My grave looks overgrown. Sumathy used to clean it regularly. But these days, she forgets to do that. Who can blame her? Now, I am just a part of the scenery. The thoughts of Uthaman are fading in the memories of the living.
All the love that I loved, all the love that loved me, all that will be left here, on this beloved earth, when I set sail on the next leg of my journey.
This journey along the by-lanes and alleyways of my past has been liberating—like a prisoner’s relief at the end of his sentence. These moments are precious. I had lived just thirty-nine years. Full of dreams, some fulfilled, but most remaining just dreams.
No human bonds hold me now.
Except that of the innocent love that had decayed to nothing in this barren land.
Self-pity. I always had that in plenty.
The painful, agonising question used to surface quite often— why me?
Each letter from Ruby was a ceaseless ocean of tears. I tried to reply in kind but often failed miserably. My letters sounded insincere even to me. How could they hope to reassure her?
When we met, we struggled to control our emotions.
I decided there was no point continuing that way. I had to make a name and standing for myself. I had to make money. That is the only way. Without money, no one could hope for respect and the realisation of dreams. If need be, I should leave the village again and maybe even the country.
It was at that time that I came to know of the death of Father Berthold. My grief-stricken heart kept going back to the last time I had seen him. He was in the garden, tending to roses, when I’d gone to bid him goodbye. After I thanked him for everything, he held both my hands lovingly in his calloused ones. I stammered. “Father, I love and respect you as my own father. I really hope I will be able to come back to all of you. But even if I can’t, you will always be there in my heart. My prayers will always be for you…” My words broke.
Father was teary-eyed too. He put his right hand on my forehead.
“Uthaman, you will always be blessed. You will always walk in the path of the good. If a vacancy comes up here, I will definitely let you know. You must come then.”
On taking my leave, I turned back for a last look. Father was standing there, amidst all those flowers, smiling and waving at me. That was the last time I saw him.
Now, he is no more. To think that he was battling death all that time hurts me no end. With him, my relation with Kolayad ended, except for occasional letters from Cornelli. There was no more hope for a job in that school. I had no idea who had replaced Father Berthold.
What now?
I didn’t have a clue.
There were questions galore but no satisfactory answers. The roads were winding away to infinity. All the dreams that I had lovingly tended to for so long had now turned to dust, never to bear fruit.
My thoughts were tangled in knots.
I was getting restless. Even my interest in social activities was not enough to sustain my self-worth. Each passing unemployed day was making me feel more and more like a loser.
That is when my mind latched on to another escape route. The Gulf!
Once that thought entered my head, it became an obsession. I felt that the solution to all my problems lay there, in that dreamland—the Gulf.
But how would I find a job there? Even though I didn’t know that then, I still was determined. I had seen how people turned their lives around once they got to the Gulf. I could change my life too.
The truth was that I was getting sick of my life in the village. After Kolayad, the village seemed even more stifling. The same old people, the same old questions, the same old frustrations.
Also, there were very few opportunities to meet Ruby. She was mostly restricted to the house. The only times she came out was to go to the temple. There, too, she was always accompanied by a relative. We could virtually never speak to each other.
There were rumours that her father was trying hard to find her a suitable alliance. My poor Ruby. She must have suffered so much. The torture of being alone. If she doubted my sincerity, could I fault her? In reality, did I sincerely try to gauge the extent of her despair? Wasn’t I too busy finding excuses?
Those evenings I used to spend time with my friends in front of the hotel in town; it was owned by the father of one of my friends. Whiling away time there, we could see Gulf employed Malayalis on vacation—out walking and shopping with their families. They all had the same air—the mark of prosperity. The smell of perfume. The smoke rings rising from Rothmans and Triple Fives. Some were kind enough to present us with some cigarettes.
The gold watch.
The glittering rings.
The fat gold necklace.
The sunglasses.
The branded t-shirts.
The denim jeans.
The studded belts.
The shiny black, pointy leather shoes.
And the big cameras in hand.
We used to watch these fortunate men with as much curiosity and admiration as sheikhs from that far off dreamland.
How good their lives must be. How respected. We knew that the families of these people waited for their annual homecoming with more love and excitement than any festival of the gods. How much happiness they spread from the suitcases they brought with them, filled with gifts. How people gathered in their houses in those days, wanting to know everything about the Gulf.
Meanwhile, things were going downhill in the country.
Criminals and cheats were becoming leaders.
Drunkards kept speaking of banning alcohol.
Unemployment skyrocketed.
Millionaires became billionaires.
The poor became beggars.
The farmers started killing themselves.
I was getting fed up. I was starting to hate my country. And dreaming endlessly about escaping to the Gulf.
I strongly believed that I had a good future waiting for me. I just had to find a way to reach it.
I was already getting emotionally detached from my village. I would have no problem leaving my village, my home, my childhood, my Periyar, my activism, my friends, my love…so I thought.
Ruby must have found it difficult to understand me those days. I couldn’t explain to her that I was doing this for her. To prove to everyone that I was worthy of her. She must have been crying broken-hearted in the dark corners of her house.
Who was to know my despair? I used to weep like a baby in the solitude of my room. But I was a man. And men don’t cry!
What could I do? My life was swinging between three points: family, job and Ruby. Back and forth, back and forth.
Manu master tried to make me feel better. “Uthaman, grief is not sweet, but if we face it squarely, sometimes, we can make it sweet.” No, it was not that easy. Master had many problems in life. He had faced all of them squarely and had learnt to smile through them.
But what about me?
I was just a weakling.
With fragile bubbles for dreams. They could break at the slightest bump. The pain would be insufferable.
The village is in deep slumber now.
My senses are numb from the memories.
The truth is bitter.
My days are now numbered. I am getting used to that.
A mango tree has been felled.
Another death!
It is the goldsmith, Venu. He has succumbed to cancer. Cancer is spreading like an epidemic. He has two younger sisters who are yet to be married. He was the only earning member of that family. What will happen to them now?
Now, he will be like me, helpless, formless, a night creature.
This is the fate of all humans.
Rich and poor, welcome to this emptiness.
Why then the greed? Why all the hatred in life?
You come with empty hands; they will still be empty when you leave.
The Thirty-Fifth Night
The hills look angry in the gathering dusk—they appear like rippling shadowy monsters.
This house was in our family for the last three generations. According to the Gita, each house lasts only for three generations. After that, it will be sold or destroyed and a new one built in its place. Will that be the fate of my house as well?
Oppol comes out to check on the lamp. Suddenly she freezes. She calls out to the others inside the house in a low voice. Everyone—Radhika, Sumathy and the children—comes running.
“Look. A snake!” Oppol whispers.
“Where?” Radhika instinctively grabs Vishnu.
“There. In that corner.”
It is not a big snake, but it is a dangerous one with a raised hood.
Vishnu aims the matchbox he is holding at it.
“Mon, no. It is the Serpent God.” Oppol restrains him.
“Bow and pray to him. He won’t hurt us. Today is Aayilyam. A very special day.” Oppol’s voice is trembling.
Oppol has great faith in age-old beliefs. She observes the ancient traditions conscientiously and tries to make her family do the same. I used to marvel at this. She’s had to face the biggest trials in life and yet she hasn’t let them turn her bitter or rebellious.
But now, all my family is in the same boat—sailing without a boatman.
The serpent disappears as quickly as it appeared.
It is sometime since I have seen my family together on the verandah. Naanu uncle is not here—he must have gone out to the market.
Everyone looks more or less relieved now. There are no obvious signs of grief anywhere. Good. They are slowly getting accustomed to the new reality.
Vishnu has put on some weight. He is probably used to thinking of his father as a star or a crow now.
But Radhika still has that lost look. It is evident in the careless way she is dressed and her messy hair lying loose.
Sumathy looks fine, nothing could affect her too badly as long as her love is promised to her. But Malu and Shalu are looking weary. They must find it difficult to adjust to the normality of school with the chaos at home.
And Deepu. My poor brother, forever condemned to a life of loneliness. There are no dreams for him. No hopes. How that innocent heart must burn with stinging questions that have no answers.
The smell of camphor fills the air. You can almost smell the divine presence. The chants from the rooftop grow in intensity. My ancestors. They are trying to drown out the guttural murmurs of the evil spirits behind me.
I am surrounded by a mist. A thick mist. Multitudes of lights bob around me. I can feel their presence even before I see them.
The guardians of the soul.
The ones entrusted with the cleansing of my soul.
The air around me ripples in anticipation.
As a prelude to the process, they show me my body lying in the depths of the grave. A rotting mass.
The sight humbles me. It makes me realise the worthlessness of life—the transient nature of all existence. But it doesn’t disturb me. I have now learnt to protect myself from regrets.
This time, there are more of them. They seem very sure of what they are expected to do. And this reassures me.
I am pushed into the middle of these glowing shadows.
The brightest among them starts speaking.
“God has given all things living, a soul. But only man has been gifted with intelligence and creativity and morality. He shares this world with all the other living and nonliving things. Unfortunately, he thinks of his uniqueness and soul only when he is in the grip of loneliness and difficulties. Only then.
The scorpion has venom in its tail.
The snake has venom in its fangs.
The frog has venom in its skin.
Evil humans have venom all over.
All creations have been bestowed a partner. But the creator has no partner.
The last judgement is a certainty. The earth is witness to that.
Until you are seven years of age, you won’t be judged. Because selfishness replaces innocence only after seven years of life.
Disability is a reminder. To remember the Creator. It is never a punishment.
The Creator has made nature an open book for humans. With a willing mind, man can learn everything from nature.
There is so much to learn. Even from a crow. A crow eats only what it wants. It will reject everything else. Likewise, man should take in only what makes him better and reject all else.
God will not ask you how many pairs of clothing you have. He will ask how many you clothed.
God will not ask what kind of job you did. He will ask how well you did it.
God will not ask you how much you earn or how wealthy you are. He will ask if you ever compromised your integrity to earn that money, and how many others you supported with that money.
God will not ask how many friends you had. He will ask how good a friend you were.
God will not ask you the colour of your skin. He will ask what kind of a human being you were.
God will not ask who your neighbours were. He will ask how you behaved with your neighbours.
God will not ask how you treated the rich. He will ask how you treated the poor and the sick.
I am sharing these few questions just to enlighten you. Please understand one thing. Sense came from light. Knowledge came from sound. Both will be lost in the end.
Remove the curtain of deceit and cleanse yourself.
Only one thing is certain.
Nothing was formed out of nothing.
There is a Creator. The one and only. And He is not human.
On the day of reckoning, the buildings of godmen and godwomen will be annihilated.
The religious texts would exist no more.
The people will perish with poverty, starvation and drought.
The have-nots will attack the haves.
The earth will be a burning globe.
The waters will dry up.
The animals and birds will die.
The insects will hide in the depths of the earth.
The bees will become extinct.
The mountains will become bottomless craters.
The volcanoes will erupt.
Demonic forces will rule the earth.
Unexpected natural disasters will ravage the world.
And at the very end, this world will be destroyed in another deluge lasting forty-one days.
After that, the world will freeze. The solar system will change. A new world will rise again under a new sun and a new moon.
The spirit of God will fly to this new world with the seeds of the olive tree. Gradually, new life will sprout in that new world. This will be entirely different from the human race. Pure souls!
Life will start anew and flow forward. But soon, inevitable changes will happen.
Continuity! The unalterable nature of law.
I know that this abject surrender is more despicable to you than even death.
Be patient.
Be alert.
We will be back soon.”
The voice goes silent, and the spirits fade away through the naked branches of the trees.
I awake, as from a stupor, to the memories of my lost life… The turning point of my life.
My close friend from the Gulf, Nooruddin, came to visit me. We had a good time together, sharing old memories and stories. We laughed a lot, remembering past mischiefs and escapades.
And then, he asked about Ruby.
He had thought we would already be married or at least formally engaged.
I sat with my head bowed in shame and distress—not able to give him a satisfactory answer. My reluctance surprised him. He remembered us from college—inseparable, confident in our love, meant only for each other. My waffling and avoidance of the topic actually enraged him.
“Uthaman, what do you mean by ‘I don’t know’? How can you not know? You were in love with her! Are you saying that you are not in love anymore? How can you do that? After being together for years, after
dreaming together all this time, after giving her so many hopes, how can you behave this way? More than any sympathy, I feel outraged at your behavior.”
“Without a job...” I looked at him helplessly.
“Job! Why don’t you have a job? Aren’t you qualified enough? It is not easy to find a job, I know. But you won’t find it by sitting at home and moping. It is not like breakfast and lunch and dinner that appear before you automatically three times a day, just because Oppol and Sumathy make sure you get them on time. How hard have you tried to find a job? Have you been pursuing that with a single-minded purpose? I don’t think so. I think you are finding an easy excuse in ‘fate’!”
“Are you saying that I am to be blamed for this situation?”
“Of course! Who else is to be blamed? Is this your love, Appu? Is this your sense of duty? Your love story is epic. Childhood sweethearts. Inseparable. Everybody knows about it. And now this is what it has come to?”
He was so right! I couldn’t utter a word in my defence.
“I was under the impression you would be well-settled now, with a government job, and married to Ruby. Okay. I can understand the difficulty in getting a good job here. But if it was that difficult, why didn’t you try away from home? Another state? Another country? Did you? This is just too much. You are not destroying just your life but an innocent girl’s too! And what about your own family? What about your duties to them?”
I felt so small. Despised even by my close friend!
“Why didn’t you let me know, Appu?” He sounded pained. “Am I a stranger? I could have at least tried to help.” He was looking very distressed. “I am thinking of poor Ruby. What must she be going through? She is a girl. She had put all her trust in you!”
“You are right, Nooruddin. I have been acting like a coward. I have even been trying to avoid her. Not because I don’t love her, but because I love her so much that I can’t face her sadness, her tears.”
“What use is that Uthaman? You are just avoiding the issue at hand with your activism and social commitments. You just watch! Her father will soon get her married to someone else. What will you do then?”
“Nooruddin, please! I know. Don’t hurt me even more. It is only because of my situation… If only I could get a good job… Then, I wouldn’t delay matters at all.”
The Soul of Truth Page 25