Back The Tamarind Tree Save as PDF
Chapters (22)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. AFTERWORD
  21. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  22. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

The winds changed direction in the Thirteenth Ward when both Khader and Dhamu were arrested before the election. Grandpa Peanut made the most of that opportunity. He went up to every voter and asked them not to vote for criminals. The voters were already disenchanted with Dhamu and Khader—and the two men’s endless disputes over the tamarind tree certainly did not help matters.

Grandpa Peanut won a sweeping victory.

Women stood on the front steps to relish the sight of him setting out to his first meeting at the municipal council. The children came all the way up to the cement road to wave him goodbye.

The new shirt and dhoti that the old man wore on that day got dirty within a week. He washed and dried them every night and wore the same clothes to the council meeting the next morning.

All the money left over from the election campaign was gone in just a few months. But it has to be said that, in those few months, he and his family really did enjoy their lives. His grandchildren wore nice clothes for a while. His son shopped every day at the fish market. The family bought two goats so they’d have a supply of milk for the infants. Also, new pots and pans for the house. The old man gave up beedis and started smoking cigarettes.

Days of contentment are so few and far between in life. They slip away from us so fast!

Perhaps because the daily wash took its toll, his new clothes frayed quite fast. Holes appeared even in his double-fold veshti. Some of the pots and pans had to be pawned to make ends meet. When he returned home from council meetings, the hungry bawling of the children tormented his ears.

One morning, the old man dug out and dusted off his old candy box.

When he arrived at the madrassa entrance the next morning, bare-chested, a bell in his left hand and the candy box perched on his turban, children came running to him and surrounded him, delirious with joy, yelling, “Grandpa Peanut’s back! He’s back!”

Grandpa Peanut stared blankly at the faces of the children. Then his face broke into a smile. His eyes welled up with tears.

AFTERWORD

AFTERWORD

By S. R. Sundaram and Thaila Ramanujam

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