On a sultry night I am walking along the narrow pathway in the lush green paddy fields. The eerie silence of the night is interrupted by the croaking of the frogs and a chorus by umpteen members of the family insecta. In the inky darkness of the night paddy is not green , everything is black. Each footstep is a belief because I do not have torch or any other source of light. Normally a torch would have been left at Velayudhan's paan shop by my considerate father. But today I only got a shake of head from Velayudhan. I can see the flicker of a torch , at a distance , coming towards me . As it gets nearer the heavy footfall and panting gets very audible. The practice in such encounters is for the armed one ,the one with the torch, to flash at the unarmed one's face and say , ' oh! it was you ! why so late ?' . The unarmed who is already walking like a bat on a sunny day ,becomes totally blind and if the flash was effective enough would fall of the walkway into the slushy paddy field. By then the torch bearer would be far away and adds insult to injury by shouting a statutory warning ' be careful dont fall into the field'. The light was getting closser and the sounds start to become more distinct. I could clearly separate the noises - the flip-flop of the hawai chappal , the stretch sounds of the starched mundu against the legs , the 70(?) kilos of flesh and bones pounding mother earth with a vengence and the occasional swagger of the folded umbrella against unruly growth of paddy that was trying to usurp the walkway. I was contemplating the defensive tactics that I could deploy and decided the best course of action would be to cover my face before he could flash the torch. Walking along these pathways is always adventurous . and it becomes more interesting on a dark night like this . While the planning commission in my head had almost reached a consensus on the action to take , I suddenly realised the world had gone quiet!
There I was on a dark night in a paddy field , walking homeward on a prayer, and the stranger in the night walking towards me making enough noise to give me a cardiac arrest, suddenly could no longer be heard. Yes, the noises suddenly ceased. As if they were comrades from the same trade union the frogs and crickets too went into total silence . I stood rooted to the spot and scanned, albeit blindly, everything in front of me . Then as if on a cue the frogs and crickets got their voice back, but the stomping was still missing. I took a step forward and I heard it again. I stopped and it was again the deafening silence . I took a step back and again heard the rustle, the half clippity-clop which was followed by silence. It almost seemed like a couple waltzing . The silence in between made the night darker. I never knew that sound could have such an impact on light or more appropriately silence could intensify darkness. I dont know how long I stood rooted to the spot . The sultry night was adding to the discomfort. The polyster shirt on my back was dripping wet and stuck to me like my second skin. My tongue was almost non-existent and throat seemed to be lined with sand-paper. Clearing my sand-paper throat seemed the only way to make my presence felt . I felt , any kind of identification that I could transmit might be considered as a peace offering and I would be left alone to live another day. I attempted the guttural exercise and the sound that I produced was a cross between a toad's croak and a bus applying breaks ! And all hell broke loose . It was as if a typhoon, tsunami, hurricane , every possible natural disaster - hit the area around me. First was a scream that curdled my blood, then a crash and splinter of glass. I realised that the torch had fallen from my adversary's hand and crashed on the ground. The impact broke the glass , but also switched it on. Light from ground level can make the shadows very menacing. Over all all this, I could hear the heavy footsteps running away while the scream continued . Slowly I could feel life returning to my limbs . I picked up the torch and walked home. I swung open the gate and walked in , and to my father's query if I got the torch from Karunan I replied affirmatively.
Next day morning waiting at the bus-stop for my 'Vijay Travels' I overheard Karunan at the adjacent teashop enthralling an audience about his narrow escape the previous night at the hands of the 'yakshi' who was as tall as the coconut tree , broad as the jackfruit tree and roared like a lion ! Till this moment I have never felt so 'mighty'
