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Stories After examining Rama, midwife Gangamma said, ‘they are not labor pains. They may start later after fall of night,’ and left. Until evening Rammurty was shuttling uneasily between his house and Siva temple like a cat on a hot tin roof. By evening the slow drizzle changed into a storm. Rammurty was waiting for the midwife, helplessly listening to the cries of Rama on one hand and was trying to shield the little kerosene lamp lest it should throw them into darkness. He was not on talking terms with any of his relatives around. Milkmaid Rattamma came to his rescue turning up in that heavy rain. Standing by Rama, she sent him to fetch the midwife. Before Gangamma turned up, Rama delivered a male child. The midwife attended to cutting the umbilical cord, making the child cry and cleaning the mess. Rattamma by then readied hot water. With fore sight Rammurty kept firewood ready for that purpose two days ago by breaking his grandfather’s old armchair. Rammurty was now convinced that Mars in the seventh house was not a malefic. Rattamma said to him before leaving, ‘the weather is so cold, why don’t you give the mother a pan of musk?’ Gangamma seconded her. ‘Where can I get it, Gangamma?’ he asked. ‘Till last year it was available with Iyyanna, the priest. It’s not available even with him now. It must be available within your family. You have so many relatives here. Why don’t you try with any of them?’ Assuring him to turn up again the next morning, she left. ‘What an auspicious time it was!’ he wondered at the time of his child’s birth. For, the rain which was pouring so heavily until then, relented all of a sudden as if somebody had ordered it. But it was chilly still. Rammurty hurried towards the temple. ‘Parvati Kalyanam’ Harikatha was going on there to help people keep awake through the night, an observance for Sivaratri. He found Sivayya there. “Why to search with all and sundry? There is musk of the size of a stone with that old widow,” Sivayya exaggerated what he thought about the musk. By that old widow he meant Seshamma. Rammurty’s heart missed a beat. ‘Will she, who has all the while been cursing him to go childless, do him such a favor?’ He was unsure. He ventured to go upto her house, but no further. ~*~ When he got up from his floor-bed the following morning, awakened by the nightmares of devils and spirits, it was a clear sunny day. The baby sun’s rays were gold-plating the sanguine world. He walked inside apprehensively. Rama, whom he feared might have stiffened with cold, was looking fresh and cheerful. Wearing a red cap and nestling cozily in his bed, his new family-twig was engrossed, perhaps, in the thoughts about the world he had come from. Rama said faintly, ‘can you imagine? Seshammattayya paid us a visit! She gave me a pan of musk and re-arranged baby’s bed. Where were you last night? She complained it was milkmaid Rattamma and not you who informed her.’ She could not restrain her streaming tears. That day Rammurty could not muster enough courage to go to Seshamma’s house to express his thanks, as well as, his apologies. He dilly-dallied the following day also. Rama asked, ‘Seshammattayya left another tablet of musk under my pillow. Will you please roll it in a pan leaf and give it to me?’ After giving the pan, Rammurty ran towards Seshamma’s house. There was a large gathering of men and women about her house. “What a life it was! Innocent woman.” “Ask for a pinch, she would serve a bowlful of pickle.” “She would prepare pickles for distribution only. Harsh by tongue but kind at heart.” “Nobody knew where she went out in the heavy rain at night the day before. She was drenched to the full and might have slept that way. She caught fever and died of it.” “A steadfast woman. How rich she was once! She lost every thing, but never held out her hand in begging.” ~*~ Rammurty might have received my money order the same day. “You are
the mother who saved my family lineage. You returned love for
hatred. I see to it you reach higher planes of Heaven; I will
perform your funeral rites. You are my mother-like.” Repining for
her thus, he set out to perform her last rites. January 29, 2006 The Week of January 29, 2006
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