The Cuckoo that Flew Away-2

2

The sun had gone down the horizon.  A flood of rays fanned from the fiery ball making that part of the sky look like a red sea.  Jeevanandam came from behind the Vigneswarar temple. He had removed his shoes and had kept them by the side of a rock. The waterfall came down raging in white foam. Jeevanandam leant against a sloping rock. He folded his trousers up to the knees and dipped his feet in the cool water of the rapidly flowing stream. The speed of the current pushed his feet into the ooze and he had to plant them more firmly. Homing birds were flying in V formations in the sky. In the darkening sky there arose a single star like a silver tilak and was coruscating. 

Any more observation was not possible because he was blinded by a pair of soft hands that shut his eyes. The hands of Nisha.

“What, shouldn’t I enjoy the scenery any longer?’ he asked, without shaking off her hands from his eyes.

“How long could I keep standing at the back? You never bothered to look if I was coming,” she said in an annoyed voice and removed her hands from his eyes. Jeevanandam, wondering whether she had been really miffed, turned his head and looked at her.

A gentle smile played on her lips. Jeevanandam rose and leapt to the stone floor of the Vigneswarar temple. Nisha, with her long, whip-like plaids on her bosom, came and sat beside him. Today the smile on her face remained undiminished in its brightness. The moon had risen. Its rays fell on Nisha’s face and it appeared as if it had been brushed with powdered pearls. Her youthful figure, in the background of the ancient temple and the gently buzzing waterfall, stirred Jeevanandam’s heart.  But he did not attempt to sit too near her nor read too much in her friendship with him. For the past two years an unending sorrow was racking his mind and he chose to remain behind certain restrictions. Nothing would tempt him to cross the barriers. He drew himself a little distance away from her. Nisha didn’t notice his move.

“Jeeva, I came here to tell you something. Can you guess what it is?” She put a riddle just as a child might. Indeed she was childlike. He felt like laughing, but did not want to hurt her feelings. So he merely said, “How would I know?”

“OK, I will tell that to you later. You were not seen in your hovel the whole of this afternoon. I came looking for you four or five times.”

“I had gone to help the durai. When did you come?”

“At noon.”

“Oh, I had not returned by that time. Let it be. What is it that you want to say?”

“Father wanted me to fetch you.”

“Did he? What for?”

“It seems that they have arranged a hunting meet at the eastern forest.” The moment he heard the term ‘hunting’,  Jeevanandam perked up. 

In the life-and-death tussle between the quarry and the hunter, the two are engrossed in the game with the focus on nothing else. He was interested in that.

“Is that tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jeeva. Shall I join you? Teach me how to shoot,” Nisha asked, with the fearlessness that is typical of forest-dwellers.

‘Why, you ask your father.”

“I did. ‘Nothing doing,’ he retorted. ‘Why do you want all this?’”

“Then, why should I take any blame? If I teach you how to use a gun, you would go on a shooting spree without realising its consequences - not a bird will be alive in this forest.”

“So...” said Nisha and her face shrank with a deep sense of sorrow. “Do you think I am such a heartless person?”

“Aren’t you?” said Jeevanandham, still in his playful mood.

Nisha was now touched to the quick. “Then why are you talking with this cruel woman?  Don’t utter a word any longer...” she said angrily and stepped back by a couple of feet. Her face turned red as if cinders had been blown through a pipe.

Jeevanandam hastily got up and tried to stop her by grasping her right hand. She staggered and was about to fall into the stream as the stone on which she had been standing was rather close to the waterfall.

Suddenly there appeared Thyagarajan who held her in his arms and prevented her from falling. Neither Jeevanandam nor Nisha could guess how he turned up so suddenly.

Jeevanandam’s face showed up a frown.  He didn’t appreciate the manner in which Thyagarajan was still holding Nisha and the lustful feeling that was lurking in his eyes. It was as if he was basking in the sweet opportunity that had cropped up. Nisha was too startled to react quickly and only after a few moments she recovered herself to ward off Thyagarajan’s hands and say: “Pooh... Even if I had fallen, I wouldn’t have drowned... I know swimming.”

“Is that so?” Thyagarajan said and smiled sheepishly.

Jeevanandam became aware of the ugly silence that reigned as he and Thyagarajan were standing facing each other. He said: “Thank you for your helpful gesture at the right moment.”

“Not at all...Hmm, what did you say your name was?...”

“Jeevanandam,” he said matter-of-factly, after a few hesitant moments.

‘Yes, Jeevan. I am happy that I have been of some use at the right time.”

“No...” protested Nisha. “You haven’t helped me. Don’t I have hands and legs to take care of myself?’’

Thyagarajan laughed.  “This woman isn’t polite. But she beautiful in her anger. Don’t you think so, Mr. Jeevan?”

Jeevanandam became incensed at Thyagarajan’s shameless talk and the disdainful question, but he checked himself. He didn’t say anything - his dissatisfaction remained in his eyes. Nisha, not wanting to exacerbate the situation for the sake of Jeevanandam, turned and stood watching the  flow of the river.

“As I was coming down the hill, I heard you mention ‘hunting’, “ said Thyagarajan. “What’s it? I am very fond of hunting and I would love to join, if both of you don’t mind.”

His speech was laden with mischievousness. Jeevanandam was able to make out that when Thyagarajan  said ‘if both of you don’t mind’ he had meant that the two of them had a kind of relationship. He guessed that Thyagarajan must have hung around for quite some time and overheard their conversation. Jeevanandam wanted to give it back to Thyagarajan but an unknown power pulled him back.

“We were just bantering at each other. It seems that tomorrow her father is going to the eastern forest for hunting. He has invited me. If you wish to join us, why should I have any objection. Please do come.” Jeevanandam spoke in a straight voice.

“Well, I knew you wouldn’t have any problem. Bye for now. You might want to be here for some more time.”

As if to discredit Thyagarajan’s lascivious suggestion in his barbed remark that the two of them would have liked to dawdle there, Jeevanandam too started out.

“OK, Nisha. Please go home and tell your father that I would come in the morning.” He gave leave to her.

“Nisha...” said Thyagarajan. “Isn’t that a beautiful name, Mr. Jeevan? That word seems to pull one’s mind like a fishing rod catches the fish.”

When Jeevanandam heard these audacious words, he rubbed his hands together. Whenever he is called by the name ‘Jeevan’, he is reminded of the exalted space that it occupies in a soft corner of his heart. He mused: Only one woman would address him thus; only she shortened his name to that single word carrying so much life in it. Who is this man? Did he know my secrets and sorrows? Why does he use sharp, piercing words whenever he accosts me?” Jeevanandam did not know what to make of it.

“OK. Mr. Jeevan,” said Thyagarajan. “I am going to my bungalow. The hunt is planned for tomorrow, no? Please come to the bungalow. We can have breakfast together.”

“Turn it down, turn it down,” an inner voice said insistently but Jeevanandam agreed to the suggestion.

”I shall be expecting you,” said Thyagarajan as if Jeevanandam should never ignore the invitation. He turned into a narrow path and went away. Jeevanandam and Nisha too parted.

***

Jeevanandam slung his rifle on his shoulder and set out. The golden rays of the sun, as if to encourage the exhilarating calls of the birds at dawn, penetrated the leaves of trees and fell slantingly in a dazzle resembling that of zari. Jeeva, enjoying the rare peacefulness of the moment in human life, walked whistling delightfully and reached the forest bungalow.

Outside it, a peon in office uniform was peeling a big jackfruit. He was also a stranger. At a distance away, under the shade of a tree, shikari was tending to a white horse, by applying liniment on its body and massaging gently. The bungalow, recently painted, stood in the midst of a square clearing. There was a lean-to for the jeep. For the horse, some tribals were putting up a separate makeshift stall with bamboos and green grass. Thyagarajan stood there supervising the job.

“Twee...twee” a koel called from somewhere up the trees. The horse,  pleased at the massage that it had received, expressed its delight by neighing softly. Jeevanandam turned to Thyagarajan when he heard the noise pounded up by his bootfall. “Hello, Mr Jeevanandam. Good, you’ve come in time.” He came near Jeevanandam and led him inside by holding his hand. Jeevanandam was taken aback by the refurbishment that had happened  to the bungalow. It was so good that he wondered if it was the same building to which he had come often before.

“Please sit down,” said Thyagarajan, drawing a chair to himself and pointing the sofa to Jeevanandam.

“You must have come here before. How does the bungalow look now?” asked Thyagarajan. His eyes and lips reflected a hauteur that Jeevanandam hated from the bottom of his heart.

“Grand,” he said briefly and in a level voice.

“Oh!” said Thyagarajan and laughed out loud.

Jeevanandam wondered what was there for him to laugh so much. He was still standing.

“You’re rather timid, Mr. Jeevan,” said Mr Thyagarajan, rising from his seat and pointing a finger at the visitor.

“Please sit down,” he encouraged him. “I will be back. Hmm... would you like to browse through a book?” he asked, pulling out a table drawer and rummaging through it.

“Oh, really? Do you have books too?” wondered Jeevanandam tentatively, as if he hadn’t expected Thyagarajan to be a reader.

“Why? Why do you doubt?” He took out a book and proffered  it to Jeevanandam. It was on Hitler.

“Ah, the title tells it all,” Jeevanandam thought within himself as Thyagarajan went inside.. He took the book and riffled through its pages. But he wasn’t keen on reading about the terrorist. He closed it and threw it on the centre table. He looked around the room - nothing interesting.

Through the window he saw the horse and the shikari. Without rising from where he sat, he glanced at the world outside limited to the square.

From somewhere within the compound he heard the screeching of a water well pulley and a soft tinkling of bangles that was like ethereal music. Now he heard the thud of a bucket hitting the ground.

He also heard Thyagarajan calling someone rather harshly, “Dei Janakiram!”

“Coming, sir,” - so saying the office peon entered the room holding the cut jackfruit pieces in his hands and went inside.

Jeevanandam then heard people talking in faint voices. Finally Thyagarajan came into the room.

“Yes, Mr Jeeva. Shall we eat breakfast. Would you like to wash your hands?”

Jeevanandam started removing his shoes.

“Oh, you follow all these customs?”

“Not customs! But I like to wash my feet.”

After taking off the boots and socks and putting them underneath the table, Jeevanandam

went inside with Thyagarajan.

As they entered the dining hall, Jeevanandam felt a divine aura pervading the house. On the wall there was a painting of Krishna and Meera: both of them in faint colours as if they were mere phantoms from frozen memories. Next to it was a framed calendar  picture of Aandal.  On one side of a table underneath, there was an agarbhati stand and on the other a paavai vilakku from which a bluish flame kept flickering. Smoke from the incense sticks kept curling slowly and hesitantly as if it was tracing its path deliberately. The sweet smell that emanated from it provided a rare, subtle delight to those seated in the room.  A truly domestc scene!

Jeevanandam was thrilled. Thyagarajan, who had observed the reaction that the pictures had caused in Jeevanandam, said: “It is my wife’s setup and is to her tastes. I don’t like all this.” He led Jeevanandam to the dining table and both of them sat on chairs.

“Ganga...” called Thyagarajan and was about to start a conversation.

The moment Jeevanandam heard the name, he was lost to the surroundings. The sound hit somewhere in the cave of his mind and created terrific resonances. That name was one which in all his life and through all his sadnesses was lit up like the eternal light in the sanctum sanctorum of a temple. Like the moon that gradually rises on the edge of the balcony, she was coming slowly, ever so slowly with the footfalls heard scarcely. Thyagarajan had no inkling of the struggle that was going on in Jeevanandam’s mind and he was talking incessantly.

“Do you like the character Meera, Mr.  Jeevan? I don’t like her! I can’t accept a woman’s bhakti that goes over and beyond her husband. That is against dharma enshrined in our shastra. Aandal - she is OK.  She was on tapas devoutly waiting for Kannan. If it was ever mentioned that her mind and body were for a human, she felt agitated and remained a maiden. That is love!”

Jeevanandam, who on one side was undergoing a monumental struggle in his mind, was on the other hearing Thyagarajan’s comment. But he did not want to enter into any debate.

At that moment Jeevanandam saw at the door a pair of fair hands holding a stainless steel plate and the red pallu of a sandalwood-coloured silk sari fluttering as someone was standing there hesitantly. “Come in,” said Thyagarajan in a voice that seemed like an order. The lady came forward. 

Jeevanandam’s heart leapt. Its beat stopped briefly and then restarted with great clamour. Yes, she was the very light that had been shining in his life’s journey. His own Ganga. The sound of his life in a single raga that had resonated in him all these years.  He sadly looked at her from top to bottom.

The same serenity in her face. But she had not raised her glance as yet and so the face retained its melancholy aspect. For Jeevanandam, Thyagarajan disappeared. The chairs dieappeared. The place disappeared. He saw only a silent Ganga come in supplication with a deep longing borne in her heart.

“Meet my wife, Mr. Jeevanandam,” said Thyagarajan as if to establish his presence as Time had stood still momentarily.

What Jeevanandam sincerely did not want to happen as he would find it intolerable had happened. Ganga raised her head and saw him. She shook like the tender stalk of the banana tree.

“Namaskaram,” said Jeevanandam in a trembling and cautious voice. Ganga recovered herself and lowering her face to avert a sight that is potentially unbearable said in a soft voice, “Namaskaram.”

“Serve quickly, Ganga,” Thyagarajan ordered. “We have to go for hunting.”  His face darkened slightly.

Ganga placed the plates on the table in front of Jeevanandam as he felt his chest quivering. He got a whiff of the unforgettable smell from her hair. He bit his lips and lowered his head.

“Mr. Jeeva, don’t you have anything to say about Meera?” Thyagarajan resumed the conversation.

The words came and hit Jeevanandam like a bolt of lightning. Was Thyagarajan trying to talk in riddles? Was he trying to convey to him something in veiled terms?  He took a morsel from the plate and as he raised his head to put it in his mouth, he looked at Ganga. She was standing by the wall, her left hand grasping the right wrist. Her lips were tremulous and parted. With her eyes lowered, she was waiting to remove herself from the scene.

“I would respect Meera sir,” Jeevanandam said. Her bhakti is soulful. It is not lust. Aandaal loved Kannan. The attitudes of the two are different from each other.”

“Really? So you mean to say you like the character of Meera. My wife too does, Mr. Jeevan.”

Jeevanandam, tensed up, looked at Thyagarajan, but he was quietly eating the food as though he had said nothing unusual. What should not have been uttered had come from the mouth of Thyagarajan. Subsequently Jeevanandam was unable to say anything. When he went to wash his hands, Ganga’s eyes met his by chance. Like a female pigeon wounded all over its body, she moved away feebly. Jeevanandam passed her.

He came to the drawing room. Peon told Thyagarajan that Nisha’s father was waiting for them.

“What, Jeeva? Aren’t you ready?” asked Thyagarajan. He removed a rifle from its stand on the wall and began exmining it.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Then we’ll start. - Janakiram, call Rajavel,” he ordered his peon.

Soon Shikari Rajavel came. When he saw him, Thyagarajan’s masterly and authoritative manner dropped by a few notches.

“Have you had your tiffin?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s done.”

“Then it’s time to set out. Tell Janakiram to pack all necessary supplies. Food for six people. Let him pack it up properly. Quick.  Rajavel, please wash your hands and come back”

“Sir, jeep won’t be able to go as far as we need to,” cautioned Jeevanandam quite respectfully.

“Is it? Well, how far will it go?”

“Short of our destination by some two miles.”

“OK, so far so good. By the way, have you been there before?”

“What sir? In fact, we have not pulled down the machan that we set up last year.”

 Turning to Jeevanandam  Thyagarajan  said, “All right, Mr Jeevan. Let’s go, and get the jeep.”

Jeevanandam stepped into his shoes, laced them up and rose. When both of them came out, they saw Mr. Johnson.

“Hello! Good Morning, sir,” said Thyagarajan, and without waiting for him to return the greetings, he went on, “we’re going out hunting. We’ll be happy if you could join us.”  

Johnson stood there smiling. Jeevanandam kept quiet respectfully.

“I would love to join but my rifles are all in my house.”

“Never mind. I have two spares and if you wish you can use one of them.”

In some thirty minutes, the jeep, carrying five people, went eastwards.

Thyagarajan was driving the jeep, which kept jolting as it rode over the rough mountain track with its ups and downs. At a distance the occupants saw Nisha running towards the jeep and waving her hands.

‘Hey, hold on!”

Thyagarajan’s face brightened. He pulled up smilingly.

“What’s it, Nisha?” asked her father angrily.

“I want to go along with you for hunting,” she said in a decided tone as if she would protest and clamour if she were not allowed to join.

“Nothing doing,” shouted Jakkodan, not minding the others sitting in the jeep. “You can’t come with us. Later I can’t be answering for you when someone questions me.”

Anger, hurtfulness, shame, sorrow all emotions played on Nisha’s beautiful and reddened face. She pursed her lips and stood defiantly in front of the vehicle.

Thyagarajan, appreciating Nisha’s posture, said: “Pity her, why not let her come along?”

“You wouldn’t know, sir.  I think I have given this girl too much liberty. She now wants me to grant her every whim and fancy. What’s she going to do by coming with us?”

“No, Jakkodan,” interjected Johnson. “Let her come too. A forest tribal woman must be brave and hard-hearted. She must have the experience of hunting.

Jakkodan was not a little embarrassed. What Johnson says is gospel for him. So he couldn’t go against it.  He didn’t remonstrate further. Nisha’s face refreshed like a just-blossoming flower. She clambered into the jeep and settled next to Jeevanandam.  As the jeep started and moved slowly, the smile in Nisha’s face broadened into a smug, silent beam. Jeevanandam and Johnson got a hint of it.

“Wild animals would come into the open only after nightfall, so let’s us wander around the forest till then,” suggested Thyagarajan, halting the jeep.  Johnson agreed. Jakkodan opined it was not prudent to drag Nisha all along. Nisha did not speak but merely let her objection show up in her face. Some of them got out of the jeep and started walking. Their chatter broke the silence of the forest.  Hearing the footfalls and laughter, frightened birds flew out of their nests. 

There was a sudden movement in a thicket and everyone froze in fear. The next moment Johnson shouted “Deer, deer,” and raised his gun. He took an aim carefully and pressed the trigger. Shikari Rajavelu and Jakkodan followed up with their shots. In a flash a deer came out of the bush and ran at lightning speed. “I won’t let it go,’ said the old man and ran after his quarry. Jakkodan and Rajavelu ran making their way through bushes. Three of the party, left behind by pursuers of the game, remained in silence. After several minutes, a shot rang out from some distance away in the jungle.

“Do you think they have bagged it, Mr  Jeevan?” asked Thyagarajan, looking back at him.

Jeevan shook himself as if he had been in a trance so far.

 “Definitely,” said Nisha getting out of the jeep and  anticipating Jeeva. He looked at her strangely. Thick grove. Leafy plants and creepers. White pebbles strewn on the ground. As Thyagarajan saw Nisha in that natural setting, he thought an exotic aura had surrounded her. He was excited and looked at her as if he would swallow her in that intoxicating moment. He turned to Jeevanandam and asked, “Don’t you think she is like nymph of the forest, Mr Jeevan?”

When he heard these words, Jeevanandam became angry. The nerves in his forehead stood out. His hands that held the rifle planted on the ground stiffened.

Was Ganga put in the care of such a despicable person? She should have been in a balcony of a dazzling palace where she is put to sleep by the cool rays of the moon, and where gentle breeze skims her. But that gentle flower has been thrown into the hands of a low person.

Jeevanandam was beside himself with anger. He raised his gun and shot in the air. Nisha became frightened and sought Thyagarajan’s shoulder to lean on. The sound of the bullet faded away gradually.

Thyagarajan laughed roaringly. “What Mr Jeevan, are you practising shooting?” he asked sharply.

Jeevanandam looked up. He saw Nisha holding Thyagarajans shoulders and was staring with blank eyes. He was startled at the sight of Nisha but he managed to calm his heart down.

“Nothing sir, I was checking if the rifle was in order.”

“Is that so?” said Thyagarajan, disbelievingly.

“Others have not come yet. Shall we walk around?” Jeevanandam started pacing as though he didn’t bother about Thyagarajan’s incredulousness. His anger became subdued.

“Oh, let’s go. But don’t try if your rifle is shooting all right by pointing it at me,” he said with pointed sarcasm and laughed. Jeevanandam didn’t know how to respond to it. Nisha was constantly chatting with Thyagarajan as both of them were walking along. “How does a rifle work? How do you shoot?” she was asking such questions.  Jeevanandam went a bit ahead as both Thyagarajan and Nisha had slowed down in the chat that they were having. All his thoughts revolved around Ganga. Old memories. Forgotten snatches of conversation. Bygone days.

Thyagarajan told Nisha: “You’re asking so much about rifles. Why, do you want to learn shooting?”

“Oh yes, I would love to do that,” said Nisha pouting her red lips.

“First, see me shooting that bird down,” said Thyagarajan. A bullet zinged past close to Jeevanandam’s head and went in the direction of a falcon flying against the blue sky. Startled, he looked back.

“Were you scared, Mr. Jeevan? I was showing Nisha how to shoot. Look there, the bird is fallen,” Thyagarajan pointed somewhere at a distance. Nisha ran laughingly to fetch the bird.

Jeevanandam kept staring at Thyagarajan who ignored him and followed Nisha.

“Have you picked it up?” These words floated to Jeevanandam’s ears and seemed to mock at him. He sat down on a rock and stood the rifle on the ground. He held it with both hands around the barrel. He lowered his head against the gun and shut his eyelids.

“Jeeva, Jeeva, aren’t you coming?” he heard Nisha shouting.

“No,” said Jeevanandam, without even opening his eyes.

“Anything wrong with you, Mr. Jeevan?” asked Thyagarajan.

“My head is aching.”

“Then be sitting here. I will teach this girl how to shoot.... Nisha, drop that eagle near him and come along with me.”

Nisha did as he told her but lingered for a while. She looked kindly at Jeevanandam who had his face down at the rifle. She ran her fingers through his wavy hair and as if speaking from the bottom of her heart said gently: “Is the pain too much?” He was touched. He looked up and noticed that her usually mischievous eyes now had a real streak of sorrow.

“No, not much.”

“Will you keep sitting here?”

“Hmm.”

“OK, then may I go?”

“Do,” he gave leave to her. After she and Thyagarajan went away, Jeevanandam’s  heart swelled. Like the waves that hit the beach, throw foam and recede, his thoughts raged. He gradually sank in that noisy tidal wave.