Bhudhimathi stared at Ponnan – her husband, in dismay. How could her husband keep inviting guests to the house?
She looked around the dilapidated hut that they were living in. Her husband barely earned enough for feeding the two of them. Added on top of it, Ponnan had this generous streak in him and he invited guests to the house almost daily.
Invariably Bhudhimathi found that she had to sacrifice her portion of the food for the sake of the guests.
She had repeatedly told her husband to stop this practice. But talking to Ponnan on this matter was a lost effort. He just did not understand. For him all that was important was to 'appear' to be generous to one and all.
Bhudhimathi sighed. The people in the village were also smart. They properly exploited Ponnan's nature and invited themselves to his house under one pretext or the other.
“The guests would be coming soon.” Ponnan declared.
Bhudhimathi wondered what exactly Ponnan expected her to do about it. There was very little food in the house. She turned away from Ponnan because otherwise she felt she would lose her cool and start yelling. She eyed the mortar made of heavy stone lying in a corner and the 4 ft long pestle leaning against the wall and.… suddenly she smiled.
Bhudhimathi turned to her husband. “Ponnan, why don't you go to the river and come back after a bath? I will make preparations for the lunch soon.”
Ponnan was feeling happy. His wife had always been angry with him for inviting guests. But today she seemed to have understood him. He happily went to the river with the change of clothes.
As her husband left the house, Bhudhimathi immediately set to work. She dragged the mortar and pestle and put it in the main hall. She brought out the garland and tilak and decorated the mortar and pestle as she set to work.
Just as she was admiring her handiwork, she saw the guests coming in. She smiled as she invited them. Making sure they could see the mortar and pestle, she made them sit on the mat and then prostrated before the pestle.
The guests were intrigued. “What are you doing?”
“Worshiping our God. We do it before the sacrifice.” Bhudhimathi told the guests as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What sacrifice?” The guests demanded a little nervously.
Bhudhimathi shook her head a little hesitatingly. “I am not supposed to tell you. But you seem to be good people, so I will tell you.” Bhudhimathi lowered her voice. “You see the reason my husband invites people to our house, is because of the sacrifice for this God. You see, the Mortar God requires a sacrifice. My husband calls people and whacks them soundly with the pestle. This way....”
The guests did not even wait for Bhudhimathi to finish the sentence.
Bhudhimathi watched with silent glee as the guests rushed away making up hasty excuses.
Ponnan came back home from the bath and watched that the house was empty. Frowning he turned to Bhudhimathi. “Where are the guests?”
Bhudhimathi looked a little shame-faced. “They left. They did not even have lunch.”
“Why?” Ponnan demanded angrily.
“They wanted the pestle. How could I give our pestle to them? We need it for grinding. We will not be able to cook without the pestle.” Bhudhimathi said with utter anguish in her voice.
Ponnan was furious. “They are our guests. If they wanted the pestle you should have given it to them.” He looked at the pestle and angrily picked it up. “Fine if you won't give it, I will.”
Ponnan picked up the pestle and ran after the guests.
“Come back!” He said when he found the guests at the far side of the road. “Come back and take the pestle.”
Ponnan never understood why the guests started running away from him with greater speed. When they heard his words, they actually got scared and ran faster.
Ponnan gave up the chase since he could not catch up with the frightened guests.
The guests told all the villagers about Ponnan’s 'sacrifice' and soon word spread.
Bhudhimathi was glad. Ponnan now always came home alone. Even if he invited anybody home, all of them steadily declined the invitation.
-Indian Folk Stories
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