Excerpt – Hanging by a Thread By Tho Mu Ragunathan
Excerpt – Hanging by a Thread By Tho Mu Ragunathan
In keeping with his name of big boss, Thathulinga Mudaliar had a massive physique and a devil-may-care look about him. Diamond rings flashed on his fingers, The diamond kadukkans on his ears emanated their own radiance in the evening light. Clad in a Glasgow Mill veshti, a loose pristine white jibba and an angavastram with a four-finger-wide strip of zari, folded like a fan, he presented a picture of a truly wealthy and superior person. From Minor Mudaliar’s dress wafted the perfume of ‘Kanpur Night Queen’. With their arrival, silence descended on the scene.
Both Thathulinga Mudaliar and Minor Mudaliar strode into the middle of the gathering and took their places in the manner of presiding over the meeting. The ensuing silence was broken by Minor Mudaliar.
‘Have all the merchants come…or are we expecting some others?’
‘They are all mostly here; we can start the meeting,’ came a reply.
With no particular expression on his face, Thathulinga Mudaliar turned to Kailasa Mudaliar.
‘What, Kailasa Mudaliar-vaal, the weavers are asking for higher wages…what do you say?’
‘Whether more or less, we should meet the demands. Can we say no?’
Minor Mudaliar, with a scornful look at Kailasa Mudaliar, grimaced and retorted,
‘These weavers are like this. It has become a habit with them. Yarn prices are increasing by the day. If wages, too, were to be increased, will it not affect the sale of stock?’
‘True, but merely because yarn prices are going up, is it possible to reduce wages to make up for it? The weavers today are not getting half the wages they were being paid four or five years ago. Given today’s cost of living, should they not be able to make ends meet?’ responded Kailasa.
One merchant murmured, ‘Whatever the big boss decides will be all right.’
Before the matter could fall into Thathulinga Mudaliar’s lap, a small merchant intervened, ‘What does it matter to him? Speak about us and the weavers’ lives. We should join with the weavers…otherwise they will unite and start something ruinous…and that will finish our business!’
Hearing this, Thathulinga Mudaliar cleared his throat and began, ‘What are you saying? You talk as though our business is flourishing at present! Textile exports have come to a standstill. Business has decreased. Stocks are languishing in warehouses like packed tamarind seed. Yarn prices are rising…what is the justification in asking for higher wages?
Thathulinga Mudaliar’s authoritative tone served to open Minor Mudaliar’s mouth too. It is because some people have accustomed these weavers to getting more that they are now dancing on our heads!’ He looked pointedly at Kailasa Mudaliar.
‘Aware of conditions as we are, we should not hit people in their stomach,’ retorted Kailasa Mudaliar.
‘Who is hitting whose stomach? Are we to pay for work, or just give money as some award?’ echoed Minor Mudaliar’s voice, resonating against the pillars of the mandapam.
After some to and fro arguments, both sides came to an agreement. The weavers were till then being paid eight annas per length of cloth woven. Their demand was to raise it to a minimum of 12 annas. Finally, as per the opinion of a majority of merchants, it was fixed at 10 annas. Even to arrive at this increase, Kailasa Mudaliar and the small merchants had to argue for a long time. Thereafter, the weavers were asked to come in so that the decision could be announced.
The decision was conveyed; the weavers, too, acquiesced.
