Gopallapuram
Contents ( 42)
KI. RAJANARAYANAN
Gopallapuram
Translated from the Tamil by
PRITHAM K. CHAKRAVARTHY
PENGUIN BOOKS
Contents
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Copyright Page
PENGUIN BOOKS
GOPALLAPURAM
KI. RAJANARAYANAN(b. 1922) has spent over five decades gathering the most exotic tales of his favourite land, Karisal Kadu—the scorched drought-stricken land in Tamil Nadu. Popularly known as Ki. Ra., he is a powerful storyteller. His short story ‘Mayamaan’ (1958) is considered the hallmark of the golden age of modern Tamil literature. An English translation of his collection of folk tales, Where Are You Going, You Monkeys?, was recently published to much acclaim. He has been the recipient of the prestigious Kalaimamani and Sahitya Akademi awards.
PRITHAM K. CHAKRAVARTHY is a storyteller, theatre activist, freelance scholar and translator. She presently teaches film history and dramaturgy at Ramanaidu Film School, Hyderabad. She has translated the highly acclaimed The Blaft Anthology of Tamil Pulp Fiction (volumes 1 and 2), among other books.
To my grandmother, who is my father’s mother,
Rayangala Akkammal
1
THE VILLAGE IS FAST ASLEEP. A silky moon swathes it in a chilly blanket.
Bats fly down from far away and retreat into their abode, having eaten their fill from the fig trees near the pond.
Nocturnal beings are slowly crawling back into their shells. Cats return to their homes, content with their hunts. Owls race to their roosts. Bandicoots hurry into their burrows. Crickets that screeched through the night are now ready to sleep. Dogs, tired of their night watch, have curled up. Night has gone to sleep and the day is waking up.
The forerunner of daytime, the rooster, claps its wings and calls on the village to rise. Drongos and crows begin to screech.
The sound of conches and big drums is rolling out of the temple.
The village reluctantly wakes up from the last dregs of slumber, stretching its taut limbs.
Slight murmurs when the stiff body relaxes … suckling sounds of infants searching for the other nipple, hindered by the thali. Stern voices of the elders waking up the younger ones. Creaking doors. Throat clearings, sinusitis coughs. Front yards being plastered with cow dung. Calves crying out for their share of milk. The cows echoing their thirst.
The village wakes up, as one, to face another new day.
The older ones retire to the pastures, while the younger lot chooses the lanes. As the entire village excretes and cleanses itself, the air carries the stench across the region.