Chirammel Kathanar and the Family History of Kottarathil Veedu
‘What is the point in living without knowing the history of your own family and your ancestors?’ Geevarghese asked Little Maria. ‘Have you ever heard your mama or your aunties and uncles mention Chirammel Kathanar?’
‘Who is that?’ asked Little Maria.
‘Chirammel Kathanar was a priest who was a great-grandfather of ours, who lived eight or nine generations ago. It was he who taught Kadamattathu Kathanar, the renowned magician-priest, everything, except our kathanar did not become world famous like his student. Anyway, when the instruction was over, Chirammel Kathanar decided to test his student. He asked Kadamattathu Kathanar to loan him a gold chain. And every time Kadamattathu Kathanar asked for his chain back, Chirammel Kathanar would say, “Yes, yes, I’ll return it immediately.” Finally, fed up with the excuses, Kadamattathu Kathanar came to our house to get his property back. But the moment he entered the house, Chirammel Kathanar shape-shifted into a gecko and escaped, and all Kadamattathu Kathanar saw was the swish of a vanishing tail. Pissed off, he cursed his guru: “May all your descendants be mad!”’
‘And did anyone become mad?’
‘Did they, ha! All this cursing and all, it’s all nonsense, never takes effect.’
‘And what happened to Chirammel Kathanar when he became a gecko?’
‘Oh, he crawled away, and when he got to the ceiling of the kitchen, he saw that there was a plateful of steamed tapioca. So, he came down and ate his fill … One time, in the middle of his sermon during Sunday Qurbana, Chirammel Kathanar produced a picture.
‘“Do you know who this is?” he asked the congregation.
‘“Our Lord Karthaveeshomishiha,” said the believers.
‘Chirammel Kathanar swung the picture this way and that a couple of times and held it up again.
‘“So, who’s this then?” he asked.
‘Almost the entire population sat dumfounded, except for a handful who whispered: “Satan…”
‘“So, how can we tell for sure who is who?” asked the Kathanar and continued with his sermon.
‘One time, Kadamattathu Kathanar and Chirammel Kathanar were travelling together. When they began to feel hungry, they went to a nearby hovel in the hope of being given something to eat. But the people who lived there were very poor, and the woman told them sorrowfully that they had no rice and had not cooked a single meal in the last three days. “Don’t you have even a broken piece of grain?” Kadamattathu Kathanar asked her, and when she said no, he asked her to check once again anyway. Irritated and muttering why they could not leave her alone even in her penury, the woman went off to look. After much searching, she found a piece of rice that was stuck to her winnow. “Here,” she said, placing it into Kadamattathu Kathanar’s palm, “boil it and eat it then.” “Oh, this will do nicely,” said the kathanar, trying to hide his embarrassment at being scolded. He then asked her to boil a pot of water. By then, she had no doubt that Kadamattathu Kathanar was unhinged. She did not think that of Chirammel Kathanar who had remained quiet all through this.
‘“Some of us are dying of hunger here, and you think it’s the time to joke around. Granted you’re a priest and all, but I swear … you’re testing my patience!”
‘The thoroughly pissed off woman went and squatted in a corner of the hut, muttering to herself. So, Kadamattathu Kathanar filled a pot himself, boiled the water, put the tiny piece of broken rice in, and sat waiting, the boiling pot covered with a sliver of banana leaf. After some time, when they removed the leaf and looked inside … Lo and behold! A potful of super-fluffy rice, cooked to perfection! The woman gawped. But overcome with hunger, she sat right beside the kathanars and quickly began eating. And as soon as her hunger was under control, she went inside the house and came back with the bone of a dried fish.
‘“Here,” she said, handing it to Kadamattathu Kathanar. “Would be lovely to have a bit of dried-fish curry to go with the rice.”
‘Kadamattathu Kathanar became anxious because Chirammel Kathanar had not taught him the magic to create curry with dried fish. He gave his guru a troubled look. Stepping in at the time of need, Chirammel Kathanar had the curry made, and the three of them ate again. When it was time to leave, Chirammel Kathanar broke his silence.
‘“Don’t sit around expecting a similar miracle tomorrow also,” he said to the woman. “We only do these tricks when we are hungry.”
‘As they walked away, Kadamattathu Kathanar said, “That was unnecessary. You didn’t have to upset her.”
‘To which Chirammel Kathanar replied, “I was only warning her so that she will not nurture unrealistic expectations.”
‘So, as you can see, Maria, there are many such stories about our ancestor Chirammel Kathanar, but no one is aware of them.’ Geevarghese concluded the storytelling session.
They were wandering around the compound. Ayyappan, who was picking black pepper from the vines smiled at them. He was a silent type of person. Geevarghese told Little Maria that Ayyappan used to be a chatterbox before the Emergency. It was the slogan ‘Navadakkoo paniyedukkoo’ – control your tongue and carry on with your work – that changed him. Fearing that the police would arrest him if he spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, and at the same time unable to define what ‘work’ entailed exactly, he gave up speaking altogether even when he was at home. Was putting up a fence around one’s own house work? Or was it work only if one did it in exchange for wages? The dilemma transformed Ayyappan into Mookanayyappan – Silent Ayyappan.
‘Ayyappa, there’s no need to exert yourself without rest,’ Geevarghese, who had no interest in seeing money accumulating in Kuncheriya’s cash box, told him. ‘This is not the Emergency any more.’
Using the word ‘emergency’ wherever he could, whether it was necessary or not, had become a habit for Geevarghese. But Ayyappan barely heard what he said, engrossed as he was in his work. No one could tell when the police would arrive, after all!
‘Appacha, why do they let pepper vines climb up coconut trees?’ Maria wanted to know.
‘Well, let’s say a coconut tree brings in an income of a hundred rupees. But a coconut tree with a pepper vine clambering all over it brings in five hundred rupees. That is the economics of it.’
Chandippatti ran into their path in the company of a female in the throes of lust.
‘Appacha, look, Chandippatti is climbing over that other dog and trying to kill it!’ Maria shouted. ‘Chandi! Get off!’
Geevarghese picked up a stone and threw it at the dogs, but the female, with the natural reflex of street dogs, deftly avoided it and ran away. It was Chandi who got hit.
‘Doing the dirty in front of the child!’ Geevarghese admonished. ‘Get lost, you scoundrel!’
Chandi turned back with his usual response at the tip of his tongue – ‘This is the trouble with you humans!’ – but seeing Geevarghese pick up another stone, he ran away quickly.
‘Geevarghese nanaar talks to the dog as though it is a human being!’ Ayyappan muttered involuntarily.