Thoppikozhi

When Beautiful eyes asked me What was I searching for, I knew at that moment, He is the one I was searching for all my life.
When I told him Artaban’s story
He didn’t ask me is it a true story?
He didn’t ask me if I believe the story?
He didn’t even bother to blame Artaban for lying to the soldier who came to kill the woman’s son
He didn’t tell me, so whatever they taught at the Sunday school was correct!
Instead he asked me” what are you searching for?”
He was the first person, who could take the religion, Christianity, truth, lies and faith out from the story of Artaban and see an ordinary human being’s quest of life. He was the first person I ever met, who knew each of us here on earth are searching for something. Some search for better life, materialistic life, some search for knowledge, some search for happiness and I was searching for a man who understood me. A man who can accept me for what I am.

“So what is your hobby?” Beautiful eyes asked
“Nothing much”
“What do you mean nothing much?”
“Well I read a lot, Apart from that nothing much, You see, I can’t draw a straight line, so that rules out painting or any creative art. I am not good at making anything either.”
“What do you mean?”
“That is a long story! When I was little my mother wanted me to learn knitting because all girls should learn knitting! She bought me a ball of yarn and my own set of (two) knitting needles. At the end of the day she got 4 knitting needles and something that in its previous life was a ball of yarn!”
Beautiful eyes started to laugh and he asked
“Then what happened?”
“Then She decided to teach me crochet”
“And?”
“Well, the idea was to make a loop with the crochet needle. It got knotted, so I pulled it hard”
“And”
“And nothing! let us just say that, the crochet needle was my grandmother’s and I spend the rest of the day hiding”
“Finally your mother gave up?”
“Nah, she tried teaching me tatting
“What is tatting?”
“Oh it is a total waste of time. You have to move the shuttle and create knots” I showed him the action by moving my hands
“And?”
“And I created knots! plenty of them. The yarn was from England. Amma ordered it using the mail order catalogue. She even had to pay import tax!”
“She didn’t kill you?” Beautiful eyes was holding his chest and laughing
” she tried, unlike the sharp end of the crochet, you can’t kill anyone with a tatting shuttle!”
We were laughing so much that Jomon looked up to see what was going on
“Shh” I tried to hush Beautiful eyes
“You are so funny” He replied
“Shh, Jomon is looking”
“So”
“So nothing. Move your legs, I will go back to the hostel, before I get in to any trouble” I got up to leave.
He was staring at me.” Please let me go”
“Ok” He too got up
“Good night” I wished him
“Good night Nina. Sweet dreams”

Sweet dreams? he really wished me sweet dreams!! I felt a sudden rush of absolute euphoria. I felt I was floating till I heard Jomon calling my name. I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at Jomon. He was walking towards me
“Why were you talking to him?”
“Huh?”
“Why were you talking to him?”
“Who?”
“Just now you were talking to him. Don;t think that I didn’t see you!”
“Oh him. Why is there a rule that says I can’t talk to him?
“There are no rules. But you should remember We are Malayalees, we don’t interact with North Indians. We have our own culture!”
I got so mad. Jomon isn’t my father to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.
“Listen, I am 18 years old, old enough to vote here. I can make my own decisions. Why don’t you mind your own business? If I want to talk to him, I will. Who are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?”
Before Jomon could respond, I walked off. The problem with Malayalee men is that, they think they have a God given rights to tell their women what they should do. They tell them how to dress, how to walk, who to marry.. everything.
I was so mad at Jomon for trying to interfere with my personal life.

Christmas party was on Saturday the 24th. All morning the ladies hostel was a hive of activities. Most students had gone to the salon to get their hair done. I had short hair. There was nothing much I could do with my hair.
That got me thinking, Why do I have short hair?
From the time I could remember, Amma always cut my hair short. Maria’s hair was almost a meter long. Liza and Sally too had long hair. There was once Amma promised me, she would buy me a pair of budgies, if I allowed the barber to cut my hair short. I didn’t want to cut my hair short, but my cousin had a pair of budgies and I always wanted a pet. I remember sitting in the deep maroon colour chair. I asked the barber
“How short are you going to cut?”
“Oh Nina, don’t worry, He is only going to trim it. Just a little bit” Amma rubbed my shoulder and smiled sweetly.
“Promise” I asked the barber
He too smiled and nodded his head
“You will buy me budgies?” I asked Amma again
“Yes Nina, how many times do I have to tell you that”
“Ok”
“Look down” The barber ordered. When he switched on the electric shaver, I thought I heard Amma say something. But I was too afraid to turn my head and ask, because I thought if I turned, then the barber might make a mistake and accidentally cut my hair too short!
I could see my hair falling on the towel kept on my shoulder. Some of it even dropped on my thighs. I moved my hand slowly and removed the hair from my thighs’
“Lift your head up” the barber ordered
I looked up. That is when I saw my reflection in the mirror
“Amma, you promised. You promised me you won’t cut my hair short” I didn’t want the barber to cut my hair anymore. I tried to get up from the chair
“Sit down Nina. Don’t waste my time” Amma started to scream and she pushed me back on to the chair.
“Let go of me. I don’t want to cut my hair anymore” I started to cry and scream.
“See this” Amma pushed my chin to the side and showed the reflection of the back of my head in the mirror. You look like a thoppikozhi (naked neck chicken). People will laugh at you. You don’t want to cut, fine, but don’t you dare come home and cry, when everyone laughs at you” Amma pulled the towel off from my shoulder.
“Get up” She was screaming. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. there was no hair at the back of my head. I knew I looked like a thoppikozhi. I didn’t want my friends to laugh at me.
“Ok. Cut my hair” I whispered
An old man sitting on the bench by the side of the shop asked Amma in Tamil
“Why did you tell him to cut your daughter’s hair short like that? Isn’t she a girl? Girls are supposed to have long hair”
“You shut up”. Amma scolded him. “I don’t have money to waste for a hair cut every month. If I get him to cut it short, then I don’t have to get it cut every month”
Amma looked at me to see if I understood what she said in Tamil.
I pretended, I didn’t.
I hated her so much. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to fight with her and spoil my chances of getting a pair of budgies. When the barber finished cutting, I didn’t look in the mirror. I didn’t want to see my reflection. I just wanted to go to the pet shop and buy the birds. As I left the shop I looked at the old man. His face was full of wrinkles and his eyes were deep inside the eye socket. Yet I could see sympathy in his eyes. I smiled at him, because I was getting the birds, my hair will always grow back. He too smiled.
As soon as we came out of the barber shop, I asked Amma
“Which shop are we going to buy the birds from?”
“Oh Nina, I was thinking about it. You know Appa doesn’t like us doing things without his permission. Tell you what, I will write to him today itself and ask for his permission. In that way he won’t scold us when he comes back home”
It was a moment I felt absolute hatred for my mother. I promised myself, one day when I have my own kids, I will keep all the promises I made to them. I will not be like my mother. I will not cheat my children.

We have a pair of budgies now.. but somehow the hurt, the anger and the hatred I felt towards my mother then.. still remains..

8 thoughts on “Thoppikozhi

  1. Hi Sarah

    I chanced upon ur blog while hunting 4 Moru Kachiya recipe :-). Been addicted ever since. May be its coz f the Kottayam descriptions; ur writin was so vivid, I was walkin thru collectrate Jn, Paico,Parade Grnd once again. Same goes for Bangalore. I miss them all yet am unsure about going back and settling in any of those places.
    Funny, many of my collge mates didn’t even know I was a Keralite or rather ‘mallu’. Funnier, my archetypical mallu friends hadn’t read a single ‘Balarama’ or watched ‘kathakali’.

    Your blog leaves me moody & whimsical. Powerful writing to say the least! I wish you would make it into a book!
    Encore…..

  2. My mother kept my hair cut short probably because I was a tomboy and it was easier for her to take care of it that way. When I started to care for my own hair I stopped cutting it. I can empathize with you.

  3. That does make me feel sad. The first impressions of a child in the world are that with his/her parents and when parents themselves let the kids down, it can have a deep impact deep down. Makes me feel I owe it to my kids not to let them down.

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