Telling tales

For some unfathomable reason, she did not talk to me much. When I ask her "how are you doing today?" she would look up at her mother and say "Exkckuse me, Exkcukuse me, Exkckuse me! Let's go home Amma". But that day was different. She had an appalam in her hand and she had no choice but to sit and listen to everything I said. The appalam in her hand reminded me of a tale I had heard many years ago. I think it was called 

The curse of the Appalam maker

No one's sure when these events happened but many swear it happened in a place forgotten by all. No one has a clue on the whereabouts of this place. It could have been closer to Madurai. Some believe it was in Tirunelveli. Others think it happened in a village a few miles from Theni. Whereas a few others believe that it took place by the banks of the river Cauvery. But the location of the incident or story is not as important as the occurrences it describes.

The village was not famous for its appalam maker but the people in the village loved appalam. They ate their appalams in multiple of eighteens. Any person who asked for one appalam got eighteen and no one in the village asked for one appalam. One third of the appalams were eaten right at the beginning of meal with nothing accompany. Another one third went in with the food and the final one third went in after the meal; just ahead of washing the hands. The people of the village loved their appalams.

One would think that this would make the appalam maker an important person in the village but he wasn't. He was a poor old man who made appalams 16 hours a day. Yet he did not eat any as the demand for appalams were such that nothing was left for him. People in the village demanded all the appalams and did not give him time to make some for his own consumption. He lived alone in a small hut with a large space surrounding it at the centre of the village. He stayed alone for he did not get the time to marry.

One night, 12 minutes after midnight he died . As he lay dying, he thought about his life. He first felt sad and then angry. All through his life he had worked for the people of his village. Yet no one in the village valued him. His anger increased when he remembered how the villagers had consumed all the appalams he made and had never allowed him to have one. As he let out his last angry breathe, he screamed in his head "I curse all the appalams..." He could not complete the sentence for he died soon after he uttered the word appalams.

It took the villagers three days to discover the appalam maker's death. As the days passed, the stocks of appalam went dry and soon there were no appalams left in the village. The villagers talked to each other and realized that they had no idea how to make appalams. So they started guessing the ingredients. After a day of guessing, they arrived at three recipes for appalam. The first recipe turned too soggy, the second too dry and the third one too bland. On the whole, the villagers could only produce flopalams and not appalams. It had been a few days since anyone had tasted appalam in the village and people felt depressed. One bright person in the village got an idea. He said "let us to go to the next village and get some appalams".

To the utter shock of the villagers, appalams were not available in any of the surrounding village. Each village had its own reason for the non-availability of the appalam makers - off for a wedding, visiting a holy city, down with fever, searching for his brother, his sister's getting married, his father has gone missing, he himself is missing and many other reasons. The villagers were now frustrated and were feeling desperate for appalams. They were unable to eat their food without them. They lost so much weight that they spent their time counting each other's ribs.

Out of desperation, the people went back to their recipes and tried modifying them. They were successful enough to fry something that looked like an appalam but its taste was appalling. By this time, news reached them that appalam makers of the nearby villages had started making appalams. They rushed to the villages and brought appalams back to the village. The appalams were welcomed with fanfare. They drowned the streets with dance, music and songs. The village poet came out with an appalam song that roughly translates to 

Our appalams had turned into apparitions

To make our lives filled with apprehension

For only now did appalams received appreciation

But the appreciation was no longer applicable

For our appalams had turned into apparitions

The happiness was short lived for the villagers discovered that as a result of the appalam making experimentation, the villagers had used their complete stock of oil. In their desperation, they did not realize that they did not even have a drop of oil in the village. In those days, oil was considered valuable and people did not share it readily. The villagers searched high and low before they found a small stock of oil from a benevolent person in a village many miles from their own village.

As the oil was brought back into the village, the villagers celebrated once again. They danced and sang and the village poet had another song in his stock for the occasion, which very roughly translates to

Oil tried to foil our attempt

To fructify our temptation

But we were adamant

To have what we love

Appalam

Almost immediately disaster struck. It started to rain. Not just any ordinary rain but the cats and dogs type of rain. As a matter of fact, it would have been appropriate to call it the tigers and lions type of rain but unfortunately that phrase does not exist and we have to be satisfied with cats and dogs. The villagers ran into their homes and found that the wind had blown the rain into their homes and almost every corner of their kitchen was wet. Thus they could not light the fire to fry the appalam. The rain did not stop that day, nor the next day or the day after that. It rained a full week. Even when the rain stopped, the sun refused to wake up. It covered itself in the dark grey blanket and slept for two more days. When it finally woke up, it did not take off the blanket immediately. It lay twisting and turning under the cloud. The people looked up and prayed. It stretched this way first and then that. It slowly removed the blanket and smiled. The people shouted in elation.

It took another two days for the kitchens to dry up. When the villagers were sure that they could light their stoves, they did so. They placed their frying pans on the fire and poured a pool of oil into it. Everyone in the village were inside their respective kitchens. They stood around the stove and watched the oil boil. When the oil was hot enough, an appalam stepped into it tentatively. As soon as the appalam came in contact with the hot oil, it stretched itself. As in the case of the sun, it seemed that the appalam had woken up from a long slumber. The family members looked at the blooming appalam with pleasure.

In each home in the village, the families stood around the fried appalam and looked at it with admiration and happiness. It had been many months since they had seen an appalam. Many had lost hope that they would ever see an appalam. Their mouths were watering and stomachs growling, yet no one had the heart to take a piece off the appalam. The oil continued to boil on the frying pan but no one cared. Finally, the appalam was picked, split into a number of small pieces and given to each member of the family. They marveled at their respective pieces of appalam for sometime. Slowly they bit into their precious piece. Almost immediately their expressions changed. Some spit out of the piece of appalam while others swallowed it. Shouts of protest reverberated through the village.
"What is this thing?"
"This is not appalam!"
"I have not tasted anything this disgusting in my life."
"Guck"
"Oh God! This is terrible."
"Who calls this appalam?"
"Ewwww!"
"Cheeee!"
"Aiyooooo"
"Hey! This is not appalam."

The appalam tasted very different from their own. The villagers could not eat the new stocks of appalam. They continued their search for the perfect appalam for many months time but they did not succeed to find it. They stopped eating appalam from that day. From that day appalam was relegated to the role a side dish and no one ate more than three or four appalams during a meal. With time, the village broke up and the villagers spread out across the land. But even now one can identify a person whose ancestors came from the village. If a person responds with a "no" when offered an appalam, you know where his/her ancestors came from.

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The appalam took a long time to disappear into her insides for listening to plight of the appalam eaters forced the appalam to be suspended a few inches from her mouth for a long time. By the time the story ended, her mother placed a bowl of thayir saadam in front of her. This turned out to be a fortunate (or unfortunate) turn of event as it reminded him of the story about

The Goddess of Thayir Saadam

He was a Chalukya spy who entered the Pallava empire in the guise of a cloth seller. In his village, it was believed that a Chameleon had bit him during his younger days as he has the ability to change himself to fit in any place. Over the years he had traveled to many places and at every place he had merged well with the locals. Only the Chalukyan emperor knew of his real identity. He readily traveled to the places that the emperor asked him to go to. At most times, he enjoyed traveling to these places and lived happily among the locals. He liked to learn and imbibe their customs. The only place he did not like to visit was the Pallava empire. There was only one reason for this dislike - thayir saadam. The citizens of the Pallava land loved this dish and he hated it. He liked curd and he liked rice but he did not like to mix the two. He had visited many places where people mixed these two dishes. But the Pallava citizens loved the dish so greatly that they looked at anyone who did not like the dish with suspicion and as you all realize, the last thing a spy wants to attract is suspicion. So he ended up eating the hated dish and spent many hours feeling nauseous. 

In the years leading to the attack by the Chalukyan emporer on the Pallava empire, many spies infiltrated the Pallava empire. It is believed that in those days nearly 72% of all the visitors to the Pallava empire were Chalukyan spies. This meant that he, being a super spy, spent many days eating thayir saadam. On one such trip, he landed in a small Pallava town by the sea. As he walked through the streets of the town, he was disturbed by the number of stalls selling thayir saadam. Within minutes of entering the town, he felt nauseous and the contents in his stomach decided to have a whiff of fresh air. They promptly jumped out. A few people came for help. Some helped him sit down on a stool. Others provided water to him. One person fanned him with a piece of cloth. Another person shoved a cup of thayir saadam at his face and said "Have some thayir saadam; it will make you feel better." He felt the remaining contents in his stomach come up through his food pipe. They, ultimately, broke free from him.

The man who offered the thayir saadam said "Good God! This is serious. We have to take him to the thayir saadam amman and give him some prasadam". They lifted him and carried him through the streets of the town. They reached a medium sized temple. They walked into the temple and lay him down in front of the goddess. The priest chanted a bit of this and that as he showed the flame to the Goddess who smiled at him. The fragrance of the camphor and incense reached him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at the Goddess. She looked right back at him. He, using his eyes, informed the Goddess of his plight. The Goddess gave him a benign smile. He closed his eyes and let a smile linger on his lips. The priest ended his chanting with the phrase "kalakalakalakala kalki" in honour of the goddess'consort Kalki (this ancient but long forgotten god should not to be confused with the last of Vishnu's avataraa) The priest walked to him officiously. He pushes some of the fumes from the flame on to his face and placed a line of kumkumam on his forehead. He then handed a plate of prasadam to one of the persons who had brought him to the temple. The person took a bit of the prasadam and placed it inside the spy's mouth.

The spy chewed on the prasadam with pleasure. He was reminded of his favourite food from home. It had been years since he had eaten this food. He took another mouthful of the food. It reminded him of home, a place that he had kept hidden in what he thought was an inaccessible corner of his heart. He got up and took the plate of prasadam from the person's hand and looked at it with shock. It was thayir saadam. He took some on his fingers and tentatively placed it on his tongue. It tasted the same as earlier, his favourite dish. He finished the plate of prasadam, got up and bowed to the Goddess and left.

Since that day, thayir saadam turned out to be his favourite food. His work inside the Pallava empire led to the Chalukyan emperor's victory over his Pallava counterpart. Ironically, in the course the battles, the temple dedicated to thayir saadam amman was destroyed and the goddess has since been forgotten.

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The story telling had made him thirsty and he ordered a hot concoction that reminded me of a famous story with a name that can only be revealed later.

His name probably had a prefix or suffix but no one had any idea about it. He was simply called Pal. When someone asked him "What's your first name?", he responded "Pal". When the mentioned someone persisted with "what's your last name?", he responded "Pal". This someone was by this time annoyed and in frustration uttered "But Pal cannot be your name, there should something else ahead or behind." Pal responded "No pal! Pal is my name; the only one I have and the only one you should use when you call me." The people were perplexed for they had the question "what does Pal mean?" Pal obviously did not care to answer but people speculated.

"He is from Bengal and Pal is his surname".

"He is from South where Pal means milk."

"Look at how white his teeth is! Pal means teeth in the South."

"Pal means moment. He is a person who lives in the moment."

"Pal mean fruit. He is the fruit of his parent's prayers."

Pal did not have anything to say. He smiled and sometime he laughed. Pal was not born in the village. He landed in the village on his eighteenth birthday. He was found quite dramatically lying face down in the centre of the main lane of the village. The earliest riser of the village was on her way to the village well to draw water, when she saw him. She dropped the vessel she was carrying, placed the backside of his palm on her mouth and screamed a healthy scream. The vessel fell with a clank and kept clanking as it rolled happily to the edge of the road. The noise was loud enough to wake up the entire village. The village rooster was startled out of his sleep too. He looked out of his coop and was shocked to find the entire village up and running around the place. He uttered "What!" in rooster language, kicked a straw in frustration and went back to sleep.

People gathered around the sprawled figure and looked at him. They were not sure if he was alive or dead. Slowly one of the person touched his hand. "He's alive" he declared. The people let out a collective sigh of relief, which was loud enough to wake the rooster again. He covered his ears with his wings and went back to sleep. Another villager got down and shook the sprawled figure awake. He got up with a start and looked around in bewilderment. Questions poured on him from all sides.

"Who are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Do you understand us?"

"Why have you come here?"

"How did you come here?"

He looked at each face as the questions landed on him. After looking around for sometime, he got up and held his hands up to silence people. He said "I will tell you in a moment. Can I wash my face?" Soon he was sitting at the village tea shop with a glass of tea in his right hand. The villagers crowded around him as he recounted his story.

"I come from a land far away from here. I live with my uncle and aunt or maybe they are my father and mother. I am not sure. I call them uncle and aunt. So they might be my uncle and aunt. Last night I went to sleep at the usual time, which is a minute after the fireflies extinguished their lights and a minute before the owls started their hooting. But last night was different. The owls did not hoot. I had got used to the owl's hooting and last night when they did not hoot I woke up. I sat up on my bed and thought for a moment. Then I looked out of the window. I fell back on the floor as I saw the owl sitting on the windowsill and pointing at something with its wings. All at once, it started hooting  You would think the hooting should have helped me to sleep but you should understand I sleep a minute before the hooting starts. Once the hooting starts it becomes too noisy for me to sleep and so I was unable to sleep. I looked at the owl and I saw it point its wings with greater desperation in the same direction as earlier. Before I could get up, the owl flew away and the pointed ears of some creature appeared.

Soon the face of a wolf appeared. It stared at me through the window. It looked at me with an evil glint in its eyes or so it seemed. I realized that it was not a wolf but a hyena when it started laughing. I was annoyed. How dare the Hyena come out of nowhere and laugh at me. I got up and protested with a 'Hey!' The Hyena stopped laughing and to my utter shock it said 'take it easy Pal' You ask 'who is Pal?' I am Pal for Pal is my name. I rubbed my eyes. The hyena laughed and said 'shouldn't you rub you ears? You can only hear me talk and not see me do so. So what is the point rubbing your eyes." I was positively bewildered by that time and the bewilderment helped me utter my first words 'Gak wok a uk?' The hyena laughed and said 'Sorry! I don't Russian'. Somehow that seemed funny. The Hyena could speak and that too in my mother tongue but it does not speak Russian. What! You don't find it funny? Well! I found it funny and I laughed. The Hyena had not stopped laughing and so it continued laughing. We must have laughed for quite loudly for I thought I heard the owl say "For heavens sake please be quiet'. I stopped and called out a 'sorry' to the owl who promptly responded with a "its alright'. I would have laughed again but there were questions to be asked.

'Are you a hyena and what are you doing here?'

'Oh! Is that how you see me? A Hyena is it? Nice! I always wanted to be a Hyena. No wonder! Now I get it! I was wondering why I felt so happy. As I am a hyena, I am laughing and so I am happy. That makes sense doesn't it.'

'Sense! Nothing makes sense.'

'That's true. I have always wondered where that bright ball goes when the light is turned off. It did not make any sense. You know what's weird? Another ball comes up sometimes when the lights are turned off. But this one's not as bright as the other one and ... Listen to this; this is spooky. The ball in the darkness becomes smaller till it disappears and then comes back again. Do you know what those balls are?'

'Of course I know what they are! The sun and the moon'

'The sun and moon is it? If you say so. But which one is the sun and which one is the moon?'

'The mornings are brightened by the bright ball called the sun and in the nights as the Earth turns away from the sun the moon reflects the light from the sun.'

'Oh, is that so? But why does the moon become smaller and then bigger?'

'The moon runs around the earth too and in the process we are unable to see all the light reflected by the moon.'

'From what you say I presume we are on earth.'

'You presume correctly. But tell me, who you are?'

'Did you not say that I am a Hyena?''

'You look like a Hyena but you are no Hyena'

The Hyena laughed and said 'That seems to be true. While it is easy to decipher the truth of who I am not, it is almost impossible to find who I am.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have been around and I see things. Some days I am here and on other days I am somewhere else.'

'How long have you been here?'

'Only now.'

'And yesterday?'

'I don't know where. I don't remember. I have no memory'

'Are you a ghost?'

'What is a ghost?'

'The spirit of the dead or so it is believed.'

'I am not dead. Do I seem dead to you?'

'No, you don't seem dead. Are you God?'

'What is God?'

'God! Hmmmm! I don't know how to say this. Hmmmmmmmm! Maybe we can say that God is the one who has created all this and who runs all this.'

'No! I am not God. I don't even know who I am. Besides I don't even know about the sun and the moon till you mentioned it and I will forget it soon. So I cannot be God. But tell me, does it matter who I am?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'I mean, I have to know who I am talking to.'

'Why?'

'Else it will be quite silly.'

'Why?'

'I could be talking to no one or nothing and that would be silly'

'I see that you are scared of the word silly'

'Sure. It will be silly if you are not scared of being silly and then everyone will think you are silly.'

'How silly!'

'Please stop! Tell me who you are!'

'I am not sure who I am and why I am here. I am probably something silly but I exist and I go from place to place searching for people to talk to and sometime when I like them I help them.'

'How do you help them?'

'By helping them do something that they should be doing but are not doing for some reason.'

'Do you like me?'

'More than anyone else.'

'... and you will do something for me that I should be doing but am not doing.'

'How perceptive! I like you more than any other. So here we go!'

The next thing I remember is one of you waking me up."

When he completed the narration, they looked at him with disbelief. Some said "Wow!" and others "Nonsense!". While some said "How fantastic!" others remained sceptical. Finally one of them said something that was to everyone's agreement. 

"You are a story teller Pal. Your stories have a lot of masala in it. You no ordinary Pal pal, you are Masala Pal."

The fantasies of Masala Pal
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