Angapradarshanam

I hark back to a day following the death of eminent statesman Rajaji. We were visiting my young mama, a bachelor, who was avProfessor in the Physics department at the university in Madurai, a recent PhD fresh out of the Indian Institute of Science, Bangalore. He took us on a trip to Pazhamudircholai, one of 6 famous Murugan temples in Southern India. We set out early afternoon with another family - Venkatamuthusubramaniam and his new bride, the former my uncle's colleague. I was smitten by him and floored unabashedlyby the attention he showered on me. I recall that climb up the hill, the stream beside us gurgling along as a companion. I experienced a curious mixture of joy and yearning; I cherished the moments, I was infatuated and I kept wanting time to stop..I revelled in my fantasies about a little town, a cozy home, a domestic love nest (what? in my prepubescence??). I pictured my future as in the movies, where things did not go wrong ever..time caught in a snapshot of pretty women in half sarees, sensitive men, full embraces, laughter and lots and lots of intimacy. Ah Patti with her curly hair, her blue/green cat’s eyes and gap tooth enters the memory. She had remained obscure and now I see her heaving, heavy body, making that pilgrimage barefoot, her feet tough as leather and completely out of shape that they could not be maneouvred into a pair of Hawaii slippers, which she wore only in the extreme heat. On this balmy afternoon, as I slipped my hand into her firm grip and tripped along my oiled braids bobbing she mumbled repeatedly Lord Muruga’s name in utter reverence, only stopping to chide me when I went too close to the stream. I never noticed then patti’s beautiful tanned skin, the gorgeous evenness of her features, spectacular, razor sharp nose and full sensuous lips. I did not realize that she had been a young woman once before those years of physical abuse and marital rape, 5 livebirths, innumerable bloody abortions, with coat hangers and concoctions from quacks. I did not know that the blood stains still remained on that smooth cement floor of the house in Seerkazhi, despite the years of repeated washing, so like the pain in her pelvis. The doctor who opened her up later said her uterus and ovaries were like rotten fruit. Her innards were rotting then as I tripped along beside her. Patti reined me as I got a little ahead of myself saying “ammalu, slow down..”. Her perspiration dripped down the sides of her face, soaked her white blouse down the back and under her armpits there were wet circular blotches. I asked my mother why patti sweated so much and she said with concern and pathos “ her body is like a white pumpkin, porous with too much water”. As we reached the peak and emerged from among the crush of humans straining for a look at the inner sanctum, patti’s face grew serious, frantic, almost hysterical. She had a higher purpose and I tried to find meaning in my mechanical movements, as I clasped my hands, prostrated on the floor, mumbled the few mantras I had picked up, carefully selecting only those that pertained to the particular deity. I felt a hypocrite, unable to dredge up feelings of piety that were commensurate with the mood around me, my mind and eyes wandering towards the clean-cut face of the young scientist, who ruffled my hair and gave me money to drop through the hole into the big money chest. I wondered if one day I would marry someone so handsome and smart and visit the temple, my bangles tinkling on my henna covered hands and the anklets chiming as I gracefully walked around the altar, knowing what I was doing at the temple, actually meaning business. The archana cards were gathered and Patti asked that ours be dedicated to the God. I did not understand why she always asked for the God to receive further blessing and not a mortal such as myself, for instance. I could use a lot of grace, I thought. Anyway, I closed my eyes at the appropriate moments, cupped my cheeks and tapped on them when the lamps were lit and were taken close to the deity’s face so we could catch a glimpse of the oily stone face and its apparent look of munificence. Then my mother made a surprise move. She revealed to me that she was going to roll on the ground (angapradashanam) around the entire outer sanctum. I was mortified and filled with embarrassment – why me? Why now? Anyway, a tremendous calm came over amma and she said it is penance that she must do – I have sought favours from the God. Patti’s eyes welled up with tears and pride as they dwelled lovingly on her beautiful and determined daughter, rafe thin but strong of mind and will. She soothed my mother’s hair in a gesture of deep affection and tugged me along saying I will give you sugar cubes and raisins and buy you some flowers for your hair. Distracted I tripped along, got caught up with the flowers and picked a kadambam (pot pourri) strung with flowers of varying hues. The flower lady her oiled hair neatly combed back, her face the startling colour of vermillion from all the turmeric she had polished on her shiny dark face, took a hairclip off her hair and clipped the string of flowers on to mine. Patti fished out a little newspaper packet from her handmade plastic wire bag and gave me some raisins and cashews. The handsome scientist and his wife were walking around inner sanctorum, their bodies close and brushing against each other, her eager face shining with love and admiration looking up to him and his bright eyes focused on her with affection. I experienced a twinge of jealousy at her having usurped my place as the object of his attention. In the meantime, amma was rolling on the dirt as her penance. I then asked patti why amma had to do this. Patti’s eyes welled up and she said, “you remember the time you had a high fever and we had given you up for gone, well she prayed to God that she would do this if you became well”. I was stunned and speechless. I told patti I wanted to go to my mother. Patti said it may not be a good idea to disturb her now, why don’t we just go and sit down and rest our legs and later on we would all have a picnic. The nadaswaram players piped up and I perked up as the familiar sounds of “muruga muruga enbar” in saveri welled up and flowed out in torrents, a few discordant notes here and there, but the overall effect quite stunning. I went and sat beside the players on the floor and watched closely to see how they took a breath between the long notes. Their brilliant orange kurtas showed off their ebony skin, their hair was stylishly long and combed back and they looked quite spectacular. They smiled indulgently at me and I looked back shyly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. The music was loud and hard on my ear-drums but there was a hypnotic quality to it and I could not move. I captured the moment knowing fully well that the strains of this music had soaked themselves into my body, become part of my very being so much so I would yearn for it, and its association with the comfortable chaos of the temple. The chants of “vel vel vetri vel..” roused me from my stupor and I remembered amma. I quickly got up and ran to patti and asked if we could go to her. We walked towards her as she continued to roll mumbling “muruga muruga” her body the colour of sandlewood, covered in dust, the perspiration making her clothes stick. I felt disturbed by the sheer barbarism of her act, but was moved to tears. I hid my face in patti’s chest and we walked towards our spot to wait for her. Mama, his friend and wife joined us and we chatted as we waited. Finally Amma stumbled into sight. We helped her up, and mama lovingly supported his sister all the way down the hill, into a taxi and we made the ride home in solemn silence. At the bottom of the hill Venkatasubramaniam and his wife parted company after having informed us with shy sideways glances that they were expecting their first baby in 7 months. Patti invited them over for lunch the next day. For no reason, I felt a bit cheated. That night we returned home, showered and ate. As we settled into bed, I asked amma why she had performed the penance, half expecting her to tell me it was because of me. To my utter astonishment, she said “Patti was diagnosed with cancer last month. I prayed she would be well soon.” I was ashamed at my selfishness and all choked up with the nobility of her selfless act. I hugged her close, an important lesson learnt.