One Part Woman

by Murugan, Perumal

  Kali had scaled the hill several times as a young boy. He had wandered around there with other boys. But he knew nothing about the temple. He only knew that Sengottayan and Ardhanareeswara took up either side of the hill. Every morning, before she had her food, his grandmother turned in the direction of the hill and prayed, ‘Sengottayan, Pavatha.’

  He went up the hill and spoke to the Brahmin priest: ‘We need to conduct a prayer for Pavatha.’ The priest gave him an appraising look, and said, ‘Who told you to?’ Kali told him about his grandmother and the story she had narrated.

  ‘Pavatha is no one but Ardhanareeswara himself,’ sermonized the priest. ‘Only people who do not know that tell these stories. For hundreds of years, our family has been conducting rituals for the half-female god. Many saints have sung his praise, calling him “Mother God”, “One Part Woman”, and so on. The male and female together make the world. To show that to us, the Lord stands here combined with the Goddess. In other temples, you would see separate shrines for Eeswaran and Ambal. But here they stand together as one. He has given her the left half of his body. It is only when we give half of ourselves—both body and mind—to the woman that we can be good husbands. Even though we are born male, we also have feminine qualities within us. Considering all this, elders have called him One Part Woman. There is no female without the male, and no male without the female. The world goes on only when they come together. Did you see the deity? The right side is Eeswaran; the left is Ambal. This is the only place where you get this vision. No matter how many names we address him by, they all refer to this Eeswaran. But the poor illiterate people call him Pavatha. Some people even say this is Kannagi. What can one say about such ignorance? We just have to keep quiet, assured that everything is Eeswaran.’

  At the end of the conversation, Kali gave the priest the fifty rupees he had asked for. Buying new clothes for the deity was a separate responsibility. Ardhanareeswara is male and female fused into one. What great pleasure it is to stay as one, body to body, forever! Only god gets to enjoy such great pleasure. Kali had to buy two kinds of clothes.

  All his in-laws came for the ceremony. It was a great crowd. The expenses were huge too. When the preparations for the ritual were on, they walked around the temple. There was a small dip in the hill between the temple and the peak of the hill. This was a small forest with thorny bushes and trees that were perhaps several centuries old. The dense foliage reverberated with the furious chirping of a variety of birds. A long mountain rock formed a border around this little forest, lying like a giant serpent on guard. Kali was wonderstruck seeing such a forest at this altitude.

  He and Muthu had played here as children. They would run up to the peak and touch the rock there. They’d leap around the slopes with the ease of wild goats and monkeys. But this forest had never before revealed itself as a separate entity to him. He had been one with it before. But as he grew older, he began seeing things as separate from himself. He now looked at the forest in great surprise.

  Muthu must have felt the same way, for he said, ‘We have roamed inside this. But I have never seen it this way.’

  They looked around for a path to enter the forest. Birds and animals had forged a warren of paths through the forest. En route to the rock at the peak, a narrow path branched off and led into this jungle. Muthu and Kali entered it in great delight. A mongoose, alarmed by this sudden human presence, ran and hid under a bush. The path led directly to a tree. When they looked to the other side of the tree, they saw a huge reclining figure. Fear seized Kali and, holding Muthu’s hand in a firm grip, he walked ahead.

  It was an earthen goddess. Vermilion had been scattered all over her body, and her face was aglow with wrath. But there was a faint smile at the corners of her lips. He felt the smile revealed a defiance that said, ‘What can you do to me?’ When he stood at her feet, she appeared to be lying there with the full confidence that the entire land was hers. Her arms and legs were as big as the trunks of trees. She had a round face, and her wide-open eyes met his in an unwavering stare. Even when Kali averted his gaze, he could still feel her eyes boring deep into him. Trying to shake off the fear the forest had induced in them, he said, ‘What goddess is she?’

  And they heard a voice: ‘She is Pavatha, our Mother, our goddess.’

  For a moment, it felt as though the forest itself had spoken. But they turned to see that an elderly woman, carrying a pot, was walking down the narrow path towards the spot. She had two children with her. It was she who had answered Kali’s question.

  Around the earthen goddess were small rocks planted firmly in the ground and laid out in a circle. Beside these, in a concealed spot, were three pots and bags. Kali gathered that the elderly woman had come to make an offering of rice porridge to the goddess. The woman’s ears were covered with jewellery.

  ‘Our Pavatha lies right here under the cool shade of the tree and with a stream nearby,’ she said. ‘But they try to keep her locked in the temple and pray. She roams freely around the forest. Can you confine her within walls? Our Mother lies right here, while they are just praying to plain rock.’

  ‘Where are you from, ma?’ asked Kali.

  The children who had come with her started playing in the forest. They ran around, climbed the trees and jumped from them. Their laughter and chatter sounded like birdsong. The woman replied as she proceeded to get things ready for cooking the pongal: ‘We are from the other bank, thambi. Ages ago, it was from here that we migrated. Even though we had to move away, seeking livelihood, our Mother refused to come. She told us very clearly that if we needed her we should come and see her here. So we come once a year like this, perform a ritual, offer pongal and eat. We have been told that our people used to live around this hill. When the forest was destroyed, they got scattered in different directions. Some people are able to visit during the chariot festival in the month of Vaigasi. That’s when they gather here. Otherwise, people like me only visit whenever we can. Now, some ten or fifteen of us have come. They have gone to the temple. But what do I have to see in the temple when my Mother lies here? So I came here to get this ready.’

  It occurred to Kali that he too needed to pray and offer pongal to this goddess. This was Pavatha, the goddess who had claimed a space for herself in this spot between the red rocks of the mountains. Reclining on the earth, she had even made a forest around herself. She was the goddess whose wrath had been invoked ages ago by the tribal girl’s curse; she was still here, untouched by the ravages of time. He knelt at her feet. But then, shuddering at the thought that even a slight movement of her feet could hit him in the face, he backed off a little.

  ‘Who conducts the prayers to this goddess?’ he asked the old woman.

  ‘How can we let anyone else carry out the prayers for our goddess? We do it by ourselves. Some of our people live in this town, too. One of them comes and conducts the prayers once a week. Wherever we are, we save five rupees a year and send it to him,’ she said.

  ‘I want to have a prayer conducted, mother,’ he said.

  ‘Do it with pleasure. Come one afternoon—any afternoon. The priest will be here. Ask him and do whatever you need to do. Remember, you should keep a trident and cut open a rooster and offer its blood. Those are the important things. If you wish, you can also join me today to partake in these offerings.’

  Kali was no longer keen on the prayers the Brahmin priest conducted in the temple on the hill. Nor did he care about the extra expenses. He was determined that it was Pavatha to whom he wanted to make the offerings. Whatever he earned working hard in the fields got spent in such prayers and offerings. But it didn’t matter. It was not as if he had children amongst whom to divide his earnings.

  ‘All right, Amma. We will come in the afternoon,’ he said and got ready to leave.

  She said, ‘By then the pongal will be ready. Do come and eat with us.’

  When he nodded and left the place, he saw that the children were playing with a monkey on one of the trees. Usually he l
amented the need to do whatever prayer whoever recommended, but the thought of doing one for Pavatha truly filled his heart with peace.

  SIX

  The person who performed the prayers and rituals for Pavatha worked in a warehouse loading and unloading sacks of produce. He did not give any elaborate list of things to be prepared for the ceremony. Nor did he take any money. In addition to the usual things needed for the prayers, he asked Kali and Ponna to get red powder for about eight annas and to buy new cloth from the Mudaliyar store in a small street at the foot of the hill. And also a rooster for sacrifice. Ponna and her sister made the pongal.

  The priest decorated Pavatha. She did not inspire fear in Kali like she had done the day before. Using a soft piece of cloth, the priest cleaned her gently. At that moment, the goddess could have been any woman from any of the local families lying on her back.

  Kali and Muthu went to roam around the small forest. It was dense with neem and palai trees. There were also a few kondrai trees that had grown very tall and had their flowers hanging in bunches. The forest contained several paths, all as narrow as the lines on one’s hands. You could reach the Pavatha shrine from any direction.

  ‘Machan,’ said Kali, addressing Muthu fondly, ‘please find a special spot in this forest too. It would be of use if we come again.’

  Muthu laughed. ‘Do you think no one would have done that already?’ he said and pointed to what looked like a thick kasarali bush but had a clearing inside. They could see that men had been sitting there since a short while. There were some cards and a few empty bottles lying around.

  ‘Man always needs such spaces, mapillai!’ explained Muthu. ‘He wanders around looking for them. Some succeed; others keep looking. Then there are those who are fearful of going there even if they do manage to find such a place.’

  Kali moved away towards Pavatha’s shrine. What he found there was not an ordinary woman lying on the ground. He saw a woman dressed in red, and with red splattered all over her; he saw a woman blazing with wrath. By applying a little red to her eyes, the priest had made them glow with great ire. Kali and Muthu were speechless. The priest performed the ritual in silence. All they could hear was the sound of bells. When the offerings were made, Muthu brought out a small bottle of arrack. The priest had not mentioned it, but Muthu somehow knew. The priest slashed the rooster and let the blood flow at Pavatha’s feet.

  Once the cooking was done, they all ate. The rooster had been cooked in a gravy. Kali’s father-in-law did not come. He never came to such events. So, it was only Kali, Ponna, his mother, mother-in-law, and his brother-in-law and his wife. But there was still a lot of food left over even after the priest had eaten. They had to finish all the food before they left. The priest went out of the forest and brought in a few beggars who lived in the pillared halls there. They were happy to have their plates filled with food.

  When they finally climbed down the hill, Ponna felt very satisfied.

  Kali visited the shrine whenever he was on the hillside. For several months, no one changed the cloth they had offered Pavatha. The priest had not taken even a penny from him. Kali felt that the curse of the tribal girl would have lifted by now.

  Ponna, too, was full of hope after praying to Pavatha. Her expectations were heightened in the months that followed. After every twenty days, she prayed, ‘God, please fill my womb at least this month.’ Even if there was a day’s delay in her menstrual cycle, she was filled with excitement: ‘This is it!’ But if her cycle began the next day, the house looked as though someone had died in it. She didn’t eat properly and just lay around. Kali had to go to his mother for food. Even after cutting open a rooster and satiating Pavatha’s thirst for revenge, nothing changed.

  Whenever he went to the temple, he stood at Pavatha’s feet.

  ‘Has your thirst been unquenched through the ages? It is not up to me to make you pull in your revenge-thirsty tongue. I am an ordinary man. For several births to come, I will do what I can. Please save me from being the talk of the town. I am unable to answer everyone’s wretched questions. Ponna is wasting away. I am the one who is born in this useless lineage. Why are you avenging Ponna for that?’ Saying this, he broke down in front of her.

  But nothing quenched Pavatha’s anger.

  SEVEN

  Sleep eluded Kali even after he had finished eating the snack. He lay on the cot in the cool shade of the portia tree, his eyes closed as he savoured the gentle breeze. He could hear the sounds of cooking from inside. After tossing and turning for a while, he sat up, and the cot creaked under him. The fast for the chariot festival and the snack that had followed—neither had given him any joy. Instead, his mind was flooded with all sorts of thoughts that confused him.

  Kali thought he might feel better if he went out for a stroll into the forest with Muthu. Where was Muthu? Was it a workday in the fields? Muthu was good at finding or creating new secret spots—havens that were unknown to anyone else.

  Kali remembered that the last time he visited, Muthu took him to the well. There was very little water in it.

  ‘How can we swim in this, machan?’ Kali asked.

  ‘You have known me for all these years, and yet how little you know me! Would I take you for a swim in this? Come, come and see. You will be amazed,’ said Muthu, climbing down the stairs into the well.

  It was a deep well. All rock. Kali wondered at the difficulty people must have faced in bursting so much rock and digging so deep. The steps went straight down, flattened out at a point into a landing, and then continued further down. Standing on that landing, Muthu looked up. In the light that streamed in, he could neither see anyone’s head nor its shadow. ‘Mapillai, be careful!’ he shouted. Then, reaching out and gripping a rock on the other side of the downward staircase, he suddenly vanished into a gap in the wall. Although Kali was very used to roughing it out, he hesitated to follow Muthu into the dark hole.

  Muthu peeped out from the hole and said, ‘Hold on to that rock that is sticking out. Do you see that little groove wide enough just to place your foot there? Don’t be scared. Even if you fall, it will only be into the well. And there is water enough to not get hurt.’

  Moving like an iguana that clutches tight even the smallest of surfaces, Kali entered the opening in the rock. Only then did he realize that it was not just a hole but a big cave with a rocky floor and a sand-plastered roof. Kovai creepers fell like a curtain, covering the entrance to the cave. Kali was amazed. Muthu had enough things stocked up there to throw a feast. Muthu started skinning the two white rats he had caught that day and brought hanging from a string on his waist. One was a male with swollen balls and the other was a female. Together, they’d make a decent amount of meat.

  The cave had everything—a penknife, a stove made with small stones, an earthen pot, wood. There was even a little money stowed away. Muthu pounded some chillies and roasted the meat. How did he manage to get wood that burnt without smoke? Even if someone were drawing water from the well, they wouldn’t know anyone was down here in the cave. Kali stretched his legs and lay down. The tasty meat went well with the arrack. The little bit of gravy at the bottom was incredibly delicious. Kali poured it into the curve of his palm and slurped it down. They both drank, ate and slept there undisturbed for several hours and emerged only in the evening.

  ‘Only snakes use the holes in wells, don’t they?’ asked Kali.

  ‘I have calamus to ward off real snakes,’ replied Muthu. ‘Its fragrance repels them. And if we smoke samburani as soon as we finish eating, the smell of the meat won’t linger.’

  Kali said, ‘No man can discover such a place. You are the snake!’

  That place must still be a secret. If anyone found out, Muthu would immediately change his hideout. But who was going to climb down that well? Even if someone did, they would need extraordinary eyes to see past the screen of kovai creepers. How many hours would he have worked inside? Muthu’s work was better than even those of professional roof-layers. He had done such a per
fect job.

  It would be nice if he were here now.

  Kali sat up. Seeing this, Ponna came running. ‘Maama, do you want water?’ He nodded. She ran in. Whenever they were here, Ponna was more sensitive to each and every move of his and paid close attention to his every little need. Sometimes it looked like she was lost in some other work, but her mind was fully occupied with him.

  Her mother once remarked, ‘As if you have some wonder of a husband that no one else has! Even if he moves his finger a little bit, you run and stand in front of him.’

  ‘That’s right. My husband is a wonder for me,’ she replied.

  ‘Let’s see if you still run around taking care of your husband after a child is born,’ said her mother.

  ‘Even if I give birth to ten children, he will always be my first child,’ she responded, brimming with pride.

  ‘It is all right to desire. But you are greedy. Maybe that’s what has put off even the gods,’ her mother said with a sigh.

  The conversation ended there, and silence fell.

  Now, when Ponna brought Kali an aluminium pitcher full of water, he drained it in a single gulp.

  She laughed, ‘Were you this thirsty?’

  He was about to say, ‘Yes, but it is definitely less than Pavatha’s thirst,’ but he stopped himself. Perhaps because that was the day the deity went back to the hill, all his thoughts revolved around that one event.

  ‘When is your brother coming?’ he said to her.

  Ponna said, ‘He went somewhere in the morning and has not returned yet. But he’ll be here in time to eat. Today it’s your favourite: drumstick.’

  Kali’s lips widened into a smile, but his heart was not in it; his mind was elsewhere. He felt that if he made Ponna lie next to him, embraced her tightly and cushioned his head on her breasts, all his broodings would vanish. In the middle of the day, in the shadow of the tree … Why was his mind stuck on impossible things? He held her hand and gently rubbed it against his cheek. But then her mother called from inside. Had her sister-in-law been at home, there wouldn’t have been so much work for Ponna. But she, along with her child, had gone to her mother’s house. They had been invited to keep the fast there.