Father and Mother

(A Story)

BY CHITRA BHANU

(Rendered by the Author from the Original in Malayalam)

It was a bright afternoon.

Brother was ill and therefore I had to go to graze the cattle in his stead. Achu, my playmate, was with me, as he used to accompany me wherever I went. He was so fond of me and I too was fond of him.

In the scorching heat we let our cattle graze on the vast grassy plains and sat under the shade of a banyan tree.

“What shall we play now!” asked Achu.

“Let us play Hide-and-Seek,” I suggested. I always liked that game.

“Ou! in this terrible heat? No, we’ll play ‘Father and Mother’.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve no objection.”

So we built a small home with twigs and leaves and furnished it with a grass-bed, some pots made of leaves and other house-hold utensils.

It was early morning; so began our play. Father rose from bed. Mother prepared conjee. Father took conjee and started for the fields with plough and yoke on his shoulder, driving a pair of bullocks before him.

The child, whose part was played by a piece of wood, began to cry. Mother took it, fondled it and suckled it. Then she had to husk the grain, churn the curds, sweep the floor, and so on.

The father came back from the fields at noon. The mother was serving him with the mid-day meal.

She complained: “Raman Nair came here and asked for you. He says that Thampuran is particular that we must either pay the arrears of rent tomorrow or quit the land.”

The father said nothing. He sat there immersed in thought for a while. Then, gulping a mouthful of food, he said: “What are we to do? Money doesn’t grow on trees. And more, Thampuran knows that this year’s crop was a complete failure.”

“But he is sure to evict us if we don’t pay him. He is such a man.”

“Who does not know that? But what am I to do when there is not a single pie or grain in this house? Let him do whatever he likes.”

Mother did not reply. Father too kept silent.

“What you say is right,” father said after some time. “We must pay him something and end this affair. I shall go to the Thampuran in the evening.”

“The cattle are eating the crop! The cattle are eating the crop!” Our play was interrupted by this cry. We looked for our cattle and saw them freely feeding themselves in the field. We ran to bring them back. Somebody from the other side of the field was also running towards them, shouting this and that to drive them away. We caught our cattle and drove them back to the plain. The other man, the cultivator of the field, shouted at us: “What were you doing all the while? Have you no eyes nor ears? To which house do you belong? Let me tell your father,” and so on.

We did not reply to his questions. We came back to the banyan tree and resumed our play.

“Now it’s night, Devaki” Achu said.

So father and mother took their dinner. They sat and talked, chewing vettila (betel).

“What did Thampuran say?” asked mother.

Father said: “Thampuran says we must pay him five-hundred rupees at the least.”

“Five-hundred rupees! We have not even seen it in our life.”

“Yes, but he says he has given enough concessions. So he sticks to five-hundred. I entreated him for many hours to bring it down to two-hundred. But no good. He was quite unmoved.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“What are we to do?” father got angry. “Let the beast go and hang himself.”

“Don’t say such a thing about Thampuran.”

“I will call him more names. Better go and sleep.”

Father lay on the bed. He bade the mother lie beside him.

I was too shy to lie with Achu, though it was in play. He dragged me to the bed.

“You know, now I am not your Achu,” he said. “I am your husband. A wife must obey her husband.”

Father took his wife in his arms. His lips came nearer and nearer hers.

I tried to get out of his embrace, and avoided his lips and looks. But his lips were almost pressed against mine, when we heard someone laugh–A familiar and frightening laughter! The landlord’s son, slightly older than us, was coming!

We suddenly released each other and stood up in respect.

“May I join you in your play?” he asked us. “I shall be the father and you (pointing to me) the mother.”

I pinched Achu, thereby showing my disgust at the whole affair. He translated it into these words: “No, I have to go. Father is alone there.”

“And you?” he turned to me, “You will play with me, won’t you?”

I did not know what to say. But Achu came to my rescue. He said: “She too has got to go. Her brother is ill.”

And we drove our cattle home without waiting for his permission.

Turning back after we walked some distance, I saw him standing still on the same spot, persistently looking towards us. And I asked myself why I so much hated that look!

Back