Rasamma burst through the cow shed to the west, tearing her way through a line of huts. She sprinted over a cow dung pit and leapt over the slope of a house. The shouts of ‘catch her, catch her’ reverberated through the neighbouring huts. The women who had seen it all waved their arms as if to catch her, urging her to make a quick getaway.

Rasamma stepped out of the village and started running. She soon encountered the Pazhayar River, which had been flowing for ages. Originating in the northern mountains, it wound its way through Nanjilnad, (a historical region in India corresponding to present-day Thovalai and Agastheeshwaram of Kanyakumari district.), before reaching the eastern sea. When she felt the river reach her ankles with its chill water, she slowed down and relaxed. She leaned against one of the pillars of the stone bridge that crossed the river. This bridge was as strong as the Cauvery Kallanai Dam built by Karikalan (the Chozha emperor). Although she couldn’t see them, Rasamma could hear people running along the road, carrying spears and pikes.

Rasamma crept through the thazhai (Pandanus fascicularis) trees on the river basin, jumping amongst the reed plants, and winding her way through the heaps of Oonaan (Ipomoea staphylina) creepers, startling the red quails and sparrows who flew away in fear and causing the wild cats to leap into the trees. She walked, crawled, and rushed along the river path for ten or twelve miles, like a tortoise, a rabbit, or a squirrel. Exhausted, she eventually emerged from the river path onto its banks, breathing heavily.

Not knowing where to go, she was blinking in confused way. A natural fear of life made her turn on all four sides. She stood like a thorn tree, her arms bent like weapons, her teeth bared, as if to change her fear to threaten others passed that way.

She was perplexed and had no idea what had happened – whether it was due to a lack of consciousness, depression, fatigue, or death. Her life had gone through tumultuous times, and now she was there alone calmly – but she had no answers. It felt as if she were living without her body, or as if her body remained active even though her life had ended.

She gradually regained her composure.

She was filled with anger at the way her life had become a sham and a tired old tale. In a single night, she wished to cut her aunt’s son – the source of her plight – into two. At the same time, she was overcome with sadness as she had no idea where to turn.

Without any sense of direction, Rasamma walked in the opposite side. Her aimless stroll was a reflection of her inner turmoil; her heart was pounding as if it was ready to burst.

Eventually, her feet led her to Kottar market (Kottar: a locality and a bazaar area of Nagercoil, Tamil Nadu state, in the southern most part of Peninsular India ; though a part of Nagercoil today). The sounds of the bazaar filled her ears; skirmishes and scuffles echoed in the air. She remembered like a scene from a mythical story, that a group of Christian women fought for the right to wear a thol-seelai (saree for shoulders). The sight filled her with newfound life, and she watched the market intently.

(will end in next part..)

This post is a part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon 2023 by https://www.theblogchatter.com/

As the slanderers advanced towards her with their arms outstretched like knives and stiffened like rods, glaring at her, she recoiled and stepped back. She looked at the masters and raised her voice to plead.

“Please, don’t do this, Sir. May your blessings be with you. Give me one day’s time. When my husband comes, we’ll look for a unknown place and migrate there.”

“Hey, you worthless fellows, don’t you hear what I ordered! Strip her naked, right now!”

“No sir! Even animals like goats and cows hide ‘it’ in hidden place. Isn’t it the same for humans? Will you do this to a woman from your caste?”

“Hey, There is no place for threnodies in a war zone. She has come here to destroy the social order. She will incite the lower classes against us. She must be nipped in the bud. Strip her!”

The servants became like Dushasana-s. One person bent Rasamma’s arms behind to restrain her while the other tilted her head to the side. The third one pulled down her saree covering her chest. The fourth assailant dug his spike-like fingers into the front of her blouse and tore it. Another one inserted his arms at the back of the blouse and ripped it in two.

In the meantime, Poomari fell to her knees and begged everyone to leave her daughter-in-law alone. Whether they considered it a violent act or not, two of the villains stepped on her neck with their sandaled feet. They didn’t take their feet off her neck until she was motionless. Meanwhile, the single-clothed women ran near by and then scurried away, shouting, “Eyyo… Emmo…” The accountant stared off into the distance as if nothing had happened.

Rasamma gazed at her mother-in-law lying motionless. She glared at the old woman with wild eyes. She didn’t cry seeing an older member of her family like that. Instead, her eyes filled with fierce, instead of tears. The tattered bodice clung to her body like an iron coil. She shook those around her with the same force as she had shaken her aunt’s son in her brinjal field. In that moment of surprise, she bent down and picked up the boiling pot of kuppani (a caramel-like liquid of palm nectar in a semi-solid form) with her bare hands, straightening up and raging.

Tilting the pot slightly around her neck, she shook it and poured the hot, boiling kuppani in the face of each of the assailants. When all of them screamed and scattered, she hoisted the pot above her head and poured it directly onto the twin-headed figures of the accountant and the Maniyam Kacheri. She then threw the pot onto their faces with force. The hot kuppani piled up on their heads and ran down like a waterfall into their eyes. Those officers and their evil bodyguards screamed, “Oh… amma…. ayyo!” without shame. They jumped around in agony. At the same time, they did not forget to shout, “Catch her, catch her!” As they opened their mouths to say that, the liquid seeped into their swollen mouths and burned their tongues.

(to be continued…)

This post is a part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon 2023 by https://www.theblogchatter.com/