Excerpts -The Ayurvedic Healer

Madhavan Namboodiri stood in his infirmary (an old barn) facing the south direction. He seemed almost in a trance. Unconsciously his right hand reached towards the cupboard, where the Ayurvedic text Ashtamgahrudayam lived. Despite its size, he took it out easily and laid it on the reading stand fixed on a nearby table. He felt that three people were moving towards him by water - splashing of water, ringing of waves…. He sat beside the table and - as if he was cutting a big fruit into two - he divided the book. Then, the sound of a horse cart began to reverberate in his unconsciousness. His eyes fell on the topic of the book “Treatment of body." Suddenly a stink swept towards his nose. Stink of putrefied flesh. His nose shrank as if a withering flower.

Five days before, while he had been examining a patient, he had a strange experience; miles away some people were discussing him. He could not see them; he could only vaguely hear their voices, only the words ‘Madhavan Namboodiri’ were clear. He had become so irritated that he could not attend the patient properly.

“A horse cart,” he murmured.

“Thirumeni.” the house gatekeeper, Kittan, announced.

As he expected. Kittan stood on the front quad., about to say something, but Namboodiri interrupted him, “Let him in.”

On hearing Namboodiri’s words, Kittan was puzzled.

“Didn’t you hear me? Let the stranger come in.”

“Ok Thirumeni.”

Kittan went out.

Within seconds, a gigantic man entered through the gatehouse door.

“Good morning Thirumeni,” the new comer said, his stentorian voice echoing in the surroundings.

“Morning,” Namboodiri returning salutation observed the man from head to foot. “Come inside.” Namboodiri invited.

While he was stepping upwards, Namboodiri asked, “What is your good name please?”

“Anthappanmuthalali.”

“Anthappanmuthalali?”

“Ya.”

Unlike other Christians he had worn pants and cuff shirt. Through his pellucid shirt, Namboodiri could see a long gold chain with a cross. On his breast black hair twined around like green grass on a sandy place.



The same stink which his soul had pre smelt when he was referring the Ayurvedic text Ashtamgahrudayam sitting in his infirmary.

He looked at Krishnayyer. The assistant seemed to be in rivalry with the stink. But he would not fail. The Healer had taught him how to overcome opposite circumstances.

“Ok.” Namboodiri said as if consoling the assistant. Krishnayyer nodded his head.

In the middle of the spacious room lay a big cot, and on it, a figure of a woman covered with cotton sheet. Anthappan went close to the cot.

“Rosilie.”

The closed eyes opened. She had heard him. Namboodiri approached the cot. Lifeless face and eyes. Madhavan Namboodiri looked at the figure with mercy.



His Excellency Dathathreyan Namboodiri, my elder brother, would not have known about his Susheela. Otherwise, he would have desired her rapportship. He had several Sondra ladies as his concubines, and he had married thrice from Brahmin community. He married his latest wife, a teenager two years ago.

Before one year, Madhavan Namboodiri happened to treat her. She was wriggling with a stomachache for some days. Brother called Madhavan and said about it, but he was reluctant to allow Madhavan beside his wife’s bed. Grasping the fact, Madhavan told him to tie a thread on the girl’s right wrist and give the other end to him. He stood outside her room. Dathathreyan went inside and within some moments gave Madhavan a thread’s end with a hiding smile. Madhavan Namboodiri realized that his brother tethered the other end on the cot’s leg. He laughed and said, “I can’t treat a lifeless thing.” Dathathreyan Namboodiri might have understood his foolishness. He came out quick and let Madhavan to get in.

It took three days for curing her disease. He had seen her later while sitting before his meal leaf. She would stand at the inner side of the door. She feared the strict prohibitions of the community. She would have covered a plain cloth around her upper body. No lady was allowed to put on a chest-covering cloak. He could understand that she was very keen when he had been taking breakfast food - Upma and Nhali plantain fruits or at the time of lunch boiled white rice with yoghurt and vegetable curries. Unlike any other ladies, she would put the plantain leaf before him by opening the door in a half position. Very carefully, she would open the door. Otherwise, the wooden hinge of the door would make sound. She would try to make him eat more fruits or white rice. On the previous day she did not come. Instead, the elder sister-in-law was present. She too behaved mercifully and lovingly. Like the younger in-law, she did not exhibit herself. From her voice, he distinguished her. Poor things. He sighed. They aren’t fostering animals or birds. He said himself.

He walked to his infirmary and from there to the dining room of the Naalukettu bungalow to take his breakfast. The younger sister in law stood at the other side of the half-opened door. He saw the curvature of her body through the covering cloth. Listening, she smiled and looked around as if she feared somebody was watching the scene.



In that night, unconsciousness dragged him towards a white vastness, the Endless White Sea of moonlight. Madhavan Namboodiri stood beside a beautiful lady. She had a rose white body with pomegranate fruit like bosom and a cascade on her head, Jasmine bud like teeth and alluring hands and fingers. Her legs were not touching the earth.

He knew her to be a piksie, who had disguised into human. She might have thought of him a man who had set out for his concubine’s house. Piksies would eat human flesh and drink their blood. Had he given her some quick lime, he would have become a slave of her and follow her until reaching the black palmetto tree which was the shelter of the piksie. She would carry him to the top of the tree and make him her prey.

Madhavan Namboodiri had taken a long iron-nail and a metal hammer in his hand, he was to nail down the piksie on a Paala tree. Despite she asked for quick lime, he feigned to be deaf on it. He followed her until he saw a Paala tree, then stretching his right hand he tried catching hold of her cascade. The lady changed into a ferocious figure with broomstick-like hair, burning eyes and long curved teeth. From his hand, the nail and the hammer fell down. The piksie standing in its original shape began to roar. Namboodiri had heard that only wizards could fetter a piksie. He had no training in sorcery. The fairy defeated him. Then the milk white ambience changed into crimson colour. He felt to be breathing his last.

“Ho God,” he woke up. “A dream,” he murmured. Never before had he such a realistic feeling from a dream. He looked at his watch. It was midnight. The shards of the dream spread lay in his heart. The dawn bloomed.



I was always conscious for not becoming an immoral person. Ayurvaeda helped me to be pure from all unlawful sexual commerce. Vamanan uncle always used to say about the prominence of morality, which would help an Ayurvedic Healer in many ways. He said that the old sages of India achieved their abilities through celibacy. It would raise a man upwards, to the position of divinity. He showed numerous examples of young Brahmins who had led amorous life with several concubines and spoiled themselves. Thousands and thousands might have declined likewise. One out of a million would achieve nobility and success in life, the majority would be like a cow that would follow the earlier going one. They would not think about the present and the past. They would not have expectations about the future. They would flow for reaching their waterfall of self-destruction.

Madhavan could never forget any of Vamanan uncle’s words. If he had not had reached the appropriate place in time, he would have followed the majority’s destiny.

Vamanan uncle once said: “you are very handsome; so female sex will try to conquer you. Always beware of my words.”



He lay beside her, but he could not tolerate the softness of the feather-filled bed. He looked at Rosilie who had been fallen into deep sleep. Then slowly he got up. Walking to the next room, he brought the grass mat, a candle, a matchbox and a cuscus made hand-fan. He unrolled the mat in a corner and switched off the fluorescent lamp. He lay on the mat sweeping the fragrance giving hand-fan slowly, but he could not sleep.

Opening the out leading door, he got out. He saw a milky world. He walked through the moonlight. A tall palmetto tree with a lot of ripens and unripens black nuts in its leafy head stood looking at him - the shelter of a piksie. He looked at his watch - two o’clock. Quickly he got back into his room. Locking the door, he lay on his mat. As the darkness seemed to be hurting him, he switched on the fluorescent lamp. He fell into the ocean of whiteness. Within some moments, the light went out. He had heard of electricity failures. For his goodness, he had taken candles. He took out one and waited some time for knowing whether the fluorescent lamp would enlighten or not. It was in vain so he lit the candle using a matchbox. The feeble rays struggled for reaching all corners of the room. He lay on the mat without blowing out the candle. Slowly his mind began stroaming through unknown worlds. A dark loneliness surrounded his soul. Then his ears woke up to a strange sound, which was slowly changing into familiarity.

Shil... Shil... Shil... Shilu... Shil... Shilu... Shil...

“What is it? He wondered. Is it the sound of Poothali Chain, or is it of Kaasaali Chain? He had seen both the chains on the breast of Nangeli, Dathathreyan Namboodiri’s third wife. He longed his hand towards the candle, which was shedding more light than before. The sound was continuing. He got up with the candle and walked slowly to the next room where the ladder was fixed. He climbed up through the ladder and opened the door of the ceiling. Raising the candle, he looked around. The sound was stopped. He climbed down. Was it heard from outwards? He was perplexed. He opened the door of the room and went out to a world with milk flowing ambience. In the soft wind flowing earth, shadows fluttered as if disturbed.

He returned to his room, closed the door. Blowing out the candle, he lay beside Rosilie. He felt she had been in deep sleep, but without thinking anything; he caught hold of her tightly. His nose touched her cheek.

Shil... Shil... Shil... Shilu... Shil... Shilu... Shil... Shilu... Shil...

He felt something swirling inside. He unconsciously got slowly away from her.