One Part Woman

by Murugan, Perumal

  Kali kept looking at Ponna as she crossed the threshold and entered the house. The things she had done in the hope of getting a child! She would do whatever was asked of her. Everyone had been patient for six months after the wedding. But there had been innuendoes even before that. Then they started asking direct questions. The only way to save oneself was to conceive in the first month of marriage. Otherwise, the interrogation would begin in some form or another. His mother, who was patient for six months, started her treatments soon after that.

  She kept a watch on Ponna’s menstrual cycle that month. As soon as it came to pass, she told Ponna to drink the juice of some shoots on the morning of the third day. She said forcefully, ‘Don’t eat anything else even by mistake. The juice will be bitter. You will have to close your eyes and swallow it.’ After that, Ponna got used to eating different shoots and drinking different potions. Her tongue became numb to all the bitterness. The goal was to beget a child, and she was ready to do anything to attain that goal. The bitterness of the medication paled in comparison. But her mother-in-law’s medication didn’t go down all that easily.

  Before Ponna woke up and stepped out, her mother-in-law was busy crushing a big bunch of tender neem leaves. It made Ponna retch. At her own parents’ home, she would throw a fit even when her mother made her take regular medicine. Her mother would yell, ‘Am I asking you to eat neem shoots?’ But now she was having to eat neem shoots for real. It made her very angry at her mother-in-law.

  ‘Should I put a child on her lap the month after the wedding? I can only drop a grinding stone into her lap. Can’t she be patient for a year or two? We are young. She is unable to see us enjoy a few good years without hassles like children. She can’t bear to see me happy.’

  Kali smiled and said, ‘It is only neem juice, right? All the worms in your stomach will die.’

  ‘You mother wants a worm to crawl in my womb. And you are saying it will die. Are you two playing with me?’ And she punched him in his chest.

  ‘Ah, it feels like you are throwing flowers at me. Please punch me more, darling,’ he pleaded. But he didn’t say that she needn’t drink the bitter extract.

  His mother extracted the juice out of the crushed neem shoots by filtering them through a pure white cloth. It gave very little juice. After repeating the process some three or four times, she got a quarter cup of the extract. She had somehow procured a measuring cup that was normally used in wedding rituals; she cleaned it and got it ready overnight. She poured the neem extract into that vessel and closed the lid. She then asked Ponna to come after pouring water over herself fully clad in a sari. After that, Ponna had to stand, dripping wet, facing east in front of the house. Dawn was appearing, waving its raised hand to everyone. ‘Pray,’ she said to Ponna. She too prayed.

  ‘O you who are travelling west,’ she said, addressing the sun as she prayed out loud. ‘She is drinking this so that my lineage will perpetuate. Please let it grow,’ said her mother-in-law. Ponna murmured something to herself.

  Kali’s mother had invited a white-sari-clad distant relative, a grandmother. She must have been a hundred years old, but other than her cataract-covered eyes, she looked fine. She had seven or eight children and a drove of grandchildren. Ponna’s mother-in-law too was a widow. But, for some reason, she was not supposed to hand over the earthen bowl of medicine to Ponna. To receive something from a woman in white is like receiving something from the goddess Amman herself. The old woman lifted the bowl above her head, prayed to the dawn and gave it to Ponna.

  ‘Don’t think about anything, dear one. Close your eyes and just gulp it down. The gods will open their eyes,’ she said. Ponna did as told.

  Even though she drank it up very fast, it was bitter beyond belief. The vessel was heavy too. She retched and gagged, but didn’t stop drinking. When she was done, her mother-in-law put a handful of jaggery into her mouth. But the bitterness did not leave her palate for a week. No worm crawled in her belly either. She was taken here and there, and was told that she was being given medicines to conceive. But nothing worked.

  She had laughed once, whispering into Kali’s double-curve-studded ears, ‘If you had married a goat instead of me, it would have given birth to a litter by now for all the shoots she must have eaten.’

  Stony-faced, he had replied, ‘I should have been born a male goat for that.’ Even now, thinking of that made her smile till her eyes welled up with tears.

  EIGHT

  In the matter of offering prayers, Kali and Ponna left no stone unturned. They did not discriminate between small and big temples. They promised an offering to every god they encountered. For the forest gods, it was a goat sacrifice. For the temple gods, it was pongal. For some gods, the promises even doubled. If a child were indeed born, the rest of their lives would be spent in fulfilling these promises. Kali, in fact, was ready to forgo his cattle and all that he had saved with his incredible frugality, if only their prayers would bear fruit. But no god seemed to pay heed.

  How many prayers and promises they must have made in Tiruchengode itself! If you went past the forest where the Pavatha shrine is, and climbed further up, you would arrive at the Pandeeswarar temple on top. They called this deity the Pillayar on the hilltop. He was guarding the varadikkal, the barren rock that was nearby. An ordinary soul could not reach there; one needed both mental and physical strength.

  When they were younger, Kali and Muthu went there with a large crowd of young men on every new-moon day without fail. People would arrive there in bullock carts. Elderly folk and ailing people would touch the first step and pray and lie down in their carts.

  Muthu and Kali’s crowd of young men positioned themselves in the mandapams, the pillared halls that marked every significant climb, and laughed at those who needed to rest before proceeding further. They would make a competition of running up the steps. It was pretty much like running on flat ground. It was only after the dip at Nagar Pallam that it got steep. One had to be patient, particularly while climbing down. If not, then one ran the risk of tumbling down the hill, without any control, all the way till the hollow landing. The young crowd usually left their homes before the crack of dawn, walking and running to reach the hill six or seven miles away. To cross distances was a sport. Nothing gave them as much joy as this.

  People sold millet rice in the pillared halls on the hill. The rice was mixed with thick yogurt and was full of the fragrance of millets. Two full pitchers were enough to keep hunger at bay. Besides, they were of an age when they didn’t worry about hunger. In fact, going to the temple was only a feeble excuse to undertake this journey. It was over as soon as they stood in the inner sanctum, touched the camphor flame, prayed and smeared the holy ash on their foreheads.

  No one went into the forest where the Pavatha shrine was. A fear of that place had been instilled in everyone. On days when there were bigger crowds, they even appointed someone to make sure no one strayed into the forest. Walking past it, they came to a rocky patch where small trees grew out of the crevices between the rocks. They were so narrow, no one could walk through them. So instead they jumped from rock to rock. The ruckus they made leaping about like this scattered even the monkeys away.

  Then a flat surface. If you walked over it, keeping to the left side, you would come to a gigantic rock that stood like a sickle. Its tip looked like it was ready to pierce the sky. They would place their feet on small fissures and climb to the top of even this rock. There was a cave under this rock. It was cold inside. They’d lie down there. If no one was talking, they could fall asleep. If they leaned out from the entrance to the cave, they could see Tiruchengode below. They could even see the other temple located at the base of the hill and the thatched roofs of the stationary chariots. The agraharam houses of the Brahmins who worked in the temple and the houses of people from other castes were all arranged along four or five streets. The tank of the Amman temple appeared large and spread out. The two temple tanks would look like beggars’ bowls that held sand. Running rig
ht across from the temple at the base of the hill was the prostitutes’ lane. Anyone was allowed into that lane.

  In front of the cave was a vast shaded space. They would talk non-stop. Now when he tried to remember what they talked about, Kali could not recollect a thing. Perhaps such incessant chatter was the prerogative of youth alone. Once he grew up, the brain might have decided that it was all meaningless and erased all memory of that prattle. But it could do nothing to the feelings of happiness that came with it. They were spread out like a vast, open space.

  When the sun went down a bit, they’d move from that spot and go towards the next peak. How many peaks there were in those hills! They had to climb down from the rock that was right in front of the cave. In the gap that looked like a crocodile’s gaping jaws, there was a stream. On rainy days, they could jump, dunk their heads in and bathe in it. For the elderly folk who managed to limp, wobble and drag themselves to that spot, it was sacred water. ‘Don’t go into the water!’ they’d shout. Above that, they had to climb on to a barren rock surface that was totally bereft of any vegetation. No tree, shrub or creeper could grow on that bald rock. That was where they could feel the force of the wind. Wind is more powerful than anything else. If it sets its mind to it, it can destroy anything in an instant. They could climb only after humbly requesting the wind to give them way. They had to place their feet carefully, their grip tenacious and strong like an iguana’s, and focus on climbing one step at a time. In certain spots, the only way to move was to crawl over the rock like a creeper. And there was nothing the buoyancy of youth was not equal to.

  From that spot, the Pandeeswarar temple seemed like a small lookout on top of the hill. Right next to it was a stone that was as tall as a human being. That was the varadikkal, the barren rock. On the other side of the rock, it looked like someone had carved a semicircle out of the hillside. The challenge was to come round that semicircular path. Even if you leaned over a little, you would start shivering in fear; your soles would sweat and you’d fall and vanish down the steep hillside. It was sport for them to perform feats on that spot. Several people had died trying to walk around the varadikkal, in the hope of fulfilling some wish or having their prayers answered. Due to this mounting death toll, a British man had built a wall that barricaded the stone. But could anyone change a belief that had survived through the ages?

  In fact, the wall made it all the more convenient. One could hold the edge of the wall and move quickly to the other side. Then, relying on the coarse surface of the rock, one could cross the semicircle and get to the other side of the rock. After that, you could hold on to its edge and proceed further. If you were used to it, you could go around it in the blink of an eye. Kali and Muthu had done this many times.

  But men don’t benefit from this prayer. Only women do.

  That is what Ponna was told by a short old woman who had come one day to weed their field of groundnuts. According to her, any woman would be blessed with a child if she walked around the barren rock. She added that that was how she too had conceived. Ponna listened intently to all this before leaving for the temple with all that she needed to make a pongal offering. She did not listen to anything Kali said. She did not want to tell anyone where they were going. They might discourage them from going. Everyone would have an opinion. While beginning to walk around the barren rock, even if someone warned ‘Careful! Careful!’ it could be distracting. Also, if Ponna felt scared on seeing the spot, she might return without walking around the rock. In that case, if someone came along, it might give them something humiliating to talk about. ‘She said she would walk around the stone, but she took one look at it and came back without doing it,’ they’d snicker for ages. People constantly needed something to gossip about.

  They went on a day when it was not crowded on the hill. Ponna had never been to the top where the varadikkal was. She had noticed it when people had pointed to the Pandeeswarar temple and the stone that looked like a raised finger and told her that was it. She was used to roaming in the fields. The only hurdle to negotiating a bald rock that had no steps was her sari. But since no one seemed to be around, she lifted her sari up to her knees, tucked it in, and climbed with ease. When they reached the cave, Kali pointed out the barren rock to her. It looked to her as though someone had stood a gigantic, flat rock upright and placed a small knot of hair on top of it. Kali tightly embraced Ponna, who sat and leisurely gazed at the stone. He pulled the sari away from her breasts and buried his head between them like a goat kid. He held her passionately, nuzzling her, when she lowered her face to his head knot and said, ‘Maama, are you scared I might fall while walking round the stone? Is that why you are giving it to me now like this was the last time?’

  Kali let go of his embrace in shock. Tear trails ran all over her face. The altitude of the hills, the shade of the trees and the flat ground there had kindled his lust. Her sari, which had now gone up to her knees, and the cloth covering her breasts, which had come undone in the wind, all added to his longing. The sacred thread caressing her neck and the taali glittered invitingly. He was never satisfied making love in the confines of a walled space. He preferred open spaces. He had to see the sky. It was even better if a bird took a peep on its way somewhere. He would take her to their barnyard just for this.

  The two-acre farm had a fence but no roof. As soon as he set the cot down in the middle, he was in the mood. She would have some complaint or another: ‘The goat is watching; now it is the cow.’ She quite liked it, but would still make mild protests because she did not want him to think of her as a shameless woman.

  He would say, ‘Don’t we see when the cows and goats do it? Now let them watch us.’

  ‘You have no decency at all, maama!’ she would reply.

  Whenever he managed to find good arrack, he took her to the farm without fail. She did not like toddy. She complained that the sour burp stank for days. All she needed was half a glass of arrack that had a sharp sting on her tongue.

  Now, the hillside had awoken the same desires in Kali. But she put out his fire with just that one remark.

  She immediately tried to console him. ‘We are here to pray, maama. That’s why it came out like that.’

  ‘Whatever it is, don’t say such crazy things,’ he said.

  They made peace and climbed to the spot where the barren rock was. One look at the foot-wide space around it and she was scared.

  ‘We don’t have to do it if you are scared,’ he said.

  The old woman had said, ‘Don’t look outside. As long as you keep looking at the stone as you walk around it, you will have no trouble. It is just like walking on a ridge in the fields. The difference is that there you would fall into the mud if you skidded, and here, it is rock—if your head hits it, it will shatter into smithereens like a coconut. But it is nothing for those who are used to walking around in the fields and forests, Ponna.’

  All the stuff she had brought to make pongal with lay in front of Pandeeswarar. Only those who planned to walk around the stone made the pongal offering. Others just lit camphor and prayed. They had bought all the stuff with the intention of making the pongal once Ponna finished the walk. But now Kali was worried, wondering if she’d be able to do it. Even if she tripped a little, that was the end of it all. What if something like that happened? They would definitely accuse him of doing away with her by pushing her off the edge. This place was infamous for murders and suicides. But it did not appear that anyone who went to walk praying for fertility ever fell down. But what if it happened to Ponna? His heart suddenly weighed like a rock. If she fell, he would fall down with her too. It might even be possible to live without her. But he couldn’t live with the allegations.

  ‘Maama, I will walk around now. If something happens to me, don’t let it affect you for long. Marry another woman. At least let her be blessed with a child,’ Ponna said with teary eyes.

  ‘Chee!’ he exclaimed, dismissing her gloomy words. Wiping the tears from her eyes, he consoled her, ‘We lack in nothi
ng. We can be happy. It doesn’t matter if we don’t have a child. How long will these morons in the village keep harassing us? Maybe for another ten or twelve years. By then we would have grown old. So what if we don’t have children? We can still triumph. We can write off the little land we have to some temple. Or else, we can leave it to someone who has nothing. Let him make a living out of it.’

  He embraced her. He felt his mind had acquired some clarity. But she was confident about completing her walk around the stone. She took this as a challenge above all the other prayers she had endured until then. Her logic was that the gods might find some compassion for her if she put herself through this most difficult of tests. Once she made up her mind to go ahead with it, Kali told her how to. He felt she might fly into a wild panic if he offered to show her how to negotiate the precipice. So he simply showed her. He went to the edge of the wall and said to her, ‘Look,’ and in just two swift moves went around the stone, and climbed over the other wall. When she screamed, ‘Maama!’ he was already in front of her, laughing.

  Everything felt like an illusion. She wondered why such a simple thing scared her so much. Kali was clearly used to walking around the stone. Her brother, Muthu, too had done this enough number of times. But no one at home knew this. Young men are great at keeping secrets. The second time, he asked her to watch closely, and demonstrated it again with her permission. She observed how to hold on to the railing and also made a note of how much space there was to place her feet. It reminded her of a rock lizard. The way his body clung to the rock while his arms and legs were spread out embracing it looked just like what a rock lizard would do.