Muthu asked Uncle one day when they were sitting around in Kali’s farm. What’s more, everything came out. ‘While I bring an evaporated lady home, shouldn’t she just quiet down and lounge around? She began saying she needed a taali around her neck and a kid by me! I got her studs and various stuff and kept her like a sovereign. In any case, clearly all that was not adequate for her. She needed a taali. At first I figured the craving would disappear soon. However, she wouldn’t allow me to contact her without tying a taali round her neck. That is the reason I hit her, gave her the sari she came in and pursued her away.’ They couldn’t quit giggling that evening. Just to egg him on some more, Kali said, ‘Why, Uncle, wouldn’t you be able to have released her in the hued sari she was wearing?’ ‘The shaded sari was my mom’s. Likewise, assuming another lady goes along, I really want something to give her, don’t I?’ he said unobtrusively. ‘I can’t manage marriage and all that stuff. It is to the point of going back and forth as I am. As though it’s not to the point of tieing a ring around your nose, they need to attach you to a tail also.’
Those words entered profound into Kali’s psyche. He previously had a ring around his nose. Would it be advisable for him to likewise tie himself around a tail now? From that point forward, at whatever point somebody raised the subject of a subsequent marriage, Uncle Nallupayyan would show up before his eyes. thirteen Even however he was interested to figure out what his endlessly mother inlaw had been examining, Kali trusted that the news will disentangle itself. Two evenings after his motherin-regulation’s visit, his mom came to see him in the farm. She had raised him without any assistance, buckling down it was no mean accomplishment cultivating four sections of land of land and watching out for dairy cattle without help from anyone else. Working close by her from the time he was a kid, Kali took full charge of the spot when he was just fourteen or fifteen years of age. He was allowed to do anything he desired; he simply expected to keep her educated. He let her be distant from everyone else and free, similarly as she wanted. She made her own food, and furthermore went to work in different fields.
He didn’t think about that as an issue of glory. She needed to bring in her very own minimal expenditure. What wasn’t right with that? Let her work as long as she could. Assuming there was something to be done in the field, he told her. She came to help. He paid her what he paid the others, yet that was their mystery. Any place she went to work, she basically needed to carve out the opportunity to come and see him consistently. Any other way, she was unable to rest in harmony. She had extremely deft hands. As he would see it, no other person could do the things she could. He cherished her cooking, yet he didn’t let Ponna know that. His mom’s kootucharu was delicious indeed. At the point when she wanted to make it, she’d tell him ahead of time, and Ponna wouldn’t make any sauce that day. Assuming that she steamed groundnuts or different heartbeats, she would get it to him the outbuilding. On every such visit, she would raise the issue of a subsequent marriage. At first, he wouldn’t take part in the discussion.
Whenever she got persistent, his fights developed relatively further. So he felt that a subsequent marriage could never have been the subject of her discussion with his mom inlaw. It was obvious to him that she was battling to say something. She continued inquisitive about the dairy cattle, asking exactly the same things again and again. She talked about the seeds they planned to plant in the fields that year. Tragically, on that specific evening, he felt extremely languid. He actually had some drink left in the dried-gourd vessel. He had intended to down it and nap off. In any case, he was not used to savoring his mom’s presence. However he realized she also was prone to drink, she had never done it before him up until this point. In the drink season, Munia Nadar would save to the side a draping jarful for her. She would go when it was dull and drink it without anybody coming to be aware. Indeed, even presently she was Munia Nadar’s client.
At the point when he made nearly, a container would be saved aside for her. She would drink a little consistently for a very long time. Seeing her battle to start the discussion, he chose to take care of her. All things considered, the point was no confidential to both of them. ‘I have some drink. Would you like to drink, Amma?’ He was unable to see her face in obscurity. Nor would he be able to figure the justification for her quietness. Might it be said that she was recoiling that her child had offered her liquor? Or on the other hand was her quiet to be taken as a yes? He took a little pitcher from under the bunk, tossed the water out and finished it with drink and extended it up to her. At the point when she acknowledged it, he was blissful. He drank what was left in the gourd bowl. He felt that it ought to now be more straightforward for him to remove anything matter was trapped in her throat. ‘What, Mother? I’m informed you and my mother by marriage were presenting throughout the evening. Which fortification have you intended to catch?’