The War is Not Yet Over

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THE WAR IS NOT YET OVER

Author:

Jyothirllata Girija

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

THE WAR IS NOT YET OVER

Jyothirllata Girija

English translation by the author of her Tamil novel titled Marupadiyum Oru Mahabharatham- meaning Yet Another Mahabharath War – serialized in THINNAI, the internet Tamil weekly, in 2006 and acclaimed by the Tamils all over the world.

I dedicate this to the memory of Thandhai Periyar (Mr. E.V. Ramaswami Naicker)- fondly called thus – meaning Great Father by the Tamils, who was a social reformer with progressive ideas and who was also a crusader for women’s freedom and rights

&

Also to the memory of Mr. Dhondu Raghavan who wrote a very big and touching article about this story in his blog

Chapter 1

Every man has a story! - I recall at this moment this statement of a famous writer. If a man writes his autobiography, revealing his thoughts and his life’s incidents that can be shared with others, it will definitely be an interesting long story!

When I reminisced about it, I mused why I myself should not put down in black and white my own story. In our country, that is India, the one and only man qualified to do so was none other than Mahatma Gandhi. He was one who never boosted his personality either by uttering lies or by concealing truths. Nevertheless, in this autobiographical story, I’m not going to utter any lies. I intend narrating only such things as will not offend or hurt the feelings of others. My reference to others doesn’t relate to those who are connected with my life alone. As one who’s crossed the ocean of unbearable sufferings and sorrows, the truths I’m going to divulge in this story are going to hurt for sure the feelings of such men and women who’re till date causing similar grief to others. But I can’t help it.

Okay. Let me stop this preface-like blabbering with this. I’m in my eighties – I was born in 1916. But let no one lose interest scorning this as a lacklustre story of an old woman. Let it not be forgotten that this old woman of date was a once-upon-a-time beautiful damsel! Moreover, since my story starts from the moment I could recall past incidents, the usual things the readers would expect normally in a story -viz. love, lust, anger, unexpected twists and turns, fights, sorrows, struggles and what not - are rampant in it. So, let no one spurn this story of mine, imagining that there won’t be anything interesting in it.

* * * * * * *

Maalathi is my next-door neighbour, a deserted wife, with two children – a girl and a boy. The girl is the elder, studying in the eighth standard and the boy in the fourth. She used to visit me now and then for some obligations, due to my present position and social status. When once Maalathi visited me along with another girl who’d some problem, I’d to share with them a similar episode that had happened in my personal life. I did so only with a view to infusing in her some self-confidence and courage. On one or more such occasions, I’d to narrate a few more incidents that happened in my life. It was after that, that Maalathi asked me Madam! Why don’t you write your autobiography? You’ve been a very bold lady at a time when women were mere chickens. From whatever you’ve told us, it seems your mother had been a bolder lady! By going through your autobiography, girls and women of these days will learn a lot of lessons as well as gain a wealth of information. They will imbibe boldness and self-confidence too. They will also know the price paid by the women of those days for the rights and freedom the women of these days are enjoying. What do you say?

It was then that the thought of penning down my biography rose in my mind and I looked at her gratefully. I also wondered why such a thought hadn’t struck me at all till then.

I’m not that great as to write my biography! Anyway, as the events that took place in my mother’s life are more interesting and the problems she faced were more exacting than those prevalent these days, I think I could consider your suggestion to write down my biography by which I could get an opportunity to tell the readers about my mother also. But, for that, I’ll need the assistance of someone capable of penning down without mistakes whatever I dictate - or fabricate a fiction-like thing after listening to the episodes I’d narrate!

Without allowing me to proceed, Maalathi interrupted me: "You needn’t worry about that, madam, because I can myself write it for you. I was a once-upon-a-time writer too! I’d written several short

stories before my marriage. After my marriage I … I could not… It didn’t click…So I stopped writing.".

What! It didn’t click! What do you mean? Why are you mum? I suppose your husband didn’t like it

Maalathi chuckled bitterly. That’s it! You’ve correctly guessed, madam! After my marriage, I wrote a story on the problem of dowry. The stories that I’d written before my marriage were ordinary family ones. He was so angry after seeing my anti-dowry story, as he’d taken dowry from my father for marrying me! ‘If you ever touch the pen hereafter, I’ll insert that hand of yours into the burning furnace!’ he warned me menacingly… So I stopped writing.

But, you could have renewed it, after your husband left you!

Somehow, madam, I lost all interest and inclination for writing… But, now, after hearing about your and your mother’s problematic life, this sudden surge in me for renewing it, madam.

Very good. In the first instance, I’ll write down my story briefly and hand over the script to you. But please do not write it as an autobiography. You may convert it as a fiction. You are at liberty to add spice to the story to make it more enjoyable and interesting. Being a writer yourself, won’t you know the technique?

After mutual dialogues for some time, we decided it would be better to write it out in third-person narration.

The fabricated story you’re going to read now is the one that comes below!

* * * * * * * *

It was a hamlet. The age-old axiom is that no one should live in a place where there is no temple. But, no one seems to have ever said that one should not live in a place without an educational institution! Probably because of this, there was no school in that hamlet, but a

small thinnai school (a spacious platform with no roof where classes are conducted)) in the agrahaaram

[¹] (the street / streets where Brahmins alone live) in which only the Brahmin kids studied. Kids would mean only boys who went to the nearby village to continue their studies after the fifth standard provided by the thinnai school. The village school provided education up to the tenth standard. That girls need not be educated was the unanimous opinion of the Brahmins (labelled as the most forward of all the castes) – not to speak of the people of the other castes.

Though Padmanaabhan and his wife, Kaaveri, were bringing up their one and only daughter, Durga, with love and care, they were no exceptions to this generally accepted rule. So, Padmanaabhan didn’t send her to school, but taught her at home. It was not a comprehensive education, comprising all the subjects like History, Geography, English and the like, but only Tamil, their mother tongue, and the rudiments of elementary mathematics. But, it didn’t mean that all Brahmin girls were educated at their homes. No. Families like that of Padmanaabhan were exceptions.

Durga was an adept in doing sums correctly at first attempt. Padmanaabhan was amazed to observe that Durga took only half the time he, as a student, had taken for doing a sum. When Durga was just eleven, he called out for his wife in great excitement and told her, Kaaveri! Our daughter is very intelligent. If we allow her to continue her studies, she’ll become another Raamaanujam, the legendary mathematics prodigy of India, of international fame. She does each and every sum correctly at the very first attempt. Why don’t we put her in a school?

No doubt, Kaaveri was proud of her intelligent daughter. But, for that matter, she could never nurture the thought of sending her to a school.

What! Putting her in a school! My… my…Let’s dispose her of, according to the custom of this village, before she ‘comes of age’. If we don’t, people will talk. Why needless criticism and gossip? said Kaaveri, seriously.

What’s this, Kaaveri? How studious Durga is! But there’s no use of praising her to you, an illiterate! You don’t know her worth!

I know it, dear! I acknowledge your pride and am happy at that as well. But she’s born a girl! Our duty is only to marry her off in time. If the child has been born a boy, I’m not going to prevent you!

Prevent me? How could you? Even if you prevent, do you think I’ll listen to you? Anyway, you would never raise your voice against sending a boy to school! If he were as studious as Durga, you’d have lifted him up and kissed him many a time! Um… um… But she’s born a girl!

That’s it, dear! If we put her in school, the people of this village will simply flay us alive. Don’t you ever even dream of that. They’ll criticize us if we fail to marry her off before she comes of age. It’d suffice if you teach her at home some mathematics and some Tamil – and the English alphabets too, if you so desire. Haven’t you studied up to matriculation?

Do you know, Kaaveri, parents in towns and cities send their daughters to schools these days? In the North, a girl has flown to London to study medicine! I saw the other day in the newspaper.

Maybe, they’re fabulously rich people. Very rich people won’t be criticized. But we aren’t that rich! So you forget it… By the way… have the saplings come well in our field? You’d been there a little while ago.

Um…um… murmured Padmanaabhan who didn’t like her changing the topic. ‘How intelligent is Durga! But this stupid woman is not for sending her to school… Yet, she’s right in a way. She’ll have to cover a long distance by walk to reach the school in the nearby village.

Do I have a cart to take her there and bring her back home in the evening, daily? Even if I have a cart, the girl will be lonely in the school with no girl friend as none else will be prepared to send their daughter to school. So, as Kaaveri rightly says, I can’t even dream of that!’ – Letting out a long sigh in exasperation, Padmanaabhan looked at his daughter fondly.

My child! Are you interested in going to school?

"Very much, appa, because I love mathematics. I’m inclined to do sums even for the whole day! I’m so fond of it!"

He removed his gaze from her and sighed. Durga, who was looking at him eagerly, realized from his silence that her mother’s word only would prevail and her face shrank in disappointment.

"Appa!"

Yes, my child!

"Please send me to school, appa!"

"No, my child! It’s impossible. I can only teach you at home some Tamil and arithmetic so you could manage the household well.I’ll teach you the English alphabets also. Don’t ever imagine, child, that your amma is preventing your studies. What she says is right"

Just then, noticing a shadow at the entrance, Padmanaabhan saw that Ranganatha Shastri was entering.

Come on in, Mr. Shastri, come on in. Please be seated!

You seem to be teaching your daughter! Well and good! said Shastri and, murmuring the names of some feminine gods, as was his wont, squatted on the floor after dusting it with his towel, from habit, though it was cleanly swept.

Yes, Mr. Shastri! Though she’s a girl, shouldn’t she learn the fundamentals of her mother tongue and a little arithmetic too to run the home?

Yes, of course! Is there anything special in your visit? I hope you wouldn’t have come to me all the way, without any purpose!

Right you are!. . . My child! Please go and bring some drinking water in a jug and a tumbler too.

Guessing that Shastri chased Durga away, Padmanaabhan wondered about the purpose behind it.

Looking at Durga who came to the kitchen asking for drinking water for Shastri, Kaaveri smiled and said, Long live that Shastri! Take this, and handed her a jug. After Durga’s exit, she watched through the crevice of the kitchen door.

Taking the jug from her, Shastri said, Go to the kitchen now and help your mother! hearing which Kaaveri smiled profusely.

As soon as Durga came, she said, Durga! You should hereafter help me in the kitchen daily. After your marriage, your mother-in-law and others in-law shouldn’t criticize me, saying, ‘See! How badly she’s brought up this girl! She doesn’t know any kitchen work at all!’ Come. Take those three bananas and scrape the skin! Hurry up!

Durga smiled to herself: ‘She is hurrying me up, as if my marriage is settled!’

First, you take that vegetable cutter and wash it.

"Okay, amma. Ayyo!

[⁴]" - She suddenly let out a cry of pain.

What happened? Did you cut your finger?

"Yes, amma."

Do you know what your mother-in-law would say if you cut your finger like this? She’ll accuse you of intentionally cutting it, so you may escape from household work for days!

After sitting Durga, Kaaveri applied some medicine to the bleeding finger. Then she began to peel off the skin of the bananas one by one. Durga watched with interest, wondering how deftly her mother was peeling off the skin like removing a ribbon pasted on the vegetable.

"I think you’re going to make saambaar[²⁸],

since you’re cutting it in long pattern."

Yes, yes. Clever of you, indeed.

"What’s there to be especially clever? Don’t I know even this trivial thing? Aren’t you making saambaar every now and then?"

At that moment, Padmanaabhan called her aloud: "Kaaveri! Please bring a tumbler of buttermilk for our Shastri!"

Kaaveri instantly left with buttermilk and placing it before Shastri on the stool opposite him, said: "Why don’t you suggest a suitable alliance for Durga, Shastriji?"[1²]

Shastri gulped the buttermilk in several mouthfuls slowly and then, wiping his lips with his towel, he replied: I’ve come only for that purpose. There’s a suitable alliance in Vathalapalayam. The boy is studying in the ninth standard in the high school there. He’s fifteen. A very well-todo family. Lots and lots of properties. The boy needn’t work at all for earning money. But I learn the boy is keen on doing business in Madras, after finishing his higher studies.

The place is quite nearby. We can go there and see Durga very often. And the alliance is also good, it seems. But… would they expect a hefty amount as dowry, numerous gold ornaments etc.? queried, Kaaveri.

Goes without saying! Parents are vying with one another for that boy. But my preference is only for your kid, Durga. – In his Tamil dialogue, Shastri used the English word, ‘preference’ and told Kaaveri the meaning at once.

Then he continued, smiling, in a voice tinged with pride: I’m a little educated and know some English – though not as much as Padmanaabhan. Studied up to the ninth. So it is that I spill English words spontaneously now and then. Please don’t mistake me.

Padmanaabhan smiled to himself. He recalled Shastri’s habit of mixing English with Tamil every now and then to show off his smattering of the language. At times he even dared to utter full sentences with bad grammar and wrong words. He held the view that talking in the language of the white man who was ruling over India then was quite fashionable.

But the horoscopes of Durga and that boy must match…

Would I have come here if they don’t match? They say in English ‘Made to each other’. The horoscopes match that well!

Oh! If you think they’re made for each other, I think I should meet the boy’s parents immediately put in Padmanaabhan, using the English phrase, made for each other, and discreetly corrected Shastri’s having used to in place of for.

Then he asked, Why don’t you tell me an auspicious day for meeting that boy’s parents?

"Tomorrow is an auspicious day. You may reach there at 9 hours in the forenoon. Tell them that I’ve told you the horoscopes match very well. They’ve great respect for me. I think you know the Vathalapalayam agrahaaram."

I know very well, said Padmanaabhan and gave him ten rupees for the service, accepting which Shastri dabbed it to his eyes in grateful gesture and then put it in the purse tucked to his dhoti[1⁰].

So? May I make a move? My child, Kaaveri! May I take leave? … But I shouldn’t call you ‘my child’ hereafter, as you’re going to marry your child!

Kaaveri smiled. Ranganatha Shastri heaved himself up slowly and stood up. After seeing him off, Padmanaabhan came in.

Kaaveri! I’ll go to Vathalapalayam tomorrow itself. Shastri says they’re well off. But would their demands be very high? Could we manage?

Since Shastri says it’s a good alliance, we’ll have to arrange for it somehow or other. My gold ornaments are there – all put together they may be a little above fifty sovereigns. If their demand is more, we’ll have to take loans from various sources and conduct the marriage.

Oh, yes. We’ll celebrate it grandly..

How much hard cash do you have? I mean the bank balance.

Don’t you bother about all that, Kaaveri. I’ll take care of everything. You should groom your daughter in the meantime. Teach her cooking. Men would like only those wives who cook well.

I see. So it is that you like me!

Did I ever say so?

My God! Then does it mean that I don’t cook well?

You got the point! You’re intelligent enough!

"Amma! Amma! The curry is over-frying. Come quick. I’m not able to handle the ladle. It’s very hot!" came then the shrill voice of Durga from the kitchen and Kaaveri hurried at once without continuing the conversation.

Then Padmanaabhan noticed a shadow at the entrance.

Who’s that?

"I’m Valli, saami![²⁹]"

Padmanaabhan got up briskly. Kaaveri also peeped out from the kitchen. She could guess it was a woman but the profile was not clear. So she came out.

Moving fast to the entrance verandah, Padmanaabhan mumbled harshly, gnashing his teeth, "What’s this, Valli? Hardly a month has gone by after your taking money from me. And, you’ve come again so soon. Is it fair?" – Chiding the visitor thus, he looked back, by which time Kaaveri arrived there and stood behind him.

Kaaveri looked with profound irritation at Valli who grinned at her, folding her hands in respect.

To the query of Kaaveri, What for have you come, Valli?, Valli replied, "For what else, amma? It’ll be very useful to me if you give me five rupees. My daughter is indisposed. So I came by walk all the way from Vathalapalayam."

Padmanaabhan and Kaaveri went inside and talked in hushed tones with ach other for a minute. Then Padmanaabhan took out a fiverupee note from the purse he’d kept tucked to his dhoti, observing which Durga was intrigued. ‘Who’s this Valli? Why does she come here off and on and take money from father?’

Then Valli accosted Durga with a smile and said: Would you come to our house one day?

Seeing that Valli was talking to Durga, Kaaveri, called out for Durga in an urgent tone.

My parents will scold me if I come to your house! replied Durga and then ran inside. When she sat on the swing reaching the hall, Padmanaabhan and Kaaveri moved to the entrance verandah.

Dabbing her eyes gratefully with the five-rupee-note that Kaaveri handed her, Valli said: "May God bless you both! You’ve become the scapegoat for somebody else’s fault. I can very well understand your chagrin. But who else is there to help me? My health is also deteriorating. . … And, there’s one more thing, amma!" - Looking at Kaaveri and Padmanaabhan alternately, she seemed to hesitate to proceed.

Tell me.

Last Thursday my daughter ‘came of age’. She doesn’t even have good clothes to wear. If you give her one or two of your torn saris, she’ll stitch them and wear to save her modesty. I’m unable to celebrate the event of my daughter having come of age…I’m an unfortunate woman…

Look here, Valli. Today is a good day. Don’t cry ominously like this standing at the entrance! Wait. I’ll come in a minute. – Reproaching Valli thus, Kaaveri went inside. Padmanaabhan followed.

Kaaveri took out an old sari from her trunk and