Author: A. K. Perumal. Images: Ramanan
It was summer. Fearing perspiration in the heat of the sun, the leaves
remained still on the trees. There was still time for the sun to reach
its zenith. There was no sign of movement of air in the open expanse.
He was bone-tired. He was
out in the sun. On the first day at noon, he remembered to have eaten
Indian millet porridge from a small vessel.
Physical fatigue, thirst and hunger parched him. He moved to the side of
the road and sat under
a Margosa tree. He
looked at himself once over. The beggar guise was very much telling and
appropriate for him. He had
an out of body experience about himself: the tightly fastened saffron
cloth around his waist, a saffron shawl hanging languidly over one
shoulder, the sharp triads of ash stripes splashed on his forehead,
upper arms, chest, and abdomen.
There was a melee of people and carts on the road. Two bullock carts
moved lazily on the road with men in the fore and aft carrying spears
and staff, looking like a wedding party. One attendant carrying a staff
ran towards the man resting under the Neem tree, saying, “Who are you
resting under the tree?” He saw him in the shade, famished and
languished.
“Some mendicant Swamy.” So, saying, the man at the wedding party
rejoined his detail. The procession moved along slowly. People still put
their belief in saffron.
Saivism and Vaishnavism are the two great divisions… A thousand
arguments and fights. No one knows what sectarian the tree-shade seeker
is. Who knows what he is, a sectarian recluse, a Sannyasi, or a
mendicant. People still had
respect for them. The hunger forced him to stand up and he began
walking.
After a while, the
outskirts of the town
were visible, past the open space. Hope returned to his soul. He arrived
at the entrance to a hut at the segregated part of the town. There were
two donkeys tied to a post. The standing donkey stared at him. He
avoided its eyes. At the entrance to the hut, there was a pile of dirty
clothes.
His distinctly beggarly voice rose, “Ayyā.”
Ayya = Master, sir, boss.
A fifty-year-old man emerged from inside the house, and on seeing him
took the towel and tied it around his waist.
The mendicant: “Ayyā…
I have been on foot from far away. I am very hungry.
Please give me something to eat. I still have strength in my
body. I am ready to do any job you bid me to do.”
The man: “Swamy… Are you to eat here… Me offering you job…? I don’t want
an adversity to befall me. The townspeople will beat me to death.
Silently, go into the town.
Someone there will help you.” Imploring him to leave, he raised
his hands as if to offer him a homage with opposed palms.
Not having anything more to say, he walked towards the town.
Far away, he saw the Vaḷḷiyūr
fort. He thought it would be nice to get food there. He tried to forget
his hunger. He psyched up himself to be free of hunger. His mind always
thought of hunger. Why is there an onset of hunger?
Why did God make beings hungry? Because of hunger, man would do a job.
If hunger subsides, does man defeat hunger? No, he has other longings:
gold, wealth. He assembles
people around him and desires to dominate them. Humanity has never had a
sense of satisfaction. Multiple unfulfilled desires like hunger drive
him.
He shook his head. He must drown the borborygmic (the growls) by feeding
the hungry stomach. He walked fast, found a broken piece of pot and
picked it up thinking it may be of use. He took leaves and cleaned the
inside. He held it close to his body and entered the fort of Kulasekhara
Pandiyan with no questions asked at the gate. It appeared his beggarly
guise gave him the entry privilege into the fort.
No one cared to notice him.
Hunger has destroyed his self-respect and hesitant behavior. He stood
before the front of the first house he saw.
There were one rooster and four chickens pecking at the husked
millet spread on the floor for drying.
The entrance had two raised platforms in the fore and a wooden
door with embedded bells, which fed him the hope (he may get food).
“Mother… Empress…severe hunger, Amma…”
The woman popping her head at the door did not look like the mistress of
the house. Her countenance was severe and forbidding. She poured with
irritation from her vessel a glob of sour porridge. Though of excessive
hunger, the sour and spoiled gruel caused nausea.
The women added, “You came here complaining of hunger. I gave you the
gruel. You contorted your face. Scoot. If you stand any further, I will
smash your head with the pestle.” The mendicant walked certain distance
and dumped the gruel in the garbage can by the roadside.
Next house. Chased out of there. Two more houses. No empathy.
Did humanity lose its values? Was
his appearance
forbidding or
unlikeable? No… The whole city (village): Are they all like this? Would
hunger go unappeased? His body shivered. He leaned over the platform at
the fore of another house, he sounded a plea, “Mother…Mother…Feel
hungry…”
The woman appeared at the doorstep. She was lean
and mean and looked at him from crown to toes. “What… Are you hungry?
You have grown like a
corpulent bull.
Why do you go begging? Why
don’t you work with your healthy hands and feet, earn a living and stop
begging. Don’t you have any shame?
Go!” She leaving his presence banged the door shut behind her.
No use depending on the citizens!
He walked out of the town. The town abandoned him. A forest ahead
of him was welcoming him. Will the forest sustain his life? He had a
little hope. He saw a medicinal creeper (முசுமுசுக்கை
=
Mukia maderaspatana.
Bristly bryony, creeper, Mukiascabrella.)
Nearby, he saw a wild onion plant. He took the wild onion wrapped them
in the plant leaf and ate them. He ate the same again and appeared to
have appeased his hunger and muster some energy. Nearby, he saw a
mountain stream appearing like a mirror. He scooped two handfuls of
water and drank a few times. He sat by the bank.
He told himself firmly that he will not go begging again.
Fate made his vow become a reality. He collected taxes with a staff in
hand. How did that turn of events take place?