Scattered Fates - a novel on the second partition of India
#
Thirty minutes later, Senthil had managed to arrange for a makeshift stage, as the crowd swelled to over 6000. Anna, MGR and a few other DMK leaders were huddled in a corner engrossed in discussions, even as the crowd was growing restless.
Subbaiah could recognize two other people. One was the number two in the party, Leader Nedunchezhiyan, and the other was Kalaignar Karunandhi.
He did not know much about Nedunchezhiyan, but was well aware of Karunanidhi’s career as the screenwriter for Parasakthi, the movie that launched Shivaji Ganesan, another fine actor espousing the ideologies of the Dravidian movement.
Two other movies written by Karunanidhi that contained such messages were Panam and Thangarathnam, both movies he had appreciated. They contained themes such as widow remarriage, abolition of untouchability, self-respect marriages, abolition of zamindari and religious hypocrisy, something close to Subbaiah’s heart.
‘All the stars in one spot, I hope this appears in tomorrows newspaper,’ he thought, while cursing himself for having forgotten to inform the reporters.One paragraph in The Hindu would have made a huge impact for Anna’s announcement, whatever it was going to be.
The Hindu, was one of the most respected English newspapers in the country, although it’s circulation was more or less restricted to South India. If anything appeared in the paper, you could be sure of a reaction.
Luckily for him Senthil had made the arrangements, and he spotted a few familiar faces in front, including The Hindu reporter.
Standing a few feet away, Moon was puzzled, trying to make sense of this whole situation.
I can’t believe movies play such an important role in driving public opinion. Thousands of people at midnight just to catch a glimpse of some stocky actor.
He had been warned about coming to India for his year- long exchange program.His economics professor at Corea University had advised him to go to a European country.
‘Western Europe has so much to teach the world. The civilization is solely responsible for this advancement in human life and social welfare. Go to London or Paris. Do not choose capitalist America or communist Russia. Avoid China and Japan. Most importantly, ignore filthy and poor countries like India. You will only suffer and learn nothing. Their culture is different from ours,’ Professor Jee Dong-hoon, a devout Buddhist, had told him.
Fourteen days after this discussion, and just 2 days before submitting his application Profesor Jee was dismissed by the university for plagiarism, fake educational credentials, and for claiming false expenses.
It is a sign that I should choose India. I should go.
He was almost regretting his decision now. The daytime weather was unbearable, with the temperatures touching almost 42 degrees Celsius. It was difficult to concentrate in class, trying to decipher the weird accents drenched in ones own sweat. He had to take a shower at least 5 times a day. Only the nights were bearable, outdoors.
His hostel room was no different. Unluckily, his roommate, Vinay Sharma, from the North Indian town of Ayodhya, had no sense of hygiene. Although he claimed to come from a rich upper-caste family he wore the same set of smelly clothes for days on end. The odor decapitated his senses and made him spend most nights in his friends’ rooms, although it meant sleeping on the cement floor, with cockroaches and rats occasionally turning up to greet him.
The food was yucky and he threw up every time he ate at the hostel canteen.
They call it ‘mess’ here…it sure is one! They only serve vegetarian food, with that regular dish that looks like liquid ttong… and they call it sambar.
Oh, how he missed the four seasons in Corea, the pleasant smells, kimchi, kamzhatang, and soju.
I have to get out. Professor Jee was right. This is a filthy place.
His depressive thoughts were scrambled by the loud announcement through the megaphone. All his friends had left, but Moon decided to stay back out of curiosity. He did not understand a word, and was in no mood to hunt for friendly translators. He just stood staring at the stage.
‘I thought you had left,’ a voice startled him.
‘Hello sir, you did not go on stage? I saw you with MGR before.’
‘Of course not, only leaders do that. I am not one. By the way, where are your friends?’
‘They got bored. I was also about to leave.’
‘You better not. The fun is just starting. Can you see those three people with MGR? They are our leaders. All them have gathered here to tell us something very important.’
‘Sir, I have just one question. How can a film actor be a leader? Is he also a politician?’ Moon asked.
‘His full name is Maruthur Gopalan Ramachandran. I know it is difficult to memorize. He is not just an actor but also a social reformer and politician. He made his film debut in the 1936 and now dominates our film industry. He became a member of my party DMK in 1953 with the help of that short guy to his right, Karunanidhi, who is also a famous scriptwriter for movies,’ he said pointing towards the stage.
‘MGR adds glamour to our movement and is also a member of our Legislative Council. He is very charismatic, and has been responsible for the phenomenal increase in our party membership. A lot of young people are joining our fight to help the poor and bring social reforms. He is not just a famous actor but also a great leader in his own right, and personally offers relief in disasters and calamities like fire, flood, drought, and cyclones. He was also the first donor to the war fund during our recent war with China. He gave 75,000 rupees,’ Subbaiah continued.
‘Sir, I am still confused about your movement.’
‘Well, there is no time to explain, maybe some other time; I can only say that our objectives include social equality, justice and eradication of caste oppression. Now… let us listen to what they will announce,’ he said, noticing Senthil hand over the microphone to Anna, as the crowd roared in approval.