Even if Palani believed all Karuthamma told him, the story was still a blot on their married life. Palani became morose and depressed. Could he join forces with Pappu? She was chaste. And he believed it. Yet if Pappu told him to his face that she was a disgrace to the seafront, how could he counter him? He had brought her straight from the feet of her father. And his duty as a fisherman would not allow him to disavow her. If he forsook her, where would she go?
Karuthamma, the guilty one, reaffirmed her love for him every day with tears. He could forget the past. Without a shadow of a doubt she would be faithful to him forever. On that point Palani had no doubt.
But he couldn’t kiss her with passion any more. He could not embrace her warmly. Her feelings for him strengthened by her tears, she would moan about all sorts of things. She would cling to him, afraid of losing him, not knowing how to regain his confidence. But she felt that her grip on him was slipping. She could only ask him whether he loved her. Parhaps she had forfeited even the right to ask that.
Palani, who had never quarreled with anybody, began to get into trouble. One day Pappu taunted him with some gossip. Palani had heard the same stories from Karuthamma, but he couldn’t bear to hear them from another. So they started a row, and Palani beat up Pappu.
But the row didn’t end there. Pappu belonged to a well- known family in the village. He had many friends and relatives. Everyone thought that Palani had grown too big for his boots, to assault a fisherman of some substance.
There were few fish to be had in the sea these days. And Palani had little zest in going to work. Above all, Karuthamma did not have the courage to question him about his share of the day’s takings.
Palani wanted to dress her up and take her to the Ayilyam festival at Mannarsala. He wanted a home with a kitchen and a living room. He had collected a few utensils, but there was much more to get. The boat and the net could wait. That was a long- term prospect. Now even the daily needs were not to be had. Even food was becoming a struggle. Karuthamma had to have another blouse and a piece of cloth. Palani himself had only one set of work clothes.
One day Karuthamma asked, “may I go east to sell fish from tomorrow onward?”
When Palani did not give an answer straightaway, she told him of the advantage. But she would go only if he permitted her.
“All right, then go,” he said.
The next day when the boats came on shore, Karuthamma was ready to set out eastward to sell fish. One of the traders offered a boatload at wholesale rates. Karuthamma and four or five other fisherwomen bought it up and shared it.
Karuthamma was not accustomed to work of this kind. The other fisherwomen walked faster than she did, and left her behind. Nor did Karuthamma know the places to go to sell her fish. The other women had already been to a number of houses selling fish before Karuthamma reached the village. She hawked fish in front of every house. Some had already bought fish. At other doors they did not like the fish she had to offer. In some places the price was not acceptable. Even after she had walked for miles, she had sold nothing. And so she returned home dead beat, having sold her merchandise at a loss. But she gained one point. In some of the houses she arranged for regular delivery.
Palani sat at home smoking a beedi when Karuthamma arrived so tired and worn out she could hardly walk. Her face was dry and drawn. She hoped he would say something sympathetic. She had embarked on a new venture. Shouldn’t he at least ask how she fared? She had done this for his sake, too. But Palani asked her nothing. He sat there as if she had never gone out. Did she have the right to question his behaviour, or at least feel sorry for herself? No. She had no right to anything.
But she was his wife. Even if she had no rights, she had her duties.
“Have you had any food?” She asked.
“Yes, “ he said.
The next day the haul was herring. Karuthamma bought herring with all the money she had. As on the day before, she lagged behind all the other women. But the families she had spoken to waited for her. That day the other women sold herring at two herring for an anna. Karuthamma sold them at five for two annas. Although she made less money, she made some more regular customers. They thought that the new fisherwoman was a good girl.
Some four days later there was a big row on the seafront. All fisherwomen who traded fish inland stood as one and abused Karuthamma because she had taken away some of their customers. Karuthamma did not dare hit back against even one, let alone five or six. She stood there and wept.
“At some wretched seafront or other she used to make love to a Muslim boy,” one of them said angrily. “And now she has come to our seafront to ruin us.”
Then someone else said, “she gets good trade. In all the households the menfolk trade with her. She is such a flirt.”
Everything went black in front of Karuthamma’s eyes. She ran home crying. There wasn’t a living being in this whole world to say a word on her behalf. The real truth about her was not known. And now it seemed she didn’t have the right even to live and work like any other fisherwoman.
When Palani returned from the sea, he didn’t ask her why she had not gone east to sell fish. He just looked at her searchingly. The tearful face was nothing new to him. Of late he had rarely seen her face except in that state. But that day it was more worn than usual. When he asked her the reason for her weariness, she said it was nothing. What could she say? Could she describe the whole story?
Karuthamma stopped going east to sell fish, but she started another business. She bought fish on the seashore to salt, dry and store. She would get a good price for it when fish was scarce, or she could sell it to the curing yards.
So Karuthamma began to build up a little life of her own, a secret life she shared with no one. She had to live it all by herself. Even here she had acquired no friend. She passed many days without talking to any human being.
And so did Palani. He went to work every day, but his enthusiasm and cheerfulness were gone. He had friends once. It seemed that he had given them all up.
Karuthamma’s life and Palani’s life had thus fallen into a routine. The passion of the early days was gone. All those things that had been planned for a whole lifetime were suddenly smashed. But they continued to live as husband and wife like many others who had little warmth left in their married lives.
If Karuthamma was the topic of conversation in the village, Palani, too, had now become one. When he walked, people whispered behind his back. Even if they didn’t, he suspected that they did.
They had not given him the helm since the day he had taken the boat out to mid-sea like a madman. Everybody was afraid. Not only his own mates, even the other fishermen. They thought that he was one possessed. Or, they thought that Karuthamma would bring ruin on the village. The other fisherwomen probably warned their husbands not to go our to sea with him.
Kunjan Valakkaran, who owned the boat on which Palani worked, had fallen on bad days, and he had nothing left but his boat and net. He had to mortgage his home and small garden. If he lost that boat and net, he would starve. His standing would not allow him to go and work for some other boatman. Also, he was an old man now.
Stories about Karuthamma reached his ears too. What a misfortune! The husband of a bad woman was working on his boat. He had no peace of mind until the boat came on shore every day. Because Palani was on that boat there was danger that it might be smashed into smithereens. The boat might get caught in a current and be dragged into the bottom of the ocean. Anything might happen.
Kunju Valakkaran sent for his workmen, all except Palani, and discussed the matter with them confidentially. They were all afraid of the same thing. Every day their womenfolk fanned those very fears. Every day they prayed to the goddess of the sea. When Kunju Valakkaran called them all together, they felt somewhat relieved.
“You are worried about your boat,” Kumaru said. “We are frightened of our lives. If we go, a dozen families will be orphaned and destitute.”
Kunjan Valakkaran said, “Yes, yes. What you say is true. The sea is a strict taskmaster.”
On that point nobody had any doubts. Even though the times changed, the laws of the sea were unchangeable. And the laws which governed the lives of fishermen, too, remained unaltered.
“If that Muslim boy arrives here when we are out at sea, what is going to be our fate?” Kumaru said.
Kunjan Valakkaran shuddered.
“Yes, yes - what will be our fate?”
“They say that he comes, even nowadays,” Andikunju said.
The womenfolk on the coast had no peace of mind. From the moment the boats were launched it was a matter of tears and wailing. They had peace only after the boats came on shore.
“The goddess of the sea protects us when our women pray for us,” Andikunju continued. “If it were the old days none of us would be here now. We would have been all at the bottom of the sea.”
Veluthakunju said that Pappu had told him he had seen Pareekutti on the beach four or five days ago just after midnight. He was singing as he walked. And he came like that every day.
In spite of all this they all felt deeply sorry for Palani. He was a nice young man. Pity he came to such a state. But what could they do?
Kunjan Valakkaran said desperately, “well, what is the way out now?”
It was Kumaru’s opinion that there was only one way out. Palani must be removed from the boat and kept on shore. That was the only workable solution. For the hundredth time Kumaru described the way Palani steered the boat toward mid-ocean one day like one possessed.
“He might have another attack like that,” he continues. “While in the boat I never take may eyes off him. One never knows when his face will change.”
They all agreed that Kumaru’s suggestion was a good one, but it was a heartrending matter to them. Palani had worked for Kunjan Valakkaran from his early days. He had gone into the sea to spread the net. He had taken this risk in mid-sea because he had no kith or kin. He had risen to be the captain at the helm. When he had been at the helm, they had received at least two rupees more than everybody else.
Kunjan Valakkaran said, “Kumaru, since he gave up his place at the helm, your share of the takings has been less, isn’t that so?”
Kumaru agreed it was so. But what other way could they escape from this great danger?
How would they do it? Who would speak to Palani? Kunjan Valakkaran couldn’t do it. He didn’t have the heart.
“One of you must speak to him,” he said to Kumaru.
Nobody would. How could they do it then?
Kumaru mentioned a way out.
“We must leave the shore before he arrives. Isn’t that the way we change our men?”
Kunjan Valakkaran knew this trick, but he was troubled about how to face Palani afterward.
The boatmen decided that was the only way out. And Kunjan Valakkaran made arrangements for another hand.
The next morning Palani got up early as usual and came to the seashore. The boat had already left the shore. Palani called after them as loudly as he could. It was a kind of roar. When he realized that he had been left behind on the shore, all the strength that lay dormant awakened in that true son of the sea. His body had been created and developed to fight the elements and the stormy sea. For years he had fought the furies of nature. Now he had been removed from his true vocation. In that defeat his courage and his strength awakened fully. The western breeze from the sea carried his roar to the village. The boat he loved was speeding westward, proclaiming the fact that he wasn’t fit for work at sea.
Palani could not control the forces which had awakened in him. He jumped into the sea. To reach that boat and to establish his right once again, like a seal, like a sea monster, he charge forward. A huge wave, the like of which had not been seen till then, came dipping over his head. The next moment it had exhausted him of all his strength. It hurled him back on the shore in a twisted bundle.
Palani was beaten. He got up and ran to the house of Kunjan Valakkaran.
“Am I not good enough for work at sea?” He demanded.
Kunjan Valakkaran was lost for an answer.
“You see, it was-”
“That is a lie. A brazen lie. She is not a bad woman. I know it.”
“But that is what they all say.”
“What they say,” Palani said contemptuously and walked away.