The Soul of Truth Page 10

  I called Sumathy and Deepu and asked them to say no when Balettan offered to take them out next. Sumathy agreed sensibly but Deepu had no intention of giving up on all the fun.

  “No. If Balettan calls me, I will go. I want to see the movie too.”

  I knew I had to trick him into staying at home so that the young couple could get some privacy. Deepu was mortally afraid of needles and hospitals since the day he had got his vaccination shots.

  “Deepu, today Balettan and Oppol are going to the hospital. Oppol needs an injection. If you go with them, you too might be given an injection.”

  Just then, Balettan came out and asked Deepu if he was ready to go out. Deepu disappeared like a shot. Everyone laughed.

  The day Balettan left for duty, Oppol could hardly control her sorrow.

  “Why are you sad, Oppol? Balettan is going to kill our enemies.” Deepu looked perplexed, as he turned to Balettan with a new demand. “Will you bring me a gun when you come next, Baletta? I want to kill my enemies too.”

  “Oh, you have enemies? Who are they?” Balettan twinkled at him.

  “It is for when I do have enemies.” Deepu’s answer lightened up the sombre atmosphere.

  “Okay. I will bring you a gun. But you will have to promise me that you will study well. And become a soldier like me when you grow up.”

  “Yes, sir!” Deepu saluted Balettan.

  For a few days after Balettan’s departure, Oppol was very quiet and distracted. For her, the marriage to Balettan was a compromise. She had forsaken her love for her family honour. And then, her unfavourable horoscope had been an obstacle to many better matches. But in that one month of married life, she had fallen totally in love with Balettan and missed him a lot. Often, she would murmur, “We are able to sleep peacefully in our homes only because the soldiers guard us so well at the borders. Does anyone appreciate their great sacrifices?”

  Balettan came home many times after that. Usually for one month’s leave. Each of his homecomings was a big celebration for us. As promised, he brought Deepu a toy rifle. Deepu was ecstatic. He would stalk the animals and birds in the yard and shoot at them though he was disappointed when he couldn’t kill any.

  “Why are they not dying, Baletta?” he asked plaintively.

  “Their time has not come yet, Deepu. Every living thing will die only when it is predestined to die. Otherwise, even bullets can’t kill them.” “Really? So, soldiers too won’t die when enemies shoot at them?”

  “No. Not if it is not their time to die.” Balettan laughed.

  That lovely marriage lasted only six years. During that time, Shalu and Malu were born.

  The last time he had come we had gone shopping. Balettan insisted on buying new dresses for everyone. He took us to the park and the theatre. He had come for his younger daughter, Malu’s Annaprasan, just like my last homecoming, for Vishnu’s.

  He was such a favourite with Amma. He had transformed Amma, who had withdrawn so much after Achen’s death, back to her lively self. “He is not my son-in-law, he is my son, my own elder son,” she used to say fondly.

  That last time, Oppol sent him off with a smile, not knowing that she will never see him again.

  Cruel fate.

  Always attacking without any warning.

  Leaving us bewildered and dumbfounded.

  Balettan was killed in the Kargil War.

  When the telegram notifying us of his martyrdom came home, Madhavettan was there, and he was the one who opened and read the news first.

  Oppol was completely shattered. She became a living corpse. She neglected herself to the point of self-harm. We took her to so many doctors and temples. It took a long time for her to adjust to the reality and get a grip on her life. If it was not for Shalu and Malu, she might have just wasted to nothing.

  Amma, too, lost her will to live after the death of Balettan. Deepu’s accident was the last straw. She deteriorated rapidly after that. The last week of her life, she was admitted to a hospital. Her diabetes and hypertension were uncontrollable. One night, her blood pressure just plummeted, and nothing could be done to save her.

  Our last support.

  Amma’s death truly left us orphans.

  The silent house of orphans.

  The night is silent.

  The silence thickens around me.

  The Fourteenth Night

  The sun burnt itself out after a day of intense heat. The western sky blushes in the embrace of dusk. Lights blink on in homes. The harvested fields look deserted as the evening falls silent.

  Before long, the sky darkens from dusk to night over the towering palms. Stars peek out twinkling in the blackening sky. The paths in the fields stretch endlessly into the dark.

  Evening prayers rise heavenward from homes. Children sit down to study, bent over their books. The air livens up with their sweet, sing-song voices reciting lessons.

  The yard is flooded with moonlight. The oil lamp on the thulasithara flares and dims with the wind. Shadows dance in ecstasy.

  How I loved moonlit nights. I could spend hours gazing into them, my lovelorn heart finding solace in their exquisite beauty. Peace and love. Can anyone resist the unique gifts of a bountiful nature?

  The never-ending green fields.

  The familiar, sweet sounds of a flute come floating down the wind. Probably a night watchman in the fields. Unfailingly mesmerising. mesmerising it has always evoked tender whispers in me; the image of a face, the only face that I had ever tucked inside the iridescent hues of the precious peacock feather that was my heart…

  The teardrop of my life.

  Where is she now?

  I had seen her standing to a side, an insignificant presence, during my funeral.

  My poor Ruby.

  Abandoned, and all alone in life. Sailing helplessly in a flimsy boat tossed about the raging river of life, with neither oars nor anchor…

  Ruby! Where are you?

  Even in death, why do you torment me so?

  Shadows and serpents mate in the brilliant moonlight.

  The music of the flute grows distant; was it my imagination? That melody. Those haunting notes. Conjuring up so many treasured memories.

  Our nights were just like this one. When the world shrank to two desperately loving hearts.

  Ruby and I. We met stealthily on nights like this. She stole out of her home, when the world was asleep, to meet me under this very tree. Dreaming, loving, planning for a future that was never to be ours … till dawn peeped over the mountains. Moonlight and music and us. For hours, I would lie on her lap, gazing at the stars shining out of those beautiful eyes.

  We were not worried of being discovered. We never felt we did anything wrong. Why should we? When my world was her and hers was mine. We had eyes only for each other.

  We lived the truth that love is blind.

  The rest of the world was alien. We lived in our own little universe.

  And we could do no wrong.

  The village slips into slumber. Moonlight dances into Deepu’s room through the open window, painting ghostly pictures on the wall. The intoxicating smell of night blossoms mingles with the sensual moonlight. An owl hoots softly.

  That moment!

  The world freezes for just a moment.

  Along the path, a figure is walking this way.

  This late! Who can it be?

  It is a woman.

  Draped in the shadows, she steps towards me, towards my burial mound.

  Who can she be? All alone in this night?

  Then, in the sudden brilliance of the shifting moonlight, I see her face. The very face in my tortured thoughts.

  My Ruby!

  Her white sari flutters in the gentle breeze.

  Can it be true? Did she come out alone in the frightening dark to be with me again?

  The girl of my dream. Once, I lived just for you.

  Now, here she is.

  Her beautiful, long hair let loose.

  A thin strand of bead
s around her slender neck.

  She kneels in front of my mound.

  Tears flow uninterrupted from those beautiful eyes.

  They soak into my soil.

  Deep underneath, they burn my body.

  Silence. Except for the whisper of the falling tears.

  Love. It is the depth of despair, it is the height of ecstasy, it is hope and hopelessness. It is intense pain.

  And here is Ruby, on her knees, racked with wrenching sobs, broken words of deep anguish escaping from her clenched mouth.

  Her love was pure and loyal.

  The mistakes were all mine.

  Even so, even in death, she loves me.

  She weeps for my decaying body.

  How right the poet was when he sang that true love is not bound to the flesh.

  Ruby, I can never forget you. But I can’t reach you either. I so want to hold you close. I cannot, though. Yes, I am your Uthaman. But only a spirit now. Beyond you. Beyond the flesh.

  Don’t torture me now, dearest. Go! Please go. My days on this earth are numbered. Please don’t hinder the passage of my spirit. You wouldn’t wish that on your Uthaman.

  Free me. Free me from the magical temptations of life. Leave me in peace.

  I can no longer be the anchor you wish me to be.

  This is our fate. We have to accept that.

  Please don’t forget. There is another man who came into your life. The man who loved you, who is rightfully yours. The man who gave you your two precious children. Cry for him. Pray for him. Please do not test the faith of that innocent man. Please don’t abandon him to the fires of hell. Your duty as a wife demands that loyalty. Your love as a mother claims that devotion. If you falter, if you love me more than your own husband, if I am the reason for that betrayal, can you ever imagine how severe my punishment would be?

  Outside the shield of my benevolent ancestors, do I perceive an increased hostility among those malevolent forces? I can hear their gnashings and furious mutterings. Is Ruby’s husband among the evil spirits? I feel helpless.

  I had never met him in life. I only came to know that he met with an untimely death in a road accident.

  Even with all the love and prayers of my family, here I am, struggling to clear my path to the spiritual world. I shudder to think how he would be faring if his own wife fails to tend to his spiritual well-being. How lonely must he feel? How fiercely must he curse me? Will I ever be free of that curse?

  A glow of green surrounds me. I see blurred, nebulous writing. Are they instructions for my onward journey?

  The smoke rings caution me, beg me not to lose control.

  An intense focus on the Supreme is the only way to resist temptation. The more I am tempted by the desires of the flesh, the harder I should concentrate on my spirit.

  Suddenly Ruby raises her head and looks straight at me through the dark branches of the tree. I freeze.

  What is she looking at? Surely, she can’t see me. Can she sense me? How is that possible? I am a spirit, wholly outside the realm of humans.

  But she keeps looking up as if she can feel me there.

  Behind me, the evil spirits guffaw triumphantly. In her, they sense prey.

  I shudder.

  Ruby is attempting the impossible. With her flawless love for me, she is trying to weave the worlds of humans and spirits together—one web of love.

  No, Ruby. Don’t! It is not possible. Not the way you wish. If you succeed in connecting with my world, it will be the evil spirits who will find their way into you. They are the ones who will possess you.

  Please, God, no!

  The air gets heavier. The almost invisible, greenish wraiths start to take on a red tinge. Are they getting ready to enter her?

  Has this night, with her beloved so close, and yet so far, made her lose control of her good senses?

  Has she lost her bearings in a frenzy of dissociation with reality? Weak and vulnerable, is her despair driving her to offer herself to the powers of darkness? Dear Ruby, do you yearn for your Uthaman to come and save you?

  I am helpless, Ruby. I can only watch. Please, get a hold of yourself, dearest. Don’t let the evil ones possess you. Your destruction will be complete, and so will be mine. You don’t know what you wish for.

  I will be cursed forever. Never to be saved. To wander as an evil spirit, foul and destitute, to be loathed, always the outsider. Is it my fate to drink forever from the poisonous waters of the Vaitarani?

  The air is still. I long for a soft breeze. Anything. To break the enchantment on Ruby. No, not a leaf stirs.

  But I can feel the coolness seeping into the soil of my burial mound. It is the magic of her love that flowed out with her tears. They rush through the limestone and menthol and salt that were buried with me. My bones start dissolving faster. She is making my final journey smoother.

  I failed her in life. And now, in death too I have failed her. Even as I am so close to her, I am left a mere spectator, a helpless spectre. I cannot lend a steadying hand as she sways under unfathomable emotions. I am sorry, Ruby. I am truly sorry. But this Uthaman is not of your world. It is no use trying to weave together what can never be.

  Go, Ruby! .

  Before the hunters of ill fate tear you to bits.

  They will gore you with their sharp tongues.

  Don’t fall a victim to that unspeakable fate, Ruby, go back!

  Suddenly, she gets to her feet. Thank God! She turns to look into the dark branches of the tree once again. A sudden gust of wind shakes the branches. Two small fruits drop down like teardrops. Bats flutter overhead. Ruby turns away towards her home. Reluctantly at first, and then faster, till she disappears like a shadow in the distance.

  In the bygone days, I used to accompany her back home.

  But this night…

  What if somebody had seen her?

  What would they have thought? They would have labelled her unhinged.

  Keep her safe, God! Let no foul thing ever befall her.

  Behind me, the evil spirits fall silent.

  The moon shines brilliantly, as the sound of the midnight train pierces the silence. The echoes produce ripples in the river. The distant sound of clothes being washed, the rhythmic blow of wet cloth on smooth stone. Who washes clothes at this time of the night? I had been intrigued by this in the past and had gone in search of the midnight washer. But I had never succeeded in finding the person. I only got befuddled by the sounds, never close enough to pinpoint the source, never far enough to ignore them. Was it just my imagination? The more I try to understand, the more puzzling it gets. Knots that look deceptively simple but so tangled that they can never be untied.

  Grey clouds swirl around the moon.

  The full moon belongs to lovers.

  To true lovers.

  Death cannot separate two loving souls. Every full moon they come together. To dance to the tune of pure love. They don’t need a heaven. Evil cannot touch them. They give up heaven for love for is there a heaven better than love? Their innocent spirits become one on full moon nights, floating together in rapture. Even God forgives them and bows to their unrequited love. They add brightness to the moonlight. They make the world a better place with their celestial devotion and divine music.

  The midnight song of the nightingales.

  But, what about me? Yet again, I have failed Ruby miserably. She must have come hurrying to my side, tormented by sleepless nights. By unrequited love. Seeking an elusive peace. Not even time will heal her pain. The scars run too deep.

  But she did come! Under the cover of shadows and moonlight, she came looking for her love. If only we had ended our lives together. We could then have been together for eternity, become one every full moon, filling this world with our sweet love songs. Now, we are left with just the ache of her flowing tears washing over my still body...

  Her life had slipped out of control a while ago. She was resigned to it. But she had never given up on her love. In her mind, she had remained loyal to
her love. She loved only one person with all her soul. That enduring love must have sustained her through all her trials. And now, the sudden loss of that anchor, the realisation that her love is no longer in this world with her, must have unbalanced her.

  Her heart bleeds with pain and loss. I wonder how the moon can endure the sight of the red blood gushing out of her bleeding heart. The poor, tormented girl!

  She must still be holding on to all the empty promises I had made to her. The promise to be one, against all odds. How can she not love me when she still believes that? My innocent Ruby.

  New foliage sprouts with vigour over my rotting body. The roots race to reach deeper into the darkness. And beneath those roots, I lay asleep…the eternal sleep. Lives end here. One with the soil or one with the fire. The safe secret of death. The stillness of death. Only the evil spirits move with a malicious intent, sowing havoc, continuing the cycle.

  In the moonlight spreading over the fields, a pack of foxes suddenly materialises out of the dark. They run with purpose towards the distant houses. Hunting in a pack. The thought that Ruby had walked that same path, alone, a few minutes back makes me shudder.

  The moonlight begins to leave the clouds. The bats flutter back to their branches. Another night comes to an end.

  Ruby! This night leaves me with terrible feelings of sadness, an awful sense of loss. Why do I lose you over and over again?

  In this borrowed time, when the soul should only be concerned with the rituals of purification that enable a smooth passage to the next world, your love pulls me back in a hold that suffocates me. Why do I feel I would rather suffocate here than leave in peace? But leave I must. It is not in my power to change the destiny of my soul or your life.

  The whistling wind carries the silent sighs of all the forlorn lovers in the world. The pale dawn casts a shy glance over the mountains.

  The Fifteenth Night

  Dusk is here. The lanes lie drenched in the blotches of ink thrown by the night. Darkness enmeshes everything.

  Bats flutter up with a whoosh from the branches of the huge banyan tree in the temple yard. Are these flying mammals or cursed spirits?

  The dead leaves on the ground rustle. The serpents must be out hunting.