Chakki was anxious to have a gay, elaborate wedding ceremony. The neighbors, too, anticipated a festive affair. Chemban Kunju had money. Karuthamma was the eldest daughter.
But Chemban Kunju did not want anything of the kind. He spent a little money in making Karuthamma some gold ornaments. He maintained that he hadn’t the money for an elaborate wedding.
On this matter Chakki and Chemban Kunju could not agree. When they quarreled, it was Karuthamma who had to interfere and make the peace. It was a painful experience for her. They were having quarrels every day on account of her.
She was longing for the wedding day to be over. There seemed to be so much suffering because of her. Everyone she had come in contact with in her life was unhappy. And she wondered how many people were likely to suffer in the future on her account.
Only after inviting the Headman of the seafront could they start the formal arrangements for the wedding. Chemban Kunju went to see him with offerings of betel leaf, tobacco and silver, and obtained his blessings for the wedding. The Headman was pleased and agreed to be present at the ceremony.
There were no elaborate preparations for the wedding day, but somehow or other the wedding turned out to be on a grander scale than Chemban Kunju had planned.
The Headman came early. From Trikunnapuzha came the bridegroom’s party. There were no women in the party, and that became a topic of discussion among the local women. They all knew that Palani had no one close to him in this world, but the fact that there was no woman in the bridegroom’s party was a shameful matter.
“Couldn’t these people have brought with them some girl who lives on their seafront?” Nallapennu said.
Kalikunju agreed with her.
“How can you send a girl away with all these men?” Kunjipennu asked.
“What else can you do?” Lakshmi said.
“This is not right,” Nallapennu said. “The bridegroom should bring some women with him in his party. They should be there to take the girl home. That is the custom.”
Chakki heard bits and pieces of the talk going on among the women. Chakki, too, worried about it.
The time came for the bridegroom to deposit the money for the marriage fee. The Headman had the authority to fix the fee. Only after that would the wedding ceremony start.
The Headman called Palani and his friends to him. They all stood by attentively. “Take out seventy-five rupees,” the Headman said.
The bridegroom’s party was stunned. They thought it was far too big a figure. They would expect such a figure only for the wedding of a Valakkaran.
For a little while no one spoke. Then Achuthan, the principal member of the bridegroom’s party, said firmly but with modesty.”Please don’t misunderstand us, Father. We have all come from a fishing village. We, too, have our Headman. You have fixed the fee and we shall ques-tion you. But-”
“Yes. Speak up. What is it?” The Headman said.
“Of course it is your right to fix the fee. But you should have asked the bridegroom’s party about it first.” Achuthan said.
It had been an oversight on the part of the Headman, but he did not like to have it pointed out.
“Why is there so much talk about a small matter like this?” He asked rather angrily.
Achuthan didn’t give in. He, too, had a Headman at his village, and an important one.
“This is a matter on which we should have been consulted,” he said.
“And I would like to know what I should ask.”
“Perhaps it is your intention that this wedding should not take place,” Achuthan said clearly and firmly.
That was going too far. The Headman swore. They had cast aspersions on him.
Achuthan spoke up for his rights. If the fee were fixed without the consideration to what the bridegroom could afford, the wedding might not take place.
“Are you such vagrants?” The Headman asked.
Even if he were not their Headman, he was the Headman of a village. They had to swallow the insult of being referred to as vagrants. All the same, Achuthan had been within his rights when he spoke.
The Headman turned to Chemban Kunju and said, “Chemban Kunju, are you giving away your daughter in marriage to one who cannot raise even seventy-five rupees?”
All the womenfolk liked that. They were unhappy about a good girl being given to someone without a home, or kith and kin.
They blamed Chemban Kunju. Everybody appreciated the fact that the Headman spoke his mind to Chemban Kunju. No one else had spoken to him like that.
Chemban Kunju was silent.
“That is right, Father. He has nothing. We are not his relatives. We are only fishermen of his village. That is why I said you should have consulted him on the figure,” Achuthan said.
Achuthan described Palani’s background. The women listening felt even more sorry for Karuthamma. Some of them murmured that it would have better to have drowned her in the sea.
Even then the Headman did not give in.
“This is all very well, but the money is not fixed on the basis of the bridegroom’s status”, he said.
Achuthan agreed.
“She is a lovely girl. If you want her, you must be prepared to raise the necessary money,” the Headman continued.
A man called Pappu, a member of the bridegroom’s party, wouldn’t accept the Headman’s argument. He muttered something because he couldn’t suppress it any longer.
“What are you muttering?” The Headman shouted at him.
Pappu said nothing.
“Speak,” said the Headman angrily.
Pappu decided to say what was in his mind.
“Don’t say too much of the girls’ goodness,” he said defiantly.
“Well, what do you mean?”
“You are arranging this wedding so as not to bring ruin on this village. Well, our village may be ruined. Even then you expect the boy to deposit a sum that is grossly unfair. A fine state of affairs!” Pappu said.
Everyone was stunned. What was he saying? Chakki collapsed. Karuthamma supported her mother.
“Mother!” She cried.
Chakki was taken indoors, where she lay unconscious.
Chemban Kunju ran round in circles like a madman. He thought his wife was dying. The wedding had an inaus-picious beginning.
Some of the people in the bridegroom’s party said it was unforgivable of Pappu to have spoken like that at such a time. But Pappu wasn’t sorry in the least. He was disgusted.
“I have been on this seafront many times. I know all about this girl.”
Everyone suspected that there was some terrible secret in Karuthamma’s life. But at that moment nobody wanted to know what it was. They only wanted to silence Pappu. He was a visitor in the village.
“Keep quiet, for heaven’s sake,” Achuthan said.
Inside, Nallapennu and Kalikunju attended to Chakki. She opened her eyes and held out her hands to her daughter saying, “My child,” and was unconscious again.
The women comforted Karuthamma.
When Chakki was a little better, Chemban Kunju called Achuthan and Palani to him. He was prepared to give them the seventy-five rupees. They must take it and provide the wedding fee. Palani was agreeable. Achuthan also gave his consent.
And so Palani entered the marriage pandal with the seventy- five rupees. The excitement died down. No one bothered any more about what Pappu had said.
The money was deposited. As was customary, the Headman, who was also the priest, took a share of it. The rest, to be used for the goodwill of the village, he gave to Chemban Kunju. Thus the first part of the wedding ceremony was accomplished.
The bride was brought to the pandal. The elders pointed out the procedure. The tali1 was tied and the bridal cloth given away. Chemban Kunju took Palani’s hands and placed them in Karuthamma’s. When he took Karuthamma’s hands, Chemban Kunju felt them stiffen slightly. Did she draw back her hand? And it seemed as if she did not hold Palani’s hands, as if they merely rested on hers. Like a machine, Karuthamma did mechanically all she was told.
1 Tali – a locket in token of marriage.
The women supported Chakki and helped her to stand. But during the ceremony she again lost consciousness. Some of the women said that all these things augured ill.
When the time came for the feast, there was more trouble. Because of Palani’s caste, some women went home without eating. Pappu, who had created all the trouble, also left.
The behavior of the guests did not upset Chemban Kunju, but he was selfishly concerned with his own misfortune. He fell at the Headman’s feet and begged him to save him. Chakki was totally incapacitated. Karuthamma had never been away from home and now she must go to another village-alone. No women had come with the bridegroom. Because of that he didn’t like to send the girl away that day. He didn’t want Palani to go either. If Karuthamma went, Chemban Kunju’s home would go to the dogs. There was no one to nurse his sick wife.
Chemban Kunju was like one gone insane.
“That is all very well, Chemban Kunju,” the Headman said with sympathy.” But if Palani says he would like to take the bride home, how can you refuse him?”
“If you speak to them, Father, they would listen to you,” Chemban Kunju said.
The Headman laughed at this.
“They belong to Trikunnapuzha. They are insolent. Didn’t you see it yourself, Chemban Kunju?” He said.
Chemban Kunju had no one but the Headman to fall back upon. What would he do when Karuthamma left? Chemban Kunju said that if the Headman spoke firmly they would obey him.
When the feast was over, Achuthan announced it was time for them to leave. Karuthamma was sitting near her mother. She was crying. Chemban Kunju hovered nearby pretending to be busy. Achuthan said once again that it was time for the bridegroom and his party to leave. When he said it the third time, Chemban Kunju could ignore it no longer.
“Is it absolutely essential that you should take the girl away today?” The Headman asked Achuthan at Chemban Kunju’s urging.
Such a question was most unexpected. Achuthan did not know how to answer it.
“Why are you speaking like this?” Achuthan asked.
“Why not?”
“After the wedding you don’t leave the bride behind.”
The Headman knew that his stand was not right. It wasn’t a situation he could command with authority. The Headman described the state of that home, but they knew it too.
“Let her wait until her mother is up and about. That is all I ask,” he said.
It was for the bridegroom to answer that, said Achuthan.
“In a way it is not fair that you should lead the girl away by the hand,” the Headman said.
“Why is that so?” Achuthan said.
“There should be a woman in your party to take the girl away. That is the right thing.”
“Why did you then give the girl away to someone who couldn’t bring a woman in his party?” Achuthan gave it back to him in the same coin.
“Are you questioning me?” The Headman asked, pretending anger.
Achuthan was silent. Now it was the boy who had to settle the matter. Let him decide, said Achuthan.
More time passed. Achuthan said it was getting late. Let Palani also stay on here, advised the Headman. No one could answer for him. Palani had to decide.
“Listen, young man, what have you decided? We must go,” Achuthan said.
Palani hesitated. He could not arrive at any decision. Perhaps he was not capable of making a decision. It almost seemed as if Palani did not think it is a serious matter. He seemed totally unconcerned and undecided.
“Why don’t you say something? Why are you putting us all into this trouble?” Achuthan said in disgust.
Then he railed at Palani. He had come for a happy occasion. Instead he had found himself quarreling with those he liked.
Chemban Kunju waited anxiously to hear what Palani would say. Palani was a simple person. He wouldn’t let him down. For Palani, the whole world was his home.
“Say something,” Achuthan said again.
Palani looked at Achuthan’s face. He looked at the faces of the others too. He couldn’t get a sign from anyone, but out of his mouth the words came.
“I must take my bride away now.”
Chemban Kunju was stunned. He hadn’t expected Palani to decide against him. Chemban Kunju beat his chest with his hands and said, “My son, look at the state of your mother. And then speak.”
Whether that request touched Palani’s heart or not, it was difficult to say. Once again he looked at Achuthan’s face for a sign. He got no hint. However, he felt that Achuthan was in his favor of his taking the girl away with him.
“I want to take my bride away,” Palani said.
He began to explain. He had neither a home nor any kith or kin. He married Karuthamma to create a home of his own. He must begin life. He was not willing to leave behind the girl that he had married. He had to start a lot of things. None of them could wait.
“Therefore I must take the girl away now,” he said.
Everyone was surprised that Palani managed to express his feelings so clearly. His decision was final. Palani felt that his friends approved. Nobody care how it affected Chemban Kunju. The way he begged and cringed should have melted anybody’s heart.
“Son, I know what it is to bring up a child. Listen, one day you will grow old and you will know,” he said.
Palani stood firm.
The Headman, who was sympathetic to Chemban Kunju’s plight, got a little angry.
“What is this,” he said. “This boy has not known a home. He does not know what it means to have a father and mother. It is in one’s home that one begins to understand what love and affection are. How could someone who grew up wild on the seashore understand all this?”
He turned to Chemban Kunju and said, “was it necessary to have given away your girl in marriage to someone like this?”
Chemban Kunju did not commit himself, but he realized that what the Headman said was right. The Palani he knew earlier had not shown this kind of heartlessness. Probably he behaved like this because he had not known a real home. He wondered what the future held in store. Could it have been a mistake to have given his daughter in such a marriage? Palani seemed bereft of love.
Achuthan, as if he understood everything, showed Palani a way out. “Why are you listening to all this abuse, Palani? It is the girl who has to go with you. Ask her. Let her speak,” he said.
The Headman welcomed the suggestion.
“That is right. Let her speak. Ask her to come here,” he said. Chemban Kunju sent for Karuthamma. She was sitting by her mother. Her face was bathed in tears. She came and stood by the door.
“My girl, do you want to leave your mother in this state and go? Or, don’t you want to? There isn’t anyone to give a glass of water to your father either,” the Headman said.
When she was silent, he continued.
“It is right that you should go with your husband after your wedding. But you must decide for yourself.”
What could Karuthamma say? She was not strong enough to reach a decision. She had said her farewells to her village, yet she thought of her future with misgivings. Now her mother was incapacitated and there was no one to look after her father. She cried bitterly. She could not speak.
Everyone waited for her answer. The Headman continued.
“Poor girl. How can she answer the question? But answer she must. It is she who has to decide!”
Karuthamma went to Chakki and placed her face against her mother’s and wept helplessly. Chakki also was crying.
“What did they ask you, my child?” Her mother asked her.
“I am not going, Mother,” Karuthamma managed to say between her sobs.
“Don’t talk like that, my child,” Chakki said. “You must go. If you don’t go--”
Chakki knew what would happen if she didn’t go. Karuthamma shared her fears. Chakki didn’t mind being bedridden with no one to give her a drink of water. She could bear that. But her daughter should not go to her ruin - never. Chakki decided that she should go as early as she could. She must go. There was no other way.
“Go out to them and say you will go.”
Chakki slowly extricated Karuthamma from her body. She forced her; scolded her; asked her bitingly, “so you can’t bear to leave Pareekutti, is it?”
Somehow Karuthamma gathered some strength. She went to the door and said, “I am ready to go.”
Karuthamma prostrated herself before Chemban Kunju and touched his feet. He withdrew his feet and turned away. She lay like that for a while and then got up. Her mother gave her blessings. She advised her to remember everything she had told her.
When Palani said goodbye to him, Chemban Kunju didn’t speak. Chemban Kunju was not the helpless Chemban Kunju any more. He wasn’t crying. His face was red and swollen. He was transformed into a man of rage.
Karuthamma followed the men of Palani’s village as the walked away. Chakki tried to raise her head to see her daughter go, but she collapsed again in Nallapennu’s arms.
“She is not my daughter any longer,” Chemban Kunju muttered between clenched teeth.
With tears in her eyes Panchami wailed.
“Karuthamma-my sister.”
So departed Karuthamma, daughter of the seafront. What was her future to be? Had she escaped danger?
No one prayed for her. She didn’t pray herself. Perhaps Pareekutti was praying for her.