அப்போது கதவு அகலமாக திறக்கப்பட்டது.

"அது நீங்களா, டோனா எடுவிஜஸ்?" நான் கேட்டேன். “நான் கூச்சல்களைக் கேட்டுக் கொண்டிருக்கிறேன்; என்ன நடக்கிறது. நான் இருந்தேன்

உண்மையில் பயமாக இருக்கிறது."

“இல்லை, என் பெயர் எடுவிஜஸ் அல்ல. நான் டாமியானா. நீ இங்கே இருப்பது எனக்குத் தெரியும், அதனால் உன்னைப் பார்க்க வந்தேன். நான்

என் வீட்டிற்கு வந்து படுக்க உங்களை அழைக்க விரும்பினேன். நீங்கள் அங்கு நன்றாக ஓய்வெடுக்க முடியும்.

“டாமியானா சிஸ்னெரோஸ்? மீடியா லூனாவில் வாழ்ந்தவர்களில் நீங்களும் ஒருவர் அல்லவா?”

“ஆம், நான் வசிக்கும் இடம் அதுதான். அதனால்தான் நான் இங்கு வர சிறிது நேரம் பிடித்தது.

“நான் பிறந்தபோது என்னைக் கவனித்துக்கொண்ட டாமியானா என்ற ஒருவரைப் பற்றி என் அம்மா என்னிடம் கூறினார்.

அப்போ நீ…?”

“ஆம், அது நான்தான். நீ கண்ணைத் திறந்ததிலிருந்து உன்னை நான் அறிவேன்.”

“நான் உன்னுடன் செல்கிறேன். இங்குள்ள கூச்சல்கள் என்னை பயமுறுத்துகின்றன. என்னவென்று கேட்கவில்லையா

நடக்கிறதா? யாரோ கொலை செய்வது போல் சப்தம் கேட்டது. உன்னால் கேட்க முடியவில்லையா?”

"ஒருவேளை அது அங்கு பூட்டப்பட்ட ஒரு எதிரொலியாக இருக்கலாம். அந்த அறையில்தான் அவர்கள் தொரிபியோ ஆல்ட்ரீட் ஏ

நீண்ட காலத்திற்கு முன். அதன் பிறகு, அவர் அழுகும் வரை அவர்கள் கதவைப் பூட்டினர், அதனால் அவரது உடல் ஒருபோதும் இருக்காது

ஓய்வு கண்டுபிடிக்க. திறக்க சாவி இல்லாததால், நீங்கள் எப்படி இங்கு வர முடிந்தது என்று என்னால் கற்பனை செய்து பார்க்க முடியவில்லை

கதவு."

"டோனா எடுவிஜஸ் தான் அதைத் திறந்தார். அவளிடம் இருந்த ஒரே அறை அதுதான் என்று சொன்னாள்

கிடைக்கும்."

“எடுவிகெஸ் டியாடா?” என்று கேட்டார்.

"ஆம், அவள்."

“ஏழை கல்வியாளர்கள். அவள் இன்னும் துக்கத்தில் இருக்க வேண்டும்.

"நான் ஃபுல்கோர் செடானோ, ஒரு ஐம்பத்து நான்கு வயது மனிதன், ஒரு நிர்வாகியாக பணிபுரியும் ஒரு இளங்கலை, யார்

எனக்காகவும், எனது சொந்த உரிமைகளுக்காகவும் குற்றச்சாட்டுகளை சுமத்துவதற்கும், தொடர்ந்து அழுத்தம் கொடுப்பதற்கும் சான்றளிக்கப்பட்டவை

பின்வருவனவற்றைக் குற்றஞ்சாட்டவும்…”

Toribio Alderete இன் நடவடிக்கைகளுக்கு எதிராக அவர் குற்றச்சாட்டுகளை முன்வைத்தபோது அவர் கூறியது இதுதான். மற்றும் அவன்

முடிந்தது: "எனது குற்றச்சாட்டு நியாயமானதாக பதிவு செய்யப்படட்டும்."

"டான் ஃபுல்கோர், நீங்கள் மிகவும் திறமையானவர் என்பதை யாரும் மறுக்க முடியாது. உன்னால் காரியங்களைச் செய்ய முடியும் என்று எனக்குத் தெரியும்.

உங்கள் பின்னால் இருப்பவர்களால் அல்ல, ஆனால் உங்களால், நீங்களே."

அவனுக்கு ஞாபகம் வந்தது. அவர்கள் ஒன்றாக குடிபோதையில் ஆல்டெரெட் சொன்ன முதல் விஷயம் இதுதான்.

வெளிப்படையாக அவர்கள் செய்ததைக் கொண்டாட:

"இந்த விஷயம் நம்மை சுத்தப்படுத்த அனுமதிக்கும், ஏனென்றால் அதுதான் செய்ய முடியும். மற்றும் நீங்கள்

என்று எனக்கு தெரியும். உண்மையில், உங்களைப் பொறுத்த வரையில் அவர்கள் உங்களுக்குக் கட்டளையிட்டதைச் செய்து நிம்மதியாக இருக்கிறீர்கள்

என் நேரத்தை வீணடிக்க வேண்டியதாயிற்று, ஏனென்றால் அது என்னவாக இருந்தாலும் நீங்கள் என்னைக் கவலைப் படுத்தினீர்கள். இப்போது அந்த ஐ

அது என்ன தெரியுமா, அது என்னை சிரிக்க வைக்கிறது. நீங்கள் "நியாயமானவை" என்று சொன்னீர்கள். உங்கள் எஜமானர் வெட்கப்பட வேண்டும்

மிகவும் அறியாமைக்காக”

அவனுக்கு ஞாபகம் வந்தது. அவர்கள் எடுவிஜஸின் போர்டிங் ஹவுஸில் இருந்தனர், அவர் அவளிடம் கேட்டார்:

"எடுவிஜஸ் சொல்லுங்கள், நீங்கள் எனக்கு மூலையில் அறையை அனுமதிக்கலாம் என்று நினைக்கிறீர்களா?"

“உனக்கு என்ன வேணும்னாலும் டான் ஃபுல்கோர். நீங்கள் விரும்பினால், நீங்கள் அனைத்தையும் வைத்திருக்கலாம். உங்கள் ஆண்கள் போகிறார்களா

இங்கேயே இருக்கலாமா?"

“இல்லை, ஒன்றுக்கு மேல் இல்லை. எங்களைப் பற்றி கவலைப்பட வேண்டாம், நன்றாக தூங்குங்கள். எங்களுக்கு மட்டும் கொடுங்கள்

முக்கிய." "டான் ஃபுல்கோர், நான் உங்களிடம் சொல்ல வேண்டும்," டோரிபியோ ஆல்ட்ரெட் கூறினார். "நீங்கள் எவ்வளவு திறமையானவர் என்பதை யாரும் மறுக்க மாட்டார்கள்

உள்ளன. ஆனால் உங்கள் முதலாளியான அந்த பிச் மகன் உண்மையில் எனக்கு வேதனையைத் தருகிறார்.

"அவர் நினைவு கூர்ந்தார். அவர் தனது ஐந்து புலன்களில் சொன்னதை அவர் கடைசியாகக் கேட்டார். அதன் பிறகு அவர்

கூச்சலிடும் ஒரு அவநம்பிக்கையான அயோக்கியன் போல் நடித்தான். "வெளிப்படையாக, அது சக்தி வகை

எனக்கு பின்னால். சரி நான் கெட்டுவிடுவேன்!”

அவர் பெட்ரோ பரமோவின் வீட்டின் கதவைத் தட்டினார். தனக்கு கிடைத்த முதல் முறை பற்றி யோசித்தான்

இரண்டு வாரங்களுக்கு முன்பு செய்தேன். இம்முறை செய்ததைப் போலவே வெகுநேரம் காத்திருந்தார். மற்றும் அவரைப் போல

கதவின் மேற்சட்டையில் தொங்கிக் கொண்டிருந்த கருங்குரங்கைப் பார்ப்பதற்கு முன்பே செய்திருந்தான். அவர்

தனக்குள் நினைத்துக்கொண்டான்: “என்ன ஆச்சு! அவர்கள் புதிய ஒன்றைச் சேர்த்துள்ளனர்; முதலாவது ஏற்கனவே மங்கிவிட்டது;

இது ஒரு கறை படிந்த துணியை விட அதிகமாக இல்லை என்றாலும், இது பட்டு போல ஜொலிக்கிறது."

முதன்முறையாக இவ்வளவு நேரம் காத்திருந்து அந்த வீட்டில் ஆளில்லை என்று நினைத்தான். இந்த முறை அவர்

வெளியேறவிருந்தது, ஆனால் பின்னர் பெட்ரோ பரமோவின் உருவம் தோன்றியது.

"அது போல், ஃபுல்கோர்."

அவர்கள் ஒருவரை ஒருவர் பார்த்தது அது இரண்டாவது முறை. முதன்முதலில் அவர் அவரை மட்டுமே பார்த்தார், ஏனென்றால் சிறியது

பெட்ரோ அப்போதுதான் பிறந்தார். இப்போது நீங்கள் கிட்டத்தட்ட இது இன்னும் முதல் முறை என்று சொல்லலாம். இங்கே அவர்

அவனிடம் சமமாக பேசிக்கொண்டிருந்தான். அவனை பார்! அவர் நீண்ட முன்னேற்றங்களுடன் அவரைப் பின்தொடர்ந்தார்,

கால்களை அசைக்கிறான். “நான்தான் அறிந்தவன் என்பதை நீங்கள் விரைவில் அறிந்துகொள்வீர்கள். நீங்கள் அதை உணருவீர்கள், மற்றும்

என் மனதில் என்ன இருக்கிறது."

“உட்கார், புல்கோர். இங்கே நாம் இன்னும் வசதியாக பேசலாம்.

அவர்கள் கோரலில் இருந்தனர். பெட்ரோ பரமோ மீண்டும் தொழுவத்தில் சாய்ந்து காத்திருந்தார்.

"நீங்கள் ஏன் உட்காரக்கூடாது?"

"நான் எழுந்து நிற்க விரும்புகிறேன், பெட்ரோ."

“சரி, உனக்கு எது பிடிக்கும். ஆனால் 'டான்' என்பதை மறந்துவிடாதீர்கள்.

இவனிடம் இப்படி பேச இந்த பையன் யார்? அவரது தந்தை டான் லூகாஸ் பரமோ கூட இதுவரை இருந்ததில்லை

அந்த செய்யப்படுகிறது. திடீரென்று இந்த சிறுவன், மீடியா லூனாவுக்கு வந்து என்னவென்று தெரியவில்லை

நடந்து கொண்டிருந்தது, அவர் ஏதோ பண்ணையார் போல அவனிடம் பேசிக் கொண்டிருந்தார். அது கர்மம், பின்னர்!

"பணிகள் எப்படி நடக்கிறன?"

இப்போது தனக்கு கிடைத்த வாய்ப்பு போல் உணர்ந்தான். "இப்போது இது என் முறை," என்று அவர் நினைத்தார்.

“மிகவும் மோசமானது. எதுவும் மிச்சமில்லை. கடைசியாக ஒவ்வொரு பசுவையும் விற்றுவிட்டோம்.

கடன் எவ்வளவு உயர்ந்துள்ளது என்பதைச் சொல்ல அவர் காகிதங்களை எடுக்கத் தொடங்கினார். அவன் சொல்ல இருந்தான்

அவர்கள் எவ்வளவு கடன்பட்டிருக்கிறார்கள், அவர் சொன்னதைக் கேட்டபோது:

“நாம் யாருக்கு கடன்பட்டிருக்கிறோம்? அது எவ்வளவு என்பது பற்றி எனக்கு கவலையில்லை, நாம் யாருக்கு கடன்பட்டிருக்கிறோம் என்பது மட்டும்தான்.

அவர் ஒரு பெயர் பட்டியலைக் கொடுத்தார், பின்னர் கூறினார்:

“அவர்களுக்குச் செலுத்தும் பணத்தைக் கண்டுபிடிக்க வழி இல்லை. அதுதான் பிரச்சனை.”

"சரி, அது ஏன்?"

“ஏனென்றால் உங்கள் குடும்பம் எல்லாவற்றையும் பயன்படுத்திக் கொண்டது. கடன் வாங்கி, திருப்பிச் செலுத்தாமல், கடன் வாங்கினர்

எதுவும். அது உங்களுக்கு கடினமாக இருக்கும். நான் ஏற்கனவே சொன்னேன், 'இறுதியில் அவர்கள் பயன்படுத்துவார்கள்

எல்லாம்.' சரி, இப்போது அது போய்விட்டது. இருப்பினும், வாங்க ஆர்வமுள்ள ஒருவர் இங்கே இருக்கிறார்

நிலம். மேலும் அவர்கள் நன்றாக செலுத்துவார்கள். நீங்கள் நிலுவையில் உள்ள கடன்களை அடைக்க முடியும், இன்னும்

ஏதாவது மிச்சம் இருக்கு; அது மிக அதிகமாக இருக்காது என்றாலும்."

"நீங்கள் வாங்க விரும்புகிறவரா?"

"அது நான் என்று நீங்கள் ஏன் நம்புகிறீர்கள்?"

"நான் முட்டாள்களை கூட நம்புகிறேன். நாளை நாங்கள் எங்கள் விவகாரங்களைத் தீர்க்கத் தொடங்குவோம். நாம் தொடங்குவோம்

Preciados. அவர்களுக்குத்தான் நாங்கள் அதிகம் கடன்பட்டிருக்கிறோம் என்கிறீர்களா?" "ஆம். மேலும் நாங்கள் குறைவாக செலுத்தியவர்கள். உங்கள் தந்தை எப்போதும் அவர்களுக்குக் கடைசியாகச் செலுத்த வேண்டும் என்று எண்ணினார். நான்

அவர்களில் ஒருவரான மாடில்டே நகரத்தில் வசிக்கச் சென்றார் என்பதை புரிந்து கொள்ளுங்கள். அது குவாடலஜாரா என்று எனக்குத் தெரியவில்லை,

அல்லது கோலிமாவுக்கு. மேலும் லோலா, அதாவது, டோனா டோலோரஸ், இப்போது அனைத்து நிலங்களுக்கும் சொந்தக்காரர். உங்களுக்கு தெரியும், தி

பண்ணை, உங்கள் நிலத்தின் நடுவில். அவள் தான் நாங்கள் செலுத்த வேண்டும். ”

"நாளை நீ போய் லோலாவின் கையைக் கேட்கப் போகிறாய்."

"ஆனால் நான் வயதானவனாக இருப்பதால் அவள் என்னை திருமணம் செய்து கொள்ள விரும்புவாள் என்று நீங்கள் என்ன நினைக்கிறீர்கள்?"

“நீ எனக்காக அவளிடம் கேட்பாய். எல்லாவற்றிற்கும் மேலாக, அவளுக்கு ஒரு கவர்ச்சி இருக்கிறது. நான் ஆழமாக காதலிக்கிறேன் என்று அவளிடம் சொல்லுங்கள்

அவளுடன். அவள் தயாராக இருக்கிறாளா என்று அவளிடம் கேளுங்கள். நீங்கள் அதில் இருக்கும்போது, ​​தந்தை ரெண்டேரியாவை உருவாக்கச் சொல்லுங்கள்

ஏற்பாடுகள். உங்களுக்கு எவ்வளவு பணம் தேவைப்படும்?"

"எதுவும் இல்லை, டான் பருத்தித்துறை."

“சரி, அவளுக்கு சத்தியம் செய். அதைச் செய்வதன் மூலம் அவளிடம் சொல்லுங்கள், அவளுக்கு ஊதியம் வழங்கப்படும். உங்களிடம் இருக்காது என்று நான் உறுதியாக நம்புகிறேன்

ஏதேனும் பிரச்சனைகள். நாளை உடனே செய்”

"மற்றும் ஆல்ட்ரெட் பற்றி என்ன?

“ஆல்ட்ரீட்டிற்கும் அதற்கும் என்ன சம்பந்தம்? நீங்கள் Preciados, Fregosos மற்றும் தி

குஸ்மான்ஸ். இப்போது ஏன் ஆல்ட்ரீட்டை வளர்க்கிறாய்?”

"இது எல்லைகளைப் பற்றியது. அவர் ஏற்கனவே அவற்றை அமைக்க முயற்சித்தார், இப்போது அவர் எங்களுக்குத் தருமாறு கேட்கிறார்

நிலத்தைப் பிரிக்க அவருக்குத் தேவையான வேலித் துண்டுகள்."

"அதை பின்னர் வரை விடுங்கள், வேலிகளைப் பற்றி கவலைப்பட வேண்டாம். எதுவும் இருக்காது. நிலம் இல்லை

பிரிக்கப் போகிறது. ஃபுல்கோர், உங்களுக்குப் புரியவில்லையென்றாலும் யோசித்துப் பாருங்கள். போய் ஏற்பாடு செய்

டோலோரஸ் உடனான விஷயங்கள். இப்போது, ​​நீங்கள் உட்கார வேண்டாமா?”

“ஆம், நான் உட்காருகிறேன், டான் பெட்ரோ. நான் சொல்கிறேன், நான் உன்னுடன் பழகுவதை அனுபவிக்கத் தொடங்குகிறேன்.

“நீ இதையெல்லாம் லோலாவிடம் சொல்வாய், நான் அவளை நேசிக்கிறேன். அது முக்கியம். நான் நிச்சயமாக நேசிக்கிறேன்

அவள், சேடானோ. அவள் கண்களுக்கு, தெரியுமா? நாளை முதல் காரியத்தைச் செய்வீர்கள். மேலும் குறைப்பேன்

மேலாளராக உங்கள் கடமைகள். மீடியா லூனாவை மறந்துவிடு.

"நரகத்தில் எப்படி அந்தப் பையன் அப்படிச் சூழ்ச்சி செய்யக் கற்றுக்கொண்டான்?" என்று ஃபுல்கோர் செடானோ நினைத்தார்.

மீடியா லூனாவுக்குத் திரும்புகிறது. “நான் அவரிடமிருந்து எதையும் எதிர்பார்க்கவே இல்லை. அவர் பயனற்றவர், 'என் முன்னாள் முதலாளி,

டான் லூகாஸ் என்னிடம் கூறினார். ஒரு வாரம் நல்லது-எதற்கும் இல்லை. மேலும் அவர் சரியானவர் என்று நான் நினைத்தேன். 'நான் இறக்கும் போது,

ஃபுல்கோர், வேறு வேலையைத் தேடு.' 'ஆம், டான் லூகாஸ்.' "நான் அவரை பள்ளிக்கு அனுப்ப முயற்சித்தேன், புல்கோர், பார்க்க

நான் போகும்போது சாப்பிடுவதற்கும், அம்மாவைக் கவனித்துக் கொள்வதற்கும் போதுமான அளவு சம்பாதிப்பதற்கு அது உதவியாக இருந்தால். ஆனால் அவரிடம் உள்ளது

அதைச் செய்ய ஒருபோதும் முடிவு செய்யவில்லை.' 'டான் லூகாஸ், நீ இதற்கு தகுதியற்றவன்.' 'நான் எதையும் எண்ணவில்லை

அவரிடமிருந்து, நான் வயதாகும்போது அவர் என்னை கவனித்துக் கொள்ளக்கூடாது. அவர் தவறாக மாறிவிட்டார், நம்புங்கள்

நான், ஃபுல்கோர்.' 'இது மிகவும் மோசமானது, டான் லூகாஸ்.'

இப்போது இந்த. மீடியா லூனாவுக்கு இவ்வளவு பற்று இருந்திருக்காவிட்டால் பார்க்க வந்திருக்க மாட்டார்

அவரை. அவனிடம் சொல்லாமல் சென்றிருப்பான். ஆனால் அவர் அந்த இடத்தைப் பற்றி உண்மையிலேயே அக்கறை காட்டினார்; அவை எல்லாம்

வெறுமையான வயல்வெளிகள், அதிக வேலைகள், இன்னும் பள்ளங்கள் நிறைந்தவை, ஒவ்வொரு முறையும் நமக்குத் தங்களைத் தாங்களே அதிகமாகத் தருகின்றன...

அன்பிற்குரிய மீடியா லூனா… மற்றும் அதன் இணைப்புகள். "இங்கே வா, என்மெடியோவில் உள்ள சிறிய நிலம்." அவன் பார்த்தான்

அது வருகிறது. அது ஏற்கனவே இருந்ததால். எல்லாவற்றிற்கும் மேலாக, ஒரு பெண்ணை வேறு எதற்காகப் பயன்படுத்தலாம். "நிச்சயமாக

அவளால் முடியும்!" அவன் சொன்னான். அவர் மீடியா லூனாவின் வாயிலில் இருந்து வெளியேறும்போது கால்களை அசைத்தார்.

டோலோரஸை ஈர்ப்பது மிகவும் எளிதாக இருந்தது. அவள் கண்கள் திகைத்து மீதியை உடைத்தாலும்

அவள் முகம் கொஞ்சம்.

"டான் ஃபுல்கோர், வெட்கப்படுவதற்கு என்னை மன்னியுங்கள். ஆனால், டான் பெட்ரோ என்னைக் கவனிப்பார் என்று நான் நினைக்கவே இல்லை.

"உன்னை நினைத்து அவனால் தூங்க முடியாது." "ஆனால் அவர் தேர்வு செய்யக்கூடிய பலர் உள்ளனர். அங்கே நிறைய அழகான பெண்கள் இருக்கிறார்கள்

கோமாலாவில். தெரிந்தவுடன் என்ன சொல்வார்கள்?”

"அவர் உங்களைப் பற்றி மட்டுமே நினைக்கிறார், டோலோரஸ். மற்றவர்களைப் பொறுத்தவரை, அவர் கவலைப்பட யாரும் இல்லை.

"இது எனக்கு நடுக்கத்தை அளிக்கிறது, டான் ஃபுல்கோர். நான் அதை ஒருபோதும் கற்பனை செய்திருக்க மாட்டேன். ”

"அவர் மிகவும் ஒதுக்கப்பட்டவர். டான் லூகாஸ், அவர் நிம்மதியாக இருக்கட்டும், நீங்கள் இருக்கிறீர்கள் என்று ஒருமுறை அவரிடம் கூறினார்

அவருக்கு தகுதி இல்லை. மேலும் அவன் தன் தந்தைக்குக் கீழ்ப்படிந்து தன் உணர்வுகளை மறைத்தான். இப்போது அவர் இல்லை

இனி இங்கே, அவரைத் தடுக்க எதுவும் இல்லை. நான் நினைத்தாலும் அவர் முதலில் நினைத்தது அதுதான்

என் கடமைகளின் காரணமாக வந்து உங்களிடம் சொல்ல நீண்ட நேரம் ஆனது. நாங்கள் திருமணத்தை திட்டமிடுகிறோம் என்று வைத்துக்கொள்வோம்

நாளை மறுநாள். நீங்கள் என்ன நினைக்கறீர்கள்?"

“அது மிக விரைவில் இல்லையா? என்னிடம் எதுவும் தயாராக இல்லை. நான் டிரஸ்ஸோவை ஆர்டர் செய்ய வேண்டும். நான் எழுதுகிறேன்

என் சகோதரிக்கு. இல்லை, அவளிடம் சொல்ல யாரையாவது அனுப்புவது நல்லது, ஆனால் எப்படியும் நான் தயாராக இருக்க மாட்டேன்

ஏப்ரல் எட்டாம் தேதிக்கு முன். இது இப்போது முதல், எனவே இது மிக விரைவில். அவரை சில நாட்கள் காத்திருக்கச் சொல்லுங்கள்”

"அவர் அதை உடனே பெற விரும்புகிறார். டிரஸ்ஸோவைப் பொறுத்தவரை, அதை நாங்கள் கவனித்துக் கொள்ளலாம். முன்பு

அவள் இறந்துவிட்டாள், பெட்ரோவின் தாய் அவளுடைய ஆடைகளை உன்னிடம் வைத்திருக்க விரும்பினாள். அது குடும்பத்தில் உள்ள வழக்கம்”

"ஆனால் நான் காத்திருக்க ஒரு காரணம் இருக்கிறது. இது ஒரு பெண்ணின் விஷயம், உங்களுக்குத் தெரியும். ஓ, நான் எவ்வளவு வெட்கப்படுகிறேன்

நான் இதைச் சொல்ல வேண்டும், டான் புல்கோர். நீங்கள் என்னை மீண்டும் முகம் சுளிக்க வைக்கிறீர்கள். இது என்னுடைய நேரம்... ஓ,

அதைச் சொல்ல வெட்கப்படுகிறேன்.”

"என்ன? திருமணம் என்பது வெட்கப்பட வேண்டிய ஒன்றல்ல. இது காதல் விவகாரம். அதனுடன்,

மற்ற அனைத்தும் கவனிக்கப்படும்."

"ஆனால், டான் ஃபுல்கோர், உங்களுக்குப் புரியவில்லை."

“எனக்கு புரிகிறது. நாளை மறுநாள் திருமணம் நடக்கும்” என்றார்.

அவன் அவளை கைகளை நீட்டியபடி அங்கேயே நிறுத்திவிட்டு, எட்டு நாட்கள் கெஞ்சினான், அதற்கு மேல் ஒன்றுமில்லை

எட்டு நாட்களுக்கு மேல்.

"நான் டான் பெட்ரோவிடம் சொல்ல மறக்கக் கூடாது-இந்தப் பெட்ரோ என்ன ஒரு புத்திசாலி பையன்!-அவர் தெரிவிக்க வேண்டும்.

சொத்து கூட்டாக உள்ளது என்று நீதிபதி. 'மறக்காதே, ஃபுல்கோர், அதை அவனிடம் நாளை சொல்லு.'

இதற்கிடையில், டோலோரஸ் ஒரு குடத்துடன் சமையலறைக்கு விரைந்தார், அதில் சூடான நீரை நிரப்பினார். "நான் போகிறேன்

முயற்சி செய்து விரைவில் வரச் செய்ய வேண்டும். இன்றிரவு இருக்கும் என்று நம்புகிறேன். ஆனால் எப்படியிருந்தாலும், அது இன்னும் மூன்று நாட்கள் நீடிக்கும்.

வேறு வழியில்லை. ஓ, என்ன மகிழ்ச்சி! என்ன மகிழ்ச்சி! “அன்புள்ள கடவுளே, நன்றி

எனக்கு பெட்ரோ பரமோவைக் கொடுக்கிறது. மேலும் அவள் மேலும் சொன்னாள்: "பின்னர், அவர் என்னை வெறுக்கலாம்."

"இது இப்போது கோரப்பட்டுள்ளது, ஒப்புக்கொள்ளப்பட்டது. பூசாரி திருமணத்தை விட்டு வெளியேறுவதற்கு அறுபது பைசா வேண்டும்

திருமண முன்னறிவிப்பு. உரிய நேரத்தில் கொடுப்போம் என்று சொன்னேன். அவர் பலிபீடம் அமைக்க வேண்டும் என்றார், மற்றும்

சாப்பாட்டு மேசையிலிருந்து பெயிண்ட் உரிகிறது என்று. நாங்கள் ஒரு புதிய அட்டவணையை ஆர்டர் செய்வோம் என்று நான் அவருக்கு உறுதியளித்தேன். அவர்

நீ மாஸ்க்கு போகவே இல்லை என்றான். நான் நீ போவதாக உறுதியளித்தேன். உன் பாட்டி இறந்துவிட்டதால் என்று கூறினார்

தசமபாகமும் கொடுக்கப்படவில்லை. அதைப்பற்றி கவலைப்பட வேண்டாம் என்று சொன்னேன். எனவே அவர் ஒப்புக்கொண்டார்.

"நீங்கள் டோலோரஸிடம் முன்கூட்டியே ஏதாவது கேட்கவில்லையா?"

“இல்லை பாஸ். நான் துணியவில்லை. அது தான் உண்மை. நான் ரிஸ்க் எடுக்க விரும்பவில்லை என்று அவள் மிகவும் மகிழ்ச்சியாக இருந்தாள்

அவளுடைய உற்சாகத்தை விலக்கு."

“புல்கோர், நீ ஒரு குழந்தை.

(“ஓ, வா! நான் ஒரு குழந்தையா?” என்று அவர் நினைத்தார். “55 வருடங்கள் வாழ்ந்த பிறகு? அவர் அரிதாகவே இல்லை.

பிறந்தேன், நான் மரணத்திலிருந்து சில படிகள் தொலைவில் இருக்கிறேன்.)

"நான் அவளுடைய மகிழ்ச்சியை அழிக்க விரும்பவில்லை."

"அதையும் மீறி, நீங்கள் இன்னும் குழந்தையாக இருக்கிறீர்கள்."

“சரி, பாஸ்.” “அடுத்த வாரம் நீங்கள் ஆல்ட்ரீட்டைப் பார்த்துவிட்டு வேலியை இடிக்க வேண்டும் என்று சொல்லுங்கள். அவனிடம் உள்ளது

மீடியா லூனா நிலத்தை ஆக்கிரமித்துள்ளார்.

"ஆனால் அவர் எல்லைகளை கவனமாக அளந்தார். அதுதான் என் அபிப்ராயம்.”

“சரி, அவர் தவறாகப் புரிந்துகொண்டார் என்று சொல்லுங்கள். அவர் தவறான கணக்கீடுகளை செய்தார். வேலிகளை இடித்து,

அவசியமென்றால்."

"ஆனால் சட்டம் பற்றி என்ன?"

“என்ன சட்டங்கள், புல்கோர்? இனிமேலாவது சட்டங்களை இயற்றப் போகிறோம். யாராவது வேலை செய்கிறார்களா

மீடியா லூனாவில் நீங்கள் ஏற்கவில்லையா?”

"ஆம், சில."

“சரி, அவர்களை ஆல்ட்ரீட்டுடன் வேலை செய்ய அனுப்புங்கள். பின்னர் அவர் மீது ஒரு குற்றச்சாட்டை எழுப்பி, அவர் மீது குற்றம் சாட்டினார்

"பயன்" அல்லது உங்களுக்கு என்ன நேர்ந்தாலும். இப்போது லூகாஸ் பரமோ இறந்துவிட்டார் என்பதை அவருக்கு நினைவூட்டுங்கள்

என்னுடன் புதிய ஏற்பாடுகளைச் செய்ய வேண்டும்.

வானம் இன்னும் நீலமாக இருந்தது. சில மேகங்கள் இருந்தன. காற்று மேலே வீசியது, ஆனால் கீழே

இங்கே அது சூடாக இருந்தது.

அவன் பிடிவாதமாக இருக்க, தன் சாட்டையின் மரக் கைப்பிடியால் மீண்டும் கதவைத் தட்டினான்

பெட்ரோ பரமோ தனக்குப் பிடிக்கும் வரை கதவைத் திறக்க மாட்டார் என்பது அவனுக்குத் தெரியும். பார்க்கிறேன்

கதவின் மேல்புறம், அவர் தனக்குத்தானே சொன்னார், “இந்த கருங்குரங்குகள் என்னவாக இருந்தாலும் அழகாக இருக்கின்றன.

இங்கே செய்கிறேன்."

அப்போதுதான் கதவு திறந்தது, உள்ளே சென்றான்.

“உள்ளே வா, புல்கோர். Toribio Aldrete உடனான விவகாரம் தீர்க்கப்பட்டதா?

"ஆமாம், முதலாளி, அது கவனிக்கப்பட்டது."

"எங்களிடம் இன்னும் ஃப்ரிகோசோஸின் விஷயம் உள்ளது, ஆனால் நாம் அதை இப்போதைக்கு விடலாம். தற்போது ஐ

நான் என் தேனிலவுடன் மிகவும் ஈடுபட்டுள்ளேன்.

"இந்த நகரம் எதிரொலிகளால் நிறைந்துள்ளது. அவை சுவர்களின் விரிசல்களிலோ அல்லது அடியிலோ சிக்கியது போல் தெரிகிறது

கற்கள். நீங்கள் நடக்கும்போது, ​​அவர்கள் உங்கள் படிகளைப் பின்பற்றுவது போல் தெரிகிறது. நீங்கள் சத்தம் கேட்கிறீர்கள்,

மற்றும் சிரிப்பு. சில சிரிப்புகள் மிகவும் பழமையானவை, அவை சிரித்து சோர்வடைவது போல இருக்கும். என்று குரல் கொடுக்கிறார்

நீண்ட நேரம் பயன்படுத்தாமல் தேய்ந்து போய்விட்டன. இதையெல்லாம் நீங்கள் கேட்கிறீர்கள். சில நாள் அந்த நேரம் வரும்

இந்த ஒலிகள் மறைந்துவிடும்."

நாங்கள் நகரத்தை கடக்கும்போது டாமியானா சிஸ்னெரோஸ் என்னிடம் சொன்னார்.

"ஒரு காலத்தில், இரவில் ஒரு சத்தம் கேட்கக்கூடிய ஒரு கணம் இருந்தது

திருவிழா. அந்த ஒலிகள் மீடியா லூனா வரை வந்தன. என்ன காரணம் என்று பார்க்க அங்கு சென்றேன்

மோசடி, மற்றும் நான் பார்த்த அனைத்தும் இப்போது நாம் பார்க்கிறோம். ஒன்றுமில்லை. யாரும் இல்லை. தெருக்கள் என இருந்தன

அவை இப்போது இருப்பது போல் காலியாக உள்ளது.

"பின்னர் நான் அதை கேட்கவில்லை. கொண்டாடுவது சோர்வாக இருப்பதால் தான். அதற்குக் காரணம் நான்

அது நிறுத்தப்பட்டபோது ஆச்சரியப்படவில்லை.

"ஆம்," டாமியானா சிஸ்னெரோஸ் மீண்டும் கூறினார், "இந்த நகரம் எதிரொலிகளால் நிறைந்துள்ளது. அவர்கள் என்னை பயமுறுத்துவதில்லை

இன்னும். நாய்கள் ஊளையிடும் சத்தம் கேட்டு அவைகளை அலற விடுகிறேன். மற்றும், காற்று இருக்கும் நாட்களில்

ஊதினால், அது மரங்களிலிருந்து இலைகளை கிழித்து எறிவதை நீங்கள் காணலாம், இங்கே, நீங்கள் பார்ப்பது போல், எதுவும் இல்லை

மரங்கள். எப்போதாவது இருந்திருக்க வேண்டும், இல்லையென்றால், அந்த இலைகள் எங்கிருந்து வந்தன?"

"மற்றும் மிக மோசமான விஷயம் என்னவென்றால், மக்கள் அரட்டை அடிப்பதை நீங்கள் கேட்கும்போது, ​​அவர்களின் குரல்கள் வெளியே வருவது போல் இருக்கும்

விரிசல்கள் மற்றும், இருந்தபோதிலும், அவை மிகவும் தெளிவாக உள்ளன, நீங்கள் அவற்றை அடையாளம் காணலாம். ஒருமுறை நான் கடந்து செல்ல நேர்ந்தது

இறுதி சடங்கு. எனவே நான் இறைவனின் பிரார்த்தனையைச் சொல்வதை நிறுத்தினேன், ஒரு பெண் என்னிடம் வந்து சொன்னார்:

09:15:00 மணிக்கு  

 Then the door was opened wide.

“Is that you, Dona Eduviges?” I asked. “I have been hearing shouts; what’s going on. I was

really frightened.”

“No, my name is not Eduviges. I am Damiana. I knew you were here, so I came to see you. I

wanted to invite you to come and sleep in my house. You would be able to rest better there.”

“Damiana Cisneros? Aren’t you one of those who lived in Media Luna?”

“Yes, that’s where I live. And that’s why it took me a while to get here.”

“My mother told me about someone called Damiana who took care of me when I was born.

So then you…?”

“Yes, that was me. I have known you since you opened your eyes.”

“I’ll go with you. The shouts here have been frightening me. Didn’t you hear what was

happening? It sounded like someone was being murdered. Weren’t you able to hear it?”

“Perhaps it’s an echo that is locked in there. That room is where they hung Toribio Aldrete a

long time ago. After that they locked the door until he rotted away, so that his body would never

find rest. I can’t imagine how you were able to get in here, since there is no key to open the

door.”

“It was Dona Eduviges who opened it. She told me it was the only room she had that was

available.”

“Eduviges Dyada?”

“Yes, her.”

“Poor Eduviges. She must still be grieving.”

“I Fulgor Sedano, a fifty four year old man, a bachelor who works as an administrator, who is

certified to bring and continue to press charges, for myself and for my own rights, do claim and

allege the following…”

That is what he said when he brought charges against the actions of Toribio Alderete. And he

finished: “And let my accusation be recorded as justifiable.”

“Nobody can deny that you are quite capable, Don Fulgor. I know that you can do things.

And not because of those who are behind you, but because of you, yourself.”

He remembered. That was the first thing Alderete said after they had gotten drunk together,

apparently to celebrate what they had done:

“This matter is going to allow us to cleanse ourselves, because that’s all it can do. And you

know that. In fact, as far as you’re concerned you have done what they ordered you and relieved

me of having to waste my time, because you had me worried about whatever it was. Now that I

know what it is, it makes me laugh. You said “justifiable.” Your master ought to be ashamed

for being so ignorant.”

He remembered. They were in the boarding house of Eduviges, and he had asked her:

“Say Eduviges, do you think you could let me have the corner room?”

“Whatever you want, Don Fulgor. If you want, you can have them all. Are your men going to

be staying here?”

“No, not more than one. Don’t worry about us, and go have a good sleep. Just give us the

key.”“I have to tell you, Don Fulgor,” Toribio Aldrete said. “No one would deny how capable you

are. But that son of a bitch who is your boss really gives me a pain.”

“He remembered. That was the last thing he heard him say in his five senses. After that he

acted like a desperate scoundrel who was shouting. “Apparently, that’s the type of power that’s

behind me. Well I’ll be damned!”

He knocked on he door of the house of Pedro Paramo. He thought about the first time he had

done that two weeks ago. He waited for a long time, just like he had done this time. And like he

had done before he looked at the black monkey that was hanging from the lintel of the door. He

thought to himself: “What the heck! They’ve added a new one; the first one was already faded;

this last one shines like silk, though it is no more than a stained rag.”

The first time he had waited so long that he thought the house was uninhabited. This time he

was about to leave, but then the figure of Pedro Paramo appeared.

“Come in, Fulgor.”

It was the second time they saw each other. The first time he only saw him, because little

Pedro had just been born. And now you could almost say it was still the first time. And here he

was, talking to him like an equal. Look at him! He was following him with long strides,

waggling his legs. “You will soon learn that I’m the one who knows. You will realize that, and

and what I have in mind.”

“Sit down, Fulgor. Here we can talk more comfortably.”

They were in the corral. Pedro Paramo leaned again the manger and waited.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

“I prefer to stand up, Pedro.”

“Okay, whatever you like. But don’t forget the ‘Don.’”

Who was this boy to talk to him like this? Not even his father, Don Lucas Paramo, had ever

done that. And suddenly this boy, who had just come to Media Luna and didn’t know what was

going on, was speaking to him as though he were some farmhand. The heck with it, then!

“How are things going?”

He felt like now was his chance. “Now it’s my turn,” he thought.

“Very bad. There is nothing left. We have sold every last cow.”

He began to take out the papers to tell him how high the debt had risen. He was about to tell

him how much they owed, when he heard him say:

“To whom are we in debt? I don’t care about how much it is, only who we owe.”

He gave him a list of names and then said:

“There is no way we can find the money to pay them. That is the problem.”

“And why is that?”

“Because your family used up everything. They borrowed and borrowed, without paying back

anything. That is going to make it difficult for you. I already said, ‘Eventually they will use up

everything.’ Well, now it’s gone. However, there is someone here who is interested in buying

the land. And they would pay well. You would be able to cover the outstanding debts, and still

have something left over; although it won’t be very much.”

“Are you the one who wants to buy?”

“Why would you believe it was me?”

“I even believe fools. Tomorrow we will start to settle our affairs. We’ll begin with the

Preciados. You say it’s them we owe the most?”“Yes. And also the ones we have paid less. Your father always intended to pay them last. I

understand that one of them, Matilde, went to live in the city. I don’t know if it was Guadalajara,

or to Colima. And Lola, I mean, Dona Dolores, is now the owner of all the land. You know, the

ranch, in the middle of your land. And it’s her whom we’re going to have to pay.”

“Tomorrow you are going to go and ask for Lola’s hand.”

“But what makes you think she would want to marry me, since I am an old man?”

“You will ask her for me. After all, she does have some charm. Tell her I am deeply in love

with her. And ask her if she is willing. While you’re at it, tell Father Renteria to make the

arrangements. How much money will you need?”

“Not any, Don Pedro.”

“Well, promise her. Tell her by doing that, she will be paid. I am pretty sure you won’t have

any problems. Do it right away, tomorrow.”

“And what about Aldrete?

“What does Aldrete have to do with it? You mentioned the Preciados, the Fregosos, and the

Guzmans. Why are you bringing up Aldrete now?”

“It’s about the boundaries. He already tried to set them up, and now he is asking us to give

him the fence pieces he needs to divide the land.”

“Leave that until later, and don’t worry about fences. There won’t be any. The land is not

going to be divided. Think about it, Fulgor, even if you don’t understand it. Go and arrange

things with Dolores right away. Now, don’t you want to sit down?”

“Yes, I’ll sit down, Don Pedro. I say, I’m starting to enjoy dealing with you.”

“You will tell Lola all these things, and that I love her. That is important. I definitely love

her, Sedano. For her eyes, you know? You will do this first thing tomorrow. And I will reduce

your duties as manager. Forget about Media Luna.”

“How in the hell had that boy learned to contrive like that?”, thought Fulgor Sedano, as he was

returning to Media Luna. “I never expected anything from him. He is useless,’ my former boss,

Don Lucas, told me. A week good-for-nothing. And I thought he was correct. ‘When I die,

Fulgor, go look for another job.’ ‘Yes, Don Lucas.’ ‘I tried to send him to school, Fulgor, to see

if that would help him earn enough to eat and take care of his mother when I’m gone. But he has

never decided to do that.’ ‘You don’t deserve this, Don Lucas.’ ‘I’m not counting on anything

from him, not even that he might take care of me when I get older. He turned out wrong, believe

me, Fulgor.’ ‘That’s really too bad, Don Lucas.’”

And now this. If he hadn’t been so attached to Media Luna he wouldn’t have come to see

him. He would have left without telling him. But he really cared about that place; all of those

bare fields, so overworked, and still full of furrows, each time giving us more of themselves…

The beloved Media Luna… And its attachments. “Come here, little land in Enmedio.” He saw

it coming. Since it was already there. What else can a woman be used for, after all. “Of course

she can!” he said. And he rocked his legs as he walked out of the gate of Media Luna.

It was very easy to be attracted to Dolores. Even if her eyes dazzled and broke up the rest of

her face a bit.

“Forgive me for blushing, Don Fulgor. But I never thought Don Pedro would ever notice me.”

“He can’t sleep, thinking of you.”“But there are so many others he could choose from. There are lots of beautiful women there

in Comala. What will they say, when they find out?”

“He only thinks about you, Dolores. And as for the others, there is no one he cares about.”

“It gives me the shivers, Don Fulgor. I would never have imagined it.”

“It’s just that he is very reserved. Don Lucas, may he rest in peace, once told him you were

not worthy of him. And he hid his feelings out of obedience to his father. Now that he is no

longer here, there is nothing to stop him. It was the first thing he thought about, although I have

taken a long time to come and tell you, because of my duties. Let’s say we schedule the wedding

for the day after tomorrow. What do you think?”

“Isn’t that awfully soon? I don’t have anything ready. I need to order the trousseau. I’ll write

to my sister. No, it would be better to send someone to tell her, but anyway I wouldn’t be ready

before the April eighth. It’s now the first, so it’s too soon. Tell him to wait just a few days.”

“He would like to have it right away. As for the trousseau, we can take care of that. Before

she died, Pedro’s mother wanted you to have her clothes. That is a custom in the family.”

“But there’s a reason I have to wait. It’s a woman’s thing, you know. Oh, how embarrassed I

am to have to say this, Don Fulgor. You’re making me blush again. It’s the time for my… Oh,

I am ashamed to say it.”

“What? Marriage is not something to be ashamed of. It’s a matter of love. And with that,

everything else is taken care of.”

“But, Don Fulgor, you don’t understand.”

“I understand. The wedding will be the day after tomorrow.”

And he left her standing there with her arms extended, begging for eight days, nothing more

than eight days.

“I must not forget to tell Don Pedro—what a clever boy this Pedro is!—that he must inform

the judge that the property is jointly held. ‘Don’t forget, Fulgor, tell him that tomorrow.’”

Meanwhile, Dolores hurried to the kitchen with a pitcher, to fill it with hot water. “I am going

to try and make it come sooner. I hope it will be tonight. But anyway, it will still last three days.

There’s no other choice. Oh, what happiness! What happiness! “Thank you, dear God, for

giving me Pedro Paramo.” And she added: “Although afterward, he may hate me.”

“It is now requested, and agreed to. The priest wants sixty pesos for leaving out the marriage

banns. I told him we would give it to him in due time. He said he needs to set up the altar, and

that the paint is peeling off the dinning table. I promised him we would order a new table. He

said you never go to Mass. I promised you would go. He said that since your grandmother died

the tithes haven’t been given either. I told him not to worry about that. So he agreed.”

“Didn’t you ask Dolores for something in advance?”

“No, Boss. I didn’t dare. That’s the truth. She was so happy that I didn’t want to risk taking

away her enthusiasm.”

“Fulgor, you’re a baby.

(“Oh, come on! Me a baby?” he thought. “After living for 55 years? He has hardly been

born, and I am just a few steps away from death.”)

“I didn’t want to destroy her happiness.”

“In spite of that, you’re still a baby.”

“Okay, Boss.”“And next week you will go see Aldrete and tell him he must tear down the fence. He has

encroached on the land of Media Luna.”

“But he measured the boundaries carefully. That is my impression.”

“Well, tell him he was mistaken. That he made the wrong calculations. Tear down the fences,

if necessary.”

“But what about the law?”

“What laws, Fulgor? From now on we are going to make the laws. Is there anyone working

in Media Luna that you don’t approve of?”

“Yes, a few.”

“Well, send them to work with Aldrete. Then raise a charge against him, accusing him of

“usufruct,” or whatever occurs to you. And remind him that now Lucas Paramo is dead, he has

to make new arrangements with me.”

The sky was still blue. There were a few clouds. The wind was blowing up above, but down

here it was hot.

He knocked on the door again with the wooden handle of his whip just to be stubborn, even

though he knew that Pedro Paramo wouldn’t open the door until he felt like it. Looking at the

lintel of the door, he said to himself, “These black monkeys look nice, whatever it is they are

doing here.”

Just then the door opened, so he went inside.

“Come in, Fulgor. Has the matter with Toribio Aldrete been settled?”

“Yes, boss, it has been taken care of.”

“We still have the matter of the Fregosos, but we can let that go for the moment. Right now I

am very engaged with my honeymoon.”

“This town is full of echoes. It seems like they are caught in the cracks of the walls, or under

the stones. When you are walking, it seems like they follow your steps. You hear crackling,

and laughter. Some laughs are quite old, as though they are tired of laughing. And voices that

are worn out from being used so long. You hear all this. Some day the time will come when

these sounds fade away.”

Damiana Cisneros was telling me that, as we were crossing through the town.

“There was a time when, during the night there was a moment when I could hear the noise of a

fiesta. Those sounds came all the way to Media Luna. I went there to see what was causing the

racket, and all that I saw is what we are seeing now. Nothing. Nobody. The streets were as

empty as they are now.”

“Then I didn’t hear it any more. It’s because celebrating is tiring. That’s the reason why I

wasn’t surprised when it stopped.”

“Yes,” Damiana Cisneros said once more, “this town is full of echoes. They don’t frighten me

any more. I hear the sound of dogs howling and let them howl. And, on days when the wind is

blowing, you can see it tearing leaves from the trees, when here, like you see, there aren’t any

trees. There must have been sometime, or if not, where did those leaves come from?”

“And worst of all is when you hear people chatting, as if their voices were coming out of the

cracks and, in spite of that, they are so clear you recognize them. Once I happened to pass by a

funeral. So I stopped to say the Lords Prayer, and a woman came over to tell me:

Manakottai - Mauni, Sculptor's Hell - Pudumaipitthan

 Manakottai - Mauni, Sculptor's Hell - Innovator

Silence
Manakottai - Mauni

Ten years ago, when he was studying higher in Pattinam, his parents tried to get him married. Each time they were interrupted by some random interruption, without any apparent reason. They disappeared one by one. He had given up a high office and was spending his time in his village in the freedom of property. Alone as a child and without close relatives, he used to live with respect among the other villagers in an honest friendship.


For the last few years, his life seemed to be drifting off course, without meaning or direction. The mind rejects arbitrariness. himself, his circumstances and events. Unity is required. One of the situations, the experience requires expansion and change of mind. He often has a thought that he sees the life of the world as a big situation, to realize that his acquaintance can never be right, and to see the life of a crazy dream. The mind becomes tormented, as if everything is God's Sankalpam, there is no hope of letting go of oneself. His looks, mannerisms, speech habits, everything together. Involved in a strange sin. Even those who don't know him should see him. Ava will be giving to know. In this way, he seems to be a philanthropist.

He often leaves the town and goes abroad for months at a time. Big cities, small cities, kshetras and ancient historical symbols do not fit into any definition, the Siddha seems to be the path, his journeys. So far he has been around more than four or five grades in this way. Now, it has been more than four and a half months since he left the town. Returning and starving, he stayed in a hotel room thinking that he could stay there for a few days.

In known poverty, there are no duties to go around the town. A couple of days passed by, occasionally going out for a little while, walking a little distance, seeing his old friends who appeared here and there, talking to him a little, and spending the rest of the time in his room. One evening, while walking along a street, some people passed him talking, and they turned and saw him. Knowing him, someone asked, 'What's wrong with you? - When' he said. They are friends who studied with him. And he thought they were talking about him as they passed him. '-He himself - no like him - no he himself'. It was everyone's speech, one's speech, and he was speaking in doubt about himself, in any way, in a way that gave meaning. It surprised him. With this thought, he laughed and talked with them.

"Even your smile has changed" he was talking about himself and other friends without asking anything about him. Another said, 'Even yesterday we were talking about Shankar. We even remembered you and talked about you. When we saw you, we even suspected that it was you. Do you know that Shankar died? -' he said. It was strange to him that they were in doubt. He was going on his way of thinking, thinking that he did not understand himself even to the extent that they could understand him, without even knowing Shankar's death beforehand, saying 'Yes Shankar is dead-' in his mind. He quickly took leave of them saying that if he went on talking to them they would mistake him for madness and reached his lodging.

'Yes Shankar is dead.' Ivan's mind said a quality. While he is held in high esteem among many students, he cannot be seen there. He is certain to be there, just barely, or even imperceptibly. He thinks that he is daydreaming somewhere, in such a way that he can see if necessary. He seems to think that it cannot be absent from his mind forever. Alone, even when they are together, they don't talk much. His words appear as two jagged lines to see the picture in the vast expanse. According to his mind's breadth, to give shape to it is the appearance of seeing himself, he will. He is equal to him in studies and in every way. How sweetly haunting are the old memories of sex!

He too studied for a few years and went to the north for further education. I also remembered taking a photo together before leaving. He corresponded with him for many days. Finally, he has written a reply to the letter he wrote. His last letter was very clearly in front of my eyes...Ivan's heart was very sad. And with him, as they say—when he died, it seemed right to doubt even his existence. His last letter .......'My parents know you well. Not even the rest of the family knows how. A grade, you came to my house and talked for a while. Then they might see you. May know. I doubt if a small meeting is enough. I have often spoken to them about you. Born in my imagination, You do not know how you live in their minds. We feel like you are part of our family as everyone talks about you. I have told you that next time I go to town, I will bring you too... Then, when you came, my last sister Sumi saw you from the door, you cannot know. Do you know how well and beautifully she understands you when she ever mentions you? I'll show you when I go. I want you to talk to her and see... Even if you have to go without me, go. Even if they can't know by looking at you, they will definitely know if you tell them..' We feel like you are part of our family. I have told you that next time I go to town, I will bring you too... Then, when you came, my last sister Sumi saw you from the door, you cannot know. Do you know how well and beautifully she understands you when she ever mentions you? I'll show you when I go. I want you to talk to her and see... Even if you have to go without me, go. Even if they can't know by looking at you, they will definitely know if you tell them..' We feel like you are part of our family. I have told you that next time I go to town, I will bring you too... Then, when you came, my last sister Sumi saw you from the door, you cannot know. Do you know how well and beautifully she understands you when she ever mentions you? I'll show you when I go. I want you to talk to her and see... Even if you have to go without me, go. Even if they can't know by looking at you, they will definitely know if you tell them..' Do you know how well and beautifully she understands you when she ever mentions you? I'll show you when I go. I want you to talk to her and see... Even if you have to go without me, go. Even if they can't know by looking at you, they will definitely know if you tell them..' Do you know how well and beautifully she understands you when she ever mentions you? I'll show you when I go. I want you to talk to her and see... Even if you have to go without me, go. Even if they can't know by looking at you, they will definitely know if you tell them..'


It was too late for him to sleep that night.


When he woke up the next morning, he thought that if he wasn't there, they might as well go home. When he wrote, he did not know that there is a big difference between going alone and now going without him. The house where they were was also near Ivan's hotel. Now it seemed that they might not even be there. On the one hand, he gave up the idea of ​​going there even if he knew them and if they didn't know him, how could he introduce himself to them. Starvation, moreover, does not like to stay. There is no longing for the city.

There was a small town in the middle of the railway line from Pattinam to Tannur. He knew that nearby, there was a ruined hill fort of historical fame. So far, he has never seen it. On this occasion, with the memory of it, he left in the morning carriage after starving.


Darkness is well seen. By the time the train reaches the station, it has become more fashionable. If the cab arrives at the specified time, it can be reached in the evening itself. On that day, the train was three hours late. Except for him, no one else got off at the station, the station itself looked deserted except for two or two crewmen, four or five carriages sleeping outside waiting for passengers. The place he was going to see, the kind that could now be seen even in the dark, was only recently at the station. But he had to reach a small town about three miles away to spend the night. There was once a big tank under Akkunuk Fort. It may have been in fashion over time, moved, worn, and now settled. or hidden, as small huts, In the foothills, there may be a scattered appearance. The crescent moon, which was about to set in the western sky, was giving the world beauty. The innumerable constellations visible in the sky, in total, were giving a small light. In the dim screen of light, he saw many hillocks visible here and there in various forms. In the Devasura war, when the mountains were uprooted from each other, they seemed scattered and scattered, appeared here and there, to give life to the lifeless, in the limitless imagination, even in this tiny light - innumerable stars are visible in the sky above, sprinkled here and there until the eyes are blinded on the earth below, it seems like the light of small huts is enough. buried peace,

He now had to take a carriage and go on a journey he had never seen before, through the darkness. It turned out to be a wonderful experience for him. If the train had not been delayed, he would have reached the town before dark.

When the carriage was going along the dark road with trees, it did not seem to him that he was going in a carriage. To mark the Kaladesa narrative, it is the light of small cottage shops that can be seen here and there along the road. In some shops, two people were seen in the silence, as if they had gone late, late at night to buy goods. Unable to pay attention to the constant, persistent, cab, cab driver, sound. This trip was a blind and silent search. In the middle of the road, the dogs, who were fast asleep, waiting to wake up until the car crashed, and howling loudly, often shocked him. This journey into the unknown, in the dark, was a strange experience for him.

The next morning, he got up a little early, finished all his work, and left with food in his hand, so that he could see the things he had to see before noon and return.

In the morning light, the region was clearly visible as far as the eye could see. It is not a hilly area. A big pot, a clearing. Here and there, many hills, small and large, could be seen scattered. As far as we could reach, we could see the katan soil and in some places the grassy ground, tree bats and small bushes, gathered together and giving a sense of awe. Individual sheep, two people, the movement of sheep in a herd in the distance... seemed inextricable in the vast space. In every light and season, mixed with the mood of the beholder, the region was to be given an appearance with innumerable hues for different types. On a high hill, Ivan could see the castle. On reaching its base, There were tree trunks and bushes that looked like a little rich earth. The voice of the birds in the tree, the birds flying in flocks from afar and the wind rustling the leaves giving him a touch, all gave him a desolated look. From the foot of the cliff,
Castle towers, palace towers, temple towers were all visible. On the way up, leisurely, and returning after seeing everything, mid-day had fallen. Fatigue does not add to hunger. He sat under a tree to take some rest and then walk. He was staring straight ahead. The fort ramparts, the visible hills, all moving and disappearing, were visible in the canal. Although he had never seen this fort, he had heard and read many things about it.

He has heard about the bronze chariot of the lost temple and the underground tunnels of the fort. In Treta Yuga, its construction, Sthala Makhimai Purana, history as truth, fictions, etc., he has read and known everything about it in the form of books. Even now, when he thinks about all that he knows, it seems ridiculous, even laughable. Having cast a bronze chariot for the temple in devotion, a genius Veerathira Chakravarti, who saw the strange cross-roads to overcome the enemies, built many tunnels to overcome the enemies coming from afar, to enter suddenly among them, and then disappear suddenly to reach the fort. One class decided to do the same, considered many as enemies outside the reach and entered among them and performed heroic deeds. Lost in his eagerness to reach the fort through the tunnel, everything was forgotten when he wanted to disappear. He reached the fort chanting 'J-J' among them. They also forgot, respected themselves, made him their king, reached the fort and waited for orders with their hands tied. Along with them, the bronze chariot and the tunnels were forgotten. Indra, Brahmahati dosha relief, immersed in Sunai and saw Swami darshan...Nowadays, because no one can be Indra, and for those who see Prayasidtha, Brahmahati cannot be done, that too has been forgotten. It is getting ruined. That king, as his father and his son, traded across the ocean...conquered Himayat, convened councils, exchanged kisses. All of that has become history in the mind, along with the imagination, the truth has been forgotten and disappeared. temple, The fort, the lake, all seemed to be one, and the wretched appearance stood silently longing before him. Kanal is hustling to seek every possible outlet in temptation.

How ridiculous it all sounds. An al-Basitikandu, who cannot bear it, has no way to go up, and the seeds of mental turmoil, this kind of public demonstration, like a tamasha among the village community, how absurd it looks. Any great appearance is itself the manifestation of an Alpha Siddhi, an Alpha Prophet. Can it be like a small beacon to see the dark darkness of the night, the efforts of today's torches to shine a light? Everything changes, fades, and looks ruined. His eyes squinted to see the light of day. He closed his eyes for a while. Someone was carrying a big box. When he was smiling at him and saying that it would be nice if you lifted yourself from the potty, everything disappeared. An unheard sound was heard. He opened his eyes immediately. A crow was perching on a branch above. As the evening wore on, he was about to be thrown away. He could not even imagine that it was the evening itself, when he felt sleepy in the middle of the day, fell asleep and woke up in the evening. He got up and walked fast towards the city, thinking that rain was coming.

As we were passing the bungalows outside the town limits, the wind picked up rapidly and it started raining in short distance. He was standing a little aside under the eaves of a nearby bungalow so as not to get wet. He was looking around thinking that if the rain dissipated in the wind, he might wait a little and not get wet. A little further away, he realized that a twenty-five-year-old woman was standing under the pillar of the Appangala veranda, watching him intently. The wind calmed down and the rain began to fall. He looked inside again. He found her standing there looking at him. The robe does not suit him in any way. It seemed that he wanted to get wet even if he stood. For those who don't like to stand anymore and want to walk while soaking wet, there is someone next to them, When he brought him inside with an umbrella in hand and asked him to come to the verandah, and he was sitting there on a chair, it was like a dream show. There was light outside in Mappu Mandhara. Inside the bungalow, it was dark enough to put a lamp on. It was clear that she noticed herself as she stood by the door as a shadow. Immediately, as soon as the lamp and internal light were put on the mouth, he was startled in the middle of the light, and looked towards the mouth again. She did not stop there. She went inside. A car stopped inside the bungalow. An even higher official disembarked and a servant went in to follow. As he crossed him, he disappeared without looking. He knew that she was her husband. If you ask, 'Who is he?' He did not understand how he could have introduced himself then. Although he was a little relieved that he didn't listen to him, he was sitting on the chair, unable to leave the place, not knowing whether it would be like this again.

After a while, he changed his clothes and came out......................... 'Excuse me, sir, I was not paying attention. Can you sit inside and talk...' They sat in front of each other on chairs in the hall. Although it seemed a little different from what he had seen at first, his mind was still tormenting him in the same way. Unable to introduce himself, he was seeing his situation as suffering. A Parishakaran brought two cups of coffee, both of them sipped. He did not notice when she appeared behind him, in his view, and saw a sad look on the faces of the couple. They do not understand who we are.


``...you don't know us'' and ``I don't understand how we can introduce ourselves'' was a bit of a shock to him. And as if to prevent Ivan's astonishment from prolonging, he stopped short by saying 'I think you remember your friend Shankar'. He understood everything in an instant. Kondan had a value in him. When he said, '..........Yes, that's right', he started talking to Ivan properly. Before that, he asked his wife to go inside for a while.


'We think you are Shankar's friend Shekhar. You also know us...but some of these family incidents, you may not know...

  "Yes, Shankar is dead," he said.

 'Yes, Shankar is dead...however, you may know.However, I feel the need to tell you. Your sorrow may be more and more but in telling you, my heart will take some comfort. Forgive me for that'. He stopped for a while and spoke further.

'Yes, a thousand times, that is the grief that I must say. Suchiko, unimaginable, unbearable grief. She is not here now. If we want to know how much our love is with Shankar, we can say that it is the amount he has for you. You wouldn't think that he was talking so much to make some vague and pointless riddle. For me to say, to calm down, is the release of suffering, the stuttering of this speech, to forgive ....?' He paused and continued.

'...Well Shankar died. Even though time passed, that incident remained unchanged in the mental space. To the point of denying it, and to affect it more severely, the attachment remained unalterably stable. The newspaper of his death to his father. In the mining company, a high ranking man was poisoned and died while visiting a mine two thousand feet underground. As far as bringing it up, he did not have life in his body. Is his soul going to find peace just by looking at him? The answer was a telegram from the father. Then after a long time his luggage arrived…..not enough to deny his death? You just arrived. We consider you one of the family.

'Although he is friendly with everyone, he seems to be very fond of his last sister Sumi. His death began to affect her greatly. Finally, the letter he wrote was to her... We all crowded around her and tried to read it, anxious to know when he would come. It took her a long time to finish it. You should see her face then.! Can't describe it. She gave the letter to me after reading it. I hurriedly read it and everyone listened... In the happiness that we saw at that time, if life was going on... It was written that 'I will take leave soon and come to see everyone, and when I come, I will probably and definitely bring you...' Everyone knows you very well. Eager for his arrival, It is the eagerness that we eagerly wait for that day, including your arrival. It seems like a short time to give to the world... After a few days, that telegram came. You can feel our situation then. His death goes beyond denial.We are shocked and saddened little by little.

  He did not know when she came back and stood behind him. She was listening with her head hanging down.

'...Sumi's marriage attempts were thwarted by Shankar's death... Later, she too remained a virgin. It seems that her mind did not accept her Tamayan's death even for a while. She looked very charming as if she was waiting for his arrival. However, a longing inside, as if it was waiting for the time, as if it was waiting for the time, then her appearance, very charming appearance, was causing a fear in our mind. She appeared as a charm of terror. Doesn't talk to anyone much. But you can't tell even if you don't speak. Every now and then, she would say something startling to make her tone very deep. She calls me 'Anna-Anna' and talks a little too much. Then little by little, her mind began to wander. Then when I see her, I don't feel sad... Can't see, can only go back with a sigh... She is gone too. Looking for her..' He finished speaking. Looking at him, he was looking everywhere. The infinite sorrow, in his sober speech, was very evident. In a moment of silence, he had time to take stock of the situation.

 'If you had come and seen...', Ivan interrupted,

 He said, 'It can't happen like that.'

'What - like now,...' he asked startled.

'How can it be, like now, seeing then..' he added,

 'Then Shankar died. At that time, I know that no matter how much I know, you cannot know if I come without him. You don't know this -?' said Ivan. He was very relaxed and talked a little too much. Thoughts were going somewhere.

'What' he said.

 'Now I have arrived at random? No. You don't know that they are also in my life in his imagination. Now? - In my being '- he said.

They were looking at him, not looking where he was looking, with a slight look. He seems to be confused and a bit confused...

He said, 'This is what I am saying now. ' The man who wanted to get up sat down again and said, 'You haven't seen your wife now? That's right -' he said.


'How can you portray her for all to see -' he said.

'What are you talking about..' he said in a slightly harsh tone, again, calmly I look at Sumi like you look at your wife - now I see…….Shankar can die, my life, me, can't stop dreaming, in his dreams. , the life will be realized, he is as long as I am?..........I can search for him, search for his dream, leave me...how can I? How can I live without being like this...'

He calmly got up and went out. Beyond the gate, and two or three steps of the verandah, and beyond the bungalow gate, one has to reach the opposite road. They were unable to stop him from going, to prevent him from getting wet in the rain, or to facilitate him. They stood watching Priya saying goodbye until she disappeared down the road. There is no place for sorrow or tears.

 The wind was blowing hard. Rain is not far away.

- Writing 1963
Typography: Deetsanya



” literature is still flowing. Branching off from the four-way road due to this speed of death, Mauni's Manakottai intertwines beyond the reckoning of time among the scattered sculptures of the Devasura Yuddha. Storytellers are the ones who create the hitherto untold stories from the rites of consciousness that create art that has never existed before”  - Konangi (Kal Nidda - Muthuvein Jala Magazine -2014) -  Thank you  Riyas Khurana Sculptor's Hell-Innovator Posted by: RAMPRASATH HARIHARAN | Time: 12:31 PM | Category: Stories , By http://azhiyasudargal.blogspot.in/2008/09/blog-post_6950.html










Sunset time. More crisis than ever at Kaveripoompattinam port. The people of Egypt who were black and white. The white aloof Kadaravas, the black Capris as the ideal of muscular strength, the white Yavanas, the Tamil of the South, the Prakrit of the North - all were confused and contradicted. Customs officers were censoring imported goods and servants from boats floating like swans and crocodiles with the ingenious use of golden canes. White elephants have been brought to the king from Kadaram. An endless crowd to see them!



The light of the setting sun is always a tragic drama. Not only the temple peaks and palace caskets are eye-catching, but the reflection in the back and tail of the gold-plated bronze tiger set in a downward-flowing pattern on the Duvajasthampa standing on the black rock on the beach gave the place a mesmerizing effect.

On the steps of the bathing ghat erected for the convenience of the people during the Indra festival, a Yavana named Pylarchus was sitting facing the sea. His long cloak fluttered and fluttered in the wind, sometimes entwining his beard tightly around his neck. Big waves sometimes drenched his braided leather cast. Even so, there is no temptation in him. What can the wind do, what can the wave do when the mind is united?

Pythorchus's thought sometimes swelled and fell like waves. Dreams kept him awake like crazy.

Suddenly, a voice called, "Shiva!" A native of Tamil Nadu!

Yavana! Has your will dissolved the nothingness that is dear to you? Did what I said yesterday sink in on you? Everything is the play of the source power, its image! Kollippa is the same; And that is the God of Kumara! If everything is mixed into one....”

“Your philosophy is better than a cup of grape wine. And that is the grapes of the island of Cyprus... There it goes, that Capri also believes in some dream. If you accept your first formula, then there is nothing wrong with your theory... how can you accept that? Philosophy according to each one's mind... I don't want that... Your narcissistic claw and wine bowl are enough...''

"Shiva! Shiva! Not even these Jain devils, not even the Kabali fanatics... Who told you to pack this strange bundle and come from heaven?'

' Not equal to our *Jupiter's clumsiness and your Kandan's clumsiness...'' laughed Pylarchus.

"Shiva! He has affection for you. That's his game too!'' said Paradesi, wearing the vibhuti from his sambudham on his forehead.

"I am going to Nalangadi, are you coming?" said Achannyasi again.

''Yes! Even if you go there, you will see Satan. It makes sense to talk to him... He knows the secret of creation...''

"Oh! Is that the old man making the statue? The perfect lunatic for you is...Edetu! He is coming!" said the preacher.

Pylarchus got up and bowed to him in Yavana fashion.

Satan is eighty years old; Charitable old man. But the strength did not fail; The vision did not go away. Brahma appeared as if he had assumed a human form. He bowed his hands and bowed and said, "Pylarchus, I have come to seek you! are you coming home My ambition took shape today...!'' he exclaimed with the excitement of a child.

Do you know him? Pandyan nation, your paradise... He forced all the philosophies into me... Can Pylarchus do it?'' Yavana laughed sarcastically.

"Swami wants to come, today I have to spend amudhu step in my hut"

''What to do! Are you?'' said Pylarchus.

“Pylarchus! I do not regret that you are a water-waller; Don't make fun of others..."

"That's what I was born for, father! That's my job...

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The speed of the carriage could be slow. It was difficult for him to drive away from the elephants, pack donkeys, pack cows and people carrying torches as they approached the port. Suddenly, if the chariot of government officials and an elephant arrive, the street will be dusted. What is the use of ringtones? The girl who drives the salt cart is covered in blood if she misses a bit!

*Jupiter: King of the gods mentioned in the Yavana epics; Among the planets is Jupiter.

"God's work!" said Satan.

"Your creative power," said Pylarchus, thinking of something else.

“Pylarchus, your speech may appease my pride. How long have I suffered! Do you know that? You were born yesterday... hooray!... how much does that mean? All that man knows and wants to know... this universe, Pylarchus, as you think it is, a mere filth and senseless ghostly confusion... will be twenty years old; Then I went to a Dharam Pandya country... If you want to see sculpture, you have to see Kollipavai. It was there that a forgetful serpent, Nagan, took refuge in a cage. That arch of the foot, I caught it in it... The meaning of the world... One by one, gradually grew... That Malayalam actress That peace of face, That rare smile, Meaningless meaning — Pylarchus, what about you! You are a joker - I did not search in the Upanishads... I did not search in the Himalayas... Shanti that night... I got it on the day my wife Angayakkanni died... Then what a test for the bronze alloy! What a disappointment!... Desire was the guide. How many people did I look for to get that form of glory!... I found a shadow of it... Neelmalai tyrant - who was decapitated ten years ago - in his middle... There is a deity... My statue could convey the meaning of my previous birth.. .With these hands...can it be achieved unless a meaningful object is evoked from behind...?'' . There is a deity... the meaning of which my idol was able to convey is the result of my previous birth... with these hands... unless a meaningful object prompts from behind... can it be achieved?'' . There is a deity... the meaning of which my idol was able to convey is my previous birth fruit... with these hands... unless a meaningful object is triggered from behind... can it be achieved?''

"You did it! You are Brahma! That is your achievement. Creature! Don't be fooled! Don't be afraid! You are Brahma! The god of creation!'' said Pylarchus.

The preacher was peering out with a smile.

The carriage also reached Nalangadi, turned into an alley through the lower square, and stopped in front of a house.

The three got down and climbed the steps. A Yavana woman came and washed the morning. A Kapri, bowing respectfully, wipes Kalinga with a cloth.

"Swami must come! Pylarchus, come this way!''Satan took both of them and went into a room.

"Moopango, Deepam!" he shouted. The capri entered with a flashlight. Even in that windowless room, the wind came like a thread and enchanted the mind and body.

"There is no light here! Set aside the screen! Swami, Pylarchus, this is my life!'' He set aside the screen.

Both of them stopped. In that dim light, a human idol standing on a single leg and pretending to be a man! The wide braid and the crescent on it, the hands showing the symbols, and the rare smile that appeared on the other side stirred up waves of thoughts in the mind. All three became that idol. What a throbbing of life in every curve and every limb of the statue!

The ascetic started chanting unconsciously…

If you see a white braid, a coral-like
mane, milky eyes,
a bowed eyebrow, a soft smile
, a sparkling smile, and
a golden foot that has taken a sweet breath, this is the land of manhood ! ''Swami, don't say that!' ' He is right! Is this art! This is creation! What are you going to do with this?" "What is this question for the king's temple?" "What! Let go of this absurdity... Even if you put this next to the nude images of the king, it has meaning... Even if you break it and throw it on the hill, those pieces have meaning; There is life...'' said Pylarchus like a maniac.












“See, Pylarchus! Yavana is right for your crazy policies! Agastusa - That is your Samrat - He is the right one for your petal!"

"Satan! The king's request for your ideal is the right decision. Now why are these Jains going to raise their heads...!'' said the preacher.

"That sea has so much more sense than these mad men..." Pylarchus stormed off.

2

On that day Kumbabhishekam. The day of consecration of the idol. It must be said that it was a great extravagance in the Chola country itself. Satan's mission is accomplished. Much to Satan's chagrin that Pylarchus was not alive that day to share in his revelry.

Ardha Jama became more and more important when he reached home from the new temple.

Age had mellowed him a little then. He was tired. Tired...

Dad! What a torch! Vast infinite space! Therein lies Satan's ideal, that meaningless, yet meaningful, smile! Dance to a slow heartbeat! What a life! What a creature!

Suddenly everything is dark! The only cheeky darkness! Darkness like heart witchcraft!

Then the light... now the golden temple! Eye-popping brightness!... The doors open by themselves with a chime... That old darkness inside!

Satan enters. A place like a nucleus of darkness. A dim light appears in it! What! This is an old statue! Not alive! There is no attractive smile!...Everything is black!... Black...!

Figures come crouching like shadows at the dark door. Bow down and worship.

"Moksha for me! Moksam for me!” echoed. Not one person in the crowd of millions of Saiyans looked up at the statue! This is how everyday...

days, years and centuries roll like a wave - you have to look at at least one shadow of those billions of years!

"Moksha for me...!" This is the refrain, the song, everything!

Satan stands...

How many ages! He gets mad. Lifeless statue of Moksha! Break you! Put! Dress! Oh, my God! Won't you wear it! Break up! You go broke! Or let your maw kill me. A senseless cry...!''The statue tumbles like a thunderclap - in Satan's embrace, it dips in his blood... Blood is so holy! The old smile!...

Satan woke up with a start. Silver has sprouted. His confused soul beats with the Sanganatha of the new temple.

"What a ghostly dream, See!" he wears Vibhuti on his forehead.

"Pylarchus - Woe to him if he..." Satan's mind was not at peace.


Manikodi, 25-08-1935

(This story has been published in Manikodi under the title 'Silby's Hell')
at 5/19/2014 05:10:00 pm
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Crow Sparrow Our caste is an epic - Nakulan

Crow Sparrow Our caste is an epic - Nakulan

I found it

I saw birds like crow, sparrow, hen, blackbird, hawk, pigeon, duck, myna, peacock, woodpecker, sparrow, fisher etc.

Wherever it goes, this crow is not a nuisance. Utsava Pralayam, Shani Bhagavan Vahanam, is a story about this. Mother would give this a ball of rice with lentil and ghee before eating it very tenderly as she boiled the brattie's breast. When I was young, I heard elders shouting “gagagagaga” to pacify the pitru and the gaga would melt. A crow that crows even when a gathering person disappears, is a black dot roaming around in my mind circle - kakakakaka.

sparrow A small sparrow that chirps its little bird and jumps up suddenly. A silky wheat color. Bharati did not remember anything about this except that she said it was her caste.

in my mind
that Vir
A feeling
"look at me"

as me
sense
I went to go
I am


These are Villupparam, Tiruchirappalli, Neela Agaya, and Perumal Temple

Hawk
that
to spread

with the fetus
that
to move

of my soul
in height
Around and around
rotating


Chicken, red hen white hen; Shouting “Kokkarako”; It broods (it is not easy to roll over and sit on itself so restlessly) before the feet fall, its fleshy beard.

A term for chicken droppings;
A word called Varanam

Have you seen a pigeon?
By type
White
As ashes
Variously
As a beautiful crow
All are loved
Pigeon, did you see?
Is it okay?
But what?


Rows of corpse-like figures stand in rows of corpse-like figures in a room where a man sits in a fan-swirling room with a red ribbon tied to the dastavejus of Lokayudam in a dovecote-like niche.


But these pigeons in the courtyard of the mosque fascinate me like my lovely Susheela.

stork

Narai Narai Brick Narai. Old Bisiranthaiyar Patu, He has come far from the village A gray bird (Pazham Peruchali) wears a collarless shirt and spends penance in the office.

Stork - stork

A fish jumps in a river where a stork runs.

Variously
Bullet as coin
With a bitter heart
My begging
the mind
Little
A little bit
squeeze squeeze

I have pacified this stork. He is a name in my name. Samharamurthy is what Sushila is to me.

stork, a stork
A fish hook
Eating meat
A stork

Goose, Goose, Wangaleo Goose - Chicken Egg Double Size Goose Egg - Look like trouble when you see the face of sir.

Duck eggs
Keep it cool
Add spinach in it
Enjoy attending
If you do
sir
colic
Oh, I'll go
will run away

At a young age, I think it was in Saidapet. Susheela, Kamarubini, Manamokhini saw this unremarkable flock of geese go by and by.

It's for me
How happy
Just to say that
Badumo
Or
He said
solve

Ah, toad, why is this?

Myna
Myna
Come come
Myna
Will it come?

An original myna the size of two sparrows; Dark brown; Its mane is black brown; Its eyes are lined with shimmering yellow, and its wings are a charming white.

It is
In the meadow
Wandering
If found
Susip girl
Rosep Poove
like you
That's it
A form of beauty
see

Peacock Manic Blue Black; Its neck is black and blue, the length of a snake; A thousand eyes like Algul when it spreads its trunk, it is a feast for the eyes of the one who sees it spread its trunk and dances during the car; It is an avatar. A song called Peacock Aadak Quill Pada

Sushila
It is a tall bird
Seeing that
Sushila
You go and disappear
As
A maze.

Do you remember that old song?

Arumugam
He
my brother
Surapaduman
to differ
Tortured face
what face

come my love In these twentieth century occasions you and I need to eat peacock curry.

Sushila
This dumb bird
With the saw
Dagger, Dagger
As Ravi throws
A unique pleasure

Behind the peacock is a woodpecker, whose crest is a king's crown, the card is yellow, its mane is beautiful black.

This is a tree
Woodpecker
In my mind
Wandering restlessly
A wonder bird

Come, Susheela, come, let me show you some more birds.

in the middle
An uncanny creature
spread her hair
Ashoka tree
Like Sita
Leaning down sadly
when

In the distance, a bird of Akkab flapped its wings and cried out.

This is
why
My dear
girl
Sushila?
me
As
She too
In the secret of love
Did the body burn?
Or
He died
Soil with soil
Is it?

A river flowed by, and a dark blue bird flew in the midst of it. An original fish with a wet shimmer in its unit.

If there is a woodpecker, there is a fisherbird in this world.

Susheela, I am the one who experienced what. I went to the temple and served Lord Saneeshwar. He came and showed me a little sparrow flying free. I saw pigeons in the mosque and saw a one-legged penance stork on the river bank. A flock of geese glared at me and said we were there too. Myna wandered into my mind. The peacock laughed at me. The woodpecker and the fisher said you also need a sharp unit. Like a hawk, I used to see the turtles paralyzed like a hawk, and there were moments when I flew high like a hawk. There were times when I sat and cried like a sparrow..

But
Sushila
This world
In the space of
you leave me alone
Leave to repent
You're gone.

It's okay, Sushila, it's okay. I am the loneliness you created.

There are many lightnings within me
I saw it blow
I was thrilled.


(To My Sister Trisadai)

- Vrutsam, 1994


Typescript : Ra Ra Ku


                                               




One of three short stories
 (https://groups.google.com/forum/#!topic/anbudan/gjaRAL19ufQ%5B1-25-false%5D)

hospital.

He is in the room.

They were undergoing treatment.

Four hours later he woke up suddenly to find someone standing next to him.

nobody is here. He fell asleep again.

They both came out.

Principal: Why?

Other: It's not time yet.

- Nakulan (Gnanaratham, Oct., 1972)

circle 1

    There     is no heart to live,     no
    place to die,     there     is no     cloud

    in the sky     ,
    but     the
    sun     is     not     folded     .















                     
1.
After they left, they were
homeless 2. The dog barked at the coin; There are many bad dogs in the tree ; Midday will be dark 3. Lying like a mouse in blood red in the heat of birth ; Wriggling like a worm (thanks Modern Tree blog)




















Riyaz Khurrana

Between two wonderful moments the rain stopped
Between day and night
The last drop fell Her body fragrance disappeared
from the sheets I looked back If the rain had fallen a little more we would have met there. Such was the sign. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Riyas-Qurana-%E0%AE%B1%E0%AE%BF%E0%AE%AF%E0%AE%BE%E0%AE%B8%E0%AF %8D-%E0%AE%95%E0%AF%81%E0%AE%B0%E0%AE%BE%E0%AE%A9%E0%AE%BE/182863578533870?hc_location=timeline When the rain broke into his story Saturday, ‎November ‎21, ‎2015 Riyas Qurana - Riyas Qurana 2 hrs ·


















When the rain broke in his story,

while walking across the hill in the meadow, the rain started falling only on the tree standing in his story. According to the story, the birds sitting on the tree and buried in the clouds are flying. The sound of the birds' song gradually increases. They will arrive in a few minutes. Meanwhile, a seed can't become a tree. Birds that know nothing. She who comes with the birds floats and swims in search. Her song that can't find me screams with every word. Flip through his book and you'll find my beloved wandering through the story.

at 5/14/2014 10:20:00 pm
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Brimle (20.04.1939 - 06.01.1997)
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Thanks

Anthology of Brahmal Poems
: Kala Subramaniam. ( Pramil's poems have been compiled by Kala Subramaniam and published as 'Adyayalam'. Available online at http://www.udumalai.com/?prd=&page=products&id=6091 .)

 My name is Adithan ... - Pretha : Prethan (Buried Copies and Written Men ... from the novel)
(Buried Copies and Written Men ... from the novel)

- Pretha : Prethan

my name is Adithan-
I guess I was born ten lakh years ago


I think the planets may have drifted away
from each other in the same way that determines the microelements of my being. What rays but infrared rays can recognize my dreams ? Anti-electron atoms are proof of my bonds with me. My passions turn all elements into cadences. My fractions combine in various ways to create the hues of space. It is my sexual imagination. I use space as my training ground just in case a component crosses the light-year distance between my nerve cells.
















I'm setting up


*

A friend of mine
wrote the worst poem in the world above and
cried drunkenly
I'm not a poet like him
but I'll write
He needs drugs
I need wretchedness
But both do Crying and judging
Ugly life
Love and hate Nothing
exists in its own right
Talk about pleasure Throw determinations down the toilet Destroy relationships Living is just living , let the sticks wipe away the lime in the urine cup of booty morals.









Nothing else—
I'll come from my wrecks
Psychotic Lament Record of Reality
My friend
will forget my room number
By then my great work
must explode from the edge of the work Excerpt : Three Labyrinth Returning to room First day I didn't light the lamp

I     sat on the windowsill I didn't smoke Looking at the shadow The manuscript got wet in the rain I woke up confused I was lost in inadequacy My friend will never come to see me He hates being in the room Writing my masterpiece I'm mentally ill My own shadow














Phenomenon like decay
The idea of ​​emptiness
Leaving my fractions in the armpit Good
I'm not going to write anymore
Let my friend write Let
my friend's friend
create image mandalas How many moments have I sat in my room burning manuscripts
to dig my grave
and recover my rot . * Excerpt   : The nurse who took care of me brought these torn pieces to my room in the four pattakam hospital I wept and kissed my scalp.






 









She went away crying herself
I record these mutilated copies
of my illusory magnum opus
. ****************************************************** **************** https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=573349376178724&id=100005110006875 Frame Frame




13 hrs ·

‎Wednesday, ‎June ‎15, ‎2016
Chopped Hands

First There Was Flesh (1991)- A drama-visual event. I wrote and created this in Tamil.

This is part of the theatrical event.

My friends who started talking about postmodernism that day did not accept that I wrote these lines as the one who started postmodernism.

Like friends who disapprove of what Dalit politics has become my existence today.

On that day, Malathi asked him to bring it to the scene without changing it.
It was on display and in print. Today I remembered it. Look guys!

In the Beginning There Was Flesh (1991)
Scene-3
(Sketches of Che Guevara on screen. Below sits a figure with head between legs. Voice from behind.)

I am to be punished.
I loved people.
Because my survival needs a meaning.
I loved everyone because I loved myself.
I perceived myself as other.
I couldn't keep calm.
History was brutal.
Kill, kill, kill.
Life is
destined for some bodies and death for others.
It is fundamental that all born bodies have the right to life and that no body has the right to exercise power, oppression or command over another body.
But when I thought about what was happening, I became restless.
The horror of history struck me.
I thought that anyone who is oppressed has every right to smash everything that oppresses him.
I dreamed that oppression and oppression should not work in any name or by any means.
I wondered what it would take for the bodies to move freely and unfettered.
I also got the same results as many people before me.
It is about dismantling oppressive institutions.
I chose violence.
Breaking, breaking is the need of the hour.
Violence was thrust upon me.
It is obvious how I broke the shackles that history had placed on me and how I became what I became.
I was made by history.
I chose the language for myself, the language for my body.
In reality, this is the bane of history.
The whole world will be surrounded by this misery like me.
I am guilty.
I broke the rules that defined my life.
I rejected the old meanings ascribed to my existence.
I will say something that many people want to say.
Every true revolutionary is driven by intense love…
My love, my pity is for all the people of this earth.
My disorganized sin is
a crime before the boundaries of history.
I am guilty.
I have to punish myself.
By destroying my body I can become a symbol of history.
Wherever the boundaries of the body are transgressed, wherever bodies move without the oppression of values, wherever it is realized
that all bodies belong to itself,
that we move in the movement of all bodies, I am born.
I arise as bodies everywhere.
This is a major crime in the face of a history of oppression.
I am the madman who has this long-distance dream, who has such a deep desire.
I deserve to be punished.
I apologize.
I cut off my hands.
(SAVE'S PORTRAIT FADES ON THE SCREEN- SOUNDS OF MANY HANDS WRINKLE. They fade back to SAVE's image, hands again, SOUNDS.)
DARKNESS.
Light again.
A male figure is bathed behind with his hands tied and beaten with a heavy rod. Blood splatters.

“Tomorrow your father is going to be very upset,” I told him. “I feel sorry for him. Now go

on, and rest in peace, Miguel. I‘m grateful that you came to say goodbye to me.”

“And then I closed the window. Before it got light, a servant from Media Luna came to tell

me: ‘Don Pedro needs you; his son Miguel has died, and he wants you to come and see him.”

“Yes, I know what happened,” I told him. “Did they say you should cry when you told me?”

‘Yes, Don Fulgor told me I should do that as I told you.’

“Okay, tell Don Pedro I’ll come. How long has it been since they brought him back?”

‘Only a half an hour ago. If they had brought him sooner, they might have been able to save

him. Although, according to the doctor who examined him, he had been dead for some time.

We knew something was wrong when Colorado came back by himself and was so upset that he

woke everyone up. You know how he and the horse cared for each other, and I think the horse

suffered even more than Don Pedro. It hasn’t slept or eaten, and all it does is run around like

someone who is broken and shattered inside.”

“Don’t forget to shut the door when you leave.”

“And the servant from Media Luna went on his way.”

“Have you ever heard the way a dead person mourns?” she asked me.

“No, Dona Eduviges.”

“It’s just as well you haven’t.”

The drops of rain are falling into the filter one after another. After that one hears the drops

falling into the pitcher. One hears noises: one hears feet scraping the ground as they walk,

coming and going. The drops of rain keep on falling without stopping. The pitcher overflows,

making the water run over the wet ground.

“Wake up!” someone tells him.

The sound of the voice is familiar. He tries to think who it might be, but his body slackens

and he falls back to sleep, sinking into a deep slumber. Two hands lift the covers, holding on to

them, and his body still feels their warmth, searching for peace.

“Wake up!” someone says again.

The sound of the voice startles him, making him rise up and open his eyes. He hears drops of

water falling from the hydrant into the open pitcher. Footsteps are heard, and weeping.

Then he heard the weeping. That woke him even more: a soft, thin weeping that, perhaps

because it was thin, was able to slip through the thicket of sleep until it reached the point where

the shock was able to startle him.

He rose up slowly and saw the face of a woman who was leaning against the doorframe, her

body darkened by the night as she was sobbing.

“Why are you crying, mama?” he asked, because as soon as he rose up, he recognized his

mother.

“Your father has died,” she told him.

And then, as if the source of her pain had opened even more, she turned around, again and

again, until he was finally able to grab her shoulders and stop the movement of her body.

Through the doorway one could see that it was getting light. There were no stars, only a

cloudy, gray sky still not illuminated by the sun. A dark light, not like the start of day, but as if it

were the beginning of night.

Outside in the patio he heard the sound of footsteps. Quiet sounds. And here in the doorway

was the woman, her body blocking the light of day; between her arms traces of sky were visible,and under her feet were trickles of light, as if the ground beneath her had been covered with

tears. Then a sob, after that more weeping, and pain that made her body writhe.

“They killed your father.”

“And who has killed you, mother?”

“The air is clear, there is sunlight, and there are clouds. Up above the sky is blue, and perhaps

behind it there are songs, and perhaps also voices… In short, there is hope. There is hope for us

to heal our sorrow.”

“But not for you, Miguel Paramo. You have died without forgiveness, and you will receive no

mercy.”

Father Renteria turned around and ended the Mass. He finished as quickly as possible and left

without giving the final blessing to the people who filled the church.

“Father, we want you to give us a blessing!”

“No!” he insisted, shaking his head. “I will not do that. He was an evil man, and he will not

enter the Kingdom of Heaven. God will punish me if I intercede for him.” He said that trying to

hide his hands, not wanting to reveal how they were shaking. And he left.

The sight of the body weighed heavily on the spirit of everyone there. It was on top of a dais

in the center of the church, surrounded by candles and flowers, and his father who was standing

behind it, waiting for the end of the service.

Father Renteria walked up next to Pedro Parano, trying not to touch his shoulder. He raised

the hyssop, sprinkling the holy water higher and lower, murmuring something that might have

been a prayer. After that he kneeled, and all the others kneeled with him.

“Have pity on your servant, Lord.”

“May he rest in peace, amen,” their voices responded.

And as he began to feel his anger again, he saw that everyone was leaving the church, taking

with them the body of Miguel Paramo.

Pedro Paramo came to him and kneeled at his side:

“I know you hated him, Father. And with good reason. The murder of your brother which,

according to rumors was committed my son, and the case of your niece Ana who you said was

violated by him; these offences, and the lack of respect he showed for you at times, are all

motives that anyone could appreciate. But let it go now, Father. Forgive him and pardon him,

like God must also have forgiven him.”

He put a handful of gold coins on the prie-dieu and stood up.

“Take this as a gift for your church.”

The church was now empty. Two men waited in the doorway for Pedro Paramo, who joined

them, and together they followed the coffin that was being carried on the shoulders of four men

from Media Luna. Father Renteria picked up the coins and went to the altar.

“This is yours Lord,” he said. “He is able to buy salvation. You will know if this is sufficient.

As for me, Lord, I place myself at your feet to ask for him whatever is just, or unjust, which is all

we can ask for… But I ask you, Lord, to condemn him.”

And he closed the sanctum.

He entered the sacristy and he went into a corner and began to cry, with shame and sadness,

until his tears were gone.

After that he said, “It’s all right, Lord, you win.”“Anita, do you know who they buried today?”

“No, uncle.”

“Do you remember Miguel Paramo?”

“Yes, uncle.”

“Well, that’s who it was.”

Ana bowed her head.

“You’re sure it was him, right?”

“I’m not sure, uncle. I never saw his face. He grabbed me at night when it was dark.”

“Then how do you know it was Miguel Paramo?”

“Because he said so, ‘I am Miguel Paramo, Ana. Don’t be afraid.’ That’s what he told me.

“But you knew he was the one who killed your father, right?”

“Yes, uncle.”

“Then, what did you do in order to get away from him?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

They were both silent for a while. One could hear the warm wind blowing through the myrtle

leaves.

“He told me that was why he had come to see me: to apologize, and ask for my forgiveness.

Without getting out of bed, I told him: ‘The window is open.’ And then he came in. He started

hugging me as if that was his way of apologizing for what he had done. And I smiled at him. I

remembered what you told me: that you must never hate anyone. I smiled to show him I didn’t,

but afterward I realized he couldn’t see my smile, because I didn’t see him either, since it was so

dark that night. I only felt that he was on top of me, and that he was beginning to do bad things

to me.”

“I though he was going to kill me. That’s what I thought, uncle. And I even stopped thinking,

so I would die before he had a chance to kill me. But evidently he did not dare to do that.”

“I knew that for sure when I finally opened my eyes to see the light of day coming in through

the window. Before that I felt like I had ceased to exist.”

“But you must have had some certainty. His voice. Didn’t you know him by his voice?”

“I didn’t know him by anything. I only knew that he had killed my father. I had never seen

him, and after that I never saw him either. I couldn’t have done that, uncle.”

“But you knew who he was.”

“Yes, and what he was like. I know that now he must be in the depths of hell, because that is

what I asked all the saints with all my heart.”

“Don’t be sure of that, child. Who knows how many are praying for him now. You are all by

yourself here. One voice amid thousands of others. And among them, some that are much

stronger than yours, like the voice of your father.”

He was going to say to her: “Besides, I have now forgiven him,” but he only thought that. He

did not want to disappoint the partly broken soul of the poor girl. Instead, he took her arm and

told her:

“Let us give thanks to our Lord God because He has removed him from this earth, after he has

caused so much harm. And it doesn’t matter if He now has him in His heaven.”

A horse was galloped past the intersection where the main road crossed the road to Contla. No

one saw it. However, a woman who was waiting in the outskirts of the town said she had seen

the horse running with its legs bent, as if it were going to collapse. She recognized the sorrel ofMiguel Paramo and thought to herself: “That horse is going to break its neck.” Then, she saw it

had straightened its legs and, without slowing down, it was galloping with its neck turned

around, as if it were frightened by something it had left behind.

Her story spread through Media Luna on the night of the burial, while some men were resting

after the long journey they had made to reach the cemetery. They were chatting like men often

do before they are going home to get some sleep.

“Carrying that corpse really hurt me,” said Terencio Lubianes. “My shoulders are still sore.”

“Me too,” said his brother, Ubillado. “My bunions even got larger. And then his father made

us carry the coffin on foot. It’s not as though it was a day to celebrate, right, Toribio?”

“They can say whatever they want. I think it was time for him to die.”

After a while, there was even more gossip from Contla. It came with the last wagon coming

from there.

“Some are saying that his soul is still wandering around out there. They have seen it knocking

on a woman’s window. It looked just like him, with leather chaps and all.”

“And do you think Don Pedro, with the temper that he has, is going to let his son keep chasing

women? If he knew that, I can just imagine him saying: ‘Okay, you’re dead now. Stay there in

your grave, and leave that business to us.’ And if he ever saw him, I would bet that he would

order him to go back to the cemetery right away.”

“You’re right, Isaias. That old man doesn’t pull any punches.”

“When I know something, I tell it like it is,” and the wagon driver continued his journey.

There were falling stars. They were falling as though the sky was sprinkling light.

“Look there,” said Terencio; “look at all the sparkling that’s up there”

“They’re just celebrating the departure of Miguel,” Jesus chipped in.

“Don’t you think that’s a bad sign?”

“For whom?”

“Maybe your sister is hoping for his return.”

“Who are you speaking to?”

“To you.”

“We’d better keep moving, boys. We’ve been on the go for a long time, and tomorrow we

have to start early.”

And they vanished like shadows.

There were still falling stars. Then, finally the lights in Comala were turned off, and the sky

took charge of the night.

Father Renteria was twisting and turning in his bed, without being able to sleep:

“It’s all my fault,” he said. “I’m afraid to offend those who support me because, the fact is, my

job depends on them. I don’t get anything from the poor, and prayers don’t fill your stomach.

That’s the way it has been, and these are the consequences. My fault. I have betrayed those who

care for me, and have faith in me to intercede with God for them. But what have they gotten

with their faith? Going to heaven? Or the purification of their souls? And why purify your soul

if, at the last moment… I can still see Maria Dyada, when she came to ask me to save her sister,

Eduviges:

‘She always helped her fellow creatures. She gave them everything she had. She even offered

a child, to everyone. And she put him out there, so that someone would recognize him as theirs;

but no one was willing to do that. Then she said: ‘If that’s the way it is, I will be his father, eventhough by accident I have been his mother.’ They took advantage of her hospitality while she

tried not to offend people, or fall out with anyone.’

‘But she committed suicide. She went against the will of God.’

‘She had no other choice. She also did that out of kindness.’

‘In the end she failed at the final moment,’ that’s what I told her. She had done so many good

things toward her salvation, and then she lost them like that, so quickly!’

‘But no, she didn’t lose them. She died with many sorrows. And her sorrow… You told us

something about sorrow I don’t remember. She left us because of her sorrow. She died, tortured

by the blood that was choking her. I can still see her grimaces, and those grimaces were the

saddest gestures a human being has ever made.’

‘Perhaps she was praying a lot.’

‘We all pray a lot, Father.’

‘I mean maybe, perhaps, with Gregorian Masses; but for that we need to have help, to ask for

priests, and that costs money.’

“I can still see Maria Dyada, that poor woman, with so many children.”

‘I don’t have money. You know that, Father.’

‘Let us leave things as they are. Let us believe in God.’

‘Yes, Father.”

How could she look so courageous in that moment of resignation? What would it have cost

him to forgive her, when it was so easy to say a word or two, or a hundred, if that was necessary

to save a soul? What did he know about heaven or hell? And nevertheless, lost in a town with

no name, he knew many who had deserved heaven. There was a long list. He started to go over

the saints of the Catholic cemetery, beginning with those of the day: “Saint Nunilona, virgin and

martyr; Anercio, bishop; Saints Salome, widow, Alodia or Elodia and Nulina, virgins; Cordula

and Donato.” And he went on. And then, when he began to feel sleepy, he sat down on the bed:

“I am going through a list of saints as if I were seeing a herd of goats.”

He went outside and looked up at the sky. It was raining stars. He felt bad about that, because

he would have preferred a quiet sky. He heard the sound of roosters crowing. He felt the

blanket of night covering the earth. The earth, “this valley of tears.”

“Go ahead, son. Go ahead and do it,” Eduviges Dyada told me.

It was the middle of the night. The lamp that was burning in the corner began to waver, then it

flickered and went out.

I heard the woman get up, and I thought that she would go and get a new light. I heard her

footsteps getting farther away, and I stayed there waiting.

When the time passed and she didn’t come back, I got up too. I started walking, taking short

steps, trying to feel my way through the darkness until I got to my room. I sat down on the floor

and tried to fall asleep.

I slept with fits and starts. In one of the moments when I was awake I heard someone shout.

It was a pathetic shout, like that of someone who was drunk: “ Ah life, you don’t deserve me!”

I got up in a hurry because it sounded like it was right next to me. It could have been out in

the street, but I heard it here, as though it was stuck to the walls of my room. After that

everything was silent; only a pin dropping, and the sound of silence.

No, it wasn’t possible to calculate the depth of the silence that produced that shout. It was as

if the earth existed in a vacuum. No sound; not even of my breathing, or the beating of my heart;as if the awareness of sound had ended. When the moment passed and I started to calm down, I

heard the shout again, and it continued, over and over, for a long time. “Let me go; it is the right

of those who are hanged to protest