The branches of the Gulmohar Tree hugged the old-fashioned brick house, the reddish-brown bricks paling in comparison to the shocking scarlet of the flowers that crowned the tree; perhaps a heavenly reproof?
Gangadharan breathed deeply, taking in the smell of wet earth..."the heavens open to wash us of our sins; hands like mine, soiled by the dirt within, can never become clean...", he held his hands forward and rubbed them against each other in the few rain drops still dripping down from the leaves...
"6.30 am and he is still snoring, you wake him up!"
Shradha nudged her husband, pointing to the huddled figure snoring gently by the verandah.
Muthu woke up with a start. "Manichukonga ayya, udambu seri illa...", his bloodshot eyes seemed to implore and Gangatharan looked helplessly at Shradha. (*1)
Shradha was merciless. Muthu bowed his head down and waited for the acerbic words to stop taunting him.
Did she know? Did she care that the feeble, mute person in front of them had not opened his mouth once to retort? Had he not fallen sick because of her grandson…?
"Muthu thatha, faster, you cannot catch me if you keep slipping...", the child laughed delightfully, running round and round the Gulmohar tree. Muthu stumbled along as fast as his legs would permit him, breathing heavily, until he could run no more.
"Chinna Ayya, iniku ivolovu porum ayya, inda vayasana aasamikku idukku mela thrani illa ayya..." (*2)
The rest of the family sat talking and laughing; afterall, Muthu was there to babysit...
"Amma, en necklace kaanum!" (*3), Ratna shrieked from her room upstairs. The entire house was searched for the missing necklace and the frustration of everyone culminated on the one person who would accept the allegation quietly.
"Muthu was dusting the shelves in my bedroom the other day...", Ratna said in a low voice, just loud enough for him to hear. He remained silent as he was wont to be.
The necklace in question did turn up, found in a corner in the bathroom, but, how can the disgrace that a man of dignity suffers, ever be found? How could he live with the burden of this accusation on his shoulders? He did, because life’s twisted games of cruelty had worn out his sense of pride and self-respect; his loyalty remained unwavering…the periyavar, Gangatharan’s father, had brought him up as his own son, educated him and given him a life…a life that was not really rightfully his…if he did expect anything more out of his life, he would just be selfish…wouldn’t he?
Tears...unending tears wet his shoulders, the young bride was inconsolable. She knew not - how to wield the ladle in the kitchen, how to bargain with the vegetable-vendor, how to talk to nosy neighbours…she cried to Muthu, the one person who would lend her an understanding ear. He listened and he taught her and she learnt little by little, a child taking its first few steps…twenty five years back, had Muthu not saved her life? If he had not stopped her as she had walked determinedly towards the well beyond the gulmohar tree, would she be alive to enjoy the antics of her grandchild?
Twenty five years back, if he had not stopped the disconsolate young wife, if she had not vented until he could no longer see her tears but could only hear her cry silently, if he had not been her father, her mother and her savior that day, if he had not intervened to prevent that one moment of her madness, would she have ever understood her husband better? Would she have hugged Gangatharan tightly when he came home that night and whispered, "Forgive your foolish Shradha, she loves you so much it hurts" ?
The gulmohar tree stood a witness...several decades back, he had lovingly planted the seed, had watered it and protected it until today...today, it stood on its own, its guardian must be watching proudly from above...
Gangatharan sat down at the feet of the gulmohar tree, his only remainder of the man he revered, his very own Muthu...where was he when he yearned for his support, for his presence? A light breeze blew and the branches of the gulmohar tree swayed gently, almost hugging him. He did something he had not done in a long time.
He cried.
Translation:
*1 - Forgive me Sir, I am not feeling well
*2 - Young Master, this will suffice...this old man does not have any more strength in him
*3 - My necklace is missing!
11 comments:
Some questions you need to be prepared to answer, in case you are thinking of being a professional at this :)
Things I don’t understand after reading the complete story:
1.perhaps a heavenly reproof?
I have no clue what this is for?
2. Gangatharan’s father, had brought him up as his own son, educated him and given him a life.
If he was brought up as his son, then why was he still a servent in the house?
3. Gangatharan sat down at the feet of the gulmohar tree, his only remainder of the man he revered, his very own Muthu...where was he when he yearned for his support, for his presence? A light breeze blew and the branches of the gulmohar tree swayed gently, almost hugging him. He did something he had not done in a long time.
He cried.
You have not said much about Gangatharan until this point in the story; you spoke abt the tree, muthu and Shraddha. Its kind of surprising that Gangatharan suddenly cries out of the blue.
Disclaimer: I might have just missed some emotional nuances that you have tried. Maybe I just did not get it. :)
very good one ramya!
i liked the way u wrote the last para.
Ramya,
Touching..and no it's not as cryptic as some of the others.
Ramya, I am taking the liberty to answer critic's #3.
Gangadharan has been a silent but observant spectator to all the happenings in the house. He acknowledges everything muthu has done for the family. Yet, there hadn't been an occasion dramatic enough till this point to sit down and reminisce and put muthu's contributions to the family into perspective. It didn't make sense for him to defend muthu when his family members pointed fingers at him because he understood that defending muthu will not stop his family members from doubting him again, because gratitude and memory were not exactly what his family's been known for. But his family is his family, so they qualify for his unconditional support however wrong they were. And knowing muthu from all the years, he knew that muthu would take all unfair happenings in his stride and come back to them with the same loyalty and sincerity that people had taken for granted. So Gangadharan adopted the "minimum damage" policy and stayed silent !
And so, he cried !
To critic: Thanks for taking the time to do this :)
in case you are thinking of being a professional at this :)
Hmm...not at the moment :)
the reddish-brown bricks paling in comparison to the shocking scarlet of the flowers that crowned the tree; perhaps a heavenly reproof?
The house with its pale red bricks represents the people in the house also. The bright scarlet flowers and the Gulmohar tree represent Muthu. Maybe God is trying to symbolically point out that Muthu is so much more noble than the inhabitants of the house?
Qn 2: Hmm...sticky question, if you see where this line is situated in the original post, you will notice that these are a part of Muthu's thoughts. Maybe the periyavar saved his life and gave him food and shelter, maybe this is how an onlooker would describe it...for Muthu, what the periyavar did was something magical, unimaginable, in his mind, the periyavar was his father...makes sense?
Qn 3: Dinesh answered (well) for me :) I tried to convey pretty much the same sentiments. Maybe another fact why he cried is also that Muthu is alive no longer...and he desperately wants him to be there, if only for him to say a belated thank you for everything...
To Dinesh: yet another alter-egoish comment :) except for "But his family is his family, so they qualify for his unconditional support however wrong they were", wondering if I agree...
RS,
I didn't want to give it away that Muthu was no longer alive, so I carefully avoided any mention of it.
"Yet, there hadn't been an occasion dramatic enough till this point"
This point was his death and this was dramatic enough to gangadharan :)
To Dinesh: ah...sorry, me bulbed!
Ramya,
This was totally different and I love the way you underplay the story and let the imaginations take over.
It brings a sense of joy and satisfaction ...Beautifully written.
Enjoyed it thoroughly.
-vv
"It brings a sense of joy and satisfaction"
...like your comments. Thanks.
Hey, great that u reminded me in your other comments section. Otherwise this treasure would have eluded me in the endless mayhem that blog surfing is.
Very well written. In all your stories i like the subtlety and the things which are left unsaid, the best aspect of your writing
I too want to write something like this. Guess you can take that as a compliment, You can also feel bad that someone like me is gonna try what u did:-)
..another comment..again advanced appologies..this time a technicality :) "The necklace in question did turn up, found in a corner in the bathroom, but, how can the disgrace that a man of dignity suffers, ever be found?"
-- 'disgrace' cant be found as wht was lost was 'grace' not 'disgrace'..so perhaps 'grace lost' will be better...
Srikanth.
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