MOTHER

(A short story)

K. VENKATARAMANI

Translated from Tamil by Miss NALINA, R.

Murugaiya shouldered his school bag and leaning to a side walked along. Slow-walking being his habit, after school hours he usually reached home later than the other boys. He would be ruminating that day’s lesson or a funny story that his master narrated. But now his mind dwelt on that unexpected incident which stirred the feelings that were latent in his young mind. The very thought made him burst into tears.

As the former teacher was transferred, today a new teacher came to his class. He enquired each and every boy. It was Murugaiya’s turn.

“What is your name?”

“Murugaiya, Sir.”

“What is your father?”

Murugaiya did not reply immediately. The eight-year old boy was thinking fast. “My father...my father...” he faltered. The other boys started talking. The teacher thumped the table and asked, “Don’t you have a father?”

“Yes I have,” Murugaiya started. But his low voice was lost in the shouts of the other boys. “Sir, his father...” from a corner Kitchami’s voice rose above the noise. Both of them lived in the same street. But Kitchami came from a rich family. The teacher rebuked Kitchami and bade him to sit down. But Murugaiya saw Kitchami with a mocking smile gossipping with his neighbours. He did not know what was told. With tears in his eyes, he strove hard to address his teacher, “Sir, my father…” He could not continue. Though there was determination and anger in his mind, there was also a lump in his throat.

At this juncture he got a mental picture of his mother. He knew only his mother. To the best of his ability, he had imagined that face of his father which he had never seen; based on some words told by his mother as answers for his enquiries and some that were not told. When he tried to remember now, even that well-imagined form eluded his mind. The teacher came to his side and kindly patted him.

“Don’t you have a father?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you got a mother?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“It is enough if you have a mother. Don’t worry. A mother is more important than a father.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded his head. But he was still distressed. “Murugaiya,” the teacher checked his train of thoughts.

“Yes, sir.”

“You study well, study hard.”

“I shall. I stood first in the previous examination, sir.”

“Is that so?” The teacher again patted him. Now Kitchami sat with a downcast face. But that did not help Murugaiya to feel proud. In fact he doubted if the fact that he stood first or, in future any other achievement, however great it might be, would enable him to be proud. Such a grief tormented him. Oppressed by some thought that his young heart could neither bear nor solve, he walked on.

The sound of a car horn put an end to the youngster’s recollection. Murugaiya hurriedly moved to the edge of the footpath. The big car which was self-driven belonged to Kitchami’s father, Sundaramurthy. How carefree did Kitchami appear in the front seat! What did he lack in? His father was very rich. He had a “car, a bungalow and all other comforts and so gave all that his son asked for. But “for him?” Murugaiya questioned himself. Had he no father? If so, why not? His mother had told him that his father was in a distant city. If only he had his father with him now! It did not matter if his father was poor. A car ride was not wanted. It was enough if his father held his hand, and walked with him. The mere imagination made him proud. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the bliss for a moment. It lasted just a second. When he opened his eyes, there was only disappointment and pain in store for him.

II

Murugaiya dumped his school bag and sat huddled in a corner. It was only a thatched hut with a lone wall. Anjukam who was cooking rice in another corner saw her son and thought that he would come to her as usual after washing his hands. She was astonished to see him, who daily would come bursting with news, sitting quietly. “Murugaiya, don’t you feel well? Are you suffering from headache?” So saying she looked at him. He just shook his head.

“Then, why do you look so exhausted?”

“There is nothing,” he snapped and went out. His heart was in a tumult. His lips trembled. But no sound came out. Silently he came in and sat for dinner. Anjukam felt his forehead and throat. Murugaiya very much wanted to thrust aside those hands. Where is his father? Mother is telling a lie. He was told that his father went to an unknown town in search of a job. Murugaiya did not know when this happened–from the time he could remember, he had never seen his father. He did not know when his father would return. Mother would not say anything definite about it. “Some day he will return home. Don’t brood on that. Go and mind your studies,” thus she would terminate the conversation.

Murugaiya knew that his mother would be worried in such circumstances. He just could not ask her anything. Anjukam would hastily dry her tears. Sometimes he saw without her knowledge, Anjukam weeping in privacy. He wanted to console her, but was afraid to do so. For a long time she would not speak to him. Even if she did, her face and words indicate anger. But in the end she would warmly embrace him.

After dinner, Murugaiya carne out, sat on the so-called platform and tightly closed his eyes. Picture of his classroom, the ragging and smiles of his classmates passed before his eyes. Kitchami and his father drove fast in the car. Oh! where was his father?

All these days Murugaiya had never yearned so much for his unknown father.

“Murugaiya,” Anjukam sat beside him. He slipped from the intended embrace.

“What has comne over you today?” she rebuked him.

“How does it concern you?”

“Do you ask me? What are you talking?”

As he had no intention of continuing the conversation, he resorted to silence. Anjukam did not get even a word in reply for all her enquiries. Hitherto he had never been so reserved with her. For a while he was sad. But as time passed on he assured himself. During the night, his dejected and wounded mind had gone far remote from his mother. In future, his mind refused to accept love and protection from his mother.

III

Next morning when Murugaiya woke up, the mixed feeling of dejection and longing was strong in his mind. As usual he finished lunch and started for school. He did not open his lips even once. Without turning back to see his mother who asked him to be careful, he just nodded his head and went away.

As he neared the school, from a nearby sweetmeat stall, he heard some one calling him. It was Kitchami eating something with obvious relish. Murugaiya looked at him for a moment and proceeded.

“Murugaiya,” Kitchami ran to him, clasping his hand with one of his and putting the other round his shoulders, said,

“Are you angry with me? It was wrong on my part to have spoken thus about you. Please forget it. The teacher sent for me and then I learnt a lesson. Look here, henceforth I shall never make fun of you.” Murugaiya was astonished to find the overnight change in Kitchami’s behaviour. But his sincerity warded off any suspicion.

“Don’t be silly. I had already forgotten that.” He shook off Kitchami’s hand and tried to resume walking.

“If that is so, come with me. You can also have a sweet.”

“Thank you Kitchami, but no.”

“No, no, you must come.” Kitchami practically dragged him and forced milk-chocolates on him. Murugaiya could not refuse. He hesitantly took only one chocolate from his shirt pocket and put it in his mouth. He could not relish it.

In the class, the new teacher spoke to him affectionately and praised him for answering his questions correctly. Even the praise had no effect. Longing and dejection was foremost in his mind. He knew the reason for longing but not for dejection.

In the evening Murugaiya with a downcast face was dragging legs towards home. A car stopped beside him. Kitchami called from within. Murugaiya disengaging from the turmoil of thoughts stared at the brand new car. For a few seconds, his sight was locked with that of Kitchami’s father who drove the car. Getting down from the car, Kitchami said, “Come on, we shall go for a ride in the car and then return home.” Murugaiya was in a dilemma. He liked to go in that car, but was also hesitant. “Come along,” Kitchami took his hand. Murugaiya did not want to go home because of the dejection. Thinking a car ride would calm him, he boarded the car.

Sundaramurthy turned his head as if to ask, “Who is this boy?”

“Father, this is Murugaiya, my classmate.”

“Who are his parents?”

“Isn’t there a small hut at the end of our road, that is his house. His mother’s name is Anjukam.”

“Anjukam, which Anjukam?” Showing much concern Sundaramurthy turned to look at Murugaiya. Incidentally Murugaiya also turned his head. His eyes could not bear the intensity of the other gaze. He attempted to smile. The car entered the bazaar. Sundaramurthy took them to a hotel and bought an ice-cream each. To Murugaiya it was all a new experience. He found it odd to see Sundaramurthy staring at him often but was gratified to note the affection in those eyes. He also felt proud.

Murugaiya decided to get down at the end of the lane and run home. But Sundaramurthy stopped the car beside the hut. As he got down he was afraid if Anjukam would notice him. She was nowhere to be seen. “Tomorrow you don’t have school; come to our place,” Sundaramurthy kindly invited him. Murugaiya nodded his head, bidding good-bye, ran away.

At dusk Anjukam returned. His mind once again became bitter. He did not ask her anything. As per routine, dinner, studies and sleeping was carried on, silently.

When he lay curled up on the old mat, sleep would not come to him. Imagination was active. Everyone was afraid of Kitchami’s father, but how affectionately did he speak to him!

Anjukam came and sat beside him. Her loving “dear Murugaiya” had no effect on him. Till now he would rush to his dear mother and sleep with his head in her lap. But today without replying he lay motionless.

“Where had you been all this time?” Anjukam chastised him.

“I had gone somewhere, what is it to you?” he indifferently retorted.

“Look here, where had you been? Answer me. “Anjukam stood before him. Her eyes blazed with anger. More than her words, her look deeply stirred the aversion in his heart (towards her). He was silent.

“Tell the truth.” He did not pay heed to her harsh words. He felt a stinging slap on the cheek. At that moment he really could not speak, for he was stunned. Just a few seconds clasped before he burst into a flood of tears.

Anjukam was not there when he started crying. Many a time before his mother had beaten him. Then she would be angry but not indifferent. He was deeply thinking how nice would it be to have a father who would protectively embrace him in such circumstances. Murugaiya recollected his visit to Kitchami’s house a few hours ago. Having seen him, Sundaramurthy affectionately welcomed him by holding his hands. At that time remembering his absent father, he felt proud because his yearning was appeased to some extent. Sundaramurthy gave him fruits and biscuits and without batting an eyelid saw him eating them. Murugaiya could not forget his kind words ‘come often’ said with a pat.

Murugaiya slept. He woke when he subconsciously felt two hands stroking his cheek. Anjukam sat there looking at him. He saw tears rolling from her eyes in the shaft of the dim street-light that passed through the thatch. Why did she, who scolded him in the evening, cry?

“Murugaiya, my darling!”

“Umm….”

“You went to Kitchami’s house. Didn’t you?”

“Umm…”

“Is it proper for you to go there without informing me?”

“What if I go there? How nice is his father!”

“You don’t know. They are very rich. It won’t do for the poor to have dealings with them.”

“Why not?”

“How can you understand? No. Hereafter don’t go there. I shall buy whatever you ask for. You must study well. You must listen to me.” ‘No, no’ protested his mind. He did not know how to make her understand about his longing. He did not want to tell either.

“Murugaiya” uttering his name in a shaky voice Anjukam clasped his hands. He thrust them aside and turned his back. Looking at his face she begged him, “Won’t you listen to me?”

“No, I can’t. I shall do as I please.” Mumbling this, he hid his face. He did not know what happened afterwards.

IV

Murugaiya hurriedly entered the hospital. Dodging those who tried to stop him, he ran in searching each and every room, at last he found that bed. He was shocked to see his mother lying there with closed eyes. The nurse and the doctor came in. On seeing Murugaiya, who stood apart due to fear, the latter asked–

“Who are you?”

“This is my mother.”

“Oh, are you Murugaiya?” the nurse questioned.

He nodded his head.

“Few hours ago this woman uttered ‘Murugaiya’. Later she lost consciousness,” she told the doctor. The doctor looked at him once and gave an injection to Anjukam. Before going out, he told Murugaiya, “Stay here. Within a few minutes she will regain consciousness. But you must not speak much.”

Murugaiya with his gaze fixed on his mother leant against the wall. Her whole body was swathed in bandages. Now he remembered everything one after another. From that morning he had never spoken to her. When he was in the class some one told him “Your mother was caught under a lorry. She has been taken to the hospital.” Immediately he dashed here. Minutes passed. Anjukam’s eyes opened slowly. She moaned. Murugaiya edged towards her. Her frightened gaze travelled all over the room before falling on him. The urgency was indicated by the quick batting of the eyelids. She tiredly wetted her lips. He understood that she was about to say something. “Mother”, anxiously he called her. She somehow managed to utter his name.

His fingers trembled as they felt her forehead. But his touch infused some strong feeling in her.

“Your….your father.”

“Mother, don’t speak about it now.”

“No, how can I speak later? I’ll tell you where your father is; you can go to him. I have to go away from you.’

“Mother! Oh, no!”

“Kitchami’s father is your father. The world does not know it. But that is the truth Murugaiya.”

“Mother!”

“He is a big shot. You cannot understand even if I tell you. I was deceived.”

“How was it mother?”

“I was poor. But I had a sense of honour. I strove hard to bring you up before his eyes without his charity. I lied to you.”

“Mother”, pausing before he asked agitatedly, “why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because it was useless. He will never accept it. But he was affectionate towards you. So, I decided to end my life. I fell under the lorry. Because (I thought) if I died he would protect you. He could convince others by saying you were an orphan.” She ceased to talk.

Murugaiya thought that he understood everything, but was confused as having understood nothing. The nurse asked him to go out for a while. He went out seeing his unconscious mother.

“Mother, you must get well. Then I’ll have no longing. It is enough if I have you in this world. I don’t want anyone else,” he prayed. Now he felt really proud. The firm belief was indicated in his firm gait.

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