(O.V. Vijayan short translated from Malayalam.)
And that's when I realized there's a CIA camp next to my house. I decided to take up the challenge. I pledged that I would not give out any secrets pertaining me to American imperialism. I dismissed my dog, closed all the doors and windows and remained indoors most of the time. You might ask whether it would have been a better idea to keep the dog during a spy infestation. Only those who haven't known CIA enough would ask such a question. It is very true that American spies have mastered the trick of seducing a dog by giving jaggery. Aren't we dealing with imperialism? Whatever be the price, if needed, these spies buy bags of jaggery from even wholesalers. How can common people like us face such a threat? There was a time when we could have done that. Chattambiswamikal^ used to assemble dogs from developing countries and bring them together in one arena and throw them a feast. It is because we lost those capabilities that we have now succombed to spies.
All the doors were fitted with new bolts and locks. At night, the spies tried to irritate me by scratching on doors with their finger nails. It found some relief when I started chanting the devotional poem "Not enough, not enough, as days pass by"^^. Around the same period, I closed my savings bank account and withdrew the five hundred and fourteen rupees and change. That money should never reach imperialism. I made it invisible by converting it to black money. This irritated the spies and I soon had proof of that. I saw a youngster, sitting on the side of the road near my house, reading a textbook on monetary economics and frantically scratching his head. I laughed inside. I spoke to myself - Imperialism, you can try your best, my investment is black money today and my government protects it's invisibility. After a few days, the above mentioned youngster, gifted me a book on the road. These are usual measures that imperialism adopts and I knew I should expect them. I accepted the book and opened it, fifteen rupee notes were inserted in between the pages. For self-protection, I chanted the devotional poem "Not enough, not enough". The spy misunderstood it and took out one more five rupee note and offered it to me by placing it in a novel by Solzhenitsyn. I did not fall for that. The spy withdrew.
Another day, another youngster asked me this on the road: ''What is your opinion on abstract art?"
"Go away, go", I said.
"Sir, this is an interview." the kid said. "A write-up will be based on your opinions."
"Write-up?" I said: "Tell me the truth." "Isn't it for the Washington Post?""
"They won't take this." the kid said.
"I am writing this for a hand-written monthly called 'The Flame and the Beat'. From Thrissur. By intellectuals."
"Tell me that!" I said, "Intellectuals, right? Here comes the truth."
"Oops, sir," the kid said, "One more question. What, in your opinion, is a tree, that's not eaten by termites?"
"Go away!" I said, "You are a spy."
He ran away with a scream.
I became more careful. If someone asked me the time, I'd reply, "My timepiece has stopped" or I'd give the wrong time. If someone asked me for directions, I gave them wrong directions. I was impressed with my strategies.
Below is the smartest act of courage that I performed:
My neighbour was a house-wife. When her kids were off to school and her husband off to office, wearing only her under garments, she would often display her buxom body. I understood what that meant very easily. I could predict this middle-aged woman's next moves. My calculations did not go wrong. Once, she came to the fence and started talking to me as described below.
"Vegetables have become very expensive. Four anas for a big Eggplant. Coconut is two and three fourths rupees. Potato for three rupees per kilo--"
Imperialism was behind the increase in prices, she still dared to gossip on that subject! I just grunted without making my response clear.
"Sir, isn't there's a drumstick tree in your backyard, " she said, "Isn't that full of drumsticks? Can I send my kids in the evening to pluck some?"
My politically aware mind understood that this was the usual double-meaning spy-speak and that this middle-aged woman was shooting a sexual invitation towards me to trap me. And that's how, with my tactfulness, I surprised her, as described below.
"I cannot get an erection."
"Oops, sir!"
"I'm impotent."
"Sir, why are you talking non-sense? Wasn't I talking about drumsticks?"
She turned back and started walking.
I went on. I continued: "I am a tuberculosis patient too."
"Go and see a doctor, sir."
She closed her door. I laughed inside. All the details that I gave were wrong. All the while, I was expertly playing the part of a typical innocent Valluvanadan (a person from Valluvanad). And because of that, eventhough she's from mid-Thiruvithankoor, she might have bought it completely. (Readers should remember that, as a step in Balkanizing Kerala, there have been attempts made to create unrest between Malabar and mid-Thiruvithamkoor folks.). Wouldn't it suffice to say that this is how I shattered the spy agency's international information network? Number one 'Counter intellgence tactic'. I was very satisfied.
Imperialism is not one that would withdraw easily. After all these events, the main CIA spy in the area came to see me at my house. For a start, he started talking to me about the topic 'artist and personal freedom'. Then he recited Njanapana*.
I said, "Friend, I am someone who, for fifteen years, spend time reading only light political write-ups. Don't try to fool me anymore. Admit it openly. Aren't you a CIA spy?"
"Yes", he admitted.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Don't feel bad," he said: "here, I came to give you this."
With that he kept a huge paper cover in front of me.
"Please read it."
I opened the cover. It was a report from a pathologist from New York. My blood, phlegm, faeces and urine had been tested! On top of that, a note on my blood pressure level, an x-ray picture and E.C.G from the other side of the earth without touching me, without even me knowing; deadly scientific equipments were used in executing all this. Notwithstanding the test results, a prescription on the medicines that I need to take was also included.
"Defeated?" the spy asked.
"Don't know." I said.
"No one can keep a secret from the CIA." the spy said: "I'm leaving. Meet again."
It's enough to say that I was distraught.
What happened the next day was even more distressing. The main KGB spy in the locale, leaving his disguise, donning his official wear of a red Jubba and a white double-Munde(Kurta and Dhoti), singing the first few lines of the international song Ponnarival(Golden-Sickle), visited me. He too keeps a paper cover in front of me! A report, x-ray, ECG and prescription from a pathologist in Moscow.
"We know everything that CIA knows. Ponnarivalambiliyile Kanneriyunnole-- (song)", the spy goes like this.
"Aa marathin poonthanalile vaadinilkkunnolee--(song)", I completed in an extreme fatigue.
"Okay", said the spy: "I'm leaving for now. Meet again. Please take your medicines. It might be better to avoid hot and sour food a bit."
Hopelessly, I sat there with the two prescriptions in front of me. It's then that I noticed. In diagnosis and treatment, both the reports were not similar! It occurred to me that both were incomplete. I regained my courage and nationalism the next moment. I decided to challenge all the international spy agencies. I tore away all the papers they gave me.
I consulted an Ashtavaidyan** and started taking tonics and concoctions. It did not take much longer for the CIA and the KGB to relocate their camps from my village.
^A Hindu sage and one of Kerala’s famed religious and social reformer. It is said that he has thrown feasts for dogs in his temples as a sign of equality of all living beings.
^^A communist revolutionary song from Kerala.
*A devotional work of poetry by the famous devotional poet Poonthanam.
**A doctor in traditional medicine
And that's when I realized there's a CIA camp next to my house. I decided to take up the challenge. I pledged that I would not give out any secrets pertaining me to American imperialism. I dismissed my dog, closed all the doors and windows and remained indoors most of the time. You might ask whether it would have been a better idea to keep the dog during a spy infestation. Only those who haven't known CIA enough would ask such a question. It is very true that American spies have mastered the trick of seducing a dog by giving jaggery. Aren't we dealing with imperialism? Whatever be the price, if needed, these spies buy bags of jaggery from even wholesalers. How can common people like us face such a threat? There was a time when we could have done that. Chattambiswamikal^ used to assemble dogs from developing countries and bring them together in one arena and throw them a feast. It is because we lost those capabilities that we have now succombed to spies.
All the doors were fitted with new bolts and locks. At night, the spies tried to irritate me by scratching on doors with their finger nails. It found some relief when I started chanting the devotional poem "Not enough, not enough, as days pass by"^^. Around the same period, I closed my savings bank account and withdrew the five hundred and fourteen rupees and change. That money should never reach imperialism. I made it invisible by converting it to black money. This irritated the spies and I soon had proof of that. I saw a youngster, sitting on the side of the road near my house, reading a textbook on monetary economics and frantically scratching his head. I laughed inside. I spoke to myself - Imperialism, you can try your best, my investment is black money today and my government protects it's invisibility. After a few days, the above mentioned youngster, gifted me a book on the road. These are usual measures that imperialism adopts and I knew I should expect them. I accepted the book and opened it, fifteen rupee notes were inserted in between the pages. For self-protection, I chanted the devotional poem "Not enough, not enough". The spy misunderstood it and took out one more five rupee note and offered it to me by placing it in a novel by Solzhenitsyn. I did not fall for that. The spy withdrew.
Another day, another youngster asked me this on the road: ''What is your opinion on abstract art?"
"Go away, go", I said.
"Sir, this is an interview." the kid said. "A write-up will be based on your opinions."
"Write-up?" I said: "Tell me the truth." "Isn't it for the Washington Post?""
"They won't take this." the kid said.
"I am writing this for a hand-written monthly called 'The Flame and the Beat'. From Thrissur. By intellectuals."
"Tell me that!" I said, "Intellectuals, right? Here comes the truth."
"Oops, sir," the kid said, "One more question. What, in your opinion, is a tree, that's not eaten by termites?"
"Go away!" I said, "You are a spy."
He ran away with a scream.
I became more careful. If someone asked me the time, I'd reply, "My timepiece has stopped" or I'd give the wrong time. If someone asked me for directions, I gave them wrong directions. I was impressed with my strategies.
Below is the smartest act of courage that I performed:
My neighbour was a house-wife. When her kids were off to school and her husband off to office, wearing only her under garments, she would often display her buxom body. I understood what that meant very easily. I could predict this middle-aged woman's next moves. My calculations did not go wrong. Once, she came to the fence and started talking to me as described below.
"Vegetables have become very expensive. Four anas for a big Eggplant. Coconut is two and three fourths rupees. Potato for three rupees per kilo--"
Imperialism was behind the increase in prices, she still dared to gossip on that subject! I just grunted without making my response clear.
"Sir, isn't there's a drumstick tree in your backyard, " she said, "Isn't that full of drumsticks? Can I send my kids in the evening to pluck some?"
My politically aware mind understood that this was the usual double-meaning spy-speak and that this middle-aged woman was shooting a sexual invitation towards me to trap me. And that's how, with my tactfulness, I surprised her, as described below.
"I cannot get an erection."
"Oops, sir!"
"I'm impotent."
"Sir, why are you talking non-sense? Wasn't I talking about drumsticks?"
She turned back and started walking.
I went on. I continued: "I am a tuberculosis patient too."
"Go and see a doctor, sir."
She closed her door. I laughed inside. All the details that I gave were wrong. All the while, I was expertly playing the part of a typical innocent Valluvanadan (a person from Valluvanad). And because of that, eventhough she's from mid-Thiruvithankoor, she might have bought it completely. (Readers should remember that, as a step in Balkanizing Kerala, there have been attempts made to create unrest between Malabar and mid-Thiruvithamkoor folks.). Wouldn't it suffice to say that this is how I shattered the spy agency's international information network? Number one 'Counter intellgence tactic'. I was very satisfied.
Imperialism is not one that would withdraw easily. After all these events, the main CIA spy in the area came to see me at my house. For a start, he started talking to me about the topic 'artist and personal freedom'. Then he recited Njanapana*.
I said, "Friend, I am someone who, for fifteen years, spend time reading only light political write-ups. Don't try to fool me anymore. Admit it openly. Aren't you a CIA spy?"
"Yes", he admitted.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Don't feel bad," he said: "here, I came to give you this."
With that he kept a huge paper cover in front of me.
"Please read it."
I opened the cover. It was a report from a pathologist from New York. My blood, phlegm, faeces and urine had been tested! On top of that, a note on my blood pressure level, an x-ray picture and E.C.G from the other side of the earth without touching me, without even me knowing; deadly scientific equipments were used in executing all this. Notwithstanding the test results, a prescription on the medicines that I need to take was also included.
"Defeated?" the spy asked.
"Don't know." I said.
"No one can keep a secret from the CIA." the spy said: "I'm leaving. Meet again."
It's enough to say that I was distraught.
What happened the next day was even more distressing. The main KGB spy in the locale, leaving his disguise, donning his official wear of a red Jubba and a white double-Munde(Kurta and Dhoti), singing the first few lines of the international song Ponnarival(Golden-Sickle), visited me. He too keeps a paper cover in front of me! A report, x-ray, ECG and prescription from a pathologist in Moscow.
"We know everything that CIA knows. Ponnarivalambiliyile Kanneriyunnole-- (song)", the spy goes like this.
"Aa marathin poonthanalile vaadinilkkunnolee--(song)", I completed in an extreme fatigue.
"Okay", said the spy: "I'm leaving for now. Meet again. Please take your medicines. It might be better to avoid hot and sour food a bit."
Hopelessly, I sat there with the two prescriptions in front of me. It's then that I noticed. In diagnosis and treatment, both the reports were not similar! It occurred to me that both were incomplete. I regained my courage and nationalism the next moment. I decided to challenge all the international spy agencies. I tore away all the papers they gave me.
I consulted an Ashtavaidyan** and started taking tonics and concoctions. It did not take much longer for the CIA and the KGB to relocate their camps from my village.
^A Hindu sage and one of Kerala’s famed religious and social reformer. It is said that he has thrown feasts for dogs in his temples as a sign of equality of all living beings.
^^A communist revolutionary song from Kerala.
*A devotional work of poetry by the famous devotional poet Poonthanam.
**A doctor in traditional medicine
