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The Red Roof (Short Story : Samgeev)

Published on 12 August, 2020
The Red Roof (Short Story : Samgeev)
Uncle Korah is not my uncle. But he was Uncle Korah to all villagers. He was an old man, probably 75-80 years old. My parents called him Korah Mavan. About 50 years ago old people were respected in our village.

Korah Mavan had a fair complexion.
His grey hair was uncombed.
He had sunken eyes.
His face was pale and sad.
He had deep wrinkles on his cheeks.

He did not have a beard; but he was always rubbing his unshaven chin and cheeks with his left hand. He was always holding a cane with brass ribs on both ends.
He used to wear a white dhoti with a long towel folded and wrapped around his neck and shoulders. The shade of the long tail of the loin cloth he wore under the dhoti was visible behind the dhoti. My childhood girlfriend was Chippie. She could not contain her laughter when she saw Korah Mavan wearing his dhoti with the shade of the tail under it. She would go behind Korah Mavan. She would point her fingers to the shade of the loincloth tail and shout:

 “Appooppan has a tail”. Then she would explode with laughter.
Appooppan means the old man or a grandfather-like man.
Korah Mavan did not like Chippie. He used to call her “naughty girl”. Once Korah Mavan raised his cane in the air and shouted.
“You, naughty girl, you will get good spanking”.  Korah Mavan’s words provoked Chippie.

She shouted. “Appooppan has a long tail. Appooppan is a monkey”
Once Korah Mavan gave me a warning. “You are a good boy. You should not be friend with that naughty girl.”

But I liked Chippie. I liked her very much. She was not the most beautiful girl of the village. She did not have rosy cheeks and ruby lips. But she was a pretty girl. She had light dark skin and sparkling eyes. Her eyes were always shining. Her flowing hair had a special fragrance. Her mother used to prepare special oil for her hair with special spices. We would play under the shadow of the magnificent Jack fruit tree. I was ‘the man’ of the house, and chippie was ‘the woman’. We had ten children, all the chicks and kitten and puppies were our children. The woman will make curry with corn husks, seeds and wild leaves. The man would go to the field with plough, yoke and oxen and return in the evenings with muddy trousers. In some days the man would be wearing a towel wrapped around his waist with a loin cloth under the towel. The loin cloth had long tail.
Chippie had a fascination for the long tail. She will burst into laughter when she sees the long tail.

I did not know where Korah Mavan lived. Maybe in a far end corner of my village, or maybe in a nearby village not far from my house. There is a high cliffy mountain almost in the middle of my village. The high rock in the mountain is called Chathan Rock. I am sure that Korah Mavan’s place was beyond the mountain.
My friend Babychayan told me.

“You can see Arabian Sea if you stand upon the Chathan Rock.” He promised to take me over there some day.

I wanted to climb upon the Chathan Rock and view the Arabian Sea which is 15 miles away from my village. My heart was filled with excitement. I like to take Chippie also to the Chathan Rock. I am sure that she will be thrilled to go to Chathan Rock and view the Arabian Sea. But my mother did not like the idea. She told me that it was dangerous to go over there. The mountain was a piece of jungle. There are wild animals there, including venomous snakes and wild foxes. Not only that, there is a small shrine on the mountain. The shrine belonged to a pagan community of the village. Christian children are not supposed to go to a pagan shrine.

Why my mother is so mean? I did not get the answer. Perhaps Chippie’s mom also may be mean.

My house was on the bank of a rice field. A small thatched house it was, not much bigger than a hut. The thatching was done with braided coconut fronds. The thatched roof should be replaced every year. The roof re-thatching day was a festival day for the house- hold, especially for the children. There will be a feast in the house. There will be cooked rice and a variety of side dishes. Achar, Avial, Poriyal, Sambar, Kalan, and many more. The cooked food will be served on spread banana leaves for the community people who helped in the effort of thatching the roof. There will not be any cash wages. The community help was free except the feast. The most attractive dish is Payasam.  It is the sweetest dessert. Uncle Mathai used to cook the Payasam. He has a special skill to make the delicious dessert.

“I wish our house had a stronger tiled roof.” I heard my mother’s desire to have a better roof. Tiled roof is stronger and safer than thatched roof. The red roof will be more beautiful too.

But a tiled roof is expensive. The estimated cost of the tiled roof is ten thousand rupees. My parents are primary school teachers. Ten thousand rupees—an amount too big for them.

There will be wild storms in certain summer nights. Heavy wind and rain in the summer nights are scary. In those days my mother will be very scared because the heavy storm could blow off the thatched roof. It happened one or two times. But I like the heavy rains. It is a pleasure to play in the flowing water with Chippie. Chippie’s face in the rain is beautiful as a lotus flower ready to bloom.

Korah Mavan used to visit our house once in a month. My mother used to give him Kanji whenever he came to our house. Kanji is the rice soup made for the family. The food could be served as a breakfast, lunch or supper, or any time of the day. The food was served in a porcelain bowl. The bowl had blue lines like stretch marks around its belly. There will be a side dish too. In most days the side dish is Beans Thoran. Sometimes there will be an additional dish, delicious Coconut Chutney. After finishing the Kanji meal Korah Mavan will slip into his usual conversation with my mother.
“Every morning, it is my burden to feed three people. Two children and an adult. The children are like ravens. How can I feed them, Thankamma? I am an old man ready to go to my eternal home.” He raised his eyes and hands to the sky as if he was invoking some spiritual power to answer his complaint. Thankamma is my mother. As a bystander leaning upon my mother I was listening to their conversation.

Korah Mavan was living with his daughter and two grandchildren. The daughter is a divorced woman who took refuge in her father’s house with her two children. The burden of feeding three destitute human beings fell upon the old man. I felt sorrow for Korah Mavan. The deep wrinkles on his cheeks were channels of melancholy, I thought. For a moment I was angry at Chippie too. She should not have teased the old man.
“Let me go home Thankamma, before the rain.” Korah Mavan finished his conversation with my mother, and he is ready to depart. He looked at the sky again. He paused for a while. He was expecting something else. It was customary to give a monetary gift also to Korah Mavan whenever he visited our house. The gift was usually an amount of five rupees. It was not a small amount for us. My parents were low income Primary School teachers.

My mother will hand over the money to me. I will slip it into the shivering hands of Korah Mavan. It is my right to give the gift. Korah Mavan will hold the money in his hand for a few moments. Then he will cross himself in the Eastern Tradition. He will put his right hand upon my head. He will close his eyes for a moment and plunge into a slight meditation. I could hardly see his lips moving. But no sound will come out of his mouth.

“Blessing of the old people will bring prosperity into the house”. It was the philosophy of my mother.

My parents have earned ten thousand rupees. They took almost ten years to earn the amount. They used to deposit a small amount every month in the Post Office Savings Bank. I have seen the Pass Book of Post Office Savings Bank. It was a small book, six inches long and four inches wide. It had numerous Post office seals on each page——round Postal seals in printing ink. Save a little money each month and deposit it in a Government bank for safety reasons. It was the economic philosophy of my parents.

Roofing tiles—Two thousand
Back tiles—One hundred
Ridge tiles—Fifty
Corner tiles—Ten
Spike tiles—Four
My father and Kesavan Asari calculated the quantity of tiles required to put a new roof over our house. Kesavan Asari is the Chief Carpenter in our village. He is an old carpenter.

“H & C tiles are good quality tiles. We can purchase them from Ithikkara factory. The place is not very far”. Kesavan Asari said.
But there is a big problem. My house does not have a road approach. How to bring the heavy load of tiles into our vicinity?
“We can bring the load up to Pichakkadamukku in a lorry.” Kesavan Asari said.
Pichakkadamukku is an old name of an old town. The new name is Nellikkunnam. Picha founded the town with a humble beginning almost 150 years ago. He started a tea shop there. Kesavan Asari is an old man like my grandfather. They know many stories.
But the Herculean task is to bring the tiles to our property. Nellikkunnam is one mile away. Headload transportation is very labor intensive.
“Our community people will help.” My mother intervened. She always had practical wisdom. Our community people are friendly. They support each other.

Korah Mavan visited our house again after two weeks. He looked more tired. His dhoti and shoulder towel were not very clean. He looked at the red tiled roof of our house again and again. He could not believe what he saw. I noticed the shade of grief and anger on his wrinkled face.
As soon as he entered into the house he sat on the bare floor. He used to sit on a short wooden bench in the dining area. My mother was surprised to see Korah Mavan sitting on the floor. She exclaimed.
“O No. What is this? Mavan sitting on the bare floor in our house? How come you are not sitting on the bench?”
“Am I not a beggar, Sarreh? The beggar sits where he is supposed to sit.” Korah Mavan’s answer was a puzzle to me.
“Sarreh” means Madam Teacher. Korah Mavan never called my mother “Madam Teacher”.

She was Thankamma to Korah Mavan till today.
“Why are you talking like this Mavan? You are not a beggar in this house.” My mother asked. She compelled Korah Mavan to sit on the bench.
My mother gave him Kanji in the porcelain bowl. The bowl had blue lines around its belly like stretch marks. There were three side dishes this time—thoran, coconut chutney and pappadam.

Korah Mavan finished the food faster than the usual time. It looked like that he was unusually hasty. He did not plunge into his usual conversation with my mother. My mother gave me the five rupee note which I slipped into the shivering hands of Korah Mavan. His customary gift from my house. It is my right to give the gift.
Korah Mavan did not put his blessing hands upon my head.
He did not cross himself in the Eastern Tradition.
He did not close his eyes.
His lips did not shiver with chants of prayer.
He did not pose in meditation.

He took his cane that had brass ribs on both ends and walked out of my house. After walking a few steps, he looked back into the red roof of my house.
I and naughty Chippie standing under the shade of the magnificent Jack fruit tree watched Korah Mavan walking away like an exclamation mark along the mud bunds embanked as a pedestrian walkway in the vast expanse of the rice fields.
“It looks like Appooppan is sad and angry. Why?”

I heard the quizzical murmur from Chippie’s lips.
I said. “I do not know”.
We do not know most of the things happening around us.
I remembered the words of my father once told me.
The poor village schoolteacher said.

“Man’s heart is deeper than the deepest trench of Pacific Ocean.”
The pedestrian walkway in the expanse of rice field looked like two parallel lines. The exclamation mark diminished into a dot and then disappeared where the parallel lines meet.

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