The preparations on the shore would start long before the ships reached. The owners of the houses where the Yavanas normally stayed had to get them ready, washed, cleaned and then lime-washed. Before the rains fell, the streams and pools were cleared of the green plants growing in them and the roads and lanes were cleaned up. There were different groups entrusted with each of these activities. The kuttuvan was very particular that nothing that offended the eyes of the foreigners should be visible anywhere. He had a large group of servants who wandered round the land to examine for any transgressions.
The sleepy roads woke up suddenly. When people from other places came, the streets became crowded. The people of Muchiri would crowd on either side of the road to see the huge foreigners go past. So many different colours, different dresses, different tongues…
There would be lots of people waiting before the Yavana encampments and the shore of the river. Merchants, middlemen, moneylenders, bankers. The markets of Muchiri would also be waiting for the heavy money bags of the men from the ships. Days would be shorter from now on and nights longer. When the rains came this was especially so.
This was the season of feasts for Muchiri. The houses that got ready to entertain the foreign guests were in the process of preparation. Everyone was getting ready for the mad celebrations of the monsoon season after the ennui of the long summer. This was more so with the women entertainers who waited for the strong sailors who came in the foreign ships.
Though some of the richer merchants tried to get close to them, the Vadakkoth family kept their distance. ‘Don’t take us to be the same as the rest of the people,’ they told the middlemen who approached them. Though the family had lost some of its wealth, the pride and purity of the Puraya line remained.
This was a family that had known both good and bad fortune. Some old curse had seen to it that there was no male member in the household in generations. Even when a boy was born, he did not live long. The women, who had to bear the curse of the Anankh on the hill-top, suffered silently. They neither knew how to work in the fields, like the farming class, nor did their rounded arms with bangles have the strength to hold the plough. The maruthu lands that had not been cultivated for years were appropriated by others. The lands yielded great harvests too. When the maravars from palanilam, where no cultivation was possible due to non-availability of water, came and captured the good cattle that had been allowed to graze, there was no one to prevent them. The famous soldiers of the kuttuvan did not come that way even when they heard about it. The other women in the land enjoyed the chance of a little scandal.
The women of Vadakkoth were afraid of the Yavanas. They believed that the sailors who had not had even the smell of a woman for months on end would come greedily to the shore ready to tear to bits, the first woman they touched. It was Kichan who told them that there were men who were perfectly gentle among them—Kichan, who later became the trusted lieutenant of Adrian, the senior Yavana.
No one believed Kichan when he said that the Yavanas were of different types, like other people. There were writers, poets, singers, painters; people of all persuasions. All this talk came from walking around with the servants of the Yavanas, perhaps. Though Thanka tried her best to get out of it, Kichan was very persuasive and would not let her say ‘no’. He said, ‘Give this man chance, Amma. Kichan will never lie, even if his life is threatened.’
The Vadakkoth family, which was in doldrums, was getting into something like this for the first time. Kichan was also new to the role of a middleman. Thanka first tried evading this fate with disgust, but Kichan kept on persuading her. These men are not like the sailors who wait for the sight of the shore to loosen the tightness of their loins. These are great men of high families.
Finally, Thanka gave a half-hearted assent and tried to console herself with the thought that some of these men were obviously royal like the kuttuvans of this land. Their faces showed that they were well-born. Anyway, we don’t want to get involved in anything that does not suit the family of Vadakkoth. She also insisted once again, just this one man, there is no question of another one.
And so, for the first time a Yavana entered the bedroom of Vadakkoth Thanka. A tall, rosy, middle-aged Yavana named Adrian.
It was evident that what should be joined had been joined together. And that Kichan could be trusted. When it was realised that the eastern door of the Vadakkoth family home had been opened, others tried to get in too. But the door remained firmly shut to others. The final word was always Kichan’s.
‘He is true and faithful. You can trust him.’ Thanka passed on the advice that her mother had given her to the next generation too. Kichan grew to be the most trusted local among the Yavanas.
When they finally reached out to Adrian, the search of the Vadakkoth family for some strong support ended. They realised right at the beginning that the branch they had touched would blossom in time
Vadakkoth Thanka had a daughter, Ponnu. In time, Ponnu too had a daughter, Kunkamma.
So, the little Kunkamma grew up with two mothers—Thanka and Ponnu, a foster mother and a birth mother. That her two mothers were mother and daughter was something Kunkamma realised years later. Thanka’s logic was that the birth mother had to give birth and the grandmother had to bring up the child. Ponnu, who had actually borne the child was not capable of arguing with Thanka.
The grandmother lost out to the real mother though. Thanka could not bear it when the child sucked at her lavish breasts and started screaming in frustration. Though she tried squeezing them the glands that had dried up long ago would not give milk. The child would keep crying without stopping. With that, the foster mother would have to withdraw from the battlefield. Only the mother, who bore the child, could give the juice of life. Though Thanka had enough youth left for many more childbirths, she had to surrender here. Ponnu waited anxiously to get the child into her arms.
Thanka stood and watched while the child suckled at her mother’s breasts and Ponnu’s eyes remained half-shut in the bliss of that experience. As soon as the feeding was over, Thanka would be in a hurry to take the child back. She had everything other than this to give. When she placed the child’s milk-dampened lips against her breasts, which were still firm; when the tender fingers pressed on her breasts, something flowed in her mind too.
Ponnu had no quarrel with all that. Her mother could bring up the child. She would have to hand her back when it was time to feed her.
When Kunkamma lay suckling at her mother’s breasts, her eyes would be fixed on her mother’s long nose and those dark eyes. She later found out that no other woman in the place had such a shapely nose or eyes one could drown in. But while Thanka’s complexion was rosy and bright, Ponnu was more the colour of the tender leaves of the mango. This difference in colour pervaded their inner selves too. Thanka did not like admitting that she was a grandmother. Nor would anyone say so if they saw her. A rosy face that had grown rosier by the day, a shapely body that had rounded beautifully with time. Her lips were still reddened with betel leaves, the nose had a red stone nose ring; there was red pottu on the forehead and her earrings were studded with blood-red stones—If the daughter was a glow, the mother was a flame.
Thanka stopped Kunkamma from calling her muthamma or grandmother. She said the girl could call her peramma or aunt instead.
Kunkamma had two friends. One was Kathi who stayed with them and other was Thevi who came and went. It was Kathi who petted her and dressed her up and took care of her. Thevi had more work outside the house. When Kathi said that she had inherited her grandma’s rosiness and her mother’s beauty, Kunkamma would be thrilled. ‘You should have been born in the land of the Yavanas,’ Thevi would join in.
As Kunkamma started growing up, dirty glances started falling all around her. When Thanka decided to erect a fence, it was a wonder to the people. Fences were built only round compounds where the cattle grazed. This was because the maravars, who were cattle thieves and came across the river. They always had their eyes
open for stray cattle. Thanka was a little surprised herself. These were precautions that she had not taken when Ponnu grew up.
When the fence was half-done, the soldiers of the kuttuvan, who passed that way, saw it. They called out loudly from the gateway, ‘What is all this, Thanka?’
‘We’ll see,’ Thanka returned in a voice to match.
‘This is not usual in the place.’
‘Things become usual only if someone starts doing it.’
‘You don’t want anyone to see inside?’
‘There’s nothing so bad inside that it can’t be seen.’
The soldiers knew that there was no point in arguing with Thanka. She had a pretty good hold on the higher ups, and any complaint would reach the kuttuvan directly. But since they had passed that way, they could not pretend not to have seen this new endeavour. They did not stay to be further embarrassed.
Thanka was laughing when she watched them go away with their heads bent. Where was it laid down that there should be no secluded place? The rule that all that was valuable should reach the ruler of the place had to change. Not that she did not know the mind of the kuttuvan. It would not be the first time that the ruler had coveted a beautiful virgin. He could keep that greed to himself this time. But Ponnu did not like all this. Was the beauty of a young girl to be kept in wraps at an age when she should be dancing around like other girls.
Kunkamma was opening out like a flower. She combined the rosiness of her grandmother and the proportions of her mother. She had inherited that shapely nose and the doe-like eyes too. Thanka was afraid that the child who looked so lovely when she was so young, would set fire to the Yavana ships when she grew to an age. It was the first time that the shore had such a beauty, one who was perfect in all parts.
Her tastes were different too. When girls of her age wore the loom-woven cloth, she wanted silk that was as soft and thin as the feather of an eagle. She would choose the jewels that she wanted to wear each day from the jewellery box. Her mother and grandmother never said nay to any of her likes. She was being prepared for just one person—a young man who looked like a Yavana god. It was a promise given to Adrian long ago. Thanka and Ponnu remembered how their minds had been shaken by the sight of that boy.
Orion—the boy with the name of the constellation, the boy with his wide forehead and even wider eyes, the youngster with rosy cheeks and the lips of a girl. When he stepped on to the veranda, holding on to Adrian’s hand, both mothers could not tear their eyes away from him. Adrian must have noticed that. He had caressed the boy’s head and said, ‘It’s not yet time. When it is, he’ll come to this gate.’
Thanka had seen that the boy’s eyes were wandering to the doorways and inner rooms. She had hidden Kunkamma purposely. It was not yet time. When it was he would have the first chance.
Though he had never seen Kunkamma, Orion must have heard a lot about her from the other sailors. They must have ragged him using her name. The constellation Orion was the pathfinder for sailors who lost their way mid-sea. They would take their readings of the angles between Orion and other constellations and find their way. That must have been why Adrian, who was crazy about ships and sailing, had given his only son the name. While Adrian lay in Thanka’s inner room, trying to melt away the heat of a terrible summer, Orion sat and listened to the songs sung by Ponnu in the outer room. It was Kathi who filled his wine cup with care and affection.
Thanka and Ponnu, especially Ponnu had picked up a few Yavana words to talk with the Yavanas who came with the monsoon winds. Adrian had once joked that the magic of converting gestures to language worked more easily for women. Thanka did not retort that it was a means of survival for a woman. With each arrival of Yavana ships, her bag of words was growing plumper.
Anyway, it did not take them long to realise that in the commerce between men and women, in the joining of bodies and minds, words came a long way behind other things. This was a match made in some previous birth, Thanka thought to herself. A kind of symphony that she could never dreamt of. She had taken birth for these moments. Didn’t the middle-aged Yavana, who had come from somewhere, feel that way too?
The people around were all jealous. Everyone knew that the most important of all the Yavanas, who came from the ships, was Adrian with his fat money bags and dignified manners. Though many, from many parts of the shore had cast their eyes at him, he had not forgotten the first gateway he entered on these shores. And the women of Vadakkoth had been able to hold him there.
The Vadakkoth family got to know of Adrian’s arrival each monsoon, when Kichan and his adherents came with heavy loads. They were things meant for Adrian’s use while he stayed there. From sheets and coverlets of silk, to jars and wine and special serving dishes. Adrian was now used to the special rice and mutton dish and the curries prepared by Thanka and the fish curry that was not too hot prepared by Ponnu, but they had to be served in his own dishes. He always brought the special porcelain dishes from his land when he came. He used the same dishes even on the voyage.
With the coming of the Yavanas, the Vadakkoth family, which had lost some of its wealth and power for some time, woke up again. The kuttuvan’s people had not come to trouble them after that. They even conveyed their master’s desire with care. The kuttuvan knew that he would have to await his turn. Each inlet and small port was fighting for the favour of the Yavanas. At such a time, it was not wise to alienate the Yavanas whom Ponnu brought to this shore. The harbour fee paid by the Yavanas was a large portion of the total income of the place. This fee was collected for the goods exported and the goods imported. One could not ignore the middlemen who bargained for better rates either. People of other landings would reduce these rates to compete.
A young man of the royal family who was interested in dance and music had longed for Ponnu at one time. He was really crazy about her. He had even been willing to marry her according to the local mores. When he realised that that was not possible, he wanted to spend just one night with her, the first night of a virgin. The Vadakkoth family preferred the festival of Yavana arrivals more than the private inner rooms of the rulers, by then. The Vadakkoth household had plenty even during the rainy months that spelt misery and hunger for the whole place and this was only thanks to the beauty that pleased the Yavanas.
The young man had heard a lot about Ponnu’s music. It was his wish that her first public performance should be at an exclusive feast to be hosted by him for the important men of the locality. When the servant came with this message, Thanka laughed to herself. A mother knew best when her daughter should give her first performance.
Rumours spread that Vadakkoth Thanka was now so arrogant that she ignored the orders of the ruling family. The complaints reached right up to the top. When a servant came to Vadakkoth to take her to the royal house, Thanka settled herself more comfortably in the seat, spat out the betel leaves in her mouth and smiled to herself, ‘Isn’t it the custom of the place that the needy would present themselves at the gate, instead of sending a messenger?’
With that, the kuttuvan also realised who was more powerful in the place. But the desire that had started burning in him would not let him rest. Servants came again. ‘Just once. Say what you want. Land, gold, servants, a place in the council hall…’
Thanka laughed still. And said to herself: ‘Not yet, don’t be in a hurry. It’s an offering of a lifetime for the young girl. One has to wait patiently. You will also have your turn. But don’t think it will be the first one.
That offering would be to a special person. A very special person indeed.
The kuttuvan could hardly hold himself in. He was also nettled by the postponement. After all, the blood of the royal family flowed in the veins of Ponnu, too.
His turn too came. As Thanka had insisted, only after Ponnu’s first monsoon with Adrian. The Vadakkoth family granted the second turn to the ruler.
When he set off that year, Adrian had told Thanka, ‘This young girl has made me understand that bodies could meet at such
rhythms too…’ He had found himself transported to some magical land with that rhythm. Unusually, there were drops of water on his eyelashes, and his voice was not quite steady.
Thanka’s house was one of the strongly built ones in the place. It was made of red stone and plastered with lime. There were even small windows like the eyes of a deer. It was clean and better than the houses of some of the rich farmers there. The roof was thatched, but Thanka was careful to thatch it afresh every alternate summer. But with Adrian’s coming, Ponnu had started grumbling about the house and its flaws. The inside was not good enough for really important people to come. Water seeped in through the gaps in the thatch when it rained. She demanded that the roof be tiled before the next rain.
Thanka was stunned when she heard this. Only two groups of people had permission to have tiles on their roofs—the ruling family and the Yavanas who came visiting once a year. Even the higher-class people, like the farmers, the merchants and the chantors lived in thatched houses. Kichan too said that he had mentioned the idea to Manikkan once but Manikkan had not had the courage to do it. Finally, when Ponnu’s demands got very insistent, Thanka had to take a decision.
She had the roof tiled in two nights. When neighbours came enquiring about it, Thanka acted as though this had been the decision of the Almighty Adipuravan. It was a common belief among the people of the place that nothing was impossible if you had the blessings of the Adipuravan, the great forefather of the lineage.
With this incident, the jealousy of the local people started burning even more severely. Why did the Vadakkoth family insist that their doors would open only before light eyes and fair skin? Did they really have the arrogance to think that they could live in this place without the help of any man? They whispered to each other: We’ll see how long this arrogance lasts. The Yavanas were only merchants who came to the shore once in a year; foreigners who visited other shores too. There were others who would show them deeper ways through the sea. When other harbours deepened the way to their shore, the light eyes of the sailor, which see both day and night, will find better landings. New homes will open their doors before them. Other shapely women would prepare beds for them.
The Saga of Muziris Page 21
