‘What will the people of our village say?’ Mhablu exclaimed in despair.
‘Which people? Who is left there who has the right to criticize? The white-skinned officer always said that cowards have no god and no religion. He was right,’ Nilu remarked.
The next day Appa and Giri Nayak took them to a deserted stretch on the northern fringes of the village. ‘You will erect your homes at this site,’ Appa said to them. ‘May you prosper, may your fortunes increase!’
Eleven days had passed since they left Adolshi. Nilu Nayak was a tired man. His knees ached, his limbs were swollen and he was short of breath. But he hired a boat to take him from Majale to Velsav, ‘I’ll take the same route back,’ he said to his companions.
‘Nilu dada, will you be able to trek all that way from Khol?’ Mhablu asked.
‘I’ll have to. Will force myself … even if I collapse when I get home.’
Everyone stood on the shore staring after him as the boat vanished in the distance. Nilu had felt feverish the previous night, but he hadn’t told anyone. As the sun beat down his head began to swim and he slumped to one side. ‘I can’t bear this,’ he said.
The boatman took pity on this tall, fair, aristocratic old man. ‘We haven’t sailed very far, we’re just an hour away from shore. I’ll take you back to your people in Majale,’ he said.
The boat turned back and his kinsmen carried Nilu into the new shack that they had built. He passed away that night and his kinsmen cremated him under an onvli tree on the beach. Naga Bhat performed the funeral rites.
Who knows what the actual reason for the ill-will between Sukhdo and Jana Nayak was. Was it merely a strip of land, or was it more than that? Jana’s pride in his fair skin and his intelligence didn’t go down well with Sukhdo, who was quarrelsome by nature and often flew into an abusive rage. Jana believed that Sukhdo had forced him to become a Christian by strewing half-eaten rice in his house and defiling the purity of his home, but for that he would have remained a devout Hindu. This grudge, added to the years of ill-feeling between the two men, only strengthened his resolve to teach Sukhdo a lesson and ruin his family.
Sukhdo and his sons built ridges around the fields they had received and set up marker stones soon after Guna left the village. Two soldiers with swords strapped to their belts stood on guard as they ploughed these fields. The villagers looked on from a distance, but no one came forward to protest.
The three sons were quite cheerful these days, now that everyone was a Christian and the deities had been carried away. But Sukhdo had become morose and silent. He didn’t snap at his family nor did he meddle with Jana Nayak. It was as though someone had extracted the venom from his speech and changed his cantankerous nature – he was like a platter of food without salt.
The bhat had once told Sukhdo Nayak that if he didn’t offer oblations to his ancestors on certain days in the year their spirits would remain hungry and thirsty and restless forever. This thought kept whirling in his mind so every full moon and new moon, punav and amas, and days of the shraddh, he would tell his older daughter-in-law, ‘We must feed my parents’ spirits, as well as the spirits of other ancestors today.’
The woman would cook a sweet payas and ladle it on to a plantain leaf. Sukhdo would take that and a tumbler of water to the back of the house. He would place the leaf on the low branch of a mango tree and sprinkle water on it, calling softly to the crows.
That day, however, some strange spirit seemed to take possession of the man and he began to shriek, ‘Aaaaaaai … haaaaai…’ inviting the crows to partake of the food. The people in the house were beside themselves with fear. His daughter-in-law gesticulated frantically asking him to be quiet. What was wrong with him today!
Jana heard the commotion and rushed to the back door. He saw the food placed on the leaf and called out loudly to his wife, ‘See! He’s scared that his ancestors will curse him and he’ll go to Hell. Haven’t we given up all these practices? One must turn the winnowing fan in the direction in which the wind blows, but no! These people will not practise any religion faithfully. Not the old one, nor the new.’
Sukdo saw Jana and his temper rose. ‘What are you staring at? The crows will peck out your big wide-open eyes. What happened to the dog that looked down at everyone? He fell flat on his face.’ Jana pretended not to have heard or seen anything and quickly went into his house.
The next morning Jana put on a bandi and draped a puduva on his lower body. On his head, he tied a red kerchief and set off clutching a large crucifix in his hand. Hundreds of these crucifixes had been brought from Goapattana and distributed in the village. The villagers had to carry them when they went out on any official work. Sukhdo’s younger daughter-in-law saw him and called to the others. Where was he going so early in the morning, they wondered.
The villagers had been hearing frightening stories about the Inquisition over the past year. They knew that Padre Simao Peres had been jailed by the Inquisition officials. When they became Christians they were warned that if they went against the tenets of Christianity they would be thrown into prison and burnt to death. People who returned from Goapattana would talk of the Big House and how people would pass it in silence, not daring to even point it out.
When Jana Nayak approached the soldier’s camp his feet seemed to falter, but his hatred for Sukhdo spurred him on. ‘I want to meet your leader,’ he said, his hands extended in supplication.
‘Why have you come here so early today?’ the shef asked.
‘My neighbour, Sukhdo, is going against our new religion. He clings to the old faith even today. He offers food to the crows and to cows and sends rice to the bhat’s house to appease the spirits of his ancestors,’ Jana said.
‘Did you see Sukhdo Nayak perform those Hindu rituals?’ Padre Colaso asked.
‘Yes, Father,’ Jana said in a low voice.
‘You must go to Goapattana and complain to the Inquisition officials.’
Jana nodded in silence.
‘Stupid, ignorant fools! They don’t know what is right and what is wrong. Everything will fall in place slowly, Padre, shouldn’t we forgive them, just this once?’ the shef asked.
The priest looked at him strangely. ‘Shef, you have worked hard to convert this into a Christian village and to demolish the temple. I consider you a good Christian so I forgive you just as I have forgiven you in the past. Remember, it is a crime to withhold information from the Inquisition. A good Christian must report any acts against Christianity that he has witnessed, or heard of.’
The priest asked two soldiers to accompany Jana Nayak to Goapattana. Sukhdo Nayak has troubled me all his life. He made me an outcaste and caused my ruin. He abuses me… Jana said to himself in a bid to strengthen his resolve, but he was nagged by a desire to withdraw his complaint and return home. However, it was too late for that. He was trapped in their net and his resentment of Sukhdo had sunk deep into his mind.
Padre Simao Peres had brought Annu to St Catherine’s Church to be baptized and he’d become Annu’s godfather, too. But Annu, who was now called Andrew, couldn’t return to Adolshi, as it was still a Hindu village at that time. Caught between his love for the priest and the hostility of the villagers, Annu was miserable when the Fidalgo Castel Branco paid some money to the priest, ‘adopted’ him at the door of the church and took him home. Annu missed his home, his lame brother and Padre Simao Peres terribly and often he would be in tears thinking of them.
Annu had been adopted by Castel Branco no doubt, but in reality he was no better off than the family’s slaves. The only difference was that Annu did all the household chores while the other slaves were sent out to work. They were not paid any money and their wages went directly to their master.
There was a tall, well-built Negro slave who accompanied Branco everywhere. Like a ferocious dog that attacks on its master’s command, he often beat up people at Branco’s bidding. He would also turn upon the household slaves, but fortunately Annu had never suffered at his hands.
There were four slave women in the household, one of whom was an elderly Negress. She was supposed to do the household chores, keep the other slave women in control and supply Branco and his twenty-two-year-old son with the slave women they desired at night.
There was another slave, a young girl of fifteen or so, who was tall and fair and rather thin. The innocence of childhood was reflected on her face as her delicate lips quivered and her eyes turned moist. Were they wet with tears or were they like that from birth was hard to tell. She was a bit wayward and couldn’t understand the language spoken around her, so she was always making mistakes, and getting beaten by Branco’s wife and the old Negress.
For the last few days Branco’s son Anton had started coming home late. The other slaves told Branco’s wife that he was visiting a prostitute much older than himself. Anticipating something like this, Branco’s wife had bought this fifteen year old girl, Gorretti, for thirty cruzado at the Lilao market, almost a year ago. The girl had only a strip of cloth around her which barely covered her breasts and hips. An old woman at the market place had stuck a finger into the girl’s vagina to certify that she was a virgin. Branco’s wife told the old Negress to send Gorretti to Anton’s bed.
When Gorretti first came into the household, no one knew her name. She didn’t say a word to anyone. Konkani, Kannada, Gujarati and Marathi were the languages in use in Goapattana and most people knew a smattering of these. Gorretti probably spoke a dialect from the Gujarat–Mewar region, but she refused to open her mouth, no matter what language they addressed her in. Even when she was beaten up and blood poured from her mouth, she would remain silent. One day Branco got her baptized in church and she was christened Gorretti. Annu couldn’t pronounce the word so he called her Gorey and when he said her name for the first time her eyes lit up and a faint smile appeared on her face.
It was only of late that she had begun to open up a bit and Annu had heard her utter a few words. He felt there was a sweetness to her words, a melody in her voice and he longed to hear her speak. One day when Gorey ran out to the back yard to chase a bird, the cloth covering her upper body fell away and Annu could see her tender, youthful breasts. The girl noticed him and quickly covered herself and ran into the house.
The old Negress pushed Gorretti into Branco’s son’s room that night. Annu always knew when this happened because Gorey was sullen and brooding the next day. Her eyes would lose their sparkle and her cheeks would be pale and wan. One day, as Gorey was drawing water from the well, the rope slipped out of her grasp shattering the earthen pot. Branco’s wife lashed at the girl’s bare back with a cane and the girl cried out in pain. Annu saw her sitting by the wood pile a little later, clutching the cloth to her chest. There was a huge blue black welt on her bare back. Annu reached out to touch the flaming mark when Gorey looked at him like a stricken doe and burst into tears.
Although it was more than a year since Gorey had come to the house, she and Annu had rarely spoken to each other openly until now. Everyone kept watch and if a man slave and a woman slave got into a relationship, they could be put to death. Annu had noticed that every time Gorey looked at him, her glance was full of love and entreaty. But they were helpless creatures confined in separate iron cages, the keys to which were with someone else.
One night Annu heard Gorretti shriek as though her heart would burst. There was the sound of a scuffle and then a door slammed. Annu realised what was going on. He felt suffocated with anger and frustration as he could hear sounds of someone being punched and bashed up. Fidalgo Castel Branco, in a drunken fit, had dragged Gorey to his bedroom but the girl had screamed and run out. Outraged that a slave was refusing to sleep with him, Branco kicked and pummelled her till she became a mass of bruised and bleeding flesh. Branco’s wife watched, but didn’t do anything, she did not even say a word.
A short while later the old Negress led Gorey by the hand to her bed. The girl lay there listlessly till she was overcome by sleep. Branco had emerged from his drunken stupor the next morning so he didn’t bother with the girl any more but his wife came to check whether the slave she had bought for thirty cruzados was still alive. She told the other slaves to bathe her body in warm water and to feed her payz and meat soup.
Annu, who had been looking for a chance to see Gorey, came up to her that afternoon. She looked up at him with tenderness… This girl trusts me and hopes I will take care of her, Annu realized. All of a sudden her eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t cry, Gorya, God is great. Padre Simao always said that if you have faith in Jesus everything becomes all right.’
‘Take me out of this place. Let’s run away. Tomorrow, when the first cock crows at dawn, come out here. Together we’ll go over that hillock,’ she said.
Annu stared at her. ‘Have you been beyond that hillock?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s on the other side?’
‘Villages. A river. Fields.’
A broad smile broke out on her face. Her pearly teeth, her rosy cheeks, her eyes that radiated such innocence, all of these added to the beauty of that smile.
‘Will you be able to walk through forests and fields?’ he asked.
‘Yes. If you’re with me.’
Annu was by her side very early the next morning as they set off towards the hillock. It was still very dark and they had no idea what the time was. Annu scrambled over a thorny hedge, then helped her across. There was thick vegetation all around. They disentangled themselves from the creepers and thorny undergrowth, and struggled up the slope. All they knew was that they would reach the top of the hill and get to the other side.
Gorey ached all over but she paid no attention to the pain as she clutched Annu’s arm and climbed the slope. Their feet were bare, but they didn’t pause to remove the thorns that pierced them. When, at last, they reached the top of the hill, they heard cocks crow in the distance. They started running down the slope.
‘Can you do it?’ Annu asked as Gorey stumbled and crashed into him.
‘I will. When I fall, you can help me get up,’ she said.
The whole area was awash in sunlight when they got to the hillock near Adolshi, but nothing seemed to be stirring in the village. Had the whole village moved away? Then it hit Annu: Where was the temple that stood beside that peepal tree? Why was there nothing at that site? Annu held Gorey’s hand and led her down the slope silently.
Annu didn’t know that Adolshi was now a Christian village. He was very upset when he saw the mound of rubble where the temple once stood. They went to Padre Simao’s shack only to find it had been burnt down. The temple had been destroyed, but the villagers were ploughing their fields and urging the oxen on as enthusiastically as they had done in the past. The women were gossiping as they drew water at the well and they could hear the sound of the hammer striking iron at the blacksmith’s forge. Annu was amazed. How could the villagers be so indifferent? These were the same people who would not till or sow their fields without seeking the Lord’s permission. The temple and the deity were gone, but the people seemed to be managing well enough! What winds of change were these that had struck the village!
Ventu Nayak’s grandson, Hari, yelled, ‘See! Annu’s here! Where have you been, Annu? We’ve joined their religion. You can come back now!’
Annu’s lame brother, Tangan, rushed up to him, ‘Where were you, brother? We looked for you everywhere! Come home. No one will drive you away now.’
Some forty people had gathered in the courtyard by now. Annu felt close to all of them, now that they too were Christians. However, some people were getting nervous – the soldiers could come to the village looking for Annu. Branco had never asked Annu which village he belonged to. Most of the Portuguese settlers in Goapattana had no idea that there were myriad villages and settlements beyond the area they were familiar with. If they were to look for Annu, they would probably search the area by the sea and the river thinking that he might have escaped by boat. But Annu had spoken to the other slaves about Adolshi
and told them about Padre Simao Peres.
Lavu Nayak’s wife, Ubgey, passed a hand lightly over Gorey’s back and chest and everyone stared admiringly at her fair skin, smooth as butter, and her small breasts with their rosy nipples. ‘Annu, will you marry this girl?’
‘I don’t know, Mavshi. She asked me to take her away from that house, so we ran away.’
‘Marry her. She seems a good girl.’
‘If the soldiers come here, they’ll create a lot of trouble. Annu should leave the village,’ Bablo Nayak said.
‘What can they do? We’re all Christians now, if they touch us we can complain to the King. He will protect us. Annu, stay right here,’ Puttu Nayak declared.
Old man Ventu laughed aloud. ‘The King lives beyond the seven seas, we won’t even see the nail on his finger or toe. It’s his officials who make the rules here. They can chop your legs off or wring your neck and no one will ask any questions!’
Annu knew that it was a grave crime for a slave to run away. He had helped Gorey escape, so the soldiers would be looking for him and could descend on the village at any moment.
‘I’m glad that I met all of you, I’ve been wanting to for a long time,’ Annu said. ‘But we must leave now. Ventu appa, what route should I take out of Goa?’
Ventu thought for a long while. ‘They’ve taken control of Sashti too, so don’t cross the river and go there. Go towards Marcai, cut through the low-lying marshy areas. Avoid the Agashe port, the soldiers patrol that area,’ he said.
Tangan rushed up and clung to Annu, ‘Don’t go. Don’t leave your lame brother,’ he cried.
‘If the soldiers catch him, he’ll be hanged to death. Let him go and find shelter somewhere. If it’s possible, he’ll come back some day,’ Bablo Nayak said as he dragged Tangan away.
‘May you complete what you have set out to do!’ Ventu Nayak said, as Annu and Gorey took their leave. ‘Live on roots and leaves if you must, but don’t turn back. Settle down and farm some distant plot of land. Man doesn’t die till Death comes looking for him. He can survive on water, if need be.’
Age of Frenzy Page 22