Song of the Ankle Rings

by Eric Alagan

  But Mother Nature had her ways, and she embraced and carried me into a dream-filled sleep. She was kind. She rewarded me with several short happy dreams. But one dream discomforted.

  Kovalan, riding hard on his horse, caught up with a thick Arakan who was hurrying away with me slung over his sweaty shoulder. Kovalan leaned to his side and grabbed me. With one arm, he scooped up my lithe body and sat me in front of his saddle. The horse veered and carried us away from my abductor, as more howling Arakans appeared from the thickets and gave chase. The Arakans, though fleet footed, were no match for us. Kovalan urged his horse and our hips moved in rhythm with the gallop. Kovalan had one hand on his reins and the other wrapped around my waist. His hand slipped over my smooth silks and I tensed.

  ‘Wake up! The sun is up.’

  Mother delivered a slap to my buttocks and disappeared into the blinding sunlight outside. All around the tent, I heard people going about with breakfast and other chores.

  I tried to recollect my dreams but only the risqué dream filled my mind’s eyes. I wondered if I should share this dream incident, as I came to refer to it, with Chinnamma. But I discarded the idea. She was an approachable woman, but I suspected she would not entertain such matters. During my time in the farm, she proved me right. Below her jovial veneer, she was quite similar to Mother, but I took several months to recognise this side of her.

  4: Pleasure Houses and Sensual Maidens

  WITH KANNAGI VISITING her uncle and aunty, I spent all my free time with Anandan. He had experiences so vast; I held him in awe. He was tall and carried himself with a swaggering confidence while I was retiring and shy.

  One afternoon, when his parents were away, we climbed to the loft of his family storehouse. There were tools, articles, and dusty discards of various sorts stashed up there, including what he referred to as his chest of secrets. With unbridled pride, he displayed his hoard of blades and military medallions. Then, with a flourish, he pulled out a velvety scroll filled with shocking illustrations, painted in ochre, indigo, and other colours, of couples in various acts of copulation. He whispered in conspiratorial tones of having secured the racy article from some yavana by the waterfront.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Anandan.

  He scrambled down the stepladder and hurried away. I remained wide eyed, for his eclectic collection included wood carvings of phalluses and flat cracked plates which he referred to as the female thing. In my ignorance, I turned the plate front and back but could not make sense of it. It looked similar to those disgusting clams which fishermen pried open and swallowed raw.

  Not long after, he dragged a young servant-girl by her hand into the storehouse. Without hesitation, he pushed her onto the pile of grain-filled sacks and let his spidery hands run all over the girl. He snatched her shawl, prompting a shriek, and she covered her naked chest. He pried the girl’s stiff hands apart and fondled and slathered her in a rather rough and repulsive manner. She did not protest but wore a resigned look. He pulled off the girl’s garments and splayed her over the sacks. He did this, I suppose, to accord me a clear view of her nakedness.

  In a snatch, he turned the girl on her stomach and, his lingam very much alive, entered her. Though growing hot with pulsing excitement, his actions altogether outraged me. Overcome with desperate excitement, he thrashed her and, before long, went limp. The girl, tears and eye-liners streaking down her cheeks, grabbed her clothes to her chest. Anandan held out a coin. She hesitated before taking the money and hurrying away.

  Anandan lay on his back and looked up with a triumphant grin. I wanted to hurt him, make him suffer a little. But he was bigger and stronger and, for all my bluster about dharma, when confronted with adharma, self-preservation took precedence. My inaction proved my long-held suspicion true. I was a secret coward.

  On a second occasion, Anandan violated another servant girl. After satisfying himself, he invited me to enjoy her but, not wanting to be a party to his distasteful activities, I spurned his offer outright. He dismissed the pathetic girl and asked me to choose from the servants. When I again rebuffed him, he shot back.

  ‘You fool, these girls are for our enjoyment.’

  He boasted and recounted with glee his conquests of the servant-girls in his father’s household. And whenever we met, he was relentless in pressing me to have fun with them.

  ‘Pick anyone you want,’ said Anandan, ‘anyone.’

  Over the weeks, my repugnance mellowed, and I offered feeble protests.

  ‘I don’t have silver to pay them,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you worry yourself about money, I’ll take care of that. You pay me later, with interest of course,’ he said. He proved persistent and annoying. Anandan even hinted that when his mother was away, his father took liberties with the servant-girls himself. I found these revelations abhorrent.

  Though I deflected his harassment to take one of the girls, on several occasions I almost succumbed, if not for the thought of Kannagi, which gave me renewed resolve. I also suspected that Anandan wanted an accomplice, for my complicity would justify his actions. And if scandal broke, my father’s influence would prove useful.

  On one occasion, when we found ourselves in argument, he maintained that the girls, in truth and secret, welcomed his attentions. And as if to press home his point, Anandan appeared with a much older servant-girl. Unlike the others who lay passive, this servant-girl was the initiator. She proved an expert with her fingers and lips, and watching her rendered me hot and abashed. I would never have dreamt any woman could be so bold in such delicate matters. Some temple statues featured females as the initiators. And Anandan declared that in the days of antiquity, people—and especially the hill tribes and nomads in the arid lands—celebrated open coitus during pagan rituals.

  I had felt indignation when Anandan pressed himself on the servant-girls, but here was one who pleasured without prompting. And throughout the act, Anandan kept looking at me with a big grin.

  ‘See, this is how it’s supposed to be between man and woman.’ He then offered the girl but again, and with great effort, I extricated myself from the situation.

  After that incident, I refused to visit his house and thereafter when he suggested a trip to the waterfront instead, I agreed without hesitation. I enjoyed his company but not when it involved abusing servant-girls.

  ‘Come on, then.’ Anandan gave me a quick smack and hurried off.

  I soon found myself in a labyrinth of tight streets which I, having always kept to the larger and ordered roads, never knew existed in Maruvur. The place was a confused web of shoulder-width alleys and houses packed tight; terraces that leaned on one another. Leathers and fabrics stretched and sagged overhead and connected the opposing terraces, giving cover to the walkway. Groups of men milled outside gaudy coloured doors. Many of the men were yavanas but there were also several Tamils. Excited voices and music and songs filled the air.

  We could not see over the tall shoulders of the men. Therefore, we crawled between legs and pushed ourselves to the front of a door. The heavy smell of sweet joss sticks and watered-down perfume greeted us. As my eyes accustomed to the dim within the chamber, my jaws went slack.

  A group of girls danced to the music, and men, seated in a circle around them, clapped, cheered, and tossed coins. The more daring dancers, having collected the coins, sat on the men’s laps and gyrated their hips.

  ‘Look! Look!’ Anandan pointed. A man grabbed a girl and disappeared behind one of several curtained vestibules.

  ‘They’re going to enjoy,’ he whispered. When I looked puzzled, with a show of exasperation, he said, ‘Coitus, silly, the women sell their bodies for money.’

  There were others in the room, including an effeminate man, and a matron with a large pink dot on her forehead and lips rendered red from chewing areca nut.

  ‘A woman?’ I said, aghast, for here was a mother figure who stewarded the sexual enslavement of young women.

  The girls looked radiant enough and wore ready smil
es but I discerned a deep sorrow in the eyes of the younger ones. The older girls looked more resigned to their fate, it seemed.

  I felt a shocking pain and lurched forward and landed flat on my stomach. A rough voice bellowed, followed by a second sharp kick to my buttocks. A bearded man stared down and growled.

  ‘Does your father know, boy?’

  Anandan had already gone, leaving me with no choice but to attempt my escape. Another blow landed on my back, followed by laughter. A hand grabbed my shoulder, the fingers digging into my flesh. I twisted and sank my teeth in the man’s hand and tasted his disgusting salty sweat. The man shouted, but I bit down harder and, cursing, he released his hold. More laughter erupted all around. I picked myself up and dashed off, spitting out the foul taste and wiping my lips with the back of my sweaty hands.

  I broke free of the knotted crowds and ran, and after several confused turns recognised the main street. Guided by landmarks, I took a circuitous route back to the waterfront and our private spot. Anandan was already there, eating a sweet sticky snack.

  ‘What kept you?’ He was nonchalant.

  ‘You left me behind,’ I said, shaking from anger and exertion.

  ‘You’re here and alive.’ He shrugged his shoulders and laughed. ‘If you think it’s wrong with the servant-girls, pleasure houses are right for the righteous. And if Kannagi refuses to do certain things, seek the devadasis. They will oblige. This is the secret, dear promised-to-be-married friend, for keeping marriages blissful.’

  I hated him when he mentioned Kannagi in the same breath as devadasis, women of lost morals; I hated him when he ill-treated his servant-girls; but I hated myself more because, in secret, I believed him and looked up to him. I lacked his fatal courage, and beheld his recklessness as bravery.

  THE YEARS SLIPPED BY, and though Anandan continued to enjoy the pleasures promised by damsels, he also had a distinct interest in commerce. He purchased land and built a palatial mansion in Pattinam. He had also, by the timed interventions of his father’s influence, made profitable inroads into various royal and mercantile circles.

  Then, as was his nature, he plagued me to join him in Pattinam. When I visited his sprawling new manor, Anandan again pressed me.

  ‘One thing about these courtiers, they never say what they mean and never mean what they say, and it makes you want to pull off your earrings and throw at them.’

  ‘Why do you even bother with these people?’

  ‘You ask why, because you hail from a long line of princely merchants, and people readily call on your father. They wait in queues under the unforgiving sun for the pleasure of meeting him, so they can boast to have met Sir Masattuvan and to have drunk his water. But my father has no exalted lineage. Every grain of gold and sliver of silver resulted from his own resourcefulness. It lends a special taste of accomplishment, my gilded friend, and I am emulating my hero, my father. Join me and seek your own fortune.’

  ‘My father’s fortune is mine for inheritance and enough for an eternity,’ I said.

  ‘Eternity lasts but for a mere lifetime, if at all. Why, even the peerless Ravana of Lanka considered his lineage everlasting but the Cholan, Cheran, and Pandyan succeeded him. Now, the trinity themselves harbour delusions of eternity. And so history reaches and retreats. Eternity is eternal only if you keep tilling and sowing her seeds, not by suckling from the same breast, no matter how gorged it might be for now.’

  ‘Say what you wish but I don’t have a need for more money,’ I said.

  ‘Treat it as a hobby then.’

  ‘I already have a hobby; one I am passionate about.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Singing,’ said Anandan, and he smirked. ‘Practise and perform on street corners. That will please your father.’

  ‘You think poorly of the arts, my friend,’ I said. ‘I compose verses, and I sing songs. Why, even you once praised my abilities.’

  ‘True, I did and you have a rich voice, I agree even now,’ said Anandan. ‘But keep it a pastime to entice maidens.’

  ‘I hone my skills in songs to entertain my future wife and your little sister, Kannagi.’

  ‘Kovalan, listen and listen well. We are on the cusp of our journey. Young men have two avenues to attain fulfilment in life. As a warrior or a wealthy man. The former takes one down a harsh path and a warrior’s death before time is ready. The latter validates one’s worth and along the way helps one to dip into many honeypots.’ He nudged me and laughed.

  ‘I know where this talk leads and wish not to pursue its end. I also know you well, my friend Anandan, and your persistence. Out with your scheme so I can decline and move on to other matters.’

  ‘You pass sentence impetuously, my friend. Well then. My suggestion is for you to come to Pattinam and seek your own fortune and add to your father’s hoard.’

  ‘Here I am, already in Pattinam,’ I said, with a smirk.

  ‘Dear Kovalan, leave the jesting to entertainers. Consider your promised marriage to Kannagi, establish your own household here, in proximity to the centre of power.’

  ‘That would mean leaving my father’s house.’

  ‘That would mean setting up your own house, as I have, and I’m not even married.’ He spent the rest of my visit repeating the same arguments but each time clothed in different shades, confident of wearing me down.

  As usual, I resisted his blandishments. But over the months his words became a sculptor’s chisel, chipped away at my resistance, and a dream took form.

  It was about this time Father discussed my wedding and living arrangements in some earnest. Kannagi would return to Puhar in about a year. And Father had already drawn up grand plans to add a new wing to the house, one that would accord me and my new wife an appearance of privacy while keeping us under his roof and overview. Father opined he was more experienced in such matters and was being helpful. But as the days progressed, I chafed and wondered if my fate was to hide in his shadow. And Anandan, as was his nature, proved relentless and worked on the part of me that envied his freedom and wanted to spread my wings.

  I decided to establish my own household but also expected Father’s disappointment to spill into anger. True enough our probing discussions degenerated and led to many harsh words. Those were tense and terrible weeks in our household, and something I was not proud of as a son to a remarkable and good man.

  After one terse exchange, Father curled his fingers and dropped on the seat. He looked small. I felt a sharp prick of pain, for I had knocked him down with my foolish words where many had failed even with weapons wielded from positions of wealth and power.

  ‘Your words break my heart, my dear son. Better you thrust a blade so I die quickly.’

  ‘Father, please trust me,’ I said, and knelt and placed my hands on his knees. ‘You have done well in nurturing me, and I will not disappoint you.’

  He remained silent and tears wet his eyes. That shocked me to my soul, because Father had always been a strong man, stoic, and never betrayed weakness.

  ‘Trust you?’ His voice was soft.

  ‘Yes, Father, trust me.’

  ‘Who else can I trust if not you, my son?’ He placed his hand on my head and said, ‘I fear that this path you take, no doubt fed by words of ill counsel, will lead to ruin.’

  He gave me a light pat and rose and shuffled towards the staircase. Then he stopped at the foot of the expansive steps and turned.

  ‘Do as you wish, my son. You will always have my blessings and fervent prayers for good things to shower upon you. And may our patron gods guide and protect you always.’

  I won my wish, but felt no joy. I pushed my guilty feelings to the depths of my soul and plunged into the many demands that came with building my new mansion.

  Of course, Mother being Mother did not shed tears but fed the gossip that it was her idea for me to move out. And Kannagi was the reason. As her daughter-in-law-to-be was a chaste and exemplary maiden, it was befitting for Kannagi to have her own household, proclaimed Mother. Kanna
gi could then receive and entertain family and friends, renowned luminaries and unknown wanderers, the wealthy and the destitute, the learned and the seekers. By so doing, my virginal wife would gain much merit from her boundless generosity and impeccable hospitality. And my dear mother wished for all the merit to collect at her future daughter-in-law’s feet. Shrewd Mother, because if matters soured she had already attached a name to the blame. Such was my mother’s philanthropic genius. If my Kannagi served cool clean water to one dying of thirst, Mother was the water herself.

  And the news so let loose took a life of its own and grew into the only plausible explanation for such a remarkable and inventive living arrangement. I steered away from the fray and smiled whenever a meddling acquaintance sidled up to enquire after my moving out of my father’s house. Instead, my focus turned to the day I would escort my vivid wife Kannagi over the threshold of her new home to begin our promised life.

  5: Kannagi and Kovalan’s Wedding

  WHEN THE TIME CAME for me to return to Puhar, Father sent to us a band of mounted guards and pack animals bearing lavish gifts for Chinnamma, Uncle, and the village elders. The riders also brought a chest of fine clothes, with instructions from Mother that I change into these for my grand entrance into Puhar.

  Uncle harnessed together a caravan of bullock carts and our procession set off for Puhar. Several families, who had timed their departure, joined our caravan.

  We retraced the route taken years earlier. Years! How time had slipped. I had grown rounder, fleshed out over my sharp bones, and blunted my quick tongue. But much more was the change within.

  The first few weeks in the farm had been wrenching as I pined for Kovalan, but as the months rolled away, new habits took hold and life became bearable. Chinnamma filled my mornings with prayers and the study of holy texts, and taught many rites and rituals to make me a proper maiden ready for married life, and that included preparing and serving meals.