The people with cleanly laundered clothing lined up on one side, while those wearing dirty clothes and the woman with thol-seelai (sarees draped over the shoulder) lined up on the other, arguing with each other. Stones and insults were thrown back and forth. At the same time, some namboothiri men with their tuft on the front right side of their heads, as well as some men in white clothing and some Christian priests, took the side of the people with the dirty clothes and spoke angrily to the opposition, pushing them back.
முகம் தெரியா மனசி, The faceless woman, Bing AI generated image
Meanwhile, the carts and buildings in the market were destroyed, grains were smoking, goats were bleating, and cows were roaming aimlessly.
Above all –
Many of the lower-caste women – dressed in kuppayam (a type of blouse) that extended to the wrists, rose up to the neck, and spread till the waist, with a piece of saree draped over their shoulder to assert their rights – were pushed down. Their kuppayam-s were unraveled; thol-seelai-s were undone; sarees tied at the waist are unfastened leaving them exposed and vulnerable. Clutching their private parts with both hands, they cried out for help. There were many cries of “Jesus.. Jesus”; little mumbles of “Muttharamma, Muttharamma”. Their usual voice chirping like beetles, echoed the grunt of shells that day.
At that moment, a rogue man in clean clothing chased a young woman in kuppayam, who ran away with her eyes darting back to him in terror. She stumbled and fell, lying ten feet away from where Rasamma stood. The chaser, reached her at no time and sat on the woman’s stomach, tried to slip his hands between her chest and the kuppayam. Paralyzed with fear, she covered her eyes and hands, awaiting her fate.
Rasamma, who had been standing like a machine, suddenly felt human again. She bent down and picked up a sharp boulder from the ground next to her. With a mighty cry of “Elei…” she charged towards the man, knocking him down at the feet of the victim and spilling his blood. She then lifted and hugged the woman in the kuppayam, supporting her with one shoulder and helping her walk back to the market.
In this battle for the rights of suppressed women, Rasamma joined as a faceless woman.
முகம் தெரியா மனசி, The faceless woman, Bing AI generated image
(The End)
Jeyamohan wrote about Su Samuthiram like this –
He wrote with a tone of sarcasm and irritation, capturing the cheapness of the human mind and the cruelty of our institutions. He did not leave any loose ends for the reader to speculate or imagine. Many of his stories are heartbreaking. He wrote about the silenced, the forgotten – in his words, the ‘starving herd’ – and each story cries out for them in an agonising way. He remained one of them until the end.
Samuthiram declared, “My song belongs to the folklore, my brother”, clenching his fists. “There is no Pallavi, Anupallavi, or Sangeetham in it…”
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.
முகம் தெரியா மனசி, The faceless woman, Bing AI generated image
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.
முகம் தெரியா மனசி, The faceless woman, Bing AI generated image
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.
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.
முகம் தெரியா மனுசி | The faceless woman – Image created by Bing AI
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.
முகம் தெரியா மனுசி | The faceless woman – Image created by Bing AI
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.
