Satya Sivaraman's Blog

2005-04-22

Rajiv Gandhi's Mother

It is full moon night again and the celestial light is pouring down by the buckets-full on Muzhukutturai, a small fishing hamlet in Cudallore district of coastal Tamil Nadu in southern India. As the cool sea breeze blows through the rubble around him, Rajiv Gandhi (18) sits, hands clutched to his head, by the small shrine that marks the site where his family once lived. A flag flutters noiselessly over the little brick structure that now houses a black and white photograph marked with red vermilion, draped by a few dry flowers. They are the only memory left of his mother Laxmi (40) - swept away by the Sumatran tsunami that struck many parts of south and southeast Asia the day after Christmas last year. Two months ago, on a similar night, Rajiv had finished dinner and slipped out to fish in the backwaters of the Bay of Bengal Sea by his village, the staple source of livelihood for his family and other members of the local fishing community for generations. He had returned early on the morning of 26 December with a catch of white tiger prawns, a prized commodity that could fetch upto 250 rupees (US$ 6) per kilogram in any nearby market any day. Laxmi had already left the house on her daily rounds of buying fish from the local fisher folk, which she took to the neighboring towns and villages, selling them on retail for a small profit. The money she made was what the entire family survived on. Rajiv bitterly remembers how that fateful morning he went searching for his mother, asked her to come home and take the prawns with her to sell. “If she had not returned home she would have been far from the beach when the tsunami struck. I am responsible for her death” says Rajiv, his face darkening with inconsolable sorrow. The truth was that Laxmi, who survived the first big wave that struck Muzhukutturai, had asked her husband and children to run away and then gone back on her own back to the house. The second, and much bigger wave, had swept her inland and as it was the case much of her life, Dame Luck was not smiling upon her that day too They had finally found her, hair entangled in a thicket of thorn bushes, dead along with four other village women, tightly clutching a money purse in her right hand. She had died trying to retrieve some jewels and cash hidden inside an aluminium box – the family’s hard-earned life savings - that ironically cost her, her own life. Amma, as Rajiv used to call her, had named him ‘Rajiv Gandhi’ when he was born, a name quite unusual for a boy from a Tamil fishing community. Obviously Laxmi had hoped that some of the charm, fame and fortune of the former Indian Prime Minister would shine upon her first son too. A tough, hard working woman Laxmi had left nothing to chance though and struggled to educate all her children at least through primary school. It was not easy at all, especially because her husband Chemban (45), was more a nuisance than any help to the family, drinking throughout the day, frittering away his wife’s meager income, refusing to share any of the money made from his rare fishing expeditions. Regina (21), her eldest daughter, had married and was away in Cudallore; Rajiv had dropped out of school after the 5th standard and used the family catamaran and net to make a living; Maheswari (15) also dropped out of school and stayed home, helping her mother with household chores, waiting to get married off. Selvam (8), the youngest of the siblings was a bright, cheerful boy who Laxmi had high hopes about- he would go on to become an ‘officer’ in the city some day she thought. And now she had left Rajiv abruptly, leaving behind a host of heavy responsibilities- Selvam’s education, Maheshwari’s marriage, preventing his father from drinking himself to death, his own future… “I wanted to go overseas to work, save some money and help my mother” says Rajiv showing a photocopy of the new passport he had received just a month before the tsunami swept it away along with every other family belonging. Many youth from the area had already migrated abroad doing stints as agricultural or construction labour in Malaysia, Singapore or Dubai, coming back with tales of fabulous opportunities. Now, given his family’s grim situation, there was no question of going anywhere for Rajiv who, in his own words, has decided to ‘dissolve all his ambitions and swallow them’ for the sake of his siblings. Yes, the Tamil Nadu government had already paid one lakh rupees (US$ 2400), as compensation for Laxmi’s death, and the central government in Delhi had announced payment of a similar sum that was yet to arrive. An NGO from Delhi had also come and built temporary shelters for the entire village and there was talk of the provincial government giving them permanent houses soon. But there were all those family loans to be paid off. Cash, borrowed for Laxmi’s business and recently for buying a new fishing boat and nets. The tsunami had damaged the boat and swept away the nets and now the loan sharks, who charged an interest of up to 25 percent per month, were already at their door threatening dire consequences if the family did not pay up soon. Part of the compensation money had of course been used to pay off some of the loans but then again there was money required for Maheswari’s dowry- a princely sum of two lakh rupees (US$4800) asked for by a prospective bridegroom from Cudallore. As if all these worries were not enough all of a sudden Chemban had started acting funny and become extremely reluctant to give the family any of the compensation money he had received for Laxmi’s death. Rajiv believes that his father was trying get married again to another lady and abandon his own children. “All these burdens should have been shouldered by my father but he says he does not want to have anything to do with them” he says with no resentment but only resignation as the night air gets a bit chill and he takes a last look at his mother’s face before heading back home to rest.