Original in Telugu – Dr. G V Krishnarao
Translator - GRK Murty
Translator - GRK Murty
About theAuthor
Dr. G V Krishna Rao (1914-1979) belonged to Tenali, Andhra Pradesh, India. He has
written four novels in Telugu, a volume of playlets, a couple of plays, a
collection of short stories, and a critical survey of the Buddhist philosopher Nagarjuna’s
'Vigrahavyavartani' (The End of Discussions). He has also translated Plato and Kant
into Telugu. His writings give us a true reflection of his personality—“curious,
humble, rationalistic, humane, and true to life.” His playlet—'Bikshapatra' (Begging Bowl)—was proclaimed
a ‘National Play’ and was translated into sixteen Indian languages and
broadcasted through All India Radio. His last play—'Bomma yedchindi' (The Doll Wept)—portrays
“a clash and crash of ideas and ideals” rather than personalities, which
“leaves the audience in a subdued mood of sorrow.” 'Keelubommalu' (Puppets), his maiden work,
has been acclaimed as one of the outstanding novels in Telugu because of its
‘unity of effect’, achieved in portraying man as a mechanical doll—a doll
driven more by “circumstances and animalism.” In yet another novel, 'Papikondalu' (Papi Hills), he advocates
that ‘natural truth’ is better than ‘didacticism.’
* * * * *
As
the Tenali station was nearing, her elation mounted. Sensing her state of mind,
she felt surprised. Where had been all this longing when she was in jail? This
nostalgia for the native village … this longing to see the kith and kin … to
which country have they emigrated? Looking at all that anxiousness, she felt amused.
Didn’t she curse her village innumerable times? Didn’t she often damn it saying
it wouldn’t burn out even when set fire to in the midday?
Why
this intense affection for such a town? Why so much love today for a brother
who would always scold me for nothing and a father who would always frown upon
for one reason or the other? Father belongs to yesteryears. How does he know
the modern trends and traditions? As one advances in age, it’s natural to
behave gallingly. Besides, father is suffering from asthma. Must be suffering a
lot! Might have weakened terribly! Could he remain without ever thinking about me?
Might have worried a lot about me! My absence might have made him bedridden,
even.
Brother
is after all still young. In the attendant immaturity, might have uttered unpleasant
… something like that. Am I to feel bad about it? By the bye, when I came out,
sister-in-law was carrying. When was it? September … two years have elapsed.
Male or female-child! Might be a male-child. Yes, a boy. One year three months.
Which means, he must be walking now. Might already be smattering, “Amma[1]
… Atta[2]…”
When I enter home, he might, as well, come to me smattering “atta ... atta”!
Crazy!
Has he ever seen my face? Have I ever taken him onto my lap? How would he come
to me? Seeing me, he might cry, or hiding behind his mother, might fling a
glance at me…
If,
on the other hand, a girl-child…
All
that imagination thus far ... suddenly became something like bombed houses. She
frowned … Stream of thoughts started again.
How
could one say that the child is not a girl but a boy? At least, brother
should have written a postcard. How could he? How could they know where I was?
Didn’t anybody tell them? Hadn’t newspapers written about me? After all they
keep publishing so many names daily!
Smt. Usha is
arrested – Rigorous imprisonment for two years
For following Mahatma’s independence
message!
Everyone
might have heard when Chenchayya was reading in the library. Couldn’t they see
my name? Even if they had seen, how were they to know in which jail I was?
That’s why annayya[3]
hadn’t written any letter. Had it been known, I am sure, father would not have
kept quiet. He might have got a word or two written by somebody or other and
posted a card to me.
Is
annayya blessed with a boy or a girl? Looking at our family heredity,
the first offspring must be a male-child. Even the trail of heredity on
the other side … of annayya’s mother-in-law’s side… too is same!
Why
should I so strongly believe that the offspring is a boy? Am I afraid of … my
ability to locate a bridegroom for the girl-child I am going to mother?
Her
heart quavered at this thought.
For,
her life … was already axed—her husband had abandoned her … ‘cause, he didn’t
get the dowry that was promised to him at the time of marriage. Once that reality
struck her mind …. she could feel the absurdity of her expecting the brother to
be blessed with a male-child. If annayya was blessed with a male-child …
for a minute she felt … at least… he would not suffer the fate that she had
faced! She felt: It’s always better to be born as a tree in the forest than as
a girl-child!
Usha
could not refrain from thinking about herself and her marital life.
What
her husband will say now, what the villagers will say?
Returning
from the jail, as she got down at the station, she expected people to garland
her… to receive her with a welcome address. Already, there was a women’s
society, a youth society; a Harijan society might have also been formed by now.
Will they keep quiet without giving her a welcome? Is there a nation that will
not honor its patriots who, sacrificing their lives, have gone to jail? No race
having self-respect will ever fail to honor its patriots.
Certainly
they would honor. If not looking at this lady of dark-complexion, but looking
at the patriotism that is popping up from that dark skin, and the respect she
has for Gandhiji, the society will certainly respect her.
What
then will her husband think of her? Will he shrug off the wife whom the people
so affectionately revere? What will people think if he shrugs her off? Won’t
they accuse? Will they not say: “It’s because of your previous birth’s gift
that she became your wife. Else, would she have become the wife of a fellow
like you?” When people tease him with such comments—“No way are you a match for
her”—who could stand up to them?
He
can’t but come to take her back with him.
What
then, is she to go with him? How can a lady live with a man who tortured her
for so many years? She will not go to live with him. What will people think if
she doesn’t go? Doesn’t matter what people will think of her! What will happen
to the independence-movement? How will they treat Gandhi Mahatma’s message?
Will they accuse the message of the jewel among mankind with petty
interpretations?
Doesn’t
matter what happens to her life; even if thousands like her perish, the
movement for independence must continue.
Yes,
the message of Gandhiji must be transmitted to every nook and corner of the
country, must be passed on to every living being. How would it be possible if everyone
gets entangled with family-life? It’s due to lack of such sacrifice among the
people that ignorance, poverty and narrow-mindedness are ruling the roost. Why
am I to get shackled with these new bondages today? To follow Gandhiji’s
command is the only path for me; will the world deny it?
Oh
Father! You have shown me the way. Preached me the way to salvation. I will not
give away the nectar of your message. What would have happened to this poor
creature had your message been not there? There would have been no way forward.
You have put life into me, Father!
Silently,
Usha offered salutations to Gandhiji. Eyes swelled with gratitude.
The
train came to a halt. On the long platform, electric bulbs in the dark domes
were caressing the darkness just as the government employees cajole the
capitalist class of the society. “Tenali, Tenali’s special pan, soda,
biscuits”… were ringing loud in the ears … like slogans.
As
Usha came to the entrance with her khadi bag, passengers started
alighting and boarding the train. Jostling her this side and that side, the
crowd had ultimately lodged her onto the platform. All around, sea of people.
Usha
looked around observantly. People with garlands… !
The
crowd had carried her to the gate… She reached the little vacant space around
the iron grill that stood left to the main gate. … there were none to welcome
her with garlands. She could, of course, see an old flower-vendor with wilted
chrysanthemum, jasmine and rose flowers on the platform. Even then it didn’t
strike her mind that felicitations and welcome addresses were available only on
purchase.
In
the meanwhile, all those passengers who alighted had gone. Of course, the train
had left long before. Hardly, there were twenty to thirty people on that long
platform.
Usha
laughed at her anticipation. Who would welcome her in the middle of night? No
one might be aware about her release even. Newspapers might not have published
news about her release. Papers do publish all sundry happenings in any
corner of the world—even the news of a bedbug giving birth to ten piglets will
be published with all the spice. Will such a lot … not publish news about her
release? Might have … but then how were they to know by which train and
on what date she would be arriving in Tenali. Once they came to know that she
had arrived, they would perhaps conduct the meeting and invite her to speak.
Didn’t they do so for Buttchayya garu? At that time no one went to the station.
The next day, they conducted a meeting and garlanded him.
Giving
away the ticket, Usha, coming out of her thoughts, finally came out. Could see
nothing in that pitch darkness. Except for three to four bullock-carts and two
rickshaws, there was nothing.
“Need
a cart, amma?” asked the old man around the cart. Usha felt like hiring
a cart. But suddenly she remembered the money that was with her and also the
message of Gandhiji. Didn’t Mahatma say that one should lead a simple life?
With two strides, she could reach her village.
Pushing
herself forward, she took the road to Nandivelugu.
As
her village was nearing, her legs started trembling. Her thoughts faltered: “Can
I reach home? What will father and brother say? What will happen to me?”
Her
whole body sweated. She could not step forward. Wondered: “Am I destined to
lead a miserable life again? Am I to listen to brother’s abuses and suffer
silently sister-in-law’s taunts? Am I to stay in the maternal home like a
destitute?”
She
is no longer the Usha of yesteryears—suffered two years of imprisonment for
participating in Gandhiji’s Nonviolent Movement. Who will not treat her
honorably when the whole world is honoring her for participating in the independence-struggle
and undergoing two years of imprisonment? What would anyone say about a person
who volunteered to work for the country? As she was ruminating thus, her feet
dragged her to the village. There were none either at the kacheri [4]or
under the neem tree. The morning-stars are straight above the head.
She
went to her natal home—her brother’s house. Whom to call? Annayya will
be in deep sleep inside his room. Why to wake him up and spoil his sleep?
Father will be sleeping in the eastern part of the house. He would not be in
deep sleep. Will respond the moment I call him. Shall call, “Nanna... nanna”
[5].
“Nanna…
Nanna!”
Knocked
on the door. Called again and knocked on the door. More than her calling, it
was her knocking on the door that sounded louder.
There
was noise as though someone had got up. Who could it be? The foot-sound is not of
her father’s.
“Who
is that?”
“Me”
“Me,
Who me?”
“It’s
me, annayya”
Coming
with a lamp in one hand, setting right his dhoti[6]
with the other hand, annayya, opening the door, was shocked to see
her. With the lamp in hand, he stood there as a wooden post.
“It’s
me annayya” … Usha dropped her head. His throat was parched …
could not mutter a single word. Both stood perplexed for a while.
“Get
in. Why are you standing at the entrance?”
She
came in.
“Did
anyone see you coming?”
It
made Usha fear more. What is there to be afraid of if someone had seen
her? Yet her heart trembled.
Usha
stood against the bench on which gunny-bags were stacked. Keeping the lamp on
the floor carefully, annayya, hurriedly going to father’s bed, rocked
him. Moaning, the old man, perhaps just then might have winked, turned to the
other side. Usha stood there staring blankly.
“Nanna,
Nanna!” he stoked father intensely.
The
old man got up with a jerk.
“What?”
“Has
come, she has come!”
“Who?”
“She,
that devil”
The
old man looked at her tremblingly, but could not recognize immediately.
“She,
who?”
“Who
else – your daughter.”
“My
daughter?” Everything became clear to the old man.
“My
daughter? Do I have a daughter? She died two years back. I have thrown her out long
back. With these hands, consigned her to fire. Where then is my daughter?”
Usha
cried at once. “Nanna! Nanna!”
“Chi,
Shut your mouth. Am I your father? Who said? Every villager knows. My daughter
died two years back. If you want, can enquire with the priest if I am not performing
the annual rites for my daughter? If you were my daughter, should have
been with your husband, or with me.”
Saying,
“What wrong did I do, Nanna?” Usha suddenly rushed to her father and
circled his legs with her hands.
“Chi,
stay away, who are you? My daughter was good – would fetch lots of honor to her
father … elevate the prestige of her clan. Could a fallen woman be my daughter?
Who says? I will throttle whoever says that. My daughter died long back. Making
this old man a destitute, she left. Hoped that she would nurse me in this old
age, but she went away. Gone way beyond. Poor kid! … Are you my daughter!
Do you think the old man has lost his senses? No. Get lost; my daughter makes
her presence daily in my dreams.” Tears rolled down from the old man’s
eyes.
Usha
sobbed loudly.
“Chi,
shut your mouth, neighbors will hear,” growled her brother.
Waking
up at that sound, her sister-in-law and sister-in-law’s brother, Raghu,
hurriedly came out enquiring anxiously, “What happened?”
“What’s
there? The debased woman has returned home lest we should live in honor”, said anna.
Usha
could not restrain herself. What wrong has she done? How could she live with
her sister-in-law if he speaks so cheaply of her? Seeing her sister-in-law,
Usha could not contain her anger.
“Annayya!
Speak decently! Otherwise…”
“Ah!
Why this anger? What happened to this pride and honor while leading a wayward
life?
“Talk
like a man of sense.”
“How
dare you? Besides returning, scowling at us, you?”
“I
told you already… Beware, if you repeat…”
“With
whom have you lived for these two years? Why have you returned now? You cannot stay
in my house even for a minute. Get out! Why still standing?”
“I
haven’t come to your house. I’ve come to my father’s home. You could say
that if I had come to your house. As a part of our independence struggle I
participated in the removal of rails from the railway track for which I was jailed.
Is it a wrong deed? Is it stealing? Is it debauchery? It is in response to the
call given by Mahatma Gandhi that I went to jail. Putting bangles on your hands,
like a destitute woman, you stayed at
home It’s because of worthless creatures like you, women had to come out.”
Choked
by anger, anna remained quiet. Frowning at that, Raghu wished how nice
it would have been, had a Police Inspector been around.
“Gandhiji
never gave such a message. He never advised to do such ghastly deeds. Will
peace-loving Gandhiji ever appreciate such dastardly acts? Very recently he even
publicly condemned such acts. Enough of your senseless talk, but don’t you
attribute that sin to Gandhiji, ” said her anna.
“What
Raghu! Haven’t you read out that pamphlet, ‘Success or Death’ to me? Weren’t
you there on that day? What did you say on that day? When I said, ‘I will join
the movement,’ what did you say?”
“When
did I say? Did I ask you to remove rails? When my party was shouting about it
as people’s war, what did I say to you? Having roamed here and there, instead
of being silent, started this accusation too?”
Usha
felt sapped. She never anticipated that things would turn this bad. She never
thought that the very philosophy that she believed in would ever become an
accusation against her. Involuntarily, she muttered, “truth, people’s war.”
Suddenly, the walls in the village and the palm trees along the roads reeled in
her mind.
“With
whom did you live for all these days? Don’t think nobody knows about your
foul acts”, said anna pouncing on her.
“Don’t
these people know whether I am speaking the truth or not? Didn’t God
above know?” uttered Usha pathetically.
“You
are not to stay in the house even for a minute. Go. Get out. It’s enough – the
dishonor we have put up with so far is enough” said anna.
“Go
talli[7],
go! At least, our daughter… shouldn’t she get married?” said sister-in-law.
Usha
held on to her father’s legs tightly. Her tears washed the old man’s feet.
“Why
don’t you go? Right two years ago we told the villagers that you died of fever
at your aunt’s house. Shouldn’t we live in this village with our heads held
high? Go, go to him with whom you lived thus far.”
Crying
and saying, “Nanna, Nanna,” Usha grasped her father’s legs more
tightly.
Like
tigers, Raghu and anna pounced on her. Perplexed, the old man stared
blankly.
Both
of them together battered her. Having already become a skeleton by virtue of
her living in the jail, she could not sustain their beating. And the swan flew
away from the skeleton.
That
early morning, the canal alongside the village overflowed.
The
Sun, as usual, rose in the east.
Acknowledgement: Thanks are due to Dr.G.Umadevi, daughter of Dr. GVKrishnarao and the copyright holder.
Namaste.
ReplyDeleteVery glad to read the story.
Can you please refer who quoted lines ( "...." ) in the author's introduction ?
‘unity of effect’, achieved in portraying man as a mechanical doll—a doll driven more by “circumstances and animalism.”
Any particular critical review or book?
Thanks in advance.
Chandra Latha
http://chandralata.blogspot.in/
Namaskar Chandralatha garu.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading the story.
The reference you have asked for is: GV Krishnarao By SRM Knodamudi in Sahithi Chaithra Radham: Dr. GV Krishnarao Saahitya Samaalochana, (1997), Jana Priya Pustaka Mala, Vijayawada. pp177-78.