Sanchita Karma and Other Tales of Ethics and Choice from India E-Book

K.V. Dominic

• Herausgeber: Modern History Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 243

Beschreibung

Join us on an epic journey to India!
K.V. Dominic, one of India's leading contemporary English poets, takes us on a trip to India in this constellation of short stories. His love for his native country is exposed through stories that cover a range of humanistic concerns, including women's empowerment, the natural environment, government and corruption, the education system, crime, the power of compassion and the question of how much influence we have in our own destinies.
"Sanchita Karma, a collection of stories evocative of India with its characters, is simply sketched in a few sentences while still feeling rounded and real. From the tentative beginnings of friendship, to family problems, running from life to finding fulfilment, pointed character studies and quiet meditations--Dominic's people are often bereft, put upon and always searching for something. Through them, he speaks volumes--in a short space--about cause and effect in relationships."
--Dr. Patricia Prime, poet, critic, reviewer and editor, New Zealand
"The stories in Sanchita Karma deal with a wide spectrum of themes, including the helplessness and loneliness of the aged, the thirst for love, crime and terrorism, religious intolerance and superstition and corruption and unemployment. Like sips of cold water after a dusty walk in the hot sun, the vivid portrayal of these stark realities is revealed through instances of love, humanism, honesty, duty consciousness, compassion, repentance and reformation."
Chandramoni Narayanaswamy, English poet, writer, essayist and translator, Bhubaneswar, Odisha, India
"In Sanchita Karma, K.V. Dominic's potential is testified by a simple yet realistic depiction of various characters drawn from all walks of life. The poet/short story writer portrays characters in such a way that the words emphatically flow from their mouths--and stay in our minds--as if they are time bound and dictums for all ages."
--Dr. Radhamony Sarma, Professor of English (ret.), poet and critic, Chennai, India.

Leseprobe

Sanchita Karma

and Other Tales of Ethics

and Choice from India

By K. V. Dominic

Foreword by Dr. Ramesh K. Srivastava

Modern History PressAnn Arbor, MI

Sanchita Karma and Other Tales of Ethics and Choice from India

Copyright © 2018 by K.V. Dominic. All Rights Reserved

Learn more at www.ProfKVDominic.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Dominic, K. V. (Kannappillil Varghese), 1956- author.

Title: Sanchita Karma and other tales of ethics and choice from India / by K. V. Dominic.

Description: Ann Arbor, MI : Modern History Press, 2018. | Includes index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018020154 (print) | LCCN 2018032113 (ebook) | ISBN 9781615993956 (Kindle, ePub, pdf) | ISBN 9781615993932 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781615993949 (hardcover : alk. paper)

Classification: LCC PR9499.4.D66 (ebook) | LCC PR9499.4.D66 A6 2018 (print) | DDC 823/.92--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018020154

Published by

Modern History Press

5145 Pontiac Trail

Ann Arbor, MI 48105

www.ModernHistoryPress.com

[email protected]

Tollfree 888-761-6268 (USA/Can)

Fax [phone]

Distributed by Ingram (USA/CAN/AU), Betram’s Books (UK/EU)

Cover Photo: provided by Goa Outreach Project

Dedicated to

My dear wife Anne, Daughter Rose Ann,

&

Son Joe George

Contents

Foreword by Dr. Ramesh K. Srivastava

Preface

Man and Nature

1 – The Twins

2 – World Environment Day

3 – Is Human Life More Precious than an Animal’s?

Government & Corruption

4 – The Best Government Servant

5 – Joseph’s Maiden Vote for Parliament

The Educational System

6 – School Entrance Festival

7 – Mother Tongue Impact

8 – I am Unwanted

The Fates

9 – Our Dear Bhai

10 – Twisted Course of Destiny

11 – Puppets in the Hands of God

12 – Burn Your Horoscope!

13 – Ammu’s Birthday

Crime and Karma

14 – Sanchita Karma*

15 – Who is Responsible?

16 – Matthews, the Real Christian

The Value of Compassion

17 – Multicultural Harmony

18 – A Good Samaritan

19 – An Email from Senthil Kumar

20 – Selvan’s House

Commentary and Criticism

Review by Patricia Prime

Review by Chandramoni Narayanaswamy

Review by Radhamani Sarma

Review by Sulakshna Sharma

About the Author

Goa Outreach: Helping Street and Slum Children in India

Foreword

A creative writer is a sensitive being whose imagination gets stirred even by minor vibrations from within or without, but is jolted into action when the wellbeing of a large section of society is at stake. Prof. K. V. Dominic’s poems and short stories are the concretization of these creative impulses. While his annoyance over minor social problems finds spontaneous articulation in his poems, major universal issues such as corruption and bribery, superstition, political and religious exploitation, unemployment and underemployment, exploitation of nature and animals, among other things, find elaborate expression in his short stories.

Kerala has the highest literacy rate in the country and its biggest problem is the unemployment and underemployment of educated youth. The problem has been highlighted in three short stories: “Who is Responsible?” “The Best Government Servant,” and “Twisted Course of Destiny.” Anwar, in the first story, has to work in Oman, leaving behind his ailing parents and newly-married bride at home. As a result of his absence from home, a litany of tragedy ensues. Krishnan, in the second story, though underemployed, refuses to accept the widely-prevalent practice of taking bribes and is transferred to a remote place. He takes the high road and his temerity leads to a surprising solution. In “Twisted Course of Destiny,” Rajiv with M.Sc. and Ph.D. degrees gets a peon’s job and has to work under much less qualified senior colleagues.

Religious and political exploitation, along with the evils of superstition, find good representation in some of his stories. “Burn Your Horoscope” is a powerful story highlighting gullible and credulous persons who remain closed-minded against logic. It takes many years to counter such a toxic prophecy. In “Joseph’s Maiden Vote for Parliament,” the protagonist refuses to vote when he finds all the candidates undesirable and corrupt. “Matthews, the Real Christian” depicts the tragic death of a person who was Christian in words and deeds.

The writer’s concern for nature and animals finds expression in three stories, which are reminiscent of Vishnu Sarma’s Panchatantra and Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book. They are really close cousins of fables and tales, in which various animals and objects of nature communicate with one another as would human beings. In the same tradition, Krishnan and Stephen in “Sanchita Karma” have respectively been painted all white and all black. While the former is a lover of birds, animals and plants, the latter hates them and as such kills seven cats. Due to his past accumulated deeds, he has to be reborn as mouse in the next life. The two kittens in “The Twins” are contrasted with human beings. They remain clean and give pleasure to all the members of the family. In “World Environment Day,” Katturaja is a modified and transformed version of the notorious gangster Veerappan who roamed all over the forest, killing tuskers and cutting sandalwood trees. Under the influence of nature, Katturaja is so much transformed that he becomes a great preserver of nature.

A very thin line divides pure literature and literature-with-a-purpose, and that line has become nearly invisible in these stories. This is due largely to the writer’s intensely-felt anguish over social ills as also due to his overwhelming concern to rectify these social distortions by giving them an overtly-visible representation. K. V. Dominic’s Sanchita Karma and Other Tales of Ethics and Choice from India is undoubtedly a laudable effort in making these stories a powerful instrument for eradication of prevalent evils in the country.

Dr. Ramesh K. Srivastava

Novelist & critic, former Professor of English,

Guru Nanak Dev University, Amritsar, Punjab, India

Preface

With immense happiness I present before my esteemed readers this second collection of my short stories. The twenty stories in this book have been written over a period of ten years. My first short story, “The Twins,” was composed in 2008 and the last, “I am Unwanted,” just a week ago. It was much easier for me to find themes for my poems, while an outline for a story came to my mind once in a blue moon. Being a social critic, I can easily vent my anger and emotion over social evils and issues instantly through poetry.

Almost all the stories in the collection have been published through my own edited journals, as well as through international journals, both print and online. The story “Who is Responsible?” won great acclaim and appreciation when it was published in the online journal MuseIndia (issue 30, March-April 2010). It was the leading story of a number of stories called for and selected by the special story editor. In my stories, I have used several themes and focussed on many issues which are universal and at the same time frequently occurring in my own State, Kerala.

The themes include loneliness and the problems of old age, thirst for love, sexual desires, robbery and murder, terrorism, humanism and compassion, corruption and bribery in government offices, honesty and duty consciousness, fair judgement, cruel destiny, superstitions and exploitations in the name of religion, fight against superstitions, politics and political exploitation, Christian spirit versus Christian practice, miseries of the poor and the marginalised, indifference and cruelty to the poor, cruelty to animals and punishment for it, problems of the educational system, problems of unemployment, beauty of the natural world, love and compassion to animals, exploitation of forests, conversion and conservation, religious fanaticism and multicultural harmony, the impact of the mother tongue in education, sexism and women empowerment etc.

I wish all my esteemed readers an interesting and enlightening voyage through my book!

Dr. K. V. Dominic

1 – The Twins

“Why do you let that cat into our kitchen? It will eat our food when you are away,” I told my wife who was battling in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.

“You are busy with your computer upstairs, and who is there with me to save me from my loneliness? So I have invited Sundari into the kitchen,” my wife replied.

Sundari, the name my wife had given to that stray cat, was left out by our nearest neighbours who shifted to another place. Sundari was not that sundari (beautiful), but an average cat of native breed with pink and white colours. Being a stray cat, it was frightened when I or my son approached. None of us was allowed to stroke her, but the very touch and cry of the cat removed my wife’s solitude.

In a way I am guilty of leaving my wife alone in the kitchen for too many hours. She is not a feminist and so she never insisted that I should help her in cooking. We belong to a patriarchal family line, and the men in the family have superiority over women. So my wife was never demanding, but I should have helped her instead of sending emails to my friends. She didn’t want the help of a servant, fearing the loss of privacy. When I teach feminism to my students, I pray to God to dissuade the students from asking its practice in my own life. A teacher should be a model to the students.

My wife’s friendship with Sundari continued and the bond became stronger and stronger. Still she could not stroke the cat. Sundari became pregnant and after one or two months it gave birth to two kittens, both photocopies of the mother. They were brought down to the kitchen from the berth after a week. Now my wife had three companions in place of one. Her kitchen work became smoother and happier. I was also entertained by the plays of the kittens. Then one of the kittens was found missing. What happened to it is still unknown. Since my wife was happy with the cats, I decided to buy a beautiful kitten of foreign pedigree, which we could stroke, have on our lap, and have communication with it. When I expressed my desire, one of my colleagues told me that he would supply me a twin instead of one. Accordingly, I went to his house and he presented me a carton bearing the twins. The carton was opened in one of our rooms after shutting its door. My wife and my son were very anxious to look at the guests. Two angels got out of the carton. Indeed, they were very, very beautiful. They had snowy white fur except for dark spots on their head and tails. The tails were thick and bushy, characteristic of the Ooty cats. Pairs of emeralds on their heads looked at us. The twins were not scared at all. My wife placed some milk before them and they drank a little. Then they started their running. They were identical twins; one had more dark spots on the head than the other. My wife named them Manikutty and Amminikutty.

Needless to say, these twins brought our innocent childhood back. We started to behave like children ourselves, playing with these twins. Sundari and its kitten were ignored. In fact, they refused to come to the kitchen as the twins encroached on the place. Still, food was supplied to them in the backyard.

A plastic ball was bought for the twins. The way they played football was more thrilling than watching the World Cup. Naturally the agility of these kittens is superior to the World Cup heroes.

Along with pleasures, the twins supplied us burdens and restrictions. For the first three days, they used our bedroom, particularly the bed and pillows, as their toilet. We had to wash the sheets, replace pillows and even change the entire bed. As a precaution, the bedrooms and the reading room had to be kept shut, always. The beautiful sofa cover was pulled down by the twins who promptly urinated on it. The sofa thus remained without its cover and it became the place for sharpening their nails.

Still, these problems and hardships had a sweetness, albeit a bitter sweetness! Gradually, the twins started to use the bathrooms instead of the closets for their waste. It was my duty to remove the excrement and sterilize the bathroom. It had to be done thrice a day. The twins, when not playing, wanted to sit on our laps. The very jump on to the lap when we were reading or writing pricked our thighs with their tiny claws. Once, when my leg started to bleed, I was worried. I had read that the nail wounds from cats could cause rabies. As the twins were not affected by rabies, I risked not taking anti-rabies injections myself.

Manikutty demanded more strokes and care from us than Amminikutty. She, not satisfied with our strokes, would climb on a shoulder and even on to the head. Although they don’t bathe with water and soap as we do twice a day, how clean are their bodies! But how many times they do bathe their bodies with their saliva? We have to learn much from Nature. Their clutches with the nails pained me and I had to wear a shirt always to save my chest, especially nipples.

Remember, the kittens had been fed by their mother when I brought them. On the third day of their arrival, as I was reading a newspaper in the morning, the twins jumped on to my lap and started crying. I stroked them, but it couldn’t pacify them. “What are they crying for? They have been fed just now. Have gone to the toilet? Yes, that’s also done. Then what?” I thought.

Why didn’t God give speech power to non-human beings? In a way it’s better they don’t have it. The sound pollution than man makes is deadlier than atomic radiation! The nasty, ugly words that dart from his mouth can annihilate millions! In fact it boomerangs to the Creator Himself! Man plays a discordant note to the symphony which all other creatures make in this universe. “Miau, miau, miau, miau,” the twins were still pestering me. “What do you want? What are you crying for?” I asked. “Maa, maa, maa, maa,” the tone was different. “Oh! They are calling for their mother,” I could read their language. Probably they were asking me where their mother was.

An arrow pierced through my heart. I’d never thought of their attachment to their mother. I could read also their mother’s moans. Was it not cruel of me to snatch away these little ones from their mother? The thought pricked me and my heart started to bleed. Shall I return the twins to their mother? No, I shouldn’t be so sentimental. After all, life is a sum of innumerable meetings and partings! God has given His creations the strength to bear such pangs! I sought refuge in such philosophies.

There are many things we human beings can learn from these ‘sub-human’ beings. (Are we superior to them except in brain and speech?) The expression of these twins’ love—their kissing each other, hugs, licking one another, sleeping on one-other’s body, eating and drinking from the same plate, playing together etc. etc.—were real feasts for our eyes and mind. They were the real beauties! When they were around me I couldn’t pluck my eyes from them. Indeed they were joys forever! Their dangling on the door curtains, climbing over the grills, sitting together on the TV, dining table, especially on the newspaper, like two marble statues—were treats for us!

Once, Amminikutty climbed over a window through its curtain and started dangling on the flicker lamp at the foot of my father’s photograph. Had my father been alive in the photo, he would have picked the kitten and hugged it, for he was a lover of cats when he lived. In my childhood we reared a cat always to kill the mice. The cats used to sleep with us.

The twins’ play went to such an extreme that they climbed on a tender chilli plant my wife nursed with extra care in the backyard. My wife used to pluck hot chillies from it. The plant was completely wrecked. Instead of anger, we felt only happiness. Had the mischief been done by my son when he was a child, we would have punished him, because God has given him reasoning power. Human beings, having developed brains, do all sorts of crimes and evils other animals never do.

One day, as I was having tea in the College canteen, one of my colleagues read the news about five murders committed by a man. He killed his wife, hid the body in the septic tank; two days later he raped his own little daughter, killed her and her brother and buried them somewhere; after three days he brought his remaining two children from the school, killed them and locked the bodies in a room.

Commenting on this diabolical act, one teacher said, “How can one become so brutal?”

I told him rather hotly, “Dear friend, don’t dishonour animals with such speech. Never compare such human activities to animals.’ Does any animal attack another without any reason? Except for food, do animals kill other creatures? Do they attack us unless they are provoked, disturbed or scared? The very term “brutal” has to be redefined.” All the teachers assembled there agreed to my views.

Eventually, things went very smoothly in our house. The twins made our house a heaven. Our daughter in New Delhi eagerly waited for the holidays after six months to experience the twins’ play. She intended to bring toys for them. As her birthday was approaching I wrote this story for her as this year’s birthday gift.

A few days later my wife told me, “Dear, what will our mother do when she comes here to stay tomorrow? How can she manage the twins when we leave her alone from ten to four on working days?” Our mother was eighty-seven years old, weak, and a heart patient. She was prolonging her life by taking countless tablets. She’d been staying in my brother’s house for a few months, and wishe to stay with us for some months. How could I tell her not to come to our house since we have two kittens?

I told my wife, “Don’t worry, dear, mother will manage. Or, shall we give back the kittens to the teacher who gave them to us?” Though I asked her this, I never intended to do it.

“No question of leaving these angels,” my wife replied.

“OK, we will manage the crisis somehow,” I told her.

My mother was brought to our house the next day. She was delighted to see those kittens. She enjoyed their playful antics. The next day, Monday, my wife had to go to her school and, I to my college. Leaving mother’s food and medicines on the table in her room for her intake at noon, I went to work. The twins were fed and they were sleeping then. Extra food was placed for them in the kitchen. I prayed to God that the twins should not create any problem for my mother.

At one o’ clock I returned home for my lunch. When I opened the front door I could hear the gasping sound of my mother. I rushed to her bedroom and found that she was struggling for breath. I asked if she took the medicine. She replied in a very low voice, “The kittens scattered the tablets on the floor while I was sleeping.” True, I found the scattered white tablets on the white-tiled floor, which she could not herself make out. The food was also scattered on the floor.

At once I gave her emergency medicine to ensure her easy breathing. I cleaned the floor. The twins were found sleeping on the dining table. I started to think, “Who is dearer to me, mother or the kittens? No doubt my mother, who gave me birth and nurtured me to this position.” Though reluctantly, I took the carton in which the twins were brought, put the sleeping kittens in it and tied with twine. Mother was gradually recovering. I told her, “Ma, I have to go to college now. You will be OK after a few minutes. I shall return after one hour.”

“OK, you may go,” mother replied.

I took the carton to my car, and drove along the road. Beyond the town I reached a lonely area. I stopped the car. The twins were still sleeping. My heart started to tighten. I felt a kind of suffocation in my throat. It was very painful for me to part with the cats. Am I doing right or wrong? If they were to be disposed so, why did I bring them to my house? Wouldn’t they have lived happily in my colleague’s house? A series of wounding questions strangled my heart. I had to make a decision. Gathering all my energy, I took the carton and placed it on the side of the road.

With shaking hands I opened it. The kittens were awakening. They were startled by the new surroundings. Weeping, I bade them goodbye. I got into the car and started the engine. The twins came to the door of the car, crying. Weren’t they asking me, “Pappa, are you leaving us? Please don’t leave us. Please don’t leave us. How will we live? Who will feed us? Wouldn’t it better for you to kill us?” I broke into tears.

Suddenly my cellphone rang. It was my mother. God! Is she seriously ill? “Ma, what happened?” I asked.

“Where are the kittens? I can’t find them in the house!”

“Ma, I have left them on the road since they are trouble to us,” I said.

“Are you mad? What wrong have they done? They have reasoning power as we do have! Bring them back,” she cried.

“But ma…” I whispered.

“No but. If you can’t, then you may discard me also!”

“OK, ma. I am bringing them back,” I consoled her. Life was restored to me. My breathing became normal. The suffocation and the aching of the heart disappeared. I got down from the car, took the twins, hugged them, kissed them and brought them back to my house. My mother was happy again that she got back her companions. She had experienced so much solitude in my house that these kittens proved real companions to her.

“My dear son, I can’t live without these angels,” she said.

“Alright mother, I am going to appoint a home nurse for you and the kittens,” I replied.

When my wife returned in the evening I told her what had happened. She was horrified to hear of my cruelty to the twins. She too agreed to appoint a home nurse. Until we get one, I decided to take several short leaves of absence. Thus our house became heaven again!

~ ~ ~

2 – World Environment Day

Kaatturaja is the most notorious forest thief in Karnataka, India. As his name suggests, he is the king of the forest. Six foot tall, a sturdy youth of thirty, he is ebony black with a twisted moustache on his ferocious face. In addition to thousands of costly trees he has stolen, he has hunted many wild animals and even elephants for their tusks. The State government has offered one million rupees for information leading to his capture. He has ambushed forest rangers several times, but fortunately none was killed.

Kaatturaja is the illegitimate son of a tribal woman named Kanni. At the age of sixteen when Kanni was collecting firewood in the forest, two forest rangers raped her. Although she reported the matter to her parents, they were not courageous enough to complain to the police station, which was several kilometres away from their hut. Moreover, it was a futile attempt to complain since tribal people’s wails were never heeded by the government.

Illiterate Kanni gave birth to a son and he lived among other tribal children of the forest as a bastard. Kanni was married to a youth when Kaatturaja was only two years old. Thus Kaatturaja lived with his grandparents, despised by all except his mother. Occasionally, his mother visited him and presented him sweets, and the delicacies he liked the most.

Kaatturaja grew up from teenager to young adult, fed by anger and a wish for revenge against the establishment and the world that had discarded him as an outcast. The tribal people lived in a very miserable condition. They didn’t get any financial assistance from the government, even though tens of millions of rupees were allotted to them. These monies were misappropriated and looted by the government officials. There were no hospitals, schools or even good roads for them. They survived on what Nature fed them through the forest—tubers, honey, fish from brooks, meat of small animals like rat, rabbit, wild boar etc.

Kaatturaja was sent to a school in the nearby village and got a primary education, which opened his eyes. He learnt how his people were exploited by the government and forest mafia. On becoming a young man, he decided to help his people by working as a forest thief. He was helped by his friends there and started cutting costly trees of the forest—teak, sandalwood, rosewood, mahogany, and the like, and sold them to agents of timber merchants. They did it in the thick of the forest where forest rangers seldom patrolled. The money they earned was distributed to the poor families for various purposes such as purchasing dresses from the town, getting treatment for the sick. Kaatturaja never felt any guilt for his illegal acts, but took it as a sweet revenge on the government.

On World Environment Day, June 5th 2011, Kaatturaja was all alone in the forest and was trying to fell a teak tree. Being their own holiday, the forest and its inhabitants were celebrating. A gentle breeze kissed and stroked all trees, birds and animals. One could sense the mirth of Nature from the chirping of birds, laughing of leaves, mating calls and other happy cries of animals. The teak sensed the advent of its death and cried for help. Insensible to human beings, the cry reached the ears of elephants grazing on a mound nearby.

“Isn’t that an alarm cry of a tree?” the tusker asked the cow elephants.

“True. We won’t allow any human being to trespass our dwelling place this special day,” the other elephants replied.

“Let’s charge them then,” the tusker said.

Kaatturaja lifted his axe to cut, and the roaring elephants rushed at him. Frightened, he shot up the tree like a rocket. The elephants stood beneath the tree, waiting for his descent. The teak tree thanked the elephants through its rustling applause of leaves. Kaatturaja, who had never been timid in his youth, started shivering.

It seemed that the tree was talking to him: “Dear friend, what harm have I done to you that you should kill me? See how I became your saviour just now! What harm have this forest and its animals done to you? Haven’t you felled thousands of trees and hunted hundreds of animals? You and your people survive only because of our presence. Who cuts the branch he sits upon? If you continue to destroy this forest, how and where will those elephants and other animals live?”

“I am sorry dear tree. Kindly forgive me,” Kaatturaja started weeping with clasped palms. He then spoke in a loud voice to the entire forest: “In the name of this forest I promise you all that I will trouble you no more. Please pardon me for the crimes I have done. I will be your friend from this very moment and devote my life to the preservation of this forest.” His voice echoed in the forest and his conversion was welcomed by the entire forest with cheers. The trees swayed and danced. Birds twittered. Animals cried in joy. The elephants standing below went away, swinging their trunks in happiness.

With a sigh of relief, Kaatturaja climbed down the tree and thanked it once again for saving his life. He went to his house, changed his clothes and went straight to the magistrate’s office in the nearby town. He got permission to get into the magistrate’s room.

He told the magistrate, “Honourable sir, I am Kaatturaja, the sought-after forest thief. I have come to surrender. I would like to do penance for the crimes I have committed. You may arrest me.”

The magistrate gave orders for his arrest. He told him, “It’s a great thing that you have surrendered. You will be jailed now and there will be a trial. You can tell the court whatever you want at that time.”

Kaatturaja was sent to the district jail. As part of the investigation, he was taken by the police to the forest several times. He admitted all charges against him and pointed out the places where he’d felled the trees. After a month, he was brought to the court for the trial. The public prosecutor pleaded for the government and presented the crimes Kaatturaja had committed. Kaatturaja had no advocates to defend him and he accepted all the charges presented by the public prosecutor. The judge then asked Kaatturaja if he had anything to state or plead before the court.