THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN

PROJECT

CORE COURSE NO: PCLS 3113

Submitted to

Sree Sankaracharya

University of Sanskrit, Kalady

In partial fulfilment of the requirements

for the award of the Degree of

Master of Arts

in

Comparative Literature and Linguistics

By

Soumya Murukesh

Reg. No:5189

DEPARTMENT OF

COMPARATIVE LITERATURE

SREE SANKARACHARYA UNIVERSITY OF SANSKRIT

KALADY

MAY 2007

SREE SANKARACHARYA UNIVERSITY OF SANSKRIT

Kalady post,Ernakulam(dist)Kerala-683574Fax:04842463480Tel: 0484email:sureg@sancharnet.in

Department of Comparative Literature

……………………………………………………………………………………

CERTIFICATE

This is to Certified that the project THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN is

the bonified record of the project done by SOUMYA MURUKESH under my

guidance as an integral part of the 4th semester M.A Programme. And also

certified that it was not previously submitted for the award of any such academic

titles.

KALADY C.P SIVADASAN

10-MAY 2007

DECLARATION

I here by declare that the project THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN is the

original record of the Core Course done by me under the guidance of C.P Sivadasan, as

part of the MA programme. I also declare that it was not previously submitted for the

award of any academic titles.

KALADY SOUMYA MURUKESH

10 MAY 2007

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I express my unfathomable gratitude to my guide, C.P Sivadasan, for his patient

guidance, scholarly advice and unfailing courtesy. I gratefully acknowledge the arduous

effort he put in through his valuable suggestions and timely corrections.

I must thank all those who spent their “labour and leisure” for materializing this

work. Above all I thank God for his grace that inspired and strengthened me all through

the programme.

KALADY SOUMYA MURUKESH

10 MAY 2007

THREE GOLDEN DROPS OF OV VIJAYAN

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION 06-11

PRAYER 12-17

ON THE BEACH 18-25

AN OFFERING OF LOVE 26-35

CONCLUTION 35

INTRODUCTION

O. V. Vijayan was almost certainly India's foremost fabulist in the recent

past. An extraordinary writer with enormous range, he wrote everything from a semi-

fictional history of his feudal-landlord family, 'Generations' to the scatological 'The Saga

of Dharmapuri'. The sweep of his writing is evocative of such giants as William

Faulkneand Gabriel García Márquez.

While Khasak continues to be his best-known work as an angry young

man, his later works, Gurusagaram (The Eternity of Grace), Pravachakante Vazhi (The

Path of the Prophet) and Thalamurakal (Generations) bespeak a mature transcendentalist.

While he lived outside Kerala for most of his adult life, spending time in

Delhi and in Hyderabad (where his wife Teresa was from), he never forgot his beloved

Palakkad, where the 'wind whistles through the passes and the clattering black palms'. He

created a magical Malabar in his works, one where the mundane and the inspired lived

side-by-side. His Vijayan-land, a state of mind, is portrayed vividly in his work.

O V Vijayan was unlucky not to win India's principal literary prize, the

Jnanpith, possibly because he did not endear himself to the political powers-that-be

through his trenchant cartoons. Vijayan's fans were also perennially hopeful that the

Nobel Prize would finally recognize him. In 2003, he was awarded the Padma Bhushan.

Vijayan struggled with Parkinson's Disease for 10 years and finally

succumbed to organ failure in a Hyderabad hospital at age 75. His wife Dr. Teresa

Vijayan passed away a year after his death. Their son Madhu Vijayan lives in Los

Angeles, CA.

Novels

German translation of Khasakinte Ithihasam - book cover

Khasakinte Itihasam (The Legends of Khasak)- 1969

The first novel of Vijayan, appeared in 1969, took twelve years’ writing

and rewriting to reach its present form. It set off a great literary revolution and cleaved

the history of Malayalam fiction into pre Khasak and post Khasak. It appeared serialised

first and in book form later. The novel is about Ravi, a teacher in an informal education

centre in Khasak and his existential crises. The central character is a great visionary in

Astrophysics who completed his post graduate programme in Physics from the famous

college at Thambaram. The novel ends when Ravi provokes a snake to bite on his feet

and gradually begins his journey to some other realms of existence. the existential puzzle

of man as to why he should exist is throughly explored in this novel,it was a kind of

stepping stone to writer himself to that world.marked the arrival of a truly visionary

writer.

Dharmapuranam (The Saga of Dharmapuri)- 1985

Dharmapuranam( The Saga of Dharmapuri) is outwardly a great political

satire where the author knows no restraint in lampooning political establishments. The

language, the setting, and the characters are intended to create as great as possible

abhorrence towards the tools and means of governance.The central character is Sidhartha,

modeled after the illustrious predecessor of the same name, who lends a supernatural

enlightenment to those who are attracted by his enchanting personality. Beyond the

apparent level of political meaning the novel keeps in store spiritual and environmental

levels of meaning also.

Gurusagaram (Eternity of Grace)- 1987

The third novel differs in language, vision and characterization from the

earlier works. It is on the immanence of Guru in the life of the seeker. Guru is

everywhere and is manifested in everybody. The seeker partakes of the grace of the Guru

as he happens for him unawares and unconditional.The central character is a journalist

from Kerala, working in Delhi, going on an assignment to report the Indo-Pak war of

1971. He undergoes an excruciating experience both spiritually and physically to learn

how to annihilate all forms of ego.

Madhuram Gayathi - 1990

This novel has been termed as "a fantastic allegory fusing mythology,

spirituality and ecology".

Pravachakante Vazhi (The Path of the Prophet)- 1992

This novel emphasizes the vision that intuition is perennial and it is one

and the same always. This oneness of the revelation makes the ways of all prophets the

same. This great education in spirituality is got in those barbarous days of Delhi when the

Sikhs were maniacally hunted after and mercilessly butchered following the murder of

Indira Gandhi.

Thalamurakal (Generations)- 1997

Vijayan’s latest novel Thalamurakal is autobiographic to a great extent. It

is historic to a still greater extent. Beyond autobiography and history, the novel is a

journey down the collective experiences of a family in search of an awareness about

oneself and his clan.This search is of great importance when the collective experiences of

the subculture are very bitter and the individual sense of the clan identity is very superior.

The novel is a narration of four generations in Ponmudi family in Palakkad, Kerala.

Review

Other Creations

He has written many volumes of Short Stories, the first volume of which

was published in 1957 - Three Wars. He has also written many essays, and also published

one book of cartoons- Ithiri neramboke, Ithiri Darshanam (A Little Pastime, A little

Vision)- 1990.

O V Vijayan's best known collection in English is 'After the Hanging and

other stories' which contains several jewel-like masterpieces, in particular the title story

about a poor, semi-literate peasant going to the jail to receive the body of his son who has

been hanged; 'The Wart' and 'The Foetus' about the trauma of the fascist Emergency; the

transcendental 'The Airport', 'The Little Ones', and several others.

An incisive writer in English as well, Vijayan translated most of his own

works from Malayalam to English. His Selected Works has been published as an omnibus

volume by Penguin India.

I hereby try to translate three short stories from two different collections,

Kadaltheerath and Kattuparja Katha. The three deals three types of death or loss in life

and its consequences. The first thing which I want to say is that my vocabulary and

language are not sufficient to translate such a great man’s work. The works are most

valuable and pioneers in all ways, in style, theme, language etc. So my translation has its

own deficiencies. It would become only trying of translating a work. My selected works

are Prayer (Parthana), and An Offering of Love (Snehathintte Sradham) from

Kattuparanja Katha and On the Beach (Kadaltheerath) from the collection called

Kadaltheerath.

As a translator, I faced some problems while translating these pieces of

literature. The Malayalam diction, idioms etc in the stories make a lot of problem to me.

I couldn’t re encode it satisfactorily. Some words which is a part of kerala culture and

traditions also very difficult to translate. For example; ‘Nilavilakk’, ‘Karmadhosham’

etc. Moreover re encoding from Malayalam culture background to English culture is a

very difficult task. If we couldn’t translate it properly, the readers of reciepient language

couldn’t understand it properly. I hereby done the formal translation. The sentence

structure in Malayalam is also entirely different from English. The subject is not used in

most of the Malayalam sentences and the word order is also different. In English for the

subject is a essential component a meaningful sentence except the sentences of transitive

verbs. So these different structures also made some difficulties. Really it is my first

attempt and I don’t know how effective is my translation task. However I present this to

the sensible readers with an advance apology.

PRAYER

When I was an infant my elder brother died. After that mother wasn’t

praying. Contempt with God, with a trivial obstinacy.

Mother’s eye followed me always. Wherever I went, it would come with me.

There was a big garden around our house. Old trees with seeds and shrubs. Behind the

plot there was a pond. I wished to wander in the garden, to pluck the bunches of fruits in

the flowering plants, to hunt small red bees, catch and put them in the match box and

to listen to the whisper among the trees etc; but mother’s prohibition didn’t allow me to

do anything. In her list, the most prohibited place is the pond in the back side. And to

reach there became a dream, a thrust for a magical feeling to me. Days passed away; it

remained as a unfulfilled dream. Exercise in the yard, textbooks in the house and the

custody of mother’s eyes.

In the evening, when I was sitting for praying, I couldn’t concentrate on it.

When I was sitting to eat, I thought of fruit bunches. When I went to sleep, the bees,

green chameleon, and shining spiders filled my happy-tiredness.

School was near my house. However mother accompanied me to school in my

going and coming. And she would tell the master: “He is very absentminded. Please

have an eye on him”. It meant that my mind did not stay anywhere, might be slipped, or

went in a wrong way. Master always laughed when he heard this. Mothers of other

students never raised complaints. They were praying and for the growth and security of

their children and led a happy life. But my brother’s death became a bone of contention

between mother and God.

When mother qualifying me as an inattentive person, I also felt like laughing.

It was because there was anything in my mind that it was listening. When I walked, I

listened to the sand, when I breathed, I listened to the sky. When the teacher taught me, I

listened to the sounds of river waves which were far away.

Once, when I was doing an exercise in arithmetics, my classmate Madhavi

whispered to me “Does Balaraman want a cage?”

I replied in the same small sound.

“Yes”

And the problem in arithmetics became more difficult; both to madhavi and

me.

“Do you know the purpose of the cage?” Madhavi asked

“No”

“To catch the baby frog, the baby frog with an unbroken tail”

My heart beat. There was no doubt to me that the pond behind the house

might be full of baby frogs, fleshy tale, rainbow colour on the body, the eyes which

didn’t know the cleverness of cage.

“How can I catch the frog Madhavi?”

“By using the small piece of coconut?”

“How is it?”

“Drown the cage after placing coconut piece in it, the baby frog will enter into

it”

“Will you give me the cage?”

“Tomorrow”

“What is going on there, what is the secret?

Master looked at us.

“Stand up”

Madhavi and I stood up silently. We got beaten for doing the problem

wrongly. And the master said to me,

“Where is Balaraman’s concentration?”

“Mother says right”

Beating did not affect me much. But calling me a person who doesn’t listen!.

When I spoke to Madhavi about the cage, my mind was full of concentration. About

pieces of coconut, small sticks in the basket, the movement of the caught baby frog.

Madhavi kept her word. The next day, she bought the cage, a cage which could cover two

oranges.

“Is this a small cage Madhavi?”

“Small cage is used for catching frog”

She learnt the thing from her elder brother. I felt no doubt about the

knowledge of Madhavi and her brother.

Because of its small size, it was easy to keep it in the bag.

After I reached home, I hid the cage. The next day was a Friday, after the

Friday, Saturday and Sunday were holidays. I was waiting eagerly for the coming of

Saturday. After breakfast and lunch, I wandered behind mother.

“What do you want Balaraman?”

“A piece of coconut”

“Eating coconut in the wrong time causes germs in the stomach”

Impossible conditions. Without knowing what to do I went round and for

sometime. I was sure that, without the piece of coconut, the frog wouldn’t enter into

basket. It was Madhavikutti’s logic. At last I repeated the request “a small piece, mother”

“Ok, bring the coconut and the knife”

After collecting it, I entered into the room. Then I understood the problematic

nature of the thing. How to go to the pond? The pond was in the prohibited magical

forest. It might be because of the will power of my mind; mother told a thing

unexpectedly “I am goingfor my siesta noon sleep. Balaraman you sit in the thinna and

read the book”

Mother went to Akayi’ and lay. I sat in the thinna with my text book. But

couldn’t sit patiently. After some time I stood and looked at ‘akayi’. Mother was in sound

sleep. Like a thief, slowly I picked up the Madhavi’s cage from my bag. I placed the

coconut piece in the cage and stood a while in a suspicious mood. To catch frog, I have

to go today itself. Sometimes, mother wouldn’t sleep next Saturday, wouldn’t give

coconut piece for the fear of germs. After taking a decision, I stepped into the plot. The

great wonder of noon heat and vapour, the sky above the branches of the jackfruit tree

and the mango tree, clouds like boats. I reached the pond with an dreadful mind. The

frog, who was sitting in the border of clay of the pond jumped into water. I couldn’t see

the baby frogs without unbroken tails. I thought I drowned the cage into the water.

Madhavi never became wrong. I drowned the cage into the water, stepping in the clay on

the border. The next moment, I slipped into the pond and missed the cage. The cage was

drowned in water.

I cried for many hours, standing in the shore. In a deep disappointment, when

I started to go back, I saw something hiding in the clay, just like a sculpture carved in the

wood. My cry was over and instead of it I felt wonder. I sat there and looked closely.

Melting the wonder shapes, a thing which was known only to a child. I understood

clearly, what was it, only after searching for a long time. Now I saw the small face,

plated eyes and the froked tongue. I understood it was a snake. I didn’t see the snakes

directly but it was familiar with it have seen in the picture. The snake and I sat face to

face eagerly. Without any reason, I understood that the snake liked my proximity. As a

sign of it, the snake performed a beautiful dance with expanded hood. I forgot all about

my violation of mother’s prohibition and the loss of the cage. My heart was filled with

only one thought: I wanted to wake up mother and point out the snake to her. I ran to the

house. Ran a while. When I looked back, I found that the snake also followed me. I

stopped, the snake also stopped. I had no suspicion in the matter that he came with me to

play. I laughed in great pleasure. As a reply to my laugh, he moved his tongue. Again I

ran to the house.

The snake which came to the yard didn’t step in.

Mother, mother, I announced, “I bring a snake.”

Mother came out to the thinna in a sleepy mood and when she saw the snake,

she screamed. Then she held me and got in to the room and closed the door. Then she

called out the workers who were working far away from the plot.

“Velayudha, Kuttikrishna, come, come, snake”

I didn’t know what they were going to do with the wonder animal which came

with me to play, but I could understand the sticks and the cruel faces of the Velayudhan

and Kuttikrishnan. It was the sign of starting a serious problem. I did what was done by a

child only; I withdrew to my inside from the surroundings. Sat like that, I filled the snake

with my love. Wonder animal, I spoke silently, may you be not pained. I winked my eyes

tightly and concealed my ears.

My childhood memories are covered by snow here. I didn’t like to remember

what happened to the snake. But only remember, love the snake. The love became a

prayer through its secret movements. That house, where the prayer lay dry, there were

new sprouts of dedication..

I didn’t know that I prayed for a motherless baby serpent, who was in the

prohibited forest, cursed by its own father.

On the Beach

When Vellayiappan started his journey, a loud wail went up from his house.

The neighbours in Ammini’s house and Muthuravuthan’s house became listeners and

were sad. And about fifty children around these houses also filled with sadness and

sympathy. Vellayiappan was going to Kannur. If there was money to pay for the train

fair, all the Pazhuthara people including Amminiyettathi, Muthuvannan, Nakelachan,

Kombipooshari etc, would would have gone Kannur. The journey to Kannur was mainly

for Pazhuvathara’s people. Vellayiappan passed through the compound and house

inhabitanted by owners and tenants and entered into the long field path. The cry became

low and ended behind him. Now he left the field path and entered the plot. Through the

yellow grass of the plot, the footpath continued as a mark of stripe of someone’s

sorrowful journey

O Gods, Lord! Vellayiappan screamed.

The wind caught the Palmyara tree which stood alongside the footpath.

Vellayiappan feels the movement of wind on leaves of Palmayara as strange for the first

time. As if the Palmyara leaves were speaking. Like the Gods and ancestors speaking

through the Palmyara leaves. The hand is wet with the wetness of packed meals, which

was tied in the loin cloth. When his Kodachi tied this meal, she might have shed a lot of

tears in it. The moisture of the tears spread through the knot on the loin cloth.

For reaching the Railway Station, he had to walk four furlongs more. After

walking a while, he met Kuttusan mappila coming from the opposite side. Kuttusan

mappila respectfully moved from the path.

O Vellayi! Mappila said.

O Marakyare! Vellayiappan replied.

That’s all. Two words, names, but, they knew the long and rich sequences

conversation in those two words.

“O Marakyar I owe you fifteen rupees….No….no fifteen rupees and four

anas”

“Vellayi, don’t remember that in this journey”

“ I may never be able to give you that Marakyar”

“The unpayable debts are the deposits in God’s treasure. Let them remain as

such”.

“My heart is broken, my life is uprooted.”

“May God help you, Muthunabhi may help you,your and my god may help

you”

The wind through Palmyara trees became saturated with godliness.

Leaving Kuttusan Mappila behind Vellayiappan continued his journey. He

should walk four furlongs more.

Look! There is another person coming face to face Neelimannathi.

Neeli, who came with a bag of washed clothes on her shoulder, stood aside

from the path.

“Vellayiacho”, Neeli said. Only that much.

“O Neeli” vellayiappan said. He also stopped.

Two words only. An abundance of consolation in between the two words.

Vellayiappan walked.

The footpath joined a narrow road. Vellayiappan walked through the road.

The road stepped into the river. If you climbed the hillock after crossing the river, that

would be the path to the Railway Station. Vellayiappan stepped into river. Embracing

the feet and carrying the small river fish, the river flowed. When he reached the middle of

the river, the feeling of a bath dawned on him and it grieved him. He remembered having

bathed the dead body of his fatherand having bathed his son in his childhood days in a

pond. He also remembered like warm water. He wept till he climbed the hillock after

crossing the river.

Vellayiappan reached the Railway station stood in the queue for taking a

ticket. He put out the money from the corner of his dress.

“Kannur” Vellayiappan said. When the clerk sealed the ticket and gave it to

him through the window, he felt that he had crossed a part of the journey. Tied the

ticket in the corner of his dress and he reached the platform. After climbing the steps , he

was waiting for the train, sitting in a bench. The sun drooped far away. The birds flying

on the top of the darken Palmyara trees had reached the nests. He remembered his son

who wondered when he saw the setting birds, catching his little finger, in the field path

of the Mundakan field. He also remembered his father who walked through the field

alone during the sunset.

Two pictures. Between that, like between two names, like between two words,

the prosperity of anything. An old man, who was seated in the remaining part of bench

asked.

“To Coimbatore?”

“ No, to Kannur” Vellayiappan said.

I am going to Coimbatore.

“O”

“The Kannur train is at 10. o ‘clock”.

“What is the job in Kannur?”

“Nothing specially”

“Going without any reason?”

The conversation of the stranger gripped the neck of Vellayiappan as a

hangman’s rope. If he crosses the chief path of Pazhuthat, every body is a stranger to

him. The uninterested conversation of strangers became numberless tightening his neck.

Because the train to Coimbatore came earlier, the old man seated beside him in the

bench went away. Vellayiappan became alone. Couldn’t have the mind to open the

packed meal. Vellayiappan sat touching the wetness which came out in the loinclioth.

Like that he slept. Dreamt in the sleep. Vellayiappan said in the dream, “O Kadunni

son”. The trembling and hissing of the train wakened Vellayiappan. He stood up with a

flutter. He checked whether ticket was there in the corner of his dress and made sure of it.

He slowly moved to the train. Began to climb, in an vacant place.

“This is first class, elder brother”

“Is it?”

“Next box”

“It is reserved”

“Is it?”

“See the next, elder brother”

The sounds of strangers. At last he got in to a box. There was no place to sit,

he could hold something and stand . I will stand. I haven’t had sleep. My son would not

sleep that night. The rhythm of train, the changing rhythm based on changing existence,

the street lights, the sanded river banks, trees. Earlier, he had once travelled in the train,

in the light of day. This is night train. The train was through a tunnel which have on

either side walls of faded pictures.

When he reached Kannur, the sun feeling had not risen. The unopened

packed meal remained in the hand. Vellayiappan went out risen after surrendering the

ticket at the gate. Far away, there was some sign of the blossoming dawn in the darkness

of sky. The crowded horsemen didn’t ask to Vellayiappan, if he wanted vehicle.

Vellayiappan asked “which is the way to prison”? some one laughed “Here is an old man

asing for the way to jail early in the morning!”. Another person also laughed: “Uncle!

Steal something and then you can easily go to jail. Vellayiappan felt suffocated. Again

the talk of the strangers strangled him.

At last someone showed the way. Vellayiappan walked. The sky became

bright on the top with the crying of crows.

The Guard stopped Vellayiappan at the Gate.

“Where are you going in this morning?”

Vellayiappan was frightened. He stood in front of the Guard with the

helplessness of a child. Then slowly untied the corner of garment, took a yellow paper.

The paper was curled and disorder.

“What is that ?” guard asked.

Vellayiappan handed over the paper to the guard. Guard didn’t look at the

paper. Vellayiappan said “my son is here”

“Who asked you to come this morning ?”the guard asked roughly.

“Let the office open”

By the influence of some habit, the guard looked at the paper. His face

suddenly filled with kindness “Is it tomorrow?” the guard asked.

“ I don’t know,” Vellayiappan said. “What is written in the paper, I don’t

know”

Guard keenly read the information in the paper again.

“yes, tomorrow morning at 5 ‘o’clock. He said. Vellayiappan’s eyes

expanded. They were full of a feeling of shock.

“Is it ?” Vellayiappan said.

“Sit here elder brother”

“O”

He sat in a couch fixed in the wall in front of prison, as if he were waiting to

open the doors of a temple.

“Did you have tea or coffee, elder brother”

“No”

My son would haven’t slept this night. He didn’t wake up without sleep.

Didn’t sleep, didn’t wake up, How would he have the mind to drink the tea?

Vellayiappan’s palm was pressed on the packed meal. This meal was packed by your

mother for me. I took it here without eating in the journey. It is the only thing, which I

have to give you. The food which was packed in the loin cloth, is fermented. The time

became heavy slowly.

The office opened. The people occupied the places behind the tables. The

guard marched. The prison became crowded. The superior officer checked the paper.

They ordered. The strange sounds of orders. Traps without hatred and derision. They

strangle and suffocated. The heat of the sun light increased.

“Wait here”. Vellayiappan was waiting.

One of the guards bought him, inside of prison. The corridor which didn’t

know the heat of sunlight.

“Here it is”

Kandunni stood behind the iron bars. Kandunni looked at Vellayiappan

strangely. The cells of mind which could neither give nor receive solace. The guard

opened the door. Vellayiappan entered in the prison. Son and father stood face to face for

a while. Then Vellayiappan embraced his son. Kandunni cried in a sound which was

unheard.

Vellayiappan cried “son”

Kandunni replied “father”. Only two words. In between these two words, in

sorrow, in silence, father and son exchanged knowledges.

“Son, what did you do?”

“I don’t remember father”

“Son, did you kill any one?”

“I have no memory”

“Don’t worry son, you don’t remember any thing”

Does the guard remember?”

“No son”

“Father do you remember my pain?”

The loud silent cry.” Father don’t let me to hang”

All these exchanges, in between two words.

“Old man, come out, time is over”

Vellayiappan came out, the iron door closed behind him. The strange

Kandunni stood, looked out through the iron bars as as if he were looking out from

the compartment of a moving train. Vellayiappan walked away with the look of the

last devoted prayer. He lied down and waited here and there in the surroundings of

the prison. The sun came to the head. Time became low. Does Kandunni sleep this

night? The night was passing away.Kandunni lived inside the wall.

Vellayiappan heard the resounding of horn, before the dawn. He didn’t know

that, it was a custom during the execution of death sentence. They said that it was at

5 am in the morning. Vellayiappan knew the time, without the watch; He had an

inborn sense of a farmer. Vellayiappan received the dead body of his son as a

midwife.

“Old man, you can cremate the body as you like”

“No, I have no interest”

“Don’t you take the responsibility of the body?”

“Sir, I have no money”

Vellayiappan walked behind the vehicle pulled by scavengers. Vultures flew

in the top of the open places outside. Vellayiappan saw the face of Kandunni before

it was covered with soil. He placed his palm on the forehead and blessed his son.

Wandering in the heat, Vellayiappan reached the beach. He saw the sea for the first

time. Something was there in the palm, wet and dripping. It was the meal which was

packed and given by Kodachi. Vellayiappan opened the packet. He threw the food to

the ground. The crows came to peck the food from the upper reaches of the blazing

son.

An Offering of Love

The matra and thesound of the bell which coming from the temple far away,

after the evening prayer reached the nalukettu and remained in the darkness and cobwebs,

as a smell of sand.

“Here daughter” mother said “tulasi for you”

“How can I today, mother?” she asked.

“Your beauty has returned”

“How long! I forget the length of the period during which mother treated me

with this smell”

“Daughter…..you don’t remember it. Mother will remember

“How many evenings, how many years! Mother remembered

Revathi suffered from the disease of untimely old age, which come to

children. There was no treatment for it. In her tenth year, she became old, with wrinkled

skin and white hair. Couldn’t play with other children, when Revathi alone sat under the

elanji, mother approached her and asked

“How is my child?”

She looked at mother through old tired eyes and became silent. Mother placed

her hand on the forehead of her daughter.

“Say something child”

“I have nothing mother”, Revathi consoled mother.

“Only a little headache”

The slow beats of pre-mature death is head ache. Mother returned to nalukettu

without showing her tears to the daughter. The angered father was in ‘thalam’. She

asked her husband “Don’t you go to the daughter? Don’t you console her?”

His reply was a severe silence. The dangerous anger of sorrow. She accepted

it kindly.

How many nights the vaidya and the astrologer were doing astrological

calculations, while sitting in the talam?

“There is a solution in Ashtangahrdya” vaidya said. But that is not known for

all vydias treatment.

“What will happen , Vaidya?” mother’s disappointed question.

Don’t speak Padmavathi.” Father “ I am fed up with hear this”

After vaidya, astrologer. Astrologer levelling the cowdy again and again

meditated. Sleep comes to the lamp which was placed in front of it.

“What is seen Paniker?” mother’s usual question.

Revathi tried to overhear, standing behind the door. Mother saw that and said,

“go and lie down my child. Otherwise headache will become severe”

Revathi slowly walked to the bed. Mother raised her question again after

ended her footsteps.

“ I will say” Paniker replied. “but don’t become unhappy”

“Say”

Paniker said with hesitation “misfortune”

Now father spoke “what is the meaning of which you said?”

My Revathi is such a small child. What misfortune will come to her?”

The astrologer stood helplessly in front of the samhitas of duties. He said “is

there anyone who could see the starting and end of Karma, sir? The sediments and

specks of old births.”

I couldn’t bear anything”

This taravad has the wieght of so many sins. The deficiency of love. “

“Can it be cured by doing any sacrifices?”

The wick in the platter withdrew to the platter and extinguished. Revathi slept

inside.

“Not sure” astrologer said.

The fumes of homa hasn’t ended; the father’s dead body was hanging on the

Jack fruit tree in the plot. Mother didn’t cry. She wept silently, suppressing deep sorrow,

Revathi witnessed the creamation. Then she asked mother

“Is father gone?”

Mother shook her head.

“I want to go” Revathi said.

Now mother’s weeping became a cry. She passed so many nights in the

nalukettu through her deep cry. Next two years, mother alone treated her daughter. At

the end of it, she died because of loss of immunization power of the body. When she

burned , mother said, “My child don’t go away from this Taravadu. Sometimes you

couldn’t see father. You live patiently till mother comes.

The invisible Revathi was waiting in sorrowful patience. Her days passed,

sleeping in the Machakam. At night she sat under the elanji and received the moonlight

and winter. When burned in the taravadu, Revathi said, “Ha! Mother has come! I feel

happy”

Mother sorrowfully looked at Revathi’s wrinkled skin and leaned hair. Patted

the frost shaped body.

“My child, I will bring you medicine”

“What medicine?, Mother”

“The smell of ‘Tulasi’. A minute smell.

“Will my disease be cured?”

Your disease has gone. What is there in your body is only its memory. My

child will enjoy all wealth.

Every day mother unctioned her daughter with the smell of Tulasi. How

many years! During all those years, Revathi wished to see her father.

Mother , shall we ever see father?”

“No daughter, father has accepted the path of sin.”

“Is it not because of sorrow mother?”

“Yes but he shouldn’t have sinned. Father slipped into the darkness of duty.”

Revathi took a heavy breath. “but I love my father”

Mother looked at the thorny forest of rebirth, far away, and said “daughter’s

love might give father salvation”

2

The flight from Kuala Lumpur was circling atop the Madras airport.

Kumaramenon tried to read the face of his children.

“Are you tired?” he asked. The conversation was in English.

“No” the fifteen year old Unni said.

“Why do you look so bad?” Kumaramenon asked the twelve years old

Kusumam. “Don’t you like to return to native place?”

She didn’t reply. Looking at the runway lamps, she became sleepy.

“India”. Kumaramenon told his daughter.

“I always remember Kuala Lumpur” Kusumam said.

Flight moves to the runway, slowly and now became motionless. When the

door opened, the morning wind of Dravidian earth pushed into the flight.

“ At Taj Cormondal”

“Kusumam want only Malasia”. Kumaramenon said to his wife Susheela with

a smile.

“I want India”. Unni said.

“Kusumam I will introduce India to you”. Kumaramenon said. “India is

ancient and of epic dimensions, daughter; we will go to Thiruvillamala after stay here for

some days. Then, I will show you beautiful Dravidian sculptures, Mahabalipuram

Kancheepuram, Madhura.

Lookeing at a comic, Kusumam sat in a non- co-operative mood.

“It is also correct that India’s story also includes rejection and tragedy”

Kumaramenon continued. The Aryans didn’t give any offering to the eected Dravidians.

They don’t love their fathers. Without knowing love, defeated in an unjust war they gave

Arthaveda to Aryans, the proto-dravidians escaped to the south from Mohanjodaro and

Harappa”

With a naughty smile, Kusumam said “like it is, with his family,

Kumaramenon ran away from Kuala Lampur to Thiruvillwamala. To get refuge, he

brought the ghostly nalukettu of an old relative.”

Kumaramenon, Susheela and unni laughed.

“Woman” Kumaramenon said “If you see that place, you will fall in love with

it”

Kumaramenon decided to buy the nalukettu, when he was visited India last

year. He remembered about the nalukettu at the time, when he was searching for a plot to

build a house. His childhood memories returned. The garden was full of Elanji, Mavu,

Plavu, and Nila nadi was flowing beside the garden.

“Do you remember that place Raghavetta?”

He asked his good friend and helper in India.

“I remember” Raghavettan said. The property of Anikadu Tharavadu. If say,

Kumaramenon and they are relatives.”

“yes I know”. So I enquired about it. Who are living there now Raghavetta?”

“ghosts”

“Don’t crack a joke Raghavetta”

“ Not a joke Kumara. There are so many wicked deeds in Anikattu. Ten or

twenty years ago, the only child of that house died because of a strange disease. Father

hanged himself, not to see the pathetic stage of his daughter. After the death of the

daughter, mother also died, without getting one drop of water, lying alone in that

nalukettu. It remained as a forest for about fifteen years. After that, one Kuttan Nair

came and lived there, he had some kind of right there. Is it not a cursed place? Can we

escape from it? Kuttan Nair was financially mentally and physically destroyed.

“Now where is Kuttan Nair?”

Is he not the man who tried to cheat ghosts? He is far away, in the other

world. When caught by ghosts, he escaped to Thiruchirappally. Kuttan Nair and his wife

died there. Their son was working as a clerk in a company there. Legally the asset

belonged to him. But actually not an asset, but a liability. He has no comage to enter

into nalukettu, there is no one ready to buy it. Ghosts dance there.

“Have you the address of the clerk boy, Raghavetta?”

“Will be able to find it out. But what is the purpose?”

“I want to buy it.”

“Shiva shiva, interfering with the ghosts?

Kumaramenon remembered Padmavathi and her husband Govindakurup. But

the picture which has a green shade is that of Revathi, a girl who couldn’t play with other

children had to hide in the garden, depressed and lonely, received the woes of old age of

Yayathi, who lie in any where in the tradition.

Tomorrow, we must go to Thiruchirappally Raghavetta.”

“You are mad, Kumara.”

“Yes, let it be”

Ghosts which could not get into any place The Shraddha is not over. They

won’t let us sleep.”

“You will get ready to go Thiruchirappally, Raghavetta.”

In Taj Cormondal, Kumaramenon spoke to his children.

“The modern mind cannot believe ghost? Cannot touch the ghost, while living

in a flat in Kuala Lumpur.

What I bought for my children with my money is a precious thing-a great

heritage.

The condition of nalukettu is just the opposite.

“I will go to England to study medicine.” Kusumam said.

“ Try to understand the meaning of what father say Kusumam” Susheela

criticise her daughter softly.

“Father, I will do farming in Thiruvilwamala”. Unni said.

Kumaramenon took his children’s different point of view seriously and said

“Both are good. Kusumam will study Dhanwanthari’s and Shushrutha’s texts from

Ashtavaidyas after returning from England. Unni can continue his higher studies in an

American agricultural university, after studying the agricultural techniques from his

native place. Both of you can study Malayalam from a language instructor of Vellinezhi.”

After visiting Mahabalipuram, Kancheepuram and Madhura Kumaramenon

and family drove to Thiruvillwamala. When the car ran through the red soil of Dravidian

earth, father said to daughter “you keep the sight of Meenakshi always in your mind.

Kusumam didn’t reply. She looked like, she suffused with the fortune of that sight,

which was opposite to her habits. Kumaramenon continued, “Meenakshi is Shiva’s

Parvathi. An Aryanbride of a Dravidian god.”

3

The way which led to the Nalukettu was cleared as a car could enter. When

the car enters, the time became noon. Mother and daughter woke up, knowing the sound

of machine.

“Mother, I feel afraid” Revathi said.

“Don’t worry daughter. To feel fear of body is an usual thing

“Severe fear”

“Sleep, daughter. The sun will set after sometime.

4

Kusumam, do you like the house? Kumaramenon asked.

“ The forest” Kusumam said.

“How many types of plants are here?” unni said. “see father, butterflies”

Kumarmenon and family got down from the car and moved to the steps.

“Susheela, put your right leg”

“What is it for daddy?”.

“For well being and prosperity.”

After bathing, they walked through Talams, Aras, and Nadumuttam.

“It is difficult to believe that there are ghosts here” Susheela said. “what a

beautiful house! What would happen if there are ghosts?. Where is the continuity of

generations, if there are no ghosts?”

I feel afraid.

Drinking boiled milk, they came and sat oin the thalam. It was evening.

“See we have come back” Kumaramenon said. “it is my taravad. We are the

only remaining relatives”. Kuttan Nair’s family also belonged to this family.” “Didn’t

they?” Susheela asked “Still they were affected by ghosts?”

It became darker.

“Come” Kumaramenon invited his wife and children to the yard. Pour water

from a copper vessel to the whithred Tulasi in Tulasithara.

“Listen daughter”. Kumaramenon said. “ the invisible people who lived here

feel hunger and thirst. There was no one to enquire about them. Father is going to do a

duty, listen” Kumaramenon sat in meditation in front of Tulasithara. Kusuman was

bewildered. Now the sun set and it became pitch dark. It was the time to wake up the

people who lived in the machakam.

Kumaramenon took water in his hands and poured in front of Tulasi “

“theertham samarpayami”. Then the submission of food and dress. Revathi and mother

watched it while standing on the steps. “Mother, Revathi said “See a twelve years old

girl. The disease didn’t allow me to play. Children hated me”

“Now you are beautiful my daughter, Pretty and fragrant”

“Is it mother? She doesn’t hate me, does she?

“No”

Kusumam, who was standing in wonder in front of the Tulasithara, felt that a

chilled hand touched her shoulder slightly and then as if it patted her cheeks. As if an

invisible girl was calling her for play. Kusumam was filled with kindness. The waves of

kindness-love spread from the Tulasithara in the night.

“Father” Kusumam said “I will lighten a lamp here, every evening”

Her eyes were filled with tears. Unni and Susheela witnessed Kusumam’s

metamorphosis, without knowing anything.

“Good daughter” Kumaramenon said “you must lighten lamp”

Then he spoke to the foul smelling darkness with prayful hands.

“We will give you love and respect. Our tradition may catch the virtue in

your kindness.

The Sandal scent of evening prayer was filled with love.

The prayer is a touching story tells about the childhood days of protagonist.

His experience of loneliness, strange relationships etc are depicted in this. It write in the

style of memory and in the language of a child. An offering of love is a story which

narrates returning of a family to native place and archaic beliefs and life. The story of

their arriving is depicted through a parallel story of a innocent girl, who became a victim

of premature oldness and the pathetic fall of her family. On the Beach is a story about a

poor, semi-literate peasant going to the jail to receive the body of his son who has been

hanged. All the three stories established the divine creativity of the author.