THE BLACK SHEEP
- by RAJESH SUBRAMANIAN
He had just reached the curve, which led to the ‘National Grocery Stores’ when an incomprehensible sense of exuberence engulfed him. He paused and threw a glance at the dim narrow thoroughfare. He could see Moti , the affable mongrel lying curled near the craggy wooden stairway of Minar Manzil. Few college dropouts stood smoking near the soot smothered edifice. A faint melodious strain caught his auditory senses and he knew exactly from where the music emnated. He spotted Selvan, the small boy who worked in the adjoining Udipi restaurant. He was carried an aluminium teapot. Its mouth shut with a tiny roll of newspaper. On the other hand he held a tray full of freshly washed glasses precariously poised on his upheld palm. The poor kid made innumerable trips to the second floor of Minar Manzil. There was an incessant demand for hot piping masala tea and this diminutive fellow punctiliously quenched the desire. Occasionally he was tipped a rupee or two by the patrons for getting cigarettes and gutka from the nearby pan shop. By and large this place had an entrancing quality about itself and who knew it better than Kedaru.
If his name sounded bizarre and incoherent you couldn’t chide him for that. Born in a typical middle class southindian household he was affectionately named Sundaram by his paternal great grandfather. The visibly thrilled octogenarian had proudly petted the toddler while placing a gold chain around his neck in the presence of four hundred odd guests. However, the life span of his original name was shorter than the duration of his naming ceremony. The same very evening relatives and household members were addressing him as " Kondai", "Kanna" and "Kuttan". He had absolutely no inkling when he was first addressed as Kedaru. The only thing he knew was that his was the most uncommon name in the entire universe. In the beginning it hurt him when someone ridiculed. But in due course he surmised that people were envious and thus made adverse comments.
Kedaru was a gentle kid and the entire family felt blessed the day he was born. His jubilant parents even made a hasty trip to Guruvayur to thank the almighty. Being the first child in several years he hogged the limelight and soon became the cynosure of all eyes. On the whole everything appeared quite satisfactory. But their happiness was short lived. As if someone has cast an evil eye the boy’s behaviourial pattern took a dramatic change. From a pampered infant he transformed into a obstinate thick-skinned and later metamorphised into a complete rebel. He set his own norms and nonchalantly violated all household guidelines. He spent most of his time either playing marbles or cricket at the Cross Maidan or engaged himself in flying kites with the poor kids who resided in the neighbouring slums. By the time he reached high school he had developed a strong animosity towards education. " I earnestly wished an earthquake should reduce the school building to dust ", his neighbour overheard him saying this to a friend. He loitered on the streets all evening watching the hubbub of the market place with profound inquisitiveness. While other kids returned home after sunset Kedaru either went to the park or stood near Venkatesh Talkies staring at the film posters. Occasionally he brought himself a packet of salted peanuts or sev kurmura. When the biscuit factory siren signaled ten he lazily gathered himself and proceeded towards home. After having his dinner disinterestedly he stood at the verandah watching other kids doing their homework. " What a waste of time ", he often asserted.
He had earned an awful reputation at school and unsparingly invited the wrath of his teachers. On most of the days he was made to stay on his knees outside the classroom. The frequent chastisement aggravated his hatred towards academics. " You son is hurtling towards disaster. He is ruining his life ", the school principal informed his father when he met him at the temple. The constant admonition from the elders had absolutely no effect on him. Their words of wisdom and counseling fell on deaf ears. Out of sheer desperation the helpless father thrashed him one evening in order to reprimand him. But it further worsened the situation. Kedaru mysteriously vanished to an unknown destination leaving the entire family in anxiety. His mother cried copiously and refused to eat. " Poor fellow… he must me so hungry. What he must be doing ? ", She wailed " You could have scolded him. What was the need to raise your hand ", She added for which her husband had no reply. When he returned home after a week the mood unexpectedly had mellowed down and unlike earlier everyone treated him with compassion. Father vowed never to rebuke, mother remarked that he had become a little weak while the grandparents opined that only time will drill sense into him. " Let him lead life his way," they all said in unison.
This magnanimous stance of the elders gave him a new lease of life. There was a lot of time all around him, an immense sea of leisure. He felt like a king and fervently indulged himself in trivial things. One evening he came home and announced that he was discontinuing studies. The entire family looked stunned as if hit by a thunderbolt. " Why are you doing this ? " implored his father after a momentary pause. " Enough ! I am fed up. I cant take it anymore," pat came his reply. " And what do you intend doing ? ", inquired his mother. He avoided her gaze and replied " I am going to work ". Mother looked quizzically at her husband who in turn gaped at his parents. They all appeared flummoxed as if the rug was suddenly pulled from under their feet. " From tommorrow I am joining the Button factory ", saying so he vanished inside his room. No more words were exchanged .
Kedaru’s job at the Button factory was to make small plastic pouch comprising of twenty-five buttons each. All day long he kept counting buttons in the dimly lit room with only a rickety table fan for company. Though it was monotonous he still considered it a better option than the mundane school life. Also it earned him twelve rupees at the end of the day. He walked with a swagger to Venkatesh Talkies and watched the same film umpteen times. In the dark confines of the theatre he felt relaxed and cozy. " "Life in general was so content", he reflected. Several years passed by and Kedaru switched jobs with amazing alacrity. From the Button factory he moved on to ‘Kohinoor Paper Mills’ to ‘Quality Coffee House’ to ‘Royal Offset Printers' so on and so forth. Occasionally he purchased some vegetables or grocery items on his way home and gave it to his mother. The poor lady, with her eyes moist would endearingly gaze at her son who had transformed from a meek lad to a burly adult. There were times when he remained away from home for months. " I had gone to Hyderabad for some official work. Now please don’t bother me ! ", he would curtly reply on constant prodding. Though his daily income has multiplied ten folds compared to what he earned at the Button factory yet there was a constant paucity of funds. Kedaru had got into gambling. What started off as a harmless leisure activity soon became an obsession with him. It was addictive and it gave him instant gratification. When he saw his tens yielding hundreds it thrilled him no end. He was ready to risk anything he had in the hope of great gain. Then there were days when he lost heavily but that never dampened his spirits. Infact he gambled with added vigour. To supplement his funds he started taking small loans from friends and acquaintances. Soon he found himself under severe debts. Still the urge to wager kept stimulating his mind. When people stopped lending money Kedaru, in a desperate bid, began duping. His first victim was the area sales manager of Bhavani Sugar Mills , whom he had hoodwinked narrating a sob story. The corpulent rajasthani had handed over ten crisp hundred rupee notes and has reassured Kedaru that his father would recuperate soon. Barely two hours after Kedaru left the office the manager learned that his father was fit as a fiddle and played badminton regularly at the South Indian Gymkhana. Then for a brief period Kedaru disguised himself as an automobile expert and sold a fuel-enhancing gadget for a throw away price. By the time the ruse was exposed he was relaxing on the sands of Marina beach. Nothing could stop him and his fraudulent acts became more rampant. To save his skin from the wrath of those who had lent their hard-earned money he disappeared to Banares for almost a year.
On his return he was virtually unrecognizable. Tonsured with a splash of sandalwood paste and vermilion on his forehead, rudrash beads around his throat he appeared saintly and pious. There was a remarkable change in him. He spoke less and stayed indoors either reading religious books or lending a helping hand to his mother. This was a welcome change to his otherwise harassed household members. How embarrassing it had become for them to face the community members. Kedaru’ notorious ways had spread far and wide. Elders upbraided their kids citing his example. In short he had become the grand ambassador of embezzlement. Soon his parents avoided socializing and completely cut off all interaction with the outside world. They found it impossible to walk on the road , visit the temple or go shopping without coming into contact with someone whom their son owed money. It was humiliating and on many occasion annoying. They attributed it to the sins committed in their past births. Not that Kedaru was oblivious of their anguish. He knew exactly what they went through. In the past he had promised to reform but had failed to live up to his words. This time he was determined to mend his ways. He came to the kitchen squatted next to his mother and looked at her. The once pretty face had now become pallid and jaded. Years of constant tension had taken its toll on her visage. He had hurt them badly. All through his life he had been a constant pain. The others of his age had done marvelously well for themselves. They all started together from the same school. Now they were well-heeled doctors, engineers, lawyers. Some had even flown abroad to pursue better prospects. While, Kedaru had squandered his entire life. He was an absolute loafer. He loathed himself and the more he starred at his mother the more guilty he felt. He sat there shaken. How could he have been so insensitive ? " They deserved a better life. After all they had sacrificed so much for him ", he pondered. As he was caught in a vortex of thoughts his inner voice goaded him " You still can…..nothing is lost ". A sudden surge of adrenalin shot up inside him. It boosted his confidence. He wanted to make amends for all his wrong doings. " I will prove it to the world that I am no less ", he snapped with a tinge of arrogance. His mother turned around on hearing this. She tenderly caressed his cheeks with her frail palm and began sobbing. He held her hand and spoke in a soft tone ," Mother I agree I have troubled you and father a lot. I am extremely sorry for that. Please forgive me," saying this he touched her feet. The old lady, who never anticipated this , found it a bit akward and didn’t know how to react. She stood helplessly gazing at her son as tears trickled down her cheeks. " From tomorrow I will take a new job. I will bring home whatever I earn and give it to you." he promised. At first, she thought he was saying it for a lark but soon gauged the seriousness in his tone. She felt elated at her son’s amelioration and wanted to share it with her husband. She knew her spouse , who had virtually stopped communicating with his son, would dismiss it as " Nonsense ". But she was confident of convincing him. Her heart pounded in excitement. She thanked ‘Lord Ganesha…’ ‘Tirupati Balaji….’ ‘Guruvayurappan….’ and all the gods that came to her mind. She lit the lamp and burnt some insence sticks to energize the mood. " I will make some sweet ", she told Kedaru and proceeded to make the necessary arrangements. Kedaru sat pondering whom to approach for work. He had no friends and those who knew him treated him like an outcast. The thought of putting up a small food stall came to his mind but the images of people demanding their money loomed large in front of his eyes. It sent shivers down his spine. He immediately negated the idea. As he mulled over the options he heard his mother’s voice in the backdrop. " Kedaru there is no jaggery in the house please go and get some from National Stores ". Saying so she handed over a hundred rupee note. " Make it fast meanwhile I will set up other things ". He had never seen his mother in such a jubilant mood. She moved sprightly from one end of the kitchen to the other : lighting the stove, pouring water in the vessel and grating coconut kernel. Her affection moved him and he headed straight to the ‘National Grocery Stores’
Now standing at the curve Kedaru gazed fixedly at the two storied building. Though weather-beaten with the passing of time, Minar Manzil still had an imposing façade. The melodious strain continued and a mild babble emnated from the second floor. It sounded so familiar even after a gap of several months. The place where he had spent innumerable hours beguiled him. He found his feet guiding him towards the mammoth structure. As he moved forward the jabbering became more clear. Two men descended the wooden stairs and stood near the Udipi restaurant for a smoke. " The last three games were really bad. Some how I want to compensate for yesterdays loss ", said one to the other. Such statements were quite customary to Kedaru and it stimulated him. " No ", he cautioned himself " I have promised mother that I will never go astray ". He instantly turned and advanced towards National Stores when he almost bumped into a familiar face. " Where the hell have you been all this while ? " , the stocky fellow demanded. Kedaru , for a moment failed to recognize him. " And what about my money when are you returning it ? It’s almost a year now ", he yelled angrily. " I will return it in a day or two ," Kedaru found himself saying . The man gave a disgusting look and ridiculed " As if you are going to win a jackpot in a day or two ". These words kept haunting Kedaru long after the man departed. It mortified him when people made such adverse remarks. Somehow luck had never smiled on him or else he would thrown their money back on their faces. His face flushed with anger . He punched the near by lamppost in frustration. It hurt him but he didn’t care. Suddenly his attention fell on the hundred rupee note that he was clutching. He spread the note and felt the texture. " One windfall and all his woes would come to an end ", he mused. The reverie tickled him. A strong desire to prove his detractors wrong roused inside him. He looked at Minar Manzil and it beckoned him. Clutching the hundred rupee note he proceeded towards the disreputable building. This time there was no hesitation. The inclination to win had taken complete control over him and he knew there was no turning back………..
If his name sounded bizarre and incoherent you couldn’t chide him for that. Born in a typical middle class southindian household he was affectionately named Sundaram by his paternal great grandfather. The visibly thrilled octogenarian had proudly petted the toddler while placing a gold chain around his neck in the presence of four hundred odd guests. However, the life span of his original name was shorter than the duration of his naming ceremony. The same very evening relatives and household members were addressing him as " Kondai", "Kanna" and "Kuttan". He had absolutely no inkling when he was first addressed as Kedaru. The only thing he knew was that his was the most uncommon name in the entire universe. In the beginning it hurt him when someone ridiculed. But in due course he surmised that people were envious and thus made adverse comments.
Kedaru was a gentle kid and the entire family felt blessed the day he was born. His jubilant parents even made a hasty trip to Guruvayur to thank the almighty. Being the first child in several years he hogged the limelight and soon became the cynosure of all eyes. On the whole everything appeared quite satisfactory. But their happiness was short lived. As if someone has cast an evil eye the boy’s behaviourial pattern took a dramatic change. From a pampered infant he transformed into a obstinate thick-skinned and later metamorphised into a complete rebel. He set his own norms and nonchalantly violated all household guidelines. He spent most of his time either playing marbles or cricket at the Cross Maidan or engaged himself in flying kites with the poor kids who resided in the neighbouring slums. By the time he reached high school he had developed a strong animosity towards education. " I earnestly wished an earthquake should reduce the school building to dust ", his neighbour overheard him saying this to a friend. He loitered on the streets all evening watching the hubbub of the market place with profound inquisitiveness. While other kids returned home after sunset Kedaru either went to the park or stood near Venkatesh Talkies staring at the film posters. Occasionally he brought himself a packet of salted peanuts or sev kurmura. When the biscuit factory siren signaled ten he lazily gathered himself and proceeded towards home. After having his dinner disinterestedly he stood at the verandah watching other kids doing their homework. " What a waste of time ", he often asserted.
He had earned an awful reputation at school and unsparingly invited the wrath of his teachers. On most of the days he was made to stay on his knees outside the classroom. The frequent chastisement aggravated his hatred towards academics. " You son is hurtling towards disaster. He is ruining his life ", the school principal informed his father when he met him at the temple. The constant admonition from the elders had absolutely no effect on him. Their words of wisdom and counseling fell on deaf ears. Out of sheer desperation the helpless father thrashed him one evening in order to reprimand him. But it further worsened the situation. Kedaru mysteriously vanished to an unknown destination leaving the entire family in anxiety. His mother cried copiously and refused to eat. " Poor fellow… he must me so hungry. What he must be doing ? ", She wailed " You could have scolded him. What was the need to raise your hand ", She added for which her husband had no reply. When he returned home after a week the mood unexpectedly had mellowed down and unlike earlier everyone treated him with compassion. Father vowed never to rebuke, mother remarked that he had become a little weak while the grandparents opined that only time will drill sense into him. " Let him lead life his way," they all said in unison.
This magnanimous stance of the elders gave him a new lease of life. There was a lot of time all around him, an immense sea of leisure. He felt like a king and fervently indulged himself in trivial things. One evening he came home and announced that he was discontinuing studies. The entire family looked stunned as if hit by a thunderbolt. " Why are you doing this ? " implored his father after a momentary pause. " Enough ! I am fed up. I cant take it anymore," pat came his reply. " And what do you intend doing ? ", inquired his mother. He avoided her gaze and replied " I am going to work ". Mother looked quizzically at her husband who in turn gaped at his parents. They all appeared flummoxed as if the rug was suddenly pulled from under their feet. " From tommorrow I am joining the Button factory ", saying so he vanished inside his room. No more words were exchanged .
Kedaru’s job at the Button factory was to make small plastic pouch comprising of twenty-five buttons each. All day long he kept counting buttons in the dimly lit room with only a rickety table fan for company. Though it was monotonous he still considered it a better option than the mundane school life. Also it earned him twelve rupees at the end of the day. He walked with a swagger to Venkatesh Talkies and watched the same film umpteen times. In the dark confines of the theatre he felt relaxed and cozy. " "Life in general was so content", he reflected. Several years passed by and Kedaru switched jobs with amazing alacrity. From the Button factory he moved on to ‘Kohinoor Paper Mills’ to ‘Quality Coffee House’ to ‘Royal Offset Printers' so on and so forth. Occasionally he purchased some vegetables or grocery items on his way home and gave it to his mother. The poor lady, with her eyes moist would endearingly gaze at her son who had transformed from a meek lad to a burly adult. There were times when he remained away from home for months. " I had gone to Hyderabad for some official work. Now please don’t bother me ! ", he would curtly reply on constant prodding. Though his daily income has multiplied ten folds compared to what he earned at the Button factory yet there was a constant paucity of funds. Kedaru had got into gambling. What started off as a harmless leisure activity soon became an obsession with him. It was addictive and it gave him instant gratification. When he saw his tens yielding hundreds it thrilled him no end. He was ready to risk anything he had in the hope of great gain. Then there were days when he lost heavily but that never dampened his spirits. Infact he gambled with added vigour. To supplement his funds he started taking small loans from friends and acquaintances. Soon he found himself under severe debts. Still the urge to wager kept stimulating his mind. When people stopped lending money Kedaru, in a desperate bid, began duping. His first victim was the area sales manager of Bhavani Sugar Mills , whom he had hoodwinked narrating a sob story. The corpulent rajasthani had handed over ten crisp hundred rupee notes and has reassured Kedaru that his father would recuperate soon. Barely two hours after Kedaru left the office the manager learned that his father was fit as a fiddle and played badminton regularly at the South Indian Gymkhana. Then for a brief period Kedaru disguised himself as an automobile expert and sold a fuel-enhancing gadget for a throw away price. By the time the ruse was exposed he was relaxing on the sands of Marina beach. Nothing could stop him and his fraudulent acts became more rampant. To save his skin from the wrath of those who had lent their hard-earned money he disappeared to Banares for almost a year.
On his return he was virtually unrecognizable. Tonsured with a splash of sandalwood paste and vermilion on his forehead, rudrash beads around his throat he appeared saintly and pious. There was a remarkable change in him. He spoke less and stayed indoors either reading religious books or lending a helping hand to his mother. This was a welcome change to his otherwise harassed household members. How embarrassing it had become for them to face the community members. Kedaru’ notorious ways had spread far and wide. Elders upbraided their kids citing his example. In short he had become the grand ambassador of embezzlement. Soon his parents avoided socializing and completely cut off all interaction with the outside world. They found it impossible to walk on the road , visit the temple or go shopping without coming into contact with someone whom their son owed money. It was humiliating and on many occasion annoying. They attributed it to the sins committed in their past births. Not that Kedaru was oblivious of their anguish. He knew exactly what they went through. In the past he had promised to reform but had failed to live up to his words. This time he was determined to mend his ways. He came to the kitchen squatted next to his mother and looked at her. The once pretty face had now become pallid and jaded. Years of constant tension had taken its toll on her visage. He had hurt them badly. All through his life he had been a constant pain. The others of his age had done marvelously well for themselves. They all started together from the same school. Now they were well-heeled doctors, engineers, lawyers. Some had even flown abroad to pursue better prospects. While, Kedaru had squandered his entire life. He was an absolute loafer. He loathed himself and the more he starred at his mother the more guilty he felt. He sat there shaken. How could he have been so insensitive ? " They deserved a better life. After all they had sacrificed so much for him ", he pondered. As he was caught in a vortex of thoughts his inner voice goaded him " You still can…..nothing is lost ". A sudden surge of adrenalin shot up inside him. It boosted his confidence. He wanted to make amends for all his wrong doings. " I will prove it to the world that I am no less ", he snapped with a tinge of arrogance. His mother turned around on hearing this. She tenderly caressed his cheeks with her frail palm and began sobbing. He held her hand and spoke in a soft tone ," Mother I agree I have troubled you and father a lot. I am extremely sorry for that. Please forgive me," saying this he touched her feet. The old lady, who never anticipated this , found it a bit akward and didn’t know how to react. She stood helplessly gazing at her son as tears trickled down her cheeks. " From tomorrow I will take a new job. I will bring home whatever I earn and give it to you." he promised. At first, she thought he was saying it for a lark but soon gauged the seriousness in his tone. She felt elated at her son’s amelioration and wanted to share it with her husband. She knew her spouse , who had virtually stopped communicating with his son, would dismiss it as " Nonsense ". But she was confident of convincing him. Her heart pounded in excitement. She thanked ‘Lord Ganesha…’ ‘Tirupati Balaji….’ ‘Guruvayurappan….’ and all the gods that came to her mind. She lit the lamp and burnt some insence sticks to energize the mood. " I will make some sweet ", she told Kedaru and proceeded to make the necessary arrangements. Kedaru sat pondering whom to approach for work. He had no friends and those who knew him treated him like an outcast. The thought of putting up a small food stall came to his mind but the images of people demanding their money loomed large in front of his eyes. It sent shivers down his spine. He immediately negated the idea. As he mulled over the options he heard his mother’s voice in the backdrop. " Kedaru there is no jaggery in the house please go and get some from National Stores ". Saying so she handed over a hundred rupee note. " Make it fast meanwhile I will set up other things ". He had never seen his mother in such a jubilant mood. She moved sprightly from one end of the kitchen to the other : lighting the stove, pouring water in the vessel and grating coconut kernel. Her affection moved him and he headed straight to the ‘National Grocery Stores’
Now standing at the curve Kedaru gazed fixedly at the two storied building. Though weather-beaten with the passing of time, Minar Manzil still had an imposing façade. The melodious strain continued and a mild babble emnated from the second floor. It sounded so familiar even after a gap of several months. The place where he had spent innumerable hours beguiled him. He found his feet guiding him towards the mammoth structure. As he moved forward the jabbering became more clear. Two men descended the wooden stairs and stood near the Udipi restaurant for a smoke. " The last three games were really bad. Some how I want to compensate for yesterdays loss ", said one to the other. Such statements were quite customary to Kedaru and it stimulated him. " No ", he cautioned himself " I have promised mother that I will never go astray ". He instantly turned and advanced towards National Stores when he almost bumped into a familiar face. " Where the hell have you been all this while ? " , the stocky fellow demanded. Kedaru , for a moment failed to recognize him. " And what about my money when are you returning it ? It’s almost a year now ", he yelled angrily. " I will return it in a day or two ," Kedaru found himself saying . The man gave a disgusting look and ridiculed " As if you are going to win a jackpot in a day or two ". These words kept haunting Kedaru long after the man departed. It mortified him when people made such adverse remarks. Somehow luck had never smiled on him or else he would thrown their money back on their faces. His face flushed with anger . He punched the near by lamppost in frustration. It hurt him but he didn’t care. Suddenly his attention fell on the hundred rupee note that he was clutching. He spread the note and felt the texture. " One windfall and all his woes would come to an end ", he mused. The reverie tickled him. A strong desire to prove his detractors wrong roused inside him. He looked at Minar Manzil and it beckoned him. Clutching the hundred rupee note he proceeded towards the disreputable building. This time there was no hesitation. The inclination to win had taken complete control over him and he knew there was no turning back………..
