Trial by Silence

by Perumal Murugan

  He held her hands and gently draped them around himself. The moon was spreading its sweetness all over the world. There was not a spot of cloud in the sky. The moon had no obstacle in reaching across the vast heavens. The earth, drunk on the nectar of moonbeams, lay in a stupor. An intoxicated expanse.

  Then he asked her, ‘Did you come seeking a child?’

  She did not say anything in reply, and placed her face on his chest.

  He said, ‘You will have one.’ He touched her lips gently. ‘Won’t you talk to me?’

  It was only her hands that communicated.

  ‘Will you name your child after me?’ he asked.

  She softly whispered, ‘Mm,’ in his ears.

  ‘Do you know my name?’ he asked.

  ‘Mhmm,’ she murmured.

  ‘. . .’ he said. ‘Call the child by my name whether it is a boy or a girl. That way you won’t forget me.’ He waited for her murmured response. But he could sense her nodding in agreement against his chest. ‘So, what’s my name?’ he asked her.

  She did not respond.

  ‘Tell me what my name is,’ he asked her again.

  She whispered in his ears, ‘Kali.’

  ‘What did you say?’ he said. She was momentarily confused about what name she had uttered. But he said, laughing, ‘I couldn’t hear it properly. But it felt like the moonlight had entered my ears.’

  He then lifted her face with his hands and held it right in front of his own, and said, ‘I have another name too.’ Then he added, ‘See, in this darkness, there is neither you nor me. It is only us, we are the same. Tell me what my name is.’

  She felt very shy. He was clearly talking about Maachaami, who took whatever form you wanted him to. Was that his name? He sensed that she was smiling.

  ‘So you got it?’ he said. ‘Maachaami. That’s my name. I want to forget myself and get together with you. I never want to let go of you.’ And he took her into a tight embrace.

  She couldn’t breathe properly, but she did not want that embrace to end. For some reason, she felt like laughing.

  ‘Are you laughing?’ he said. ‘Do you know what I plan to do with that mouth that is laughing?’ He drew her face closer. The moonlight cooled her.

  ‘Do you know where I am from?’ he then asked.

  She put her hand over his mouth and shook her head to indicate that she did not want to know.

  ‘Don’t worry. I am from right here, this hillock. All you need to do is come to any part of this hillock, and call out, “Maachaami!” I will show up right away.’

  She nodded to let him know she understood.

  ‘You should come next year too. And you should bring the child. I’ll be expecting you. Will you? You will. I know. You won’t forget me. I won’t forget you, even if you do. Tell me, do you want to go away with me? I will take you right away. I like you a lot. Come with me!’ And he kept saying sweet nothings to her. She drowned in his entreaties, and found it hard to resurface.

  THIRTY

  Ponna had put her baby to sleep and was sitting on the stone slab outside the hut. Seerayi had gone to the house in the village to fetch more kambu millets. She was gone for quite a while. Seerayi had lived in that village house for several years. She knew all her neighbours there. The houses were all set quite close to each other, and people could just shout out to call each other. If anyone got hold of Seerayi for a chat, they would certainly not let her go easily. It was even possible that Seerayi might stay over in the house for the night. She had done that twice already since the child was born. It was her way of seeing if it was her presence in the barnyard that prevented Ponna and Kali from reconnecting. Ponna was constantly amazed at the various schemes Seerayi came up with.

  Seerayi’s schemes were to blame for all the present troubles. It was she who had lied and arranged for Ponna to go to the temple festival that day. She got everyone involved in that plan. It had led to Kali almost killing himself. And after that Kali and Ponna even stopped talking to each other. Then came Ponna’s breaking of ties with her family. The long years of friendship between Kali and Muthu were over. Ponna’s family couldn’t even visit to see the child. Muthu became an alcoholic. Ponna had thought that the pilgrimage Kali had undertaken would change him for the better. But, in fact, he was now drinking more than ever before.

  At least, earlier, he did all the drinking right there in the barnyard. But now since Ponna and the baby were there, he did not want to have to face them, so he drank elsewhere and wandered about. Sometimes it looked like he sat and drank under one of the palmyra trees. There were also times when she spotted his head under the palai tree out in the fields. But at other times, she could not find him anywhere nearby. He returned late at night, coughing and spitting. The sheep and the cattle had grown weary and dull in the heat of the month of Chithirai. But Kali did not seem to pay them any attention. He was not even making sure they were grazing or seeing to whether they had enough water to drink. Seerayi took care of the baby’s needs in the morning and then set out to do the other chores. Ponna had still not got the hang of doing everything for the baby. She was too scared to do it on her own.

  The only good thing to come out of all of Seerayi’s scheming was the baby. His face was the only thing that gave Ponna some happiness. But there were times when she felt angry at the child, wondering why he was born, feeling that he was responsible for all her troubles. It was three months and one week since childbirth. Kali had still not come to look at the baby properly. He gave vent to his anger by hitting the oxen, chasing the sheep and throwing stones at the dog. Seeing all this made Ponna want to leave the barnyard to his care and move back to the house in the village quarters. Let him take care of the sheep, the cattle, the bales of harvest and the cottage. Let him have so much free space that he could hang a swing on the portia tree and freely swing about from one end to the other. Or else, let him hang himself from one of the other branches.

  If she went away with the child, she could always find some work in the fields in some other village, couldn’t she? She could make enough to feed the baby. Here she felt like an unwanted orphan. If she went away to her parents’ home, they would definitely feed her at least some leftovers they kept for the dog, wouldn’t they? Why was she struggling here? All right, if he felt that his wife had become a prostitute, he could call for a village meeting, make it public and annul their marriage. Then he could always bring a chaste woman and start a new family here. Instead he was tormenting her without speaking a word to her. What kind of torture was this?

  The man she had met on the festival night said to her several times, ‘Come with me.’ She did not even look at his face properly. She only saw Kali’s face superimposed on it. On that moonlit night, he had appeared to her like Kali. But so what? If she went to the festival this year, he’d certainly be there. And he’d look for her. She was familiar with his touch. How sweetly he spoke to her! He said to her, ‘Why don’t you just stay with me forever?’ Was it all just said in the heat of passion? But he said it with such care, it had felt honest. What did it matter which village he was from, and which community? If she went to the festival this year and asked him to take her with him, he would. He would also lift the child and play with it.

  The twelve years of togetherness and affection with Kali had come to nothing. It had paled, lost its sheen. In contrast, how loving was that man who had spent just a day—in fact, just one night—with her. She remembered every word he spoke that night. But despite all that, for a while, she only saw Kali in the baby’s face. Not any more, though. She didn’t see Kali. She saw Maachaami. It was not Kali’s child. What was the point in insisting it was Kali’s child when he himself said it was not his and did not even want to look at the baby? No, this is not your child. This is his child. It will take his name.

  The man was not married when she met him. He had his very new moustache and beard. He had not even had his first shave. He might still be single. But so what if he had married by now. If she said to
him, ‘My child and I will not bother you. We will quietly live to a side,’ he wouldn’t object, would he? Would he say, ‘If I have to take care of children conceived at the festival, do you know how many kids I’d have to fend for?’ He had not wanted to let her go that night. He had told her she was one half of him. He had wanted to just stay together forever. It was she who had left in a hurry, anxious that it was already quite late.

  He had made space for her in his heart. He wouldn’t turn her away. But he’d have family and relatives for sure. Would they chase her away? Would he abide by their words? What if he too said to her, ‘You are a whore! You don’t even know with whom you conceived this child.’ On one side, she had Kali who did not want her. And on the other, she had Maachaami who also would not want her. Where would Ponna go? She could drown herself and the baby in the Kaveri river. Death by drowning would be the kindest way to take the child. She should not leave the baby behind. If she did, he’d tell everyone that it was a whore’s child. When the child grew bigger, Kali might even ask, ‘You were not born to me, were you?’ Why should the child suffer such lifelong ignominy?

  Seerayi wanted a grandchild to take care of her final rites, didn’t she? Perhaps Ponna could drop the baby on her lap and go far away—perhaps even outside the region. Why could only men travel abroad? And not women? Nallayyan Uncle brought all these women from elsewhere, didn’t he? Like those women, Ponna could go with some man. Going with a man once had made her a whore. So what difference would it make now if she went with nine other men? There were ways to survive in this world, weren’t there?

  She thought she heard the baby whimper, so she walked into the cottage to check. It looked like the baby was dreaming. It kept its mouth pouted and was smiling slightly like a blossoming bud. Ponna kept gazing at that smile. The baby then went back to sleep. Perhaps god spoke to the baby in its dream. God spoke only to babies, but the babies never revealed the content of that conversation to anyone. This was god’s child, so the deity must have spoken a lot to this child. Why can’t that god speak to me too? Why can’t he show me a way out of this situation? God, you gave me a way to bring this child into the world. Can’t you also show me a way to raise this child? If you are indeed this powerful god that everyone bows to, please show me a way. Whose child is this? Kali’s, or Maachaami’s, or yours? Was it you who entered me that night? Tell me!

  The child whimpered again, so she ran back into the cottage. The lamp was going dry, so she poured some oil into it. The baby laughed, kicking its arms and feet in the air. You are so delightful when you laugh. I wonder where you father’s gone. Is he your father? You are my child. I carried you for nine months. Only the hen that lays eggs knows the hardship of childbirth. Why should I care who looks at you and who doesn’t? You are my child. Why did I not think of that before? Why should I worry about that man and this? If they want, let them come and claim you as their child. Seerayi has no qualms accepting you as her grandson. What more do I need? Why worry about these useless dogs? He has so much pride, but he could not give me a child! He acts as if there are some ten or fifteen children here in the barnyard climbing on his shoulders and calling him their father and this is the only child that is not his. Considering that he couldn’t do the job, why the pride?

  She heard the dog barking outside in the sheepfold. Kali did not like the fact that they had moved the sheepfold outside and built this new cottage inside. He want to be the only one who lives and pees and shits here. How long can he live like this? When he is old and frail, who will come and clean his piss and shit? He is such a loner.

  Ponna looked outside to see if Kali or Seerayi were coming back. She heard some voices, but she could not hear them clearly over the dog’s loud barking. They were clearly some new folk. Otherwise, the dog wouldn’t bark so much. Was it perhaps Uncle Nallayyan? Who was he talking to? It was so dark in that corner of the barnyard that she could not see anything clearly. And she was also too scared to leave the baby sleeping and go and check who was coming.

  She was angry with Seerayi for leaving her alone with the baby here. Couldn’t the old hag go and come back quickly? She must be gossiping with people there, talking about who slept with whom. Ponna felt a sudden rush of rage. If it was Seerayi who was coming back to the barnyard, she’d say to her, ‘You wretched old widow! Here’s your grandson. Take care of him, play with him! Leave me alone!’

  The thatched gate to the barnyard had not been tied up. Someone was now pushing it open. The dog was still barking. Who could it be? Ponna took a quick look at the sleeping baby and then ventured forth to check.

  THIRTY-ONE

  ‘Who is there?’ she called out.

  Through the dog’s incessant barking, she heard a voice reply loud and clear, ‘It is only us, saami.’ She thought she heard the baby crying, so she rushed inside to attend to him. The baby stirred in his sleep, somewhat disturbed, but he did not waken. She did not want to leave the baby indoors and bolt the door from outside. Nor did she want to walk away leaving the door wide open. So she kept pacing in and out, not knowing what to do. By then, the voices came closer. Two men were holding Kali up by his arms. His head fell to a side.

  Ponna was agitated looking at him like this. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Please don’t be scared,’ said one of the men. ‘We found him drunk and lying on the mud road. Let him sleep inside.’

  Ponna saw that it was Chinnaan, Vengayi’s husband, along with a young man she did not recognize. For a second, she wondered if she should ask them to lay Kali down on the cot under the portia tree, but she changed her mind quickly. The men might think she was heartless to make a man sleep outside in such a condition. They carried Kali right up to the doorstep of the cottage, and she guided him further to the cot, her arm over his shoulder in a tentative embrace. This was the first time she was touching him in nearly a year. She lay him down on Seerayi’s cot which was across the room from the cot on which the baby was sleeping. Then she stepped outside. The men were getting ready to leave.

  ‘This is my brother-in-law,’ said Chinnaan. ‘He happened to be visiting. So I took him out to drink some toddy. On the way back, as we walked past the banyan tree on the mud road, we spotted someone lying on the ground. When we went closer, we saw it was him. It was so dark, I had to light a matchstick to identify him. He never steps outside the barnyard. Perhaps he wanted to go out and drink and celebrate his new son. It looks like he has drunk arrack on top of toddy. That’s what has caused so much intoxication. Otherwise, he is not the kind to lose his bearings easily. Please make him eat something. That will help him.’

  ‘Chinnaan,’ Ponna requested, as the men prepared to leave, ‘please don’t tell anyone about this. I’ll make sure he does not collapse this way again.’

  ‘Why would I tell anyone about this?’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. He will be well soon and he will do all the ploughing himself. If there is any work in the fields, do send for us. Vengayi too will come and help.’

  And then they left. She waited for the sound of the gate being shut and then for the dog to stop barking before she went back into the cottage.

  She recollected the way it felt when she touched him. Had he been conscious, he’d not have allowed that to happen. She looked at him lying like a child on the cot, sand and dust all over him. The veshti he had worn around his waist over the loincloth had come undone. She brought an old sari of hers and used it to wipe his body clean. She wondered how long he had been lying on the road. He was not used to drinking to the point of losing consciousness. She knew he had been drinking way too much alcohol of late, but how could she say anything to him? They had not been speaking to each other for a year. The last they spoke was the day he called her a whore. That wound had healed. Once the baby was born, it had lost whatever residual sting it had had earlier. ‘Let him call me whatever he wants,’ was her attitude. ‘I could not have given birth to this lovely baby boy otherwise.’ But the slur had nonetheless left its scar.

  What i
f he said something even more hurtful if she attempted to speak to him now? Besides, she had not got much of a chance to look at his face directly for so long. She now drank in the sight of him lying on the cot. Hair had started sprouting on his tonsured head, and it now looked like a week-old crop in the fields. His face had lost its lustre, and now exuded a deep sadness. His body had lost its muscle tone. He had not been eating properly. His mother had been trying to keep him well fed, but he did not eat enough. Seerayi too was not able to attend to him the way she used to when he was younger. She was also upset about how unrelenting and adamant he was even after the baby was born. She was angry because she had thought that everything would become all right the moment he became all right. But that had not happened. Ponna touched his arm. It felt like touching a bony stick. Were these really Kali’s cheeks? She could not control herself, and she bent down and kissed him on his cheek. Then she sat there looking at him. In a while, unbeknownst to herself, she started talking to him.

  ‘Maama, this is indeed your child. The child born to me is also born to you, isn’t it? I went to the festival because I thought you had given me permission. Do you know who I was with there? I knew god would come to me in your image. It was with you that I spent that night. Whose face do I know but yours? Do you think I could even think of a face other than yours? I have been with you all these years. How come you have not understood me at all? Even if I were in the wrong, how could you abandon me like this? Do you think I will leave you if you do something wrong?