Seated on the corner of a tattered reed mat – spread out on the southern end of the eastern verandah of my house, I was daydreaming of meaningless things, flicking off now and then the stubborn flies trying to settle on my nose. My wife came holding a net and sat next to me.
“There’s no rice left,” she said.
“There’s no money either.”
“How can we cook?”
“Not unless we get a loan.”
“It’s always, loan, loan, loan … When are you going to repay all this?”
“Repay? I take loans with no intention of repaying them, as far as possible.”
“Wonderful! When you borrow in times of hardship, shouldn’t you pay back when you have the means?”
“My policy is to take loans whenever I can.”
“What on earth for? Is it a good thing to have creditors all over the town?”
“Why not? When I die, won’t the whole town mourn? Isn’t that a matter of prestige? To earn respect even in death – is that a small thing?”
“Enough. Shame in life and prestige at death! Do you want to have a meal only after you are dead?”
“The rice-rites after death must be for that.”
“Talking silly when we discuss something important has now become a habit with you.”
“Speaking one’s mind is the sign of an honest man.”
“Honesty won’t sustain life. After I came to live with you, all my silks and jewellery have vanished. Leave alone my problems. Can’t you think about earning for the sake of our poor children?”
“Thought, in any matter is detrimental. Except to do what comes to mind at all times, planning to do something is rubbish. When you act on instinct, it may bring good or bad results. Whereas, when you plan your actions, the result is always negative.”
“This is another of your quirks.”
“Never. If the bug that bites us and makes us jump out of bed, and remains on the sheets contemplating its next move – instead of disappearing into the folds of the bedspread – what will become of it?”
“I understand none of your neo-philosophy.”
“The example of the bug is an old one. Is the bug a creature that evolved recently?”
“Let the bug evolve or devolve, for all I care. Tell me about what I asked you, ‘without planning’, as you say.”
“About what?”
“About making money.”
“What is so difficult about it? I’ve found a way!”
“Really? Then we have won.”
“Of course. Why won’t we win?”
“What is the way you found?”
“Have you heard about the ‘Remedy of Cuni’?”
“But for the fact that Kooni (the local hunchback) is aggressive, does he also have a method of treatment?”
“The Kooni you talk about is a hunchback. I am talking about the German, Luis Cuni. The remedial treatment is his.”
“Aren’t you old enough already? When can you begin making money, having spent so much time learning the method of treatment to become a vaidyan?”
“We won’t be treating anyone. We will treat ourselves.”
“Getting treated to make money is news to me.”
“Then let me tell you. Cuni’s treatment needs none of the usual concoctions or condiments of a normal meal. No salt, no chillis, no firewood, no fish, no meat – no cooking. No servants, male or female. The result: better than that of eating ash gourd. Benefit? More than that of the celestial bow.”
“But where will the money come from? I don’t understand anything you say. I need no father, no mother, neither wife nor children – if you chant this the whole day, will money bubble up from nowhere?”
“If you don’t have the patience to hear me out, how will you understand?”
“How can I tolerate your drivel?”
“You can call it drivel only after having heard me out.”
“As far as I’ve heard, I see no logic in anything you say. If the logic part is yet to come, I shall listen patiently.”
“Then listen! If expenditure is less and income more, isn’t that profit?”
“Yes. The converse means loss.”
“Isn’t the lifestyle I described profitable to us?”
“If it comes about, maybe, yes.”
“We will make it happen. We have the strength to do it.”
My wife said: “We don’t spend money on non-essential things anyway. How else can we reduce our expenses?”
“That is exactly what I am saying. We will adopt Cuni’s method of treatment – a remedy for all our troubles.”
“What ailment do we have to undergo this treatment for? Is there a medicinal remedy for lack of money? Are you senile already?”
“I’m perfectly fine. So is my opinion.”
“What is the treatment?”
“You should be asking that.”
“We must, day by day, or in a pouna: punnyena manner …”
“Can’t you please use a language that humans understand?”
My wife had not a whiff of Sanskrit. Therefore, like converting a silver coin to a chip of cheaper copper, I continued: “Our usual fare is no longer needed. All we need is water and raw peanuts. Vegetables can be had raw. A little bit of powdered sand can also be consumed. It is healthier than sugar, they say. Together, between you and me, the total expense on food won’t be more than five rupees. We will become robust. Besides, we can live to a hundred and fifty.”
“Don’t mock me! If it were so, wouldn’t the whole world follow the diet?”
“The whole world doesn’t do it because the whole world is not aware of it. As word spreads, how many dignified men switch to it! I hear that our friend, Chathunni Menon, the lawyer, has also taken to it.”
“Isn’t Chathunni Menon’s health robust enough already?”
“This remedy has a unique feature. Chathunni Menon is doing it to shed fat and Balakrishna Menon to step up his health. We will be doing it to ramp up the state of our finances.”
The story translated as “Cuni’s Remedy,” by Malabar K Sukumaran was originally published in Malayalam as “Kooniyude Chikitsa” – publisher not known; estimated period prior to 1930.
Excerpted with permission from ‘Cuni’s Remedy,’ by Malabar K Sukumaran in The Second Marriage Of Kunju Namboodiri and Other Classic Malayalam Stories’, translated from the Malayalam by Venugopal Menon, series edited by Mini Krishnan, HarperCollins India.
