the untouchable spring characters
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Published in 2000 Antarani Vasantam (The Untouchable Spring), a novel in Alex Haley’s Roots mold, took the Telugu literary world by storm and has run into three reprints. Here we present a translation of the first chapter that deals with the mythical story that explores the relationship between today’s dalits and the cow, specifically the dead cow. In a mocking tone, it looks at how the dalit folk memory, too, has been colonised by brahminical narratives.
First, I’ll introduce you to Ruth. And then, I’ll go into the story. Those who know her as an author might say don’t you dare introduce our admired author to us. True. She has written many stories. A lot of poems. But I’m not about to introduce the author Ruth or her work. Just Ruth. The Ruth known to me.
Ruth sits alone every day. After Ruben’s death she has been doing this for many years.
Sitting like that, alone, she looks into the sky. She sights a lonely star in the sky. The other stars disappear as if they have nothing to do with her. Then, a painting of Jesus-on-the-cross on a partly-broken high wall appears before her eyes.
At that moment, that area would appear beautiful. More than medication, such an environment would cure the patients. She used to be a nurse there. Her Ruben was an instructor at the hospital.
The past is slipping away. The present comes and stands in front. If you build a nest and sit in the past, even the present becomes the past. But her memory is not the past, says Ruth. Ruben is always the present for her, she says.
Ruben left her life as silently as he came into it. And he didn’t leave just like that. As long as he was there, it was spring. At every turn, he told several things; at every moment a memory jnapakam bloomed; memories bloomed and withered. He told stories. Wove poetry. Causing an upheaval, he left a lasting memory in her heart. In fact, it is not memory. It’s a gushing flow. How to keep such a great flow suppressed?
He started narrating one moonlit night. Extended it several nights. He repeated himself. He laughed as he spoke. As he narrated, he cried. His eyes would shine in those moments. His eyes would moisten then. She hid that shining in her eyes. She smeared that wetness over her lashes. In fact, what she shared was not just memories. But the wetness of the eyes. It squeezes your heart. Touches you deeply. Haunts you.
Ruben and his ancestors swam in the ruthless floodwaters. Some got swept away. Some, like untiring boatmen, searched for shores. Such was her Ruben. Wonderful, so beautiful, and untouchable. These words may sound strange. But Ruth speaks them so naturally, easily. She used to utter these words to Ruben. ‘O my beautiful untouchable man,’ she used to address him often. Ruben would then look around like a little child. His eyes would be filled with innocence.
This was years ago. Seems yesterday-like. No, not yesterday, it’s as if it was unfolding before her eyes right now. She set off with him when he said he would show her his forefathers’ place. On foot. Just days after marriage. The first time she was walking alone with him after marriage. A walk along the lake. The sky sharing its moonlight. The commotion caused by the tossing-up of fish in the lake. Walking with him, the sense of loneliness in being together. A strange lonely feeling.
It was then that he started narrating.
A shower of moonlight.
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