(Translation of my novel in Malayalam: Ardhavrutham I wrote in 1985, but published in 1996)
The sunshine has not yet thickened. Felt only slight heat. Still, inside me was a blazing furnace) I had set out from home after controlling my emotions a little. But my heart was beating hard continuously. All over my body, I felt trembling and fatigued.
Even while I was waiting at the bus stop, I found it hard to control my cry. However hard I tried, my eyes were getting flooded. Something was felt stuck in the throat.
There were some at the bus stop. Different types of people. I was apprehended that they might notice me. I took my handkerchief and wiped my eyes hard. Still, the waves within me were breaking hard against the shore.
I ought not have set out today. I could have taken a leave. How can I go and take my classes with a mind hovered by dark clouds? My mind was totally shattered. Shall I go back?
How many days can I go back? This was the routine most often. Roy needs only a silly matter to burst out!
An inflated balloon is this life…. Can’t I blow it out? Many a time this thought has flashed through my mind…
But, Vinod, my sonny! How can I leave him alone!
As I was sitting on the bus, the incident in the morning belched back to me. My eyes were becoming tearful as I recalled the incident. Will those sitting near me notice my expressions?
While I was looking out through the window of the bus, a sweet breeze rushed to me and blotted out the wetness in my eyes.
Suppose this journey doesn’t end ever…. If I could travel anywhere far …far away…. To reach some unknown place… What next…?
Thoughts got stranded.
I couldn’t put a rein to the thoughts that were rushing back. Through the painful channel, memories furrowed…
What was today’s provocation? Or was anything needed for an outburst…?
An explosion…A strand of hair in the peas curry was the reason for it. Roy was shrieking with the strand of hair in his hand.
“Can’t any nasty woman here see this? Am I a beast to eat such stuff?”
The plates fell fragmented on the floor with a cracking sound. The peas in the curry lay scattered.
There was fear in the maid’s face. While I stood there helplessly, a rejoinder came:
“What to say…Does the working woman have any time to pay attention to such things! Does she have time to take care of her husband, to see what he needs! She need only get dressed up and go away. That’s her only concern!”
What all things he said following this incident! Things that had no connection to the situation at all. The words that broke the barriers of culture and decency. The bitter and sharp arrows struck continually hard on the heart. It was as though my self-esteem had melted and flown. As if I was becoming smaller and smaller and getting insignificant. I couldn’t even give any reply or block the tears that had flown in torrents.
Washed my eyes and face hard. But burning hot teardrops multiplied along with the drops of water. It was a futile attempt to wash off the redness in my eyes. Still, as I was walking to the bus stop and sitting on the bus, the drops of tear oozed down burning the eyes.
I was praying not to see anybody in the Department. I wanted to sit alone for a while and control myself. But when I entered the department, Prakash Mathews had already been there. He was slanting on the chair deeply immersed in thoughts, but on seeing me he leaned forward and sat erect. The usual hearty smile bloomed on his lips.
“Hello—Good Morning!”
Without any thought in it, I returned a greeting and went to be seated in my place.
The spark of what was burning inside me might not have hidden on my face.
“You look dull—What happened?”
When Prakash asked me this question, I might have felt ashamed. It was as though my mind had suddenly become unveiled. But there was sincere anxiety on Prakash’s face.
What reply should I give him?
“I have a bad headache.” I had to tell a lie, though I detested it. Did Prakash look at me without being convinced? I thought I was melting again in the hotness of his deep look.
“You seem to have this headache very often!”
Did Prakash ask this deliberately? I could not say anything in response.
“Do you have class in the first hour?”
“Yes. For M.A. Previous.”
“How will you take your class if you have a headache. If you want, I can engage them.”
“Prakash! Won’t it be difficult for you?”
“No…No…What difficulty! I can take my paper. Modern Poetry!”
Members of the staff were coming in one and two. The usual welcome was contained in either a ‘Hello’ or a smile.
The bell rang. When Prakash went to my class, I felt a headache has actually started in me. It was fine anyway that he agreed to take my class today. I had thought of taking Henry James’s “The Portrait of a Lady” today. As the book was meant for only General Studies, I needed only give a summary and review of it. But how can I speak with a presence of mind? Isabel Archer’s story! Wasn’t the choice she thought she had made intelligently in her life a folly? How many adored her? They went after her with their proposal! Finally, whom did she find out as her husband? A greedy and spiteful person who had already married! Whenever I said the story of Isabel, I would be reminded of my own story. My mind would be at a loss. Even otherwise, when I teach a story or a poem that touches the heart, my eyes will be wet…I will choke. I will be in another world for some moments. Finally, at some point, when I see my students who listen to me intensely, I will feel pity on them. The reflection will appear as a sly smile on the lips. That will spread to the students. It will end up in a burst of mass laughter. Some girls will ask me outside the class.
“Madam, you made us cry!”
“Madam also cried.”
Very often when I entered the class with a restless mind, I feared how I would take the class. But my gloom would linger hardly for ten minutes. Then I would be in another world. In the midst of the students…in the golden chariot of literature… there would be a lot to say if I were among those who deeply appreciated it…how excited I would be to speak…Great mental satisfaction, soul fulfilment once it was over…All the pains of life will be forgotten in the moments spent in college…At least an escapade from reality for a temporary period of time!
When I mingle with the students who have not yet entered the world of reality, I have to forget my sorrows to an extent. I cannot share it with them.
It is difficult to share my sorrows with others. I cannot interact with others as lightly as I did in the past. Why so? Superficial relations. Nobody has any unusual sincerity to anybody else. As though it is not necessary. They may sit together, eat together, talk, crack jokes, go for excursions, etc. But only social relations. Not anything like a soul relation.
Wasn’t my desire to start a soul relation with Roy a foolish one?
To unveil the inner recesses of my mind …. If I had a soul friend to whom I could speak everything openly and feel relieved…
Yes. There was one such person. Valsa! But I cannot even talk to her openly now. There has risen a wall between her and me. In a way, wasn’t she a by-road that made me enter this life?
“Hi Prameela Teacher, are you composing a new poem?” I woke up from my world of thoughts when Thomas Abraham Sir’s words fell on my ears like the loud crackers. Only then it dawned on me that my eyes were not on the book I had unfolded before me. I felt embarrassed. I looked at Thomas Abraham Sir and gave a pale smile. He might have been cracking some jokes all this while. We can say that he is the life of the department. If he is absent any day, the department will be sleepy. Nobody will have any interest on that day. No fun; no boisterous laughter. There is not a humorous story that he does not know. When we hear his stories that he will narrate with exaggerated additions, we will laugh out. If he is not seen any day, even Prof.Joseph Varghese, the Head of the Department, will ask:
“Where is our Charlie Chaplin? He is not seen!”
“Oh…Prameela Teacher, Say something. What will we do if you start your meditation in the morning itself?”
Thomas Abraham Sir is not going to leave the matter aside.
“Why is Prameela looking dull?” Leela Nair asked.
“A headache.”
By the time Prakash returned from his class, I was able to regain her mental composure to an extent. So, I went to the other classes I had. I felt that the heaviness in me had given way to some lightness.
During the last hour, Mrs. David and Leela Nair asked me:
“Prameela, are you staying back for today’s musical evening? It’s heard that a very good group is presenting the programme.”
“No. Mon will be worried if I am late.”
“Please stay for some time.” Leela Nair compelled me.
“Sorry, I can’t.”
While I was walking to the college junction, I thought—Not that I did not love songs. But if I reach home later than the usual time, there will be an earthquake. Roy will be at home. He will create trouble…speak nasty words. Why should I allow such scenes to happen!
Did I happen to be a WOMAN?
Even otherwise, Roy’s creed is that the greatest folly is to allow women to study and get employment. Don’t people always expect submissiveness from women! Even after studying and getting employment, a woman’s fate is slavery! Everything is forbidden to her. There is control even for her power of thinking!
Once I got a little late in reaching home after our staff meeting. I was just setting foot on the threshold when the taunting came:
“Why…You were reluctant to part from the handsome guys in the college?” He used a derogatory term for handsome guys.
I got into home without responding to him. When he started saying something again in the same vein, I got fed up. It was too much for me. I retorted.
“Roy, you should not speak cheaply as this. How could you talk in this uncultured way?”
Roy fumed with rage.
“How can I be cultured, you bitch? Do I have an education? I’m just a pre-degree fellow. You are an M. A. …. Rank holder…college lecturer!”
“Yes. It’s because of lack of education.” It was only a soliloquy in me.
……
“Why did you not stay back for the musical evening?” When I heard the query unexpectedly, I turned back to look into Prakash Matthews’s face.
“I’ve to reach home urgently.”
“I thought of staying back for it. I saw Mrs. David, Leela Nair, and others…. Then I changed my mind.”
I had nothing to tell him. He broke the silence of a few moments and spoke as though in a monologue.
“Pain…it’s not on the head, but for your mind, isn’t it so?”
I couldn’t say anything. I walked forward without looking at him.
“If you can share the reason of your sadness with me…”
I couldn’t but turn around to look at him. I wonder whether he understood the sorrow in my smile! When I realized that my eyes were getting wet, I bent my head and walked. We walked silently for the rest of the walk. When I reached the bus stop, he said, “Let me go” and walked away.
While my eyes were following him as he walked away, his voice resounded in my ears: “If you can share the reason of your sadness with me…”
Why is Prakash showing this much interest and anxiety about me? But, why don’t I feel that he is taking unnecessary liberty with me? I don’t feel any aversion to it either. How many others are in the department—including women! But how different from others is his personal approach and empathy. Is it simply for the sake of human feeling?
Why is it so?
Prakash had studied as my senior in college. I had never talked to him during that period. The personal relation Prakash has towards me…can it be called a soul relation?
Though he was my senior in college during my studies, he is my junior in the profession, because he joined the department only one year back. Before that, he was a research scholar. He got married only two months back.
The first day when he came to college… I remember. When the professor brought him to the department, I found his face quite familiar. When he saw me,
“This is a pleasant surprise. I can’t believe it” This was what Prakash said.
What did he say when he came to me with his wedding card two months back?
“I don’t know whether I’m doing right or wrong. Anyway, I decided to get married.” I found his remark very strange and could not understand what he meant.
My reply was this.
“Let Prakash’s choice become right.”
“I don’t know…” Prakash sighed, and continued:
“When I could choose right, I didn’t do it then. I have no idea how will be my choice now. A kind of escapade—from my mind—from my soul—I found his words difficult to grasp.
“Be hopeful that it would bring you good. Wish you all success!”
I did not attend Prakash’s wedding. Roy does not like such matters. Later when it was planned to give a party in the department, Prakash was unwilling. His wife was my student. He told me. I might know her if I saw her.
When I reached home. Vinod Mon was at the gate. Santha was standing a little away from him.
“Where’s Pappa, Mon?”
“Ah..” He showed a gesture of ignorance with his hands. I looked at Santha questioningly, but she did not respond.
When Roy came, Mon had already slept. There was the filthy smell of alcohol emitting from Roy.
Inside me, the waves of sorrows raged.
“Roy, why do you drink like this? Can’t you stop this habit?” I had asked him in a very soft voice in the form of a pleading.
It was a mistake on my part.
“I don’t need your permission for my drinking. Do you hear? I’m not drinking with your money. My father has saved money for my needs. Wasn’t it your father who left without saving anything for you? Don’t try to advise me? Do you hear, bitch?”
His words were not clear. But they fell into my ears one by one with a bang. They tore my heart. While I was suffocating in the memory of his harsh words, Roy had fallen into a sound sleep.
When he sleeps, how calm he seems! We will wonder if it were the same person who was aggressive during the day.
A ray of pity melted away the sorrow frozen down in the heart.
(Cont’d)
About The Author
