Pyre by Murugan Perumal

Author:Murugan, Perumal
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789385890932
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2016-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

It was during the time when Kumaresan hurt his hand that the budding intimacy between him and Saroja finally blossomed.

He had to be very careful while handling the soda bottles that had round glass marbles for stoppers. Even if a small crack formed on the surface of a bottle, it would explode. When he washed the bottles, he had to inspect each one carefully to make sure there were no cracks in it. Kumaresan really liked that task. If he soaked the bottles in a tub for half an hour, all the dirt and grime came off. He would use a bottlebrush to clean the insides and a flat brush to scrub the outside of the bottles. If he sprinkled a little bit of Bassia seed powder on them before washing them, they emerged from the tub sparkling like new. He cleaned all the bottles with great care, as if he was bathing his own children.

Once washed, if he lifted each one and held it against the light, he could detect even the tiniest crack. He particularly liked the sheen of the green bottles. Periyasami always teased him, ‘Why are you staring at it so intently, as though looking at a young virgin girl?’

Kumaresan would say, ‘You should clean a bottle so thoroughly that you can see through it clearly.’

Periyasami would reply, ‘Oh, you are teaching me now! You have clearly mastered everything! Dey! Don’t I know? You think of that skinny, wiry girl while you clean these bottles, don’t you? Tell me. With just one look at your face I can tell that you are imagining the shape of her hips as you trace the curve of the glass bottles.’

Periyasami said whatever came to his mind. He always referred to Saroja as ‘that skinny, wiry girl’. But it was true that Kumaresan washed the bottles with great care. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be that careful all the time.

They did not wash the bottles that went to the arrack shop regularly. Whenever it got to the point where one couldn’t see the liquid through the dirt encrusted inside the bottle, the crates would come back to Kumaresan’s shop for washing. Once he had cleaned them until they sparkled, the people who brought back the crates would take soda in those clean bottles and also in an equal number of bottles that were lying around in the shop. When he checked the washed bottles for cracks, there was invariably two or three that he had to discard. He had five or six crates of bottles to wash every week. But he didn’t mind, because he liked any work that involved staying in the shop and not going out.

One day Kumaresan was in a hurry. Periyasami did not wash the bottles he had brought back. Instead, those bottles too were filled with soda at the machine and then sealed with the round marble stoppers. Kumaresan carried the bottles outside and placed them in the crates tied to the bicycle. He had developed a

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