Kuttiajario

Short Story

Madathil Narayanan Rajkumar

When I was studying at B.E. school, I met my dad’s companion, Kuttiajario. The school was five miles from my home. My dad’s friend would be going in a cycle and give me a lift till a lobby, close to Koppel Place,a junction with a vegetable market cramped by inter- state merchants, and was within a couple of miles from school. My Father worked till 7 p.m as he was supervisor and started home early in the day. He will likewise pedal a bike. Both had Raleigh cycles, Kuttajarios’s was dark, my dad’s cycle olive green..

‘Kutty’ in local tongue meant small, and Ajario is his family name and they were woodworkers by profession. His great granddadwas a royal cabinetmaker in an ancient South Indian kingdom and there is a monument for him in that town.

My Father worked in the building profession, but since he was in supervisory cadre, he had to go early. Kuttiajario on the other hand need not go early. He could come by about 5- 30 p.m usual time of daily workers. My Father on the other hand had to disburse the wages of the workers and it will take an additional one hour, and then he will pedal bicycle.

Kuttiajario was of medium complexion and was a shy person who delighted in good food and great yogurt. He was just two inches taller than my daddy who everybody thought was less tall than my mother, and some people took it as a shameful inglorious thing and made fun of the couple,though our well wishers didn’t do that. The concept of an ideal couple, is on the following lines- The man should work, but for a lady it is not obligatory to work outside home.The man should exceed woman in height and age, and a difference from 3 years to 7 years is considered ideal.You see, this is an old story.

We boys,myself and my elder brother made a scale by the wall as base, and subjected mom and dad for the height checking. Dad was happy to check because he enjoyed the whole ceremony, but mom was not, because she was afraid that the children would detect that she was taller, and mom felt restive , as she always was, in a situation that made my dad of lesser merit than her. But my dad was confident even if he loses in physical height checking, he knew that there are several other zones where he could prove his merit. But the reality is that in spite of several assays by us in different stages of life, it was proved sans dubiety that they were of the same height. But when they walked together, mom appeared to be taller to an onlooker because of the saris she wore.

Sometimes, he wore spectacles while working with wood. He rarely drank hard liquor, perhaps once in a blue moon,which father didn’t do. There was much contrast between the two, my father was a scholar in the local language and even a few poets were his friends, however he didn’t know English, which mother did. The sole English thing that I saw him composing was his signature in full. Indeed, that was the only English I saw him writing, his signature…Kuttiajario had two children, a boy and a girl. Also, the most amusing part is that I had never seen them in my life even till now. Since Kuttiajario lived in a house a few miles from us and mother was least interested in such visits..

Kuttiajario and my dad made periodic trips to interesting places,of cultural or religious significance. My father had a habit that once he seated himself on a comfortable seat in a bus, he would start sleeping, which had earlier landed him into strenuous situations. But when Kuttiajario was around with him, my mom appreciated these journeys.

When dad passed away Kuttiajario was the one who was least affected about the demise, showing no intimation of grief on his face. Some friends wept openly, but he was sort of stoic and I don’t know what exactly took place in his mind.

My sister was chubby and was short in stature maybe 4 feet 10 inches but she was the least bothered about her short build . She ate snacks and delicious munchies every now and then, and this made her further corpulent . She was not interested in studies and when my mom got a transfer to another town, she was extra hampered and would sleep by the worktop. We both used the same table, but had different drawers. When I started studying, she would start dozing. Mother put her in a typewriting institute and she would walk every morning passing football grounds. She had a friend, whom people in the village nicknamed, ‘Nhelichi’, a pejorative term for a lady who walked straight. In fact, some people were jealous of her brains as she spoke brilliant English and later she got married and went to Singapore to settle there.

Meanwhile there were some interesting things happening in college. My friend, A.had a crush with a teacher and I knew it as my friend used to confide everything to me. The friend stopped studying at pre degree level.Once the teacher asked in the class. ‘Who is Raj?’, and I knew that it was about me . I stood up, but the teacher after looking into my face said-‘Sit down.’And other students did not know anything about it,as it was a secret between my friend and myself.Later in life such situations, repeated. Then the teacher married another man and I lost touch as I was in university.

I went to the metropolis to see my uncle and his brother by marriage. This brother in law read impressive books and I went to get-away, and took me to good hotels that served gulab jamun and Basundi, both sweets. In light of the fact that my father found him a line of work, however very little thought that I didn’t need a work. This confidence, in oneself, has its benefits just as disadvantages.

I went to the magical waterway in my late twenties, I had a tendency to see the mystical stream. So I left work in the town I lived in and went to the metropolis. From that point one can go to the magical stream. Subsequent to arriving at the city, I posted my resignation letter, and with a companion’s assistance got a temporary vocation, and the following month went to see the mysterious waterway. My companions and associates cautioned me, subsequent to seeing the stream you won’t return. Nobody has come back till now. I said, I am not stressed, first I need to see it in my own eyes. If I don’t return, no issue, my eyes will be glad, and that is the best blessing you can provide for your eyes, I contended. I went there . It was simple at the outset, there was a stream great and amazing, At that point you need to walk. I saw the stream. It was spectacular. But I failed to see magic anywhere. I remained there in that town by the stream, for quite a while, and afterward returned to my town. The first to see me in the wake of arriving at my home was Kuttiajario, my dad’s best friend. ‘You saw the waterway?’, he asked in incredible engrossment. ‘Indeed’, I said.

‘How was it?’, he asked. Then I said. ‘The river obviously is excellent. But I didn’t perceive any magic in it.’ ‘Fool’, he said-. ‘The magic isn’t in the river, the magic is in your mind.’ I didn’t tell, anything. In any case, I was distraught that he called me a fool. Then one evening, from my parent’s conversation, I caught. They said -‘Raj will again, go to the magical stream’. ‘Chances are’, father said in his distant tone. ‘We will find a young lady for him, he is still young’. My mom said. Then I married. Then I found a new line of work, family, children, stress, more pressure, it was trying my limit. Around then I had three youngsters, and was 45 years of age. Neither a youth nor an elderly person, however the last depiction would be better, as individuals who saw me affirmed. The next year mom also passed away. My sister went to another city. My senior sibling left the country and sailed to a far off land with family. Such countless changes throughout everyday life. I changed positions and places.

At that point I went to a major city. More tiring jobs,transfer,stress, office work, transport stop line, deadlines, line at metro station, my bike in carport, kids’ expenses, lease, work environment pressure, long schedules, gossips, stress, long hours of work, restless nights, I was exhausted, and numerous things all in a nebulous line. I lost rest, I shed pounds. I left my work and went to the village. I needed to meet my kin and talk silly things or chat looking at the hot sun while sitting in a tea shop.

Someone advised me,Kuttiajario has left the village to see the magical waterway.I was told by those guys in our village. ‘You know the way to the magical stream’, they said.

‘That was a long way back,’ I cut short the discussion. ‘Moreover, the area might have changed’, I said. But I went to see my father’s buddy Kuttiajario . After many meanderings in that old village below the mountains, by the river ,I met Kuttiajario. There were three guys and a gal yelling at the passageway of his hut. ‘Long live Kuttiajario, long live Kuttiajario’ , the youth cried. I was unable to bear the tumult of their screech. A young lady and three gentlemen.After meeting him, I told Kuttiajario- ‘ Advise your young friends to stop shouting’. He said that in case you advised them to stop, they will cry more. Then I said to Kuttiajario in a private second. His eyes were sparkling. I told him, I need to be your follower. He said, why?. I need to dispose of my meandering brain. He said-I can’t guarantee you , however you can remain here.Now proceed to get water from the stream. He gave me a huge pitcher. I went to the river to get water. It was dusk. I had blended considerations. Is he a fraud, I thought. Let it be, after all he is my dad’s friend who made doors and windows to our house. Moreover he is an old man and may need help. One should not forget one’s father’s friends. I stepped into the river to get water.

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Sketches- author