The Soul of Truth

by Shaji Madathil

  The priest finished his chants. He then handed Shekharan an uruli filled with the objects he had used for the puja. “Don’t you have a river nearby?” asked the priest.

  “Yes.”

  “Take the uruli there, throw all this stuff in the water, wash the uruli, hold it upside down, and bring it back.”

  Shekharan did as he was instructed. By the time he got back, Meenakshiamma was taken to her room and put to bed, and the priest was getting ready to leave. When he was presented with the money and offerings, he blessed Shekharan and reassured him that everything will get better now.

  It was very late by the time I reached home. Oppol opened the door.

  “How did it go? Is Meenakshiamma better?” she asked.

  “Yes. The priest is gone.”

  “Did you eat anything?”

  “Yes. I am so tired. Let me sleep.” I fell on the bed and slept right away.

  In the morning, Oppol woke me up urgently.

  “Appu….Appu…!”

  “What is it Oppol?” I jumped up.

  “Meenakshiamma is dead.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Shekharan just sent a boy for you.”

  God! That poor lady. After all that happened last night. Well, in a way, it was better she didn’t have to suffer anymore. She had passed away peacefully in sleep.

  The next few days, I was constantly with Shekharan, helping him with all the rites and rituals.

  Who can defeat fate? Good or bad, we are pawns in the hands of that master player.

  Today, there is no Theroth house.

  A few months after Meenakshiamma’s death, Vijayamma came again with her husband and daughter. Shekharan didn’t shout at her this time. She hugged him and cried a lot. He must have felt bad for her—his only living relative in this world. Soon, he sold the house and land, gave half of the proceeds to Vijayamma and left. I don’t know where he is now. I still remember the day he came to say farewell to us.

  I feel weak. Even my thoughts are weak. How many more days hovering like this? Feeding on the crumbs of memories falling from the web of time?

  The Twenty-Ninth Night

  The beautiful tulsi on the thulasithara is nodding its leaves in the breeze. Amma’s tulsi. She had taken such good care of it, like her own child. Watering it twice a day.

  Every morning, after her bath, she would take a turn around the thulasithara and then add a sprig of tulsi to her hair. Every evening, she lit a small clay lamp and offered prayers there.

  I used to marvel at Amma’s face reflected in that dim golden light. So lovely and serene. As beautiful as her loving heart. Always praying for the well-being of everyone, never an ill thought in her. Her mind was a clear spring of never-ending love. I miss her so much.

  How well she had taken care of each of us when we were little. I still remember how she used to coax us to eat by making balls of rice, gently feeding us as she pointed out the moon and the sights of the yard.

  She never laid a hand on us.

  Never even scolded us much.

  After the arrival of Sumathy and Deepu, it was Oppol who was more like a mother to me, scolding me and taking care of my slightest demands. But Amma was always there. A smiling, soothing presence. The anchor that held all of us together linked in love and care.

  Oppol was the one who told Amma about my love for Ruby. After she had come to know about it from my diary, she was aware of the way our love had progressed since schooldays. She did warn me before telling Amma. But Amma didn’t ask me anything for the next few days. Those days! I was so stressed. What was she thinking? What would she say?

  The third day, she came into my room after supper. I was getting ready for bed. She sat on my bed with a smile.

  “Mon, your Oppol has told me something. I am not going to ask if it is true. Because your Oppol would never lie.”

  She was looking at me steadily. I shrank before that clear gaze.

  “You are still a little boy to me. And I don’t consider myself experienced enough or smart enough to advise you about life. I got married to your father while very young and have always followed his way of life.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “Do you really like that girl?”

  I stayed silent. I was tongue-tied.

  “Why are you silent? Tell me. Anyway, I know that Oppol wouldn’t have told me unless she was sure.”

  “Yes, I like her.” How difficult it was for me to utter that small sentence.

  “A lot?”

  “Ummm.”

  “What about her?”

  “The same.”

  “What if she is not serious about this?”

  Oppol came in just then. “Oh, she is serious, Amma. These two have been playing hide-and-seek for quite sometime now. From school onwards. At first, even I thought it might be just fun.” She laughed.

  “Then how do you know that it is serious now?”

  “Appu told me. He is the one who allowed me to let you know. But he didn’t want Achen to know.”

  “Why is that? Achen has to know some day, anyway!”

  “Ayyo, no! Achen will scold me! He will ask me to forget all this nonsense and concentrate on my studies,” I intervened.

  “And isn’t that right, mon? Aren’t studies more important now? Once you are done with studies and get a good job, it will be the right time to think of these kinds of things. Don’t you agree?”

  “But you supported your nieces when they were in love!” I couldn’t help blurting out.

  Amma was silent for a moment.

  “Both of you are too young now. You can think of getting married later, right?”

  “Yes, Amma,” I answered meekly.

  “These thoughts can distract you from studies. It can also affect your health adversely. You are the elder son of this family. After your Achen and I are gone, you will be the pillar of this family. Don’t forget that you have two younger siblings. Won’t they be looking up to you and following your example? Please don’t let the people around us make fun of us. All dreams need not come true, Appu. But if you do your duties well, with blessings from elders, you can achieve whatever you want.” She was getting teary-eyed and gently lifted my face. I felt an inexplicable sadness.

  She smiled at me.

  “Your dreams will come true. There is no need to worry. But first, do your duties well. That is very important. I will always pray for your well-being.”

  But…

  But wasn’t it I who failed in my duties? To my family? To Ruby? How Amma’s soul must be suffering on my behalf. Ruby’s grief would always follow me like a curse. How will I atone for all those shortcomings? How can I ever escape from this bondage?

  It is so dark here. The only light is from the flickering fireflies. Oh, it is the new moon! The day of the dead. This morning, my family had observed the rites for my salvation. It pleases me how carefully and precisely they try to do everything for me so that my soul can attain salvation.

  My grave was cleaned by the helper Raman yesterday. This morning, Radhika and Oppol cleaned the whole house and courtyard. Deepu and Vishnu were given long baths.

  The rice was put to boil on the fire made in a corner of the courtyard. Sumathy was tending the fire. Vishnu watched the rice bubbling in the pot, mesmerised by the sound of the escaping steam.

  Suddenly, a big black crow landed on the low branch of the tree next to him. It cocked its inquisitive head towards the pot. Vishnu saw the crow.

  “Achen!!” he yelled. Everyone turned to look at the crow. It cawed obligingly, and Vishnu was ecstatic.

  Dearest Vishnumon, I am here. Right next to you. Not as a crow but as a spirit. It is not yet time for my journey. Till then, I will be here, next to my body, an invisible spirit.

  But you are a baby.

  These truths are beyond your understanding now. But when you grow up, these facts will be clear to you.

  I can understand you. Because I was a baby once, a son once before I became your father.

&nb
sp; You are blessed. The world is with the living.

  In this harried life, where do the living find the time to mourn the dead? And what is the point of that? It will only cause them pain. Make them maladjusted. It is better that the living finds a vent for their grief and love for the departed by taking care of their fellow living beings. Feed the hungry. Clothe the poor. If we can’t find the good heart to support the living, how can we ever hope to help the dead with meaningless prayers and rituals? The feast during the rites for the dead is to feed the hungry, not to show off the pomp of the family by inviting the rich and the famous. Only then will the departed souls achieve salvation. But who cares when each ceremony is a celebration, a symbol of prestige?

  What a paradox this world is. The children who consider their parents a burden, who leave them to fend for themselves in their old age, hold elaborate ceremonies for their salvation after death. Those who never fed their hungry, living parents make offerings of rice balls for their dead ones. Fools! Hunger is physical, felt only by the physical body, left behind by the soul. The soul hungers only for the love and sincerity of the hearts that perform the rites.

  The sun doesn’t end with the sunset. Similarly, life doesn’t end with death. You cannot perceive us because our world is beyond you.

  My thoughts are breaking. They are pulling me into my past again. Lest I forget.

  My fate.

  I remember the last few days of my college life.

  More than the knowledge I acquired there what remains with me are the sweet memories of the carefree life I led.

  Five long years.

  So many new experiences. Unforgettable memories. The spring and summer of my life.

  The farewell party. The tears. The promises to never forget. We were all crying by the end of the speeches.

  But within days, the intensity of that pain of separation diminished. Time is the greatest magician.

  Except for one person. Ruby.

  We were both slowly waking up to the realisation of life that castles in the air seldom take root in the soil of reality.

  With the death of Achen, I was suddenly an adult, expected to take care of my family. I was ill-prepared for that burden but still didn’t shy off my responsibilities. The priority was to find a job.

  Those days Ruby and I rarely saw each other. There were not even many avenues to exchange letters. It was almost a week before I met her for the first time since college—at the post office. She looked desperate. “Appu, I can’t live like this. If we can’t get married, I will hate this life. I will end this life.” I tried to pacify her as much as I can, but they felt like empty words.

  After that, I saw her only occasionally, and we didn’t get much opportunity to speak to each other.

  My life became one long drudgery. I got out only in the evenings, sometimes to the shores of the Periyar. Usually Manu master would be there. He understood me well, even when I tried to keep my troubles to myself.

  “One need not be a weatherman to know that it is sure to rain when the rain clouds are gathered.” He would tease me.

  “Hey, Uthaman, what are friends for? You don’t have to hide your feelings like a coward. You are in love with Ruby. And she with you. Both of you want to have a future together. So, you have to be brave about it. You are the man. You will have to take the initiative. As soon as possible, you should go to her house and ask her father for her hand. But for that, first, you have to get a job. Otherwise, her family would refuse to marry her off to you. Also, your family now depends on you. You have to think of that too.”

  It was a relief listening to master. But my mind was always wandering, not wanting to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

  I was slowly losing my purpose. Thankfully, I still loved reading. But I started the bad habit of smoking. Trying to find a release from the new stresses in the coiling smoke rings disappearing above my head.

  And then fate struck again.

  This time it was the death of Ruby’s mother.

  Ruby was always a bit scared of her father. But she was very close to her mother and brother and so had told them about us. Her mother approved of me and had secretly given us her blessings. That was a big relief for us. But now, with her gone, we were left at the mercy of her disciplinarian father.

  I went to her house with Oppol. But I couldn’t face the shattered Ruby. So, I left without meeting her.

  That night, I lay sleepless, thinking of Ruby and her grief. I could understand the depths of her despair, because I had gone through similar loss. How I wished I could be with her at that time.

  Soon, the gossip about our love started spreading in the village. We don’t know how it started, but someone who knew us from college must have been the source. Despite our best efforts, her father came to know of it. And he immediately had her grounded. She was not allowed to go out alone. Even to the temple. She was always accompanied by a relative.

  Those were some of the worst days of my life. I felt suffocated. But when I thought of Ruby’s situation, I felt even worse. What must she be going through?

  When the loneliness among the crowds became unbearable, I went in search of peace on the riverbank. The silent flow of the river soothed me. How much pain must she be bearing? And yet how calmly she flows.

  Some days Manu master joined me. He was one friend I was always happy to see. Never an intrusion, always a shoulder to lean on. He was accompanied by his ancient transistor radio on most days. He was crazy about old Malayalam and Tamil film songs. And they roused a sea of emotions in me. About love, the fickleness of love, never-ending love… I was thrown from one emotion to the other by those soulful songs.

  The days were creeping by, slower than snails. I kept taking multiple entrance tests for public sector and banking jobs in the hope of qualifying somewhere. But my efforts did not bear fruit.

  Ruby’s brother Robin was our messenger boy at that time. He was my friend, and though he pretended to be unaware of our love, he used to give me snippets about her and pass all the news from my side to her. That was like a balm to our helpless, burning hearts.

  Soon, I got a small job as a teacher at a private coaching centre. It was a step down and not at all what I wanted. But it was a temporary relief. The salary, though very inadequate, was better than nothing, and more importantly, it was a distraction from my depressing routine. I liked teaching young students. My poetry class was soon a favourite with all the students.

  The job took me away from the village the whole week. I could come back only for the weekend. That turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When Ruby’s father came to know that I was not in the village, he eased his restrictions on Ruby. And thus, every Sunday, when I was home, we could meet each other at the temple.

  All our prayers were for each other. Even when I stood with closed eyes in front of the gods, the only image I had was that of Ruby. Did the gods feel jealous of her? Is that why they blessed us with pain and loss and tears?

  The Thirtieth Night

  The chimes from the church welcome the dusk. They add a divine feel to the atmosphere. The blackberry bushes are full of dark fruits now. The birds and the bats are constantly fighting for them.

  The leafless branches of the trees cast mournful shadows on the ground.

  Far away, the outlines of the mountains fade. The lanes, full of gravel that have withstood the paces of hurrying men from birth to death, remain empty now.

  In that stillness, I feel the approaching spirits. Vague green bobs of light. The faint, noxious smell. I am drawn to them, as if they are magnets pulling me to them, sucking me dry. The weight of my sins oppresses me. Guilt makes me curl up into a ball. They are jeering at my past. Evaluating my karma.

  They circle me. I can feel their curses reaching out to me. Will they stop me from resuming my journey? My unknown journey? At the very start?

  I can see my past whirling around me in broken fragments. Do I hear derision in their voices?

  Suddenly, I hear loud chanting
rising from our rooftop. My ancestors! They have not abandoned me! At their appearance, the evil spirits fade away.

  I hear a voice.

  “Your time is limited! Enrobe yourself in new vestments. Be ready to embark on your journey. You have only a few more nights here.”

  The clarion call for more memories. Even death cannot stop me from following that magic call…

  Soon, I got bored with the limited opportunities at the coaching centre. Boredom at the repetitiveness. The lack of avenues to grow. I wanted to do better with my life.

  But fate again defeated me. Our degree results were declared, and I managed only a second division. Ruby, however, was again the topper with a first division.

  Manu master advised me to apply for B.Ed. This would help me become a more competitive candidate in the job market.

  It was sound advice, and I obeyed it. One year of hard work, but, at the end of it, I secured a professional degree with first division.

  It was then that I got my first solid break.

  During my days at the coaching centre, I also used to give private lessons to some deacons in a nearby seminary. It was arranged by Teresa teacher, one of my favourite teachers from the primary school, who knew about my financial hardship. At the seminary, I got acquainted with Father Berthold, a graceful, old priest who knew I was recommended by Teresa teacher and so took a special interest in me. When he came to know that I was looking for a proper teaching job after completing my B.Ed., he arranged one for me in the school he managed in Kolayad, Kannur.

  It was a godsend! I was so grateful to him and Teresa teacher for giving me that important break.

  Kolayad was an absolutely gorgeous place. Snuggled in the foothills of blue mountains, blessed with evergreen forests and rivers, it was placed right in the lap of nature. But it was a remote village, far from home. After getting to Thalasseri by train, we had to take a bus, and then a jeep to get to the village. The school was on top of a hill, which could only be reached on foot.

  That first journey through winding roads with mammoth trees on either side was a wonderful experience. I didn’t know the name of half the trees—some were precious, protected trees, facing the threat of extinction.