TheDaak review

Book: Pothichoru by Karoor Neelakanda Pillai, DC Books, 2016, 213 Pages.

By Mileena Saju

IPC Section 378: Theft. 
Whoever, intending to take dishonestly any movable property out of the possession of any person without that person’s consent, moves that property in order to such taking, is said to commit theft.

IPC Section 379: Punishment For Theft
Whoever commits theft shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to three years, or with fine, or with both.

****

Karoor Neelakanta Pillai’s Pothichoru (Packed Rice/Tiffin) offers nothing less than life. This Malayalam short story leaves a lasting impression on the reader with its subtle engagement with reality and its nuanced portrayal of human experiences. The catharsis that it offers survives the ravages of “forgettings.” I had not thought of Pothichoru for years and cannot recall when I first read it—perhaps a decade ago. However, memory has its own ways of finding significance. I believe that there might be a reason why I still remember Pothichoru after all these years or why it endured the process of growing up, where new memories replace old ones. I would like to believe that the reason lies in its resonance with one of the most cruel aspects of the human condition: hunger.

Karoor Neelakanda Pillai was a phenomenal writer and a significant voice in Malayalam literature. He was part of the new wave in Malayalam literature of the 1940s modelled after the works of French realists like Maupassant and Flaubert (Pillai, 2019). Through his short stories, Karoor Neelakanda Pillai frequently raised his voice against a system that oppresses the masses and privileges the interests of a few over those of the majority. Pothichoru opens with a complaint from a student to the headmaster that someone has stolen his tiffin. Troubled by the theft, the headmaster personally interrogates each student, but no one admits to the crime. He emphasises the seriousness of stealing, stating:

 “Stealing is a bad habit. If someone did this without realising, come forward, confess, and apologise. I will forgive you, and God will forgive you. If you hide your mistake, you may repeat it, becoming a bad child and eventually a culprit. Haven’t you seen the police catching culprits?”  (152)

Despite his earnest plea, no one confesses.

That evening, the school manager receives a letter from the headmaster detailing the incident. The headmaster reflects on whether one of the students could have committed the theft but concludes that it couldn’t have been them. Later the letter reveals, “I did it. I, the headmaster, am guilty.” The headmaster is prepared to answer any questions and accept any punishment but asks, “What else could I have done?”(155)

The story ends with this question, leaving readers with a profound sense of sorrow. The headmaster, consumed by regret and guilt, points to his helplessness within the system. With a meagre salary of twelve rupees a month and eight mouths to feed, he often goes hungry. On that day, he hadn’t had food since the previous day.  Famished, he took a student’s tiffin. Was it stealing? Was it a crime? Perhaps! 

The story’s unexpected twist delivers a powerful shock in just a few pages, it is highly improbable that anyone would have anticipated the headmaster to have stolen a student’s tiffin. Yet, in the harshest phases of life, survival can result in one taking such desperate actions. From ancient times, stealing has often been termed a crime. In Hammurabi’s Code, the Ten Commandments, Jain and Buddhist principles, and other religious texts and moral codes, stealing is consistently condemned and regarded as a serious moral and legal transgression (IPC 378, 379). But, at the same time in popular culture, there also are those celebrated heroes like Robinhood, who steal from the rich and distribute it to the poor. 

In Pothichoru, a troubling question arises: did the headmaster commit a crime by stealing? And if yes, what kind of justice should the student receive? It is evident that the real culprit here is not the headmaster but the systemic failure that led to such desperate actions. The core issue lies in the breakdown of the system that failed to provide adequate support, making the headmaster’s theft a symptom of broader socio-economic problems rather than an isolated moral failing. The headmaster is the real victim here. Karoor himself was a teacher who experienced poverty firsthand, and his stories reflect the challenges faced by teachers struggling to make ends meet. These stories are set in a time when teaching did not offer significant monetary benefits, well before the communist government introduced its revolutionary yet controversial education bill in 1957, which led to the Liberation struggle in Kerala.

Reading Pothichoru prompts us to confront profound questions similar to those explored by Jeyamohan in his powerful Malayalam novel Noorusimhasanangal: what truly defines justice? Is it merely a matter of adhering to laws and customs? ( Jeyamohan, 2022). Legally and religiously, the headmaster’s act of stealing constitutes a crime, and he should face the corresponding consequences. However, justice is far more complex than a set of codified rules or practices that can be handed down through generations. It encompasses a deeper understanding of fairness, context, and systemic failures, challenging us to consider not just the letter of the law but the broader ethical and social dimensions of justice. 

The story also subtly carries elements of class consciousness. It hints at the distinction that exists between the haves and the have-nots. While there are no extensive paragraphs dedicated to class disparity, the narrative, through its subtext, clearly conveys that resources are unevenly distributed. The school manager is said to have received the letter after his dinner while enjoying his time listening to the radio —a detail that underscores his comfort and detachment from the economic struggles faced by others. A deeper reading of this moment reveals that the true issue at hand is not merely the headmaster’s theft but the broader problem of economic inequality. 

The headmaster, though guilty of theft, is acutely aware of the constructed nature of his helplessness. His voice carries a blend of helplessness and dissent. His awareness of the unfairness of his situation and his courage to voice these concerns, despite knowing the repercussions, reflects a poignant critique of economic disparity. It is important to note that great revolutions begin from such realisations. What I admired most about this story is how Karoor did not portray the poor as mere victims of the system, suffering without complaints, but rather as individuals who are conscious of their conditions, who make choices that defy the system.

Pothichoru is an intense read, but it is at the same time simple too. That is the magic that Karoors’ writings often behold. The language he uses is simple yet striking. The story is free from embellishments or literary devices generally used to enhance the aesthetic appeal. It avoids unnecessary elaboration, focusing instead on what truly matters. But the voice is crystal clear. It is powerful enough to bring in revolutions.I would call Pothichoru a contemporary text. Even though this story is set in a context that is far beyond our contemporary times, its significance remains undiminished. It was just a few years ago, more than half a century after Karoor wrote Pothichoru, a tribal youth named Madhu was lynched and murdered by a crowd in Kerala for stealing some provisions from a shop. This tragic incident highlights how, in the face of hunger, the margins of crime often become blurred. Hunger remains a pressing reality today (and will be tomorrow), and the system frequently turns a blind eye to such harsh truths. But narratives of hunger cannot be silenced. They will persist and eventually disrupt the entire system.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Pillai, S. Devadas. Sociology Through Literature: A Study of Kaaroor’s Stories. London: Routledge India, 2019.

Jeyamohan. Noorusimhasanangal. Trivandrum: Sayahna, 2022.