Skip to main content

Love without frontiers



One of the classical love stories in Malayalam literature is Thakazhi’s Chemmeen (Shrimp). When the novel became a popular movie in Kerala, I was just 5 years old. Two generations later, neither the novel nor the movie is likely to ring any bell though the theme of love can never vanish from literature and arts.

The love affair in the story is inter-religious. A pretty Hindu girl is in love with a young Muslim trader. Today a lot of political organisations would have cried foul and shouts of “Love jihad” would have rent the heavens. Some seven decades ago, people weren’t more broadminded. If nationalist politics has arrogated to itself the chastity of Indian love today, religion had its own characteristic way of subjugating human passions in the olden days. Karuthamma’s love for Pareekutty withers in the fire of the traditions that her mother lights around her.

Karuthamma marries Palani, an orphan discovered by her father during one of his fishing expeditions. Eventually Karuthamma’s mother dies, father marries another woman, and Pareekutty is impoverished because of Karuthamma’s father’s clever manipulations. Frustrated lovers roamed copiously in the literary as well as real landscapes of Kerala in those days. They could be exploited easily too. Once you have lost the passion of your heart, wealth and other such worldly things lose their charm.

Destiny has its own ways of wreaking vengeance. It brings Karuthamma and Pareekutty together once again on the romantic sands of the raging sea. Rumours about their earlier affair had already tarnished Karuthamma’s marriage and Palani became an outcaste for no fault of his except that he married a woman who had had an affair about which he knew nothing.

The extra-marital romance brings about everybody’s ruin. One of the sacred traditions among the fisher folk is that the wife’s infidelity will kill the husband at sea. Palani who has baited a shark is caught up in a whirlpool.

In the end, the sea washes ashore the dead bodies of Karuthamma and Pareekutty. A little away, the same sea brings ashore bodies of Palani and the shark that he killed. The lovers die for their love and the cuckolded husband is killed by the sea. Tradition wins in all of these deaths. You should not overstep the lines drawn by traditions, the story seems to suggest.

I would like to look at it from another angle, however. What would have happened if Karuthamma and Pareekutty were allowed to marry and live together? What if their religions could accept the sanctity of human love as superior to mere traditions? There would have been more happiness in their world.

Even today, we create all the unhappiness around us in the name of some vapid traditions and superiority of one religion over another. Most of us seem to be incapable of accepting the sanctity of human love above other things. And so we create so much misery around us.

PS. Written for In[di]spire Edition 270. #LoveStory

PPS. Today is Good Friday, a day that commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus who asserted the supremacy of love above everything else.



Comments

  1. I had read this story in ACK AS A KID.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Only more happiness had Kuruthamma and Pareekutty been allowed to marry? It could possibly have changed the entire social landscape, I guess. Would have loved it had you given this story a new twist. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nowadays inter-religious marriages are not rare. In spite of that, I could have given a new twist. But I thought you wanted an existing story. :)

      Delete
  3. I had no idea about this story but sadly, this exists even today. Inter-religion marriages always have a roller - coaster journey.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Yesterday

With students of Carmel Margaret, are you grieving / Over Goldengrove unleaving…? It was one of my first days in the eleventh class of Carmel Public School in Kerala, the last school of my teaching career. One girl, whose name was not Margaret, was in the class looking extremely melancholy. I had noticed her for a few days. I didn’t know how to put the matter over to her. I had already told the students that a smiling face was a rule in the English class. Since Margaret didn’t comply, I chose to drag Hopkins in. I replaced the name of Margaret with the girl’s actual name, however, when I quoted the lines. Margaret is a little girl in the Hopkins poem. Looking at autumn’s falling leaves, Margaret is saddened by the fact of life’s inevitable degeneration. The leaves have to turn yellow and eventually fall. And decay. The poet tells her that she has no choice but accept certain inevitabilities of life. Sorrow is our legacy, Margaret , I said to Margaret’s alter ego in my class. Let

X the variable

X is the most versatile and hence a very precious entity in mathematics. Whenever there is an unknown quantity whose value has to be discovered, the mathematician begins with: Let the unknown quantity be x . This A2Z series presented a few personalities who played certain prominent roles in my life. They are not the only ones who touched my life, however. There are so many others, especially relatives, who left indelible marks on my psyche in many ways. I chose not to bring relatives into this series. Dealing with relatives is one of the most difficult jobs for me. I have failed in that task time and again. Miserably sometimes. When I think of relatives, O V Vijayan’s parable leaps to my mind. Father and little son are on a walk. “Be careful lest you fall,” father warns the boy. “What will happen if I fall?” The boy asks. The father’s answer is: “Relatives will laugh.” One of the harsh truths I have noticed as a teacher is that it is nearly impossible to teach your relatives – nephews

Zorba’s Wisdom

Zorba is the protagonist of Nikos Kazantzakis’s novel Zorba the Greek . I fell in love with Zorba the very first time I read the novel. That must have been in my late 20s. I read the novel again after many years. And again a few years ago. I loved listening to Zorba play his santuri . I danced with him on the Cretan beaches. I loved the devil inside Zorba. I called that devil Tomichan. Zorba tells us the story of a monk who lived on Mount Athos. Father Lavrentio. This monk believed that a devil named Hodja resided in him making him do all wrong things. Hodja wants to eat meet on Good Friday, Hodja wants to sleep with a woman, Hodja wants to kill the Abbot… The monk put the blame for all his evil thoughts and deeds on Hodja. “I’ve a kind of devil inside me, too, boss, and I call him Zorba!” Zorba says. I met my devil in Zorba. And I learnt to call it Tomichan. I was as passionate as Zorba was. I enjoyed life exuberantly. As much as I was allowed to, at least. The plain truth is

Everything is Politics

Politics begins to contaminate everything like an epidemic when ideology dies. Death of ideology is the most glaring fault line on the rock of present Indian democracy. Before the present regime took charge of the country, political parties were driven by certain underlying ideologies though corruption was on the rise from Indira Gandhi’s time onwards. Mahatma Gandhi’s ideology was rooted in nonviolence. Nothing could shake the Mahatma’s faith in that ideal. Nehru was a staunch secularist who longed to make India a nation of rational people who will reap the abundant benefits proffered by science and technology. Even the violent left parties had the ideal of socialism to guide them. The most heartless political theory of globalisation was driven by the ideology of wealth-creation for all. When there is no ideology whatever, politics of the foulest kind begins to corrode the very soul of the nation. And that is precisely what is happening to present India. Everything is politics