THE FIRST NIGHT

(Short story)

K. RAJANARAYANAN

(Translated from the original in Tamil by M. S. RAMASWAMI)

Mallamma felt as though she had been left in the jungle, blindfold. She had never seen her husband before; nor ever heard his voice. The house where she was born, the village where she was brought up, the surroundings where she moved about–all of them were entirely different.

They used to buy cattle in the fair at Kalugumalai and bring them to their pen; likewise they had her garlanded in the shrine of the Lord of Kalugachala and brought her home.

Mallamma’s father was a man-of-the-world. When he left his daughter in that house and started home he said, “Shall take leave of you.” His voice choked. This tongue...it would let you down at the most critical moment. Mallamma too couldn’t speak.

She sniffled as if everything that formed part of her from her birth was about to quit her along with her father. And he was reminded of the words of Sage Kanva.

Mallamma became all alone.

Members of that family kept aloof and allowed herself to alleviate the pain. Nonetheless aloneness did make her heart heavier still.

She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes and nose with the loose end of her sari. Then the cat in the house came close to her legs, arched its back with pleasure, nuzzled and miaowed. What message did the cat give her?

Again and again the cat miaowed and cuddled against her; that lit up her face. It is the peculiar trait of a woman to transport herself easily to the peak of delight from the slough of sorrow.

Everyone participated in that smile and called the cat away from her.

“Baas, baas, sangu baas.”

Basu was the name of that cat.

But it didn’t move away from her; on the other hand it nestled closer to her over and over again and miaowed. Giggling grew into roar. That cat thus initially helped Mallamma in attaching herself to that family.

She kept ready the warm water for her husband to bathe; she watched him take the bath. In villages like that there was only an open inner courtyard and not a separate room for bath. She had to scrub her husband’s back; she felt hesitant and ashamed to do it. At the time of the marriage ceremony they were made to clasp each other’s hand. She had felt then, only the touch of a strong palm calloused by hard work. Every moment he expected her to scrub his back heightened only her shyness. A touch of scarlet spread over the ears of that new bride. And bashfully she scrubbed the dirt off his broad back.

Involuntarily Kondayyah’s back bent and yielded to the manner of her scrubbing it. When she scratched and scrubbed below the ears on the back of his neck, he felt tickled and ecstatic; she too felt his reaction.

Different customs and manners prevail in different societies. According to the custom of these people, soon after marriage the elders do not fix a particular day as the first night. If we enquire them about it they would say in disgust, “Chei! How repulsive it is! That’s something like bringing a cow and letting loose a bull to mount..Aren’t we human beings?”

That is a matter the married couple have to arrange between themselves when their feelings blossom forth in full. But to arrive at such a stage it would take at times weeks and sometimes months according to the mental make-up of the persons concerned.

Added to it, the bride who easily yields to her husband does not shoot up in the estimation of that society. And the male too is no way behind the female.

These two were aware that the elders of the family were watching this game as though they were not noticing it at all.

It was a big family; a small house.

Cattle–buffaloes and cows, sheep and goat;

Apart from these dog, civet-cat, ducks pigeon, spotted-deer, white rabbit and many other living beings attached to a family.

Early morning bustle. Mallamma is standing and churning the curd in a large earthen vessel that comes up to her waist with a churn-stick as tall as a man. Kondayyah is enjoying the sight–how beautifully her hip swings when she holds the rope in both her hands and draws and churns. The children are waiting to get some butter and eat it. The sprays of buttermilk discharged from the churning and falling on them make them laugh delightedly.

A ball of butter as big as a seville-orange bounces and bounces and rolls on her palm. She lets it float in water and then places the small globules of butter wiped from the churn- stick on the outstretched palms of the children one after the other. In the midst of those palms is seen a big, strong palm too. Instead of placing a globule of butter on that palm also, Mallamma pinches it hard. The children jump and laugh boisterously. The elders put on an appearance as though they had not noted anything and look quite unconcerned.

When Mallamma serves food to him he silently stretches his hand and shows it to her. Finger-nail scratches on it! They are the answers she gave him during night time when his hand went towards the direction she was lying. She sees it; yet as though she had not seen it she serves him ghee. “No, no, it’s enough...enough” his hand gestures; but on the scratches drips, drips ghee.

Kondayyah used to help her whenever she has a heavy load of work. She never turns down such assistance nor does she welcome it. His amorous gestures and her sulks prolong their courtship through many forms. This helped them understand each other from multifarious angles and different aspects.

Now-a-days they do not feel shy to converse as they used to before. In their field they allotted fixed strips to each of them; and they removed the weeds in a competitive spirit. They were drenched to the bones with sweat.

They came to the shade of the black babul tree for their noon-meal. Whenever the wind passed by that tree it used to sough in its own language. When the wind was strong the tree used to say something, bend low, smile and then stand erect. Like the earth of that tract that tree was black in colour; and like that tree too the people there were dark complexioned.

They sat in the shade, removed the cloth tied round the head and with it wiped the sweat off the face and body and relaxed. The sea breeze that blew softly gave them immense joy. The sweaty smell of Mallamma sitting by his side made him passionately long for her. She was touching the sensitive plant under that tree and playing with it. That plant, soon as it was too touched, folded its outspread leaves in all bashfulness.

She placed down before him the small food-pot and sat close to him. What a novel, strange, curious creature woman is! She needn’t have cast such a glance at him!

Some women would appear attractive from one angle. Some others would look ravishingly beautiful even at the very first sight; but their beauty would fade if we see them often. Mallamma’s charm is not of that kind. She won’t look beautiful at first sight. If only we watch her carefully the charm of every aspect of her figure would go on increasing. It was her coral-red lips that appealed most to Kondayyah. She had a small, pretty, dark-green mole on her lower lip. He was all eyes on her; he was about to touch the mole. She pushed away his hand and moved aside.

He offered her the first morsel of food he was going to eat. Since she kept quiet without refusing it he took it close to her mouth. But when she turned her face and rose, he too got up putting down the morsel into the small food-pot. He didn’t heed her look expressing fear and surprise; he went straight, took the hoe and began to finish the allotted work. Mallamma’s face went droopy and sad; she cursed herself a fool.

She waited near the small food-pot thinking he would come back. He understood her, wanted to go to her but his pride did not allow him to do so. After sometime she realized he would not come back. So she too went and began removing the weeds with greater earnestness–all the while with a gnawing hunger. Both of them did their work without uttering a single word.

When he neared her she sulked; when she approached him he moved aside; thus passed time.

The time when birds turn homing.

Night was fast approaching. That was the season when labourers had only a brief day-time. Nature has arranged seasons in that way–let people who have worked hard and become dog-tired go to sleep early.

Mallamma took Kondayyah’s hoe also and went to bring the small food-pot left under the tree. Her foot slipped into a small crack-hole. She jumped, got flustered and shook her left foot rapidly in fear. Her anklet fell at a distance. Kondayyah came running asking what the matter was. When she looked at the crack-hole she saw something wriggling and vanishing.

That instant she knew of her approaching end. All her empty shows vanished in that silent second. Never before had she looked at her husband with so much love. He could not assimilate that look of hers–firmly catching hold of that foot with both her hands she looked pathetically at him.

Before Death man is worse than a straw. They felt that the way they had behaved themselves till then was all a foolish mockery. And that moment their souls clung to each other.

He bit the lips of the wound, sucked the blood and spat the poison out. The urgency and affection he showed to save her touched her deeply. Before her saviour she felt Death was nothing.

Gathering her up, he ran towards the Vaidyar’s house. Her arms wound round his neck tightened. In that tightness her ego too dissolved.

The Vaidyar gave some pepper to Mallamma and asked her to munch them. “Do you feel the pungency of the pepper? “Yes.” He gave her a bit of steamed oilseed cake to be chewed. She said that it tasted bitter. The Vaidyar’s face showed relief. He assured them there was nothing to be afraid of.

The burning sensation at the spot where she was stung spread over the entire foot and she smarted under that pain. She said she felt as though her foot was in a blazing oven. From that the Vaidyar concluded that she had been bitten by a millipede. He brought the green leaf of a tobacco plant, ground it into a past and smeared it on the wound. He waved a bunch of margosa leaves and chanted some Mantras. He gave her a small globule of paste and asked her to swallow it. He advised her to be on salt-free diet. He looked at Kondayyah and said that since he had given her medicine to remove the poison, Kondayyah should observe “Ahapathiam.”

Kondayyah did not understand what the Vaidyar meant by

“Ahapathiam.”

“You must leave her in her father’s house and bring her here only twenty days afterwards. Do you now understand?” he said and laughed. Only then did Kondayyah realize what the Vaidyar actually meant by the word “Ahapathiam” – abstinence from sexual relations while under medical treatment.

Mallamma’s father came and took her home.

She got cured; she was regaining her health; still Kondayyah’s face used to flit before her often. A sort of pain like that of a heavy load was pressing her mind. A tormenting dryness in her throat. Because of separation she became thin, felt lonely used to long for him and shed tears silently unobserved by anyone. Monday to Monday eight, Tuesday nine, Wednesday ten–she used to count the days like this quite often. Disturbed sleep with dreams during nights, pining and distress tortured him as a ghost. The twenty days crept like twenty aeons.

As she herself expected, Kondayyah came there all of a sudden. She was then drying her hair after a bath. Locks of her loose hair touched her body and fell on the ground like a jet-black cascade brimming over from the head. Seeing him she rose; she was able only to stretch her hands. Her eyes glistened; words failed her; there was only a flutter on her lips.

“Mallamma...” he called her jubilantly, ran towards her and pressed her to his bosom. Such moments are matchless in life; there are very few seconds when soul mingles with soul.

The woman in her was vigilant enough even when she lost herself in him. Instantly she wriggled out of him and stepped aside. Before ever his face creased in amazement he saw Mallamma’s father crossing the courtyard and coming indoors. Kondayyah looked at her as if saying, “You’ve the ears of a snake.”

His father-in-law welcomed him. He looked around; though his face showed signs of surprise in seeing Kondayyah alone there, he smiled inwardly. Kondayyah told him why he had to come there alone. That old grey head knew that it was not at all true. He too was at one time an young one like them. There is Spring every year but in life it comes only once. The old man knows this too well.

Yet, are there not grounds enough for this world to keep Mallamma and Kondayyah apart? Besides trivial reasons the month of Adi posed a stumbling block. For the young couple this is a pitiless month. She could not understand why man and wife should remain separate during this month alone.

Poor souls! They became very dejected when they heard of this. The month of Adi pressed its hands together, put them between those two persons and pushed her that side and him this side. Those young ones again began to count the days.

Half of Adi; it seemed to them like a half-year.

The month of Avani dawned. Cohorts of rainy clouds began to creep over the sky. Rain fell down wherever necessary as a gardener holds a pot and swills water over the plants. Like a beehive the black-cotton tract began to hum with activity.

Mallamma’s father brought her back to the house one early morning in a wooden-topped bullock cart. With her came hampers of dainties. She saw Kondayyah and smiled ecstatically; all her teeth. They resembled the full-grown maize-grains.

They had an extensive piece of dry land called Pathukurukkam. Including children all the people in the house, except Mallamma, had gone to that land. She remained at the house attending to the cooking.

Pebbles were picked; thorns were collected, heaped and set fire to; small plants were cut and removed; the rugged parts were dug and the fences were mended; gravel were put in order and the ridges strengthened. Such bits of work were attended to with zeal. Kondayyah who was ploughing the land gave the plough to his father, made some excuse and came home.

He came home with the idea of appearing before Mallamma suddenly and giving her a pleasant surprise. Even as he entered the house he smelt the fragrance of the fresh ghee. He tiptoed softly like a cat, went indoors and peeped. She was sitting in front of the oven; and was straining carefully the cooked rice with the paimyrah-leaf-colander. Even after seeing him she did not feel surprised: she would have been astonished if only he had not turned up there like this.

With a faint smile she was watching the way he stood near her losing control over himself. He lifted her chin a little and took her face in his hands. There were drops of perspiration on her nose and upper lip. She stood the pot erect, rose hurriedly, flung her arms around him and embraced him. She pressed her sweaty lips on his mouth and rubbed them softly left and right. She drew a deep breath and then gave him a loud, salty first kiss.

The first night of the Kondayyah’s was like this.

In the food-bowl he mixed the cooked rice with ghee. Her slack body was leaning on his shoulder and she received the first morsel of food from him. Her face beamed with pleasure and contentment.

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