Rajam and her father spent a few minutes talking to each other until he was hailed by the constable to attend to something. As he turned to leave, Rajam asked, “Appa, if someone was beating his wife what could the police do?”
“What do you mean?” said an indignant Swaminathan. “If Partha touches one hair on your head, I will break every bone in his body.”
“No Appa, Partha wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.”
“Is it someone you know?” Rajam nodded, not wanting to say more than she needed to. Luckily for her Swaminathan was preoccupied with work.
“I am busy now but I will definitely come by your house tomorrow and then we can go together to your friend’s house. One visit from me will scare him into an obedient puppy.” Rajam was happy. At least she knew she had a backup plan for Revathi. It was almost midday, and a turbaned man with a large handlebar moustache called through a megaphone for everyone to come around for the ‘idli competition.’ Rajam quickly herded her mother towards the entrance where the competition would take place. Clean banana leaves lay in front of cotton jamakalams in preparation for the participants to sit and eat. Each place setting had a brass plate and a tumbler of water. All the competitors trickled in waiting for the contest to kick off. Partha and some of his friends joined the competition and he knew that last year’s winner, Muhammad Salih, would be a fierce opponent. A huge crowd gathered waiting for the event to commence.
The comical turbaned man began proceedings by reading the rules. Idlis would be served six at a time. As soon as volunteers noticed a competitor’s idlis were over, they would serve six more. The last one sitting and naturally the one who ate the maximum number of idlis would be declared the winner of the competition. The prize was the princely sum of five rupees. The first lot of idlis was served; then someone blew a trumpet and the eating began. The noise was incredible, with everyone cheering on their favorite competitor. Twenty minutes passed and over two dozen idlis had been served to each participant. Many had given up already and the competition had narrowed to eight gormandizers. After the next round, four more participants hobbled off, holding their bellies. Partha continued downing the rice cakes with resolve, while the milling crowd cheered him on. Rajam screamed so much that her voice became hoarse. Partha and Muhammad Salih each had their following and the noise was deafening. A few more rounds and the two gargantuan idli eaters were still going strong. After the sixtieth idli, Muhammad Salih had eaten enough. He turned to the side and noisily vomited. Partha lifted his sixty first idli, held it up to a cheering crowd and then with slow deliberate movements, put little tidbits in his mouth, prolonging the moment, until he polished off the last morsel. The new ‘Idli Subbu’ had been crowned. All his friends were hugging him and Rajam could not even get near him.
After the crowd dispersed, the family walked towards the vilvandi to have lunch. They spread a blanket under the shade of a tree and opened the tiffin carriers. The first container Rajam opened had idlis and when Rajam held one up for Partha, he held his belly yelling, “Noo…No more idlis! No more idlis for the next month.”
Everyone was in a good mood, laughing and joking. After lunch they left Partha snoring under the shade of the trees and returned to the fair to continue with the festivities. There was still no sign of Raman. By now, Rajam was sure that Revathi must have reached the train station, well on her way to Madras. She felt momentarily guilty, enjoying herself here at the fair while Revathi was in so much trouble, but then Rajam comforted herself with the thought that each person had their unique set of problems. At least that she had helped Revathi the only way she knew, by talking with her.
At five o’ clock, the street drama began. Consisting only of men, the drama troupe, was going to perform scenes from the epic Ramayana. Rajam sat down with her mother. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nagamma sitting a little distance away. Using her eyes, Nagamma indicated to Rajam that she needed to come and sit next to her. Rajam quickly got up and sat behind her. Mangalam turned around just in time to see Rajam stick her tongue out at Nagamma behind her back. Mangalam’s eyes opened wide in horror and she shook her head in disapproval. The audience was enthralled with the drama, laughing loudly, especially when the men spoke in high pitched voices as they played women’s roles. It was funny and interesting for villagers, who had few other forms of entertainment. They saw the same episodes year after year but never seemed to tire, laughing at the same jokes and crying at the same tragic drama.
It was almost seven o’clock when Rajam’s family left the fair. Everyone was quiet, tired from the day’s excitement. The bullock cart turned the corner and came to a stop in front of their home. Rajam looked towards Revathi’s house but it was too dark to see anything. She would have to wait for the morning to know what had happened. Until then, she needed to be patient and stop thinking. She was so exhausted she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
CHAPTER 27 –REVATHI
VIZHUPURAM
It was around nine o’clock on Sunday morning and like most Sundays, everyone was moving slower than usual. The food was ready but nobody wanted to eat just yet. Rajam was anxiously waiting for the morning meal to be over, so she could check up on Revathi. She was uneasy and apprehensive and didn’t want to wait until the following day to know if Revathi got away. There was no more work to be done just yet, so the women sat around the mutram enjoying the morning sunlight, waiting to serve the food, when Siva came running in.
“Ayayyo! Come on everyone. There has been a death in the neighbor’s house. Someone committed suicide. Come quickly.”
Rajam’s heart sank. She knew then that her worst fears had been realized. Revathi had not made it. She jumped up, her heart beating wildly, her mind in a whirl with a million thoughts entering simultaneously and she joined the rest of the family, rushing to find out more about this calamity. When they reached Revathi’s house, a big crowd had gathered outside. In one corner of the thinnai, Raman was seated, holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. At the other end sat Muthu Mami, her dazed eyes staring into the distance, almost as if she were in a trance. Rajam tried to push her way in but there were too many people. Standing on tiptoe, she peered in between people’s heads but she couldn’t see the body.
“What happened?” she asked a neighbor.
“It was Revathi. I believe she was depressed and committed suicide. Thooku Potuta. She hung herself. They found the body when they came home from the fair.”
“But I don’t see the body anywhere. Is it inside?”
“No, they performed the last rites at seven in the morning. She has already been cremated. We saw them leaving and came to find out what happened.”
“What? Why did they perform the last rites so fast? Why didn’t they wait for her parents to come?”
“I don’t know why they did that. Apparently, it was not a pretty sight and Raman wanted to save his in-laws the agony of seeing their daughter like that.”
‘How convenient!’ thought Rajam. He wanted to cremate her before anyone could see the results of his handiwork. There was nothing that could be done now. As the husband, Raman had complete rights over his wife and the last rites had to be performed by him. It was his prerogative to complete the ceremonies whenever he wanted. The neighbor was eager to give Rajam all the information she had. “It appears that the priest said between seven and eight in the morning was a good muhurtham, the most auspicious time to cremate her.”
‘Priests will say whatever you want them to if you paid them enough,’ thought Rajam. It was always easy to find one poor Brahmin to conduct a ceremony in a hurry. Laymen knew nothing about the right muhurtham to do anything, so they would have to take the priest’s word for it.
Rajam pulled Partha to one side and whispered in his ear. “He killed her. I know that with as much certainty as my name is Rajam. I want you to call my father. We need to tell him about it.”
“Okay, I’ll go. But first let me express my condolences to Raman.”<
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“Murderer! Rapist!” Rajam was so angry, tears were streaming down her face and her chest was heaving with emotion. What had happened? What went wrong? Rajam would never know how Revathi’s end came.
While Rajam and her family were enjoying their day at the fair, Revathi had embarked on a journey of her own, where she would meet her destiny. She had been feeling strange that morning. Her stomach was churning and her mental state was one of excitement and fear. Her mother-in-law was getting dressed to go to the fair. It was only nine in the morning. She would have to wait another three agonizing hours before she could escape forever into Vaithee’s loving care. Time was standing still. No matter what she did, the hands on the clock in the big room would not move more than a few millimeters. As soon as her mother-in-law left, Revathi tied up three of her saris in a bundle and kept it near the back entrance, so she could grab it when she made her exit. As soon as Raman left the house for work, which would be a little before twelve, she would sneak out from the back. She went and lay down in a corner of the mutram. From her reclining position, she could see the clock in the big room as it inched along. Tick tock tick tock. She watched the pendulum sway back and forth. She couldn’t sleep, although she was tired. Her eye was throbbing. Could that be a sign of some sort? If so, what did that mean?
When Raman woke up, he was in a bad mood as usual. His head was throbbing from a hangover. He had drunk too much the previous night and had been throwing up till the wee hours of the morning.
“Revathi,” he screamed. “Bring my coffee.”
Revathi hurried into the kitchen to make his coffee. She didn’t want any more problems. In a few minutes, she was back, handing him the steaming coffee. He said nothing, silently taking the tumbler from her. It was past ten o’clock and it seemed as though Raman had no plans of going anywhere. He hadn’t yet eaten his morning meal and was just lolling around in bed. Revathi was nervous. If he did not leave soon, then she would have to escape when he was in the house and the very thought made her jittery. What if he heard her going out the back entrance? She would have to move the creaking back door extra slowly so he would not hear her leave. Raman rolled out of the room and sauntered past her to use the bathroom. He was back in a short while.
“Hmm. Don’t just sit around. Serve me my food.”
Revathi ran into the kitchen to heat the morning meal. The rice was piping hot and she only had to heat the sambar and vegetables. She served him his food and watched him eat. Liquid dribbling down his unshaven chin, locks of hair overgrown and uncombed falling over his eyes. As he finished, he belched loudly. Disgusting man! Revathi was totally repulsed by him. What must she have done to deserve such an uncouth oaf as a husband! Only a few hours more, she said to herself, not speaking one word, merely cleaning up before she went back to the mutram to watch the clock. Raman took a swig of the liquor which was by his bedside and then lay down. The clock was ticking rhythmically to Raman’s snoring. He had been asleep for the better part of an hour but it wasn’t twelve noon yet, so Revathi could not leave. Vaithee had specifically told her to be at the grove at noon.
At last, after what seemed like a lifetime, she looked up at the clock one final time. It was five minutes to twelve. She went to the pooja altar, closed her eyes and prayed. Then she tiptoed to the back of the house and slowly opened the gate, moving it an inch at a time so it would not creak. Then once she was out, she slowly closed the gate in the same way. She had wasted too much time. Just as she turned around, a black cat crossed her path. Revathi took a deep breath. This was no time for superstition. She could not go back into the house and leave again. There was just too much risk. If she went back in, she may not get another chance to leave. She clutched her bundle to her chest and walked briskly down the road.
Raman woke up soon after and became annoyed when he could not find Revathi anywhere. Taking another swig from his bottle, he decided to walk down the street to get a bidi from the vendor behind the temple. Revathi had to pass the temple to reach the mango groves and as she turned the corner, to her utter shock, she ran into Raman. Her eyes opened wide and she shrank back in horror. How could this be? He was fast asleep when she left. The back roads were longer but how did he know where to go? This was it. She knew in her mind that this time he would not leave her alive. She had planned her escape so meticulously but freedom was not for her. God had other plans to end her suffering.
Raman’s eyes narrowed down to a slit. What in heaven was Revathi doing here and what was she carrying in her hand? Was she planning to run away? Seeing Revathi with her bundle of clothing made his blood boil. Already in a drunken state and crazy with anger, he reached out to grab her by her hair.
“Where are you off to? What is that in your hand? Were you thinking of leaving me? Mundam! Whore!” He twisted and yanked her hair, pulling out a bunch from their roots. Revathi screamed in pain but no one was around to hear her. He caught hold of her unraveled hair and literally dragged her, half running, half sliding, all the way home. The streets were completely empty; the only witness to this horrific scene were two stray dogs, who didn’t even bother to bark.
Raman was wild with anger. How dare she attempt to escape!”Bitch! Whore!”He dragged her in and threw her down in the center of the mutram. Though dazed, suddenly she was not afraid any more. She stood up, walked over to Raman and spat on his face. The audacity of Revathi’s action took him completely by surprise, but she had made a fatal mistake. Raman’s fury erupted like a dormant volcano. He exploded with a volatile force and slapped her across the face so hard she went reeling backward. Momentarily stunned, she looked at him with an expression that said, “hit me you coward, hit me.” Revathi felt no fear. She was ready for whatever was in store for her.
He reached for the first thing that came into his hand, a wooden stick and with eyes flaming with rage, he walked towards a swaying Revathi. The first blow broke her lower arm. The second caught her side and broke two of her ribs. Like a seasoned fighter, she stood up again and laughed in his face. The next swing got her on the temple and the blood spattered all over the pillar. She leaned against the bloodstained pillar for support and looked at him straight in the eye, not flinching, not reacting to the pain exploding inside her body. Raman then struck her on her broken arm; she twisted in agony and stumbled to the other side. Before she had a chance to recover, he hit her again. Revathi swayed from one side to the other like a whirling dervish, as he alternately swung from the left and the right. She smashed her head so many times against the pillar that she lost count, but still she would not cry out. The pain was so intense it had gone past human threshold. She felt nothing. In a way, she had already left her body and moved onward to the next leg of her journey. Her eyes were open as she danced her last cosmic Thandava, her final dance of death, offering her own blood, as sacrifice to the blood thirsty Kali. Her sari was damp with gore as she whirled from one end of the mutram to the other. When the stick broke, her husband switched to using his fists, slamming her face until it was a bloody pulp. At some point, her legs buckled and she fell down. Relentless, Raman sat on her stomach and continued pummeling her face with his fists. He had no idea that she died a while ago, not even when he rose and kicked her repeatedly on her stomach. Then he stopped, breathing hard from the exhaustion of the fight and looked down. He looked around him. There was blood everywhere. Revathi was motionless, a smile on her tranquil face.
Raman bent down and shook his wife. “Revathi, wake up, Revathi please wake up.” All at once, the horror of his actions, committed in a moment of passion, hit him like a sledgehammer. He screamed hysterically, pulling at his hair, not knowing what to do. He did not mean to kill her. It just happened. Now what was he going to do? He sat down and nursed her bloody head against his heaving chest, rocking her, crying, repeating her name over and over again. That is how Muthu Mami found him.
“So finally you killed her. You could not leave her alone could you, not till she was dead? What did she ever do to harm you?” Raman ju
st continued repeating Revathi’s name. He was overcome with remorse and grief. Muthu was shocked at the gore around her. She could not bear to look at Revathi’s face. In many ways, she felt responsible. She had been a mute witness to the abuse and should have stopped her son somehow. Now they were faced with the worst possible situation. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that her son would do this. Now he had lost his mind and she needed to take charge and make sure that their name didn’t go down the drain. The neighbors must never know what happened. Muthu brought water and rags and cleaned the mutram for hours. Then she bathed Revathi’s battered body for the last time, dressed her in her wedding sari and covered her body and face with a white sheet. She went into her room and from the recesses of her cupboard, brought out a gold coin that she had saved for a rainy day. She gave it to Raman, instructing him to bring a priest from a nearby village, to complete the ceremonies before the neighbors awoke. No one must see Revathi like this. They would tell her parents that she had been depressed and took her own life, that she hung herself when everyone left for the fair. That was the story that the neighbors heard.
Rajam did not believe a word. She knew Raman had killed Revathi but she was helpless, because all the evidence was gone. Revathi was dead and with her went any chance of arresting Raman. She would tell her father Revathi’s story but she knew with no evidence, her story was just hearsay and the police could do nothing about it. Just then, there was some noise from the entrance. The crowd was moving to allow Revathi’s parents in. Her mother was inconsolable but no one was making any accusations. Did they not know of Revathi’s predicament? Why weren’t they questioning the husband? Raman had managed everything very well indeed. Behind them was a young man with curly hair and a neat moustache. He was wearing a white shirt and veshti and staring at Raman. The look in his eyes got Rajam’s attention. She couldn’t tell if he was sad, angry, vengeful, sardonic, or if the look had a mix of all these emotions. His expression was completely inscrutable. He had his hands folded across his chest and was intently looking at Raman with that determined stare but he did not approach him, almost as if he wanted to keep some space between them.
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