The Soul of Truth

by Shaji Madathil

  After bowing to the offering, Sumathy and Vishnu carried the plantain leaf with the balls of rice to the designated place.

  “Vishnu, clap your hands. Call the crows.” Naanu uncle reminded Vishnu.

  Vishnu started to clap. Soon, everybody joined in, clapping rhythmically, eyes fixed on the sky.

  They are inviting the crows. According to local Hindu tradition, the souls of the dead people reincarnate as crows and come to accept the rice offering. If the crows eat the offering, it indicates that the soul and the ancestors are happy with the rituals. If they don’t, it causes distress to the family, since it implies shortcomings in the rituals that might impede the smooth passage of the soul.

  But I am still here. I haven’t yet reincarnated, not even as a worm! I don’t know what is in store for me after these last few days on earth. From all that I had believed while alive, I hope I will be able to return as a crow for the next annual ritual and accept my family’s loving offering. But not today.

  My family kept clapping. Despair was creeping in at the absence of any crows. They were all praying for me—to lead my soul from darkness to light, to keep me safe even in death.

  There was a time when the crows were always around. And they knew that food awaited them when they saw the smoke rising from the courtyard and heard the rhythmic clapping of hands. But these days, there are hardly any crows around. Where have they gone? There were a few flying in the sky but none seemed interested in coming down for the offering.

  Radhika was looking desperate. Oppol, Sumathy and Naanu uncle also looked worried. Deepu was weeping.

  Sreedharan priest tried to allay their worries.

  “This is not a bad omen. It is not necessary for the crows to eat the offering. If they don’t come till evening, you just have to put the rice balls in the river. The rites will be equally effective if the fish consume the offering. Don’t worry. Just make sure that no other animal touches the food, that is all. Actually, the soul of Uthaman can come to accept this offering only after a year. What we did today is to please the ancestors, and that won’t be wasted.”

  He seemed in a hurry to leave after getting the customary payment and gift.

  Oppol walked into the house, muttering sadly, “Where have all the crows gone? Maybe they are scared of all the noise and people. They might come when it is quieter.”

  Naanu uncle tried to smooth over the tension by delving into history and biology. “The habits of the crows have changed so much, especially their food habits. In the olden days, they lived on the waste we threw out into the yards. They were natural scavengers. But now they are used to the food in the towns and cities. Like many humans, they are now besotted with fast food. We are destroying ecosystems with our modern depravity.”

  Radhika was too distraught to be calmed by these stories. “Is Appuettan unhappy with us?” She couldn’t stop worrying.

  My heart goes out to her. I wish I could have consoled her. “No, dearest. I love you too much to ever be unhappy with you. I am here, right next to you, on this anjili tree. I am not yet able to accept your offering. That is all. And the ancestors too are happy with you. Please don’t worry.”

  Suddenly, a crow flew down on one of the branches of the anjili tree. Vishnu spotted it immediately.

  “Amma, Achen is here. See.” He couldn’t contain the excitement.

  Radhika looked relieved but was anxious that Vishnu’s voice would scare the crow away.

  “Vishnu, be quiet. Don’t go near the offering. The crow might fly away.” She admonished.

  “I want to see Achen eating the rice.” He insisted.

  “Okay. Go quietly to Deepu uncle’s room and watch from there.” Radhika gently pushed him towards the house.

  Deepu too was looking happy. “The crow is eating the rice.” He called out from his room.

  “Thank you, Lord!” Radhika turned to look at our wedding photo hanging on the wall and smiled through her tears.

  This purification rite marks the first break of my soul with my family on earth. My body and heart have already come apart under the influence of the soil and its inhabitants. Even so, a lingering pain remains.

  All the relatives and neighbours left after the ceremony. Only Naanu uncle and Sreedevi aunty stayed back.

  Naanu uncle’s presence is a big relief for everyone. He is a chronic bachelor and a help to anyone in need. He will take care of Radhika and Oppol just like Achen. He used to visit us often in our childhood, and I remember each of those visits as fun and happy times. He came laden with sweets for us. How can we forget that generous love?

  He had come for Oppol’s wedding and livened up the occasion with his effervescent presence, and his singing and dancing. He loved a bit of a ‘drink’ and after that there was no stopping his hilarity. But he was always careful and never crossed the line of propriety.

  I remember waking up at two in the morning on the day before Oppol’s wedding to loud, raucous laughter, and coming down to witness Naanu uncle dancing to the tune of a racy Malayalam song. He had the cooks and helpers in splits.

  Now, he looks worn out. My death seems to have affected him badly. Today, after the ceremony, he had spent a long time at my grave, looking thoughtful.

  Radhika and Oppol have begged him to stay for a few more days.

  Sreedevi aunty too has agreed to stay back for some more days. That is good. The family needs the presence of loved ones at this time. Sreedevi aunty is old and a wandering pilgrim, spending most of her time visiting different temples and ashrams. She has only one son, and he lives abroad. But he takes care of his mother’s expenses and sends her money regularly. That is a blessing.

  The old are neglected these days. Many of them are abandoned by their own children. Old-age homes are overflowing with unwanted parents. How did our society come to this? How can children be so cruel to their parents, who spent all their lives taking care of their kids? If the new generation only paused to think that they would soon be old and frail as well, they might have understood the pain they cause their own parents.

  No, please don’t. Stop this cruelty. Your karma rules the world. Bad karma can destroy our world.

  Time waits for no one. We leave our marks and pass on to our eternal journey. There is no one to accompany us. Not even our shadows. Only our karma.

  The Seventeenth Night

  Temple bells and church bells mingle with the call from the mosque for evening prayers. My village. The paradise where gods and humans coexist in peace.

  The night has opened its secret doors. The bats fly out from their secret abode.

  Hurry. Everyone is in a hurry. Hurrying towards inevitable death. And forgetting to live.

  Flying termites swarm in the air. A life of only a few hours but they live as if they are masters of that tiny slice of time. For all their frantic activity, imminent death seems an inconsequential ultimatum.

  Men live like bustling termites too. Always busy. Striving to fly higher. Selfish. Uncaring. Me and mine.

  Even as they take care of their own homes, men forget to care for the home of all living things—Mother Earth. She is groaning under the weight of man’s waste. Men surreptitiously dump waste everywhere. And then drive their luxury cars over the same rubbish to get to places. To eat. To drink. To enjoy.

  Earlier, we used to spend time enjoying the beauty of nature. These days, nobody has time for nature, except while on vacations.

  In the big picture, aren’t we all like these termites? Insignificant. Irrelevant. Temporary.

  Oppol comes hurrying into the front room, with an air of suppressed excitement. Everyone turns towards her.

  “Shalu has become a woman!” she says with obvious happiness and pride in her voice. Sumathy, Radhika and Sreedevi aunty immediately get up with expressions of wonder and joy and accompany Oppol to Shalu’s side.

  Soon, everyone gets busy.

  Oppol and Radhika clean the room on the west side of the house. They spread a mat on the floor, with a thick c
omforter on top. Sumathy brings a wooden stool. A lamp is lit with seven wicks.

  Sreedevi aunty gives Shalu a bath, massages her with turmeric paste and bring her into the room. She is seated facing the lamp. The women sprinkle rice and paddy in the room. Sumathy draws a kolam around her.

  My little niece, Shalu, suddenly looks grown up. Her face is flushed and bowed with shyness. She hasn’t yet grasped the entire significance of the drama surrounding her. Her tummy is hurting. She hated the blood that scared her when she first saw it in the bathroom and on her clothing. Everything suddenly feels strange. But there is also a sense of pride. “I am a woman.”

  “What star is it today?” Sreedevi aunty sounds anxious.

  “Sumathy, get the panchangam from the shelf,” Oppol instructs Sumathy. Sumathy is off like an arrow and back soon with the Hindu almanac.

  Sreedevi aunty does the calculations and declares triumphantly, “It is Punartham, a very good star for attaining menarche.”

  Everyone looks relieved. The women start a serious discussion on the pros and cons of having the first period under the Punartham star.

  Deepu is listening to all the conversations from his room. He looks a bit embarrassed. Little Vishnu is totally at a loss. He can’t figure out what the fuss is all about.

  “What happened to Shalu chechi?” he asks loudly. Everybody laughs. Shalu looks even more embarrassed.

  Nobody answers him.

  But Vishnu is adamant. He runs to Shalu and asks, “Shalu chechi, why are you sitting here?”

  Radhika quickly takes him up and walks out of the room. But he is not ready to give up. “I want to sit with Shalu chechi.” He starts crying.

  “Vishnu, don’t be silly. Today you can’t sit with Shalu chechi. It is her marriage.” Radhika tries to explain.

  “Marriage? Then, where is the boy?” Vishnu doesn’t believe her.

  “The boy will come only later. When your Shalu chechi is bigger.”

  “Then, I also want to get married.”

  “This marriage is only for girls. Later, we will get you married.” Sreedevi aunty pacifies Vishnu. He seems to take heart at that. He runs back to Shalu’s room and smiles at her. Shalu returns his smile.

  Shalu is comforted to hear that she has attained puberty under an auspicious star. She is not sure why it is important, but still, it makes her feel better, despite the physical discomfort.

  “Thank Lord this happened after the end of the isolation period.” Sreedevi aunty sounds grateful.

  “Naanu uncle,” Oppol called. “Can you please let Madhavettan and the other neighbours know about this?”

  “Sure, mol.” Naanu uncle folds the newspaper he was reading and gets up to share the good news with the neighbours.

  Soon, the neighbouring women start coming into the house to see Shalu. There is excitement in the air. They start discussing the most auspicious stars and dates for menarche. Sreedevi aunty, not to be outdone, interrupts.

  “It is like this:

  Sunday is widowhood.

  Monday brings prosperity.

  Tuesday will lead to adultery.

  Wednesday offers marriage.

  Thursday assures family.

  Friday is divinity.

  Saturday gets you debts.”

  Oppol asks anxiously, “Today is Wednesday. That is good, right?”

  “Yes. Your daughter will enter into a very good marriage alliance.”

  Shalu, Oppol and all the women are very happy and reassured at those promising words. Everyone wishes her well.

  Radhika and Oppol are thinking of the traditional ceremonies that need to be conducted when a girl in the family reaches menarche.

  “Shouldn’t we celebrate this?”

  Naanu uncle suddenly speaks up. “Don’t forget that this is a house in which a death has taken place. Celebrating now is inappropriate. There is no need for that. People will understand. We will just conduct the necessary rituals quietly.”

  Radhika and Oppol are relieved to hear his words. They were worried about the additional expense but also didn’t want the relatives and neighbours to think they were being miserly. Now that Naanu uncle has pronounced his verdict, they feel vindicated.

  Very soon, Sumathy’s marriage with Robin would take place. That will be a big expense. The sum that is expected from my company in Bahrain would help towards that. It will be a hefty amount. But even so, they need to be careful with all future expenditures. Any extra expense at this time is a cause for concern. Sensible Radhika and Oppol know that.

  Everyone starts preparing to retire for the night. Naanu uncle spreads his mat in the living room. Both Naanu uncle and Sreedevi aunty will be leaving tomorrow. It would have been good if they could spend more time here. Oppol and Radhika did their best to induce them to stay for a few more days. But they have their own lives to lead.

  Naanu uncle spends a lot of time in courts, fighting petty cases about property encroachments with his neighbours. He feels invigorated and validated as the guardian of his ancestral property—he watches over it with a hawk-eyed vigilance. Take that away from him, and he might soon become a slave of his advanced age. It is best to let him be. He has an important case coming up to settle. He has promised to be back as soon as the verdict is out.

  Sreedevi aunty lives for her devotion. From one temple to another, from one God to another. That is her life and happiness. Humans take a distant second in her life. She has promised to be back before my final rites on the forty-first day.

  This silence is suffocating me. It has a sinister presence. Detached from everything I love and yet attached to them by an incomprehensible web. This is very different from the silence I experienced in my mother’s womb. That was the silence of love. Surrounded by the lullaby of my mother’s heartbeat.

  This silence brings on unpleasant thoughts. Unpleasant memories.

  The regrets of love never expressed, never understood, never explored.

  But now, all my hopes and dreams are buried under a mound of mud. It is just a mass of decaying, foul-smelling flesh. Is that the same body that used to strut around in God’s world as if it was royalty?

  Nothing can be distinguished in that mess of tissues now. No eyes, no ears, no nose. Yet I can still see, hear and smell. What kind of magic is this? I know by instinct that this too is temporary. Very soon, I will cease to be. No more Uthaman. What then?

  What will I be?

  Vishnu is crying. What must have upset him this late in the night? Why is he not asleep? My son! My heir on earth! Is he missing me?

  Oppol’s face appears at the open window. She is lost in thought, looking at my grave. Today, she was again reminded of her huge responsibility. Two daughters growing up fast. And a past full of losses. Achen. Amma. Husband. And now, even I have abandoned her to her fate. She is brave. The extraordinary bravery of the ordinary people. She will survive. The grey hair, the premature wrinkles, all testament to her inner turmoil. But she has an inner strength to defy all odds. My dearest Oppol.

  My Radhika has also changed a lot in these few days. From the pretty, vivacious young mother she has suddenly matured into a careworn woman. Her appearance betrays her despair. She loved me unreservedly. With absolute innocence and trust. It will be difficult to face up to that vacuum now. But she is strong too. Time will heal her pain.

  Robin and Sumathy. All their plans for a lovely marriage thrown asunder by my untimely death. The enforced wait. Unconsciously, do they blame me for upsetting their plans? Will they get impatient? I hope not. They are young. The age when emotions rule and the needs of the body take precedence over sense. Please don’t. A bit more patience. Don’t give a chance for the gossipy tongues to wag.

  A long line of ants is marching away from my grave. Amazing creatures, the ants. A social order, unity and discipline that would put man to shame.

  Man can learn a lot from nature. But modern man has no time to spare. People like Naanu uncle who lead a simple life, are a rarity now. He has such simp
le needs. Never greedy. Always ready to help others in need. He has never worn a wristwatch, but I have never seen him late for anything.

  Manu master has said that his father was a lot like Naanu uncle. He used to walk to work everyday, with his tiffin box in hand. Every morning, he took a bath in the river and then did suryanamaskaar, with his mentally challenged, differently abled elder son. He never broke this habit till his death. His death was a blow to Manu master, but even more so to his elder brother who is still waiting for his father to come and take him to that beautiful shore called death.

  You might be wondering why when already dead am I obsessed with the idea of death? What else can I do? I leave behind my hopes and dreams. I would do anything to get that life back, to fulfill my dreams. Yet I am also worried that those dreams will keep me tethered to this world, that they will force me to wander in this formless existence forever—neither here nor there.

  Vishnu is the throbbing pain in me now. I have failed him. He will have to grow up without ever knowing my love. How can a photo ever make up for what he has lost? All these years, when I could have smothered him with my love, I was away. Far away. I was not with him for even an Onam or Vishu. Never woke him up on Vishu mornings with my hands covering his eyes to lead him to see the beautiful vishukani. Never gave him the silver coin with blessings to usher in prosperity for the whole year. Never lit fireworks for him so I could revel in the light reflected off his wide, amazed eyes. Never made an athapookalam with him. Never sat down to the onasadya with him. I lost the chance forever to cuddle him safely on my chest and put him to sleep when thunder roared outside…

  My son! I am so sorry. You will have to face the thunder and lightning and weather all the storms in life without your father by your side.

  I have run out of time. The past, the present and the future— none of it belongs to me anymore.

  The strongest will be made the weakest by this unrelenting circle of life.

  The Puranas say it so well. “While alive, the bird eats the ants. But once dead, the ants eat the bird.”