To my dear departed father, M.N. Ayyar,
and to my mother, Kamakshi Ayyar:
The beacons of light illuminating my life.
When the Lotus blooms
Written by
Kanchana Krishnan Ayyar
Copyright © 2011 Kanchana Krishnan Ayyar
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011935941
Edited by Jim Fairchild & Indrani Chakrabarti
Cover design by Feroza Unvala
Author photograph by Daljeet Singh
Published By Kanchi Books
http://www.kanchibooks.com
Contents
Foreword
Author’s Note
Rajam’s Family
Dharmu’s Family
Rajam
Part I Rajam
Chapter 1 – Rajam Vizhupuram – 1934
Chapter 2 – Rajam Vizhupuram – 1934
Chapter 3 – Rajam Vizhupuram –1934
Part II Dharmu
Chapter 4 – Mahadevan Nilakantan Ayyar (Kandu) Dindigul – October 8th, 1929
Chapter 5 – Dharmu Rangpur, East Bengal – 1934 Five Years Later
Chapter 6 – Dharmu Sometime Later
Part III Rajam
Chapter 7 – Rajam Vizhupuram – 1934
Chapter 8 – Swaminathan a Short While Later
Chapter 9 – Rajam Vizhupuram – 1934
Part IV Dharmu
Chapter 10 – Kamala Sonarpur, East Bengal – 1934
Chapter 11 – Dharmambal Rangpur – 1934
Chapter 12 – Dharmambal Dindigul– 1920
Chapter 13 – Dharmambal Rangpur –1934
Chapter 14 – Corbin Sonarpur, East Bengal
Part V Rajam
Chapter 15 – Rajam Vizhupuram
Chapter 16 – Rajam Vizhupuram
Chapter 17 – Partha Vizhupuram – 1934
Part VI Dharmu
Chapter 18 – Mahadevan Rangpur, East Bengal – 1934
Chapter 19 – Mahadevan RANGPUR
Chapter 20 – Dharmambal Rangpur – 1934
Part VII Rajam
Chapter 21 – Nagamma Vizhupuram
Chapter 22 – Mangalam and Saraswathi Pudukottai – Late 1800’s
Part VIII Dharmu
Chapter 23 – Kandu Calcutta – 1934
Chapter 24 – Kandu Train to Dindigul
Part IX Rajam
Chapter 25 – Revathi Vizhupuram
Chapter 26 –Rajam Vizhupuram
Chapter 27 –Revathi Vizhupuram
Part X Dharmu
Chapter 28 – Mahadevan Rangpur – 1934
Chapter 29 – Dharmambal Dindigul
Chapter 30 – Kandu Nagarcoil
Part XI Rajam
Chapter 31– Rajam Vizhupuram to Chidambaram
Chapter 32 – Rajam Chidambaram
Part XII Dharmu
Chapter 33 – Kandu Nagarcoil
Chapter 34 – Mahadevan Calcutta
Chapter 35 – Kandu Nagarcoil
Part XIII Rajam
Chapter 36 – Rajam Vizhupuram – December, 1934
Chapter 37 – Velandi – The Parayan Vizhupuram
Chapter 38 – Rajam Vizhupuram
Chapter 39 – Rajam The Brahmakamalam Blooms
Part XIV Dharmu
Chapter 40 – Kandu Rangpur – January, 1935
Chapter 41 – Dharmambal Rangpur— July, 1935
Chapter 42 – Kandu Rangpur – 1935
Part XV Rajam
Chapter 43 – Rajam Vizhupuram – January, 1935
Chapter 44 – Velandi Vizhupuram
Chapter 45 – Sushila Vizhupuram – February, 1935
Part XVI Dharmu
Chapter 46 – Mahadevan Rangpur – August, 1935
Chapter 47 – Dharmambal Rangpur – The Next Morning
Chapter 48 – Meera Rangpur
Part XVII Rajam
Chapter 49 – Rajam Vizhupuram – July, 1935
Chapter 50 – Mangalam Chidambaram – August, 1935
Chapter 51 – Nagamma Vizhupuram – September, 1935
Chapter 52 – Rajam Chidambaram – September, 1935
Part XVIII Dharmu
Chapter 53 – Banu and Kandu Rangpur – September, 1935
Chapter 54 – Meera Rangpur – September, 1935
Chapter 55 – Mahadevan Rangpur – September, 1935
Epilogue: The Lotus blooms
October 11th, 1935
About the Author
FOREWORD
by
Dr. Shashi Tharoor, M.P.
‘When the Lotus Blooms’ is a deeply arresting novel. The well-realized characters come alive from the very first chapter.
Set in Colonial India, the author vividly paints a picture of the lives of two child brides, Rajam and Dharmu, their trials and tribulations, hopes and dreams. She offers us a panoramic view of small town India, with its interesting collection of inhabitants, whose characters and concerns are depicted in subtle and varying shades. At times dark, at times inspiring, the chapters in this novel weave a tapestry of moods that ultimately beguile the reader into feeling a part of the lives of the protagonists.
For those of us residing in India, the stories of these women resonate with insight into the realities of a male-dominated society. But the strength of this book lies in the ubiquity of the characters, Rajam, Dharmu, Mahadevan, Nagamma, Kandu, Partha, Meera, Revathi and Swaminathan. We all have known people like them, loved them or loathed them, at some point in our lives.
A brave and bold attempt at a first novel. Well done, Kanchana!
Dr. Shashi Tharoor is a renowned author, peacekeeper, human rights activist, and a member of the Indian Parliament
“Kanchana Krishnan Ayyar’s novel, When the Lotus Blooms may well be the definitive record of life in India during the first third of the 20th century. It follows the arc of two Brahmin families and traces the lives of over a dozen characters. A born story teller, Ms. Ayyar dramatizes every incident with confidence and flair. Her characters are authentic and touching, and the novel teems with vital memories of Indian life under the Raj. She doesn’t flinch at exposing the injustices of patriarchy, imperialism and caste prejudices but tells it all with love and compassion for the victims even though they may be pariahs. I was especially intrigued with the endless duties and rituals of the Brahmin caste and their individual struggles and sometimes failures to meet such high-minded responsibilities. Westerners may be shocked, for example, at the Indian practice of marrying off their daughters before they reach puberty. For once, this story is told from the perspective of an Indian woman rather than a conscience-stricken British male. Anyone interested in this historic period will find When the Lotus Blooms difficult to put down.”
— Dr. James Fairchild, Associate Professor of Literature
Maharishi University of Management
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I first embarked on writing this book in 2008 for two main reasons. I wanted to share with the world the miraculous events leading up to my mother’s birth, as a token of gratitude for being my constant inspiration and support. I also wanted to write a book that would be a legacy and a source of pride for my children and theirs, giving them a snapshot of the era in which their
ancestors lived, back in India. Although I have used particular situations and simulated the locales in which my grandmothers grew up, the incidents and encounters are all a figment of my imagination, created fictitiously based on my mother’s tales. The myth of the Brahmakamalam is also fictitious conceived to blend with the events in the novel.
Streaming through the book is a powerful feminist vein, highlighting the trials and troubles faced by the women of the time while searching for identity in a man’s world. Some stories, like that of Revathi, a victim of domestic abuse, ring true even today. I have touched upon and moved on from the story of Revathi deliberately, mirroring the tendency of society to show fleeting interest and concern over tragedy, only to sink back into the comfort of their own numbing routines.
The book was conceived because of my dear mother, whose vivid stories allowed me to create a kaleidoscopic picture of 1930’s Colonial India with its juxtaposition of cultures, customs and languages. I could not have finished this project without the constant support and encouragement from my darling husband Rajiv, and my lovely daughters Karunya and Lavanya. My gratitude to my friends Jayashree, Teva, Ann and Aditya who read the unedited version and offered valuable suggestion. Thanks Rita for your help with all my printing needs. A special thanks also to Janevi who created my glossary. I cannot forget the invaluable support of my book group, who taught me all I needed to learn about the publishing business. My earnest appreciation to Christine and Kitty and especially to my sister, Lakshmi, for proofreading. My heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Shashi Tharoor, who took time and effort to write the Foreword for a first time author, in spite of his busy schedule. I could not have done this without Feroza, my childhood friend, mentor and phenomenal graphicartist. Finally, a big thanks to my editors, Jim Fairchild and Indrani Chakrabarti, without whom the book would not shine as brilliantly.
RAJAM’S FAMILY
Rajam: (Rajalakshmi) A child bride
Partha: (Parthasarathy) Rajam’s devoted husband
Nagamma: Partha’s mother, Rajam’s mother-in-law
Munuswamy Iyer: Partha’s father
Siva: Partha’s older brother
Sushila: Siva’s wife
Balu: Siva’s son from his first marriage
Thambu: Partha’s younger brother
Kannan: Partha’s youngest brother
Pattu: Partha’s sister, Nagamma’s only daughter
Orukai Rukminiammal: Nagamma’s mother
Swaminathan Iyer: Rajam’s father (Inspector)
Mangalam: Rajam’s mother
Kunju: Rajam’s older sister
Mani: Rajam’s younger brother
Parvathi: (Chithi) Rajam’s maternal aunt–Mangalam’s younger sister
Saraswathi: Rajam’s second maternal aunt
Velandi: The cleaner, belonging to a caste of untouchables
Revathi: Rajam’s neighbor
DHARMU’S FAMILY
Dharmu: (Dharmambal)A child bride
Mahadevan: Dharmu’s husband
Kandu: (Mahadevan Nilakantan Ayyar) Dharmu’s son
Vani: Dharmu’s oldest daughter
Rukmini: (Rukku) Dharmu’s younger daughter
Gayatriammal: (Gayatri) Dharmu’s mother
VisvanathanIyer: Dharmu’s father
Venkat: Dharmu’s younger brother
Rao Bahadur M. Nilakantan Ayyar: Mahadevan’s father
Sitalakshmi: Mahadevan’s mother
Appanshayal: Mahadevan’s grandfather
Shankar, Dandapani, Ganesh, Kannan: Mahadevan’s brothers
Meera: Dharmu’s maid
Kamala: Meera’s daughter
Jameen Amma: The landowner’s wife and Dharmu’s confidante
Jeff Corbin: A visiting British hunter
Banu: Jameen Amma’s daughter-in-law
When the
Lotus
Blooms
Prologue
RAJAM
The cramps began as a dull throb at the base of her belly and disturbed her sleep as they grew in intensity. Groaning aloud, she opened her eyes and sat up. The spasm had passed but she was wide awake. It was four o’ clock in the morning. The sun had not yet risen but the air was hot and muggy, making rivulets of sweat run down her forehead, dampening wisps of hair that had escaped from her tight bun.
“Rajam, fetch the water.” She heard the high-pitched drone of her mother-in-law, her daily morning alarm. Rolling up her thin mattress and blanket, she walked out into the courtyard. The moon was still visible low in the sky and she paused for a moment to admire the starry night. ‘The whole world is asleep, yet I have to awaken and attend to the morning chores,’ her mind protested. Rajam took slow, deliberate steps across the courtyard, breathing in deeply. She smelled the fragrance of the Night Queen still in full bloom, working to spread its perfume as she toiled to serve her family. Reaching the well, she picked up the bucket and guided it down until the splash of water broke the morning’s silence. As she pulled up the bucket, the cramps in her lower belly intensified. She stopped to take a breath and heaved on the rope, praying she was only dreaming. The spasms were stronger, and then she felt the stickiness between her legs.
There it was again. Her dreaded monthly period. She filled a pot with water and crossing the stony courtyard, hurried toward the bathroom. Her breath came in sharp shallow gasps, with churning emotions pumping through her veins. Unwittingly, hot tears streamed down her cheeks and combined with her glistening sweat to create an ocean of disillusionment.
She was seventeen. Five years had passed since her marriage and she was still without child. Could it be true? Was she really barren? Maybe what her mother-in-law told her day in and day out was true. She was barren–as barren as a dry, dusty desert. She sank down onto her haunches, her tiny body racked with tears. She sat for what seemed an eternity, with her knees pressed against her belly, rocking back and forth. Then she stood and dragged herself to the dark and dreary room which would be her refuge for the next three days, with her agonized emotions as her solitary companion. Holding a pillow against her aching stomach, she rocked herself to sleep.
Hearing someone call out to her, Rajam stirred, slowly unfurling from the fetal position she had curled into to ease the pain. The whole room was bathed in sunlight that streamed in from the skylight. There was a hesitant knock on her door.
“Rajam, are you in there? ‘Out of doors’ again?”
“Yes,” she replied despondently. She recognized her sister-in-law, Sushila’s voice. Had she come to preen about her fertile womb? She was pregnant with her first child and her swollen belly impeded her ability to walk.
“I have some upma for you,” she said, as she pushed the brass plate in. Sliding across the stone floor, it came to a clanging halt in front of Rajam. This was how she would be fed for the next three days. She was ‘out of doors’ and no one was allowed to come near her, lest her dirty presence pollute them. Rajam needed to use the toilet and announced her intention so Sushila could move out of her way. As she made her way back to the room, she poured water over the spots where her feet had touched the stone courtyard to cleanse the area, so other family members could walk through without fear of contamination. She sat down to eat breakfast, her mind protesting against being treated as though she were a leper. With a deep sigh she resigned herself to be alone: not talk to anyone, see anyone, or touch anything. On the fourth day, after a head bath, she would be permitted to reenter the house.
Ironically enough, Rajam smiled. At least she didn’t have to hear her mother-in-law’s annoying cackle. She could sleep all day and dream all night. She did not have to do any of her regular chores. Not clean the front porch with manure, or decorate it with a kolam, not cook in that steaming kitchen and not wash clothes. Nothing. Three days that were hers to sleep, think and be herself. She reached out to the brass plate and put a morsel of the upma into her mouth. She could taste the buttery flavor of ghee on the roasted semolina, the onions and tomatoes. How nice to eat food cooked by someo
ne else. These were times when she would make believe that she was a queen and the upma-servers her vassals. She would imagine that she was asleep on a velvet-covered divan adorned in the finest silks, bedecked in magnificently crafted gold and diamond jewelry.
The cramps were getting more severe now and she pressed her knees even harder into her belly. She began humming a lullaby her mother used to sing to her. It made the pain go away and when she closed her eyes, she imagined her mother’s soft hands caressing her forehead, her face gleaming like freshly polished ivory, her twin diamond nose rings glimmering in the sunlight. Rajam almost smelled the fragrance of jasmine that had been braided into her hair. The haunting scent, combined with that of sandal paste, created a fragrance which she identified with Amma. How she wished she could go home and hold her for just a moment. That would make all her pain subside and everything would be fine.
But for now, the song would have to do.
Part I
Rajam
CHAPTER 1 – RAJAM
VIZHUPURAM – 1934
When the Lotus Blooms Page 1
