This is an English translation of Mul mudi, a short story written by Thi. Janaki Raman. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.
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“So, may I take leave?” As soon as Kannusamy got up, the crowd that stuffed that hall also rose up.
“Bye, sir…”
“Bye, sir…”
“Sir, I take leave.”
Amidst those men, a small boy touched his feet with his hands and then touched his eyes with them. Anukulasamy pulled his feet back swiftly.
“Thambi, why this unnecessary obeisance?”
“Let him do it, sir—will they ever get a person like you? Please give them your words of blessing. It will happen for sure,” Kannusamy said.
Other boys followed him, and they all touched Anukulasamy’s feet and then touched their eyes. Anukulasamy stood, deeply discomfited.
“This all…” Before he completed his statement, Kannusamy intervened, “Anukulasamy, you are a true Christian. It is not flattery. If someone could remain a teacher without wielding the cane or hurling a harsh word for thirty-six years, would there be anything wrong in prostrating before that God?”
"Praise more than its worth”
“It is not my words. The entire village says this. Sitting on the market streets, I also get to know about people. Don’t I? They won’t even spare the children born to them without at least a beating. They will at least hurl abuse at them. Even that won’t be uttered here. Who else could be like this? This is the place where children and gods are celebrated. You respected these children, along with so many other children, with the respect generally accorded to human beings in general.”
When Kannusamy was speaking, the boys kept bending down, touching Anukulasamy’s feet. Anukulasamy couldn’t open his mouth to speak. It seemed that his vocal cord would tear off and tongue get twisted if he ever attempted to open his mouth.
“May I take leave now?
“Okay”—he opened his mouth with much difficulty and then shut it swiftly.
“We seek your permission to leave, sir?” The Nayanam player pleaded with his hands folded. Anukulasamy could only nod his head. It took a full two minutes for the crowd that was standing in the hall to move away through the doorway.
A couple of boys mumbled something to each other and said, “Let these two lamps be here, sir. We'll come in the morning to collect them." and then left.
When he returned after sending them off at the doorway, he saw the entire hall lying empty. He had once experienced that emptiness and heart-wrenching ach—thee same emptiness and anguish while returning after leaving Luisa at the bridegroom’s house ten years ago.
Two petromax lamps were filling the emptiness with their hissing sound.
Now they had left him alone. Tomorrow is Wednesday. But for him, Saturday, Sunday, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow—all will remain Saturday and Sunday. He wouldn’t go to school anymore. He had completed sixty years. Now retired.
He sat on the swing. Near him were lying seven or eight framed commendation letters, a silver plate, and a pen. The cost of the pen was four rupees in the shop. But this pen was priceless. Saying that it costs four lakhs or four crores would remain merely empty words, as it potentially risked treating both the same.
Four or five rose garlands made with dried banana stalks and silver threads were lying coiled.
Mahimai was standing, holding both chains of the swing. She didn’t speak at all and kept staring at him as if she were the sole recipient of all those blandishments. She sped to the door in a minute as her eyes were relishing him, latched it swiftly, put those garlands one after the other around his neck, grasped his shoulders, and kept looking into his face.
“You haven’t beaten me either. Have you? You had never used any words agitatedly,” she said, leaning her head against his chest.
“The days we are going to stay on this earth are very few, just like the winged termites dying during rainy days. Why should we waste it in getting angry and fighting with each other? We can’t correct anyone by beating. Can we?”
“No need to get angry like a monster. Can’t you get angry at least once just for being a man?”
“I do get angry at times.”
“You should show it.””
“You have got the milkwoman, servant maid, to get angry with. My anger is anyway irrelevant. Isn’t it?”
“How could you teach in school without scolding and caning?”
“I was able to.””
She glanced at him admiringly, teased him by pulling his moustache, and said, “Let me make coffee for you,” and left.
When she went inside, he felt that his soul had gotten into another body and was speeding inside. He looked up at the wall. The face with the crown of thorns was gleaming like a flood of compassion. The same face was found cuddling a goat kid in another portrait, fixed a couple of portraits away.
What Kannusamy had said was completely true. He hadn’t caned any student during his thirty-six years of service in the school. He hadn’t scolded anyone, not even a little.
It was his natural disposition. When Luisa was six years old, she got a beating from her teacher for some mischief. When the teacher whipped her with a scale, it hit the summer bumps under her blouse —oh, god! The way she was writhing in pain that day—seeing her agony—Anukulasamy resolved to keep his natural disposition permanent in his life. The one who sacrificed his life for the sins of others had done so for this generation as well. Hadn’t he?
His resolve didn’t find any taint during these thirty-six years. Which teacher would otherwise have had this privilege of having such a warm send-off given up to his residence if it wasn't for this unblemished service?
Those forty students—his class students—might have thought of a special felicitation for their teacher as though all the felicitations held in the school seemed insufficient. Today’s felicitation was the result of it. They decked him with garland after garland and praised him in letter after letter, with the music of Nayanam and Tavil simultaneously accompanying the merriment.
“Thambi, what’s all this?””
“Who else would we felicitate, sir? Please come in” – the big boy standing like a landlord requested him to come in. He, Arumugam, was twenty-three years old. He hadn’t completed his school yet. He has been in the school for a very long time, although gifted with worldly knowledge. Without saying anything, Anukulasamy just obeyed his request. Otherwise, he would start his rants about other teachers. He had already spilled out a couple of complaints about them.
“We know about them, sir. Don’t we? You haven’t asked anyone to raise funds for you on account of your retirement. You have not borrowed any amount by pledging the imitation jewels. You haven’t earned the curse of the villagers by asking them for money with your retirement letter.”
“It is alright. Get me some water” – he had to send him out from there by changing the topic.
Though Anukulasamy could shut his mouth, there was nothing wrong in what he had said. Anukulasamy had never earned the curse of the villagers. Slapping someone hard and cheating someone by not repaying the debt are the same anyway. He hadn’t even done that either.
Narayanappaiyar was also like him. Not many wives! Just one son and one daughter. But he had debt jutting out from all nine holes on his body- No one, be it the clothes shopkeeper or the women selling coriander leaves, had respected him even for a quarter of an ana. In spite of this wretched condition, Narayanappaiyar didn’t stay quiet. One of his distant relatives working in the office of the Director, Education Department in the city had written him a letter stating that Narayanappaiyar had been selected as one of the examination invigilators this year and he would receive the official communication in two weeks. Showing that letter to everyone, he had borrowed money in fifties and seventy-fives from, at least, twenty people. The salary he was likely to receive from that job was not more than two hundred rupees. When the letter didn’t arrive at last, it just sealed everything. Liquor shop Naidu caught Narayanappaiyar on the way and took away his bicycle. Wrath of having lost his bicycle! The bicycle that was snatched away from him would never be a big issue, but the one who had then been riding it was. It was a teacher. ‘Narayanappaiyar, you are a disgrace to the whole clan of teachers!
Could anyone trick the bank agent Aiyangar, who was known for taking butter out of already churned buttermilk. Saminathan tried his tricks with him. Aiyangar weighed the gold chain Saminathan pledged and gave him three hundred rupees for the chain that weighed nine sovereigns, purely on the basis of the faith he had in Saminathan as a teacher. It would have been better if Saminathan hadn’t lingered on this matter further. Would anyone give money without rubbing it on the touchstone if someone went to him again within fifteen days with another gold chain?
Rubbing the chain on the touchstone, Aiyangar smiled and said, “Hey Ayyarval, if a boy in the class seeks clarification to a doubt, we can shut him up with a rebuke for acting smart to hide our ignorance. But in this market area, it won’t work. Will it? I think I am not smart enough in this matter. Wait a minute; let me bring the goldsmith,” and then went out. Saminathan had his stomach rumble with unease. Before he could find out some lame excuses, the goldsmith had already arrived in there, along with a head constable. When the treasury room was opened in the presence of those witnesses, the chain he gave last time was grinning at them, declaring that it was just a brass chain. Even at that critical juncture, Aiyangar never failed to give due regard to the profession of teaching. Aiyangar let Saminathan go scot-free, but only after transferring Saminathan’s fifty kuzhis of land in his name, without anyone’s knowledge. Fortunately, the head constable was in veshti and shirt. No crowd and hence no public humiliation.
Another four or five persons came to his mind – “Hey, you are retired now. Only one fourth of the meal henceforth. Right? In those days, we used to raise funds for our teachers” - Ramalingam mocked at a boy and then left for his ‘daily collection’.
Mahimai brought the coffee.
“Leave your thoughts aside, have your coffee. It is hot now” Mahimai was reading the letters of appreciation one by one. She, at times, looked up to him proudly while reading them.
“Don’t think they are true. They have just comforted me as I will cry for being unable to go to school henceforth. Sugar candy words!”
“So be it. But everyone has told only the truth,” said Mahimai. “It was true that you had never raised your hands nor used harsh words. Wasn’t it?’
“Thsss…What big truth is it?”
“Praising it as a skill remains a truth anyway. Earning fame without wielding a cane and scolding anyone is indeed difficult. Isn’t it?’ Mahimai said.
Anukulasamy thought for a while. What she had said seemed to be true. He thought that he had every right to be proud of himself.
“It’s not that difficult. We can be so even with the milkwoman and the vegetable-selling woman. Will anyone who has taken birth as a human being and has some sense in him repose his faith in whipping someone?”
“Not all can do it.””
“I could be so, somehow,” he said.
“”Sir”—he heard someone knocking on the door.
“Who’s that?”
“It is me, sir.”
Mahimai went to the door and opened it.
“Is Sir here?”
“Yes. He is here. Is it Arumugam? Please come in.””
Arumugam didn’t enter alone. A boy also came in along with him. He was studying in his class. Along with them was standing a woman. She must be about forty or forty-two. Her forehead, ears, nose and hands bore a bare look. Anukulasamy stood up.
“What is the matter, Sinnaiya?”
“Sir, this is Sinnaiyan’s mother” Armugam said.
“Please come in”
If Arumugam brought someone, it meant recommendation. He was twenty-three years old, not yet completed his school. He had the reputation of a landlord in the school. Why has he come here? No more examinations are around’
“What is the matter Arumugam?”
“Sinnaiyan wanted to meet you, sir”
“Anything important, Sinnaiya?”
Sinnaiyan didn’t reply. He was standing with his head bowed. Half a minute was over since the question was asked, but he didn’t raise his head. He was crying.
“Tell him,”, said the woman.
Anukulasamy looked at him intently. The boy’s facial muscles were contorted, and his lips were shivering.
“Tell him,”, Arumugam nudged him.
“He has been undergoing an unbearable agony during the past one year,”” the woman said.
“Unbearable agony? For one year?"
“Yes, sir. Please tell him that he can now talk to others.” said Arumugam.
“Be clear. I don’t understand anything.”
“You might have forgotten, sir.” Arumugam looked at that woman and Mahimai.
“What? What have I forgotten?” Anukulasamy tried to recollect what exactly it was. He couldn’t remember anything.
Armugam resumed: “Sir, he stole the English book from Kayarohanam last year, changed its cover, and sold it for half its price in the shop. I found it out and brought him to you.”
The woman tried to comfort her son as he was sobbing silently. “Don’t cry.”
“Then?”
“You stared at him for seconds and then said that no student in your class had ever committed such a crime and no student would ever speak to him.””
The boy’s crying didn’t stop.
“We stopped talking to him from that day. No one spoke to him. We had a felicitation function for you that day. Hadn’t we? We collected a paltry amount from each of us. He gave us one rupee, but we refused to accept it and told him not to come to attend the function. Without saying anything, he left. Just a while ago, I came here before going home. He had brought his mother along with him and was waiting for me at my home. His mother explained everything to me. So, I brought them here.” Arumugam said fearfully as he was mincing words.
Anukulasamy could remember that particular incident. ‘But how did I give him such a harsh punishment? I spoke something fleetingly that day. Is it necessary to follow those words as inflexibly as this?’
“Sinnaiya, please don’t cry.” Anukulasamy said.
“Tell us that we all can speak to him now, sir.”
“He hadn’t kept well for the last one year. He had been a very jovial boy. But he hardly speaks to anyone now. At times, he speaks a word or two. Then he will leave. Do we ever know what these kids are thinking in their minds? He won’t even speak properly with his sisters. He told me about it all only this evening. Others in the house have gone to play. Since we can't find a solution to this if we don't meet you today, we have come here to meet you. Please have some mercy on him.”
Anukulasamy felt like being caught red-handed for his mistakes. His heart sank into despair, wormed in agony.
“No one was ready to take him along with them. Please receive it with your hands. How can his heart be at peace when all other boys have ”contributed?”—his mother turned to her son and said, “Give it to him.”
The boy sobbed more. He extended his hands, holding out one rupee note soaked in sweat.
“Please get it, sir,”” Arumugam pleaded.
Anukulasamy received it without a word.
“He is a very good boy, sir. The mistake he made that day was inadvertent. There were no complaints about him after that.”
“Please have mercy on him so that others will speak to him. Won’t it be hurtful if others sitting with him don’t speak to him? Tender hearts. Aren’t they?” beseeched the woman.
“I never thought that these boys would do such a thing,”” Anukulasamy rued.
“They just followed what you had told them to do,” Mahimai said.
“It needn’t be,” he smirked mildly. Only his sobs, in fact, came out as a grin. The crown of thorns in the portrait now pricked his head once.
***Ended***
