Though they knew that he was crooked, the merchants kept him on as a middleman for his skill in fixing deals. Still, they would take a lot of precautions when they had dealings with him.
Ponnu was sure that Chukran had taken possession of her mother. The stories told by Thanka those days were all about pirates and robbers and the atrocities committed by them. Ponnu guessed that some of these horror stories originated from Chukran. Earlier the gangs of robbers attacked only the merchants, but now their gaze had turned to homes with gold and money. These robbers were targeting households with no men to protect them. They attacked the women and grabbed the gold and money.
When Ponnu heard her mother’s frightening stories, she had a doubt, ‘The kuttuvan has this well-known night patrol, hasn’t he? I’ve heard that the soldiers patrol each street at night.’
‘The patrolling takes place all right,’ her mother answered carelessly. ‘How many households can one group of patrolling soldiers protect?’
That could be true. But Ponnu realised that these stories of robberies led to her mother’s idea that they should engage in trade. She was doubtful of the wisdom of it—for two women to enter the world of trade, peopled by tricksters and manipulators! What did her mother know of the inner machinations of trade? And that on the strength of what someone like Chukran said. Ponnu was scared at the idea.
Her mother, though, seemed half-decided. Whatever the risks, it was better than keeping this gold and money earned over a lifetime at home. The robbers attracted by the wealth would attack the women too.
‘We could hand over the gold to the treasury of the kuttuvan. I’ve heard that some of the bigger merchants do that for safe-keeping.’ The kuttuvan’s treasury was an underground chamber, guarded twenty-four hours a day by armed guards.
‘No!’ Thanka immediately scotched the idea. ‘No one should know that we have so much gold and money.’ They would be thunderstruck that the women had managed to get and hold on to so much gold from the Yavanas. The followers of the kuttuvan were among those who were jealous of Thanka and her daughter. They disliked them for keeping aloof.
So, her mother meant to invest in trade, which they knew nothing about, without asking anyone. Ponnu could not quite understand.
‘You get to know about things only when you start doing them,’ her mother’s voice rose. This was the stubborn voice that had sent back the soldiers of the kuttuvan the other day. ‘Who is there for us to ask?’
Ponnu had a brainwave suddenly. ‘Adrian! Why didn’t they ask Adrian what he thought of it?’
‘No,’ her mother stopped her. ‘He may not see it in the proper spirit. Anyway, the beautiful women of Vadakkoth are just pretty playthings in the bedroom to the Yavanas. They will not accept any higher ambition from us.’
Ponnu got angry at this. That cross-eyed Chukran must have told Thanka that the Yavanas had their eye on the godowns of the shore as well.
‘But, Amma, he gave us all this. We did not ask for anything. He gave of his own will,’ Ponnu wanted to say.
Not that her mother did not know that. He had even once admitted that it was these ties that dragged him here and kept him here when exigencies of marine business and his businesses in the Yavana shore conspired to drag him away. As ages passed, the ties of that affection would become closer knit, perhaps. That was why he kept coming again and again though there were reliable people he could send instead. He who had seen so many shores and ports had lost himself only here.
Though her mother saw in Adrian’s attachment the result of a very clever piece of manipulation, to Ponnu it was something different. There might have been more beautiful and accomplished women on other shores. But the pleasure he got here, the peace… She had seen him struggle for words to express all this.
The daughter was sure that her mother was not waiting for an answer from her. She did not have a world beyond her mother. And her mother had decided. This was just for Ponnu’s information, not for her permission. Ponnu was upset. To do all this without a word to Adrian, who had trusted them all these years seemed ungrateful. ‘How could women forget the past so easily,’ she wondered. So, she kept her silence and stayed wrapped in thoughts of the past. Ponnu realised that only one man had space in her mind.
There had been just one unanswered question in her mind all these years. Wouldn’t a man who travelled all over the world have wives and children in other places? If he did, who were they? How strong were those bonds? Her curiosity had grown. When she could not control it any longer, she had asked Adrian. She asked him the question with her small stock of words and several gestures. He had tried to evade the question. When she went on with it again and again, he had replied with a few words and some gestures. She could not understand clearly.
‘Three and five…’
Was it three wives and five children…? Or, three children and five wives? Ponnu was confused. Finally, she let it go. Three or five, no matter how many, why did she have to bother about it? When he was here, he was wholly hers.
Though Adrian spent most of his time with her, Ponnu did not like the rare forays he made into the next room. Ponnu knew that he did so, so that her mother would not be offended, but even the smallest movements next door upset her. She found the noises her mother made at the height of her pleasure, intolerable. She was so old. Couldn’t she not make so much noise? How could she forget that her daughter and a granddaughter slept beyond the walls? She knew that her mother was more of an expert in the bedroom and knew a number of tricks to please the Yavanas. She had not instructed her daughter in any of those. So, Ponnu had to find her own tricks to please Adrian. And he found that the inexpert attempts of the virgin awakened him more than the practised tricks.
Thanka did realise the anxieties of her daughter. She would sometimes feel a cruel sort of pleasure in them. After all, Adrian had reached Ponnu by way of her mother. He could not forget the ways he had traversed, could he?
Ponnu did not know about the time that her mother had gone to see the goldsmith, Thanku Moopan. Thanku Moopan was the only goldsmith in the place. Though he was very old and his eyesight did was failing, the skill of his fingers remained. He was especially fond of gold jewellery, studded with beads of different kinds: pendants, necklaces, waist belts, bangles. People from the higher classes came in search of his skill from neighbouring places as well. People said that there were no eyes or hands anywhere that suited gold so well. Thick bars of gold gleamed even more when they were cooked in Thanku Moopan’s furnace.
He had his rules. If the jewellery was to turn out well, he had to see the woman who was to wear it. Once he decided that a particular piece suited somebody, there was no room for argument. Whether the material was stonework or gold, the form had to take shape in the workman’s mind. If the customer did not agree, she was free to cross the river to the other shore. It was said that there were goldsmiths without much work on the other side of the river.
Moopan would decide on the pattern only after seeing the looks of the woman, her complexion, her figure. Each pattern would be different from the earlier. The patterns took form not just on the body but in the mind of the woman who was to wear it. Since he forgot each pattern as soon as he had finished making it, the next one had to be different.
He looked at the woman before the Yavana mirror in the inner room that was dimly lit. He would stand there and then look at the bare-breasted figure from various angles and then shut his eyes. That was when the pattern took shape in his mind. It would suit that woman’s form perfectly.
To the people who asked how he could see in the dim light with his rheumy eyes, his son had an answer, ‘My father doesn’t need eyes; his fingers are enough.’
When age made it essential, he had kept his son and son-in-law by his side, to help him in the work. He still insisted that his hand had to touch everything, though. The people who came in search of his skill included not just the rich of other shores, but Yavanas too. By the time the ships left after the rains everyone would
have plenty of gold and money. From then on, Thanku Moopan’s days of hard labour would start. He would need to work day and night to get the ornaments ready before the next summer. By the time summer came by, he would be really weary.
When they saw him screw his eyes up, to capture what red light the bellows offered, and fix pearls with precision, his children would laugh. The old man was nearly breathing his last. Still, he trusted no one. They would murmur to each other.
Though he had lost his wives long back, he had not tried to get another partner. With the loss of his wives he had become very solitary and started drinking heavily. But, all that was only after he stopped work for the day. He was very particular about how he worked too. He would bathe, wear sandal paste on his forehead and sit cross-legged on the floor. He insisted that mind and body and the surroundings should be clean while he worked. As he worked, if someone came in, stinking of sweat and dirt, the person was thrown out, whether it was one of his children or a customer.
Post dusk, the man would change completely. He would sit till midnight before the hut, leaning against the rattan walls, dreaming. Next to him would be a pot of toddy and a round platter of roasted meat. He saw visions as he sat there. They might be strangely shaped ornaments. They might be direct messages from Viswakarma, the divine craftsman…
In the early days, Thanka would take the gold she got, wrap it up in old clothes and hide the bundle in various corners of the bedroom. Even Ponnu did not know the hiding places. The local people did not have much idea of different types of gold jewellery, in those days. It was then that Thanku Moopan landed in the place one early morning.
This was a natural phenomenon too. Nature always provides creatures suitable for each environment. The place had farmers, fishermen, smiths, carpenters, potters and weavers. What it did not have was a goldsmith. A goldsmith had not been necessary because people who had touched gold were rare in the village. Even when the crop was fairly good, the farmers did not fall for the glitter of gold. As for the ruling class, their gold ornaments came from other places.
Things changed with the arrival of the Yavana ships. No one knew after that what course the streams of gold took. The merchants, the brokers, the farmers, the fishermen, the dancers and the singers, all of them now saw and touched gold.
When gold started accumulating in the hands of various people, a place for a goldsmith was prepared. No one knew from where Thanku Moopan had come. At first they had heard, he had come crossing the hills and rivers. Then rumour said that he had just sprouted there, one morning—a gift of the Almighty. The words he said and the practices he followed were of a different place.
He put down roots very fast. After all, he possessed other-worldly skills in his craft. The people of the place saw the wonders of proper hand-and-eye coordination for the first time. The villagers watched in fascination as he fanned the flames of the furnace, blew through a long pipe and then the gold, which was cooked and softened in the midst of the flame, was given shape with the help of various tools. When they saw that this strange man could persuade the stubborn metal into beautiful shapes they started respecting him. Others crowded round the woman who walked through the streets with the necklace that had been Thanku Moopan’s first creation.
When people realised that the gold coins, left rolled up in silken cloth, could look like this as well, his workshop got crowded. Thanka went to the shop because of what she heard from a lot of people. She took a dislike to him, at first sight itself. His peculiar way of looking at someone with his eyes sharpening under a palm held to his forehead and the peculiar coarse laugh, put her off.
‘Thanka…right? The famous Thanka of Vadakkoth.’ He laughed as though he knew her.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve heard of you.’
‘Mmm.’
Thanka did not like his method of seeing with his fingers either. When those cracked fingertips started wandering over her bare breasts, she moved away irritated. She felt like saying that he could not treat the women of Vadakkoth as he did other women.
The old man moved backward as though he did not like her attitude and growled, ‘Thanka can go. I’ve got lots of work.’
It was definite. If he said she could go, she had to go. There was no point in waiting around. She need stay only if she wanted to. If she wanted the ornaments to be good…
Thanku Moopan had bent his head over the furnace and continued to blow through the pipe. He was a busy man.
Thanka had to give in. Gold coins tinkled within the folds of silk. They too knew that only Thanku Moopan could make them beautiful, using the tools of his trade.
Though she came away that day, Thanka found her feet leading her in that direction the next day. Thanku Moopan had forgotten the previous day’s incident already. Once again, he looked at her with that palm held to the forehead and laughed that peculiar laugh.
‘Thanka, isn’t it? The famous Thanka of Vadakkoth.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve heard of you.’
‘Mmm.’
Thanka did not wait to hear anything else, but walked into the inner room. Thanku Moopan followed her.
That was a wonderful beginning. After that, the most beautiful ornaments in the place were made only for the women of Vadakkoth. Thanku Moopan himself did not know why it was so. When Thanka stood straight in the dim light of the inner room, looking like a golden statue, he felt as though vision had been granted to him. As he looked at her, different forms took shape in his mind. Forms from the heights, from other worlds, forms of gods and goddesses. He could see them all clearly. When these sights filled his mind, the edges of his rheumy eyes would become damp. Moopan was filling these golden visions with some half-seen dreams of his own too. So, he called her thathamma. The word was also easier on his failing tongue.
Thanka, on her side, realised that she could handle him quite easily. A small smile on her lips, underlip clamped by white teeth, a glance through the corner of the eye; a few musical words. These were all the old man wanted. And some generous giggles when he touched her here and there. Moopan also realised that the Vadakkoth family had more gold than most other families when the ships returned. He too did not want to offend them.
Thanka was very definite on something, though. She would never take Ponnu there, into that inner room of the old man. His dirty cracked fingers should never wander over her golden body. The sights and measurements would be hers alone. What suited her would suit her daughter and her granddaughter. So, Thanku Moopan continued to believe that all that he fashioned was for Thanka. And she was the best-formed woman he had ever seen.
Once, she had to be a little insistent. It was the monsoon when Ponnu had surrendered her virginity to Adrian. Thanka had hesitated because though she knew that Ponnu’s body was ready, she wondered if her mind was ready. Adrian too had been a little doubtful. He too had not been with a virgin in a long time…Thanka felt like laughing when she heard that. There was no soil and no woman that did not yield to a knowing hand, she knew very well.
He must have been very adept for Ponnu not just surrender her body to Adrian, she gave herself up completely to him. And that too, in over one night.
Adrian too found the first raptures of a virgin girl extraordinary. He struggled to find sufficient recompense for it. That season, Thanka went to Thanku Moopan with a big bundle. It was the first time that the goldsmith was seeing so much gold in one lot. The old man’s eyes glittered, his throat felt constricted. After a while, he stammered, ‘We’ll make something new, something no one has seen ever before, with beads unseen so far.’
‘No, I’ll tell you what we’ll do.’ When Thanka’s voice replied loudly, Thanku Moopan was stunned. It was the first time that a woman was talking of what she wanted. He did not feel like saying anything in opposition when he looked at her face.
Ponnu was entering the spring of her life. The memories of those first few nights should remain pure. What should she give Ponnu to help her preserve the memories of those nights
? Thanka arrived at the answer after a lot of thought. It would have to be gold, just gold. Nothing else had the purity of gold.
When she told Thanku Moopan that the rare beads could be used later, he growled, ‘Why Thathamma? Why this new fad?’
Thanka tried to explain, ‘Can pearls and coral beads stand against pure gold?’
‘How can the things that our drivers bring from the bottom of the sea be less pure?’
Thanka did not have a reply. But she had decided right at the beginning. Ponnu would have ornaments made of just gold this season.
That was how Thanku Moopan decided that the ornaments would have some small carvings instead of beads. Thanka stood and stared in wonder as leaves and flowers and deer and fish and cuckoos took form in gold.
Adrian, too, was fond of ornaments. When Thanka picked out a few pieces of jewellery from her jewel-box and showed him, he was stunned. He too wanted some like that. As she watched him take pains to select the exact type of beads he wanted, Thanka was fascinated. He had been captivated by a new type of pearl called Chourneyam, given as a gift by some merchant. Thanka did not enquire for whom the ornaments were. She guessed it would adorn the rosy body of some Yavana woman. She consoled herself with the thought that these ornaments had been made by Thanku Moopan with only her in mind, with her proportions in mind. She remembered how his eyes had glittered when he had seen her wear them. ‘Each gram of gold is marked with the woman’s body it should adorn. ’What would he have said when he heard that it was for some Yavana woman, Thanka had wondered.
So far, Thanka had gone to Moopan’s door only to get new ornaments made. She was not sure how long this period of celebration would last. She had no one to provide for her. And, the weight of the generations to come, troubled her.
The Saga of Muziris Page 24
