The Bliss (சிலிர்ப்பு) by Thi. Janaki Raman

 

This is an English translation of “Silirppu” a famous short story by Thi. Janaki Raman. Translated into English by Saravanan Karmegam.

****

The starting station of that train was Tiruchirapalli. It ended its journey at Mayavaram. Its life, which started at ten, would end at three. After Madurai, Manamadurai, and Erode- bound trains had left, the Trichy junction looked like a well-lit grove, pillaged by a storm. Other than banana peels, orange peels, half-opened packets with leftover food, and sleepy faces, nothing was visible.

Half an hour to go before that train left. Neither the engine nor the guard had come yet. Each compartment had at least one dishevelled or a shabby-looking man sleeping. The family that got off the Bangalore Express dumped their luggage in the second class, kept someone to guard it and went away somewhere. What a crowd if it were an express train.! What a warm reception and showering of love when it arrives! What a festive mood when it leaves! But look at this train! So desolate as if forsaken. The shuttle train, worst and wretched! It seemed that even the train passengers had been stratified into poor and rich. I sat alone in the penultimate coach.

My son was asleep near me. The orange that slipped out of my hand was lying near his head. I felt like laughing at seeing that. I was coming back from Bangalore along with my son. My Mama’s wife had taken him to Bangalore with her when she came to my house. Now, I, who had gone to Bangalore for some work, was bringing him back. Mama came to Bangalore City Station to send us off. When the train was left with five minutes to depart the station, my son saw an orange vendor and mumbled “Orange..pa..Orange..pa”. Mama turned his face to the other side like he heard nothing. I stared at my boy as if I was going to burn him. His mouth shut. Hardly had the train left, when he began pestering me again. He was just a six-year-old boy. How long could he control his urges?

“Appa…Appa”

“What? My dear!”

“Pichi mama…mm…mm…he gets nine hundred rupees as salary. He is rich. Very rich. Isn’t he?” The boy stretched out his hands to the size of a ‘Kadam’ pot with his mouth wide open, as though trying to find some faults.

“So what?”

“I asked for some oranges a while ago. But he was looking somewhere. He didn’t get me oranges”

“He wouldn’t have heard you. Had he heard it, he would have bought some for you”

“I was loud enough, pa”

“Then, why didn’t he get it for you?” I directed the question at him.

The boy was a little uneasy and then said, “Once I asked Pichi mama to buy me a tricycle. He kept on assuring me that he would, but didn’t.”

“Why should he purchase it for you? I will get you one”

“How can you buy it?”

“Why? Can’t I?”

“Your salary is merely a hundred rupees.”

“Who told you this?”

“Pichi mama told me this.”

“Did he tell you that your father gets only a hundred rupees salary?”

“Mm…Not to me. He told his aunt. You remember you had written a letter from Madras. It was the day of Ganesh Puja. He told her that day that you had been making futile travels frequently to Madras and you couldn’t even buy an ‘Arunakodi’”

Sensing the conversation’s trajectory falling into trouble, I said, “It is alright. It is getting late. You go to bed”

“Will you get me a motorcycle?”

“Yes. I will”

“I don’t mean the original motorcycle. I need a toy motorcycle that runs after being keyed. A small one”

“Okay…Okay…I will get you one”

“Appa, I need oranges”

“You sleep now. I will get you oranges once we reach Tiruchirapalli”

“Hell with your excuses”

“Where can I get it when the train is running?”

“Then tell me a story”

“That’s good. Let me tell you a good story. Once upon a time in a village….”. The boy fell asleep when the story was hardly halfway.

“The boy is smart. Shrewd. See how he studies men” A man sitting in the front offered an unsolicited appreciative note.

“That is why his head is bigger” I glanced at the boy. His head was indeed slightly bigger. An exquisite face with well- defined nose and eyes. Soft and plump body. Skin as fresh as a tender leaf. The peach fuzz barely visible on his cheeks shone in the light.

The hair on his head was curly and thick, falling up to his forehead. Ideal boy to be categorized under ‘handsome’! He was going to meet his mother the next afternoon. Till then?

I felt that I was staring at an orphan. ‘No child will have a bright face if his mother is not with him’. I stroked him a couple of times lovingly. ‘How could Pichi mama disappoint this innocent child? Being a class miser isn’t enough for what he has earned ever since he landed a job? Can’t he spare this innocent child from his greed? I don’t have the strength to leave this matter to its destiny. It pains me a lot every time I see my child.

It was a petty matter anyway. But it was indeed unbearable. The schemes Pichi Mama had been employing perpetually to sustain his pathetic life, the life he was leading that had ever tasted a consonance between what he had in his heart and what he followed in public, and the so-called ‘successful’ family he used to boast of while remaining untruthful even to his life – all came over my mind and hovered over my head like beetles. I remained perturbed by the intensity of those thoughts. Couldn’t sleep all through the night. I bought some oranges when I reached Trichy.

“Appa, let me eat it once I am back home. I will get it peeled by Amma, and then eat it.” The boy beseeched.

“It’s all right. So be it,” I said.

Half an hour to go, before the train departed the station. I was terribly thirsty. I got off the train, had some water and came back chewing the betel leaves. On my way back, I saw a woman boarding my coach with a girl. They sat on the wooden seat in front of me.

“Isn’t the train that goes to Mayavaram?”

“Yes. It is”

“When will it leave?”

“In twenty-five minutes”

“Which station are you going to?”

“Kumbakonam”

“Is he your child?”

“Yes”

“He is asleep”

“We are coming from Bangalore. He is tired.”

“Do you want to sleep?” the woman asked the girl.

“No. Mami. I don’t feel sleepy”

“Have some sleep. You need to travel throughout the night, and then tomorrow and the day after tomorrow too”

“It is okay, Mami. I’ll sleep later.” The girl said.

The woman must be about forty years. With a double jaw, she looked chubby like a Rumani mango. An old-fashioned, big blue jaguar stud was dangling from her ears. A pair of diamond nose rings. Seven or eight strands of gold chain were filling her neckline. Her hands were no second to her neck.

Mango coloured silk saree. A shiny round-shaped Kumkum on her forehead. In short, she carried an appeal that soothed one’s eyes. A leather bag and a portable stove were found near her. The girl must be about eight years. Wheat-complexioned. She looked lean and impoverished. Her hands and legs looked very thin. Her eyes needed some light to be seen. Oily faced. Look that resembled as if she were half asleep. Black rubber bangles in hands. A new, stiff skirt. A voile blouse designed with red flowers. Near her lay a skirt, folded with a blouse tucked into it. What could be the relation between that lady and the girl? How to ask her?

When the train was about to move, a ‘hill’ banana seller came there.

I bought a bunch of bananas and gave them to the girl. She received it without a word. “Eat it. Eat it” the woman told her. She peeled one and put it her mouth.

“This girl is going to Calcutta”

“Calcutta?”

“Yes. A man from our neighbourhood is living there. He has a good job there. She is going there. Someone known to us is leaving for Calcutta from Mayavaram tonight. I have to leave this girl with them. She is a good girl. Calm and obedient,” she said.

After that, I resumed my queries. “Mmm…what’s your name, dear?”

“Her name is Kamakshi. People call her Kunju.”

“Oh! It is fantastic”

“What is ‘fantastic’ in that name? Are you amused that she is carrying two names? She asked, laughing.

“I meant something else. I have a sister named Kamakshi. She resembles this girl. We got her married to a well-off family. The bridegroom was a very generous and kind man. He gave collateral for someone for twenty thousand rupees. The one who owed him the money died suddenly. The family fell into debt, and he later faced immense difficulties in life. Hardship has many facets which he couldn’t even trace its origins. Only in the the past four years has he lived without much trouble after he got a job. Her difficult times somehow ended with it. Right next to her was her younger sister.

Her name was Kunju. We had a tough time looking for a suitable bridegroom for her. At last, the daughter of my aunt, who was sick and childless, was adamant about getting this girl married to her husband. My father did everything as she had wished. But even a dog wouldn’t have faced such ignominy as she had faced ever since she had been married. She gave birth to a baby girl after ten years of marriage. The baby is three years old now. Only after this did she have some respect in that family as a woman”

“Setting aside the excuses, how could you give a woman to a man who already has a wife?”

“What else can we do? It was how she was destined. I just remembered her hearing this girl’s name. I said fantastic as both had been destined for the same life.”

I couldn’t make out how that little girl perceived my words. She was listening to me without any movement or change in her sleepy face.

“Dear, do you have parents?”

“Yes”

“What is your father doing?”

“He’s a teacher. Teaching first grade”

“Any elder or younger sisters, and brothers?”

Yes. I have four elder sisters, two elder brothers, and one younger brother and a younger sister.”

“Are your elder sisters married?”

“Three are married. My second eldest sister became a widow four years ago. She is living with us.”

“What is your elder brother doing?”

“He is working in a club. The second elder brother is studying in second grade”

“What about your studies?”

“No. Only my elder brother is studying. Father’s salary was not just enough for all of us.”

“Is it why you are now going for a job?”

“Yes. Because it isn’t even enough to feed us for lunch.”

“What jobs are you good at?”

“I can wash the utensils. I know how to make coffee and tea, batter for idli and dosai, curry and rasam. I can babysit. I can draw a kolam. I can plaster the mud stoves and can wash the dhoti and saree.”

“You can wash a saree. Can you? Can you handle as heavy as a saree?”

“I know it very well”

“Where did you learn all these?”

“There is a judge. His name is Ramanathan Aiyar. I learnt all at his home.”

“Mm. Is he retired from service? How long had you been at his house?”

“Three years.”

“Three years! How old are you now?”

“I completed nine years with this Avani. Now, running into the tenth year”

So, you got the job when you were just seven. Right? How much did they pay you?”

“They gave no wages other than two meals and a pair of skirt and blouse for Deepawali.”

“Who bought you this dress?”

“They”

“For drawing Kolam, plastering the stoves, washing the sarees, babysitting, making batter for dosai, all they had was nothing but this pathetic dress that cost no more than six anas.Right? They have been very prudent even in picking up a torn cloth.”

“……..”

“Why didn’t you ask then to give a good dress?

“……..”

“You have been working in a judge’s house. But your body fails it. You look terribly famished, with the eyes sunken, bony and lifeless as if dogs have mauled you.”

“Don’t you know that men of status belong to different tribes. Half of the day, they will eat only vaththal curry, fire-burnt appalam and some rasam. At night, they will eat only dal thuvaiyal and rasam. But see their bodies! It is always plump and shiny. Their bodies are differently made. It doesn’t suit people like us, working all day to make ends meet. We will be tired with our mouths burnt and eyes sunken if we eat them even for two days.” The woman rued, dragging me into the conversation, making it plural. She must have done it, probably out of mutual respect. As if she had realised her mistake, she said, “Leave aside my meaningless jabbers. Tell me about your job.”

“Don’t be afraid, I am also a daily wager. Working as a clerk in the Taluk Office.”

Thanjavur station was nearing. “Here is my towel on this seat for you to keep an eye on so no one occupies it. I will be back in a while after we have our food,” the woman said.

“You haven’t eaten yet? What did you have in the morning?” I asked the child.

“Pazhaiya soru”

“Where?”

“At the judge’s home”

“See, Big men should be like them anyway. Right? Shouldn’t their heart be big enough to offer something good to this child who is leaving them after spending three years toiling at their home? They left her at fifteen past nine when I was set to leave my house. Can’t they cook something before that? Must be a benevolent-hearted! They must have been worried about breaking the tradition of eating pazhaiya soru! Mustn’t they?”

“Dear child, will anyone there eat pazhaiya soru?”

“Only I’ll eat”

“Mm…it is okay. Are you hungry now?”

“No”

“Eat something”

“Okay, mami”

“Can you buy a packet of Sambar rice and curd rice?”

“Let me take her there to eat”

“It is rather a good idea. Please have this money,” she gave me some money.

“I don’t need this. Let me pay for it”

“How would you say you wouldn’t need it. It is I who brought her here. Right?”

I felt embarrassed. Received the money from her. I woke up my son. Holding them tightly, I ran into the crowd, dragging them with urgency.

“Who’s this, pa?”

“This girl first goes to Mayavaram and then to Calcutta. She is also coming with you to eat. While watching those ‘orphans’ eat, I felt an inscrutable compassion creeping into my heart. ‘Orphans who had left their mothers. But with a huge difference! One orphan is going to jump on its mother’s lap in a couple of hours. Another orphan is moving far away from its mother.’

“Sssss…appa…appa…” the boy screamed. I have eaten chili”

“Drink some water” I suggested.

The girl rose, scooped a handful of sugar from the counter and gave it to him.

After some time, “Ambi, the curd rice is lumpy. Wait a minute, I will give you some after mashing it soft. You can have it after that,” she said, went to wash her hands, and mashed the lumpy ‘railway’ curd rice, made it soft and gave it to him. Seeing her mash the rice, the boy turned to me and smiled. “Why are you smiling? I asked.

“She gives the rice after mashing it, pa”. He didn’t know what to say after that. It was that girl who washed his hands and wiped his mouth. “Drink this water,” she gave him water.

“No. I don’t need it”

“If you don’t drink water, you can digest the food. Have some”. He, who would otherwise

be a big nuisance in such a situation, obediently drank the water. The girl brought him carefully, holding his hands as if she had known him for years. The boy just followed her words without saying anything.

“You are going to Calcutta. Do you know the people there?”

“I don’t know mama. He has a good job with three thousand rupees salary. He needs someone who can look after his child. That is why they have asked me to come there.”

A child from an unknown place was going to look after another unknown child. A mother has sent her daughter to an unknown place. The child also left without any complaints, pulling up her skirt.

“This girl is a mature child” I told the woman.

“If a girl has no one, she grows mature naturally. The girl gets pally with anyone soon. If

she hadn’t gone to Calcutta, I would have kept her with me. Have you seen that she had never opened her mouth to say she was hungry until we asked her? Let God be with her”. “Dear child, can I peel the oranges for you?” the woman asked the boy.

“No…I will ask my mother to peel it for me once I am back home”

“I am also your mother,” Ain’t I?”

The boy escaped the conversation with a sly smile.

One minute passed.

“How old are you?” the boy asked the girl.

“Ten years”

“Ten years! It means you must be in the fifth grade. Right?” the boy asked her, counting his fingers.

“No”

“Is it necessary that one should be in fifth grade at ten years?” I asked my son.

“Yes. I am six years old. Studying in the first grade. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. She must be in the fifth grade,” the boy said.

“She isn’t studying,” I told him.

“Aren’t you studying? Are you studying at home?”

“No”

“She is going to Calcutta. That is why she is not going to school”

“Why is she going there?”

“She is going for a job there”

“Are you going for a job?”

“Yes”

The boy stared at her for some time. He still couldn't believe her words, and then asked

her again, “Do you know how to ride a bicycle?”

The girl guffawed. It was the first time she laughed like that. “How would I know how to drive a bicycle? I don’t know how to”

“Then, how would you then go to work?” the boy asked her.

“I will walk”

The boy looked at her intently again, thinking deeply about what she had said. He was perplexed at how she could walk to work while his father rode a bicycle to his workplace. Both children enjoyed the speed of the train as they watched the stretch of fields outside.

“Whom does she believe so much that she dares to travel alone? How would that new place be?” I asked worriedly.

“He is the distant brother-in-law of that judge. He earns a three thousand rupees of salary at a company. He might be a fair-minded guy, considering she is a known girl. Despite all this, would he be able to overcome his prejudices that she is from another family who has just come there to work, no matter how much he cares for her by giving her good food, and clothes? Or would she be able to treat them as her parents? Seeing how she mingled with people, I was quite confident she could get through any situation smoothly. But she would still be deprived of parents's warmth. Wouldn’t she?” the woman said.

I felt something rumbling in my stomach.

An inscrutable fear and emptiness filled me as though I was going to a new, unknown place where I didn’t have any one close to me. “God will save her, too. It is not the faith that her parents had in humans but in God that they dared to leave this girl alone.” I said.

“God only should save her. Do we have anything more to say other than this? It is the final point we always reach after all our trials. A family has been forced to send this girl like this. No one would ever think how it had happened. How to find a remedy for it? She would have never been forced to leave for an unknown place if God had designed her destiny with a sufficient number of schools for the children of the teacher.”

“Then who will look after the judge’s children?”

“Justifiably right anyway”

“Every household has its problems. Even the god might be as wretched as the teacher.” I said.

I couldn’t make out anything. Everyone’s heart grew soft when they saw the girl. Even those who boarded the train midway at Thanjavur and Aiyampettai were filled with pity, though they could hear only half of her story. The man, sitting at the corner of the wooden seat where the woman sat resembled Raoji. He pursed his lips in pain and looked out of the window. His inner struggle to subdue the agony erupting from his heart to prove his gritty demeanour was clearly visible. The train reached Kumbakonam.

“Dear child, may I take leave now?” I placed a one rupee coin in her palm.

“You don’t have to give this,” the woman intervened.

“I also owe her something. You are just taking her along with you. She is the teacher’s daughter. Not your own daughter. Right? I also have the same right you have over her. What else can I do? I feel giving her something. My capacity doesn’t allow me beyond this” “Mmm” a big heave of a sigh came out of the ‘dual-jawed’ body.

“Get it, dear girl. No bad luck will ever touch you, Swamy.” The woman said.

“Let me give her these oranges, pa,” the boy said, pointing at the fruits.

“Give it. You don’t need my permission. Do you?”

“No, my sweet boy! He is just a child. He has been saying that he wants his mother to peel them off for him”.

“Appa, ask her to accept it” the boy pleaded.

“Please accept it, ma.” The girl collected the fruits.

“You have got an amazing boy. Please come here and kiss me.” The woman called out to him.

The boy kissed her and came back running to me. My body shuddered once, a sense of bliss indeed! I turned my face to the other side as much as I could, to avoid others’ gazes, got off the train, and walked down carrying him. ‘Can’t he walk? He can.’ But my entire body grew restless for no reason that it wanted to cuddle him as tightly as it could. I lifted him and walked on, stroking him lovingly.

The heart filled with rapture! It was a bliss of hugging the opulence of love, the magnificence of God Himself.

***Ended***