Achyuthan opened his toddy shop just like any other day at 9 in the morning. The rain from the previous night had filled the fields with water. The rainy season had passed a few months back and the sudden rain had surprised most of the villagers. He opened the wooden door and looked at the roof to check if there had been any leaks from the rain. He had replaced the roof tiles just before the rains had started that year. The man had offered him the tiles for a cheap rate and this had made Achyuthan paranoid about the quality of the tiles. After each rain, he would scan his eyes over the roof and the floor, inspecting for any water puddles. He seemed relieved to find that the tiles worked just as they should. He went and sat on his chair, waiting for Sulaiman, who would bring him the daily supply of fish and meat and for his wife, Paathu, who was the best cook he knew of. Every person who visited the toddy shop used to praise the food, especially her signature mussel fry and beef chilly.
Achyuthan was a lean man in his late forties. Strands of grey spread across the sides of hair. He looked into the small mirror that he always kept beside his chair at the wooden counter to admire how he had aged over time. He had been a handsome young man during his youth and that was the reason, he believed, he was able to marry such a beautiful woman. Paathu was ten years younger to him had she still hadn’t lost the glow on her face. All the work in the smoky kitchen of the toddy shop failed to affect her beauty.
“Good morning”, said Chathunni, entering the toddy shop, wiping the drops of sweat with the towel on his bare shoulders.
“Good morning” Achyuthan said, with a smile and opened the newspaper that he had brought along with him.
“What is the hot news today?” Chathunni enquired with genuine interest. He had settled himself on one of the four wooden desks in the shop.
“Nothing great that deserves any narration. Just some political scenes. The Communist party is growing stronger” Achyuthan said without taking his eyes off the paper. He knew that Chathunni, just like his late father, were staunch believers of the party which was growing its foothold in the state. They were comrades and he had known Chathunni since his childhood, who was always with his father, holding the red flag of revolution. In all the dedication towards the party, Chathunni failed to consider the importance of having a family. After the untimely death of Achyuthan’s father, Chathunni had been with Achyuthan to provide a helping hand in the shop and the little amount that he received as the pay was all that he needed to push his old days forward.
“Something interesting happened in the tea shop today morning,” Chathunni said.
“What is it? Did you find a rat’s tail in the vada?” Achyuthan said smiling, amused at his own humor.
“Nothing. Our Thirumeni…”
“It is so hot,” said Paathu, entering the toddy shop and keeping the umbrella at the corner, folded. “Just last night it was raining and see now. The world is about to come to its end I tell you”, she said to herself as she went into the kitchen area.
“Sulaiman didn’t come yet?” she asked once she had reached the inside.
“No, he will come soon,” Achyuthan said.
“Let your tongue turn into gold, inshallah,” Sulaiman said, standing at the door, holding the basket filled with fish and a cover on top containing meat.
“But nobody was praising you here,” Chathunni said.
“Anh that is okay” Sulaiman replied. “Paathu chechi, here is your fresh seafood and meat”
Paathu came to the door and hurriedly collected the items from him. “Learn to come on time Sulaiman. It’s already late” she complained.
“What to do? In my mission to bring the freshest food to my Achyuthan ikka’s shop, getting a bit late is unavoidable” Sulaiman said with a smile.
“Enough with your sweet talks,” Achyuthan said and handed him the money.
“People don’t like to hear the truth these days, Allah!” Sulaiman sighed and turned to leave. “I’ll come in the evening. Save three bottles for me”.
Chathunni looked at Sulaiman leave on his moped that made moved slowly through the rough patch of the road through the fields.
A few minutes later, Shankarankutty shouted his arrival from outside. He was the person who used to bring in the fresh toddy from the palms. He too was late today. He collected the toddy in his black tank at the back of his cycle and traveled throughout the village with a towel tied around his head, singing folk songs.
The flow of the crowd usually started from 12 in the noon. While the frequency varied, the place used to be generally packed until 11 in the night.
That afternoon while Paathu had gone back to their house to return in the evening to cook dinner in the shop, Chathunni was serving the people with the fresh toddy and the food, a fairly good-looking man, who had been sitting in one of the corner tables alone, walked towards the counter area where Achyuthan sat.
“I need your help,” he said, looking into Achyuthan’s eyes. His voice, heavy, came out as a cautious whisper as if he was worried about being heard.
“Please do not say that you forgot your money and will pay later” Achyuthan replied flatly. He has had enough drunkards who paid less frequently compared to the number of times they came to drink their guts out.
“You should know that money is not a problem,” the man said. “I need to talk to you alone”.
Perplexed, Achyuthan looked at him expecting something more. The man didn’t seem intimidating at all. He was a middle-aged man, well dressed and hardly seemed like a person who would visit a shabby toddy shop.
“Why?” Achyuthan hesitated “What is that which you need my help with?”
The man looked at either side through the corner of his eyes, pushed his lips closer to Achyuthan’s ears. “The Thamburaan from Maanashery mana sent me”, he whispered.
Achyuthan’s eyes widened and his face curled from confused to expressionless. “I see”, was all he said.
“I know about…” the man said but Achyuthan raised his hand, asking him to stop. He directed him to follow him outside and walked out of the shop.
“Chathunnietta, I’ll be back in a while,” Achyuthan said and walked out.
Chathunni watched the two men walk out of the shop from behind.
Once at they were at a safe distance from the shop, Achyuthan looked into the man’s eyes. The man now seemed intimidated by Achyuthan’s presence even though he had a better physique. Achyuthan took the red towel lying on his bare shoulder and wiped his neck in a customary manner.
“Who is it?” Achyuthan asked without looking at the man.
“It’s a woman I know. She stole…” the man was stopped by Achyuthan.
“I don’t have any interest in knowing your reason for the deed. And a woman?” his face curled into near disgust. “It’ll take 7 days for the deed. On the 7th day, after night reaches its depths, will be the end of this person you speak of” he continued.
“It’ll be done for sure right?” the man asked, hesitation creeping into his voice.
Achyuthan looked at him, a stern gaze. “I have never failed”.
“Tha.. That sounds ensuring” the man said.
“Tell me about this woman,” Achyuthan asked.
“Honestly even I do not have much idea about her. I don’t even if the name she has told me is real. The only thing I know is that she has a family elsewhere and she cheated me. That whore”.
“Hmm”.
“I’ll ask her to come to my house on that night. You can kill her there” the man said and went on to describe his house and its location in beside the fields of the neighbouring village.
Achyuthan nodded. “That night you’ll hear a buffalo cry twice. Send her out then”.
The man offered him a bundle of 10rupee notes covered in an old newspaper. Achyuthan took the bundle, covered it with the towel and walked into his shop leaving the man there.
“Chathunnietta, we have work to do,” he said to Chathunni who was serving three bottles of fresh toddy to one of the customers.
After seven days of fasting, Achyuthan was prepared for the day. It had been more than a year since a client had approached him. He had learnt the magic and the art from his father who was killed in one of his assignment. That was a very rare thing to happen. Years had passed and in this era where bigger houses had lamps replaced by electric bulbs, people were less aware about the existence of their kind. He was just thirteen when his father told him that he was an ‘Odiyan’.
He had to keep this a secret except with a man whom he would consider his assistant. Chathunni had served as his father’s assistant and he didn’t find a reason why he shouldn’t be his. He was trustworthy.
His mother had no idea about his father’s true self. His father was very skilled in keeping it a secret from her till her last breath. He too had followed the norm and had kept this side of his hidden from Paathu. Every time he went out at night only to return early morning the next day, he would make a reason of him having to go to another village to attend a temple festival and watch Kathakali that went on till later in the nights. She never questioned him nor did she ask him to take her along as she knew that it wasn’t for the women to be out of their houses at nights. He usually felt guilt eat him up from inside slowly, each time he lied to his wife.
That night too, he left his house with the same reason, but he was a bit wary about leaving her alone this time.
“Paathu, I have to go tonight,” he said.
“Ummm” she replied.
“Close the door tightly and only open when I knock in the morning,” he said with caution.
“Ummm” she replied.
“Keep the treasure safe,” he said.
“I will” she replied with a smile.
Few days back, when he returned home after closing his toddy shop, he found Paathu sitting on the porch of their hut, restless, the door shut behind her. That evening while working in the fields, she had found a gold necklace studded with precious stones. In that moment of shock, she took him into the house and showed him the treasure that she had laid her hands on. When he saw her open the old saree she had covered it in, he was sure that it was some royal jewel that had once adorned some goddess.
“Will the goddess curse us for this?” he asked, almost to himself.
“The Goddess has gifted this to us. To save us” she said. She seemed energetic with confidence.
“Let’s keep this inside for few months. We will sell this in pieces later on” he suggested to which she had agreed.
The thought of safeguarding and the presence of such a treasure had always haunted his mind ever since.
When he reached Chathunni’s hut, the night had grown darker. He found the old man sitting at the porch of his hut, waiting for his arrival.
He nodded at him and walked inside the hut where Chathunni had kept everything ready for the deed. He had laid out a hand-woven dried grass mat on the floor beside which he had placed a kerosene lamp. The room that was filled with the yellow tint of the lamp had the persistent odour of medicinal oils that Chathunni used to apply. On the wall hung the only shirt that Chathunni seemed to own.
Achyuthan sat on the mat, cross legged and took a deep breath in. The air seemed to fill his lungs and he felt the odour seep through him. He closed his eyes and prayed to the deities for few minutes. He had to finish his assignment quickly and get back to the treasure and Paathu.
Chathunni watched him sit on the mat upright in a meditating posture. The ritual had begun. He had woven the mat just few weeks back for himself. He walked towards the corner of the room and lifted the bottle he had placed there earlier along with the strands of grass. The oil was almost over. It wouldn’t last for another assignment. It was time for him to make the oil again.
In the life of an Odiyan, the oil is the most important part. Chathunni had taken it upon himself to make the magical oil that would help the Odiyan transform into an animal of his choice. The only way to prepare the oil was with certain herbs available in the books along with the amniotic fluid of an unborn child. Chathunni had gone to extremes to get the fluid without which the oil is nothing but ordinary. The target was always the young women pregnant with their first child. It was time for him to collect the fluid again, making the next bottle of oil. He tried to remember how many foetus he had killed to make the oil. He had served Achyuthan’s father in his younger days and now him. It was for the deities. The sacrifice of a human foetus was necessary to please them.
He stood beside Achyuthan while he sat meditating and praying on the mat. Slowly, removed the only clothes he was wearing and placed it at the side of the mat. Stark naked, he stretched his hands and laid straight on his back. His eyes remained closed.
The night had grown much darker and Chathunni could feel the air grow chill within the dimly lit hut. He sat beside him and opened the bottle. The disgusting smell of the oil made his stomach churn. No matter how many times he had made the oil, its odour always made him uneasy. He dipped the strands of grass into the bottle and applied the oil behind each of Achyuthan’s ears. He repeated this process 7 times. The stench of the oil grew in the room. As always, Chathunni wanted to get out of the room but knew better. The ritual mandated that the trustworthy person assisting the Odiyan should remain by the side of his naked body till he returned. And it was very important that the assistant remains mute throughout the ritual.
Few minutes later, Chathunni felt the air around him grow still. The silence grew its depth within the four walls of the hut. Outside the hut, Chathunni heard the footsteps of a four-legged animal grow distant into the darkness of the night. A buffalo he guessed.
Achyuthan had left.
A buffalo was the best animal to transform into according to Achyuthan. It had the advantage of the darkness. Achyuthan quickly moved through the fields and between the trees to the location the man had shared with him. The night was dark under the moonless sky but his eyes weren’t. He sped to his destination. To kill the woman.
Half an hour later, he reached the place. He could see the hut from where he stood. He approached the house slowly. At one side of the house where there was a cow shed, there was a window. He could see a dim light crawl out into the darkness through the window. A slight peep showed him that the man lay on the bed while the woman lay hugging him. It was the man who had given him the assignment. He had lived upto his words and had brought the target to him. He wanted to finish his task fast and get back to the treasure.
Achyuthan slowly moved into the bush beside the wall and shouted. This would be the signal to the man. He would send the woman out to check on the cows and that is when he would attack the woman and take her life.
He shouted again, waiting for the woman to come out. She must be his wife, he thought. He must have wanted to kill her for money. Thinking about money took his thoughts back to the necklace at home. Where in the fields did Paathu find the necklace? He thought for the first time.
That is when he saw the figure of a woman come out of the house. This was the right time for him to finish his task and get back to his body where Chathunni sat waiting. In that darkness of the night, when the figure came closer, he felt his nerves tighten into a hard pulse. He felt he was wrong but he knew he wasn’t. Paathu walked towards the cowshed near him.
With the world spinning around him, he stepped out of the bush to complete his mission.