In the complex words of Vellamalai village, he wasn’t even considered a man at all. The classical terminology wherein a man who sleeps with more women than the rest was considered the ‘manliest man’ had been deemed to be illogical. The real definition of a ‘man’ in Vellamalai was his righteous actions and strong decisions that led his family to happiness. He was, sadly, a pariah in the village. Everybody but Pazhani knew it. Obviously, they had to maintain their own lives, which prevented them from informing him about the reality of his unclean lifeways or even talking to Pazhani.

It was, in fact, his honesty that damaged his reputation. When he was eight years old, his Aatha1 made him vow that he would never lie again in his entire life. This promising action took place since Kannayya, Renukamma's husband was a habitual liar. He would lie not to deceive, but to cope with the unpleasant realities of life. Kannayya could lie as easily as a toddler might breathe in the fresh breeze. Kannayya lied so

frequently that everyone drowned in his deception. Unfortunately, one day he too had to drown as well. Kannayya drowned in reality. Mayanadhi's floods took his nearly decomposed corpse from Senthuru to Neerooru after a strong downpour caused Mayanadhi's waters to spill over every bank it crossed.

The fishermen at Neerooru rejoiced in the beginning. Poor judgment skills made them think that they caught a big one. Senthil, the captain of the small-sized boat, shouted: “We’ll all get Scotch tonight, my friends! Scotch! This fish seems to be humongous!” Once Senthil and his crew found out it wasn’t a fish but a human, they began to sweat and think that they would be fortunate if they even got to taste the local Thaati Kallu2 or maybe even Saarai3! Senthil paused and looked at the body. It had a tattoo: Renu. It was a Pachakutharathu4. A Pachakutharathu that was lettered in English. And that sweet Pachakutharathu belonged to only one man’s left

chest in the entire Tamil Nadu in 1948: Kannayya’s. They carried his pungent body to Renukamma’s hut on a bullock cart and she fainted the second she saw her husband’s body that retired from being a liar. The woman who lived as her neighbour sprinkled some water on her and shook devastated Renukamma. As she woke up, a confused little boy walked up to her and asked why she was crying. This boy was Pazhani.

He was never attached to his father. This lack of attachment made him almost completely desensitized to his death. Looking at her only child being so numb towards his father’s death made her more heartbroken. She looked at the sky with her eyelids nearly closed and spoke some inaudible mantras, and then held her son’s palm on her balding head asking him never to lie again in life.

“How can I lead a life without lying? Even Perumal 5 himself could not control his habit of lying, Aatha!”

“I don’t care about any God now! No God saved me from becoming a widow! Your father said he was going to a whorehouse and not on the boat. Initially, I was upset. But now I’m… speechless. Husbandless!” “Aatha, I promise you that I will never lie, but at the same time I will live my damned life living the lie my father could have lived instead of lying!” He spoke in haste after seeing his beloved mother cry, more in sadness than in anger. He had no idea what a ‘whorehouse’ meant, but that did

not stop him from speaking a sentence he shouldn’t have. A sentence that changed lives more than he thought would get affected. _

Sarala, a forty-seven-year-old woman was one of Pazhani’s closest friends if being a friend meant that they had sex with each other and one of them profited financially with such a ‘friendship’! Sarala wasn’t a prostitute; she was a friend who could easily manipulate Pazhani and make him get her gifts. However, Pazhani was tired and Sarala was anxious three days before Pongal. Sarala broke the silence first, by asking if anyone saw him enter her hut.

"Your hut? I believed it was Anbu's!" Pazhani groaned and chuckled tiredly.

“Did Rangamma see you? Tell me, Mama6!” whispered Sarala loudly. Loud enough for it to reach Pazhani’s ears.

“No! For Perumal’s Sake! She didn’t, okay? Why are you acting like Anbu’ll come in two days? Huh?” asked Pazhani. His temper was at its edge. It was like a ritual for him to sleep next to Sarala; he slept next to every woman in a ritualistic way. Unfortunately, none of them knew why it was so divine for Pazhani. It seemed like an addiction in the beginning. Later, it was just a blunt realization that he was stuck to a child’s promise like a bee to honey.

“You’re nearly accurate. My husband will reach this hut tomorrow. Before the Sun sets at Vellamalai, he’ll be here with Jasmine flowers in his hand” informed Sarala.

“So, tonight… we cannot do it?” asked Pazhani innocently, with a tiny amount of hope still lurking in him.

“I don’t comfortable sleeping with you and then with my husband the night after.”

“Damn you, woman. Don’t you know that I need to engage myself in sex at least thrice a week?”

“That everyone in this judgemental village knows. They know your story as well” said Sarala in a playful manner. Silence followed her sentence. Sarala poured some gingelly oil into the nearest lamp and placed the bright source of light near Pazhani’s knees. The light from this brass lamp showed Sarala who Pazhani was underneath. A tear slid down his cheek

and reached its destination: his chin, where the tear hung to his chin like a babe to its mother’s breast.

“Mama! What happened? Come, let’s do it then. Did you cry just for some sex? You are sixty-eight years old. A big man. I won’t let you cr…” spoke Sarala as she was interrupted by Pazhani’s louder cries.

“Why am I like this? In Vellamalai, no one is like me. Everyone has their own family. Children. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. A man like me is making women like you half-wives and half-prostitutes. Half a life is wasted. I got stuck on to the meaningless promise I made to my dead mother, and now I’m addicted to sex! Tell me, where will I find an actual prostitute and not a woman as pure as sandal like you?” cried Pazhani bitterly.

Sarala began to cry too, looking at her Mama cry. “This is what happens when you go so far inside something's jaws that you believe you can control its teeth but can only see the marks on your body. Go now. Go to Kishnapuram. Over there, every single woman is whore, not by choice,

but by fate. You will not be less of a man there. In my opinion, at least.” 

Pazhani got his token from the man in front. It wrote a number on its greasy yet dry surface: #23

He navigated to room number 23. He knocked on the wooden door. It was firm and hard.

“I’m changing inside. Give me a minute, Aiyya7!” softly spoke the cuckoo-like a voice from inside the room.

He was anyways going to see the entirety of her in a while. What audacity and hypocrisy! He waited patiently. “Listen, son: Patience is the most important thing that a man needs after his ability to judge women. Women are not created to be understood, but to be reciprocated with love because they are all complex flowers!” stated Pazhani’s Aatha. Hence, he waited.

The door opened and a beautiful young woman was at the opening end. She looked to be around the age of thirty. Maybe thirty-two. Her face was beautiful. She had a birthmark on her hip, like a beauty spot. “My name is Pazhani, I’m from Vell…”

“Is this a ration kadé8? Why the hell are you giving me your… your biodata? Just come and get done with me!” the woman interrupted rudely. A second later, as she was removing the safety pin of her blouse, she

stopped. So did Pazhani, who was halfway through removing his lungi9. Confused, he asked: Is everything okay?

“Tell me your name, Aiyya?” the stunned woman spoke in a tone that resonated with unbelievability.

“Pazhani. You only said that this wasn’t a ration kadé. And now? You’re only asking about the stuff I was telling you minutes ago. Huh? Sometimes too much sex can get your brains, woman!” grunted Pazhani patiently. He wasn’t topless as he spoke but easily removed his brown lungi; making him ‘bottom-less’!

Pazhani, ah? Where are you from? You said you were from Vell…?” “Vellamalai. Sixty kilometers from here. Why what happened? Don’t like me? That isn’t any of my problems. Now, strip girl! I don’t have much time.”

Her eyes began to well. She held the pillar in the room and began to cry; softly in the beginning but dramatically and loudly as the seconds moved forward. She screamed after stuffing her starched saree in her mouth; this made her screams sound muffled. Mixed up with excitement and disappointment, he listened to a woman for the first time in his life. She was screaming “Aiyya! Aiyya! Why did it have to come to this? Kadavule10! You’ve made me a vebichari11 who has had her father himself reach her to sleep with her, ah? Why, Kadavule?” As she beat her forehead, with both her hands, Pazhani stopped her and still couldn’t realize the obviousness of what was happening. He asked the woman, what happened. And she answered: “Aiyya, I may be called Laila in this brothel, now. But I am your daughter. Janagi. Your wife, Parvathy’s daughter. I was 6 when I absconded with Aatha and Sathisanna. Do you remember? At least, now?” asked Janagi with tears overflowing her eyes.

It was overwhelming for Pazhani as well. He could not remember anything about his family that existed with him forty years ago! Slowly, inch by inch, he dragged himself to a memory that should have been strong. Yes, his wife Parvathy and daughter Janagi. And his eldest son, Sathisa too. “All of them, why did you run away?” he asked Janagi in pure anger. “Wasn’t living with me satisfying for y’all? Was I too poor?”

“Poor or rich, doesn’t count Aiyya! Virtue does! And you slept with every possible woman in the village. Have you ever thought of how that made the three of us feel?" asked Janagi with a boiling temper. “Then, why on Earth did you become a prostitute? Aren’t there many jobs that fit your competence?"

“Competence? How would Sathisanna and I develop competence if Aatha could join work anywhere? How do you think an unknown woman from some other Ooru12 is treated? She'll be mistaken for having premarital sex! Instead, of being someone who is called a whore, but isn’t one, all three of us thought it’d be a better alternative if we became what

society called us to be! I became… A prostitute at fourteen, Aiyya! At fourteen!”

“The three of you? What happened to Sathisa?” Pazhani asked confused. “He… Uh… Became a woman now, Aiyya! Janagi broke the shocking news.

Hearing his daughter’s words, Pazhani punched the wall. Once.

Twice.

And when he almost punched thrice, Janagi stopped him. “Even if you punch a hundred thousand crore times you can never undo what has happened” smiled Janagi with immense pain.

“I know one thing that’ll make me forgive myself by just a tiny bit.” “And Aiyya that is?”

With fury bubbling inside him, Pazhani walked to the pimp and slapped him once on the right cheek and thrice on the left.

“From today, you are going to be a beggar. I am single-handedly going to break your business!” grinned as tears made his eyes red like the Sun during its eclipse.

“And how the hell are you gonna do that? Kill all my whores?” said the young man confidently.

“No”, said Pazhani. “I am going to adopt all of your sisters as my daughters!”

-The End

1. Aatha - An affectionate term for a mother
2. Thaati Kallu - Palm wine. Known by several local names, Thaati Kallu is an alcoholic beverage created from the sap of various species of palm trees such as the palmyra, date palms, and coconut palms
3. Saarai – Country liquor
4. Pachakutharathu – Traditional Indian Tattoo of green color
5. Perumal – Hindu deity Lord Sri Vishnu
6. Mama – An affectionate term for a husband
7. Aiyya – Respectful term for an elder man
8. Kadé – A shop
9. Lungi - The lungi is a type of sarong that originated in the Indian subcontinent. The multi-coloured lungi is a men's skirt popular as casual wear and nightwear, in places where the heat and humidity of the climate, increase sweating and make it unpleasant and uncomfortable to wear closed or tight clothes such as trousers.
10. Kadavule – God
11. Vebichari – A prostitute
12. Ooru - Village

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