Suresh Pradheep
Amudha felt like opening her eyes. At the same time, she was a bit afraid. It was just one month previously that, through her co-construction worker, she had begun to drink; in return for Amudha’s kind gesture in teaching her several subtleties to entice the mason and make him call them every day for work, Abhirami offered some drink from the bottle she had brought for herself. Amudha had wanted to drink long since. But, when she gulped that dark-brown liquid, it didn’t taste that good. But, that night, after their daughter slept off, when her husband woke up and turned her to his side, she could bear the bad odour of his mouth. Though being aware that she was drunk, he didn’t ask her anything.
‘Never mind even if the headache were to occur’, decided she, and opened her eyes. Felt happy at the absence of headache. Tying her hair into a bun, she ran towards the backyard. The previous day itself she had obtained permission from the chief mason for coming to work that day. For that, she had to take her body close to him so that he could feel her accidentally. More than the usual proximity. If this continued, he would surely invite her to bed. No doubt about that. But, the house they were constructing would be completed in a few days. Further, sowing and planting would also begin in their village. During this interval, there would be other women within the reach of the chief mason. And, in that interval, he too would’ve lost his courage to ask her to sleep with him. Once again she would go to work under him as a fresh new virtuous female.
The sound of Kanmani having a bath on the other side of the thatch-screen could be heard. Though there was a bathroom in Pasumai house, that was useful just for storing firewood alone. Bathing, washing clothes, vessels – everything would be in that thatch-screen covered space. From above the screen, there was smoke coming. Suspecting something amiss, Amudha turned around and glanced. As usual, Kanmani had collected and aligned bricks, and getting hot water had left without properly extinguishing the fire.
“Hei you, don’t you know that once the water has boiled, you should take out the firewood? If a fire breaks out and burns all those silk garments bought by your father, then, are we to go naked for work?”
It was Amudha’s nature to admonish thus screaming if she felt bright and energetic. Further, getting into a bus and going to another place for work would always turn her doubly alive.
As it would be necessary to have a bath after the completion of the day’s work, washing just her face, and preparing the vermicelli dish for both of them on the gas-stove, handing over her house-key to the neighbour Viji, requesting her to give it to her husband, who had gone out for a happy stroll, on his return, she set out with Kanmani who was ready to go to school. As Kanmani frowned to have her in the cycle and go pedalling, Amuda received the cycle from her. Her job was in Thiruthuraipoondi. Kanmani was studying the eleventh standard in St. Joseph Higher Secondary School. Going with her in cycle till Kamalapuram she would then proceed to Thiruvarur, and from there to Thiruthuraipoondi. As the work had been going on for a week now, non-stop, ‘Anna-koodai’ ‘(Iron-basket), ‘Kammaadu’ (head-gear) were all there at the work-spot itself. But, the house-owner objected to her leaving her sari that she would be wearing while at work. Kanmani would never allow her to get on the cycle with the ‘Annakoodai. Thank god, it was not there and so she could steer the cycle freely.
In Kamalapuram, one should get into the bus by eight-o’-clock. Abirami was the only person who accompanied her to Thiruvarur. But, she was yet to be seen. Kanmani got into the Mannarkudi bound bus from the opposite side and went away. Old ladies proceeding to other places for construction work were munching betel leaves and chatting boisterously in the bus-terminus. Amudha didn’t like standing next to them. On the other side, girls going to college from Thakkalur were waiting for their buses. Amudha couldn’t stand amidst them, either. Seemed like the heat of the sun had become aggravated. Her eyes burned. Shouldn’t have watched the TV serial and then a full-length movie before going to bed, thought she.
The horn sound of the eight-o’-clock bus which she had to catch, could be heard at a distance. Abhirami had not yet come. Whether to wait for her or to get inside the bus, she wondered and this uncertainty intensified the feeling of hatred that was prevailing in her heart, pricking like sand-particles on a fresh wound. At the same time, as she acquired one thing to focus her entire attention and apprehension, the other worries took a back seat. If she waited for Abhirami she had to miss the State transport bus with a limited crowd and get into the jampacked private bus. At least that could be managed. But, if the chief mason chose to leave before she arrived there, then she should return empty-handed. And, there would be no assurance that the chief mason would call her for work in the subsequent days. But, if boarded the bus without Abirami the latter would fret and fume. That would lead to losing the one and only source of solace that she had. As a consequence she would spend money on liquor, her recently acquired habit. Suddenly Amudha grew suspicious whether Abhirami had already arrived but was hiding somewhere to see what Amudha would do in the event of the bus coming. When her confusion-confounded state of mind was tearing her thus, the call “Hey you, Akkaav….” And the State Transport bus reached there simultaneously.
Instantly Amudha felt all affectionate towards Abhirami.
“O, where did you go, bitch?” asked she, once they got into the bus and sat down. The sweat soaking her blouse turned cool, thanks to the wind through the window-seat, and gave her great respite.
“I went to our Mudaliyar’s field to pluck coconuts, sister,” said Abhirami.
That Abhirami could climb the coconut tree didn’t surprise Amudha. But, was it advisable for a woman who had undergone cesarean the previous year during the delivery of her second child, to climb a tree, wondered Amudha.
“So, Mudaliyar saw you, right?”
“What if he sees me? He would curse me, calling me names. But, he can’t get up, come there running and drive me away – can he?” Abhirami responded with a tired face.
“He has a son. He has come from his place, they say”
“You’re right.”
“I climbed right to the top of a tree in the centre of their field, that had lots of coconuts, sister. At that time this son of his came there brushing his teeth with ‘Veppankuchi’ (neem-twig). As if the paste is not available in our place. And, you know what he did? He came right under my tree and, lifting his lungi, began shitting.”
Amudha started laughing. But, seeing her friend’s face darkening, “What happened then?” she inquired.
“Bloody dog – don’t know what he eats. The stench reached me there at the top. Felt like plucking one full bunch of coconut and dropping it straight on his head. I remained where I was, covering my nose tightly with my fingers and palm and when I climbed down after he washed his bum and left, his shit was all around the tree, sis…”
Laughing, Amudha got up. The Thiruthuraippoondi bus was standing there, roaring. As they ran and got into it, the bus began moving. Sitting in a place in the last row they began chatting loudly. Amudha looked around to see whether anyone who studied with her could be seen. She heaved a sigh when she could see none. The house being constructed by Amudha’s chief mason was located near Vellore bridge, a little before Thiruthuraippoondi. As they alighted, the owner of the house, as usual, growled at the chief mason. And the latter smiled. The way he would smile when his hand felt her body, Amudha mused.
Applying cement was done on the first floor. Though difficult, Amudha accepted the work of carrying cement and sand to the place where they were mixed in right proportions for the construction work. The work would go on smoothly till the roof would be laid. After the rooms covered by roof would emerge, the construction workers brought by the chief mason couldn’t be trusted. They would be as efficient as the chief mason. As lusty as he would be. If it was the ground floor the house owner might visit any time – such a fear would be there. But, he couldn’t climb the stair and come to the upper floor. Changing into sari brought to be worn while at work, till afternoon Amudha was climbing up and down the stairs. After that, the chief mason had called her to come to his room carrying the cement mix. As doors were yet to be fixed for the hall where Amudha brought the cement-mix and dropped it, the area was filled with the light and heat of the sun. But, the room was not so. It was a cool and dim area. The chief mason didn’t talk to Amudha. Receiving the cement-mix that she had brought in an iron-container he was throwing it on the wall. If placed flat on the floor and squeezed, not an extra pound of flesh could be extracted out of him. Such a splendid physique with taut nerves. Unlike other masons, this one wouldn’t work in baniyan. Even while working he would be wearing a shirt. That shirt now lightly infuriated Amudha. Even in that overpowering smell of cement-mix, Amudha could distinguish the odour of mason’s sweat. Something that had remained taut and frozen since morning, settled as it was the way the first wet cement would be, began melting. Suddenly her body could feel fatigue and weariness spreading all over. She wanted to just lie on that wet floor sticky with cement, and sleep. She could hear Abhirami’s voice from the adjacent room, giggling and chatting with the masons there.
When Amudha bent to haul the cement-mix, scattered when it was thrown against the wall for coating, the trowel of the chief mason who was applying the cement mix above, slipped and fell and its iron-part hit Amudha’s hip-bone.
“Ammaa….” Screaming in pain Amudha looked up. “You can cry later. First, give me that trowel”, said the chief mason.
In the evening, during the tea-break, looking at Amudha’s lifeless face Abhirami put a hand on her shoulder and asked, “What happened, sister?”
Overcome with an incomprehensible feeling, something between hatred and revulsion, Amudha slowly moved her body away from Abhirami’s hand that was placed on her bare shoulder without the cover of sari or blouse. She did it so slowly, so casually, but that was enough to sever the still more delicate affinity between them. Very genuine kinships always prove very vulnerable and can be torn apart by such a thin stir.
When she was hastening towards the bus-terminus that evening, Amudha didn’t have any of the worries regarding how the odour of sweat on her body was making the schoolboys frown. She was not in any way feeling ecstatic about the male fingers that touch the female body full of dust and sweat, not being indifferent to the woman inside the body. Even if these soothing feelings were to pervade her, either to share them or to just stand without sharing them, Abhirami was not there by her side. They stood apart, each one side. When the bus crossed Aalaathampadi, a seat became vacant for Abhirami, but, fearing the prospect of Amudha occupying the adjacent seat, the former chose to remain standing. Openly distancing thus hurt Amudha all the more. Though her heart had realized the parting already, the way a concrete action bearing witness to their separation aggravated the pain and anguish she was undergoing.
It was like, despite being aware of the fact that blood would come out of the injured spot, the way we would be feeling a shock when we actually see blood trickling.
When she alighted at Thiruvarur, she didn’t feel like getting into a bus going to Kamalpuram. She went and stood before Thailammai theatre and then before Vasan Sweets stall. Then, beside Selvis Hotel. Then, at the entrance of Sahana Super Market. As she stood there watching those coming out she felt more miserable. A month back Amudha had completed her thirty-fifth years of age. Her husband, when he was in a good mood, would call her to take a selfie. Sometimes she had tried it on her own. Only when she felt extremely happy she would take a selfie herself and see. Even while taking the photo her face would look lovely to her. But, once taken the face in the photograph would appear old and ugly, as if saliva had been spat on the face. But, that was not the case with the women coming out of those places where she went and stood at the gateway. They were not looking old. Even the ladies carrying their grandchildren looked beautiful. They got into cars and left. ‘Won’t their cars meet with accidents, killing them…. Won’t an earthquake arrive here and crush these human bodies filled with the joy of luxury and comfort?’ she couldn’t control her tears. Whom to be angry at, whom to curse…. She felt at a loss.
When she went back to the bus terminus, the impotent rage lashing inside her began to slowly subside. That frightened her. Notwithstanding her raging fury, the bus she boarded proceeded slowly. Its inside was dimly lit. The memory of those females going in the cars came back to prick her as an act of betrayal. As if respecting her displeasure, a person got up from his seat in Kooturavu Nagar and got down. In that seat, an old man with silvery hair was sitting. Whether to sit next to him or not – Amudha felt confused for a second. He must be elder to her father by a few years. Or, he was a man not known to her. When she was thus standing there confusion-confounded between two possibilities, “Why are you standing, my girl? You look tired as if coming from a hard day’s work. Sit here for a while.” – said the man looking at her and in a loud voice. At that instant Amudha felt that there was none in the world except that person, to extend a helping hand to her. She sat next to him.
“Which is your place, my girl?” He asked in the same loud voice.
“Kamalapuram, sir”
“That is the place you get down. Which is your hometown?”
She hesitated to give the name of her place.
“Come on, if you tell me the name of your place I won’t come there for supper…. Don’t hesitate!”
He laughed heartily, showing his mouth, all red with chewing betel leaves. Amudha also laughed. But, she didn’t say anything. But, he was not going to leave her at that.
“If I come to your house, won’t you give me something to eat?” Even now his voice sounded loud, but yet, there was a pleading note in it. Amudha likes that tone.
“Why not? I can think of you as a mendicant and feed you,” said she. There was nothing wrong in speaking to him thus, thought she.
“What, mendicant? Why not think of me as your kith and kin?”
The women sitting in the front seat turned and looked at him. His facial expression emboldened them to tease him.
“What kind of kinship you propose?”
Now, that man began talking to those two.
“Think of me as your husband, I say.”
“Ha – I wait for the day when my husband would leave me once and for all – and, you are asking to be accepted as a substitute!”
Now the men from back seats began murmuring. But, the elderly person was not in the least perturbed by that. Amudha felt a little apprehensive and also grew cautious.
Looking at Amudha the old man said, “This bitch is not okay. You tell me your place. Let me come with you.” Even then Amudha laughed.
A dark man looking strong and sturdy, sitting a few seats away from their row got up.
“Hei you!” – roared he.
The old man sitting next to Amudha didn’t look back.
“Hei – I am calling you, man.” Saying thus the dark man tapped the shoulder of the old man.
The latter’s face darkened.
“Sir, don’t speak in a disrespectful manner, please.” His voice shook in a repulsive manner.
Now Amudha felt embarrassed to sit next to him and she got up immediately.
“I keep watching you, fella. She is of your daughter’s age and what rot you are talking to her?”
Now, the grey-haired man also rose. “Are you her husband? After all she herself has chosen to sit next to me, desiring the heat of a man’s body,” he said, in the same mocking voice. Amudha started shivering. Now, the man who came over there in her defence appeared to make a retreat.
“If we go interfering in all these, we would be subjected to humiliation”.when that person moved towards his seat he uttered those words to another person looking sophisticated like him.
Before he sat, Amudha screamed.
“You bloody old fucker….Toiling hard for the whole day, when I sit in the vacant seat next to you, you dare to take it as me desiring the heat of your damn male body? Ask your mother to sit next to you – you bloody scoundrel.”
It took some time for Amudha to realize that she was screaming. That she could shout so made her cry. Her sobs linking all those drops of feelings and emotions languishing inside her, she began to weep noisily. Her sobs made the other passengers sympathize with her. The dark, sturdy man who had gone to sit in his place, on seeing that his side had grown stronger, came back to the grey-haired man. The feeling of having been shamed which was choking him, burst out now.
He gave the old man a stinging slap. There was no need for him to say anything. Two more joined him. The sight of the old man being beaten black and blue brought a cruel calm in Amudha. Before the scene could prolong, Kamalapuram came. Alighting, when she walked away hurriedly, Amudha remembered the eyes of those men who thrashed the old man feeling her every now and then and moving away. Involuntarily her body quivered.
………………………..
This story is originally written in Tamil and is translated to English by Latha Ramakrishnan
Latha Ramakrishnan is a Post Graduate in English. Lives in Chennai. poet, short-story writer, translator; Writes poems in Tamil under the pseudonym’rishi’, and short stories under the pseudonym ‘Anaamikaa’. Her writings have been published in all noteworthy small magazines in Tamil. Translates from English to Tamil and Tamil to English. So far three short story collections, 12 poem-collections, three collections of essays and more than thirty books of translation of hers have been published. Latha also publishes works of merit mainly poems of fellow poets in bilingual format through her small initiative in a publication called ANAAMIKAA ALPHABETS. Has written stories for children such as Mylee Tales and Tales from Thirukural.
This Translation is an outcome of a joint project by Kanali கனலி- கலை இலக்கிய இணையதளம் and FemAsia Magazine
