The Soul of Truth

by Shaji Madathil

  “Why do we wear the pavithra ring?”

  “Again, for purity and to accept the rites for the ancestors. The pavithra ring seals that bond.”

  “Why do we kneel on the left knee and face south while doing the rites?”

  “The rites have to be done with care and a bit of discomfort to please the ancestors. South is the domain of Yama, the God of Death. That is why we face that way. The right side is the side of the gods and the left, the side of the demons. That is why we turn from left to right.”

  “Uncle, why do we divide the offering into five parts?” This is Radhika.

  “For the five senses, mol.”

  Vishnu has again gone to sleep on Radhika’s lap. She keeps running her fingers gently through his hair.

  “Where do the souls go after death?” Sumathy pipes up.

  Uncle likes this question.

  “Do you know what is birth and death? It is just the formation and destruction of the physical body. With death, we lose the physical body, but the soul, that is the essence of life, lives on. All beings die, because death is the beginning of the next birth. After death, the soul rises, by virtue of its good deeds, and when the virtues are exhausted, gets reborn in a new body. Those souls which are burdened by bad deeds won’t be able to rise and will be forced to wander the earth as evil spirits. That will be the same for suicides too. They will have to wander the earth for seven generations.”

  Everyone sighs. Death hangs heavily in the air. Naanu uncle continues.

  “The stars have great importance in death and afterlife. Each human will be born under three stars, and it is destined. So a person born under Ashwathy will be reborn under Makham and Moolam.”

  “So, under what star will I be reborn?” Sumathy asks anxiously. “I am Bharani.”

  “You will be born under Pooram and Pooraadam stars next. Similarly, the astrologers can also calculate the star under which a person died, and his rites are best done under the same star.”

  Radhika turns to look at the lone star in the sky again. Everyone stirs.

  “It is getting very late but if you have any more questions, ask and uncle will try to answer.” Naanu uncle looks around.

  “One last one, uncle. Why do we hold a feast on the day of the rites?” Sumathy asks.

  “Mol, we can never satisfy another person by giving them money or gifts or clothes. They would always expect more. But we can do that with food. Feed a person to satisfy his hunger till he says, ‘no more’. That is why we give food to all the invitees on the day of the last rites. When everyone is happy and satisfied, the soul will be happy and satisfied as well. He will partake of the food one last time with his family. And leave with the spirits, satiated, showering blessings on the family. The soul can stay with his family only for forty-one days. After that, he has to leave.”

  Radhika looks shocked. “So, Appuettan’s soul is still here?”

  “Yes, mol, he must be here. He must be listening to all our conversations and seeing all of us.”

  Everyone turns to look at my grave as if hoping to see me there but none of them can pierce the deep darkness into which I have morphed.

  Naanu uncle gets up and stretches. The others too stand up. Radhika carries Vishnu inside, followed by Oppol and Sumathy.

  It is past midnight. A night that I prefer to stay in my shroud of darkness, ruminating on everything that uncle said, most of it beyond the grasp of human comprehension.

  The Twenty-First Night

  The crescent moon spread its pale light over Choornikkara, my village. It is a still, calm night, much unlike the previous ones with heavy rains and wind.

  The night is filled with the laughter and voices of people returning from the evening puja at the temple.

  The oil lamp on the verandah of our house is burning low. It is probably running out of oil.

  Naanu uncle walks out onto the verandah and gazes pointedly into the darkness. His eyes are darting all over the dark ground, from the gate to the steps. He is looking for snakes. That is one fear he has never been able to conquer. He lives in mortal fear of being bitten by serpents. Once he had stepped on one accidentally and escaped being bitten only by sheer luck, and he’s been scared of walking out in the dark ever since.

  After careful inspection, and satisfying himself that there are no serpents lurking in the shadows, he sits down in the recliner and starts reading the newspaper.

  Oppol comes out.

  “There is very little light outside, mol. We should fix a light near the gate when Robin comes.”

  Oppol is aware that uncle has a phobia about snakes. She smiles and agrees. “We should, uncle. You are right. It is very dark.”

  “There is no point feeling sorry after getting bitten by the snake. They are night creatures. They will come out in the dark. The street lights are of no use. They are too dim.”

  Oppol nods, takes the lamp and goes inside to fill it with oil.

  Uncle looks so frail these days. He used to be so fit before. Old age withers all.

  Sumathy comes out with a mat and spreads it on the floor. Her eyes are seeking someone in the dark. Obviously, Robin. At this age, every moment of separation is like an age to lovers. Sumathy seems to be missing Robin a lot. He does not visit as much these days since uncle is home now. She is frustrated. She is his and wants nothing more than to belong wholly to him. But my untimely death has forced her to wait another year before she can publicly acknowledge herself as his wife. Already, most of her peers are married and are mothers to children. She has every right to feel unfairly thwarted.

  Two bright stars appear beside the crescent moon.

  Vishnu walks out and sits on the mat. His eyes immediately seek out the stars.

  “Which star is my Achen?” he asks.

  “The brighter one,” Sumathy answers. Naanu uncle laughs.

  “Then who is the other one?”

  “That is your Achen’s friend.” Naanu uncle says this time. Vishnu seems happy that Achen is up there with his friend. He keeps gazing at the stars. He thinks they are twinkling and smiling at him. He smiles back.

  He feels calmer now. More at peace with himself and the world. He feels his Achen’s presence. He doesn’t feel so alone. He lies on the mat with his eyes closed. But in his mind, he is also a bit upset with me. Achen used to cuddle him, tickle him, kiss him, play with him, bring him toys…. But now that he is a star, he is very aloof. Just staying up there and looking down on him! Why can’t he talk? Why does he not come down next to Vishnu? He feels disappointed and betrayed.

  For a moment, I am with him, right with him, whispering into his ears. “Vishnumon, forgive me. Achen wants to be with you but he can’t. You are too young to understand it now, but you will when you grow up. I am helpless, mon.” A cool breeze passes over Vishnu. He opens his eyes, hoping to feel the soothing touch of his father. When he realises that it is not, his face clouds over. He fixes his gaze on the stars in the sky for another moment and then runs inside.

  Voices. Two men are walking in through the gate. Sumathy turns quickly; it is Robin and Sreedharan priest.

  Sreedharan priest is a good friend of Naanu uncle.

  “Where is Oppol?” Robin asks Sumathy. She blushes like a bride and quickly goes inside.

  Oppol comes out. Robin hands her an envelope that had arrived from Bahrain.

  “It says that the paperwork is all in order and that the money owed to Appuettan will reach his family in three months’ time.” Robin clarifies.

  An involuntary sob escapes Oppol. She turns to look at our wedding photo and slowly sits down on the parapet.

  Uncle and priest are already immersed in sharing news and stories.

  Sreedharan priest is also getting on in age. He was always slim and fit, but now he looks gaunt and infirm. He has a calm, kind face with a long, aristocratic nose. He always has a bit of sandalwood paste and holy ash smeared on his forehead. He is balding in the front but still has long hair tied at the nape of his neck.
His calm presence puts one at ease. He is a voracious reader with a wonderful memory. It is a treat listening to him reciting long shlokas. Once he and uncle get together, they discuss everything under the sun—philosophy, morality, the Puranas and the Vedas being their favourites.

  Robin is a trustee at the temple, but he is more an atheist than a believer. He has no patience with rites and rituals. He thinks that superstitions do more harm to society than good.

  Sumathy is now watching him from behind the door. She moves behind Oppol and asks gently, “You haven’t been here for a long time?”

  “It is a busy time with the temple festival and all.” Robin answers with a smile.

  “So? You are not performing, are you?” She teases him and runs inside, laughing. Robin looks mortified. Oppol gives a small, understanding smile. A sigh rises from Deepu, listening to the conversations on the verandah.

  There are more people for dinner tonight. Radhika and Sumathy get busy in the kitchen.

  Vishnu is playing with the cat and her kittens on the verandah.

  Shalu and Malu are busy with their studies. It is good they can concentrate on their lessons in the midst of all this activity.

  Sreedharan priest opens his betel box. He takes out a betel leaf, snips off the end, spreads limestone paste on it, adds a piece of areca nut, twists it into a ball and sticks it in his mouth, at the same time extending the box to Naanu uncle.

  “Have a chew. I need one before every meal.”

  The priest adds a piece of tobacco, too to the mixture in his mouth.

  Naanu uncle joins him. But he doesn’t take the tobacco. The one time he had used it, he felt faint and had almost collapsed, and he was scared to touch the potent stuff again.

  Robin picks up a pamphlet from the coffee table and begins reading it. Inside the house, Sumathy is deliberately walking to and fro to attract his attention but he pretends not to notice her.

  “Arrogant idiot! Why can’t he look at me? Acting like such a goody-goody. Just wait. The next time we are alone, I will pay you back for this. You will have to beg to get a smile from me.’’ Sumathy is muttering to herself in frustration.

  Robin is well aware of her presence but is deliberately keeping his eyes averted. He doesn’t want anyone else to witness what he feels for Sumathy. He can sense what Sumathy is thinking and can’t wait to meet her alone. When the hearts speak to one another, what is the need for words?

  “Supper is ready. Please come in,” Oppol calls.

  Uncle and the priest get up, wash their hands with water from the kindi and walk inside, followed by Robin. Radhika comes out with food for Vishnu. Sumathy takes a plate to Deepu. Deepu can now manage to feed himself, but it takes a long time and he is often prone to accidents. So he always has a person to help, if needed.

  Vishnu is good with food and eats by himself. But if Radhika does not keep an eye on him, he will run around and wouldn’t eat properly.

  Radhika is wearing the traditional Kerala settu mundu. She usually looks elegant in that. It is her favourite dress. It was mine too. It has a unique charm, not seen with any other clothing. I still remember the first time she came in front of me wearing the settu mundu.

  “How do I look, Appuetta?” she had asked shyly.

  “Gorgeous!” I had exclaimed. “Like a lotus bud. Like a flushed, perfect lotus bud.” Those words must still echo in her mind.

  Today, she looks like a pale apparition of her former self. Aged and weary. There are dark circles beneath her eyes. She must be living in a smoky world of past memories, tinged with present sorrows and a dark future—helpless and floundering.

  She is distracted, watching Vishnu eating. In between mouthfuls, Vishnu’s gaze keeps going to the stars in the sky. He believes that his father is watching him eat. That is why he insists on having supper on the verandah these days.

  “Amma, why aren’t you giving food to Achen?” His question startles Radhika.

  “Achen is too far away, mon,” she stutters and then adds more brusquely, “Eat quickly Vishnu. They will come out in a minute. And I have so much work in the kitchen.”

  Vishnu takes a handful of rice and extends it to the star, “Achen, this is for you.”

  Silent tears start flowing down Radhika’s cheeks. She tries to wipe them away with the end of her settu before Vishnu notices them. My dearest Radhika! I just cannot bear to see her suffer this way.

  Dearest son, I am not that far-off star. I am here. Very close to you. And I wish nothing more than to cuddle you and kiss you and love you to eternity and eat the food you are offering me. But I can’t. I am just a spirit. Constrained by the limitations of the spiritual world, I can never cross over to your physical world.

  Vishnu finishes his food and goes inside with Radhika.

  Sreedharan priest comes out first, followed by Naanu uncle and Robin. They sit on the verandah. Inside, the rest of the family are sitting down to supper.

  Silence permeates the verandah while the priest starts on another round of chewing betel and areca nut. A soft breeze rustles the tree branches. The picture calendar swings in the breeze; it grates against the wall making squeaky noises.

  “May I ask you a question, priest? Please don’t consider it impertinent.” Robin breaks the silence.

  “Of course. Doubts should always be cleared. I will try as best as I can. Why should it be considered impertinent?”

  “Isn’t death the end point? The hopes we had in life, whatever dreams we had, the joys and the sorrows, the love and the hate, don’t they all end with death? We are taught to live as good people, caring for others. Such good people usually have hard lives, always poor, and trying to overcome one difficulty or another. Whereas terrible people, with no conscience or morality, live the way they want, bullying others, making money by dishonest means, grabbing power, and they live like kings in this world. Ultimately, we all die, and that is the end of the story. So what is the whole point of trying to live a good life? What good is being a good person if it causes us to suffer and die while being a bad person would let us enjoy the comforts of life and then die?”

  Sreedharan priest listens to Robin very attentively. When he finishes, the priest spits out the red betel juice, wipes his mouth and smiles.

  “You are a very smart boy Robin! Only a thinking mind can come up with such questions. Existential questions. Why are we born, what is the point of life, why do we die? Science has always been fascinated by these questions but has not yet come up with satisfactory answers. Our life is bound by our actions, the reason or the subject for those actions, and the result or the object of those actions. These are intricately intertwined, but while we are aware of the actions as such, we might not always know the reason for the action, nor can we always quantify the result of the action. This might be the result of the interplay of various actions in countless previous births. The joy and grief of the present life might have their subjects and objects in some previous birth, about which we have no idea in this birth. It is all part of the evolution of man.”

  The priest pauses. Robin is listening carefully but still looks perplexed. He was probably hoping for a more straightforward answer.

  The priest takes a gulp of water and asks, “Do you understand, Robin?”

  “Yes.” Robin smiles.

  Radhika and Oppol now join the conversation. The kids have all gone to sleep.

  The priest continues.

  “Recently, I read an interesting book. These thoughts were expressed in it. We give too much importance to our physical body. But the truth is that there is nothing to be gained by it. It is just a temporary vessel. All the gains should be aimed at the enrichment of the spiritual body. Just as a good tree can grow only from a good seed, all our rebirths are based on the qualities of the spirit. All our positive and negative thoughts and actions will enrich or degrade our spiritual body. Parents are just a means for a new life to be born on this earth. The spiritual body is the embryo that enters the womb of a mother. The character o
f a child is the sum total of the accumulated acts of his or her previous births. That decides whether he will become a saint or a killer or a pauper or a king in this life. At the time of death, the spiritual body again assumes the form of an embryo, assimilating all that was good and bad in that person, and takes birth again, on the strength of those qualities. And the cycle continues. Even great ancient thinkers and mathematicians like Plato and Pythagoras believed in spiritual bodies and reincarnations. They got all that immense knowledge from the old sages of India.”

  Sreedharan priest looks at Robin with a smile. Everyone is looking a bit bewildered. They can’t grasp all that the priest is saying.

  “It is a lot to understand. But now it is getting too late. We have to leave. We will get together to discuss this in detail soon, maybe during the next day of rites.”

  Sreedharan priest and Robin take leave of everyone and walk into the dark, their flashlight beams bobbing further and further away.

  My sleepy family closes the front door and calls it a day.

  I am left alone in that dark night, awaiting the answers that might never come my way.

  The Twenty-Second Night

  The Periyar ripples gold in the glow of the setting sun. Golden tears from her smothered cries! She has only graced, given, blessed and enriched. Yet, we have repaid her blessings by looting her, choking her, rendering her stagnant. Once, she flowed content, laughing full-throatedly at the happiness around her. Now she is filled with sighs of despair at the destruction wrought by man on nature. Her cries are an ode to the dying earth.

  The window panes on Deepu’s room swing to and fro in the wind. The scent of night flowers fills the air.

  The sliver of moon is getting thinner every night. Very soon it will disappear completely. Will my memories too disappear like the moon? Will I be able to forget all the emotions I had enjoyed in the lap of this bountiful mother? Can any heaven hold a candle to the unparalleled beauty of this earth? If given a choice, will I take heaven or earth? Oh, my heart, why can’t you let go? The memories are disintegrating, like my body, but even a sliver of it can light up my darkness like a full moon. Love. The days when I was drunk on love.