre, his wife Kannaki also
went to some hill side and died there. It was very pathetic! Wasn’t it? Destiny
was such that she removed her anklet and gave it to her husband and her husband
was killed due to that anklet. Our Kovanna had an affair with a whore called
Mathavi in Thirukkadaiyoor and they had a girl baby. That sister’s name is
Manimegalai. Was it true that she also followed the footsteps of Buddism at her
very young age and settled in some unknown monastery? Mmm…Kovanna’s father in
law Etti Maanaaigan also died without an heir, I understand. O! My Lord! Why
did all these things happen? O.K let us leave it aside. I have one more
information to share with you. As soon as you got bored with your wife, you
also tried your luck in Thirukkadaiyoor. Didn’t you? What is her name?
Thiruvudaiya Mayaki….Beautiful name… Charming name.…again you got bored with
her too. Then Mamallapuram, Nagapattinam and Korkai. No time to look after your
business. All supervisors and attendants cheated you and your business went
into loss. So, you relinquished everything and left the town with what you had
on your body to become a Sanyasi to attest the age old dictum ‘Our place is not
permanent…Our relatives are not permanent and the name and fame which we
acquired toiling our flesh and blood is also not permanent’. In spite of all
these enlightenment, the lust for women is not yet fully dead. Right?
Sometimes, the desire for women pops up. One of your songs had this element in
it.
“The moment
the lust for women appears,
Remember good natured prostitutes are found everywhere on the streets”
O! Lord!
What a prediction! What a perspicacity! You loved prostitutes more. Didn’t you?
You didn’t like the mangoes grown in our backyard. You were right. The mangoes
lying on the street in the market have an exquisite taste. It is only capable
of giving you different types of tastes. You must be above sixty years old.
Mustn’t you? You might be suffering from petty nervous breakdown due to
senility and taking some medicine to increase your virility. Nothing to get
ashamed of it My Lord! It happens with everyone. All I know is only one royal
medicine for this problem- It is the Manmatha Paana Lekiyam (Pasty supplement
increasing one’s libido) prepared and sold by a handicapped physician at Madurai
Thennolaikara Street. Just three vials. Three times a day for ninety days.
Since it is war time, you may not get the item. Only after the ships are
permitted to cruise across seas, you will get it. Meanwhile do manage your day
with this prescription- You don’t like the smell of durian fruits. Do you? It
is O.K. Take some pieces of durian fruits and squeeze it to get some juice. Take
quarter of a kilo gram of Rambutan fruit, lady finger bananas, Mangosteen
fruit, Almonds, Cashew nuts, Pistachio nuts, saffron powder, sugar cubes, rose
paste, milk, ghee and honey in equal amount and grind to pasty consistency and
mix it with durian juice and boil it till the total mixture gets half of it.
Have it every morning and evening for a full Mandalam (48 days). You will find
the results astonishing. Let us take a break from this topic now. Do you know
Vekupatti Romeo Kaanaa Roonaa?
When his father died, he left behind nearly thirty five lakh rupees for him. He ruined all that amount in just three years. I don’t remember clearly now that our Kaanaa Roonaa is living somewhere in Kumbakonam or Mayiladudurai in the Chola kingdom spending his days in a prostitute’s house who acts in plays. Aren’t you aware of it? Other than these men, Thirunavikkarasu, the son of Marankudi ‘Final word’ Muthu Karuppa Pillai, Rajarathinam, the son of Viruthunagar Kumkumapottu Ulagalantha Nadar, and Sundarasu, the son of Hundi shop owner Ramaiah of Sami Thoppu- all were after some cine actresses in Kodampakkam and living with them somewhere near your area. It must be either Pondicherry or Karaikkal”
“You don’t know them either. Do you? O! I must be a fool. They do not belong to this present generation. You may not know about them. Hello…Hello…what is this magic? Where have you disappeared? O! It seems that you are good at playing magic too”
The horse, seemingly an inferior breed, was running slowly, hopping down tiny steps. His right hand was gently rubbing his forehead. ‘Every saint is of different types. This Poombuhar saint thinks that woman, a devil enchantress should not come near to him- only when the intense lust doesn’t cloud his senses- if it comes, he could find fine quality prostitutes on the streets, beautiful young prostitutes with no diseases’
The Tonga turned to Serdang Way. He threw away the
cigarette bud which had got cold emitting foul odour. On his right, he heard
the musical voice of Malay women talking to each other.
Ah…Ayisha…Ayisha…Ayisha…a woman with good heart…beautiful body…like that of one
made in marble engraved in gold and tusks.
Shiny silver boxes under blue lights were placed on an
eight legged table draped in a yellow colour silk clothe. Nearby was there a
bottle of honey in crimson colour. The sweetness of soul melting voice
springing from the cot filled in the room.
‘One day I was returning along with the wife of an
immigrant after watching movie. It was at that time she had divorced her
husband. You were standing on the door step wearing a white dhoti and sandal
colour over coat. The lock of your dark hair was flowing across your face in
the air. The teeth looking like pearls were shining. Your broad eyes penetrated
my chest. You were busy talking to some chettiar. That time you told: “I have
found my love. I have found my man. My man. My hero. O! My eyes! My heart! The
man who rules me! Marry me. I will wear sari, and a small vermilion on my forehead
as a sign of marriage. If you don’t like this town, we can go to Singapore. Chaya
poognar sinda….Chaya poognar Raja”
“O! Beauty! It is impossible. Just impossible. I don’t
belong to the category of such men who prefer settling with a woman knotting a
tie around her neck. The life that is chained and destined under a shelter will
never suit me. My dearest girl! Listen to me. When I was supposed to be brought
up with the care and concerns of a mother, I was suckling the breasts of
prostitutes. At the age of enjoying a solemnity of family life with a wife, I
am now roaming on streets as a confused soul detesting that family life and its
sanctity. My Gold! My Pearl! My beautiful flower! I am extremely happy to hear
your words that you want to become my better half. But I am a man who hates
family life. The hatred of a man who intentionally hates family life is much more
dangerous than the one who hates it due to his instinctual disability. Isn’t
it? O! The best among the women! I am a runaway brat who betrayed his herd.
With the hatred from my herd for getting separated from them, and the
self-hatred I had acquired due to the compulsions to separate, I have been
roaming alone, helpless, unable to stomp my feet on some sticky point on this
vast earth. My life is spent on roaming, and I will die one day while roaming
alone. O! My lady with lightening like waist and words with sugar cane’s
sweetness! I become oblivious of myself when I understand you while placing my
head on your breasts, while looking into your fish like eyes, while hearing
your sweet words that taste milk. So, as long as I enjoy the warmth of your
body, I will never demand Sanga Nithi and Padma Nithi. (The divine girls
with whom the king of wealth Kuberan keeps all his wealth for safe custody). I
won’t ask for the blessing of the one in whose hair the river Ganges descends
down, the Lord Shiva. But, my beauty! I am a lonely man. O! My Love! You are my
lady love who will make me forget this word keeping my head on your breasts.
Won’t you keep me lain on your laps to sing lullaby by being a mother to a man
who doesn’t have mother? Won’t you keep me who has no sister on your waist,
pinch me tenderly, feed me and then play with me? Won’t you run behind me who
has no sister and pester me with your silly nagging?’
The cloud like dark hair shining under the row of
jasmine lamps was moving wavy in thick strands on her chest. Her melodious
Malay voice was flowing like honey, milk and fruit juice.
“O! My dear! My hero who owns my heart! Do accept me
as your wife in front of everyone here. I will give you bath with rose water
and wipe your body with my hair. I will comb your hair with my fingers. I will cook
the food stuff you love most and feed you with my own hand. I will kiss your
lips, eyes, forehead, again and again. I will scoop you up in my hands and hug
you against me and sing lullaby moving my body like a flower creeper. I will
caress your eye lids gently and make you sleep. …”
He wiped his face with his palms. Everything here has
its own reason for its existence. How could that woman, wife of a merchant in
Madurai South Veli Street, cheat an innocent student and rape him? She had a
son of his age. That trader who looked like his father, actually didn’t suffer
from any ailments of inadequacy. Then why did it happen? Perhaps, was it her
mouth which is chomping something always a reason behind it? If someone eats
like a pig they might develop characters like pigs. Isn’t it true?
Ah…those student days…money was coming from home regularly.
Nagamani from a lane in Venkalakadai Street, Sornam from Manjanakara Street,
Kokila Rani alias Kuppammal from Kuyavar palayam. If the supply of money fell
short, then Malayalam speaking woman from first lane would become easy access-
Omana, Parukutty, Sarojamma…
Women wearing dresses in different colours would be
standing, holding the pillars of the outer veranda- in Red, black and white…
“Jne…ivda nokke”
If tempted to turn and have a look at them, you would
see them holding both the ends of their blouse showing their assets for full visual
consumption. If left without showing interest in it, their spittle soaked in
betal leaves would follow your steps. They would tease you with their bangles
jingling and sometimes throw invectives at you.
It was on the left of Lord Krishna temple- the street
of Pallars, but named as Downing Street by students. At one corner was there a
fish shop and on the other corner coffee club of Brahmins. The whores who
couldn’t find prospective clients at other places would roam around in that
area, stand on the middle of streets with the odour of arrack coming out of
their breath. One had to cross that street very carefully or else had to face
them who would pull one’s dhoti down yelling “leave from here after settling
the matter with us. You impotent”. An army of rogues led by Topper Mama would
appear suddenly from the holes like hutments lying low from the ground level.
The houses of costly prostitutes, with half opened doors, and Kochi breed dogs
chained onto pillars behind it would be seen in the street that lay stretched
towards east. Mama would assure: “I am not an incidental beggar; I am a
professional beggar. So don’t worry. This business is not like that those of
Kuchikaris’1 house where one would do business with encumbrances.
Nothing to worry about anything here. You can get up in the morning and leave
peacefully after having hot water bath.”
Then I got a job in Medan city.
Then again to mother land.
Muthu Nayagi in West Masi Street. Daughter of
prostitute was a prostitute.
“Do you know Rao Sahib? He is very fond of me. During
his visits to Madurai, he never goes back without meeting me. He won’t stand
more than a minute. No torture. Currency notes will fall on my feet. Mmm…. Are
you a chettiar? Don’t be angry. I asked this as I saw you wearing Singapore
Dhoti”
“Nadar”
“Aiyo! Naa….daa….rrr. Why didn’t tell me this before?
You have sat on this cot and speak so nonchalantly. What will I do now?
Mhuum…My rants must sound like a joke. Mmmm. It is alright. You have come here
as my guest. I too started falling for you.”
She pinched his cheeks teasingly.
“At seeing you, I had an initial intuition that you
must belong to that caste. My mother would ask you some uncomfortable
questions. Never open your mouth. She will create a scene yelling that the
purity of her caste and clan has gone in the wind. We can’t afford examining
one’s caste and such nonsense these days. Can we?”
She went downstairs and brought some milk and fruits.
“Look at me. Will you forget me dear? Please tell me
you won’t. If you come to Madurai, you must meet me. You should not give any
lame excuses. I have a dozen of people who could bathe me with currency notes.
My dearest! Had I been born in a good family, you would have married me.
Wouldn’t you? Will you love me the way you love me now? Mmm...Aththan…Look
this side…look at me. Will you please close your eyes for a second? She thrust
her hand in his armpit and tickled him. He chuckled at her effort of making him
laugh as her face became brighter. “Look at the beauty of my baby smiling!” she
caressed his cheeks and fondly kissed his forehead, “my small doll…my lovely
doll.”
“Aththaan…If I ask you one thing, will you give me?
Mmmmm….Can you give me a baby resembling you?”
She didn’t have children. The desire for a baby grew
more and more. She had already bought three houses and the discussion was
underway for the purchase of fourth house. What was the use all these assets
without having a child? No temple, no festival was left unattended for the want
of a baby. No doctor was left out without being consulted. No midwife was left
without being consulted. All went in vain. She couldn’t bear a baby. All she
needed was just a child…only one child…one child. To show her love, to have
support, and to look after her assets, all what she needed was a child. O! Goddess
Azhakumeenaa! Mother Eswari! Please bless me with at least one baby…”
Then came ‘Rangoon’ Rajasundari in North Avani Moola
Street. She hadn’t seen Rangoon even in her dream. She was born and brought up
in Paramakudi town. Her real name given by her parents was Nakulu. The old men
who knew about her used to tell that she was the first prostitute who had
introduced dim bluish electric bulbs in Madurai to hide the black and red dots
that showed up prominently on her face even after heavy application of talcum
powder.
Another woman, twin house Muthu laxmi. She would say:
‘No one would dare stepping into my house that easily. But when I receive such
quality clients like you, I have to accept out of obligation”
Vallikkannu from Kundrakudi- She was like a cow. With
her tranquil and innocent looking face, she would keep chomping something in
her mouth.
“Go there fast. It is time for Chettiars to come here”
“What! Chettiars do visit here. Don’t they?”
“Yes. Is it obligatory for me to explain about
everyone visiting this place? All three are taking care of my food and other
things. They will come together and leave together. Now have you got adequately
informed about them? Leave this place immediately. The time is up”
When she got acquainted with Chettiar in Chennai, they
spent three days together. Her husband, Nayakkar, left her as soon as he came
to know about their affair. Whether she became a whore after she got married to
a cuckold or he became a cuckold after he married a whore is still a
million-dollar question. Was he an impotent? Possible. Or had he lost all his
virility as he went astray in his youth? His wife might have been a whore since
her birth. Who knows?
He took out a cigarette pocket, pulled out a cigarette
and lit it. Body…body…body…body…Cheeee.! This body is just an illusion. A
leather bag filled with air. Made of blood, flesh and bones and nothing more other
than that. Yet it is considered as breeding ground of same and hence making it obligatory
for one to study, think and write about it. Cheeee…..One man to a woman…sometimes
two men and sometime many men. On other hand one woman to a man…sometimes two
women and sometimes many women. Like dogs…like pigs…just a ball of flesh soaked
in blood and bones. A dirty pit. Without any virtuous awareness the body spent
in coition! The semen that is leaked when the senses are not in order, and
mixed with suety feminine fluids, and a drop half a size of invisible snow
particle getting into the womb of women and thus creating a bundle of something
called life. As long as it stays up in the dirty pit of vaginal tract, it is
intolerably odorous. When it gets out of womb as a baby lying on our laps, listening
to its lisp is fragrant, vibrant tune of music and pleasure unbound! When it is
in the dirty pit, it is like a worm wriggling in gutter. Then it becomes a
golden painting that speaks beautiful language. He is our son speaking
unintelligible language with the melting choice of words, crying, chasing me,
and playing on my strong chest. He is my little baby making me ecstatic with
his tiny steps, gentle touches and punches, picking things in mouth and soaking
his with ghee mixed rice. Like petals of lotus and lily, his pure fingers spread
across, and sweet words coming out of his mouth which doesn’t know the usage of
foul language. He is a child desired by everyone. Being touched by other gives
pleasure to one’s body whereas listening to others speaking sweet words gives
pleasure to one’s ears. Where did he come from? Cheee….from that dirty pit? Did
he come from that dirty pit, forming his body, coming out of it, growing up,
seeing around and learning everything around him and yearning to get it again,
immersing in it, and finally becoming nothing out of it…cheeee.
As
the tummy getting bulged,
hair
growing grey, teeth falling down,
back
arching forward, lips sagging
Walking
with one hand on a stick,
women
teasing you as a grand old man,
words
coming out unclearly with cough
eyes
getting blind
ears getting deaf…
Bemoaning the destiny, falling on to the ground, crawling, mumbling something inaudibly, senses becoming completely rot, and then becoming a dead body. Finally lying as a corpse. After that?
The
whole town would sing dirge aloud
removing
your real name
And
calling it dead body
Taking
it to the funeral ground
burning
it there
and
would
come back after an ablution
forgetting your existence.
Now every
account is tallied. Arrival and departure are settled henceforth.
The tonga
was running.
“Brendhi”
The tonga
stopped. He gave the changes to the driver and entered the Bilithon Street and
walked fast.
The servant
maid opened the door. The sound of someone climbing down the stairs was heard.
Jasmine fragrance followed the steps. Ayisha was standing there.
“Chaya poognar sinda….Chaya poognar Raja”
That beautiful body made in marble engraved in gold
and tusks embraced him and exuded its fragrance.
***Chapter
8 “Serdang Way” ended.
Chapter 9: “The journey” will be published soon.
Note:
1.
Kuchikari-
They were not traditional prostitutes. They became prostitutes on their
volition. These women were kept outside the villages in huts, and hence were
known as Kuchikari. Kuchu-hut)
