It is a beautiful morning. A breeze is blowing in through the open window. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of kattankaapi [ black coffee] & fermented batter. Amma [Mother] is making Manu’s favourite appam [rice pancake] for breakfast. As she spreads the batter into a perfect round shape on the tawa I glisten on her wrist approvingly. The appetizing aroma wafts out through the kitchen door & brings a half-awake Manu with it on its tail.
The usual smile on his face is replaced by a look of anxiety. He climbs up on the kitchen top & helps himself to a piece of the appam. This would have earned him a whack with the ladle on usual days but not today. Today is special. Today Manu’s pre-matriculate result is going to be published.
Amma has high hopes for Manu & so do I. She keeps telling me time & again that once Manu grows up & lands a good job we will have enough money to bring the rest of my clan back home from the moneylender.
“Good morning sleepyhead, don’t just sit there stuffing your mouth. Go brush your teeth & take a bath.”
Manu jumped off the kitchen top reluctantly & dragged himself to the bathroom, the weight of expectations made him droop.
Amma is happily humming as she puts out the breakfast. She is dressed in the traditional Kerala saree. Her washed hair is loosely tied with a bunch of jasmine adorning it. The chandana kuri [sandalwood paste] is forming a bridge between her brows. She smells of coconut oil, jasmine & maternal love.
Manu walks into the room trying to wear a smile. A case is made in vain against Amma trying to feed him. I chuckle as he tries to push Amma’s hand away.
“Amma I am a big boy now. My friends will laugh at me if they hear that you still feed me.”
“Don’t make a fuss. Let them laugh. You will always be my baby boy”
Let this showering of love not deceive you. Pampering isn’t the only treatment Manu receives from Amma.
Let me give you a proper introduction to Manu. I consider the twelve-year-old boy as my little brother given the fact that I came into the family before him. Appa [Father] gifted me to Amma on their first anniversary. She had spent hours admiring my golden glow & intricate design. I was made by the goldsmith on a special request by Appa. Manu came on the second anniversary. The boy is a bit scrawny for his age. Often the target of choice for street bullies. But he makes up for the lack of musculature with his gazelle-like speed. His skinny body meets little resistance from the wind as he outruns the predators. He is a gentle boy. The kind who feeds sugar grains to the marching ants. Raised by Amma entirely on her own after Appa passed away a few years back.
He is a bit behind in his studies. Okay! it might be more than a bit. Let’s not be biased by brotherly love. To put it straight he is not half as bright as me. He has been scraping through his exams. Vinod Masha [teacher] had even paid a visit to Amma to inform her of Manu’s feats. As a result, Manu received a bout of chural adi [ beating with a cane]
Manu had his justifications for the slacking. They go like this:
“English is the language of the invaders & so I despise it. Mathematics talks about baskets of apples & oranges, trains passing through tunnels & other kinds of things with no real-life applications. If an apple costs Rs 6 how much would Rs 72 get you? All you need to do to know is walk over to Vijay Chettan’s [term of respect] shop & hand him over the money. Science tells you how plants respire & make their food. Which is, a matter of fact none of our business. It tells us how our bodies breathe, digest & excrete. Well, 70-year-old ammama [grandmother] has never opened a science textbook but I believe her body has been carrying out all these functions quite well. Malayalam is an ancient language & you can’t expect a 12-year-old to master it” and so on & so forth.
He has dreams of becoming an athlete like Shankar Chettan from the neighboring village whose picture was published in the newspaper. He had won the state medal. These are not vain dreams. Manu has been ruling the school track events. Thanks to his daily practice run in the fields. Running to escape Amma’s chural adi also helps.
Amma loves him a lot. It aches to admit that her love for him surpasses that for me. That is despite me being the constant companion, always at hand, listening to all her complaints & never talking back. The poor woman has been running the house single-handed. She has a lot to worry about. Manu only adds his follies into it like ghee into fire & gets quite a thrashing as a reward. He is terrified of Amma’s tempers. The woman is as sweet in love as ferocious in her tempers. The neighbors can vouch for it, especially Mary Amma from next door. Mary Amma sits back leaning into the verandah pillar with her box of betel nuts every time Amma & Manu put on a show. Manu wailing & running as he begs for mercy & Amma in close pursuit with a chural [cane] in hand. They run in & out of the house & in circles in the courtyard. At times Manu tries to climb up a tree to escape the wrath, invariably falls at Amma’s feet, accepts defeat & receives the thrashing. One of these episodes is responsible for the untimely demise of half a dozen of my species. Their only fault is that they were made of glass. They were a noisy but good company while they lasted.
“Manu, come bow your head to the gods before you go” Amma’s voice wakes me from my reverie.
Manu doesn’t need much persuasion. He needs all the gods today. He bows his head in the pooja room & takes in a deep breath of the incense-filled air.
“Have this. It's good luck” says Amma as she feeds him a spoonful of the age-old recipe for good luck - ghee & sugar.
With a final call for help to all the gods he can remember Manu steps out of the house. The school is a fifteen-minute walk from home. Amma stands by the door waving him off.
The pleasant morning gave way to a sweltering afternoon. Amma is buzzing around like a bee preparing the afternoon meal. No prize for guessing it’s another of Manus's favorite- fish moilee. She is making the coconut paste. A process that I am not very fond of. I keep banging into the ammikalu [ grinding stone].
The smell of fresh fish & a racket of pleading meows announce the arrival of the meenkari [fisherwoman].
“Aren’t Manu’s results out today?” asks the meenkari as Amma picks out some karimeen [ type of fish].
“Yes, he has gone to the school to check it. He must be back any minute now. The kid loses track of time playing around with friends”
“Keep the payasam [pudding] ready then”
“Yes! My son has been studying hard. Today he will be rewarded” says Amma as she opens the tin jar & hands the meenkari the money.
The curry is happily bubbling away filling the house with mouth-watering aroma. One of the cats has decided to hang around with the happy prospect of some fish bones. There is no sign of Manu yet.
Amma starts to get worried. I can see the wrinkles forming on her forehead. It has been hours since Manu left.
The curry is cooling down but there is still no sign of Manu. Uneasy thoughts start popping into Amma’s head. She decides to put an end to it.
“I have waited enough. I am going to walk to the school, hold that little monster by his ears & drag him home”
Amma grabs the umbrella & steps out into the sun. The heat is intense. She marches on towards the school with interspersed murmurs.
“I have been toiling away all day preparing his favorite meal & the boy cares little”
“I will give him a kiss on the forehead & a whack on the head”
“Behaves just like his appa. Men, give no thought to the ladies back home”
“I need to get milk for the payasam on the way back”
“That reminds me I have to pay the paalkari [milkmaid]. That woman sells water in the name of milk”
We finally reached the school. The yellow building with a red tiled roof is starkly empty. There is not one kid running about its sun-scorched playground.
Amma walks in through the gates. She makes her way to the notice board. The results are put up. A list of names under the headings: First Class, Second Class & Third Class. Amma looks for Manu’s name. Her turmeric-stained finger trailed down the list. She is past the first class list. A look of disappointment comes over. She reads the whole list, stares at it for a while & rereads it but Manu’s name does not appear. A tear trickles out her left eye streaks across her cheek & drops on the red oxide floor. She stands leaning on the wall for a while trying to regain composure. She spots the watchman walking towards her.
“Chetta where are all the kids? When did they leave?”
“It has been quite a while. Three or four hours. What is wrong?”
“My son Manu hasn’t come home yet”
“Do not worry. These boys know no hunger or rest. Why don’t you check the football ground? A couple of kids were playing there”
Amma makes her way to the football ground. A group of kids are kicking the ball around. Manu isn’t one of them.
“Makale [Children], did you happen to see Manu”
“He left school long back. I tried talking to him but he didn’t want to”
Amma is worried. Sweat breaks from her forehead. She wipes it off with her saree. Dreadful thoughts crossed her mind. She goes from one friend’s house to another with no luck. She rushes to the angadi [marketplace] inquiring at shop after shop. Nobody has seen Manu.
Tears threaten to jump off her tiered eyes. She is exhausted. She slumps on the bench under the banyan tree holding her head, leaning onto the umbrella. She breaks down. People gather around her. Some are comforting, some are inquiring, some are making suggestions & some are formulating theories. Amma is inconsolable now.
“I can’t find my son anywhere. I have been running door to door but can’t find him. He has been gone from the morning. The poor child must be terrified of coming home. I don’t know what has befallen him”
Someone from the crowd asked
“What is wrong?”
Someone answered
“Her son failed the pre-matriculates & ran away”
Another said “Kids these days are spoiled. They run about here & there ignoring their studies and when failure knocks they can’t face it”
“Poor guy must be scared to go to his mother with the news”
“Kids these days can’t face the hardships of life. Back in our days..”
“You remember Shiva’s elder son? He took his life after he failed the matriculate exam”
In the midst of this, someone suggested “Did you look near the village pond? I think I saw him going that way”
The hint of scandal in this suggestion propelled & propagated it through the crowd. It eventually made it to Amma’s ears.
Amma froze at the idea. She drops the umbrella, tucks in her saree & runs for the village pond.
“Oh god please be with me”
“My son is all I have. I want him back. I will offer you a hundred coconuts. Please keep my son safe”
I pray too. I care less for the rest of my clan. I just want my little brother to be safe.
Amma ran with tears streaking her face & behind her ran half of the crowd. Women with toddlers on their hips, some with haystacks on their heads, men with folded mundu [ a garment worn by men around the waist] & barefooted kids.
Everyone arrived at the pond. There was no sign of Manu. A search party is formed. Few men go around the grounds & few jump into the water. The women are standing by Amma holding her. The air is charged with tension. I can feel Amma’s pulse accelerate. An hour passes by. The men searching the grounds return with no luck. All eyes now focus on the pond. Amma’s heart drops as one of the men gets out of the water.
“Found nothing”
The others swim out too & declare that nobody was found. Amma signed with relief & so did I. She thanks all the gods & stars. The crowd starts trickling away as the excitement fades. Eventually, it’s just a handful of neighbors & us. They accompany us back home.
“We will find Manu. Do not worry. Have faith in the gods. Let’s get you back home. Get some rest”
Amma has a defeated look on her face. She has hardly any energy left in her.
“The exams do not matter. He can write them again. I just want my son back”
“I have pressurized my child too much. Burdened him with my expectations”
“The poor kid lost his father & his mother keeps thrashing him”
“He is really good at sports. You should see him run like lightning. He wants to be like Shankar, Kumarettan’s son; you know the one whose photo was published in the papers last year”
“I never appreciated what he is good at. I am a horrible mother”
“I swear in the name of all the gods. I will never raise my hands on the poor kid again. I am going to burn that chural. My son is all I want”
She is saying all this more to herself than to anyone else. On the way, she gets milk from the paalkari.
We reach home. Amma is being seated on the cane chair on the verandah.
It aches me to see Amma in this state. I wish I could help her out of her misery but all I can do is pray.
Someone starts fanning Amma, another goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. Amma’s eyes are saying a hundred prayers as she sits helpless, clutching the milk can in her arm. She lost her husband at a young age. She can’t lose her only child too.
“Savitri, is this the dosham [fault] in my nakshatram [ stars] that takes away my loved ones from me?”
“You should have performed all the poojas the thirumeni [ astrologer] asked you to after your husband passed away. Some women do bring bad luck into the family” volunteers a self-proclaimed master of worldly matters.
Savitri Amma leans in closer to amma & whispers “Laxmi, do not pay heed to him. You have toiled away your youth raising the kid & holding this household together. If there is dosham in anything it is in his thoughts”
“Laxmi! Your son is here! Comes a shout from the kitchen.
Amma springs from the chair dropping the milk can & runs to the kitchen.
There is Manu. He is sitting by the kitchen door emptying a plate of rice & fish moilee. The cat is sitting by his feet feeding on the bones.
“Thank god! My child is safe” Amma runs & hugs Manu. Tears of relief make their appearance.
“Where have you been all this while you stupid child? I searched the whole village for you”
With his mouth stuffed with rice Manu points at a jar of guppies sitting on the kitchen table.
I brace myself as Amma reaches for the chural.
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