Free The House of Blue Mangoes by David Davidar Page B

everyone gave him a wide berth, he continued to agonize over the situation. Like Solomon, Muthu didn’t really need to be thalaivar of Chevathar. As the second biggest mirasidar in the taluqa (the one hundred and seventeen acres he owned or rented were dwarfed only by Solomon’s two hundred and twenty-three), he had wealth and prestige to spare. He could easily have moved to one of the other villages he owned so that he didn’t come into conflict with Solomon. But their long-standing rivalry ruled out that option.
    As he stalked up the steps into his house, ignoring the usual supplicants who gathered daily for favours, money or advice, he wondered, for the umpteenth time since the latest clash with Solomon, whether he or his people would ever be able to come up with something to drive the wretched Dorais from Chevathar.
    Perhaps it was simply that his kinsmen were not destined to flourish on this soil as the Andavars were. Every villager knew that a man who didn’t find soil that suited his nature would not prosper. Brahmins thrived on sweet soil, like that found in the delta at the mouth of a river, which is why Subramania Sastrigal and his ambitious young son would never thrive on the astringent soil of Chevathar. They might squeak and flail away at the Dorais but one roar from Solomon would send them scurrying for cover. But surely the kunam of the Vedhars matched the soil of Chevathar, which was neither sweet nor sour, salty nor pungent but was fairly bitter – the soil of people of the earth, farmers and artisans. That is what the young priest of the Murugan temple said, but what the fool forgot was that Solomon was as much farmer and artisan as Muthu himself. He and his family had flourished on this land for generations, and what better proof that the nature of the soil was eminently compatible with the nature of his caste than this fact? No, the red earth of Chevathar was not going to be of much help in his attempt to dislodge Solomon. He would need to act boldly and decisively if ever he were to succeed.

14
    Vakeel Perumal’s cleverness as a lawyer was often neutralized by his impatience. Time and time again, on the verge of victory in an important case, he would either lose interest in the proceedings or insult his opponent, or simply forget a crucial argument, thus landing his unfortunate client in jail or worse. His father had left him a modest fortune, thus increasing his irresponsibility. What had finally done him in was his casual handling of a case of armed robbery against a Marudar client. Vakeel Perumal’s defence was so brilliant that he had almost got the man off, until in his arrogance he had quite openly tried to turn a witness for the prosecution with a bribe. The English District Sessions judge was not amused and would have disbarred him, but with some brilliant legal legerdemain Vakeel Perumal had squirmed out from under. His client wasn’t as fortunate. He received the maximum possible sentence for his crime. As he was led away, the man had hissed – ‘When I have finished with the vakeel, not even the pigs of Salem will be able to make a meal of him.’ Vakeel Perumal left town with his wife and two daughters before the thug could put his threat into action. Chevathar, where his wife had a distant cousin, seemed the perfect place to wait out the storm.
    When he arrived in the village, he had immediately tried to make his presence felt. After the excitement of Salem, he was impatient with the slowness and rusticity of Chevathar. He felt the only way to make his period of exile bearable was to stir things up. He had no doubt that he would succeed in making an impact on the affairs of the village. He had the money, he had the brains, and he had his town-bred sophistication – what could be easier? But he hadn’t reckoned with himself. With his impatience and vanity, he swiftly succeeded in offending everyone of consequence. Muthu Vedhar had beaten him up in the presence of his wife and