From childhood, Ma had been drilled that education is the only vehicle to climb out from poverty. She planned to provide what she had missed to all her children, irrespective of their gender. Growing up in an era in a land where having a female infant was a curse, she missed so many things in life.

The standard answer she got when she wanted to continue her studies after she was 12 years old was, "for what? No matter how much you study, your job is in the kitchen!". That was what her father told her. The patriarchal figure had total control of things in the house. His words were accorded the status of divine decree, and he had no qualms to ensure that it was.

It was a time when there much merriment in her household. Everybody in the house was excited for Lakshmi. They said she had turned into a woman. That also marked the end of her carefree days of climbing guava trees and yakking with her friends by the village stall. Her dressing was controlled. The parents felt that her knees cannot be seen, and her chest must be draped with a large scarf so as to maintain chastity, they say, whatever it means.

Her restless feet even wanted to see the world just like the tiger-hunting fearless princess Jhansi Rani. She was so enthralled by the idea of a young girl donning shirt and trousers, handling a gun just like a man, parading the jungles, roaming free, exploring things from nature.

In the early 30s, girls were rarely seen and rarely heard. To be seen in men’s attire, even the thought of being un-ladylike was abominable. Poof, went her dream!

That was when her parents decided that my mother needed to be tied down. An ambitious girl is no good for the family. A girl should know her place in society.

"Get her married. That should knock some sense into this girl," said her father, unable to take this type of rebellious speak. “Nothing that a wedding cannot heal. Once, the knot gets on her neck; it would be somebody else’s problem.”

"I know that the family with a sole heir looking for a bride. Get Lakshmi married to him. The only son, the old man not so well, he will soon die," suggested an aunt. "Lakshmi should be okay there. Rich family with lots of properties. Her future is set. She can live like a queen, like her idol, Jhansi Rani or whatever her name is…”

And that effectively ended her carefree days.

The wedding was a week long event with the whole town rejoicing not for anything but the free-flowing booze and the sumptuous gourmet.

Ma could not understand what all the excitement was. Two people declaring their desire to share their lives together could not have sent the whole town ecstatic, could it? She soon discovered that gate crashers and freeloaders do not need an excuse to party!

That was the first of the many meaningless celebrations yet to come in lives of the wedded bliss of Ma and Pa. The bliss that did not stay blissful for long. The ecstasy did not live long.

Like a zephyr, everything just breezed through in no time. For Ma’s parents, it could not have been a better decision. The bridegroom took it upon themselves that the wedding jollification must be something that the Indian community could have ever seen. After all, who was the bridegroom? It is Muthu, the sole heir to the string of prime properties and lands in the melting pot of the prized British colony, Penang.

They made it all sound so dandy. That their daughter, Lakshmi, was to marry a successful millionaire in waiting. That, Muthu, is an entrepreneur in making who is going to pave Malaya a notch higher to a different level of affluence. In reality, Muthu was just a sluggard. He was no industrialist or one who ploughed for wealth. He was content living under his parent’s umbrella of affluence, living an opulent sedentary decadent life. He thinks that the world owes him a living.

Marriage or not marriage, Muthu was not going to leave his flamboyant lifestyle. After all, his band of yeomen were there yearning to be entertained, for them to continue singing chords of praises of Muthu. Working was last of his priorities.

Seasons came and seasons went, the latest worse off than the one before. Like a mould-infested bark of a tree, the wealth of the family dwindled. The lady of prosperity has long left the building. Ironically, Lakshmi, being the latest addition to the clan, despite her name being named after the same goddess of wealth, had to take the brunt of accusations of bringing in bad fortunes to the household. Never mind if anybody works and day to day management is left to proxies.

Tunes of melancholy started filling the family. Muthu’s parents met their Maker before long after. Muthu had a free hand in the family funds.

The infested tree started losing branch after branch, bark after bark and finally just stood tall a pale shadow of its glory days. Celebrations and merry-making sliced off the family coffers piece by piece and eventually everything went under the hammer.

13 years into the marriage with four extra mouths to feed, no roof over their head and family heirloom lost, Muthu, Lakshmi and the kids had to fend for themselves. By this time, you would think reality would have hit Muthu hard on his behind. Hell, no! It was business as usual. The difference was that Muthu’s friends were nowhere to be seen. Scraping the barrel, he tried hard to savour the sweet life. Good food, dressing to the nines, music to the soul, entertainment were prerequisites for life, in his book.

The last piece of family land to go was an unoccupied land on the fringes of town. It was sold off, or rather pawned and unredeemed, for the flimsiest of reasons - to commemorate the attaining of age (menarche) of the first lineage of Muthu’s clan in recent times! Forget the fact that times were bad, and no income was trickling in.

Lakshmi had given up on Muthu’s flamboyant plans over the years. Every which way but loose, she has given up on trying to mend his wayward ways. Resistance to his plain waiting-to-fail ‘sitting duck’ plans has again and again shown ugly showdowns. Bearing in mind that the parents’ every action is carefully scrutinised and imprinted on the minds of Muni, Indra, Seetha and Muthu, her proof of matrimonial life, Lakshmi decided to take a back seat. She decided not to go ballistic against her husband but rather influence her offspring. It is no use flogging a dead horse. It makes more sense to mould a racer at its infancy, she thought.

Muni, her first born was the joy of the clan when she was ushered in just a year of their union. Well-wishers revelled in promising greater heights to the family as a female was construed as an addition of Goddess Laxmi, the goddess of prosperity to the family. How easy people can twist and turn an event to suit their convenience? This, coming from a patriarchal society that hails female infanticide as a form of population control to reduce familial financial burden! The same gender apportioned to Mother Nature (Booma Devi) is also shoved into the funeral pyre to relieve her of the misery of living as an outcast widow, a bad omen to auspicious functions and an ominous pariah to cast their eyes as the first thing they see in the morning. How convenient!

In rolled Indra, the second born, a girl, named after the Lord of the Skies. Living to her name, she arrived unannounced like a thunderbolt of lightning, many weeks before her intended arrival. Maybe, befitting her name, also the God of Wars, she ended up a firebrand, sleek and vocal.

Still the praises kept on rolling. The well-wishers were quick to announce, “Oh, another girl," failing miserably to contain their disappointment. "It’s quite all right. The next will most definitely be a handsome boy who would bring the family name to dizzying heights.”

Dizzying heights, it was indeed when out rolled Seetha, another girl. Then people kept quiet. The family fortune was slowly dwindling not because of muliebral additions but because of lack of dedication of conserving cache. Lakshmi heard it through the grapevine of hurting tongue waggling accusation of Lakshmi being the bearer of misfortunes to the clan. Unable to bear any sons, the family was doomed to extinction. Again, the schizophrenic nature of the society is laid bare.

The same glossal muscles that sang praises of a new dawn were now singing a different tune. Like a chameleon, they turncoats and morphed to suit the environment.

The carefree days of Lakshmi ended with the arrival of the three children. The glorious days of tree climbing, senseless banter and pranks were a fast distant past, occurrences eons ago.

The pressure to bear a son is now more than ever. That was her topic of conversation whenever Lakshmi catches up with her set of friends. Each friend, with earnest of intentions, would suggest this concoction and that grandma’s potion. Then started the fasts and the prayers. A short trip here and a short trip there, an amulet here and a talisman there. The pressure was mounting. Muthu’s lackadaisical indifference to life now had a solid justification - the absence of a male heir had not aligned the pavement of success. Every avenue of business potential seems to meet an untimely dead-end for this very reason. He rarely came home. Merrymaking friends, however, never cease to appear to celebrate any non-event at the drop of a hat. So what if town council had a new chairman, is that a reason to drink themselves blind? Or that Muthu must be the host of that? Muthu has no dealings with the council!

Two long years after the arrival of Seetha, nine long months of anticipation and uncertainty, after a protracted time of labour that seem like an eternity, out came Thamby. Thamby, the name Lakshmi that had thought out as a token of appreciation to the resident caretaker demigod of a shrine in Butterworth that she had visited before conceiving her new addition.

Unfortunately, the latest arrival was ushered in with a bang. In fact, the whole country was in mourning. The carefree life as they knew it was all over. The whole world was in war.

The good times showed by the British colonial master ended prematurely. They made a hurried exit from their port of leisure and opulence the moment they heard that the Japanese were heading for our lands. So much for the white dorais protecting their subjects.

Lakshmi thought that the arrival of a son to the household would be heralded by pomp and splendour and a pat on the shoulder for work well done. Instead, what waited for her was uncertainty and melancholy. The nation was in tatters. Poverty was the tone in everybody’s voice and hopelessness the rhythm.

For once in her life, Lakshmi thought that she was the bearer of bad luck to the Muthu clan. All these while, the failure to bear a male offspring was thought to be the reason their failure in their lives.

Now, even with a precious androgynous pearl, things have not changed. In fact, things seem to plunge further into an abyss.

Three and a half long years dragged on like a dark shadow passing through the nation. The honeymoon years of merrymaking were over. Food was scarce. Illnesses were widespread and people aged exponentially with over-night worry lines just like the legend says about Marie Antoinette whose hair greyed overnight as she dashed to the Austrian border during the Bastille!

When the war finally ended and the British masters returned to reclaim their jewel of the Crown, things had not changed much for the better for the Muthus. The tallest building of Penang which housed their much sought after restaurant of traditional South Indian cuisines was no more theirs.

It, together with of their prized possessions have vapourised together with the bad times of the country. What remained were loads of lease papers and unpaid overdue pawn papers!

***

Before long, the Muthus were in the same boat as the workers who worked with them, struggling to make ends meet and living day to day. Their economic prowess remained only in the conversations of the town folks who spoke of the good old pre-World War Malaya days. The Muthu clan was part of yesterday’s story. Today, they were in the same boat as the new arrivals, soldiers of fortune, collies from India, who had scaled the kala pani (black waters of Indian Ocean) for better lives.

The Indian Ocean was the boundary beyond which once sanctity of caste is lost. Once one leaves the shores of Tamil Nadu, he is said to be casteless as he has to travel and share living quarters with other lesser beings of lower castes. This suited fine for those in the lower rungs of caste scale but not for Brahmins, the priestly group. Hence, the befittingly, unsavoury name, black waters.

***

Lakshmi realised that the only way to reinstate their old glory was through education and she made it her divine duty to provide that to her offsprings.

Muni, the firstborn was the chip of her old block. Always contented with things in life, she never strived for anything. Perhaps, she was thick in the skull for she never progressed anywhere past Standard 3.

Indra and Seetha showed much promise. Enthusiastic with daily scholarly activities, they just might go places. Lakshmi was hoping that their ambitions would not meet a premature dampening just like hers. Hopefully, the overt discrimination against the fairer sex would be a thing of the past when they grew up.

Now, Thamby, with his bat-like wide ears, as if ready to absorb all the information around him manifest many traits that she had. Always eager to learn new things and get his hands dirty with a new endeavour, he remained the saviour to pull the family out of this rut. He was their hope.

***

Next Chapter: Chapter 3: The Duel