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THE LAND OF NEVER CROAKING BIRDS Half of it lay covered with thickets and a few trees. Brooks filled with lilac-flowered water weeds crisscrossed it. These weeds were locally known as ‘Kappappayal’. On the shores white herons perched with watchful eyes in search of small fish surfacing in the gaps between water-plants. All along the banks of the stream there were cancroids, black crab-like ten-footed creatures, small in size and black in colour, at the entrances of their dwelling holes with their small eyes uplifted. On the northern side of the stream stood the limemaking shed owned by Kora. It housed a well and kiln connected by coir to a big wooden wheel. Beside the shed lay heaps of Kandamaram, the firewood and shell fish shell. Kora and Eappan were about to begin work. Eappan spread coir fibre at the bottom of the well up to the smoke vents. Then he filled the well with layers of Kandamaram and shell fish shell. While being collected for loading, the shells jingled as if murmuring to each other. Clouds covered the moon as the work progressed. ‘Where’s Uthuppu?’ Kora asked when it was done. ‘He’s on his way, Appa,’ Eappan said. ‘That scoundrel will be wandering somewhere.’ ‘No, Appa. He’ll be in the house. Maybe, eating supper. Why don’t you too go home to eat?’ ‘I don’t feel hungry.’ ‘Let’s go home, Appa. Why don’t you eat before you go anywhere else?’ ‘What do you mean? I’m going nowhere but to the other shore.’ As Eappan knew his father’s ways, he did not insist further. Kora wanted a good helping of toddy more than a meal. ‘Help me with a light, please, Kora said. Eappan walked to the ferry, lantern in hand. The boat stood there. Kora got in, sat on the side of the boat and pulled the rope tethered to the other shore. Eappan watched Kora’s moving profile. His muscles sagged. His body seemed to have shrivelled. It wasn’t just age. Toddy had worked havoc. Eappan stood on the other shore looking at the lantern spreading delicate rays of light into the water. This rivulet divided Kakkathuruthu from Achankara. ‘Come back soon, please,’ Eappan said aloud. ‘Of course,’ said Kora. Waves grappled with the boat as Kora leaped ashore. Water splashed. Kora disappeared into the darkness. Black clouds obliterated the moon. In the middle of the island stood a huge Anjeli tree, its branches carving huge chunks out of the sky. The black cloud moved off the moon. He saw Moly’s house. She must be deep asleep, he thought, my black and sweet girlie. Sweet dreams visited her, he was sure. On a fine day years ago she appeared at his house when he was alone. She had come to show him the golden cincture her father had bought the previous day. He had expressed the desire to see. So here she was. They were in the temporary rake leading to the kitchen. She lifted the helm of her skirt way up. He saw the cincture on her loin and below it her groin concealed by a truss of Koompala, the tender film of arecanut spathe. He made an attempt to remove the koompala. She objected and ran away. He was doing high school. She attended the upper primary class. Years went by, but the scene lingers. It helps him tide over lonely moments. Her house seemed sunk in shadows. Moonlight played hide-and-seek on its roof. ‘Kusai. . . Kusai. . . Kusai. . . ’ cried a raven. Or was it a rook, he wondered. He watched the top of the Anjeli tree abiding like a huge hand stretched towards the heavens. ‘Kusai. . . Kusai. . . Kusai. . . ’ repeated the bird. He was a little frightened, suddenly remembering the wide spread belief that day-birds crying in the night brought bad luck. The bird repeated its call, ‘Kusai. . . Kusai. . . Kusai. . . ’ He tried to muster courage, while walking to his house. Beneath the Anjeli tree yellow fruits lay scattered amidst leaves dry and crisp. As he trampled, the leaves made loud noises in protest. While approaching the house he heard: ‘Where’ve all these people gone?’ It was his eldest sister Sara complaining. He entered the front room, where mother lay on a charpoy. ‘Who’s it?’ she asked. ‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘Eappachan?’ ‘Yes Amma.’ ‘Your work done?’ ‘No, Amma. It isn’t even begun.’ ‘Yet to be begun! Haven’t you got to learn a lot of college lessons too?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Where is the time for all that now?’ He had no answer, so he smiled. ‘You’re smiling my boy!’ ‘What else can I do?’ ‘Where’s he? Hasn’t he come home?’ ‘Appa, you mean?’ ‘Who else? Isn’t he the one that gives me hell!’ Sara impatiently called aloud from the kitchen, ‘Eappa, come and eat supper.’ ‘Go and eat,’ mother said. He sat on a Kurandi, the wooden board. ‘Uthuppu brought some fish. So it’s a treat today,’ Sara smiled as she served him. ‘Has Amma eaten?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And Uthuppu?’ ‘He too, yes.’ ‘But I don’t see him around.’ ‘I think he is asleep somewhere on the ground.’ It was a small house with just one room, a kitchen, a temporary shed and a front verandah. The house was unable to hold all family members. There wasn’t enough space. He saw Ely and Lilly sleeping in the kitchen. Sara continued, ‘Uthuppu has got a new hook and nylon cord. His long standing dream is fulfilled at last.’ ‘But how could he manage the cash for it?’ She laughed. ‘I gave it to him. Yesterday I could sell the coir I had made.’ He looked at her, his eldest sister. Others of her age had married and given birth. He felt sad, dark clouds covering his mind. ‘What are you thinking, Eappan?’ she asked, ‘Why don’t you eat your meal? I cooked the fish curry myself. Isn’t it good?’ ‘Chechi, the curry is very fine. I like it.’ With this she turned fully content, ‘Good. Gobble it up. Let me see the plate clean.’ Sara was in a good mood, almost infectious. But his sadness was too heavy to be affected by it. He ate the meal in silence, got up and went towards the kitchen door to wash his hands. On his way he halted beside the charpoy of Tharathy. ‘Eappacha?’ He heard her and looked at her. ‘Are you going back to the lime shed?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I wonder when you do your lessons. Don’t you have an exam coming?’ He didn’t say anything. He looked the other way and remained silent. ‘Why don’t you answer, Monei? Don’t you want to get a degree and a good job thereafter?’ Sara stood listening by the kitchen door. Her face looked like a stone carving. Tharathy expected a great future for him. He knew it. ‘We’ll have a good time, Amma,’ Eappan consoled her. ‘Have a nice sleep.’ He continued. ‘Yes. One day I’ll have some good sleep.’ Tharathy told herself in undertones, but Eappan heard her. ‘Don’t say such things, Amma,’ he pleaded. He then went out after collecting the college text books. He saw Uthuppu lying on a sandy stretch some paces away from a brook. On the silver lake floated African-mosses and weeds. The island was silent. It seemed to be attentively listening to something. ‘Uthuppu. . . ’ Eappan called. ‘What?’ Uthuppu opened his eyes for a moment, but turned the other side unable to shake off the sleep. ‘Uthuppu, get up. Let’s go to the lime shed.’ ‘Ho, lime shed again! Blast it!’ Uthuppu sat up and yawned. Then he remebered, ‘Appa isn’t there, is he? Okay, let’s go,’ he stood up. They walked along the beach. Uthuppu said, ‘I got some Karimeen today. Wasn’t it good? I’ve bought a fish hook.’ ‘I know.’ ‘Sarachechi and I went to Kuriamuttom town.’ ‘Why did she come?’ ‘She wanted to buy a Kammal. I went with her to the jewellery. She bought a very small one. The big ones are costly. One of her old ear-rings got broken.’ Uthuppu said all this as if he was reporting something pleasant but Eappan was disturbed. Seeing the replenished lime well as they appraoched, Uthuppu said: ‘He’s ready and waiting for us.’ Eappan smiled knowingly. They reached the shed. ‘I shall light the fire,’ Uthuppu said. Eappan gave him the box of matches. Uthuppu first lit the lantern, which had got blown out. He then set fire to the kiln and sat beside the wooden wheel. Uthuppu said, ‘Achaya, turn the Chakram slowly.’ ‘Yes.’ Eappan moved the handle of the wheel gently. The wheel rumbled and turned. Ker. . . ker. . . rrrrr. . . ker. . . rrrr. . . ker. . . ker. . . The wheel worked the bellows. The ensuing air encouraged the burning fire to engulf the firewood. Continuous rotation of the wheel was necessary. Even a minute’s gap would leave part of the shell unbaked. They had to work hard for hours together. Eappan’s hands worked like a machine. The speed of the wheel increased in a paced manner and rose to enormous proportions. Ker. . . ker. . . rrrrr. . . ker. . . rrrr. . . ker. . . ker. . . White smoke curled up from every crevice of the shell heap. The flow of air was being maintained by the speed of the wheel. Uthuppu watched the other shore where Kora had gone. He announced: ‘Looks like a boat. It may be Appa.’ Eappan could barely hear him amidst the rumbling of the wheel. ‘Maybe,’ he said, swallowing a mouthful of air. ‘I’m getting out here,’ said a voice from the waterfront. ‘Ok,’ someone else said. ‘Your children are there in the lime shed.’ Eappan recognised the voice as that of Bhargavan, a relative of Kunjeppu, father of Moly. Kora disembarked and collapsed on the shore. Bhargavan said, ‘he has taken a lot.’ He fixed the bamboo pole on the shore-sand. In the moonlight Eappan saw the heavy bag in his boat. ‘I’m on my way back from Pallippuram after shopping for stuff for the kitchen. As I was passing, I saw a man on the north jetty. I recognised Korachettan. So I took him in. He lay flat in boat till now. I’m sure he can’t walk home. Help him on. I’m going.’ Bhargavan paddled away. ‘He must’ve had filled his belly at Appa’s cost,’ Uthuppu said. ‘Why blame others,’ replied Eappan. ‘I know,’ Uthuppu continued as if Eappan had said nothing. ‘Let him lie there. We can’t stop work. It is our bad luck. Remember what Amma says, Achaya? She says one day he will feed the fishes.’ ‘Enough, Uthuppu. Don’t forget he’s our father.’ ‘I don’t care,’ Kora got up and said. ‘I will say what I like to. Who’re you to check me, bastard?’ He rambled on. Frustration was written all over his face. Finally, with a loud chortle he dumped himself under a tree and leaned on to its trunk. Then he slept. The gleam of the moon became more pronounced as the night matured. The surface of the lake shimmered like velvet with numerous wrinkles. The north end of the waters was unbound by shore. It gaped like a huge throat open wide and wild. Stars above were sharp upper teeth and the glittering waves below, the incisive row beneath. ‘Aniya,’ Eappan called. ‘What now? Are you tired?’ As the muscles of his right hand were aching, he wished to be relieved. ‘Ya.’ ‘Ok.’ Uthuppu came up close. Eappan handed over the handle, keeping its movement on. ‘You may now read some of your college lessons.’ Eappan looked at his father who curled up under the tree. ‘Won’t I take him home first?’ he asked. ‘No Achaya. Let him be there.’ ‘Most probably he has had no supper.’ ‘So what? A day’s fasting won’t kill a man. Does it?’ Eappan fell silent. He yearned to see Kora come off this. ‘Achaya, don’t worry about father. Concentrate on your lessons,’ Uthuppu said firmly. The foliage of wild pineapple bushes that grew thick on the shores of the eyot flourished like swords unsheathed afresh. Uthuppu would get tired soon and he had to be relieved. Eappan’s presence on the spot was unavoidable. All of a sudden Kora got up, turned to the lake and moved forth as if in a trance. Eappan ran after him. Uthuppu shouted: ‘Let him go where he wishes, Achaya.’ Eappan didn’t heed him. ‘Don’t go, Appa. There is lake there. You’ll get drowned.’ ‘What did you say, you scoundrel, you son of a dog? Me get drowned? I am all right. True, I’ve had a little to drink. But I know what I am doing. Don’t you know how strong I am? Me get drowned! Ha, ha!’ Eappan did not answer. He knew it was of no use. He managed to lead the old man back towards shore and to the side of the lime shed. ‘Kunjeppu saw me, but that devil didn’t show any cordiality to me. Don’t you know, Eappan? You know this Kunjeppu, Eappan? He’s a low class fellow. Look at his ears. There are holes on them. He had used ear rings, you know? That bastard is not a Christian. He wanted to marry Thanka. So, he pretended to become a Christian. You know?’ ‘What of that? You mind your business,’ Eappan said. ‘You get away, son of a dog,’ Kora shouted. ‘Achaya, Come on. I’m tired,’ Uthuppu called aloud. Eappan stood in doubt, while Uthuppu’s voice went louder. ‘Come here.’ As soon as Eappan approached him, the handle of the wheel was handed over to him. Uthuppu ran to Kora, ‘Appa.’ Eappan could hear Uthuppu. ‘Where’s Eappan?’ asked Kora. Uthuppu pretended not to have hear that but said instead, ‘Today you have drunk more than you can hold. Look, you can’t stand up. You’re shivering.’ ‘You scoundrel. Son of a dog.’ Kora shouted back. Hearing him, Uthuppu laughed as if relishing the scene. ‘You are right, absolutely. I’m the son of a dog.’ The words were vague, part of a big laugh. Eappan got irritated. He longed to go and make Uthuppu stop abusing father. But he could not stop the rotation of the wheel so he sat silent. Uthuppu got up to further insult father with his words. ‘You scoundrel. I want to wash my face. Where’s the lantern?’ father asked. ‘What’s the lantern for?’ ‘Didn’t you hear me? I want to go to the pond to wash my face.’ ‘No, you can’t go there. You’ll dirty the drinking water. I will fetch you water in a pot.’ ‘In what?’ ‘In a pot. Do you want to bathe?’ ‘No, you devil. I bathed in the morning.’ ‘What of that? Looks like you have rolled in your puke.’ ‘What nonsense are you saying, you swine?’ ‘You’re the swine and I’m one of your progeny, you know.’ Being a sadist Uthuppu could behave cruelly towards the parents, Eappan thought. Ominous moments intervened the gulping sound of water getting into pots. ‘Hey, what’re you doing? You’ve poured water over me. You. . . ! You!’ Kora roared, while Uthuppu laughed aloud. It’s too much, Eappan whispered to himself. ‘You’ll sober up,’ Uthuppu said. ‘The water’ll bring you round, Appa,’ he continued. ‘I’m shivering with cold, you scoundrel! Stop it.’ ‘Uthuppu. . . ’ Eappan shouted. ‘What is it, Achaya?’ ‘Stop the fun.’ ‘Not fun, Achaya. I’m getting him out of his madness.’ Kora said as if cursing Uthuppu, ‘You’re a ne’er-do-well.’ Uthuppu laughed still louder. ‘You’ll go to hell, you bastard,’ Kora shrieked in fury. He called Uthuppu names. ‘Hey Uthuppu,’ Eappan shouted again. ‘What now?’ ‘Come on. Enough.’ ‘Ok.’ ‘Where’re you Eappan?’ Kora asked. Eappan kept silent. When he could to get up, he reached him. ‘Don’t you want to go home to take food?’ Eappan asked. ‘I’m not hungry,’ Kora retorted. ‘Appa, you please mop your body. Otherwise you will get a fever.’ ‘Fever. That’s what that scoundrel wants. Your brother, Uthuppu. I just wanted to wash my face. But what did he do? Look at this.’ ‘Come on Appa. I’ll help you go home. You can mop your body with a towel. Then eat.’ ‘Who’re you to order me around? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll sleep somewhere here.’ ‘If you don’t go, mother will worry herself to death.’ ‘What do you know! If I don’t go, your mother will be pleased! She doesn’t like me. She has cursed me that I’ll feed the fishes.’ ‘Did you ever love our Amma?’ Eappan asked in a low tone. His voice quivered. ‘Ya. But she doesn’t love me. Otherwise she would not have cursed me.’ ‘It’s because she is so sad. She always thinks about her offspring. Don’t you know?’ ‘I too think of my children.’ ‘You think more of toddy.’ ‘You mind your business. I’ll think what I want. Who’re you to advise me?’ ‘But Appa, now you better go home. Avoid Amma if you please. You go by the kitchen door. Sarachechi will be awaiting you.’ ‘Ok. I’m going.’ ‘Do I come with you?’ ‘No.’ Uthuppu shouted: ‘How can you go with him? Don’t we have to finish work?’ ‘I’m not going.’ Eappan muttered. He sat in the light of the lantern to read something. But his mind was away, a quagmire of thoughts. At last he came to Moly. Whenever his mind got bogged down, the thought of the girl comforted him. She blossomed in him like a black flower, petal by petal, with a golden cincture on her loin and a koompala with green and golden colour concealing her secret. Years ago he used to climb the gamboge tree that stood behind her house. She would get beneath to collect ripe fruits he dropped, golden gamboge fruits. Inside each fruit was a black kernel with delicious stuff around it. This jelly too was of golden colour. If a branch or a bark of the tree was cut, golden sap oozed. When fish curry was prepared, dried and sliced gamboge fruit was put in it to make it more tasty. When dried, the deep yellow colour of the gamboge fruits changed to charcoal black. The sour taste remained intact. Black and yellow were Moly’s special colours. ‘Achaya.’ ‘Ya.’ ‘Come on.’ The wheel went on and on. By midnight, the work was done. The shells had been baked. The smoke emanating from the well had meanwhile spread and now it hovered in the still air. Gradually most of the smoke vanished, only the stench remained. The heap of black shell in the kiln had subsided and it had turned into pure white, but the shape of each shell remained unaltered. Eappan wanted to say a word or two about Uthuppu’s misbehavior towards father. But he could not bring himself up to it. Early birds insistently cried from distances. Uthuppu sprawled on the green grass and slipped into deep sleep while Eappan tried to read some lines of his lesson. But Uthuppu’s snore frustrated his effort. Soon it would be day and he had to be at the college. Wherever he sat in class, he had snoozes that made his classmates tease him. He kept quiet. He knew what he was: A penurious person aspiring for a high position in life. Only his mother was zealous about his future. She dreamt a lot of it. After a while, he got up as if some intuition had provoked him. For a couple of moments he stood still looking at sleeping figure of Uthuppu. Then he gathered his books and lantern and walked towards the house. It was already the dawn of another day. The house was awake except Kora who lay on the front verandah, mouth wide open. Tharathy sat on her charpoy as if she had been waiting for Eappan. ‘You’ve come my boy?’ she said with joy. ‘What is new, Amma?,’ he asked. ‘Yesterday I had a nice dream,’ she revealed. Eappan laughed. He had heard this on several mornings. ‘I saw you coming in here in the dress of a police inspector!’ She said happily and laughed. ‘Behind you stood a lady beautiful as a rose, your wife, my dear. Both of you embraced me and she kissed my cheek. See, even now I feel its touch here!’ She patted gently on her cheek. He didn’t want to shatter her dream, so he said: ‘We’ll have a good future, Amma.’ ‘But my son, you aren’t getting enough time to read. You don’t even get a night to sleep well. Do you?’ ‘That’s all right, Amma. I will try my best to attain a good position.’ ‘You’ll become great, my dear. Come near me.’ As he went close to her, she put her palm upon his head as if giving him a blessing. Sobs choked him.. With the soiled and stiffened bath towel, Eappan got out and walked towards the pond in which all the inhabitants of the eyot bathe. He saw Moly standing in front of her home. He stood on the shore of the pond, wondering how time flew. Once when he compelled, she had promised to come out at night and meet him. All others were deep asleep. He waited for her beneath the wide spread shadow of the gamboge tree. It was a lonely place nobody used to go even during day time. He had waited till midnight. She did not turn up. Later he had asked her why. ‘Amma lies in the very same room where I sleep. It is risky. I am sorry. I will come some time.’ ‘When?’ ‘I don’t know,’ she had said. |
Copyright © 2002 - 2005. Joy J. Kaimaparamban. All rights reserved.