April 25, 2011

Everyone has stories to tell. Some can, some can’t, some tell, some won’t, some make and some become. Philomena became one.

Philomena with the long hair. Oiled and combed and braided into a plait. It slithered from her shoulders down to her shins. Philomena stood wrapped in a golden bordered red cotton saree with a red and gold matching blouse. She stood tall with a long golden chain around her long swan-like neck, long arms with gold and glass bangles worn alternately. Conscious of so many eyes on her and having nothing to do with her hands she reached out to lean against the tall ornate pillar of the sitting room. She was being ‘shown’ to the groom. It happens in India. In the east, west, north, and south. So it happened in Mudipu, a not so small village in the outskirts of Mangalore, a coastal city in Karnataka, a southern state of India.

Sitting in one of the ‘vakil’ benches made of rose wood, with his back rested on the vertically carved rods, Xavier, the groom surveyed the ‘girl’. He was flanked by his father, the feudal lord Lawrence Fernandes and his uncle Raymond and his brother-in-law Lancy Lobo. His brothers Paul, Berty and Ligoury were seated in another bench. The rest of the entourage, his mother, and his married sister had quickly disappeared into the interior rooms meant for women and positioned themselves behind the partially closed rooms to peep at the goings on in the main hall. Philomena’s father James D’Souza and her brother John were seated in another ‘vakil’ bench. Two more similar benches were placed with soft silk and gold embroidered cushions thrown on them. Philo’s mother left her and joined the other women after presenting her to the ‘new guests’.

For a brief moment Xavier’s eyes were transfixed to the apparition. She lifted her heavily lashed eyes to survey the patriarchal clan in which her future husband belonged. Her father called her "Philo, my daughter, here sit beside me." He missed the disapproving look Lawrence gave him. She moved towards her father and sat next to him with her head bowed but not before she had a quick glance at Xavier. Lawrence cleared his throat. A tense silence ensued. James said "This is my daughter, Philomena. Very clever girl, very naughty too. We will miss her after her wedding. My house will feel empty without her."

Lawrence in his strong baritone voice said, "We have no use of clever girls". Throwing one look towards Xavier he said, "Hmmmm, our ‘boy’ has liked your ‘girl’. So then, shall we proceed?" Taking the cue her sister-in-law came in as quick as lightning and whisked Philomena away from the room. So there ended the ‘seeing the girl’ phase of the groom’s visit.

Xavier’s eyes followed the retreating figure. Now the thick black plait moved on her back. Its width almost covered the small of her back. As her figure vanished all that remained in his mind were the eyes and now the long plait of hair. He could see nothing. Only her long hair. Rest of the proceedings dealt with the negotiations of dowry, the number of sarees to be given to the bride, the expenses involved, the approximate number of guests and other preparations of the ‘kharar’- engagement and then the ‘Kazaar' - wedding.

His mind went into a hazy dream world…of the possibilities…Philomena with her hair let loose. Long flowing strands of hair, stretched across the horizon…blowing in the wind…He stretched out his hand to feel the hair that clouded his mind…he opened his mouth to say "Philomena…spread your hair.…" His brother pressed his hand to indicate the matters of importance had been taken care of. He started slightly and was embarrassed. Fortunately no one disturbed him from his reverie on their journey back as he was not expected to interfere in the affairs of the adults. He had carried her in his heart. All he could think of now was Philomena with him three months from now.

     ******************

After the church nuptials in our Lady of Mercy Church in Phajeer parish the wedding procession proceeded towards Lawrence Fernandes’ property stretching around forty acres. Squeezing themselves in the available space in either cars or the bus that brought the bride’s family and relatives they reached the huge pandal on the vast ground in front of the house. It was covered with weaved palm fronds. Crisscross lines of coloured paper flags ran across the roof of the pandal. Rented chairs were arranged in rows after rows. The sun seeping through the sieve of the frond terrace had thrown multitudinous stars to the ground and on the empty chairs.

The elaborate function lasted the whole day with vovios, verses, sado (ceremonial draping of the bride with the traditional red and gold saree), and the sumptuous lunch of lardy pork and sannas. In the evening Lawrence Fernandes gave an indication of winding up the function. Within moments there were two groups facing each other for the "vopsun divnchem" (giving away the bride) ceremony. Francis Patrao, the bride’s maternal uncle came forward and said in a soft voice "We have taken care of our dear daughter very well. We have protected her from the predators of the skies and even the ants on the earth. We have sheltered her from rain and sun. We have brought her up with loving tender care. We hereby offer her up to you. Please take good care of her. Let god do you good."

Philomena was sobbing. The realization that this was a ritual of severance from her family disturbed her, but there was no turning back. Xavier’s paternal uncle, Raymond Fernandes, said, "You may leave your daughter in our family without doubt of a grain of mustard seed. We shall take good care of her," after which, Philomena was handed over to the groom. By now the sorrowful mood of crying had pervaded all through the wedding pandal. As if to stoke the mood women sang "Radanaka baye,… ani dole suzoinaka…" (Don’t cry sister…don’t get your eyes swollen by crying sister…) still the bride cried and her eyes were swollen by now. Lawrence then said, "Well, now let’s get going". "Have they come for a wedding or a funeral," he thought to himself. Philomena’s father formally invited the bride and the groom for the ‘porthoponn’.

Philomena’s brothers and her parents got into the Ambassador car. Most of the relatives and guests of the bride’s family got into the bus that was engaged. Though two small valleys and hills across, the road being long winding it would take an hour for the bus to reach Mudipu. The other invitees and guests slowly started to disperse. Some praised the sumptuous food, wine and finery. Some had streaks of regret in them.

Xavier very cautiously looked this side and that and pressed his bride’s hand trying to comfort her as she was still crying.

******************

On the wedding night Xavier sat next to her on the neatly made bed. Philomena was decked up in the ‘sado’ a heavily gold brocaded saree worn by a Christian bride. Four chains hung in addition to the chain with the unmistakable nuptial necklace with the dove hanging from it. Xavier looked at his bride. The flying golden dove - the symbol of the Holy Spirit was choked by a swirl of a thick wisp of hair which had somehow escaped from her large coiffure. He tried to pull out the hair from it and put the dove in position, lingering his hand there for some time and looked at her. She smiled. She walked into an adjacent changing room and returned in a handloom saree, getting ready to bed. Her hairdo intact with loads of flowers - jasmine strings, all white and fragrant, "abolim" the flaming orange flowers tied in long strings, "chikolim" spotted white flowers and a bunch of lavender leaves with some wild flowers were shoved into the available space in the huge hairdo. With wreaths of flowers in her coiled up hairdo she looked as though she would collapse under the weight. Her slender neck could hardly carry and move with the weight and she looked completely exhausted.

He moved closer to her, put both his hands around her neck and with a laugh said, "Come, let me unburden you of this flower basket... you look like a flower seller". In a process that took at least fifteen minutes he carefully picked out the pins from her hair. A small heap of pins lay next to a large heap of flowers and yet her coiffure stood majestic above her elegant neck.

"Philo" he whispered. She looked back. "Since the day I first saw you I have nurtured one wish," Xavier said bringing his handsome face close to hers. She blushed and lowered her eyes. "I want to see your hair let loose. Will you let down your hair?" he implored. She smiled again.

She lay down on the bed, her head on the pillow and like long swaying roots from a great oak her long strands of hair flowed down the pillow on the bed and flowing down the bed. With chinks of the shimmering moonlight rippling her hair she was transformed into an ethereal being. He looked with awe at her face - just a sliver of light peeping from among the dark clouds of her hair. He looked at her with admiration. He laid his head on the thick soft sheet of hair.

Beside the bed lay the flowers in a mixed heap.

******************

A year had elapsed. Philomena sat on the bed holding her infant Alice. The baby had just suckled her nutrition and was fast asleep when Xavier entered the room. He had quickly finished his lunch to spend a few stolen moments with his wife. Philomena put her finger on her lips and pointed at the sleeping child. He came cautiously and touched her hand. The girl he had married had blossomed into a woman. Her swollen chest brimming with tributaries of milk had reflected in her the pride of motherhood. The three months in confinement at her maternal home had transformed her into a heavy woman brimming with happiness and nurture. They had obviously spared no efforts in the post natal care. The massages, the special foods... the ‘tiklem’ - a combination of 100 ingredients, of herbs, dry fruits, ghee, condiments, spices and what have you had the desired effect.

She was showing off her thick soft fingers which he admired. He dropped her hand when he heard his father say, "Xavier, where are you? In your wife’s pallu* again"?

"I have already instructed the workers, father. They know what to do."

"Of course, if you are not around they know what to do. They will only sit around smoking beedis. Get out of that room or else," he thundered.

"There is no difference in the way he treated the workers in the field and his own sons," Xavier thought.

He gave a wistful look at his wife and walked out of the room.

"Your wife has made you useless. You have become your wife’s slave," Lawrence said loud enough for the daughter-in-law to hear.

Xavier followed him quietly out of the house and towards the fields where the workers were resting under the coconut trees bordering the fields. The moment they saw the masters they quickly jumped into the fields. However, the master was in too deep a thought to notice it.

In the field Lawrence’s thoughts were of Philomena. As the patriarch of the house all his children obeyed his every command. He was the law. Xavier, who he called ‘saver’ was a meek and mild lamb who was fast changing. When in the house, he spent every minute with his wife. He had to be physically whisked out of the room to be made useful around the estate. When he was in the areca nut groves or in the fields supervising the workers Xavier looked preoccupied. His rebellion was complete after his wife was sent to her mother’s house for confinement. He had visited her five times! He felt the two times he visited were ‘legitimate’. Once to drop her off at her mother’s for confinement and the next for the christening. But no. Horror of horrors, he went five times to see her. Now that she had returned, too he was still lost in her thoughts every moment. It was as if the witch with the long hair had performed black magic on him. He felt his foothold shaky with his son’s rebellion.

All the other women did not behave thus. His wife, Tejju bai had got all women who entered the household ‘accustomed’ to the rules as inmates of this house. They were expected to live as inconspicuously as possible. They were expected to walk noiselessly around the house. All nail polish bottles, powders, snow-creams, or perfumes were searched out of their boxes and thrown away. The only outing allowed was an escorted walk to the church. All conjugal expressions including mutual looks between spouses happened under the blanket of night without even a shaft of light or a trickle of laughter emanating from any room. Paul his eldest son was made to sleep in the portico for three months for an indiscretion publicly displayed affection to his wife. The couple had to endure a combination of public humiliation and private deprivation. This girl seemed a little too free spirited. She wore house coats instead of the handloom sarees. She had payals on her feet which jingled when she walked. She had locked her box and refused to part with the key. With her koeled eyes and swaying hips she had managed to tie his son Xavier with her plait, he thought.

Meanwhile at home Philomena, putting the baby to sleep went back to the chores of the house. Here the lifestyle of the household was for women to keep working, day in and day out. The household chores began at five in the morning with cooking breakfast, conji (boiled rice cooked with water unstrained) and again lunch, snacks, dinner, day after day. Back in her mother’s home, the afternoons were to laze around and evenings to entertain. However, years of conditioning that life in the marital home would be different had made Philomena accept this way of life. Although tired and weary already she went towards the kitchen for directions from the mother-in-law. By about seven in the evening, Philomena nursed her infant again and put the baby to bed after singing a soft lullaby.

Carrying her towels and clothes she went towards the bathroom. She hung the clothes on to the pegs. The water in the copper pot was very hot. She opened the tap at the mouth of the huge pot. The pot was still full. She poured out the water into another copper bucket and started pouring the water on herself. First she rinsed her hair and lathered it with Mysore sandal soap. She smiled at herself. Xavier always loved the whiff of sandalwood oil in her hair. He said it made him go mad with desire for her. So she had brought in a whole year’s supply when she returned from confinement locked in her box. Back home her mother used to help her wash her hair, with a feigned complaining tone that her hair grew like grass. But she could see her mother was proud of her hair. "Moustache is for men what a head full of hair is to women" she would always say. After rinsing it thoroughly she wrapped her hair with a doubly long cotton towel and tied it up over her head. Now came the easier part. Quickly she washed her body with the hot water, wiped in a hurry and came out of the bathroom in a cotton night gown all shining, rejuvenated, and filled with life. All weariness had left her. She smelt herself. With stars in her eyes she looked forward to the night.

While she was thus lost in her thoughts the setting sun shone an angry red. The ripe areca nuts shimmered in the reflection of the sun and lost their colour. The tall areca trees darkened as the sun went down and silhouetted against the sky like some grotesque demons gathering to share some dark secrets of the night.
She entered the house from the bathroom, she heard the vespers (evening prayers) being said. She quickly went to her room. Placed the bundle of clothes on a nearby table and rushed to the room where everyone gathered to pray. The men were in the hall facing the middle room where the altar was placed.

In the middle room an altar, in the shape of a miniature church was hoisted on the wall. Statuettes of Jesus, Mary, Joseph were placed in that order. A crucifix stood behind the statues. There was another statue of infant Jesus, and yet another statue of the sacred heart of Jesus. There were several statues of Jesus in different sizes, colours and costumes. Xavier stood near the threshold of the room and all others of the household taking their usual positions during prayers.

The chanting of the vespers had begun.
Xavier’s mother led the prayers and others answered.

Philomena walked into the room as inconspicuously as her feet could allow. She sat down on the floor leaning against a large (pet) box that belonged to Xavier’s parents. The box had intricate designs of gods and goddess on it. It had a heavy lid that had a large latch to secure the box. The box however was gaped open by the latch hoisting itself on the ledge. Adjusting her back against the box, she quickly took off the towel from her hair. Her hair still warm and wet fell off, half into the half open box and the other half flowing on the floor. The monotony of the buzzing sound of the daily prayers and the hot water bath were having the effect on her. Xavier’s eyes fell on his wife’s figure leaning against a huge ornamental wooden box to the right of the room. She looked like one of the mythological figures carved on the box. A well filled out figure, with the glow of motherhood shone on her. The full round cheeks were flushed from a hot bath. Her heavy bosom below her warm face showed clearly the signs of a fulfilled motherhood. Her eyes drooped from the fatigue of the household chores and the responsibilities of nurturing an infant. The mass of her long hair shining and wet pulled her head down on to the lid of the box. Her long hair spread out over her shoulders and fell in great heaps on the floor. He tried to repeat the familiar prayers…but smiled.

Xavier came to his senses when the prayer came to an end. After the final blessings invoked from the holy trinity, everyone asked blessings from the older people around, a custom as mandatory as the vespers themselves. His father gave him a stern look. He ignored it and went straight to his room expecting his wife to join him there before the women laid the table for dinner for the men. The child was fast asleep. He waited for her for five minutes that seemed ages.

Philomena lay fast asleep with her head rested on the lid of the ornate box. All of a sudden the father-in-law entered the room, saw the young woman, fast asleep oblivious to all sounds around her.

With slight impatience Xavier stepped back towards the middle room.

When he reached the middle room, he saw her still in the same position. Only the box was stuffed with her hair and the lid closed. Her eyes were wide open with a shocked expression frozen on her face when life had just walked out on her…and him. He screamed.

The next morning the church bells tolled with a sinister ring announcing the death of young Philomena. Cause of death. Hysteria.

******************

James D’souza, Philomena’s father looked in the newspaper Prajavani. He called his son and said "Nehru is dead".

John then took the newspaper from his father’s hands when the field hand Monthu came hurrying towards James with joined hands said, "Namaskar dhanya (master). something terrible has happened at your daughter’s house."

The first thought was of his daughter. He had sent his daughter to her in-laws just the other day. She had to be fine. Moreover, his son John had returned just yesterday morning bringing news of their well being.

"What?" asked John
"No one is saying anything but they say there is bad news dhanya," replied Monthu.
"Go now. Don’t speak nonsense. Till you know the details."

"Bad news could mean anything. These workers have no other job. When they are in the fields or in the areca gardens all they do is to gossip or spread rumours which have no origins," he said aloud.

"A bull or a cattle dying is bad news, a buffalo getting into a field and spoiling the crops is bad news. A coconut plucker falling from a tree is bad news. How is anyone to imagine what would have happened?" he thought. He felt restless nevertheless.

In the distance he saw a man from his sister’s village hurrying towards them.
 

******************

At the funeral someone placed the baby in his hands and looked at his wife’s face stunned. He had been in this state for the last twenty hours. He could not fathom the lifeless look his wife had on her face. The coffin could not contain her hair. He gave out a loud cry.

******************

What seemed to be buried with the box was:

That Lawrence had pushed all her hair in the box.
That Lawrence had closed the box and pulled the clip and locked the box.
That in her panic she tried to get up from the floor something snapped in her head.
That only a postmortem examination would have declared that death was caused by the snapping of the spinal cord and instant death through shock.

******************