Back The Tamarind Tree
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

Asan leaned his weight on his right hand planted firmly on the bench, tilted his head to the side, squeezed his lips with the fingers of his left hand, and spat out a long stream of tobacco juice. Then he grunted to clear his throat and told us the story of Koplan’s revenge.

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It turned out that Chellathayi’s family came to know of her suicide only after the cowherd boys informed them after dark. Poor Sornam. She hitched up her sari and ran the entire three miles. When I, Damodara Asan, saw her and Kaliappan running and overtaking each other, I wondered what the matter was. I too hurried in the direction—not that I had anything else to do!

You see, it was pitch-dark by then. Only bats went near the tamarind pond at that hour. Or foxes that came down from the northern hills. Or crawling insects. If you saw a person headed there at that hour, you could be quite sure that he had lost all regard for his life. But I was not scared. Why would I be afraid to go? Things were different in those days—there was some respect for people’s qualities and values. At the very mention of the name “Asan,” even a cobra would relent and drop its hood . . .

We exchanged glances. Asan cleared his throat twice and wandered back to the real story.

Kaliappan and Sornam were under the tamarind tree, shrieking and sobbing in grief. I collapsed against a casuarina tree. If only you had heard the way Sornam sobbed and wailed that day. Ammadi! Every word she uttered wrung my heart dry. She held up the loose end of her sari and appealed to God. She hit herself repeatedly on both her cheeks. And I don’t care if you believe me or not when I say this—I shed tears too.

I walked up to the edge of the pond and looked at the tamarind tree. From one of the lower branches, something hung and swayed in the wind. It looked like a doll the masons hang to ward off the evil eye from new buildings. At the sight of it, I broke out in a sweat all over my body. All I could think was how good it would be to have some light in that moment. Anything. Even a small matchstick would do.