Perumal had offered to send copies of those attachment. Aravindan replied immediately that he did not want them. Already Muchiri had grown very large in his mind. If too many facts came in, the dreams that he had had might lose their colour. The dreams he had already seen were stronger than the ones that he was about to see.
Raghu reached home by the evening, with an even longer list of complaints than usual. As always when he returned from Chennai, his face was weary and his voice listless. It looked as though the usual reactions were more so this time. He did not say anything, but picked up a periodical and sat there with a dull face.
Though he did not say a word, Aravindan could read what was written on his face. I’m fed up. I can’t bear it any longer.
Aravindan wanted to ask. ‘Kuwait? Job? Home? Adayar?’ Perhaps, it was all these. The perorations by Professor Appa might have been longer than usual. He might have felt reluctant to use ear plugs as advised by his brother-in-law.
Raghu would need more than the holiday, he had earlier suggested. Aravindan did not think of temples and pilgrimages. But he could try and do a little yoga, at least.
Somehow he was unable to understand this generation. It was as though they begged for middle age in their burning youth and accepted age in their middle age. Raghu, who was not even forty, said he could not bear the tension. They had forgotten the meaning of satisfaction in this constant race to be the first at their workplaces, homes, in their land. When they lost the ability to control their minds, their bodies sought their own method.
If he told him that Dr Kulkarni and prescriptions and Vasanthi’s charts reached his life only after he had completed fifty-five years of age, Raghu’s face would redden. He would say, ‘Father you are talking of olden times. Times have changed. It is competition all the time—to catch a bus, to get into the local train, to walk through the footpath, to drink a cup of tea in the cafeteria.’
He must be telling himself that this older generation would never understand. They do not have the ability to see the waves of time.
It was true, Aravindan thought to himself. He too did not have the ability to make them understand. They were hot house plants who had grown up without any knowledge of difficulties and would wilt in the mildest of sunlight.
PART FOUR
Beyond generations…beyond centuries…
In a corner, far away from the rush of the city, on a cane chair set in the tiled yard, sat Kunkamma. Yes, Vadakkoth Kunkamma.
A pale sun was rising. The air had the coolness of winter and there was a mild breeze.
Kichan would come with the accounts of the previous night’s trailer movements before the sun rose fully. The huge containers that were off loaded at Kochi port had to be lifted and sent to various destinations: Coimbatore, Salem, Trichy. The old denizen was keen that Muchiri should not fall behind Tuticorin and Mangalore.
In the olden days, when these mechanical aids were not available, goods moved on bullock carts, Kunkamma remembered. The carts that carried salt from the salt flats lost their way in the luxuriance of the Yavana trade. The salt that flavoured the sacks, the salt fields, and the sea breeze were left behind. The cart man and the carts wanted a change from the unchanging taste of salt. The carts that moved with the escort of Yavana soldiers had other stuff in them, ranging from pepper and hill produce to gold and silver and cloth.
Kunkamma stood up to pace the shadow and find out the time. There were plenty of clocks, but each showed a different time. She trusted the old way of telling time by the length of the shadows.
It was time for Kichan to come. He was very particular about coming before the sun rose high in the sky. Since he did not know when he had been born, he did not know when he had grown either. As the wrinkles on his body had not entered his mind, he looked after all the matters of the company more strictly than ever.
The Vadakkoth group was growing by the hour. Though there were smart youngsters to handle each new sprout, Kunkamma was insistent that Kichan should oversee everything at the company and at home. This meant that he came twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening.
The highly educated, bright youngsters were the sort to seek newer and greener pastures and might go someplace else, at any time. What Kunkamma wanted was the steadfastness of Kichan, who had studied life. That was what the people of Vadakkoth had always looked for. That was how he had become her uncle, the elder to whom she listened.
Kunkamma did not listen to the grumbles that echoed here and there in the corridors of the company. ‘What does someone who walked behind bullocks know? If new methods are not used, the company’s growth will be compromised.’ The grumbles were a little louder these days.
As before, all the news was brought by her old friends—Kathi, who stayed with her, and Thevi, who came in to work. Kunkamma would laugh at the news. She would say, ‘Even if times change and methods change, trade is trade, Kathi. While the ports change and the merchandise changes, some things remain unchanged. Trust! However many machines you spread out, there is nothing that can replace a trusted old-timer.’
Some tough questions that rose from Kichan’s aged brain often stumped the young executives. They knew that they had to give him an answer. Because incorrect answers would reach the right quarters without delay.
Something that happened long ago and yet survived in the collective unconsciousness of the people of Muchiripatinam taught them a lot about love and trust. Kunkamma’s reasons behind her stubbornness in seeking Kichan’s opinion on all matters was perhaps the story of betrayal by Chukran…
When Thanka had not found a way to sell gold without too much publicity, Chukran had volunteered to do so on her behalf. Thanka had hesitated for a while. It was wealth garnered over a lifetime; how could she let someone else handle it? But who could she take advice from? Ponnu did not interfere in any of these things. When Adrian had stopped coming, she had changed completely. She preferred to sit in a corner, withdrawn from everything, and talk to herself. She had set aside her coloured silks and gold ornaments and shifted to the coarse whiteness of cotton. Adrian was still an idol in her mind. Though Thanka would get angry at her behaviour, she found herself unable to scold her daughter.
Chukran had managed to flatter Thanka into complete trust in him. There was a wonderful warehouse on the bank of the river at a central spot. The owner was selling it because he was deeply in debt. If an advance was not paid immediately to fix the deal, someone else would get it.
When Thanka asked if an advance had to be paid, whether Vadakkoth Thanka’s word was not enough, Chukran had laughed meaningfully, ‘There are others ready to grab it, Amma. When you start business, you have to take decisions quickly. Only those who decide fast can survive.’
Thanka had refused to listen to all words of reason and caution. When she took the bundle wrapped in red silk to give it to Chukran, they heard Ponnu heave a long sigh from a corner. ‘I’ve given him only a small amount,’ Thanka had tried to reassure.
When Chukran vanished with the bundle and never turned up again, Thanka was devastated. Such betrayal of trust was unheard of in Muchiri with its experience of trading with the Yavanas. Trade with the Yavanas was always on terms of trust. They continued to trade only with those whom they had grown to trust. Since they were outsiders, they took each step with great care.
Thanka seemed to have taken the betrayal to heart. She looked as though she was not in her senses. Whenever Ponnu tried to console her, saying that after all only a portion of their savings had been lost, Thanka would stare at her as though she did not understand. The quantity of wealth lost was not the issue. Was it so easy to trick Vadakkoth Thanka? Where had she gone wrong? Her steps had not faltered in any way, so far.
Finally, Ponnu had to say rather sternly as was her wont that anyone’s calculations could go wrong. If times past could be amended, so much could be changed.
Calculations that can go wrong! Rewriting the past! As she repeated the phrases, Ponnu’s heart gave a lurch
. Memories rose in her. Everyone made mistakes in calculations. Many lives were entangled in these mistaken calculations.
Thanka was in no state to listen to such consolations. A desire, once it entered her heart, would not leave her in peace till accomplished. The desire to own a godown, on the bank of the river or the beach, had taken root in her mind. Gold was not meant to be buried in the inner room of the house. To earn people’s respect, you had to be able to show your wealth to the world. It was not as though the people of Vadakkoth had not seen all that. Though they had lost some of their wealth, the Vadakkoth family had given and taken in plenty.
Thanka knew that there was no point in taking the opinion of the local people in such matters. When one prospered, no one raised questions about where all the wealth had come from. Wealth could shut a lot of mouths. When prosperity came to a household, the poets and the dancers and singers would come, all dressed up and prepared to heap praise on it. That was the way of the place.
The greed that she saw on her mother’s face disturbed Ponnu too. It was a more powerful greed than what she had seen on her mother’s face when Adrian’s gold had been poured out on to the bed from the silken bundles in those old days. Why was she still as greedy as in those days when she had seen Yavana gold for the first time? It was as though, with age, instead of quieting down, her mother was relapsing into a wild greed.
As Ponnu hesitated, unable to find a way to express her doubts to her mother, an occasion arose. Ponnu had been noticing for some time now that her mother’s eyes were wandering rather frequently over Kunkamma’s body. There were also pointed remarks about her developing body that she had not heard before.
There were glimpses of the greed that they had glimpsed on Thanka’s face during the days when Chukran had visited them frequently, talking about the godowns for the first time. Something was broiling in her mind. She could not help showing it on her face.
The first Yavana ships of the year had landed. One evening, they saw Thanka talk with great interest with a one-legged man. Ponnu felt that there was something different in the way she sat with her legs stretched out and pushed the box of betel leaves towards the man. After a while, the reason for the colloquy came out. There was a merchant, the man was a little old and it was the first time he had come to this port, but he was very wealthy. He would untie any number of money bags for a virgin.
Virgin! Ponnu was shocked when she realised the path her mother’s mind was taking.
The local people must have been aware of the present situation of the Vadakkoth family. In earlier days, the broker’s remaining leg would also have been lost. Did they feel that anyone could enter the Vadakkoth house, now that Adrian did not come any longer?
Thanka sent him off and tried to convince Ponnu. Don’t see this man as just someone. He’s also a big man. He’s coming to the shore for the first time. What is the point in offending a newcomer, to keep watch for people who will never come again?
What about Orion? What about the promises given to Adrian?
Orion! Thanka almost spat the word out. He did not come with the first lot of ships. Adrian was not like that. He was always particular to be among the first to reach the shore. And they knew that it was not just for the sake of better trade.
‘Who knew if the youngster would come? Orion, the hunter, Orion, the constellation of stars. What was the point of a girl sitting and watching a constellation of stars? You talk of acquaintance, of knowing. What knowledge did we have of Adrian when he first came here? Acquaintance developed when you spent time with a person. Who knew that this man would not be a better person to deal with?’ Her mother had a lot of questions for Ponnu.
Ponnu did not have the answers for the questions. Though she thought of pointing out that it was Kichan who had brought Adrian, she did not say it. Vadakkoth Thanka was not the kind of person who backtracked once she had made up her mind.
For some time now, Thanka had distanced Kichan. He had not been enthusiastic about her idea of owning godowns, and also had told them to be careful of Chukran. Thanka had seen all this as a sign of jealousy. ‘Since when did he become the elder in our family?’ Thanka asked her daughter. When Thanka’s face darkened at the sight of him, Kichan’s visits grew few and far between.
When Kunkamma had heard of her peramma’s plans for her, she had stubbornly refused to fall in line. She had made it clear that she would not obey her grandmother.
For the first time, Thanka had had to backtrack and her decision did not work in the household.
Orion! Kunkamma had felt her insides melt at the memories evoked by the name.
What had their relationship been? They had started out as playmates. Kunkamma remembered how her heart fluttered at the hints dropped by her peramma and Adrian. She did not know how to place the playfellow when the elders identified him as her mate.
The two of them had been given a lot of freedom and would sit next to each other, touching each other, leaning against each other. But Orion had never tried to pull her to him and kiss her, or to let his hands wander unchecked. He would sit and look at her as though he could not believe his eyes. What was it that had rendered him so wonderstruck? Was it her beauty? Or was he nervous about touching a woman?
He had a girl’s soft, smooth face and his behaviour was even softer.
Kunkamma lost the thread of that long-ago memory when she heard Kichan cough. He was on time. The shadow of the hibiscus was just as long as it had been yesterday.
The company matters would take up just about twenty minutes. Kunkamma did not wait for him for that alone. If it was just company matters, the sheets of paper spat out by the computer in minutes could have done. But this was a world that machines could not reach, that even human intelligence could not enter.
Kichan preferred to sit on the floor of the veranda, leaning against the pillar. Kunkamma would sit nearby, leaning against another pillar. Most days, he would have something different to narrate. Not company matters, but stories of the old Muchiri.
A lot of what he had said were things Kunkamma had not heard of, or had not believed when she heard of them. She knew there were two Kunkammas in her. The old and the new. The gentle Kunkamma who had grown up in the shadow of two mothers, and the Kunkamma who could stand alone and cast her own shadow. Kichan, whom she called mama or uncle, served as a bridge between the two.
Kichan was conscious of the fact that Adrian entered his conversation every now and then. ‘What can I do? We were so close. He was such a great man. So great that he could see even insects like me as equals. I doubt if there was such a person in our land or elsewhere, in those days.’
‘Adrian.’ Kunkamma too repeated that name after years.
Something stirred in her mind. Could she call him that? Was that the proper mode of address? She learnt to ask questions and understand things only when she had grown quite a bit. She felt reluctant to change the way she called him. None of the mothers had told her what to call him.
‘Appa…father…’ She had sat in a corner in the darkness of the night and tried out that word. When her voice echoed against some wall she could not see and rebounded, it acquired a different resonance. A taste of bitterness lingered in her mind. How could a word that neither of them had taught her find a place on her tongue?
It was not a relationship that would find easy acceptance. She had once felt a mischievous need to look him in the face and call him that, at least once. She would then know the truth. She wanted to use the word in their language. But the word that Kichan had taught her would evade her tongue when she needed it.
Kichan realised that Kunkamma was not listening to anything that he said. It was always like that. As they sat and talked, he would see her slipping away into another time. Swinging from one time to another, from there to some place else; unable to stand still. Kichan too knew the burden of moving from one time to another. Where was he now? It was as though the old Muchiri and the new world that surrounded them were vanishing into some mist.
&n
bsp; Kichan sat for a moment with his eyes shut. Let her remember. This was the time for memories.
The chiaroscuro of changes in time had made the sights of the people in the past, slippery. Kichan would sometimes get confused as to which period he should set Kunkamma in. Kunkamma too worried about it. In the effort to slip away from the set boundaries of time and place, they often lost their footing and could not understand each other. They rather enjoyed that lack of understanding too.
That day, as the conversation turned to the mothers, Kunkamma saw a glint in Kichan’s eyes. Usually, her early morning thoughts were full of peramma—from the Vadakkoth Thanka, who held her head high, to the peramma, who used to sit in a corner of the house, staring into the darkness outside, defeated. Her elusive peramma had inspired a number of stories in her mind.
‘She was a great woman!’ she heard Kichan’s old litany.
‘Her greed brought about her downfall. She did not give anyone a chance to point out where she was going wrong.’
‘No, it wasn’t like that. What you see around you comes from the seeds she planted then,’ Kichan said stubbornly. ‘Thanka also wished to enter the world you dream. She could not do it then. How much can one person do in a day? She did as much as she was able to.
‘Perhaps, the stories she had heard about the past glory of Vadakkoth persuaded her to try and recapture it. She probably chose to walk different paths to get that back. Don’t measure yesterdays with the yardstick of today. What seems like mistakes today were great truths then. The opposite is also true. Whatever that be, you at least should be able to understand what made Thanka do the things she did.’ When Kichan looked into her eyes and said that, Kunkamma could not accept it.
‘Her calculations were always very precise,’ Kichan continued. ‘Yavanas were landing in large numbers, and they were all of different types. When they went into the streets with the desperate need left from months at the sea, in search of doors that would open at their knocks, the whole place was stirred up. While many doors opened up without thought of the future, the people of Vadakkoth stayed aloof.’
The Saga of Muziris Page 36
