PROXY

 It was the 1950s. Many families in North Malabar were still matrilineal and uncles called the shots.

Parvati was a middle-aged housewife living a miserable life, her husband having deserted her and their two small children. Though they were entitled to a fair share in the property of the joint family, it was administered by Kunhiraman, her maternal uncle.

He would collect all the produce (coconut, arecanut, cashew etc) and sell them. Though Parvati and her children were also entitled to it, he would keep all the money. To be fair, I must add that he would supply the victuals to the household.

Parvati had to do all the domestic chores in return for three meals for herself and her children. When she was not in the kitchen breathing in the smoke from the hearth fuelled by firewood and palm fronds, she had to tend to the cows and the chicken coop as well as nurture the kitchen garden.

On certain days, the uncle would announce that there would be guests in the evening. Parvati knew what it meant: she would have to fry chicken to serve as short eats for the guests who would be served raack, the country hooch.

It was on such days that she would give vent to her ire against the uncle who was the cause of her misery. She would catch a bird from the coup, christen it 'Kunhiraman' and wring its neck.