H
e was in deep despair at having got nothing to grab for a long time now. Not that he did not steal into houses; from all those houses he got into, he had to get out empty handed most often. Although there would be large almirahs in certain houses, nothing valuable would be found in them. And the rooms of certain houses made it hardly possible for him to sneak into them. When he makes a retreat from houses, disappointed, he will even be scornful of his own profession. He was gradually realising that a situation had emerged in which a thief cannot lead a decent life here. All the same, he could not have changed to a different profession. He was sure that he could not have done any other job as deftly as the present one.
At a time when the night had advanced much, as he was walking along a road in the suburb taking cover under black shadows all along, a raindrop fell on him quite unexpectedly. It was a scalding experience for him just then. To him it was a signal for an extended rainy season which would soon be arriving. Although the rainy season would be quite preferable to a thief, as far as he was concerned it was quite unwelcome and frightening. When it rained torrentially, sitting in a tiny mud hut built on a piece of ownerless land by the wayside, he would tell his children with chagrin:
“During the next rainy season we’ll have a better dwelling; one that doesn’t leak.”
He felt that in the roar of the stream flowing tempestuously in front of the hut in the rain, his words did not reach the ears of the children. The children were crying with their stomachs held down with hands to contain the pangs of hunger. He feared that his mud hut would be submerged in the swelling waters of the stream. Whenever it rains torrentially, looking at waters flowing wildly, he makes up his mind that by the time the next rainy season arrives he will start living in a new place. That is at a place where one could live without fearing the rain. But it never came to pass. On top of that chances of returning empty handed late at night have increased of late. All houses are now secured with fool-proof locks which cannot be tampered with so easily on account of which it has become increasingly difficult to steal into houses. He was fond of stealing from houses. It had never occurred to him to go to other places for theft. He is walking in search of locked houses. To his dismay, the number of such houses keeps increasing. He would be on cloud nine while breaking into locked houses. A large number of newly built houses are locked now. He knows that there will not be anything valuable in them. The owners of the houses live there for a few days and then go back to their countries of residence. It is only when people live in houses for a considerably long time that they develop an attachment to them. Remembering their long stay in and the resultant attachment to them they collect and keep many valuable things in their rooms. But without having sufficient time for all that at their disposal, most people make a hurried return. It is mostly such houses that one sees at many places. It is with despair that he is walking thinking about the profession that he has chosen.
On either side of the road are long rows of houses which remain locked. They appeared to be under the spell of the silence of coffins, he thought. The appearance of the houses at night was not attractive. He noticed also patches of light in certain houses. In those houses there could be some aged people as well; those who could not travel to foreign countries. If one strains one’s ears one could hear their deep sighs and whispers. He was reluctant also to get into houses in which aged people lived helplessly being weighed down under their advanced age. It was also unlikely that such houses would have valuable things in them. As he walked further up, he found that rows of houses kept increasing. It was all of a sudden that an uncomfortable thought entered his mind. This area must have been crowded with people once. When people from here started to migrate to alien countries, the houses became empty and vacant. There would be aged people in them most likely.
As he was standing on the road without knowing where to turn to, a drop of rain fell on his body as though it was reminding him of something. Just then he brought to mind his mud hut which leaked when it rained and the mud walls of the hut which could be dissolved in case the water in the stream rose a little high. Even then he made up his mind that he would shift from there by the time the next rainy season set in. He scanned the rows of locked houses on either side once again. However, he could not see anything tempting in any one of them. Getting into locked houses was a herculean task indeed. If one succeeds in getting into a room at all, getting into the other rooms will be even more difficult. Each room will present itself to be locked securely. In case one succeeds in getting into them, the shelves and almirahs in them would be locked. One will have to employ all the skills at one’s disposal to get them opened. Once opened, nothing valuable would be found in them either. Everybody has now learnt the primary lesson that it would no longer be wise for them to leave things valuable in houses locked for safety. That should be why nowadays when one steals into houses one cannot grab something valuable, he thought. All the same, I must sneak into a house; the night will soon run out. He looked at the locked houses once again with expectation. Which one of them should I break into? As he was standing like that surveying the possibilities, he saw a streak of lightning dashing down ahead. That was the tremendously portentous signal of the rain coming too soon. It made him restless. A family sitting all hunched up in a hut with leaking roofs. He looked around restlessly. Which one of the houses here will provide me space where my labour for the night will not go wasted? All of a sudden he started to hear hushed voices from nowhere. He could not place from where the voices were coming nor could he make out what they were saying. He just felt like being spoken to by certain invisible entities standing around him.
Although he was a little frightened and confused at first, later on, he was drawn towards it. He imagined the locked houses speaking on a silent night. He inferred that the houses were speaking in a language of their own. They must have a language of their own, too. The houses that have been left orphaned for long may have spoken to one another without being able to bear the solitude and rejection any longer. It was their voices that he heard.
He took interest in viewing every house in his immediate vicinity. He felt that a kind of numbness from years of neglect had fallen over them as a thin film of gossamer. However, they were all quite attractive. Which one of these houses should I break into? From where shall I get the reward of my nightlong labour? Suddenly he felt like being spoken to by someone from very close proximity.
“Get into this house, get into this house…”
He made out that it was from the house close by that the voice was coming. As the house had remained locked for a long time, it was covered with a hue of antipathy as well. As he walked towards the house, he felt that he could now hear the voice more clearly.
“Come to this place; come to this place, please.”
Even as he drew closer to the house, his anxiety increased. A locked house is inviting a thief! He remembered jokingly that the house may have a mind of its own. It may be due to the longstanding aversion that a house is inviting someone to get into it. The house may be longing to hear someone’s footfalls or voices being raised inside it. He felt sympathetic towards the locked houses and some sense of guilt in stealing from them. It was just then another drop of rain fell on his face. Naturally, he thought then about the mud hut on the bank of the stream.
Getting into the house was not at all difficult for him. Expecting his arrival, the doors may have been locked in such a way as to be opened easily, perhaps. Once inside the house, he marvelled at the possibilities. Where his eyes fell, he saw valuable things only. The things collected there gave the impression that it was a super-rich man and a connoisseur who was living there. He was at a loss unable to decide which room to break into first. Even then he felt like being spoken to in a subdued voice: “How long have I been waiting for you? You go everywhere. Raise your voice high. Let the voices of someone be heard loud in all rooms.”
He sympathised with that house which stood in isolation, lost in forlorn thoughts. He wished to run about inside as demanded by the house. In the next moment it dawned on him that the remaining segment of the night as well as the valuable things in the house were his; and having been driven into a delirium by this awareness, he stomped through the rooms. After a while he sat tired before a high-end show case. There were some other show cases as well in the room. In all of them were arranged rare and expensive souvenirs and artefacts. They were all brought from foreign countries. He knew very well that if sold outside, they would fetch him huge sums of money. Even then he thought about his mud hut on the bank of the stream. As he stood observing the showcases, it occurred to him suddenly that there might be hidden compartments somewhere here. It is in them most probably that they keep costly ornaments. But, he also knew that it was not easy for him to find them. At the same time, a strengthening obstinacy in him forced him to find out at least one hidden compartment somewhere there. At first he took a view of the inside of the showcase. Then he went on examining minutely each space therein. There was the possibility of a hidden compartment existing somewhere here. It has to be found out at any cost. Opening the almirah he continued to examine each of its surfaces with his fingers. A careful touch would reveal where the hidden compartment was located. Even as he searched for the hidden compartment, the costly souvenirs and artefacts in the showcases also kept luring him towards them. After discovering the hidden compartment and taking out the expensive ornaments from them, the souvenirs should also be carried out along with them. He knew that the house was eyeing him even as he was doing all those things. He was able to grasp that its beholding was quite encouraging. The presence of a human being is felt in the house after so many days. Hushed voices were being heard inside the room. It also occurred to him that the house was asking him to go into the other rooms as well. He was sure that in the other rooms as well there would be collections of expensive things such as these. Everything must be viewed. And all that could be grabbed should be taken out of the house too. Before that it is the spot where the hidden compartment is located that has to be found out. He was firm about that. He kept running his fingers lengthwise and breadthwise over the surface of the showcase. He was sure that a hidden compartment was kept secured somewhere. In it there might be a lot of jewellery too. He went on groping for it without feeling exhausted. At long last when he reached somewhere he knew that the motion of his fingers was getting slow. The finger has found out the presence of something mysterious; they were trembling without any reason. The echoing sound heard when the surface was identified with fingers was something that strengthened his apprehensions. He was certain that its inside was empty. With increased excitement he applied force and prised open the lid of the compartment. A large steel box which was kept hidden in it was now visible to him. As he was lifting the box to place it on the outside, he said aloud without any fear of being heard by anybody else: “This is full of gold, no doubt. And it all shall be mine alone.”
He suddenly felt an urge to go upstairs. It was, perhaps, the house itself that was urging him to do that, he thought. The staircases that he saw there bore no resemblance to any other staircases that he had seen earlier. They were enigmatically constructed close to the walls of the room. Enjoying their beauty he ascended the steps. When he reached the upper storey, he looked around. Although no light was burning in the room, the inside was quite visible. He started to walk into the room without the help of any light. Upon reaching a spot, he saw some people talking in a hushed voice. It was not, however, from inside the house, but from the outside, he knew.
He pressed his ear close to the wall. It was from the house next door that the sounds were coming; voices of three or four persons. One in the medley which went scattering around was that of a woman, he thought. He was astounded. Whose family is this that is engaged in a conversation without going to bed at this odd hour when even the thieves themselves hesitate to venture out? He was curious to know what was going on beyond the walls. He opened one of the upper doors of the window and took a general view of the other side. The windows on the other side lay opened. The room was lit. At first it was a few shadows that caught his attention. After a while he could clearly see what was happening in the room. There were two chairs in the middle of the room. An aged man and an aged woman were sitting on them. Those who were standing around, frightening them, had deadly weapons in their hands. What was going to happen here? Why had been surrounded at the dead of the night? He grieved over his strange fate of standing helpless witness.
What were they going to do? What were they up to? Then a voice from the outside was heard: “Your heirs would never be coming from abroad. They don’t want all these. Now, we are the only heirs to these properties. This is a document stating that you have agreed to hand over all property to us. If you sign under it, we will let you go free. Otherwise, each one of you will die gasping for breath.”
Then the old man said: “We want to see our children.”
It was followed by the cry of the old woman:
“O my children…”
One of the men standing around them hastened: “You cannot delay your decision. Only this night alone is left. Who knows who will be coming over here tomorrow?”
Frightening the old people, they shouted threateningly raising the sharp and deadly weapons around them. He feared that some sharpened weapon would pierce into the bodies of the aged people any moment. He shut his eyes for a while so as to shut out that frightening view.
Suddenly he heard. They were speaking in unison desperately:
“Where shall we sign? Point out the spots. We’ll sign all.”
As they were getting ready to put the documents before them, it started to rain torrentially shielding the room next door from sight. It was hard now to see anything out in the front. In the roar of the rain it was difficult to hear any sound either. Even as he viewed the heavy rain drops falling, the picture of his mud hut on the bank of the stream rose in his mind. But it did not make him restless as before. Some unknown tranquillity had calmed him.
Then he knew that the roar of the rain was slowly petering out. Now he could view the scene next door. He looked into the room next door with curiosity. He could not see anybody in the light. However, he saw two people lying on their backs on the chairs. When he looked intently, he knew that it was they with their necks held upwards, their eyes staring frighteningly out. He shuddered to see that they were eyeing him. Their eyes were reaching out into darkness in his direction. That sight sapped him completely.
It was with completely befuddled mind that he got out of the house. Four eyes were then staring at him. He forgot everything else except this. As he came out of the house with a mind churned by restlessness, he had nothing in his hands.
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U. K. Kumaran (b.1950) is a prolific writer in Malayalam who has published numerous collections of short stories, novelettes, novels, memoirs etc. His works are critically acclaimed and have wide readership. He started off as a journalist working his way up to becoming the Unit Chief of the Keralakaumudi daily in Kozhikode. U. K. Kumaran has occupied important positions in journalists’ organisations and cultural bodies and was the vice president of the Kerala Sahitya Akademi. Political high-handedness, broken families, plight of aged parents jackbooted by mindless children, social unrest and mistrusts have all formed thematic bedrock of his stories. Kumaran has won many highly regarded literary awards including the Kerala Sahitya Akademi award. His novel, Thakshankunnu Swaroopam, undoubtedly the author’s magnum opus, was selected for the prestigious Vayalar Rama Varma Award in 2016.
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K. M. Ajir Kutty (b.1957) is a bilingual writer, translator and poet in Malayalam and English. He has published more than twenty books both in English and Malayalam. He won the M.P.Kumaran Memorial Award for translation in 2009 from the Kerala State Institute of Language. Ajir was chosen for the Jibananda Das Award for translation 2022 at a poetry translation competition jointly conducted by The Antonym Magazine and the Bhasha Samsad, Kolkata. He has also taken the lead in introducing Kerala’s Mappila literature to the English-speaking people at large through his translations.
K.M.Ajir Kutty
Manakoottam Thodi
Edava-695311
Thiruvananthapuram District, Kerala.
Phone: 8547700029 E-mail:ajirkutty@gmail.com
Cover image courtesy: https://www.artranked.com/topic/Gothic
Belabored. In concession I would say that perhaps in Malayalam it would not be so?
However poor the quality of a translation can be, the ‘greatness’ of the original will still get reflected in it. The author phoned me to say that he was satisfied with the translation. He certainly has some better stories than this in Malayalam.