Fiction: Caste A Long Shadow

It was at this point that Kitta began running errands for the priest’s household. The women there, who did not fit into the ‘fair and pretty’ standards of the neighbourhood, did not avoid him like the village girls. The daughters found his looks and swagger attractive, and he returned the attention by flirting and canoodling with them. They would perch themselves on his bicycle and ride to the neighbouring temples. The family also fed him well, in return for which he fed the chickens and pigeons, washed the cows and calves, and made himself useful around the household.

One of the priest’s daughters, Neela, was married to a wealthy man in Kuthalur. He was the supervisor of prosperous temples, and responsible for managing the cultivation of temple farmlands. He flaunted a dandy’s accessories: gold bracelets, rudraksha pendants hanging on a thick chain around his neck and diamond studs glinting in his ears. He bought his wife many fine pieces of jewellery and would make a grand entrance on his bullock cart whenever he visited his father-in-law’s home in Thoppur. 

Despite his prosperity, the man from Kuthalur wasn’t good-looking. He was sickeningly lean with a scrawny face. The bones jutted out of his face, highlighting his hollow cheeks and the dark circles around his eyes. His teeth were stained from years of chewing tobacco, and he had a shock of hair that stood on its end, lending him a comical look. He wore it in a prominent tuft, but it failed to give him a devout look. His forehead was streaked with vibhuti and a vermilion dot. 

Neela was equally lacking in the looks department. She was stocky with a face ringed by jowls, small eyes and prominent teeth. A regular visitor to her parents’ house, she would be dressed in tasteful saris, wearing her thick hair in a neat bun with a piece of ribbon and flowers. She did, however, carry herself with a certain elegance and grace. 

Kitta would be excited when Neela came to visit. He would busy himself with errands and act attentive around her. He would drop her driver at Thoppur and take over his duty, riding the bullock cart with her to Kodavasal. She would speak to Kitta with great familiarity, but he would always address her respectfully. 

Kitta was not handsome, but he was a big bull of a man. When visiting, Neela would find excuses to go and see her tailor because then she could ask Kitta to come along and spend the day picking fabrics at Ibrahim Textile Shop. She would drag Kitta along to make an appointment with the tailor another day. She would yet again make him accompany her while visiting the tailor’s shop. She would complain that the tailor had not done a proper job and make more than three or four trips, all with Kitta. She would pout that the tailors in Kumbakonam were better, telling Kitta to consider a trip till there. 

Neela’s bullock cart driver, meanwhile, would enjoy a holiday in Thoppur with good food and rest. His mistress would tip him generously and leave him at home. She would set off at three in the afternoon with Kitta, on her visits to the tailor in Kodavasal. The route was fanned by paddy fields and thick groves. By the time they returned, it would be dark. 

On one such trip, Kitta bought some hot pakodas in a paper packet for Neela. As the cart went down a lonely path through the groves, Neela opened the packet and urged Kitta to stop. He halted the cart. She offered Kitta the pakodas, saying, ‘It’s steaming hot.’ And then, in a flirtatious tone, she added, ‘As they say, fair and lovely, hot and tasty.’ She placed the packet in his hands and drew closer so that her breasts grazed against his chest. She longed to feel beautiful in his eyes; he ached to touch her. 

 

One evening after a trip, Kitta dropped Neela home and went to the backyard. He loosened the oxen and was feeding them when her husband strode in angrily, flashing a torchlight. He ignored Neela who was behind him, nervously asking when he had come, and how. He shrugged her hand away and growled at Kitta. ‘Hey, who do you think you are? I’ll chop your hands and feet and feed them to the crows! I don’t want to ever see you here, you dog! If my brothers-in-law in the army get to know of your shenanigans, they’ll tear you apart! Scoundrel! Get lost!’ He then pushed Kitta who was boiling with rage, more so because Neela hadn’t spoken up for him. 

Kitta walked home fuming. He found Cheeni Iyengar on the thinnai, with Balambal standing at the doorstep. ‘Your boys have turned out to be losers,’ Iyengar told a shamefaced Balambal who had covered her mouth with the end of her sari. ‘Will anyone sane enter that priest’s house? If he is eating at the priest’s house, playing driver to that woman, then Kitta must be working for tips and is up to his tricks.’ 

Iyengar suggested to Balambal that she send Kitta away from the village. ‘Even if it is to earn a living as a labourer, carrying sacks of goods, it doesn’t matter. If you let him stay, he will blow up the little money and land that you have managed to save. He’s grown into a big oaf who doesn’t want to shoulder any responsibility. Tell him strictly that he will be fed meals at home only when he brings back money from doing honest work. With Savitri’s poor health and this rascal, your woes seem to be never-ending. I am off,’ he sighed, preparing to head home in the dark.

Kitta was livid when he heard Iyengar’s diatribe against him. Smarting from all the insults, he yelled at Iyengar. ‘Oye! Who do you think you are? You are a mischievous fellow yourself, acting important, as though you work for the prime minister. You manipulate these old women and widows in the name of helping them! You act superior because your sons are educated and well-placed; you meddle in other people’s businesses. Don’t try to drive a wedge between Amma and me. From this year, I will cultivate our land myself. The neighbour from Poona has written to me saying that he will loan his lands to me,’ he lashed out. 

Iyengar was not one to cower. ‘You know nothing about farming, cultivation or irrigation! This is not the same job as washing Neela’s saris! Don’t pull this rubbish on me, that you are a farming expert!’ he said. 

Kitta threatened to rough up Iyengar if he didn’t leave. Iyengar, however, turned to Balambal and barked, ‘Did you hear your son’s abuses? Don’t come to me with complaints about him. I have had enough.’ 

Kitta reacted by abusing Iyengar again, which is when Balambal intervened and sharply told him to apologize to the older man. ‘I have been able to hold on to this land and some money thanks to Iyengar. If you don’t fall at his feet and ask for forgiveness, you have no place in my home. I never want to see you again.’ 

Buoyed by Balambal’s support, Iyengar launched himself at Kitta again. ‘Don’t you have any shame? Ogling the priest’s daughter? I would consider you more dignified if you joined Muthu, the cook, to earn a rupee or two by being productive!’

‘Don’t waste your energy on this despicable fellow who can’t understand a thing. Please don’t feel bad. He’s a cad,’ Balambal told Iyengar.

‘There’s a limit to my patience. I will fix you,’ Iyengar muttered before walking away, plotting to avenge the insults Kitta had hurled at him. Kitta’s mind, however, was made up. He had had enough and would not stay in that house or village any longer.

(Excerpted from Hungry Humans by Karichan Kunju, translated by Sudha G. Tilak (pp.288, Rs 499), with permission from Penguin Random House India.)
Karichan Kunju was the pen name of R. Narayanaswami (1919-1992), a Tamil short-story writer and novelist who wrote mainly on historical themes.