The Saga of Muziris

by A. Sethumadhavan

  It looked as though Devassy was also in good form. He could once walk straight however much he drank, but now his legs were not firm on the ground. The dhoti he wore round his neck in a neat circle was in tangles. When he tried to help, Josa stopped him saying, ‘No, I’ll take him by myself.’ But by then Devassy was hanging on to Josa’s left shoulder.

  When Josa moved with weight on two shoulder, like the merchants who came from Parak Kadavu to the exchange market, Devassy was singing away:

  Akale arum kaividum…nee thane nin sahayam…

  All desert you in the bad times…you are your own help…

  That’s true, it is a help to have sons. Pappu who bore three children has at least one to hold him up…’

  He reached home somehow and managed to lower his father on to the veranda. Rahel who came out saw the creature that hung on his other shoulder. Devassy had started snoring by then.

  ‘Where did you get ‘this thing’ from?’ Rahel’s voice was getting loud.

  The torch had burnt out by then. As he waded through the dark, Rahel’s voice sounded again, ‘Go, reach ‘it’ home safely. There’s another woman there burning with worry.’

  The northern wind brought the stink of the lime furnace. The people of Manakkodam knew their winds by two stinks— that of the lime furnace of Ousepputti Mappila, and that of the coconut husks left to soak and decay in the Pallanthuruthu. A number of families in the area lived by beating the husks, extracting the fibre and making coir with them. And Ousepputti Mappila’s lime, whitened the homes of the place. As winds blew from either side, the smells told them whether it was northerly or southerly.

  Gundu Moopan could never understand why Pappu insisted every night on pulling apart the thorn fences that he had fixed with great effort during the day. Josa knew that what Gundu Moopan would be shouting would be the worst swear words in their language. So, he asked his father one day, ‘What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you hold on to some wall instead of pulling down Gundu Moopan’s fence and making work for him?’

  ‘What fence are you talking about, Yosa?’

  ‘Moopan is afraid that one of these days you’ll set fire to the fence. You’ll be able to see the whole lane then…’

  ‘Which is this fence you’re talking about, Yosa…’

  Venkali Pappu would not remember any of his doings of the previous night, once the day broke. He would not remember coming home hanging on to his son’s shoulder; of Rahel extracting the small thorns from all over his body and putting medicine on it; of falling on to the mat on the veranda without taking any food; of the hero of the cinema singing Vanagayike to console him on the way home…

  They had all got used to this routine. But once, just once, Josa lost his temper. That was when his new shirt had got soaked in his father’s vomit the day before the church feast. It was the red tee shirt that Michael had brought him on his first visit home from Dubai.

  Josa stretched his hands to the sky and lamented, ‘Oh Lord! What am I do with this father of mine?”

  Father Pathrose was relieved when Josa, who had not entered the Church since it took part in the struggle against the Communist Government, came to the church again. According to Fr Pathrose, Josa had decided to be decent again. His complaint had been that decency was something Josa had only in his dress so far.

  Josa was the complete opposite of his father. He did not touch alcohol. A small bundle of bidis and some black tea, once in a while, were enough to keep him happy. Almost all his friends were well-off. There were people from all religions in that group. Actually, Fr Pathrose had also been very fond of him till the liberation movement against the communist government. But during that movement, not only did Josa refuse to join the procession, protesting a shooting in Angamally, he also argued against the struggle. This was the struggle led by the Church against the first elected communist government in Kerala. The Church felt that the government was interfering in their educational institutions and so led a struggle.

  How could any priest listen calmly when one of his parishioners say that the priests and bishops should sit where they belonged and not interfere in political issues?

  There were other reasons for the priest’s displeasure. He had got fed up when the complaints brought by Rahel that her son was not studying, echoed on the walls of the church residence. Rahel was sure that Josa had not failed twice in the eighth standard and thrice in the ninth because he lacked brains. How could he pass when he did not open his school books at all? Like the boys from the thuruthu, he was also crazy about Chavittu Natakam and volleyball. Why was it that the boy who could recite lines and lines from Karalsman Charitam tunefully, without a single mistake, could not master his texts?

  Fr Pathrose had pleaded with Krishna Menon Master when Josa failed for the third time in the eighth standard and got him promoted. But he had told Rahel that he could not do it again.

  Rahel was very upset. Josa was her only son. He had to take the responsibility of marrying off the younger girls. She had wanted to get him into the ITI after the tenth, like Johnson, her aunt’s son. She knew and her aunt knew that Josa was better than Johnson at that kind of work. She did not have the wherewithal to do it, but if Fr Pathrose set his mind to it, he would be able to find another German to sponsor his education like the one he had found for Johnson.

  Fr Pathrose gave a long grunt and said, ‘You won’t get me to do that again, Rahel. I had told that German widow a whole lot of sob stories to get that sponsorship for Johnson. When she heard that his father had died falling from an electric post, she was upset. Her husband had died in an explosion in the factory where he worked. And what happened then? Did the family or the parish get any benefit from him? Johnson passed his ITI and went straight to join the revolutionary group and made country bombs. No one even knows where he is now.’

  What the good father said about Johnson was true. But just because one fellow did something wrong, it didn’t mean that everyone would go that way. Rahel begged Fr Pathrose to do something for Josa also.

  After a couple of church feasts and a lot of pleas from Rahel, Fr Pathrose took a more sympathetic attitude. He said, ‘Rahel, let the boy pass his tenth examinations. How can I tell the white men about a guy who is wandering about after plays and ball games? A true Christian should not cheat the people who try to help.’

  Rahel also knew that was true. So, she started pleading directly with Christ.

  In the meantime, Chavittu Natakam had got into Josa. And that Pailappan Master supported him. Josa had gone pretending that he was going to study mathematics and had instead studied Chavittu Natakam. Rahel was not against the plays put up in the churchyard, but to wander about with plays and such like when he should be studying…

  ‘What are you thinking of ?’ Aravindan woke from his reverie with a start at Josa’s voice.

  ‘Tell me all the news, Josa. Your father, mother…’

  ‘Father died quite some time back. And my mother soon after. I got Elsie and Alphonse married…’

  ‘By the time you had got rid of your responsibilities, you had grown old, right?’

  Josa tried to smile without saying anything in reply.

  ‘You still feel it’s better to be alone?’

  ‘I was always alone, even earlier.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Oh that?’ Josa’s brows wrinkled. ‘All that was over then itself. Such thoughts don’t come at this age. I stopped thinking about all that long ago.’

  Aravindan knew that was just a bluff. Those colourful days, and those youthful dreams had left their marks on Josa’s face. And probably in his mind. Those pits and marks that Selina had desired must have come later—the deep scars of loss.

  ‘Still?’ Aravindan looked at Josa.

  ‘I heard that she’s in Kuwait. I heard that some engineer from Kongorpilly married her. She didn’t even invite me for her wedding.’

  ‘Pailappan Master?’


  ‘Gone. Everyone’s gone…’As he brought his hands together, Josa’s face looked swollen.

  ‘And Chavittu Natakam?’

  ‘That stopped then itself. I have not gone to Gothuruthu since then.’

  What Josa said was true. It was a time. Still, would Rauldan and Karalsman and Al Birande leave him easily? They had held him so firmly at one time.

  Josa nodded when asked this as though to say that was true. ‘I wanted to see Karalsman once more and went to Thuruthipuram Church festival. The actors were all new kids. Louis Asan’s rules have changed quite a lot too. Asan used to be stubborn about it and would change nothing. When the players and the audience are new, the plays too have to change.’

  Aravindan thought that was true. Everywhere the players and the audience were new. When one tried to renew the old days, some things got lost.

  ‘Let me tell you something. When I saw the play that day, I found that I liked the villain, Al Birande, better than the hero, Karalsman. Could be because of the wickedness in my heart.’

  ‘It’s like that, Josa,’ Aravindan laughed. ‘Today everyone likes the brave villain better than the good hero.’

  Josa was humming an old tune, ‘Perpetta thirai mutta, perpetta thirai mutta…pukazhutta makidutta padaikale…’

  Josa stopped suddenly. Aravindan thought he saw the glint of dampness in his eyes. He asked, ‘What is that, Josa?’

  ‘It is the welcome song for the minister…’ his voice broke a little. ‘I haven’t forgotten anything, I can’t forget anything.’

  ‘Let’s talk of something else,’ Aravindan tried to change the subject. Josa nodded in agreement.

  Josa spoke of this and that, and Aravindan listened. Since they were both in their own worlds, what was spoken of was not said as it should have been, and what was listened to was not with sufficient understanding.

  When Josa got up to go after some time, he said, ‘I sometimes think that the old days were best. That we shouldn’t have grown up.’

  ‘Why is that, Josa?’

  ‘Simply…just like that.’

  Josa did not stay to say anything further. He got up in a hurry and vanished into the darkness as Aravindan looked on.

  Some night birds were chattering in the branches of the trees. Were Josa’s birds also among them, speaking in some language that only they understood?

  Azad’s e-mail came. A long mail unlike the usual SMS type mail.

  He had written:

  You know what, Aravindettan, I’m getting really excited. It is as though those who sold sights can no longer speak. I hated sending mails since I spent so much time talking. But yesterday, I sat and sent a whole lot of mails. When I looked at my contact list, I realised that there were very few people I was frequently in touch with. They’ll wonder, what has happened to our good old Azad?

  As we said that day, I feel now as though I have people somewhere. I must get hold of some more e-mail IDs of people we want to see. Some of those I had met in Chennai, in Mumbai, abroad, on my trips to various parts of the world—some of those people I had met and forgotten. To tell you the truth, Aravindettan, I felt bad when I searched through the small box where I kept visiting cards. Though I used to receive mails from them earlier, I was too lazy to respond and so some good friendships did not progress.

  Aravindan replied to Azad:

  Where keeping up friendships is concerned, I’m worse than you. When being busy combined with my reluctance to reach out, even strong links weakened, broke. Some people were offended, some waited for some time and then cut my name from their list. When I did not search through even those that remained, they sat and decayed. It is not just you who changed with this visit. I have also changed a little. I too feel as though I have people here and there, some people without faces, without forms, without names.

  Appukuttan’s long letter came within a couple of days:

  It looks as though you and your set have created a ripple in the place. This sleepy village is waking up as it used to during the days of the tournament. I’ve heard that the government is starting some tourism projects in connection with the Muziris excavation. Work on the Paliyam palace, converting it to a museum, is in progress. They say that the sides of the Nadakkal stream are going to be tiled and made into a walkway. There are to be some boat trips from the Malavana landing. God knows. Government projects! As long as they take off, even if slowly.

  The rumour that you are writing has spread. They know that you met a lot of people and took down what they said. A lot of people want to know where you have reached with that project. Will you be mentioning people who are still alive? When will it come out as a book? Who’s the publisher?

  Aravindan sat frozen for a while. Achumman must have talked about it. It was only Achumman who had seen him burn midnight oil and scribble. Though he had told him not to speak of it, Achumman was probably unable to keep it to himself.

  Or, could it be Ramabhadran? But, he had heard only what was written on the old days of Muchiri. That too, it had been incomplete when he read it.

  And now—characters? Book? Publisher?

  Aravindan could not move. He had not thought in those terms till now. To have characters, you needed a story. Did these jottings have the shape of a story? He had decided then itself that he would not let anyone see what he was writing. He had only shown Ramabhadran because he had the anxieties of a novice. And his words had given him the courage to go on, to believe that he could write something even if he was not a writer.

  No, he would not show anyone the rest. This was his own private property. Like the sand gathered by Rashidibhai this would remain the wealth of a lifetime, words in a glass jar, to be handed over to Gayathri’s generation. Like the beads that Athira had stored in the small tin box, like the Genizah documents that Azad had spoken about, some writings in the name of God, to be preserved in a cellar.

  Aravindan remembered what Ramabhadran, whose reading did not extend beyond cinema magazines, had said that day, ‘You’ve gone and created problems for me. Why did you give me these papers before you completed them? It’s as though we’re possessed. Vadakkoth Thanka and Ponnu and Kunkamma refuse to leave Padmavathi, she says. She also says you could have been a little kinder to Ponnu. And what about that Greek boy called Orion? Where are you going to take him? When the trade decreases, they’ll stop coming, won’t they? Perumal said that day, after some time the Greeks stopped coming to this shore. What’ll happen to Kunkamma in that case…?’

  When the questions did not end, Aravindan felt that he was being forced into a square, a square created by the spell of Muchiri. Just like Ramabhadran, like Padmavathi, like all those who would read about Muchiri in the future…

  But, this was not a TV serial or a magazine serial for him to tell them episode by episode. Actually, I don’t know what happened to Thanka and Ponnu and Kunkamma. It is true that in the process of writing, he had felt a little affection for Orion. It wouldn’t be easy for him to grow in the shadow of that giant figure called Adrian. It will even affect his dealings with Kunkamma in the future. The women of Vadakkoth would be able to see him only through the coloured glass of Adrian’s personality.

  When more question rose from all sides, Aravindan started getting scared. Those unfamiliar faces, voices, it was as though he had to give answers to others as well as Ramabhadran. He could feel the weight of his writing, the weight of the characters. This responsibility that he had taken up unasked was now becoming a burden. He had to get all these people somewhere; that was the responsibility of the writer. It would amount to ingratitude to desert the readers, whom he had brought all this distance, to leave them in some unknown place.

  He went back to Appukuttan’s letter:

  Achumman sends his regards. Though it is only days since you left, he wants to know when you are coming back.

  Appukuttan ended the letter with some good news.

  I’ve found the place I’d been looking for at Elankunnapuzha, to set up a workshop. The le
ase agreement will be signed next week. The people there say that it is a lucky place. Ever since the Goshree Bridge came up, there is more traffic on those roads. It is all your mother’s blessings. She had placed her hand on my head and blessed me many times, that I may prosper.

  Achumman used to say that he had gurutwam or the blessings of elders, and so he would prosper. He only has a bike now, but mark it, next time you come he’ll have a car.

  Appukuttan had also hinted about that:

  I’m thinking of keeping a taxi at the entrance of the Paliyam. The banks are after me asking me if I want a loan. I can use it when I want to also. Whenever Kamalu wants to go to Guruvayur, she needn’t go in the crowded bus. It’s just that I haven’t been able to find a reliable driver.

  Appukuttan was growing. Gurutwam; the blessings of Aravindan’s mother did not limit itself to Cherai and Elankunnapuzha. He would grow more; he should grow more. Because his good deeds were so great, the blessings he got from those who had passed over did not depend on rituals on the river banks in Chelamattom. One had to please one’s ancestors when they were alive, not after they died.

  Did Sreedevi and he have the same gurutwam? Gurutwam that should pass through Raghu to Gayathri; through Sreedevi’s daughter Latha to Ravi and Usha. Though his mother had not seen any of them. Who knows?

  Aravindan wrote a letter to Appukuttan. As he was about to send a reply to Azad’s mail, he saw Perumal’s mail. He had also started dreaming about Muchiri. In the meantime, an old friend, who was studying in Yale University, sent a huge bundle of papers on the Indo-Roman trade, scanned and attached to a mail. One of the researchers there was working on that topic—a man who belonged to Pompeii knew the value of the land that was covered by landslips. Pompeii that had been buried when the Vesuvius erupted. The researcher was familiar with Arikamedu, Elamkulam and Kaveripoompattinam in Tamil Nadu. He was waiting for the finalisation of his internship to travel to these places with his girlfriend. He was also planning to visit Muchiri.