Irulappa Sami & the 21 Goats

Translated from Tamil by Vijaysree Venkataraman

The salty breeze lulled Irulandi Thevar into torpor. The large communal thinnai he lay on induced a special languor. This chest-high platform was inside an open-air hut with a tiled roof propped up by four stone columns. There was a four-tiered sacred pot at the center. If your foot touched the pot, even by accident, to atone for your clumsiness, you’d have to touch the pot with your fingers, and quickly dab your eyes.  

A fearsome form of Kali had sprouted as a rocky outcropping to the east of this hut. Because they feared the goddess, amorous young couples did not linger here, under the cover of darkness. The adults suggested alternative venues for taboo activities: by the reservoir, by the big well, or by the haystack, and they were very strict in this matter. “If you don’t stick to this, Kali will mess up your eyes,” they warned.  

All day long, in this communal space, the men rolled dice, played cards, or engaged in a strategic game of goats-and-tigers. Irulandi Thevar lay there now, with Kandiah Thevar sitting right by his head. Seven men were playing rummy nearby – among them were Irulandi's son, his son-in-law, and Kandiah's son and nephew. In full view of the fearsome Kali, these men were playing dice. At the feet of Irulandi Thevar, men were playing goats-and-tigers. The men were all related to each other by ties of kinship: father and son, uncle and nephew, brothers-in-law and so on. 

Little boys, unused to playing cards, played hide-and-seek near the Niraikulatamman Temple banyan tree. They splashed around in the village wells churning up the mud or simply ran around energetically.  

Irulandi Thevar rested his head in the crook of his left arm. His right arm, which was nestled between his thighs, brushed against a few bumpy scars. And he began to recall how he had acquired these scars. As a younger man, he once led his men to steal goats in Kaulpatti. They had been caught. The cops at Perunali Police Station had dragged a hot metal rod over his thighs. 

Kaulpatti was four miles west of Perunali. Its inhabitants were Telugu-speaking Reddimars. Except for the washerman and the barber. The village had all the arrangements for a well-settled people: Each house had an ox to do the ploughing. Just outside the village, there were well-grown goats, with huge haystacks and cattle fodder to feed them. The reservoir was like an earthen pot with a wide mouth. People would drink the water and offer it to their cattle, but no one could wash their face or feet there. This was a disciplined village that lived by rules, not a place which would tolerate plunder. One could not saunter in and steal goats without consequence. 

Irulandi Thevar was, however, a brave man who could take on ten people by himself. The men who had accompanied him that day to Kaulpatti were no less valiant. Murugesan Thevar was a man who could beat back a whole village single-handedly. Kandiah Thevar, Nagu Thevar, Karuppiah Thevar, Muthu Thevar, Sundara Thevar and Guruswami Thevar were all brave men. When these men set forth with their stick-spears, even an army would retreat! 

That day, the men had gathered under the banyan tree in the Vairavan Temple after midnight. This was during the late-rising lunar phase when the moon would show up after 1 AM. The banyan tree, which had taken root in the barren rock, stood tall. The men, who had gathered, would go out on a raid only if the omens were good – this was the custom. If the owl on the banyan tree leapt from right to left, it augured well for them. No danger awaited them. If the bird hopped from left to right, things wouldn’t go to plan. It would be best to return home.  

With their heavy sandals and black blankets, they squatted, stick-spears in hand, waiting patiently for the sign.  

After a long time, the owl leapt from right to left crying 'Keech....' 

Irulandi Thevar got up.  

“Vairavan has given us the go-ahead,” he said. “Nothing will go wrong. Let us proceed.”    

They proceeded. There were more than ten people. The moon had risen by then. To get to Kaulpatti, they had to cover four miles of cart track, which had thorn forest on either side. Irulandi Thevar led the group. The men talked and laughed as they marched on.  If any of the men spoke or laughed too loudly in the dark wilderness, Irulandi Thevar got angry. Two or three streams crisscrossed their path -- the slush was knee-deep there.  When the men crossed the stream, they carried their slippers in their hands. 

Barely ten steps after they’d crossed the Manipatta stream, they came upon the snake stretched across the width of the cart track, drinking dust. It was thick as a person’s thigh. Irulandi Thevar, who was leading the men, spotted the snake and halted two steps in front of it.  Before the serpent could raise its hood and hiss, Irulandi Thevar hit the snake with his stick and threw its limp body into the thorn hedge. He kept walking. Huge tamarind trees stood like ghosts around the Kaulpatti Reservoir. As soon as the tamarind trees became visible in the moonlight, Irulandi Thevar put his finger on his lips and warned the group to be silent, 'Shush...Shush...'.  

The men quieted their steps and proceeded. They would not go any closer to the village itself.  Rajapalayam hounds guarded every house. If these dogs gave chase and caught the men, they would tear right into the flesh of the men’s thighs. 

The village was sleeping like an abandoned old woman huddling in the cold. Giving the village a wide berth, the men began walking north, towards the reservoir. That is where the goats were – outside the village, in the woods. 

“Walk faster, Guruswamy Thevar-ey!” 

To the north of the reservoir, just four fields away, they could hear the goats.  

Irulandi Thevar pointed with the stick-spear in his right hand. Everyone walked north. 

Sundara Thevar, who felt like coughing, suppressed the cough in his chest. 

"Kandiah Thevar-ey . . . The sound of your slippers...." 

Kandiah Thevar muffled his footsteps. 

The goats were lying down, sleeping. One of the goats sneezed. In the southern end of the pen, a goatherd slept on a rope cot, covered from head-to-toe with a warm blanket. There was a stick-spear alongside the cot; a dog lay curled under the cot. 

“The dawg is sleeping,” said one of the men in a whisper. 

The men were hiding in the border of the next field. Putting down their stick-spears, they wrapped blankets tightly around themselves. They tied their dhoti between their legs in order to move with greater ease. 

"Don't go south or west. Half of you go north; the other half go east. We have to finish this quickly." 

 Each one gripped his stick-spear tightly. Half of them followed Irulandi Thevar to the east; the rest headed north with Murugesa Thevar. 

When a goat kid whined, it sounded like a fresh palm frond was being torn. The goats just lay there making teeny-tiny noises. 

Neither the goatherd nor the dog stirred – they were fast asleep. The men had gotten so close, they could see the color of the goats in the moonlight. Again, Sundara Thevar suppressed a cough. 

“Prr... r,” a goat sneezed. The men stood within a ten-foot distance and assessed the goats. If it was a ram – great, there would be plenty of meat, but if the ram was too well-grown, one would have to run four miles with that weight on one’s shoulders. The men were waiting for Irulandi Thevar’s sign. The goatherd, who was lying on the rope-string cot, rolled over. The dogs did not move. From the east, Irulandi Thevar flung the towel. 

The men reached for the rams they had picked. Gripping the ram’s mouth tightly with the left hand, they squeezed the ram’s larynx hard with the right. Only the faint sound of the rams shaking their legs was audible. The strangled rams could not make any other noise as life left their bodies. The men then lifted the dead ram by both legs on each side and draped the ram’s body over their shoulders like towels. 

The goatherd and the dog were still fast asleep. Holding the goat's legs in the left hand and the stick-spear in the right, the men started running. They would come to the cart track after crossing the border of the third farm. Murugesa Thevar ran ahead. To the men, the warmth of the goat skin on their shoulders felt good in the chill of the night. They reached the cart track. No one was talking anymore. Their pace had slackened a little. They were now running-and-walking. 

Muthu Thevar had not squeezed his ram’s neck right. 'Meh... Meh... Meh...,” it started bleating. Muthu Thevar's grip slipped. When the ram struggled, he let go of it. 

The ram jumped down and continued to bleat, 'Meh... Meh.. Mmeh...’  

Muthu Thevar quickly recovered, bit the goat’s larynx, and spat it out. The bleating stopped. 

'Woof... Woof! Woof!' 

The Rajapalayam hounds in the village were up. All the goats began to bleat. The goatherd threw his blanket aside, picked up his stick-spear, and shouted in the direction of the sleeping village. “Thieves!! Thieves!! …,” he exclaimed. “Come running everyone.”  

All the men with Irulandi Thevar ran on the cart path at a good pace.  Muthu Thevar arrived last. There was goat blood on his chin. The hound had crossed the first farm. The entire village was up by now. 

The people raised a din. 

Sundara Thevar gasped for breath. The men took their slippers in their right hand and made their way through the slush around Manipatha Stream.  The dog was approaching the stream. It was just one field away. Armed with sticks and weapons, the villagers were running towards the cart path, shouting. 

“Wei ra wei ra!”  

The hound was stumped when it came to the slushy ground near the stretch. It ran a short distance on the south bank of the stream and reached a stretch where the water flowed freely. The dog swam up the north bank and chased eastward along the cart track. 

By then, Murugesa Thevar’s group had covered a great distance. The Vairavan temple banyan tree was their destination. At this pace, the men could reach this tree in the time it takes for a man to urinate. Once they reached this tree which marked the boundary of their village, no outsider could touch these men. 

The dog bounded on all fours. The Kaulpatti folks had crossed the Manipatha Stream. 

Wei ra wei ra!  

Once thieves successfully raid a village, there is no stopping them. A place that brooks transgressions can no longer provide a good dwelling for people used to living by rules. To date, thefts had occurred only in the neighboring villages. The women of Kaulpatti wanted to keep things that way. Without even pausing to tie their long hair, they tucked in their saris and went in pursuit of the intruders. 

Wei ra wei ra!  

The dog seized the dhoti of Muthu Thevar, who had lingered. When Muthu Thevar raised his slipper and smacked the dog's mouth, it let go of the dhoti and hung on to his blanket instead. Muthu Thevar dropped his sandals and the goat he was carrying. He also shook off his blanket but held on to his stick-spear. The dog tore at his chest. With his left hand, Muthu Thevar swung the stick-spear and hit the dog’s face. Immediately, the dog seized his right wrist. Muthu Thevar could not pull it away. His stick-spear slipped and fell. With his left hand, he grabbed the dog's upper jaw and freed his right. Stunned, the dog fell into a nearby thorn hedge .  

Before Muthu Thevar could bend down to pick up the stick-spear, the dog leapt onto his back. Muthu Thevar crouched low. 

The men who had gone ahead had covered quite a distance. The villagers were getting closer. 

Wei ra wei ra!  

In the moonlight one could see the crowd approaching. Muthu Thevar flipped the dog over. It scratched him. He pushed the dog onto the thorny hedge.  Thorns pierced Muthu Thevar as he grappled with the dog but with one quick flip the man was back on the cart track. Though the dog was on top, its mouth dripped with blood. Muthu Thevar put both hands inside the dog's mouth and tore its jaw apart. With a heavy thud, the dog slumped onto its back. Muthu Thevar's mouth, hands, and body were now covered with blood. 

Wei ra wei ra!  

The crowd was gaining on him. 

Muthu Thevar got up and re-tied his dhoti. He draped the blanket over his wounds. He picked up the goat, draped it on his shoulder. He held the stick-spear and slippers in his right hand and ran. The banyan tree at the Vairavan Temple was close by. 

The next day, the entire Kaulpatti village was at the Perunali police station. 

The police rounded up all the men who had gone on the raid the previous night, as well as the men who had not gone. With a heated metal rod, they branded the men, who writhed and screamed in pain. Each man got a lick of the hot rod in a different part of the body – cheeks, thighs, hands, neck, stomach, the back. It left a permanent mark on each of them. Irulandi Thevar’s scar was on his thigh.  

---------------- 

When Irulandi Thevar rolled over – recalling the painful end to that nightly outing – Nagu Thevar, who was playing goats-and-tigers, felt the man’s feet on his waist. 

“Stomp away, brother-in-law,” said Nagu Thevar, with a sarcastic smile. 

You must have done something good in your previous life to get stomped on by me in this one…," said Irulandi Thevar. The corner of his lips curled into a smile. He withdrew his legs and tilted his head to resume his nap. There was a dispute over the joker in the rummy game; a small disagreement in the tigers-and-goats game. There was also plenty of laughter all around. 

From the east, Murugesa Thevar came up to this group. 

"Aiyy…Our elder’s son Sethu has arrived from town…" he announced. 

The men, who were playing, turned to look at the bearer of the news. Immediately, they stopped the game of cards, goat-and-tigers, and dice and woke up Irulandi Thevar and Kandiah Thevar. 

Together, they all set out to the elder's house. 

Sethu, who had washed his feet and face, stood in front of his deceased Ayya’s framed picture. Ayya's forehead was smeared with vermilion. When Ayya had gone to rob the house of Kasinathan Chetty in Uchinatham, the people of the village had hacked him to death.  

Sethu’s mother looked at her husband’s picture. Next, she looked at her son standing beside her. She wept. Sethu too was blinded by a rush of tears. When he heard a small commotion, Sethu turned and looked at the entrance. 

"My nephew,"called out Murugesa Thevar, who was at the head of the group, . Sethu came to the door. 

"Greetings, Uncle. Greetings, Chinnaya. Greetings, brother-in-law...,"said Sethu. Everyone was overjoyed when Sethu came forward and welcomed them warmly, his palms pressed together in a prayer-like gesture. 

"When did you arrive...pu?" 

"Just now, Uncle." 

Sethu’s mother spread the mats on the thinnai. Everyone sat cross-legged. 

"Have you joined duty yet?" asked Nagu Thevar. There was a scar on his cheek from that incident at the Perunali Police Station.  

"Tomorrow, Uncle. I will join tomorrow." 

"Where will you work? Which police station?” asked Guruswami Thevar, whose scar was on his right hand. 

"Madathakulam police station, near Palani." 

"You’ll be Sub-Inspector, right?" asked Kandhaiya Thevar whose scar was on his neck. 

“Yes, Uncle. After one year of training, this is my first posting." 

Those who were sitting in the far corner of the thinnai, craned their necks to take a good look at Sethu. 

“He's a good one to wear the uniform,” one said. Everyone concurred. They were so proud of him. 

"Where is your brother?" 

"If I got the Sub-Inspector job, Mother promised to make pongal and butcher a goat for our clan deity Irulappa Swamy. My brother has stepped out to buy a goat kid, so she can fulfill her vow." 

Murugesa Thevar caressed the old scar on his cheek and said, "What...! Did he step out to buy a goat kid? Crazy children! Our boy here has got a job as a Sub-Inspector. Shouldn't we all celebrate together? Tomorrow, our clan deity Irulappan will be offered not one kid, but twenty-one goats," he said, looking at everyone sitting on the thinnai. "Hey... From each family, bring one goat and tie it here," he said by way of an order. 

"But why? There is no need..." said Sethu looking at everyone with a mixture of affection and anguish. 

"Don’t worry, nephew. These are not stolen goats – these are our own." 

Tears sprang to Sethu's eyes as he recalled how his people had been branded criminals and wounded for generations. 

"Sethu... These fellows have a wish...," Murugesa Thevar began. 

"What is it,Uncle? Tell me." 

“You should put on your Sub-Inspector's uniform, sit down, and chat with all of us for a while...” 

Sethu held Murugesa Thevar's hands in his for a moment. 

 "I'll be right back, Uncle," said Sethu, and went inside. All of them kept looking at the inner entrance. 

After a little while, Sethu emerged near the thinnai in his Sub-Inspector uniform. At the sight of his attire, the men rose in panic and picked up the upper cloth from their shoulders. Holding their upper cloth in their hands, they quietly stepped down from the thinnai. Awestruck, they continued to look at him, their young man in uniform.