The Coin - A short story (4)

As we entered the Kooduthurai temple, memories came to me like short waves. At this very temple I expressed my love to Gayathri and received a smile that even the deity at the Madurai Meenakshi Amman could not match. For a year and a half the temple had been a place for our frequent visits. My primary purpose of the visit would only be to be with her and have joyful conversation while for her it was her Shiva, the lord of destruction who had to be attended first. Of the countless lingams situated at various places inside the temple, a tiny one that sat under a Beal tree would receive her dedicated attention and a quarter of an hour of silent worship with the sacred ash and Beal leaves; prior to that a visit to the main deity The Sangameshwara is a must. All this while I would accompany her edgily awaiting the sweet talks I would have with her after her ceremonious round up around the temple.

That evening too, I was waiting edgily for Rama Krishnan to start the conversation, and to be exact I was awaiting the moment he would let me leave. Somehow I got an unpleasant feeling about this meeting. Also I could not get the beggar out of my mind.

Rama Krishnan had gone to buy some Prasad from the temple shop. When he returned his face looked bright. ‘The tamarind rice that is sold here is the most delicious in this town’ he said sitting beside me and offering me a bundle of tamarind rice.

While I was opening the bundle, I could not help but wonder at the sight of innocence present on his face. I felt a tinge of guilt developing in me.

‘Sir, do you still remember that tinopal incident?’ I asked him hesitantly.

‘Oh, yes. How could I forget the very incident that changed the course of my life?’

‘I am extremely sorry sir,’ I said: my guilt conscious ballooning up. ‘It was my entire fault,’

‘No, no, no. Don’t be silly. You did the best you could. You contacted me immediately when you found out you have added tinopal to the lot by mistake. You didn’t try to hide your mistake or put the blame on someone, you know. That’s a noble quality for me. The only mistake you have committed was to forget my instructions. I clearly said umpteen times that it wasn’t a white lot and we shouldn’t add tinopal. But then you were inexperienced. You had been transferred from the laboratory to the bleaching department just a week earlier. You could have been careful. But never mind. It’s all a thing of the past now,’ he said, more intend on the tamarind rice than on the conversation.

I wanted to express myself completely, knowing full well I could not. ‘But sir, it was a night shift and I slept immediately after giving the chemical requirements to the laborer. I forgetfully added two kilos of tinopal and the laborer obliged my instruction while I was blissfully unaware of anything that was going on. Had I been awake that night, I could have avoided the blunder. It was a lot that was meant to be dyed with burgundy color, but I made dyeing impossible by adding the whitening agent. It was ten thousand meters of fabric, sir. I incurred a great loss to the company and the buyer. You took the blame on yourself. I got away with some stern warnings. But it was you who suffered a great deal. You lost your job. The provident fund was denied. As you said, it’s true that incident changed the course of your life, but all because of me.  I feel guilty when I think of you and our company, sir. That was the reason why I tried to avoid meeting you on the earlier occasions even when you insisted,’

‘You know, Mahesh, you had just given your resignation then. If you had accepted responsibility for the slipup, the MD would not have spared you. Your salary for that month would not have been issued; neither would you have got your bonus for that year. Pongal was nearing, remember? I knew the bonus was substantial amount of money, considering the financial trouble your family was undergoing at that time. Not to mention the influence the MD had over the new company you were going to join. He could have ruined your chances of going up in the ladder,’ he said.

‘But sir, the ruination struck you massively.’

‘You think so? No, no. in fact it was a blessing in disguise for me. I always wanted to get rid of this wretched job but did not have the guts to do it. When it came naturally, although I was dumbstruck at first, I felt relieved. It gave an opportunity to reflect back on my own life and made it easier for me to take some important decisions in my life. So, in a way, I am happy that the inevitable happened.’

‘Are you really happy at the moment, sir?’

‘You could say that. One is never happy with one’s life at any point. But I can say I am free of a lot of load at this moment. My pocket is empty; my path is clear; no sidekicks; no masters,’ he said, laughing aloud.

to be contd...

The Coin - A short story (3)

I should agree that though he looked a beggar, his appearance struck an undesirable chord somewhere inside my system. The reverberations lasted for a few more minutes even after he left. He wore a shabby and tattered shirt, his hair looked like a beehive and it seemed a blackish liquid had been applied all over his body. He wore a shoe on his right leg without a sock, and the shoe had an enormous hole at the top front. He was skinny but had a firm skeleton. Though his posture suggested that he stood in front of me for want of a one rupee coin, his stubborn gaze told a different story. His eyes were shining like a pair of fire balls, and it seemed that at any time he could spit fire through his eyes. I grew nervous as I observed him closely. Not out of compassion for a fellow human being but with an interminable desire to get rid off him, I decided to offer him something. I fumbled in my shirt pocket for a feel of the metal and found one. When I took it out I was upset to see a five rupee coin. Certainly I had no intention to gift a stray beggar a five rupee coin, which could buy you a cup of tea or enable you to travel back home in a bus. Five rupees is precious money. But then I had to erase his presence from my surrounding. With him gazing at me as if I have committed an irredeemable crime, I could not even stand peacefully. Half heartedly I dropped the coin in his palm. He did not thank me, I didn’t expect him to. He stood there still and wore the same malicious look on his face; I didn’t expect his expression to change either, for some inexplicable reasons. Somehow I felt obliged to do whatever he demanded. I started to fear that he would never leave me. May be he would like to take me with him, to wherever he went. I remembered in a Tamil movie starred by the Tamil super star Rajini Kanth, the hero was taken by a beggar to the Himalayas through many secret ways. There he would meet a lot of rishis and avatars. He would be awarded a number of boons. I could not suppress my smile at the thought of this. But his stare grew unforgiving at the sight of my smile. I contemplated whether to shoo him off myself, but gave up the thought and looked in the opposite direction. Kooduthurai temple Gopuram was in view, the letters Shiva, Shiva were prominently visible on the Gopuram. I could sense he was still staring at me and I started wondering whether I should leave from that place.

‘Hey man, how do you do?’ the unmistakable voice of Rama Krishnan echoed from behind. I turned abruptly to see a fast approaching Rama Krishnan. While he came closer to me, the beggar took leave immediately. I felt immensely relieved. I took my mobile and switched it off. I didn’t want disturbance during my conversation with him.

‘Hello sir, Vanakkam. How are you?’ I greeted him with a smile.

‘Mm... I am all right. You seemed to have forgotten all of us. Think about us some time man. Don’t forget your past,’

I smiled hesitantly. ‘It’s not like that sir, I was a little busy at a function in my in laws’’

‘Have you had something? Come on let’s have tea,’ he said. Grabbing my left shoulder, he dragged me into the teashop. He shouted his requirement to the tea master; two cups of milk tea, one with less sugar and two lentil vadas. We stood crammed in the little space that was available inside the teashop and waited for the tea to be served. 

The foam was present at least a quarter of an inch thick on top of the tea and I had to blow out the foam in order to find my tea. Rama Krishnan was doing the same. Almost everyone in Tamil Nadu does the same. You need to mention that you need the tea without any foam when you order. Some intelligent people do. They must have prepared the vada in the morning. It was cold and rough like leather.

Rama Krishnan suggested as there is no space inside the teashop and in his room his room mate will be present, it would be better if we went into Kooduthurai temple to have a long talk. Well, the temple closed at eight in the evening after the final puja, but still we could sit on the temple veranda and talk for some time he said.  

to be contd. . .

The Coin - A short story (2)

I thought for a while to take the bus and gave up the idea. You need to walk at least ten minutes to reach the bus stop and waiting for the bus would definitely take considerable amount of time. Reaching Rama Krishnan’s from Bhavani bus stand is no easy task either. I have decided to walk fast so that I can meet him in at least thirty to forty five minutes.

Cauvery River flowed between Bhavani and komarapalayam. At this place it gained a specific name Bhavani River. Three massive bridges linked the two little towns at various places. The third one, which was the closest to the bus stand, was built as recently as three years ago. Still no four wheelers were allowed to cross this bridge since the official opening ceremony of the bridge was not yet done. But the two wheelers ran on. Bhavani People working in textile weaving and processing mills in komarapalayam took this bridge after their work thereby cutting their travel expense from Komarapalayam to Bhavani and vice versa. Also buses from Erode, the capital of the Periyar district, reach Bhavani faster than they reach komarapalayam. So most of the Komarapalayam people prefer to take buses to Bhavani from Erode and walk on feet on the new bridge to their home town.

It was nearly six in the evening. The bridge had a heavenly atmosphere since the street lamps were on while the sunlight was still out. I walked on the pavement of the bridge, speeding up my pace as I went along. I felt the silky touch of the cool evening air on my face. The air has a peculiar nimbleness as it wafted through the surface of the river and I liked to breathe in the fresh air deeply. I breathed in what seemed to be a ton of air into my lungs and felt rejuvenated and relaxed. I reduced my pace to have a look around.  I looked into the river. It was one of those luckiest months when you got to see water in the river. Water had engulfed a lot of rocks, leaving the tips of a few on its surface. On the banks, a few women washed their clothes on the rocks and a few men bathed not faraway from them. I shifted my gaze to check the distance to be covered in order to cross the bridge. It might take a few more minutes. I saw people returning home from their work. Women from the nearby market carried large baskets on their heads and walked with an intense rhythm. Young boys and girls, evidently from private schools, (as Government schools finished early) pedaled their bicycles leisurely. Boys talked about cricket and cinema and girls talked about studies and cinema. When the boys were out of earshot, girls talked about boys and when the girls came within earshot, boys talked about girls. My lips curled with a slender smile at the sight of the freshness of youth blossoming in them. The bridge was full of noise. Two wheelers horned unnecessarily and people talked, shouted, cursed and spat needlessly. Tamil film songs were played loudly in the street side hotels to give the people a signal that their business has started. When I reached the other end of the bridge, two policemen stopped the two wheelers and checked whether their drivers had proper license. Apparently it was the end of the month. They required booking a minimum number of cases in a given month.

The bus station was situated at the end of the bridge. As soon as I reached the station I was delighted to see a bus waiting to go to Erode. If I took the bus now, I could save some valuable time in reaching Rama Krishnan’s which was near Kooduthurai. I jogged to the bus and climbed on it. It would not take more than ten minutes to reach my destination. My sprits rose.

When I climbed the bus down at Kooduthurai stop, I could not see Rama Krishnan at the tea shop, the place we both agreed to be the rendezvous. I scanned inside the teashop; no sign of him. Standing outside, I called him over my mobile phone.

It was difficult to make his voice out due to the noise made by the traffic. He stuck up in a dyeing unit and would meet me in twenty minutes. I was instructed to wait in front of the teashop until he arrived. I cursed myself for not checking up with him before I started.

While I was pondering my luck standing in front of the teashop (as there was not a single vacant seat inside it) I had a visitor. The man at first must have tried his luck with the teashop owner and its inhabitants, for his posture insisted that I should take something out of my pocket to offer him. He stood at least five minutes silently staring at me, apparently gauging my inherent qualities. His left hand lay stretched with open palm all the while.

To be contd. . .

The Coin - A short story (1)

The Coin  - A short story

There was jasmine fragrance in the air, ladies walked in their Silk Sarees hither and thither in an effort to produce the effect of hectic activity in the atmosphere. I was sitting impatiently with a silver tumbler full of hot coffee. For a moment I thought of keeping the tumbler on the floor so that one of the children jumping around might trip over it and relieve me off the pain of consuming the watery coffee. You cannot leave the coffee unfinished that was offered by a host, especially when the hosts turn out to be your in-laws. That simply is not respectful. The tradition forces you to accept gleefully anything that is offered by a host. You throw in anything into your throat that comes your way as if you are throwing garbage into a dustbin.

            For the fourth time in half an hour, my mobile phone vibrated in my pant pocket. I decided that the temperature was perfect for the coffee to be gulped in one go and after doing so I hurriedly took the phone out. It was Mr. Rama Krishnan again, my ex manager.

            I killed the persisting vibration and texted him saying I was busy and would meet him in twenty minutes. I pocketed the phone and scanned the marriage hall for a glimpse of Gayathri. There she was, engaged in an animated conversation with a portly lady. Suddenly as if by intuition, she turned toward my direction and presented one of her trade mark admiring smiles at me. Through my eyes I tried to convey that I needed her. I thought I succeeded. Abruptly she ended the conversation with another smile, on this occasion at the portly lady, and started walking towards me. In the Silk Saree, she looked like the school girl she was a few years ago when I fell in love with her.

            ‘Have you had your coffee or should I bring some?’ she asked standing in front of me with her hands on her hips.

            ‘Oh, I just had,’ I said. ‘Gaayoo! I need to leave. My ex boss wants me to meet him now,’

            ‘Mahesh! This is not fair. The function is hardly over. All the guests are here. It won’t look nice if you leave this early. Any of them may want to have a chat with you,’

            ‘Gaayoo! Try to understand. He is in town only for today. He leaves tonight for his hometown. And it has been years since we both met. You know very well he was instrumental in my growth. How can I avoid him? What possible explanation I could give him?’

            ‘Tell him the truth. That you are attending an important function and you can not leave the place since it would be disgraceful to the elders and the other relatives. He himself is a family man. He will understand. He wouldn’t be disappointed,’

            ‘He wouldn’t show if he has any. The point is it is I who want to meet him. At least I owe him that much,’

            Gayathri gave me an angry stare, and the look immediately altered to express a judgment that I am an incorrigible idiot. ‘Go!’ she said, looking away.

            ‘May I take the motor cycle? If I have to take the bus, it would take too much time,’

            ‘You are unbelievable! How do you think we will take the elders to the bus stop when they want to leave? Motorcycle? No way. Go away!’

            I knew that was the final verdict and slipped myself out of the house. At the entrance I saw some faces that smiled at me in a friendly way. I hadn’t a clue about who they were. Nevertheless I reciprocated. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them came forward and stopped me from leaving. I did not want to give a chance for that to happen and started walking away immediately.

to be contd. . . 

Life of Pi 2

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For the most part of the novel, Pi and his companion Richard Parker (the tiger) live in the life boat. Pi finds drinking water cans, packaged food, fishing line and rain catchers among many others from the life boat. This enables him to survive for a few days on the life boat. When Martel describes the incident in which Pi drinks water after three days, we could realize how traumatic it is to be on a life boat without any hope of survival. Pi slowly starts catching fish and turtles and begins to feed on them. A great chunk of his catch goes to RP. The tiger gets water from the rain catcher. Also there are some instruments which turn sea water into drinkable. He makes pure water and offers to RP. Owing to vigorously changing weather, Pi looses all his clothing and becomes stark naked. He props the turtle shells over his body to guard himself against sunlight.

            Though the door of the cabin in the lifeboat separates the territories of Pi and the tiger, Pi has to establish his supremacy over RP by way of a technique he picks up while in the life boat. He takes the whistle attached to one of the life vests and uses it to good effect to control the tiger. By assuming the position of a circus ring master, Pi announces the tiger that he is the master and makes sure the tiger’s movements are restricted within certain boundaries he decides. It is incredible to see how a beast of such enormous proportions comes easily under control by the blowing of a whistle. Pi demonstrates his ability to think and react swiftly in a critical situation. Soon he becomes the master of his role as a ring master. The tiger obeys him promptly.

In spite of Pi willing to avoid the jeopardy posed by the tiger, he never wishes to shy away from his responsibility as the savior of his companion. He feeds him with sufficient amount of food and water and really wants RP to survive regardless of the obvious likelihood of being killed by the tiger. He develops a feeling of definite friendliness towards RP and he thinks that he could not have survived the ordeal without the unintentional moral support provided by the tiger.

During their lonely days on the sea, Pi losses his eyesight presumably because of malnutrition. He has been living without proper food for many days. He assumes that RP could also have lost his eyesight due to same reasons. One day Pi stumbles upon another life boat which carries another boy who also has lost eyesight. Both the boys start a conversation which essentially revolves around food. Pi tries to satisfy his desire on food and his persisting hunger by talking to him about food. At the end of the conversation Pi invites the boy to his boat, completely forgetting to mention the presence of a 450 – pound tiger in his boat. The boy becomes the prey for the tiger.

Another intriguing experience awaits Pi when the life boat reaches a small island. The island is definitely big enough for two people (I mean, Pi and RP). The whole island is made up of a weird kind of algae. There are also trees found in the island which are nothing but extensions of the cluster of algae. Pi rejoices over his discovery about the presence of pure water in the stems of algae. He decides to stay near the island and started drinking pure water supplied by algae. He spends his nights in the lifeboat. RP too develops a habit to visit the island during daytime and returns to boat at nights. Pi explores the island during his visits and finds out the reason for RP’s regular visit. He finds a lot of rat like creatures of peculiar character and shape which are called meerkats. Their behavior is soft and harmless and they do not seem to notice even if someone who is not part of their society enters their terrain. This is why RP too has found this island fascinating. His regular visits to the island always pay him with rich dividend in terms of food. The meerkats do not care about being killed; they simply go about doing their job- that is – looking into the fresh water ponds that are present numerously in the island.

The presence of fresh water ponds is another thing that captivates Pi’s attention. He speculates that this must be the work of surrounding algae. The sea water that passes through the algae is converted into fresh water, and it is aplenty in the island to Pi’s merry. He swims in the ponds; fights with the meerkats to capture the dead fish carried by the ponds (Pi understands when the sea fish comes into the ponds they immediately die. This provides him with sufficient food.). He keeps on exploring the island while spending his nights at the life boat.

The very day he decides to stay one night inside the island Pi finds out a horrible truth about the island. He immediately decides to leaves the island right away. During the night, he stays on one of the branches of a tree to see all the meerkats climb up the tree. The whole island is now free of meerkats. Every single meerkat is on the tree now. When he drops one of the meerkats onto the ground immediately it dissolves. Pi finds to his horror that during nights the algae turns sea water into acid which dissolves anything that comes in its way. He even finds out a human tooth in one of the fruits on the tree. Pi realizes how dangerous the place it is that he has been staying in for all these days. He instantly decides to move from that wretched island.

Finally when the life boat hits the land, he had had stayed for 227 days in the boat. Richard Parker jumps out of the boat and runs away from sight into the jungle. The local people rescue him and give him a wash. Since the ship they travelled was a Japanese one, the Japanese officials approach him for enquiry. When Pi describes his experience, the officials refuse to believe since the story has a lot of implausible elements in it. They insist him to tell the true story. Pi tries to convince them that what he said was what really happened. Unable to convince them, Pi tells them another version of the story which includes believable elements but contains cruel occurrences imposed by the people in the boat. When Pi asks the officials which version of the story they prefer, they reply that the one which contains animals is the likable one. Finally Pi is settled in Canada and lives happily with his wife and kids.

As promised earlier by the novelist, this novel truly makes us believe in God. Also it shows that if one has the will to survive and the determination to face tribulations, he will have over come the ordeal with his effort and the by the will of God. Life of Pi is a terrific novel to read and yann Martell is an excellent writer. 

Life of Pi 1

Life of Pi

                Life of Pi is a Man Booker prize winning novel written by Yann Martel. Martel visited India to write a novel which happens in another country. But when he heard a true story of a sixteen year old boy from a person he met during his stay in India, his whole plan changed.

                I came to know of this novel when the Tamil writer S.Ramakrishnan recommended this in his website. I happened to see this novel in a sale in our school conducted for fund raising. The book was written in 2002 I think, but by the appearance it looked as if it was printed seventy five years ago. Nearly a hundred pages had come off the binding, and the remaining pages were also on the verge separating themselves from their parent if we made an attempt to read. But the thing that caught my attention was its price, five ruffia, fifteen rupees in Indian currency. So I bought it after making sure all the pages are present inside the book and started reading it immediately.

                The hero of the novel is a sixteen year old boy named Piscine Patel, the son of a Zoo director in Pondicherry, India. Since the students of his school made a mockery of his name, calling him ‘pissing Patel’ he decided to change his name. When he visits a new school he introduced himself as Pi. The name was catchy and was quickly popularized. Pi was interested in all three major religions in India, Hinduism, Christianity and Islam and tries to follow all the religions simultaneously. Representatives of three religions meet the boy’s father in the hope of trying to attract Pi towards their religion. But Pi liked all the religions and wants to worship Rama, Jesus and Allah equally.

                Being the son of a Zoo director gives him the opportunity of living with the animals. He knows in and out about the behaviour of wild animals. In fact, his involvement in the religious activities and his wide knowledge of the wild animals led him to choose to study theology and Zoology at his graduation level.

                The story happens in 1970s I suppose. It was the time when Mrs Indira Gandhi, the prime minister of India, enforced emergency throughout the country. Pi’s father foresees the danger running zoo business and decided to migrate to Canada. He sells the Zoo but not the animals. Since it is a good bargain to sell the animals in America, Pi’s family, along with the animals travel in a cargo ship to Canada.

                On its course the ship meets with an accident and sinks. The boy was thrown on to a lifeboat and onto the sea. He survived the accident along with a zebra with a broken leg, an orangutan, a hyena and 450 pound royal Bengal tiger.

                Though it was almost certain that all the creatures on the lifeboat would die killing each other or try to save them from being killed by one another or of natural causes, the novel describes the miraculous escape of the boy from the dangerous animals and also from the cruelties of the sea.

                The continuing pages tell us the compelling incidences that involve the boy attempting to survive through the ordeals. He tries everything that is possible to prolong his life until a savior of some sort sights him. He utilizes all the materials that were available in the lifeboat and the persisting situations around him to his benefit and cheats death.

                It is hard to believe that for the major part of the novel, Pi was the only human character and yet the pace and interest of the novel did not go down; in fact they go up once Pi ends up on a life boat. Yann Martel’s style of writing is simple, lucid and humorous even in the most catastrophic situations.

                The story of Pi is a prime example of why we should believe in God. It proves even when you are thrust into a calamity; miracles are bound to happen if you have faith in God and life. Life presents itself with simple solutions for major adversities when you have willingness to survive. Life of Pi is not only a story, but a lesson to all of us who lose hope and interest in life even when we live comfortably.

To be continued.

Books I read

Recently I have made it a habit to read at least thirty pages a day.  When I discharge the custom regularly I was amazed to observe I was able to go well beyond thirty pages. These days I mutter a silent prayer for this habit to continue for the rest of my life.

Contrary to my earlier practice, I read novels exclusively these days. A few months back spiritual scriptures and Advita philosophy occupied my time. Since my passion is creative/fiction writing, I tend to read a few contemporary Tamil novels. I attempted to read some novels online but could not continue the exercise. Besides being straining for the eyes, lack of will to continue reading online prevented me from making that into a habit.  

Hence my prevalent choice is the printed version. I am trapped among three novels at the moment, with the fourth waiting in the wings. The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett, Clive Avenue by T.S.Trimurthy and a Tamil novel named oru kadalora kiraamaththin kathai written by Thoppil Mohamed Meeran. The fourth, which I open to read in a few days time, is Qurr-Atul-In- Hyder’s River of Fire, An Urdu novel Trans created by the author herself.

In the past weeks I have completed reading Arvind Adiga’s white Tiger, an award winning novel, The Concept of Novel (Tamil) by Jeyamohan, Nakulan’s Ninaivuppaathai (Tamil) and again Jayamohan’s Modern Tamil Literature – an introduction (Tamil).

Jayamohan’s two books speak exclusively on the importance of having a clear understanding literature form and the execution of it. I went through the books at a faster pace which prevent me from discussing them in detail. I intend to share my thoughts primarily about the novels I have read.

I have to be honest and say that I didn’t like Adiga’s White Tiger in spite of its speedy plot and the riveting scenes. The hype it created by winning Man Booker prize, did not stop me from me deciding it as an average book. The story is narrated by a car driver in the first person. He works for a business man and comes to kill his boss. In an effort to explain why he was pushed into a situation of becoming a murderer, he portrays the contemporary social process. India happens to be a land of opportunities and a potential place for infinitive exploitability. People who have the guts and the wits can not only survive but also thrive in this environment. I can say this novel presents Adiga’s satirical point of view of the Indian corporate arena with fascinating episodes but fails to establish itself as a literary creation. Any popular fiction writer could have written this novel with ease. What it lacks is the spontaneity and the vision.