Accompanied by ten to fifteen servants, the accountant Vellappan and the Maniyam Kacheri, (village head) Dhanulingam, arrived there. On their way, they beat women who ran to their side with whips and canes, as if it were a game. The women bore the pain and ran away with a fake-smile on their faces, as if they had won a prize.

Meanwhile, Poomari became wary. She pushed her daughter-in-law, who was wearing a blouse, into the three-foot doorway of the six-foot-tall hut and shut the palm-leaf door. She pretended to be checking the samples of palm nectar on the furnace, while the pot of juice boiled and shrank to a quarter of the pot.

Suddenly, with the word ‘Hey’, Poomari, who had been canned on her leg and whipped on her back, looked up. Sensing danger, Poomari looked up and screamed, “Oh my master, what should this servant do?” She had her left hand folded across her chest and half of her mouth covered with her right hand.

The accountant and Maniyam wore silk dhotis, jari (golden lace) turbans, diamond studs, green stone dholak mala-s (garlands), diamond pendants on their chests, golden veera kandamani-s (bells) on their right hands, and silk necklaces on their shoulders. They stood erect, aloof, and twisting their moustaches, as if speaking to that old woman was beneath their dignity. There were two people holding umbrellas for them even as a cool, mild breeze blew. Poomari fell at their feet and begged, “No matter what mistake I have made, trample me with your feet and sweep me away with your hands, masters”

The accountant then took one of the palm leaves and whispered something to one of the servants. The servant asked Poomari defiantly, “Hey old lady! You haven’t paid taxes. You neither paid palm nectar tax, nor the palm ladder tax. What’s going on in your mind, huh?”

“O master, if I can sell the palm jaggery, I’ll get enough money for the taxes. I’ll come to the adhikara kacheri (power office) tomorrow to clear all my taxes,” Poomari replied.

“Ask your husband Esakki Maadan to come and serve in the Kacheri. Where did oldie go?”

“He will come for sure, Master… He went chase a maiden ghost (exorcism) in the Monday market… I will send him to serve as soon as he arrives. A man who makes himself happy for serving the government.”

After the accountant and Maniyam Kacheri had departed, nodding their heads out of satisfaction on Poomari’s polite reply, one of the strong men of the servant mob went to a nearby cow-shed and, holding up the tails of three cows tied to the Portia stick, looked down and proclaimed his discovery. He threw anchors for the feet of his masters, saying, “O master! This deceptive oldie nurtures cows. Despite knowing that people of filthy low caste should not breed cows, this oldie has a good quality cow- Karamani cow (country breed).”

(to be continued..)

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