Kakkathiamma

Darkness was falling. He quickened his steps. He had to reach the valley before nightfall. Falling prey to some hungry carnivore was not the best of ideas. Shridharan Mashu ( Mashu means master in Malayalam) checked the time on his watch and also the sky.6:30, the twilight was fading, and that was bad. It would be dark in a matter of minutes, as it happens in this part of the country. The old battered torch was of no use in this dense forest.

Shridharan Mashu was a respected man in the village. Still a bachelor, and in his early thirties (Sweet 30's as he would call it); he was a teacher in the village in Wayanad. He taught at the only L.P. school in the village. He was happy that at least there was a school now. During his days, he had to walk 20 miles to the nearest school where he studied. He was perhaps till now the only person in the village who had gone to college. Being the son of the forest officer he was more privileged than the other children of the tribal village. After his Father had died in service, he had stayed on in the village as a teacher. His younger brother had got a job in the forest department and he had moved on to another range. During his college days he had read extensively the work of Marx .Though not inclined to any political party, he had circulated socialist ideas amongst the tribes. They were all ears and their eyes filled with admiration for him whenever he spoke. He was shunned by most of the tribesmen for his ideas, but they still respected him; because he knew more of the unseen world.

This day he was returning home after taking tuition for the Engineer Sir's daughter. The school had closed for the summer vacations, when the Engineer Sir came and requested him to help his daughter in maths. Mashu wanted to keep himself busy so he agreed after a lot of cajoling from Engineer sir.

He knew the forest well, but after night fall even the most experienced tribesman will find it difficult to find his way out. He had been walking for half an hour now. If he had been on the right path he would have reached the village 10 minutes back. He knew it was futile to continue again and that would result in going into more unfamiliar territory. His only protection was to find an Erumaadam (Tree house built by hunters) and take refuge in it and resume his journey at dawn.

He climbed a nearby tree to see if he could find anything in the diminishing light. He saw a light up ahead. "Ah!! Civilization, at least I am not lost." He thought. The light was stationary and that meant it was a house and not someone who had lost his way as he had. Vanquishing the shrubs in the path with his mighty torch, he followed the light. He cried out aloud, but couldn't get a response back. He was not even sure his voice reached there.

The hut stood in a small clearing. The source of light was a ranthal (kerosene lamp) at the window. He went forward and banged on the bamboo door. No response. Twice and thrice he tried. He went around the house. No sign of life. Just as he was about to push open the door, it opened.

She would be at least 70 odd years old, the lady. She was stooping. She would have been to his shoulder level if she stood upright. Age was showing on her face and hands.

Wrinkled and loose skin on her neck and hands. Her ears were sagged with holes, the size of bangles, where once ear rings had adorned. He wondered what she might be doing here, so far in the woods. And by the looks of it she appeared to be alone.

He suddenly found that she fit woman in the story, he had heard in his childhood. In fact, any child in the village heard from their parents; the story of the old woman in the forest who stole children and ate them for dinner. He was too old for that story now and smiled unknowingly; what all parents cook up to keep their child safe and from going into the woods.

She stared at him for moment through the cold grey eyes. He met her eyes. She seemed startled by the presence of the stranger.

‘Amma’, he called her. 'Do you know how to join back to the path to the village?'

She nodded. She raised her hand halfway, as to show him the way, but brought it down.

'The woods are dangerous in this time of the day', she warned. Her sparingly cultivated teeth showed. What was left had the dark brown colour of chewing betel leaves.

'Then can I stay here till dawn, Amma?' he asked. 'That is, if it is not a burden for you'.

She looked bewildered. Had he asked something wrong, Mashu thought.

She looked down, and said 'If you want to stay here you are most welcome. But let me

remind you no one likes to come here to stay, lest talk with me.'

That was a strange remark. 'It is no problem with me Amma, I will stay here. And I won't cause any disturbance also, I promise Amma'. He smiled. He could see her gaze shifting when he called her Amma.

The hut was a single room. Except for a charcoal stove in one corner, it was more or less empty. A mat made of palm leaves was rolled up against the wall and a few utensils made of clay were near the stove. The stove was cold. A small pile of dry branches decorated another side of the wall, to indicate cooking was done once in a while. She ushered him inside, rolled out the mat and gestured him to sit. As a polite gesture Mashu stood there until Amma had sat down. She sat with great difficulty. But after resting her legs she seemed relieved. Mashu sat down on one side of the mat.

She seemed to be in her own world, staring at the wall, as though it was a screen with a movie playing. Mashu decided to break the silence.

‘Amma , what is your name?’ . She was startled and looked around to see who had disturbed her from her dream. She saw him sitting there and remembered she was not alone.

‘Amma , what is your name?’ Mashu repeated softly. She started laughing loudly, baring her brown teeth. She stopped suddenly.

‘Kakkathiamma is what they call me, the children. They run away on seeing me’. He face turned sad. ‘They run away on seeing me. They think I will hurt them, don’t they?’.

She looked at Mashu, her grey eyes had a glint in them. Mashu had no answer. He wanted to change the topic. But he said, ‘No, they don’t . Who would run away from a sweet lady like you?’

‘They have heard stories. They know they aren’t supposed to come near me. ’ she retorted.

She continued on, ‘I fell in love with a man, an outsider, was it my mistake. They stamped me an outcast. They shunned me from the tribe.’ She continued as though there were many things she had to say, ‘I married the man, we moved off far away from the tribe.’ She stopped. Tears had started flowing from her eyes. They shone on her skin like beads. Mashu understood her and the loneliness over the years. ‘Now I am all alone, couldn’t bear a child, my husband taken by the forest gods and I live because I cannot die.’

He placed a gentle hand on her palm, rubbed it. She clutched it firmly. She looked into his eyes. He could see not coldness in them now. Only the remains of a youth trampled down by customs.

‘Thank you son, for listening to me. It’s been long since anyone….’

‘Say , did you have dinner.’ . Time had well passed 8:30 now. The question made Mashu’s Stomach grumble. Kakkathiamma stood up and picked up a pot. She approached him with a fistful of berries and handed it over. Mashu and Amma ate together. After the dinner, Kakkathiamma, offered him the mat to sleep on. Mashu declined . He helped her settle down and laid down to sleep. Kakkathiamma had left a deep effect on him.

The sun rose as always. Light poured into the house through the lone window.

Shridharan Mashu rubbed his eyes, stifled a yawn and sat upright. The cottage looked as he had entered it yesterday. The mat was rolled up. The only scenic change was the water boiling on the stove and the billowing smoke that rose out through the window throwing patterns of sunlight in the smoke. He stretched his legs and walked out through the open door. His eyes were searching for Kakkathiamma. She was no where to be seen.

He waited in the doorstep for a few minutes before calling out again ‘Amma, where are you?’.

He walked around the house and followed a path he saw.

He heard the sound of crackling of leaves in front. He advanced towards it, and saw a person collecting wood . He had a closer look. It was not Kakkathiamma. It was a tribesman he knew, Muthu. He called out to him. Muthu spotted Mashu standing there and rushed to him. Mashu told Muthu how he had got lost and about Kakkathiamma. Muthu’s eyes widened. Mashu asked him to help find her. Muthu was reluctant at first. Mashu convinced him to do a favour and that no body would know about it. Finally Muthu agreed. They traced back to the hut and started searching the surroundings. No signs still. Suddenly Mashu heard Muthu’s shout. He raced to the grove of cocoa trees.

She was lying there face down, a clutch of cocoa leaves in her hand. Mashu picked her up and asked for Muthu’s help. Muthu took a step back, ran and vanished into the woods.

Mashu took her in both his arms and edged forward. He reached the hut and laid her down in front of it. Checked her pulse. It was feeble. Hearing a sound he looked back and saw Muthu carrying a stretcher made of wines and bamboo.

Mashu helped Muthu to get her on the stretcher. Muthu led the way and in minutes the forest path was clear. A jeep came around the path loaded with herbs to the local market. Mashu stopped it and with Muthu’s help got Amma on the jeep.

Muthu stayed back and watched as Mashu and Kakkathi made way forward. Mashu completely understood and looked at Muthu with grateful eyes. Muthu smiled and went back into the forest.

Doctors and nurses had tried their best at the Clinic. There was not enough time to take her to the nearest hospital. She opened her eyes for a brief moment. She held his hand. ‘God Bless you son’ . He could feel the warmth of her body receding. A life devoured by the ghosts of her past.

Six years have passed since that day. He couldn’t blame the tribesmen, this was how their tradition had survived over the years. Untouched by outsiders, their customs still lived on. And Kakkathiamma still lived on in the heart of Shridharan Mashu.

In these woods,

Live ghosts entrapped,

The ghosts of life,

That is past;

The ghosts of many,

Entwined, in destiny’s lap;

Heed your ears,

And you will hear,

Follow your eyes,

And you will see,

Free yourself,

And you’ll believe,

That the world beyond

Is nothing but an image of yours.