Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  ‘What ma, you don’t seem to understand. This Maama has so much love for you…’

  He embraced her.

  Poovarasu’s bare chest pressed hard against her breasts and she felt suffocated.

  ‘Maama, I have great respect and love for you,’ she whispered, now frightened. ‘Please don’t ruin my life.’

  She found that she couldn’t even move and Poovarasu was in no mood to listen to her entreaties. He held her tight and his lips began to explore her body.

  ‘Maama, let me go!’ she squirmed. ‘Let me go!’

  With his teeth on her breast, he furiously began to rip her clothes. His hands had wandered below her waist and then, like an ogre, he straddled her.

  ‘No, Maama!’ she screamed. ‘Let me go! Maama! Ah … let me go…’

  Humiliation and disillusionment sapped her strength. She lay there sobbing with her eyes closed. She had lost control of her own life and no solutions had been found to any of her problems. None of her dreams had been realized. She lay there defeated, devoid of emotions and perversely imagined that a huge heavy bundle was on top of her, weighing her down.

  ‘Yoga, I will never forget this pleasure that you gave me. All your life I will keep you like a queen, don’t worry…’

  He combed her dishevelled hair with his fingers. He covered her naked body with a sheet. She was lying on her back and he tried to raise her to make her sit up.

  Suddenly a courage surged through her and she pushed him away with all her strength. She couldn’t bear to look at his gross, naked body and she closed her eyes. Filled with disgust and revulsion, she yelled, ‘Poda, po! Go! Get lost!’

  Poovarasu seemed shocked by her fury. He slowly approached her, whispering tenderly to her. Her rage grew and she noisily hocked up as much spittle as she could and spat on his face. She watched the saliva slide down on his face with sadistic pleasure.

  ‘Why are you behaving like a chaste wife? How chaste were you when you were in the LTTE? How many men did you sleep with there? How can you penalize the fire when you deliberately put cotton-wool beside it? How many soldiers did you give yourself to in Pampaimadu?’

  Her brain froze at his lascivious accusations. She hit her head with her hands and cried. She was terrified of passing the rest of the night with this man.

  Poovarasu composed himself again and came back to her.

  ‘Yoga, don’t make a big issue of what I said, ma,’ he said, mild-mannered and avuncular again. ‘I lost my temper which is why I said those things. You shouldn’t have spat on your Maama’s face.’

  If you are so angry because I spat on your face, how will I feel when you dribbled all over me … that is what she wanted to shout at him but her throat felt constricted and she merely sobbed silently. She slapped herself. She banged her head on the bed. Every inch of her body ached. She was unable to say exactly which area in her body ached but she was hurting all the time. She blamed her own cursed luck for leading her to this very dark night.

  She felt that Sathuriyan was standing in front of her. What could she say to him? She wept thinking of the one who had loved her although she had had nothing to offer him in terms of worldly wealth. Now she did not even have her untouched youth to give to him.

  Poovarasu again approached her bed timorously.

  ‘Why are you still standing here?’ she shrieked. ‘Go, go, po, poda!’

  He looked at her apprehensively and then left the room.

  She thought that she should make sure that there was no repetition of what had just transpired: she should make sure it ended at that point of time.

  She sat up and rested her tear-drenched face on her raised knee. She squirmed remembering the shameful ordeal she had had to bear and drew herself into a tight ball. Her mental agony created feelings of guilt in her. She had wanted Sathuriyan to be the first man to have physical contact with her, but that dream had shattered. She wondered whether she would ever get over the disappointment. For a few hours she struggled with herself to try and fling away and forget what had just happened.

  She tried to get up from the bed. She could not get up and walk as Poovarasu had flung her cane far away. She took the support of the wall and limped along and picked up her dress that had also been flung away and put it on.

  She walked very slowly along the wall. But she found herself unable to continue. Her body shivered. She sat down and put the foot of her whole leg on the stump of the other and pushed herself on her bottom to reach her cane. Pain, disgust, disillusionment, shame; her mind was immersed in overwhelming sorrow.

  She looked out through the keyhole of her door. There was darkness everywhere.

  Poovarasu must have gone to bed. There was a faint blue light visible from under his doors.

  Che … what made this man behave in such a manner … when I was far away, no such disaster befell me … but here, within these four walls, by my Maama … chi-chi what Maama is he … pervert … not only did he rape me but he says I must be spoilt goods anyway…’

  She was thirsty and she walked towards the kitchen. Her cane made a ‘tak, tak,’ sound as she walked, and afraid that Poovarasu might get up she walked very gingerly and softly. The ‘tick, tock’ of the wall clock as the second hand moved and the chirping of crickets were the only sounds to be heard.

  She poured water from the water pot into a plastic bottle and drank. She kept gulping the water till it overflowed from her mouth and dripped along her neck. She drank as much as she could. Then in anger, she flung the plastic bottle away. It fell without too much noise. She limped and crawled and sat on the grinding stone by the wall. All the memories of her past life came back one by one.

  Her agitated mind refused to calm down however she tried to console herself. She tried to suppress her despair by sobbing for a while. Her eyes grew tired and seemed ready to close.

  Now that this monster has warmed himself on me – how will I escape this torture now?

  Is it possible to imagine anything more demeaning that this? Does everyone think as he did – that if a girl has been a combatant, this would be nothing new to her? What cruel imaginations they have! When I was a combatant, I never had any experience of vulgar or obscene behaviour. When I was a fighter or when I was a wounded fighter in the institute – no, never! There was room for love there. There was a place there for understanding hearts to begin a life together. Where was the place for such obscenities?

  In the Pampaimadu camp there were only women. Only women soldiers guarded us. There was no opportunity for the male soldiers to trespass and force themselves on us or develop relationships with us. I escaped from a terrible fate at that time, but Theivanai does say that things happened in the camp that my eyes did not see and my mind did not comprehend. Will the entire world see us thus – that we are loose women, spoilt goods…?

  Che … How much affection I had placed here! How much respect I had for him as my Maama! At an age when he is enjoying being with his grandchildren, his hair gone all grey, how could he … his own sister’s daughter, like his own daughter … how did he get such a perverse idea? Even though I begged and wailed … Will all men get an erection for any female even if she is like his own daughter?

  Amma!

  All this is because of her…

  She thought that Vathsala should live safely and so she sent me off to work. Today she wanted her third daughter to have a good life and pushed me away … If only she had pulled me into the safe umbrella of her affection, would I have been in this state today?

  Poor thing! Why should I blame her? When she last came here she looked at me with affection-filled eyes. What could she do? Could she carry me, a cripple, on her hips and let Kala go telling her that since you are perfectly whole, you can go anywhere and earn your living? Everything is fate … the will of God. I am under the control of some evil spirits…

  Suddenly she noticed the kerosene stove that was right in front of her. There was also a bottle of kerosene oil and a match-box beside it.

  Sh
e wiped her eyes and got up.

  From such a long time I had been beckoning it with so much love, it kept evading me and ran away. Today I will not let it go, she thought.

  She thought of the time in Arayampathy when she walked along the river-bank with the passionate determination to die. She stood up and closed her eyes and prayed. Sathuriyan’s smiling face stood in her mind’s eye.

  ‘Forgive me. If you come looking for me and you hear about my humiliation, plant some flowers on my grave. Let butterflies come and sit on those flowers and whisper our stories to each other…’

  She closed the door and bolted it.

  The dark house lit up with the conflagration.

  8

  Kattunayake Airport! It was a swelteringly humid day.

  Thawakkul was almost keeling over with exhaustion. She had wept like she had never wept before. She had lost weight and with her sunken cheeks and deep set eyes and was now a mere shadow of her former beautiful self f.

  ‘Don’t cry, magal,’ her uncle consoled her. ‘Happiness, sorrow, loss and disappointment are all a part of life. Unburden your heart here of the sorrow weighing it down, don’t suffer over there by yourself.’

  ‘I just can’t bear it, Chacha. I can still see Vappa’s face. It was because of me, and because of me alone, that he had to give up his very life. He tried so hard to tell me, but I didn’t listen. Now see what it has come to. I’m no better than a common criminal, Chacha!’

  Her sisters, Sano and Jana, stood beside her, their eyes streaming and lips trembling.

  ‘Look after Umma, Chachi,’ said Thawakkul. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief that was dripping wet with tears.

  ‘Sano, Jana, I’m leaving. Take good care of Umma. Please forgive me for having reduced you to this state.’

  ‘Raththa!’

  Jana embraced her tearfully. Sano was limp with her head on Chachi’s shoulder. Everyone felt weak and helpless in the face of this tragedy.

  Subair Chacha was in the difficult situation of being unable to express his own grief for his brother, as he had to console the children. He surreptitiously wiped his tears.

  ‘Magal, it’s almost departure time. Go now. Allah is there. He will ensure that you lack nothing in life. Trust me, this is not the end of your life, it’s the beginning. You’ll live your future wiser from the experiences of these events.’

  ‘Chachi, I am leaving…’

  ‘Allah will protect you, my dear. Go with courage. Don’t worry about Umma and your sisters. We’ll take care of them.’

  In a matter of seconds, Thawakkul’s world had crumbled beneath the cruellest blow of all and she wondered how many eons it would take to extinguish the inferno in her heart.

  That day, as she was leaving for Oddamavadi Chacha’s house she had held Vappa’s hand and bid him a tearful farewell begging him to forgive her. How could she not have sensed then that would be the very last time she would ever see him?

  Can there be a greater punishment than not even being able to see my Vappa’s dead body? My Vappa’s life was centred on me, and now it has come to such a pass that he had to give up his life for me and because of me.

  She had never even imagined a day when her Vappa would not be around.

  After clearing customs and going through the other formalities, she sat in the lobby waiting for the boarding gates to open. She was about to set off on a wholly unplanned trip.

  Her grief let up slightly as she returned to the here and now of her situation. She was on the verge of entering a foreign land with no knowledge of what lay in store for her there … Allah! He is omniscient and all this was exactly as He decreed.

  By the time Habeeb finished his duties and got ready to travel to Ottamavadi, it was midday.

  Before he could lock his front door, it happened.

  Several hoodlums leapt out of an auto-rickshaw and barged into the house pushing him in front of them. They wore black, cloth masks with holes cut out for their eyes.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Habeeb yelled.

  ‘Allah! What atrocity is this?’ Nisha thought wildly although she couldn’t speak because her tongue seemed to have cleaved to her palate. With a sudden spurt of adrenaline, she ran out of the house, opened the gate and ran out into the street.

  ‘Who are you?’ shouted Habeeb, twisting around to see the masked mob around him. ‘For Allah’s sake get out of this house!’

  ‘Hey! Where is your daughter, man, that whore who has sprouted a penis?’

  One of them hit Habeeb hard on the chest with the ebony rod that he held. It drew blood.

  ‘Ah … My Allah!’ Habeeb pressed his hand to the wound and slid down to the floor. His head throbbed and he was only vaguely aware of someone pummelling his face with a fist.

  ‘Yah Allah, save my children, oh, Rehaman!’ he moaned on the floor, as the thugs searched the house thoroughly and most bizarrely peeping into every little nook and corner.

  ‘She is doomed to die at our hands. Let’s see how long she can remain arrogant and obstinate. We’ll make an example of her so no other woman in this village will dare to follow in her footsteps. Oh, she thinks she does social service, does she? We will get hold of her and…’

  The man who seemed to be the leader of the ruffians had constituted himself their spokesman. Words of hatred flowed fluently from him. Although his fiendish mind was aware that he was breaking the law, he was confident that no one in this village had the courage to oppose him. If by some chance the law came after him, he knew how to settle that and nullify the case.

  Nisha was running from one neighbour’s house to the other begging for help. She knew in her heart that this was a futile exercise but she couldn’t stop her feet.

  ‘Haniffa Nana, Please come and do something to stop this atrocity!’

  ‘What’s the problem, Nisha?’ asked Haniffa rising hurriedly from the mat where he had just sat down for lunch.

  ‘I don’t know who it is, Nana, but four or five masked men have forced themselves into the house and are wreaking havoc!’

  ‘Masked men?’ he blustered. ‘How can we interfere in this? We don’t know who your enemies are, where they’re from and how many there are.’

  Nisha didn’t wait to hear him out and ran to the house next door. And the next. And the next.

  She was walking back home exhausted as the auto-rickshaws outside their house started up and left as suddenly as they had appeared.

  When the nosy neighbours peeking through their blinds saw that the coast was clear, they emerged from their homes slavering like hyenas.

  ‘Where are you?’ wept Nisha. ‘Allah, there is no sign of him.’ With her heart palpitating, Nisha ran from one room to another. Her voice quavered with the premonition of catastrophe.

  Habeeb lay in a foetal position by the wall in the dining-room. His right hand was pressed to his chest and he was bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth.

  ‘Allah!’ shrieked Nisha. ‘What has happened to you?’ Her body trembled violently. When she touched him, his body was cool and what that signalled to her, shattered her completely. She was stunned as the dreadful truth sank in.

  The neighbours rushed in and lifted Habeeb on to the couch.

  ‘There’s no pulse,’ said Haniffa, his fingers around Habeeb’s wrist. ‘Innalillahi vayinnayilaihi rajiun, we have come from Allah and we go back to Him,’ he murmured under his breath as he gently shut Habeeb’s eyes.

  ‘Damned wretches! But why?’ wept Nisha. ‘Why would they do something like this? We have never harmed anyone! Ya Allah!’ she lamented. ‘How do I tell my children about this? What will I tell my daughter who held her Vappa’s hand and told him to come quickly? The monsters have extinguished the life of this patient and kind man.’

  The news of Habeeb’s death at the hands of the self-appointed moral mafia reached Subair Chacha’s house. Umma had sent specific instructions that Thawakkul should not come home as the monsters were planning to ambush her. Thawakkul was
shattered.

  ‘Chacha, I don’t care what happens to me,’ Thawakkul cried, her arms around Chacha’s neck. ‘For Allah’s sake, please take me with you. I must see, Vappa, Chacha.’

  ‘Vappa, our golden Vappa!’ wept Sano.

  Subair had to cope with his own sorrow and also try and console his inconsolable nieces.

  ‘Thawakkul, you need to be brave at this time, magal, and console your younger sisters. You’re the pillar of this household. Listen to me, my precious. We have to go there at once and prepare for the lifting of the janasa and the burial. We have to get Umma ready for her iddah, her mourning period. We cannot delay all that. Make yourself strong, ma.’

  ‘Allah, how can I, Chacha? I think I will die at just the thought that I will not be able to see my Vappa’s face before he is buried. Please take me with you, Chacha,’ she beseeched, ‘for Allah’s sake, take me with you.’

  Should she go and court danger? How much anger and hatred they must have had to attack Habeeb’s good and innocent heart? Subair was confused; how could he allow her to be caught by such raving villains?

  ‘Tell them he died of a heart attack,’ said a neighbour. ‘If it becomes a police case, it will be difficult for you especially now that you are all alone fending for these girl children.’

  ‘They’re probably planning to waylay Thawakkul when she comes home for the funeral,’ warned another neighbour.

  Nisha thought she would go crazy. Habeeb’s stiff body reminded her of all that he had been and pushed her further into distress. Her life seemed to come back to her only when her children came running in and hugged her. ‘Umma, poor Thawakkul Raththa! Chacha didn’t bring her.’

  ‘What can we do, magal?’ said Nisha, embracing her daughters. ‘If she hears the loose talk from these people, she could be pushed over the edge and may end up killing herself.’

  ‘Who would have thought that all this would happen, ma?’ her children wept. ‘Allah has punished us. We trusted Him blindly and believed that He would never forsake us. Vappa, how can we even think of living without you?’