She would cling to his feet and die there. There was no reason to even think that her father, who didn’t have the compassion to even send someone to inform her of her mother’s death, would take her in. Neither did she have the right to claim it. She had defied her father and left her home for good to go with a man. She would have to live her life out in this little hut.
Karuthamma thought about Panchami. She could almost hear her plaintive cry of ‘echechi echechi’. When they dug a hole in the salt-soaked sands and laid her mother there, Panchami would be crying bereft and alone. She would have to live alone in that home now.
There would be other Pareekutties on that shore. Palani who sat silently looking at the far distance too seemed to have lost his peace of mind. He was someone who had never ever had to live with chaos. Any place on earth had been heaven to him until then.
Karuthamma went to his side and asked, ‘Don’t you want to eat?’
‘I am not hungry.’
‘Why is that?’
He asked, ‘Why did that Muslim come?’
Karuthamma revealed the truth. ‘If you ask me, it is to ruin me, why else?’
She was willing to take her troubles head-on. Karuthamma had the fortitude for that. Palani too was strong-minded. He asked, ‘Who is he to you, Karuthamma?’
She understood exactly what he meant and she decided to tell him everything. All she was in doubt about was how she should tell him that story. She didn’t care how she began. When she had decided to reveal everything, how did it matter how she began.
‘From our childhood, we played on the seashore…’ and then she began telling the story.
Palani listened, showing neither anger nor any emotion. Wasn’t he affected by the graveness of her story? She was petrified by his demeanour.
When she had spoken for long, she asked, ‘Do you believe in what I have said?’
Palani said that he did. A woman was telling her love story to her husband. There was no need to disbelieve her. Wasn’t she smearing filth on herself?
But she couldn’t continue telling her story in that vein. The narrative didn’t have the flow.
In her tale Karuthamma is now eighteen. But she didn’t talk about the money. She didn’t tell him about the song. And she didn’t tell him about that final farewell either. She spoke of all else. Did Palani suspect that she had kept quiet about many things? Who knows?
She said, ‘I don’t have a brother. He is my brother.’
She didn’t think it worked.
When Palani had heard everything, he asked, ‘So it is true what everyone says – you were sent away from Neerkunnath – isn’t that so?’
The wife had only one answer to that: She would always be a proper fisher-wife befitting this shore.
Fifteen
Everything that Karuthamma had told him was the truth as she knew it. Even though he believed her, it had lessened his fervour for her. Palani was lost in thought. His enthusiasm flagged. How could he confront Pappu face to face?
She was chaste; and he believed in her. But what if Pappu said she was unfit for the shore – how could he defy that? He had dragged her by force from her father’s. His sense of duty, his beliefs shaped by being a fisherman wouldn’t allow him to abandon her. If he were to forsake her, where would she go?
She had opened her heart to him. She placed her faith in the confession. That she had been at fault, she accepted with tears day after day. The past had to be forgotten. It was certain that henceforth she would be virtuous. Palani had no doubt about that.
He could no longer give in to the temptation to kiss her. His embrace no longer tightened around her. With tears in her eyes, and with twice as much fervour, she would mumble this and that. She kept trying to gather him back to her. Knowing that he had escaped her and not knowing how to bring him back to her, she clutched at him. But each time she felt him slipping away. All she could ask him was if he trusted her. She dared not ask him if he loved her. She felt she had lost the right to ask him that.
Palani who never ever quarrelled now got into fights. One day Pappu looked into his eyes with a mocking expression and said a few things. Palani had heard all of this from Karuthamma. But how could he bear it when another man flung it in his face?
They pushed and jostled each other. Palani hit Pappu.
But the quarrel didn’t end there. Pappu belonged to a big family on that shore. He had numerous family members. It wasn’t seen as a mere slight. Instead, it was seen as an act of arrogance – was Palani man enough to beat up the fisherman from the Thengumkoottathil family?
Thus, Karuthamma’s plan to make a home frittered away. Those days the sea too lay fallow. Palani showed no enthusiasm to go to work. Neither did Karuthamma have the courage to ask him what had been his share of takings for the day.
Didn’t he want to deck her up and take her to Mannarshala? Shouldn’t that hovel become a house with a room and kitchen? There was a grinding stone. But there were so many other things to be acquired! Forget about the boat and nets; that was a long-term plan. It may or may not happen. Managing everyday affairs itself was getting to be difficult. Everything was falling apart. She needed a cloth and blouse. Palani had only one lungi.
One day Karuthamma asked, ‘Shall I start going to the east to sell fish from tomorrow?’
Palani didn’t answer at once. Did he have to think about it? Nevertheless, he didn’t speak. She told him of its benefits. And that she would go only if he permitted it.
He said, ‘In which case, go!’
In two days’ time she bought a basket. The next few days, when the boats drew closer to the shore, Karuthamma reached there in preparation to go sell fish in the east.
She was still a new bride and she was already on the shore. Kochupennu asked, ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I too am a fisherwoman of this shore.’
That day it became the topic of discussion. Opinion was divided about that as well.
It wasn’t a job that Karuthamma was familiar with. Had she ever considered that she might have to do this? Who knows? Her mother had done it. Had Chakki ever thought that her daughter would have to lug a leaky heavy basket of fish? Had Karuthamma too hoped to put aside some money?
When the boats drew in, she too went with the other women. One merchant took the entire catch of a boat. Karuthamma and a few women bought all of it from him.
All the other women ran ahead of her. It was what they were used to on a daily basis. She was unable to lug that heavy load and run. She was the last one. It was possible that they might have to go at least four miles to the east. Neither was she familiar with people or the places. The other women had already been through the various settlements. She didn’t know how to find a new beat. She stood at every door and called. In some homes, they had already bought fish for the day. So they didn’t need fish.
At some homes, they wanted to know what fish it was. No one was interested in small fish. At other homes, the price wasn’t right. Despite walking a great distance, she didn’t sell at all. All she wanted then was to get rid of it even at a loss. How could she take it back? And so having sold at a loss, she returned home bone-tired. But she did accomplish one thing. She was ensured of the custom of several homes on a regular basis.
Palani sat smoking a beedi. She was exhausted and her face was drawn and tired. She could barely walk. She thought that the sight of her exhaustion would prompt him to ask her a few questions. Wasn’t it her right to expect such a query? Well, if it didn’t happen, so be it. She had just started a new venture. Shouldn’t he at least ask her how much she had made that day? Wasn’t she doing this for him as well? Palani didn’t ask anything. He sat as if she had been there all day. Did she have the right to confront him on such apathy? Or, could she at least lose her temper? No, what right did she have? No, she had no right at all.
Nevertheless, she was his wife. Even if she had no rights, she had her responsibilities. She asked, ‘Have you eaten?’
He said, �
��Yes.’
When she finished her bath, she didn’t have fresh clothes to change into. She continued to wear the sodden clothes.
Even though he didn’t ask her, she described her day’s trade to him. She had made a loss that day but she had set up everything for the next day. She wanted his permission on one another matter. She wanted to try her hand in helping make a ‘Kambavala’. She wanted him to introduce her to someone who dealt in it.
He said, ‘Forget it. I can’t.’
The next day the catch was mackerel. Karuthamma bought as much as she could with the money she had. Like the previous day, she lagged behind all the other women. Many of the people she had arranged with waited for her. The other women had sold two for an anna. Karuthamma sold five for two annas. Even though the profit was small, she was again assured of regular custom in many homes. They asked her to come again the next day. That new fisherwoman is a good sort.
A few days later a huge quarrel erupted on the shore. All the fisherwomen who sold their fish in the east ganged up against Karuthamma and abused her. Karuthamma’s tongue wasn’t long enough to confront even one among them. So how could she take on five or six women? She stood there weeping. One woman bristling with rage said, ‘A slut who lay with a Muslim somewhere. She’s come here to ruin us all!’
Then the others said, ‘She’ll get enough business. The men in those houses want only her … she’s a shameless flirt, that’s what she is!’
All of this was said to Karuthamma to her face. Her ears hurt with their venom. She went home crying. There wasn’t a creature in this world to stand up for her. No one knew her truth. So she didn’t have the right, it seemed, to earn a living like other fisherwomen.
Palani who had come home from the sea didn’t ask why she hadn’t gone to sell fish that day. He just looked at her carefully. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her tear-stained face. That’s how he had seen her most of the time anyway. But that day she was even more woebegone. He asked her the reason. Nothing, she replied. For that was all she could tell him. How could she tell him of what had happened?
Had none of the women at Trikunnapuzha ever committed a fault? When people quarrelled in Neerkunnath, they slandered each other with tales of the past. Each one had a story of their own. That was how it was. But she knew nothing about anyone here. If she did, she would have brought up stories about them. Why shouldn’t she? What grievous wrong did Karuthamma do?
Don’t boys and girls play together on this shore here? Hadn’t she seen them pick mussels, make sand tunnels and fish for minnows?
These women were girls on this shore once. For a moment Karuthamma thought about how she could collect tales about them. Did the breeze on this shore contain an old love story? Had the sinful soul of a fisherwoman flitted on this shore on moonlit nights? No one had ever heard a song sung like that.
Karuthamma stopped going to the east to sell fish. But she began another line of work. She would buy fish from the shore, salt and dry it and build a stock. When there was no fresh fish, she would be able to get a good price for it. Or, she could sell it to the shack owners.
Thus Karuthamma set herself up anew. But in truth, hadn’t it always been so? An inner life of which she could talk to none. She lived there by herself. She didn’t make a friend there as well. There were days when she didn’t speak to another person.
And so it was for Palani. Each day he would go to work. He had lost his vitality and enthusiasm. He used to have friends once. It seemed as if he had forsaken them all.
Karuthamma and Palani’s life entered a realm of flatness. The ardour of those first days was gone. It was natural for things to settle a bit. If their lives had naturally plateaued, the ardour too would have settled into a plane. But this wasn’t like that. A leaping flame had been snuffed out in a moment. Dreams and plans for the rest of their lives had collapsed all of a sudden. And if you were to still ask how was it they lived as husband and wife with no passion, didn’t such cold marriages exist in this world?
Was Karuthamma content? Perhaps. Palani? Perhaps he too was content. When Karuthamma became a topic of discussion on the shore, Palani too became one. When he walked by, people whispered about him behind his back. And even if it didn’t happen he suspected it did.
Some months ago when he lived on this shore and his ties with the community was still a tenuous one, anyone who met him greeted him with a bright smile and some chit-chat. He was regarded as a good man. But now as he went by, they whispered about him stealthily. What a change! Palani hadn’t committed a sin against anyone. Ever since the day when he steered the boat like a mad man to the deep sea, that expert boatsman had never been given the helm oar. Everyone was scared. Not just the men in his boat but everyone. Perhaps they believed that he was possessed by an evil spirit; or that as Karuthamma was a fallen woman, being with her man in the same boat invited a disaster – a threat the fisherwomen frightened their menfolk with. After all, it was an age-old belief.
There was not a single creature in that place to speak up for hapless Karuthamma. And so it was for the destitute Palani. Anyone could slander them. There wasn’t anyone to oppose it.
Palani’s boat was owned by Kunjan Valakkaran. He was from a family that had always owned boats and nets. However, these days his sole wealth was that one boat and net. He had mortgaged even the land and the house they lived in. If he didn’t have that one boat and net, he would starve. Nor would his status allow him to go to work in another man’s boat. Not just that, he was also an elderly man.
The gossip about Karuthamma trickled into his ears. What a disaster! A fallen woman’s husband going to sea in his boat. He didn’t have a moment’s peace until the boat returned to the shore each day. Since Palani was in the boat, it was quite possible that it would capsize and smash to bits. The boat could be caught in an undertow and dragged deep into the sea. Any kind of accident could happen! He could lose everything.
Kunjan Valakkaran called for a secret meeting with all the boatmen except Palani. All of them had the same fear. And day after day their women fanned that fear. Each day the women called to the mother of the sea. So when Kunjan Valakkaran called for a discussion, they were relieved.
Kumaru said, ‘Valakkaran’s fear is about losing his boat. For us it is our lives at stake. God in heaven, twelve families will be destitute.’
That was an opinion that not even Velayudhan opposed. He too was scared within.
Kunjan Valakkaran said, ‘Yes, yes, you are right. You don’t mess with the sea.’
None of them had any doubts about that. Even if times changed, the laws of the sea didn’t. Neither did the rules that governed the fishermen on the shore. Overcome with fear Kumaru said, ‘When we are at sea, what if that Muslim comes here … can you imagine the plight?’
Kunjan Valakkaran quivered in fright. ‘Yes, yes, what would become of us?’
Aandikunju said hopelessly, ‘Everyone says that the Muslim still visits this shore…’
Kunjan Valakkaran asked, ‘Really? What if we finish him off?’
Velayudhan, ‘That will be an even greater mess than this…’
The women in their homes were disturbed. From the moment the boats went out to sea, they were in tears. It was only when the boats drew close to shore that they knew some peace.
Aandikunju continued, ‘If the women are right, would the mother of the sea have looked after us? If the old laws worked, none of us would have been around. All of us would have been deep under the sea.’
Veluthakunju said that Pappu claimed he had seen Pareekutty on that shore quite recently on a moonlit night. He was seen walking on the sands singing a song! It seems he did that every night!
Despite all this, they felt a great pity for Palani. He was a good lad. Such a shame that his fate was this! What could anyone do?
Perplexed, Kunjan Valakkaran asked, ‘So what is the way out now?’
Kumaru said there was only one thing to be done. Palani had to be left behind on the land. Th
at was the right thing to do! It was the only solution. For the hundredth time, Kumaru narrated how Palani had taken the boat to the deep sea as if he had been possessed.
‘What if he gets into one of those states again? I sit facing him in the boat each day so that I can watch his expression change.’
All of them accepted the veracity of that. Even if the steering oar wasn’t in his hands, one false move of the oar would do.
Kumaru’s suggestion was accepted by all of them. But it was a matter that caused heartache in each of them. Palani had worked for Kunjan Valakkaran ever since he was a boy. First he was thrown into the water to help spread the nets. No one worried too much about tossing an orphan into the sea. Then he became an oarsman. When he took the steering oar and stood on the stern, he helped them fetch at least two rupees more than anyone else. Kunjan Valakkaran asked all of them, ‘Hey Kumaru, ever since he put the steering oar down, hasn’t our earnings come down?’
Kumaru agreed. But what else could they do to escape this great danger? Nothing! But who was going to tell him this and how? Kunjan Valakkaran said he couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength of mind for that. Neither could it not be mentioned. He spoke to Kumaru, ‘One of you must tell him!’
None of them would. So how then could they put the plan into action? Karutha had an idea. ‘We must go out to sea before he gets there. Isn’t that how you lay off workers at the shore?’
Kunjan Valakkaran knew that. But he also knew that the laid-off worker would demand to know why. When he saw Palani, how would he face him? That was what troubled Kunjan Valakkaran.
But that was the only way out. The boatmen decided on that and left. Kunjan Valakkaran arranged for another man to take Palani’s place.
Palani woke up as usual at the crack of dawn and went to the shore. But the boat had already left by then. Palani hollered loudly. It changed into a roar. The shore had never resounded with a sound like that. The realization that he had been grounded aroused the man in that child of the sea. In the lull that followed, muscles cramped. The child of the sea was being cast out of his element. It was a body hewn to battle with the wind and storms. For years it had wrestled with the forces of nature. But as of this day, it was being denied that. In that denial, his might was awakened. The west wind carried that roar into the alleys between the houses. If the boatmen had heard it, would they have come back to the shore? But perhaps they didn’t.
Chemmeen Page 15