“From Death to Life: The Inspiring Story of Suma and KS Ratheesh”

# V. Praveena | vpraveena@mpp.co.in

“MrGo back, children…” – mother said
“Where are you going…” asked the son.
“To the shade of that tree…” – Mother pointed to a few places.
“Which Marut…” – asked the son.
“The place near the stream where I took you three to kill…”
The son did not go astray. The car stopped and mother and son got down. Don’t be in front. 35 years passed between death and life. Mother and son looked at the tree and the tree looked at them…

Back then this drug was just a drug. It has not started to grow by this name. In the time it took for misery to leave his life, another tree grew in the forest. The mother clung to her son, as if the forest were another tree. The root that they stepped on while holding their children’s hands to jump to death has been overgrown by the river water coming down the mountain.

She told the story of the distance she walked from death to life, sitting on the same root, that nine-year-old mother. Name is Suma. Many acquaintances will call her Jhansi Rani. They will enter the story from which the name came. The second son K.S. Ratheesh. He is a story writer who has published eight collections of stories including Hitler and Thotakutti published by Mathrubhumi Books. “Whatever I say, he will turn it into a story. But the life we ​​lived is too good for him to make a story. The plot of the story will not stand. Or what is the difference between the story and life” – saying this as an introduction, the mother went into the story.

That day

We Neyyars live with the forest. The house was at the corner of the forest. Mother, father, sisters and me. It was during the eighth grade. A man comes home with the turtles every now and then. A rich man in a nice shiny shirt. Pramani with big papers. He is a coop contractor and does a lot of VAT around the area. One day when he was coming home he took me with him. I am only thirteen years old. I don’t know what is happening and why I left. He put me in a house near Karamana.

Some newspapers said that a thirteen-year-old girl had been kidnapped by a thirty-year-old man. With that he made all the documents of the wedding. I was made a wife by law. Everyone at home abandoned me. Anyway, in the next three years I gave birth to three children. The eldest is a baby girl. Below are two male pillars: Ramya, Ratheesh and Rajeesh. Although I have given birth to children, I am still a child.

My children were my life for me who could not find any love anywhere. I was at the age to study and raised my children. One by one I began to see the evils in his character. When I saw an unbearable sight in front of my eyes, I took my children and went down there. Children are children. My mother had registered some land in my name at a place called Panta near Neyyar. He has built a grass shed there and keeps the wind equipment. I started living in that watupura with my children..

Water said

There is nothing to quench the hunger of the little ones. I always felt that I should kill my children and die myself. Lives on the banks of Neyyar. Beyond that is the forest. When I think of death, I look at the water. It seems like the water is saying no no no. I will take my children to the yard and swim and go to the forest. The woodcarrier will swim back. Piller must have been sitting where he was waiting for me to come. One day the second son Ratheesh rolled and fell into the water. Baby? Good flow in ghee. The water went with him. I jumped back. The baby is lying motionless on the bottom. After bringing him to the shore, he checked if he was breathing. Pressed on the chest and stomach. I thought the baby was gone. The mind froze. Then he opened his eyes. The incidents were happening one by one like the threat of not agreeing to live…

that day

As the children grew, the fire inside grew hotter. I can’t think of enough food to give them until they are hungry. I do not have the means to teach and raise. I can’t sleep thinking about it. One night I finally confirmed the decision that I had rejected six times. The next evening I went to the dam with my children. He came to a great stream of flowing water. There is no one in Kanvetta. The water has a good flow. It has the strength to carry all three babies. I joined the hands of the three and descended to the lower root of this tree.

Right in front of you is the appetite of death. Didn’t change his mind. Misery prevails. He was going to throw his children into the water and hang himself from a tree branch. Suddenly the second one started crying. He is the most greedy in the group. An ice cream vendor stands on the bridge of the dam in the distance. Crying for ice cream. We only have a short time on this earth. I didn’t want to die seeing him with a crying face.

I looked at the work I learned to calm him down. There was also crying. Then a man came that way. It is a confession in the church. When he saw my standing holding Piller’s hand and Kochi’s crying, he felt something wrong. By that time, the ice cream seller also came running. I flinched at their questioning. All the worries came out.

When I didn’t listen even when I told them to go back, they grabbed my hair and took me away. He told me to show him a way to live and forced him to go home. That’s how the church gets involved. It was decided to put all three children in an orphanage. They will get a good education there. Three meals a day. It seemed better than killing the children.

many ways

The four of us went four ways. Penkoch CSI In the Balikasadana of the church, the one below it is in Kollam, the youngest one is in the stream. I am alone in that meadow in Atuvakam. Go and see your children from time to time. They should take something with them when they leave. I did many jobs. I went to housework, I went to beat cashews…running, jumping, etc. If the competition came somewhere, I would go for it too.

If you get a glass or a bowl as a gift, you can serve something to them when they come. After seeing my suffering, a local asked me to cut the 50 covers of rubber in his field. You will get three sheets. But don’t need money to buy acid to remove it. I replaced it. Squeeze the tamarind.

I have come to know all the difficulties that a woman has to face in our society when she lives alone without friends and family. Each one has kicked down the door at night. The house has been set on fire. Stories have been told. The extremes of peru dosha.

But didn’t I walk back from where I stood to die? Decided not to lose anymore. Even when male disturbances made life difficult, I did not give up. He learned to look at the heart of those who come to exploit him by calling him Ponne and Panjare. He had the courage to do so. There are those who have fallen to the ground under my feet. So the locals started calling me Jhansi Rani.

the hunger

The biggest pain we mother and children knew was hunger. When Onam and Vishu come, I pinch the coin in my hand and buy vegetables. As soon as it is sliced, the children will eat it. At first, I would think that the children are hungry or that I will go and see their father. One day I came to know that he was in our country. He is also a great leader.

He sits in a backyard on a hill and eats a ripe mango. The children who saw it told me that they also wanted mango. But he did not give a single piece of him to the children. I walked all over the mountain and found that flour. A mango was taken out from under it and buried in my yard. It also grew with Piller. Now if it is the month of Aries, the flour will be piled up. The resulting mango will be given to all of us. It seems that people erase the wounds of all the suffering they have experienced with such a small word. The man who sat in front of his children and made them crave for eating mangoes is not alive today.

the debt

The two eldest children stayed in the orphanage. The younger one didn’t get it. After a while he left there. And he was my helper. He started working at the age of thirteen. Will do all the work. Rubber cutting. It will grow. Bait will be caught. And so many more.

When the eldest comes on vacation, he goes with him. Mole stayed in the orphanage till class 10. Second mon up to 21 years. Studied there till degree. Then he went down there and did many jobs. From the bar to the bus to the beauty parlour. He studied MA and B.Ed with that money. He became a storyteller. He has received several awards.

But I would rather like a certificate he got. Certificate obtained after passing the NET exam. When he went to clean the toilet pit of a big hotel in Ernakulam, he paid its fee with the wages he got. The quantity of rice served in the orphanage is the same whether the child is big or small. Ratheesh says that when he grew up, he did not have enough rice.

He sometimes tells the story of how he ate from the dog’s bowl because he couldn’t bear the hunger. He was saddened to hear the cry of a hungry dog ​​when he went to sleep hungry after eating that. He is a teacher in higher secondary school. He is a gazetted officer. Four people know him through written stories.

One day he came up with his mother’s baby who had died in a car accident. We started feeding it. Feed it today and let us eat something. That’s not how the debt of Pattipank can be paid off.

All the rivers of misery have swum, and life has gone ashore. The elder daughter is an Anganwadi teacher. A furniture business for the younger one. Recently, Ratheesh bought the farm where he worked as a wage laborer in his childhood. Rubber, flour and cashew were planted in it. We were brought up with flour and plow that day. The debt to trees never ends.

today

The children built a nice house by demolishing the previous pasture. The second one lives with Mon and his family. The house was built by scooping the sand that settled in the Neyyar during the dry season with the children. When the house was renovated, I insisted that the old window in the meadow should be moved in the same way and put on the wall of my room. Looking through that window, I can see my past. I talk to that window like a human being.

Neyyar is flowing under the paddy as before. Looking at it sometimes makes me feel guilty. That day I felt like throwing my children away. Son’s children are children. He taught them how to swim. It is a debt to me. May they never be as helpless as my children before the water. I read news about mothers who kill their children when their husbands leave them after having other relationships. I feel very sad. Don’t kill, that’s all. Not like before. Just go for job guarantee. You can also support your children by doing carpentry work.

The son continued from where the mother left off… On Kochunalla we will each have our own wishes. Mom doesn’t have the money to make it happen. He craves to eat put and tells his mother. The mother tells the story of a mother who used to make putti for her children and was carved by a snake. And then we’ll miss Putin.

Mother would regularly send letters to the orphanage. It will be full of dreams for the future. We grew up with that impulse. My mother raised us by telling us not to lower our heads anywhere if there is no fault on our part. It was actually not the food that made me hungry on Kunnunal, but the stories my mother told me. We grew up with those stories. The life of our three children is the union of Neyyar and the forest on its banks, the fifty covers of rubber scraped for us and the mother who collected it all.

Then the same tree shed its leaves on the side of the road. Like the sorrows of the past…