Day: August 14, 2016

The teashop was ideally situated along the road across Kaddachery village. Actually it was a little too big for a teashop, but then its owner Kunjan Nair lived in it. Its mud walls, thatched roof and the small signboard, everything looked as if it had been that way for a very long time. From early dawn to late night, Kunjan Nair had his shop open and served customers. It was occasionally crowded, particularly in the mornings and evenings with more people traveling on road. Discussions, spreading rumors or casual chat;…

It was another hot day and business as usual for Nagarajan, a rag picking boy. With a torn short and a gunny sack on his back, he wandered aimlessly, picking up every paper bit along the street. He reached a garbage tank and was soon working on it, when he heard his favorite film song on the radio, from a nearby house. Listening to the song he picked up every required scrap. The next song too was his favorite, and he decided to rest a while. “It’s time for lunch”…

Sankaran Pillai wanted money for his regular horse betting, but had no way of getting it. His only option was to pledge his daughter Lakshmi’s gold chain. Lakshmi’s marriage was only two months away. When she was six she had happily given her anklets, but now it was different. Sankaran Pillai was not in a good mood. He didn’t have money for his horse betting. It was only the previous day that he had been sacked from his job for some repeated irregularity. If not for this, he would have…

“Sorry Muniyandi, its time for you to take your drums, your grandson is dead”, the doctor told Muniyandi as he prepared to leave. Very soon there was a big gathering at Muniyandi’s place. Muniyandi’s wife was uncontrollable, “Get up Pachiappa, get up, see your grandma, get up”. People were crying and the children, particularly Pachiappa’s friends were screaming for him. Their shouts and cries were sufficient to paint the house in a gloomy shade. If only malaria had not struck him or if only he had been immune to this…

He was easily native looking like any other typical illiterate farmer. With a rice bag in one hand and his shirt pocket clenched with the other, he entered the village collector’s office. Reaching the table of a busy officer he waited for sometime, cleared his throat and said, “Sir, I am a farmer, I’ve come to hand over gold coins”. ”Sorry”, the officer cut him short, without even seeing him on his face; “The loan section is at the extreme right”. The farmer stood by the table for a while,…

‘Kirukka’ ─ that was how people called him. He wore a dark brown half sleeve shirt with a torn collar and pocket. With a single button and a pin, he managed to keep his shirt over his body. His pants were no better indeed. The right side was always folded up to the knee. The seam of his pant had given away in many places. Apart from his dress, the only property he had was a steel plate and an aluminum tumbler. He carried these with him wherever he went.…

The annual temple festival of Kaddachery village was just one month away and things weren’t looking good. The biggest event of the village looked uncertain for the first time in decades. The bridge had given away and the rath for the deity’s procession had to be brought from the town. Engineers from Trivandrum had expressed their inability to get the bridge ready in time for the auspicious fair day. Meanwhile people from nearby villages had started coming to Kaddachery with hopes that the giant rath would be moved into the…