‘I’m not scared, Paati, I know you’ll be fine. I just don’t like to see you so ill.’
‘Rama, I think we both know that I won’t be fine. You must prepare yourself for the inevitable. I know I have.’
Rama tried very hard to suppress his tears. ‘How can you talk like that, Paati? Please don’t say such things.’
‘Why don’t you come and sit with me?’ Periamma patted the seat of the chair across from her bed. ‘I want to discuss something with you, and I don’t want to delay this any longer.’
Rama walked quickly up to the chair.
‘Haven’t you been talking to the doctor?’ she asked when he sat down.
‘He told me you would get better.’
‘Then he lied,’ Periamma replied, suppressing a cough. ‘I’m not going to get better, and before I go, I would like to know that you are going to be all right. I know that you and your father are at odds over your future. Do you have any plans? What do you intend to do after I’m gone? Go back to the pathashala?’
‘I don’t know, Paati. I don’t know anything!’ Rama replied, as the tears started flowing down his face, ‘Why are you talking like this? We can discuss this when you get better.’
‘I’m sorry my child. I really am. But death isn’t the end of anything. It’s merely another step in our journey through life. I must take that next step and one day we will meet again, I promise you. Till then, I will always be with you. My spirit will reside in you. Please Rama, don’t be afraid for me.’
‘I’m not Paati, I’m afraid for me. I can’t bear the thought of a life without you!’
‘But it won’t be a life without me. You will always feel my presence. I can’t leave you, Rama. I am in your flesh and in your blood. Now, tell me what you would like to do next.’
Rama wiped the tears from his face. He knew his grandmother was determined to finish the conversation, so he composed himself before replying, ‘I want to go to the city; to Madras.’
‘And what will you do there?’
‘I don’t know yet, Paati. I only know that my future isn’t in this village anymore.’
‘You’re destined for greatness, Rama. You will fight against injustice and one day you will rule the world. It’s in your stars.’
Rama nodded. ‘I keep hearing these tales of how the foreigners are subjecting the people in Madras to their rule, about how people pay taxes to the white men who come from over the sea. It doesn’t affect us directly right now but as their strength grows, they will try to invade more lands. What happens when they try to occupy this district?’
‘There’s so much more to this world than the little we have seen. We aren’t slaves to anyone, so we don’t know what it’s like to be under a ruler. But there was a time when great kings ruled over Kanchipuram, and we were all subjects of that kingdom. The problem with this land is that we’re a mass of very different people with very different beliefs living together. We have no sense of unity, no sense of belonging, and this makes us easy prey for invaders,’ Periamma said between bouts of coughing. Rama got up, concerned, but she just signalled for him to sit down. She continued, ‘One day we will all be unified by the white man. And we will then realize that we are the same people. But I don’t know when that day will come. I do know that you, or your children, or their children, must be ready at that time to fight for our beliefs, to fight for our values.’
‘But what can I do? There’s only so much I can achieve in this village, no matter how much I try to do.’
‘I know, and that’s why I agree with you that you need to go to the city. Make your name, and make yourself a fortune. Don’t worry about how, but always do what is right. Work with the white man. You may not approve of what he does, but he holds the power.’
Rama started to say something but Periamma held her hand up. ‘Our family has been entrusted with a lot of responsibility. The future of our way of life, in many ways, rests with our family, and it will not do for you to disregard that. One day, you will have to fight to save our way of life, and I want you to be in a position of power to do so. You have been chosen for greatness, and I want you to be prepared for it.’
Periamma leaned her head back on her pillow—she was exhausted from talking. Rama went up to her side and said, ‘You need to rest now, Paati. We shall talk more in the afternoon, after you wake up. Take a nap now.’
‘I think I need one. Come here, my darling,’ she said, holding her arms out to embrace her grandson.
‘I’ll shut the window, Paati. Try and get some sleep.’
‘I love you, Rama,’ his grandmother said. ‘Don’t you ever forget that, ever.’
‘I love you too, Paati’
Later that afternoon, when the vaidyar came by to give Periamma her afternoon dose of medicine, he discovered that she had died in her sleep.
The thirteen days that followed Periamma’s death were spent performing funeral rites. Dikshitar was busy with the rituals from morning to night and had no time to talk to his son. Rama, however, felt only peace. His grandmother’s spirit, he knew, would always stay with him; she had promised.
The thirteenth day was the day of celebration, when her soul would be finally liberated to continue on its journey through the universe. A sacred fire was lit and the ritual of the nine planets performed, followed by a feast, which the whole village attended. After the feast, Rama’s father, instead of going to the temple for the first time since his mother’s death, summoned him to his room.
Dikshitar was sitting on a chair with a letter in his hands when Rama entered. He nodded towards the cot and continued reading. When he finished, he looked up and said, ‘So Rama, what now?’
Rama, not knowing what to say, sat quietly, meeting his father’s gaze squarely.
‘The last rites are over, and it’s time for you to return to the pathashala. Will you leave on Saturday?’
‘I’m sorry, Appa. I don’t want to go back.’
His father raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘All right, so what do you want to do? Join me in the temple?’
‘No, Appa, I want to go to the city.’
‘Why?’
‘I have things to do. I want to get a job.’
‘And then?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Rama shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I don’t know, Appa. I have never been to the city. I don’t know what life there will be like.’
‘Then why are you so keen on going there?’
‘I know I’m not meant to stay here. I’m sorry I am being so vague, but you must understand. I need to go out into the world and see more before I know what direction I want to take.’
Dikshitar thought about this for a few minutes before saying, ‘I don’t like the idea, Rama. You have a life here, you have duties here. You can’t escape from them. I’ll tell you what though, I want you to stay here a little while longer and think about it. I won’t force anything on you; I only want you to think about all that you will be leaving behind.’
‘Appa, I’m not leaving anything behind. Madras is only a day from here. I’ll return often.’
‘If you leave the village, Rama, I don’t ever want you to return. You will have disgraced us. That will be the end of our relationship. Please do as I ask, stay here a while. Enjoy life in the village, get used to becoming a villager again. We can talk about this again, soon, I promise.’
Rama had to be content with that. He loved and respected his father too much not to comply with his request, though he did find it annoying that his father was so uncompromising about everything. His life was, after all, his own, and he did not see how going away to Madras would disgrace his parents.
On his seventeenth birthday, his father summoned him again; this time it was to tell him to end his friendship with Mohan.
‘He’s not one of ours, and I won’t allow you to enter the temple any longer if you talk to him.’
Rama was shocked. He knew his father disapproved of his associating with Mohan; he had already
made that clear. But to ban Rama from entering the temple was something he had not expected. ‘But this is insane! God is the same for all,’ he exclaimed angrily.
His father looked offended. ‘Rama,’ he said in an even tone. ‘I’m not heartless and I don’t want you hurting that boy unnecessarily if you can avoid it. But you will no longer socialize with him; either you end it, or I will. You live in my house and my village, and as long as you do, you will live by my rules. If you don’t like them, you may leave.’
And Rama, for the sake of his mother, who had watched the whole conversation with a terrified look on her face, bowed his head and held his peace. Despite his father’s injunction, he continued to meet Mohan and their friendship grew. Rama hoped that, with time, his father would change.
Dikshitar, however, dealt with the situation on his own. He started taking every possible opportunity to insult Mohan and his family, ignoring them during festivals and in the temple. He also banned Mohan from entering his house, and though Rama was able to handle the matter diplomatically, it was too much to expect that Mohan would not notice that he had not once stepped inside Rama’s house in the last four months. Meanwhile, Dikshitar as the head of the village, continued to put Mohan’s father on the spot as much as he could. He had a blacksmith from Kanchipuram supply the swords to the villagers instead of Kandasamy. When Kandasamy approached the panchayat about this, Rama’s father took the opportunity to insult his craftsmanship in front of all the village elders, informing him that his work was shoddy.
Things eventually reached a point where Kandasamy, the man who had taught Rama how to use a sword when he was still a child, spoke to Rama himself about his father’s conduct.
‘Good morning, Ayya. Is Mohan at home?’ Rama asked him one morning when he went to take his friend along to the banks of the Vegavati for their sword-fight practice.
‘No, Thambi. But I have been waiting to see you.’
‘Yes, Ayya? Tell me,’ Rama said.
Kandasamy shifted uncomfortably. He did not know how to start the conversation, and after a few moments’ silence, said, ‘I have told Mohan to break off his friendship with you. I am now requesting you to leave my son alone.’
Rama was stunned for a few moments and just stared at Kandasamy. ‘Why? What happened?’
‘Your father summoned me last evening to the temple and told me categorically that he would excommunicate us from the village if you and Mohan continued to be friends. He has been treating us badly for a while now, and I have a son and daughter I have to get married off at some point. I am begging you, Ayya.’
‘But Ayya, you surely can’t mean that! Mohan has been my best friend almost all my life.’
‘I am very sorry, Rama, I really am. I don’t have any problems with the two of you staying friends. I like you very much, you know that. You have been my student, and you are a wonderful boy, but things have become much too difficult for us. Your father has taken every opportunity to insult and ill-treat us.’
Rama was shaken by what he heard. He couldn’t believe his father would conduct himself in this manner.
‘May I please see Mohan one last time? I promise I shall never bother you again.’
Kandasamy looked up sadly and his eyes met Rama’s. He could see the pain that he had caused the young man by telling him of his father’s conduct.
‘Of course you may, Rama. Thank you for understanding. Please wait.’
Mohan came out a few minutes later, looking extremely shaken. Rama lost no time in getting to the point.
‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mohan?’
‘How could I, Rama?’ Mohan asked reasonably. ‘He’s your father. Would you be able to tell me bad things about my father?’
Rama walked up to Mohan and put an arm on his shoulder, saying as he did, ‘I am leaving the village today. My father’s behaviour towards you and your family has been disgraceful.’
Mohan nodded, sad but not surprised. ‘Where will you go, Rama? To Madras?’
‘Yes. I should have left sooner. Expecting my father to change was futile. This village has nothing left for me.’
‘Take care of yourself, Rama. And wait a few days before leaving. We are going to have a bad storm tonight.’
‘I must leave now, Mohan. I can’t bear to stay with him anymore.’
Mohan looked tortured. A part of him wanted to throw his arms around his friend and ask him to reconsider his decision, but he knew that Rama’s mind was made up.
When Rama reached the temple, he found one of the other priests performing the rituals in the inner sanctum. His father was outside, talking to one of the villagers. He waited.
‘He wants me to officiate at his daughter’s wedding in two months,’ Dikshitar said when the man left.
Rama ignored him. ‘Appa, how could you do stoop so low?’ he burst out.
Dikshitar looked at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise, as he replied, ‘How dare you! What do you mean, Rama?’
‘You know exactly what I mean. You threatened to have Kandasamy excommunicated from the village if Mohan and I continued to be friends.’
‘Rama, you must understand that as a father I have certain responsibilities. What I did was for your own good.’
‘And so you chose to misuse your power as the head of the village?’
‘I did my duty to my family,’ his father replied, his anger rising with every word he spoke. ‘It’s your duty to serve Varahishwara, and if you want to do anything else, it won’t be in my house.’
‘I don’t want to do anything in your house. You have treated my best friend and his family shamefully. I’m leaving the village today.’
‘Fine! Leave right now. I never want to see you again!’
‘All right, Appa. But please remember that you are the one who said that. Goodbye.’
Rama’s legs were shaking as he turned round. He had never dared to speak to his father like that before, and it hurt him that he had had to, but he knew that he had made the right decision. He went back home for the last time, to take leave of his mother.
The conversation with his mother lasted longer than the one with his father, and was infinitely more painful. His mother had no words of reproach or abuse that would make his departure easier. Instead, she seemed to understand how he felt, even though she seemed unable to comprehend his desire to be independent and make his own way in the world.
Now there was nothing for him to do but leave.
nine
‘Ayya, wake up, it’s morning.’
Dikshitar slowly opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. They were travelling along the river in a cart, surrounded on all sides by hills of red earth.
‘How much further to Madras?’ Dikshitar asked the cartdriver.
‘We should reach in a few more hours, Ayya,’ the driver replied.
‘I thought we were going to travel along the coast?’ Dikshitar asked him.
‘We are travelling along the coast. The sea is on the other side of those mountains,’ the driver said, signalling with his whip. ‘The terrain on the other side is very hard to travel on. Don’t worry. This road is almost completely unknown.’
‘Yes, you mentioned that,’ Dikshitar replied.
They had left the town of Tirumala the previous evening, and had been travelling through the night with a short break in between to rest the horses.
Having completed their primary mission of hiding the Sri chakra, Dikshitar and Dhanapal were now headed to the fort to warn the governor of Madras about Haider Ali’s plans.
According to the soldier whom Periamma had interrogated, the French had struck a deal with Haider Ali, and they planned to attack from the coast at the same time that Haider attacked from the other side, effectively surrounding Fort St. George.
The British were Damar’s only chance. If Haider Ali conquered them, conversion, or worse, was certain. The British would, he hoped, leave them alone; they were, after all, more concerned with profits.
While Diks
hitar contemplated their next move, Dhanapal stood at the back of the cart, his eyes on the horizon. Suddenly, he asked the driver to stop and whispered, ‘Ayya, there are troops stationed ahead of us.’
‘Can you see whose men they are?’ Dikshitar asked.
‘They look like Haider Ali’s men. They even have cannons.’
‘Let’s climb the hills and take a better look.’
‘It’s a waste of time, Ayya,’ Dhanapal went on. ‘The British wouldn’t post their men here.’
‘I want to make sure,’ Dikshitar replied as he got off the cart and started walking.
They silently trudged up the nearest hill. The ground was a shade of terracotta, and from afar, the range looked completely red, with little or no vegetation visible.
When they reached higher ground, Dhanapal pointed southward at the outer fringe of the forest, where a large army was camped. The soldiers were dressed in veshtis, and they did indeed look like Haider Ali’s men.
Nudging his companion, Dikshitar muttered, ‘I wonder what they’re supposed to be doing.’
‘I can’t be sure, Ayya, but one thing is certain: we must get off this hill before we are spotted.’ Dikshitar nodded in agreement and they set off downhill.
When they reached the bottom, Dikshitar paid the cartdriver and sent him away. He turned to Dhanapal, ‘Perhaps it will be better if we make the rest of the journey on foot.’
‘Yes, Ayya,’ his companion nodded in agreement. ‘We will have to cross this forest to reach the coast and then head into Madras through the beach.’
‘Do you know the route?’
‘Not really, but I do know the general direction we must take.’
The pair successfully negotiated their way through the forest and reached the beach. For the next four hours they followed the coastline up to the outskirts of Madras. The city was hot and stuffy. Merchants crowded the bazaars, advertising their wares at the top of their voices. The streets were overrun with hansom cabs occupied by bored English wives. Dikshitar and Dhanapal had a vadai and a cup of tea each before proceeding to the fort.
They were stopped at the gate but after a little browbeating, got their way—the guard did not want to be held responsible for important information not reaching the commanding officer. Dikshitar and Dhanapal were taken straight to the governor’s chambers. Richard Smith was a large man; well over six feet tall, with dark wavy hair brushed back off his forehead, a clean-shaven face and a deep tan. He turned to Dikshitar impatiently as they entered and asked, ‘Well? You said at the gate that you have information for me. What is it?’
The Onus of Karma Page 9