Short story

by Rukmini Attygalle

Andoris my beggar friend from the previous story and I developed a friendship based on mutual respect. Andoris plied his trade mainly in and around the Colpetty market. He was a man of many parts. Apart from being a very good actor (a distinct advantage for one practicing his profession), he was both cunning and resourceful. Except for the fact that his body was extremely thin, there was nothing physically wrong with him.

He was however ‘double jointed’ – an ability to bend the limbs at the joints to a much greater degree than is normally possible. He used his agility to perfect advantage. At certain times he would sit on the pavement outside the market with his knees together straight in front him and flat on the ground, with his lower legs and feet sticking out on either side. As the average human torso could not normally maintain this posture, people naturally assumed that the man was deformed. He enhanced this supposed deformity by bending one hand inwards till his thumb touched his lower arm – another impossible feat for the average person.

Regular fits of coughing and gasping for breath, were additional embellishments to his act. “May you reach Nirvana by helping a poor man,” was the chorus with which he filled the gaps in the coughing fits. He never ever verbally claimed that he was in any way disabled. If others thought so – well that was their prerogative! Their undoing too!

By mid-afternoon Andoris found that it was more lucrative to abandon his seated posture and go into the market-square to act as a porter cum hailer of taxis. He seemed to change miraculously from the pathetic deformed figure prone to breathing difficulties to a man-of-action. The agility with which he pranced about on his thin stick-like legs never failed to amaze me. Veins bulged out of his upper arms as he lifted heavy shopping bags, and he seemed very much happier doing this than his morning work.

I think he felt it was a more respectable form of activity to earn a living. As the saying goes, ‘beggars cannot be choosers’, he had to earn his way through life using every possible resource available to him and if he had to turn himself into a pathetic cripple in order to achieve this – so be it! After all he not only had to support himself but a family as well.

Since Andoris and I became friends, he never failed to greet me with a beaming smile. Although I was aware of his prowess in acting, I could see the unmistakable stamp of sincerity in that smile. In fact, if he saw me even when he was in his ‘deformed mode’ he would still greet me with the most, cheery smile, not at all in keeping with the image he was trying to project. Often, he would abandon his ‘deformed mode’ and follow me into the market-square, not only to become my porter but also my friend and adviser.

He knew each and every stall in that market, and also what the best bargains of the day were.

“The best mangoes are in the stall next to the butcher’s,” or, “I did not see any decent drumsticks today. They all look dry and over matured but the snake gourd in the front stall is good and the price also is cheap,” he would advise as we entered the market square.

He was too cunning to proffer such advice within earshot of the stallholders, for he could not afford to antagonize anyone. In fact, his work depended on people’s goodwill. So, if I was about to make a foolish purchase, and Andoris was not in a position to warn me verbally, he would break into a cough or clear his throat meaningfully. He always volunteered advice in a friendly and concerned manner. I appreciated his advice and guidance very much.

I was also often touched by his observations, which showed genuine concern.

“How is your foot, Nona? It must be better now because you are not limping anymore.” I was surprised that he had even noticed. “You must be careful when you walk on these pavements, Nona, because they are so uneven.”

Although he addressed me as ‘Nona’ his attitude was not ingratiating. It was more a manner of speaking. He was always respectful, of course, in the way one shows respect to a friend. With me he did not bow and scrape as I saw him do with some others; and I was glad. For such behaviour invariably acted as a barrier to true communication. He probably accepted that socially I was considered his superior, but he knew, that we both knew, that on a basic human level we were equal.

“Did you manage to buy all the books for Sunil with the money I gave you?” I once asked Andoris. Sunil was his son and Andoris was very keen that he should be sufficiently educated, so that he would not be forced to follow his father’s profession.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “I even had money left over to buy two extra copy books for him,” he said beaming. Had he told me that he had run short of money, I would have given him some more and he knew it. But he also knew that honesty was an important element in a good friendship.

Once or twice when I did not have sufficient change to give Andoris for carrying my shopping, I said to him that I would recompense him when next I saw him. “No, no, Nona! That is quite all right. Don’t you worry about it,” he would reassure me shaking his head from side to side as if to say, “What are a few rupees between two friends?”

One day Andoris came running towards me, excitement written all over his face. “Nona, I have some very good news to tell you. In fact, I was looking out for you for the last few days, but you didn’t come this way.” He was eager for me to ask him what it was.

“So, what’s the good news, then?” I inquired.

“We have arranged a marriage for my daughter. She is going to be married soon!”

Andoris beamed and managed to look quite bashful.

“Why Andoris, you look so shy one would think that you were the one who is to be married!” I joked.

“Aiyo, Nona, you are always teasing me,” he pretended to complain, but he thoroughly enjoyed the banter.

I was very happy for Andoris. Marriage for his daughter had been an enormous weight on his mind. He had once told me that being a beggar was a distinct disadvantage when it came to finding a marriage partner for his daughter. Although she was fair and beautiful, all interested parties lost interest the moment they came to know how the prospective father-in-law made a living.

“So does the bridegroom-to-be know about your line of work?” I asked as tactfully as I could.

“Well,” he said clearing his throat, with a cunning expression creeping into his face. “I told him that I work in the market. That is not a lie, no?” he replied, trying to justify himself. He looked at me for some support.

“Of course not,” I backed him. “You work in and around the market and that is the truth!” I knew that I would probably have done the same had I been in his position. It was so much easier to be honest when one’s circumstances were not so desperate, and money was available to back up one’s sense of honesty.

“Anyway,” he said “I know that the young man has taken a great liking to my girl and he won’t change his mind in a hurry. In fact, when I told him that I wouldn’t be able to give the girl a dowry because I have to educate my son, do you know what he said? ‘I am not interested in any dowry. I have a very good job as a security guard!’ So, Nona, I think the right time has come for my daughter. This match will definitely work.”

I was truly happy for Andoris. It was about time he had some luck! Since his wife died two years ago his biggest worry had been finding a husband for his daughter.

“We are thinking of fixing the wedding for the end of next month,” he said beaming again with excitement. “It will give me a little more time to collect some money for the wedding.”

“I’ll give you some money for the young couple – a wedding present,” I said. “I am sure there’ll be lots of things they would need when they start a new life together.”

“What wedding presents!” Andoris scoffed. “I will need every cent for the wedding!”

“But Andoris, “I replied, “Surely you’re not thinking of wasting money on a wedding reception! You should give whatever money you can afford to your daughter!”

“What Nona! What are you saying! What sort of father would I be if I don’t even give a wedding reception to my own daughter! It is going to be the most important day in her life and in mine also! Of course, I am going to give her a wedding and a grand one too!” Andoris remonstrated with such vehemence that I was quite taken aback.

“And Nona you must also come to the wedding. I will tell you the moment the date is finalized. I will be going to see the astrologer next week to find a good nekath day.”

I was really touched that Andoris had invited me to the wedding. “Yes Andoris, I’d love to come,” I said, and meant it.

He told me he lived in Wanathamulla; and warned me that it would not be easy finding his place; but he said he would give me clear instructions nearer the date.

The next time I saw Andoris I gave him some money for the wedding, with which he seemed pleased.

“Everyone is being so generous!” he exclaimed. “Even the stall holders have given me money.”

I imagined his wad of notes hidden in his waist pouch getting fatter by the day and I was very pleased for Andoris.

My problems began when I told my family and friends about the forthcoming wedding and my intention to attend it. In the first place, they thought that I was quite eccentric to have struck up a friendship with a beggar; appalled at the circumstances that had led to this friendship and thought it absolute lunacy for me to attend the wedding.

I well remember my mother’s horror when I first told her that I had to borrow money from a beggar to pay for my taxi.

“For goodness sake! Have you no self-respect? Borrowing money from a beggar!”

“But Amma, I had. no option! The taxi driver was getting quite irate and abusive!” I remonstrated.

“Of course, you had options! You could have gone back for your purse; or come here and taken the money from me!”

I had been too embarrassed to admit that I had felt quite intimidated by the taxi driver. In any case, she would not have understood such things because she was not a person who could have been intimidated by anyone!

“And now,” my mother said in an exasperated voice, “This business of wanting to go for the wedding! It is complete madness!” And for once, my husband agreed with her totally.

My dilemma became a much-discussed topic among family, friends and of course the servants in my mother’s household, who were always in the know of everything going on.

Her chauffeur Jamis – whom I had known all my life and never quite treated me as an adult, warned: “Don’t you ask me to drive you around to these mudukkus in Wanathamulla. Because I won’t!” He stated his position clearly and categorically.

As my husband drove himself to work in our car, if I needed to go anywhere during the day, I had to rely on Jamis or taxis.

I desperately turned to my friends for some sort of understanding and support but did not receive any. The general consensus being that, it was not very prudent to place myself in a vulnerable position in the shanties of Wanathamulla at a time when rumblings were being heard and tremors felt, of the growing dissatisfaction and anger of the ‘have nots’ against the `better offs’ in society.

In the end I caved in as one does in such circumstances, unless of course one was made of sterner stuff, which I was not.

I felt sad and depressed at the thought of telling Andoris that I would not be able to attend his daughter’s wedding, after all. I knew that I would have to resort to lies in order not to hurt his feelings, and this really appalled me. I felt I was downgrading our friendship. And yet what other option did I have?

When I next met Andoris, I did not beat about the bush but told him straight that I would not be able to make it to the wedding. I said – lying through my teeth – that, I had to go out of Colombo that weekend and would not be able to be back in time for the wedding.

“Aiyo Nona what a shame! It would have been so nice if you could have come!” his disappointment was starkly apparent on his face.

I felt terrible because I knew that I was letting him down badly. In order to ease my conscience, I pulled out a fifty-rupee note and held it out to him.

“No, no!” he said. “I have more than enough money for the wedding now.”

I felt ashamed that I had offered him money. Money could not camouflage the fact that I had disappointed him. It was not money he wanted but my presence at his daughter’s wedding – the most important day in her life and his also.

“It’s going to be a good wedding party,” he said, “I am sorry that you won’t be able to come.” He looked crestfallen.

I despised myself for my weakness, and my willingness to bow down to convention so readily. The next time I met Andoris he welcomed me with a beaming smile. As he shook his head from side to side, he said, “I knew I would see you today, Nona, because Saturday is your marketing day. The wedding went off very well!” he exclaimed. Taking a little box wrapped in red and gold shiny paper, from his shirt pocket, he stretched out his hand towards me. “I brought you a piece of wedding cake,” he said shyly.

“Oh, thank you Andoris, how nice of you to have remembered me,” I said, accepting it with gratitude, while my face burned with shame.