Baby Doll

by Gracy

  It was after a month that it became clear there was a new world and a new life beating inside me. Scared that the galloping of the racehorse would shatter everything, Ammachi’s bosom proved to be my solace. ‘I’m not going back again, Ammachi. I can’t kick life around like this!’

  Ammachi held me tight and stroked my back. There was both rain and summer in her eyes. ‘Why is the ball round, my girl? Isn’t it so that you can roll it around as you please? Kick the ball out of the bedroom and dismiss the spectators!’

  On my return, I ousted the statue from the bedroom. I tore off the pictures from the wall. These days, as soon as Joyichan hits the bed, sleep welcomes him with loving hands.

  Oh, my Jesus, what’s to be done if things are like this?

  (Panthu)

  24

  Do Not Trespass

  The matter was not so insignificant! How could it be, when one trespassed into another’s privacy? When the morning’s childish innocence streamed in through the window and nudged me awake, I came out of the room. As I stepped into the corridor, a partial view of Appan, still in bed despite being awake, was revealed in the room right ahead. His chin balanced on a pair of scissors made ready for action by crossing the forefinger and the middle finger of his right hand, Appan seemed to be trying to snip off some corrosive thought. When I was sitting on the porch and savouring the invigorating cold air breathed in greedily, the first of his loud, brief declamations – ‘Ah! Time to get up!’ – flew in like a murmuring arrow and pierced the purity of the morning. The echoes of Appan’s self-explanatory pronouncements reverberated on the tip of the arrow.

  Thereafter, he would untie his mundu, shake it thoroughly, and yawn loudly to announce the severing of his ties with sleep. He would then squat unmoving on the low parapet of the veranda, his stare drilling through the air. Amma would then enter the stage with a glass of black tea. Cupping the glass, he would sip the tea little by little, expelling the steam with a ‘Hah!’ as big as a mouth, place the empty glass on the parapet, and let out his next monologue: ‘Ho! Sweated it all out!’ A little later, he would stand up with a pointed grunt and it would be time for the next one: ‘Now to the yard to empty the bowels!’ Exactly ten minutes before having last night’s leftover gruel for breakfast, another statement would emanate: ‘Now to brush the teeth!’ After drinking the gruel noisily, he would gargle and spit a great gob of phlegm brought up in the process, right in time for his next declaration: ‘Now to the field!’

  Then I would swim serene and aimless in the pulsing froth of silence, free of Appan’s short outbursts. When the eyes of the sun descended to caress the earth, Appan would appear like a dam to block them. Seared by the rough edges of life, Appan would cross over to his second instalment of soliloquies, beginning with, ‘What heat!’ As if on cue, Amma would come out with a bowl, and an earthen pot full of palm toddy. With a smile sourer than the toddy, Appan would fill his glass. A deft flick of his little finger would dislodge the floating insects that had drunk themselves to death. Holding the pot by its neck, he would drain the toddy in a single gulp. With a satisfied ‘Ha!’ Appan would wipe off the white froth from his grey moustache with the back of his right hand, while the fingers of his left hand would start their voyage through the forest of hair on his chest. After lavishing special attention on one strand of hair and making mute conversation with it, the fingers would then return to their starting point. Almost simultaneously, the fingers of his right hand would be seen reaching out greedily for the side dish of spicy pulses that breached the boundaries of the large bowl in which they languished. Once the rest of the toddy too was drunk, a tipsy song, trying to find its way on uncertain steps, would collapse: ‘There isn’t anything better than toddy in this fucked up world, my Maria! A drop goes inside, and this fucking world is as worthless as grass gruel!’ Sitting with his face upturned like a fox about to howl, Appan’s face would become beatific, as if he were seeing Lord Christ in person. Finally, with a nod of his head and another aside – ‘Now, let me straighten out my back!’ – Appan would get up, gripping the breeze for support.

  Thus, Appan’s soliloquy-laden life breached my privacy incessantly. These asides invariably dragged me into Appan’s private world via the stench of faeces and the decaying stink of unbrushed teeth. In a way, that was actually an even worse assault on my privacy. Thereafter, I immersed myself in studying how exactly these soliloquies managed to lacerate my private world.

  I discovered that they would start sprouting in Appan’s chest as soon as the second half of the night began to wane. Their gurgle and struggle to find a place would be revealed through Appan’s mouth and nose. I found a way to annihilate them before they could come out of his chest through his throat at daybreak and strike me with their sharp fangs. However, Appan mistook it as an attempt at strangulation, which he saw as an act of revenge from a spinster past the age of twenty-eight. Anyway, the long and short of it was that Appan decided to get me married off, even if it meant squandering his savings.

  That is how Thomassukutty came into my life.

  On our wedding night, when Thomassukutty and his friends were busy meandering through the innuendoes of clinking bottles and glasses, I shut the door to my wedding chamber and cuddled my solitude. After midnight, Thomassukutty reached the bedroom, rowing on the swaying rhythms of a boatman’s song, belting out a parody of its folksy refrain: ‘Thitthithara … thitthai … there’s a froggy floating dead in the thitthithara pond.’ He flopped face down on to the bed. Wavelets rose on the white linen. Then Thomassukutty turned into a dead frog, as the bed held its breath. Since there was no space, I stood for a long time like a cross placed near Thomassukutty’s head. Finally, when I could not stand it any more, I sat there on the floor until dawn broke.

  In no time, I realized that Thomassukutty was a demon worse than my Appan. Through the nights, Thomassukutty’s chest heaved with countless soliloquies that grew like anthills with sharp facades. Crawling out of Thomassukutty’s nine orifices, those monologues began to eat me up raw. Hence, I was forced to apply on Thomassukutty a method more vindictive than the one I had used on my Appan. After pouring a bottle of kerosene on the sleeping Thomassukutty, I lit a matchstick. Unfortunately, it was at that very same moment that, in his dream, Thomassukutty jumped into a pond to rescue a boy who was trying to drown himself. Thomassukutty fell flat on the floor and panicked when he saw fire and smoke from the bed. He yanked the bedroom door open and ran out screaming. As for me, who ran behind Thomassukutty, it was promptly a trip back to the house into which I was born.

  The blast from Thomassukutty’s thundering sermon cleared a dry path to the porch, which I followed to find my way back into the house. Passing Appan’s fiery eyes and Amma’s pallid heart, I reached my tiny room. Before I slammed the door shut, I let my face reflect a pointed warning scribbled in a secret language: ‘Do not trespass!’

  (Athikramichu Kadakkaruthu)

  25

  Body and Blood

  Her love of the Lord ripened and Kunjumary became his bride, and though the wings were missing, she became Angel Mary. Every night, the Lord would descend into her dreams, arriving from heaven in clouds flocking about him like lambs. Nibbling upon the heavenly words from his lips, words that streamed about like scattered pearls, her heart flew into the burst of dawn.

  A brilliant student, Sister Angel Mary had joined the church-run college to teach. Stepping into the department optimistically and hopefully, she was shocked into stillness. There he was, the Lord, seated on a chair in the department! Frozen, the toes of her left foot slightly raised, her fingers delicately and prayerfully spread, and leaning forward, Sr Angel Mary looked like a dove of peace. When the shadow of brightness touched his eyes, the Lord looked up from the heavy book he had been reading. Sr Angel Mary’s astonished gaze flew over the Lord’s peaceful blue eyes and the dark grape-like ringlets of hair that fell to his shoulders.

  Unable to bear her curiosity, Sr Angel Mary went up to the Lord, held his
hands and searched for the stigmata on his palms. Smiling calmly, the Lord said, ‘Time erased all the wounds!’

  Sr Angel Mary raised those warm hands, tremulous as doves, to her lips, placed them back gently on the book, then wiped her streaming eyes.

  That night, Sr Angel Mary did not sleep. Nor did the Lord descend from the skies to her.

  The next day, Sr Angel Mary entered the Lord’s room anxiously. She disrobed him and searched for the throbbing, sacred heart on his smooth, hairless chest.

  Again, smiling gently, the Lord said, ‘The path to the heart lies through the body.’

  Sr Angel Mary leaned against the Lord’s divine body.

  (Translated by Mini Krishnan from Rakthavum Mamsavum)

  26

  The End of a Naive Romance

  Let’s get to know these people.

  This man is Albert. Twenty-four years old.

  This woman is Vanaja. Also twenty-four.

  They studied together for their MA in Malayalam at Maharaja’s College. When poetry and fiction went to their heads, they climbed skywards on the spiral stairway of love. Witnessed by their two friends, Latheef and Nandan, they signed a contract to become husband and wife at the registrar’s office. They started living together in a rented house on the narrow street opposite Aluva railway station.

  It was when a guest came into their lives unexpectedly that nightmares began to peck at Vanaja like vultures. So, Vanaja kept her eyes open all through the nights. Soon, an anxiety flamed from the webbed roots of her bosom. When she floundered for breath, with smoke covering her mouth and nose, Albert became her saviour. ‘What is it? What happened?’ Albert’s right hand would caress her. Struggling to draw breath, Vanaja would keep muttering, ‘Our … child…’ Pulling Vanaja’s feverish body closer, Albert would kiss the crown of her head and comfort her in a firm voice, ‘He is not your child alone. Don’t I have a responsibility too? Then why are you the only one weighing down your soul with all these burdens, my girl?’

  Contrary to expectations, this speech continued like a ritual once it started. Only if you cocked your ears and listened closely, could you hear what Vanaja muttered in a tired voice, ‘That’s not a he, Albert! It’s a she!’ Albert’s laugh resounded clearly through the darkness and ended with, ‘Who said so?’ Vanaja’s answer – ‘A will-o’-the-wisp!’ – might have sounded absurd at first. Albert’s surprise too could not be missed: ‘A will-o’-the-wisp?’ The surprise only intensified at the explanation: ‘My love, it happened today afternoon when I was sitting in the back room. A will-o’-the-wisp wafted in from somewhere. Sitting on the tip of my nose, it smiled. It slipped down my throat and buried its face in my left breast. It giggled, yearning for the scent of breast milk. Ears pressed against my swollen belly, it smiled broadly and said, “It’s a girl child!”’

  Here, one could opine that this was the problem with studying literature. Nevertheless, Albert had started to melt. As long as they are courting, even when a man’s mind flies like a kite, the string of control is still in the girl’s hands. That was why Vanaja’s hand extended to touch Albert’s cheek. ‘Crying? Don’t be sad that it is a girl. If things are so bad, all three of us can commit suicide, can’t we?’

  Surely, these words would melt any hardened heart. Then how could it be otherwise in Albert’s case? It was a wonder that both of them seemed to draw comfort from listening to the thunderous sound of a train passing by. When they had started living in this small house, the sound of trains was the most unbearable thing. Both of them used to feel that the night trains were rushing over their chests. They would lie immobile for a long time, as if their heads had been severed from their bodies, or their bodies had been dismembered. Then, slowly, the limbs would start twitching. The shattered pieces of the body would reunite. Sighing with relief, they would reach out to assure each other of the presence of life. Now they discovered that this train was a bridge that could help them cross to the other side. It was the only consolation, and it helped Vanaja to shut her eyes.

  All the same, Albert was scarcely able to catch a wink. His vision was wounded by the jagged edges of darkness. When will love not be a sin in this world, Albert wondered. He sincerely pitied Vanaja, who had descended into the wasteland of love from a self-contained life in an old mansion.

  Troubled, Albert got up slowly. When he opened the tiny window, his glance became entangled with four or five somnolent stars on the horizon. Albert reached a poetic conclusion – the loneliest things in the universe were stars. How many light years were there between two stars?

  A spring stirred in Albert’s heart. When all the sorrows and miseries of life had ebbed, he felt lighter. A little later, he was able to go to bed with an untroubled mind, but he saw Vanaja struggling in the sharp beak of another nightmare. Noticing her streaming forehead, the trembling pupils under her eyelids and her twisting lips, he felt compassion well up in him. Raising his right hand, Albert silently rebuked, ‘Get lost, nightmare!’

  The adage in the Holy Book – that faith the size of a mustard seed could move even mountains – was obviously not mere fancy. Watching Vanaja’s face calm down, Albert fell asleep.

  Vanaja crossed that dreamless sleep and opened a door only to enter an aisle crawling with labour pains. After the delivery at the hospital, Vanaja lapsed once more into a dreamless sleep. When she woke up and noticed a bell instead of a banyan leaf on the baby’s groin, it was only natural that she screamed. Her heartbroken cry, ‘Albert! This is not my child!’ tore Albert’s heart. Holding Vanaja’s hand close to his heart, Albert sat frozen for a while. The wail – ‘This is not my child! What did you do to my daughter?’ – unhinged him. In an ardent voice, he insisted, ‘I heard the doctor say that this is a day of boys. All ten women delivered boys.’

  Was there anything wrong if Vanaja looked at him in utter disbelief? Unable to stand that stare, Albert turned his face towards the baby. His eyes were stuck on his son’s eyebrows that joined over his tiny nose. Like a man on whom sudden light had dawned, he said, ‘Don’t you see, Vanaja? His joined eyebrows? Just like mine! A miniature replica of the same face that I see in the mirror!’ With that, Vanaja’s eyes began to crawl over the facial features of the baby. Suddenly, Albert laughed. ‘See? The mole on his earlobe? Vanaja, have you forgotten that it was the mole on your earlobe that I touched first?’

  It was a moment when any woman would feel languid. Vanaja’s face flushed with the memory of Albert’s first touch. Still, her lips were doubtful. ‘But the will-o’-the-wisp…’ With a victorious roar of laughter, Albert patted her cheek. ‘You foolish thing, wasn’t your will-o’-the-wisp only joking?’

  As Vanaja contemplated whether she should join in the laughter, the baby started crying. With the right of a father, Albert chided her, ‘Instead of wasting time saying this and that, feed my son!’ When an engorged breast popped out, Albert’s heart softened. While the hapless little boy in him, who had lost his mother in his childhood, looked forward to having a sip of milk every now and then, Vanaja became apprehensive: ‘How will we bring him up? I don’t have a job. The money that we get from the tutorial classes won’t be enough for anything. What will we do now, Albert?’

  Silently, Albert ascended the steps of thought. Sitting on the last step, he threw words towards her one by one: ‘Eventually, we will find a way for everything, Vanaja. You relax.’ That is when Latheef entered with the money from selling two of Vanaja’s bangles. Saying he needed to meet his sister, Leelamma, Albert left and melted into the evening with his friend.

  When Albert returned, Vanaja was not in the room. He was stunned to see the baby sleeping alone on the cot. While he stood rooted to the spot, Vanaja returned from the room next door. The spurt of fury rushing up from his toes fizzled out when Vanaja came forward and held both his hands, giving him a tender smile.

  ‘What you said is right, Albie. I went and checked in all the nine rooms. All of them are boys.’

  Albert could not help laughing. As he
laughed, he also slipped in a warning that, henceforth, Kannan should never be left alone. After that, Albert could be seen walking the tightrope of lies like a skilled acrobat. ‘Poor Leelamma. She is sad that she cannot do anything. She can’t come and stay with us. Her son is in the tenth standard, isn’t he? Brother-in-law won’t allow you to stay there either. Latheef says, we can cope well enough on our own. And we can get all the herbal medicines you need from the Vaidyar’s shop here.’

  Having got off the tightrope, Albert strolled through his thoughts, stroking his thick beard. He hid from Vanaja his disappointment that he had become a non-entity for Leelamma, who used to shield him under her wings from his stepmother’s cruelties.

  Vanaja, who had returned from the hospital, was poised on the thorny tip of obstinacy: ‘Albert, before we can blink, my ninety days of rest will be over. I need to get some job somewhere.’ Hiding his irritation, Albert countered with many questions: ‘How can little Kannan be put in a day-care centre? Won’t his health be affected? If so, is it not true that your wages would not even be enough to clear the hospital bills? Can’t you wait until Kannan is three?’ But all these questions merely circled around without reaching her. Disregarding Albert, Vanaja disappeared through the doors to some other world. That was why Albert, who was leaving the kitchen after having finished his chores, could do nothing but wail with his hands on his heart when he saw Vanaja emerge from the bathroom on the other end of the back veranda without a stitch of clothing on her! Albert ran and pulled her into the bedroom, blocking out the world. Then, he burst into tears. ‘Though we’re struggling, we are getting by, are we not? Then why do you make me so sad?’ It was when Vanaja looked up shocked and asked what she had done that Albert understood the state of affairs required closer examination. As he left for the tutorial college, he said, ‘Remember that you are a new mother. Don’t forget to eat, and take your medicines. Leave the rest to me.’