The Onam Miracle
by Mariah Faith Evans
Published by Periwinkle Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Mariah Evans
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This book is available in print at most online retailers
Dedication: To all Christians who firmly believe in Yeshua.
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Acknowledgements: My thanks to Zeva Rosenbaum for helping me to extend this book; my mom for pointing out that I needed more detail; my godmother and my aunt for encouraging me through the hard task of writing. Also to my fellow author, Kathryn Lasky, for giving me tips on how to write when I had a hard time with it.
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Book Synopsis: Meet Patyamal, a young princess living in Kerala, India in the late 17th century. All she wants is freedom which fuels her desire to do away with the caste system. She runs away from her posh life in the palace and her parents where she is pushed and pulled into what they want her to be. Patyamal is forced to deal with life on the streets and discovers first-hand how the lower castes scrape for existence.
She is introduced to a wonderful family and their belief in Yeshua. Is freedom everything she thought it would be? This coming of age tale combines the age-old themes of conflict of beliefs & customs; friendships coming of age, and engaging family relationships. Explore the enchanting province of Kerala through the eyes of a young girl.
Table of Contents
1 I Want to Be Free
2 For Lara
3 The Horror Begins
4 Escape
5 Russia
6 The Way
7 Memories of Hira
8 Stop... In the Name of...
9 We Need to Break the System
10 Sister?
11 A Visit to the Beach
12 The Festival
13 Hope and a Future
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Chapter 1
I Want To Be Free
There is a girl, standing on the beach alone. The smell of salt is heavy. The surf is pounding like a beating heart. The twelve-year-old girl is standing at the shore, her hair blowing in the wind. She is staring at the sun, which is slowly sinking into the sea. She knows that the sea can go anywhere without being caught. She wishes she were like the sea. “I want to be free.” the girl whispers to herself. Suddenly, a blue, foaming wave rises up out of the sea, and it engulfs the girl.
“Wake up, lazybones!” came a very young girl’s voice.
Opening her eyes, Patyamal felt something wet all around her. Soaked by Palajang, again.
You almost missed breakfast!” The tiny girl squealed. Giggling, Palajang raced out of Patyamal’s room. Before getting out of her bed to get dressed, Patyamal slumped back into her pillows. Only one thing was on her mind. Escape.
Finally getting out of bed, she caught a whiff of the smell of freshly cooked rice powder and grated coconut, called puttu. Still stretching, Patyamal walked into the dining room. Everybody was just finishing up breakfast. Then she spied Dalajang, her younger brother. He had puttu all over his face. She stared at her brother in disbelief for a long time, sitting down for the morning meal.
”Good morning, Patyamal,” her mother said.
“Good morning, Mama. Where’s Father?” Patyamal asked.
“He is trying to settle a dispute between two of his generals.”
Patyamal’s imagination glimpsed her father sitting on his throne, focusing on two burly and red-faced shouting generals. “If I were empress, I would definitely not have the patience that father does,” she thought. Her mother’s strict voice broke into her reverie.
“Dalajang, please wipe your face.”
“But I want to scare the maids with this,” Dalajang protested. Receiving a stern look from mother, he immediately picked a cloth napkin up from the table and began to remove the evidence of his mischief.
“Can I smear something all over my face, too?” Palajang asked sweetly. Firmly but gently, their mother refused. Sulking, Palajang finished her breakfast. Patyamal rolled her eyes, while mother laughed to herself.
“Will they ever grow up?” Patyamal asked in exasperation.
Mother stopped laughing to answer her question. “Patyamal, you did exactly the same thing when you were their age. One day, at dinnertime, you got a bowl of stew, and you started eating it like a pig devours its slop. When you finally came up for breath, your face was orange because of the sauce. And like Dalajang, you wanted to scare someone with it. But of course, your father and I refused your request, and, like Palajang, you sulked for the rest of the night.”
Patyamal’s face grew red, and mother continued to laugh. “Thank goodness that Palajang and Dalajang were not here to hear the story,” she looked down and hurriedly began to finish her puttu.
Finally, father came back from the throne room. “Are you two ready for some horse back riding?” he asked. Patyamal and her mother stood up from the table, and headed for the royal stables. The smells of the horses, the hay, and the leather of the saddles seemed wonderful to Patyamal. She loved the sounds of the horses neighing in great enthusiasm, as if they were welcoming the royal trio.
Once the stable boys got the horses ready, they departed. Patyamal loved horseback riding because she could almost feel the horse’s energy coursing through its body. In what felt like mere seconds, they were at the beach. The white surf of the waves pounded the beach as if in welcome. There was the slightest hint of breeze, which brought fresh coolness to the air.
“How was breakfast? I’m sorry I was delayed with my business”, father asked, striking up a conversation.
“Well, we had puttu rice powder and grated coconut, and as usual, Dalajang smeared it on his face, breaking the peaceful morning tranquility,” Patyamal complained, rolling her eyes.
“Could it have been an accident?” father smiled. Patyamal gave him a questioning look.
“You know perfectly well that it wasn’t an accident, Adya,” her mother scolded. “And it looks like someone has been telling childhood dinnertime stories to my son, putting devious ideas into his head. He can’t rule with tricks like that,” mother continued, frowning
“Oh, can he?” father chuckled. Finishing the question with a glare, she asked her husband, “What was the skirmish between the generals all about?” “Just which general won the most wars,” Adya sighed. “And then unwisely, one of the generals declared that he had one of the best blacksmiths making his swords and it just went on and on.”
Her mother sighed mockingly, winking at her daughter.
“Oh, yes,” Patyamal continued, crossing her arms, “They are always finding something that is ridiculous to argue about.” With this, she burst into fits of giggles. Her mother laughed along with her.
“It is unfortunate, but to be a good general, you apparently need to have a big ego. This competitive spirit is what allows them to win battles. It is just something I have to put up with.” He looked over at them as they waited for him to choose the direction of their ride.
“Well! You women, always finding somewhere to rest your aching, tired legs,” father retorted, moving his head in an impression of a vain swan.
“Well, thank you for the ‘imitation’ of us, dear husband!” mother sniffed sarcastically.
After a brief silence, Patyamal asked, “How come we don’t travel often?”
“Well, most of the other provinces that are aware that we are the ruling monarchy. Our province receives a yearly tax from their provinces because of battles fought over a hundred years ago. Visiting will just set off the wrong spark that will grow into fear, anger, uprisings, and eventually war.” father retorted.
“But couldn’t we send a messenger to tell them that we are coming in peace, and-“
“We don’t need to start a war, Patyamal.” Her father cut in, becoming sterner. “I was just given ruling power over the provinces around us. I need to give them time before I come to help them understand that I will not rule them with an iron fist.”
“Is it because of caste that we don’t visit?” Patyamal inquired.
“People from the higher castes travel here to the palace to state their news and conduct their affairs with me.”
“And people from the lower caste?”
“They stay in their provinces and they work in the profession that they were born into.”
Patyamal was silent. She liked it in Kerala, but sometimes she wanted a different landscape to look at. Of course she loved Kerala’s food, but sometimes she wondered if the other provinces had a different kind of food, lifestyle, religion, or style of dress. She wanted something new and exotic to observe and learn about. She felt so trapped in the palace.
“Your father’s right, Patyamal. He’s doing the best he can to keep this family protected.”
“There’s too much protection”, Patyamal sighed loudly. And besides, what am I being protected from?
Her mother and father looked at each other questioningly. “It’s for the best, Patyamal”, her father said firmly, ending the matter. He exchanged glances with mother, clearly worried about their daughter. Patyamal knew it would be wise to change the subject again.
“What was the general’s fight about again? I don’t understand,” Patyamal said, glancing towards father.
Sighing with relief, he answered, “They were fighting about who has the best blacksmith and how they use more metal than the other.”
“How did you resolve it?” mother asked.
“I just promoted one of the blacksmiths to work for my naval general. The blacksmith that one of my generals claimed made weapons with more metal is the blacksmith for both generals now. They will not be able to fight over their blacksmiths anymore.”
“How clever, Adya. You always think of a way to stop fights!” Mother praised him, hugging her father.
Patyamal covered her eyes in mock disgust. “Well, Patyamal needs to go study and I need to get to the business of the day. There is much to be taken care of,” he began, turning his horse around.
“Let’s go, Patyamal,” her mother commanded, also turning her horse around towards the palace stables far in the distance. Patyamal stole one last glance at the sea, and then she galloped away, her horse breaking into a run as the palace came slowly into view.
She soon reached the royal stables. Patyamal dismounted and walked her horse into its stable, smelling of earthy manure and fresh hay. The other horses seemed to whinny a welcome at their visitors. They removed their saddles and Patyamal brushed her horse Mira good-bye.
Once she got to the palace, she rushed to her room, washed her face, brushed her hair, and slipped into some clean clothes. After freshening up a bit, she went to her schoolroom where her tutor, Old Baruk, was waiting.
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Chapter 2
For Lara
“Pleasant sleep last night?” Her tutor asked when she came in.
“Yes, pleasant. But Palajang soaked me this morning.” Her tutor started to chuckle. “It’s not funny!” Patyamal shot back.
“I’m laughing because that is exactly what your mother did when I was her tutor,” Old Baruk explained.
“Really?” Patyamal asked, wide-eyed.
“Really,” her tutor replied, relishing the telling of the story. “One morning, I went to her father and I told him that she had soaked me that morning. The emperor, your grandfather,” Baruk smiled, starting to chuckle.
“This is not a laughing matter, your Excellency,” I fumed as a young man.
“Her mother was the same way”, your grandfather explained. “She would paint my face when it seemed to her that I didn’t wake up quick enough. Another time, my wife found a stone, painted it red to look like a piece of beef, then, she had a servant take it to the cook. She dented one of her best cleaving knives cutting the ‘meat’”. He continued to laugh.
Seeing that it was foolish to be angry, I started to join in the laughter.
After telling the story, Baruk knit his eyebrows in a mix between a mock stern look and a serious scolding look. “Don’t let little Palajang get at you so much. This kind of mischief runs in the family. She will grow out of it,” he advised.
“All right,” Patyamal sighed.
“ Did you read anything interesting last night?” Old Baruk asked, changing the subject.
“Well, I read the ‘Indian Cinderella.’”
“What was it about?” her tutor inquired.
“Let’s see. Where should I start? Hmm... In a province not far from here, there was a princess, who was born still and without breath. But then her parents had a golden necklace made which the gods had touched which contained her life. If it were ever taken off, she would die.
She had an older sister who was very jealous of her younger sister because of the necklace. She didn’t think it fair that she didn’t have a necklace. She had no idea of its magical purposes and she wanted it for herself badly.
When she and her older sister were of age, they were invited to attend the Onam Festival in a neighboring province. They were allowed to go to the market place in preparation for the occasion. They both bought bolts of cloth, and when they returned to the palace, they made their dresses; the youngest didn’t just make a dress, she made slippers, also.
A few weeks later, the night of the ball came and when the two princesses arrived, the younger of the two was the only lady of high rank that the prince wanted to dance with. The couple danced till midnight, surrounded by the sights and fragrance of thousands of Onam rangoli flowers and tables laden with Onam treats.
As they were descending the staircase from the palace, one of the youngest princesses’ slippers fell off her foot without her noticing. The prince followed them to say goodbye, and saw the slipper. Picking it up, he vowed that he would marry the beautiful young woman whose foot fit the slipper
With that, the prince traveled to every province, asking every girl of high rank to try the slipper on, but none were a fit. Finally, he went to the princess’ province. He had the older sister try the slipper; it didn’t fit. The younger princess went next, and her foot fit the slipper that she had made especially for the celebration.
The prince then took her to his province and they got married with much celebration. The girl’s older sister became even more jealous, until she was entirely consumed by it.
Thinking that her sister had always been favored more than she, she sent a servant to retrieve the necklace from her younger sister. The servant stole in one night while the royal couple was sleeping, and ever so carefully removed the necklace.
The servant then heard the princess exhale one last time, and her face changed to ashen gray. The servant returned to her mistress and gave the necklace to her. The older sister promptly put it on without understanding the deadly secret of the beautiful necklace.”
Patyamal glanced over at Old Baruk. He seemed to be caught up in her story, so she continued. “What they didn’t know was that when the necklace wasn’t being worn by someone that the princess would come back to life, but she wouldn’t wake up in reality, she would wake up in a parallel universe. On the outside it would seem that she was unconscious.
That night, the older sister took off the prized necklace to go to sleep, and her younger sister was alive once more. The younger sister found herself in a clearing, where the moon shone bright and a stream rippled past. It seemed so peaceful.
All of a sudden, she fell dead once more, because her sister had put on the necklace late at night. The next morning, her husband woke up, and seeing his dead wife, he enlisted soldiers to look for the necklace.
He was amazed because she seemed to be dead during the day, but slept an unconscious sleep at night. He grieved for the loss of his wife, but after a matter of days, they found the necklace and brought it to the prince.
Upon learning that her older sister was to blame, he had her executed. Her jealousy brought very deadly results. Eventually, they had a child, and they lived happily to the end of their days.”
Patyamal’s tutor sat speechless. “Is something wrong?” Patyamal did not often see Baruk unable to speak.
As if awaking from a dream, he said, ”No, no, that was absolutely wonderful. It’s amazing how you can memorize stories that you read. You have your mother’s memory. I was just thinking, though, about how they do things in that province. Which province was it again?” Her tutor asked, as he could be hard of hearing sometimes.
“Jabalpur. It must be so exotic. I wish I could go there, but my parents say that I can’t travel anywhere for who knows how long.”
“They are being reasonable, Patyamal,” her tutor answered.
“But it sounds exotic there,” Patyamal protested.
“It is exotic here. You must learn to trust your parents, Patyamal. They are looking out for your good,” he answered.
“But I’ve been everywhere in Kerala with guards. I would give anything to just walk around with my family, and explore the sights and sounds of Kerala like normal people can. A princess has to get to know her world, right?”
“My dear girl,” he said, patting the air above her hand in the common gesture of a lower-class citizen in the presence of royalty. He began to speak, but Patyamal could barely hear him. HIs action had triggered a difficult memory in Patyamal’s brain.
It didn’t happen often, but when it did the awfulness of the memory often made her freeze with sorrow. The pat reminded Patyamal of when she had befriended the cook’s daughter, Lara. Patyamal was young. At the time, she’d been innocent to the fact that their friendship was forbidden, because Lara had been born into the “Untouchables” caste.
They had had the best times together, whispering and giggling; playing with toys; telling each other their secrets and dreams. One afternoon, Patyamal and Lara hid in a little nook overlooking the belly dancer quarters. They watched the practice and decided that they wanted to try it. Sneaking down to the dance floor after the dancers had left, they found some smaller belly dancer outfits and they attempted to dance. They danced horribly, but they were carefree, laughing all the while.
Their friendship blossomed until the day that she and her friend were discovered by one of her father’s advisors. Patyamal would never forget that day when she was summoned to the throne room.
“Is there a problem, father?”
“Yes, Patyamal, and the problem is that you were fraternizing with a person of the lower caste.”
“She is my friend!” she appealed to her father. “She is my antidote, my rain, the person I can hold hands with. Lara is my smile after a hard day.”
She will no longer be that to you. She and her mother are to be sent to another province.”
Stunned with hurt and anger, Patyamal raced out of the throne room, out of the palace, and onto the beach. Shaking with sobs, she almost didn’t hear the leaves rustle, and then a gentle voice said, “Patyamal ,I came to say goodbye.”
Turning to face her friend, she said, “Lara, I wish that you didn’t have to go.”
“Me neither,” she answered. “But maybe you can remember me with this,” she replied.
Then, she firmly but gently pressed Patyamal’s hand open, and a smooth sphere rolled from Lara’s palm into Patyamal’s waiting hand. It felt warm, because Lara had kept it encased in her hand for so long. Patyamal opened her palm, and she saw that it was a pearl, a pinkish, fleshy white embodying the tiny treasure.
“My mother and I went clamming one day,” she began, ”and, as I went under, I snagged a clam. When I resurfaced, I opened it with a sharp stone. I was greeted by this pearl, shining joyfully.”
“My mother told me that I could keep the pearl, or give it to someone special. I realize now, that since I am to never to see you again, I chose to give it to you.”
Patyamal stared at the pearl in bewilderment. My one memory of my friend, she thought. “You promise that we’ll find each other when we’re older?” Patyamal asked.
“I promise,” she replied. “And you?”
“I promise,” Patyamal replied.
“But for now, we’ll just have to hope that we find each other sooner or later.” The girls embraced. Then, Lara broke away, disappearing into the forest, for probably forever. Still sniffling, Patyamal walked back to the palace with heavy steps, racked with grief, and friendless.
She staggered to her room, and collapsed onto her bed, still convulsing with sobs. Will I ever keep that promise? Suddenly, the flashback vanished, and she snapped back to reality.
“But what if the goal of getting rid of the caste system could be achieved?” Patyamal asked her tutor. Old Baruk continued to chuckle.
“Try taking that to your parents,” he said between chuckles.
Maybe, she thought. Maybe it might be achieved. Then suddenly, Lara’s face smiling, laughing face popped into her mind. Like my friendship with Lara was achieved, I must achieve something also. Something that will change my world from what it is now. I will do it for Lara.
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Chapter 3
The Horror Begins
One bright morning a few weeks later, Patyamal was walking through the hallway, when she spied her mother in one of the guest rooms, putting fresh sheets, blankets, and pillows on the beds.
“What’s going on, mother?” her mother glanced up at her. “Since Lara left,” she began, “I thought that you needed some new friends. Come on in, girls!”
A distant rumbling filled the hallway. In the next instant, Patyamal was bombarded by girls, giggling, shouting, and pleas of “Can I braid your hair?” Instantly, Patyamal was corralled to her room, and the pain began.
The girls put her hair into a dozen tight and painful hairstyles. Just when she thought she might faint, the girls started talking about which boys were strikingly handsome, and if hugged by a boy, how long they could hold it. Patyamal was sick to the point of wretching.
They terrorized her younger siblings, too. They put painful hairstyles in Palajang’s hair, and they asked Dalajang if he had ever hugged a girl. Dalajang, completely disgusted, ranted about that when he was emperor, he would fight in wars with enormous swords. That took care of Dalajang’s girl problem immediately.
When Patyamal and the girls were in the throne room, her mother would just beam with pleasure, while her father tried hard not to behold the ridiculous spectacle by excusing himself to step into numerous council meetings. Patyamal would look to her mother with pleading eyes, but all in vain.
At dinnertime, the girls were extremely strange. Cries of “There’s stew on my silk sari!” filled the dinnertime atmosphere constantly. Patyamal had to work hard to keep from laughing at the girls.
Also, there were numerous powderings, paintings, and toe nail- polishings. There were shrieks of “I broke my nail!” here and there, and it seemed to Patyamal that they were grieving over almost nothing: breaking a nail or soiling their silk saris. It seemed almost outrageous the rate they were going.
Also, their horses were decked out in jewels. In their stalls, the jewels were radiant, making Mira look like a shabby mare. Patyamal shook her head disgustedly. This was never going to stop, was it? Her mother was actually very proud of herself, having noble girls come to the palace. “You need good cultured influences,” she had told Patyamal. “very good influences.”
Patyamal thought back on the shrieks, screams, and silliness of the girls. “A good influence? Right, mother,” she whispered to herself.
One day, the girls and Patyamal went to the beach. Every single girl was in her bathing suit, but the girls would barely go in. “ I don’t want to get sea grass on my nails!” one girl shrieked. “I don’t want to get sand in my hair!” Another girl whined.
But Patyamal didn’t care. She splashed boldly into the water while the girls sunbathed on the shore. To make sure that no sand touched them, they sat on towels. It seems like these girls never do anything fun, she thought.
Finally, finally, the girls left the palace. Patyamal was extremely happy about that.
“Did you have fun, dear?” her mother asked later that night as she crawled into bed.
“Lots, mother.” she answered sarcastically.
“Yeah”, she thought, ”loads.”
The next morning, she woke up without floods of water cascading onto her head and she later asked her mother, “Where is Palajang?”
Sighing, her mother said with exasperation, “Your sister has been hiding, because she thinks that the girls are still here. Were they really that bad?”
Patyamal just smiled a knowing smile. “Yes, Mom. They were that bad. I’ll go talk to her,” Patyamal felt tired as she remembered the storm of girls that had thundered and lightninged all over the palace grounds yesterday.
When she opened the door to Palajang’s room, she heard a small voice say, “Please don’t touch me!” Smiling, she went to the roomiest corner of her little sister’s room, because that was where Palajang would go when she was scared or angry.
Crouching down to see her sister, she said, “They’re gone, Palajang.”
Lifting up her head, she said, “Are you sure?”
“I am sure,” she answered softly. “Now come, have some breakfast.” Palajang nodded, and she took her sister’s hand.
“My head feels raw,” she complained as they were going down the hallway.“
“Mine does, too. You were not the only one that received the torment,” she groaned, massaging her head.
At the breakfast table, her father asked, “How is your head?”
“Tender,” Patyamal and Palajang replied at the same time.
Her father chuckled, taking care not to be heard by the girls. But with one quick stern glance from their mother, the smile vanished from their father’s face as he tried hard not to laugh. He continued to eat, relishing the delicious puttu.