Chemmeen

by T. S. Translated by Nair, Anita Pillai

  Nothing, there was nothing she could do. Once again she would have to make amends for life to return to what it had been.

  Seventeen

  When a wife dies, it is said that her soul comes to her husband’s bedside at night. She becomes one with the air around him. That’s the afterlife of a deceased wife.

  ‘Marry another woman!’ Why had Chakki said this? Perhaps she must have thought it the wisest counsel given the circumstances. Or perhaps he needed the comfort of another woman. And she must have whispered this to him knowing her husband’s need for sensual fulfilment.

  As Chakki’s eyelids had closed, Chembankunju had muttered several times in her ear, ‘What should I do?’ He had prised open her closed eyelids and demanded, ‘Don’t you want us to be together, Chakki? To enjoy ourselves?’

  Everyone said Chembankunju had lost his right hand. It was indeed the truth. All the prosperity and grace in his life had come from Chakki. There wasn’t another fisherwoman as capable as she was. What would Chembankunju do now? Could a young girl run a house? Karuthamma wouldn’t come. Nor would he send for her. What was it that he said? A twig that refused to blaze had to be cast out!

  ‘Marry another woman!’ Those last words kept booming in Chembankunju’s ears. He sought Achakunju’s advice. ‘What do you think about my bringing in a new woman?’

  Achakunju said, ‘You will need to do that! The girl needs a mother, doesn’t she?’

  ‘But I won’t find another Chakki!’

  ‘That’s never going to happen, no matter whom you find!’

  They left Panchami with Nallapennu and went out seeking a bride for Chembankunju.

  Achakunju advised Chembankunju on many things in the pretext of talking about the marriage. Chembankunju should remember that he wasn’t the Chembankunju he used to be. He was now a man of means, a man with some prestige. So he ought to seek a woman who was his equal in wealth and status.

  Chembankunju liked that line of thought. Not just that, he was also worn out, body and soul. He was unable to work as he used to once. Now was the time for him to rest and relax. That wish to enjoy life to its fullest reared its head again. Pity! For Chakki too had slaved alongside him. But she had never known a moment of pleasure.

  And so, in Chembankunju and Achakunju’s search for a bride, they heard about a likely candidate. Pallikunnath Kandankoran Valakkaran’s wife. Kandankoran Valakkaran had passed away. Papikunju wasn’t all that well placed any more.

  Without any further thought, Chembankunju agreed. His notion of comfort and pleasure had been born in Papikunju’s home.

  She too was agreeable. She said there was no need to inform the Shore Master. Chembankunju went across and fetched her home. And with her was her almost grown-up son.

  Even though Papikunju had been in some distress after Kandankoran’s death, she was still an attractive woman; a radiant woman. But Panchami didn’t like the woman stepping into her house. She ran to Nallapennu and muttered angrily to her.

  Nallapennu advised her, ‘My child, you mustn’t say anything.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Your father will be angry!’

  Panchami began crying. Why was she crying?

  For the first time Chembankunju felt ashamed of his home. A mean-looking hovel. And it was here he had brought Papikunju. With an abashed smile he said, ‘This was put up when I had neither boat nor nets. My Chakki didn’t care too much about these things. So we never built another house.’

  He had been to Papikunju’s big house. Even if it was someone else’s now, she used to live there once. Chembankunju decided he would buy a plot of land and build a house there. And he told her this.

  His beloved Chakki had advised him to marry another woman. Would she be pleased with his choice? He looked around him. Surely his Chakki was somewhere around!

  Chembankunju summoned the weeping Panchami. Didn’t she want to meet her new mother?

  Nallapennu told Panchami, ‘Go child!’

  With tears in her eyes, Panchami said, ‘No, I am not going!’

  ‘I’ll come with you!’

  Nallapennu wiped Panchami’s face with the end of her sari. She wasn’t to cry, she was told. Leading her by her hand Nallapennu took her across.

  Papikunju looked at her carefully and asked, ‘Why are you crying, girl?’

  Chembankunju said, ‘She is a child; must be crying for her mother!’

  Holding his daughter close, Chembankunju said, ‘She is a good stepmother; don’t cry, my darling!’

  There was much he could have said to console her. That it was at her mother’s behest he had brought home a stepmother; that it was for her as well, etc. Shouldn’t he have also told her to consider her stepmother as her real mother now?

  Papikunju’s son Gangaduttan lived in that house like burr on a dog. He was unable to come to terms with either his stepfather or Panchami. Gangaduttan was a young man. He was a burden to Papikunju. Just as Panchami wondered about his presence there, it seemed he too asked himself what he was doing there. As if he felt that it had been wrong on his mother’s part to have accepted the protection of another man. Perhaps she had done this to leach him off her. She hadn’t done it just to ensure a life for herself.

  The taste of the food at Pallikunnath when Chembankunju had gone there to buy his boat still lingered on his tongue. His concept of pleasure in life was born of that meal. He had thought that he would eat food like that three times a day now. But the curries didn’t taste like what he had eaten at Pallikunnath; it just didn’t seem to be the same. His meals didn’t give him a sense of relish or satiation.

  Chakki had been unable to lie on the bed she had bought. Neither had the mattress been ready. As far as she was concerned, there hadn’t been time for that. Many things had to be accomplished before the time was right. She had neither been able to rid the tan off her skin nor plump herself up.

  Chembankunju had a mattress made. It was covered in the same cloth as was used in the mattress at Pallikunnath. But he felt as if Papikunju was losing her looks. Would even fair ones lose their complexion in the stiffbreeze from this sea? It seemed as if Papikunju had lost her radiance.

  He played in his mind the scene he had recounted to Chakki with some embarrassment. It had been that which had always rounded and coloured his concept of pleasure. When Papikunju entered the room, he too followed her in.

  But there was no heat to that kiss. No heights or depths could be reached. Their hands wouldn’t clasp tightly enough. Neither did it last long. ‘My Chak…’ was what emerged from his mouth in that moment of release. And she too muttered another name. Perhaps the name she had used to call Kandankoran Valakkaran by.

  It just didn’t seem possible for them to be one. There were two people between them. Chakki and Kandankoran Valakkaran. Chakki’s and Kandankoran’s manner had been different. Perhaps if Chembankunju and Papikunju had been together in their youth, things would have been different.

  There was an effort to introduce laughter and frolic into the house. There were smiles, a parody of a smile with no real mirth. And play-acting of merrymaking.

  This new life had a form. But with it Chembankunju also sensed a smouldering within. An unknown undefined anxiety raged in him. He couldn’t stay idle. He wasn’t used to that.

  Dressed in a mulmul mundu and draping a fine cloth with a narrow lined border on his shoulder, he would go to the shore as the boats returned. He would trade the catch. That was how Kandankoran Valakkaran had been. But was this the old Chembankunju?

  With Chakki gone, his desire to move up in life too had disappeared. Now he was turning into Pallikunnath Kandankoran.

  Even though he didn’t have much to do, Chembankunju’s looks didn’t improve. He lost some of his tan. But it was a faint change in pallor.

  One day Chembankunju told Papikunju, ‘These days the takings are meagre.’

  Papikunju had nothing to say about that. Perhaps she had never spoken on such matters. She wasn’t used to it. He c
ontinued, ‘This is not the kind of earnings I used to bring back. My takings are based on the boat, nets and the helm oar … and was always twice as much as any other boat!’

  Despite stating a fact, Chembankunju’s face wore a glimmer of embarrassment. He went on, ‘And when I entrusted it to my Chakki, she would stretch and make it grow and grow…’

  He described all the various things Chakki had done to make money for them. Going to the east to sell fish, helping build Kambavalas, and drying fish – he told her about all of this. As he spoke, he glanced at Papikunju. He saw sorrow on her face.

  Suddenly he said, ‘I don’t mean that you should do any of that! Chakki was used to it ever since she was a girl. But you are not like that.’

  But Chembankunju realized that Papikunju was unhappy as she couldn’t do any of what Chakki had managed. Everything there, including the bed they slept on, was a result of Chakki’s efforts.

  And then there was Gangaduttan who pestered his mother all day. She had promised to help him make a life. But nothing had happened as of yet. It was necessary to send him away at the very earliest. He said, ‘I am frightened of that girl’s glare. She will say something nasty very soon. I have to leave before that!’

  How could she find some money to send Gangaduttan away? Papikunju knew there was no money. And she didn’t want to ask Chembankunju either.

  Panchami had a new plan. She stayed by her father all the time. She, it seemed, wouldn’t allow Papikunju a chance to get close to Chembankunju. Nor did Papikunju make an attempt to push her away.

  She had lived well. All of it was ruined now. When there was nothing else left, Chembankunju had become her means to her future. And that was how Papikunju had got there.

  It hadn’t been a need for sensual pleasure that had made her accept a new husband. If there had been another way she wouldn’t have chosen to put on this guise as wife. She was only pretending to be a wife. Play-acting. Yet Papikunju was loyal to her protector. She neither tried to establish her rights nor did she demand them. She listened to his bidding.

  Chakki had helped make money for Chembankunju. And perhaps Papikunju was ashamed that she couldn’t be of such assistance to her husband. Chembankunju may not have expected that of her, but shouldn’t she have nurtured such an aspiration? Had Chakki given Chembankunju permission to marry a woman like her? Surely not! Chakki would have wished for a wife who could have been the wife she was. A woman who knew how to lay a foundation to build a great big family upon. And a woman who took care of her husband’s each and every creature comfort.

  As for Panchami, she was a headstrong girl. She cared little for her stepmother. She would make faces at Gangaduttan. Everything she did indicated what she thought: they had no business being there.

  One day as Papikunju walked, Panchami trailed her mocking Papikunju’s gait. When Papikunju turned suddenly, she saw Panchami ridiculing her. Nallapennu was standing by her house laughing. Papikunju began crying.

  When Chembankunju came home, Papikunju said, ‘You need to bring this girl up properly.’

  Chembankunju wanted to know what the matter was. She was evasive. ‘She will have to live in another home one day. The love we have for her should be contained in our hearts. She’s turning into a monster!’

  Chembankunju persisted in knowing what the matter was. Papikunju was scared that he wouldn’t like her finding fault with his daughter. So it was with much hesitation that she spoke. Chembankunju was worried about his motherless child. So Papikunju said with great care, ‘She treats me with disdain. It is all the neighbour’s doing!’

  Chembankunju called Panchami. She was standing towards the northern part of the house. She was frightened by his summons. She came after he had hollered a few times. Papikunju pleaded that Chembankunju mustn’t punish her. Nevertheless, in a flash of anger, he slapped Panchami twice. Not because he was angry with her but to show his disgust for the neighbours.

  Panchami wailed, calling out for her mother. It broke everyone’s heart. Nallapennu came running and held her. She asked Papikunju, ‘What is it, woman? Are you planning to do away with this motherless child?’

  Papikunju retorted, ‘I don’t want her spoilt!’

  In it was suppressed her resentment for the neighbours. Nallapennu demanded, ‘What do you mean she is spoilt?’

  Nallapennu turned to Chembankunju and continued, ‘You mustn’t listen to her and hurt your daughter!’

  Papikunju asked Nallapennu, ‘What business of yours is it?’

  ‘It’s to me that Chakki, the woman who made all this, entrusted this child as she lay dying!’

  Papikunju might have been a timid creature but she too was a fisherwoman. The fisher wife in her was aroused. She said, ‘Hold your tongue! This is Papikunju, the woman who once lived with Pallikunnath Kandankoran!’

  Nallapennu’s retort was a slap on her face. ‘Now you are Chembankunju’s wife; and what you are eating is what Chakki made. So back off, will you?’

  Chembankunju stood helplessly. Papikunju forgot herself in her anger. ‘What is it to you? Who is Chembankunju to you?’

  ‘You … bloody woman … you,’ Nallapennu was speechless with rage. Then she claimed her right. Not as Chembankunju’s other woman but as the wife of her husband’s friend. The men went to sea together when they started their lives and it was because of Chembankunju that her children had food to eat. She loved her fisherman. That was her claim on Chembankunju.

  Ever since the day Chakki came to this house they were friends; they were one. They might have quarrelled but they loved each other. That was her claim. Nallapennu reiterated how Chakki in her deathbed had asked her to be responsible for Panchami. Then she went on to speak of her bond of love with Karuthamma and Panchami from the moment they were born. ‘I didn’t have a place for them in my belly but they grew up as my children. That’s my right!’

  Nallapennu looked at Chembankunju and asked, ‘Chembankunju accha, you must get rid of this double-faced woman … I’ll bring up Panchami!’

  She continued, ‘You deserve this! You killed that nice woman, with your ambitions. You are a greedy man. You sent your older child away on a nowhere road. And now there’s this child. In the end there will be … I am not going to say anything more!’

  Nallapennu’s anger wouldn’t quell. Her ire turned to Papikunju. ‘On this shore, when our fishermen die, we don’t go off with another man. That’s how we are!’

  Papikunju couldn’t restrain Nallapennu’s vicious tongue. Neither could Chembankunju. After a while, the rage subsided but she still wasn’t ready to relinquish her right over Panchami. She asked, ‘Are you coming with me, girl?’

  Chembankunju stood stupefied. Nallapennu was calling for his daughter. Panchami followed her.

  Papikunju had never been so insulted in her life. She had had to listen to such abuse; what was left to be said? Unable to bear her sorrow and anger, she asked, ‘I was living a quiet dignified life. Did you bring me here for this?’

  Chembankunju stood there helplessly, unable to speak. Papikunju continued, ‘Fisherwomen have never talked in this manner to me, who was born into the family of the Shore Master of Ponnani.’

  To console her, Chembankunju said, ‘These creatures are like this!’

  ‘But you still remained silent!’

  ‘What could I have done?’

  Gritting her teeth, Papikunju mumbled, ‘What do you want me to do now?’

  She continued, ‘I lived with a good man once … now it’s my fate…’

  Chembankunju had to pay for the abuse she had to endure from Nallapennu. Her anger was directed towards Panchami. ‘Your precious daughter went with Nallapennu when she asked her to.’

  Chembankunju said, ‘The two girls were brought up by her.’

  ‘So!’ Unable to suppress her rage, Papikunju cursed, ‘That one’s also going to be a slut like her older sister.’

  Chembankunju was shaken up. It was a fierce curse. His older daughter was no longer his child. A
ll he had left was Panchami. Would she also not be his?

  Papikunju wouldn’t stop. It didn’t matter if her life was shattered but she wouldn’t stop till she had spoken her mind. ‘This one will also turn out to be the same. Like her elder sister, she too will entice some Muslim boy and frolic on these shores!’

  Lightning flashed in Chembankunju’s head. There was nothing more to be asked or said.

  Enticed a Muslim boy?

  The story became clear now. The enthusiasm to return Pareekutty’s money. In an instant everything made sense now. She, she … Had Chakki too been party to this? That was all he needed to know.

  Chembankunju felt his senses leave him. He ran to Nallapennu’s home. He dragged Panchami off Nallapenun’s lap, took a stick and flailed her with blows. He kept asking her if she too would entice a Muslim boy. Nallapennu stood with her mouth open. Panchami kept crying out for her mother. Between blows, he screamed, ‘Tell me you won’t lead on a Muslim boy, tell me…!’

  When it seemed he wouldn’t stop, she said, ‘I won’t lead on a Muslim boy, Accha.’

  Poor girl! She didn’t even know what she was saying. Or perhaps she did. Hadn’t she too seen all of it?

  He chased her back into his house.

  That day Chembankunju was seen digging up Chakki’s grave. Who knew what he was thinking of? Perhaps he wished to question her himself.

  Eighteen

  Chembankunju’s fit of madness disappeared in a few days. But he seemed to have fallen apart. He became silent. He seemed defeated, devoid of all hope. Look at it from his point of view. How else would he be? Money began dwindling. Now that could be endured. All the material goods accumulated until then too disappeared. If his senses hadn’t taken leave of him, imagine his plight? How could he have looked the world in the eye?

  Chembankunju’s two boats needed repairs. They were unfit to be put out to sea. The nets too had several holes; they hadn’t been mended on time. A mackerel net was torn to tatters by a pig. He needed a big sum of money urgently. The family had many expenses to meet. And he didn’t go to the shore as he once used to.