The House of Blue Mangoes (39 page)

Doraipuram is waking to life again, Daniel murmured to himself, just as I am. Amma would be glad. Later, in a gesture that endeared him to the other parents but dismayed Ramdoss, Daniel paid for a joint feast at Neelam Illum for all the couples married that day. The festivities did not stop until dawn ripped the sky apart. In the early light, the back of the mansion presented a hellish sight – all the stray dogs for miles around had congregated there to dispute the ownership of the pile of bones and scraps with the kites, squirrels and crows.

No such confusion marred the entrance to the mansion. Lily, who had impressed everyone with her unflagging energy and organizational skills, had one more surprise in store. Earlier that day Daniel’s new Chevrolet had been sent all the way to Trivandrum on a special mission. The passenger who returned in the car was kept out of view until the time came for Shanthi and the other brides to depart in the late afternoon. Lily refused to let them go until they had participated in the final ceremony of the day – a group photograph under the spreading mango tree on the front lawn. It was the first time such a ritual had been introduced into a Dorai wedding and there was a lot of excitement among the assembled members of the family. But before the historic picture could be taken they drove the photographer to distraction. Every time he dived under the black hood and peered through the shutter, something or other would upset the composition – an aunt’s extravagant pose obscuring Shanthi’s face or a mischievous nephew having to be brought under control. Finally, after much giggling and whispering, the family was brought to order. At the photographer’s command, the patriarch and the elders scowled obligingly for the camera. A blue flash, and the harassed photographer was done.

A month later, when the framed prints arrived at Neelam Illum, Daniel decreed that the picture of his daughter’s wedding day would occupy pride of place in the enormous living room. ‘Without Shanthi, none of this would have existed,’ he said to Lily, as he supervised operations. ‘Her name should have been Lakshmi.’

Just before the photograph was to be hung, Daniel called a halt to the proceedings, and then beckoned excitedly to Lily. Possibly due to the numerous distractions he was faced with, a small portion of the print had been over-exposed by the photographer. Daniel was having none of it. ‘I knew she would be present. Lily, look at this,’ he said, pointing to the light that misted the faces of the people immediately behind his daughter. ‘How could Shanthi be married without her grandmother’s blessing?’

61

When Kannan was born, Daniel had made a conscious decision not to treat him like the heir apparent. Mindful of his own solitary boyhood, and the oppressive weight of his father’s expectations, he decided that his son should be free to enjoy the pleasures of a secure childhood in the midst of an extended family. Accordingly Kannan was left pretty much to his own devices. He dressed the same as his innumerable cousins, slept in the large room in the mansion that had been set aside for boys of his age and wasn’t singled out for any special favours.

It was the best gift Daniel could have given him. Remote from the concerns of adults, and free of the pressures of his surname, life was entirely delightful for Kannan. For a year after Charity’s death, communal celebrations were restrained but that didn’t hold the young boys of the settlement back. They still had enough to keep them going: raids on the mango groves, swims in the river and the wells, re-enactments of Solomon’s great battle on the beach – although Daniel had forbidden this. There were long bicycle rides under the sun that burnt them to an unnatural shade of blackness, fights, hunts for harmless water snakes in flooded paddy-fields, intense games of hockey and football. And during the migratory season, when water birds filled the sky and water, great shoots for duck and teal, the lakes and the river echoing with the thunder of shotguns and rifles.

One morning, a few months after his sister’s wedding, Kannan woke up alone in his mother’s room. He was recovering from the flu, and had been segregated from the other boys. He had slept late, and there was no one else about. He was a little weak but otherwise felt fine. Quickly bathing, and slipping on the combination shorts and singlet which was the standard garment for the younger boys when they were not in school uniform, he wandered out of the house with no set purpose in mind. All his friends were at school, and within a short time Kannan felt bored. It was a bright and sunny day, but the monsoon was about to break, and pre-monsoon showers had left pools of water in every depression in the ground. A large pool that lay just beyond the garden was full almost to overflowing and Kannan was intrigued to see hundreds of tiny shapes moving around under the surface of the scummy green water. Squatting down, he put out a hand and cleared some of the scum away. He could see the tadpoles more clearly now, ungainly creatures with enormous heads and ugly tails. He shifted position a bit, settled himself more comfortably and thrust his hand into the water. When he withdrew it, there were two tadpoles in his clenched fist. Kannan put them on a rock nearby and watched their death struggles with interest. When they had stopped moving, he prodded them with his finger to make sure they were dead. Then he turned his attention to the pond again. He caught only one tadpole this time, almost a frog with well-developed hind legs and a reduced tail. It took longer to die. By the time there were fourteen tadpoles on the rocks, stiff and twisted like burnt twigs, Kannan had begun to tire of the sport. The tadpoles offered no resistance, were much too easy to catch, and didn’t even die flamboyantly. Rising to his feet, he wandered back to the house.

When he entered the driveway, he noticed that his father’s Chevrolet stood alone and unattended at the top of the driveway, its driver Raju missing. Kannan couldn’t believe his luck. Raju, who kept the lemon-yellow machine – all Dr Dorai’s cars were yellow – in mint condition, was a terror none of them would face. That was the only reason the car had been spared the attentions of the dozens of small boys who were obsessed with it.

Every Sunday after church, Dr Dorai allowed three boys and girls, picked as fairly as possible, to accompany him on a leisurely tour of Doraipuram. It was an experience none of them forgot in a hurry. Kannan’s third turn had come a fortnight ago, and he could still replay much of the journey in his mind. His irritating cousin Gopu, only six and therefore utterly without significance, had stood on the rear seat between Kannan and Mary, another cousin he didn’t much like, terrified that the car would collide with something. Staring intently through the windshield, he would scream ‘Raju, cow’ or ‘Raju, man’ or ‘Raju, neem tree’ as these objects hove into view, at least half a kilometre away, on the die-straight roads of Doraipuram. After enduring this for as long as he could, Dr Dorai had snapped at his son to control Gopu. Kannan had been swift to comply, and had kept his cousin buried in the seat with a neck-hold, and hadn’t allowed him to emerge until the Chevrolet had rolled to a stop. As he let Gopu out, Kannan had pinched him hard for spoiling his ride.

And now here the Chevrolet stood, a vast expanse of yellow trimmed with black, just inviting him to explore its multidimensional splendours without the distraction of strict adults or annoying cousins. He climbed cautiously on to the running board, unlocked the handle and quickly eased behind the steering wheel. He wasn’t tall enough to see through the wind-screen but it didn’t matter, there was much that was thrilling within the car itself: the gigantic steering wheel, the dials with their mysterious numbers and symbols, the horn. For a while he just sat there, enormously pleased with himself, luxuriating in the car’s embrace. Then he thought with a start that Raju might be back soon and decided to derive as much pleasure from the machine as he could before he was removed from it. He grabbed hold of the lower end of the steering wheel and swung it this way and that, making motor-car noises as he did so: ‘Drrr-drr, drr-drr.’ As he sank into the experience, he grew bolder, and began fiddling with levers and buttons. A lever fell and locked, and he froze, but nothing happened and he continued with his play. He noticed another lever that he hadn’t seen before and tugged at it.

As he disengaged the handbrake, the car started to roll down the slight incline of the driveway. Kannan was shocked when the Chevrolet began to move. His first instinct was to open the door and jump out, but that was soon extinguished by the overwhelming terror he felt as the car began picking up speed. He frantically rotated the steering wheel, and pulled and pushed at various levers. He had observed Raju doing something with his feet when he drove, but the pedals were too distant. He slapped at the horn, and the Chevrolet blared once as it veered off the driveway and ran majestically into a neem tree.

Daniel was looking out of his window when he heard the sound of the horn and was horrified to see his new car sailing down the driveway with no one at the wheel. Quickly putting on his slippers he ran out, getting to the arrested machine just moments behind Raju.

‘You donkey, where were you?’ he shouted.

‘I’d just gone to the servants’ quarters to get a duster, aiyah. I’d left the handbrake on and everything, I don’t know how this could have happened.’

‘For your sake, I hope there is no major damage, otherwise I’ll have you whipped.’

From inside the car, the men heard muffled sobbing. A moment later, Daniel had wrenched the door open to find a terrified little boy. He yanked his son out roughly, and his hand descended once, twice, three times and then again. Kannan twisted around his father to escape the blows but Daniel turned with him, trying to get in a few more licks, so for a time they resembled nothing so much as a carnival roundabout, whirling round and round. And then, deciding he’d thrashed his son enough, Daniel ordered him to his room. Kannan fled, sobbing.

Raju reversed the car back on to the driveway, and they examined the damage, which both master and driver were relieved to note was slight – a dented mudguard and a cracked headlamp.

Leaving the driver with instructions to make the necessary repairs, Daniel walked slowly back to the house. He hadn’t liked thrashing Kannan, not that the rascal didn’t deserve it, but it was not something he was used to doing. He knew that his wrath had been fuelled by more than concern over the car; it had also to do with the danger the boy had put himself in. How little I’ve seen of my son, he thought; what with one thing or another he’s growing up without me, and in a couple of years I’ll have missed his childhood entirely. He’d seen a lot more of Shanthi and Usha, and they were girls! And it wasn’t good enough to argue that it had been easier to spend time with the children in Nagercoil. No, if he wanted to do it, he must make the time.

Daniel’s approach to child-rearing was not very different to that of other men of his generation. Essentially, it consisted of keeping his distance. Children were to be looked after by their mothers and, if they were boys, they would occasionally connect with their fathers on shooting trips, family celebrations and the like until they were old enough to be treated like men. For all that he was different from his father and his other male cousins and relatives, Daniel too fitted the mould. He was awkward with children, and preferred to be a stern and distant father, quite content to limit the time he spent with children to things like joyrides and the occasional thrashing.

Kannan’s weeping subsided almost as soon as he reached the house, for the blows Daniel had landed hadn’t hurt him much, but it took some time for the shock to die down. He couldn’t find his mother, so he went to his room and lay down on his mat, nursing his hurt. A short while later, footsteps sounded outside the door, and Kannan was appalled to see his father framed in the doorway. Frantically he looked around for a place to hide, but Daniel didn’t enter the room. Instead, from where he was, he said, ‘What you did was very wrong, Thirumoolar, and you know it. If I ever catch you near the car again, I’ll give you such a thrashing that I promise you today’s beating will seem nothing compared to it.’

There was only one response appropriate to this and Kannan made it, swearing that he would never go near the Chevrolet again. Then, to his surprise, his father said, ‘Let’s go out.’ Instinctively, with the cunning of the young, Kannan realized the worst was over, and he got up from where he crouched and they set off.

Initially they were awkward with each other. It was all very new to both of them. They walked with no set purpose, Daniel asking Kannan about school and play, and receiving cautious answers in reply. After about half an hour, Daniel had exhausted every question he could think of, and began to wonder if the walk had been such a good idea after all. What now? He could lecture his son about the nature of the challenge that lay ahead of him as the male heir to the Dorai legacy, but he reminded himself sternly that there was time enough for that yet. How devilishly difficult it was to be a father, he thought. Although he knew he couldn’t excuse Solomon for what he’d done, he felt a certain empathy towards him now, as he regarded his own son. They were passing the well Aaron had jumped, only partially visible behind the screen of trees, and Daniel took the opportunity to pick up the conversation. ‘Do you know that your Aaron-chithappa cleared that well when he was only sixteen years old?’

‘Yes, appa,’ Kannan said quickly, ‘everybody knows that. It’s such a big well. Chithappa must have been a giant.’

Ah, Aaron, Aaron, thought Daniel, how wonderful it could have been. Together we could have made everything about Doraipuram work: little boys who needed their imaginations fired (Kannan even bore a physical resemblance to Aaron), dreams which needed to be managed . . .

‘Oh, yes, he was a giant,’ Daniel said.

They lingered for a couple of moments near the well, and then carried on. After walking in silence for a few minutes, they came to the thicket of lantana scrub that had once been the ruins of Kulla Marudu’s mud fort. When he had returned to Chevathar and had started laying out Doraipuram, Daniel had vaguely thought about restoring the fort, but it had never happened. Over the years, lantana, touch-me-not and other weeds and shrubs had almost completely overwhelmed the tumbledown mud walls. An old cobra lived in a deep crevice, and elsewhere in the tangle bandicoots and lizards thrived. The boys didn’t go near it, it was too impenetrable and after a few desultory efforts to kill the cobra, they had left it alone.