From: tstpcc@gwunix1.gwu.edu (Paul C. Chemmanoor)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.indian
Subject: Kumaran's Story [10 & 11] -- Icarus.
Date: 26 Jan 1993 21:55:32 -0600
Organization: UTexas Mail-to-News Gateway
NNTP-Posting-Host: cs.utexas.edu


0] Parts 10 & 11.
   No historical veracity is aspired to.
   Tell me what you think.

1] 
Kumaran's Story --Icarus.
-------------------------

Revolution. - 10
----------------

Where was savi when the red wave swept kerala, and every child older
than ten felt compelled to chant after the leaders:

"Inquilab Zindabad !"

	-- Long live the revolution !

where was she when the hand of the People became the hammer of the Gods,
and smashed to bits the fuedal bonds and the addressing of lanlords as 
"Thirumeni" and the land was taken away from the greedy and given to the
needy ? 

Savi, was ten, caught between the ignorance of tommorow and the memory of
now, between playing teacher and catching herself repeating slogans after the
crowds that marched row opon row opon row.

And there was fire in the streets, people marching with torches, grim with the
vengeance they planned opon their class enemies. And there was broken glass 
that littered the streets, until the children of kerala, who till then 
had walked free as adam and eve in the streets trusting in the benevolence of 
things crushed underfoot , without so much so as a pair of sandals were 
forced to wear things on their feet, and a new cottage industry of leather 
slippers blossommed forth and the well turned ankle seen in quarter-profile 
for a fraction of a instant when it reached up towards the raised footboard 
of a bus became the stuff that stopped the hearts of unemployed youth who 
were the children of eve now grown older.

And who can resist fire ? In the winter of hunger and desolation, 
in the sleet of the humiliation of being made to stand aside for 
someone born higher, and the cold of going to bed hungry and watching 
the rich become fatter, there was a self-perpetuating need for warmth. 

Savi whispers now to her children of days when we felt that we made the 
wheels of history turn.  We pushed and turned it so far, no one, not even 
the government could turn it back.

Savi goes to school dressed in a white blouse that buttoned up to her throat, 
and a blue skirt that covered all but the tips of her toe-nails. 
She has two pencils and one steel-pen.
She has long hair braided down her back. She likes to read about 
little animals.
Her mother whispers to her father, when they lie together, 
that savi wants to be a doctor.

'Penkutti alle, oru teacher aayiyaal mathi.'

	-- She is a girl, it will be good for her to become a teacher.

Besides her father added, then she will read about bigger animals.

Savi whispers now to her children of days when there were people 
Who ate green peppers for lunch and kanji for dinner. Kanji, the 
weak stew that rice made, that so filled without nourishing was the 
blood of the revolution.



Token of Devotion. -11
----------------------

In the depths of revolution there came a crisis so unexpected that it swept 
aside decades of tradition among teenaged malayalis. There were no more poems.
In times past when a pretty woman could be expected to be wooed with pretty 
verses like:

"Walk a little slower,
I am faint with longing,
Roseamma, walk a little slower,
My eyes are drunk with you."



Now the Revolution had taken away the poets.

When Savi walked by Rajan K.' s house, Rajan who was sitting on the edge
of a padded chair looking at the people passing by, when dusk was falling 
and the sun was dipping below the horizon in a blaze of red, was struck 
with apoplectic desire to speak of his love, but couldnt because they had 
taken away the poets.

Savi, looked in his direction, and he was unable to say a word.
In frustration he took the razor-blade that he was supposed to sharpen 
his pencil with to do his homework, and made vicious cuts into the fabric of 
the seat of the chair.  Welts of soft synthetic sponge welled up and he 
pulled at them and grabbed whole handfulls of the material and threw 
them around him.

Savi, smiled at him.

It is not known how this incident spread to the rest of kerala, but within 
a year this ceremony was being repeated with so much devotion that the 
paddings from the seats in buses were removed and there are security 
officers in movie theaters to curb the passion of malayaali youth.



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.    ~ ~                                                                  .
.    o o         signito ergo sum.                                        .
.     |       i sign therefore i am.               paul chemmanoor        .
.     =                                            washington d.c.        .
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