Land

Yousuf was a happy man.

This year had been a good year for them. After the economic crisis they had given up hope that things will become normal again.

But their fancy store business had recovered. They dealt with regular fancy store articles like bags, women’s adornments, video game cartridges, imported chocolates etc. Recently they had opened up a mobile phone unit and recharge unit in the shop which had become a real money spinner.  

People seemed to be fascinated by mobile phones. They kept buying the Korean sets and the cheap dual sim mobiles even though they knew that they will never be the same as a good Nokia mobile. Some people on the other hand just lust over gadgets. Yousuf had this friend. His name was Krishna. He had just bought a Corby Pro just four months back. But as soon as Samsung came out with a new Android mobile last week he sold his Corby and bought this new phone. What a nut ! As long as there were people like them Yousuf would  keep turning profits.

Thanks to the mobile business along with the fancy store (which has become secondary now) they had started to make profits few months back. Yousuf decided to invest a huge fraction of that in renovating their ancestral home. They had gotten rid of old stuff, trunks filled with papers, journals, documents etc in the attic and modified it into a children’s room.  They had modified the front and made a portico, tiled the floors everywhere and created an entertainment room and a fully furnished dining room-cum- kitchen from their profits. The highlight of the house was a tree in the middle of the house. His mother used to tell him when he was eight years old that the tree was as old as the house itself. He never believed her. It stood majestically in their make-shift courtyard.

Yousuf’s family had never been this happy either. They never forgot to thank Almighty Allah for all that he had given them when they sat for lunch or dinner.

His great-great grandfather had bought the house off from an impoverished Brahmin some two centuries back. The house had been passed on to the eldest son through the generations and now Yousuf owned it.

They were so euphoric that they were not prepared for what was in store for them.

Ramanujam was a regular Brahmin who got up in the morning, did his Sandhi, did his chores, had his coffee, went out to have a smoke, came back to inform his mother that he was having lunch outside and then went to Rawther’s Biryaani House and had a half Chicken biryani with Prawn fry. He came from a lineage of temple priests and nearly everybody he knew in the previous generation were or had been priests at temples in their time. To his knowledge some had even lived in the temple premises.

Ramanujam did not have a proper job. To be very fair he did not do anything which was remotely useful. His family had always been known for their strict moral values but somehow he had been born as an exception to the heritage. Even during birth he was born with only four fingers in one hand. The Doctors had no explanation but once they discussed it for some time they came to the conclusion that in the fetal stage as he grew out fingers Ramanujam had somehow managed to absorb the finger into himself. In other words, he had eaten it. He was born a non-vegetarian.

Now in his thirties without a money earning premise he had nothing but religion at his disposal. But it was his luck that there was no Temple in their locality which was dominated by minorities and rationalists. He would have to travel 10 Km for the nearest Temple but that too was a Vaishnavite temple. Despite his name, Ramanujam funnily was a Shaivite. His learned father had chosen to name him after the mathematician. But he was jobless, clueless and useless.

It was at this point of time that, one day, as he was going through some old trunks in the attic that he came upon the document. It was written in very old Tamil and looked like it belonged to his ancestor Krithivaasa Iyer. Since Ramanujam did not have anything better to do he sat down to read the document which was no mean task, given the complexity of the ancient language. But what he read gave him hope. As the only male of this long lineage he was overjoyed to hear his ancestor mention a family inheritance. A significant piece of land where once a temple stood. Where his ancestor had worked and lived. He decided to take the document to BOSS immediately

BOSS stood for Brahmins Of SSouth Madras. SSouth? They had changed the name a few years back when an astrologer had told them that two SS’s in the name of the association would bring them good luck. That soon a big temple would spring up right in their locality if they did that. They dreamt of Tirupathi. They dreamt of a huge Hundi. They dreamt of numbers, zeroes and currency. So South had become SSouth. But luck had not smiled upon them. She had eluded them. That is until today. That is until Ramanujam walked onto the steps of the association with The Document. That is what it would be called in history. The Document.

It talked of a land in the locality where a temple once stood. It also talked about how the land was sold off when money became scarce for the poor Brahmin who had been neck deep in debts after his daughter’s marriage. But they would forget the ‘selling’ part of it. An important thing was a Temple was there in their area. Why was that important?  Right now there was NO Temple in their locality. But then where is the Temple which is mentioned in The Document? That is the question. The answer would put the BOSS back on the map. They would once again become important in the community if a Temple came into existence.

Yousuf and his family were leaving to watch THE MOVIE- Robo.

Everybody was excited. They had got very good tickets that too in the box. It was a premiere show and Yousuf’s customer, a Mr. Antony had given him the tickets.

It was when he was dressing that he heard the calling bell. Who could it be at this time?

He went to get the door. He saw four or five people standing outside in dazzlingly white dhotis. Tide???

“Yes?”

“Are you the owner of this place?”

“We would like to talk to you.”

“Actually my family and I are about to go outside for an important event. Can it wait?”

“Unfortunately it cannot. It’s very important that we talk now.”

“Ok . Come in.”

 He led them to the living room. They looked around as if repelled by all the wealth that was surrounding them. They looked to be uncomfortable. They looked to be hostile.

“Tell me. What is so important?”

“Do you know that the land on which your house stands belonged to a Brahmin?”

“Actually, yes. My ancestor bought it from somebody centuries back. I have seen it mentioned somewhere.”

“Do you happen to have any documents which support what you say?”

“You mean proof? What is going on? Why would I need that? We have been living in this house for a long time. Everybody knows it belongs to us. What do you mean whether I have documents to support it?”, he was losing his patience.

“The thing is, Sir, there once stood a temple in the very spot you have built the house”, he turned and pointed to the tree which was visible through the window, “that tree that stands there. That is a Bael tree( Vilva maram). Somebody built a house on the land where a Shiva temple stood.”, he said dramatically.

Yousuf could only stare at them with disbelief.

That had been a month ago. As news of it spread around it became a big movement. A political party offered support to the BOSS .Their youth wing called RAMBO( Ram Avatar Mandal for Brahmins and Others) started to protest vociferously.

Yousuf was forced to leave the house. They were left with no choice.

Why are they doing this? Did not Waapa say that their ancestor had bought it from a poor man?

If a temple really did stand here, in a Hindu majority country, is it not possible that at some point in history, any given piece of land would have been a house for a Temple or some sort of structure if we go back in time sufficiently?

What happens to the concept of ownership?

Why did I spend money just a month before it was going to be torn down like this?

So is that tree really as old as the house as Ammi said?
Did his ancestor cheat the man in any way? Was this poetic justice?

Why me?

Why here?
Why now?

WHY?

Yousuf could not find answers to anything as he stood and saw a monster with huge jaws tear swallow their portico.

The front gate had a sign.

“ Vilvamoorthi Aalayam, Coming soon”