The Summer of '82 - Chapter 7

The clock was ticking away fast unlike the other days. I had locked myself in the room for a long while, pretending to be asleep. I prayed that my parents would come back early and I could plead them to persuade ammamma not to take me to Pranthan Kuttan. I could fake a stomach ache, or even a headache and bury myself under pillows and pretend as if I was in deep sleep. I started fearing the knock on the door and the anticipation of the knock on the door scared me even further.

As the lights outside the window dimmed, my heartbeats got louder. So loud, I did not even hear the thump on the door.
‘Open the door, Shaiju’ I heard my mother’s voice. Ecstatic, I opened the door and hugged her. ‘I don’t want to meet Pranthan Kuttan. Please ma, I don’t want to go, tell ammamma please’ I pleaded clinching on to her saree.

She stooped down and hugged me. She then pulled me away and wiped my tears from my wet cheeks. ‘He is not mad, Shaiju.’ She combed my hair as she spoke. ‘Ammamma loves you. Do you think she will put you in danger?’ I shook my head to say no. She then pulled me along to the courtyard where my ammamma was waiting. Reluctantly , I held ammamma’s hand and started walking along her side.

The day was getting dark and the voice of the temple speakers blared devotional songs. We walked through the dry leaves and then turned towards the now familiar spooky house of Pranthan Kuttan. The pipal tree at the corner of the land now had three diyas lit underneath it. An old lady with a stoop was sweeping the courtyard. On seeing my grandmother, she searched in anticipation of an unexpected visitor.

‘Janaki, your eyesight is getting weak’ ammamma shouted out to the old lady.

‘Aha, It is you, Parvathy. Did you loose your way to this house? You are coming after such a long time!’ she said as she walked forward. I could see, she was walking with a limp. I hid behind ammamma searching for Pranthan kuttan in the shadows of the house. ‘And who is this hiding behind you?’

‘Thats Shaiju, Padmas eldest son!’ she said as she pushed me ahead. ‘I wanted him to meet Kuttan.’

‘He looks so much like his mother, the same eyes’ she said as she caressed my face with her rough hands. I tried to express a smile, but was not very successful in the effort as my fear was far greater than the expression of acknowledgement.

‘I am glad you came to meet Kuttan’ she said as she led us to the verandah. Both of you sit here, I will get him. ‘Paru, what will you have, tea or coffee?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, we just had tea before we left home’.

Janaki Amma then disappeared into the darkness of the house. I could the tiny sound of the clang of metal in the darkness. This was followed by grunts, and i held my ammamma’s arm tightly. I felt my ammamma’s hand caressing my hands trying to pacify me. The clang of metal got louder and slowly from the shadows emerged an oddly huge figure. The old lady, Janaki, escorted him to an arm chair, that lay in the corner of the verandah. I wondered how i missed it when i was there in the afternoon. He sat silently. I couldn’t see him clearly in the darkness, and i tried to hide as much as possible behind ammamma’s shadow.

‘It’s very dark in here, let me get the lamp’ she said as she disappeared into the shadows again.

‘Kutta, do you remember me’ ammamma spoke.

‘Whe.. were... ooo fa so..’ a scruffy sound came from the chair. The words were broken coming in pieces from his throat.

‘I was busy kutta... I have so much to do in the fields’ ammamma replied.

‘Na.. com.. to.. mee... me..’ His sound had sadness in it along with the scruffiness.

‘I am sorry Kutta, but I do have got somebody to be your friend’

‘wi you rea da git..ta to - de?’

‘No, not the Gita, but Shaiju has got some new stories to read out to you’

‘Ooo- shai - ju?’

My ammamma pulled me to her front. ‘Won’t you read him the stories you have bought Shaiju?’ I shook my head. ‘Shaiju, he is your friend, why dont you first shake hands with him?’ I shook my head violently. My ammamma pushed me forward with all the force. That is when the old lady entered with the lamp and pranthan kuttan’s face was lit up with the soft glow of the kerosene lamp.

His head was huge with a huge lump on his left. His lips awkwardly twisted upwards with a cleft in between. He wore nothing but a white lungi and his long torso was bent with his bones sticking through his skin. He was dripping saliva as he looked at me as his lips widened. I was terrified.

‘Aaa u al - righ’ he looked at me, as his saliva dripped on to his lungi. The old lady wiped his mouth with a cloth, and then sat next to him.

‘What?’ I couldn’t understand what he said.

‘Kuttan is asking if you are alright?’ the old lady deciphered it for me.

‘Yes, I am. Thanks’ I replied.

‘Oooo fel fra winn... in noo...’ he said

‘Kuttan says you fell from the window in the noon.’ the lady repeated. I felt ashamed, I did not know why, but i did feel ashamed. I looked down to my toes in shame.

‘wi.. you.. Ree me...stthho... ree’

‘Will you read me a story, he says’ the old lady spoke.

‘Sure,’ i said as I opened my tinkle comics ’which one do you want to listen to, Suppandi or Kalia, the crow.’

‘Son you will have to read a bit slow, alright?’ she said as she got upto leave. I shook my head and opened the book to read it. I did not know when the fear disappeared. I read out the stories slowly. In between I saw his mouth dripping. I looked around looking for the old lady and ammamma but they had gone inside and I could hear them talking. Kuttan tried to wipe off his face, but was struggling. I took up the cloth and wiped it for him. He smiled. I wouldn’t know why, but that smile changed the equation between me and Kuttan. He laughed at the stupidity of Suppandi. His laughter, a broken one, occasionally spitting as he laughed. Seeing him laugh, I laughed and soon I could understand his broken language. After an hour, we left from Kuttan’s house. I jumped as I walked.

‘Ammamma, why is Kuttan called pranthan kuttan? He is not mad, is he?’ I asked her.

‘No, no. He is not mad at all. He is just a little different from all of us’ she said.

‘Why is that ammamma’

‘I dont know son. God sometimes plays funny games with all of us.’

‘Why is he tied with a chain, ammamma?’

‘Some years ago, he ran away from his house into the street. Somebody made fun of him and he bit that man, and the people of the village started beating him. That is why Namboodiripaad decided to tie him up so that he wouldnot trouble anybody.’

‘But it is wrong, isn’t it ammamma?’

‘It is, but then Namboodiripaad has many problems to take care off and the safety of Kuttan is the last thing he wants to risk.’

‘He can’t even wipe his own face. Why is that ammamma?’

‘Because he is a special child. His arm is weak and he has no control over his hands, that is why?’

‘Ammamma, can I read him The Kaziranga Trail, tomorrow. Is it OK, if I go and meet him in the evenings?’

‘Oh sure dear. You can. He will like it if you read out to him’ she said as we entered the gate of our house. We could see the tungsten wire of the bulb glowing dimly in the low voltage. Kittu and Sita were reciting their poems from two to ten in unison making it sound like a sacred chant. I ran upt my mother tugging on to her saree.

‘Ma, I am hungry.’