Expulsion¹

Translation of the short story வெளியேற்றம் by Prapanjan

Darkness.

Athmananda felt that the world lay dark like the minds of the theists of various religions who are suffering, having ingested without digesting what various religious teachers wrote at various times for various reasons and so unable to swallow or spit. The monastery, the temple attached to the monastery, and the garden were immersed in darkness like dice folded inside a black handkerchief.

It was a dark night in which everything had become dark, and then merged with darkness and darkness was everything. Athmananda went through the garden and reached the backdoor of the monastery at the end of the garden. The champak flower was flooding its fragrance splitting apart the darkness. It was a garden that he had himself created. Before he had been ordained, it was a barren desert land with cactuses and prickly pears. Since the Elder² one’s movements reduced, as a result of the carelessness assumed by the monastery’s patrons and officials, the forest had turned into a desert. He recalled how hard He³ had to fight to correct the land and to even grow a few plants and trees.

When Athma laughed to himself and opened the backyard door, His feet had to land on the steps to the Varaha river. These steps were built exclusively for the monks of the monastery. A bathing ghat and meditation chamber built exclusively so that the monks could take bath early in the morning before anybody could see. Since Athma took over, He had abolished the practice of taking a segregated bath. He recalled how even this was opposed by Raghuraman, the then primary official of the monastery.

“Swami, the Swamis before you have all taken bath in the exclusive bathing ghat. It is best if you also do the same”, he told Athmananda Swami.

“That was their convenience. Our⁴ convenience is the common ghat.”

“If you were to do that you have to mingle with the common crowd.”

“So…?”

“That will reduce our glory. Our respect will fall. Keeping the common folk close to us will reduce our honour and our superiority.”

“After having worn this saffron robe for the common folk, what justice is it to keep the common folk at a lower step? If our honour falls because of that, let it fall…”

Raghuraman stopped his speech with a frown on his forehead.

Athma sat down in the meditation chamber looking at the river. Like writing that has been erased on a black slate, the Varaha river appeared to run thin. Mid-January’s⁵ breeze ruffled His tresses. His body cooled down as if anointed with sandalwood.

The Varaha river too had dried up. It hadn’t been long. It had just been five years since he had come to the city. Before that, the river had been filled with water. The floods of the river would run uprooting the coconut trees on the southern bank and the palm trees on the opposite. That was another era. It was on the shore of this river, in this chamber that Athmananda Swami had been ordained. By the Elder…

In his previous ashrama⁶ Arumugam was the name for Athma. His father, Kannaiya Pillai, who was taking care of the monastery’s farming brought him, he who had been born in some faded dull village, finished his schooling in that same village’s school, and then had been occupied with the work of searching for work after his college, to the Elder’s presence. The Elder blessed and gave holy ash to the Arumugam who prostrated himself fully and then asked.

“What is your name?”

“Arumugam, Swami.”

For a second, the Elder looked deep into his face and then uttered “Stay”. From then on Arumugam stayed in the monastery itself. It was a fact that more than the place, he was fascinated by the wonderful library that the Elder had preserved. From the Nastikas⁷ who were considered as enemies of the Sanatana Dharma to the Vivekananda who was recognized as the first modern monk, that library housed everybody. That was a time of nourishment for Arumugam. From the beginning, Vivekanada roared.

“My young friends! Be as those with strength. This is the only advice I give you. Rather than reading this, you will be closer to heaven by playing football⁸… I place this question before every man. Are you strong? Do you feel strong? Because only truth gives strength…”

He felt like Vivekananda was guiding him into every nook and corner of spirituality. Slowly that alchemy was happening inside him. Come, come and do some courageous deed! Brothers, so what if you don’t attain enlightenment? So what if you take on the travails of hell a few more times? With purity in their thought, word, and action, a few wise men are delighting the entire world with their numerous deeds. They turn even an iota of goodness found in another and magnify it to a mountain and make their hearts bloom…” thus, did he always hear Vivekananda’s voice calling him. When this seed had begun to sprout in him, the Elder summoned him and asked.

“Arumugam, will you get ordained after me and decorate this Seat⁹? You don’t have to tell your decision immediately. Think calmly. If you need to come to this stage, you have to take up renunciation. You have to make yourself fit for this…”

Arumugam thought deeply. Is renunciation rejecting women, land, and money? How can one who rejects be a monk? He who loves his children is a father. He who loves his family is a husband. He who loves all humans, trees, and creatures in a limitless and unconditional manner, isn’t he, a monk? He became a monk. Arumugam too became Athmanandan.

Athma, wrapped himself in his saffron robes tight. It was in this place He had become the chief of this monastery with its hoary tradition. On the first day, He was witness to incidents that crumbled His faith. As part of the ordainment, there was the acceptance of offerings. The VIPs of the town, government officials, the wealthy, and many such were offering their offerings to Athmananda. While He was accepting the offerings from each village, His attention was drawn to the crowd that stood holding garlands and offerings, far away from the meditation chamber on the other bank of the river. They were standing on the other bank and gazing that the festivities of the ordainment. Athma, summoned his primary official.

“Can we not call the people on the other bank to this side? Then they can look at Us and We can look at them, getting closer.”

“Pardon me, Swami. That is not possible. It is against tradition. It is against dharma. They are chandalas. The last in the caste system. They should not get the light of Your face. That privilege is not theirs in their current birth.”

Athma felt as ifRaghuramaiyyar had slapped His face. His words froze Athma. Was there anybody who was lower and untouchable in this human race?

If so, who was the thug who created this difference? Athma said to the official.

“I have to see them. Please grant this favour. Let them come close.”

“That is not possible, Swami. To let those slum¹⁰ folk come into the monastery is against our customs. Against dharma.”

“Against with custom? Against which dharma?”

“Against the varnashrama and varna dharma¹¹. If we let them come, then the monastery will be tainted.”

The overflowing crowd of visitors disturbed His attention. After having been immersed in the festivities the whole day, Athma suddenly took that decision.

The homes of the slum hadn’t yet been shut. The smoke emanating from the roof showed that food was being cooked inside the homes. Somu had lit a kerosene lamp on the raised platform¹² and was reading. There was a shadow before him. He looked up. He saw a form wrapped in saffron before him. He realized that the forty-fourth chief of the monastery who had been ordained just that morning was standing before him. He stood up in shock.

“Saami¹³, is it you?”, he asked

“Yes.”

Athma sat down on the platform casually.

“Here…at this time…” he drawled. At the same time, Somu’s mother who came with a winnow full of fish scales looked at the monk and ran inside shocked. In a few moments, a small crowd had gathered.

“Just like that… you were not allowed near when you came this morning to see me, right? that is why I came here now.”

Someone who looked like the leader of that crowd said,

“Saami, it is the tradition that you should not come here. You have made a mistake by coming here to us.”

Athma was pained. He returned to the monastery. The next day Raghuramaiyyar put Athma in further discomfort.

“Swami, you must pardon for me speaking thus. You are the Eldest of the monastery. You should not go against customs and habits. I heard that you visit the slums. Very wrong. Just for doing this one thing, you can be judged as unfit for the title. Please do not do such things again.”

Athma was not ready to lose faith. He thought the situation would change. As the first deed, in the monastery’s dining hall, He said the practice of separate dining lines¹³ for the upper caste and for others will be stopped, and everybody shall eat in the same line. This first reformation of Athma was accepted without any direct opposition. But only after many days He came to know that the upper caste were not coming to the monastery to eat at all. Even though this was a surprise to Him, He refused to take back His order.

It was then that Raghuramaiyyar came with some documents related to property that needed Athma’s signature.

“What is this?”, asked Athma.

“Swami, these are the documents that give away three thousand of the twelve thousand acres of land that belong to the monastery to tenants and the farmers. These tenants have been working with us for generations. Let those who say that the farm belongs to he who farms. We will show it in action. So let us give away the three thousand acres to the tenants.”

Atham felt happy for the first time since He was ordained. He said with a lot of joy.

“Rahuramaiyyar, very happy. The poor will profit by this reform, right?”

“Most definitely! Most of the lands are for the slum people only.”

Without any further delay, Athma signed and gave away all the documents.

It had been arranged for Athma to meet devotees and the town citizenry near the well in the garden. It has arranged such that the people stood on that side of the well and Athma could sit and speak with them. It was after having spoken with everybody that Athma saw Somu.

“What news…Somu?”

“All well, Swami. There is something that I have to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

Somu looked hither thither. After having assured himself that there was nobody around he spoke.

“Swami…those two thousand acres of the monastery land…”

“Oh, that! The tenants are happy having with it, right?”

“No, Swami.”

“What?”

“Yes. Those lands have been given to the family members, daughter-in-laws, son-in-laws, father-inlaw, mother-in-law, and relations of the primary official of Your monastery.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Swami. Your monastery’s officers are the source of all the sins You talk about. Your monastery is a brothel in the nights. Your monastery’s garden is an arrack store in the nights. Your monastery officials are all liars. Robbers. Do you know where all the tender coconuts from Your coconut trees go to? They go to Seergazhi and Mayavaram, to the mistresses of your monastery’s officials. They say You are a great man, God in human form. There are thugs who roam with Your own self. Swami, the real tenants have been expulsed from the lands by force. Those of our folk who refused to move have been imprisoned in police lockups under false cases. Your official threatens to burn our slums…”

Athma was in shock.

“I do not know any of these…”

“We know that You do not know. That is why I came to tell you. Give me leave to depart, Sami.”

Athma sat disheartened greatly by the same well for a long time after Somu left. This has to be changed. He realized something must be done. But He did not know where to start. The chef from Tirunelveli stole a hundred rupees a day from just the vegetables. He came to know that the chef had an affair with a widow who lived by the Arasal river and that all this money goes to her. He had also heard that Athma’s personal assistant Vishnusithan was a thief and that he had stolen the late Elder’s many jewels. It was because of the Eldest’s grace that he did not go to prison. The granary accountant for his share had taken carts and carts of paddy and made money. The accountants who looked at the revenue and income of the monastery said that it was forever in a loss. Stating that there were too many beneficiaries receiving charity from the monastery they had reduced assistance given to many. Even this, He came to know only when a poet Kalidasa came to meet Him.

“Are you well, King of poets¹⁴?”

“I was well.”, said the poet.

“What is this? You are speaking of being well in the past tense?”

The poet replied in a poem.

“I was born in Tamilnadu;

To live as a Thamizhan in Thamizhnadu

I learned Thamizh

And because of this crime of learning Thamizh, I lost my life

I suffered; I weakened without even food.

I believed ‘The monastery that protects Thamizh will save us without fail’.

But it is my belief failed.

I am ashamed of having born in Thamizhnadu.

I wilt every day thinking of the Thamizh being…”

Athma asked the King of poets.

“Has the assistance from the monastery been stopped for you?”

“It can only be stopped if it were given in the first place.”

It had been recorded in the accounts that the poet Kalidasa was being given financial assistance.

From the meditation chamber, Athma tried to guess the time by looking at the stars. It must be at least half-past two as per His guess. Like the fluttering pages of a book, His memories kept rising.

On the other shore, the slums appeared like an unwashed roll of film. He recalled Somu’s face. Somu’s handsome face. A face that opposed injustice at its root. A face that had vowed to set to fire all falsehoods. A face that would not budge from an accepted responsibility in any situation. When that face was placed in the pyre and lit, Athma too was there. He saw the hungry flames of the fire consume Somu. What sin did Somu commit that he had to be murdered?

Narasimhan was in the post of officiating the monastery’s worship and the temples under the monastery. A nobleman with his dhoti folded gracefully, with the glory of holy ash on his forehead, and the rudraksha seed dangling on his chest. He had a daughter named Kothai. Athma had met Kothai in the monastery. She was a vibrant girl. And from that vibrance emanated a charm that could attract anybody at any time. Athma gauged that she had a razor-sharp mind within moments of meeting her. Narasimhan complained.

“Swami, if I get this girl married, I will have one thing lesser to worry about.”

Athma looked at that girl.

“Swami, I am not worried about my marriage. Why should my father worry?”

“Won’t your father be worried naturally?”

“We’ve received many proposals, Swami. She is not accepting any of them.”

“I don’t like them. What can I do? Is this a blouse or saree to change? Shouldn’t I like the person?”

“I made a mistake by educating her. Would she speak like this otherwise?”

“Sami, is the aim of education for me to agree with my father?”

“Is this the way to speak with Saami?”

“Is Sami a stranger? Isn’t He our Saami, father?”

Athma sat bemused by the debate between father and daughter. It was only later He came to know that this girl and Somu had fallen in love, that too when Narasimhan shared the news.

“Oh, is that so?” said Athma. They both seemed like a good match to Him.

“What arrogance does that lower caste boy have to get close to my daughter? I will not rest until I kill him, Swami…” exclaimed Narasimhan. His eyes were lit with murderous fury.

“What is wrong with Somu? He is a good boy. He is educated and has a job. Moreover, they both love each other. What is the problem?”

Narasimhan looked at Athma irritated.

“You don’t know all this, Saami! We are householders. We have certain rules that we must protect. Don’t we need the respect of the town and our relations?”

What will these people protect? From whom? Athma asked Narasimhan calmly.

“What does Somu lack? Please tell me. I wish to know.”

“What is his caste? What is our caste? Swami, all this will be nice to speak. But not in practice.”

“Narasimha, isn’t the god that you and Somu worship the same? Didn’t the same God who created you create him as well? If caste, race, and religious differences come from God, then shouldn’t children be born only to a man and a woman from the same caste? When a human unites with another human, a child is born, right? Isn’t God’s will that? In fact, didn’t Gandhi say that it is Somu who is God’s child (Harijan)¹⁵?”

“Let Gandhi be Swami! What about him? He has married into a Brahmin family and can speak easily. For me isn’t it the other way? Then, what will happen to our dharma?”

It was Athma’s habit to stroll in the garden before going to sleep after having finished the late night worship and eaten lightly. In that hour of silence, He felt like His mind was awake. He was using this period of the day to recover from the burning guilt that he had accumulated all through the day, by sitting and wearing out the worn plank that had been worn out by the chief monks before him, by looking at accounts of mangoes and coconuts, and lands, and leases like a landlord. The pain that he felt from his life turning into that of a thief who eats without working was assuaged a bit in this stroll.

The champak and the mugworts were looking unaware of the huge riot happening in the slums across the Varaha river. It seemed like the fragrance emanating from them cleansed the flaws in His inner self. It was in such a moment, that one day Somu appeared brushing aside the bushes.

“Swami, the riots have started. They are burning the village. They are looking for me.”

Athma came to the ghat opening the garden door. From afar, he could hear screams. He could see the fire ablaze.

“Where is Kothai?”

“She is locked in her home. They are now planning to take her to her aunt’s home in Kollidam.”

Athma thought.

“Ok! You stay in my room. Nobody will come there.”

“There is nobody in the monastery, Swami. They are all in the slums setting it ablaze.”

Athma thought some more and then spoke.

“Then do one thing. Somehow get Kothai to me. I will send you both to a safe place in my car… Caution! You both must leave this town before it dawns.”

Athma then left towards the burning huts.

What Athma proposed had been disposed… They trapped Somu and Kothai. They threw Somu into a hut that was ablaze. After a week, Athma asked Narasimhan.

“What have you done, Narasimhan?”

“This is my dharma, Swami! Only now am I able to walk with my head held high” said Narasimhan without an ounce of guilt. Athma recalled an incident that happened when he was newly ordained. He was strolling in the garden. The late dew of February¹⁶ pricked him like a needle. He recalled the proverb — “The late dew and the company of a whore are harmful”. He was amused by the ability of our folk to produce proverbs. At that moment, the fragrance of jasmine came with a perilous sensation to his nostril. His gaze pierced the darkness. There was a woman standing in it. A young woman. He looked at her carefully in the moonlight. Eyes lined with dark kohl. Jasmine arranged in a ball on her tresses. Lips stained with betel leaf. High breasts. A thin cloth. He saw her.

“Greetings, Swami.”

“Who is it?”

“The woman from the courtesan-street.”

“What have you come here for?”

“The big sir asked me to come to see you, Swami.”

“For what reason?”

She laughed and replied.

“For your pleasure, Swami.”

“Mother, I have not asked for you to come. I am not interested in this. I am sorry. You can return.”

“But isn’t this custom, Swami?”

“It is not my custom, madam. If I need this, I will marry a woman. I will not do it in secret.”

He recalled that Narasimhan who was the cause behind this incident walked with his head held high even then and felt no shame.

It was dawning in the East.

He remembered that he had been sitting on the ghat’s chamber since midnight for many hours. He had to come to a decision immediately.

That a change was required was clear to Him. This religion was the residence of all evil. It was the refuge of all those who were evil. Whatever might be the evil you did, this religion was willing to use its scriptures to justify that evil. This religion separated men at many levels and insulted them. It stood in the way of their intellectual growth. It turned them into slaves. It gnawed at their brains. It was one of the chief reasons that the lowly idea of slavery being a delight took hold.

If these traditions and caste rules did not have any roots in its scriptures, if that were true, not even one member of the oppressed caste could sit in all the Seats from Kanchi to Kasi and become the chief monk of a monastery, why so? Was this something that happened without any intention? No! This evil of separating men in the name of Varna is something that is inherent to this religion. I must expell myself from this religion. Yes, I will have to go again to another religion. So what? I am not doing that for me! It is for the people. They need a symbol to worship for ages. If I am going to exclaim that that symbol is false, they need another symbol in that place. Therefore, until the people themselves decide they need no symbol, holding on to another symbol will not harm them much…

Yes, I must change!

Athma finished His bath. It had dawned enough for Him to see His own hand. After returning to His room, Athma picked up a paper and began to write.

“To the primary official,

Blessings. I am expelling myself from the monastery and the religion it depends on. The people living on the other side of the river are going to a religion that doesn’t ask homes to be burnt, to a religion that doesn’t teach discrimination, to a religion that at least holds together a conscience. I am uniting in their sangam¹⁷. Let this religion with its great wisdom, good gathering, and true surrender be my residence. God will grant me the strength of mind to let go of even this belief and to love all with limitless love.

Blessings.”

Athma crossed the river and reached the other side.

The darkness had been totally expelled.

Notes

1. The word வெளியேற்றம் in Thamizh has many meanings. I have chosen expulsion, meaning forcible ejection signifying the protagonist of the story forcefully evicting himself from a religion that he once loved after seeing its inherent flaws.
   The story itself seems to be a fictional adaptation of the life of Jeyendra Saraswathi, the 69th pontiff of the Kanchi mutt who actually abandoned his Seat and had to be brought back. He is considered a reformist monk who worked to make the institution more inclusive. It is also worth noting that Athmananda’s original name is Arumugan, a name of the God Murugan similar to Jeyendra’s original name being Subramanyan, another name of Murugan. The specific incident that seems to have inspired this story is a mass conversion to Islam that happened in a village called Meenakshipuram in the Tirunelveli district where this story is also set.
2. The Thamizh word used here is பெரியவர் literally translated as the elder one. This is a respectful title accorded to the oldest pontiff of a monastery. This title is most famously associated with Chandrashekara Swamigal, who is lauded as a divine incarnation despite his regressive views on women’s liberation, child marriage, and casteism.
3. Prapanjan uses the Thamizh honorific whenever he refers to the protagonist after he becomes the ordained chief of the monastery. I have used capitalization of pronouns to signify the same in English.
4. It is tradition for monks to refer to themselves using the first person plural pronouns instead of singular.
5. The Tamizh word used in the original refers to the Thai (தை) month in the Tamil calendar which corresponds to the early-winter season.
6. Ashrama or stages of the male life in the Hindu religion. The four stages of life are brahmacharya (bachelorhood), grihasta (householder), vanaprastha (a resident of the forest, in preparation for the next stage), and sanyasa (renunciation).
7. Nastikas were followers of schools of philosophy that rejected the authority of Vedas. These include extant religions like Buddhism and Jainism and skeptical philosophies like Carvaka.
8. This is a quote by Vivekananda urging people to act on the philosophy of action propounded in the Gita rather than just reading it.
9. The Thamizh word used is peetam (பீடம்), a holy seat used in both figurative and literal senses in the many monasteries of the Hindu religion.
10. The Thamizh word cheri (சேரி) which once stood for a village (like in the city’s name Puducheri) has now come to mean a slum to a ghetto where the oppressed people live.
11. Hinduism propounds the concept of varnashrama and varna dharma that segregates people based on the work they do. This nature of work is pre-ordained at birth as per the scriptures resulting in inequality and discrimination.
12. The idea of a thinnai (திண்ணை) is unique to south India. It is a raised platform constructed outside the home, open to any being, human or animal to come and rest.
13. The word Saami (சாமி) is a colloquial form of the word Swami (சுவாமி). This colloquial form is used initially by Somu who is from the oppressed caste. Later, Kothai, who is in love with him uses the same form. Narasimhan, her father uses it when he replies to what she said but reverts to the Sanksritized Swami (சுவாமி) soon after.
14. Kaviraya, is a term acknowledging the poet’s greatness.
15. Gandhi applied the word Harijan to the oppressed castes of India in an attempt to patronizingly integrate them into the religion. Gandhi’s vision was that of the benevolent upper castes taking care of the child-like oppressed castes the way God intended them to. Since then, this term has been rejected in lieu of the term Bahujan (huge-people)by the oppressed castes themselves.
16. The Thamizh word here refers to the Maasi (மாசி) month of the late-winter season.
17. The religion that the protagonist chooses to go towards is Buddhism, the religion chosen by Ambedkar and his followers to reject the casteism inherent in Hinduism.