Ponna wondered if it was time to move back to the house in the village. She felt she should not stay any longer at the barnyard. Her earlier reason for staying there was that it would help her live close to the memories of Kali. But if she continued to stay on, he would continue to make life difficult for her. She even wondered whether she should move to her mother’s house until the delivery.
She was angry with Kali.
SEVENTEEN
The village council meeting was scheduled for the Friday of the following week. It always took place on Fridays unless some emergency meeting had to be called for. By then, news about the meeting had reached everyone. Within the main part of the village, there were only ten or fifteen households. So they had to dispatch the man who made announcements in the village to go and inform those who lived spread out among the fields. Seerayi went in person to inform the washerman and the barber. The washerman had only the job of laying out the cloth for the ritual. It was the barber who had a key role to play. Muthu gave him five rupees and told him to buy all that was needed for the meeting. When Seerayi tried to object to him paying, Muthu said she needn’t worry and that he’d take care of things.
There were seventeen houses as far as close kinsmen were concerned. Seerayi went to all of them in person to invite them to the meeting. ‘I don’t know why that goddess Kooli is so angry with our family,’ she said to them carefully. ‘She is piling so much misery upon us. I was worried that she was pushing us all into the grave, but now she seems to have sent down a little creeper for us to hold on to and climb out. We need to hold on to it carefully without breaking it, and climb out of our graves. It seems I have swallowed my husband as well as my son; I am a lonely widow. The only ray of hope and strength I now have is that my daughter-in-law is pregnant. In this village, who else do I have to call my own, but you. I don’t have any other close kinsmen. You have to be present at all our occasions.’
Muthu had performed the final rites for Kali. And this had produced some discontent among these relatives. So they asked her, with taunting smiles, ‘You didn’t think of us during the final rites, Seerayi. But somehow we came to your mind only now?’
Seerayi had expected this question to surface sooner or later. ‘That issue would not have arisen if we had only one family we could consider as close kin,’ she calmly explained. ‘There are so many of you. And I didn’t know which of you to call. If I reach out to one of you, the others take offence. Moreover, on the day, I could not think clearly about anything. I was suffering, thinking about how so many men in our families seem to die, leaving their womenfolk to struggle alone. In the middle of all that despair, when the question came up as to who would perform the final rites, his brother-in-law came forward right away. He loved Kali very much. They had been friends since childhood. In fact, that was why they even gave their daughter in marriage to Kali. So when he stepped forward to do the rites, I could not object. I decided to let him do it since I thought it might also console him. If he had died after living a long life, I’d have called all of your womenfolk and asked them to prepare various food items according to tradition, and offer them to the crows. And I’d have given them all gifts. He took his life, leaving two women to fend for themselves. What is the point in splitting hairs about rituals for him? And just for the sake of custom, his brother-in-law’s wife placed the food on the roof for the crows to eat. Oh, my dear boy, my god, is this fair? We kept the food for the crows on the roof, and waited and waited, and no crow came, no crow cawed, it was not your time to go, Kaliyappa! Kaliyappa! Your accounts are not settled. Your time hadn’t come, your time hadn’t come!’
She ended with a dirge. And the women among these relatives consoled her, saying, ‘Seerayi akka, please don’t cry. We shouldn’t have raised that now. Only women understand other women’s struggles. How can we not show up for you? We will send our men. And we will be there too.’
Seerayi also went to her natal family to invite them to the meeting. She had two younger brothers. She had been on good terms with them once. As a little boy, Kali would go to spend time at his uncles’ homes. But the uncles were upset that Kali did not let them find a girl for him to marry and instead found one himself. So they stopped visiting, and their relationship with Kali had soured. Had he married someone related to them, or suggested by them, then there would have been a brisk exchange of marital gifts and a lot of coming and going and strengthening of bonds. And since he did not have a child of his own, they had started coveting his wealth and had been speaking suggestively about it. Several years ago, they had also invited him to the village temple festival in their parts. Kali and Ponna had both planned to go to the festival, but Ponna ended up having a major tussle with the older uncle’s wife—and the family took umbrage at this.
This had happened in the seventh year of their marriage. Both uncles’ families had come in person and invited them to the village temple festival. The older uncle’s wife had told them very affectionately that Kali and Ponna should go early and be there in the morning of the day they would make pongal for the goddess. Seerayi too had insisted that they should go since they had been invited personally. Kali had asked Ponna to go before him, and said that he would join her once he had seen to the cows and calves. So Ponna had set out, carrying two bunches of bananas. Thalaiyur was not too far away, just five miles. She had eaten some gruel and left soon after dawn, and she reached her destination by the time the sun was in her line of sight. No other relatives had arrived by then. They were all to arrive later in the day.
Ponna had a lot of work to do as soon as she got there. She had to pound the flour for the lamp ritual and grind batter for vadai, in addition to several other tasks. She had got started as soon as she arrived. The older uncle’s wife had taken both bunches of bananas that Ponna had brought, and put them away. Ponna had intended one of the banana bunches for the other uncle’s household, but she did not say anything right away. She had decided she would bring that up later while leaving from there. In the afternoon, they had been boiling and reducing jaggery and rolling flour balls. There had been a large quantity of kambu flour, enough rice flour for the lamp, and just enough chickpea flour to make four or five balls. Apparently, the older uncle’s son really liked the sweet balls made with the chickpea flour. So even though it was expensive, they had included at least a small quantity.
As they sat rolling these balls, the aunt had chatted with Ponna. She asked, ‘You are on good terms with your older brother, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Ponna had replied. ‘Definitely. In fact, my brother and husband are close friends. They don’t even bother that much when I don’t visit, but if he doesn’t go, someone comes over personally to fetch him.’
‘Yes, that’s what the entire village is saying. But be careful. Don’t write off your wealth to your brother just because you don’t have children.’
Ponna did not like the direction the conversation was taking. ‘We are still young,’ she had ventured. ‘We don’t have to worry about all that now.’
‘No, Ponna. You don’t know about these things. My husband and his younger brother are very fond of their sister, Seerayi, and they shower her with a lot of gifts. If we, the wives, object, they shut us up, saying that she is a widow and only has her brothers to care for her. So basically, all our wealth has gone there, you see.’
Ponna could not contain her anger at this. She had slammed down the mass of flour she had been kneading back in the bowl. ‘What gifts have you really showered on my mother-in-law? It was only after my marriage that some four copper cauldrons and brass carriers entered that house, and that’s because I brought them. Before that all they had was a mud pot and another one with its mouth broken. And what happened to the gifts you say the brothers lavished on their sister? Does she have walls gilded with gold? You are coveting our wealth now when we are still young and healthy. I won’t be surprised if you kill us and take our things. Now I understand why you have been so unctuous and friendly. Earn and save fo
r your son and daughter. Don’t eye heirless property elsewhere and dangle your tongue in greed!’ With that, she had left right away and returned home. Then she did not let Kali go to the festival either.
For Seerayi, these people were the only other family she had. Her own brothers. She had already warned Ponna, ‘Don’t come back telling me the things they said to you about me. They are my brothers’ families. They will say unpleasant things. Just bear it quietly and get back home.’
That was the last time Ponna had visited them. Seerayi had still gone there from time to time. And now she went there because she needed to inform them about the meeting and about Ponna’s pregnancy—and she also wanted some of her people there to stand by her. Her first brother yelled at her, ‘It was only for your sake that we even came when Kali died. He had taken her side and had stopped visiting us. How much more can we uncles keep doing? That woman spoke too much, but she still gets to have her way.’
‘Water does not part simply because you beat it with a stick, da,’ said Seerayi. ‘Why do we need to keep talking about who said what and who was more in the wrong. It happened. I admit that she does speak impulsively. If the two bullocks locked to a cart pull in different directions, how can we get anywhere? They have said that there should be a few relatives present at the village council meeting. And who else have I got but you? I am asking you as an older sister. It will add to my respect if you come and stand there by my side. It will also dignify you. But I leave it to you. Do as you please.’
Even though these visits were only to inform people about the forthcoming meeting, Seerayi was still anxious that someone might say something harsh. Over the past week, she had vaguely heard some spiteful opinions. Apparently, one or two people were saying, ‘They did not have a child until now. How did it happen now? How come the husband died just when a child was about to come? There is more to this. Ponna is not an innocent girl. She is capable of anything. She has done something. And Kali must have found out about it; and because he could not stand the shame of it, he hung himself.’ There were also people who brought these bits of gossip to Seerayi, framing it as other people’s opinions. Then there were those who had themselves witnessed Ponna going to the festival in a cart.
Seerayi heard that someone had said, ‘If a woman over forty goes to the festivities, it might be an innocent thing. But when a young woman goes, it can’t be for no reason. She must surely have gone to conceive a child. And it looks like the husband did not like that. Not all husbands accept this, do they? There are one or two men whose pride is wounded by this. This is not Kali’s child; this is the temple festival’s child.’ Seerayi did not dignify any of these insinuations with a response. Rather, she addressed these comments in a very generic way. All she said was, ‘What can I say? It is our fate that we endure this. Women who go to other men blatantly seem to face no troubles. But we have to bear these opinions. There is a god who bears witness to all this. He will take care of us.’
But since she wanted to make sure nothing untoward and difficult came to pass at the meeting, she was busy garnering support. She even spoke to Thorattu Paatti, saying, ‘All of you came the other day and spoke words of comfort. It gave some strength to our minds. But people don’t seem to want us to be happy. I hear that they are saying all sorts of things. Aaya, if all of you come to the village meeting, it will give us some strength. I know that usually women don’t go to these meetings. But this is to do with the lives of two women. It will be good if all of us women stick together. We can guard against other people’s nasty opinions.’
And Thorattu Paatti said to her, ‘I too have heard these things, Seerayi. You don’t worry, be brave. There are some five or six of us old women in the village. What are we good for? We will come to the meeting. Instead of sitting around in our homes, we will go and sit at the meeting. And we will get there early. You don’t worry, go attend to your things.’
Muthu had asked Seerayi, ‘Atthai, why are you going to so many places and inviting so many people? Wouldn’t it be enough if just some four people show up for us?’
Seerayi had just smiled at this remark, and had not shared her apprehensions with him.
EIGHTEEN
The fact that there was still a week to go before the meeting helped Ponna find some courage. In the meantime, she also found a lot of support. At night, she would lie down, deep in thought. She felt strengthened by all the people who visited her and even this place that still reminded her of Kali. And Ponna’s own movements, which had earlier been confined closer to the barnyard, now extended all over the field. She resolved to herself that the field was her responsibility from then on. That resolve made her happy. The very next day, early in the morning, Muthu brought a worker, Sengaan, with him. The day before, Muthu had sowed maize in the smaller square of land and had turned the soil over. That morning, he weeded out the kolunji from another land, sowed maize and ploughed the area. Sengaan busied himself with plucking away the kolunji in another square.
There was nothing more to do in the fields. The gap between the fields were wide enough for a cow to graze. They were smooth and had no bumps or rocks. If one just held on to the rope and let the cow walk down the border of the field, the animal could walk and graze freely. The field itself was even, with no rock or stone to impede the movement of a plough or to trip a person walking there. Kali had sieved the soil carefully and had made sure it was of a fine texture. And the different squares of land were arranged in such a way that they gradually sloped down one after the other—the height difference between one piece of land and another being not more than the length of a finger. Within each piece of land, the soil was evenly spread out so that when it rained, the water would seep down wherever it fell. And if it rained considerably enough to have some standing water, the rainwater stood evenly all over the field, and would then overflow on to the next field without eroding any sand.
It was mostly red soil in all the fields. But in some parts, it appeared blackened. When Muthu examined it, he saw that the blackening was caused by manure mixing with the soil. Kali had not wasted any dung, refuse, leaves or stalks and had turned them into manure and mixed them inseparably with the soil. This would make sure that the soil would be fertile for four or five years. Even though Kali owned only four acres of land, because he took such good care of it, he always had a good harvest and made some extra cash. He never hesitated to go the extra mile. That was why Kali had spent as much as he did on the various rituals and offerings associated with praying for a child. Muthu felt that such a well-kept land would be a pleasure to work on. But then he immediately wondered if it was this perfectionism that had led to Kali’s death. So what if things were a little imperfect? If a little stone halts the movement of a plough, you could always stop and remove it. And in that time it took to check if the edge of the plough had suffered any damage, the bulls could catch a moment of rest. And for the worker too, it would give a chance for the mind to settle briefly on something else for a change. He might call for some help. That would be a chance to have a short conversation. But on this plot of land, once he started ploughing, he could go on effortlessly till the end without any interruption.
Working on such a smooth stretch of land might actually be boring. Did Kali keep the land so clean because he wanted to keep people at a distance? There was not a single blemish on this land Kali had tended to. There was nothing lacking in the barnyard he had built. The water channel and plant beds were flawless. The picotah Kali had used to draw water worked perfectly. All the trees he had planted grew and thrived. None of his sheep and cattle were sick or weak. How could such a man accept any imperfection in his wife? Muthu was sad and surprised to realize that he had failed to understand this about a friend with whom he had spent so much time. But it occurred to him that Kali had not been like that when they were younger. It was only after the harshness of people’s words drove him to the solitude of the barnyard that Kali must have gradually acquired this attitude of perfectionism.
Sinc
e they had missed ploughing the land in summer, Muthu now did it twice. So it took longer. By the time he was done with one field, he saw that Sengaan had removed kolunji from the entire field and was now gathering them and bundling them up. He quietly admired Sengaan’s abilities as a worker. He then released the bulls from the plough, took them to the shade and gave them some water and food. After that, he drank some leftovers and got ready to leave. He said to Vallayi, ‘Amma, I am going back to our village. Sengaan is here. He will do the rest of the ploughing. I will be back tomorrow in the morning.’ Ponna was awake and she was sitting drinking coffee after rinsing her mouth. Muthu had still not started speaking directly to Ponna. He was afraid that she might respond harshly if he did. So he decided to let her make the first move. When Sengaan got ready to plough the rest of the land, Ponna walked over the field and sat in the shade of the palai tree that was next to the well.
From there, she had a clear view of the entire field. Now that the kolunji plants had been removed, it spread out like a stage set for action. The plough stood at the corner piece of the land that was to the east. Ponna recollected that it was on that land that she had planted the portia stalk, which Seerayi had then pulled out and flung away, and where Ponna had then placed a smooth stone to mark the spot. Now she was anxious that Sengaan not plough over that spot. She got up slowly and walked towards there. The sun was harsh. In such heat, the soil would retain moisture only for a day. Will they be able to do all the sowing and ploughing in one day? If they can’t, they will have to wait for the next rain. When Sengaan saw Ponna approaching the field, he said, ‘Why are you walking out in this heat?’
A Lonely Harvest Page 11