11

is a noted Malayalam short story writer and novelist. Born

on September 9, 1948 in Cochin, N.S. Madhavan pursued his higher education in Maha-
raja’s College, Ernakulam, Kerala, and Department of Economics, University of Kerala.
He joined Indian Administrative Service in 1974 and started his administrative career in
Bihar Cadre. He published one novel (Litanies of Dutch Battery) and a few collections of
stories. Madhavan’s most popular stories include,“Higuita”,
“Thiruthu”(Correction), “Chulaimedile Shavangal” (Corpses
of Choolaimedu), “Vanmarangal Veezhumpol” (When the Big
Trees Fall), “Nilavili” (The Cry), “Muyal Vetta” (Hare Hunt),
“Mumbai”, and “Nalam Lokam” (The Fourth World). Madha-
van’s stories are known for their portrayals of contemporary
issues and concerns in India. He won numerous literary awards
for his stories including the Kerala Sahitya Academy Award.
Translations of his popular stories have appeared in Indian periodicals like Indian Litera-
ture and Little Magazine.
“When a Big Tree Falls” presents a first-person narration by Sr. Agatha, a nun and
caretaker of a convent for the aged nuns in Meerut. The story is set in the backdrop of
the assassination of Indira Gandhi, and revolves around the developments in the convent
in the wake of the anti-sikh riots in several places including Delhi and Meerut following
the assassination of Indira Gandhi on 31 October 1984. A Sikh mother and her son take
refuge in the convent running away from the rioters, and the incidents that follow which
exemplifies interreligious tolerance and care forms the core of the story.

1. How was Indira Gandhi assassinated?

2. What were the immediate effects of the assassination of Indira Gandhi?
3. Have you ever read about any rare acts of religious tolerance and harmony?
4. Do you remember reading any stories dealing with inter-religious and inter-cultural
amity?

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

This story presents an imaginative or fictional representation of an incident that followed

the assassination of Indira Gandhi, former Prime Minister of India. Although it is a story
historical figures like Indira Gandhi real places like Golden Temple find a mention in the
story. While reading the text, keep track of the way the story develops and remember the
characters and their roles in the story. Finally, try to figure out the overall theme or mes-
sage of the story.

G
oing through the convent registers, I have been struck by one thing. Most of
the deaths took place in the months of November and December. Perhaps the
aged hearts of old nuns living in the convent tire and then fail in their attempt
to keep them warm.
But this October there has only been one death, that of Sr. Philomina. Not finding Sr.
Philomina at the breakfast table, I enquired: “What happened to dear Philomina?”
Sr. Catherine rolled her wheel chair away from the dining table and sat before the gothic
window with its gabled top. The rosary rolled faster between Sr. Marguerita’s fingers. Sr.
Martha’s face fell as she intently gulped the milk in the glass drop by drop. I didn’t have to
go looking for dear Philomina in the dormitory lined with two rows of bed. I rang up the
Bishop’s House asking for Fr. Thomas to come over.
I very clearly remember the day, October 31, 1984. That morning I went to the Meerut
railway station. A nun from Orissa was coming over to join us at the convent. The train
had already come before I reached the station. On seeing me, a young nun along with an
aged one with growing wrinkles all over her face approached me.
“Sister, are you a Malayali?”
“Yes.”
“From where?” “Varapuzha, near Ernakulam.
And you, Mother?”
“Up north still, Thiruvambadi. My father was a migrant.”
The young nun too was from Orissa. She had to return the next day. Sr. Angelica—that
was the name of the older nun. She has diabetes and—no sugar for her, cautioned the
younger nun. “I have been in Orissa all along. In Cuttack, Rourkela, Kalahandi and
Bhubaneswar in the end. I was teaching Maths and Science. Now at last, here in Meerut.
Doesn’t everything end up in Meerut?” She said looking back. Crosses grew in the ceme-
tery on the road to the convent.
It was the bishop who passed away last year who built the home for the aged nuns of the
congregation. Before the convent came into being, the nuns spent their old age wherever
they used to live before. There were complaints in the Bishop’s Council meetings that the
nuns did not get proper care and attention.
When I returned after my nursing course in Germany the then Bishop of Meerut sum-

2
 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

moned me:
“You are the ward of the congregation.” The Bishop who hailed from Changanassery
knew about my upbringing in the orphanage; and that I got vocation at an early age and
that the congregation had sent me over to Germany for studies.
“I conceived this convent with you in mind. A final shelter for the nuns of the congrega-
tion, too old to perform divine duties. You should run it.”
I could not sleep that night. In such situations, Gabriel, the Angel of angels has been my
patron. I prayed for long. In the end, I heard the flutter of wings behind me. The angel
is here. “O one close to God. Christ built his Holy Church on Peter the Rock. Will this
convent last long on me, the boulder of quartz?”
“Sr. Agatha” my mind itself replied in the voice of Archangel Gabriel. “Here is the op-
portunity that the Almighty has given you to be the salt of the earth.”
“Salt, Salt ... the Salt without its savour.” I wept uncontrollably into the bed.
Of the first batch of inmates at the convent only Sr. Karuna is alive today. This Spanish
nun used to run a training centre for orphaned girls in Bihar. She came to live in the con-
vent with a massive piano.
It was well past 11.30 when we finished preparing the bed and other things for the new
nun from Orissa. It was then that Fr. Thomas phoned up from the Bishop’s House “Did
you know that Indira Gandhi has been shot at?”
“My Lord!” I was aghast.
“Everyone says, she’s dead. But the radio says she’s only wounded.”
“Jesus” Sr. Angelica said when she heard the news. “She was there in Orissa on the day
we left.”
As I ladled the light green soup into Sr. Davie’s mouth I told her : “Indira Gandhi has
been shot at.”
Sr. Davie’s senses had flown off two years ago. She just opened her mouth for another
helping and did not say anything.
The moment she heard the news Sr. Karuna sat before her piano. The open lid of the
piano gave her shelter like a tree. She just waded through her hymn books but did not
play the piano. Fr. Thomas rang up from the Bishop’s House at two. “Radio Australia has
reported that she’s no more. Many papers have brought out one page editions.”
“How about the A.I.R.?”
“The same refrain that she's wounded.”
“And TV?”
“The same.”
As I emerged from the telephone room I ran into Sr. Catherine who sat in her wheel-
chair reading from her prayer-book. I told her in Malayalam: “Did you know? They have
shot Indira Gandhi dead. Fr. Thomas rang up to say.”
Sr. Catherine had practically stopped talking after the death of Sr. Philomina. Both came

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

down from Delhi to the convent together. Sr. Catherine looked up to say something. She
fell silent in her effort to form words. She wheeled her way into the convent. The wheels
of her wheel-chair needed oiling, I made a mental note.
In the office-room I caught Sr. Marguerita hanging around in front of the almirah.
“Sister,” I called out admonishingly, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s a lie. Aren’t you looking for the pills? To throw them away?”
It was the gardener who discovered that Sr. Marguerita was throwing away her pills for
blood-pressure. He was taken aback by the sight of red and blue pills stuck between the
petals of chrysanthemums and dahlias. When he brought them to me I could at once rec-
ognize them as Sr. Margueritas’. Since then I have made her take the pills in my presence.
Sr. Martha banged into the room suddenly. Seeing her energy I have always had the feel-
ing that she was too young for Meerut.
“Is what I heard right?”
“Yes.”
“O God! Indira Gandhi has spoken at the ground of the school in Indore where I was
working. She threw the bouquets and garlands to the children. She always did that. Run-
ning bare feet, tribal children caught them all with glee like wild beasts. Indira’s excite-
ment grew. She started plucking flowers from the bouquets and throwing. Will the kids
fall behind? They would not let a single flower fall to the ground.”
At dusk the news that Indira Gandhi had died came over television for the first time.
The attendance at the dining room for supper was thin that day. Sr. Karuna played on her
piano for a long time. The 96 year old Sr. Mary who usually ate her supper in bed ambled
to the dining hall leaning onto her walking stick. “Just wanted to be with all of you. It has
been a long time,” she said smiling.
Sr. Davies who was but dead sat staring at the TV set without a murmur. Sr. Catherine
wheeled away from the set.
Sr. Martha was in tears : “I can never forget the volley ball match with bouquets.”
The nuns went to sleep in the red glow from the room heaters. I went to my room on
the first floor, said a prayer and switched the light off. I was shivering under the woollen
blanket. Not so much from the November chill. This was my share of national fever.
After some time there was a knock at the door. It was Sr. Cecily who accompanied Sr.
Angelica.
“Sr. Agatha” she said “I am scared.”
I looked at the night clad in mist, behind her. It lay like the sea just created at the time of
genesis. God was yet to give it a mouth.
“Sister, you may sleep here.” I said.
The next morning Fr. Thomas once again called from the Bishop’s House. “Violence has
broken out. Sardarjis are lynched en masse. Secure the doors and windows tight. Ask the

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

Sister from Orissa not to return now.”

Doors and windows, with their gabled tops, were closed. Sr. Angelica, Sr. Cecily and Sr.
Catherine sat around a room heater warming up their hands. Ninety-six-year-old Sr. Mary
lay hugging a hot-water bag. They all cast glances at the hospital room. Now and then
one could hear Sr. Wilfred wheezing from there. When the wheezing became harder I
went up there and gave her oxygen. Out side, one could hear gunshots. Looking out from
my first floor room, I saw trees of frozen smoke. By evening, the solitary trees of smoke
had turned into a big forest.
The watchman locked the iron gate with a chain and kept himself inside. He passed on
information from time to time.
The shops run by the Sardarjis in Clock Tower Chowk have been destroyed. Mobs set fire
to taxis of Sardarjis. Roads were littered with their dead bodies. Throughout the night,
gunshots were heard. The red glow of the burning fires was seen on the horizon like the
light that broods over big cities.
On November 2, gunshots only increased. The inmates confined themselves within the
dormitory. Even Sr. Davies who was out of her mind appeared scared.
We watched Indira Gandhi’s funeral procession on TV. Sr. Cecily from Orissa went on
describing the scenes on the screen to Sr. Mary who was ninety-six and nearly blind.
“The crowd is thin,” Sr. Angelica said: “Everyone must be keeping indoors for fear of
violence. You should have seen Nehru’s funeral. I was in Delhi then.”
Sr. Cecily’s commentary on the TV programme continued. Sr. Mary was joined by Sr.
Martha and Sr. Marguerita who sat around her.
Now the funeral procession of Indira Gandhi is moving along the Vijay Chowk in New
Delhi. It is repeated in two dimensions on the television screen. The same images trans-
form themselves into Sr. Sicily’s words. I couldn’t stand this tragedy enacted at three
levels for long. The muscles of my entrails stretched and I vomitted into the wash-basin.
For the first time in my life, history convulsed me physically.
Curphew was imposed on the next day, November 4. The inmates stayed back in their
beds. Sr. Cecily from Orissa and I served them food in their beds.
That night Sr. Catherine wheeled up to me.
“I want to go out on to the verandah,” she said.
“No. Impossible.”
“Aren’t the lights off ? I want to go out. I feel nauseated.”
“O.K. I shall come too.”
The hinges screeched; still, the inmates did not raise their heads to look up. The sharp
ends of the wind that blew through the open door pierced chilly holes on the warmth
inside the room.
“Let me go for a walk,” said Sr. Catherine.
Sr. Catherine wheeled away to the other face of the verandah; and then back. I stood with

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my face pressed against the dark.

I was startled when I heard Sr. Catherine shrieking at the other end of the verandah. “O
God, murderers.” The wheel-chair rushed towards me with the roar of train wheels. Sr.
Catherine was panting “Murderers ... in the dark.”
I ran into the kitchen. All on a sudden Sr. Karuna rushed out and pushed Sr. Catherine’s
wheel chair inside. I chose the sharpest knife from the kitchen and hid it inside my dress.
The nuns were silent. Sr. Wilfred desperately tried to muffle the sound of her wheezing
by pulling in the muscles of her neck. Then I heard someone knocking at the door. Sr.
Karuna and Sr. Martha stood closely behind me. The knocks grew louder.
“Open, please open,” a woman was heard pleading in Hindi. It was accompanied by a
child’s weeping.
We heard roaring motorcycles screaming in and halting outside. Their headlights swept
across the convent walls like circus search lights.
“Open. They have come to catch me.” The woman said weeping.
I opened the door and saw a woman in salwar-kameez, her head covered with a dupatta
and a sikh-boy whose hair was tied up with a kerchief.

“They killed my husband. They killed my elder son, Bablu. They swear they would kill me
and this boy too.” She said veering past the precipices of insanity.
Sr. Karuna pulled them in and closed the door when the motor cycle gang started pound-
ing on the convent door. No one uttered a word until the gang left after telling the watch-
man something.
“Who are you?” Sr. Martha broke the silence in Hindi.
“My name is Amarjit. Many in our colony were killed. The Sikhs in our colony did not
celebrate Diwali this year in protest against the action in Harminder Sahib.* That’s pro-
voked their anger.”
“Didn’t the police come to your help?”
“The station is just in front of the colony. Our people had gone to meet the offi-
cer-in-charge. He said he was helpless for want of force. He too hated us.”
“Then,” Sr. Martha asked again.
“We left our homes and moved into the Gurdwara.”
Nihang Sikhs with blue dress, blue turbans and iron insignias in the turbans strode guard
outside the Gurdwara. Singers, harmoniums around their necks, sang hymns. Everyone
sported kirpans on their waistband. And some carried guns.
The Adi Grantha Sahib lay on a red cloth spread over a stool. Granthis fanned it with a
white royal fan. The pious threw in coins before it. Wheat flour for the community kitch-
en was piling up in the corner of the Gurdwara.
An Akali from Gurdaspur alone spoke. Today Khalsa Panth needs blood; of Guru’s own
sikhs. Amrit-wearing sikhs who die not when they lay down their lives for Guru; Guru

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needs sacrifice. Genes of racial memory surged in the blood of the listeners. Everyone
shouted: Sat Shri Akal.
“When the police started patrolling, some of us returned home. The rest stayed back in
the Gurdwara camp.”
The attack was in the night. They hunted down Amarjit’s husband and killed him. Then
her elder son too. Someone caught hold of Amarjit’s hand. He had to let go when Amar-
jit bit into his muscle fibres.
“I ran away dragging this boy along,” Amarjit said. “As I ran I recognised the face of the
person who had held my hand. I knew who he was, Ramji. My husband had a shop in the
square. Ramji who kept the next shop had an eye on it for long. If we too died he could
take it over.”
They spent the entire day in the Gurdwara. But Ramji and his friends were freely roam-
ing round the Gurdwara on motor cycles and jeeps. They must have bought the police
up. When it was dark Amarjit and her son ran away from the Gurdwara. At night they
climbed the convent wall stepping on its cracks.
Sr. Cecily brought in a cup of milk from the kitchen and gave it to the boy. He drank it
down in a gulp.
“What’s this boy’s name?”
“Joginder Singh. We call him Jaggi at home.”
“More milk?” Asked Sr. Catherine. Jaggi nodded shamelessly. Sr. Martha fetched milk,
bread and a couple of eggs from the kitchen.
“We are not safe here. We must leave this place.” Amarjit said. “To Delhi. My relatives are
there in the camp in Fateh Nagar Gurdwara. Shall we stay here till we leave for Delhi?”
Jesus, you provide opportunities for us to show compassion. I took Amarjit’s hand and
headed towards the vacant bed of Philomina, who had passed away in October.
“Lie down here”, I said. A bed was laid for Jaggi on the floor. Jaggi lay down on the bed
after finishing off a long loaf of bread all by himself. He slid into a sleep probably devoid
of dreams. The nuns too went to bed after prayers.
The next day, on November 5, nuns woke up earlier than usual. I felt they were waiting
for Jaggi to wake up.
Sr. Karuna from Spain, who was different from the others, caught Jaggi’s attention first.
Her blue eyes aroused his curiosity. Holding his hand, Sr. Karuna led him to the piano.
He watched the black and white keys of the piano. Sr. Karuna pressed one key. “Do,” she
said.
Jaggi too pressed the same key hesitantly : “Do”. For the first time the inmates heard
Jaggi’s voice.
“Re, Mi, Fa” Sr. Karuna said melodiously pressing the keys.
Sr. Angelica approached Jaggi smiling. She gently pressed the knot of hair in the white
kerchief on his head. “Looks like a spider’s egg, doesn’t it?” She said looking at me.

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Jaggi’s face turned red. He pushed aside Sr. Angelica’s hand Still unable to contain his
anger he violently pushed Sr. Angelica away. From then on Jaggi’s hair became forbidden
to us. We realised that the historical consciousness of an entire community lay entwined
in it.
That day Sr. Marguerita asked for her pills and took them. Sr. Catherine hung around
Amarjit and Jaggi, in her wheel-chair. Sr. Karuna was busy baking a cake for Jaggi.
I got in touch with the Bishop’s House for permission to let Amarjit and Jaggi stay in the
convent. Fr. Thomas promised to call back after consulting the bishop. Before we could
ponder over whether the bishop would permit or not the phone started ringing.
“The bishop’s order is to follow the path shown by the Almighty,” said Fr. Thomas.
Owing to the curfew, the doors and windows of the convent were kept open without
fear. The ninetysix-year-old Sr. Mary ventured out on to the yard after a long time. One
end of her walking stick was held by Jaggi. Under the white of Sr. Mary’s cataract, sun-
light lay as unclear as the milky way.
“What’s the name of this flower?” Jaggi asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Like the moon. A large circle.”
“Colour?”
“Yellow.”
“Are there many petals?” Sr. Mary asked.
“You bet. More than a lotus has. Small narrow petals.”
“Then dahlia is its name.”
Sr. Mary and Jaggi moved on to the next flower. From the verandah the nuns watched
them curiously. Sr. Mary said panting, as the two returned to the convent. “Jaggi turned
Adam. He christened everything—animate and inanimate.”
Curfew was relaxed the next day. Trains started running. We sent Sr. Cecily who was
going back to Orissa along with Amarjit and Jaggi to the station accompanied by the
Goorkha watchman. As they descended the steps, Sr. Wilfred emerged from the hospital
room. “Jaggi Jaggi,” She called out. Sr. Wilfred thrust a medallion of Virgin Mary in his
hand. Accepting it he looked at everyone, and turning back he ran away.
As life returned to normal in the convent, a military van braked outside. The Goorkha
watchman, Amarjit, Sr. Cecily and Jaggi got off from it. Jaggi stood still with closed eyes.
Sr. Cecily led him holding his hand. Once inside the convent he disappeared somewhere.
“What happened?” I asked. It was the Goorkha who narrated the story. “We had gone
only a short distance, when a jeep pulled up beside us. One person jumped out of it to
get hold of this madam. Jaggi started crying ‘Mother, here they are’. Mother and son
started running in panic.”
“They were waiting for us for hours on end.” Amarjit said between her sobs.
The jeep dashed after them revving up the engine to knock them down. Though the

8
 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

watchman himself was trembling with fear, his Mongoloid face with its narrow eyes, joint
eye-brows and pointed jaws were ill equipped to express his emotions.
“Luckily, we escaped in a military vehicle which appeared there that moment,” said the
Goorkha.
“Forget about it,” Sr. Karuna said. Sr. Martha discovered Jaggi crouching silently under
the staircase in the dark.
“You may stay here as long as you like,” I said. “You will be safe here.”
The words I uttered—the sinner that I am—without knowing the Lord’s will, proved
ominous. I got a phone call: “You agents of the C.I.A. Unless you release that Sardarni
and the boy we will bomb your convent. Before I attempted a feeble ‘hello, hello’ from
my dry throat he put down the telephone.
Though police protection was provided for the convent during the night, stones were
thrown at us from the back. A stone hit the stained glass window with the painted figure
of Jesus, holding a lamb, placed at the staircase landing, shattering the Shepherd’s chest.
The next day, on November 7, Fr. Thomas called from the Bishop’s House. “They have
broken the statue of Our Lady of Lourdes in front of St. Mary’s School. They are de-
manding the expulsion of the mother and the son over the phone again and again.”
“Will their anger turn against us?” I asked. Fr. Thomas was silent.
“What do I do?”
“The bishop says the Lord will continue to show you the way.”
I fell upon my knees in the prayer-hall. Archangel Gabriel, give me a message. Don’t you
have any message from God for me? I don’t feel anything but the shadows of the feelings
that file past the borders of my mind.
My mind remained deserted. I started to cry. After some time, I felt an ethereal peace. By
then the inmates of the convent had reached the prayer hall with Amarjit.
I asked George, the ambulance driver, to arrange a coffin. This is the path the Lord
showed this sinner: I told the inmates that Amarjit will dress up as a nun. Jaggi will lie
down in the coffin inside the ambulance. Some of us will sit around it praying. The
ambulance will be brought in through the eastern gate and we will drive out through the
western gate to the church near the railway station. It won’t be difficult to reach the sta-
tion from there.
Sr. Cecily fetched Jaggi. Sr. Angelica held his hands together tight. Sr. Martha sat on the
floor and held his feet together. Still, Jaggi was kicking like an animal. Sr. Mary trapped
his knees with the rounded end of her walking stick. Sr. Marguerita closed his eyes. When
he started screaming, Sr. Karuna closed his mouth.
Amarjit undid the white kerchief on his head. I untied the knotted hair on top of his
head. It fell to his shoulders. I sprinkled some water on his hair. And started cutting it
using a huge pair of scissors. As locks fell to the floor of the convent, Jaggi became more
and more naked.

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

“Wahe Guru” Amarjit said and sobbed.

Jaggi’s helplessness grew. He even stopped crying. Sr. Karuna withdrew her hand from
his mouth.
“Jo Bole So Nihal,” Amarjit recited.
“Sat Shri Akal”, Jaggi repeated mechanically. By this time his hair had been down to a
close crop.
It was when we finished the hair cut that we noticed that the skin kept under the turban,
having been kept from sunlight for long years, had a different colour. This would certain-
ly give him away. I mixed some soot in mustard oil and smeared it over his ear and fore-
head to give his face uniform complexion.
The ambulance had already come. Jaggi lay down inside the coffin in the ambulance. The
lid was closed in such a way as to let in air. Amarjit, in a nun’s habit, Sr. Cecily on her way
to Orissa, Sr. Angelica, Sr. Karuna, Sr. Martha and I sat praying, over the coffin, covering
it.
The journey was peaceful in the beginning. After some time, motorcyclists came with
their engines revved up. They rode up alongside George and asked him to stop. George
accelerated. Suddenly the metallic sounds of shifting gears of motorbikes was heard. Sr.
Karuna stretched her long arm, touched George on the shoulder and asked him to stop.
She opened the back-door of the ambulance and stood on its steps. The cold air caught
her hair and it flew up, loosened. The motorcyclists were startled by her blue eyes and
their black needle like crystal points, that did not blend with the geography of Meerut.
Holding her hand with the censer aloft, Sr. Karuna asked in Hindi: “You devils, won’t you
even leave the dead alone?”
Sr. Angelica and I raised the volume of our prayers in Malayalam. Pausing a while, the
motorcyclists drove back. The rest of the journey to the railway station was event-free.
When the ambulance stopped, Amarjit and I opened the lid of the coffin.
“Get up, Jaggi,” Amarjit said. He got up like the butterfly waking out of the pupa. He ran
his fingers over his head in grief at the loss of the continuity of his lineage. The knowl-
edge that the hair I had shorn off had sprouted while he was still in the womb began
choking me.
Amarjit, Sr. Cecily and Jaggi got into the ladies’ compartment of the train. Jaggi stood
with his face pressed against the window bars of the train. His hand once again rose to
his head unwittingly.
Riots had died down by the next day. Day-time curfew had been lifted. Sr. Mary stayed
in her bed. Sr. Catherine wheeled off from everyone. Sr. Marguerita refused to take her
pills. Sr. Angelica made an attempt to open her past again. Sr. Davies lay muttering to
herself. Sr. Karuna sat before her piano doing nothing. Sr. Martha prayed the whole day.
Sr. Wilfred returned to her hospital room. As for me, with the anticipated experience of
the deaths to take place in November congealed in the atmosphere like static electricity, I

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

locked myself up inside the prayer hall. -Translated by K.M. Krishnan

Express your basic understanding of the story orally.

1. Who narrates the story?
2. Where is this story set?
3. When does this story take place?
4. What does this story tell about the necessity of communal harmony?
5. What are the two religions referred to in the story?

WORD PRONUNCIATION MEANING

Sr. or Sister [ sis-ter ] here a Christian Nun
Fr. Father [ fah-ther ] a Christian priest
A.I.R. All India Radio
Sardarjis [ ser-dahr ] Sikh men
Adi Grantha Sahib Guru Ganth Sahib, the sacred scripture
of the Sikhs
Gurdwara [ gur-dwahr-uh ] Sikh place of worship
Harminder Sahib Golden Temple in Amritsar
Khalsa Panth [ kahl-suh ] worldwide community of Sikhs
Sat Shri Akal Remember God, Remember Truth. A
call of victory used as a greeting by
Sikhs.
Goorkha a person from Nepal belonging to a
class or group noted for their military
prowess
Kirpan [ kir-pahn ] a short sword or knife with a curved
blade worn by a Sikh
Mongoloid [ mong-guh-loid, mon- ] with characteristics of Mongolian race
Jo Bole So Nihal Sikh clarion call declaring allegiance to
their Guru meaning 'Whoever utters,
shall be fulfilled’
Akali a member of a Sikh political group
Granthis priests who act as custodian of the Guru
Granth Sahib
hymn books [ him ] Book of religious songs
quartz [ kwawrts ] a crystalline mineral, silicon dioxide
(SiO2)
Nihang Sikhs [ sik, seek ] armed Sikh warriors

CHARACTER ROLE ANS

1. Sr. Agatha a) the most energetic among the inmates

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

2. Sr. Philomina b) from Bishop’s house

3. Sr. Catherine c) a nun who dies in October the same year.
4. Sr. Marguerita'sd) Came from Delhi along with Sr. Philomina
5. Sr. Martha e) the narrator, and caretaker of the Convent
6. Fr. Thomas f) One who threw away her pills.
7. Sr. Angelica g) a 96-year-old nun.
8. Sr. Karuna h) her senses had flown off two years ago
9. Sr. Davie i) a Spanish nun, an inmate in the convent since its in-
ception
10. Sr. Mary j) Sikh woman who sought refuge in the Convent
11. Sr. Cecily k) Jaggi, Amarjit’s son
12. Sr. Wilfred l) the young nun who accompanied Sr. Angelica from
Orissa.
13. Amarjit m) from Orissa
14. Joginder Singh n) an inmate of the Convent suffering from wheezing.
15. Bablu o) the Nepali watchman of the Convent
16. Goorkha p) the ambulance drive
17. George q) Amarjit’s elder son

Choose the word / phrase closest in meaning (in the context of the story) to the underlined word in the
sentences from the story.
1. Sr. Catherine rolled her wheel chair… and sat before the gothic window.
a) decorated b) expensive c) medieval d) romantic
2. Doors and windows, with their gabled tops, were closed
a) ancient b) triangular c) decorated d) ancient
3. I didn't have to go looking for dear Philomina in the dormitory.
a) Sleeping quarters b) hostel c) lodge d) bedspread
4. She has diabetes and—no sugar for her, cautioned the younger nun.
a) admonished b) signalled c) informed d) warned
5. You are the ward of the congregation
a) religious organization b) committee c) priest d) culture
6. I heard the flutter of wings behind me.
a) flapping b) sound c) shivering d) spraying
7. Will this convent last long on me, the boulder of quartz?
a) watch b) materials c) silicon dioxide d) precious stones
8. She came to live in the convent with a massive piano
a) old b) huge c) beautiful d) decorated
9. Mary who usually ate her supper in bed ambled to the dining hall…
a) walked slowly b) crouched c) moved energetically d) rolled
10. Violence has broken out. Sardarjis are lynched en masse.
a) dragged b) attacked c) harassed d) murdered

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

11. Sardarjis are lynched en masse.

a) in a group b) massively c) individually d) on a large scale
12. For the first time in my life, history convulsed me physically.
a) shook up b) vomited c) attacked d) perturbed
13. The hinges screeched.
a) worked b) gave away c) made a harsh sound d) tightened
14. She said veering past the precipices of insanity.
a) occasion b) emergence c) onset d) a dangerous situation
15. He christened everything—animate and inanimate
a) named b) conducted ceremony c) discovered d) enjoyed
16. The words I uttered …without knowing the Lord’s will, proved ominous.
a) portentous b) true c) expected d) predictable
17. After some time, I felt an ethereal peace
a) long lasting b) delicate c) unreal d) immediate
18. The deaths to take place in November congealed in the atmosphere like static electric-
ity.
a) evaporated b) thickened c) pervaded d) stayed
19. Martha's face fell as she intently gulped the milk in the glass drop by drop
a) swallowed b) witnessed c) saw d) watched
20. The muscles of my entrails stretched and I vomitted into the wash-basin.
a) stomach b) intestines c) food pipe d) throat

1. While going through the convent registers, Sister Agatha, the narrator of the story
notices that most of the deaths took place in the months of ___________________.
2. The events mentioned in the story starts on ___________________.
3. ___________________ is running the convent in the story.
4. The convent is set up to give care for ___________________.
5. The story is set in ___________________.
6. ___________________was an inmate of the convent, and she died this October.
7. The convent for the aged Nuns is set up and maintained by the
__________________in Meerut.
8. Sr. Agatha phoned ___________________ of the Bishop’s House for assistance
whenever there is a difficulty.
9. ___________________ came from Orissa on 31 October 1984 to join the convent.
She was accompanied by a young nun from Orissa named, ___________________.
10. Sr. Angelica had worked as a ___________________ in places like Cuttack, Rourkela
Kalahandi and Bhubaneswar.
11. It was _________________________________ who built the home for the aged
nuns of the congregation.

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

12. The Bishop who was instrumental in setting up the convent in Meerut hailed from
___________________
13. ___________________ pursued her nursing course in Germany.
14. The convent in Meerut was established to provide final shelter for the nuns of the
congregation, who are ___________________
15. From among the first batch of inmates at the convent, only __________________ is
alive today.
16. ___________________informed Sr. Agatha over phone that Indira Gandhi was shot
at.
17. Sr. Philomina and ___________________ came to the convent from Delhi together.
18. Sr. Martha remembered that Indira Gandhi spoke at the ground of the school in In-
dore where she worked.
19. In the morning on 1 November, Fr. Thomas called Sr. Agatha that
___________________ are lynched en masse in many places including Meerut.
20. ___________________ remembered that she was in Delhi during Nehru’s funeral.
21. While coming to the Convent ___________________ was in salwar-kameez, with
her head covered with a dupatta.
22. Harminder Sahib is another name for the ___________________ in Amritsar.
23. The rioters killed the husband and elder son of ___________________
24. ___________________ bit into his muscle fibres of her attacker to escape.
25. ___________________, one of the attackers kept a shop next to the shop run bt
Amarjit’s husband in the squire.
26. Sr. Agatha gave Amarjith the vacant bed of ___________________, who had passed
away in October.
27. ___________________ became agitated when Sr. Angelica commented on his hair
thus: “Looks like a spider's egg, doesn't it?”.
28. Amarjit said she wants to go to Delhi; her relatives are there in the camp in
___________________ Gurdwara in Delhi.
29. When curfew was relaxed Sr. Cecily, Amarjit and Jaggi tried to go to the railway sta-
tion accompanied by the Goorkha, but on seeing the rioters on the way they escaped
back to the convent in a ___________________.
30. When they finally left for the station __________________ laid down inside the cof-
fin like a dead body. and ___________________ was in a nun's attire.

1. Explain the background of the story?

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
2. Describe the convent.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
3. Comment on the inmates of the convent.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
4. What do you think is the central message of the story.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
5. How does the story portray the anti-Sikh riots.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
6. Mention an example of the interest of the rioters other than communal hatred.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
7. What according to Amarjith is the immediate provocation for attacking their colony?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
8. Mention the threat faced by the narrator for giving refuge to the Sikh family in the
convent?
_____________________________________________________

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
9. Mention Sikh religious symbols mentioned in the story.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
10. How does Amarjith and andJaggi finally escape to the railway station.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
11. What is the time span of the events narrated in the story.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

1. Plot is the literary term that denotes the events that a story is comprised of, or the
main part of a story. The events in a story are usually presented in a sequence or pat-
tern. Describe the plot of this story?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
2. Stories usually contain positive as well as negative characters. The central character
of a story is called Protagonist and the character or characters opposing or creating
trouble for the central character is called Antagonist. Identify the protagonist and the
antagonist/s in the story.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
3. Theme in a story is its underlying message. What is the theme of this story?

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
4. Stories usually contain conflicts. Conflicts are struggles between opposing forces.
Sometimes these struggles are faced and resolved within the mind. Identify the major
conflicts in the story. How does the narrator negotiate her inner conflicts while giving
shelter to the riot victims?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
5. Point of view in a story primarily means who is telling a story; whether it is a first
person, second person or third person narrative. It also means the perspective from
which the story is narrated in a story. Briefly mention the point of view presented in
“When a Big Tree Falls”.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
6. “Here is the opportunity that the Almighty has given you to be the salt of the
earth.”Bring out the context of the following passage. What does the expression ‘salt
of the earth’ mean?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
7. How do you assess the character of Sr. Agatha?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
8. Write briefly on the character of Jaggi.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

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 FOUNDATION ENGLISH I

_____________________________________________________
9. Explain the passage, “I was shivering under the woollen blanket. Not so much from
the November chill. This was my share of national fever.”
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
10. “The muscles of my entrails stretched and I vomitted into the wash-basin. For the
first time in my life, history convulsed me physically.” – Bring out the context and
meaning.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
11. “From then on Jaggi's hair became forbidden to us. We realised that the historical
consciousness of an entire community lay entwined in it.” – Explain the context and
meaning.
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
12. Is there any ironic undertones in the title of the story?
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

Write answers to at least one essay and one paragraph questions and submit as assignment.
1. What do you understand about Sikhism from this story? Give your answer in a para-
graph.
2. Write in a paragraph your opinion on the way communal riot is presented in the story.
3. How would you assess the functioning of the Convent in the story? Answer in a para-
graph.
4. Write an essay on the theme of communal harmony as presented in the story, “When
a Big Tree Falls”
5. Examine the treatment of communal riot in “When a Big Tree Falls” in at least five

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 WHEN A BIG TREE FALLS

paragraphs.
6. Write a general essay (in not less than 10 paragraphs) on the communal divide and the
factors that influence riots and acts of intolerance in contemporary India.

Attempt any one of the following:

1. This story is translated into English from Malayalam. Work in pairs, attempt to trans-
late a story from your mother tongue or another language known to you and present
the original and the translation to the class / to your teacher. Also write a brief note
explaining the challenges you faced while translating.
2. Read the story “Mumbai” by N.S. Madhavan and attempt a comparison of the por-
trayal of communal conflict with “When a Big Tree Falls”.
3. Browse through the history of communal tension in India from books or internet,
and suggest ways to foster communal harmony and to prevent communal riots in the
form of a Slide presentation.
4. Attempt to write a short story preferably on a theme related to communal harmony.

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