The Ocean in His Backyard

Chennai, which was formerly known as Madras, is southern India’s premier city. Take the spanking new East Coast Road going south and you whiz along to the historic temple town of Mahabalipuram, a must-see for tourists. Farmhouses, resorts and entertainment centres pop up on both sides of the highway, growing at the rate of about two a week. The southern coastal region is fast becoming the playground of the city’s affluent middleclass.

Barely a kilometre to the east of the highway, the coastline is dotted with fishing villages. There is electricity but no running water and few toilets. There is alcoholism among the men and a reluctance to go to school among the children.

Balan came to the village of Injambakkam with his family about 3 years ago from his hometown of Kumbakonam. He is a mason, an expert roof layer, but even with the spate of construction going on all around, he cannot get regular work. He finds it difficult to put together the initial capital of $100 or so to, as he says, ‘launch himself’. $100 is rather less than the average family from the city spends on a weekend bash at one of the nearby resorts. Balan is taciturn, dignified and is in a way exceptional for he does not drink and does not indulge in the nightly ritual of wife beating.

Balan’s wife Sulochana looks much older than her 40 odd years. She usually wears an oddly blank expression, as if her mind has caved in under her load of worries. The older son drives a trishaw and considers himself the main provider. This gives him the right to beat his mother, since his father won’t. Somebody has to keep the women in their place. The younger son’s eyes are bright with intelligence but all efforts to send him to school have failed. He is Balan’s apprentice and a television addict. Illiteracy has already defined his future.

The older daughter, together with her mentally retarded child, has been deserted by her husband. She has come back to live with her parents. She is ‘family’ and it would be unthinkable to ask her to fend for herself. In any case, fending for herself could only mean working as domestic help, with probably a little bit of prostitution, brewing illicit liquor or drug dealing on the side. The younger daughter, Nagu, is just into her 20-s and unmarried.

The apple of the family’s eye is Goutam, Nagu’s 6-month old son. Getting Nagu’s pregnancy confirmed was difficult enough – being made to run from pillar to post at Government hospitals, having to borrow money for the tests and so on. The family was aghast and the truth had to be beaten out of Nagu, quite literally. Another daughter had been married to Govindan, who had children by her. Then she died. The family believes that she was killed by Govindan and his family for dowry she could not bring. It did not even occur to them to go to the police, for they knew they did not have the money to buy justice. Govindan had been demanding that Nagu now be given to him to bring up the children. The family had refused but Govindan hung around. And then one day, claims Nagu, he had waylaid her by the community toilet, tied her down and had sex with her.

Abortion was out of the question, especially as far as Sulochana was concerned. A grandchild was coming and had to be welcomed, regardless of marriage or social approval. And so here’s Goutam, a strong, happy infant, ready to break out into a smile at the slightest excuse. Everybody in the family adores him. The neighbours have accepted him as just another kid who will grow up in Injambakkam along with a swarm of others. In time, he will find his place in the almost inevitable cycle of poverty, lack of education, lack of self-esteem, struggling to find work, struggling to raise a family, struggling with alcoholism… struggle, struggle and yet more mind-deadening struggle.

The families that drive down to the beach in their shiny new Korean model cars (Chennai is being billed as the Detroit of India) would not approve of this state of affairs. They would see no courage, no compassion, no dignity in the decision the family took. “This is the way all these poor people behave”, they would say. “And besides, the child is illegitimate.”

Quite right. He is illegitimate not only because his mother is not married but because the resurgent new India has no place for him. As his inquisitive little head jerks from side to side, the blue of the ocean in his backyard shines in his bright little eyes.