Benyamin: Yellow Lights of Death

WE DIDN’T HAVE to ask for directions at Udayamperoor; the descriptions in Andrapper’s book were detailed and accurate enough. There were scores of churches along the right side of the road. The oldest one among them had a board that said, ‘Oh, Gervasiuses and Protasius Kandeesangals, please pray for us.’ Next to it stood an antique stone cross guarded by figurines of a winged lion, a vulture, a bull and a man. Half a furlong ahead, on the left, was Kochuparu Stores, where we halted for some refreshing lemonade. Nearby was a large ground with the Nadakkavu Bhagavati temple at the centre. We took the road that forked towards the right and headed east. It was there that a dog ran across in front of our vehicle. A few minutes later, I saw tall brick walls that reminded me of a heavily guarded prison.

‘We have reached,’ I said. My voice betrayed my apprehension.

Anil slowed down the car and stopped on the unpaved sidewalk.

Close to the gate was a small stone slab embedded in the wall. If Andrapper hadn’t mentioned it in his book, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. It was covered with moss. Slowly, I deciphered the faded letters: Valyedathu Veedu! I had butterflies in my stomach. But I kept a lid on my emotions. The gate was wide open. Anil drove inside. An ancient, double-storeyed mansion came into view. The courtyard was paved with white pebbles. In front of the majestic building was a pala tree, which looked like it had stood there for centuries. We parked the car in its shadow.

A man jogged out of the front door towards us.

‘We are here for the rites,’ said Anil, getting out of the car.

‘Was it booked in advance?’

‘Yeah. I had called last week.’

‘OK. Please come in.’

He guided us into a spacious reception and started checking a logbook. We were the only people in the room. I was surprised because I had expected a large crowd.

‘In whose name was it booked?’ he asked, furiously flipping through the pages.

‘Anil Vengode,’ I replied.

‘You’ve brought the cash, right?’ He must have found Anil’s name in the register.

‘Yes.’

‘Then, please place an amount not less than 10,000 rupees here, with prayers,’ he said, pointing to a brass plate on a teapoy. Anil placed there an envelope that had Rs 10,000 in notes and a one-rupee coin.

The man covered the money with a red cloth. ‘This will remain here,’ he said. ‘If you are not convinced by the results, you can take it back when you leave.’

This is a good practice that should be followed everywhere, I said to myself.

‘Please be seated, I’ll call you soon.’ He closed the logbook and stepped inside.

Like every other traditional old house, the reception room was chock-a-block with rich woodwork. Sculptures, figurines, photographs in large frames, a small flowerpot, an old wooden bowl and a telephone stand. It was evident that a gifted interior designer had been at work. Nothing was missing. Nothing looked out of place. This is my ideal reception room, I told Anil.

After a while, a young man stepped out. ‘Meljo!’ I whispered, half to Anil and half to myself. ‘Photocopy,’ Anil murmured.

‘Are you the people who called last week?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ We rose slowly.

‘What is the case?’

‘We are searching for someone.’

‘Come,’ he welcomed us inside.

When Anil picked up his bag and camera, the young man said, ‘Leave these things here. Nothing is permitted inside.’

As we walked inside, he asked, ‘Where are you coming from?’

‘Thrissur,’ I lied, looking at Anil.

‘There are a lot of abbeys in that area, then why here?’

I wavered for a while, not knowing what to say. Anil came to the rescue. ‘His father’s been here, and what he needed was done,’ he said. ‘Hence the belief.’

‘The old priest is still there, I hope,’ I added.

The young man turned and stared at me. ‘No, Appachan died recently,’ he said. ‘I’m in charge now. Don’t you have faith in me?

‘What happened to him?’ Anil and I asked in tandem.

‘Don’t you have faith in me?’ his voice betrayed a seriousness and maturity beyond his age.

‘Nothing like that. I was just curious about the doctor,’ I replied.

‘Then, please stand in front of that lamp and pray with your eyes closed. I’ll call you,’ he said, pointing towards a flickering stone lamp. He stepped inside another room and closed the door.

Even as I pretended to pray in front of the lamp, I surveyed my surroundings.

This must be where the festival described in Andrapper’s book had taken place. Only then could someone have witnessed it from the upper floor. I looked up. Which was the room where he had been hiding that night? From where had he seen the whole thing? What happened to him after that?

Meljo, the new custodian of Valyedathu Veedu, I whispered to myself. I won’t leave without getting satisfactory answers to these questions — I swear before this stone lamp!

A few minutes later, Meljo returned. There was a red cloth wrapped around his waist and a towel on his shoulder.

‘Take a little oil from the lamp, smear it on your forehead, and follow me,’ Meljo said.

He took us to a prayer room. It resembled the altar of a small church. There were plenty of candles and lamps lit in front of a statue — a woman adorned with garlands.

I recognized her. Thaikkattamma! The goddess of Thaikkattu!

I looked at her and prayed without thinking. Anybody could have mistaken her for the Virgin Mary. But the skin tone was dark. The face didn’t display love or tenderness. It was full of fury.

There was a wick lamp flickering at the centre of the room. Meljo asked us to sit before it, and took the spot opposite us.

He touched the lamp and prayed. He meditated for a while. Then a barrage of questions started.

‘Do you know that Thaikkattamma rules the land and water of Udayamperoor?’

‘Yes, we know,’ I said.

‘Do you have faith in Thaikkattamma?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Do you have faith in the powers of Thaikkattamma?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Do you have faith that Thaikkattamma will fulfil your pursuit?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Have you come to Thaikkattamma to wish misfortune upon anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Are you aware that Thaikkattamma blesses in abundance if pleased and flares up in fury if angered?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have faith that Thaikkattamma will appear before this lamp and to us?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Do you have faith in Thaikkattamma?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Do you have faith in Thaikkattamma?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Do you have faith in Thaikkattamma?’

‘Yes, we have faith.’

‘Now, repeat this prayer as I chant:

Hail gracious Mother, almighty Thaikkattamma,

To thee we pledge our body, our soul and our thoughts,

And our actions, our life and our death.

O Mother, Thaikkattamma, queen of the Nazarenes,

Beyond anything, with all our heart,

We hold thee close to us.

With the blessings of your Lord Jesus,

Grace us with thy presence, we beseech thee,

Despise not our petitions.

(Both of you think about your petitions.)

Hail gracious Mother, almighty Thaikkattamma,

By the power of your Father and our Lord Jesus,

Pour forth mercy and blessings towards us.

Gift us all thy blessings, we humbly pray