Fanning life from palm leaves

Jayanthi Liyanage

At Maruthamunai in Kalmunai, the sun is generous. The occasional breeze which floats from the sea-line has a certain dryness which, if you do not look out, can make your skin not covered by clothing, look rather like a parched paddy field. As we walk, our soles dip deeply into the soft sand. Rounded fronds of Talipot palms gaze at us from their high sentinel posts of tall stumps.

Fresh life has been built over the shambles left behind by the fury of the tsunami, yet it might take many more years to rid of the ravaged relics that remained

underneath. ‘Hot’ is the order of the day and we try to shield our eyes with our palms and fan ourselves with the edges of our garments. We are in the handloom weaving territory and doing our rounds to get an absorbing story...

Then we see him. He is seated under the shade of a tree, oblivious to the scorching heat around, unaware or indifferent to the shifting vagaries of life which raged or broke into a soft canter alternately. He is dressed in a white shirt and a sarong, the whiteness of which assuages the harshness of the environment around him.

He does not look up as we approach. He is absorbed in the sums he is doing on a piece of paper. He is the picture of serenity. We desire to converse with him but not having learnt Tamil, are up against a language barrier and have to depend on Ahmed Nazeem, a master waver who accompanies us, to translate for us. “Doing his accounts,” Nazeem tells us in an aside.

He is a fan seller. He has found an ideal vocation to calm the heat of his compatriots, conveying some of his unruffled-ness to those in need of his fans, in the process of selling fans. Lilac coloured fans he had made from Talipot palm leaves are strewn beside him in a pattern. They look neat and delicate. They also look akin to the ‘watapaths’ Buddhist monks hold in their hands to conceal their faces. A palm tree stands in the backdrop, wordlessly bearing testimony to the authenticity of his work.

His name is Abdul Latif. “Latif has been making fans for the past thirty years,” Nazeem interprets for us. “He makes them and does his selling rounds in Maruthamunai.” A fan costs Rs.30. For Latif’s efforts, he is able to procure a profit of about Rs.15 per fan. The brilliance of his fans are contrasted by some rather crude looking spoons he had turned out from coconut shells and lie besides the fans. A spoon costs Rs. 20. We buy both a fan and a spoon, as a gesture to communicate our friendliness to him. Women and children from a nearby house look on amused, curious but shyness prevents them from talking to us. Latif is 60 years old.

Latif nods in affirmation of what Nazeem tells us. At our request, he looks up, smiles for the camera and turns back to his accounts, unperturbed by the uncouth strangers who had for a short while, upturned the peace of his secluded world. He is able to weather winds blowing from any direction. He symbolises the spirit of perseverance of the people of Maruthamunai. In his own humble way, he epitomises the spirit of life.