by Jenny Sulfath, translated from Malayalam by N.Shobhana
[box]Ameena is taken by Sadashivan’s commitment to the revolution, the ‘book with the red cover’ and his ideas about the capitalist institution of family – she becomes Mrs. Revolution. Read on to know their story, written by Jenny Sulfath in Malayalam and translated by N.Shobhana.[/box]Was it Ameena’s red thattum1, which her ‘gulf’ uncle had gifted her on one of his visits, or was it Ameena’s thattum-less ‘tit for tat’ conversations in empty classrooms that fascinated Sadashivan? These questions stand unanswered and are still debatable. Let us not wander away from the story! The story begins in a B.Ed college. Eldois Valiyathirumeni Orthodox College of Education. The name of the college is insignificant to the story. Its people were aspiring teachers with glimmers of rebellion!
During those eventful days, Ameena would ridicule every girl who served her lover lavish amounts of rice from her own lunch box. Often it would not stop at serving him, one could soon find her fighting the mob which walled the solitary college water pipe. On strangling its neck, the pipe would drip hesitant drops of water. Her fight would always be to quickly clean her lunch box so she could spend the rest of the lunch break in the cosy company of her darling. Ameena would mock each one of them with an inborn sense of brutality. It was on one of those days that they met! Sadashivan was engrossed in an old yellowed copy of Das Kapital. He seemed to be deeply involved in intellectual masturbation, grasping every bit of Marx’s ‘Alienation of Work’.
‘Do! Can you shift? That’s my spot!’
It was Ameena. Her words shook Sadashivan from his cerebral transit. Soon after uttering those words, Ameena realised that they sounded a little harsh. Poor Sadashivan, his eyes held a constant look of grief. Ameena could not ignore those sorrowful eyes. His physique showed no sign of flesh, he wore no footwear and a jhola hung from his left shoulder. It was a dismal sight for Ameena. She immediately asked –
‘Didn’t you pay the fees?’
That was the only question that came to her mind. Sadashivan was perplexed by the question. He had dived deep into the intricacies of Das Kapital. He often dreamt of a worker’s revolution in Third World countries.
‘Do you know that we won’t have to pay any fees if there is thoyilali saravdhipatyam, dictatorship of the proletariat?’
‘Entumma! A communist! ’ Ameena exclaimed. She quickly wore her thattum and left the class. After that day, Sadashivan dreamt not just about a Third World revolution but also about Ameena’s enquiring eyes.
*
On their second meeting, Ameena wanted certain theoretical clarifications from Sadashivan.
‘Is it true that we won’t have to pay any fees in a communist state?’
‘Yes! Not just fees, we won’t have to buy food grains or books!’
‘Even books?’ Ameena asked; she had hidden a copy of Balachandran Chullikad’s anthology of poetry in her bag. She had misappropriated her college fees to get that copy.
‘The state, I mean the communist state, will store every possible book on this planet, in huge public libraries. Students and masses will be allowed to access these libraries and read anything they want!’
‘Really?’ Ameena visualized libraries which resembled train compartments, stuffed with books! She was stunned by the thought.
Ameena’s Uppa and brothers would always say that communism is all about killing people. Thanks to Sadashivan, she had second thoughts now. May be it’s not all that bad, she supposed.
Moreover, a person as weak as Sadashivan, with moist merciful eyes, cannot kill anyone.
Later that evening, when Ameena’s dear sister was lamenting over the fact that she had nothing new to wear to her friend’s wedding, Ameena showcased her sadashivanism.
‘Dikoche! You know, when this worker’s revolution would come, you wouldn’t have to cry for clothing. After the revolution you can go to any textile shop and buy anything and everything you want for free! Free!’
Ameena’s dear sister, Kolsu, also felt that the worker’s revolution was not a bad idea. After all, you get free clothing.
‘Ettata, will there be marriage in a communist state?’ Kolsu asked curiously.
It was then that Ameena realized that Sadashivan had not mentioned anything about marriage. She decided that she would clarify Kolsu’s doubt immediately after the next day’s assembly.
However he was absent the next day; and the day after. Bakar, the college peon, who would often give Sadashivan a beedi or two, missed him terribly. She missed him too. Ameena decided that she would refer to that book with the hard red cover to expound her question. He usually carried that red book with him.
Ameena looked for her answers in Das Kapital. The ‘book with the red cover’, kindled the rebel in her. She came face to face with her revolutionary vigour. She had decided.
*
When Ameena saw him debating democracy and family in that old building near the co-operative bank, she cemented her resolve.
‘My life partner – or more accurately, my life comrade – will be someone like Sadashivan.’
‘In a family it’s only the man who earns money. He is the bread winner. As a result, women are forced to obey men. Family is the creation of a class society. Capitalist forces need the perpetuation of this institution,’ he said. Her doubts were clarified.
In the presence of many bearded men and their kasavu sari-clad wives, they declared themselves as life partners. Ameena was suddenly reminded of Kolsu’s question. She couldn’t convey the answer. The thought that Kolsu will have to surrender herself to the capitalist forces without an iota of subversion, saddened Ameena. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
*
A few years down the line, when Ameena decided against the choice of white tiles for their new house, which was built using her Provident Fund, Sadashivan marked his protest by leaving his plate unwashed after every meal. This insolence continued for five days. It was then that she realised. The future of her marriage had nothing to do with capitalist forces or economic relations. It was becoming clearer that a seemingly insignificant piece of khadi cloth would save her marriage and her family by its extraordinary ability to mop the white tiles!
In the years that followed, Ameena ceased to clarify her doubts with Sadashivan. After her school teaching hours she would engage herself in the backyard kitchen garden, improving her productivity.
*
1 Malayalam for head scarf worn by Muslim women
Jenny Sulfath is a student of Women’s Studies in Mumbai.
N.Shobhana is a Sociology student. Writing helps him transcend identities. He is interested in urban studies, oral histories, women’s studies, informal economy and Dalit studies.
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