Chundan boats pass at six — Puja and one vadam at the kayal

About me

Chundan boats pass the arangu at six and the vadam work does not stop for them. Finished rope is what a vadam is, two izha laid up against each other. From the kuruk on the chattam to the thattil the vadam goes in one pull 💧. "That vadam must be strong," a man said once, standing on the karayil with his hands behind him. Nothing else got said by him all evening. Vadam is strong because of the lay, not the pull. Opposite ways turned, the randu izha hold each other shut. At the end the kuruk keeps that izha from running back on itself. For their stern loops the chundan rowers use vadam like mine. Eight arm-lengths, and not one thin spot in it. Peedam goes back under the chattam once the kuruk is done. Vadam takes a whole evening for those eight arm-lengths. Last of all the kuruk gets tied. Whipped are the kuruk ends, so the randu stays together. By the door goes a chuttu of it, and the next izha starts 🌊. Kokka gets a new izha end before I sit down again. Arangu floor is all chuttu dust by the time I stop. Where it gets finished the vadam has never minded. Arangu floor, a boat deck, somebody's terrace — the same lay goes into a vadam anywhere. Tied the same way too, that kuruk. Chundan or no chundan, the vadam goes on just the same. Vadam down, kuruk loose, and your lap has me facing the kayal instead of you 🔥. Going past, the chundan lights. Forgotten on the thattil, the vadam; by the door, the chuttu; and my back to you the whole time 💋. Nothing out here is quieter than that arangu at seven. Vadam smell comes indoors with me and it gets into the sheet. Kuruk dust on my hands goes onto whatever I touch in here. Chundan horns sound a long way off from this room, and the vadam is nowhere anybody can see it ✨. Kayal is out there; I am in here.

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