”Sit on my lap, if you don’t mind, Ammalu.”
“WHAT? Say again”
“I said that your face is glowing like the Brasso-polished brass lamp in our home-shrine”
“Was that exactly what you said ? Sharpen your memory and try to recollect, please.”
” Not that exactly. I suggested that it would be nice if you could sit on my lap. It was just a suggestion.”
“How many women have you seen, during your recent tour, sitting on their husbands’ lap?”
”Not on their husbands’ lap, exactly—”
”On others lap, right? And you were one among those men, Right?”
”EXACTLY. How did you guess it so accurately, Ammalu?”
“WHAT ? You allowed another woman to sit on your lap?”
”I didn’t allow. She forced her way towards me in a crowded train and occupied my lap.”
” I trust you now, as I do always. Tell me what happened exactly.”
” A three day strike paralyzed the Palakkad private bus services and I had to travel in an unreserved train compartment , from Kuttipuzha almost standing either on my feet or on others’, up to Ottappalam, where I managed to squeeze in a small gap, in between two well-built men, who, as I correctly guessed were going to Chennai for a cinema shooting. A jet-black complexioned middle aged woman, in no way lesser in weight than the cinema stars on my sides, extravagantly draped with colorful clothes, her mouth blood-reddish due to pan-chewing, boarded our compartment, followed by a puny man, with unshaven face and in untidy clothes and again, as I correctly guessed, her husband. The woman, spread her vision all around and it was not difficult for her sharp eyes to spot me struggling in between two jumbos.
‘Konjam othikko Koundarae-move a bit please, Kounder”, She ordered.
” WHAT? Koundarae?” I yelled, wondering why she addressed me so and offered a clarification to remove her misunderstanding. ” I am not a kounder and there was not a single kounder in my paternal or maternal lineage.”
”She laughed so loud that even the boxers on my sides were shaken. Without waiting for another moment, the big woman majestically boarded my lap, sat comfortably, allowing her entire weight to rest on my legs and started singing, clapping her hands, for the merriment of her husband and the boxers on my sides, while I was crumpling under her weight.
“Pollatchi chanthayilae puliynakaai vikkapponana_My husband went to sell tamarind seeds in the Pollatchy market,
Enpurushan Muthatchykkoundanavan sethatcu- my husband Muthatchi kounden passed away.
Aavaiya vandhavan nee Aiyarentru sollathae- you are his ghost and don’t say that you are an Iyer.
Poyyaimattum sollathae, pozhailae thooki pottuduvaen-if you lie, I will thrown you into the river.”
The Bharatha puzha was silently running along us and I didn’t want to be thrown into it, by her mighty hands. I sat silently tolerating her weight on my legs without saying a word.
The heavenly Palakkad station, where I was to alight, came and I politely asked her to alight from my lap and allow me to disembark. She got up, held me by a hand, when the puny husband came closer to me and whispered into my ears, “Sami, paithiyamunka- she has a mental disorder and I am taking her to Coimbatore for treatment – Sorry for the inconvenience caused by my wife”
I told him, ‘parava illai koundarae- it is OK”, as if every day I encounter such problems.
‘Sami, en purushan kancham kirukkuinka- my husband is insane- I am taking him to Coimbatore for treatment.’ Saying so, she dropped me on the platform and I walked down towards the exit gate without turning back.
‘Ammalu, this is what happened and you should sympathize for my ordeals”
”I do. But tell me, why did you, soon after returning from your trip, the moment you entered home, ask me to board your lap?”
“Oh, that was just to compare the thrust -impact.”
“I trust you and I am relaxed. I was worried whether I should take you to Coimbatore for treatment.”