Nurungukal….

      There was a petty thief in our locality. He was stout and short and hunch backed. He was a familiar character in the area and everyone knew pretty well about his nocturnal activities. Local jail was his second home. Police used to book him against thefts carried out by elusive culprits in order to close the case file. Thus his sporadic intervals in jail denied him a family life, since no body was willing to offer their girls for a jail bird. He never ventured to loot. He was satisfied with a few coconuts or a banana bunch, which he could dispose off in the nearby market before the owners come to know about the robbery. Gradually he acquired a nick name kallan kunhan. But he had no regrets, because he had his own reasons in pursuing such a profession. He was an expert coconut tree climber and with his bare hands used to pluck deftly a few nuts in no time. He was an adept dodger. Even to an expert pursuer he was an enigma like an otiyan. He would disappear like thin air into darkness without leaving no trace. My father who was very keen to catch him red- handed had to draw blank many a time. By the time he reached the spot kunhan  might have eluded and escaped with his loot. After a few attempts my father depressingly abandoned the pursuit . This small man continued to prevail in the society unabated, despite shouldering the stigma, because he had no other ability worth depending to earn a living. Unfortunately circumstances might have made him a thief. In those post independent days, agrarian economy was gasping against a galloping inflation. Employment was very scarce. Many from middle income group migrated into cities in search of better pastures. Less fortunate, with no adequate educational qualification had to be contended with what petty jobs were locally available. Perhaps kunhan might have turned into his undesirable avocation as a last resort for supporting his aged parents and other family members.

                As days rolled into months and months into years kunhan stood his ground unabated and thrived on his profession. Gradually as he became old there was no talk about him. I finished my degree and was in search of a job. One day after dinner when we were all enjoying the eloquent narration of our mother about her brave encounter with a retinue of police, including British officers, to stall their attempt to search for her brothers who were involved in the freedom movement in 1921, we were alerted by a hustle tussle happening in the neighbourhood. I was taken aback by witnessing the ghastly seen. A few youngsters of the vicinity had overcome kunhan and managed to tie him to a coconut tree.  His puny body was virtually hanging on the rope, his head drooped in shame and the crowd was jeering at him mercilessly as if they have won a war. Two coconuts lay nearby as silent spectators of the ordeal.  Fortunately one or two social workers came from nowhere and managed to rescue the culprit from the bonds. But at the insistence of a few he was handed over to the police. That was the last time I have seen him.

                         On that night I saw in him a vague reflection of the compelling situations which pushed him into an ignoble profession and remembered about Jean Val Jean the famous character in Les Miserables by Victor Hugo . But alas in his case there was no Bishop to mend him. He lived and left as a petty thief in ignominy…..!  

                         But now when I read about the day light treacherous robberies in unimaginable proportions and moral turpitude of the society, bygones like kunhan  deserves a posthumous acclamation and pardon…