The next day Panchami was not found anywhere. Where had she gone? The women said that the poor girl had run away, unable to stand the life at home. Still, all the women were impressed with Pappikunju’s behaviour. She had not forsaken Chemban Kunju. Would any woman have done that? Pappikunju was a good sort. She had lived most of her life with a man of honor. She couldn’t be anything else.
Everyone waited to see what would be the fate of Chemban Kunju, who had insulted the Headman of the village. How could he stand up to the displeasure of the Headman? Who knew what forms that displeasure could take? Not only that. It was certain that the two boats would now pass to Ouseph’s hands. How would he live then? He needn’t think of going to work on the sea again. He was not up to it any more.
Meanwhile there was another human being whose life was being slowly destroyed on that seafront. He was not so widely talked about any more, but Pareekutti was leading an aimless life. Now and then he would sit on the steps of a boat which had been pulled up on shore and sing his song. Through his singing it again and again, the song had acquired a special beauty of its own. He made that song his own as if it had been specially written for him.
Pareekutti’s establishment had gone bankrupt. The curing shed had tumbled down. Still Pareekutti continued to live on the beach. Perhaps he had nowhere to go.
He would walk along the beach with his head bent. It seemed as if he were searching for something that he had lost on the sands. Wasn’t it in a way true? A life had been lost on those sands.
Now and then he would become the topic of conversation, whenever the scandal with Karuthamma cropped up. But it would die down soon. How many traders with their own curing yards had had their affairs; had come and gone, had become a matter of gossip for the time. These things never became serious. Would any trader seriously love a fisherwoman? Such a thing never came to pass.
No one had really understood the tragedy of Pareekutti’s love story.
Even now, when the boats came back, Pareekutti would go and stand there watching the transactions. He made just enough money to subsist, doing some little jobs.
He often could be seen looking at the boats of Chemban Kunju lying idle. Perhaps he had his memories about those boats. One day when he stood there absorbed in thought, Chemban Kunju appeared on the scene unexpectedly.
For quite some time Pareekutti and Chemban Kunju had not met face to face. If Pareekutti saw Chemban Kunju coming from a distance, he would get out of the way and avoid him. He must have had a guilty conscience. In truth, hadn’t Pareekutti wronged Chemban Kunju?
Suddenly confronted by Chemban Kunju, Pareekutti was confused. It wasn’t the old Chemban Kunju that he saw in front of him. One could see at a glance that his mind was a bit deranged.
For a minute they stood facing each other. Then Chemban Kunju flung a question at his face.
“How much do I owe you?”
It wasn’t something that Pareekutti cared to remembered. He didn’t know. He had no idea.
“How much?” Chemban Kunju asked again.
Pareekutti did not know what to say. He expected nothing. Chemban Kunju owed him nothing. He had a lot to say about it, but he was afraid to say it. His position was more that of a debtor. It was as if his creditor was pressing him.
What was the real nature of that transaction? Karuthamma had loved Pareekutti and he loved her. At a time when their love was blossoming, the transaction with Chakki and Chemban Kunju had taken place. Perhaps he never thought of repayment when he gave the money. Was it then his intention to make the course of their true love run smoothly by making the parents obligated to him? To soften their hearts with the loan? Or was it a bribe to gain the hand of the daughter? No, it couldn’t be that. Pareekutti never tried to win Karuthamma by unfair means. He never wanted it that way. When someone else won her and took her away, could he not have asked for the return of his money? Did he do so? If one couldn’t gain one’s end, wouldn’t one want the bribe back? Or did he give it just because she asked him? If it were so, it must be remembered that he didn’t give the money to her secretly. Through that transaction he was ruined. He had nothing left but the clothes he stood in. His house and compound had been mortgaged. Pareekutti had no hopes left either.
Could he start life all over again with a small curing yard? If for no other reason than to make both ends meet as long as he lived! Karuthamma would never be his. He could do nothing but forget that chapter of his life. Wouldn’t anybody be a changed man if life confronted you with such hard knocks, when every experience became unbearable. But even today he was a disappointed lover.
Chemban Kunju took out a packet. He asked again, “how much is it?”
No answer. Pareekutti stood like one guilty.
“I was under the impression that you were a straight chap,” Chemban Kunju continued. “But you are not that.”
What wrong had he done in truth? Did he seduce Karuthamma? Did he create obstacles for her marriage? Did he interfere in her life after her marriage and create trouble? What had he done?
He loved her because he couldn’t help it, not to bring disrepute to her or her family. He was born a man, and he loved a woman. Yet he kept far away from her life.
All the same, he stood there like one guilty.
“You gave the money with an eye on my daughter, didn’t you?” Chemban Kunju said.
The word “no” came to his lips. But it didn’t come out. Shouldn’t he have emphatically denied the accusation? He didn’t do that.
Chemban Kunju said, “The moment I asked you, you gave me everything you had. Without any hesitation. I thought it was because you were a decent person. But it wasn’t so. What you had in mind was something else.”
As he opened the packet and began to count the money, Chemban Kunju asked, “do you realized the harm you have done?”
Pareekutti stood like a statue, unable to move, unable to think. Chemban Kunju’s eyes were moist.
“You don’t realize it. How would you realize it? You are the devil himself.”
Still Pareekutti was silent.
“You broke up a family. Ruined it. You have ruined my life too. Do you realize how many people you have ruined?”
“My Karuthamma, who ran about this beach like a carefree bird-you ruined her,” Chemban Kunju continued, his voice quivering. “It started from that point. Isn’t that so?”
That was true. If Pareekutti hadn’t loved Karuthamma, none of this would have happened. A good fisherman’s family with it routine of steady life and work would have prospered on the seafront. A fine upright fisherman grown wise through his continual struggle with the elements-such a man’s life wouldn’t have been ruined. What had Chemban Kunju left? He had no wife, no children. If he reckoned everything, all he had left in this world was five hundred and ninety-five rupees. That was all he had left after he and his wife had toiled all their lives. And there was an old debt to be repaid.
Like an infection, Pareekutti had wormed his way into the family. What Chemban Kunju said was not untrue. If he were half a man, Pareekutti should curse the day he came to the seafront with his father. On that day the misfortunes of Chemban Kunju’s family began. The little girl who had come to gather seashells on the shore had stood gaping at him with wide-open eyes. He asked her for a little red shell that she had picked up. “Will you give it to me?”
She gave him the shell. And with it she gave him her heart too.
“I have only one more obligation in life. Your money. The money you gave me so as to ruin me and win my daughter. Here it is,” Chemban Kunju said.
He took the money out and stretched his hand to give it to him. Pareekutti did not move.
Chemban Kunju said again, “here it is. Take it.”
It was a terrible command. Mechanically, Pareekutti extended his hand. Chemban Kunju place the money in it.
“That is all I have. I don’t remember how much it was. Only my Chakki knew. If it is less than what I owe you, what can I do now?”
Chemban Kunju walked away.
Pareekutti looked at his hands, at the money he was holding. The edges of the notes were fluttering in the breeze. What did he want that money for? Had he ever thought of that money as being owed to him? Had he ever expected it? Then whose was it?
Suddenly, Pareekutti heard a terrible laugh. He turned around. Close by, Chemban Kunju’s boat had been stacked up. It has been lying there for some days. Its helm was high, its stern low. The raised helm seemed to be straining to look at something beyond the horizon. Something was beckoning to it from afar. It knew the sea well. It belonged to the sea. Touch it and it would go charging and speeding on the chest of the waves. It was a boat which once belonged to the great Pallikunnath Kandankoran. It was the boat which always brought in the biggest catch. A blessed boat. A boat that sailed with the speed of a bird.
The stern had fallen sideways as if it were trying to say farewell.
From the side of that boat the terrible laughter of Chemban Kunju emanated. It was like the laughter of death.