The Mani Order
It was not above exaggeration to state that Palaniappan Manivannan was a man, who was dwarfed by circumstance. At 29, he stood at 4 feet and 2 inches — which was exactly the height of the battered mahogany table at the Neelankarai (Blue Beach) Post Office. His stubby fingered gripped the worn edges of the table as he peered from below trying to catch the eyes of the Post Master, on that September morning in 1999.
Mani, as he was known, was a monthly regular at the Blue Beach Post Office since it opened seven years ago. But then again, Blue Beach was a different place those 7 years ago. A sandy spit of land that was being claimed by the newly named Chennai city that was growing from 625 square kilometres to a megapolis of 7830 square kilometres.
In the early 1990s, it was a sparsely populated suburb on the outskirts of Madras city. It’s only claim to fame was the fact that beyond it the East Coast Road that ran through it, became a lovely stretch of casuarina groves and water lands that led to the ancient city of Mahabalipuram and its grey shore temples.
All that had changed, of course. Today Neelankarai was a bustling community where expats and retired Non Resident Indians rubbed shoulders with the newly rich, who could not wait to visit the places that they had come from, while coming to terms with India’s newly minted liberalization (spelled with the ‘z’, which rhymes and syncs too, with the end syllable of dollars).
Mani himself was grateful for liberalization. It had brought him out of his breezy green home at Tirunelveli to the Theme Park where he worked as a uniformed mascot — somewhere between Madras and Mabahabalipuram. His agility and his height were for the first time, an asset in his life. On week days and weekend, he was the cynosure of all eyes welcoming tourists of every stripe to the Park and its attractions.
Seven years ago, that was a long time ago. And the salaries and the unnamed tips he made from the parks visitors had all added up to support his family back home. An ailing father, a resilient mother and a bubbly sister who had accomplished the impossible in his family’s history: She had completed her masters in computer science.
Seven years, Mani thought to himself, that is a long time. One way to measure that time was to watch his little sister Manimekhalai grow from a tom boyish 13 year old to a quiet, assured 21 year old, who was looking ahead to a career in IT. Not that he had seen a lot of her or his beloved family over those 7 years.
“Ah, Mani!, exclaimed the Post Master, startling Mani out of his reverie.
Mani, his fingers still on the table, looked up to the Post Master and smiled, “The usual amount — Rs. 3000!”
“Sure, your Mani Order is ready!, the Post Master laughed at his own pun
Rs. Three Thousand now — that makes Rs. 47,000/- a full rupees 50,000/- putting a smile on Mani’s face, as he stepped out of the Post office. It was a sunny Wednesday morning and he could leave for his home on the early morning bus on Saturday. He chuckled over the pun
Across the road, a group of children yelled a cruel epithet that referred to his height in practised unison. But Mani did not hear this. His world was wrapped in a dome of happiness. You see, Manimekhalai was getting married over the weekend. And this was the summit of his 7 years of work.
At that moment, Mani — all of 4 feet and 2 inches — stood tall in the morning sun.
— o0o —
