Onam offering

THE DECCAN HERALD
August 28, 2004

Onam offering

The alleged serpent in the bushes was more like a symbol for their deception

BY K S PARTHASARATHY


On the eve of Onam, my wife and I reached Arpookara, my home town, a scenic village in god’s own country. Fifty years ago, we had celebrated Onam differently. Then Mahabali the legendary king had visited Kerala only on Thiruvonam. He had not worked as a model to recommend the cell phone to any one. May be because then there was no television.


We competed with our neighbours to make attractive flower arrangements in front of our homes. We could pluck flowers from anywhere. Onam brought to my memory the story of the ‘hissing cobra’. Once, my cousin and I went searching for ‘manglavi poovu’. These yellow flowers add lustre to any flower arrangement. I discovered a big collection. Surprisingly, they remained untouched, because Chellamma and Chathu, the unofficial caretakers of the field, guarded them. Besides, they also kept thieves away from tapioca, banana, jackfruit, coconut etc. Occasionally, they helped themselves; but their landlord generously ignored it.


As we reached for the flowers, Chellamma warned us that there were cobras under the bush. She had heard their hissing sound. We were scared. But the flowers were too tempting for us.


We rained stones over the bushes for some time. Chellamma fumed and fretted. She told us that a cobra had bitten an old woman. Her leg was swollen. It had turned blue and had bloated like an elephant’s leg. They had carried her in vain on a bamboo stretcher to the dispensary in the next village.


We ignored the horror story, though the lurid description of the lifeless victim troubled our mind. We went closer to the bush to have a better look. My cousin heard a hissing sound and started running. I am not now, nor was I then, very brave. But I went forward. I saw some huge shining black earthen pots; some milky fluid bubbled over their mouths; the bubbles broke and made a hissing sound. There were no cobras.


Chellamma and Chathu had made illicit liquor and stored it under the canopy of the mini- forest. They sold liquor secretly and had made plenty of money, as the nearest liquor shop was miles away. Relatively speaking, I was not afraid of cobras; but was terribly scared of Chathu. He had bloodshot eyes and a coir-like moustache, which probably filtered the dirt away from the liquor he drank. He always carried a toddy tapper’s knife specially shaped to cut the pods of tender coconut flowers. If Chellamma reported that we had discovered their liquor store, the consequences that would follow were unthinkable.


I could not believe that they had many customers in that decent village. Recently, our maidservant told my wife about the intriguing escapades of the village elders. Chathu is no more. Chellamma was away with her grand daughter. I could not remind her about the story of the hissing cobra.