Identity

By Sivasankari

Sivasankari (born October 14, 1942) is a renowned Tamil writer and activist. She has carved a niche for herself in the Tamil literary world during the last four decades with her works that reflect an awareness on social issues, a special sensitivity to social problems, and a commitment to set people thinking.

She has many novels, novellas, short stories, travelogues, articles and biographies to her credit. Her works have been translated into several Indian languages, English, Japanese and Ukrainian. Eight of her novels have been made into films, having directed by renowned directors like K. Balachander, SP Muthuraman and Mahendran. Her novel 'Kutti' on girl child labour, filmed by the director Janaki Viswanathan, won the President's Award. Sivasankari's novels have also been made as teleserials, and have won the national as well as regional 'Best Mega Serial' awards.

As a multi-faceted personality, she has won many prestigious awards including Kasturi Srinivasan Award, Raja Sir Annamalai Chettiyar Award, Bharatiya Bhasha Parishad Award, 'Woman of the year 1999-2000' by the International Women's Association, and so on.

'Knit India Through Literature' is her mega-project involving intense sourcing, research and translations of literature from 18 Indian languages, with a mission to introduce Indians to other Indians through culture and literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pustaka Digital Media
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 6580501806815

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Identity

Author:

Sivasankari

Rendered In English By:

CG Rishikesh

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 1

It was amusing

It was unbelievable too...

She was standing in the balcony, leaning on the short parapet wall, looking out. The beach was deserted as it was still early in the afternoon and the sun was beating down mercilessly. At a distance, the vast expanse of bluish water shimmered. The sea was dotted here and there with black hulky shapes of ships. A lone eagle circled high above. As she aimlessly surveyed the scene and took in all these sights, she suddenly spotted a cow.

It was a brown cow. Its bulbous, overfilled udders and the engorged stomach suggested that it was pregnant.

It stood on this side of the sand, staring for some moments at the water far away. Then it started walking towards the water. It was human-like - the way it looked fixedly ahead, as if deliberating on something, then moving straight without looking this way or that, purposefully. Her interest was piqued.

The cow moving towards the shoreline in that four o'clock heat seemed rather strange to her.

Where is that cow going? To the sea? Why? Does it know that beyond the sand there is the ocean? Of course, she has often seen people coming to the beach with their pet dogs. They would throw sticks into the sea and the dogs would run into the water and retrieve them. Man, and beast would frolic around. But in all these years that she has been living in the Besant Nagar house, she had not once seen a goat or a cow walking to the shoreline. Why is this cow going in that direction?

What had seemed funny suddenly annoyed her and she leaned over the balcony railings to see whether the cow's owner was around anywhere.

She saw only a vendor with aluminium vessels in a basket on the bicycle carrier, an old woman who got down from a bus that pulled up at the stop, a boy who kicked a stone around as he went along, a trouser-clad man who was standing in front of a yerucum bush and peeing...and other such passersby.

When she turned back to the cow, it had reached the mound where waves lashed and died away.

It stood there gazing at the water. Observing that sight clearly from her vantage point, her sense of uneasiness worsened.

She was worried that the cow might enter the water without realising the danger of big waves carrying it away. But it was needless... the cow walked a few steps, went down the slope and stood where the waves wet its hooves. It lowered its head as the waves surged forward and drank a mouthful from atop the water that floated. It then quickly lifted its head so sand may not get into its mouth.

'Oh, hell,' exclaimed Bharati loudly.

This cow had ventured to the sea to drink water; it had stood at the brink as it guessed that it would be deep at some distance from the shore; it knew that the receding water would carry sand grains so it drank from atop the incoming water... ah, this cow is really intelligent.

Her concern for the cow now turned into appreciation and her lips curved up in a smile of approbation.

After the cow had quenched its thirst, it climbed onto the mound and began walking back. She felt a new emotion - that of commiseration. How thirsty the animal must have been to drink the salty water.

And with that came the thought how poor animals that did not get even salty water must be suffering in the country. She was angry over the failure of the municipal corporation and the government to provide water to the cattle suffering from thirst in the hot weather.

If I had the authority, she thought, I would arrange for water tanks in public roads for the cattle and the birds so that they may drink to their heart's content...

Before thoughts continued in the same vein, Bharati took hold of herself.

When she was a child, she had often let imagination run wild starting with 'if I had the authority...’ When she was compelled to do things that she did not like, she would mumble these words under her breath and find some consolation that the train of thoughts gave her.

Ramani, her husband, tolerated this habit initially as he did not want to hurt the feelings of his new bride. But after he got tired of it, he told her, 'What madness is this, Bharati? Will problems be solved by mere wish?' She was abashed when Ramani repeatedly derided her habit and in due course she gave up the childhood practice.

After several years her 'If I had the authority...' habit had raised its head again.

Bharati bit her lower lip and took a long breath.

For the past few days, maybe a month, she had been having little, inexplicable uncertainties in her mind. She had often found herself gathering wool or wasting time on useless pursuits.

Was it laziness? She wouldn't say that.

Even trying to enjoy a gossip magazine or novel over a plate of savouries did not appeal to her for long. She could not watch a movie on VCR. She did not feel like visiting her mother and chatting with her. What was the problem? Lack of interest? Pain? Tiredness? Weariness? She couldn't put her finger on her mood. But without doubt, something was bothering her.

She wished to talk about the problem with someone. If she spoke to Ramani, he would listen to her for a couple of minutes and then intercept her and say: 'It is nothing; you're unnecessarily worrying yourself to death. Take a long walk in the evening... you have put on weight, and you're feeling lazy... There's nothing more to it.'

After dismissing the topic in this manner, he would go back to work on hand.

Of the two sons, the elder one, Gautam, might be a little receptive but he was not in town. He was away at the Regional Engineering College at Tiruchi. She had missed the sympathetic listener in him for a few months after his departure for higher studies, but then she got used to his absence. During the first year, he came home not only for the periodic vacations but whenever the college was closed because of strikes and other such interruptions. But the next year onwards, his visits became fewer as he had made friends at the hostel. He not only stopped yearning for mother and home food but also began going on tours to North India with his friends or for 'summer training' in factories.

The younger son, Vikram, was just the opposite of Gautam. He was a jolly fellow. Forever restless, he would do two things at a time. He would listen to Pink Floyd blaring out on the stereo and watch cricket on TV. He could be informative, and crack adult jokes. He would sometimes narrate ribald anecdotes in inappropriate company, and if asked why, he would laugh it off. He would say 'Relax ma, don't take everything seriously. Learn to laugh! Then you will have a healthy life! You know Norman Cousins, editor of Saturday Review…? He once remarked...... So saying, he would launch a philosophical discourse. Age 17. Very smart. Passed Plus two with distinction and entered the IIT to do B. Tech. (Electronics). It was just a month since he joined the hostel. On weekends he would come with a bagful of dirty linen for washing. He would loll in the sofa watching three films a day and munching on potato chips prepared by his mother.

Bharati would admonish him, 'Vicky, why are you so carefree?' He would retort: 'Why, I am so responsible at college; isn't that enough? Take it easy, Amma.' Bharati would relent, thinking every man's home was his castle.

To tell the truth, since this boy went out of the home, she has been ill at ease and she was not able to concentrate on anything.

When the elder son left some three years ago, she had been overcome by loneliness for the first time, and now with the younger son too gone, that feeling has congealed in her heart.

It is natural for children to go their ways to secure a future for themselves just as young birds fly away as soon as they grow wings.

So, she thought, there was no need to worry about the boys' absence from home.

'Isn't it time, madam? Didn't you say that tiffin must be ready before the younger one came back home?' Pushpa, a domestic help who had been with the family since they were in Mandaveli, asked her. Within four months of her marriage, she had been deserted by her husband, who ran away in the middle of the night with her gold jewellery, including the thali, all weighing some six sovereigns. The unfortunate woman had been recommended to them by an acquaintance.

'What's the time?' Bharati turned her head to the clock on the dining room wall: Half past four.

'It's getting late. You unpack the packet of puffed rice that you brought yesterday and clean it... Gather all the ingredients that I said I would want. I will join you in a minute.

After Pushpa left for the kitchen, she stood erect. As she had been leaning against the rough balcony railings for a long time, her elbows had turned red and were tingling with pain. Before she turned back to leave the place, she once again tried to see where the cow was but it had now disappeared.

In the kitchen, Pushpa had gathered all the required ingredients in cups and placed them on the table.

'Bhel puri' was a favourite with Vikram, and he would eat three or four plates of the dish at a time.

She put aside a big onion, two tomatoes and a bunch of coriander leaves for cutting.

On a large plate, she took a measure of refined flour and half a measure of wheat flour and added salt to taste. She added a spoon of ghee and some water and kneaded the flour to a hard mass. She cleaned the kitchen counter, sprinkled some wheat flour on it and taking pinches of the kneaded flour, rolled them into circles with the rolling pin. She then plied the knife over the circles