The shawl

Dodappa sat on the verandah of his house. His eyes wandered upto the lantern hanging from the slanting roof. In the dim light, one would see a pair of red eyes, tired and waiting. The faint glow was sharply reflected by the sparkle of his eyes as he sat hugging his legs and his shawl wrapped around his back. It was not cold, but he needed the shawl to keep from the menacing mosquitoes. He sat and waited.

Inside a huge row was underway. Sivaram, his son had just returned from wherever he had gone to. The first thing that Sivaram did after returning from his exploits was to throw Dodappa out of the house. The old man had stopped resisting now. It meant lesser blows and kicks. Suhasini was the one who could never escape Sivaram's blows. Suhasini; Sivaram's wife.

Dodappa's mind wandered. Somehow, it always seemed to start from the vision of a bindi, a round big bindi. Then the face around the bindi materialised in the form of his wife, Purnamma. Yes, he could see her now. Those big eyes and that face, stern with concentration. She was weaving. Dodappa always sat beside Purnamma by the loom while she tossed the shuttle from left to right and back. He loved the shifting of the threads as Purnamma kicked the levers to shift the warp and the weft (the "tana" and the "bana"). He sometimes asked to try and once Purnamma had agreed. He had chucked the shuttle so that it got entangled between the threads and clustered the threads. Without waiting to clear the tangle, he had pulled the sliding bar and kicked the lever to shift the threads. "Not that way Puta!!!!", Purnamma had said. She did not like her work to be messed with.

Dodappa was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden wail that came from inside the house. Poor Suhasini. That woman could not keep her peace when required to. Dodappa just sat there. If the husband was beating his wife, it was none of his business. Sivaram had gone all wrong. He was a good son. Infact, he was a graduate. Dodappa had even sold Purnamma's jewellery to pay Munniswamy the 50,000 rupees required to secure the job of a police constable. Munniswamy was a good family friend and a thug. Sivaram was frustrated and had taken to drinking. Often he would come home drunk and the same row started. And Suhasini bore the brunt.

Dodappa pulled the shawl closer and closed his eyes. He did not want to think of anything. Purnamma's face flashed again. She had woven him the shawl. He had created a small fault on the fabric. It still ran as a thick thread, right across one end of his shawl. He felt it sometimes and looked at it. How well Purnamma wove! Especially when a thread snapped, she tied it very cleverly and continued to weave as if nothing had happened. The knot never showed. Dodappa wished everything was like that knot. The knots in his life showed poignantly. His own son manhandled him. His daughter-in-law led a miserable life and his wife had left him one fine day and never returned. Knots everywhere, severed, tied, retied, reinforced knots.

Sivaram tore open the door of the hut and rushed out in a mad frenzy, swearing at the top of his voice. His voice drowned into the night. The wails were sobs now. Dodappa entered the house. Suhasini was there, squatting on the floor and hugging her knees. Her hair was dishevelled. When she saw Dodappa enter, she pulled her sari over her back and turned her face away. Dodappa looked at her for a moment. Then he stepped towards her. Suhasini crouched. What was she afraid of? Slowly, Dodappa removed his shawl from his back and placed it on Suhasini's back and lay his hand on her head. Then he turned and walked out of the hut into the night, like Purnamma, never to return again.