The Vagabond

‘Vagabond…he is mere a wanderer; if he wanted a living why can’t he live here? Why should he go to
Chidambaram? After going there was he satisfied ?’ Emberuman remarked angrily to the gardener when
the gardener was complaining about his son.

Emberuman was the owner of Deer and co. The gardener was his father’s boyhood friend. Due to the
change of fate, he became the gardener. It is another story. Even if he happens to be a gardener,
Emberuman Pillai treated him with extra care and affection. When the gardener was complaining about
his son, Emberuman showed his concern for him by scolding the gardener’s son as vagabond –dog-
donkey.

‘What can I do sir; I have told him in many ways.. Many times.’

‘Yes..yes! When he went to Nagapattinam, I told him not to go.’

‘Yes Sir, I too asked him why you are going to Nagapattinam. He told that he must go, because he could
find a job there.’

‘Last tenth day he wrote a letter that he is going to Pondicherry. I was glad a little bit because my brother
in law is in Pondicherry. I thought that let him live there with him.

He stayed there not even for just two month. Then he began to tell that he was about to go to Ceylon.’

‘It is the nature of a vagabond. He would like to roam on. If he liked to work and abide to the society, he
would have stayed in Nagapattinam itself. Why should he go to Ceylon? They have wheels in their feet.
They like to roam on.’

‘I argued like any thing. Aye, Marudhachalam we belong to honourable family. Our change of times
made us poor. Live decently in our own town with our own people finding a job here. But he did not
listen to it. As you said he might have got wheels in his feet. He said Pondicherry first… then he went to
Ceylon, What would they think about him? They would have called him as a vagabond.’

‘Then how else would they call him? He came to Tuticorin again from Celylon. Now he is staying in
Chidambaram and writing a letter that that he is planning to go to Singapore.’

‘What can we do? His nature became so, made him a vagabond. He will return one day after experiencing
bitter things in the end.’

The boss talked for a long time. He had to attend an urgent committee meeting. He was a busy person
have many companies along with Deer and co. So that he concluded. The gardener was satisfied for the
boss talked with him so concernedly.
‘What is wrong in the boss’s words? This fellow roams actually like a vagabond.’

***

There was a heated argument went running in the committee meeting. All were about many complaints
over the manager appointed by the Committee .Many charges on him for negligence of duties.
Emberuman Pillai himself took the responsibility of cross questioning him.

‘You went to Arcot on sixth, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, they told that goods were not available at Arcot. So that I went. No proper bus even. I had to travel
by Jutka too.’

‘What can we do? It seems a big trouble for you…going by Jutka . If you don’t like such physical jerks
and shakes just as it is better you would have stayed in the house. Why should you come for work? Your
diary speaks about your performance! You went to Arcot on sixth; on the next day you returned back.’

‘Yes! Goods were not available at Arcot. What to do other than returning back?’

‘You returned back like a bridegroom. If the goods is not available at Arcot why don’t you go to
Vellore?’

‘The trouble undertaken to go to Arcot was big. How can I go to Vellore?’

‘If it is not possible you should have told earlier. Why did you come for the manager post? We have
poured a lot of money as capital. One has to roam and roam to manage the business. You say that mere
traveling is hard!’

‘Don’t I keep roaming? I went to Cholingur immediately on the next week of Arcot trip.’

‘What are you talking of going to Cholingur as if it is Ceylon or Singapore trip.

What a fabulous travel you did! You went to Arcot on sixth and stayed here until fourteenth without
moving any where like a stone pillar. You were here for the next seven days. Then after four days you
went to some other places; .Isn’t it?’

‘In those four days I roamed like a dog. How far is Nellore? I went there and returned on next day to
Chittoor. On the way I visited Vellore and then went to Arcot ; on my returning I went to Kanchipuram
being there for one hour. I am roaming almost like a vagabond. ‘

‘Oh! Going to four places makes you feel like a vagabond! One had to be a wanderer to do business.
Aren’t you getting a salary of ninety rupees a month? If you don’t go to other towns how can the business
run? What did you say vagabond? Ah …vagabond?
Don’t we travel? Then you remain here in the hometown like a bound up ox. Who forbids you? If you
want to be the manager of our company, you have to wander on. Tuticorin is distant, Bangalore is cool,
and there is flood in Nellore…if one keeps on complaining like that what will happen to the company?
You have to roam …you have to wander even many times, a town a day even. Listen manager! If you
don’t like to go out settle your account now itself.’

The committee passed Emberuman’s proposal. The manager was dismissed from his job.

***

On the next week Malabar mail halted at Jolarpet Junction. On the opposite platform the Bangalore mail
halted. Emberuman Pillai got down from the Malabar mail and had a stroll over the platform.
Sambandham Pillai one of the company directors, got down from Bangalore mail and saw Emberuman.

‘Oh…Pillai! Where are you from? Mysore?’

‘I returned from Mysore yesterday. There was a small work at Bangalore, so I went there and now I am
returning back? Where do you go ? To Coimbatore?’

‘Yes, I have to attend a work at Coimbatore on the morning. By noon I have to go to Palakkad.’

‘I too go to Madras After looking over market strategy I have to go to Mangalore.’

‘You were telling that you had to go to Machilipatnam?’

‘Yes.. I have to go there also.. Busy work. Did you get a comfortable seat?’

‘I could not get second class. I am coming by first class.’

‘Okay. After Palakad will you return back to Madras?.’

‘Yes. Looking after the Saltpan contract I have to go Ooty. Our Bombay Sait Moolji had come to Ooty.
He was telling about some agency for an American radio. Why can’t we have an agency? I am thinking of
it. ‘

‘Let’s have it. Okay.. the whistle has come. Train is going to start. So may I take leave?’

Both the trains started, Sambandham who was in the second class compartment was thinking about
Emberuman.’ Fellow wanders like a devil after money.’

‘Sambandham never goes tired of travel; roam on smelling like a dog for money.’ This was the abusive
comment made by Emberuman within on him. The two trains carrying the two businessmen were moving
grandly.
Marudhachalam the son of the gardener called by Emberuman as vagabond was sitting in a teashop at
Chidambaram Chitra talkies. Inside the theater, a Tamil film named ‘Illusory world.’

- Vaiyavan

The tainted cloth

By Arignar Annadurai

One could not come out in the scorching heat of summer for a moment. The soil, like red-hot
lead powder, stick to the feet. The blow of dry, hot air slashed on the face, like a blaze of fire flashing
burning flames. In that burning heat, she cried slapping herself on the chest and stomach repeatedly.

“Oh! Brother! Oh! God! Don’t you have eyes? Father! Oh! Grandma! “-only those words
that burst out of her painful heart.

Looking at the mother crying aloud slapping herself, the ten year old boy returning from the
school innocently asked, “Why do you cry mummy?” Then he himself started weeping.

On seeing her son, she became freeze up, not able to move her hand or foot. As though she
became insane, she gazed at him once. Next moment, she embraced him with her both hands and tightly
holding him within her, she started crying loudly. Seeing her husband’s resemblance in her son- it is
exactly not known what has really happened to her-she didn’t stop weeping, thinking.

“What mom? Don’t you tell me, Mom?” Asking her with thought elsewhere dropped a sudden
question to here, “Where is dad?”

Those two words startled Mariammal, as if pouring oil in the fire. Silence prevailed for a
moment! The very next moment, “Oh my dear ….Your dad was….!” — She shouted with terrific voice!
Not able to control the storm of sorrows blown from her lips, she became tongue-tied, could not speak
further and just fell on the ground crying “Oh….!”

Hearing the sudden cry, the people of the street assembled in Mariammal’s house. A few of the
women who stood blinking as if kept their feet on, lifted Mariammal, persuaded and made her calm. She
could not avoid replying to many voices. After looking up at those restless, grief-stricken women
stood around her wiping their noses in sorrow, she felt as though her stomach blazed with more flames.

“What I can say? .... The Iyer…. to my husband….!. Only one broken sentence! That is all! As
if became wild, she ran towards the Agraharam (traditional Brahmin settlement), with her unfastened,
disheveled hair in the air. Many from the crowd ran behind her.

Anthonysamy belonged to Kalaiyur village. His father Arokiasamy good respect and
reputation from people belonging to eighteen castes including adi-dravidas of that village. In what way
…? He was a talented speaker. Educated! He could put his signature without any break. In order to
spread his capability everywhere, the secret weapons handled by him were nothing but absolute
truthfulness and total reliability. Being an adi-dravida, he has the good nature to support those who
depended on him, even by sacrificing his own life. And, of course, an untiring hard worker!

Anthonysamy never worried about anything. There was never an occasion that his father let him
to be worried!

Being a person belonging to down-trodden community, his comfort of eating thrice a day could
not be tolerated even by nature and time. Arokiasamy - Anthonysamy’s father - afflicted by a disease,
died within a few days. It became now a great worry for Anthonysamy to cope with. When his father
was alive he wandered, doing whatever his father ordered and eating whatever was offered. Due to his
father’s savings, he somehow spent the days with his wife and child for a few months.

How many days these people of Palla, pariah, Thoti, Thomban caste can sit and eat? The adi-
dravida community is an exception from living on cheating. For them, the dastardly job of sucking of
other’s blood is not at all permissible. Then? He took up the job that was thrust on his by the wicked
people —that is … life time offering of own self smilingly - bonded labour under an Iyer. And became
slave!

Though there was no regards to Anthonysamy in the Agraharam like his father, there was no
damage done by him to his father’s name and fame. Rather the fame those further! What a great
satisfaction to Anthonysamy in that aspect! Delighted for that! Apart from being honest like his father,
his unique, commendable quality is that he never begs to eat even if he is to die of hunger. Maybe due to
that reason, within six months he was loved by all, from workers to his master. He was liked! For his
honesty of not getting a paisa of wage, truthfulness, humility, nobility, Iyer himself was much pleased-not
to talk of others praising him!

After Antony pledged himself to the Iyer’s house, Iyer stopped steeping out towards his fields.
While the Iyer is now relaxing, as he did not have to stand on the ridge of the field with his aching ankle,
with the support of his patched umbrella to avoid slipping. He discontinued his son too going for night
sleep. The worry of bathing the milch cows in the early morning also ended. It became the responsibility
of Anthonysamy now, from irrigation of fields to stacking of paddy bundles from the threshing-floor. As
Iyer treated Anthonysamy like a Ford car that never consumed more petrol, by using mere words he could
steer the poor chap in whatever direction he desired!

If quests visit on any day, Iyer would immediately take them to the fields. The neighbouring
fields also cannot escape his eyes! He would show those fields too to the guests with his exaggerations,
probably to clinch an alliance to his daughter or so-it is known only to Iyer! But one thing is very sure!
He would not disclose to them that the acres of lands he showed to them are already under lease. If the
guest comes to Iyer’s house like this, Anthonysamy’s routine of filling his half-stomach too will be
affected. Till the guest leaves, the way Iyer would drill him by commanding “buy this! ….bring this!
…..go there! ….call Vasu! ……Had Subbu come?” Oh! He would thoroughly exhaust! At those
moments, he would realize that the sleepless days and nights of transplantation days are far better.

He is a slave! For being commanded by Iyer and Anthonysamy to obey only they have born!
When these days-the word faltered-this era of head wight and arrogance subside? Not only this Iyer, a
master belonging to what other caste would either be fully satisfied by the services of these adi-dravidas
or wholeheartedly shower affection on them? If it is wrong, there may be really so many, equal in
number to the breaches occur in the Koda murutti dam in sweltering summer! Always the adi-dravidas
only should bend their legs in humility.

How much is the salary —Chie! The wage - that Subramania Iyer gives to Anthonysamy? Paddy
of just 9 kalam in a year and just 2 marakkal padi once in every three days!

His physique….? Eating till sour belch comes out! Does he consume special perungayam for
that? Yes, it is correct!

Where is this Subramania Iyer, who eats at least four times a day? Where is this Anthonysamy
who runs and rushes, sometimes by gobbles up the kanji from the pot in standing position-that too taking
just twice a day?

Even the murderer and day-light robber, from the day of getting into the prison till coming out,
are ‘weighed’ in order to safeguard their body. For this Anthonysamy …? To his ancestry ……? From
the day he took the whip and stick for bullocks when he started getting awareness in the adolescence or
when he was getting changes in his body while performing the farm works and guarding duties after
,maturity till today, to weigh him-sorry-at least to utter a fond word …. Was there at least one ally?

The harvest was over! The life time of Iyer’s mother was also over. Anthonysamy present
himself there and prepared a bier for laying the body of the old woman. The corpse was put into funeral
pyre.

The very next day Anthonysamy as usual woke up after the cock’s scream. Having made a round
to the samba fields and after finishing the morning duties related to Subramania Iyer, Anthonysamy came
to the cattle stall. He stood there with bind hands across, constricting his body to get permission from his
master to take kanji before about 11 o’clock.

As the foodstuff swallowed unto the nose in the early morning became digested to some extent,
Iyer filled the gap in the stomach with snacks (interim food!) and sat cross-legged with his plate of betel
leaves for chewing, on the platform at the frontage of the house. A thin, soft towel was just lying on the
shoulder as if it may fall any moment! He was chewing and sucking the betel leaves and areca nut in the
mouth! His appearance looked as if a temple bull spinning the mouth after swallowing the food. By his
side was his dearest lover - no, his wife-stretching her hand offering him folded betel leaves! The beam
of rays from her coiling eyes and her grabbing smile allured Iyer and took him to his past romantic
episodes. He was enjoying an unending ecstasy from an unknown pleasure!

Exactly at that pleasant moment, that scene was nothing but Anthonysamy’s good fortune!

Iyer just casually turned his face with the floating smile to this side!

But, what a sudden change! Not even a moment could be over! Should that beaming face
became dim so soon? Mind-blowing, fascinating smile turned out to be a spear piercing the heart!
Twinkling eyes of Iyer turned out to be penetrating arrows! His forehead boiled like a frying pan for the
sesame and horse gram! The figure of Anthonysamy coated in mud shaken Iyer’s body violently!

Hey, Anthiny!

The Brahmins (why …. The masters of other castes too) never calls a name such as Anthonysamy
or adi-dravida’s similar finer names, by pronouncing the full name. Reason….? It is because at the end
of it, the word ‘samy’ is there!

“Samy!” - This is Anthonysamy lifeless, dry voice. There was shakes and shivers in his body for
unknown reasons!

Iyer asked in a low voice, “Hey, what did you do yesterday?”

The shivering of Anthonysamy is yet to stop. He replied, “Sami! After cock’s crow, I had been
to the fields and came. Then I finished the house hold duties. Next it did amma’s rituals!

Iyer heckled, “Anthiny, I have not asked you the description of your duties. See here! The
material that you took from the funeral ground is still with you?”

Anthonysamy startled and uttered loudly, “Samy!” Not able to express more than that, simply he
stood staring! Silence for a moment!

Iyer shouted angrily, “Hey, what! You are staring innocently? Don’t you understand my
language? The material that you have stolen from the funeral ground yesterday, you know, I am asking
about that only.”

‘You have stolen from the funeral ground’. As these words like red-hot spear and arrow,
penetrated into the abdomen one after the other, Anthonysamy became lifeless, every organ of his body
became numb and he stood in still posture.

In this life, for the first time- and it is the last occasion too- Anthonysamy listened to those words
from Subramania Iyer who lives on squeezing and eating away his body round the clock.

“Hey, I am asking you. If you open your mouth, will pearls fall out? What an arrogance! - Iyer
spilled harsh words ruthlessly.

“Samy…Samy! I do not understand what you say!” - Anthonysamy cried.

“Hey dog, close your mouth. Do you want to hide the theft with your tricky words? Your pariah
trick won’t hold well? If you do not bring back the saree that you took away, your skin will be …….. !”
-Iyer shouted in anger.

“Oh…. Samy! I have not taken away the saree!” - Anthonysamy pleaded pathetically.
 “I saw it in your hands with my own eyes! It appears you would swallow a full man! If you say
so, am I a liar?” - Iyer uttered heartlessly.

“Samy, I have not stolen it. I swear on your divine mother who has gone into the pyre! In these
tow years I live with whatever you fed me. Do you think that I would steal mother’s saree?”

“Hey! Keep quiet, you ass! Are you going to bring it now or not?”

“Oh Samy, I have not taken it!”

“You have not taken? I am asking you with respect-you know- that is my mistake! See here!
The saree will come here of its own!” —The next moment Anthonysamy was tightly tied up with twisted
hands to a tree in the cattle shed.

***

After reaching the Agraharam, with her unfastened, disheveled hair flying in air, Mariammal saw
her husband standing tied up to the tree.

“O…!” She is distress cried at the height of sorrow, “Not yet he took his morning Kanji! O…!”
What a great compassion she expressed in that single sentence! Were not those words squeezed out of
her lips? O…. What a cruelty! Mariammal fell headlong at the feet of Anthonysamy, biting the soil.
What a pity!

Seeing his child crying loudly,”Dad…O…dad!” And the breathless wife at his feet, there was not
even a single drop of tears on Anthonysamy’s eyes! His face almost dead! Why? Is the sword of
disgrace cutting across his heart?

Even a stone will melt and ooze tears to look at the sight. Was Subramania Iyer, who looks at
mercilessly, a man? In order to strengthen his case, he summoned a few Iyers. Additionally, he also
called a few Dravidians!

Pillai came and sat in the seat cited by the Swamy. Anthonysamy was untied and made to stand
in a cage! Pillai never stood below the level of Samy in coining the questions and throwing at
Anthonysamy. But in his roaring voice, temerity, mockery and authority, arrogance and insolence were
evident. Apart from this torture, Pillai caned him too. Being an innocent fellow, even in his acute pains,
Anthony could spell out only that single word ‘NO’. Having failed to accomplish his conspiracy, Iyer
remained with a broken heart. But, would Pillai leave the scene without satisfying Iyer? If he leaves like
that, what would be the worth of the royal throne given to him in that Agraharam?

Looking at Anthonysamy, Pillai passed his verdict, “I don’t know what you would do. By
tomorrow, within 12 hours, from somewhere the saree should come back to Iyer’s house!”
 The next day early morning, the sun beamed the golden rays. The rays rose steadily to wipe off
the darkness gradually. In the street corner, from the south, the loud call through a folk song by the curd
vendor woman “Curd …Curd” took everybody’s mind to ‘Kanji’.

The shepherd’s voice of offering bunch of straw to cattle woke up the people.

“Amma!” - A long voice! It appeared as if the voice tapped the main entrance door of
Subramania Iyer’s house.

Who is that? - Iyer’s wife came out.

“Have this, amma”, - Marimuthu, who took the tainted clothe from that house on the day of death
for washing kept a small bundle in front of her.

She opened the bundle hurriedly. Iyer too came out of the house and sat near the bundle. He asked,
“What is it?”

As she lifted the items one by one, Iyer received, counted and verified.

One of the clothes received was his wife’s oldest saree. The other one was her blouse. The third
one …. ? That is the tainted cloth, purported to have been stolen by Anthonysamy!

Had not Iyer roared, “I saw you stealing with my own eyes?”

Was not Anthiny, who toiled for them, tied up in the tree and beaten up?

The saree, for which innocent Anthonysamy was unjustly accused and punished with the
allegation of having stolen it, the same tainted saree was washed and brought by Marimuthu.

The god of justice has not woken up!

PRABHAGAR BABU

One storied house

‘What a crisis! How much troubles, how many obstacles sir! One can do any job but not this house
constructing business. One can arrange and conduct even for ten marriages; it wouldn’t be a problem!
But if you try building a house, you will die every day. How much one would have to suffer to find each
article! How many searching; and how many begging! We have to bear with them all, even after paying
three times to the timber shop man and hard ware man; we should get used to their lame excuses like
‘Come on ninth. ….I think your time is not good. I could not get it from the person I approached.. I have
contacted now another person. Let us see. Come tomorrow at noon. ‘Dancing to the tunes of every one I
was quite upset. Some how everything is over. The work has got finished. Now only I became free. But
another head ache will begin from tomorrow onwards. People will come to collect debts from one shop to
another shop. Apart from that the enquirers will come to enquire as ‘What is the price? Is it teak or
redwood or spurge or mango wood.’ We need to reply every one of them. Then the Municipality man will
come smelling some fault . Great trouble sir, great trouble. The people who are living around would
simply say ‘Oh, Mahadeva Mudali has built an one storied house.’ But I only know all the troubles found
in it.

Mahadeva Mudaliyar , in fact, has troubled very much in building that one storied house. So he went
wearied after finishing the construction. But the agonic desire which went on drilling his mind to build
such one before building that house was thousand fold when compared to now, Now the contentment
gives an inner happiness. The house too got well built. Usually people will add some sour taste when
making cookeries just to avoid too much sweetness. Like that he added some complaints while enjoying
the contentment inwardly, on building a one storied house.

The complaint and lament he uttered had come only after performing house warming ceremony , giving a
dinner to his kith and kin and after enjoying their praises for the beauty of the well built house. He knew
already what all the difficulties he had to face, on venturing to build such a house. Indeed he argued with
some who sympathized over his toil and advised him not to suffer that much.. He kept on telling them that
one should not mind such difficulties; for if not taken proper care and vigil while building the house
would collapse within six months. In fact he enjoyed everything including this trumpeting over his toils.

‘Should one have this much head weight for having built a one storied house! What one storied house!
Persons who had built palaces with towers and lived like Maharajas had gone down as paupers begging
for gruel and cloth. This fellow seems to be too much proud of having built a one storied house. Had he
built a three storied building? Even a sparrow too builds a nest on the treetop. See the space looking like
a piece of loin cloth. No garden. No well. Nothing. Worst is the foundation. Buying all the old stuff
available in the market, he finished off the building, and show cased all those as brand new ones! Afar
from this boasting, every where there are debts for him, here one hundred bucks and there two hundred
bucks! This fellow struts with ego as if he had built a big bungalow. See, the house painted with Green
colour in the next street, do you know who had built it? Just a fellow selling refreshment and coffee for
quarter paisa got it built. It is very normal to find the coming and going of luck in this world! This fellow
poses too much!’

This is the reaction of Irumbuliyoorar. When he heard from the milk man, Irumbuliyoorar became very
much angry on the one storied house built by Mahadeva Mudaliyar. Actually the milkman too had that
not that much of love for Mahadeva Mudaliyar. He was much pleased that Mahadeva Mudaliyar had
bought six measures of milk from him, and to express that pleasure he went to Irumbulyoorar to pour
praises on the newly built house. Mahadeva Mudaliyar had not sent invitation to Irumbuliyoorar for the
house warming ceremony due to the pressure of work. Anger would come to Irumbuliyoorar with no
reason. Now there was a reason. He gave left and right blows to Mahadeva Mudaliyar and also to the one
storied house.

‘Father in law resides in a one storied house like a bridegroom. How he had built such a grand house
when the costs are too high! Very nice articles are used. The wooden articles look like stone slabs. He had
a built a hall erected by girders. Just an evening stroll is enough, beach too would merit low. When the
father in law enjoys the one story residence, our Sonachalam bears just the title of being his son-in –law.
In the yesterday’s rain the backyard wall of his house went crumpled and dissolved.’

Viswanathasami who came very early in the morning and stayed until the dinner got finished worried like
that. Indeed he had not worn saffron colour dress for being called as Sami but he had no family.
Viswanathasami went to many houses listening to their complaints and giving consoles just to be praised
by from all of them for his goodness. By and by he would ‘export’ the churnas, oils and kattumathirais to
the appropriate places and circumstances.

When others praised the house as just beautiful, Viswanathasami alone blessed Mahadeva Mudaliyar for
his good heart and went further. ‘This is nothing. He will build still bigger house and buy garden and
lands.’ Everyone praised Mahadeva Mudaliyar just to please him but none knew how to hail him like
Sami whose remarks were appreciated by Mudalyar’s second wife.

Three years after marrying Mahadeva Mudaliyar’s first wife’s only daughter, a big

rift followed by a fight took place between the father in law and the son in law Sonachalam. After the
fight Mahadeva Mudaliyar’s wife died. The enmity grew stronger. Mahadeva Mudaliyar decided not to
face his son law even So Sonachalam had not come to the house warming ceremony and Mahadeva
Mudaliyar’s daughter Sokki too did not go. Many persons knew their hearts would be hurt. But they kept
quiet thinking that they could not do anything for it.

Would Viswanathasami remain so? He went to Sonachalam’s house immediately after the ceremony .
Sitting outside the house he began advising Sonachalam in tender words.

Some one gave a punch, ’I have seen this man there! Sami was attending the ceremony in the early
morning.’

But brushing those words aside Sami said,’ Yes.. Yes.. I too went and saw all the grandiose!’ and
continued embalming Sonachalam’s hurt mind.

**** **** *****

‘I remain bedridden for long! The cursed one, he did not even come and visit me or enquire me ‘whether
you are living or dead … at least a single word!’ Look how the times are! All around the town they
threatened ‘you can’t get all items in these days, you cannot get one item or other item.’ I only
encouraged Mudaliyar not to listen to all those words. Don’t worry about building materials. I am here. It
is my responsibility to bring all materials wherever they are. Each one will tell something. You don’t
worry. You start the work .It is me who gave that assurance and courage to him. Loitering like a dog,
even without timely food and comforts I procured all the materials , and built it before the beginning of
rainy season. Every one put their finger on their nose. The pasturing work alone was left. Due to the
exertion resulted out of the stress and strain I became bedridden. I am lying here in bed. Yesterday he
celebrated the housewarming ceremony! That man did not invite me even, denied me even a piece of
cloth, throwing aside the custom! What a man! I worked hard like an ox; he strolls over the house top
while I am fluttering in the bed He is not to be blamed. It is my mistake. I haggled with every shop man to
get twenty rupees worth of material for ten and fifteen finding flimsy fault in them with my arguments. If
I would have given one material to another person changing it from this hand to another hand the gain
would be five hundred to thousand. But I restricted abiding myself to the truth; considering that the
person has entered into this believing only me. I was planning on all over those nights on how to build
and how much measure should be put , and what kind of material should be used; as if I am the one going
to stroll over the house top. Now no one is found to enquire! I have no money even for medicine. Just I
am revealing my mind frankly to you. I am not going to curse him. Let him live comfortably. But there is
God looking over at us all. Let him live in the one storied house. But whoever does me wrong will not
live.’

**** **** *****

It was Kuttappan the mason who exploded all those grudging with Thangavel the carpenter who had
participated in the house warming ceremony. Kuttappan has a method of his own; starting constructions
for many houses simultaneously; getting quarter amount of the total wages as advance and demanding
some more loan then ending with quarrels when he was refused. Then he would abandon the job in the
middle telling ‘Call some one to finish the job. I don’t like this type of people. It is a sin to labour for bad
people.’

He would find justifications for quitting. ‘See, one should know other peoples suffering, He should think
about his own family’s welfare if denying the labourer’s well wishes. I have asked just one hundred as
loan, confirming him that I would pay it back to the brick merchant, explaining my problem. I begged. He
refused bluntly. So I decided to break the work. It is better to beg than labouring for him. Let him
complete his building work engaging any fellow.

It is Kuttappan who had laid foundation for the one storied house. But as usual he left the job before
finishing. But he expected Mahadeva Mudali to tip him with the piece of cloth given for the masons for
the finishing as per custom. Everyone knew the claim was unreasonable . But whose ears were so strong
to bear with the shouts he would make. So none would utter anything against him.

**** **** *****

There was another person. Veerasami Pillai. Finding faults, creating troubles and writing petitions were
his pastimes. He could not bear with anyone living happily; he would consider them his enemies. He too
attended the huse warming ceremony. Mahadeva Mudaliyar honoured him with betel and nuts; but the
mistake he had done was he did it with a brass plate not on a silver plate while he preferred silver plates
for several others.

Veerasami Pillai took it as an insult and become very angry. But he did not reveal it at the function.
Returning back to the house he poured out his anger and jealousy with one friend.

‘I will see how the one storied house stands longer! What does he think about himself?

If he constructs a one storied house, does he think every one would bow before him with fold hands and
serve? Keep it in your mind.. Within one week, see what happens to that one storied house! He had
encroached three feet of Municipality land. The petition has gone. Next week, the Municipality fellow
will come for measurement. Then only he would know. He had to dismantle. Now he goes to the opposite
house to stand in front and watch the beauty of his own house, if the Municipality man comes let us see
how he could the beauty of his one storied house.

**** **** *****

The neighbour, next house owner, Batcha Mudali was a distant relative to Mahadeva Mudaliyar. His only
view point is that his personal comforts should not be disturbed by no way and no one. He had a heavy
body structure. So he needed much wind. Only it is he that fixed the date for house warming ceremony.
Let it be, but how could he bear with lesser wind. He talked with himself.

‘No wind even a bit. Some time back a blanket too was needed. That much of wind I had. The next house
fellow became rich; he constructed a one storied house. So no wind comes here now. It had become a
cave. He strolls over the house top. But we suffocate here. I know already, and thought too that if this
cursed one build a one storied house , it would be a head ache for us, the same thing occurred now.’

**** **** *****

Three friends went walking on the street. One was a merchant, but not rich. Another was an officer, a tax
collector. The third one was a broker struggling for a better time to find riches. All of them looked at the
one storied house; began giving opinions about it though none asked for them.

‘Somebody, a blessed one! He had built a beautiful one storied house.

‘See, I am an officer. We cannot get house for rent. See the works of the black market money! A brand
new one storied house.’

‘One can build one storied house or a palace even! See I too would build and you too would do. We did
not catch an idiot like the one he had. Some utter fool asked him to sell his own bundle of thread. This
fellow stole it and built a one storied house.

**** **** *****

Gopal Naidu who belonged to a ‘once rich now poor’ family had also attended the house warming
ceremony. He knew how to behave respectfully, in turn he expected others to appreciate that he has such
respectful behaviour . So he did not observe the house for a name sake manner just to congratulate saying
‘O, it’s fine!.’
He observed every nook and corner keenly. Then after returning back to his house he told to a friend in a
sad tone without jealousy.

‘See, I went on searching for redwood, roaming shop after shop and that too after roaming a lot to find a
proper person who could confirm. Then I sat along with him giving instruction on how to carve and chisel
on making the entrance door. It has been carved with the wooden registry of Ten Avatars of Vishnu. We
should not just throw praises for him. Actually he did a marvelous work; a challenge it was to excel
every other main doors! Every one who saw it did not forget to praise it. Such a wonderful
craftsmanship! But what can we do? This is my fate. Could I foresee that I have to handover the newly
built house to the money lender? Are not there many persons found getting loans to build their houses in
this world? I am unlucky fellow..I had to handover the new house to the moneylender. That person
dismantled the house and sold each and every article separately, earned in double.It is not known to
whom he had given that Main door. After changing many hands now it had come to Mahadeva Mudali’s
hands. He had put it in the backyard. The front entrance has some other door. I saw it this morning. On
seeing the door I was much disturbed, almost wept. I was preventively alert of Mahadeva Mudali noticing
my emotions. How much troubles for making that door! How much fondness I had for it! Finally it
reached the back yard of Mahadeva Mudali’s house. It is destiny. Our Main entrance door became the
backyard entrance door of Mahadeva Mudali’s house.

**** **** *****

Kolandhai and Periyannan were jail comrades. From meeting each and other their friendship grew up as
camaraderie. Both of them undertook the business in unison.

‘Kolandhai! The house looks new’

‘Yes’

‘Some new rich fellow would have built it. One storied house! Shall we make our housewarming here?’

‘You don’t have any sense, brother! Utterly foolish you are. This fellow would have spent his last paise in
building. See the plastered lime too is still wet. How can there be

any money in this house? You can just find trash and wasted materials in every corner, along with the
lime pot and broken bricks.’

‘See Kolandhai, the fellow who had built such house would not become a pauper all in a sudden. Some
thing we can find.’

‘Why should waste our efforts in this place looking like a race course! I know all these people, they will
flirt as if they are very rich. Actually they are nothing’
‘Kolandhai, listen to my words. The housewarming ceremony had made him totally tiresome. All of them
would found lying like wooden logs. It is easy for us to find something here,’

**** **** *****

Both entered into that house between 1.00 A.M and 2.00 A.M. As per Kolandhai’s statement not much
boxes or irons were found in the new house. The boxes found there were old and only padlocks, nails,
handles rings and paint tins. Mahadeva Mudaliyar looked after the construction job residing in another
house. His cash was there in safe. Here, they both found jewels worn by Mudaliyar’s second wife on her,
gold ring in Mudaliyar’s fingers, betel nut in the cook’s small bag and a small knot on the sweeper
woman’s sari fold.

Kolandhai looked at Periyannan jeeringly.

Suddenly the sweeper woman sneezed. Three times.

‘Sickening. This new house lime smell is an allergy for me’ , she said.

The cook’s sleep was disturbed. ‘What! Getting no sleep?’ He asked her.

Kolandhai and Periyannan went to hide inside a room. The cook and the sweeper began to chat.

‘He has built a new house. Now no one can try to talk even with her!’

‘Whom do you refer?’

‘That woman …he owlish eyed one; that Mudaliyar’s second wife.’

‘Was there a first wife?’

‘Yes.. yes.. You don’t belong to this town. First wife was a very good one. Beautiful like goddess
Lakshmi. It would suit if she walks around. Golden hearted woman. When she was alive Mudaliyar was
not this much rich. After coming of this ugly face only he built this one storied building.’

‘It’s all sheer luck.’

‘No luck. Nothing. It would look funny if you know of his becoming rich.’

‘Sounds interesting. Tell me the story. The way in which money comes to many people is always
funnier.’

‘But you would not have heard this much funnier thing so far . People will say money came by the grace
of Kali or by the grace of Ezhumalaiyan . But money came to this fellow through a monkey.

‘Do you mean the deity Hanuman?’

‘Not that one. A real monkey which jumps over the houses. I mean it. See, one day evening. Darkness
was entering slowly. Then a monkey ran upon the tiled house. It was making a lot of damages to the tiles
jumping and running here and there. He married this woman just six months before. He found the dancing
monkey and his rage went up because he was disturbed when writing the accounts. He called me to drive
off the monkey. But the monkey did not pay any heed to my trials. Throwing off the accounts book,
Mudaliyar himself came to the yard. He just shouted only once. At once his voicechanged to a wonder.
Suddenly he enquired me whether there is any coconut piece. I said yes, and brought it to him. He asked
me to close the entrance door. I went to close and bolted the door. He was showing the piece of coconut
to the monkey and calling it to come down. He was almost cajoling it by calling ‘Rama… Rama .. Come
here Rama .. Get this coconut Rama.’ But the monkey did not mind him at all. Then Mudaliyar put the
coconut piece over the tiled roof. Afterwards only it came running to receive it from him. I saw the big
gold chain with a pendant lying over the roof.’

‘Monkey….?’

‘Yes.. The monkey was keeping it in its hand. He gave the coconut and the monkey took it after putting
the chain over the roof and ran away. Mudaliyar alighted slowly over the roof and took the chain from
there. He called his second wife and showed her the chain. She took it joyously, put it on her neck
beaming with happiness they enjoyed the gift .. It went on for some time. Then only they became aware
of me. Then Mudaliyar told me, ‘Kuppi.. Don’t tell any one about this. I will buy you a new sari.’ I just
said okay. He told that one thousand rupees out of that chain. Will give any one tell the true worth to any
housemaid? As he said he bought me a sari which lost its colour within three months. There was a
diamond in that pendant. This woman Venkata made a nose ring, got the diamond fixed with it. With the
help of monkey money he developed his business. Gained much profit. Built a one storied house, glowing
with happiness. To me only the secret is known. You know why he kept me here as a house maid ? I
knew the secret. Until now I have not talked about this. Today this woman behaved very badly with me. I
could not bear it. So I reveal all this to you.’

‘What a wonder! See how money comes by many ways. A monkey gave him money. But one monkey bit
me; I went to hospital and had an injection. . Then whose was the gold chain?’

‘Where from the monkey brought it, do you think from its wife’s neck? Some poor woman, she should
have put it somewhere. That monkey saw it and brought it here.’

‘Ah you sinner!’ Periyannan who was hearing all their talk shouted loudly forgetting himself . At once
Kolandhai shut his mouth. But Kuppi heard the voice.

‘Who is it? Who is it?’ She got up and the cook too got up.

Kolandhai beat his head What can they do?

‘Thief .. Thief..’ Kuppi shouted loudly.

Mahadeva Mudaliyar came with the torch calling,’Kuppi..Kuppi.’

Venkata opened the street entrance.

‘Thief has entered.’ Many people shouted.Some entered in boldly..

Mahadeva Mudaliyar opened the door-shut room. Two thieves were found inside.

‘Oh my god!’ Mudaliyar shouted in fear. Kolandhai went perturbed, But Periyannan took the bold step,
and he drew Mudaliyar inside the room and bolted the door from inside. There was screeching inside the
room and bellowing outside the room and shouting was

heard all over the street. Kolandhai had seen Periyannan’s bravery many times, but he did not see such
one till that night. So he was perplexed.

Mahadeva Mudaliyar trembled in Periyannan’s hands.

‘You should do one thing if you want to see your one storied house permanent, and save your honour .’
Periyannnan began giving commands to Mudaliyar. Without expecting replies he continued.

‘You have built a one storied house, ah! What a one storied house. It is the monkey’s chain became the
one storied house. And with the pendant you made a nose ring for your wife. Isn’t it?’

Mahadeva Mudaliyar shuddered at him who was telling everything. ‘Was he an evil spirit or something
else?’

‘If you hand over me to the police, I will tell everything in the court!’ Periyannan threatened.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Mudaliyar asked inside. But others who stood outside could not keep
quiet. They broke off the door with a pestle. Periyannan and Kolandhai attempted to escape but caught
finally, beaten well and brought to the Police station.

‘You scoundrels, you went choosing a new house.’ Sub Inspector threw them in the lock- up.

‘You were charmed by that cursed one storied house brother, isn’t it?’ Kolandhai asked him.

‘Keep quiet! Do you know how the chain came to the monkey? Those fellows who put me in the prison
proved maliciously that I stole it beside the tank. The monkey had took it from there and kept it on this
fellow’s house. This fellow built a house coolly out of it. I ate soil in the prison.’

Periyannan told the story in the court. Everyone laughed. None believed. Two years imprisonment. It was
the judgment..

‘Enough. Enough of all the joys I had for building a one storied house.’ Mahadeva Mudaliyar said
bitterly. Then onwards the name of the house got changed from a newly built one story house and a fine
house in to a house where thief entered.
The new name took a long time to get vanished!

The Wooden log

CNA(2)

Dharmalingam repaired the house which was left dilapidated for a long time. Taking much pains,
spending much money, he changed it for a suitable to live. The house would have gone as a mound of
mud, if he had not taken such arduous steps.

’ It needs a lot of money and pains. Instead of it Dharmalingam might build a fine new house. He is
wasting his efforts and money. The result would remain as a wasted labour.’ People who could not
maintain their houses properly were commented.

‘You know, there is an anthill in the backyard.’

‘Yes.. yes. I know. There is a dried up well also. I have seen.’

‘They say the foundation alone was stronger.’

‘What stronger? They have laid over the materials considered to be stronger before two generations.
That’s all’

‘In walls there were…’

‘Yes. So many cracks. Many pits in the floor. The roof is leaky.’

‘If left without troubling, it would end as a mound of mud.’

‘Then we can cultivate brinjal or ladies finger there.’

‘Dharmalingam says he is going to repair it fit-enough to reside.’

‘Does he want to reside there after repairs?’

‘How mad you are! He is going to reside there first and then do repairs after.’

Many people went on commenting.

Some went to him and advised not to undertake such a kind of trouble.

But he did not say anything as, ‘It can be repaired. I can do it… I will do it … These are the plans.’
Instead, he said, ’Yes, It would be painful .troublesome…I know.Waste of labour even. But if we leave it
like this it would become a total ruin. Mere spurges and mushrooms would grow up there, making
donkeys to mow and finally left as a waste ground.’

With this firm reply he shifted his residence there to repair; bearing all sufferings he made it a worthy
play to reside. His critics too appreciated it.

Many came to see the repaired house and to congratulate him. One among them saw a wooden log on the
way to the backyard.

‘Is this redwood?’ He asked Dharmalingam.

Dharmalingam replied as if he had seen it for the first time, ‘Might be. Or some other variety.’

But the questioner continued, ’No..Dharmalingam. This is a piece of teak. You can make a beautiful roof
layer out of this.’

‘Yes..yes.’ Dharmalingam shook his head and replied something meaningless.

But the questioner went on explaining how to make the roof layer and what kind of carving work should
be made on it e and where to place it and how the look of the building would improved beautifully.’

‘You can make roof layers, suspension layers ..this and that could be done ..’

Many people gave many ideas. But Dharmalingam did not yield to any of them, neither he accepted nor
denied…ending their advices with,’ Yes.. yes.. Let me see.’

The wooden log was there in its own place where it was. Days, months even years passed on. The
wooden log was there in its own place.

Some innocent persons would enquire,’ Isn’t it a good piece of wood?’

Dharmalingam would reply them,’ No..no.. It’s a fine variety.’

Then they will wonder and begin advising,’ Why should you keep it as a junk? Make it useful.’

The reply from Dharmalingam would be the same, ’Yes.. yes. Some thing should be done.’ But nothing
was done. It was there in its own place.

The wooden log would get a move when cleaning the house or on discovering the hidden scorpion or
some poisonous insects; then it would be moved back to its own place.

‘Keeping this log here disturbs the passage. Moreover it accumulates trash and garbage under.’ The house
members made bitter complaints.
‘It is there at one corner. How does it trouble you? It is not blocking the way.’ Dharmalingam threw aside
all those objections.

‘Good piece of wood. Worthy for fine wood-work. Beautiful things could be done..’

In spite of all these praises and recommendations the wooden log was there in its own place.

Time went on. The familiarity of the wooden log lying at the same place made its merit degraded. The
same persons who valued it as a fine piece of wood began to call it then as usable only for firewood.
Some got the guts to go to Dharmalingam to advise him to cut it to pieces and use for stove.

Dharmalingam rebuked them, ‘Don’t you get anything to use as firewood? Do you know anything about
the use and standard of finer wooden materials?’

‘It is kept useless. So that we told you to use it as firewood.’ they tried to explain.

‘Okay.. okay . I know.. You please go.!”

The wooden log was there where it was.

‘Scorpion would pass over it. Lizards would run upon it. Garbage and trash went accumulated beside it. It
was not affected. What if a scorpion stings it? It is just a wooden log.

‘I have seen a wooden log at Dharmalingam’s house. It would suit our purpose.’

‘Yes. I too had seen it. He has it for a long time.’

‘I think he keeps it for some purpose.’

‘It does not seem so. He might not know what to do with it.’

‘He won’t give it rather to anyone.’

This kind of talk was going on around the town. Dharmalingam let the wooden log to be in its own place.
How can it move? Was not it just a wooden log?

Wind and rain followed one day. The mud walls went up to dissolving. Window doors sounded
terrifically. The kitchen wall seemed to disintegrate. Every one was worried.

‘The wall is going to fall’. Somebody shouted.

Dharmalingam saw that the wall was preparing itself to fall down. He thought for a while. He called some
persons and gave an order. ‘ Aye… you go . Get that wooden log and prop it as a support before the
wall.’
Some persons who knew about the condition of the kitchen wall thought that it would have crumbled and
fallen and there might be a calamity. One of them came there after the rain and saw the wooden log used
as a prop supporting the wall.

‘Did you keep the wooden log just for this purpose for a long time?’ He asked Dharmalingam.

‘Yes.’ Dharmalingam agreed for namesake just to avoid him.

The wooden log did not know what they talked about it. And it did not know that it was used as a prop to
support a wall which was about to be fallen. It was just a wooden log.

After a proper repair was done to the weakened wall, the prop was found unnecessary. So it was removed
to its own place. Slowly the time passed on.

Time went on. The wooden log became a prey to termites. They entered into it, began eating it inside,
destroying the quality and the strength the wooden log once had.

A person who came to visit Dharmalingam saw the wooden log in that stage pushed it to see its strength..

‘Oh! It is useless. So that you keep it idle.’ He commented.

As usual Dharmalingam did not give any specific reply.

‘There was a time. Then I was strong, I would have been useful. Many suggested, many expected. No
use. I was kept in a corner. Now termites eat me. What can I do?’

It did not explain such because it has no tongue. It was just a wooden log.

***** ***** ******

RED BANANA

Mr. Sengodan took care of that red banana plant, like his pet child. Even if he had to toil in the field until
dusk, as soon as he returned home, he used to visit that plant in the backyard unmindful of his
tiresomeness to ascertain whether watering was done to it properly. Only after that he would bestow his
attention on his four kids! Along with the growth of that plant his delight also was growing!….. The
affection shown by him towards that plant was even deeper than what she showed towards his elder boy
Karian! His wife Mrs. Kuppi was amazed at this! She was even jealous!
“Look Kuppi! Let not any cattle trespass and destroy this plant! Please carefully attend to it!…. A rare
variety!…. Yes! Red banana is nare!…. Do you know how large its cluster would be? Its fruits also
would be large and shapely!…. Highly delicious!…. So charming to look at!” – Mr. Sengodan was thus
proudly describing the plant to his wife Mrs. Kuppi.

All the four children used to agreeably nod at what their father said. Not only that! They used to boast of
it to all the kids…. residing in the huts of that locality. What else could the children of a poor farmer
discuss? Could they boast of a new car purchased by their father or a diamond jewel of their mother or the
new radio set recently purchased by their elder brother?…..To them this red banana plant was the motor
car, the diamond chain and the radio set….all in all!

The eldest boy used to tell, “As soon as the fruits are ripe, I will take one whole bunch in the cluster!”

“Won’t you give me even one fruit? Mind you…..I’ve given you a mango fruit!…. Also I gave you fried
ground nuts!” – the boy Ellappan residing in the opposite hut used to plead.

The girl Kamakshi, the younger sister of Karian, winking her eyes, would say, “ If you get one bunch I
will get two!… One from the mother and one from the father!”

The third boy Muthu would say, “Don’t be carried away by simply counting the bunches and fruits!…. So
many slips between the cups and the lips! Who knows what would happen in the future?” this remark he
made…. not only in a lighter vein….but with an ulterior purpose! He had decided to swallow the lion’s
share of the fruits….. at least by stealing them!

So, the banana plant was the pet child of Mr. Sengodan. He had to toil much in the field…..and the
manager of the farm was a task master. All these he endured with stoic silence! As soon as he saw the
plant, he would forget all his trials and tribulations! When his children began to weep…..he used the
name of banana to console them! The same was used by him to intimidate them when they were naughty
and recalcitrant! He was sure that the kids would enjoy the taste of those fruits. The children of his
master could taste apples and grapes. How could his children get those costly items? Therefore he thought
of making children jubilant by offering the red banana! This thought made the banana so pet to him! He
was rearing it like the apple of his eyes! The entire cluster of the red banana belonged to his family….and
none would have any claim over it! This gave a sort of delight to his mind.

The banana plant grew fast and along with it the joy of Mr. Sengodan! The venue of this plant slowly
became the playground of his children. Like women having a fancy for flowers and the bees having a
fancy for honey, his children were much enamoured of this red banana plant!

“Will the cluster emerge within a month? O, daddy!” Karian asked his father, out of anxiety.

“Darling! It would take two months” – Mr. Sengodan answered his son.

***
At last the cluster of red banana emerged. A sort of majestic steps could be witnessed in the gait of Mr.
Segodan. He used to often look at it….rather proudly!

Even the Mirasdar Mr. Paranthama Mudaliar would not have so eagerly looked at the diamond necklace
which was adorning the golden mien of his daughter-in-law! To Mr. Sengodan this banana cluster was
more precious than the diamond-studded necklace worn by Mrs. Muthu Vijaya! As the fruits were getting
ripe, the anxiety, bickering and the quarrel over sharing the fruits…. all were on the increase, as far as his
children were concerned. They were even making frequent appeals either to their father or mother!
“When will it be fully ripe?” – the girl used to ask. “How long will the cluster be there in the plant itself?”
– the boy would ask eagerly! The thought of Mr. Sengodan that his family would enjoy the entire fruit of
his toil…..made him highly elated!…. No middle-man…..not the boss to grab the lion’s share of the
produce…. as in the case of the paddy yield!…. But this plant – the red banana – belongs to an altogether
different category – the entire toil is his and the ownership also!

***

Mr. Sengodan decided to harvest the cluster within two days! His children jumped out of joy!…. The
news was fast conveyed to all the kids of the farmers who were living around. They demanded fruits and
in lieu of them advanced fried ground nuts, tuber or tender mangoes as advance! This was a barter deal
made to the boy Karian!“I have toiled – and my family is going to enjoy the fruits of my toil! No joy on
earth will be equal to this!….. Likewise, if we can get the entire return of our toil in the field, what a joy
would it give!…. There too, I toil…. But since the land belongs to my master, the major portion of the
yield goes to him!…. This red banana plant…. has been grown by me… in my own land – so the entire
produce is to be enjoyed by my family!…..And like this, if only I possessed a strip of land of my own,
won’t I enjoy the entire fruit of my toil?…. Will such a day dawn? Will a day come making the tiller the
real owner of the field… dispossessing all the absentee land lords?:” – thus Mr. Sengodan began to think.
The red banana plant provoked such thoughts in his mind! His children were eagerly waiting for the
opportunity of tasting those fruits!

***

Meanwhile Mr. Paranthaman, the Mirasdar was making elaborate arrangements for celebrating the
birthday of his daughter-in-law Mrs. Muthu Vijaya. The priest was asked to perform elaborate Puja in the
Ambigai temple. He asked his accountant to prepare a long list of articles to be purchased – purchasing
banana fruits….two bunches ….was one among them!

“Banana fruits!…. But, no good variety is available in the shop of our village!” – Mr. Sundaram, his
accountant, told him!

The master replied, “What if? Purchase two bunches in the available variety!” But before he completed
the sentence Mr. Sundaram said, “In the courtyard of Sengodan….. a good variety…. A cluster of red
banana is available. We can as well take it!” The mirasdar approved of the proposal!

His red banana cluster – his sweet dream – the produce of his toil – the source of joy to his kids – Mr.
Sundaram thus prepared a death warrant to all of them!
When in the street Mr. Sundaram and Mr. Sengodan were talking …. the children of the latter didn’t think
that the conversation would be with regard to the red banana! He felt giddy! His tongue began to falter
….and words refused to come out of his throat!

The reason adduced by Mr. Sundaram for demanding the fruits….was the birthday of his master’s
daughter-in-law! What could Mr. Sengodan do?…. And what excuse could he offer? His desire – his
children’s anxiety – their eager expectations – what reason could he adduce to turn down the request?
Won’t the entire village heckle at him at that event?…. Won’t he be ridiculed for having such a petty
mind?…. Was not that cluster…. a trifling when compared to the social status of his master….who was
demanding it? He felt as if the entire village was chiding….mocking at him!

His mind could see the wailing of his children and the entreaty of his wife. “O, daddy! Please don’t dupe
us! I protected the plant from the stray cattle! It was you who told us that the red banana would be very
delicious ….. sweet as candy!….. Even my younger sister is very much fond of those fruits! You assured
to give them to us – and now you are deceiving us! Did we ask you to purchase for us the costly fruits like
apples and grapes? Was this banana not grown in our backyard?” – Mr. Sengodan felt as if his son Karian
was arguing like this! He felt as if his wife was asking, “Why do you make our children weep and wail?
Is it fair?”

Mr. Sundaram, the accountant, was standing in his front! Mr. Sengodan went towards the knife! Gleefully
announcing that their father was about to harvest the bunch, the children enacted a joyous dance. Tears
began to spring in the eyes of their father. When he brought the cluster inside the house the children were
eager to touch the fruits! Gently caressing the back of his son Karian, Mr. Sengodan said, “Darling! …..
Our master has asked for this cluster!…. Let me take it to him!… Don’t weep!…. The plant standing just
adjacent to this….. would yield a cluster …very soon! That I’ll surely give you!” saying so, he set out
from the house…. before he heard the heart-rending noise of his children’s weeping!

Mr. Sengodan’s hut was then like a venue of mourning. Only late in the night, he had the courage to come
home! His children were fast asleep…. after having wept and wailed for a very long time. As he saw
them, profuse tears came down from his eyes. He wiped out the tears and rolled on the bed….rather
restlessly! Thousands of thoughts surged forth in his mind!

So far as his master was concerned, a cluster of red banana was a trivial thing. Even a thousand such
culsters he could purchase if he was so inclined!….But, was it so, with regard to Mr. Sengodan? How
much did he toil for it – how many nights would he have had sweet dreams – and how many thousands of
times would he have cultivated anxiety and desire in the minds of his children! How much care did he
bestow upon it! Everything was then shattered in a trice!

Four days later, Mrs. Muthu Vijaya went to the temple with two bunches of banana fruits on a silver
plate!

All these four days, the parents were consoling their children – but they could not satisfy them! Karian
was adament! His mother Mrs. Kuppi took one penny from a very old utensil and gave it to him and
asked him to purchase one. With that coin he ran towards the shop.
A bunch of red banana was hanging in front of the shop. Mr. Sundaram, the accountant, had stealthily
removed four bunches out of the cluster of fruits given to the Mirasdar Mr. Paranthaman. He sold one
bunch to the shop keeper. Karian stood there anxiously looking at that bunch. “This fruit….for one
penny!…. Ridiculous! Four Pennies… if you have…you can get that!…. Else quit the place” – the shop
keeper yelled at Karian. Sadly he returned cracking some fried ground nuts. Then Mr. Sengodan emerged
from the backyard carrying the trunk of that banana plant.

“O, mummy! Is this also meant to be given to the master?” Karian mockingly asked.

“No, darling!….. That old woman Parvalthy has expired!…. This piece is meant to adorn the bier!” this
was the answer of his father.

Around the bier there was the wailing sound. Karian and other children were following that.

Pointing out the bier, Karian boastfully remarked, “See, this is the trunk of our red banana! The fruits
we’ve given to our Mirasdar….! The trunk is tied here!”

Poor boy! The episode of this kind is an everyday occurrence in the life of the labouring class! Did the
boy know this? - M.S. Venkatachalam

A DOCILE HUMANITY

Flocks of sheep ran around in fright. No one in particular had frightened them; still they scattered
around.

There, a woman with her eyes blazing red hot, came running. She was “Mandaveli Mariamman!”

Mariamman is the transmitter of all kinds of diseases amongst the populace. In that village, a
malevolent Goddess like her has a temple of her own, a befitting title, sacrificial code, Pooja and
festivities! Devotion is the manufactured in the minds of the frightened!

An ardent and fanatical crowd gathered in front of the dilapidated temple. In between were
stationed tow Sheep, both bathed in turmeric water and garlanded.

Mandaveli Mariamman came running and screamed, “Don’t slaughter these sheep! I would
destroy you all by spreading small pox! You claim to be my devotees, but you are all malevolent people.
My name itself is Mandaveli Mariamman, the protector of these docile creatures! To save them is my
duty. But, you have decided to sacrifice these couple of sheep to pacify me! Who are you to do so?
Don’t I have the capacity to satisfy my appetite? If so desired, couldn’t I get one for me? Why did you
do it?”

“Goddess Mother! How could you utter words like these! This hare-brained man had uttered
similar words just a moment back. Only after we threatened to axe him did he retreat silently. Foolish
fellow! “”He is not foolish, you are! If you believed I am Goddess, if you believed that I am endowed
with all the powers of the world, would you have dared to sacrifice a creation of my own?”

“Mother, it that not our custom?”

“On the pretext of custom, you have betrayed the comity of gods! By creating multiplicity of
gods and their families, constructing temples for them, marking festivities, sacrifice and fireworks, you
have made a laughing stock of us!”

Mandaveli Mariamman howled at the flock. Before the sheep could take to their heels, the
human mob ran riotously.

How bad it is to sacrifice a God’s creation to beget the blessings of Amman? How heartless and
pitiless? It is even meaningless! All right, their meat is eaten, but that is understandable. But to behead
lambs and hens and offer them at the altar of Gods is downright foolish!

At the dawn of civilization, when barbaric man had not really become a “Man”, a complete Man,
when he was bestial, a bundle of raw energy, he could slash, cut, mow and splash the crimson drops to
exhibit his brutal devotion. But no longer!

“A god who seeks a lamb’s flesh isn’t a god after all! Le him go to the butcher’s door ….Thus
spoke the messiah and put a road block. He had little backing from the people. Anyhow, rarity of gems
does not make them cheaper. Although sand pervades the scene, who minds the sands, pray? He was
gripped with fear at this insolent mob of human beings.

It would be profitable to go back to a world of our own than stay earth-bound. Only Indian gods
retain their families. In other countries, they have been banished and exiled in to posterity.

Taro, Odeon have not left a track and cannot be traced. But we have a whole gamut of gods such
as Mari, Kali, Trisooli, Muthalooraoothan, Munian, Sangli Karuppan who are alive and kicking!

Mandaveli thought for a moment and decided to escape from the world of men and leave it to
them. “My job is to infect the people and make them suffer pain and agony. But look at them! They
have built a temple for me! But the day of reckoning is nearing fast.”

“The believers no longer hold me in great esteem now. The moment measles spreads, inoculation
starts. I have been degraded. There is, however, a saving grace even in these circumstances. These
mindless are also not courageous! They don’t resolutely here to the ‘rationalist camp, too. These people
run for cover. What do I do in a situation like this, except to go back to a world of mine! “

How gory it is to witness a lamb being slaughtered? But this mindless mob proclaims, “Those
who prevent this from happening are Amman’s enemies!”

Now, I have to confront the temple overseer, Konangi Pillai.

 Bogalingam, the temple Priest sensed of murmur from the temple premises and woke up all too
suddenly. He was startled by the sight of “Manadaveli Amman” setting out of the temple.

“Mother”

“Don’t stop me. Danger for you, if you do. Get out of my way.”

“Where are you going, Mother?”

“Setting out on a retributive mission.”

“Retribution of whom?”

“Konangi Pillai”

Mandaveli had passed him. With legs trembling, the Priest tried to follow Mandaveli, but
couldn’t. He sat down on the spot where he stood.

***

“Brat, you incurable sinner! “ Amman hissed.

“Devi, we have satisfied you in all respects” (submitted Konangi with trepidation)

“To sacrifice lambs was prohibited by me” (commenced Amman)

“You shouldn’t join the side of those ruffians. This was one reason why we beheaded four lambs
even at the cost of inviting your wrath” cajoled Konangi.

Not to be pacified, Mandaveli shouted, “You killer”

“I only sacrificed Mother! I did not kill” he pleaded.

“Not alone this. You have definitely uttered a lie too! You went around the village questioning
my powers, didn’t you?” (thundered Amman in a tone of grave accusation.)

“How”

“You lifted my statute with the help of your farm labourers.”

“Oh, that! That was a ploy to set the police on those rowdies”, explained Konangi.

“Did you think I was just a doll to be lifted at will?”

“Nooooooo…….!
 “If you had believed in my power, you wouldn’t have gone to the police to hoist a fake case,
would you?” demanded Amman.

“Quite the contrary, Mother….It was to punish those ruinous creatures” Konangi justified.

“Who are you to punish them? A human like you cannot even try to punish. After all, he wasn’t
wrong. He said the right things.”

“Was it correct to dissuade people from sacrifice?”

“He did not want any dirt to stick on my face. He was well-intentioned” concluded Amman.

Konangi was for a moment perplexed. He couldn’t make head or tail of the Devi’s words.

“Konangi, it is the crooked like you, who have earned us Gods a very bad name. The respect we
commanded has been thrown to the winds. We could not survive here. It is all because of pretenders like
you, not because of what you call trouble mongers. So don’t stop me from going. You will have this
huge docile human mob to celebrate. But, you won’t find me there.” Amman set out on her way.

Konangi lifted his eyelids. Only then could he realize that all the sights and the dialogue were his
part of a dream. Unnoticed, the uprooted Amman threw a pejorative smile at him.

This was Konangi’s conspiracy to roll back the fast spreading rationalist movement. To file false
charges of lifting the temple Idol on the leaders of the movement Konangi incited his farm servant to go
around and spread the story that Parthiban and Paramasivan, both activists of the rationalist movement
have stolen the temple Idol. The Priest Bogalingam was also ordered to say so. Instead, the farm
labourer spilled the beans and the whole village came to know the conspiracy!

Before Konangi could recover from the memory of his dreams, he noticed a huge gathering in
front of his house. He was petrified. This time it was not the docile humanity, which was the source of
his fear. It was the People’s Court!

R. SIVARAJ

A LOAF OF BREAD

That day Rao Bahadur Ranganatha Bhupathi, the factory-proprietor was seething with anger
while going through his daily mail. All the letters he received during the past fifteen days infuriated him.
“It is all my fate”, uttering these words, he crumpled those letters and kept throwing them into the
dustbin.

Presently, Subbuthaiy (ammal), his wife handed him a cup of coffee. His face was burning with
anger. With great curiosity, Subbuthaiy (ammal) queried, “What is so special?”
 “What a great son have you begotten? A man who would bring misery to me!” responded
Bhupathi in exasperation and tried to get back to the letters.

After having waited for a few seconds more, Subbuthaiy left the scene. A particular letter had
drawn Bahadur’s attention the most, which read like this-

Sivamayam

Pugazhayanthipuram

6.5.1950

To Rao Bahadur Ranganatha Bhupathi, the recipient of the blessings of Goddess Lakshmi, this
letter is written by Varagunatha Pillai, your well-wisher and teacher of Sirankeevi Bharat Bhushan.

I write this letter with an exalted heart! I have been exerting myself repeatedly to write this letter
for the past four days. Then I thought it would be unwise to trouble you with a letter of my own amidst
all the immeasurable tasks you may have at your hand. But my heart would not remain silent, so I
ventured to write this!

You probably remember what I had told you when you appointed me as Bharat Bhushan’s tutor.
People were struck at the riches you possess! They would, speak in wondrous praise at Bharat Bhushan
for the blessings bestowed on him by Goddess Saraswati herself. He would become a genius! Didn’t I
tell you all this? I told you then that I was amazed at his intelligence. My prophecy cannot falter! Now,
looking at the heights of glory Bhushan has attained, I have been drowned in an Ocean of ecstasy!
Looking at the happy turn of events, I believe your heart would be filled with joy. One cannot reckon the
limits of happiness this would have brought to your companion, the protector of your household, Smt.
Subbuthaiy (ammal)!

“A mother’s joy is greater the moment she learns of her son to possess all virtues than the
moment of his birth itself” how valid these words of the Saint-Poet are even at this age! If I feel proud
and elated for the simple reason that I was Bharat Bhushan’s teacher, I cannot fathom the depth of your
happiness and level of fulfillment!

There isn’t a single scholar who has not hailed Bharat Bhushan for bringing out one of the
greatest literary works at such a young age. Genius! Modern Rendition of Kural! Revolutionart Writer!
Voltaire of the South! One who would found the Fourth Sangam! A masterful Orator! When people
praise Bharat Bhushan with words like these, my heart dances in delight! When I disclose I was his
teacher, they praise too!

Incomparable Ideological Magazine of the twentieth Century! This is how a daily describes his
work. This clarion call would wipe out the tears of the downtrodden and inspire them for a moral
crusade! This is what I heard a Propagandist proclaim. A writer describes his work as an epic which
distils the highest thoughts of the greatest thinkers of the world and yet set in the style and beauty of
modernity.
 Bharat Bhushan isn’t just a scholar who has a powerful intellect to write an epic of this immense
magnitude. The world of scholars pays him encomiums because of the fact that Bharat Bhushan has
experienced the sorrows of the poor even though he was himself born into a family of the rich. He has
shown in a clear and beautiful fashion, a way to the poor for a better life. Readers acclaim the simile he
had employed about the way a bear destroys a bee-hive and drinks the juice of honey and the way
exploiters drink the juice of labour of the poor and the oppressed!

When asked about his state, a poor with a body resembling a skeleton-shell replies, “I have
donated my flesh and blood to the wolves.” How many strands of concealed meaning in this statement!
Doesn’t it say that hunger and poverty would convert a man into a beast? Tears pour out when readers go
through lines like these!

People wonder how Bharat Bhushan, who resides on top of an Ivory tower, could thoroughly
probe and discover the heart of the poor and paint such an accurate picture. They also wonder how he
knew the painful pangs hunger on the poor and how it affects their lives.

“From history we learn how Buddha, who was born a Price, Yet discovered the pain and
suffering of the poor and became a “Gyani”, the wisest! In a similar fashion, Bharat Bhushan is a maker
of present day history!” This is how a nationalist of repute had spoken about Bhushan.

“Without the sweat of the poor, how did you extract the gold and diamond deposited in the
bosom of the earth and discover the pearls lying beneath the sea?”

“Show an object which has not been touched by the workmanship of the poor!”

“The poor would destroy you and your world if you do not bring peace and succor to their life. A
person seated on top of the elephant cannot think of harming it. The moment the elephant gets furious,
you will become a pulp at its feet!”

Even I wonder whether a quiet going lad like Bharat Bhushan could have written such fiery
verses! I wish God would bless Bharat Bhushan with a long life so that he could reach heights which
even the great poets of the Sangam age could not touch!

“A Loaf of Bread” is priced a fifteen rupees, which a man of my means can not buy to read and
enjoy. Nobody lends it too! As my well-wisher, you may kindly send me a “Loaf of Bread”. I have
ideas of composing verses complementing the rich talent of my former student Bharat Bhushan. I wrote
to Bharat Bhushan but he did not respond. No doubt, a researcher and scholar of his stature would not
have time for me, which is why I am writing to you. Please send me a “Loaf of Bread”.

Yours affectionately,

Tutor Varagunatha Pillai

As he finished reading the letter, Rao Bahadur heaved a heavy sigh and murmured, “There are
fools like him too in this world!” and opened another letter. It read thus —
Boothapandi

6.5.1950

Long Live the Revolution!

Factory-Proprietor Ranganatha, the money-obsessed ghost, who roams around with a

domineering head!

You have destroyed the lives of so many poor like mine! You cribbed when we said, “We toil
hard, but you reap the benefits”. You arrogantly dismissed the poor by comparing them with flies and
ants. When we predicted that the world was progressing fast and that the excesses of the capitalists would
be curbed, you ridiculed our claims as mere barking and empty howling. We cannot forget your high
handedness so easily.

Bharat Bhushan says a tiger wounded by gun shot would growl and rise in anger, but will
ultimately die! Read these lines!

A heartless person like you called us, “scoundrels!” Those who are born to rule are the ones who
have the potential to make and unmake the world! They have the incomparable wealth called “Labour”.
This is how “A Loaf of Bread” describes us. “A Loaf of Bread” isn’t just a book. It is an explosive
which would blast the “Castle of deceit” you have built and turn it into a dust bowl.

When I read Bharat Bhushan write, “The riches which the capitalists accumulate by squeezing the
lives of the poor lie in sacks in their castles. Sooner, these sacks of gold would change into explosives
and bring those castles crashing down into the earth!” A flush of blood current flows through my taut
veins. Even we cannot bring into the open your qualities of deception, intrigue and urge to possess
everything in the way Bharat Bhushan’s revolutionary piece “A Loaf of Bread” has brought them out.

With your mealy mouth, you have been attaching motives to our attack on you. You said our
diatribes against the rich are the result of jealousy. You gruesome person! Read through “Loaf of Bread”
written by Bharat Bhushan. Who after all is Bharat Bhusjhan? Your own son! Certainly your son isn’t
jealous of you? No! No! Never in the present, past or future! Bharat Bhushan is an idealist, protector of
the poor! Hence he launched a revolutionary daily! Blazed a new trail! You, the savior of currency!
Who respects you for the crores of rupees you posses? But the nation salutes Bharat Bhushan! The poor
worship the images of Bharat Bhushan. Each trade union office in the country has purchased “A Loaf of
Bread”.

It was an accident of birth which enabled Bharat Bhushan to expose the shenanigans in your life.
Realise that this accident was the result of our heart’s turbulence!

The one who was dismissed from your factory

Meganathan
 The anger of the factory-proprietor crossed all limits after going through this letter. What do you
do with such letters? It was just a letter. Had Meganathan been present in front of him, Rao Bahadur
would have scythed him. He crumpled the letters and threw it down. He placed his hands on his head,
walked a little and took the crumpled letter lying there. He tore it into little pieces and threw it into the
dustbin. He started writing a letter.

Aalaiyoor

7.5.1950

To Siranjeevi Bharat Bhushan. My blessings to you! I write this with a saddened heart. When
you desired to pursue higher studies, I was not for it. I wanted you to look after the family business and
preserve family pride. You dangled the possibility of acquiring a B.A and an M.A. You were the
pampered child and, therefore, both me and mother agreed.

What is it that you have done? Would you behave in such a fashion that our family pride is
spoiled? A Loaf of bread, Stale Rice, A Torn Cloth, could they be titles of books? Are you the one to
write like those dreary journalists who sing tunes to enhance their living? Aren’t these the journalists
who write that the rich spoil the poor? Should you use your learning for writing such crap? Was it for
this that you were born? All that you wrote in your book were demeaning of me. It instigates all those
wage earners against me. A rogue writes to me, “It is not a book. It is an explosive”. It is understandable
that an educated man should think of winning fame as a career journalist and gain name as an intellectual.
I too would like my son to win praise. “Mobilize the army of proletariat to subdue the arrogance of the
rich”. Is this purpose what is to be written? Am I going to gather all the money I have earned and carry it
beyond this life? Isn’t it all yours? Is it to channelize the anger of the masses against me that I had reared
you and given everything you wanted? Is it the meaning of education given to you? Traitor! My belly
burns at the thought of you! Is it to hear some worthless creatures proclaim you as a “revolutionary
writer” that you have turned traitor to your own father?

Pleasure-mongers and exploiters! Is that how you have reviled me? Who, after all, are you? Did
you carry a crowbar and an earth-remover and go to work on the fields? I had paid thousand rupees just
for the baby sitter who looked after you when you were a child. I paid thirty rupees a month for your
tuition. If you wanted to display your literary skills, why didn’t you write about Kamba Ramayanam,
Thiruvembavai or about the Saint Thayumanavar. Wouldn’t you gain fame by writing about them too?
T.K. Chidambaranatha Mudaliar has, at his weary old age after a thorough search, dug out lost Tamil
poems and published them to wide acclaim. Would you not still draw the right lessons from his example!
Did the world-renowned Sir Shanmugham Chettiar write about “A Pot with a Hole” or “Thatched
House?” He wrote about the greatness of “Silappadhikaram” and won praise for this feat alone! Why
didn’t you write a story like “Ponniyin Selvan.” A research work like “A Trident and an Arrow (Velum
Villum)? So many have attained renown by writing books such as these but you have brought your
father’s name ridicule by writing “A Loaf of Bread”. By ridiculing me, you have gained renown as a
scholar, just as someone who had doled out chapels made by killing cows! You idiot! What use it is to
win praise of vagabonds? Have lost your mind?
 It was out of regard for me that teachers awarded you good marks in successive exams. How
suddenly you have become a genius? You questioned wealth, didn’t you? You condemned me in your
books. What arrogance is it? Don’t come in sight of me. You would not get a paisa from my wealth.
Isn’t it an oppressor’s wealth? You have descended on earth to fight injustice; you are a moral crusader!
Why do you need the wealth of such a person? I am going to donate this wealth to Sudananda Bharathiar.
You can go on to write books such as A Sun Scorched Fish, A Burial Stone and become a revolutionary
warrior. You are not my son, fool!

Yours truly,

Rao Bahadur

Rao Bahadur felt a sense of satisfaction after finishing the letter. He put it into an envelope and wrote
Bharat Bhushan’s address. He summoned his servant and asked him to post the letter. Rao Bahadur
pushed all the other letters into the dustbin. Presently, another servant stood at the gate. Raising his
voice, Rao Bahadur asked, “Who is there?”

“It’s me Sir, Maruthai” come the reply.

“When did you come here?” Rao Bahadur asked him a little harshly.

“Junior Master had given this letter, Sir” Maruthai handed over an envelope. The envelope
contained this letter.

Highly Confidential

Singhapuram

6.5.1950

Dear Father,

It is Bharat penning this letter. I have been caught in deep trouble. I have a friend in college by
the name of Kadirvelu, who has written reams of papers under the title, “A Loaf of Bread”. But he was in
great financial crisis. He pledged the trunk box he had for ten rupees with me. This box contained “A
Loaf of Bread”. While I was going through the manuscript, another student arrived and glanced at the
writing. He was impressed by the write up. This student is the son of Bhuminatha Pillai, who owns
“Wartime Press”. I playfully told him that it was mine. My friend might have told his father about this.
Mr. Pillai wanted to bring out the book and immediately gave me a Cheque of thousand rupees. He
promised a 50 per cent share in profit also. Kadirvelu did not know all this. He was down with fever
before the book was published. The book has won huge praise and it has also been a commercial success.
My share would reach something like ten thousand rupees. In addition I have been invited to participate
in the World Writer’s Meet to be held at Paris at the expense of the organizers.
 In the meanwhile, Kadirvelu recovered. He picked up a fight with me. What could I do? If truth
comes out, it would be a huge embarrassment to me. I tried to persuade Kadirvelu, but in vain. At one
point I lost my cool, hit him and injured him severely. I arranged to chain Kadirvelu and imprison him.
But, I do not know how to proceed further. If it is discovered that the book was not written by me, it
wouldn’t just be shameful but would also affect my future adversely. I need to silence Kadirvelu, but he
has the crocodile’s grasp of things; he wouldn’t let things go as it is.

I spend ten rupees daily to keep him Imprisoned. So please start immediately for my place and
suggest a way out. Those disgruntled laborers in our farms and factory of yesteryears have complete
confidence in me now after reading “A Loaf of Bread”. They write letters of congratulations to me now.
When these laborers realize that “A Loaf of Bread” was written by Kadirvelu, not me, my situation would
really become very precarious. I have been thinking of many possible solutions, but nothing clear is in
sight. I think we would be able to resolve the matter with the help of your friend, Dr. Thamu. Kadirvelu
has this habit of talking at cross purposes. Because of this, teachers and students alike used to call him a
loose, a nut, a crack and a semi. If we could get the assistance of Dr. Thamu, we may even admit
Kadirvelu to a psychiatric ward. I do not really know which would be beneficial. I am really alarmed
and fearful which is the reason why I had sent this letter through our worker, Marhuthu without giving a
thought to the expenses involved. Please do start immediately. Today, I am being felicitated by the
“New Era Writers Association” and I expect you tomorrow. Please destroy this letter after reading it!

Yours affectionately,

Bharat Bhushan

Rao Bahadur’s face brightened like a flowering lotus! No sooner had he finished reading the letter of his
son, that he yelled in an ecstatic voice, “Subbuthai! Subbuthai! A pistol would only give birth to
Artillery.”

R. SIVARAJ

A loaf of bread, one of Anna's short stories has a good form. By writing letters to each other and mincing
dialogue in between the story moves. It was a parody of the high class people posing themselves as
fighters for the proletariat. A rich father who had sent his son for higher education was much upset when
he receive letters from unknown readers of his son's book A loaf of Bread. The book induces …..

THE HARVEST

Mr. Venugopalchari, an advocate was a riddle in the entire locality. Not easy to discern him! That does
not mean that his utterances would be confusing. From his words and deeds, none can easily judge his
mind and mould!…. None also could categorically say whether he was an eminent lawyer or a good-for-
nothing law graduate….! “Mr. Venu (shorter form of his name) is very brilliant! He is capable of
unearthing certain points….which cannot be so easily done by others” – this sort of encomiums were
freely showered upon him in the Bar Association. His clerk used to say, “It is my fate that I’ve to be a
clerk of Mr. Venugopalachari! Does any client come to him with a brief? Unless he gains popularity by
winning one case or other, would any alient come forward to entrust his brief?” - his clerk Mr.
Sundaramurthy used to lament often like this!

Upto 2-00 a.m. he used to go through some law books, to underline some important references and to take
down notes. All these are the important traits of an eminent lawyer. But when other advocates were
moving fast like angels from one court to another, followed by their clients who were like their ardent
devotees, Mr. Venugopalachari was leisurely explaining the difference of flavour between Ganesh Coffee
powder and Lotus Coffee powder. This he did to the proprietor of the canteen.

Really he was a riddle!

Whether the Advocate Mr. Venugopalachari was financially well off or in doldrums – that also happened
to be a riddle…. unknown to anyone!

“He has gone to his native village. It may take four days for him to return”, so said Mr. Sankaramurthy,
his clerk, to a client. Though in fact, the arrival of a client was a rarity in that office!

“To his native village! Why” – the client asked. The clerk rather indignantly replied, “Do you ask why?
…. Do you think that he is living on the briefs of the clients like you?…. Do you think that he doesn’t
own any agricultural land? He is a leading mirasdar of Aryanur village….owning vast stretches of fertile
lands!”…. That client had come to him for consulting Mr. Venugopalachariar with regard to dispute over
the usufructory mortgage on two acres of his land. Actually he wanted to approach a counsel who would
not fleece him. As he was told that Mr. Venugopalachari was a leading landlord, his reverence towards
him grew manifold. He thought that probably because of that he did not concentrate on his profession –
otherwise clients would have flocked around him like flees around a succulent jack fruit!

“What Mr. Venugopalachari, why have you camped here abandoning your work in the courts?” – so
asked Mr. Kandappan, a notorious court-bird – a terror of that locality.

Please hear the statement of Mr. Arumugam the Village Munsif of Aryanur:- “What is there in the courts,
after all? Promptly he takes his meal by 10-00 a.m., goes to the court by 11-00 a.m. and returns home in
the evening! Is he a leading lawyer like Mr. Alladi?…. No noteworthy income through profession….not
enough even for his refreshments!….. But he comes there…questions about the yield! The agricultural
produce is the only source of his income!…. Sumptuous fees can be earned by eminent lawyers…. Not
this gentleman! He is a good-for-nothing law graduate!” Thus heckled the Village Officer!

“Look! Even last month I explained everything to you in detail – I am looking after the problems and
disputes of others!….. So I don’t find time to look into my problems! I am shunting between my home
and the courts! I know you are an honest person wedded to truth. That was why I have rented my entire
lands to you!…. Be honest!…. Let both of us get benefitted!….. But, don’t be under the impression that I
am wholly depending upon the income derived from these lands. Even the money earned by me from my
clients, I bring here and spend it for purchasing oxen, fertilizers……even ploughshare!” – thus Mr.
Venugopalachari used to tell his tenant. His words were capable of earning the sympathy of one and all.

The extent of the land owned by Mr. Venugopalachari was really breath-taking …..60 acres! But the yield
was almost equal to the land tax paid by him! the cultivable land was round sixteen acres only!…. Others
were barren!

As per the records, he was having sixty acres – but the major portion was not cultivable! Thus everything
pertaining to him was a riddle!

***

If any one saw Mr. Venugopalachari reading the law books even after midnight, he would get the
impression that he was having a roaring practice! Even his wife, thought so for a very long time! When
she saw him consulting law books she was not only jubilant…..but also somewhat proud….because all
those books had been gifted to him by her father!

When at first Mr. Venugopal went to the house of Mr. Sundarachariar to meet him, he was astounded at
the collection of law books, …..so neatly arranged in his rack. He had some opportunity even to take
some of then in his absence and go through them.

When his mother told that Advocate Mr. Sundarachariar had a daughter ….and had no male issue, he first
didn’t consider it seriously! But as he saw those law books, he was elated with the thought that he could
inherit all of them….after the demise of Mr. Sundarachariar.

His wish fructified. Mrs. Echamma became his wife and she brought those books as her dowry. As soon
as their marriage took place, Mr. Sundarachariar breathed his last, ……even before his daughter was in
the family way! His wife Mrs. Thayarammal also settled staying with her daughter.

Because those books belonged to the family of her birth….Mrs. Echamma was highly proud….. But, as
days went on, she became disappointed and used to tell herself. “What is the use of his constantly reading
the law books? What is the use,…..since he doesn’t have any practice at all?”

But, not only the laymen, but also his colleagues used to pour encomiums upon him and his knowledge of
legal tenets and positions. In case of any doubt about any legal point, they used to consult and they even
praised him sky-high for that!

Mr. Venugopalachari’s legal knowledge was useful to the lawyers who were having practice!…. But, to
him…? The successful lawyer would in that evening pat on his shoulder and say “Look Venu! Thanks for
the point mooted out by you! As soon as I raised that point, the sub-judge was taken aback! I won the
case!” That was how Mr. Venugopalachari was having his career!

***
“Land to the tiller!” “Down with Absentee Landlorsdism!” – such slogans entered the ears of Mr.
Venugopalachari.

“Land to the tiller! Can to the driver! Pot and utensils to their maker! Colothe to the weaver! House to the
mason!” – thus Mr. Venugopalachari used to ridicule those slogans! His teasing words became a delicious
dish to the Bar Association, that day!

“He is of course ploughing the field and is paid by us by way of wages! Wer are offering our legal
assistance to our clients and they pay us fees! If we begin to say, ‘See! because of me, you have got the
bungalow and lands worth about some millions of rupees! Should it not be given to me?” then we would
be considered….even heckled as lunatics! But some persons are speaking so ……and they are extolled as
Social Reformers!” – thus Mr. Venugopalachari began to criticize pungeently those slogans.

That Mr. Venugopalachari was ridiculing the Movement, had a harrowing experience – he was highly
terrified!

Meeting some farmers of his village, he mockingly asked them, “Hope, you don’t shout any…… ‘Down
with’ slogan!”

One of them replied, “Are we an exception?…. The entire country is up against all those which deserve
to be demolished!”

“The entire country is up against” – these words created terror in his mind!

Mr. Venugopalachari could understand the entire situation that was prevailing then! He asked, “Did one
Mr. Ponnammbalam address any meeting here…?”

“Yes, Sir!” the aged man crisply answered and pointing to a person standing nearby, he said, “…This
man brought him to preside over a wedding!”

The advocate was able to gauge everything. Self – respect marriage had been performed there…..a sort of
whirlwind had entered!…. So, he thought it would be a futile effort to argue with them!

“Surely, the land will go to the tiller! Even now….in practice…. that is the position!…. I can claim to be
the owner of the land….heave a sigh of relief on seeing the patta book issued in my name! Actually, who
is in enjoyment of those lands!…. You or me?…. It means that the land belongs to you!” – the advocate
began to argue.

“Yes, Sir! True, it is ours…. Till we plough the field,…..remove the weeds and the produce is ripe for
harvest!” – thus answered a youth with a budding moustashe!

All standing around laughed aloud. Sarcastic was the look of that aged man in the crowd.

As Mr. Venugopalachari described these things in detail, the advocates who had purchased vast stretch of
fertile lands out of their income got in criminal cases became much scared!
Mr. Venugopalachari, a legal luminary again said, “Without knowing law, they are shouting slogans!
Indian Constituation has offered security to the owners of property! So, there is no need for being
scared….!” He even enacted some mock trials – all, the products of his fertile imagination – and won in
all those ‘trials’!

***

“Venu! Did you see ‘THE HINDU’ of today. I didn’t have time in the morning! The Nettiyur Mittadar
caused a criminal waste of my time!” – saying so, the criminal lawyer Mr. Kirthanachari kept Mr.
Venugopalachari engaged.

“What! Haven’t seen The Hindu? You should not fail to see that!” – this was the preface of Mr.
Venugopalachari. “Anything important in the editorial?” – one senior advocate asked. His reply was, “
No! A photograph is published! We have been breaking our heads without finding a solution for the
present problem of land holding! The photo indicates the solution! …. Our Rajaji is photographed as if
ploughing the field!”

“What if?” asked an inexperienced lawyer.

“Was it not intended for ‘produce more’ scheme?” – asked another junior.

“No! No! You are mistaken! Rather you’ve misconstrued the indication! The slogan is ‘Land to the
tiller!’ Why are you scared of it? You also begin ploughing! This is not an uphill task! This is the
message conveyed by Rajaji through this photograph!” – This was the explanation offered by Mr.
Venugopalachari.

Others dismissed his words as mere mockery! But he considered that as the philosophy of his life and
became an agriculturist! That does not mean that he permanently shifted his residence to the village. He
often used to visit the village – even used to plough the field – photographs of this also were taken. Then
he would stay in the village and say, “What harm is there in telling, ‘Land to the tiller?’ I am the tiller and
I’m owning this land” – thus he began to speak to his neighbours.

He began to address public meetings.

He made a study on agriculture and the various methods of improving the technique of agriculture and
increasing the agricultural produce.

The government constituted a committee for improving methods of agriculture. The committee was to
tour on different countries and to study the agricultural methods adopted there. Mr. Venugopalachari,
B.A.B.L became a member of the committee.

World tour for a term of two years…..the entire expenses would be borne by the government apart from
sumptuous amounts as allowance to him.
Since Mr. Venugopalachari got this opportunity, the Bar Association decided to felicitate him on a grand
scale! The function was held in the Town Hall. Huge crowd – a large number of advocates attended.

Hundreds of motor cars were parked outside the venue of the function. Judge Sabesan presided. The
dance performance of Miss Gulepakavali was the live-wire of the function.

The farmers of Aryanur were culling out the weeds in the fields, discussing the scheduled tour of Mr.
Venugopalachari for studying the advanced techniques adopted in a number of countries abroad.

Harvest! Harvest! Harvest!

Grand harvest!

The harvest that pleases

The mind of the pundit

Who is at the helm of affairs!

- This lyric was sung and the dance performance was enacted accordingly.

An artiste of music troupe hastily got down from a cycle rikshaw and proceeded to the venue of the
meeting. The rikshaw puller was not aware of the purpose of the function that was going on there. So, he
was simply baffled! So many costly cars of all makes – well-dressed ladies and gentlemen! A large-size
portrait depicting the act of ploughing using oxen was hanging on the wall of the venue.

He had seen oxen and ploughshare, near the huts and near the pool of wasted stuffs! The present scene
was really amazing to him.

There, he could secure a companion – “Annan” (Male elders are generally addressed so in Tamil) He was
the vendor of ground nuts, doing his business with the drivers of the vehicles parked there!

“Look, Anna! What is the meaning of all this hubbub?”

“Don’t call me ‘Anna’ here! The drivers won’t purchase ground nuts from me!”

“All right! What is this all about?”

“Do you know Mr. Venugopalachari? He is going abroad!”

“Abroad! What for?”

“To learn the modern techniques of agriculture!”

“Curious! For generations together we have been agriculturists!…. With hungry stomachs we have come
here to eke our livelihood…..”.

“Yes! You are pulling a rikshaw and I’m a vendor of ground nuts!….. Agriculture didn’t give us a
comfortable life! So we have come here!…. Even for a morsel of food we’ve to work hard! But to him,
agriculture has provided an opportunity for a world tour!…. He would earn tons of money, we’re told!”

“How?”

“The government gives money!”

“What for?”

“For the development of agriculture!”

“What brother! Is it not an atrocity…..an injustice? We, the traditional agriculturists, have become coolies
and we’re dying out of agony! Those leading a comfortable life in the town, are given this opportunity….
eventhough they know nothing about ploughing or baling out water!…. The government offers them
money! A curious justice!

The sound of applause in the Hall rent the air!

Drivers became alert and got ready to move their vehicles. The rikshaw –puller went aside!

Motor cars sped….one after another!

-M.S. Venkatachalam

NOT BRASS – SURELY GOLD!

“O, Muthu! My son!”

“Daddy! Why are you weeping, daddy?”

“Muthu! I’m a sinner! A rank criminal!”

“O, daddy! Please don’t weep! I won’t repeat this hereafter!…. I promise!”

“Muthu! Don’t torture me please!”

“O, daddy! We should desist from committing theft under any circumstance! We can toil…even beg! But
we should never steal!”

“Muthu! How can I bear this? What shall I say?…. I was forced to…. Daddy! I will surely mend my
ways!…… Won’t repeat such crimes! Please tell this to my sister, o, daddy!”

- It was a wonder that the police had permitted an interview between the father and son….for such a long
time! After all the policemen also had their own families and kids…..and they had some love and
affection in their hearts! So, they permitted the father and son to meet and exchange their feelings….after
the court had sentenced the son to undergo R.I. for six months….for the offence of theft.

He was care-free in the court during trial – not at all bothered about anything! Such a person began to
weep and wail as soon as he saw his father – even promised him….not to repeat the offence! This created
a sort of amazement in the minds of the policemen.

“When a son is convicted for the offence of theft, would not a father get shattered? Pity! That is why this
aged man is wailing so much!” – this was the comment made by those who happened to be near them at
that juncture.

The son told, “Daddy! Do your remember that my mother often used tell that I should be adorned with
bangles of gold! See, here, the hand-cuffs…..made of steel! This is what one is bound to get when he
commits the offence of theft!…. Not only that! The entire village would spit at the face of the culprit!….
The disgrace would haunt the mind throughout his life!”

The father fell down in front of his son, and wailed. His arms were about to reach the feet of his son! The
police intercepted, removed the old man from that spot and boarded his son on the police van. Before
getting into the van, he looked around – his father cried, mentioning the name “Muthu” very often. The
van went off from there!

***

Mr. Muthuswamy had a good physique though he had no education worth mentioning! Press work,
carpentry, masonry – so many fields he entered. Finding that none of his masters was prepared to show
love and affection….he didn’t permanently stick to any job. The brutal attitude of his masters towards
him created hatred in his mind. He felt that they did not treat him as a human being at all! Hence he
despised the entire world!

At the same time, people of his locality….had an aversion towards him. they had prohibited their sons
from mingling with this boy. The youth of his age were really reluctant to move with him. Even at that
juncture, the only soul that bestowed love and affection on him was his younger sister – the daughter of
his step-mother. The younger sister born of his mother was under the impression that he was the sole
cause for her remaining unmarried for so long a time! So, the eight year old sister alone was
compassionate towards him.
Muthuswamy’s father Mr. Appaswamy had the reputation of sticking to his job under one master, Mr.
Emperrumal Chettiar. He was known for his honesty and obedience….so he had been working in his
concern for the past thirty years and his remuneration multiplied fivefold!

It is also true that Mr. Appaswamy had to strive hard from dawn to dusk and so he didn’t have time to
shape his boy Muthu or mould his character! That was why Mrs. Valli – his second wife – the step-
mother of the boy, often complained against the boy to her husband. But her complaints fell on deaf ears
because he had neither the talent, nor the time to mend the boy and his ways!

“Do you know the atrocity committed by your son?” – Valli once approached her husband with such a
charge-sheet. But he retaliated, “See, I don’t find time to listen to your lecture! My master has ordered me
to purchase lime fruits. So, I have to rush to the Ilupur market” – saying so, he actually ran away from
the house. The father advised his son – even chastised him at time – but nothing could yield the needed
result!

Apart from this, the boy had often seen his father Mr. Appaswamy being ill-treated by his master Mr.
Emperumal who happened to be a comparatively young person. But, he did not give proper respect to
him…..even considering his advanced age! This caused a great irritation in the mind of the boy
Muthuswamy.

“You are a wild goose – a lazy ass!” – thus Mr. Appaswamy was once scolded by his master. The boy
Muthuswamy, was then just eight years of age. He hurled the same abuses on Mr. Emperumal and
behaved rather roughly. Unable to brook this, and at the same time by way of appeasing his master, Mr.
Appaswamy brutally beat the boy! The master did not interfere as the boy was brutally assaulted by his
father! “This is the way you have brought up your boy!…… Curious! Look! He would surely become a
wayward person….abhorred by all…even assaulted by many!” – this was virtually a curse that emanated
from the mouth of Mr. Emperumal.

No education – no permanent job – no regular income – none to guide him or fetter his hands. A number
of wild rumours were fast spreading against him. so none was astonished as he was charge-sheeted for
having stolen four gold bangles from the house of Emperumal Chettiar. Even before the trial was over,
his neighbours conducted their mock trial, convicted him and even sentenced him!

***

In the actual trial that took place, much against the expectations of the general public, the boy
Muthuswamy admitted the offence!

“Do you admit the offence?” the magistrate asked, when he stood in the dock!

“Yes, Sir! I do!”

“Why did you do so?”

“Why?” – the boy repeated the question rather jocularly and said, “Does this question convey any sense at
all?….. If this court asks me why there would be some meaning in it. The bangles were in his possession
– I needed them – so I stole them! If I had asked for them, he would not have given! So, …… I had to
…..yes, to commit the offence!”

On hearing this answer the entire court plunged into a peal of laughter! With his hung-down face, Mr.
Appaswamy, his father, was standing in a corner of the Court Hall.

Since it was the first offence of the boy Muthuswamy, the Magistrate wanted to show lenience. Hence a
sentence of six months R.I. was imposed upon him! The ‘convict’ gazed at his father and nodded his
head as if asking him not to shed tears!

***

True, the boy Muthuswamy used to frequently visit the house of Mr. Emperumal Chettiar – not for
serving under him – but to meet Miss Kuttiammal a teen-aged girl,….the daughter of Mr. Kattaiyan, the
gardener.

The boy was very much enamoured of her and her charm. Since she didn’t have any regular source of
income, his proposal for marriage was politely turned down by that girl!

Was it Platonic love! None knew. But the boy could not resist meeting her at least once or twice a
day…..!

That day also he went there simply to meet her!…. It was then somewhat dark….! Then he noticed
somebody stealthily entering the premise through the garden. He suddenly jumped to the terrace and as
there was no place to hide himself, he entered a room there. It happened to be the room of Mr.
Emperumal Chettiar. There also he heard the foot steps of the trespasser. The boy was taken aback….and
hid himself under the cot.

The trespasser entered the room. The boy was cock sure that he would be detected by the trespasser. So
he lay there….breathlessly like a log! The trespasser bolted the door of the room from inside….and
moved towards the iron chest with soft steps……without making any noise! Then he opened the
chest….took out four golden bangles from there and wrapped them in his lap!….. As he noticed the face
of the trespasser, he was rudely shocked! Then the trespasser locked the chest again and went off.

It took some minutes for the highly-baffled boy to recover from the shock! He then took a towel
inadvertently left there by the trespasser….and went out. The boy Muthu was sure that nobody noticed
him. Yet he did not immediately go out from there….! Thought a while…arrived at a decision and
forcibly threw a wooden chair on the ground! On hearing this noise a person shouted, “Who is there?”.
The boy understood that it was the voice of Mr. Emperumal!….. An inexplicable lustre on the face of the
boy!…. He ran here and there on the open terrace! “Thief! Thief!” Mr. Emperumal shouted. “Where?
Where?” – with these questions his servants rushed to that spot. They boy Muthu jumped from the terrace
into the garden. He began to run – the servants chased him. He often turned his face while running fast
and noticed whether they were following him!
There was hubbub in the street. Meanwhile police also arrived at the spot and they also chased him. If the
boy Muthu had chosen the short-cut way, he could have escaped from them. But,….he took only the main
route and ran in the highway. The police could clearly notice his identity.

Muthu straightway went to his house….got in and bolted the door from inside! On seeing him there, Mr.
Appaswamy, his father, began to tremble He pulled his father inside the adjacent room…. threw that
towel there in front of him! Then said, “Quick! The police are chasing me! …. Hear the noise of their
shoes!…. They are knocking at the door! Quick! Please give them!” Tears began to spring from the eyes
of the father – he pointed out at a bundle of rags and placed his palms on his head. Muthuswamy quickly
took those bangles, kept them in his lap and opened the door. Police pounced upon him! Without
exhibiting any pang or fear, he asked them, “Are you in search of me?…. All right…. Take me!” As soon
as he reached the Police Station he handed over those golden bangles to the police officer and gave a
detailed statement admitting his guilt!

“See, I’ve warned you on so many occasions….not to harbour your son…that good-for-nothing fellow!
Now he has brought you disgrace! What a shame!….. Boys of this type should be butchered like
anything! Better such boys die….instead of…..” – this was the angry outburst of Mr.Emperumal.

Mr. Appaswamy fell at his feet and pleaded, “Sir! Don’t curse him like that, please!” His master said, “Of
course, one should bestow one’s love and affection on his kids!…..But …..for that sake you should not
give room for such thieves!…. It is unbecoming of honest persons like you!” Mr. Appaswamy slapped on
his head!

Even when Mr. Appaswamy was highly furious against his wife Mrs. Valli, had he never treated her
roughly. But, when he returned home after the judgement was over in his son’s, case, Valli chided the boy
for having brought disgrace to the family. On hearing this he rudely beat her saying, “Don’t speak ill of
him!….What right have you got to find fault with him? Don’t utter any disparaging word against him!
…… I won’t permit!” - He spoke those words as if he was in a trance!…. Perhaps the shock caused by
the crime of the boy….had made him lose his mental balance! That was the guess of Mrs. Velli.

Mr. Appaswamy spoke to none…sat in a corner of the house and shed tears! At that time Mrs. Valli had
an important information to be conveyed to him. So, she went to him with a cup of coffee and consolingly
said, “Please, don’t weep, darling! It is all our bad time…. Those foul thoughts have entered the mind of
our boy, Muthu!…. But, don’t get frustrated!….. An end is fast approaching for all our miseries!…. He
would also mend his ways!”

Mr. Appaswamy did not taste the coffee!…. His mind was pre-occupied. So, Valli again said, “Do you
know one thing?…. Do you remember an old plate in our home?…. The salver used by my elder sister
(Mr. Appaswamy’s first wife – the mother of the boy Muthu) for making offerings!….. It is not made of
brass as we’ve been thinking - it is made of pure gold!”

He gazed at her. She brought it from a room , placed it in his front and said, “ This …..we’ve been
thinking….is made of brass!…. My elder brother came yesterday! He is working in a jewellery. He
assured me that it was pure gold…..Till now we have been considering it as brass!”
Even without touching the plate, he uttered in a feeble but moving voice, …. “Yes, Valli! ….. Pure gold!
What we’ve been considering as brass is not brass…..but pure gold!”

Mrs. Valli could not make out anything!

-M.S. Venkatachalam

HE - EVERYWHERE

“You mean the maize field! Only three fourth of an acre your father possesses …..! Doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Sir! It is true! We had three acres! ….. When my mother fell ill, the major portion went
out of our hands!”

“Your mother also passed away! Am I right?”

“Yes, Sir! Three years have elapsed since her death!….. From then on ….My father is not well!
He has lost his mental balance!”

“All right!..... But you demand thousands of rupees ….on this land ….which is less than an acre!”

“I assure you, Sir! I will toil hard, save money and surely repay your debt as soon as possible!”

“But …. I’ve got my own doubts! After marriage, you would beget children one after another!
The size of your family would increase — not your income! Then how would you repay the debt?”

“Excuse me, Sir! I’m told that according to the horoscope of my would-be wife would enrich our
family……”

“Oh! Has the astrologer made such predictions? …. Who? …. Our priest? It is up to you to
decide! ….When you ask for funds…. for the purpose of your wedding …. I should not harm your
feelings! …. My words should not portend any bleak future! …. All right! Come here after the New
Moon day …. I will give you the money …. But you should execute a proper deed…..”

“Should I bring Mr. Pandari, the scribe of your locality?”

Mr. Sokkan wanted to wed Miss Soranam, … By floating funds, at least by mortgaging his
landed property. An army man who had mobilized large funds…had cast his covetous eyes on this
girl!.... This made Mr. Sokkan to come to a stern decision quickly and act.

****************
 “My elder sister informed that our maternal uncle is scheduled to come soon from Madras!”

“Let his come! What if? Does Miss Sornam expect me to herald his arrival throughout the
village?”

- This sort of conversation took place between Mr. Sokkan and the younger brother of Miss
Sornam. His retaliation unmistably betrayed his ire!

The oxen tied to the ploughshare became the target of his anger. Apart from the act of ploughing,
they bore the pain caused by his goading rod! Though Mr. Sokkan answered as if he was not bothered
about his arrival…..he was surely scared of the news. Every time, those army personnel came on leave,
he used to dress himself with all sorts of modern materials! Last time he had brought a wrist watch — a
gold-coated one! A ring glittered in his finger! Costly cigarette as usual — naughty words!

“O, Sokkan! When seen from a distance, you look like a hay-stuffed doll….erected in the
field……..to scare the birds! I am not able to make out whether it is you or that doll!”

“Oh! Your vision is so much blurred! Why did not you approach an eye specialist? .... Are they
not available in the city?”

“Are you mocking at me? After all you are moving with oxen! No wonder, your approach is as
rude as those animals!”

“Enough of such filthy stuff! Those who roam around with stray dogs, pose themselves as if
belonging to a royal family! Be gone, you goose!” such frictions often used to take place between them.
But he would never prolong the bickering……because he was much scared of Mr. Sokkan’s physical
strength!

Once in a way, Mr. Sokkan would get the opportunity of taking Miss Sornam to the weekly
markets. On those occasions he would be highly delighted……. Even proud! ......Those who happened to
notice them, used to pass……various kinds of remarks. Many of those comments would enter their ears.

“The chap…. has her completely under his spell!”

“Parrot-like she is! ………This youth is a ruffian - a brute!”

“Perhaps he would have promised her …. to construct a posh bungalow and give it to her!”

“Look at that girl! Proudly makes her lofty steps …..as if walking along in the company of a
prince!”

Mr. Sokkan used to contain his fury on all those occasions! But he took a vow to lead a
comfortable life which would yield them the pride of place in the society!

*********
 After getting the needed funds Mr. Sokkan deputed a leading landlord of the village to the father
of Miss Sornam ….. conveying his intention … his proposal to wed that girl. But her father was not at all
amenable to the proposal! “After all he is having only a small stretch of dry land — that too … has now
been mortgaged! … Can he make both ends meet? I don’t think it is prudent to give my daughter in
marriage ….. to this man! Apart from this…. The army man wishes to marry her! ….. Is it not a better
poopoohed?” —this was the forthright answer of the girl’s father. When the emissary mentioned about
the army man’s illicit intimacy with some other girl, …. He proposed that and said, “May be!..... But
everything would become all right………as soon as he got married!” He almost but a full stop to the
proposal.

Meanwhile Mr. Sokkan’s father fled from that village … without informing anybody. Searching
for min, longing for his lady love — both occupied a major portion of his time. With the funds he
possessed, Mr. Sokkan purchased another piece of cultivable land. Unexpectedly a litigation arose on
that forcing him to spend a lot of money on it. So, everything - went out of his hands and he became a
labourer working for daily wages!

Mr. Yelagiri was the person who had advanced him a loan on his landed property. Mr. Sokkan
did the job of an attender in his house …. during leisure hours. He became mainly a farm servant under
him.

Mr. Yelagiri’s only daughter — young in age — was a widow. A polite lady … her name
“Kanimozhi”. Though she was frustrated at the cruel turn of events in her life, she decided to do some
social service and derive solace out of it! As a result she established a Nursing Home in which free
service was rendered. Dr. Kamala was appointed as the Chief Doctor……..and Mrs. Kanimozhi assisted
her after having undergone training in First Aid.

Sometimes he thought of soliciting the help of the doctor or Mrs. Kanimozhi….for wedding Miss
Sornam. But his self-respect would not permit such a step!

Mr. Sokkan joined the services of the Nursing Home. He willingly did so. During the leisure
hours, he developed a fascination in discussing so many things with the doctor. To him, that Nursing
Home became a school in which he understood the day-to-day affairs of the world.

Dr. Kamala’s husband was then serving in the Indian Air Force. So, whenever there was a
discussion about him ….Mr. Sokkan could learn a number of things about war - army- defence-
everybody’s duty to protect the homeland - and such matters. So, he began to evince a keen interest in
the defence services……! This interest culminated into a deep-rooted desire to join the army!

China which had been pretending so long to follow the path of Panch Sheel, suddenly intruded
into the Indian Territory. This news kindled the patriotic spirit of Mr. Sokkan and strengthened his desire
to join the defence services. The tears of Dr. Kamala and the smile of Mrs. Kanimoizhi were the
motivating forces for this decision.
 A telegram, Dr. Kamala read the contents and cried aloud slapping on her head….. and shedding
profuse tears! Her husband lost his life in the war!....This tragic news caused a sort of bewilderment in
his mind. He too shed tears!

o He sacrificed his life for the country

o A heroic death

o Immortal would be his name and fame!

o Entire nation eulogizes that hero!

Thus Mr. Sokkan thought again and again and his determination was strengthened. He wanted to
take leave of Mr. Yelagiri and so went to his house.

There, Mr. Yelagiri was shedding tears! Mrs. Kanimozhi stood in front of him and smilingly
said, “When there is an external threat to our country, persons like us should not shirk our
responsibilities!....Then what would be the fate of our motherland? Now a golden opportunity has come
to serve the nation. So, daddy, please don’t get disheartened! Gladly give me farewell! Nothing can be
more scared then nursing the soldiers wounded in the war front! Thus she movingly pleaded with her
father. This scene strengthened the will of Mr. Sokkan and he joined the defence service! Mr. Sokkan —
Dr. Kamala — Mrs. Kanimizhi — shch persons surged forth in large numbers and the Chinese for could
not resist their fierce onslaught! So, it began to retreat! War came to an end — Dr. Kamala and Mrs.
Kanimozhi returned home — but Mr. Sokkan continued to be in defence service.

As time went on, Pakistan made incursions into Kashmir. Mr. Sokkan was there in the frontline
of the defence!

Victory after victory, the Indian army could achieve to its credit. The news about successful
onward march of the Indian army …. Was published everyday in the dailies? Dr. Kamala and Mrs.
Kanimiozhi were highly delighted to think that Mr. Sokkan would be there in the onward-marching army
— in some battalion or other! They were even proud of him!.....They thought of joining the defence
services…..as they did on the previous occasion. When they were fast making arrangements for that, they
heard the heart-rending news that Mr. Sokkan had a heroic fall in the battle-field! Tears trickled down…
but they could lift their heads …out of pride!

“Mr. Sokkan of our village - a hero - a warrior - has sacrificed his life in the war!..... The
government has praised a real patriot and a selfless soul!” —thus the villagers began to speak high by of
him.

In one of the photographs taken in a function of the Nursing Home, Mr. Sokkan’s face could be
clearly deciphered. This piece was enlarged and the enlarged photo was displayed in a public place in the
village. Dr. Kamala, Mrs. Kanimozhi and also a number of villagers garlanded that portrait, and offered
their homage.
 On seeing that photograph, Miss Sornam, virtually became motionless like a statue! “I was to
wed him!....He is no more!.... I’m a widow hereafter”, she thought and wailed….stupefied.

The younger brother of Miss Sornam brought the dailies in which the photographs of Mr. Sokkan
were published and showed them to her. She saw them - shed tears! “My father told he was not a
suitable match to me! He is a warrior, who has sacrificed his life for the nation,” —thinking thus, her
heart was almost bleeding!

That army man (then an ex-serviceman who longed to marry Miss Sornam) was charged for the
offence of selling goods in black market by making use of the scarcity created by war. That person was
convicted and sentenced to undergo six months R.I. This news item also appeared in another column of
the journal - but Miss Sornam did not notice that!

She noticed the face of Mr. Sokkan ……wherever she looked!

M.S. VENKATACHALAM

VILLUPPURAM JUNCTION

“The train will reach Villuppuram within half an hour. Please get a cup of hot coffee that would
reduce the cough a little.”

“No .. Can’t be, the train is late already by half an hour. No, it will take more than that….”

“Either late or slow.. just it is moving, be happy about it”

“They say that they are going to run electric trains to all places. That would go faster.”

“Of course, for how many days has he been suffering from cough?”

“Days? My God! Say for three years it flinches on my life.”

“Too much phlegm?”

“Not a single blot.”

“Cough, fume after fume and dry”

“Even if it is treated, no use”

“She, Karpakam, my wife would say that now it is somewhat better, a stone hearted woman,
almost the Devil condemned upon my head!”
 “If disease haunts you, what can your wife do? Don’t get frustrated. Don’t you see her eyes brim
with tears?”

“I slapped on over my head, telling my dislike for city life, explaining that in would affect her
health too. Did she listen? When her son started for higher studies she rushed on, dragging me too along
with”

“For some people city life doesn’t suit. Even for me! , I had intermittent fever for four years… I
too went to city for my son’s studies.”

“By God’s grace, you don’t have any ailment.”

“It would be better if I have any kind of disease; It’s my daughter who is not feeling well”

“The same cough problem?”

“It would be better if it is a cough, for which good medicines are available. It can’t be diagnosed
at all. All the doctors are puzzled. It is sarcastic that my son is also a doctor; people praise him great and
he is earning much.”

“Can’t he explain what kind of a disease it is?”

“He explains in detail well and good…. But the disease doesn’t go.”

“Stomach pain?”

“Pain through out whole body; like stung by a scorpion… shatters shivering…. For ten
minutes…. then she faints for one hour.”

“For how many days, like this?”

“For four years.”

“For four years! Can’t you get a good doctor in that big city to cure it?”

“All doctors say that it not at all a disease. My son also speaks in doctor’s language…. Mind in
the reason, the disease lies only in the mind not in the body. He says.”

“What a wonder!”

“Say how unfair. If nerves get strengthened there upon, mind would become strong. If mind gets
stronger then fainting would go automatically. All say only this!”

“So is it a kind of hysteria…. Like fits?”

 “My son is also saying like. For how many days could we listen on it? So, without telling him, I
went to my village which is near Tiruchy, on the road to Thuraiyur. A family has been living there for
three generations. You would have heard! A person named Thirisoolam Pillai…. This kind of pain and
fantasy disappears by power of mantras. He performs chanting for forty days lashing viboothi over the
person. I myself know that many got cured. I am going to bring him along to the city. It is the purpose.

“Who believes in sorcery, exorcism and wrist-coir, now a days?”

“For the same reason I have avoided telling my son, and started coming. Being a doctor how will
he accept all these beliefs?

“Anyhow and by grace, the child should get cured!.”

“Blessings from great persons are available. I have strong belief and faith in the mantric strength
of Thirisoolam Pillai. Though we could say that time changes topsy-turvy, can we forget these things all
on a sudden?”

“I too have heard about sorcery. Relating to his matter, he has a three storied building”.

“He has bought thirty of forty acres of fertile field last year. He cured many people, I know. Can
we say this to my doctor son?” I didn’t tell to him. He will know it himself after recovery.

“How wonderful the medical studies may seem now-a-days; still there is a cure by herbal and
mantric treatment also.

“Yes, yes! So to say, more than three hundred persons come daily seeking the address of
Thirisoolam Pillai. Indeed he is lucky. He observes silent fasting! Fasting on all Fridays; and at every
night he gets the vision of Mahamayi(Sakthi). Now-a-days, nobody believes it. One should meet him in
person. Then only it would be known. He is about sixty, but never fallen sick…Usually he takes bath in
the river by six o’clock in the cold water. Never did he have a fever…”

“Then ... Why you alone are going without bringing your daughter?”

“If I get her with me, won’t my son enquire me like where and what for you go? So I started
telling him that I have to go to village on a land matter. Thirisoolam Pillai is well known to me and I will
request him to come to City along with me, explaining the situation.”

“If he is not here?”

“His son will be there. He is also practicing mantric treatment.”

The conversation stopped. The wife of the person suffering from cough got down to buy coffee.
And the one who was journeying to meet the magic healer for his daughter’s sake got down from the train
to have some air.
 At that time a train coming from Trichy stopped on the opposite platform. Passengers from both
the trains rushed to the coffee bar. On seeing them he was tempted to have cup of coffee. He went in and
bought a cup. While pouring it on the vessel to cool, he a saw a young man standing nearby. He reached
him and the young man was so happy to meet him. Their happiness got tinted with wonder.

“Ah, what a wonder! It is like meeting the God in person for whom we started to worship in
temple; to meet you here.”

“Just ten minutes ago I have talked about you. Before it you come in person. Where are you
going?”

“To the City. Just to meet you seeking your help..”

“I am always indebted to help your family. What is the urgent need?”

“Not only urgent, but I say it is also dangerous. At once on reaching Madras I have to admit him
in General hospital. Your doctor don’s help is much needed in this matter. My father has heart disease.”

“Who? Thirisoolam Pillai? Heart disease?”

“Yes, fell fainted!”

“Fainting will cease by uttering mantras….won’t it?”

“Magic healing can cure the spell of ghost, imps and evil sprits, but it is a heart disease that
affects my father”

“Your father would have cured a thousand and eight patients”

“There is no mistake in speaking to you candidly, those treatments will not be accepted now-a-
days. People, those who believe in the art of magic healing alone would get benefited.”

“Don’t you have belief?”

“Once I had! Last year, when your son came to our house and father explained his complaint.
Faint, as we said, it is work done by evil sprits …but the doctor said that it is a kind of disease. At the
time father got slightly swooned. After examination, it was found that it is a disease relating to heart.”

“You started just because of my son’s saying?”

“We have come to the conclusion that magic, mantric — all these things will take effect only
until we believe it to be. We tired all possible means practiced by father. But everything went futile. At
last we started our journey to Madras. He is now in the first class compartment. Please come and meet so
that he would become a little stronger!”
 Thirisoolam Pillai was lying down with fear in the first class compartment. After saying some
consoling words to be bold, Somasundaram had scribbled a letter to his son to help him admit at General
Hospital .., and then he stepped into his compartment..

RAMA GURUNATHAN

"RAJAPART" RANGADURAI

“Is it the way to print a poster? go and ask the manager of the printing press. Do they print posters? Does
he assume that this is a useless company thriving on borrowed scenes? I’ve already reiterated several
times that this is not a company minding expenses! Is it right to print the word ‘Rajapart’ in the size of a
mustard seed? Go, this poster is not needed. Ask him to print in big letters the words Rajapart Rangadurai
Bhagavathar (after thinking for a while!). Hay! It is not ‘Rajapart’ alone, put as, ‘Rajapart Raga Alabana
Rangadurai Bhagavathar’. With so much of enthusiasm so said, Gurumurthy the owner of the Drama
Company and called ‘Muruga Muruga’ after sending off, Gate Kandasamy to call out the manager of the
company and lay on the pillow. Due to this impact the silver plate nearby tilted, spreading the scented
arcanut powder on the carpet.He decided to direct the servant to clean it and started pondering on an
important matter.

The fame and name of the company; its income; the praises published in the newspapers, and the photos
are not only in the form of mere letters, but in the forms of silver plate, velvet cushion, and iron safe!
Actors alone numbered one hundred, the menials, extra actors would count for fifty persons. The guests
would be fifty in number. So in toto at 1:00 p.m. the group sitting for the lunch would be a bliss to
Gurumurthy. He used to invite any two local VIPs to have a look at this!

In Gurumurthy’s perception there are not even four good actors! The past time of paltry income was
insufficient to pay the rent of the thatched drama theatre and the expenses of printing the bit notice. Still
down the memory lane he recapitulates the times of training specially and engaging some dancers of
‘Koothu’. During the time between the vanishing of the name ‘Koothadi Gurumurthy’ and the emergence
of the title ‘Gurumurthy’, as the owner of Bharathmatha Drama Company, he faced plenty of trials and
tribulation. When he recollected them, his face glistened with the sign of success.

The manager arrived with a bundle of ‘Raves’ betel leaf.

“How much was yesterday’s collection?”

“Yesterday it was somewhat low, light drizzling.”

“How much amount Mr.?”

“Seven hundred and sixty!”

“Only so much?”

When he queried, “only so much?” he giggled! Since, those were the days when he thought that even the
collection of ‘sixty’ rupees as ‘luck’. Out of all the matters, he discussed with the manager of the
company, the most important is about the photo of Rangadurai. The manager rushed and brought the
elegantly framed photo and placed before Gurumurthy who directed him to hang the photo of Durai near
the picture of Lakshmi painted by Ravi Verma. The manager hung the photo in between the pictures of
Lakshmi and Saraswathi. Above all the pictures, there was a larger photo of the owner of the company,
Gurumurthy. Gurumurthy being delighted by looking the pictures in turn told the manager, “Hay, see the
beauty of Durai’s face, it’s wonderful; this is called the ‘beauty of Lakshmi’ and applauded. Subsequently
the manager continuously recalled the glistening eyes of Durai, his mellifluous tone, the musical wisdom,
skill in acting lauded by the public. He ended by saying, “accidently if Rangadurai has gone to the street
of vendors in a motor there’ll be a massive crowd running and yelling, “See there comes Rajapart
Rangadurai Bhagavathar!”

“Yes! now our Durai’s name has become so popular! How will it happen otherwise? Six thousand
‘double royal’ ten ‘single royal, seven thousand six royal, ten single royal, seven thousand ‘six royal’;
thus his fame got publicized every nook and corner of the town! Posters are pasted everywhere. All this
advertisement is for Rangadurari only! If the public of the town extol him as ‘Rajapart Rangadurai
Bhagavathar’ what is there to be wondered?” Thus Gurumurthy rendered his explanation. He had no
anger or jealousy towards Rangadurai! But his mind was like the tilled land by many, so that such a seed
if sown, will certainly sprout to give manifold yield.

“Rangadurai’s mind is pure, like his tone!”

“That’s why he comes up – also we are unmindful of money, and toil for the growth of his fame and
name!”

“As you sow so you reap!”

“Yes. It is the way of the virtuous ones. Are there not some who betray even those who fed them?

“But our Rangu’s temperament is not so. He has abundant love for you. Even yesterday, when the Editor
of the journal Natakam enquired Rangadurai, “Who is your teacher? How many years you are in this field
of drama? In what drama, you acted first? You see our Rangu’s broadmindedness.” He said, “My teacher
is Kalakesari Gurumurthiar – It’s only because of his compassion, blessing and help I’ve involved myself
in the profession of acting”.

“Our Rangu is a good fellow! Virtuous mind and Character! Since he has earned me the title ‘Kalakesari’
my love for him is abundant. Alas! why should we spoil his desire? Hereafter, make use of title,
‘Kalakesari Gurumurthy’ in posters, hand bills and advertisement, which’ll satisfy Rangu.”
After this conversation, Gurumurthy’s face blossomed in delight, due to the growing income and gave
new commands with compassion to look after Rangu and retired to bed.

“Give him ‘badam’ mixed milk, ten rupees for his daily expenses, stich and provide him two pillows,
publish his photo in ten thousand issues of art board and sell in the theatre each at the rate of two annas.
Let Rangu’s fame spread!”

In the company at that time Kandaleela drama fetched huge income! Rajapart Rangadurai Bhagavathar
was Lord Muruga! Other actors acted in other roles! Their names should not be published. That sort of
trend was not in vogue!

Rangu’s joy was double than that of Gurumurthy. Rangu’s joy, the good name he earned in the profession
of drama, fame and the influence, all proved to be the fountain of honey to the young mind of Rangu. His
mind was moved by the love, and concern shown by Gurumurthi. A special attachment developed in the
mind of Rangu, since Gurumurthy showed much concern to him to the extent of provoking the jealousy
of other actors. Gurumurthy rejoiced in making Rangu a ‘Bhagavathar’, a ‘Rajapart’ and a ‘Raha
Alapanar’. Rangu was happy by promoting Gurumurthy into a ‘Kalakesari’. The acting of Ranga
Bhagavathar as ‘Rajapart’ and ‘alabana’ was wonderful. His tone’s felicity, and mastery of music were
matched only with the ‘Navayuga Kalakesari’ Gurumurthy’s perfect method of aptly selecting and
promoting the actors. In the speeches and writings of the fans, who gained the duo’s friendship and
benefits that truth was often disclosed. Such fans were few in number.

Such persons used to say, “It is the fortune of Rangadurai to gain your support. So now he has become
Rajapart and Bhagavathar. Had you not shown such affection to Rangu,his tone would have become so
coarse and uncared that he would have been singing “Rama Nanuprovara’ in some ‘mutt of Bajan’. The
benefit of his horoscope alone has earned your kindness”.

It was the time of penury for Gurumurthy who struggled with sixty rupees collection. The company
suffered without the patronage of good actors – this will be forgotten – only the double royal, single royal
and the cost of the advertisement to Rangadurai would be ever in his memory. He would say with pride,
“Let him go! poor fellow! Even when there is expense for us, let him come forward – it is enough; even if
he gratefully recollects or forgets with audacity let us do what we have to do.” When some people sowing
the poisonous seeds timely, by saying,” if he becomes proud, then you infer that he is finished. If there is
no help, from you, there is no Rajapart or Ragaalabana! Then his plight will be one of instability!”,
Gurumurthy’s smile would signify an approval of it!

Just like that the same persons would go to Rangadurai and say, “You may not know about the past – the
people would never venture out through the street where there is a theatre! At night, up to eleven o’clock
the Band music would be played! Tickets won’t be sold out even for thirty or forty rupees! All times,
there would be scarcity for food in the company. There was no actor – no dress in, and only after your
entry, the collection for Gurumurthy could raise seven hundred and thousand rupees. Your voice resulted
in his wealth.” Rangadurai would say, “His love for Art is so much! He should have been managing this
company for more than twenty years.” Those who sow the poisonous seed would tell, “Though it ran for
twenty years, good persons would never enter into that company: there was no actor to sing two seasoned
songs. The story of ‘Madurai Veeran’ and the ‘Comedy of Madasamy’ would be enacted. It lay uncared;
only after your entry ,there were ‘Kandaleela and Kadambari’; ‘double royal and cinema slide’; ‘cup and
shield’; ‘garland and respect’ and ‘value and money’. Now the people would talk, “Don’t underestimate
our Company! If Alabana Rangadurai Bhagavathar is in the Company means ,one could perceive the
status of it. Jasmine flower will not blossom from Crotens.”

“What does he say is only true. How will Jasmine blossom from crotens?” Rangadurai used to argue,
“Had we been entangled in a useless company under an ignorant owner, how would have our skills in
acting and singing developed so much?” Those who had the habit of cultivating the ‘poisonous weed’
said, “Comparison could be made any way for anything. Is it over if it is said? Would Jasmine blossom
from Crotens? Is there not pearl in a snail? Is there not a red lotus in the marshy land? Like that we can
make a comparison that there is one Ranga Bhagavathar with Gurumurthy.” Then there will be a smile in
Rangadurai’s face! That smile would express that his skills in music and acting developed to the extent of
bringing profit and laurels to the company.

The true state was that there was a wide gap between their thoughts and those of the people sowing the
poisonous seeds. What is important is not the question, between the two, who is responsible for each
one’s progress? or who came up with whose support?

That was like a bubble on the water. The collaboration between Gurumurthy and Rangadurai only
resulted in the development of the art of drama in the country. It is meant that the benefit of this
combination only went to the realm of art. In fact the benefit of this joint venture was more to the field of
dramatic art than to them. To those people who spent their money and felt only an irritation in their eyes
and ears to see a good actor, to listen to a good song, and to witness seasoned plays, the collaboration of
Gurumurthy and Rangu was a much needed support to the field of art.

To the extent of concealing this truth, the talk about double royal, single royal posters and the talk about
the sudden rise in the collection from sixty to thousand rupees, grew louder. One party said, “Only
because of the Company, Rangadurai became a Bhagavathar.” Another party expressed, “Only because of
Rangu the company developed.” Gurumurthy and Rangadurai became victims to these talks of rivalry
unknowingly.

When Rangu went to the village on leave, wrote a letter to Gurumurthy. “Mother has not yet recovered
from illness. How is the Company’s collection? I fear whether the collection will go down. Let me come
soon. After I come let’s start ‘Kandaleela’ and conduct it for a month to compensate any loss incurred
now.”

“Even though ten years have elapsed, other actors don’t have even one hundredth of Gurumurthy’s
concern for the company. Even while he has gone to look after his ailing mother, he has the worry about
the company alone. Even there, he worries about the state of our company. He worries about the
collection. He suggests to conduct ‘Kandaleela’. He promises through a letter to come soon. Only by such
virtuous persons, companies can prosper.”

Rangu thought that Gurumurthy would have spoken as stated above with pride and joy and would have
sent a tonic bottle and oranges to him. Before that, it was the usual habit of Gurumurthy. But that letter
came during the time of the sprouting of the ‘poisonous weed’. So the result was negative.
“See the audacity of this Lord? Since he is not here, he think that the collection has gone down! How does
he write such a letter of ridicule?” He writes, Don’t worry! We’ll conduct ‘Kandaleela’ when I come back
there! Then we can compensate the loss. He thinks as if without him the company won’t exist and there is
none to support me! Making him Bhagavathar and then Rajapart transforming the ‘abaswaram’ who did
not know even the difference between ‘thodi’ and ‘thalam’ into a ‘raga alabanar’ only made Rangu to
ridicule us indirectly.” Thus speaking so insolently, Gurumurthy called the Manager and directed to stop
‘Nallathangal’ from the next day and after declaring two days of leave to start ‘Kandaleela’ with posters.
Not knowing that he said this as the consequence of Rangadurai’s letter, the manager interrogated, “It
would take another two days for Rangadurai to come, then how is it possible to conduct ‘Kandaleela’?
Gurumurthy retorted, “Hay! You are an absolute fool! Does the day dawn only after the cock’s clarion
call? If Rangan doesn’t turn out; if Rangan doesn’t come ,‘Won’t Kandaleela’ run ? or couldn’t run ? or
didn’t run? Is Rangadurai the company? Don’t your eyes catch hold of Somu, Murugan, Thamu or valli?
Yes, put double royal and print the colour poster with the matter as ‘Sugasaareera Sambanna Somu’.”
Thus ordered Gurumurthy. Simultaneously, such an advertisement came out, when the doctor in the
village also diagnosed the illness of Rangadurai’s mother as Tuberculosis. Rangan’s mind was wounded.
“Though toiled so much with utmost love for his owner, at last Gurumurthy only betrays and says that
Rangan is not needed and the company would run with Somu. How ungrateful is the owner? How many
have told me that the company was not so popular before my arrival. Ignoring such people who instigated
and incensed so, I believed and toiled that only an experienced person like Gurumurthy alone can run a
successful company – Is it the reward for this!” So regretted Rangadurai.

“First cultivation is over; harvest is over; here after, we should sow the poisonous seeds for the second
cultivation.” Thus the ‘farmers of poisonous weed’ pondered. They were involved in it fully. So the weed
prospered.

Those who were experts seeking the essence of fine arts would enquire Gurumurthy, “Bhagavathar is not
seen acting, why?”

Gurumurthy, used to remain silent as if he is unaware of its meaning and said, “Oh! you mean Rangan? I
struggled to know who is referred to by the term ‘Bhagavathar’, ‘Bhagavathar’!” Then he would
influence the Manager to speak further. The Manager would come out with details spontaneously like a
falls.!

“Is it Ranga Bhagavathar! His status has gone up sir. Hereafter he won’t come to the company to act –
only the company has to go to his village! Ungrateful fellow sir! I have been advising the owner for a
long time not to promote him, since it would be a danger! But he didn’t pay heed to my premonition. If
there is ‘Kandaleela’ he only is the Murugan – if there is ‘Ramaleela’ ,he is Raman – if there is
‘Ramadoss’ he alone is Nawab! If there is ‘Pavalakkodi’ he is Arjunan. Thus he gave him chance after
chance – Now he has gone and sit on the top of the temple’s tower.” But Gurumurthy would retort as if he
was least bothered about him. “On the top of the temple’s tower, even a monkey would climb. Leave it!”.
“In our Company so many a Rangu came – Somu came and gone”. Thus the people would say. However
between Rangan and the Company the accounts were not settled! Rangadurai also didn’t go to any other
company not even to a ‘special’!
The company did not stop! Rangu was also not hungry! The absence of Rangu in the Company began to
give him a type of peace!

Gurumurthy had to prove that the presence or absence of Rangu in no way would affect the company. The
first thought was to expel Somu or Thamu and fill the gap by advertisement. After a serious thought about
its consequence, he left that plan and introduced bewitching scenes, new costumes, colour lights – turning
scenes in ‘Thasavatharam’ so that anybody can act any character. Thus he strengthened and promoted the
face value of the Company. One day Somu would act as ‘Mahavishnu’. Another day he may act as
‘Duvarabalagan’. One day Thamu would become ‘Krishna’. Another day he may act, the role of
‘Rukmani’. Kandan is so suitable for the character of ‘Kamsan’. Kandan does not know how to speak. So
let him silently lisp. ‘Sokkan’ would speak for him through the ‘mike’. With such arrangements
‘Dasavatharam’ was conducted. Gurumurthy proved that the Company could run without Rangadurai!
Rangadurai could only prove that he could sustain himself without being a part of the company. He could
not join any other company. No other company had the condition he would like – no new company could
be started by him – he did not have the potentialities for it; necessity also didn’t arise. At this juncture,
Gurumurthy started the ‘Kalatsebam’ about the past of Rangadurai. Many skilled background musicians
also joined him in this task.

The Company ran its profession in Katpadi. The collection was somewhat meagre. But the company was
not there just for the collection. During that time Gurumurthy one day went for a strolling. (The complete
meaning for his strolling was that he went to meet the Groceries’ merchant and requested him not to come
and took over the company for the debt to be paid to him.) While walking so, in Neethinathan Temple,
there Rangu was singing. His voice was mellifluous – when Gurumurthy conversed with him, he found
that Rangu’s heart is also pure. He said, “Brother, why are you here with such a sweet voice? In this
temple of Neethinathan, only rats would wander! People won’t come in large number. Why do you
remain here – come to our company.” Rangu argued, “I love music, I want to serve the realm of art. That
I could do from here!” “Fool! Status differs according to the places. If you are in this temple your voice
would become suitable in a few days to sing only ‘Durbar raga’. This is not a place congenial to you.
Come to our company. Rangan went with him. With folded hands, keeping mum, used to handover the
mug when Gurumurthy took a bath – when his owner retired to bed ,Rangu would massage his hands and
legs – when started to take his lunch he would take his owner’s footwear and umbrella – thus being
humble and simple he became the ‘Bhagavathar’ and then the ‘Rajapart’. After attaining such a
significant position he assumed that the company ran only because of him! Gurumurthy with his knuckle,
hit on his head and made him sit in a corner and said, “Hay fool! see, without you the company goes on
very well! Our company’s method is so, it’s foundation is so strong – whoever is here or not here, the
company will go on forever. Thus Gurumurthy proved himself.” Some used to support Gurumurthy and
said, “Rangadurai does not venture out because of shame and sorrow!” Meanwhile new actors would
appear suddenly and disappear faster than that.

“I am not capable of performing ‘thala’ perfectly,” one day, so ridiculed Rangan. “When I acted as
Balaraman, Rangu took the part of Krishnan – I took it as an apt chance and gave him a fitting verbal
slight not found in the text!”
“He entered into this company anticipating absolute supremacy!” Others in the Company talked so! But
Rangadurai did not move from his village. His mother did not also recover. His voice did not reverberate
outside – there were no posters or any advertisement to highlight him as ‘Ragaalabanar’ or ‘Rajapart’.

“He was pushed into darkness – some people unaware of his true character, opined so jubilantly.

Rangadurai pondered, “now only I have freedom to move freely, come to know of the world and attaining
peace and riches.” Company was running as Rangan’s time also was running. Some planned not to allow
this ‘candle state’, and so proceeded to show the ‘flame’ to it.

“Have you heard of this matter? Fortune graced Rangaduai. He sang and presented a Gramophone record
for a fee of thousand rupees.” So,some people conveyed to Gurumurthi. Would it not provoke his anger?
Some virtuous persons aspired to show the integrity of Rangu to Gurumurthy said, “Even in a record,
Rangadurai had eulogised your fame only.” They expected him to be at peace with Rangu. The cultivators
of ‘the poisonus seeds’ said, “What else he could sing of? If only he sang about you, he could get a
chance.”

They turned it in to a ‘flame’ and propagated, “Rangan went to sing and release records to amass money.
Even he was presented a golden plate!” A rumour monger said, “Seven diamonds were studded on this
plate”, as if he knew the weight, price and all the matters about the plate.

“Golden plate! studded with diamonds! This chap, would have certainly turned in to an arrogant fellow,”
so thought Gurumurthy.

“All happened because of you,” incited him a few others. “We had to expose this,” provoked the same
people.

Those who did not achieve even a single victory, castigated Rangadurai, “How did you earn this status?
Was it not because of Gurumurthy? You had forgotten him – you had gone out of the company.”

“The plate presented was only a silver one! Gold coated! Rangu sang through Gramophone, thinking that
he could render at least a part of his service to Art as he did earlier through the company. Even that was
considered by his opponents as an act of betrayal.

The company was running well – Rangadurai began to wander in his own world. “Rangadurai, nowadays,
is found only in the garden,” started one person. “Perhaps, he enjoys the scent of the flower,” ridiculed
another. “There is one girl named Maragatham...,” so started one, his mischief.

“Why do you conceal it? He is joyously living together with that girl – so tell,” said another, thereby
completing it. But in the castle, Maragatham used to play with Mannarsamy, showering the flowers on
him!

Rangadurai would spend his time in the research about ‘raga’ or in giving directions to the gramophone
company about the enhancement of art.
“Look at there! There goes Rajapart Rangadurai,” said so, somebody in the street. Another said, tell as
Rangan! Rajapart is a bygone past!”. Rangadurai used to listen to it. But the same person would tell
Rangadurai, “Others had to beg ‘raga’ from Rangu – There was nobody other than Ranga to take up the
role of Rajapart – Only because of Rangu’s ragaalabana, the company itself is running – had Rangadurai
been in some other company, by now he would have been the chief of all the musical experts – After
praising so, the person would suddenly become cautious of ‘genuine love’ and a smile would outwit his
previous sigh.

Rajapart Rangadurai Bhagavathar’s attitude took a turn after the impact of his owner’s way of treating
him. He began to think that acting in the company itself would cause only mental worry and unnecessary
burden. It didn’t stop with that. “If Rangadurai was not there could the company run by itself?” Such a
talk would only provoke, a retort like the following “Was he not in the company, was it not possible for
Rangu to come out?” Such a response was not in the form of a talk rather it was in the form of his action.

Some people defamed Rangu that he came out of the Company after attaining fame and wealth. The same
persons also raised the doubt, “as how was it that such a famous person who had enjoyed all the status
and facilities of the company became such a poor fellow! He had no address and status.”

Those who cursed him so couldn’t construe the truth, “Why he had come out sacrificing all his prospects
in the Company?” They never anlalysed that. That thought didn’t pervade their minds.

“Rajapart Rangadurai was expected to do great things when he came out with a decision to run his life.
But now he only became a fellow of nothingness. Mad fellow. We pity him in one way,” said some
persons.

“He was hatching a plot,” said others.

“Even if Rangadurai indulges in sabotaging, Gurumurthy cannot be affected by it,” said some other
persons.

“Even if he would be silent, we won’t be so,” said others. But Rangadurai, in his village was managing a
betel arcanut shop. There was no board indicating that the shop was “Rajapart Rangadurai Bhagavathar
Betel-arcanut Shop.” But, it was so!

Through the betel arcanut shop, neither there was ‘double royal’ or ‘single royal’ advertisement for him,
nor was there any experiment by him with the ragas of ‘Karakarapriya’ or ‘Punnagavarali’. He only
calculated the account of profit and loss and that showed that the business was moderate.

Gurumurthy also assessed the state of the company – that was also correct.

“Gurumurthy was a much talented person. He prepared one Rangadurai Bhagavathar for the role of
Rajapart. How wonderful was it? There was a misunderstanding! Somehow it was a loss to the company.
He is looking for a fitting person. If one comes in an auspicious time, then he could transform another
Rangan into a Bhagavathar – he could do,” expressed so, who witnessed his drama. Yes it is only possible
for him, to make many a Rangadurai into Bhagavathars. But Somu and Thamu used to have the anguish
as why they were not made ‘Bhagavathars’?

But what could Gurumurthy do? We could extract butter only from buttermilk, but not from scented
water, Likewise, only Rangan could be made a Bhagavathar but Somu could not be made so! Gurumurthy
alone knew it, but not Somu. Rangadurai Bhagavathar – as usual became a simple Rangan. Many used to
ask him, “Why Ranga! when you have such a musical tone why are you so dull. Without shinning join
any Company to earn a famous name.

Again they asked, “Rangu! why do you allow your talent to go to rust? You were Rajapart. Now you have
betel leaf nut shop! If you sing a ‘thodi’ sorrow will vanish! When you sing ‘Kavadi Sinthu’ even a
‘Vaishnavite’ would think to convert into a ‘Saivite’! Spoiling all your potentialities, you are now
enquiring others whether you need Scissors or Wills; Asoka arcanut powder, or scented arcanut powder,
by running a betel leaf shop. Is it right?” asked some persons.

“Okay, the matter is big. I don’t have time to explain all! Shall I mix soda with ice or is plain soda
enough?”

Asking so, Rangan was sitting in the shop. In the betel shop, there was a photo of Rangan in the role of
Murugan. But there was no photo of Rangadurai Bhagavathar in the company. Somu was thinking about
the picture to be placed in the company. But the Manager hung the picture of Vinayagar.

There was not at all any loss according to the analysis of Gurumurthy. There was no loss for Rangan too.
But the middlemen rejoiced that they have turned Rangabagavathar into a betel shop owner. Rangan on
the other hand thought, what was wrong in running a betel shop.

“I toiled in the company. So I rose in position. I showed respect and love to the owner of my company; so
he patronized me; felicitated me. Even now I behave in the same way in my shop. So in the Bazaar street,
four people call me a good person. According to the required method I conduct my business. I protect the
betel leaves from being withered and the nut from being spoiled. When soda is asked I enquire whether to
mix it with ice and provide – I look after the shop so carefully – there is no difficulty or grief in this! Even
if I run the shop or act in a drama, or do any work, a good person, skilled and industrious always will
become unique in any work entrusted to him – this is nature! Justice! jealousy, irritation, and riot will not
alter it! In the drama company I was Rajapart; now in this bazaar street I am appointed the secretary of
the betel shop owners association,” said Rangan.

Rangadurai ‘s plight has drastically changed – He termed it as solace. Those who have seen the change in
his status ridiculed, “See! How is his fate! Rajapart runs the betel shop!”.

But no one thought of the fact that though Rangan had lost the status of Rajapart, and Gurumurthy’s
company had lost Rangan, it was not a loss either to Rangan or to Gurumurthy, but certainly an
irreparable loss to the realm of the art of Drama. Only a very few aesthetic minded persons felt this loss.
When they met Rangan they did not argue anything and when they met Gurumurthy they did not talk
anything.
Whether the collaboration between Gurumurthy and Rangadurai was a profit or a loss to the company,
was not the crux of the problem. For the realm of Art, such a collaboration was an inevitable necessity! It
was spoiled by some reasons. Those few persons felt sorry for such a loss to the field of dramatic art. But
those were very few in number. On any one day, when an actor faltered in his musical note while singing,
the eyes of Gurumurthy would be filled with tears. When somebody told Rangadurai, “Yesterday I went
to Gurumurthy’s drama company! But that drama was not at all delightful since you were not there.”
Then Rangadurai’s eyes would be filled with tears.

Perhaps, the last benefit of their collaboration was their tears only!

(Journal of Dravida Nadu, dated 6th June 1948).

- S.P. Benjamin Elango

THE POWER OF MONEY

At the verandah of this house, Brahmanayagam took rest slantingly in the chair. He was
ruminating about something for a longtime. He was known in his circle as defaulter. Parvatham, his wife
came there with a cup of coffee. She asked her husband “why are your face withered? Any worry?” She
begins with the conversation as usual.

“Yes Parvatham! I am very much confused. I find no way to solve the problem.” He replied.
Again she asked, what else problem are you facing?”

“I am very foolish. I shouldn’t have told to you! You are illiterate! I am much perplexed.
Without knowing my difficulties, you hurt me. By this time you are playful.”

“Yes! I know you are learned, studied in a college and got degree. Your background of college
career that I know, summersault many times to get a degree that I know! Now come to the point!

The labourers working in our mill demand for hike. They threaten to go on strike if their demand
was not considered. If it fulfilled there would be no way but to close the mill. It makes me worry.

Neigh! Last year you told that if you join the congress party there would not be any fear and can
solve the problem easily. Saying so you joined the party. It is very strange that you are afraid of the
labourer’s agitation and became a coward. By this time, the sound of somebody’s feet was heard from
the downstairs.
 Yes! Yes! Shut up your mouth! Anyone would hear what you are talking. He put an end to the
dialogue between them.

Mummy! Mummy! The voice came from the downstairs. “Well! Daughter Komalam had come
from the schoold. I shall go and prepare coffee for her” saying so Parvatammal came down hurriedly.

*********

Brahmanayagam was the richest man in the locality. He owned a big spinning mill. Parvatham, the name
of the mill was well known to the people of the vicinity. It fetched huge profit on that year. The
labourers demanded enhanced wages and bonus too. But his plan was to run the mill without giving
higher wages. He was thinking various means to evade from the threat of the labourers. When he mulled
over this idea, his wife now and then came there and added fuel to the fire his stress.

Knowing pretty well that her father was in the upstairs, Komalam, his daughter after drinking half
tumbler of coffee, came running to upstairs and hugged her father.

“Daddy! Congress leader is to visit our school next week. If so he would stay here in our house.
Is it?

“Why?”

“You are the president of the Congress- so he would stay here!”

“Yes!”

“You were scolding the Congress party on those days.”

“No! Who said so?”

“My school mate, Somu.”

“He is fool. He would tell such things.”

“Daddy! He, a son of a black shirt party man, tells so many things about you. He says that you
joined the congress party only last year. This is the only way to deceive all. He also says that you don’t
give wages for labourers properly. He further says that you are a leech sucking the blood of the poor.
That boy says that you are having bagful of money. Komalam, though she is clever, cute and frisky. He
said everything to her as told by his play mate Somu. It gave mental agony to her father.

He tried to send her out and asked to go and play. But she was adamant and wanted to play there
itself. Parvatham’s frightened voice made her escape from the scene. When the dreadful voice of her
mother was capable of threatening, Brahmanayakam, what could be done by the tender little girl! The
girl playing outside came again to upstairs. Expressing his anger, Brahmanayakam, asked her what made
her come to his place.
“You Saturn! Go and play. You trouble me a lot”. The way in which she talk repelled him.

“O Dad! I didn’t come on my own purpose, the secretary of Congress committee Kannippan has
come to see you. He wants to meet you.”

“Ask him to come to upstairs.”

“Komalam came down quickly! Kanniappan gone up to upstairs.”

“Vandematharam!”

Brahmanayagam mockingly comments on the word “Vande ematharam”.

“You are so much frustrated, it seems. I never see that you get angry on me like this. Please tell
me.”

“You gave me a word, if I join the Congress I shall turn up the mountain topsy-turvy and scan the
sky, thread sand and the entire world would come under my control.”

“Sorry! You stood against Congress Party for the post of Municipal Ward Election? Is it?”

“Guard your tongue!”

“You joined the Congress and became a member of the General Council of the party, and
Parliament member too!”

“For that should I spend own money?”

“OK! You obtain the post only after joining the Congress Party. Won’t it within a year of
joining the party you have become a member of Parliament. Don’t forget.”

“All right! Let things be as it is! What makes you to come to over here? Tactfully
Brahmanayagam turned up his subject on some matter.”

“Forgetting the purpose of my coming, I play on words. Our Congress leader writes a letter
informing that he would visit our town. Election is at hand. We have to speed up tour programmes,
public meeting.”

“Yes! For that?”

“Under your headship, I have to arrange a public meeting.”

“He is like that! Your leader speaks in every town that he would not permit rich to enter into
Party till his last breath. The mass would mock at if I presided over meeting.”
 I am sure you are inexperienced in politics till now. We have to speak like that. Think as if you
are addressing the public. Whatelse you speak now onwards, we have to make arrangements for the
coming election. Then only we achieve what we like. Conversations are changing now. The rights of
voters are increasing. We cannot spend large amount of money for election. People become watchful.
The Congress Party seems to be dilapidated. You are the candidate for next election. The poor
Kannappan will always be a volunteer holding party flag. Without uproaring voice. He would shout
slogans with pain in the stomach. ‘I am telling all this to you.”

“All right! Don’t bother about it. If your leader comes, please tell him for my sake. It would be
better to threaten the labourers. Insist him that this was created by communists. Please receive Rs.200/-
from my cashier on showing this chit. Do what is needful! Take my vehicle for that purpose. Let us
make some arrangements for his stay here. He spoke nonstop. Kannappan has grinned his teeth.

While Parvatham has come to upstairs, Kannappan left the place. Brahmanayagam said, “You
see the power of money. The leader can use our cars. The expense for the meeting would be ours and
comfortable bed at our house. I have to arrange all things for the leader who is to come and stay here. I
have to preside over the meeting and the leader whom I preside is a man challenging by telling not to
enter riches into party. But he is going to talk vehemently about our mill workers who lead strike.
Saying is for others, and not for you. So is the case of this episode.”

Brahmanayagam laughs saying so to his wife. Whatelse would he do? Without knowing the
things his wife merely blinked. We too are like that. Not because we don’t understand but because we
are able to understand clearly which makes our eyes wide.

A.S. IILANGOVAN
‘Chevvazhai” is an example of how Anna dealt with the exploitation of a landowner. The toil Sengodan
had put in for growing the banana tree was less than one hundredth of what he did to his landlord’s paddy
field. But the landlord enjoys the fruits of all his labour as he is the owner of the field. Sengodan fumes
at this state of affairs in the feudalistic society, and longs for a time when all land will be owned only by
the tiller. Here Anna expresses his ideas through Sengodan’s thought. The disappointment of Sengodan
and the grief of his child are excellently brought out.

In ‘Rajadi Raja’, Maari, a dalit, snatches a bit of coconut from a street dog for which offence he is treated
like a criminal by the temple priest. For his crime of having trodden into the Brahmins’ quarters he is
severely beaten by the village head. Mari’s plea for mercy goes unheeded. He says, ‘They have not
beaten my body, they have wounded my thinking and feeling’. Anna put a high stress on individual
morality, without which no society will be able to develop. There are a good number of stories stressing
this point. Individual depravity leads to social degeneration. Some stories point out how poverty leads an
individual to crime. The financial system of the society is organized in such a way to favour the few
while depriving the majority of livelihood.

In ‘Thazhumbu’ (The Scar), a worker in penalized for pointing out to the hotelier that a lizard has fallen
into a food item, which, he feels, will harm the customers. Maakali in this story is shown to protest
against social injustice. His concern for his fellow beings makes him a fighter. There are stories which
advocate equal treatment and justice for the haves and have-nots alike.

Vagabond is another short story of Anna, proving his non committal satire hinting at the heartlessness of
the rich. It just pictures, with no explicit comments of the author, how the rich men bully an employee
and branding him as Vagabond just because of his changing places with heartless employers. Anna ends
the story showing us actually the rich are running like vagabonds with the lure for money.

Anna's short story 'The tainted cloth' depicts the cruelty of casteism and the silent submission of the
slavery minded people. By suspicion, Anthonysamy a faithful adi-dravida servant of a Brahmin landlord
was tied up to a tree. The accusation was,on the death of the boss Subramania Iyer's mother; the sari she
wore was missing. Iyer suspects the faithful servant and got him tied up with a rope to a tree. Finally it
was the washer man took the sari for washing. The in depth portrayal of the accuser and the accused
exhibits the power of higher caste in a non committal manner .Anna's picturisation of bonded labour was
well portrayed to say it in his own words; ' Iyer treated Anthonysamy like a Ford car that never consumed
more petrol, by using mere words he could steer the poor chap in whatever direction he desired!'

Sarasa in the short story ‘Bama Vijayam’ ( the Visit of Bama) has been portrayed as a revolutionary
woman, who raises her voice against superstition and conducts the marriage of her widow friend. She
refuses to get married to a widower who already has a concubine. Many are the stories in which Anna
depicts the evils of young women given in marriage to old men. Sonachalam, kumasthavin penn(he
Clerk’s Daughter) and Valli Tirumanam (the wedding of Valli)are notable among stories which oppose
the dowry system. In one of his stories, a father has to resort steal money for his daughter’s dowry. In all
such stories he is, after all, following the principles of the Dravidian Movement which was spear-heading
a campaign safeguard the rights of women.
. Three of his short stories remain different; paying much attention to the form of short story. Three or
more minor characters were used in weaving the story structure in a very casual down to earth way.The
first one is 'One storied house' depicts the jealousy born out of one person building a one storied house.
Different characters like a mason, relatives and neighbours react with envy just for a person was capable
to construct a one storied house. Anna portrays the lower middle class mentality of his time; the meanness
of people affected by jealousy find fault with a person building an one storied house..

The Wooden log, a beautiful short story which can be compared to the international standard has a hero;
that is a wooden log. It was kept in a house for no purpose, undergoing many criticisms; each one requires
it to throw it away. But the house owner Dharmalingam ,had a soft corner for it. He kept it on for some
purpose.

After a proper repair was done to the weakened wall, the prop was found unnecessary. So it was removed
to its own place. Slowly the time passed on.The wooden log became a prey to termites. They entered into
it, began eating it inside, destroying the quality and the strength the wooden log once had.A person who
came to visit Dharmalingam saw the wooden log in that stage pushed it to see its strength..

In 'Villupuram Junction' Anna ironically points out how blind beliefs rule the people as one patient
travels with a patient for a magical treatment from one Thirisoolam pillai who offers holy ash for
ailments. The fun was the same Thirisoolam Pillai who ails all diseases with ash goes to Madras to get
admitted in General Hospital for treatment

Another short story 'Who will preside' Anna uses the technique of dialogue. With no other descriptions of
the author, Devi the main Goddess converse with Karuppanna Swamy the demy-god . The short story
offers a silent punch over the idiocy of the people who worship a worthless god who could not solve any
of their problem.

The power of Money , one of Anna's stories exposes the double role played by the rich men. The hero
Brahmanayagam , spinning mill owner who did not respond to the humble request of the labourers
entertains a Congress leader and let him use his cars.. Giving all comforts possible to the leader he laughs
within himself for he is the who challenges for not letting rich men into party and he is going to talk
against mill workers .Anna ends sarcastically ' Saying is for others, and not for you. So is the case of this
episode.'

Rajapart Rangadurai a short story by Anna depicts the plight of the Artist under the oppressive hands of
the money. First he, just Rangadurai an ordinary man was boosted up as the greatest actor of the Stage by
Gurumurthy a drama company owner just for the uplift of his company. Rangadurai's growing popularity
taints his mind and he throws away Rangadurai out of the company. But Rangadurai was not a person to
be collapsed. He opens a betel shop, never minding of any fall saying 'Even if I run the shop or act in a
drama, or do any work, a good person, skilled and industrious always will become unique in any work
entrusted to him – this is nature! Justice! jealousy, irritation, and riot will not alter it! In the drama
company I was Rajapart; now in this bazaar street I am appointed the secretary of the betel shop owners
association,”