Scorpion has bitten her (தேள் விஷம்) by Ki. Rajanarayanan.

Ki. Rajanarayanan. 

This is an English translation of “Thel Visham” a comic short story written by Ki. Rajanarayanan. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

***

There was a farmer in the village. His wife was a very beautiful woman. Her breasts were exquisitely beautiful. She developed an illicit affair with a shop keeper in the next street. What sort of an affair it was! If she went to his shop with one bundle of cotton, he would give her ration worth two bundles. If she brought quarter of a kilogram worth grains, he would give her items worth half a kilo gram of grains- almost double of items in every dealing. One day night she was late. He was eagerly waiting for her. She brought some grains as usual. After their usual dealings were over, he noticed her standing hesitantly. He looked up to her as if asking her what was up.

She told him, “You grow weaker day by day. Why don’t you consult a doctor and take proper medicine?” Hearing her loving words, he opened up his heart and confided her his desire to have her, hesitantly though. Without directly engaging his words, she was asking him something else or the other. This man was just attending to her meaningless queries. They were talking to each other like this for some time without knowing what actually they were talking. At one point both remained silent as to what to talk further. That time, he asked her, “Can I come to your house tomorrow?” Not responding to his question directly, she threw a brief smile at him and left.

The farmer left his home next day early morning to plough the field. In minutes he started ploughing the land, he saw his water pot being toppled by a crow. As he wouldn’t be able to work under the scorching sun anymore without water, he stopped ploughing and went back home with the empty pot to fill water in it. He found the door of his house locked. As there was no justifiable reason for the door to be locked at that hour, he peeked through the key hole out of inquisitiveness to see why the door had been locked. A grand visual came in front of his eyes through the key hole- The shop keeper’s mouth was on his wife’s breasts…..The farmer knocked at the door fiercely. The door opened. On seeing her husband standing at the door, his wife started howling at him, “O! My good heavens! You have come here at the right time. Haven’t you? Look at my deplorable condition. Would you ever find such a pathos anywhere? If I hadn’t found him, I would have died by now” she cried inconsolably.

The poor husband stood in front of her unable to understand anything. The shop keeper was standing with his head hung, looking down. The farmer asked his wife to explain what had exactly happened. His wife told him, “How can I explain such a shameful thing to you? Such a shameful thing. After collecting cotton from the field, I was coming back home cuddling the bundle against my breast. Suddenly I felt a piercing pain on my breast as if a live ember had fallen on it. I dropped the bundle down and saw a black scorpion falling off from my breast. It was excruciatingly painful. It was simply unbearable. When I was screaming helplessly, I was informed that this man was an expert in sucking out scorpion's poison. When I called him, he denied as he wouldn’t enter anyone’s house if the male member was not present. I somehow convinced him that my husband was not that type of a person who suspects my integrity and it wasn’t wrong since it was an emergency. So I brought him home. The pain is relatively better now compared to that time” she explained her husband amidst crying.

Her husband comforted her, “It is alright. Don’t cry. Such things do happen at times. It is beyond our control. Thank god, this man came to rescue you at the time of emergency. Actually I came here to collect water as the pot was toppled by a crow”. He expressed his sincere thanks to the shop keeper, filled the water in the pot and left.

After some days, one day the farmer came running home yelling that a scorpion had bitten him. His wife who was busy in the kitchen came running to him anxiously and asked him whether it was really a scorpion that had bitten him. He told her that it was a well grown scorpion dark in colour and he had caught it too.

He started yelling again, “Aiyo…I am unable to bear the pain. Go to that shop keeper and bring him immediately. Please run fast and bring him” he hurried her up. She ran to the shop keeper and explained him everything that had happened and insisted him to come along with her. If he didn’t come now, her husband would then suspect her, she told him. The shop keeper thought that this could be a drama just to check whether he would be available on call for any emergency. He went along with her as he had no other excuse to deny. The shop keeper asked the farmer where the scorpion had bitten him. The farmer lifted his dhoti  up and showed his….

We, along with our grandfather laughed listening to this story. “Then what happened after that?” we asked our grandfather. “Afterwards? It happened afterwards. That was it. The shop keeper was caught as he had no other way to escape” he said.

***Ended***

The Door (Kathavu) by Ki.Rajanarayanan

This is an English Translation of "Kadhavu", a Short Story written by Ki. Raja Narayanan Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K  To read the Tamil version of this story click here  This is 19th English Translation in Classic Tamil Short Stories Series

Ki. Raja Narayanan

The swing door commenced its movement. 

The children from the neighbourhood partook in the game excitedly. 

“All of you get your tickets” shouted Srinivasan. The children shouted back, “Give me a ticket…for you too” 

“Which place do you want ticket to? Eii…don’t push me like this. Or else I won’t play with you guys” 

“It’s okay…Sorry…I won’t push you” 

“It’s alright. Where do you want to go?” 

The children looked at each other’s face. One boy shouted, “To Tirunelveli”. Others joined him and shouted in unison, “Yes..to Tirunelveli…Tirunelveli”

Laxmi was wiping the door with a piece of cloth. Once Srinivasan completed giving the tickets with his empty hands, all climbed onto the door, hung. Some of them swung it to and fro. That heavy door moved happily to and fro as if it was delighted to carry those children standing on to it. “Here came Tirunelveli…” Srinivasan announced. All of them jumped out of the door. The ones who had swung the door bought the tickets and the ones who had ‘travelled’, swung the door. The swing door commenced its movement again.   

It was an old, cemented house. It had only one big door. The inmates who, once, lived in that house were actually rich. Now, with very little possessions and money, they had become poor. Among the girl children in the house, the eldest one must be eight years old and another one was still a toddler. Their mother would go away for work in the woods; their father, a coolie working in Manimutharu had also gone away for his work. Laxmi and Srinivasan would play with the baby till her mother returned from the woods. 

One day, Laxmi found out a Match Box sticker on the street. It was picture of a dog. As it was dirty, she wiped out the dirt with her saliva, with her skirt which resulted in the dirt smudging on everywhere in the picture. But she was satisfied that the picture was clean without dirt. She held the picture straight in front of her face, looked at it, moved her head on one side and then on the other side. Smiled at it. She looked around in search of someone to share her happiness. No one was there. Unable to control her happiness, she hopped down toward her home. 

When Laxmi reached her home, Srinivasan was sitting at the entrance, holding his chin with his hands. On seeing him, Laxmi hid the picture behind her, and asked him, “Dei…Find out what I have brought” 

“You might have brought something. Don’t you? But I don’t know what it is”

“Try guessing” 

“I couldn’t” 

Laxmi showed the picture to him from the distance.

“Akka…Akka…You won’t give it to me. Will you?” he climbed down the steps, came to her. She held up the picture above her head as if not willing to give it to him. Srinivasan ran behind her. “No…I won’t give it to you. Do you know how much it was difficult for me to get this? She told him.     

“Let me have a look at it for only once. Please Akka..Please...” He begged her. 

“You should return it to me immediately after seeing it. Is that okay?” 

“Surely I will” 

“You shouldn’t tear it off” 

“I won’t” 

Srinivasan had a glance of that picture. His face bloomed with happiness.

“Dei…Bring some porridge of boiled pearl millet. Let me paste this picture on the door.” She told. 

“You are very correct!” Srinivasan ran into the house. 

Both of them helped each other, pasted that picture on the door, cheerfully jumped at seeing it, clapped their hands. On hearing it, the children from neighborhood also came running to them, joined them. The movement of the swing door commenced once again. 

2

If someone pays a close attention to the door, he would be able to find another picture pasted on the door just above the picture pasted by these children. That picture seemed to have been pasted long ago and it looked faded due to the years-long accumulation of filth and smoke on it. Perhaps, that picture could have been pasted by Laxmi’s father when he was a boy. 

When those children were playing with the door, the village watchman came there. 

“Laxmi! Where’s your father?”

“He’s gone to the town.” 

“what about your mother?”

“She’s gone to the woods” 

“Inform her that Village watchman Thevar came to meet her. Remind her to pay the excise once she returns.” 

Laxmi just nodded her head in affirmation. 

Next day, the village watchman came to Laxmi’s mother when she was at her home, asked her to pay the excise. 

“Sir…he is not in the village. It has been five months since he had gone to Manimutharu. I don’t have any information about him. There has been no rain during the past three years. In this situation, how could we pay the balance of excise amount? Looking after these kids as a coolie with the paltry wages I manage from the woods is itself a daunting task for me. You are aware of it. Aren’t you?” she implored him. 

But these words didn’t move the village watchman. He had enough experience of listening to such excuses from many people in the village. Hadn’t he?

“You see…We don’t have anything to do with your troubles. Do we? You must pay the excise this year. No excuses will be entertained anymore. It is of no use finding fault with me after that.” He warned her, left. 

3

One day morning, the children were sitting in the ground in front of the house, chit chatting. The village watchman came to their house along with four persons. The persons accompanied him inspected the house at a close range. It looked funny for the children. The village watchman along with other four removed the door from its frame skilfully, carried it on their head and left. It appeared that children could have sensed something bizarre. Didn’t it? One of the boys bent his body backward, patted his thighs with his hands, stretched his hands forward, set it like a Nadhaswaram, and made sound, “peeeee…peeee” as if he was playing both Nadhaswaram and Thavil. Srinivasan also accompanied him. An enthusiastic group of children followed those men carrying the door, like a procession.

The village watchman couldn’t bear this display of children. “You asses! Won’t you leave me now?” he yelled at them. The children ran away from them. When they returned home, they found Laxmi sitting at the entrance, weeping. Everyone came near to her, sat beside her without making noise. None of them spoke. Srinivasan too kept his face look sad. But, they couldn’t remain calm for long. One girl, got up, told them, “I am leaving for my home.” Others followed her, left one by one. Once all of them left, only Laxmi and Srinivasan were sitting there. They also didn’t talk for a long time, remained silent. 

Laxmi turned as she heard the baby crying inside. Srinivasan went inside and tried to scoop up the baby. He pulled his hands back from the baby at once. He looked at his sister. She also looked at him. 

“Akka…touch the baby. The baby has temperature” he told her. Laxmi touched the baby. The baby had high temperature. 

Long after the Sun set, their mother came home carrying a bundle of dry wood sticks on her head. While collecting dry wood sticks, she was stung by a scorpion and the pain was visible on her face. She sat by her children and picked up the baby from them. “The body has high temperature” she told herself. Her children narrated everything to her that had happened in the morning. 

The story Rangamma heard from them had almost got her breath stopped. An inscrutable shiver ran through her body. She tightened her grip over the baby as if she had developed an unbearable pain in her abdomen. Despite her attempts not to cry in front of her children, she sobbed inconsolably, screamed, almost out of her senses, “O! My Mother”. Sensing something dreadful, the children moved away from her. They also joined her, wept, overwhelmed by an unknown fear. 

4

No information came from Manimutharu. The days passed. During night, the children would be shivering due to cold wind flowing inside the house. Despite having a house, it was rendered useless as there was no door. The icy wind of Kartikai month troubled everyone in the house like a poisonous wind. The health of the toddler was also getting deteriorated as the days passed. On an ill-fated night, the baby died as it couldn’t withstand the icy weather. Rangammal delved into an unfathomable despair. She kept herself alive just for Laxmi and Srinivasan thence.  

Now, Srinivasan started attending the school. In one afternoon, while returning from the school, he found a match box sticker on the road. He showed it to his sister. Laxmi was not interested in it. 

“Akka…give me porridge. I am hungry. After the meals, I have to get this picture pasted”

“Thambi! There is no porridge” She uttered nervously. 

“Why? I saw you making it in the morning. Didn’t I?” 

She shook her head in affirmation, but continued, “I went out for a while. A dog came inside and drank all the porridge, brother! This house doesn’t have a door. Does it?” her voice soaked in despair and helplessness. The very thought that her mother would come home hungry from the woods, sank her in deep anguish.                

Srinivasan collected some grains of boiled pearl millet found scattered there, applied it behind the sticker, came there to paste it on the door. But the door was not there. He stood, not knowing what to do next. He pasted it on the wall. It didn’t stick to the wall, fell down. He tried some other place, another wall, but in vain. With disappointment that got aggravated by hunger, he started crying. 

………….

Laxmi was cleaning the utensils in the evening. 

Srinivasan came running to her, his face gleaming with something, panted, stood in front of her. “Akka…Akka…You know the choultry near our school. Don’t you? Out house door is lying there just behind it. I saw it myself” he told her. 

“Is it so? Is it true? Let us go there to see” she held him by his hands and both of them ran towards the village choultry. Yes! What he had told was true. The door was kept, leaned against the wall. They could identify their ‘friend’ from the distance. They looked around, ensured that no one was there in the vicinity. 

Their happiness at seeing it! An inestimable ecstasy it was.

The Horse Purslane plants and Thai Vaazhai plants were crushed under their feet as they ran towards it. They went near to the door hurriedly, touched it, stroked it lovingly. Laxmi removed the small mounds of termite found on the door with her skirt. She brushed her cheeks against the door. She felt crying. 

She hugged Srinivasan, kissed him, smiled at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Srinivasan too smiled at her. Both of their hands were firmly holding the door. 

                                                 ***End***

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 

Source: “Kathavu”, A collection of Short Stories by Ki. Raja Narayanan. (Annam Publication, Sivagangai, Tamil Nadu)   

Jatayu by Ki. Rajanarayanan

               

Ki. Rajanarayanan

This is an English Translation of  "Jatayu",a short story written by Ki.Raja Narayanan. 

Translated from Tamil by Saravanan. K 

                                      

 

The villagers used to address Thathaiya Nayakkar ‘Appurani Nayakkar’ (Innocent Nayakkar) 
 
He was a farmer. He would never poke his nose into others’ affairs unnecessarily. His penchant for agriculture was something that would make anyone envious. There used to be an orderliness in everything he handled. No one could have seen his face raging with anger. He carried a smiling face and a radiance all time. No one would say he was sixty year old man. His hands were very muscular like a trunk of an elephant; well-built body; grey haired head; greyed moustache with the tint of saffron caused by frequent spitting out of betal leaf juice. Irrespective of distance, he always preferred travel by foot. He would go to neighbouring places only twice or thrice in a year. He would go to kovilpatti, the town located ten miles away from his village, and bring all the items required for his family all the way carrying it on his head. 
 
On that day too, he went to Kovilpatti. He kept all his belongings at a house on the outskirts of the town and came back after watching movie. It was a scorching summer. The moon was throwing its milky white light. He spread his towel on the outer Veranda of the house. He could not sleep as the bed bugs and mosquitoes were eating up his sleep.

‘How could these people sleep peacefully closing their houses in this hot summer?” Nayakkar wondered. He smiled at himself. 

 
He was struggling for long time to get sleep and finally when he was about to close his eyes, he heard a helpless voice of a woman and got up instantly.

 
“Aiyo…amma…is there no one else who could stop this injustice? Aiyo…aiyo….an intense helpless voice. Thathaiya Nayakkar reflexively got up and sat. He gave his ears to that voice attentively. 
 
“You sinners!...Aren’t you born with sisters? Is it just what you are doing now? Aiyo….Isn’t there any one to stop this?”
 
Nayakkar jumped off the veranda and came onto the street. He bent down and collected two big stones of coconut size, stood firm and called out. 
 
“Who’s there?”
 
His heavy and masculine voice hit somewhere and echoed. 
 
“Stop there. If you move, one single throw. Your head would fall off like a palm fruit.”
 
The owner of the house came near to the window hearing his thundering voice but did not open the door. 
 
“Yov..yov…Nayakkar…have you gone mad or what? Come and sleep. Hundreds of things would take place in the town. Why do you mind others’ business? Be at peace minding our problems and us. Why do you disturb your sleep with your impertinent tongue? Be quiet, come and sleep.”

Nayakkar felt that something was wrong. At that time, a woman came running towards him with her hair blowing untidy in air. She came and clasped his legs.
 
Nayakkar took a step backward. But that woman tightened her grip and held his legs tightly. 
 
Four men came running fast after her. Seeing Nayakkar, they hesitated to move forward. Two among them were standing at a distance.  
 
“Sir, you please keep calm. It is a fight between husband and wife. Please don’t intervene in this matter”- One of them told. 
 
“No…it is injustice. You only have to save me”- the woman bobbed her head violently and clasped his legs even more tightly.
 
Nayakkar consoled her and lifted her by her armpits as if he was lifting a child. 
 
“O..my Mother….don’t be afraid. As long as I am here, no harm would come to you. Please tell me what has happened? He asked her affectionately. That woman narrated exactly what has happened. 
…..
 
Bolammal was married to a person in a village some four miles away from Kovilpatti. 
 
That day evening, she fought with her husband. Her husband who never raised his hands to beat her, had beaten her very badly that day. 
 
Bolammal got angry with her husband and left the house for her mother’s place somewhere in the South. 
 
Once she reached here, it got dark. She was walking with an intention of staying at one of her distant relatives there. But they were not there as they had changed their house. It was when she was enquiring about their house, she happened to meet those men. 
 
They told her that they knew the location of that house and they were also residing near to that house. They further told her that they were also going to their home. Bolammal believed what they had told. Those men collected the information about her fight with her husband and her name from her by being friendly with her. 
 
They compelled her to eat the snacks they bought from an ‘afternoon’ shop. 
“That house is afar. It will get late reach there. We understand that you must be very much hungry. Don’t be shy. Have it” – they coaxed her affectionately. 
 
When she was eating the snacks, they heaped abuses on her husband till their mouth got its fill.  
 
“Even if you die, don’t let that fellow face you. Is he a human being? He has beaten you as if he has beaten a bullock. What a pity” – They told. 
 
Hearing this, the thought about her family came over Bolammal’s mind. Her eyes welled up with tears. The coffee she was drinking turned bitter and she disliked it. She kept it aside and got up. 
 
 
“I have to go early. It gets late.” – growing tense she started walking faster. 
 
They brought her to the outskirts of the village. While walking they were teasing her.  
 
One of them caressed her back and told-“Merciless fellow…see how he has beaten her that it got swollen like this.” 
 
Bolammal got alert. She looked at him sternly. The hands caressed her back fell down at her irate eyes. Next moment, her eyes became teary thinking about her helpless condition. 
 
“ Brothers…How could you behave indecently with a hapless woman like this? Isn’t a sin? – she begged their pity. 
 
“ Aiyo! Why did I leave my home like this? I don’t know what all else would happen now?- Bolammal thought remorsefully. 
 
As she came to a point of determination, she decided not to move further and stood like a fixed nail on the ground. Refused to move an inch further. 

A stout thug among them with bushy sideburns and curly hair came near to her. 
 
“If you touch me, I will shout and call out everyone. You will get the respect you deserve then.”- Bolammal hissed. 
 
Some persons were passing them. Hearing their scuffle, they stopped and enquired the persons standing near to Bolammal. “ What’s the matter?”
 
“ Nothing. Nothing else. Just a petty fight between husband and wife. That is all.” 
 
“O…is that all?”- the passers-by left the place. 
 
Those who witnessed their episode broadcast through the street thought that it was a petty fight between husband and wife.

As the time passed, the presence of people grew thin there.  
Now they got emboldened and caught hold of Bolammal’s hand and dragged her. 
 
 
Hardly a word was left that she did not cry out; There was no abuse left that she did not utter; There was no god left that she did not pray to; But there was none available there to protect her, to wipe off her tears. 
 
….
 
Upon hearing all these details, Thathaiya Nayakkar became terribly angry. He stared at them with his angry eyes. 
 
But, that curly haired bulky man came in front of Nayakkar and politely represented his case. 
 
“Sir, I request you to listen to what I am saying. You are like my father. She is the daughter of my own maternal uncle. She has been married to me for five years. This fight has been there for these five long years. When I come home after toiling myself breaking my bones, she won’t be available at home. She would come only in the morning. I had to roam around the entire village searching for her. For how long could a legally married husband bear this?”
 
At this time, the owner of the house where Nayakkar was staying, Sundaram Chettiyar came out of the house. Others households too accompanied him. 
 
One of the buddies of the curly haired man standing at the distance came near to them. 
 
He told curly haired man-“What a nuisance! Has it started again? Had it been myself, I would not be crying to set her right, rather I would have divorced her. You are the perfect example of a Married Bachelor brother.”
 
Telling this, that guy smiled at Thathaiya Nayakkar. 
 
Bolammal spat on his face. “Thooooo” 
 
“Spit on me! Spit on this shameless fellow! You will spit. Wont you? It was my mistake that I brought you up thinking you are a girl without mother. If I had broken your hand and legs at an appropriate time, you would not have brought this much trouble. What could he do for my mistake?. You, the daughter of whore!”- the curly haired man jumped upon her furiously. 
 
“Eeeell….” Bolammal screeched. Suddenly she fell down on the ground like a chopped palm tree.
 
The stones that Thathaiya Nayakkar was holding slipped from his hand and fell down on the ground. Being mentally vexed, he sat on the veranda. 
Like a kite picking up an innocent chicken, they left the place carrying her. 
 
….
 
It seemed that a heavy rain has just stopped in that street. Everyone went inside their house and locked themselves. 
 
But Thathaiya Nayakkar could not sleep. 
 
After some time, the same helpless screech of that woman was heard again. 
He stood up, now decisively. He walked towards them to know what they are doing with that woman. 
 
If assessed the situation with the direction from where the voice was coming, it was understood that they were not going towards the village. 
 
Nayakkar's palpitation and restlessness increased. A feeble voice was coming from the bottom of a Single Eyed Bridge located on the road at some distance away. The sound stopped abruptly. Thathaiya Nayakkar ran towards that direction. He heard a ‘Shhhh’ sound coming out from a hiding. Following that, three men came running fast towards Nayakkar.
 
“Don’t come near…Run away….run away…” They were screaming and kept running towards him. 
 
Thathaiya Nayakkar bent and collected two big stones. His shoulders became tight.  His chest was infused with fresh air and got expanded. His height got straightened. His appearance evolved into an impressive bulk of eight feet. 
 
Nayakkar brought his left leg a step forward and released the stone with full force from his right hand. The stone travelled with lightning speed in the air. 
 
“Aiyo…amma. I am dead'- One of them fell down. 
 
Within the fraction of a second, second stone from the left hand went to the right hand and tore the wind with ‘uiiiing’ sound. 
 
Suddenly a big branch of a tree broke and fell down. The stone missed its target. 
 
One of them fell down; Nayakkar stood stunned for a second at seeing other two persons came running towards him.  
 
There was no time to bend again to pick some more stones. They had come that near to him. 
 
He hoodwinked them by stepping backwards at the right side but ran forward faster. He saw the person hit by the stone writhing in pain. Again he hoodwinked them by stepping backwards at the left side but ran forward faster. He then lifted the person lying on the floor with his two hands looking up the sky, mustered all his strength in his hand and threw him to the floor with a forceful swing. 
 
Two more whistle sounds were heard. ‘ushhh…usshhhh’  
 
The curly haired man came out of the bridge like Yama Dharma Rajan (God of Death). He was holding Bolammal’s hands very tightly. 
 
Bolammal was standing without any dress on her body. Part of the cloth thrust inside her mouth was hanging outside her mouth. 
 
Nayakkar jumped upon the curly haired man ferociously. He gave a very tight slap on his cheek and kicked him. He could not take on Nayakkar’s ferocity. 
 
He fell on his back and closed his eyes only to open it a while later. The cloth was removed from Bolammal’s mouth. 
 
By the time, the henchmen of curly haired men surrounded Nayakkar. One of them had a long sword. It was shining in the moon light. 
 
Thathaiya Nayakkar understood his end that was waiting for him. He could have escaped but he did not opt for that. 
 
“Please leave this place immediately” – he gave instructions to that woman. 
 
Bolammal stepped backwards and started running. One of those men ran behind her and caught hold of her hands. She could not move. Now there appeared two enemies. 
 
Nayakkar raised his hand directly against the sword holding man and called out as if he was seeking help from someone behind him. “ Please come here…please come here” 
 
The sword man turned back. Nayakkar pushed him down to the ground on his stomach, twisted his hand with his one hand and held his head with another. He then kicked his waist and broke it. 
 
The sword dropped from his hand. Before Nayakkar could pick it up, the curly haired man could manage to pick it up. 
 
Once the grip got loosened a bit, the person lying on the floor wiggled Nayakkar’s legs like a snake. Thathaiya Nayakkar could not balance and fell down. He tried to get up with one hand on the floor and the another hand raised. 
 
“Shhhthaakkkk”
 
The raised right hand of Thathaiya Nayakkar was chopped off in one swing of sword. Bolamma screamed ‘Aiyo….Aiyo….” In order to avoid his neck receiving the blow, he raised his left hand to stop him. The curly haired thug chopped off his left hand too.  
 
He then mustered all his strength and kicked the person holding his legs violently aside and managed to get up. With the same furiousness and yelling , he hit the stomach of curly haired man with his head and pushed him down. 
 
The curly haired man was thrown into the air and fell off at the distance of a couple of yards. 
 
Thathaiya Nayakkar was running here and there without any target. The blood was gushing out of his both the shoulders as if being pumped by a water gun.
 
Nayakar kept on falling  down, getting up and trying to hit with his head. 
 
“You brutes! Low born scoundrels! Impotent assholes!. There is something called Dharma. There is someone called God.”- He was roaring with pain. 
 
“My God…My mother like child! I am unable to help you out ma. It is pity that I did not have enough strength to kill these dogs to save you. O…God. Aren’t you there?”- Thathaiya Nayakkar cried and  hit his face repeatedly on the rough surface of the ground. 
….. 
 
Those men left the place thinking that the situation would not be in their favour if they stayed back any longer. 
 
One of them went ahead dragging Bolammal holding her hair. 
 
The cry of Bolammal was heard for a while. After sometime, that too stopped. Silence….a deadly silence thereafter. 
 
Thathaiya Nayakkar was dying at a faster rate. 
 
He could see the things around him getting dimmer and then clearer. 
 
When he was conscious, the first thing which he remembered was the heavy spear with wooden rod that he kept in the south corner of the hall in his house. Then the smiling face of his only daughter Vengadammal came to his mind; the innocent face of his grandson Srinivasan also came to his mind. 
 
Nayakkar tried his best to regain his strength and called out loudly his host Sundaram Chettiyar. But there was none to answer his voice. 
 
His voice was echoed in the Kathiresan Kovil mountain and came back with ‘Sundaram Chettiyar’… ‘Sundaram Chettiyar’. 
 
These were the last words that came out of his mouth. 
 
“Water….Water.”
 
The horizon embraced its dawn next day. The air was calm and breezy. 
A crow which came from nowhere perched on a tree and gazed at Nayakkar’s dead body with its tilted head. It made a circle above Nayakkar’s head and cawed thrice. 
 
Two shepherd women came along that way with curd pot on their head. 
 
They stood stunned at seeing the hands severed body of Nayakkar soaked in blood and started screaming.
 
One old woman with the curd pot on her head amidst the crowd that was standing near the dead body wiped her eyes with the hem of her saree and left. 
 
“What a pity! Whose child is this? Which scoundrel has committed this sin?” she left the place murmurring this. 

 
*Translated from Tamil into English by Saravanan. K  

Note: 

This short story was written by the famous story teller, Sahitya Adademy Award winner Ki. Raja Narayanan (known for his unadulterated depiction of rustic life of southern Tamil Nadu in his short stories). It has been taken from his short story collection “Kadhavu” (Door), Annam Publication, Thanjavur. This short story was first published in Thamarai magazine (Now it is not functional) in April 1959. 
 
The literary language of Ki.Ra is a simple one in its genre. Translating his words may seem to be easy due to its visible simplicity. But translating the essence of its rustic simplicity is not that simple in English as the English language is not well equipped with the required cultural essentials to be truthful to the soul of Indian villages and its narratives. It is a sin required to be committed by any translator due to the requirement of wearing a fake sophistication while translating stories of writers like Ki. Ra. This translation does wear that sophistication too. The readers would forgive me for it. They ought to do it because they are as helpless as I am.