Story Time!!

For the benefit of the world, I post a very nice story I read recently. It was originally written in Tamil by 'Kalki' R. Krishnamurthy, in 1937. This is a translation by Gowri Ramnarayan (1). It is really beautiful...


The Letter - 'Kalki' R. Krishnamurthy (1937)



Annapurani Devi, the founder-princiapal of the well-known Devi Vidyalaya, was taking her customary evening walk in the big garden around the school. From a bungalow across the road came the strains of the nadaswaram, stirring forgotten memories. The shadow of a momentary disturbance clouded her serene face, like a huge wave that rises above the quite sea to crash upon a rock on the shore, only to recede as swiftly, so that the calmness is restored. The wave's passage left a little water in the hollows of the rock. Tears stood in Annapurani's eyes.

The school's vice-principal Savitri, MA, LT advanced towards her on the garden path. Annapurani Devi wiped her tears and welcomed her with a smile. The women sat down on a cement slab under the neem tree close by.

A perfect description of Annapurani would say that her hair had greyed through long years of service to women's welfare. The thick waves of silver above her forehead recalled white clouds resting in rows upon mountain peaks. Though her hair had turned white, it seemed impossible that she was over fifty. Had she discovered the secret of eternal youth? Silver crowned, tranquil of face and dressed always in pure white, Annapurani seemed to be the goddess saraswati incarnate.

The events of Annapurani's life were well-known. The cruel fate of widowhood was hers at nine, before she reached the age of discretion. But her misfortune became a blessing to other unfortunate women. She went to school, worked to educate herself, and managed to take the BA LT degree. From then on, she devoted her whole life to the service of women who had orphaned , widowed in childhood, or spurned by their spouses.

Her body, soul and material wealth were dedicated to Devi Vidyalaya , established to fulfill those goals.

Vice-principal Savitri was a young unmarried woman of twenty-five. Immediately after passing her MA, LT examinations, she had accepted the job for purely financial considerations. But association with Annapurani Devi had transformed her. She began to wonder if she too should dedicate her life to the service of women.

Sitting down on the cement slab, Savitri said," Amma, I had a real problem today with poetry. When we came to the line "love makes the world go round", Padma asked me what kind of love is the poet talking about? She is a very naughty girl...there!you can hear them laughing"!

In another part of the garden, the girls were playing throwball. Their tinkling laughter wafted in with the gentle south wind.

"How did you answer Padma's question?" Annaourani asked.

" I struggled to find an answer. It is obvious that the poet refers to the love between a man and a woman. But how can I explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain such matters to young girls. I still remember how flustered my lecturer in Queen Mary's College became when she had to deal with this verse. Here we have young widows and girls thrown out of their homes by their husbands.How can I talk to them about romantic love?"

Savitri halted in mid-speech. Recalling that Annapurani herself had been a child-widow, she was afraid she had been tactless.

She tried to smooth things over by adding hastily " But Amma, honestly, all these things seem to be a kind of madness. Isn't love just an illusion? the useless daydreams of idle poets.....?"

'Illusion, is it? Very well. I shall write and convey your views to Dr Srinivasan.'

Annapurani referred to Savitri's impending marriage to Dr.Srinivasan. Laughing to hide her confusion,Savitri said, "Who knows? At the moment it seems very real. But who can say how things will turn out after a couple of years? Never mind that, Amma. This poet says that all good actions in the world are motivated by love. How can that be right? Let us take the example of our Devi Vidyalaya, which is now twenty-five years old. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, there is no one who is not full of praise for this institution, and for your selfless service. In this case, how can the poet's statement be true?"

'Savitri! I don't know if the poet's words are applicable to all the good deeds done all over the world. But if you think my labours have been of some significance, the poet's words are absolutely true. Love has been the inspiring source of all my efforts."

'Who can deny that? Your love for the destitue and the downtrodden is well known...'

'I don't mean that kind of love. I mean the kind the poet talks about- the love between a man and a woman. If I have done any service, it sprang entirely from that love...'

'Ayyo! What do you mean, Amma? Tell me all about it!' said Savitri, her voice trembling with excitement.

Annapurani said, 'There! Do you hear the nadaswaram from the wedding ceremony? The piper is playing the ragam Nattaikurinji so mellifluously! Listening to it I was lost in the past, long before I saw you. Tears filled my eyes as they never had before. Many years ago, Sembonnarkoil Ramaswami played the same raga at a wedding. Those days he was the star nadaswaram player...'

'Do you still remember those details? Amma, I heard you were married in very early childhood.'

''I am not talking about my wedding. They got me married when I was six years old. At nine, I became a widow. Those events have not left a trace in my memory. Such early widowhood has its own advantages. Ah, you laugh! But it is true enough. If those events had taken place two or three years later, I would have been scarred for life, as usually happens. Because I was such a little child, they left me untouched.'

Annapurani paused, immersed in her thoughts for a while. Then she continued her story:

'I was referring to my cousin Ambujam's wedding. I was 16 when she got married. She was two years younger than me. Ambujam was deeply attached to me. I lived in my aunt's house from the day I became a widow. Everyone there loved me dearly and pitied me for my misfortune. My word was the law in their household. When Ambujam's marriage was fixed, all the arrangements were made according to my will. It was I who hose the veshti (dhoti) for the bridegroom, the nadaswaram troupe for the function, and decided on the sweets to be served at the feast.

'The night before the wedding, the bridegroom was formally "invited" to the function and the engagement ceremony was performed. I stood in the hall with the women. I noticed that the gem-studded jewel in the bride's plait was about to fall off. I went up to her and fastened it. When I raised my head, I saw that a young man sitting next to the bridegroom had been staring at me. For a moment, my whole body quivered. My head swam. I was afraid I was going to faint. By the grace of God, that didn't happen.

I yearned to see his face again. I had not even dreamed that I could feel such a desire. I tried to control my thoughts. I clenched my teeth, but to no avail. At last, when I did glance in his direction, he had at that very instant turned his face away from me. I did not sleep that night.

'Ambujam's wedding went off very well. Though, I continued to be engaged in my tasks, my mind had begun to wander in a world of its own. Whatever doubts I had were dispelled on the wedding day. His glances were certainly not accidental. they were deliberate. I too became aware of my own state of mind. Some magnetic power drew me to him... There! Do you see the full moon rising in the sky?'

The question made Savitri look up.

'I had seen the full moon many, many times before that day, but I never saw such beauty in it as on Ambujam's wedding day. Nor had I been so entranced by the sweet sounds of the nadaswaram. The fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine had not given me so much pleasure until then. Unknown longings rose in my heart. Why can't I comb my hair and wear flowers as all other girls do? Why can't I use kumkum? Or sandal paste?

'On the third day of the wedding, I took Ambujam to where her in-laws were staying. Plaiting Ambujam's hair, the sister-in-law asked the "crucial" questions about the number of jewels the bride had, and how many more were to be made for her! My mind was not on any of this. Snatches of the conversation from the neighbouring room came to my years. I listened attentively. The voice which spoke seemed to be "his". How pleasant it was! How appealing! He was talking about the plight of child-widows. He quoted from many savants who had condemned such brutal customs. He referred to several books by name. I remember his saying " read Madhavayya's tale of Muthuminakshi!" At that point one of the others declared, "My dear bot, your eloquence is most convincing. Why don't you yourself marry Annapurani?"

"Idiots! Fools! All of you! Might as well bang my head against a stone wall than to talk to you!" I then heard someone get up and leave the room. It must have been "him".

'In those two or three days I gathered all the information I could about him from conversations of his family members. He stood first in the BA examination at Madras Presidency. He was much sought-after in marriage, with people ready to offer even 5000 bucks in dowry. Had I really become the object of such a person's affection? I could not believe my good fortune.

'The bridegroom's mother became unwell on the fourth day of the wedding. To enquire after her, I walked up to the place where the bridegroom's party was lodged. I kept hoping to find "him" there by some chance. I had barely crossed the threshold when I saw him pacing up and down the hall alone. He came towards me and asked "Whom do you want?"As i stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to reply, he swiftly placed a letter in my hand, and folded my fingers over it so that it would remain unseen. Then he turned and slowly walked away.
' I began to shake like a leaf in a storm. And yet I picked up enough courage to place the letter, very carefully, next to my heart. Then I went in.
'I was hardly myself when I spoke to the bridegroom's mother. She looked long and hard at me. "You came here to enquire about my health, but what's wrong with you? You look sick." I said I had a headache and returned home.

I went straight to my room at the back and lay down on the mat. Pleading ill health, I stayed there sobbing my heart out in the dark. After that I never saw him- never saw him who looked like a god and took my heart away...'

'Ayyo! Why amma? Whatever did he write in the letter?"

'In the letter he poured out his love for me. He was ready to make any sacrifice for me, to meet every opposition from the world. But he did not want to force me in any way. If I loved him, and had the courage to face the world's derision, I was to hold a jasmine flower in my hand either during the nalangu ceremony that evening, or at the marriage procession later. Once I gave him the sign he would make all the necessary arrangements....'

'Then why did you lie there crying your heart out amma? didn't you do as he said?'

' No I didn't. Moreover since I had hidden myself away, he must have concluded that I did not acre for him, that he wounded my feelings. and the four days' dream of my life came to an end...'

'But amma, why didnt you follow his instructions? I don't understand.'

'savitri, even today I am ashamed to tell you the reason. i did not read the letter that day. I read it only after a whole year had passed. BUt during that time I held it many times in my hand and wept over it. So that, finally, when I did read it, more than half of it had been wiped out by my tears.'

'Amma. What are you saying? At that time didn't you...

'yes, savitri! It was the shame and grief I felt on the day he gave me the letter that impelled me to study further to get the BA, LT degree , and to render whatever service I could to womankind. On the day he touched my hand and put the letter into it, I did not know how to read!'

The tears which rolled down from savitri's eyes shone like pearls in the moonlight.

Was the piper merely playing the ragam Kedaragowlai? Or was he pouring out all the sorrows of the world's great epics through his pipe?

xxxx THE END xxxx


Bibliography

1) Kalki- Selected Stories. Ramnarayan Gowri. New Delhi: Penguin Books India (1999)



Also watch this video, after or before or while reading the story.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5sEZjsNazg