It was 4.30 a.m. The sky was dark outside. It has been raining the night before, but seemed to have stopped now. Pachiama looked out of her window. Everything was still, nothing moved, not even the chicken in the coop. The estate was shrouded in darkness. Would there be work today, she wondered as she tied up her hair into a bun.
Pachiamma and her family worked as rubber tappers in that estate, owned by a British plantation company. The year was 1977. It has been almost eight years since her family moved into the workers' quarters provided by the management. Her daughters were in their early teen then. They have grown up to be beautiful maidens ever since. Pachiamma had two daughters and a son. Her daughters stopped schooling at the age of twelve. Her son was still studying in school. Among the rural Indian community daughters were not given priority for education. Pachiamma was not given such opportunity, so she did not see why her daughters should be. Now, both girls help her tap rubber in the estate.
Pachiamma's husband left her for another woman after he son was born. The boy had bad horoscope, the elders in her family had said. Bad horoscope or not she had to raise her children on her own. Finances have been difficult but somehow she had managed to raise them and with her daughters helping her tap rubber, money is a little easier now.
In estates, the norm is to be paid twice a month. And the estate folks use their income to purchase essentials like sugar, rice and other items from the estate grocery store located about a kilometre from the workers quarters. A small narrow lane lined by rubber trees led towards the grocery store. The store was owned by a relative of the estate manager. Prices of items at the store were expensive but without any alternatives, the estate workers had to purchase their necessities from there. There were rumours that the grocery store owner was into black magic and stuff, that if anyone tried to complain about prices of essentials, he apparently would voodoo them that they would die vomitting blood. So, no one complained but went about life purchasing their necessities from that store. Most were on credit, purchases recorded in a small book and paid for upon receipt of salary. Pachiamma used to argue with the grocery store owner; she felt he was over charging the estate folks but she did not believe in voodoo either.
It has been thirty minutes since Pachiamma woke up. She had lit the firewood stove and cooked some plain rice to be taken with them when they go rubber tapping in another half hour. Roll call was at 5.30 a.m. after which the mandore would assign the lot of trees to be tapped by each tapper. The trees were not tapped daily. Rubber trees are tapped on alternate days to allow the tree to rest a day to produce more latex.
She woke her elder daughter, Lalitha, up. Her son would sleep till 6.30 a.m. before he leaves for school at 7. Mother and daughter started packing their stuff for work, as well as for Pachiamma's second daughter, Latha. Latha was still sleeping. Usually, she would be up before Lalitha, but strangely Latha was still in bed.
Having ensured everything was packed well, Pachiamma went to wake Latha up. The girl was sleeping with her back facing outward. The family sleeps on a wooden platform, called `vaangu'. There were no mattresses, only a piece of cloth to cover the wood and one pillow each. They used old sarees as blankets.
Pachiamma called out to Latha, urging her to wake up. Latha was not moving. Strange, thought, Pachiamma, but as the alarm on her old clock went off at 5.30 a.m. Pachiamma hurried to the kitchen to put out the firewood stove and place all her things on one of the three bicycles the family owned. She asked Lalitha to wake Latha up.
The wail was like no other, a blood curling scream from Lalita filled the stillness of the estate in that early morning hour. Pachiamma froze then ran to the room. Lalita was crouched on the floor holding her head, sobbing, screaming. Pachiamma reached out to touch her daughter when she saw the horrifying sight. Blood had oozed out of Latha's nose, dried and the young girl was lifeless! Her eyes were staring into space. The mother froze. Then, darkness...
There were voices around her. Someone was wiping her face. She smelled incense stick, she heard someone sobbing. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The women of the estate were in her house. She tried to get up, someone propped her up against the wall. Lalitha was seated, leaning against the wall on the far side. Her eyes red and swollen from crying. Latha's body was placed in the middle of the house, with a lamp at her head and incense sticks were lit. The smell wafted in the air.
It took a good moment for Pachiamma to realise there was a death in her home and her second daughter was no more. Women in groups were huddled and whispering. Her mandore was at the door, talking to a policeman. He bade the policeman goodby and came to Pachiamma.
`When do you want to complete the rites?' he asked. Pachiamma looked at him blankly. They were Hindus. According to tradition, the dead would be cremated before sun down. It was already 10 a.m. From the looks of it, no one had gone to work that day. The body had to be bathed, decked in her best clothes, complete all rites and cremated by sun down. The rites have to be completed by her son, as the sole male in the family. Thirty days of mourning and life would never be the same again.
Pachiamma did not answer. The mandore stood up and started giving instructions to all around. Pachiamma went through the last rites in a daze. She still could not accept that her second child was no more. Latha was born at seven months, before full term. Thus Pachiamma had special affections for her and Latha was the prettier one between the two. The bubbly and lively girl could carry more latex than her sister when they went rubber tapping.
In the beginning, both girls assisted Pachiamma, but since the previous week both were assigned with their own lot of rubber trees to tap. She has been worried, refused to let them work alone, but the mandore had convinced her that they were very experienced and would get more salary if they worked on their own. She had agreed and now she was no longer sure whether her decision was right. What happened that Latha died bleeding in her nose?
The menfolk returned after the cremation, washed the house. A neighbour brought some food. With her came a very old woman, leaning on a stick. She had a big red bindhi on her forehead.
The old woman sat beside Pachiamma and held her hands. `Amma, do not cry,' she said. `Last week there was a similar death at a nearby estate.'
`That was also a very young girl. She died the same way, bleeding in her nose.'
Pachiamma lifted her face and looked at the old woman. She didn't hear of any death the week before.
`Young girls who go rubber tapping are often followed by ghosts,' the old woman said. `They would feel as if someone is walking behind them, or may call out their name.'
Now, Pachiamma remembered. Yes, Latha did say she heard someone call her name on the second day she went rubber tapping on her own. But when she turned, there wasn't anyone. Pachiamma had rubbished that girl. It could have been the mandore, she told her daughter.
The old woman continued. `When something like that happens, the girls should stop immediately, stand still and make a circle around them using the big toe of the right foot.' Then, apparently, the ghost would go away and not bother the person again. Pachiamma remembered her late grandmother saying this but at that age she had laughed at such superstitions. Her own grandmother had said that when people died bleeding in their noses, it meant that during the night, the ghost had come and taken the soul away.
This old woman also seemed to say the same thing. In estates, superstitions were in abundance and people like Pachiamma chose not to believe them because she had a life to live and children to raise. Superstitions could derail the confidence of a person, bring on fear and Pachiamma did not have any room for fear as she has to work to support her family. It sort of made sense to Pachiamma. The estate folks had shared many stories about the unseen which Pachiamma would usually ignore. The grocery store owner's voodoo for one. And she was his enemy. Looks like she had ignored too much and paid a heavy price. Perhaps, like her grandmother did, she should have alerted her daughters to stand still and make a circle around them using the big toe of the right foot when they felt some presence around them. Perhaps, Latha would still be alive. Perhaps...
Note: In rubber estates, superstitions were strife those days. Utilities were limited, facilities were unheard of and life had to be lived as it came. To overcome life issues, the estate folks had practiced some believes which today, we call `superstitions'. This story is just a work of creative imagination based on stories heard from my late grandfather who was an estate mandore during his younger days and had not intended to adversely comment on any group of people.
No comments:
Post a Comment