Beachside Musings
The Marina makes a lovely place at dusk. Laughing kids, pensive adults, the smell of hot bajjis wafting through the air, unsure tourists, love smitten couples, old folks' banter, cotton candy, colorful kites, sundal kadalai (groundnuts), balloon shooting, popcorn, kili josiyam (parrot-astrology), merry-go-rounds, malligai poovu (jasmine flowers), beggars, etc. A truly beautiful cocktail of spectacles.
Yesterday, as I sat on the sand, watching the ocean, an old man came towards us; stooping torso, staggering gait, turban covering the forehead, dirty trousers and a faceful of misery.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.' Please buy me some food good lady. You shall be blessed. You shall have a boy child.
The words were uttered with the rhythm unique to Indian beggar talent. He was addressing my mother, more precisely, frightening her. Helplessly, she thrust a coin into his outstretched hand (the easiest means of getting rid of the character). Maybe she'd done the right thing for if he'd lingered a moment longer, God save the beggar.
He could have foretold a million other things for popcorn or money... A good job, a salary raise, health, cancellation of the reservation quota, a cruise, a limousine, Presidency of the USA, or even the most ridiculous of all, another sibling for me (I'm 20). But why a boy? Why not a girl? Why did he say that? He could just have predicted a baby, leaving the assumption of gender to the magnanimous(?).
He wasn't the first to instigate 'not very heartening' thoughts within me. I've heard similar echoes at many other places.
At the labour ward, where the tired mother of a 5 minute old baby begged the doctor to dispose of her newborn girl. There was fear in her eyes. I wouldn't entirely blame her. Many horrendous reasons lurked behind the desperation; a husband or parent(s)-in-law who would accept nothing but a boy child, fear of isolation, of being sent back to her parents' home, the threat of a second marriage by the husband to try his luck at having a boy baby, and in some extreme cases, the threat of murder.
When I'd gone to see a friend's beautiful little baby, her grandmother had expressed her disappointment to all but this beggar at the beach that it was a girl instead of the boy she'd hoped for.
A man pleading with a doctor for a MTP for his wife because a girl child showed up in the ultrasonograph.
Girls landing up at destitute homes because their parents couldn't 'rear and maintain' them. It wasn't hard for them to raise their male progeny though.
Back to Marina....
A couple.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
'Enakku erkanavae kuzhandhai irukku pa'. I already have a child.
He stood there unmoving, chanting rhythmically. The man got rid of him using a coin.
The next target, a big family. Correcting himself midway through an addressal directed at an old lady, he walked over to a younger lady in the group.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
A wailing kid drew all the attention away from him.
Two college girls.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
'Ayyooo! Po pa! Enakku aambala pullaiyum vaendam, pombala pullaiyum vaendam. Ippo dhaana vandhuttu pona. Poyidu!'. Damn! Go away! I don't want a boy baby, not a girl baby either. You'd come begging just sometime back. Get lost!
The girl was almost screaming.
I watched as he walked way, stoop disappearing, steps surer and faster, and turban cloth carelessly slung around the neck, his hands steadily gripping the ends. The eyes now devoid of misery, caught mine, eyeing him. I did not avert my gaze. He turned away and walked, in search of greener (no pun intended!) pastures.
I went back to sifting sand between my fingers. I was living. I was grateful. I wasn't murdered before I was born and ever since.
Yesterday, as I sat on the sand, watching the ocean, an old man came towards us; stooping torso, staggering gait, turban covering the forehead, dirty trousers and a faceful of misery.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.' Please buy me some food good lady. You shall be blessed. You shall have a boy child.
The words were uttered with the rhythm unique to Indian beggar talent. He was addressing my mother, more precisely, frightening her. Helplessly, she thrust a coin into his outstretched hand (the easiest means of getting rid of the character). Maybe she'd done the right thing for if he'd lingered a moment longer, God save the beggar.
He could have foretold a million other things for popcorn or money... A good job, a salary raise, health, cancellation of the reservation quota, a cruise, a limousine, Presidency of the USA, or even the most ridiculous of all, another sibling for me (I'm 20). But why a boy? Why not a girl? Why did he say that? He could just have predicted a baby, leaving the assumption of gender to the magnanimous(?).
He wasn't the first to instigate 'not very heartening' thoughts within me. I've heard similar echoes at many other places.
At the labour ward, where the tired mother of a 5 minute old baby begged the doctor to dispose of her newborn girl. There was fear in her eyes. I wouldn't entirely blame her. Many horrendous reasons lurked behind the desperation; a husband or parent(s)-in-law who would accept nothing but a boy child, fear of isolation, of being sent back to her parents' home, the threat of a second marriage by the husband to try his luck at having a boy baby, and in some extreme cases, the threat of murder.
When I'd gone to see a friend's beautiful little baby, her grandmother had expressed her disappointment to all but this beggar at the beach that it was a girl instead of the boy she'd hoped for.
A man pleading with a doctor for a MTP for his wife because a girl child showed up in the ultrasonograph.
Girls landing up at destitute homes because their parents couldn't 'rear and maintain' them. It wasn't hard for them to raise their male progeny though.
Back to Marina....
A couple.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
'Enakku erkanavae kuzhandhai irukku pa'. I already have a child.
He stood there unmoving, chanting rhythmically. The man got rid of him using a coin.
The next target, a big family. Correcting himself midway through an addressal directed at an old lady, he walked over to a younger lady in the group.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
A wailing kid drew all the attention away from him.
Two college girls.
'Un kaiyaala saapadu vaangitha thaaye. Unakku punniyam kidaikum. Unakku aambala pullai porakkum.'
'Ayyooo! Po pa! Enakku aambala pullaiyum vaendam, pombala pullaiyum vaendam. Ippo dhaana vandhuttu pona. Poyidu!'. Damn! Go away! I don't want a boy baby, not a girl baby either. You'd come begging just sometime back. Get lost!
The girl was almost screaming.
I watched as he walked way, stoop disappearing, steps surer and faster, and turban cloth carelessly slung around the neck, his hands steadily gripping the ends. The eyes now devoid of misery, caught mine, eyeing him. I did not avert my gaze. He turned away and walked, in search of greener (no pun intended!) pastures.
I went back to sifting sand between my fingers. I was living. I was grateful. I wasn't murdered before I was born and ever since.
posted by Tangentielle at 10:35 pm
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