“Is it already time for the chandhai? My God, I never realized it.”
“Yes. And I am going to win the idli eating competition this year.”
“Well, you can start practicing right now. Today’s palaharam is idli.”
“Aha! Idli! Just thinking about it is making me hungry,” said Partha licking his lips.
“VangoNaa. Let me serve you dinner,” Rajam said with an indulgent smile.
Partha put his arms around her miniscule form, hugging her close, and his warm embrace conveyed his feelings more than any words could ever express.
CHAPTER 17 – PARTHA
VIZHUPURAM – 1934
The scenery was unfolding slowly for Partha because his vision was blocked by Sushila and Siva on either side. In between their heads, Partha tried to get a glimpse of the paddy fields but the dust from the ambling vilvandi clouded his narrow vision. His body swayed to the rhythm of the moving vehicle, now to the left and then to the right. As he gazed into the dusty distance, he saw one side of the road and then the other, almost as if he were closing one eye and then the other. Sushila was tired. She had rested for over a month at her mother’s house and now the brothers were bringing her home to Vizhupuram.
“How long has it been since you married, Partha?” Siva asked, breaking the silence.
“Almost five years.”
Siva smiled and then convulsed into laughter.
Sushila stirred, “Did I miss something?”
“You certainly did. You should have been there when Partha was trying to arrange his own marriage. For two weeks he danced around me begging me to speak on his behalf. Hey Partha, thadhinginathom aadiniyaa illiyaa?”
“That was your fault. You didn’t have the courage to confront Amma.”
“And you did?”
“Eventually,” Partha admitted.
Sushila was totally confused. “Stop speaking in riddles and tell me what happened.”
“Ask Partha.”
“I wanted to marry Rajam and Siva would not ask Amma, so then I had to do it myself.”
Siva roared with laughter. “Yes you did, after drinking six glasses of buttermilk and umpteen cups of coffee.”
“Laugh all you want to, Siva. Finally I asked her, didn’t I?”
“You certainly did.” Siva conceded.
By this time Sushila was totally lost and decided to sink back into slumber. But Partha could not stop smiling. In retrospect it was funny but thinking back, that period was the most stressful time of his life, when his whole future hung in balance.
Two weeks had passed since he approached Siva to broach the subject of him marrying Rajam with Nagamma. But Siva always had some excuse. Amma is asleep; she is in a bad mood; the sun is shining; I’m sleepy; it was always something or the other. Partha got tired of asking him and decided to take matters into his own hands. He would approach the daunting Nagamma and ask her; what was so difficult about that? He walked boldly into the kitchen where his mother was grinding chutney. “Amma,” he started.
“What is it?” Nagamma paused and smiled indulgently at her favorite son. Just as he was about to speak, his sister, Pattu, walked into the kitchen, sending his thoughts into complete disarray. “Can I have some coffee?” was all he could say. Moments later, he walked out into the courtyard with his second cup of coffee. Siva was there. “What happened? Did she say anything?”
“I couldn’t ask her; Pattu walked in, so instead I asked for coffee.” Siva was on the floor doubled up laughing.
By the time he finished his sixth cup of coffee later that week, all the brothers were in on the joke and the laughter could be heard on the next street. Every time Partha had a glass of something — buttermilk, water or coffee in his hands — the brothers went, “Attempt number twelve, thirteen, fourteen…” By the end of two weeks, Partha had not slept, partly because he was hyper with all the coffee in his system, and partly because he had been up all night rehearsing his speech with his mother. All the while, his brothers teased him mercilessly.
Finally, the caffeine kicked in. Nagamma was sitting in the thinnai weaving jasmines into a garland, humming to herself and seemingly in good spirits. The backdrop was right, the timing perfect and the words just rushed out of his mouth in one long unending sentence.
“Mother I think that I am old enough to be married. If you are thinking of contacting a matchmaker, don’t bother because I have seen a girl who would suit our family well. If you saw her you would surely approve so I think maybe you should go and see her parents and ask for her hand. Her name is Rajalakshmi and she is the daughter of Inspector Swaminathan.”
By the time he finished, his head was hammering and he was completely out of breath. He turned red and could hear his heart pumping at the tip of his ears. What followed was a stunned silence. Even if Nagamma had spoken, Partha was in no condition to be listening. Thankfully, Siva chose this moment to walk in and gratefully, Partha rushed out into the backyard.
The next few weeks went by in a blur. Nagamma called the matchmaker to take the alliance to Swaminathan’s house and get the girl’s horoscope. The couple’s horoscopes had to match if any alliance were to be pursued. At birth every child had their horoscopes made which included a diagram mapping the sky at the time of birth, detailing the birth stars and planetary ascendancy. The astrologer was expected to make predictions about their life together and the number of children that could be expected. If by chance there was a Manglik Dosham then all proceedings would halt as that would indicate that the union was flawed. Nothing moved forward till they got a positive response from the astrologer. For Partha, the tension was intolerable. In between cycling past his future wife’s home and pretending to study, he constantly waited for the gate to creak open heralding the arrival of the matchmaker. Never before did he welcome this portly Brahmin as he did when the man finally arrived.
“Namaskaram, Ramachandran Saar,” Partha said, cheerfully greeting the visitor.
“Namaskaram Partha. Is Amma at home?”
“No, she has just stepped out to go to the temple but you can talk with me.”
To Partha’s horror, the Matchmaker said, “Is that so? In that case, I’ll stop by another time.”
“No no no,” screamed a desperate Partha, dragging him in and seating him in the easy chair. He ran into the kitchen and got a glass of water for his esteemed visitor and in a flash was running down the road to the temple, to hustle his mother back. In no time, they were on the way home. Today she seemed to be walking slower than usual and if he could, he would have carried her home. Once they entered the house, he nonchalantly whistled as he pottered around the front room, walking in and out, hoping to catch a bit of the conversation but still trying to appear disinterested. To his utter relief, his mother called him in and said the horoscopes matched and they could proceed to the next step, which was to fix a date for the “Ponpaakal,” or the official viewing of the girl.
Partha smiled, inwardly mocking himself for his frenetic state of mind before his official engagement to Rajam. The days were too long, the nights longer still. Time hung heavily on his hands and it seemed as if no one was interested in fixing things fast enough. Although it was only two weeks between the time he approached his mother and the actual Ponpaakal, Partha felt he had aged considerably in the interim. His mind was centered on one thing and one thing only, and he could not focus on anything else. Every time he climbed onto his bike to run an errand, it would involuntarily take a detour past the Swaminathan residence. Sometimes he parked under the shade of a tree to watch unnoticed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rajam again. His mother wondered how a ten-minute errand always ended up taking the better part of an hour, but Partha was always ready with some excuse.
Finally, the matchmaker returned with a date for the Ponpaakal. It was to take place the following Friday at 5 p.m. Partha was like a madman, unable to sleep or eat properly. He was nervous about getting married but then his brother was married at sixteen, so he calmed himself w
ith the thought that he was almost seventeen years old, ready to take on the responsibility of a householder. Besides, he always had the financial support of his family and would continue to live at home. Nothing changed, except that Rajam would now enter his life.
Friday somehow arrived. Partha looked at himself several times in the mirror to make sure he looked all right. After taking another bath, he put on the silk veshti with a gold jarigai border and a matching angavastram. He wore a pure white terylene shirt and carefully applied the vibuthi and kumkumam on his forehead. Once more he checked himself in the mirror. He looked dashing!
The groom’s party hired an extra bullock cart for the occasion, as theirs was not large enough to fit in the whole family — mother and father, Siva, Pattu, Thambu, Kannan and of course Partha; everyone dressed for this auspicious occasion. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they arrived at the house. Banana leaves and flower garlands decorated the front entrance. A group of people waited at the doorway; amongst them, right in front greeting them, was Inspector Swaminathan himself. Partha took one look at him and his heart sank. He recognized him instantly and judging by the twinkle in the Inspector’s eyes, he too recognized Partha.
‘Oh no!’ thought Partha, ‘All is lost. He will never agree to the match now that he has seen me and knows who I am and what I did.’
His mind raced back to the chance meeting with the Inspector, which took place the previous year. Partha was at the temple when he felt the urgent need to relieve himself. His need was so pressing he could not wait a moment longer. So he went to the back wall of the temple and began gleefully emptying his bladder. Soon, both his friends followed suit, when two constables turned the corner. The three boys were so engrossed in what they were doing they did not notice the policemen. Before the boys had time to complete their task and make themselves decent, they felt rough hands on their shirts and were hauled off to the police station. Inspector Swaminathan looked up as the three culprits were brought into the station. “What happened?” he asked.
“Saar, urination and making public nuisance in the temple area,” replied the constables.
The Inspector looked at them, asked their names and then delved into a ten-minute tirade on ethics and dignity, the sanctity of the temple area and upbringing. Partha was so ashamed he could not directly look at the Inspector’s face even once. First, he was unable to control his urge, then of all places, he had to do it right there near the temple. Surely he could have waited until he was in a less public place. But to be caught in the act and get dragged off to the police station was the biggest shame. Now he would have a police record and even worse, he had to explain all of this to his mother. He did not even want to think about her reaction. He couldn’t believe it when he heard the Inspector saying, “I’m letting you go with a warning. I don’t ever want to see you here again.” Partha was so relieved he wanted to pee, but this time he controlled himself until he reached home!
Partha looked once again in the direction of the Inspector. Had he recognized him? The Inspector was talking with his father and did not give him another look till they were seated inside. Partha looked around eagerly, his heart hammering in excitement but there was no sign of Rajam. Beautiful flowers decorated the mutram and colorful Tanjore jamakalams were spread out on the floor for everyone to sit on. The polished silver pooja utensils gleamed in the evening sun. A single chair stood in the center of the room and Partha was directed to sit on it, as he was the Maaplai, the possible future son-in-law. Partha fidgeted in the chair, the rexine making him sweat. They had been exchanging pleasantries for a while now and still no sign of Rajam. Finally Mangalam, his prospective mother-in-law, left the room and returned with her daughter.
Partha stared unabashedly at this vision unfolding before his eyes. He was scared to blink in case this was a dream and he would wake up, alone, on his bedroll. Rajam was wearing a peacock blue pavadai and chattai with a magenta border adorned in gold jarigai. On her waist was a gold and ruby waist belt, the odiyaanam, a legacy from her grandmother. She had gold and ruby jimikis on her ears and wore two long gold chains. She was instructed to come and do namaskaram to her prospective groom. Partha could not believe the turn of events. Just yesterday he was cycling past her house to catch a glimpse of her and now she was bowing down at his feet. Close up, she was even lovelier. Pale ivory skin and light brown almond shaped eyes. The only decoration on her face was a pottu in maroon kumkumam in the center of her forehead. Her beauty was innate and seemed to be an effulgence of her wonderful nature. In the years to come Partha never tired of admiring her natural beauty and constantly thanked his good fortune.
Rajam sat cross-legged next to her mother and sister. Nagamma asked if she knew how to sing. Immediately the harmonium was brought out and the strains of “De…Viii …Meenakshi…” filled the air. She sang beautifully and played the harmonium even better. Who could object to such a perfect daughter in law? The guests were then served hot Sojji-Bajji and coffee and then it was time for the groom’s family to depart. Normally the groom’s party informed the girl’s family about their acceptance or rejection of the alliance on the following day. This way it wasn’t embarrassing if they did not like the girl or the family. But in this case, it was the groom’s family that asked for the alliance in the first place. As Partha reluctantly climbed into the bullock cart to leave, he heard his father say, “You know that we like the girl. My son also likes her. The rest is up to you. Please inform us through Ramachandran if we can proceed with the engagement.”
The bullock cart went roughly over a large rock bumping Partha’s head hard against the roof, quickly bringing him back from his world of dreams into present time. The journey had gone by fast. In the near horizon he could see the gopuram of the Vizhupuram Shiva temple, which meant they would be home in a few minutes. His thoughts were yanked back to his Ponpaakal, and he wondered if Rajam wanted him then as much as he wanted her. Somehow he never asked her. Sushila rose from her deep slumber as the cart trundled down the street approaching their house. As they came up to the front gate, Partha noticed a cycle parked outside and wondered who the visitor was.
The family rushed out to meet them, and Sushila waited till Nagamma and Rajam brought out the ‘kumkumam aarathi’ to welcome her back and prevent more bad luck. Three times with the plate one way and three times the other. Nagamma took the plate and poured the red liquid outside, thereby throwing away all the bad luck that had befallen poor Sushila, who stepped across the threshold with her right foot. As she entered the house the first one to embrace her was Rajam.
“Come, Sushila, I missed you. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes Rajam, just a little sleepy.”
Partha walked past them into the front room where his father-in-law, Inspector Swaminathan, was seated. Rajam came in as well just as Partha finished touching his father-in-law’s feet, getting his blessings. She said softly, “Appa has come to visit. He wants us to spend a week with him for Deepavali.”
Swaminathan rose from the easy chair. “Yenna Maaplai, Sowkyamaa? Looks like I have come at a very busy time. I just wanted you both to come and spend Deepavali with us. Kunju is still there with our sixth grandson. It will be a very nice family reunion. What do you think? Would it be all right?”
Partha thought for a moment. He had a week off for Deepavali, so that would not be a problem. Besides Rajam loved going home, especially if he accompanied her. “Let’s see, it should be no problem,” he replied tentatively. Rajam was not very happy with his reply and knew she had to talk him into it. This week, Nagamma’s barbs about her not conceiving were especially cruel. She wanted to tell Partha but then decided not to. Why burden him with household problems? It would only give him a lot of grief. He was Nagamma’s favorite son and Rajam did not want to be the reason for any bad blood in the family. Nagamma’s comments hurt her but what could she do other than pray for a baby? A week away from her would definitely be welcome. Besides, she had not yet seen her sister Kunju’s new ba
by. With Sushila away, things had been hectic running the household and there had been no time for a break.
Swaminathan had received his transfer orders a few months after Rajam’s marriage. Leaving Vizhupuram was difficult, mainly because he was leaving behind his youngest daughter. Almost every other day he would stop by to visit Rajam, even if it was for a few minutes. And he missed that. Chidambaram was not very far away but still he felt heaviness in his heart whenever he thought of Rajam. Now his visits had to be planned and he could not see her on a whim. As Swaminathan climbed onto his borrowed bike, he said to Partha, “It would be nice if you could get some leave and come to Chidambaram to get Sankaracharya’s blessings. I will be staying in Vizhupuram for a few days just to meet my friends. Hopefully, we’ll see you at the chandhai this Saturday. Don’t tell Rajam but her mother and brother will also be there.”
Swaminathan had his work cut out for him when he returned to Chidambaram. He had to arrange police bandobast for the opening of the Sankara Madham. Paramacharya Chandrasekhara Saraswathi, the young head of the historical Sankara Madham, was coming from Kanchipuram to perform and supervise the ceremonies for the opening of a branch of the Sankara Madham in Chidambaram, and there would be visitors and devotees congregating from all over south India. It was the first time that the “order of the great Sankaracharyas” was opening a center in this area.
After seeing his father-in-law off, Partha walked back into the house with Rajam, sneaking an arm around her waist. It was so rare to be alone, just the two of them, that he took advantage of any opportunity. Rajam moved out of his reach as they walked into the house.
“Yenna, can we go to Chidambaram?”
When the Lotus Blooms Page 12
