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…
