Voice of hounding shadow - Debating with Static Mirror

Translation of      பின் தொடரும் நிழலின் குரல் (நூல்) – ஜெயமோகன்

அல்லற்பட்டு ஆற்றாது அழுதகண் ணீரன்றே

செல்வத்தைத் தேய்க்கும் படை

Grief tears shed by citizens subjected to intolerable misery

is the rulers’ wealth wiping weapon at the  same moment.

அறத்தாறு இதுவென வேண்டா சிவிகை

பொறுத்தானோடு ஊர்ந்தான் இடை.

One man lifting another on a palanquin,

can’t be justified as the fruit of any prior moral deeds.

Chapter 1

He felt a prick of conscience at the very moment of realising that he crossed the threshold with his left leg. Arunachalam paused for a second. When he happened to meet Gauri’s eyes, she was stretching her both hands towards him, showing the milk teeth with a  scintillating smile, burgeoning dual pink lips on her face, tottered headlong towards him. He noticed the wriggling of her small, chubby, adipose legs. He could halt right there and return back to home, fetch her, clutching to his breast, kiss and cuddle for few minutes.  He could be relieved from that momently anxiousness. But Nagamma appeared to be in a hurry, she was on her toes to close the door. She must had to keep her glimpse on some pan over burning oven. After a few anxious seconds of wavering between logical edges, finally Arunachalam could conjure  his mind, venturing out and uttered once again “ I will return back”. He stepped down and out.

As always, his TVS 50 moped failed to  ignite in the first kick. He tried all the possible tilting direction and booted it hard. Yet, emitting a “hrrrr” sound it went silent after every kick. He crouched down and examined the tube connects to petrol tank for any visible blocks. He was not able to conclude any evidentiary lapse. He had been riding that moped at least 50 kms every day. Yet he did not have any wee knowledge about intricacies of it. It worried him so much to touch the inner  contraption smudged with crimson coloured hefty dust layer. He kicked insistently twice, the moment the machine ignited he felt an agog in his heart. That enthused unexpected instance of ignition, soundly worth for, all the thus far recalcitrant response.

Moped rolled ahead on the sand ramp, which lead to a main road. A delicate chill breeze, veiling through his shirt , passed over his perspired limps.  As the ponderings freed one after the other, his mind aligning with the steady drifting motion of the moped, he felt relieved and relaxed. As if waiting for right minute to smoke out, the crossing  with left leg incident emerged. Why should mind evoke a red alert on every left leg crossing instance? This had become a part of my routine. In the overwhelming run off feet morning time, I would never be in the state of mind of avoiding  the forthcoming lapse. When I realise the contradictory leg was used for crossing, my action and the sobering reaction would shudder me. I inherited the left leg asserting habit from my mother. She was a firm believer of many such auguries.  When I was a boy, every time was about to cross the threshold “Use your wise right leg to step out and study well” her peremptory voice used to chime in unfailingly. In case mistakenly the contradictory leg used, I ought to return back in , sit and relax for a few moments, drink few ounces of water,  only after a few minutes, I would be allowed to start over. There were days, to tease her, I deliberately used the left leg, apparent to her and ran out. In this 40 long years, the unpredictable nature of life slowly casting a dark shadow, filled an unsettling feeling in me. The shadow quietly ineffable embedded within all my memories and recallings. My premonition insistently clamours something bad is going to happen, so far I only have been narrowly escaping. Nothing in the world could stop the inevitable.  Sometimes I could suppress that thought aside and mock me for having such a credulous notion, yet my conscience would coldly accept and allow that thought to seep through. Yes, Even now, I flounder as my heart passes the same known shuddering pulse to my legs and hands when I realise , I am following a big machine a lorry closer.

I can very well  recall the first day when “right leg omen” became a major problem in my life. I  was travelling in a bus to attend a job interview at Srivanam Garden. On those days, I was in despair for a job. Unemployment phase of my life fetching purely dead ducks, at one stage,  a fear that I would never get any job in future started stinging me. I realised from the bus seat, that the left leg overtook the other one in the morning. I did not have time to return back to home.  I was not able to sit in my seat either. I was mustering brute forcely within myself, bringing logic after logic, putting forth point after point, to diverge my thought flow. Finally, fatigued me barely managed to suppress that negative notions whirled around me. That bus travel turned as an unforgettable tormenting experience. What relation a mere “single leg mismatching” moment  has with “mysterious dynamics of life”? After all this is just a believe of a wee fraction of people in the whole world. Ultimately, as expected, I was not offered that job. In Interviewer’s words an additional certificate in Agriculture degree would had been handy. Any proceeded attempts to quell the troubling thoughts turned futile for along days. Finally he found a way to console himself. In any case, this belongs to only him, not even Nagamma aware about this. He reverberated this  point to his ears so many times, not because he believes in the bad omen, just to avoid the momentary mental tormentation he had to endure. He is no more the same old Arunachalam now. Beginning his career as a young shy clerk with full of doubts, zealously participating in the labour union activities, expanding his knowledge through the ideological theory classes, hardening by the day to day endeavours, the stronger he became a well known camarade Aruna. His eyes could spot minimum hundred from the newly enrolled members whom consider him as an exemplary. Against these auguries and omens, he could write a five hundred page book,   conduct at least 10 speech sessions . In those, he could describe, point by point, how the symbols and images emerge from the mysterious physical nature, disorientation of life have been tormenting the human mind, from the day one of human evaluation. He could argue and prove that fearfulness instigated by ignorance as the root cause of the superstitions which manifests as symbolical auguries and omens in the day to day practical life. Numerous modern psychological proofs available to corroborate his point that the process of human mind is not based on logic but purely driven by rituals, habits, impulses driven by subconscious symbols.  Individual human mind is a tiny unit of collective conscience of a society. This collective social conscience is the origin for all social activities. He debated this particular point in so many scenarios. Few individual minds, although cognizes themself as part of the collective social conscience , yet they possess the ability to detach themself from and objectively analyze the collective conscience . These minds discerns the dynamics of history’s functioning. Similar people in cohesion with this individual minds, acquire the capability of assimilate of the history’s dynamacity. This group of people detach themselves from the social collective conscience and  in the effort of control it externally, to some extent, they succeed.

What we call History is part and parcel of physical nature’s function.  Furthermore the collective social conscience is a tiny package of History. Purpose of history, through the greatest minds of pro thinkers, penetrates the consciousness of social mind. Jesus, Nabi, Socrates, Hegel , Büchner are such intellectual legends. Saint Thomas Aquinas, Aristotle, Lenin, Stalin,Mao along with them our own Ramasundaram, S K, K R S are the next league of philosophical leaders who acquired the ability from the legendary intellectuals.  We the contemporary intelligentsia, picked for shoulder passing the responsibility, are the seers of these pro thinkers. Yes, we are the group of people whom Marx coined as Proletarians and Antonio Gramsci went on to put an apt name as  "Organic Intellectuals". Yes Camarade, It's our line of duty to influence the society to merge with the enormous confluence of history. By sharpening our logical reasoning, we comprehend the dynamics of history and attain knowledge. We return our acquired knowledge back to the society, using the same logic . The greatest tool that a communist possess is logics. A communist should practise his mind to think logically. All these believes, rituals, personal feelings should be boxed into the respective compartments of logical reasoning.  These compartmentalized reasons must also get expressed by us only by means of logics. Camarade, mark this point, we are the tool of history. Our legendary pro thinkers, were also the chosen tools. In the process of evolution, History has been leveraging our minds. History is a superset of collective social consciousness, while this collective consciousness itself synthesis of each of the individual human’s consciousness. What history striving to achieve through us, is the greatest possible leap occurring on behalf of all the universal living creatures. Dear Camarade, This is incredibly monumental, which is lofty over we ourself, our union,  even higher than the originators the legendary communist philosophers. We should never forget the fact that a huge historical phenomenon happening through us, by us.

Arunachalam smiled up pleasantly. He felt a load lifted from his chest, as  fresh form of revitalization entered him. During his nascent days of thinking, he was a regular observant of  his senior camarade’s great length of speeches. Now in his turn, he has been aping not only their ideas and thoughts, also the diction and style. He always fancy an imaginary fresh novice camarade standing in front of him. Many times he put himself in the shoes of that virtual novice. He would be thinking as if conversing with him, clearing his doubts one after other. Ever since then, he has been continuously arguing , fighting  with that virtual camarade’s beliefs, misgivings, questions, anxieties for the past 10 years. As long course of playful discipline, this act of mind debating, has turned as a kind of a cheery game for him. He further improvised the technique to index and store the contents of the books he read in his memory, using the same way as the above mind debate. In that ever-continuing internal conversation, he practised his mind to pick any of the random points from that stored memory and could convert to  a written article or a speech at any moment. His articles duly gets its credit in the union circle. During ideology theory classes, he could perceive a positive observant silence in the assembly, before he starts his speech. Every moment, affronting questions or malice intended diversion about cause disrupt in the assembly, his fully confident and determined speech, relieves the tension from the countenance of the senior leaders.

But young Arunachalam is a discontented soul. He never accept any sort of defeat. Everytime he exhausted every word in expression,  from deep him, true Aruna divulges out. After let absolute himself out, he would be managed to self-assure mustering the principle knowledge insofar he learnt, yet he would be wondering about himself,  filled with fear and disgust at the same time. In Suganthi’s marriage function, when he noticed the sight of Nagamma confabulating blithely with his sister’s brother-in-law, he could clearly recall the instance of blood rushing through his head in fury, sent a quaking pulse throughout his . On same day evening, when Nagamma requested him “Can you take hold of  child for a moment?”. He retorted “Why to lend my hand? Should you appear as a maiden in the eyes of the stud boys strolling around?” . Nagamma’s eyebrows creased intently, with fluttering eyelashes, she asked again “ What have you said just now?” in a constrained voice. He recoiled, craned his neck in the opposite side with a fiery face, to hide himself. In few seconds, Nagamma eased herself, “oh, is that it? Let we both start back to home.” she replied cheerily.  His discomposure soon ebbing out, he felt longing. The thought of what she must had been thinking about his image, added fuel to his anxiety. His palpitating heart yearned to talk to her and yet there was some barrier prevented him to do so. She never acquiesce the true expressing himself, as it was. She has her own interpretation of his words. He felt unmanned and solitude at the same time. On the contrary, she transported with vivaciousness. Throughout the journey, she was teasing his temperedness without break. When he realized the reason for her delightful overcharged attitude, it jarred him. Yet  he knew her fondling behaviour was much needed of that moment.

Sameday night, during sex, amidst the three-layered veils of sweaty clamminess, body warmth, darkness, when two of their bodies wringing each other, her  heat exhaling lips coming closer to his , in tender voice, “Why angry my sweet prince?”. His grimace face took refuge on her shoulder. Why does she not heed even little to his image commonly accepted by others? Why does she treat him just as a man? “Don’t you know, I belong to you. Why do you think queerly today?” She asked. His mind urged him to push her violently and flay her screen layers one after other. But after realizing that would defeat him to core at the end, he dictated that thought aside. “ Yes, You belong only to me” he replied.  She kissed him and cajoled “ You idiot, idiot baby” . Her compassion slowly turning as horny excitingness, she began to fan out kisses all over him. The forthcame flaming sexual desire, had a great degree of effect on her form . His body writhed and wriggled. Since he attained his orgasm a while ago, his mind took a shape of logics. It was minutely observing the intensity of her movement in restless shock.

Saplessly dwindled her body sliding down, laid sprawling on his shoulders.  After at easing, he asked himself why such great deal of rapturing? A voice from  the darkest abyss of his mind aching to know if that was on recalling of the young man’s flirtatious behaviour in the morning? That question evoked a  self-rending feeling, which he found as much needed on that moment. After ramping few degrees down from that intense feeling, he felt self-pity, then he bogged down and  wore myself out. He knew that was certainly not the reason. Not only that particular young lad, no men could grab her attention at any level. In her world, only herself, is the most  important person. That importance too centered around her form, shape, body alone. The prominency can be further boiled down to the unveiling moments, when any lad recognizes and appeals her form. She does not get aroused by men. The manner any men expresses his praising on her body essentially excites her. The wheedlings , cajoling notes on her, evokes unbridling sexual desire in her. She has been reflecting her body not only in the mirror, but also in the eyes of men. She could eternally stand in front of those two. Today, that youngster must have sent an appealing signal on her. That must have conducted  her to raise few foot from her current inferior position as a mother of a child. Yet her mind must have been toiling in the suspicion, how far his flatterings could be true. Because only in those moments, she could penetrate deep into men’s psyche infinitely. On the other hand, my instance of jealousness was extremely fervent. It was unalloyed in every cell and sense. That might have erased all of her doubts and lifted her spirit to soar in the air. On that celebrated summit, she attained a dual orgasm evidently. Now she had to set her foot down back on earth. As if acceding to his thoughts, “ I need to prepare milk for baby. She may start cry at any time” she told.

Arunachalam crossing the bridge entered into thoroughfare. Due to habituality, his limp movement automatically drove the moped. Window mirrors of the buildings were shining brightly by reflecting  the shafts of morning sunlight. There was a sanitation work going on in front of Canara bank. Thadikkaran bus, devoid of any human, chugged ahead sounding metallic. In front of the post office, the banana bunches were accumulated appearing like a mini hillock. Few workers with the gamocha head cover were standing besides. One of the unknown from them greeted him. As he noticed that Aaseervadam nadar’s tea shop was opened,  he felt like having a tea. Tea or coffee from the hands of Nagamma is usually utterly tasteless. Expenditure may incur on arrival of unexpected guest always bewildered her. The workmates must have already huddled in the tea shop. Had I venture in for tea, It may take a long time to come out since the workers would start complaining, as if a patient complaining about his disease upon seeing a doctor.

The board named “Redflag road” lead to a mounting down from the  road. By holding and adjusting the moped break he weaved his way through. In just 20 mins of moped travel, he felt like his mind has travelled an agelong time. Begining with his left leg, now circling around Nagammai. She would not have any idea about his left leg habit. Similarly she might possess innumerous hidden habits unbeknown to him. Probably by now, she already might have sensed this recurrent habit.   All of sudden, he enamoured for her. She never ever forced him towards his awkward edges. In the whole universe, he could blindfoldedly vouch his faith only on her. His owned halos does not matter to her. There are occasions, he forcefully deliberately cornering her, beyond the tolerance level, as if knowing her breaking edge would ultimately solve the puzzling subtle truth of life. Either with a pronounced emotional cajoling or by contrived blushing she would be shun away from that quagmire. On that same day, when she was boiling the milk “Do you think I am burning in the jealousness , if some guy flirts with you?” I asked directly on her face.  “So what? What's wrong If I take in that way? I just feel happy” she replied “What a stupid question.” her face turned crimson as she blushed unrestrainedly. She slipped away emitting a whispering noise, with the milk bottle in her hands. Sometimes he would successfully, shut her into an unbreakable silence. He could very well apply some more force and crack her. In his mind, he knew that exact boundary. It was just to prove himself, that against all of her tactics, he was not deceived. Yet he knew, If he crosses that laxman rekha even little further, the fundamentals on which he is standing, might be shattered by his own logic. After realizing even setting or fixed that breaking edge itself capable of crack him wildly,  he would rein him. Emotional young Arunachalam promptly changing his state of mind, disarming if any incendiaries, retracing his steps, clear the air. As if a fallen down child, returning back to the lap of its mother, on those moments, with outstretched hands, receptive thighs, she would be earnestly at ready to hug him. In that sense, she is very well aware of his breaking point. Her tenacious mind must be following the course of his mind in a different level, ceaselessly, closely.

Beneath the red name-board ‘Camarade P.V.L Memorial house’, there was a  wide open gate. Arunachalam entering in, parking his vehicle , secured the lock. Using his hands as comb he adjusted his hairdo.  When he was on the steps, “After all, why is logic?” the one single line began to trickle through, filled his mind. After crossing the pathway, he ventured into right side room. Upon entering, he took the “Red-Ray” daily, he lolled in a chair. By extricating himself from the thus far unbridled thoughts,   he tried to channelise his energy into actionable to-does of the day. His continuous usage turned that room as physical embodiment of his mental thoughts. There were three lofts containing dust filled books, bundled up agelong receipt books, bamboo flag poles and folded flags, scattered banners and posters were present in that room. On the floor, various colors spilled splashed dried, appeared like a collage.  There were two advertisement boards , with huge red fonts placed slantly on the wall . Over the bench the drawing brushes and few colour bottles were visible. Comparatively, his table looked uncluttered. He eased himself and felt comfortable after a while. Slowly and steadily his mind was absorbed by the room. He opened the daily news paper. The headline claimed as “Subsidy to Peasants!Bengal Chief minister announcement! ”. On  the third page “31st Rubber plantation workers state conference” news appeared. He took a pencil and circled that news and made a note of it. There was a not-so-clear photo of district government office association secretary Vinayakamoorthy’ speech taken from podium. The speech was on greeting the procession held from Netta balan palace. Arunachalam was also present in the same photo by clasping both the folded hands resting on his hip. He felt like his craving for tea increased after finishing the quick review of the daily. No other soul was there for his company in the room. Workers might had worked full night to finish the board writings. He took  few book-marked files and placed those on the table. Table began to clutter. Table would assume several appearances throughout the day. When he tried to shift his focus on the files “After all, what this logic?” this started running in the background of his mind repetitively . He was not able to sustain the thoughts he long had. “After all, what this logic?” this sentence reverberated once gain inside his mind like an alarming machine. This single line of words going get prefixed in his further proceeding thoughts of that day.

Chapter 2

Arunachalam heard a commotion of seven or eight men approaching from outside. Few of them were laughing loudly responding to a banter.  “Have you seen the news, Camarade?” Narayanan asked Arunachalam while walking about the room. “Where have you all gone?” Arunachalam asked back instead. “We were having tea on the account of Mustafa” responded Sadasivan. Arunachalam had a glance at this wrist watch “Camarade, remember we do have meeting at Kaliyal today”

Arunachalam folding the newspaper placing it over the table, said, “Mani, Ensure the meeting expenditure details are submitted before you leave in the evening. No one needed to be here after noon. Let us start to Kaliyal meeting at the earliest”

Narayanan “ Shall I order tea for you, Camarade?” asked. Arunachalam just  responded “mm” . Narayanan approaching someone standing near “Hey, Madhavan nayar, one strong tea plus  eight bundle of dinesh beedi “ ordered.

Arunachalam opening the table drawer grabbed a telephone book. After rummaging through, he found a number.  Fixing his index finger over the number, holding the phone receiver in the clutches of his ear and shoulder, he dialled with the other hand .  “Has anyone got a chance to read the Dinamani or Malar dailies ?“ he asked the group. Each of their countenances eliciting a uniformln

indecorous expression, they stood worldless.  Narayanan responded “No, Camarade.” in a hesitant voice.

“All of you, better get into the habit of reading.” responded Arunachalam  in a frigid tone. Narayanan in a whispering voice “ Go and buy one copy of each daily paper at once” requested Madhavan. “Looks like Dinamani will arrive only at noon ” Narayanan answered Arunachalam  in an apologetic tone .

Suddenly in a pleasant voice “ Vanakkam(*), Camarade! This is Aruna from state rubber worker’s union…. No, Camarade, Just now I settled….. You must have noticed in Sengathir daily… Yes, pass the receiver to him…. I will wait in line. ...oh yah. everything going pretty well. In our words “All is  sailing with the wind” ha ha ha“ he laughed.

Narayanan “Is that Annachi(*)?” asked

Harbour workers  state union secretary Durai.Shanmugam’s commanding voice heard over the phone.  “Vanakkam(*) Camarade! Just now I have awaken. Yesterday we had the monthly meeting . I had to sleep right here.”

“Did I disturb you?”

“No! not at all. What is going on?”

“Everything is fine. Just the conference’s expenditures are  sliding out of hand”

“I understand this is a state level meeting.”

“Have you reserved the train?”

“One of the boys informed me that reservation confirmed in  Madras mail train. Did you talk to Thiruvananthapuram meeting organizers?”

“No some other members talked to them. I suppose the arrival of C M is  doubtful”

“There is an election scheduled rite. I believe there is no change of process”

“Election is just a ritual. There is no competition for K K M. Who has chance against him?”

There came a quick sharp laughter in the other end of  the phone. “ You are such a raconteur in speech. You pull it off elegantly with you  Kanyakumari accent. Anyways Congratulations!!“

Arunachalam asked “What for?”

“Indeed for everything” it seemed his body shook with a deep ringing laugh over the phone.

“In any case, You will wish me  in the conference stage”

“This is a personal congratulations from my side”

“I am just a member of a union”

“Aha. You show your wit. You are the right person to be part of the political bureau.”

Arunachalam was in a dithered state of mind, when he disconnected the call. The moment he intended to dial the phone again, he noticed a known shadow of an elder. Placing the receiver back “ Vanakkam. Camarade” he greeted discreetly.  Deferential attitude slowly waved through each man's body whom thus far casually standing in the room. With a collarless old kurta type dress, folded long sleeves uptil the elbows, an old man entered. His fully grey coloured densed stalin moustache was cropped sharply at the edges. Parting the hair from the center of the head, he wore a faded rice bran colour framed spectacles. He looked as if awakened from a deep sleep just a few minutes ago. But everyone aware about his early waking habit.

Tea cups were delivered. Lifting the hot tea glass,  holding it in the gap of his palms , he gently rolled about a few times. It is a common habit of hill  people. His fingers appeared round and hard. Everyone was silently watching him sipping the tea. After a few moments, he took a beedi from the bundle, lighting it out, puffing deeply, exhaled the smoke through his nose. It seemed he was slowly landing back to earth. As if that was the signal others waiting for, all others commenced smoking.

“Hey Arunachalam. There was no water in the tank. It was cumbersome to sleep the whole night”   told K K M. “ Yesterday night, Bhaskaralingam went up and checked it out. The tank was not refilled it seems”

“I will have a look at it , Camarade”

“Have you not started to work?”

“No Camarade, I have taken leave for state conference. Eight days.”

“Oho” K K M said assuming the air of total inattention and then yawned. As he pulled another beedi out and re-began to smoke,  he sank into deep silent. He usually rises a silent impregnable wall around him. Surrounded workers would not be able to behave casually during those times. One after other drifted away. Appu kuttan returned back with a paper  in his hand “ No news in any Daily, Cama..” upon watching the presence of K K M’s he placed the paper over the table with no more words. Arunachalam pushed that paper towards K K M. He did not seem to have noticed that. He looked as if in deep slumber in sitting pose. He has been suffering from the disease of sleeping disorder for a long time.  What is it called. He searched throughout his memory for few seconds and able to fetch the word. Oh yah insomnia. In his very young age, day in and day out, he toiled up his body on serious trails . On those days, he could sleep at any place at his will. Now the exacerbated disease making him restless, forced him to wander around devoid of any sleep.

Narayanan signalled that he was about to leave. Now Arunachalam left alone with K K M. He picked the daily  on the table in his hand and went about to read. After a few mins of rummaging, he peered over K K M’s face again.  He was sitting motionless with the wide opened eyes. His facial features appeared like that of a leader's frozen face  in a wall hanging photograph. Possibly an addition to the queue of Lenin, Marx, Engles, Stalin wall photos. Highly likely, one day his photo would also be hanging as next to that line. Perhaps he himself already in the path of attaining the photographic promotion. He threw his intense glance over his facial features.  With sharp nose, slightly compressed lips, prominent jaw his face appeared as if born to become a perfect wall photo. In his young age, he must have been a tall, strong, handsome young man.

K K M cannot claim himself as a reader. He was neither a captivating speaker. But he was an out and out bravado in his young age. When Southern Travancore government  jailed him in Thiruvananthapuram prison, hiding himself in the sack, he sneaked out in a laundry vehicle. The news of his adventurous escape spreaded like a legend. Ever since then, he held this escapade image as a halo crown.  He was known for his confident filled natural communication skills. K K Madhavan Nayar born in the famous “Kovilakathu Keezhthali” line of family. He was reared up in a paramountcy status at his very young age. His own line of family’s inherent fame, his pedigree’s influence combining with his innate never-say-die attitude,  resulted in his skilled organization ability . For the rubber estate workers he was an angel. Thanks to his family fame, rubber estate landlords were never able to ignore him, mainly because their inner belief claimed he was part of them. The rest of the estate overseers and intimidating rowdies were dreaded upon K K M’s presence.  As a single person, penetrating through the dense forest, gaining the unquestionable faith of entire rubber estate worker populace, he installed and built the rubber estate workers’s union from zero. The mega union with the enlisted members of one and half lakh, at any point of view, his individual tour de force. After 60 long years of public life, he does not possess any personal property  barring his clothes.

Somewhere around 15 years ago, when KKM already acquired the godlike status among the thousands of workers, he appeared regularly to Arunachalam’s house.  His speeches amidst the mass of workers in the worker quarter house, would continue throughout the night. There won’t be any new thought provoking content in his speech.  Yet his speeches would be efferversed with right mixture of aggressive grittiness and fondfull invitations. Being a shy hesitant novice, Arunachalam got catapulted towards him  in no time and he found himself drawn more and more closer towards him. After a while, when he positioned himself as intense reader and slowly began to receive accolades as a thinker in the union circle, he slowly climbed and attained the rank of successor to  KKM. Ever since then, there was a burst of asunder in their relationship. KKM had a love and aversion relationship over Arunachalam’s intellectual image. Moreover, his style of speech abhorrent to KKM. There are occasions he passed explicit potshots on the worthlessness of theoretical knowledge.  Yet KKM knew internally that stage for direct field work slowly relegating to second place and the intellectual activity attained the prominent place in the union’s activity. “There is no place for a revolutionary, the tasks are there only for attorneys” K K M would pass such scathing comments oftentimes.

In the union activities, slowly the position of K K M turned dependent on Arunachalam. Apparently he accepted this  new designation change, sporting a friendly mocking smile. During the committee meetings and fiery theoretical debates, he would be sitting as though a humble Guru who was standing in the backstage after rising his prime acolyte as a flagbearer. As if returning the favour back to Guru, Arunachalam would be explicitly requesting or wait for the accepting nod of KKM, everytime  important ideas been propounded in the discussion. Occasionally he would quote KKM’s wordings or denote his gestures in the assembly. From outlook, even though it appeared as an amiable relationship, in the deep down, there was an ever smoking volatile friction. The suppressed scalding lava could outburst at any moment. When there was a plan for a new building for union, Arunachalam wished to build a new library as annexure . With a raging single-minded obstinacy, KKM averted any idea of constructing the library. Days later, to pacify Arunachalam, he assisted him in all the level to publish a journal.

KKM was an emotional partisan of  state leader K Ramasundaram. Evidently, it was the result of  60 long years of unbroken friendship, originated from the time he joined the party. His relationship can be suitably termed as loyalty.  Some of the party workers, say he was hanuman(*) for Ramasundaram. He never tolerated even a mild dispute over Ramasundaram’s decisions. Ramasundaram leveraged the backing  support of the union in many occasions. He used the strength of union as his main weapon during many internal conflicts of party. Arunachalam had a guilt of conscience over KKM, that he never allowed him to unclaim the general notion of his loyally tag attached to Ramasundaram.  He even went to the extent of expressing this embarrassment feeling in heat of moments as scathing remarks over him. Yet, he was aware that in the state party committee, his name was widely registered as the follower of Ramasundaram.

All of a sudden, awaken K K M  stood up on his feet. Adjusting his dhoti, looked around as if he had just arrived there.  His sight was fixed over the Stalin photograph for few mins. With grimacing face “Hey , don’t you  have time to clean the dust of the photograph” he said in an angry tone. Arunachalam turning around and had a look at the photo.  Marx, Engles, Lenin and Stalin all of their photos appeared dusty.

“I will ask someone to clean”

“Should I instruct this every time..” told  K K M. After a few seconds, not sure what went on his mind “ How is Appu kuttan doing?”  he asked. Appukuttan was Narayanan’s father. He was the branch leader of Venu Garden. It has been seven years since he passed away. Arunchalam did not answer.

K K M “Let me go and take a bath. I need to write to Konar(*).” told. He mentioned about Ramakrishnan belongs to Konar caste, government transport union’s district secretary.

“You have already written  and signed the letter yesterday.  You can go for bath without worrying“

“Repair the bathing pipe. I can’t go any near.  Its emitting a disgusting smell”

The elder started walk ahead slowly. After he left, two workers entered in.

“Hey you both! So many of you around here. Don't you have time to  wipe the dust out from these pictures” asked Arunachalam.

“ We will do right away, Camarade”

“Very well. Don’t you know KKM would unfailingly examine the pictures. Where is that P P gone? ”

“He is yet to come”

“All of those attending the Kaliyal meeting, can start right away. Only those who  are working on banner writing, can stay here”

The crowd was dispersed. Narayanan slowly placing  himself on the bench and began to smoke the beedi. Upon exhaling the smoke “I heard an unconfirmed news about KKM. Looks like he will be kicked out from the party this time, Camarade”

Arunachalam felt a jolt in his chest and at once screwed his eyes towards Narayanan. Truth is that, for a while,  he has been avoiding, dealing with that thought within himself.

“ Who shared this news?”

“Keerthi heard about this rumour when he was in Madras. Is it true?”

“So far, no one has informed me”

“ The very next day, Ramasundaram expired, the news about forcing KKM out started spreading. Somehow he managed to cling on, for three  years. But this time the state bureau members all united in singular stand of eliminating him”

“Why we need to dwell in such discussion. Let us do our own duty”

“Yet!”

“Yet!” Suddenly Arunachalam rose his voice.  “What do you know about KKM? If he had not relinquished his family status, he could still be travelling in palanquin.  Remember, he completed that era’s intermediate schooling. All of his classmates are in high paid jobs, settled all over the world. By sipping the black tea, smoking the beedi, had he not trekked through the high green hills, you and me would still, pumping the well water in the buckets for landlord ladies. Crouching in the backyards of the landlord’s home, we would still be consuming the stenchy porridge. We should never forget his sacrifices”

“No Camarade, I will never forget the past. What I was trying to say”

“You indeed forgot the history, Camarade. At present,  he may have turned as an unworthy elder for union. If the state bureau members managed to evict him, you all would feel a dispensable load lifted from the party. Aged cart ox would be directed straight to beef stall. ``wouldn't it?”

“Camarade, You have mistaken me” responded Narayanan.

“The reason why I brought the subject is” he hesitated. Arunachalam glance met the eyes of Narayanan and he did a double take.

Arunachalam calming down, reduced the intensity in his voice.

“In the 50s, KKM was tortured to near death in the  Kuzhithurai police camp for eleven infernal days. They even forced him to  drink urine. The tormentors went to the extent of brutally pulling off his fingernails. Why? In order to thwart the mass agitation of  rubber workers. Had he took a step back on that critical juncture, we would never be in a position to enjoy the basic rights such as job security. By standing firmly on top of that springboard, we achieved numerous rights  with our continuous struggle. Not only the current generation of workers and families, the next seven generations, owe a soulful a lot to KKM. We could never pay him back for what he has done. “ Arunachalam said in a tender voice.

His shrunken face turned crimson. Suddenly he pulled table drawer out and picked a book in his hand.  Narayanan’s eyes filled with unshed tears. For next few mins, only the sound of Arunachalam turning over the pages, echoed in the room.

Upon regaining back to normal state “ What is the status of the new members joining in the state conference?”

“Sure six members are joining from A I P L U.  All these new members together will be marching to the stage by holding the flag and  they will be receiving the member cards in ceremony. Subramaniyan is responsible for all the arragements”

“How many are from P L  U I?”

“None so far.  A new bloke, joined a year ago. Upon hearing he was not taking part in any union activity, I went directly to convince him. Yet no luck in enlisting him”

“You can’t afford to lose him. A.I.P.L.U is an age old vibrant union. It is normal that we managed to pull a few from that union. But P.L.U.I is a young emerging  union. Moreover, last year they managed to pull out some of eight members from our union. This time we should fetch at least five from there”

“There is no scope other than this fellow”

“Where is his home?”

“A village called Elanthaiyadi near Karungal”

“Come to my home by 7 AM tomorrow. Let us go together his home and talk to him”

“He is working in the Noyal garden nearby”

“No. We will visit his home and talk him directly”

“Are you  sure? At his home?”

“Yes Indeed. There are a handful of benefits meeting at his home. Our members have drawn distinguishing line between home and workplace. The same one  performing dutiful communinst role at the office, wearing a totally different face of loyal devotee, a casteist at home. If you gatecrash and suddenly enter into  his personal world. His mind would be in the state as if he is standing on a quick sand. If we manage to apply apt tactical words then we surely can succeed in acceding him. “

Narayanan smiled blithefully.

“This is called K K M technique” told Arunachalam.

“Yah. Exactly” replied Narayanan. “My mother even today, recalls the days when she cooked fish and yams for KKM”

K K M returned back after bathing,  wearing new attire. His wet gray hairs appeared waxy. After taking his own time to sit, he had a look at the stalin photo again. His face turned intense again.  “I told to wipe the dust from this photo” he asked irritatingly.

Arunachalam felt hurt. As though wound up clock “The members here are running  all over without any glint of repose. Today we have our Kaliyal flag procession”  said testily.

“How long it would take to dust off the photos . There is no respect for leaders. Focus is solely  on Salary, bonus, Arrears. Nothing else..”

Arunachalam thought about KKM. Is he fearing,  one day his photo would also be slurried with muddy web, with no one to clean.He  realised that the tender voice he used just few mins ago to recall KKM’s glorious past is nothing but a self-deception. From his deep down he has been forestalling the thought of KKM’s inevitable exit. For him this evanescent elder one is mere a photograph. His sacrifices belongs to a bygone era. Mind is a continous motion which surges from present moment to future. For that mind  everything about distance past is dispensible. All it cares about the stocks the present and the future holding. That is the natural way how it functions. Mind can march forward without discarding the past. The past is so massive to bear. In order to extricate himself from the burst of thoughts, Arunchalam lifted the phone receiver. “ Dial to Konar. I need to talk to him” K K M chimed in at once. Arunachalam avoided glancing his face. He tried to subdue the irritation aroused in him. Before that  feeling took the shape of words, his mind paused meeting a sentence he heard some where earlier“ Then what is this logics” his mind reverberated that line once again.

Chapter 3

Next day, as his usual chore, when Arunachalam was tuning the radio buttons, there he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. The countenance of the young man who emerged from the steps looked familiar. It seemed he brushed up his wet hair, at once, after bath without drying his hair. His facial complexion appeared as though the reflection of his own hair colour. “Come in” Arunachalam invited him. “Camarade, Narayanan sent me,” said he. “He asked me to assist your visit to the karukkal area since my home is right on the way ”

“Which division of estate union  you are part of?”

By the time, he learnt what I meant. “My name is Kolappan. Dhadikkarankonam L M division of estate”

“Yes, Indeed. We did meet in the division union meetings several occasions rite?” Arunachalam felt guilty as he was not able to recollect a division secretary's face. KKM could individually rattle off the names of thousands of workers without lapse, even at this age.

Kolappan seated himself on a wooden stool. “Narayanan told, you would be starting early in the morning. “

“Wait a minute.  Let me start soonest. Would you like to have Coffee?”

“Don’t trouble yourself. ”

“No problem. Nagammaa! One coffee ..”

By mildly at the same time sharpling emitting the  the toe ring, Nagamma peeked just her head out, ”Welcome” she said. Kolappan greeted her back with a motionless face.

“Sir belongs to   Dadikkaran estate,” said Arunachalam to Nagamma. By expressing a restrained smile “That's fine. Make yourself comfortable” said she.

Without wasting any more moment, Arunchalam went straight to the well cement ramp, had a super quick bath with single bucket water. Only when he was drying himself with a towel, he realised that he did not brush his teeth. He dashed out to  to brushing his teeth. Nagamma uttered “ Breakfast is ready” . Can you take few idly(*)?”

“ I don’t have time. I will have few dosas(*) on the way. Did you offer him coffee?”

She went inside, without responding. She wears a surly face every time a union member visits the home. It occurred to him that she was murmuring something.

When he entered the home with moistened head, Kolappan was reading a weekly magazine. “We do have enough time to finish your breakfast Camarade” told Kolappan.

“I knew we are running late. Hold on for a second” Arunachalam went in. There was a vague buzzing echoed in the ear, as  few drops of water seeped deep in. After buttoning the shirt, he found a stain clearly visible at the pant leg. There was no other natty pant, he could pick. Hurriedly, wearing the pant and zipping it up, he searched for the comb. Only the old magazines and daily papers were scattered around. The moment, he found the unlidded coconut oil bottle and talcum powder, on top of his books of two, blood rushing through his eyes to head, he enraged. He felt as though yank every single item on top the books and fling them out of the house. Only the  weight of the moment of him running behind the schedule, forced him to pent-up his anger. By combing the hair with one hand, with the other hand fetching the items one after other, he moved those on to the wooden sill of the window.  By grabbing his handbag, he examined whether it had the pen, diary and to-do list notes. Kolappan was immersed into the magazine. “Excuse me. just a more minute” asking him in an apologetic tone, he went into the kitchen. Nagamma was in the middle of oven smoke. Gowri was in deep slumber in the saree cradle which was attached to a spring.

“Nagam, do you have a 10 rupees?”

“Alas, this is the month-end, how would I have 10 rupees?”

“ I am sure you have. You must have stashed somewhere, Its a matter of  urgency, give me”

“Why don’t you utilize the wage of union”

He gets meagre 200  rupees as union work salary. It never sustained even the first 10 days of the month. Added to that, additional conference travel outlays. If I begin to explain these intricacies, sure as rain, she would get incensed.

“It is up to you to give”

“No, I will not”

Arunachalam left that place at once,  in a boiling state of mind. Kolappan must have the money to refill the petrol in  case the moped stops on the way, yet he was not inclined to ask him. He had only seven rupees in his pocket. Hoping to retrieve some leftover money, he rummaged through the table drawer, his handbag and bookshelves all over again . Although he found a key  lost a week ago, and few coins, he managed to fetch only wee little 80 paise. There was no other way. He decided to barter a loan from Nayar on his way.

“We can start, Camarade” he urged Kolappan.

Kolappan placing the folded magazine on the table, “ Is it true that actress Kushboo earns 40 lakhs for her role?” he asked.

“Why ? so ?”

“I read that in the magazine.  Our entire conference expenditures would get tallied around just one and a half lakhs. That too after the  bhagiratha (*) task of collecting the member’s fund for three months.

“We are the proletariat , camarade” Arunachalam began to kick-start his moped. 

“I purchased this vehicle for 800 rupees. I am the fourth owner of this machine. I dare not to give this for a general service. Not sure whether this  will continue to function after the service. Mechanic warned me not do anymore repair on this one, as long as it runs, it's a profit. I will say, the inseverable grime which holds all the parts together is the only reason for its functioning.  “ he continued.

The vehicle was hanging fire as always.

“Do you know the on-road value of a Maruti car? Do you know the price of an Aeroplane?  Don’t forget, all these are the result of our hard work, everything has our sweat and blood in it”

Nagamma came out for me, by holding the teetering, dozing  Gowri in her waist.

“What?” he asked her in an angry tone.

“Do you have a few mins?” She called.

I went inside. She placed nine rupees in my palm. A couple of two rupee coins plus a five rupee currency. Her face appeared sweaty.  She was gasping rapidly.

“How do you manage to obtain this?”

“Bhagavati sister offered me”

He felt a little disappointed. He knew this is how it would end. He could glean the vicarious pleasure, on the success of his willful manipulation on her. Yet at the end, posing a contrived angry countenance, he left the home to restart the vehicle. As he feared, the engine started in the first kick.

Picking up speed in the roadway, the moped ride brought him back to the steady peace of mind from the whirling of morning thoughts. He drove the vehicle through the shortcut that Kolappan suggested. When he began to feel the brunt of the sunrays, both of them have already reached the Karukkal. There was a petti tea shop beside the road. Like a typical village shop, it comprised a glass box ,  uncluttered benches, puttu( steamed layered cylindrical cake), crispy lentil Papad. Single cluster of bananas hanging from the ceiling tied to a thick jute rope. Ceylon Tamil radio service was running loud. By parking the vehicle in the shoulder of the road, Arunachalam ventured in. One of the young workers, who was reading daily sitting in the attached stone bench greeted him.

“Vanakkam, Camarade?, May I know your name?” Arunachalam greeted him back.

“Ganesan, I am a member of the Youth front organization”

“Come and join us for tea”

“No Camarade, You proceed ahead “

Someone peeking out from inside,” Welcome. Camarade. Come in. '' When both of them found rest on seats “Hey  Nananppa, Serve puttu and papad for Sir” he ordered.

“No, Just serve me idly” requested  Arunachalam.

“Never mind Sir.  Nanappa, You bring the puttu quickly” Said he. “My name is  Kochan. Beedi worker”

“Have you had your breakfast?”

“Yah just a while ago”

The owner stubbornly insisted on putting the  food bill on the house. Arunachalam had no other choice of accepting it.

“Allow  me to take a  leave. I have an errand  nearby. Hope Camarade KKM is in  sound health.”

“Yes”

“Do you know, Camarade KKM he himself attended my marriage. When my elder son demised in cholera, he was the first person to attend the funeral. It has  been 20 long years. Yet each of his consoling words are still resonating in my ears. Listen you, Ganesha, You have no idea about the spellbinding erstwhile events. Camarade  KKM outmuscled the British in the uneven field of battle. Camarade is an immortal. He is having innumerable die hard followers, such as me, who imprinted his name on our necks “ Kochan’s  voice become tendered. He turned away , as he did not want to disclose the expression of his face. In the next few seconds, he began walking out from there.

Arunchalam continued his  meal without uttering any  word. “ Have you ever come along with KKM to this area ,Camarade” He asked with a balmy countenance, as it appeared he was expecting to hear more about KKM.

“Yes Indeed. Unlike him, I  am not used to recall the dires and faces of the people” 

“KKM  could never forget any single acquainted face”

“His head was just full of names and places, nothing  else”

The answer jolted  Kolappan mildly. His change of expression raised a red flag to Arunachalam. “ As a communist, that is the foremost trait. He lived and breathed people. We the thinkers, are just bound to  philosophies and debates. KKM acquired the knowledge straight from the blood and sweat of soil.

Kolappan a simple man, back to the cheerful mood again. “ Indeed, Camarade. Everytime I see him, I feel  a kind of, sort of , don’t know how to put into words. We live, eke out, give birth to children, just for ourselves,  I always have the feeling of guilt conscious over it. During the 36th conference stage, I touched his hand and helped him step on  stage. The sense of touch of his hand itself transformed me to trance-like state. My eyes moistened. I felt as if his hand was slipping away from my hand. He is an ideal communist. We are mere common man. Very ordinary mundane man. Aren't we?“

“Yes, that's true” upon making a bundle of the leftover  banana leaf plate in his hand, Arunchalam uttered.

After washing his hand, lighting a beedi “I heard,  Camarade KKM never learnt to ride a bicycle” asked Kolappan.

“Yah. I was the one who used to careen around keeping him in back seat of bicycle” Arunachalam  jumped in cheerful mood. “ KKM was a great fan of walking. He used to walk at least 20 miles a day . There are times, he walked as upto 50 miles that too through the meandering hill top villages. Yet, everytime he comes across the Bicycle discussion,  his eyebrows would rise invariably. He oftentimes questions on how someone rides this tiny stuff without losing balance. He would wonder, how even the small kids manage to chum around with this machine. Sometimes I feel like, even the aircraft operations are no puzzle to him, yet this tiny contraption was always an unsolvable riddle to him.

Kolappan laughed giddliy.

“During our visit to the estate,throughout the way, at least a hundred of men and women would greet him. He would randomly pick  someone and go on explain the that person’s background details. Even Though his recalling events would be common, for example, link of his family connection with the other one, it would appear to me as if I had turning the page after page of a book having infinite contents. On the other hand, KKM always wondered my ‘reading habit’  . How on the hell, you are reading the words where these letters are squirming like leeches , snakes and ant rows. One day when I was reading “The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State”, he asked me about the book. I replied the name. He questioned what the book was about? I said it's all about revolution. He then replied  “No book can explain the “Revolution”. By Mobilizing the downtrodden, capture the ownership of the land, then go on acquire the power, finally you start equally share the yielded profit. That's all revolution”. I had no words to reply.

In the moped ride, I said “ Camarade, At any moment I can guess correctly, his presence without turning back. I knew his style of stting” wearing a smiling countenance.

When the vehicle attained speed, the cold wind blowing on his face, made him recall  a particular incident occurred years ago. On that day, in the small hours, when he was riding a bicycle with KKM on backseat, in the slope of Thirparappu Kaliyal  road. On a sudden moment, KKM began singing “ Death is our sacrifice, Life is our great boon, Equality is what we yearn for” in a virile, bass voice. He let out that song from his deep in. I felt a pulse simulated in my spine.  It appeared as though the surrounding mountain summits gathered and stood tall between the illuminating clouds and the grayish sky, only to observe and then reverberate KKM’s voice. He appeared like a steadfast arrow which was passing through the eons of time. His voice appeared as though an abstract one could not be grasped by the normal ears. There was a huge monumental power echoing from my back. I was immersed in that surreal state until I reached the wooden bridge.

It was a modest clay house. Infront, paddy was spread in a sheet for drying. An elderly lady was sitting with a broom made by palmleaves. By parking the vehicle besides the house, passing across the lethargic look of a couple of cattles smeared in the slurry of dung, we reached the threshold of the house. The elderly lady getting up “Come in. Please” invited us. It seemed she assumed we were government officials came there for ration card related work. It took awhile for her to react, she hesitantly “Narayani !!” shouted turning towards the house.

“We came here for Bhaskaran” Kolappan Said.

“Yes. He is here”

Shirtless Bhaskaran emerged from the Home. Upon learning it was Arunachalam, he went in and returned back buttoning a crumpled shirt. “ Welcome Sir. Please come in”  he invited. Cow-dung paste was polished over the steps lead to the house and on the entire entrance. Arunachalam seated himself in the steel chair. Kolappan placed himself in the pial. “You please sit down Bhaskar” he called Bhaskar. Hesitantly he seated in the parapet wall of the opposite side. The elderly lady cleared the place to do her work.

“By the way, who is that , your grandma?” asked Arunachalam

“Yah. She is my mother’s mother.”

“What about your parents”

“My father expired when I was very young. My mother died eight years ago”

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost  seven years. Throughout my young days,  I struggled in many menial jobs, including the 4 years of  job in restaurant”

“May I know your age?”

“I am 40 plus”

“You look younger than that. What about marriage?”

“I managed to stick to a stable job just a while ago. On Marriage, I hope it will happen this year”

“We can offer you profiles of few suitable brides.”

Kolappan laughed heartily. Bhaskaran responded with a constrained smile.

“Why don’t we go out and have tea in the nearby shop. They sell tasty teas”

“Don’t worry. We are at ease here”

Bhaskaran’s  turned more attentive.

“What is your opinion about your current union?”

“I don’t have any sort of opinion. My neighbour Sasi Anna urged me to join there.”  taking a few seconds “Honestly, I don’t like the politics,” he said in a tentative tone.

“You  are part of the union. You are responsible for the union’s politics”

“I don’t, I am  not sure”

“There are Hindutva’s. I agree that  we all are Hindus. We pray our god. That does not mean we need to drive the christians and muslims out of  the country. I will never back their ideology. Would you?”

“No, I don’t think that's what they say” Bhaskaran  responded.

“They never say literally. Yet they act in that extremist way. You should know the history, Camarade. You know who is Gandhi ? An incarnation of God, We revere him as Mahatma. Who killed Gandhi? A member from  PLUI . Are you aware about that?

Bhaskaran drooped his head.

“Up until you are part of that union, You will never get a chance to learn this fact Camarade. On the contrary, our union was built on the  bedrock of worker’s blood. During the anguish pre-union days, we all were forced to live under the scourge of the draconian owners. There was no day passed without casting of swear words on us. There was no guarantee of  a minimum wage. Our kids and ladies died in hunger. Our leaders built this union after a great deal of struggle. The facilities we enjoy these days, achieved on top of the sweat and blood of our great leaders. We should never forget their sacrifices. Their blood will never go in vain. We should be loyal to them”

“When I was a daily wager, I came across all those distresses. I  was caned every day, had to bear the swear words too. Even after, I was forced to give a quarter of my salary to the mestri , the managing middle employe”

Arunachalam took some time to respond as he realised he is not a novice. 

“Well Said. As you well aware of, our work has just begun.  The state of 90% of this country’s workers as par with slaves. This is because they  have not yet united under single parasol. It's our task to mobilise them together and teach them the struggle to attain the noble goal. Our great leaders have delegated that duty upon us”

“If you take an example of a  bank peon, his current salary is 4000 rupees.  With the backup of his union, he goes on industrial action, demanding an increase in the salary. How would he ever understand and support  a hand-cart porter’s cause?”

Arunachalam calmed himself. “ You should understand the practical situation, Camarade. Think  yourself putting in his shoes. Would you come and join the union for the struggle of some daily wager, a  coolie? Your salary and bonus must be the main concerns for you. You will join us only if we guarantee those two. In case we don't show interest in these two goals, you will go and join the other union. As a first step, you should believe in ourselves and come towards outside. Then we will teach our philosophies and principles to you. Later you will embark ahead on your own.”

“When  the Third-corner estate was expanded as 100 acres, we 76 workers together, applied for the contract worker's job. But the existing estate union workers went on strike for 20 days , just to oppose our inclusion.”

“Yes that's true.  I am well aware that the shut down was originally organized by our union.  You have no idea about the degree of owners exploitation over the workers. By  paying just a half wage, they outsourced the work to contract workers. How should we allow that to happen?”

“After few days of negotiations,  your union settled for a deal, that too to  the owner’s idea of distributing the 70 odd worker’s job as overtime to existing employees. The very next day,  you all went to work merrily for the extra overtime job pecuniary. On the other side, we all lost our work and forced to suffer world of pain in the menial jobs such as restaurants cleaning. “

Arunachalam in a grave voice “ There are so many reasons for that situation. You will never understand that from an outsider angle. But I am sure about one thing. Your understanding of the worker class is totally wrong. I believe your biased opinion is a result of religious extremist’s mala fide propoganda”

“I am just sharing the true incidents which I had come across”

“But the way you express says clearly that,  you are under the influence of them”

“I am not endorsing any party or union. I started working for a living,  at the age of ten. It has been almost 30 years. From my experience, if you work, you get paid. Sometimes if you work your butoff, you get paid less. That is the common rule of the unmerciful world. If you want to perceive that plight, come and stand with me in the streets, with naked eyes. “

“You said, you don’t have faith in any union. Then why are you part of this union?”

“A Union is  for job security..”

“You get the job security in our union too”

“I get the job security in my current union, then what is the benefit of  changing?”

Perspicacious Arunachalam quickly explicating the situation. changed his voice tone “ Camarade,  Tell us openly , What should we do to enroll you in our union?”

Bhaskaran  grinned and said “ I have a plan to repair this home. I need to change the ceiling brick tiles” lightly.

“Let me be frank, almost all the co-operative society’s members belong to our union. We can arrange housing loan for you in a jiffy”

“There is a defect in the land document”

“That's not a problem. We can close that issue without any ado”

“Well. You  take your time until my marriage which I am planning with in six months”

“Sure thing. At last we have reached the positive conclusion”

“We will see”

“No more ifs and buts. You are attending conference and joining the union right there on stage”

Bhaskaran reluctantly “Just. One more matter” said

“Go ahead”

“There should be no surprises  in the future. That's why I am revealing now”

“Yes please” Arunachalam attentively.

“My father was a former communist. There are rumours that he was expelled from  the party”

“Oh is it” said Arunachalam pausing in the middle.

“He was a renegade who spied the party’s secrets for police. When his identity was disclosed, he was defenstrated from the party. He wandered around woebegone around the marthandam market for rest of the life. He died in market. Few people said, he was down-and-out begging on those times. His dead body was found in the sewage gutter. The corporation workers  disposing the body, performed his final rituals. I still don’t know where his body buried”

“Did you ever see him”

“No, never alive. My mother carrying me separated from him. She reared me, eking out as a daily wage coolie. She never said a word about my father. My grandfather used to spew all possible swear words on  my father. I saw his face only in a photograph. He was a handsome young man with a Hitler mustache, parting his hair from the center of crown. He was a BA graduate of that era. He met my mother and fell head over heels and then convinced her for the intercaste marriage, which caused a great rife in both families. He was expelled from his community deprived of any money or property. His parents put an end to the relationship with son, by going into  the extent of performing the ritual of sprinkling the water in his forehead. My mother’s parents were furious over my father, as he was not managed to live happily with my mother. If I utter his name, he will take a cane and swat me. I was not sure my mother would be thinking during those moments. she never disclosed anything about my evanesced father”

“What is your father’s name?” asked Arunachalam. Feeling queasy about that question. “It is not an issue at all. Yet..”

“Veerapadhra pillai. You must have heard his name.”

“Actually, No. On what years he was in party?”

“Before my birth years. Must be in 60s”

“Do you have any photographs of your father?”

“No not now. My mother had once. My grandma yanking that burnt it by throwing it  in the raging firewood oven”

“Let me check with the elder members of the party”

“I am worried that at some time,  my father’s secret will get divulged out”

“That's no matter at all. In a way, this is a welcoming  change. A big gesture that you are redeeming for your father deeds as you are returning to party.”

“I never had any feeling of regret or anger over my father. “ said Bhaskaran. “No child has right to evaluate a father’s image” he stopped hesitated  and then in stable tone “ Yet. I feel my father’s soul is not yet rested in peace. As his son, I have an unfinished obligation. I have not yet done that. I don’t think you will have faith in those.”

“I would not say I don’t believe in such rituals”

“The first incident occurred approximately 30 years ago. I was a 10 year old boy. During Aadi(*) new-moon day, when I had visited river for the sacrifice ritual. I was not sure who accompanied me that day. I don’t think the sacrifice ritual days are consistent in this area. Mostly the ritual is performed on Aadi new-moon day. In Nagercoil it's not a case”

“Yes. I am aware of that”

“On that day, in the riverbed  there were thousands of crows flocking around in all possible direction. Crow’s black feathers and cawing sound filled everywhere. Many  groups of people nestling against each other, were preparing the sacrifice rice. Some of them had already started feasting, as the essential ritual of first crow’s arrival and its first taste of the offered food completed without delay. As the hours passed by, I was the final one left alone with the clammy hands. There was no sign of any crow coming near to my offered rice. I noticed a uniquely looking single crow was watching over my offered rice with screwing eyes standing on top of a discarded leaves pile. It did not show any sign of moving an inch . But I knew it observed me intently. When crow’s eyes met mine,  an unnerved feeling emitted from my deep, filled through my body. I hightailed from there at once without glancing back my offered rice. Since that day, every year, I have been continuously offering the sacrifice rice to my father. There is no luck of consummation, as no crow ever had the taste of the sacrifice rice.”

Arunachalam marvelled on the narration of that incident. His heart was palpitating rapidly. “ There are so many things in the world,  far fetching to our grasp,” said He.

“When I explained a grandpa nearby about this incident. He said my father must have died without performing his bounded karma. Everytime the very same crow appears in my recurring dreams, It would occur to be as if the crow is about to say something. Yet when it was  just about to open its beak, I will be out of dreams.

Kolappan “ The soul wandering without repose“

“I consulted all possible fortune tellers. There was no single antidote rituals I left out. No luck of getting rid of  that recurring nightmare. There are times, just before food, I fancy that my father is wandering wearily with parched stomach, in the next world.  Those days are unpassable miserable days for me. Sometimes I wake up, dreaming about that crow in early hours. The eventual apparition would overwhelmingly  suffocate my throat”

“He passed away without getting a chance to compensate for  his sins. That's why his soul is wandering around. “ Said Kolappan. “ After willfully performing such perfidious act, no human’s mind will allow him to rest in peace. He indeed committed a heinous crime of blasphemy,  that too against union camarades. “

“It seemed, my father befriended none in the world. So many like you are at the ready to pillory on him, any given time. The incident of  crow’s refusal to offered sacrifice rice will make every one berate him with similar cursing words. They would go to the extent to say he is deservedly punished for the misdeeds he committed. But I personally  seldom hated him. From my young days, he has been dear to me. I have heard all kinds of words about him such as treacherous evil, wrench, boozehound. When the whole world standing together, imputing crimes against a single man, lambasts him incessantly, then he must be the most pitiful one on the earth. I never talked about my father with anyone. Yet there is no day in my life, passed  without thinking about him. During some of the night hours , before sleep, when I was about shut my eyes, I would fancy he is standing nearby. As a faceless human, he would be standing right beside me. Everyone on earth batters you around, throwing fireballs, yet I am fond of you. I feel an enormous amount of love for you. I will keep on chant these words in his ears that wherever you are, be happy, father. “

Bhaskaran’s eyes moistened, few droplets coalesced around his eyebrows. He turned away his eyes towards the courtyard side to conceal his emotions. Arunachalam’s mind firmly fixing on a decisive spot,  deliberated various things quickly. “ Camarade, Have you ever thought in this angle?” asked him. “Your father made a grave mistake. He was succumbed by the monstrosity of the crime he committed. So now it is your turn to redeem his pride. Don’t you think, your bounded  duty is to vindicate him? Only then his soul will repose in peace”he continued.

“But, What would I..?”

“Come and join the party. Work your mind off unconditionally . Then you will see..”

Bhaskaran’s face expressed embarrassment. “I can’t say I believe in  on rede.”

“Don’t think about of crow’s refusal any more. Your mind holds a defiling stink of your father’s blame. First thing first, just erase those weighing down things.”

Bhaskaran sighed deeply.

“Some of our Camarades will come and discuss with you about joining procedures tomorrow. Let us finalise few enrolling requirements by then. Are we good now? Can you confirm?”

“Yes” Said Bhaskaran.

“Sounds Great. Come and let us have tea together”

“Sir. Give me a second” excusing Bhaskaran went inside the home. He returned back with an old book in his hand. “This book was written by my father in Malayalam language. I found this in the valise of my mother after her death. I have not yet disclosed this to anyone. I hope you know Malayalam”

“Yes. Indeed” Arunachalam  examined the handed over book in his hand. It was an age-old book. Cheap wood pulp pages, losing any sort of paperness, appeared like a fried papad. The erstwhile Malayalam script appeared as though carved out from the rock mould.  “When palmtree sings..” was the title. It was a short story collection book having 28 pages, comprising four stories. The price was one ana(*). It was published by Karunavilasam press, Marthandam. The preface was titled as “The unwritten pages of downtrodden”. When the  name followed the forewords caught his attention, he was awestuck. It was K. R . S . Namboodiripad. He was a former center bureau member of Indian communist party. The forewords are written by him in 1951 from Thiruvananthapuram.

“What is this book” asked Bhaskaran.

“Stories..”

“Stories.??” responded Bhaskaran expressing little disappointment.

“Did your mother know Malayalam”

“She could not read or write any language”

Arunachalam felt surprised.

“Are these are just the stories”

“Whatever may be. You and your book has arrived at the destined place. Let us conclude the meeting with tea” Arunachalam wondered himself as his mind got hooked up towards the book irresistibly.

<To be continued>

Notes

Annachi --  This tamil word is primarily used to refer to the elderly males of merchant community

Vanakkam - Greeting in tamil

hanuman(*) - Monkey face Hindu god acolyte of Sri Rama

Idly -  type of savoury rice cake, originating from the Indian subcontinent, popular as breakfast

Dosas - cooked flat thin layered rice batter, originating from the South India, made from a fermented batter

Bhagiratha  - Indian version of Herculean labour

Aadi - Aadi, the fourth month of the Tamil calendar, significant for monsoon festivals

Ana - was a currency unit formerly used in India

Chapter 4

<To be continued>