In those days life in
India was simple. At least in the countryside! For, they have not craved for
many pleasures. Nor did they entertain any complexities.
Wants were very
minimal. And interestingly, they were all confined to what was available around
them — kachika, thataku, water from
the freely flowing river or a stream, senagalu,
regipandlu… Indeed, they were pretty content with whatever that had come to
their share. And days rolled on just like that. Why! Even, life itself rolled
on that way. How sweet!
Read the following
story told by Satyam Sankaramanchi of Amaravati. You are sure to crave for such
a life where days passed off without being noticed. Why, even people passed away like that into oblivion. And the beauty is those left behind haven’t ever
cribbed at the passing away of the companion but pretty mightily accepted that as
the way of life. So simple!
* * * * * *
A day passed Away!
Original in Telugu By - Satyam Sankaramanchi
Translator - grkmurty
A day passed. Another
day came. As one is thinking about the passed day, the new day too passes.
In one of those
incoming and outgoing days, Pitchiyya garu[1]
passed away. There is nothing special about Pitchyya garu passing away in a world where many are passing away everyday. He
was not a poet or singer. Nor was he a great accomplisher of anything in life.
But like a tiny fish that quietly swims deep under the gushing stream without
being noticed, like a stilled crest in a stable lake, without being noticed by
time intermingling with the time, he lived his life. Forget about sounds, if
one wants to know how he lived by joining the silence into a ‘great-silence’, it’s
enough if one observes a day in his daily routine.
Every morning as soon
as he comes onto the roadside pial, his wife Sitamma garu arranges water in a brass tumbler, a piece of burnt cow dung
cake and a dry Palmyra leaf aside for him. Washing his teeth and cleansing his tongue
with the material served by his wife, he heads straight to Krishna. Come rain
or shine, tying the towel around his waist, he has to walk into the river every
morning. Standing in waist-deep water in Krishna, he finishes his morning
prayers and proceeds to the temple with Krishna water in the tumbler. On the
way, seeing children chit-chatting sitting on the pials, he sprinkles Krishna
water on them. As the children crying “cold”, “cold” shrink into themselves, he
walks forward with a smile. Plucking the flowers from Ganneru[2]
plant located in the inner compound of the temple, he wonders, “There had to be
two buds here?” He has the count of branches, leaves, flowers, buds—of
everything. Putting a few Punnaga[3]
flowers in the tumbler he moves towards maredu[4]
trees. Plucking a fistful of tender leaves he climbs the steps in the innermost
temple-yard.
By the time Pitchyya garu comes, the priests of the temple finish
their abhishekam[5]
to Lord Amareswara. Then he performs abhishekam,
bathing the god with the Krishna water that he himself has brought and then worships
him with the leaves and flowers that he has brought. What a worship! Pitchyya garu’s lips do not move. No chant is
heard. The silent-god alone should know that silent-worship! Stepping down, by
ringing the bell, he takes leave from Amareswara; he pays homage to nandi[6]
by solemnly walking around it with his right hand towards it, and then
worships Balachamundeswari by prostrating before her. Then adorning his
forehead with the vermilion lying at the feet of goddess, he comes and sits at the
mantapam[7].
The priests, who have
by then finished their performance of abhishekam,
assembling there, are chit-chatting—about the rising prices, making of seasonal
chutneys, about Pakistan. He sits quietly listening to them. In between, if any
Lingayya asks, “Pitchyya garu! Would
you agree or disagree”, he will simply smile. But will never open his lip.
Intermittently, he counts the pigeons that have landed on the temple tower.
Pitchyya garu, the man who silently watches the
external world, the moment he enters the house, shouts loudly right from the
main door: “What chutney today?” As Sitamma garu
replies, “cucumber chutney”, or brinjal chutney, he says, “be careful of
the chilli powder!” Everyday he should have a chutney ground in a rolu[8].
It must have chilli powder sumptuously. Otherwise, he gets annoyed. Immediately
after food, putting a fragment of araca nut in mouth, as he reclines on the
cot, Sitamma garu, joining him at his
feet, smears castor oil on his feet. Much before Pitchyya garu, biting the araca nut, falls asleep, Sitamma garu starts sleeping by leaning her head
on the plank that is under Pitchayya’s feet.
Circling the village, every
evening Pitchyya garu comes to
Pandurangaswamy temple. Everyday his conversation with the temple priest runs
as under:
‘‘What curry today?”
“Snake-gourd”
“What about chutney?”
“Kottimerakaram[9]”
“How many worships
today?”
“Two”.
“Could make something?”
“A little, of course…
smiles acharyulu[10] garu”.
Pitchyya garu too laughs.
From there moving on to
Rama’s temple he sits on its steps watching children playing with marbles. Along
with children, he also counts the marbles. If it is the season of Zizyphus
fruits, he will buy a measureful of regkayaulu[11]
and distribute it among children, one each. By the dusk, he returns to temple
again. He has his own place in the temple. Sitting there, he watches the
parrots sitting on the temple tower or the swaying branches of jammichettu[12].
Collecting the prasadam served at the
time of closure of the temple and tying it to one end of his upper-cloth, he
returns home. After eating a little food, he passes on a little prasadam[13]
to Sitamma garu. He lies down biting
a few grains one by one and slips into sleep.
One day, having thus
slipped into sleep, he didn’t get up again. Getting up from the leg-side of his
cot, Sitamma garu didn’t cry at the
passing-away of Pitchyya garu. She,
however, removing her vermilion, said to herself: “All along he used to be
before me, now he is within me.”
Pitchyya garu didn’t achieve anything. Hadn’t settled
any disputes. Didn’t discuss any problems. But without being noticed by time
infinite, he lived getting himself submerged in it. Isn’t it enough? Not for
many! Of course...
* * * *
Acknowledgment: I am grateful to the copyright holder, Shri S. Shivasankar garu.
[1] Garu—the social art of expressing
respect by using plural to address a person or appending the suffix ‘garu’ to a
name and so on.
[2] Ganneru—Nerium oleander.
[3] Punnaga— a white flower like tuberose.
[4] Maredu—wood apple tree. The stalk of
three leaves of wood apple are called maredu
dalalu. A holy tree for Hindus.
[5] Abhishekam—a ritual in Hindu temples
where the deities are bathed.
[6] Nandi—name of the bull which serves as
the mount of Lord Shiva. Temples venerating Shiva display stone images of a
seated Nandi, generally facing the main shrine.
[7] Mantapam—a porch of a temple.
[8] Rolu—a stone device used for grinding.
[9] Kottimerakaram—chutney made of coriander
and chilli powder.
[10] Acharyulu—highly learned man or a title
affixed to the names of learned men.
[11] Regkayalu—Zizyphus jujuba
[12] Jammichettu—a sacred tree worshipped by
people usually found in the temple of Lord Shiva—botanical name Prosopis
spicegera.
[13] Prasadam—blessed food consumed by
worshippers after offering it to the deity.
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