A Lonely Harvest Page 12

  Sengaan had been labouring in Muthu’s lands for several years. He was particularly affectionate towards Ponna. She now walked to that piece of land in the eastern corner and looked for the stone. ‘There is a deity in this corner. I just wanted to make sure you don’t plough it down,’ she said. The stone glistened from the soil that was now free of weeds. It had taken on the hue of the red earth. And that was the corner where two adjacent squares of land met. Kali had made that intersection wide, so when they brought the cattle out to graze, they could sit there comfortably. Some palai plants had grown right behind the stone. They must have come up several days ago, and they showed the mark of resilience, of coming up from the roots no matter how often they were cut. Ponna thought she might let one of these plants grow big. She asked Sengaan to plough away from the little portion of land there. He said, ‘Go back to the shade, dear child. I will take care of it.’

  But Ponna had things to say to Sengaan. ‘We have some water in the well. We can plant some chilli and tomato. And ragi in one field. We will only need to water it once a week. By next year, I will be able to draw water myself and irrigate the fields. This year, you or my brother please come and take care of that. Let us not sow maize everywhere. We also cannot plant kambu any more. So it must be ragi. That’s what will feed us.’ She had spoken hurriedly.

  ‘All right, dear. We shall do just as you say. We can leave out the brinjal bed and the bigger piece of land next to it for now. And in those stretches of land, we can do just as you just suggested. We might actually be able to finish all the maize sowing today. Keep coming to the field like this, my girl, then all your miseries will fly away just like the cotton-like flowers of that palai tree right there.’ It was comforting to Ponna to listen to his words.

  Since he had insisted, she walked back to the shade of the palai tree. Then she heard her mother call out to her from the barnyard—probably to eat. From now on, she had to eat for two beings. But she didn’t have to get up right away; she could go in a little while. She felt that she may not have the strength to shout back to her mother from there. In just two days, Kali had sucked away all the strength from her body. She saw him in the tree. She saw him in the field. He had filled all these things, all these places, with himself. It was going to be an impossible task to be free of him. One more week. Then she had to stand in front of the village. What was she going to say? She could only declare that this child was indeed Kali’s. He had come the night before and lain with her. He had the strength to take just one night to place in her a three-month-old foetus. And to accomplish that, he had put her through so much. He had just tucked his life away and kept it safe.

  No. If it was three months, then it must have been the day Muthu had come to invite them to the temple festival. Kali had come home and knocked on the door in the middle of the night. She could recognize it was him from the knock. She opened the door and said, ‘My brother is visiting you. Can’t you stay away one night? What will he think?’ But he took her in an embrace and said, ‘Your brother is sleeping soundly where I’ve left him. Not even thunder can wake him up now. Whereas I could not sleep thinking of you.’ She could count the days from that night. Kali had laid his head on her chest and dozed off. She had then woken him up and sent him back to the barnyard. She had been anxious, wondering what her brother would think if he woke up and found that Kali was gone. Kali had been reluctant to leave even after she had woken him up. She had to push him out of the house and bolt the door from the inside. Even if she had to think of this child as growing in her womb since the last day of the festival, the fact was that on that day she had not been able to stop thinking about Kali for even a second.

  Attempting to avoid being reminded of Kali, she had turned down and moved away from several men. But he had been there even in that one chest against which she had finally reclined that night. She had seen him when she closed her eyes; she had seen him when she opened her eyes. Since she could not do anything about it, she had just embraced him with all her heart. Then how could anyone say this child was not his? Even Kali had no right to say that. She would say out loud in front of the village, even to the entire world: ‘This life growing in me was given by Kali.’ Now she felt very bold. Seerayi was running around and inviting people as if she was inviting them to a wedding. The night before, Seerayi and Vallayi had made a list of all the people who needed to be invited, and the people whom they should insist ought to come to the meeting. Ponna’s grandfather’s name too featured in that list. But Ponna did not need anyone. Now she could boldly speak. She lay down in the shade of the palai tree.

  She lay there as if she was lying on Kali’s lap.

  NINETEEN

  It was a moonlit night that Saturday. Only Seerayi and Vallayi were with Ponna. As they had become accustomed to having some visitor or another staying the night and keeping them company, on nights such as this one, when it was just the three of them, they really felt like something was missing.

  Ponna was struggling with morning sickness. As the day would progress, she somehow found ways to manage. Even earlier that day, she had gone over to the fields and returned to the barnyard only after several hours. It had been as if she was seeing the entire expanse of the fields properly for the first time. It was only now that she was getting to know the different sections of this land. Some sections of the land even came to her as surprises. Looking at the various things, she could not but wonder what Kali would have done with them and what she could do with them now.

  It would take her a while to fall asleep each night despite the exhaustion; she would sleep late into the morning. If the portia tree moved or if the dog barked, she would start wondering if Kali was paying her a visit again. In fact, she eagerly looked forward to his visit, but she was not sure he would come again. His job had been done. Perhaps that had been the very purpose of this three-month-long mourning period. But even if he did not come again, he must still be lingering somewhere nearby. He might be the crow that flew around in the fields. He might be able to see everything. Only she was not able to see him. She would lie in her cot, thinking of him. Outside the hut, Seerayi and Vallayi would be murmuring something to each other. They might be talking of people who still needed to be invited to the meeting.

  Ponna was not thrilled with the fact that Seerayi went to her brothers’ and invited them all. But Seerayi said, ‘They think we have come down in the world. Don’t we have to let them know that we are, in fact, rising up again? That’s why I went.’ Well, if doing that helped Seerayi find some peace, then good for her. Ponna had resolved that she would not say anything harsh to Seerayi. ‘I have suffered one loss,’ she thought to herself, ‘but Seerayi has suffered two: first a husband and then a son.’

  The dog barked suddenly, sensing some movement in the alley beside the fence. Seerayi got up to see what it was, saying, ‘This dog starts barking even if a garden lizard moves.’ But she heard sounds of people approaching. Then she heard someone call out ‘Saami . . .’ over the noise of the dog’s barking. ‘Who is there?’ Seerayi called out and walked towards the thatched gate.

  ‘It is me, Kaaraan,’ came the response. ‘I thought this might be a convenient time to come and talk to you, saami.’

  ‘Yes, yes, come,’ Seerayi welcomed him. He had brought his wife and daughter-in-law along with him. ‘Kaaraan, have all of you eaten?’ Seerayi asked. They had.

  Seerayi and Vallayi had roasted some peanuts earlier that evening for Ponna. There were some left. Seerayi gave a handful to each of the visitors. Bundling his share of nuts in his towel, Kaaraan said, ‘It was I who went to Adaiyur the other day to convey the news of our landlady’s pregnancy. Her brother, Muthu, dropped me back in their cart. He asked me to find a woman labourer to help in the fields here. That’s what I have come to talk about.’

  Seerayi said, ‘Oh, is that so? He did not tell us anything about that. We don’t seem to have enough work to hire someone for.’

  Vallayi joined in. ‘He did not say anything to me e
ither. Maybe he was just making small talk. But I will speak to him tomorrow and get back to you, all right?’

  Kaaraan looked deflated. He had come with hope, and now he did not know how to respond. He was also afraid of how his wife and daughter-in-law might react.

  Ponna got up from her bed, stepped outside the hut and sat down on the stone. The visitors were sitting a little away, on the ground. She said, ‘Brother might have said that for a reason. He must have thought it through. And he might have forgotten to tell us this among his various errands.’

  Seerayi replied, ‘All right, but are we in a position now to hire help for the fields?’

  But Ponna knew that her mother Vallayi was already anxious to go back to her village. She was just waiting for the third month of mourning and observances to end. There was a lot of work back home that she needed to get back to. Ponna’s sister-in-law could not handle everything single-handedly. And they were also considering the possibility of taking Ponna with them there, keeping her with them for seven months. Muthu must have thought of all this and the fact that Seerayi could not manage the sheep and cattle on her own here. Ponna had no plans to go with her mother to her village. Her plan was to deliver the child right here in the barnyard so that Kali could hear the child’s sounds from the portia tree. Besides, she could take care of these fields only if she stayed here. So it would be good to have help.

  She addressed Kaaraan, ‘Who will be that person? Your wife or your daughter-in-law?’

  He replied, ‘My daughter-in-law, saami. She has three children. My son works in the field whenever he finds work. But whatever he earns, he spends on toddy. How can they feed the children? My wife and I are here for now to take care of them. But it will be hard as they grow older. My wife says she will take care of the children if my daughter-in-law can go out to work. The kids are small. If they are fed some gruel, they will spend their time playing around. Let my daughter-in-law come and work here in the field. It will at least help us feed ourselves.’

  ‘You say she has little children,’ said Seerayi. ‘Will she be able to come to work properly? It does not look like this will work out, Kaaraan.’

  But Ponna thought otherwise. She felt it was a good arrangement. Karaan’s daughter-in-law had come the previous year to help with ragi harvesting. She had worked quietly and had not wasted time in useless chit-chat. Nor had she stolen any grains in the folds of her sari. She had even come forward to lift and carry the basket in which the harvested produce was collected. It was clear that she was a hard worker. That was enough. And if she could not come to work for a day or two because she had to attend to her children, that was all right by Ponna. So she said, ‘Oh, she can do it. What do you say, Venga? You should be diligent with work. Women run this farm. If you can’t be regular, it won’t work out.’

  Vengayi stood up immediately and said, ‘I will definitely come regularly, saami. My daughter is seven years old. She will take care of all the chores in the house. The boy will be five soon. After a year, I will send him out to herd sheep for someone. And the youngest is a girl, she is three. She is able to drink the leftover rice by herself. But if she needs me, I can bring her here, let her play here somewhere, and I can keep working.’

  Seerayi considered a lot of things and came to the conclusion that this would be a good arrangement. She also realized that it would be a struggle for her without some help. Vallayi, for her part, thinking this would be a good time to speak, said, ‘This is a good idea, because I will need to go back home soon too. There is a lot of work waiting for me there. After all, how can Poovayi handle everything on her own?’ Then she addressed Vengayi and said, ‘Agree on a wage, and be reliable with your work.’

  Seerayi said, ‘All right. Can you come tomorrow? We can talk further when Muthu is here.’

  But Ponna said, ‘No need for all that. Let us decide right away. Kaaraan, what wage do you expect? Ask as per the norms in the village. Ours is a small farm, so the work too will be proportional to that. We are not the sort of people who say one thing now and then go back on our word. So ask.’ Kaaraan replied, ‘It is nothing that you don’t know about. A woman labourer is given two pots of dried grains, and a sari each for Pongal and the chariot festival. Other than that, you could give whatever groundnuts or grams you have. I am sure you will do the right thing.’

  ‘Two pots of grains is a lot, Kaaraan,’ said Seerayi.

  ‘Please don’t say that. That’s what we depend on for our food,’ said Kaaraan.

  Ponna immediately said, ‘All right. Atthai, it is only for little kids to eat. So let us do that. Kaaraan, we will give you what you have asked for. But please make sure she does not miss workdays because you have to visit relatives and all that. Things have to be proper. They say that farms run by women don’t thrive. We don’t want to prove them right.’

  Vengayi, who was still standing, said, ‘My work will please you, saami.’ In the moonlight, Ponna could see that Vengayi was bringing her hands together in a gesture of respect.

  Karaan’s wife stood up and said, ‘She is my brother’s daughter, saami. She will conduct herself well. You please take care of us. We depend on you.’

  At this, Seerayi said to Vallayi, ‘Sister, please bring a measure of ragi from inside.’

  But Karaan’s wife said, referring to Ponna, ‘She is pregnant. Let her give us the grains with her own hand.’ What she said made Ponna very happy. She walked back into the hut.

  She heard Seerayi’s say, ‘It is the month of Aadi now. We calculate the year from Chithirai. So it will be three months short of a full year. And we will pay you accordingly.’ Ponna came out carrying some kambu millets and poured it in the fold of Vengayi’s sari. She then asked, ‘Will you start tomorrow?’

  Kaaraan replied, ‘Please excuse her just for tomorrow. We have a hen, and we are thinking of making an offering of it tomorrow. Let her start from the day after. It is also a Monday.’

  Ponna duly agreed, feeling satisfied with these developments.

  TWENTY

  By the time Ponna was awake, Vengayi had already arrived for work. It was well into the morning.

  Ponna thought about her craving for hot rice. They cooked rice just for her these days for all three meals. But she felt that she shouldn’t be eating luxuriously like this for too long. There was some rice in the gifts that came from her father’s family. But she knew that she had to keep that away for a rainy day. Besides, everyone was saying her morning sickness would go away in a month. Sometimes, she touched her tummy and felt around it inquisitively, but she could not make out anything yet. All she knew was that she was easily hungry and irritable. Perhaps the life that was growing inside her demanded food. Perhaps it was this little life that spoke in annoyance through her. But she also didn’t feel like eating just about anything; she had specific cravings.

  She was amazed to find out how skilful one’s nose was. The tongue seemed to reject anything the nose did not prefer. Even if the leftover rice had gone just a tad sour, the nose deduced it even from a distance. It also seemed to take in very distant smells, like it was a dog’s nose. Even the stench of cow dung and sheep refuse had grown in intensity. She was simply unable to bear the foul smell of the dog. And it became impossible for her to eagerly open the rice pot and look into it. The fragrance was so sharp that it felt like a slap on her face. It felt like she had no control over her body. She had to let it lead her wherever it would.

  Seerayi could not think of anything other than the village meeting that loomed ahead. Ponna tried to calm her by saying, ‘Atthai, what can they do? Don’t worry. No one will accuse us.’ But nothing soothed Seerayi’s anxieties.

  A few nights ago, after finalizing the arrangements with Vengayi, Seerayi had walked to the gate to shut it behind Kaaraan, his wife and Vengayi. Just then, Kaaraan had said, ‘We have some relatives in Pazhayur. I ran into them at the market the other day, and we got talking. We were meeting after several years. They told me that they got to ride in our Muthu’
s bullock cart to the festival. When I told them about what had happened to Kali, they expressed sadness that such misfortunes happened to good people.’

  Seerayi listened to this calmly, but later she asked Vallayi, ‘Did you give anyone a ride on your way to the temple festival?’ Vallayi then told her about how they had given a lift to a family of four: husband, wife and two children. The man’s name was Maaran or something like that. He was adept at handling bulls. Ponna still vividly remembered the child’s face.

  ‘It turns out that he is related to Kaaraan,’ said Seerayi, agitated. ‘Looks like he has asked after us.’

  Ponna said, ‘When we travel somewhere, a thousand people will see us. We can’t think of everyone and keep feeling afraid.’

  But Seerayi’s worries could not be pacified. Ponna felt that Seerayi would calm down only once the meeting was over, but she was also a little anxious that in her state of agitation, Seerayi might disclose too much to someone. She had taken the whole thing very seriously.

  It made Ponna happy just to look at Vengayi’s face. She was so radiant. She must be only twenty-five or twenty-six years old. She had used castor oil on her head and had combed it down neatly. And she wore a chain of black beads around her neck. Teasing her on her prim and proper appearance, Ponna said, ‘Are you sure you have come to work in the fields?’ Vengayi laughed.

  Vallayi shouted after her, ‘Ponna, please don’t do any work yourself.’

  Ponna replied sarcastically, ‘I will just sit in the shade. We will just live off the food that comes from your house in the cart.’ She was carrying a basket which she had picked up just before setting out. But Vengayi took the basket from her right away. Vallayi was not at all offended by Ponna’s remark. On the contrary, it made her happy that the spark was back in Ponna’s voice now.