BY K. V. JAGANNATHAN

(Rendered from Tamil by Srimati K. Savitri)

The sound of a moan was heard rending the air of the dark still night. It seemed to come out of a hut where flickered a tin oil lamp.

"Oh my! Oh! God! Why can’t I die? Why does not the plague carry me off? Oh God! I can’t bear it!" were the words that fell on the ears at intervals. The voice was evidently that of a woman. No one indeed save the Lord of Wind seemed to venture into that hut and inquire into the cause of the distress there. Even he entered softly and very slowly, as if he thought that his rough entrance might frighten away the tiny flame in the tin lamp. Overhead, the sky was covered with a wide mantle of dark clouds.

There was also heard another voice, thin, gentle, but very clear in the midst of the piteous moans, which was asking now and then, "Does it pain you so much, Ma? Ha! the blood too is coming." This was definitely the voice of a child–a boy.

"Why would father beat you so, Ma?" the child asked, "Can’t he see that it pains you?"

"It is all fate, my evil fate, dear! That pitiless God too will not call me away from this suffering," replied the woman.

"If father goes on beating you so, what shall we do, Ma!"

"Whatever shall we do? I can do nothing. I must be only quiet."

"What if we run away somewhere?"

"Hush! Darling! Don’t speak so. Go to sleep, dear!"

"No! I can’t sleep," said the boy, "Why don’t you go to the Pannai Master and ask him to threaten father?"

"It is all impossible, dear! God alone must pity us. If he does not help, we have only to suffer and die."

There was silence for a few seconds and again the child’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Where is that God, Ma? What shall we do to make him take pity on us?"

"Don’t you see the temple in that street where the higher caste people live? The God Karuppanna dwells there. If we pray to him he may perhaps take pity on us," said the mother.

"See! I shall pray to him," replied the boy. "Oh God Karuppanna! Please give father a good beating and threaten to kill him if he raises his hand against Ma! Oh ! God! Grant that it shall not pain Ma when father beats her."

The mournful tones of the mother suddenly changed to a merry peal of laughter at these words. But a moment after, the piteous moans started again.

It was a small village, called "Rasipalayam" in the District of Salem. The people there were mostly of the labouring class. Beyond the streets where they lived lay the Harijan quarters. From one of the huts in that quarter seemed to come the sound of those speaking voices in that dark night.

Mariyayi was a good young woman. Her man, Kathan, too was all right, and they both lived quite happy and peaceful until their child, Munian, was born. In the year following his birth the father went astray. He was caught in the clutches of that great evil–Drink. Gradually he gathered around him a big group of drinking friends. There were days when he used to work hard the live-long day and, coming home cheerfully, partook of the simple meal that Mariyayi cooked for him. But that happy life was no longer his.

Once that great curse–drink–took possession of him, their domestic peace was ruined for ever. With the boy, Munian, troubles rose and grew up in that little hut. When a little baby, Munian could have no knowledge of all this. As he was about three years old, his mother fell seriously ill. Though she recovered from it, yet it robbed her of her physical strength.

She used to remonstrate and defy Kathan stoutly and her body was well able to bear the rude kicks he gave her. Now, alas, she had hardly strength to put up with them. She got even tired of making a row with him. Nevertheless that inveterate drunkard would hardly ever leave her in peace. She was to receive at least once a week the hard blows and kicks he was pleased to give her.

Munian was now five years old. He was just beginning to feel the cruelty of his father and all that his mother suffered. It went to his heart and gripped it with exceeding pain. But what could the poor boy do to alleviate the sufferings of his mother? At times he too had a share in the rough treatment to which she was subjected.

She said to him she could see no other way out of the difficulty, but that if they prayed to the God Karuppanna, he might perhaps relent and save them. Munian fully believed her. Did not Dhruva himself in the ancient days put faith in the words of his step-mother and achieve his heart’s desire by doing penance even as she told him?

From that day onwards Munian had his mind constantly fixed on the God Karuppanna. "Oh! God! please cut off the hand that beats my mother. Won’t you at least come in time and prevent him from beating her?" Such were his prayers. But did the God hear him? No! He did not seem to listen to him or take pity on him. Kathan did not show any sign at all of mending.

"Can’t you hear me, Oh God? Are you dear?" The child wept and grew wild at the thought of his father.

The next day was the festival of Deepavali. Mariyayi had saved a little money got from selling bundles of grass in the market, and she had hoped to buy with the money a coloured dhoti for Munian.

"What do you say to wearing a dhoti, lad? Shall I buy one?" she asked him with beaming looks.

"Yes; certainly," replied Munian and ran away to announce the happy news to the other boys in the cheri.

Their hopes however were not destined to be realised, for that very Deepavali morning the black-guard Kathan somehow got wind of the secret place where the money had been kept. He straightaway went to the toddy shop with it and got heavily drunk.

"You devil," his wife abused him. "What have you done? I had kept the money with the hope of buying a coloured dhoti for the little fellow. Now you have stolen it and got drunk with it. What am I to do?"

"What! you stand there and speak to me, you hussy?" the husband growled. "What cheek, as if the fellow can’t do without a dhoti!"

"You had never meant to buy anything for the boy out of your own earnings. Now you have taken without scruple even the little money I had kept away. Whatever shall I say to him now?" she wept bitterly.

"Shut up! Are you making a scene here?" he cried. "A silk string indeed for the broom-stick!" he spat down as he said it and gave his wife a sound kick. She fell heavily on the ground.

Munian stood in a corner of the hut and watched all this his little frame trembling allover. His heart kept beating fast. In his anger he wanted to seize his father and crush him to pieces.

When that brute went away leaving them, the boy went to his mother and, placing his face near hers as she lay on the ground, he sobbed as if his heart would break. The mother also joined with him and together they celebrated the Deepavali, their heart-broken cry providing the only music for the occasion.

At first Munian’s anger was only against his father. Now he got angry even with God. "Shall I go and see that God Karuppanna and tell him everything myself?" thought he. He joined the festive crowd and entered the temple. It was a grand sight there. Various kinds of fruits, bunches of tender cocoanuts, boiled rice and meat etc., were all offered before the deity.

"This one seems to be a big God. He must be very big indeed! Otherwise how can he eat away all these things," he thought to himself. His eyes fastened themselves on every object they saw. He had a look also at the deity, which had special decorations for the occasion. All of a sudden his eye was caught by something. He was startled. He looked again intently so that there might be no mistake. He could not believe his eyes. Yes, it was toddy–that stuff his father drank. He had seen him bring it home in a bottle sometimes and he was well acquainted with its smell.

There were several of these bottles among the things offered to the God.

The sight of them gave him a shock and he screamed out "toddy" For, he saw in it all the cruelty his father inflicted on his mother.

The shrill cry fell on the ears of those near him and they turned towards where he stood.

"How, did this dog come here? Catch him and kick him out, one of the men cried. In a few seconds many people, all furious, surrounded the little boy and began to beat him. Amidst the heaps of blows Munian fainted. "Throw the dog out. He has contaminated the temple on such an auspicious day as this," shouted some.

Munian was left all but dead. He was carried out of the temple by some Harijans. They placed himby the side of his mother and related all that happened.

"Oh, Oh! my boy! Is it for this that you went there?" she wailed. "Oh God! Have you no eyes? They have killed an innocent child. Oh Munia! my darling!" she cried out in her anguish.

Munian opened his eyes. The mother poured a little water into his mouth. He drank it eagerly.

"Mother! don’t believe the God Kartippanna," he said in a faint voice and gazed feebly around him. The terror that overtook him did not forsake him yet.

"Hush! don’t say like that, dear! He and only He has saved you. If it were not for Him, you would have been dead now," she said with tears.

"No; it is a lie–a lie, Ma! It is a wicked God. He too drinks. I saw it with my own eyes. If father drinks and beats you, why then, the God also drinks and He it was who made them beat me. No! we will have nothing to do with him, Ma!"

"No, darling! don’t say so,’" said the mother. "If father beats me what can the God do for it?"

But why should he drink? Will not rice and fruit be enough? How could such a God listen to us indeed who drinks so many bottles of toddy! They would not have beaten me if that drunkard God had not told them."

The mother could not make any reply to all these charges. She wept and could only pray more fervently to Lord Karuppanna.

The next year Prohibition came into force in the District of Salem. Gradually the village people began to forget the evil habit. The earthen pots, wherein toddy had been kept, disappeared from the huts, and in their place those containing the small savings of the poor out of their daily earnings were found. This revolution brought a little light even into the hut of Mariyayi and Kathan. At first Kathan felt quite desolate and could not but pine for a drop. Then slowly he began to recover. As he remembered the wicked deeds he did, when beside himself with drink, the tears started in his eyes. "God! Thou hast saved me indeed from utter ruin," he prayed deep from the heart.

There was a little brightness even in the face of Mariyayi. "The grace of the God Karuppanna indeed has put an end to our sufferings," she firmly believed. The boy, Munian, too saw the change and was filled with surprise. He could not understand.

"Why, Ma!" he asked, "does not father drink now? He never beats you now as before. He takes me too in his arms when he sees me."

"They don’t sell toddy here now-a-days," replied the mother. "Those who drink will be punished by the Sircar people. That is why they are afraid of setting eyes on it now."

"Who did all this, Ma!"

"Why, the God Karuppanna, of course! Who else, my dear!"

"What? that drunkard God!"

"Hush! don’t say so. It is a sin." corrected the mother.

Munian however could never bring himself to believe in Karuppanna. Nothing on the other hand could shatter the immense faith of his mother in that God.

When there was still a week for Deepavali the temple of the God Karuppanna was thrown open to the Harijans. Mariyayi was overwhelmed with joy as she heard of this. She had saved a little money again this year in order to buy a coloured dhoti for her boy.

"I shall spring a surprise on my man by showing the nice dhoti I am going to buy for Munian," she reflected joyfully.

On the eve of Deepavali both Mariyayi and Kathan, each without the knowledge of the other, bought a coloured dhoti for Munian.

The boy celebrated the festival wearing both the dhoties, while the parents’ hearts overflowed with happiness to see him. The first thing they did was to start for the temple of Karuppanna with fruits, cocoanuts and camphor. For, had they not now the rare privilege which had been denied to their fore-fathers? They wanted to enjoy it on an auspicious day. And to be sure, what day was more auspicious than the Deepavali?

All went into the temple and had their darshan. Munian’s eyes looked with suspicion at the things in front of the image. He could not still bring himself to place any faith in that drunkard God. He had even a dread of people coming to beat him.

"I don’t see it here now, Ma" the boy asked her.

"No, dear!" said the mother.

"But why, Ma!"

"It is all by the grace of the God Karuppanna, darling."

At the burning of camphor before the deity, all hands were joined and raised over the heads in prayer. The boy Munian too forgot all his terror of toddy and the hard blows he received last year, and folded his hands in fervent prayer.

BACK