When I look back, one thing becomes clear to me: no one can help an ill-fated man. Even if someone attempts to help, that ill luck will prove contagious. In life, for one reason or the other, if the society looks at one dismissively, one cannot eliminate it by any means. A stain will remain a stain forever till the end of one’s life. At times one wonders if it is a folly even to attempt to erase that stain. 

I was born into a caste that does not know what marriage is. Elders have maintained that caste as it is. It is into that caste god made me take birth. Recently I heard some ‘intellectuals’ saying that the society might forego traditional regulations and, in the process, might even become immoral unless there is one such caste; so my caste was created. What a justice! To protect the morality of the rest of the society, will they gather immorality into a heap at one place? Will not the stench emanating from that heap contaminate the rest of the society? Under one pretext or the other, it is their bid to keep us where we are. If only their families had lived as we have, they would have come to know. How can they know now? To keep them happy, we are anyway there helping by selling our bodies and lives! Whatever might happen to us, how does it matter to them?

People with aristocratic bearing in the town frequented our house. Srirangam was the important person among the many who came for my mother. After my sister attained puberty, some gentlemen started visiting her. But my sister was not like my mother. She behaved as though she had a grudge against the menfolk and the society that had kept us in such a state. My mother never let others know about the people visiting our house. Even if someone asked, she would say, “Oh! He is not such type! I know him since my childhood. So, once in a while he drops in to enquire about me. Where is he? Where are we? If he steps into houses like ours, that in itself is a great boon for us.” Not that she would lose something if she told the truth. For, after all, what do we have to lose? What has the society left for us to protect? If the truth is let out, the society may look down upon them; so with a concern for their dignity mother said like that. But sister was not like that. If anybody visited her, she deliberately went around telling about it. 

“I cannot live without you”, said a young man. She would then ask, “What can I do for it?” 

He would ask, “Are you loving me?” “God might have written on my forehead that I shall remain with you”, would say she.

“It’s not your body that I want, but your heart” would say he. “Have I no other work except giving my heart to every Tom, Dick and Harry?” she would retort. 

Using one or the other strategy, she ensured that the family of the person who visited us came to know of his visit. My mother, however, didn’t like it. She always scolded her. 

“I haven’t said any lie!” so would confront akka^[1]. 

“They won’t like others to know about it”, amma^[2] would say. 

“Why, then should these kukkala kodukulu^[3] come to my house when they do not want others to know about it?” akka would ask. 

Once an interesting incident happened. It is still fresh in my memory as though happening right before my eyes. 

An elderly man often came for my akka. He was much enamored of akka. He could not stay back without seeing akka even for a day. Somehow she had managed to let his family members know about it. After dusk, his wife came to our house unseen by anyone. She asked if her husband was coming to our house. 

“Yes, he is coming”, said akka.

She requested my akka to see that he does not come again.

“Why don’t you control him yourself?” asked akka.

She said that since they being family-women, they are not like those whose profession is to attract men. So, competing with those professionals they cannot stop their husbands from going to them. She pleaded with akka to leave her husband. 

Angered by these words, akka said, “Well! Why don’t you learn that art from me?” “Along with him, you too can come, I shall train you”. 

She shuddered at these words. A bit shocked. Somehow regaining her composure, she said, “Why all this for me? I am a family-woman.” 

“Aha! Your leading a family-life ... as though you are the only one!” said akka. I know of akka…she can tolerate anything, but if any lady says proudly, “I am a family-woman”, she cannot put up with it.

Without stopping at it, akka asked, “So, why don’t you leave him?”

“I am the one tied with the Mangalasutra^[4] …” said she furiously.

“Oh! You and your Mangalasutra…somehow tied”, said akka. She further added, “I can tie such Mangalasutras seventy per day”.

She simmered with rage on hearing what akka said. Amma tried to calm her down.

“It is childish immaturity, amma! Do not mind her words”, prayed amma. “I shall work out a way”, said amma. But if only akka kept quiet!

“He is head over heels in love with me”, akka provoked her.

“Is this what you call love?” asked she. 

Akka sensed her intention. She must be referring to ‘lust’. “Why anyone would call this love? Coming home somewhere in the middle of the night, putting off the light and tucking into wife’s bed while she is asleep and finishing off before she wakes up, is what perhaps, love is”, said akka. “No need for a good bed! No need for good breeze! Nor even a good word”, said akka.

She could not stay any longer there. She left. After she had left amma scolded akka left and right.

“You will be useless!” said amma. 

“Better to be useless than being what use I am today put to”, said akka. 

Akka is very nice. I know it. But she is terribly dissatisfied with life. That dissatisfaction reflects in her every word. I could not, however, understand the reason behind her dissatisfaction then.

Amma wants me to get educated. Whenever I ask about any goings-on in the house, she would say, “Why do you bother about all these? Coolly study and do some job”. 

I also had a strong desire to study. Indeed, I used to study well. I passed School Final. In those days, I had an acquaintance with a boy. His name was Muralimohan Rao. 

Muralimohan Rao belonged to a caste that practices marriage. I asked him to marry me. By then he was employed. He said he would convince his parents about our marriage, and even if they did not agree, he promised to marry me and live separately. 

I said about this to amma. 

“What, marriage!...stupid”, said akka.

“So long as the fancy runs live, it is marriage. Thereafter, they throw one or the other blame and kick you out. By then if you give birth to two or three children, they too go begging”, said akka.

Akka always spoke like that. Therefore, I didn’t pay any attention to it. It was not that difficult to get the nod from mother. For, she held the view that it was always better for me to get married. However, she said, “It is better to complete education, take up a job and then get married”.

***

We got married. Neither the parents of Muralimohan Rao garu nor his close relatives attended the marriage. Thereafter, we began our married life separately. Muralimohan Rao garu had a great liking for me. But within that intense longing for me, somewhere he harbored a feeling that he had rescued me from bad surroundings. It didn’t hurt me then much. After all, it was true that he had restored me. I also wondered if he had sacrificed his parents and the respect he had in the society for my sake. That’s why when he said, “Don’t bring your relatives to our house; if you feel it necessary, you may visit them once in a while”, I did not feel bad about it. Instead, I resolved that it was my bounden duty to ensure that for the sacrifice he had made, no insult should accrue to him on account of me. I did behave like that. 

“You must stop this profession akka”, said I.

“Why?”

“So long as we are in this profession, we will have no respect in the society!”

“OK, you are married, aren’t you? How much respect do you command in the society?” 

This question really disturbed me. After our marriage many tea parties were arranged. In all those parties, the elite praised Muralimohan Rao garu for sacrificing his ‘self’. There was none to talk about me. Even if somebody ever spoke about me, they only said, “To select a wife from such a caste is only an indication of his large-heartedness and revolutionary perspective”. Some indeed went to the extent of reminding me that, “You have a need to prove that the faith Muralimohan Rao reposed in you is worth it”.

It meant that no one had forgotten about my caste. Nor did they have trust in my character. Remembering all these, I could not answer akka’s question immediately.

“I will ask you about another thing, tell me”, said akka. “Many—claiming themselves to be gentlemen, noble—are coming to our house. We aren’t doing any bad other than what they are doing! How is that they haven’t lost their status in the society? Why nobody is thinking of these things while we befriend them or build relationships with them? They keep coming to us; they do get respect from the society; at the same time they do talk bad of us at every available opportunity”.

True! What akka said was right. But we shouldn’t practice morality for the sake of others. I feel that we must be moralistic for our own sake. 

“Keep aside others’ affairs akka…must we not at least think of ourselves? Tell me, why should we perform such deeds, which put us to shame”, said I.

“Why shame? When people coming to us are not ashamed, why should we bother about it? That aside, like them we are not doing anything in secret! We are not talking like them: saying what is required to be said to people like us and saying what needs to be said to their wives. It is they who are living a deceitful life, life full of lies, an immoral life. They should feel ashamed of themselves. Why we—we are living a royal life.”

That’s how akka used to argue. But I knew the conflict that was in her mind and her anguish. Whatever she outwardly said, I believed that in her heart of hearts she respected my words and would give a thought to them. 

We were transferred from that town. As no support was forthcoming from Muralimohan Rao garu’s parents, maintenance of the family became a bit difficult. Besides, he had a tendency to spend more. Before marriage I too used to spend more on my adornment, but looking at the trouble he was facing I had minimized that expenditure. However, the struggle for money could not be avoided altogether. Fearing that he might think that he had to face financial problems because of marrying me, I had completely stopped expending money on me. Yet, his behavior did not stop from changing gradually.

I came to know of this when he started enquiring me repeatedly about my mother, my sister and the kind of life that we led there. 

“When your people are living like that, you too might have felt living like them!” he started asking me.

“All those who came to your house could restrain themselves from jesting with you?” he used to say.

“During such instances, how were you feeling?” asked he.

Not being sure what he would think if I said something, I remained silent. 

Four or five of his friends used to come to our house. Coming in the absence of my husband, they attempted under one pretext or the other to drag me into conversation. Among them, Sukumar was more at it. He used to come on some false reason. To none of them, it appears, I ever struck as the wife of their friend. I think they only remembered my caste. That was the reason why they used to behave with me like that. They hurt me terribly. However, I saw them off, answering briefly every time. 

Once in a while, I felt like telling him, but fearing what he would think I kept quiet. Where is the need for him to believe in my words? Was I born into a caste that practices marriages? Was I born into a caste that believes in not looking at others once married to someone? He may think that I have fabricated it. For that matter, elders have written in their books that it is normal for people of our caste to make such allegations. So, taking care of myself I passed the time.

As usual, one day, Sukumar came to our house. “Is he in?” asked he.

“No”, said I.

Even then, instead of going, he sat in the chair that was in the veranda saying, “If you have no objection, I will stay till he comes”. Slowly he attempted to drag me into conversation.

In the meanwhile, my husband came. Both of them sat there speaking to each other. After seeing him off, he came inside. 

“Since how long was Sukumar here?” asked he.

“Just before your arrival he came”, said I.

“But why he said like that?”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘I have been waiting for you since long’.”

“He might have said casually”.

But he didn’t believe me. Since then, he stopped talking to me much. He used to go out of house as he pleased. 

I became tired of all this. I remembered akka and amma. Felt like visiting them. One day, I told him that I would visit amma and akka and stay with them for two days and then return.

“As you like”, said he. 

I went home. Seeing me, in a surprised tone, akka asked, “How come, you turned out like this?”

“Why, I am alright”, said I.

“What alright—you fool, you became a typical pativrata^[5] ”, said akka.

Amma too said that I had become lean, lost all my agility of yesteryears, even my very kind of laughing had changed for worse, and was sad.

I spent two days happily there. In those two days, I noticed that no man was coming to our house. I enquired with akka. 

“Now, who would see our face?” said akka.

“Why?”

“When all the family women are becoming like us—who needs us?” said akka with a smile. In that smile I could see all the agony that she suffered in her life surfacing. Meanwhile, amma intervened telling me the truth: Akka had given up the profession of our caste. When I last told about it, she had spoken mockingly to me, but ever since I had left she seemed to have thought over it and came to a firm conclusion and gave up the profession. Hearing those words I felt immensely happy. Hugging my sister, I cried. Akka too wiped her tears. Pulling up myself slowly, “How then are you pulling on the family akka?” asked I. 

“For the time being I have been selling the jewelry one by one”, said akka with a smile.

“How long can it …?” asked I.

“Me and amma—can two of us not survive?” said akka.

I started my way back to my husband with lots of pleasure. All that agony which had been pulling me down all these days was no more. Everything in the world started appearing differently. An undefined pleasure engulfed me, and I was pretty happy. No sooner did I enter the house than I told him about this development.

“How long?” asked he.

“What ‘how long’?” said I in surprise.

“Your akka staying off from the profession?”

“So long as she lives!”

“Ok, then you start”, said he.

How could he say that, no idea! I felt as though I had been stabbed by thousand swords. My heart was torn asunder. Is it because I belong to a caste that does not practice marriage, that he could say anything that comes to his mind! If it were somebody else, would he say!

Since that day my life had become miserable. He used to come home and go at will. To the extent possible he evaded me. Whenever he was not at home, I sat crying. To whom shall I say? Who is having empathy for me? If it is said that ‘this me’ is crying for husband, would anybody believe? 

One day, when he was not at home, Sukumar came; sat leisurely. 

“I am feeling sad”, said he.

“Why?”

Looking at me focused, “Aren’t you yet aware of it?” said he. 

“What?”

“Muralimohan is going to marry again”.

Heard. I had been thinking for long that one day I might hear such news. Yet, I could not overcome my sorrow. Lying on bed, I cried and cried tossing about. By then I missed my ‘periods’. When he came back in the night, I asked him.

“Yes”, he said. “What’s wrong in it?”

“Is it fair on your part? What will be my fate?”

“What difficulty you have? You also stay”, said he.

I was stunned. Sensing my shock, “What’s new? This is normal for your caste!” said he.

On hearing these words, my head reeled. 

Shrieking loudly, I ran inside. If I could get a stone, thought like breaking my head. Centuries of India’s history reeled before my eyes. It was his wish that I should remain a concubine; and it seems there is no wrong in it. To remain thus, is said to be normal to us! 

I remembered akka. I could then understand why akka became that sorrowful hearing the very word ‘society’. Felt as though had been disemboweled. 

I felt it would be a sin to stay there even for a moment; that very night I started for my home. 

It was not clear how he came to know or, who told him, Sukumar came to station. He spoke as though he knew everything. He asked me not to go. If I had no objection, he said, he would take care of me. Finally, he said that he had been loving me since long.

“Since Muralimohan happened to be my friend, I could not say this”, said he.

“Isn’t he your friend even now!” said I. “You say you love me—want me to stay back. You do have a married wife. What will you do with her?” asked I. 

He was a little confused at this question. He looked at me as though I had put a question that I was not supposed to. Finally, he said, “Would stay in one corner”.

Heard it? It is only the change in the style of saying; what everybody says remains the same. Wives will be there; ‘we’ too have to be there.

“Salutations to thee, salutations to your culture; salutations to your wives. Don’t be concerned of us, that in itself is a great boon”, said I.

As I reached home, I found akka alone. Amma had gone somewhere. No sooner did I see akka than sorrow swelled up from the pit of my stomach. Hugging akka, I cried my heart out. Narrating what all had happened, I cried inconsolably.

“It’s alright—stay here”, said akka.

“How are we to manage akka?” asked I looking around the house. The earlier decorations were missing. It appeared that it was ages since the house had even been whitewashed. On one side there were two cots. Only bed sheets were spread on them. Akka and amma slept on them.

Akka did sense my feelings. She took me to the other portion of the house. There were four sewing machines. I could immediately grasp—akka was managing the family by doing tailoring!

“Four more like us are living on this tailoring”, said akka.

“You did a good thing akka”, said I.

I then stayed back with mother and sister. Muralimohan Rao garu married again. All the elders were happy. It seemed that I had behaved improperly, and hence they all resolved that tradition must be followed in marriages. They also recalled how a dog even if it is seated on a throne, cannot stop biting chappals. 

“It’s a bad dream, forget”, was the suggestion what the elders seemed to have given him. Muralimohan Rao garu was anyway ready to accept the elders’ advice and put it into practice!

On hearing these details from various people, my sister said, “Let a male child be born to you, I shall teach him”.

“What will you do akka?”

“I shall raise him, educate him and will make him set fire to these elders’ society”, said she. And she kept saying it. 

*****