The Soul of Truth

by Shaji Madathil

  This was one of the early villages inhabited by the hardworking Christians who had migrated to Malabar. They were a simple people, who knew the worth of sweat.

  At the entrance to the school was the grave of the German priest who had established the school. It was maintained beautifully, surrounded by a rose garden, and was much revered. How could he not be when he had done so much for the upliftment of the people there?

  By the time I reached the school, climbing up the winding mud paths, it was already getting dark. I went to the seminary to meet Father Berthold, as he had instructed me. I was worn out from the long, arduous journey.

  As I waited on the verandah, after ringing the bell, I was suddenly engulfed by an uneasy fear of the unknown. Alone. So far from home. My first real job.

  “Yes?” I was too immersed in my thoughts and hadn’t noticed Father Berthold coming out of the door. His face transformed into a kind smile when he realised it was me, and all my fears evaporated immediately.

  “Uthaman! You are here! When did you start from home?” He had his hand on my shoulder.

  “Very early. Three in the morning.” I answered.

  “You must be tired. Are you feeling unwell? You feel a bit hot. Are your running a fever?” He checked my forehead. “Yes, you have a slight temperature. And a cold. Come in. You should feel better after a warm bath and food.”

  He started walking and I followed him. He took me to the guest room, a spare but very clean room.

  “Don’t you come to the seminary in town these days?” I asked him.

  “Not often now, Uthaman. Look at me. I am getting too old to run around!” He laughed heartily. “Managing this school itself is a headache. Every teacher and student is different, with their own problems. Most teachers do other part-time jobs too. So I have to keep an eye on everything to see that things run smoothly.”

  “Take rest now. I will be back soon, and then we can have dinner together.” He went out. It was probably time for his evening prayers.

  Soon, an elderly man knocked on the door. “Sir, your hot water is ready in the bathroom.” He said. “Would you like some hot water here to do steam inhalation?”

  “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  He smiled, and soon returned with a vessel full of steaming water. He placed it on the table.

  “What is your name?”

  “Vareeth. Just ring the bell if you need me for anything. Father will come soon. Then you can have some warm food. It will make you feel better.” He smiled and turned away.

  I was feeling so grateful. How well he was taking care of a total stranger like me.

  I mixed some Vicks into the hot water and inhaled the steam. It made me feel much better, and after the warm bath, I felt like a new man.

  When I returned from the bath, Vareeth was waiting for me.

  “Food is ready. Please come this way.” He led the way to the dining hall.

  Soon as I was seated at the table, Father Berthold came in with his usual smile.

  “Have you been waiting long?”

  “No, Father. I just came in.”

  “Teresa teacher had told me about your situation. Please don’t worry. Everything will work out. There is nothing that is beyond our Lord. In order to give you this job, I had requested the Malayalam sir to go on a leave for two years. He was happy to do so, since he had some commitments at home. But still, it was a graceful gesture, and I have promised him that he will still get half the salary. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course, Father. Teacher had briefed me about the arrangement. I am very grateful to you and Teresa teacher and the Malayalam sir for giving me this break.”

  “That is all right, Uthaman.” He smiled. “Let’s pray and then have dinner.”

  He offered a quick prayer of thanks for the food we were about to eat.

  Vareeth brought in two steaming plates of rice porridge with fried beans and chutney. It tasted heavenly.

  After dinner, we got up.

  “Have a good night’s sleep, Uthaman. Tomorrow morning, please come to the school office with all your certificates, and then we can issue your formal appointment. I will be there.”

  I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I took both his hands in mine and wept like a child.

  “Hey, Uthaman, what is this? Is this the teacher who is going to discipline a class of teenagers?” He tried to make light of the situation. But words failed me.

  “I am confident. You will be one of our best teachers. Our students are normally nice and well behaved. But I have to warn you about one of them—Cornelli. Don’t be worried. He is a good kid, but he comes from a very troubled background, and that has made him a rebel. He will try to intimidate you, but he can be won over with love. You will be his class teacher from tomorrow.”

  I did feel a bit worried, but tried not to show it.

  “I will try my best, Father.”

  “Good. Now, take rest. God Bless you.” He walked away.

  I stood there for a long time looking after him. Who was he? Was he an angel? How loving and caring he was! Are there still such good people in this world?

  Father Berthold. Teresa Teacher. The embodiments of kindness and humanity How could we not bow before such good people!?

  I woke up feeling refreshed and fully recovered from the fever. I had a quick bath, ate breakfast and then walked to the school. On the way, when I passed the grave of the German founder, my eyes fell on the plaque. It was in German, with an English translation beneath it.

  Being true to one’s heart and obeying the rules is the sincerest form of worship of God.

  No wonder this sincere man was still revered after so many generations.

  The paperwork was finished quickly with the help of the clerk, Louis. Following that, Father Berthold accompanied me to my class—standard eight. He introduced me to the class, handed me the register and left.

  “I come from a very far-off place to get acquainted with all of you. To teach you and to love you. Father Berthold has given me that responsibility.”

  “Oh, why did you have to come so far to teach and love? Don’t you have any schools where you come from?” This must be Cornelli, from the last bench. I was expecting this.

  The class burst into laughter. I joined them. But he was not laughing.

  “Oh, yes Cornelli. We have nine schools in our city. And four colleges. But I like it better here.”

  “Why? Is it animals that study in those schools?”

  The class was getting raucous, but I maintained my cool.

  “No, there are human beings there, but I prefer it here. Have you heard the saying that people are more innocent in the villages?”

  “I have just heard it.” Cornelli was on the warpath.

  “Do you know what that means?”

  “If I knew everything, then what is the purpose of having you here?” he retorted.

  “It means that people like you are much better and loving and innocent than the rich people of the cities.” This time he didn’t say anything.

  I took advantage of that silence and asked. “Do any of your teachers beat you?”

  “Yes. Everyone does, sometimes. But the math sir and the social studies teacher are the worst.” That was a girl in the front row.

  “What is your name?”

  “Neethu.”

  “Well, I have no plans of punishing any of you. I want to be your friend. Or even better, I want to be like your parent. So all of you are my children.”

  “Are you married?” It was Cornelli again.

  “No. I already have so many children. So why should I marry and have more?’ I quipped.

  “But don’t you want a love in your life?” He was persistent.

  “Oh, how do you know about all this? Aren’t you too young?” I smiled.

  “Cornelli is not young, sir. He is fifteen years old.” Another child piped up. Everyone laughed. But Cornelli didn’t laugh.

  That afternoon, I saw Cornelli standing outsid
e the class during lunch. I went up to him and asked why he was standing there.

  “If I stay inside the class, the other children will try and share their lunches with me. I don’t like it.” I was shocked—my mind raced back to my friend Karim in school.

  “Don’t you bring lunch?”

  “How can I, sir? My father is an alcoholic. My mother is bedridden with paralysis. We live on the earnings of my elder sister who has a sewing machine. I don’t want to burden her more. So I tell her that I get lunch at school.”

  My heart was breaking for this unfortunate child who has to suffer so much at such a young age.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “I was just going to the hotel for lunch. You can have lunch with me.”

  “No, sir. It is not right. And anyway, I am used to being hungry. If I eat today, then I will be more hungry tomorrow.” He was very matter-of-fact.

  “We will think about that tomorrow. Come with me now.” I insisted.

  He relented. “Okay, sir.” He followed me, and we had lunch together at the hotel, at the foot of the hill on which the school stood.

  When we were walking back, I said, “Cornelli, I need your help.”

  “Yes, sir.” He sounded eager.

  “I came here only yesterday. For now, I am staying in the seminary with Father Berthold, but I can’t continue that. Can you help me find a good lodging for my stay here?”

  “Oh, I know the exact place—Mr Peter’s house. He has let it out to others. Already there are some people staying there. And one of them left last week. So they are sure to have space for you. I will check with him in the evening and let you know.”

  In the evening, I asked Father Berthold about Peter’s place. He laughed.

  “Of course, I know him. I have just talked to him about you. He has space for you. You can start there this evening.”

  I was grateful to the Father. He surprised me again and again with his care and concern.

  After tea, Father Berthold and Vareeth accompanied me to my new place. They returned only after settling me in comfortably and making me promise to let them know if I needed anything.

  There were five other lodgers there. A homeopathy doctor. A ration-shop manager. Another teacher of the government school at Iritti. The Kolayad panchayat officer. And the village librarian.

  It was a fairly big two-storey building. We occupied the upper floor. Downstairs there was a restaurant, a homeopathy dispensary, a ration store, a barber shop and the village library. Everyone was happy to welcome the new arrival.

  Cornelli came in the evening. He was very happy that I had settled in so soon. He stayed till dusk. I told him again, “Tomorrow onwards you will have lunch with me here. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. You should consider me as your guide and friend. You can tell me anything.” He nodded silently and left.

  “Nice friend you have there.” That was the ration-store owner, Chandran.

  “Why?”

  “He is a scoundrel. Always getting into fights. That poor Father Berthold is at his wit’s end with this boy.”

  “Hey, I don’t think so. I have known him only for a day, but I have seen how caring he is. He is the one who first told me about this lodging.” I tried to defend Cornelli.

  “Yes, I was wondering how you tamed him.” That was Daasan, the panchayat officer.

  To everyone’s surprise, the next day, I made Cornelli the class monitor. He was made responsible for maintaining discipline in the class, especially in the absence of teachers. No one was more surprised than Cornelli himself, who always thought of himself as a worthless troublemaker and class clown. He took his new duties with great pride and sincerity. He seemed more determined than me to prove to others that my faith in him was well grounded.

  It was a pleasure watching his transformation from an unruly kid to one of the best.

  I soon got used to the school and the kids.

  My colleagues were nice to me. They were astounded by the change I had wrought in Cornelli.

  “How did you manage this miracle?” asked Chacko sir, the math teacher.

  “With love,” I answered with a smile.

  “Whatever, it is great. He behaves well in my class too now.”

  “Uthaman sir has made him the class monitor.” The Hindi teacher, Mary, sounded incredulous.

  “Yes, like leaving the key with the robber for safekeeping!” Laughed Sarah, the English teacher. “But it has worked. Everybody loves him now.”

  The bell rang, and the teachers left for their classes. It was a free period for me. It was a rare opportunity when I could dream and think in peace. I was worried about Ruby. I hadn’t heard from her since arriving here. Oppol hadn’t mentioned her in any of her letters. I didn’t know if it was deliberate. She knows how much I pine for Ruby.

  The days flew by. Soon it was the beginning of midsummer holidays. I was sad to leave the school but also excited to be back home for two months. I would finally meet Ruby after all.

  Many friends came to say bye at the station. Cornelli was also there. He was struggling not to cry. I tried to pacify him. “Cornelli, it is just for two months. I will be back soon. Meanwhile, be a good boy.”

  The train came rattling down the station. I got in and found a window seat. When the train moved out of the station, Cornelli ran beside my window, but soon the train left him and lovely Kolayad behind.

  At home, everyone was overjoyed at seeing me after a long time. But my hopes of having clandestine meetings with Ruby were dashed soon. Her father had come to know I was back in the village and had once again kept her confined to the house. I could only catch glimpses of her at the temple or at the post office, never an opportunity to speak our hearts. Oh, the agony of that separation! It hurts to even think.

  The memories are fading. There are no clear answers. And I can’t ask the time to wait.

  The Thirty-First Night

  The sky is like a dark, open umbrella, anticipating a cloudburst. People go about their business, rowing placidly in the small and big dream yachts of their minds. My forgotten shell remains deep within the ground, and I circle it as a weak spirit.

  What is the purpose of a birth? You might say, a good life. But I would say, a good death.

  The universe is infinite. Man is just a tiny part of it. The relationship between the creator and creation starts here. An amalgamation. From nothing to infinity. Beyond human comprehension.

  The village is still. There is a menace in the air. Dark. Destructive.

  Soon, the dark clouds burst open to drench the earth. The rains lash harder and faster. The wind howls in fury. The trees fight a losing battle. Some surrender unconditionally. Rivulets wash down the roofs.

  The villagers are awake, terrified. “The cursed rain!” They seem to be saying.

  The birds huddle in the trees, shrieking in fear. Buffaloes bellow in terror. They cansense the impending danger much better than humans.

  The ground is being washed away in a swirling churn of muddy water. Lightning criss-cross the dark sky as the thunder roars incessantly.

  Oppol and Radhika are sitting close together with the children hugged close to them.

  “What is this? The end of the world?” Naanu uncle is worried.

  Vishnu whimpers.

  “Don’t worry. The rain will stop soon.” Naanu uncle tries to reassure everyone. “Such bad times! Even nature is so unpredictable.”

  A coconut palm frond crashes down on the roof with a loud thud, breaking a few roof tiles. Water starts pouring down on the verandah through the gaping hole.

  Oppol gets up in fright.

  “Uncle, there are some spare tiles in the attic. Shall we get them?” she asks.

  “Yes. Get the torch. I will get the tiles.” He hurries up the attic.

  Sumathy starts cleaning the mess. Naanu uncle replaces the broken tiles with new ones. By the time he is finished, he is drenched to the core.

  Vishnu is now re
ally scared. He has started crying in earnest. Radhika takes him to bed and cuddles up with him. Shalu and Malu too climb in bed with them.

  The villagers have started worrying about floods and landslides. The rumbling mountains scare them. They light kerosene lamps and stay alert.

  Death looms large in the lashing winds. Evil spirits roam at will.

  “What a thunderstorm!” The villagers whisper to each other.

  The fields disappear under water. Land appears engulfed by an ocean.

  Suddenly, the rain starts weakening. Just as quickly as it started it is now over. The sky clears, and stars come out. The villagers breathe in relief and go back to sleep peacefully.

  Flying termites rise from the ground, and so do my memories.

  The summer holidays were over. It was time for me to return to Kolayad. I felt bad about leaving the village and home. Also, even though we could hardly meet each other, it was a solace being in the same space as Ruby. Now, I will be miles away. But I couldn’t help feeling a pull towards that beautiful village and its people and the school.

  The last day, I met Ruby at the temple. Poor thing. She looked so careworn. She spoke of her woes through her glances. I answered with my heart. I know, dearest. Soon. Very soon, I will come to claim you.

  I left very early the next day. When I got out of the jeep and walked to Peter’s place, many people nodded, smiled and talked to me. How quickly this village had accepted me.

  Kolayad looked beautiful after the summer rains. Covered in green. Wide open blue skies. The rich glowing soil rolling out a red-carpet welcome for weary travelers.

  Bewitching Nature.

  All the lodgers were in, except Pappan, the teacher at the government school. I left my bag in the room and went to visit Father Berthold in the seminary. In these two months, I had missed him and Cornelli the most. I had written letters to both and received replies too.

  I had started my job towards the end of the last academic year. During the holidays, I had visited the Malayalam sir, Ravindran, and handed him half my salary. Father was happy to know about that in my letter.

  Father Berthold was out in the garden. He looked delighted to see me.