Chapter Four
Trysts with Tragedy
Sharada Chechi’s death was not our only encounter with misfortune that year. While Achan was still alive, the family got duped of our lands. Achan’s younger ammavan Shankara Warrier from Trivandrum was officially still the main male representative of the family. He claimed that he had run up a debt and returned to Kottathala insisting that the family as a unit help him pay his dues. To this end he auctioned ten units of the family’s agricultural land. What Achan didn’t know was that Ammavan had surreptitiously bought back this land in the name of his son. He paid a neighbour Arapura Nanu Pillai, who was a friend of his, to buy the auctioned property and transfer it to Ammavan’s son. After this we had no rice or paddy coming home. We had to sell coconuts to buy rice and soon food became sparse.
School fees were expensive those days if one went to an English medium school so both my older brothers continued their studies in a Malayalam school in Irumpanangadu. This was seven miles away from home. My two brothers walked to this school from the time they were ten and seven years old. Usually, the boys each carried a tiffin of rice broth for lunch. After that, water was their only recourse if they were hungry. Both studied in the same class and finished 8th standard in the Malayalam school. However, it was generally felt by Amma and Achan that the boys needed to get an education in English. Their Malayalam education was considered inadequate for entry at the equivalent level and they would have to seek admission into the 4th Form or middle school level in an English medium school. This meant they both would have to repeat a few years of studies. Once this decision was made, efforts to get them admitted to English-medium schools began in all earnest.
Unfortunately, both Vallyettan and Kochettan didn’t get admission to the English school that was nearest to our residence at Kottarakara. The town school gave preference to children who had passed through their own school. However, thanks to Ammuma’s extended family, this problem got solved. Kochu Parvathy’s younger sister Saraswati lived in Trivandrum and her sons were settled there. These Ammavans, my Amma’s cousins, were educated young men and offered to take in one of the boys. So Kochettan went to live there. Ammuma invited her oldest grandson to the Kizhakkedathu Warriem in Alapuzzha. Vallyettan went there and gained admission in the Sanathana Dharma School.
At the end of the first year in the 4th form at their new schools, when the schools shut for the end-of-year vacations, Kochettan came home immediately. It was normal for both boys to want to be back with their parents. Vallyettan however had to stay back in Alapuzzha to help in the house and do small jobs for a few days and had not informed his family of the delay. Achan kept asking Amma why Vallyettan had not returned. “He hasn’t even written about his plans.” Achan complained.
On the eve of Meena Bharani, which is a temple ‘ulsavam’ or festival, Achan could not sleep. His son had not yet reached, and this was bothering him. He had already been showing signs of anaemia. That night he talked to Amma late into the night. He said to her “I’ve not given you any special comforts in your life; do you think so too?” A little later he picked up the thread of the conversation, “I’ve given you seven children. Think of them as seven lakhs.” A lakh of rupees was a lot of money in those days. Amma didn’t say anything, wondering why he was talking like that. The next morning Achan again despondently exclaimed “Oh he’s still not here.” Amma replied, “Don’t worry he’s with my mother; he’ll be safe.” Achan made his displeasure clear, “The school closed so many days ago, it’s already Meena Bharani. Who’d say this boy thinks of us, his parents? Go get me some tea. I’m in a hurry to have some tea.”
They both sat sipping their tea. Because it was the school holidays there was no hurry to rouse the children. Amma breast fed little Radha and got breakfast ready before waking the children. Achan said he was not hungry. It seemed like Achan was still grieving about his oldest son not returning home when Amma called him for lunch. His retort was “Calling a man on his death bed for lunch!” Amma laughed at this, “Oh right! I didn’t realize that you were having your betel leaf in preparation for death.” Achan told her not to waste time cracking jokes and eat quickly and come; he had a job for her. She wasn’t enjoying her meal anyway, perhaps because she was eating her lunch without Achan having eaten. So, she hurried through the simple meal and reached his side.
“Take an inland and write a letter” he said, referring to the ‘inland letter sheet’ of those days. He quickly dictated the words and hurried her to get it ready for the post. “Go immediately to the upper temple where the road passes and ask someone going to Kottarakara to post it at the main post office. Do this quickly,” he urged Amma. By now, Amma had caught the urgency in his voice and quietly followed his instructions. She rushed to the road and waited for a bus going to Kottarakara. Anyone going to Kottarakara would post it on request. That was how it was those days. A bus drew in and Amma peeped in to see who she could hand the letter to. Lo and behold, from the bus came a call “Amme”. Vallyettan alighted and Amma’s joy knew no bounds. They ran back home with Vallyettan insisting on being handed the letter. “Now you reach home and read the letter when you are with Achan,” said Amma, handing him the letter and hurrying her son to the house.
Achan was overjoyed to see his son.” You went with a letter,” he said to Amma, “and got him from Kalarcode Warriem. This has to be Krishna’s ‘maya’!” Usually when Achan made a reference to Krishna’s ‘maya’, one could detect a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. This time however, he was not teasing. His relief on seeing Vallyettan was palpable and he wanted to know why he hadn’t come earlier. Vallyettan spoke of what had held him back as he handed over the pappadams sent by Ammuma from Kalarcode. Immediately some of these were roasted and tea was made and served. Father and son had tea and pappadums. Achan broke his own pappadum into two and gave one part to Amma and said laughing “Half the man is his wife.” Amma laughed at this as well. As soon as the tea was over, Achan broke into a heavy sweat. He said to Vallyettan that he wasn’t feeling too well. Hearing this Kochettan also came running to his side. Achan picked up his leather purse, the one which had the money in it, and threw it at his second son and asked him to go and call the Vaidyan or the local doctor. In hindsight, this was a symbolic gesture for the family indicating that Achan had wanted Kochettan to take charge of the finances of the family.
Purse in hand, Kochettan ran out of the house. He called out to Nanu Pillai when passing him. “I’m going to call the Vaidyan; Achan’s not well.” Nanu Pillai rounded up a few people and came to see Achan. They asked him to get up from the easy chair and lie down on the floor. Achan sat up but was suddenly too weak and the others had to support him quickly. This was unusual for this well-built man who was able to manage quite well till just a few moments ago. Amma instinctively rushed to the ‘puja’ room and brought a conch shell with some ‘thulasi theertham’ in it. The ‘theertham’ was water in which basil leaves were placed and which had been offered for sanctification to the Gods. Achan lay on the mat, which had been readied for him on the floor and he opened his mouth. Amma gave him some ‘thulasi theertham’ and Vallyettan too gave him some, chanting the name of God as they did so. The belief was that if this holy water was given to a dying man, he would be freed from the cycle of life and death. We children looked on, not realising the seriousness of the moment. As soon as he downed the ‘theertham’, Achan became lifeless. Amma and Vallyettan broke out into loud wails and hearing them, so did all of us. Kochettan returned with the Vaidyan who checked Achan’s pulse and shook his head in sorrow.
The news spread quickly in the village and everyone gathered around. The “men” of the house were still young. Kochettan was just fifteen and Vallyettan was a few months away from his eighteenth birthday. The villagers decided to take it upon themselves to get Achan ready for cremation. A mango tree would be chopped down. “Which one?” they asked Amma. With teary eyes, she asked Vallyettan to show them which tree to cut. They cut the tree and prepared a place for the pyre. The Warriem had its own cremation ground at a distance of one plot. When they picked up the body to carry it to the pyre everyone broke into tears once more. Subhadra, all of four years started to wail, “Don’t take Achan,” she cried, “Where will I sleep? Who will I sleep next to tonight?” Everyone who heard this burst into tears. Up until now, the practice had been that when a new baby came into the family, the child immediately older to the baby, was transferred from Amma’s to Achan’s bed. With Radha’s birth, Subhadra was being tended to by Achan and tonight she would have to grow up quickly.
So, would all of us. Amma was beside herself in grief. She had no clue how she would face the next day. No husband, no wealth and seven children to bring up on her own. Achan’s death had definitely brought with it the beginning of an uncertain chapter in our lives.