EXULTATION
Reproduced without permission from "The Plough and the Stars: Stories from Tamilnad". Editors: K. Swaminathan, Periaswami Thooran, and M.R. Perumal Mudaliar. Asia Publishing House, New York, 1963.
Part-2 of 3
I felt very curious. How were this gorgeous lady and this
pathetic little girl related? But how was I to find out?
I bought a bunch of bananas from a passing vendor and gave
one to the girl. She took it without a word.
"Come on, eat it," I said.
"Eat it," said the lady and the girl at once peeled the fruit and
ate it.
"This girl is going to Calcutta," volunteered the lady.
"To Calcutta?" I asked surprised.
"Yes. I understand she is being sent to stay with the family of
some high placed gentleman there. She will spend the night at
Mayavaram with some people who are also going to Calcutta. She
will travel with them. Now I have to find their house and entrust
this girl to them. She is a good girl, quiet and well-mannered."
After this introduction, I became even more interested in
that little girl and I began a conversation with her.
"What is your name?"
"Kamakshi; but they call me Kunju."
"Fine!" I said laughing.
"What is fine?" asked the lady. "Are you amazed at this slip of a
girl carrying two names?" she enquired smiling pleasantly.
"No, not that," I said. I was reminded of my own sister Kamakshi.
She is also of the same complexion as this girl. She was married
into a very good family. Her husband was a man of generous
impulses which soon got them into trouble. He stood surety for
someone for Rs 20000. That gentleman died suddenly almost ruining
my brother-in-law's family. They suffered so much, they suffred
in so many ways and for so long. It was only about four or five
years ago that my brother-in-law secured a proper job and they
may be said to have got out of the wood and my sister has at last
found some relief and happiness.
"I have another younger sister," I continued. "Her name is Kunju.
We had great difficulty in trying to get her married well. At
last my father decided to give her in marriage to his brother-in-
law. My aunt was living but they were childless and she herself
was anxious that her husband should remarry and have a son. But
from the day my sister married him, she was treated worse than a
dog. Ten years after her marriage she gave birth to a son. It is
only after the birth of this boy that she is being treated like a
human being and is able to walk with her head erect."
"What else did you expect? Your father should have known better
than to give his daughter in marriage as second wife to a man who
had one living."
"What is one to do about it?" I said. "These things happen, It is
all fate, I suppose. I was reminded of it when I heard this
child's two names. It seemed strange that she should carry the
names of both my unfortunate sisters."
I was not able to gauge the effect of all this on the little
girl. She sat there absorbing it all, looking as sleepy-eyed as
before, her face expressionless.
"Are your parents alive?" I asked her.
"Yes."
"What is your father?"
"He is a teacher in an elementary school."
"Have you any brothers and sisters?"
"Yes, I've got four elder sisters and two elder brothers. There
is a younger sister and a younger brother."
"Are your elder sisters married?"
"Three of them are married. My second sister was widowed four
years ago. She stays with us."
"What are your elder brothers doing?"
"One of them is working in a hotel. The other is studying in the
second form."
"Have you gone to school yourself?"
"No. Only my brother goes to school. Father is not able to pay
school fees for us all."
"Is that why you are going to work?"
"Yes," she said and added, "At home we are not able to have even
one meal a day."
"What work can you do?"
"I can was vessels, I can make tea and coffee, I can grind flour
for idli and dosai. I also know a little cooking. I can take care
of children. I can draw designs with rice flour. I can mop and
scrub. I can also wash sarees and other clothes."
"Can you really wash a saree? Can you really even lift one?"
"Oh yes, I can wash clothes well."
"Where on earth did you learn all this?"
"In Judge Ramanatha Iyer's house."
"Oh, so you've got experience of domestic service, have you? How
long were in the Judge's house?"
"For three years."
"Three years! Really! How old are you?"
"I was nine this August."
"So, you have been working since you were seven? Well, raelly!
And what were you paid in the judge's house?"
"I got no pay as such. But they gave me food and also a new set
of clothes every Dipavali."
"Is that what you're wearing?"
"Yes."
"Are you telling me that for drudging for them day after day and
doing all the hard, dirty work, they could find only this cheap
cotton at 6 annas a yard to give you? I must say they seem to
have taken some trouble to pick the cheapest kind of cloth."
"......."
"Why didn't you ask them to buy something better for you?"
"You say you were staying in a Judge's house and boarding there.
You don't look it, I must say. You look famished. How weak and
thin you are!"
The well-dressed lady interrupted our conversation here.
"Don't you know," she said mockingly, "that rich people are a
tribe apart? They live on plain rice and pepper water, no dhal,
no frying, but look how it suits them! How wealthy and well-fed
they appear! It is a special constitution they must have. We, of
course, are different. Cheap, simple food won't do for us. We
become weak and lean. Funny, isn't it?"
It amused me to hear this richly-dressed lady bracketing
herself with us. It must have been mere politeness on her part;
for she recovered herself at once and said: "I am talking too
much. Tell me, what do you do?"
"Don't worry," I said gently. "I live a hand-to-mouth existence
myself. I am a clerk in the Taluq office."
We were nearing Tanjore. I rose.
"I shall leave my towel here on my seat," I told the lady, and
my boy and I will go and have our meal and come back. Will you
kindly see that no one takes our seats?"
"You have not eaten?" asked the lady and then turning to the
girl, "what did you have to eat this morning?"
"Cold rice."
"Where?"
"At the Judge's house?"
"Wonderful! What good people they are!" exclaimed the lady. "They
give a child who had drudged for them for three years cold rice
when she is going away. Naturally, they could not take the
trouble to cook a hot meal for her, how could they? They left
her with me at quarter past nine this morning. Wasn't there time
enough in the morning then to cook a fresh meal for her? Such
kindness of heart! But, of course, they couldn't break the cold
rice tradition in the family even this once. Does anyone else
take cold rice in that house?"
"Only I."
"Oh! Aren't you hungry now?"
"No."
"Have some food."
"All right, auntie."
"Will you bring her," said the lady, turning to me, "a packet of
sambar and rice and another of curds and rice?"
"Why, I shall take her with me."
"Yes, that would be even better," she agreed. "Here is the money."
"Don't bother. I shall pay for the meal."
"But why should you? After all, she is with me."
I didn't want to argue with her and so I took the money she
offered me. I woke the boy up and we three hurried through the
crowd to the station restaurant.
"Daddy," asked my son, "who is this girl?"
"She is going to Mayavaram and then to Calcutta. She is coming
to eat with us here."
As I watched the two children eat they seemed so alone that
a tenderness filled my heart. They were both separated from their
mothers but between them what a difference! One was going to sit
in his loving mother's lap in less than two hours. The other was
going farther and farther away from her mother.
End of Part-2 of 3
Typed in by AV Suresh Posted by Vicky: UMass, Sep 07, 1993
Go to third part (final part).