“Tailor Anna” – Utharakosamangai Relationships – 6
(Illustration by Usha Bharathi – thanks)
'Thanks to ChatGPT for assisting in the English translation of my original Tamil creations.”)
Just like the famous Chithirai festival in Madurai, the
Chithirai festival in Utharakosamangai was celebrated grandly. Following that,
like the Azhagar festival, another celebration would take place at the Govindan
Temple near the large village tank. The next day, food would be served to the
entire village. The taste of the pumpkin sambar served that day was
unforgettable.
The festival at the Govindan Temple was conducted jointly by
all the streets—North Street, South Street, East Street, and West Street. Among
them, the people of South Street held special rights. They were the ones
entitled to carry the sacred poles during the procession of the Amman deity
through the streets.
“Tailor Anna” belonged to that South Street.
For their family, shirts and blouses were always stitched by
him. The boy would often accompany his grandfather or father to the tailor
shop. The piles of colorful fabrics stacked in one corner were a feast for the
eyes. A young assistant would sit there, stitching buttonholes. The boy had a
habit of picking up small leftover cloth pieces and arranging them into
patterns, experimenting with designs. He didn’t speak much with the tailor
then.
Though only slightly older than him, Tailor Anna had learned
the trade early and was already running his own shop. He was also skilled in
swimming—jumping from temple platforms into the temple tank—and was an
excellent kabaddi player.
Once, he organized a kabaddi match between their village
team and a neighboring village team. Though the boy could play a bit, he
remembered attending only as a spectator.
In their village team, Tailor Anna and one of the boy’s
school friends were outstanding players.
What they didn’t know at the time was this: the opposing
team, though skilled, was aggressive. If they lost, they had secretly hidden
sticks in a nearby scrub forest, planning to attack the home team.
The match was intense. Thanks to the brilliant performance
of Tailor Anna and the boy’s friend, the Utharakosamangai team won.
The opposing players grew furious. But Tailor Anna, with his
calm and composed words, managed to pacify them and send them back without
trouble.
Seeing this, both the boy and his friend grew very close to
him.
The next day, the village Panchayat Chairman (who would
later appear as “Chairman Thatha” in these stories) called Tailor Anna’s father
and explained how serious the situation could have become. He warned them not
to bring players from neighboring villages for matches again.
After that, they continued playing only within the village
grounds near the temple tower.
Thus began a friendship—born out of kabaddi—that created
countless memories.
After that match, Tailor Anna became very close to them.
Whenever they called him—anytime, anywhere—he would leave his work and join
them.
For making “exploding coconuts,” he would bring coconuts,
roasted gram, sugar, cardamom, dry ginger, and matchboxes from his father’s
grocery shop. The boy and his friend would go ahead into the scrub forest,
gather dry sticks, and prepare a spot.
Once he arrived, they would open the coconut’s eyes, stuff
it with powdered gram, sugar, cardamom, and ginger, seal it, place it inside
the burning sticks, and step away. After some time, the coconut would crack
open with a soft popping sound.
They would then pull it out, pour water over it, break it
open, and share it among themselves.
The taste of that roasted coconut mixed with sweet and spice
was something special.
Another adventure—his school friend was an expert at
collecting honey.
The three of them would enter the forest like masked
thieves, covering their heads and faces. Spotting a beehive, the friend would
poke its center with a stick. The bees would swarm upward. Quickly, he would
break the branch holding the hive, discard the lower part, and run back with
the honeycomb.
Some bees would sting them—it would hurt and swell—but soon
it would subside. Some bees would helplessly settle on the broken hive remains.
The honey they had stored would drip richly from the comb they carried.
And then… they would share it—some for themselves, some to
take home.
Each tree—karuvelam, drumstick tree, neem—gave honey with a
different taste.
That scrub forest was not like today’s invasive growth. It
was native growth—slightly greyish, with long thorns. Using those thorns, they
would craft simple windmills with palm leaves, fix them to sticks, and run
while watching them spin beautifully in the wind.
And that forest held many more adventures…
Catching pigeons and cooking them, milking goats and
drinking fresh milk…
Perhaps best not described in too much detail!
Without any sense of age difference, Tailor Anna was truly
one among them—a friend.
Even today, when the boy spoke to him on the phone and said,
“I’m going to write about you,”
he responded with joy and shared more memories.
Now, he lives a contented life with his grandchildren. He
still supervises his farmland and proudly spoke about good harvests. He also
spoke about the recent festival at the Govindan Temple. His tailor shop has now
become his daughter’s tea shop.
He happily noted how the temple where they once played
freely has now gained global recognition.
And finally—
“Thank you, Kathiresan.”
(Oh—did I mention Tailor Anna’s name?)
– Nagendra Bharathi
My Poems/Stories/Articles in Tamil and English
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