The Story of a Goat

by Perumal Murugan

  She could live without the old couple, but could she bear to live away from Oothan and Uzhumban? Away from those nanny goats, Kaduvayan, Peethan and Porumi as well. Living amidst her own community would give her lasting security. Everything was available in this forest, except her own herd. Could she ever live alone? Weren’t the wild boars happy only because they lived together? Would a solitary boar enjoy itself so much? Would she ever find playmates like Oothan and Uzhumban here, in this forest? The more she thought about it, the more fearful she became.

  Impelled by the feeling that she must hurry up and reunite with her herd, she ran along every trail she saw, until her legs were tired. Poonachi had no idea where she was going. She seemed to be circling around the same spot. She saw the same sights everywhere. She felt like she was marching in the same place. She ran, nevertheless. She didn’t stop even when her legs gave way under her. She drank a couple of mouthfuls whenever she found water and kept running.

  At noon, when the sun overhead was stinging hot, she heard the old woman’s call: ‘Koovey, koovey, koovey!’ Poonachi called back immediately and ran in the direction of the call. When both voices merged together, their eyes fell on each other. ‘My goddess, my sweet mother, where were you? Why did you lose your way and leave us in the lurch like this?’ The old woman kissed the top of Poonachi’s head as she spoke. She looked up at the old woman’s face and cried out. Both hearts were filled with an immense tenderness. Only then did Poonachi discover that the old man had set out earlier, taking the other goats with him. ‘I won’t come without Poonachi. I’ll find her and bring her with me,’ the old woman had told him.

  The same night that Poonachi had enjoyed the wild boars’ bathing session in the river, the old woman had spent calling out to her without sleeping a wink. Soon after daybreak, she had sent off the old man and then walked around the hill, calling out to Poonachi. For half a day, the old woman’s cry had resounded in the forest. Somehow, they had stumbled upon each other. Had the old woman given up on her and gone away, leaving her behind, anything could have happened to Poonachi. She might have been killed and eaten by some predator – or she might have roamed around happily for ever. The old woman had saved her.

  The old woman ate nothing that whole day. Whatever had been left of the food in the container, she had sent off with the old man. Had Poonachi not got lost, she would have reached her daughter’s house a day earlier. They halted for a night in a village that lay beyond the forest. Many in that village knew her. Lying back in a front pyol, the old woman told the elderly woman of the house the story of how Poonachi had got lost.

  The woman asked her, ‘You let the kid graze in all kinds of places. What did you have to eat?’

  The old woman said, ‘To protect this life of mine, do I have to feed it every day? If I only drink water for a day, I won’t die, will I?’

  Without saying anything, her hostess went inside and brought back a platter filled with rice.

  ‘Is it proper that you come to our house and go to sleep hungry? If you open your mouth and ask for a little rice, will it dent your honour?’ she said. The old woman ate without offering any reply.

  ‘The mouth that talks is the same as the one that eats. Yet, can we talk about anything and everything? Or can we eat anything and everything?’ the old woman said.

  The woman of the house said that once upon a time, wild hounds, jackals, leopards and herds of deer had lived in that forest. Now, there were only wild boar.

  ‘People keep destroying everything and shoving every last bit into their mouths. How then can anything or anyone survive here apart from human beings? In the end, can even people survive for very long?’ she remarked with a sigh.

  13

  THEY REACHED THE couple’s daughter’s house at noon on the following day. The front yard was wide and spacious like a threshing floor, with half-a-dozen neem trees at one end. A hut under those trees housed a herd of goats. Poonachi hurried over and joined them. On seeing her, all the goats bleated together to ask after her welfare.

  ‘Don’t tell me you roamed the entire forest for this lifeless kid!’ the daughter teased the old woman. She had five children of various ages, who kept coming to the hut and playing with the goats.

  Except for a solitary goat, the household had only sheep in their pen. The goat had three kids. They were slightly bigger than Uzhumban and Oothan, somewhat smaller than Kaduvayan and Peethan. One was a buck; the other two were does. Poonachi was happy with the sudden increase in the number of her playmates. The story of how she had got lost in the forest and how the old woman found her was recounted in great detail. The old woman had vowed that when Poonachi grew up and delivered a litter, one of her buck kids would be sacrificed to Lord Mesagaran. As she did endless rounds of the forest in search of Poonachi, she had carried this vow of supplication in her heart.

  The daughter’s house was a thatched shed, just like their own. There were two or three small huts around it. An old couple lived there as well.

  Poonachi was happy during their week-long stay in that house. She took a great liking to Poovan, the buck kid. His whole body was white except for a mole-like black patch near the jaw. He had a round face, with a bulging snout. His body was robust and strong. He had grown a fine pair of horns. At first, Poonachi was not sure whether he would want to play with her. After all, she was thin, all black and had a protruding belly. But Poovan was quite amiable.

  For some reason, Poovan didn’t like Porumi at all. Porumi was constantly trying to attract his attention, crawling over and rubbing against him, but he chose to roam around only with Poonachi. It made her feel proud. She now enjoyed a standing in the herd.

  Poovan was keen on playing catch-me-if-you-can. He would ask Poonachi to run, and then chase her. But he wouldn’t touch her. He would leap over her and land on the other side. As he leapt through the air with his legs folded back, it looked as if he was flying, and she would gaze upward in wonder. He would torment her by seeming to be in no hurry to touch her. Usually, when she was playing with Oothan and Uzhumban, they would touch her immediately. She was ‘it’ so often that she hated playing with them. Poovan, on the other hand, gave her so many chances to get away that she didn’t mind when he finally touched her. Similarly, whenever Poonachi was about to touch him, he would sidestep her and leap upward. Poonachi would stand outwitted. In the end, however, he would let himself be cornered without making her run around too much.

  Only once during that week, behind the cover of palm fronds, did he press his mouth on hers and give her a deep kiss. It tasted delicious to Poonachi. She expected him to kiss her again, whenever the occasion arose, but despite many opportunities, he refrained from doing so. She was rather cut up with him on this score. How could she go and stand before him on her own, raising her mouth to his?

  At sunset, when a crimson cloud unfurled in the sky, Poovan played a different game. He approached her gently and rubbed against her body. When she moved closer so that he could caress her some more, he moved away. Poonachi didn’t have a rope around her neck yet. At night, she could sleep wherever she wanted. She would go and lie down next to Poovan. It was such a pleasure to sleep next to his body. Reclining on his belly, she felt totally relaxed. Sometimes he curled up with his neck placed on hers. The two strands of his beard tickled her. At the slightest touch of his horn on her body, she felt aroused.

  The whole herd was annoyed by this new-found intimacy between her and Poovan, but neither of them was inclined to pay much heed to the others. Poovan showed her many new things to eat. The taste of moonseed creepers, the bitterness of stinkweed flowers and the melting black of wirebush – she came to know them all. Learning that she liked hill mango leaves, he would take her to a place where these could be found. It gave her a deep thrill to watch him as he ate each morsel with relish and returned to slowly chew the cud.

  One sweet night, while she lay next to Poovan, with her head resting on him, the two old women sat talking to each other.

 
The woman of the house said, ‘Why don’t you stay here for another week? It’s not as if you have children back home who are pining for you. If you stay on, I’ll have someone to talk to. When you go away, life will seem empty again.’

  ‘What can I do, ayah? I have to worry about my home, don’t I? By now the whole house would have turned into a jungle, covered in dust all over. Once I get back, it’ll take me four days to put things in order. Do you think a house will keep without people in it? We have just a small piece of land. We can survive only if we look after it. The rains are decreasing every year. Unless we stay put and get some work done, we will have nothing to eat. Anyhow, we can work only so long as we are physically up to it. After that we’ll have to come and take refuge here. Where else can we go?’ the old woman said.

  Only then did Poonachi realise that the plan was to leave the following morning. Without raising her head from Poovan’s body, she began to cry. Feeling the wetness of her tears, Poovan shivered. He turned his head and fondly licked her face.

  Just then the daughter came to the front yard and said, ‘Amma, why don’t you leave Poonachi here? We’ll bring her up. It’s not as if we can’t spare a tiny bit of feed for her stomach.’

  When she heard this, Poonachi was overjoyed. The idea of going back to their village hadn’t occurred to her at all. She had become deeply attached to this household, as if she was going to stay here permanently. But the old woman wouldn’t agree.

  ‘To me, Poonachi is like another child. She is in my arms or near my feet all the time. I simply can’t live without her. I didn’t search for her all over, inside the forest, and bring her back only to leave her here, did I?’ the old woman said with finality. Then she added, unable to bear the disappointment on her daughter’s face, ‘Here, keep Porumi with you. I have two nanny goats, and they are more than enough for me. But this Poonachi has kept me so busy that I wouldn’t know what to do without her around.’

  From that moment on, Poonachi began to dislike the old woman. Who asked her to come looking for me? She could have left me in the forest. I would have spent my time happily, eating wild creepers and loitering around with wild boars. She didn’t let that happen. Now, she won’t allow me to stay here with Poovan either. The old wretch. I have to keep falling into her arms, it seems. From now on, I shall avoid being trapped, Poonachi said to herself.

  She lay there all night, thinking about many things. At dawn, Poovan moved some distance away, shat and peed. Then he came back and lay beside her with his face against hers. Gently, he pressed his lips to her mouth and gave her a kiss. Poonachi lay still, imagining that his mouth was stuck to hers. She came back to her senses only when the old woman came and tapped her awake. ‘How long will you stay here as a guest? Do you have any thought of going back home? Look at you sleeping!’ the old woman said and slapped her fondly on the back. Poovan stood facing in a different direction. Poonachi joined her herd reluctantly and took a step forward, then looked back. Poovan was gazing at her with tears in his eyes. Her eyes filled with tears too. The old man whacked her on the back with a long twig. She moved slowly away.

  Just then, Poovan cried out and tugged at his tether. Without turning back, Poonachi sensed that the rope had snapped and he was running towards her. For a minute, both of them stood still, next to each other.

  The daughter came running behind Poovan and scolded him: ‘Oho, you’ve gone pretty far, haven’t you? Snapping your tether and running off? I don’t want to lay a hand on you now but tomorrow, I’ll bind your neck and forelegs as close together as possible.’ She grabbed what remained of his tether and pulled him back. Poonachi immediately stepped back.

  ‘Just look at the cheek of this worm,’ the old man said and asked one of his granddaughters to fetch a length of rope. And so, that day, a rope was tied around Poonachi’s neck for the first time; once tied, it was never undone.

  They kept hearing Poovan’s cries even when they were far away. Poonachi cried out in reply. Kalli, Kaduvayan and Peethan didn’t make such a big noise about Porumi being left behind. Let her live happily there, they must have thought. Porumi had her eye on Poovan. Was he likely to be lured to her side? When she thought of the possibility, and of Porumi standing patiently inside the hut, Poonachi’s cries became even louder. It seemed to her that Porumi was laughing at her. Poonachi was overcome with anger and loathing for everyone.

  ‘I’ve never heard such a loud noise from this baby throat. She never cried so loud even when she was lost inside the forest,’ the old woman said, amazed.

  All along the way, Poonachi thought about Poovan and cried in agony. Her crying subsided gradually but a layer of sorrow came to permanently inhabit her face. She didn’t touch any feed during the journey, no matter how delicious or tasty it appeared. Wherever she looked, she saw dense thickets of wirebush. Poovan appeared in their midst, and she heard his cries of despair. The pleasure she had experienced when his lips grazed her face and planted a kiss on her lingered in her mind. She didn’t drink a drop of water the whole day. The old woman was both annoyed and sympathetic.

  ‘Look at how saucy she is. She doesn’t have even a bit of flesh on her body, but she wants a male partner soon, it seems,’ she kept scolding Poonachi all the way home. At one point she said, ‘Don’t die on me,’ and pressed Poonachi’s face down into the water. Poonachi drank a few sips reluctantly.

  Kaduvayan lingered close to her the whole day. When her eyes fell on him by chance, Poonachi burst into tears. Without saying anything, he touched her face as if to say, ‘That’s how it is with everything.’

  Poonachi remembered the day Kaduvayan had gone away with Pretty Nose and a different herd. She wept even more bitterly.

  14

  SOMETHING HAPPENED THE next day that caused Poonachi’s grief to melt away. On the third day after they set out from Poovan’s house, they had halted in an open field on the outskirts of a village. The day was hot. The goats slumped to the ground, tired from grazing and exhausted from the trek. After washing their hands in a channel adjoining the field, the couple opened their bundle of food. Poonachi lay with a scowl on her face and her head stuck between her legs. Her thoughts wandered to what Poovan might be doing at that hour. She wondered if he thought of her at all, or had forgotten her. The old couple were laughing about something. They must be mocking me and laughing at me, thought Poonachi. She gave them an irritated look.

  Just then, Oothan and Uzhumban, who were lying behind the couple, got up slowly. They were greatly attracted by the greenery of the fields in the surrounding area. From the time they got here, they had been nibbling at something or the other. Earlier, the old man and his wife had shouted at them and kept them under control. Now it seemed as if they had made a plan to sneak away. It was quite simple, really. A short distance away, groundnut fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Any goat would have been tempted.

  There had been groundnut plants in Poovan’s village too. The villagers would dry groundnut stalks in a pile and, on the days when they couldn’t take the goats out for grazing, they let them feed on these. The leaves and stems of groundnut plants were delicious. Since the goats had never had access to such food in their own village, they had devoured it eagerly. But even in Poovan’s village, they’d never had the chance to feed on green stalks.

  Poonachi lay there, watching them. If they made the slightest sound, the old man and his wife would spot them. She wondered what she could do to divert their attention. Just then, Oothan and Uzhumban put their mouths to a creeper and began to chew hurriedly. Poonachi watched the spectacle of those dark green tendrils climbing into their mouths, spilling out from the corners and disappearing. Then she saw a man come running towards them from a distance. ‘Dhooyi, dhooyi,’ he shouted as he swung his arm and threw a stone at them.

  The old man and his wife heard the noise and looked back. The stone flew through the air and struck Uzhumban – who had raised his head at the interruption – on the temple. There was a loud scream. Uzhumban’
s body rose in the air, spun around and dropped inside the field. ‘Aiyo!’ the old woman shouted as she rushed to Uzhumban and lifted him. Poonachi stood up in fear and cried out. The whole herd was on its feet by now. But none of them could do anything. Uzhumban’s life was gone in one stroke. The old woman beat herself on the chest and wailed.

  The farmer hadn’t expected this either. He had flung the stone only with the aim of chasing away the kids who were feeding on his crop. Had Uzhumban not raised his head, there would have been no chance of a hit. Poonachi wept inconsolably, wishing that the stone had struck her temple and she had died instead of Uzhumban.

  The old man shouted at the farmer in anger, but he replied calmly, ‘Would you stand by and watch your groundnut crop being eaten? Only the farmer knows the value of a crop. What would a goatherd know?’

  ‘What a fine buck he was. We looked after him for a year. These animals are our livelihood. What do we do now?’ the old man fumed.

  Meanwhile, five or six men turned up from the neighbouring fields. Everyone had something to say. These were wayfarers; those were locals. These were two oldies; those were many. That apart, who was to blame for the incident? Was it wrong to have travelled here? Was it wrong to have sat in the shade? Was it wrong that the kids went off to graze? Was it wrong that the farmer threw a stone? Was it wrong that Uzhumban raised his head? Everything happened by chance. If you called it wrong, then everything was wrong.

  But the villagers did right by the old man. What was dead couldn’t be brought back to life. So what was to be done, they asked. The kid could be butchered for meat. However many portions it might yield, it was the farmer’s responsibility to sell them to the local villagers. The hide could be sold separately. They could convert the dead kid into cash and give it to the old man. What else could be done? If this was not acceptable, the old man could take the body and leave. He had let the kid graze in the field, and the farmer could not but chase it away. The old man agreed.