Part 3 (30-34)
Original : Ba.Venkatesan's short novel "Mazhiayin Kural Thanimai"
In English : Saravanan Karmegam
*****
During the time he had been active in the profession, Paramasivam Pillai used to have a bizarre agreement with rich men and English lords. That was, from the date of handing over the keys after the construction of the buildings, a particular amount had to be sent by the owners to Pillai every month as remuneration. In turn, Pillai had to assume the responsibility of incurring expenses when there was any untoward accident or any requirement for specific maintenance during the contract period. Most of the time, both parties didn’t have the opportunity to execute the second clause of the agreement. Everyone knew that the buildings built by Pillai enjoyed the guarantee of standing the test of time. No architect other than Pillai had the fame and courage to convince the heavyweights and lords to accept the agreement, such as that. There were many wonderful buildings from Karimangalam to Mysore created by the dexterous hands of Pillai. One could see them along the sides of the highway. Pillai’s skills were his hereditary asset, which he had inherited from his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. So he was not interested in building modern mediocre constructions. But it had never been sort of lacking. Many solitary rest houses in the hilly regions of Hogenekkal, Yelegiri, and Hosur and cold regions like Thali and Mathagiri were actually built by Pillai for English lords according to their taste, both in Tamil Nadu style with lime mortar and Kerala style with tiled roofs. They had possessed many secretive, traditional architectural marvels unknown to Western countries, especially the scent of golden Champak flowers from the interior walls of the buildings built by Pillai. The mixture of things that gave that scent remained a family secret known only to Pillai. The buildings, unlike having an incongruous appearance as if coming out tearing off the ground, had a natural appeal of plains having habitats in their course with gentle undulations. (Pillai’s skills did match the deftness of birds’ nests). The interiors without much complexity, the outer appeal that didn’t hurt the eyes, the apertures for light that soothed the mind, and the ventilated entrance were the unique features of the buildings Pillai built. He didn’t know any other methods. In other words, he wasn’t aware of creating astounding structures. (It was why he stood stunned, oblivious to even breathing when Sarangan brought him before the rain house). Pillai was a king in his skills; he could bring the resemblance, serenity, and propinquity of a plant in a shed made of leaves. The fame and name he enjoyed from that were just enough for him. Ever since Pillai’s great-grandfather constructed the Uttanapalli Zamin bungalow, there had been a friendship that continued for generations between the Zameen and Pillai’s family. Based on that friendship, Zamindar made Pillai accept his request to build a beautiful bungalow for his second wife. A cart was arranged for him daily to commute from his residence at Kelamangalam to Hosur Agraharam to attend to his construction works. Despite knowing that the land was criminally grabbed from an innocent farmer called Basavanna and erecting a building on that land would truly mean erecting it upon the hatred of villagers and the curse of Basavanna, Pillai accepted the offer for the sake of his friendship. As an architect, on the pretext of building the Zamindar’s palace of love, he wanted to add one more feather of fame to his crown. Even if his entire life was wasted in his efforts to build, as warned by the villagers, he thought he would nevertheless be proud of it. He had the audacity to fight an elephant to face failure rather than fighting a hare to win. Above all, he had immense faith in his skills. But as the time passed, he understood that Basavanna’s resolve was many times stronger than he had thought. He didn’t expect the events to turn out that complicated. When the works were underway up to the ceiling, a woman from another village, while buttressing it with wood logs, saw the corpse of Basavanna hanging on one of those logs and slit her throat herself out of horror. Unable to bear the weight of the dead body, the supporting log broke and hung like a swing. The other day, the entire mixture emitting the scent of champak flowers kept under conditioning for six days had to be thrown away after it was found with lizards in it. Pillai ordered the pot in which the mixture was kept to be broken into pieces. The snakes entered the holes made in the walls for the wood logs to be fixed, for the workers to stand. Since the workers plastered those holes inadvertently, the entire building developed cracks in a night due to the bodies of snakes. The workers were changed four times in seven years. Sufficient time was required to explain the abstract layout of the building and structure to the new workers and get them accustomed to it. Pillai didn’t like to use his workers as mere machines who would only stack up the stones and plaster the mixtures. Climbing on the ladder inch by inch and then falling into destiny’s mouth to plunge to where he had started was repeating like a Ludo game. However, he was not worn out at any stage. Though the Zamindar had permitted Pillai to stop the work at any stage whenever he liked, Pillai never considered that option. At the time when the Zamindar’s interest was decreasing gradually, Pillai’s interest didn’t diminish; rather, it grew stronger like fire instead, being teased by Basavanna’s ploys and impediments. His repeated failures made him more stubborn. As the days passed, it grew into a frenzy and drove him crazy. For some while, he passed his days waiting for the Zamindar’s cart when it dawned and returning home in the night. Then the days of his coming home had also started dropping. After three years, when he felt that the effect of Basavanna grew too intense, Pillai completely stopped coming home. He liked to confine himself to that building, which would never be completed. His wife, determined to take him back home, ran back home alone, panic-stricken after seeing her husband speaking to the door and holes drilled for fixing windows. She informed her sons and daughter that their father very closely resembled Basavanna. After that, she and her children didn’t see each other for four years. Seeing the food and clothes she sent to him through her children being returned by him, she kept crying, glancing at them. Most of the time, she was abusing the Zamindar, who was responsible for the state of her husband, with the choicest mouthful of invectives. She beseeched her husband through her children that they could move to another place, in case they wouldn’t be able to afford to make the Zamindar uneasy. Pillai didn’t budge even an inch. Even the village Ambalakarars who went to him at her request to convince him returned with the same shock. (The one who was sitting there was not Paramasivam Pillai. It was Basavanna, with his unrelenting stubbornness and undying love for his land). Seeing all the efforts to bring him back home turn futile, the villagers and his family members concluded that he would never come back. As time passed, they got accustomed to his absence. They almost forgot his existence. It was at that time that Pillai appeared suddenly at the doorway after seven years with a new-born baby in his hand. It was raining heavily at that time. Pillai was fully drenched. He gave the baby to his wife, who was standing there in hell-shock, unable to infer whether it was a dream or real, with delight and shock overlapping each other.
