A long
time ago, in Azhagappapuram, at
family functions like wedding,
house warming, it was customary
to play loud classical music,
film songs and famous film
dialogues.
There were service
providers for this purpose, popularly
known as Speaker Set Companies. At
times, there had been competitions
between different Speaker Set Companies
as to whose amplifier blared out the
loudest sound through cone speakers. A
day before the function started, the
Speaker Set Company employees would come
to the function venue with their musical
sets and lighting devices as well as
equipment. To begin with, they would
place a couple of cone speakers at
vantage points to cover maximum reach,
and make necessary lighting
arrangements. Classical music and Tamil
songs would be played ceaselessly till
the end of the function. They would
start off with a nadaswaram, echoing the
auspicious nature of the event.
Subsequently, devotional songs, and then
film songs would be played. Dialogues
from films like Gnana Soundari, Manohara,
Pagapirivinai, Kalyanaparisu,
Veerapandiya Kattabomman, and, of
course, Sivaji Ganesan- starred famous
mythological movies would also be
played, especially at night after feast.
I used to be immensely fascinated by
film dialogues, notably the ones
delivered by the roaring Sivaji Ganesan.
During this era, on a summer night,
lying on the rider's seat of a
bullock-cart parked on the West Car
Street, I was listening intently to the
emotional outburst of Sivaji in
Kattabomman reflecting the patriotic
fervor of the character portrayed. The
sound was coming through the air from a
few streets east of West Car Street. But
the dialogues were loud and clear. I had
already memorized the lines penned by
the famous Sakti Krishnmurthy, but was
presently concentrating on the voice
inflection and subtleties of the
Himalaya-like artiste.
Around 11 p.m. the street wore a
deserted look. Obviously, the village
had gone to sleep, including the Speaker
Set men. Owing to weariness, I too slept
-- on the cart itself, which had been
parked opposite Pathirakali Amman temple
located on a plot on the parallel lane
west of West Car Street. The temple
frontal was visible through a slender
cross lane. My parents might have
thought I had gone for a movie or
something with friends as it was summer
vacation for schools.
A little past midnight, I guess, some
one woke me up softly tapping on my
shoulder. I opened my eyes and met with
those of a ripe old woman's. She was
clad in a spotless pure white saree. She
was tall and looked quite healthy for a
woman of her age. She had cleft lip and
her front teeth were jutting out. Her
somewhat untidy silver hair had been
parted in the middle. In sum, she wore a
gory look. She told me that it might
rain soon; hence she would take me home
safely. She gently ordered me to get
down from the cart and follow her. I
duly obeyed her instructions. She walked
southwards slowly, steps measured. I
followed her as though tied to the loose
end of her saree. After we walked a few
yards and reached the intersection
adjoining the west end of the Middle
School, the old woman was confronted by
more than a dozen dogs barking
furiously. I was a little surprised at
the dogs targeting only the woman. The
old lady pulled a long stick from a
bundle of firewood kept on the pial of a
house on our right and started spanking
the dogs, which instantly calmed down
and ran away from the scene. She kept
wielding the cane mainly to keep dogs
and such things at bay. I wondered
within what was going on.
She then shepherded me on to the west
through Star Lane (nameless then). My
mind started working overtime trying to
figure out what was it all -- who was
she and where were we going, instead of
going home? Meanwhile, it started
drizzling slightly making the air little
bit cooler. As we walked towards Mela
Thottam, I heard a sick person in a
nearby house cough violently upsetting
the night tranquil. Thus far, the
mysterious woman had behaved like a
typical grandma, though she scared me
with her witch-like appearance.
Located at the West End of the village
was an abandoned tiny thatch-roofed hut.
There was a small haystack in a corner
of the plot. Rats and bandicoots were
running around freely. Leaving me in
front of the hut, the old woman went in
and came out with an old earthen bowl
and a knife, its blade flashing in moon
light.
She then directed me to sit on a rickety
stool in front of the shack with my head
slightly bowed. All these seemed to be
some strange ritual. Holding the sharp
knife in hand she raised it such a way
as to slit my throat. At this very
moment I heard a booming male voice
ordering the old woman, "Stop it; don't
do that to him; leave him alone now and
run away, or else?" On hearing these
unmistaken words, the old lady dropped
the knife from her hand, and started
running westwards at great speed. The
speed at which she ran simply astonished
me. "How could a ripe old woman run like
a sprinter?" I was asking myself utterly
bewildered. It then dawn on me that she
was a ghost baying for my blood. Her
plan was simple: to cut my throat, let
blood flow into the bowl, and drink it
to her heart's content. And this plan
was thwarted by the stranger. Who was
he?
I then quickly turned to the other side
looking for the man who so thunderously
commanded the woman to leave me alone. I
saw a tall figure walking briskly
towards east on Star Lane. I ran behind
him to meet and thank him for saving my
life. But I could not keep pace with
him. After reaching West Car Street, he
turned right. I saw his back from a
distance of about hundred yards. I
started running fast in pursuit of him.
After searching here and there in semi
darkness, I saw the same man in front of
the main church. As he climbed the front
steps quickly, the main door of the
church burst open. I ran behind him to
have a glimpse of him, at least. When I
set foot at the main entrance of the
church, the savior of my life turned
slightly towards my direction. And I saw
him. He looked like Anthoniyar. On
reaching the pulpit, he instantly
vanished into oblivion like Lord Siva
moving in to the sanctum sanctorum and
disappearing in Thiruvilayadal. I was
positive it was none other than
Anthoniyar. I saw him! I was exited and
high spirited. I ran up and down inside
the church several times, blurting out "Anthoniyare?
Anthoniyare." I went in front of
Anthoniyar's bust inside the church,
knelt down, said a prayer, thanked Him
for saving my life and ran home. I
raised a rumpus waking up my parents and
siblings as well as neighbors. I started
shrieking "I saw Anthoniyar?I saw
Anthoniyar?He saved my life." The time
was 2 a.m. My parents and others were
extremely surprised at my hysterical
behavior. They could not figure out what
was happening.
To clear things up, I narrated then and
there what had happened in the past one
hour or so. All listened to me with
wonder and rapt attention. My parents
and other elders were convinced that it
was a blood thirsty ghost, disguised as
an old woman, almost took my life. But
no one could grasp the possible reason
why it picked on me. Did it do it
randomly, or was I the real target? I
don't have an answer even today. And it
was indeed our patron saint, Anthoniyar,
who saved my life on that action-packed
night. I was regarded so blessed as to
have had a glimpse of Anthoniyar,
besides being saved by him from certain
death. (By J. Vensuslaus)
29/12/2010
Azhagai anecodotes
