Winter in Alampoondi signified slightly chilly nights and misty mornings. The month of December brought with it the promise of a good harvest and the Tamil month of Margazhi- the month said to correspond with the morning hour of the Gods, the month in which the fiery chariot of the Sun turns around at the tropic of Capricorn and returns back to the Northern hemisphere, the month in which all the temples open at four in the morning and loudspeakers blare out songs and bhajans.
Alampoondi is a tiny village in Tamil Nadu situated near the famous forts of Gingee where Raja Desingh had valiantly resisted the onslaught of the Mughal invaders from the North only to be treacherously betrayed by a close aide. The village is also home to an ancient temple of Shiva, the destroyer; it is said to be an ancient spot where great men had lived in penance, though in India, it is indeed hard to find a village without a temple or some sort of an association with ancient mythology.
Alampoondi also holds a close place in my heart as this village is where my ancestral home is. My great grandfather moved to this village at the age of twenty five with his wife and two children in tow. My grandfather was at the tender age of 7 when his family had made this transition from Pilasur. Pilasur happens to be nearly a 100 Km from Alampoondi, and during those times of joint families, it was uncommon for people to break away and move out of one’s village.
My grandfather had never revealed to anyone the true story of our forefathers, until one starry night when all his children and grandchildren had gathered in the home built by his father in Alampoondi, he made a suggestion which made all the children squeal with delight and caused the adults to groan. He suggested that we have dinner on the terrace under the starry gallery. The children gladly ran up the stairs carrying the pots, pans and the various other dishes that were handed out to them. The older children were put in charge of arranging the “hurricane” lamps which used kerosene and made a rushing sound which sounded very much like a strongly blowing wind. The mats were set in place and the ladies of the family got the children under control.
I feel that the most satisfying part of any good meal isn’t while it is being eaten, but after it has been completely consumed and the feaster is resting blissfully with no worries and a beeda or paan in his mouth. Hence, when we had finished dinner and the dishes had all been cleared up, we were all resting on the terrace lying on the coir mats staring at the stars through the wispy fingers of clouds. That was when my grandfather told us why his father had moved from Pilasur. It had been as a result of a family feud with his elder brother. Apparently, the elder brother had demanded a greater share of property than had been assigned to him. My great grandfather had had to listen to many harsh words which were unwarranted which led to him moving away, being the peace loving man that he had been. In short, the behavior of his brother had disgusted him and being an honourable and righteous man, he could not stand the insult to himself and his wife causing him to breakaway and set up home in Alampoondi.
My grandfather had grown up in Alampoondi but he left for the city, Madras when he turned 17 in search of employment. After many years had passed and after having retired and having married away all his children, he returned to Alampoondi to buy back his father’s home. He didn’t move back there entirely though, as he realized that his life and everything in it was now in Madras. So, every weekend, grandma and he would travel the 150 odd kilometers to live the simple village life. They thought of it as a retreat where they could enjoy a peaceful weekend with none of the hustle bustle of city life. Soon it became a trend for all of us to visit them during their stay at Alampoondi, we as children used to enjoy the two day stay.
It was during the month of December when I visited my grandparents all by myself. I am the eldest among all my cousins and I was an engineering student then, my semester breaks would never coincide with the school vacations and that was how I found myself all alone roaming the verdant fields of Alampoondi. One of my good childhood friends and a resident farmer had made me promise to come visit him during the day’s work, he had enthusiastically told me to expect something fun. Expecting the unexpected, I walked towards his fields. After all, it had been Venkatesh who had taught me to swim by pushing me into one of the gigantic wells dotting the fields.
As his field came into view, I could discern a huge hulking shape moving around, as I approached, the sound of a diesel motor whirring made its way towards me. Venkatesh, proudly showed me his “combined harvester” which was capable of harvesting fields infinitely faster than the time it took for humans to achieve it manually.
The day had been a tiring one, I had spent it helping out Venkatesh on his farm, though the machine made things easier, there had still been a considerable amount of manual labour involved which took its toll on me by the end of the day. The refreshing bath that we had taken by plunging into one of the wells did help reduce the fatigue and I found myself sitting at my doorstep at sunset. As I stared into the fields which were awash in an orange glow, I noticed a stooping figure approaching our home. A black dog ran alongside him, it seemed to be leading the way, helping the old man navigate the mud path bordering two fields. I looked away at the distant mountain of Annamalai and was totally absorbed in watching the sun’s last few rays light up the peak of the mountain when I was startled by the sound of an old man’s wheezing cough. I looked to my left to find the old man standing quite close, intently staring at my face. “Are you the vadyar’s son?” enquired the old man. (Vadyar means teacher in Tamil.)
“No, I’m his great grandson, who are you?” said I staring into his wrinkled old face.
“I need to speak to Vadyar Saar or his son, could you please go inside and fetch him for me?” said the old man with a toothless smile on his face.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. Vadyar Saar is no more, he would have to be at least a hundred and ten to be alive now! His son though is resting inside and I can fetch him for you if you like.”
“That would be nice, tell him that I’m an old relative of his, tell him that I have seen him as a very young child, that he once pulled my beard and had playfully called me Dhaadi. I am sure that he remembers. Who are you young man?”
“I’m Shankar, Vadyar Saar’s great grandson. Nice to meet you, what is your name thatha?”
“You too can call me Dhaadi, I see that you are an intelligent young man, what are you doing with your life?”
“I’m in college now, doing an engineering course. Which village are you from thatha?”
“I… I cannot face him once again. I… Listen, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yes, a younger brother, but he is not here now. I came here by myself.”
“No, no, brothers must never let anything come in between them. Make sure that whatever it is, you resolve it. Go back and apologize for having quarreled!”
“We didn’t quarrel, I am…” but the old man had turned around and disappeared into the darkness, the dog’s barks could be heard echoing through the night air.
“That seems strange.” remarked my grandfather when I recanted the details of my interaction with the hermit like man.
“He asked me to call him Dhaadi, he said that that was what you used to call him while playfully tugging at his beard when you were a child.”
“Ha! Ha! No that can’t be! How do you know that? I’ve never told anyone about Jai Ram Maama except for that little story on the terrace the night we had dinner up there. You must be making these things up! Come on, tell me, you made it all up didn’t you?” yelled my grandfather.
“No thatha, he even had a black dog which ran along with a limp. He told me all this. Who is Jai Ram Maama?”
“My God! It can’t be! Jai Ram Maama died a few years before father!”
“Thatha! Please tell me who Jai Ram Maama is!” I cried out though I knew very well what answer I was to receive.
“Jai Ram was my father’s brother, the one who drove away our family from Pilasur! May Lord Shiva help him find peace soon!”
That night, I called my brother and spoke for an hour. I even called all my cousins and friends the next day, I guess silly things may sometimes build an impregnable wall between people, what I have tried in life ever after that incident has been to ensure that my human side is not corrupted by my materialistic lust.
