These incidents could be imagined to have happened in November 1942 in Tiruvatteeswaranpettai, a locality in Triplicane in the heart of what is now Chennai.
It was a bleak, dreary, dark day, practically sunless. Torrents of rain came down the whole day. The all-pervading wetness and leaky roofs left young boys cold and shivering. They folded their arms around their emaciated bodies as if to ward off the cold winds. The schoolboys had their daily tumbler of millet koozhu. They took it without warming it up as most of the families could not afford fuel — damp firewood — to light the clay ovens in their houses. And then they set out for school, which was a leaky thatch shed with unswept floors and bereft of benches and tables.
In the group of boys was Ashwin, who had been denied a second helping of koozhu by his mother primarily because the beverage was almost exhausted and his two younger sisters were yet to be fed. In the group was another boy, Hamid, who lived in a hut in a wooded locality, in nearby Mirsahibpet. This place had a dargah and a burial ground. Before setting out of his house, Hamid, as was his routine, peeped into a kind of shed made of deal wood planks and tattered tartan cloth. He whistled inside the shed through holes in the planks and threw in small balls of dough mixed with bits of rotten meat. After this, satisfied that everything was all right, he joined the group wending its way to school. There was a brief let-up in the downpour, and it was 8.30 a.m. when the boys reached the school gates.
Athisayam, the teacher, had got up at 5-30 a.m. Rain was lashing and the winds were howling in the dark early hours. He was a disturbed man. He had no children and his wife was laid up with typhoid fever. He taught at the school where Ashwin and Hamid studied. The previous night the doctor had prescribed a “mixture”. It was a concoction of various medicinal powders and tablets mixed and ground with water in a small mortar after pounding with a pestle. The pharmacy would prepare the mixture and fill it up in glass bottles with graduation lines to indicate doses. Athisayam cleaned his teeth with burnt paddy husk. He prepared koozhu, took one tumbler of it and kept a share for his wife by her pillow as she slept. Athisayam was a patient man. But who will not easily lose temper in the situation in which he was placed? He dressed in his dhoti and shirt with an angavastram. He mounted his rickety bicycle and set out for the pharmacy. He pedalled furiously on the return journey as he was late for school.
Of late, he had been late for school often, having to attend to his wife. The school management was aware of his predicament but how can they be blamed if this late-coming became chronic? As his cycle turned into his own street, the tyre got stuck in the tram line and he fell down, bottle and all. The bottle was broken and Athisayam was heart-broken. He muttered to himself: “God’s will. The poor lady will have to do without the morning and noon doses. Let me give her a double dose in the evening.” He then rushed to the school, distressed, and the usually patient man was angry. He reached the gates of the school at 8.31 a.m., within the grace period of five minutes and was saved that day. But he was in a nasty mood.
It was the chemistry class. Ashwin and Hamid sat in the front. Athisayam demonstrated the use of the burette and pipette. When he let off water from the pipette, imagination ran riot in Ashwin and he shouted, “It’s peeing”. This was the last straw on the teacher's back and he went berserk. He came to Ashwin, caught him by his ears, hoisted him and dragged him to the school grounds. He took the boy to a disused shed-like structure full of broken planks, blackboards and sundry wooden articles, thrust him into it and drew the bolt from outside. It was about 9 a.m. Athisayam then sauntered back to his class. Then everyone forgot about the incident, and forgot about poor Ashwin too.
It was dark where Ashwin was incarcerated. He could not make out the things in the room. By 10 a.m., thirst and hunger began to gnaw. He was hoping Athisayam would come and let him out, and this hope kept his fear in check. Soon it began to rain cats and dogs. The squall was so severe the authorities shut the school and asked the boys to go home. The teachers also left. Athisayam thanked his stars as he could get the mixture again and administer the prescribed doses.
Meanwhile, Ashwin was unbearably thirsty. The floor of the shed was elevated and rainwater did not enter it. He could do nothing but to call out loudly for help, and then cry bitterly. Tired, he lay down and began to doze off despite his hunger, thirst and fear.
Then he heard a slithering sound, a swish. He pricked his ears and lay silent. The slithering sound came nearer and nearer. He stretched his hand and felt something big, cold, moist and slimy. It was like a rolled wet foam mattress. Ashwin lay there wondering what it could be. Suddenly some slimy, thick liquid- like substance was pumped over his entire head. Some of it went into his mouth and he swallowed it. The substance was perhaps sleep-inducing; he became extremely drowsy and went into a sort of trance. It was noon.
After leaving school, Hamid, who was a close friend of Ashwin, went to the latter's house and enquired about him. Ashwin was not there. Hamid was not one to take it easy. He went back to the school and searched for Ashwin in the class rooms, playing areas and everywhere. One last place remained and it was the disused shed. He tiptoed to the shed entrance, opened the bolt and peered in. What a sight there! Hamid felt faint and took to his heels. But where did his heels carry him?
At 11.30 a.m., the slimy creature had breathed over the sleepy and almost unconscious Ashwin. It then poured more of its saliva over his body to make it sodden and make it pliable by the chemical action of the saliva. The creature then started to slowly coil its long tail round the boy's body. This was the precursor to making the coil tighter and tighter, converting the body into pulp and swallowing it on one whole. It was at this scene that Hamid saw, took in what was happening and ran.
Hamid knew just then what was to be done. He ran to where he lived. He threw empty gunny bags into the secluded shed and made poking moves with a stick. Something was gathered in the gunny bags, which were then securely tied. Hamid ran back with these bags. He released the material kept in the bags into the shed. He then waited with bated breath. Soon loud sounds of a bitter battle emanated from inside. It grew louder and louder and suddenly it became still and silent. Hamid peeped in. He found blood spattered everywhere and bits of flesh. His heart sank. Alas, he could not save Ashwin.
But fate had decreed otherwise and unbelievably, Ashwin came out alive from the deadly grip of the python. What had happened? Where Hamid lived there were lots of snakes, posing a threat to him and his family. So they started rearing mongooses to ward off the snakes. Mongoose is a deadly enemy of the snake. The python that attacked Ashwin could not tackle the mongooses that were brought in gunny bags. It was killed by the mongooses.
Ashwin returned home. He vowed never again to be mischievous in class. That night, Athisayam knelt longer than usual before the Cross in his house. And all was well in heaven.
(The author, who lives in Mylapore, Chennai, is 82. A retired government officer, he started writing at the age of 79, and has published four books. He told his grandchildren this spooky tale as a bed-time story recently. E-mail:prabhakedar33@gmail.com)
