Breaking free, p.21
Breaking Free, page 21
He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then muttered, ‘We have to walk another four miles. I don’t think we’ll find a cart or carriage at this hour.’
Suddenly they heard voices: ‘I see someone over there. It must be the girl.’
Quickly, she pulled Singaram close and took cover behind a bush. After waiting for the furore to die down, she removed the silver anklets on her feet and the gold waistband strung with tiny bells, and tied them in the free end of her sari. ‘Come, let’s go now,’ she told him.
The sounds that followed them were full of menace.
‘Come, let’s go inside that stone well,’ he whispered to her.
Together they entered a cavernous passage guarded by two stone lions. As he sat on the flight of steps inside, she sat on his lap with his hand supporting her.
Meanwhile, after a thorough search of the surroundings, their pursuers decided to leave. ‘It looks like they didn’t come this way. They must be hiding somewhere in the coconut grove. Let’s go and find them.’
Singaram seemed lost in some reverie.
‘Where do these steps lead?’ Kasturi asked.
‘There’s water below. There will be moonlight too. Come, I’ll show you,’ he said. He took her hand again and led the way.
At the base of the stairs, they could see water in the well. A piece of the moon seemed to have fallen on it. The soft light created an unearthly ambience. It seemed to her that all the perversities, inhibitions, impediments and insults inflicted on her had lost their meaning and sunk to the bottom of the well. This was a paradise in which only Singaram and Kasturi existed. Having sensed the same thing, Singaram was overcome by emotion. It was evident from his hot breath. He was a shy man; it was a trait his birth had instilled in him. She knew that he would not take the initiative to move closer to her—his inhibition had erected a fence around the desire that raged inside. She stroked his neck gently. When her hands reached out and embraced him, he was vanquished. He bent and pressed his lips against hers. As if they had been waiting only for this touch, their two bodies became passionately intertwined. His manhood seemed to have come alive. She was not a courtesan today, but a slave to him. They were lost in a dream where the water, moon and solitude were performing a song together. She had not realized until now that sexual union could be a source of such magical ecstasy.
When they returned to the street, Singaram had become his former self again. He said with his head bowed, ‘It’s best that you forget what happened today.’
‘That’s difficult,’ she said lightly. ‘I can only forget what my heart doesn’t like.’
She could not put the incident at the Simmakkinaru out of her mind. Raja Rajendra Chola, who had conquered Bengal, had filled the well with water brought all the way from the Ganga. It was a well that offered redemption for one’s sins. Her body tingled as if she had been cleansed.
Suddenly she came back to her senses. She had to quell Raja’s anger. Of late, he had been venting his ire on her. She imagined that he was in some trouble with the Collector. When he told her that the Collector Durai had been fuming ever since she escaped from him, she dared to argue with Raja for the first time.
‘When Arumugam told me that you would come to the Collector’s bungalow, I believed him and went there. Why didn’t you come?’
‘I could not. I had a headache suddenly. You can ask the physician. Why, what happened because I couldn’t come?’
As Kasturi had described the incident, Raja listened with evident lack of interest. She was shocked when he blithely said, ‘He is a big man. If you were pleasant to him, it wouldn’t mean the end of the world, would it?’
She was furious. ‘Doesn’t it make you angry? Don’t you feel that I belong only to you? It looks like you sent me to him deliberately, without even seeking my consent. He is a wretch, a foreigner. He is sitting in our country and making a show of his arrogance.’
Raja had covered her mouth in alarm. ‘If you speak like that once more, he will shove you into jail. Hold your tongue! As it is he is angry with me because you ran away. Your mother knows that. Didn’t she tell you?’
Kasturi found Raja’s words revolting. They filled her with distaste. This prideless Raja wouldn’t understand the humiliation she had suffered. Her own mother did not, so how could she expect it from Raja? After she escaped from the Durai and reached home at midnight, Sengamalam, who opened the door and greeted her with ‘So, you’re back’, had had an expectant half-smile on her face. Kasturi realized immediately that her mother had known about the invitation from the Collector.
‘Yes, I am back in one piece. Amma, don’t become greedy. If you do, you will destroy me. Did you or did you not know that the carriage was for taking me to the Durai?’ she exploded.
‘Yes, I knew. What about it?’ Sengamalam said stubbornly. ‘Raja is a king only in name. What have you got from him? Nothing by way of jewellery or ornaments. Even the plain women around here are flaunting their gold.’
‘For money will you send me to a dog? Don’t push me into that situation. He is a white British dog. The very thought turns my stomach. People are shouting “Vande Mataram” in the streets, ready to die for the country—’
‘Let the fools die! There is nothing in it for us. They will drive Raja away in nothing but his loincloth.’
‘Chee! Nothing good ever comes out of your mouth,’ Kasturi had said angrily.
It seemed that Raja was also beset by the same worry, and was trying to work out a deal with the Collector. Did he send me to the Durai as a part of an agreement, like throwing the dog a bone? What a shameful life!
The more she thought about it, the more bewildered she felt. Where is it all going to end? You were born to dance, the deity is your husband—Paati had told her. Yet He has completely abandoned me and is looking on in amusement. I consented to sleep with Raja as an arrangement. If Raja himself wants to trade me around, what can I do? She thought it was an ordeal that god had sent her way to test her.
You are not a chaste woman, are you? Raja himself thought of her like that. Cha, what an ignominious life. Did Singaram think so too? Suppuni? He, too, might think the same of her.
This is a wretched clan. We need to enact a law to eliminate it. It was only after thinking everything over that Lakshmi had said that.
Kasturi was feeling agitated again.
When Sundaramurthi Mama had come home yesterday he had told Kasturi that Lakshmi’s name was gaining fame in the newspapers. ‘That girl is waging a struggle even bigger than the freedom struggle,’ he said expansively.
‘I heard that she was studying to be a doctor?’ Sengamalam said as she joined them.
‘She finished that and then went to England to get an advanced degree. Now she is back and working as a doctor. In appreciation of her work, the government has made her a member of the legislative council. What a big honour! Her speeches in favour of a law to abolish the devadasi system are covered in all the newspapers.’
As if she had suddenly woken up, Sengamalam had asked, ‘What did you say? What kind of nonsense is this? When?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘If there is a law to abolish the system, will it mean that Kasturi can’t dance in the temple?’
‘I can’t say when it will come into force. But once it does, I think she won’t be able to,’ Mama said in a calm voice.
Kasturi was stunned. Though Lakshmi had subtly hinted at it, Kasturi couldn’t believe her influence could have climbed high enough for her to bring in a law.
‘Then the grants will stop?’
‘Yes.’
Sengamalam was sitting with both hands on her head, looking as though she was mourning the death of a close relative. ‘But what’s in it for us, Sundaram?’
‘You mustn’t think only about Kasturi, Sengamalam. Think of it as freedom for the whole clan. Nobody can force any of us to carry on the traditional occupation. They can’t talk about us with contempt.’
Sengamalam’s voice had sounded as if she was mumbling. ‘If the grants from the temple are stopped, what do you think people will do for their livelihood?’
Kasturi drew back the satin curtain in the carriage and looked at the street. She could see Singaram’s workshop. Unable to resist the temptation to meet him, she said, ‘Arumugam, stop the carriage here for a bit. I have to ask the achari to make an aimpon statue.’
After stopping the carriage, Arumugam asked her politely, ‘Do you have to go there yourself, Akka? Or should I ask him to come over?’
‘No, no. He is known to us. It would only be proper if I went there and spoke to him,’ she said and got down from the carriage.
Arumugam noticed that there was a spring in Kasturi’s step as she walked towards the workshop. ‘This won’t end well, thambi,’ he muttered to the horse.
Singaram was humming while he worked on a statue. Someone ran up to him and whispered in his ear. He looked up and saw Kasturi. He hurried over and said in a gentle voice, ‘Why have you come here?’
‘Only to see you. Are you saying I shouldn’t?’ she asked softly.
‘Yes, you shouldn’t. People will get suspicious and talk.’
Suddenly she raised her voice and said, ‘I don’t know how you will do it, but I need a Paravai Nachiyar figurine a month from now.’
He gave her a smile tinged with mild surprise and said, ‘How tall?’
‘A foot and a half.’
‘Oh my.’ He laughed. Then he turned to his colleagues. ‘They want a Paravai Nachiyar figurine, measuring a foot and a half—in one month, it seems.’
Some of them said that it could be done. She waited, smiling.
‘We will try,’ he said.
‘When do we meet again?’ she asked in a low whisper.
‘No need for that any more,’ he said urgently.
‘I’ll be waiting by the tree in our backyard at eleven tonight,’ she said and walked to the carriage without a backward glance. Two men stood near Arumugam, talking to him. On seeing her, they moved away. One of them wore the uniform of
an attendant.
Later that night, she waited under the mango tree in her backyard. The moment she heard the soft strains of a kaavadi chindu, her body was aflame.
23
THE BLAZE OF anger lying dormant like ash-covered coals in her heart exploded suddenly, and an indomitable force born of the scattering embers came to possess her. This must be the true manifestation of Kali, the fierce goddess, she thought.
The wrath of Kali was a metaphor—for a woman’s awakened selfhood. I am an elaboration of that metaphor. To liberate me and my community from slavery, Kali became omnipresent. In that unearthly ambience, I was in a trance, unable to discern whether the self was real or imagined.
Once she sat down after her speech, an abnormal silence, like that following a blow from a sledgehammer, pervaded the session. The men seemed to be collectively paralysed. Was it real, or merely an illusion? Why were all of them sitting like stone figures? The words that had rolled off her tongue were not hers alone; they had lain buried in the minds of women through countless generations. Today, they had come surging up. Her stinging speech impaled those guilty hearts. The men needed some time to digest it. There was a cruel satisfaction too, along with the excitement that she felt. She found consolation in having delivered whiplashes to these elite men who had assumed the right to make society dance to their whims. When she looked around she saw that everyone in that assembly of men had turned pale.
The hate that she had nurtured all through her conscious years had taken a definite shape today. She knew that opposing tradition would mean a struggle fraught with enormous risks. From the day she was made a member of this council, she had waited for this moment. Before initiating the debate, she had to work for many months to garner support. She had been warned about the hostility of upper-caste members. She was prepared for it.
‘How arrogant she must be to talk like this?’ she heard a member say. Ignoring his remark, she remained silent, watchful. The gentleman who had pontificated just a little earlier on the need to continue the devadasi system sat red-faced before her.
‘They are rendering a social service. According to the agama rules, the temple needs their services. Without them, devotional service would be incomplete, and their art would be destroyed.’ As he began thus, many heads nodded in agreement.
‘A whole community is being exploited in the name of god and the arts. We can’t allow it,’ Lakshmi said.
‘Devadasis serve as the balm that relieves men’s fatigue. How can men do without them?’ Many laughed and banged noisily on the table to show their approval.
Lakshmi’s anger knew no bounds. She felt herself transported back in time. Lakshmi and her mother waiting in the backyard of Periya Mirasu’s house. The cook asking, ‘Why are you here so early?’ Amma spreading the free end of her sari and collecting the food packet … Mirasu sneaking into their house … Amma’s shameless face betraying her pride. The Durai grabbing Kasturi by the hand. Kasturi saying, I am a courtesan only of the Lord. Kanagu Paati waiting at the feast. Girl, we will get to eat only along with the last batch of guests. Lakshmi wanted to shake everyone—Amma, Kasturi, Kanagu Paati, the man who had spoken a short while ago. She was gasping for air. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.
Addressing a row of arrogant men, she said, ‘What a pity. For a change, why don’t you send women from your family to do that job?’ It resulted in an uproar in the assembly.
Finally, towards ending the lifestyle imposed on temple devadasis, a resolution was passed to enact the Devadasis Abolition Act. The resolution said that the power to cancel grants of temple lands to them would be given to the Hindu Religious Endowments Department.
To Lakshmi’s disappointment, several devadasis got together and raised their voices against the resolution. These were distinguished artists. Bangalore Nagarathnamma, Veenai Dhanam and her daughters, along with a few others, claimed that what she had done was unjust. It is a humiliation meted out to us, they said. Devadasis are equal to priests; sanction of land and grants is for our devotional services to the Lord. How is it fair to snatch it away from us and evict us from the temples?
But Lakshmi was firm. Their connection with the land was what tied them to the temples, kept them hostage and prevented them from breaking free. It was psychological imprisonment devised by upper-caste men. Through that land, the women of the community signed the bond of their own enslavement. It was a system that promoted rivalry and jealousy between famous, genuine artists and those without talent. As gossip, hatred and betrayal turned into life strategies, these women were also, on top of being exploited by upper-caste men, victimized by the dance masters. No one understands this better than me, Lakshmi said.
‘The arts will be wiped out!’
Let them be destroyed.
Lakshmi felt a surge of blind rage. In any society, the destruction of the arts was not a greater horror than the erasure of honour. Whenever the sound of singing and ankle bells fell on her ears, she was filled with distaste. She learnt later that at the time this furore was going on in the council, a sabha had invited Kasturi and organized a sadir concert. While praising Kasturi’s recital to the skies, a newspaper report noted that there had been stiff opposition to her performance the first time. The small mention of Thilakam surprised Lakshmi. It referred to her as the former secretary’s daughter-in-law and said that Gopalaiyer had not allowed her to sing. Why did this snippet of news perturb her? She was perplexed. She wondered how Thilakam had got married to an upper-caste man. Did it mean freedom for Thilakam or was it just another prison? Were men becoming magnanimous enough to marry a woman born in the devadasi community? She knew that Thilakam had hated the life led by Kasturi. Was change imminent in the village too?
After she had passed the exam and found new accommodation, Lakshmi had got busy with her job. Her mother and Periya Mirasu would come to see her regularly, giving her no opportunity or cause to go back to the village. During one visit, her mother said, ‘No one knows how Thilakam got friendly with that boy. One day she ran away to Madras without telling a soul. Sengamalam covered it up by saying Thilakam had got secretly married to a rich man. The girl sang very well. It’s a great loss for Kasturi.’
‘Singing was not important to her. I know she yearned for a life of dignity,’ Lakshmi said.
‘I won’t go into what is honourable and what isn’t, kannu. My life is over. I was worried about you but you have carved your own path. Not many can be so determined about what they want. I still don’t know whether it’s good or bad. But things we have never heard of are happening now. It’s all very disturbing. Our people are very angry with you. They are worried about what will happen to them if the grants disappear when the act comes into force. Why are you getting involved in this business? You were adamant about studying to become a doctor. You are one now. Why don’t you stop with that?’
Lakshmi realized wearily that there was nothing to be gained in arguing with her mother. Yet, she continued, ‘Have you heard of this person called Gandhi? He could have kept on earning money as a lawyer and stayed happy, couldn’t he? Why has he involved himself in this freedom struggle? He undertakes fasts, gets beaten by the British and is sent to jail. Why?’
‘What do you have to do with that man?’
‘A lot. If we don’t raise our voices now for issues that need resolution, this struggle for freedom would become meaningless.’
‘Are you going to take part in that struggle?’
‘I may or may not take part, but I will definitely extend my support. The time for the white man to leave our country has come, Amma. But merely driving away the white man isn’t enough. We must throw out the demons that live in our society and in our hearts. We have to do all that now.’
Thulasi laughed. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘That is the problem with you. You never believe anything I tell you.’
Her mother said something else too. ‘This Gandhi must be a big leader. Even in our village people wear that Gandhi cap and march in processions, shouting “Vande Mataram”. Even that nadaswaram player Sundaramurthi has been thrashed many times and sent to prison. Our Konar boy told us that he saw Kasturi too, marching in a procession one day.’
