by Eric Alagan
‘Trouble not your help, Anandan sir,’ said Madhavi, ‘I shall despatch my servant, the well-trusted Vasantha-Mala, whom you’re already well-acquainted with, to arrive at your doorstep before the cock crows. Take her with you and let her be the bearer of good news.’
‘A good plan it is. As you wish, Lady Madhavi.’
We also spoke at length regarding Anandan’s long journey but I remained distracted and did not engage in his ventures.
I harboured disappointment that Madhavi had embarked on so great a potential change in our lives without my full acquiescence, and even as I faulted her judgement, my heart fluttered with hope. Reconciliation with my dear Kannagi would unload an enormous burden in my heart, rendered as it was by guilt and shame. I wanted for us—all three of us—to join as one.
And with Anandan’s departure, my heart thumped. What news my dear Kannagi would send back, I wondered. And throughout the night, as I floated in a shallow stream of rocky sleep, dozens of eventualities filled my fevered mind.
ANANDAN POURED HONEYED water on my parched heart and I hugged the brass lamp he conveyed. It was an auspicious gift, selected with love and blessed by my Athan Kovalan, reported Anandan. My fingers glided over every part of its tall stem and broad oil skirt, relishing the thought of my husband’s hands having touched the same spots.
‘Surrounded by fabulous wealth, you continue to lead an austere life, my dear little sister Kannagi, keeping the fast and offering prayer and penance. And the good news is, Madhavi awaits your coming and stands ready at her threshold to welcome you with all suitable protocols of respect. She yearns to relinquish the right hand of your husband’s seat and live in your shadow, to come and go as you will and wish. By Madhavi’s own words which I repeat.
‘Inform my exemplary elder sister, I seek but only a tiny tenement in the far corner along the rear fence beside the cow shed.’
‘She is a woman of such great virtue, and yet she has taken my husband from me,’ I said.
‘It is Kovalan who shies and stays away, out of shame for the great betrayal vested upon you, but secretly, he wishes the better reconciliation.’
‘Then speak not harsh judgement, my brother, for he is my husband and incapable of betrayal even if the exuberance of his virility has caused some mischief. We wedded with blessings from the holy fire and witnessed by the elders of our land. As such, our union is a seed sown to flourish a thousand years.’
‘Should I then send word and tell them to expect you?’
‘Yes, with all my heart, yes.’ I exclaimed and felt even more joy than the day my Kovalan took me for his wife.
Anandan hesitated. He was shrewd, for having allowed a taste he now held back the honey jar.
‘Even though as the younger, is it not only proper for Madhavi to call on your feet?’
‘It is my husband I go to meet, my dear brother, and let him introduce her as spouse, partner or less, as he so wishes.’
‘Yet it is her house, and what will people say when they hear of her generosity?’
‘It is my generosity people will see, but there is no contest here and my dear Kovalan is no trophy. I go to reclaim what is already mine.’
‘True, but there might be one or two who might say it was you who had gone begging and banished Madhavi to a spot no larger than a pin’s head in her own home.’
‘Who speaks these untruths?’
‘For one, her mother, Chitra-Vathi. I’ve not seen snakes more venomous. And this one, even when stripped of skin and dried moisture-less under the sun, will strike with venom more potent than the king of cobras. Perhaps, if your husband himself were to invite and escort you by hand for all to see, you achieve the same end but with better dignity.’
‘My dignity comes from going to my husband when he calls and the holy oil lamp is proof enough of his summons. Should I be so heartless as to cause my dear Athan to make the journey instead, for others to witness him come begging? Is his wish not my command? And as for the snakes, I shall embrace them to my heart and chase away their demons, for no creature is born evil.’
Anandan called and the maid-servant, whom he had introduced as Vasantha-Mala, trusted of Madhavi, entered. Then, Anandan paused with some new thought. He spoke in riddles, something new, for he had always revealed the plain streak.
‘Did Kovalan not walk up the steps of your father’s house, little sister, and cross the threshold when he came to ask your hand in marriage? I recall it was a grand occasion accompanied by the blare of trumpets and beat of drums and chants of holy men.’
‘Yes, he came calling but I struggle to see what your question signifies, for now he is already my husband.’
‘Indulge me, little sister, and pray tell, what then followed his visit?’
‘Why, much water flowed and as tributaries converging to the great life-giving Kaveri river, his visit culminated in our marriage and bestowed me new life with my Athan.’
‘Well said, and so, once again, you stand at the threshold of a new, albeit renewed life, with your dear Athan. How then can it be onerous upon him to come here and once again cross your threshold to take you by hand? This time also, as before, for all to witness.’
It became obvious that in secret Anandan did not approve of Kovalan taking up with Madhavi. Perhaps he blamed himself for the part he had played.
For myself, I wished to join my dear husband, and if it meant only another day’s delay, it was well and good, for I would not let the time go to waste. I will use it to bathe in scented water, straighten and braid my tangled hair and adorn it with his favourite blooms, and wear garments and gold to please my husband. And I also appreciated Anandan’s intentions for wanting to exact a small penalty from my Athan, a paltry price I would more than make good with my unquestioning acceptance of whatever arrangements he wished.
‘You are a true friend and dear brother, and I shall abide by your suggestion.’
Anandan turned to the maid-servant, Vasantha-Mala, and repeated his message, and had the woman recite back, to remove any doubts from the words or their tone.
‘Wait,’ I said to the maid-servant and gave her a small purse of gold coins as payment for the errand.
‘Thank you for your generosity, Lady Kannagi,’ said the maid-servant.
‘Go now, and lose not a moment to relay the message,’ said Anandan.
He then sent the woman off, giving stern instructions to the bullock cart driver to coax the animals for haste. Having discharged his responsibility, my dear brother Anandan bowed with hands clasped.
Driven by sudden remorse, I fell at his feet and sought forgiveness. Anandan, taken aback, placed his finger tips on my shoulders and brought me up to my feet.
‘What have you done, dear little sister, for you to seek forgiveness from me? You have always treated me as a dear friend and also with utmost respect as an elder brother.’
‘I have thought poorly of you, dear elder brother, and even blamed you for my Athan having left me for Madhavi. You brought her into our lives and even encouraged my Athan to go visit her. I hated you for placing a flame beside a cotton ball.’
‘We think alike, little sister,’ said Anandan with a heavy voice, ‘and every waking moment, I blame myself for the rift separating you and Kovalan. True, I was the wedge. Kovalan’s return will dislodge the chock but the scar will remain. I am the culprit for having smeared the artistry of your love, and it is I who should seek your forgiveness.’
Then, he smiled a sad smile, and took his leave.
As his back receded down the path, a great pain crushed my chest. How could I place the blame on him? As I had, he too had trusted Kovalan’s righteousness. As I had, he too had not suspected Kovalan’s weakness. But unlike me, he took the blame upon himself. If as a wife, I did not know my husband’s frailties, how could I demand more from Anandan, even though he was a true friend, but a mere friend no less?
Anandan’s journey to Araby promised to be perilous, and I wondered whether we would meet again. We mu
st, so I could make amends. Alas, here I was, again thinking only of myself.
I COMPLETED MY MORNING ablutions with haste and, even before partaking the warm milk prepared by Madhavi, climbed the stairs and waited on the roof terrace. The vantage point gave me a clear view of the neighbourhood. In the near distance, the towering gopurams of numerous temples punched the skies above Puhar, but for once these held no interest for me.
The sun grew warmer by the moment and I knew Anandan already would have departed with his caravan.
The maid-servant, Vasantha-Mala, was due to return soon. I felt anxious and squeezed my knees together as my bladder added discomfort.
Taking a long look at the street and catching no sight of the carriage, I went downstairs. On the way back, I stopped to remind a serving-man to direct the maid-servant to my presence the moment she arrived.
‘But sir,’ said the man, removing his loose turban and tucking the cloth under an arm as a mark of respect, ‘Amah Vasantha returned many moments ago.’
‘Where is she?’ I asked through clenched teeth, trying to stifle my outrage.
‘With Periya Amah, sir.’
‘Who?’ I snapped. I knew who he meant by big mother but wished to show my disdain and diminish the old woman’s standing.
‘Periya Amah Chitra-Vathi, sir,’ replied the servant, his voice now trembling.
‘Enough! Seek the servant Vasantha-Mala and tell her to come to me right away. Go!’
Bowing several times, the man hurried off. Once out of my sight, I heard him shout.
‘Amah Vasantha! Amah Vasantha!’
I also summoned Madhavi, who hurried after my feet. Reaching our private chambers, I wheeled, my face dark with anger.
‘What is it, my lord?’
‘Ask her!’ I pointed with my chin just as Vasantha-Mala entered the room.
‘Forgive me, sir, immediately I returned from Lady Kannagi’s house, Periya Amah, waiting at the gate, prevailed that I follow her, leaving me scant choice in the matter.’
‘You had a choice and made your choice! Why? Is it because my whip hangs raw, and not as supple as those of other masters?’
‘I’ll speak to my mother, my lord,’ said Madhavi, who, unlike me, was much in control of her emotions. Turning to her maid-servant, Madhavi spoke with an edge, hoping to blunt my fury.
‘What news do you bear from Anandan sir? Out with it and miss not a word.’
‘I was not at the discussion that ensued between Lady Kannagi and Anandan sir,’ said the woman, with head bowed and eyes to the ground.
It was the posture of a servant in contrition but also a ploy, for it hid her eyes and any possible lies. She continued.
‘And these are the words uttered by Anandan sir: Tell my friend Kovalan—begging your pardon sir, but Anandan sir charged me to repeat without deviation—tell my friend Kovalan and Lady Madhavi, in this house, bereft of love and dharma, lives only seething outrage and thirst for vengeance.’
Hearing these words, Madhavi let out a gasp of disbelief and sank into a chair.
‘Continue!’ My voice boomed, trying to hide my anguish.
‘Anandan sir said: Lady Kannagi has given herself to entities living in the nether regions, and she demands of her husband, Kovalan, to return,’ said the servant.
‘Continue!’
‘Then, Lady Kannagi, her long black tresses loosened to her waist and appearing as the Goddess Kali herself, scooped sand from the foot of the plinth holding the sacred Tulasi plant, and threw it into the air and cursed.’
Madhavi let out a soft cry and collapsed, her body prone on the divan’s armrest and tears wetting her blouse.
‘Continue!’
‘She cursed,’ said the woman and added, ‘and these are Anandan sir’s exact words conveyed to my poor unfortunate ears:
‘I curse the devadasi’s womb remains barren; her heart unable to give and receive love; her name synonymous with all things unclean and unchaste; and, when the full moon rises that her lips blabber and wail in the voices of a dozen demons.
‘So saying, she repeatedly scooped and flung sand in the direction of Tree House.’
By now, Madhavi was sobbing. Servants appeared at the door but upon seeing my fiery gaze, they froze and stepped back out of sight.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘No sir, but Anandan sir looked red and broken. After charging me to repeat his message, to ensure I will not allow poor memory to alter a word, he set off silent and with shoulders drooped and head hung low.’
‘Did you reveal any of this to Chitra-Vathi?’
‘No, sir. Periya-Amah pressed but before I broke, you summoned me. Grasping opportunity, I fled from her entreaties.’
‘You lie, and you lie well, you scoundrel.’ I took two steps, and she fell to her knees and pleaded her innocence. I snatched her waist pouch and out spilled several gold coins.
‘And since when do servants in this house get paid in gold?’
I grabbed the woman’s hair in a tight fist and made ready to strike. The maid-servant cried but also exhibited a streak of defiance as she said,
‘Lady Kannagi gave this gold, sir, as payment to, please forgive me Lady Madhavi, as payment to Lady Madhavi for having sold herself like a—please forgive this wretched being, I cannot bring myself to utter such profanity.’ The servant’s defence: she had hidden the gold coins and the rest of the message because they were too cruel for the ears of Lady Madhavi.
Devastated, I slunk into a chair, for the coins bore the markings of Kannagi’s family emblem, vouching for the fine purity of the unalloyed metal. But there was nothing pure in the words spilled that day.
11: The First Fractures
MADHAVI’S PUBLIC PERFORMANCES found no favour with me, for I did not relish other eyes exploring what I considered exclusive for my enjoyment. I had paid a high price for the privilege—I refer not to mere coin—and was not prepared to share her.
Word and duty bound to King Kari-Kaalan, to allow Madhavi the practise of her art, I decided she would teach instead of perform. Therefore, I erected an extra wing to Tree House and established an academy of fine arts.
With some reluctance Madhavi acceded but if she harboured any lingering unhappiness, it did not cross over to our bedchamber. She gave bliss; I possessed her, and she was mine alone. Or so I convinced myself. Delusion has the power of turning into reality, and I revelled in a real world of my making.
Just as matters settled into a happy routine, during a reception, realising how much Madhavi wanted to get back on stage, I relented in a moment of silly generosity. Her impromptu performance met with thunderous applause, and the street-criers repeated stories and accolades of appreciation by various nobles and known men.
My misplaced generosity, which I bestowed in exchange for public praise and validation of my standing in Pattinam, took on a life of its own and soon, at almost every occasion we graced, friends and even strangers invited Madhavi to showcase her dance skills. I frowned, but she pointed to the lavish gifts.
The invitations became relentless, turned blatant, and exploitative. Handsome rewards followed her favours. And whenever we returned home, I made rough love to her until she stopped me. Angry, I would roll over to sleep but only to awake and ravage her again and again.
Some days, I would plan to stay away from her for a night but as the hour approached, my resolution burned off faster than morning mist under the sun. I wanted to punish her but was myself tortured; to discard her but at every excuse ran to her; and no matter how many times I had her, I could not get enough. Truly her soft scented folds enslaved me.
A delegation arrived, ostentatiously to invite me to officiate at some ceremony. My time already spoken for; I could not accept the invitation. But the leader of the group said,
‘Begging your pardon, sir Kovalan, if you are not available, would you at least allow Lady Madhavi to do us the honours?’
This had been their intention all along. It had always been Mad
havi the people wanted to see. I had been the mere door-post which allowed entry for their wishes. These scheming sons of nameless fathers! In a flush, all the hidden fears and jealousies lurking within me surged to the fore.
I went into a period of gloom and moped around the house, but Madhavi pointed to the treasures pouring in from her efforts, and said,
‘Please my lord, do not vex yourself. The income from the dance academy hardly wets the beak, for our outgoings burgeon by the day. We now have a dozen servants and assistants and their families to feed too.’
‘Do you not manage the finances?’
‘Alas, I’m poor in such matters and even my mother—.’
‘Your mother?’ My nostrils flared. ‘You mean Chitra-Vathi? What of her?’
Madhavi’s stories of ill-treatment in her childhood had etched deep resentment, verging on hatred, for the wretched woman. Moreover, Chitra-Vathi, who wore a large red dot on her forehead, reminded me of matrons in the pleasure houses of Maruvur District.
‘Even my mother lacks the wits to cope with the household finances.’
‘She is incompetent or worse!’
We stopped talking, realising the course of our conversation bode nothing but ill. She filled a cup of milk but I folded my arms and looked away. I wanted her to breach the silence, to lose the argument, and to know her place. And with every moment of her continuing silence, my anger raced towards rage.
‘You’re right, my lord, my mother and I are of humble devadasi stock. We’ve at most handled a few pieces of silver but never bags of gold.’
I did not reply but boiled in infantile rage, and with nervous effort held myself in check. But I could not bring myself to put matters to rest, to move on. I could not. Never. It bewildered me, not knowing why I behaved so.
I had always felt insecure with Madhavi; insecure in her love, a security I took for granted with my dear Kannagi. Madhavi had many suitors. I seethed when she responded to the open exclamations of praise from other men. Did she not know how much it pained me? Had I not reminded her many times over of these men who, feigning artistic adoration, harboured only lascivious desires? I would not reply. I would not give in and forgive her. She had to do more. She had to grovel.