Karma in the killing fields of Kannur
I have at times seen my father basking in his ancestral glory. He belonged to an erstwhile janmi family of repute. By the time he became its head, the tharavad had lost everything except the old dwelling, partly by the profligacy and prodigality of his forefathers, and the rest by the inevitable land reforms.
The karanavar (head) would gift away a paddy field for a few pots of toddy or arrack. When my father’s third sister also got widowed (prematurely) and joined us, our family grew into a frightening nineteen. The number started dwindling only as my generation grew up and started leaving home in pursuit of a job. Our only source of income was father’s meagre salary as a school teacher.
From where do you get a square meal? In our joint family, even filling our bellies once a day was a luxury. Rice was a scarce commodity. As the villagers’ purchasing power was poor, the shopkeepers perforce had to sell things in very small measure. For five paise you could buy a little tea dust, a spoonful of sugar, a centimetre of penicillin ointment, a little jaggery, a small amount of common salt, and few spices. One matchbox cost five paise, and you could get loose matchsticks for less than that.
There were days when father was literally penniless. One Sunday, I remember, the tea shop near his school where he could get tea and bidis on credit wasn’t open. He would manage without food, but not without bidis. An irresistible craving for nicotine made him send me off to the nearby Damu’s (name changed) shop for bidis on credit for five paise. Damu refused credit point-blank (maybe he didn’t like my body language!). The incident demoralised us no end. As a reprisal, father’s cousin, using his friend in the Sales Tax Department, had the shop raided. Damu got charged for overpricing and serious other irregularities.
That made him revengeful. One night, on his way to attend a public political meeting, my unsuspecting father was waylaid by Damu’s henchmen. One of the assailants struck him down unconscious with a solid blow on his head. Father survived the attack, but lost the court case for want of evidence. Damu reveled in the victory. Years rolled by. Kannur became notorious for political murders and mayhems. And Damu’s son grew up embroiled in them. Then one day the youngster came under a brutal attack. The attack left him maimed for life. Damu’s life went for a toss! Insensible actions bring in their wake inescapable miseries. That is karma in this very life.
P Mangalachandran
Email: mangalachandranp@gmail.com