I SALUTE YOU

AN EXTRACT FROM A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES RELEASED LAST YEAR

Have you heard the legend of Madras’ own Military Andiappan?

No? You haven’t? Well, gather around people to hear this bard tell you this curious tale!?

His name was Andiappan which in Tamuzh literally meant “The father of the penniless” or more aptly, “The father of the beggars”! You could find this man on the busy roads outside the Madras High Court from early morning to the wee hours of night wearing a ragged and dirty green shirt and pants of the same colour which had more holes than material. His hair was dependably bedraggled, unkempt and full of dust and grime. To wrap up his uniform - he wore khaki coloured canvas shoes from which his toes used to stick out - as if to say hello to everyone.

Though he looked dirty and had a long dishevelled beard, he had a majestic air to him - for he always walked with an impeccably erect spine. He kept a crooked stick in his hand which he used like a baton or at times like a rifle: tucking it under his arm and marching up and down the busy thoroughfare which skirted the Madras High Court while simultaneously shouting out orders to his invisible platoon. The vendors and regulars of the area considered him a loon and left him to his own devices without bothering him. It was rumoured that he had been a soldier during the Japanese invasion of Burma circa the Second World War and had gone off his rocker due to the torture inflicted on him by the Japs - who had taken him as a POW.

You never knew with Andiappan - was the story true? Was he just an attention seeking beggar enamoured by a life of valor? Or Was he just another dime a dozen loon? He always kept you guessing!?

Military Andiappan, (as he would soon come to be called) would march straight up and down the road and whenever he came across somebody who appeared affluent - he would march right up to them, click his heels and salute them in perfect military fashion after which he would politely request them in chaste English to give him a rupee. In most cases, the people thus requested would be impressed by his command over the English language and give him some coins to appease him. Andiappan would not stop with that but would pocket the coins and give them a smart salute followed by the imitation of a twenty-one gun salute.

Andiappan’s common hauntfor nearly forty years was the Broadway Junction near the Madras High Court, but he was never to be found asleep on the roads - like the other beggars. It was said that he lived in an old abandoned ramshackle hut on the outskirts of Madras from which he would come in the morning and return at night. Andiappan became such a regular feature of the locality that his story came to become somewhat of a local legend - so much so that even tourists from other lands would visit him and take pictures with him. Andiappan would happily pose for them with his ram-rod stiff appearance while his crooked stick would be used as a rifle cradled in his arms and resting on his shoulder.?

I myself - used to be a regular visitor to that area during those days and would come across Andiappan during my visits. Andiappan would address me as Captain and salute me in his inimitable style after which he would put his hand out as was his wont and I would give him whatever loose change happened to be in my pocket on that given day.

It was on one of such visits that I found Andiappan missing and questioned the local roadside sugarcane juice vendor about his whereabouts. The vendor rather indifferently mentioned that Andiappan had not been seen in the vicinity for more than a week and that he did not know what had happened.

The vendor didn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation - to him beggars came and went, why would Andiappans disappearance be any different? However, I was quite taken aback and began to worry. I then coaxed the vendor to tell me where exactly Andiappan resided so I could check up on him. Though it is unlike me to worry about a singular beggar - I had become quite affectionately attached to this crazy soldier.

Learning that Andiappan lived in a place called Ambattur, I set out to visit him the next day - a Sunday and a welcome holiday for me. On reaching the suburbs of Ambattur, I began questioning the locals about Andiappan and gradually found my way to where he lived. The dilapidated hut in which Andiappan lived was located in a desolate lane which was not too well frequented by locals.

As I neared the hut I was assaulted by a heavy stench emanating from the hut. I feared the worst.

Using a handkerchief to cover my mouth and nose, I cautiously made my way forward and gently pushed the sackcloth screen which covered the empty threshold of the hut. The hut was buzzing with flies and even in the darkness I could make out the form of Andiappan lying in a corner of the small hut. Even in death - Andiappan remained ram-rod stiff and the rigor-mortis which had set in had ensured that he remained that way - a soldier in eternal attention.

I was overcome with nausea and hurried to the nearby police station to inform them of what had happened. They in turn informed the local hospital which sent across a mortuary van to collect his stiff corpse.

Unaware of the existence of any relatives that could be informed - I returned to the hut with a couple of policemen in tow, to ensure that his body was taken care of properly. The men who came with the mortuary van were shocked at the decomposed state of the corpse and appeared hesitant to even carry it to the van. It did not look like a case of murder or suicide but merely a natural death caused by old age. After a few rupee notes exchanged hands they were persuaded to do so and the van moved away from the lane.

Curious to know more about Military Andiappan, I braved the foul smelling hut to find information of any relative or contact that could be informed. However, what I found was something completely different. Housed in a small tin box in the corner of the hut - were all of Andiappan’s meagre earthly possessions. I carried it outside the hut where I could breathe in some fresh air and in the presence of the two police men opened the box.

Inside the tin box I found documents that unravelled the truth behind this would be lowly beggar. I discovered that Andiappan was a retired Captain who had served meritoriously in the British army during the Second World War and had even been decorated with the Victoria Cross for his brave feats of valour. I was also shocked to find documents which revealed that Andiappan was receiving a full pension of a thousand rupees per month which was being deposited in a bank account.

Why he would need to beg then - I wondered… I had to dig deeper to find my answer!?

Under these documents I found an old, black and white photograph - now turning black and yellow - in which a young Andiappan in Military outfit was found standing beside a beautiful lady who appeared to be his bride. There were also other documents to show that Andiappan’s wife had died of cancer. There was no proof of him having ever been imprisoned in Burma or being tortured by the Japs. I therefore deduced that Andiappan had been unable to bear the shock of his wife’s demise and therefore gone off his rocker.?

Finally at the very bottom of the tin box, I found a dirty looking bank passbook which had a lot of entries written by hand, for in those days computers were unheard of; along with the pass book there was a letter which appeared to be his last will and testament. The passbook showed that Andiappan was a very wealthy man and had over a million rupees to his credit! The will revealed that Andiappan had never spent a single paisa of all the money that he had begged for on the roads alongside the Madras High Court. He had saved it all so that it could be utilized for cancer research after his demise.?

I was amazed by the discovery of such a noble soul. A true Indian Stalwart in every sense of the word. Two days later after a post-mortem had been completed to prove that Andiappan had died a natural death, I managed to bury his body in a nearby cemetery dressed in military regalia and in typical military splendour. I was accompanied by two representatives of the “Madras Hope for Cancer Research Foundation” to whom I then handed over the passbook along with his last will and testament so that they could fulfil his wishes.

As his body was lowered to the ground, yours truly - whom he affectionately called Captain - stood at attention and clicked my heels as I put up a salute that would put any military officer to shame. This was the least I could do for a man who had saluted everyone on the roads of Madras before begging for money from them which would now be used for cancer research.