I

The strong smell of disinfectant woke me up. I was acutely aware of the sterile tubes dripping saline. Just then a wrinkled hand slowly caressed me, Pechi ayah was here. I did not know whether to be feel safe or shamed.

A new voice announced that I was conscious and another authoritatively started a barrage of questions.

“Are you able to feel your legs? Are you feeling pain anywhere? Can you sit up and answer a few questions, because sooner the statements are reported the process speeds up?” the voice continued in a matter of fact tone. I did not comprehend the face and remain focused on the woman in white checking me.

The voice calmly responded, “Sir, you need to wait, she will be able to respond in a few hours.” I could hear the door close and the woman in white continued her work. I glanced sideways and met the eyes of Pechi ayah. Suddenly, I felt scared, and I slipped to the distant voices of ayah’s story telling.

You know Bommi, people never talk about the times when they tell the story. They talk only about the bravery, the heroics but you know it was the times. It was the times that made her extraordinary. But men are always men, they leave out the details that show the true glory of woman, I think it’s because something breaks their ego, that a woman can fight, a girl can wield a sword as good as a boy, a grandma can spy or lady is always a lady, no matter what she does for a greater cause. Men you see…feel the way women used for victory are a taint to their bravery, their heroics.

But you know, Bommi, its always the woman who strides, but never break in the face of danger. She started just like a miracle, Bommi. You see, Bommi, in those times they never let them into the villages. But Raakhu always questioned those things. She was brave you see, very brave and very strong. So you see, that’s why Kuyili was the way she was… Her mother made her the strong one, the brave one…that’s why she is still the Amman here, our Muthupathi Amman. Our goddess….

The sudden beeping and commotion in the room startled me.

“Bhumi, Bhumi…are you okay? Just stay with us please…just relax,” the white lady talked to me and this time I slipped into my story reassured.

The first time Kuyili was inside the fort, she was amazed. She simply could not believe it. It was so big, so grand, so colorful that for a while she did not even notice the guards, or that she was supposed to be spying.

Bommi, she was young, and she was out, and she was doing things nobody in her clan or family had done. Covered up, the pride she felt was inexplicable. The shops selling wares, sweetmeats were an exciting discovery. The shrieks, the music all sounded so electrifying up close. She had heard only the distant rumble from the outskirts of the village by her colony of huts. The temple was also imposing, and the first time, she was a bit hesitant to go near. she had grown up hearing she was impure and, it would pollute the sanctum.

Then she saw the Amman, and suddenly Bommi, she knew. She knew she was not impure, not below any man…that you see, Bommi, is the power of the Goddess, and she never forsakes or leaves anyone behind.

When I finally regained consciousness, I was relieved to see Pechi ayah close by. My mother was sitting quietly sobbing and I could hear the low voices of my father chiding my mother’s behavior.

“Bommi amma, are you alright now, dear?” Ayah’s voice refocused my attention. I nodded back. “Everything is alright, Bommi amma. Doctor said everything is fine. Nothing to worry,” Ayah continued.

Father added, “Everything is fine, Bhumi. Just relax and take rest. Do you want something?”

My mother stood next to him, with sobs but clearly relieved that I was there before her, alive.

I managed to ask finally, “Is she okay? Did they arrest him?”

My father said, “You don’t worry about anything, everything has been taken care of, so don’t worry. You have been very brave and have been through a lot. Just relax, dear.”

The non-reply I got sent a chill down my spine. I needed to know if she was alright. But white coats filled my vision and there was not much I could do but slip back into my story.

You see, Bommi Amma, they were ransacking the huts. They rampaged the village to get information. Kuyili remembered the words of her aunt. Her father was proud but the worry lines about Raaku’s health burrowed his face. The screams never went away. The soldiers poking with their barrel ends and hitting them. The old, the weak or the young, they didn’t care. They needed information about the queen, their enemy, a woman nonetheless…one way or the other. But what really went through them as they ventured into “the so-called” impure areas. Soldiers were paid stooges after all… So economics trumps all other beliefs.

Kuyili knew she had bigger tasks and she was destined to a greater calling in life. Her sword work was good and her fighting needs to be more aggressive. A real fight would fix this issue. …but something else happened Bommi Amma…a betrayal that really tested her….

Killing him was never in her plans. But bottled up rage spilled over at his betrayal. She felt truly strange how she could turn into a machine rigged to kill betrayers of the cause. The cause had been foreign to her, but now she held it with more significance than anything else. She marvelled how she trusted the queen for change….

“How simple. Her reminiscences occupied her as she proceeded with the bloodied hands to the queen.”

The path was not a challenge but she knew that confronting the reality to the queen and her associates would be the real challenge. As she proceeded the tiredness of the kill was starting to get to her. The harsh sun gleaned mercilessly and the blood stains seemed to drench the message with time. When she arrived at the crowded group, she saw the queen’s expressionless face.

Boldly amidst the screaming men she handed the Queen the bloodied letter. The letter explaining the betrayal of her closest associate, her Silambam guru. The Queen was shocked but she immediately hugged her, it was the second time she had impressed the Queen. She wept tears of pride and acceptance.

When I opened my eyes again, I wondered what time or day it was. The constant, Pechi ayah was lying on the visitor bed. As I looked over, I realized I had been shifted to a spacious room. The pain was little lighter and I could move my head from side to side. I realized I was spitting into the oxygen mask. Just then a nurse walked in and removed, my mask. She mentioned that I would be fine breathing on my own and asked if I needed anything.

My mother walked in and asked, “Bhumi, you woke up. Are you in any pain? You want to eat something?”

The nurse interrupted, “She will be alright, Ma’am, She can have something to eat after a while. I will bring in the food and her tablets. The doctor will check her again after dinner.”

Satisfied, my mother nodded and the nurse left the room.

“Did ayah eat anything? Is she alright?” I asked my mother.

“She is fine, just got tired, that’s why she slept off. She did not want to leave your side even a second. You know how insistent she is. She got so worried, kept saying Bommi Amma this, Bommi Amma that, fight through, fight through the whole time till you got shifted here.”

“I kept only remembering Pechi ayah’s story, Amma. How is she, Amma? How is Divya? Why is nobody telling anything about her? Or him?”

“Bhumi, please relax. She is still in surgery. The doctors have asked us to be prepared for everything. I am so sorry, I know how much you cared. Let’s hope for the best ma.”

I realized that my fight had been useless. He must have escaped again. My recovery improved in the following days. My parents and the doctors tiptoed when I inquired about Divya. I understood that her situation must be critical, but I was not family. They informed me that her family, explicitly wanted me to stay away. My family wanted me safe, they simply wanted to wipe away this chapter. Pechi ayah, did not say much but it was her loving glances that distracted me.

“Bommi amma, you will be alright. Just see only few more days and you will walk and zoom off like before,” Pechi ayah’s warmth and her story was my anchor to the real world during those days.

Bommi Amma, do you remember Madura Veeran and Bommi Thai…you know that Bommi Thai only kept Kuyili company. She knew that Bommi Thai would never abandon her. The spirit of Raaku and Bommi Thai only protected her. Kuyili remembered her mother’s bravery. It was the inspiration that prompted her to serve the Queen in the first place. Deemed as unfit to be near royalty, the Queen’s exile was almost godsend as it bought her in close quarters to the Queen. Kuyili never gave up her dreams for serving the queen and in the end her loyalty was awarded. She proved her dedication more than ever when she realized the betrayal of their arms master. You know it is said the queen was so impressed that once when Kuyili was hurt the queen tore her own garment to help dress the wound.

“Pechi ayah, why do you keep calling me Bommi amma? You never call me Bhumi…why?” I asked ayah between my drifts in consciousness. I was too weak to ask or feel anything else under the painkillers and the medications. I suddenly felt calm in my childhood stories when the nagging doubt prompted the question.

“Bommi amma…what can I say? You are my Boomi amma...you remember when you were little you once you fell into that well, when you were little. I prayed to Bommi Thai and said you were hers if you came back to me alright…that’s why you are still okay…even after all this…Bommi Thai will always look after you…you have her grace…that’s why you are Bommi amma, you are our family’s deity…you are always special…”

As ayah kept talking about the love of our family deity, I remained in my distant retreat. I remembered the incident from the way my mother described my survival miracle. I was quite little as four or five I guess, and I was not able to recollect any solid memories about the accident. But I did have a memory of lying within the folds of my ayah’s saree while drifting to sleep. I figured it must have been the day…or what does it matter anyway.

The plan was very simple for Kuyili. Bommi, you see she was a true patriot. She did not even flinch even when the thought came to her. She did not want to die for being a hero, she did it as it was the only way. It was to her a practical solution, not something that works like a hero complex. The festive, the experience inside the temple all added to this fervor. She had always been so distant from all this that she wanted to remain a part of that day. The auspicious day of the goddess and the will to remain with her near the temple. The armory was housed near the temple complex. It was an imposing structure, heavily guarded. The disadvantage that Udaiyaal have been facing. Kuyili felt that she had been chosen, she remembered how the firepower had almost wiped them during the last fight. She felt it was thing that was stopping them, and she knew you can destroy fire only with fire….

Betrayal is always a hard emotion. I knew it was futile, but Divya would not be getting control of her life after all. I kept prying the corridors for more information about Divya, but all my efforts were futile. My physiotherapy started soon enough and battling my personal demons used up all my energy. I reasoned I needed to get out to be able to find out the information I needed for myself.

II

“Bhumi, please be sensible. You can’t go there. Those men kill first and ask questions later. Bhumi…you just now got better.”

I had already packed my suitcases and was waiting for my pickup.

“Amma, I will be fine, and besides it’s my job. I am not going to let go off things like last time. I am perfectly alright. It’s been six months. I am only going to help in the research and shooting.”

I knew the worried looks but my father was confident, my team was big and quite experienced to the raw caste machismo of the villages we were shooting. This trip was getaway from the house, and I could not bear to stay there anymore. It was traumatic enough that I lost Divya, but when I lost Pechi ayah, it felt claustrophobic within the walls. I felt that, the one-week pre-production shoot would be the distraction I need to get my life into perspective. I could not shake away ayah’s words, her constant care, and her last words to me.

Bommi amma, you are always strong, you will come through this…don’t worry what everyone says, you are always special…you are Bommi amma to us all…just never be afraid to do the right thing.

I felt lost, the events of the accident day kept replaying in my thoughts. I felt sort of responsible for burdening ayah with my incident during her last few months. I felt responsible for Divya’s death, she did not want to confront him, I forced her, and I lost her.

III

The village air was fresh, it helped ease me back to work. I was at Muthupathi, a small village on the way to other towns. I took time to visit the temple dedicated to a goddess who was a literally defined as “fire-burnt goddess”. I knew it was Kuyili, I walked along the village and asked the people, but not many were able to talk about a woman—a Dalit commander in chief of the victorious but equally less known queen of Sivagangai.

I shrugged that it was caste and it never really fades away. I remembered the stories ayah had repeated. She always told about the injustices of caste, the way servitude was never questioned. I missed her a lot, she was a lot more bold and progressive to my college educated conservative mother.

By the time I reached Divya’s house, it was mid-day. The front door was open but I hesitated near the gate. Just as I pushed the gate open, I heard her mother’s voice.

“Who is there? What to you…want?” she stopped mid-sentence as she saw me. Looking both ways she rushed to the gate and sort of shoved me away front the house and we stopped among the trees nearby.

“Why did you come here? You know if Divya’s father sees you, you will be in lot of trouble. That man is also in town. Go away…go away now”, the uninterrupted pleas of her mother continued.

“No, Amma, Divya did not do anything wrong. That man is very bad. You know what all he made her do. Even that day, she called me because she could not take it anymore. Why did you let him free? You knew Divya right?” I stopped as I spotted Divya’s father walking towards us.

“Come, why are you talking to her. Come let’s go home,” he called out Divya’s mother.

I could not hold it much longer, “You let him burn her, and still support him. How can you? Divya loved you both, she stayed with that monster just because you guys said it was the right thing to do. How can you let him go…didn’t you ever love your daughter? You know how much she loved you guys?” I broke down in sobs.

“Will you just shut up, girl! What do you know about what we are going through? I have two more daughters, I live in this village with my relatives, my clan, and my caste. Who will stand by me if I got him arrested? Who will marry Divya’s sisters? It was bad enough she did what she did. What can I do to that man? This is not a city, we can’t simply mingle and pretend to wipe away caste. You will not realize the politics of living here, of being born here …so take your city values and leave. I don’t want to be responsible if something happens to you. Your parents seemed decent people,” her father exploded at me.

I could not stand to even look at them. I turned and started to walk away. Her mother’s tear-filled eyes kept haunting me as I walked away. I didn’t remember anything else but I ended up at the temple. I closed my eyes and recalled Divya’s screams and remembered how I got pushed away when trying to save her. I could not comprehend why she chose it…chose fire…

*****

Glossary of Tamil words:

Ayah–Grandmother

Amma–Mother

Thai–Mother (refers to Mother-Goddess)

Udaiyaal–The name given to the battalion of women warriors

Muthupathi–A village in Tamil Nadu, India