Chapter 1
He was born a bad boy. Because he did not cry as a normal child, when he came down from his mothers womb, and the attending nurses had a tough task making him breathe for the first time.
The fate scoffed at him, but the temerity with which he subdued all the odds against him was rather unexplainably enigmatic.
They got him after offering a huge wide copper bowl (called Uruli in the local lingo) to appease the snake Gods, in Mannarashaala, in Kerala.
His Mother , then a timid lady spend all the time watching which of his limbs grew, but his Father was not so lucky. He lost his life soon after the child ’sixth birthday , in an tragic accident!
So that was he. And he grew up to be an indifferent, defiant, prodigal son, against all the prayers and penance his mother religiously performed, in vain.
Palghat in the early 1950’s was just a small town in central Kerala, and it reminds one immediately about the huge nude statue of Yakshi* with her round bosoms jutting out erotically and gazing wildly at the visitors, adorning the gardens around Malampuzha, * where this boy used to play hide and seek with his friends and had his very first lessons in life and love!
Let us call him Unni, for convenience, as his real name was quite long and pretty difficult to remember!
Unni , unlike the children of his age, showed interest in playing the hero, and talking to the girls whenever they were around . At the age of four, it was really embarrassing for his mother who often drew him away from the scene, when his display turned into annoying exhibitionism!.
Several times his mother had a tough time keeping a track of his mischievous day out, yonder in the nearby barn, or up the mango trees ,which were so many around an acre of land surrounding the desolate house .She cursed herself for offering the Uruli to the Snake Gods!
The boy would never change, and infact the more he was admonished and cajoled he went into a outburst of anger and behaved hysterically, and the poor mother could hold no more, would give up!
After the death of his father, Soumya worked day and night to eke out a living as her husband did not leave that kind of legacy to survive on. She could find a few nearby households offering her with domestic works, and then she used to stitch and sell frocks and other apparel for the new born and babies in a humble way.
She put Unni in the neighboring government school which provided Kanji, (Gruel made of rice) and bean curry in the noon, so that she need cook only for the night .The morning could be managed with the rice made the previous night , kept soaked in water. With a pinch of salt and a slice of green chilly, it was the most savory dish, the poor could relish!.
Unni did not like the soggy meal but he could not get anything else, and his mother would threaten to offer it to the mongrel, which often visited their kitchen (only to steal something), if he did not take it!
The creaky, kitchen door barely dangling on its rusty hinges with deeply torn edges eaten away by the hungry termites, and washed to the skeleton, incessantly in the rains, opens onto the whole universe, as Unni recollects. It was always the usual exit route for him without being noticed by
