Original in Telugu – Munipalle Raju
Translator
– GRK Murty
Her husband was everything for
her in the world. She viewed him as an uncommonly great man. She believed that
he would never err. Neither she lent an ear to what her well-wishers told about
her husband’s crazy spending style, nor did she heed to their latter-day
warnings. Till then, her very world inextricably rested with her husband.
It is only upon the death of her
husband—at the age of hardly 40 that made her and her three male children orphans—she
could come to know about all his adventures. She cried and cried. People who were
in the know of her thought that she, being scared of the terrible days ahead, was
crying. Relatives felt that having failed to checkmate her husband when he was
alive and having not saved anything for the rainy days, she was crying now. But
the truth was … she was crying for her husband. For, husband was everything for
her.
On the tenth day of her husband’s
death, she was tonsured. She became a widow. Staring at this new amma, the third child—of less than two
years old—was scared. He caught fever. His fever ultimately transferred her
sorrow from her husband to the children. For the first time she was terrified
to think about the future of her three children. As her relatives were commenting
about how her husband expended the wealth that he had inherited and the wealth
that he had made on his own casually without any forethought, she heard them silently.
She was now aware of
everything—house was no more of them; the farm and the orchid were being
appropriated towards the debt by the creditors; the family jewelry was in
mortgage with a bank. Still, there was a huge debt to be redeemed. As she was now
crying for her husband, she felt sad of his shortsightedness too. She was now
crying not only at the death of her husband but also at his
shortsightedness.
One day Janakamma’s akka[1]
came and said, “Janaki, will the dead come back if you cry! You have to muster
courage and with a brave heart must take care of your children. Your husband might
have taken away all the wealth with him, but he had left behind these three
children for you. If nurtured well, they would become diamonds. It is your male
children who are sure to redeem you from all your hurdles!” Since then her children became her very world.
She suffered a lot for her
children. The neighbors used to fan her courage saying, “Janakamma! You have
nothing to fear, your sons will soon relieve you from all your sufferings.” None
of the relatives, who enjoyed all kinds of help from her husband, turned up even
to say a consoling word when she was saddled with so many burdens. A mother
from the neighboring house, however, used to console her— “Why do you cry
Janakamma, you are the mother of three sons. You are the luckiest. Once they
grow up, where would be your sorrow!” She put up with the anger and all the
acerbic talk of the society for fifteen long years. Her children became her very world. She had no
other awareness.
Just opposite their house, there
in a Madras-terraced house, a merchant family lived. Gurunatham, son of Subbamma of that house,
used to play with these children once in a while. They had just turned a happy
lot after journeying through poverty and the accompanying sufferings. It was no
shame for Gurunatham—who, passing through misery and hunger had become very wealthy
now—to chat with Janakamma’s children.
“Peddabbai[2],
what you would do after you grow up completing your education, Peddabbai?”
“Collector”, said Peddabbai without winking even for a
minute.
“How about you Chinnabbai[3]?”
“Police…red cap”.
“Oh my good Lord! Janakamma garu,
I am scared to look at your Chinnabbai.”
In the meanwhile, Subbamma came and
placing a chocolate in the youngest one’s hand asked, “What you will do my dear
grandchild!” He cuddles into his mother’s lap, as he could not get words.
Laughing heartily and blessing
them, Gurunatham tells Janakamma, “Ammagaru[4],
just watch… growing up, if your sons won’t repurchase all that property of
their father! All the three are invincible ammagaru!”
Janakamma wiped out her tears. Her
children were her world. They were everything for her. She thought these
troubles would hardly last for another ten years.
2
Janakamma took a vow to perform astothara nama pooja[5]
to Lord Chennakesavaswamy if her elder son passed his school final exams.
He passed his examination. But
she didn’t have a single pie with her. Taking pity on them if someone came forward
to admit her son in a college, she promised to perform sahasranama pooja to the Lord.
In the meanwhile, the boys’ maternal uncle came saying, “Akkaiah, I shall take the responsibility
of educating the elder up to BA.” She didn’t have a single pie in her hand; so
what? Lord Chennakesava didn’t get angry—the boy joined the college. Subbamma said—“Your
son will become collector amma… a
child’s uttering is equal to Lord’s dictum.”
Janakamma counted the years that had
passed by. Her hair turned grey in that counting. Her wrinkled face appeared as
though measuring the weight of the years that had passed by. The skin on her
forearms too had wrinkled. Now she was counting months. Elder son was in BA. Managing
on his own with whatever that had been fed by good Samaritans, her second son,
scoring good marks, had come up to school final. Third one was studying third
form. She was simply living on the blessings showered on them by the well-meaning
women: “You would be relieved of your pangs, Janakamma! Your sons will become resourceful,
Janakamma!” Every evening, while lighting the lamp, she offered her salutations
to all those kind mothers and fathers who blessed her children well. There was
no day that passed without her pleading to Lord Chennakesava to forgive her for
the delay in fulfilling her vows, but promising to fulfill all her commitments
once her elder son got employed. She didn’t forget this daily routine even when
the pain of starving at a stretch for two to three days or the accompanying nagging
headache was weighing heavily upon her.
When once the elder son came home
before exams, serving him curd that she had bought with an anna[6] that
she somehow managed to earn, she asked him—“Nanna[7],
for certain, you would write exams well and redeem your mother from all her
struggles, won’t you! Sure, you won’t forget your brothers too, my child!”
“Amma[8], I
am studying only to wipe away the tears of all the mothers in the world. Not
only my own brothers, I will not forget any brother in the world amma!”
Janakamma wiped away her tears.
Never in the past did her elder son speak that affectionately nor that assertively.
His disposition was always of an introvert sort.
Ten days after her elder son went
back to college after vacation for writing exams, Janakamma’s brother came crying,
“Look Janakammakka! How your elder son ruined you! You know, he ditched you, he
ditched me, and everybody!”
She was stunned… “What did he do,
Tammuduu[9]?”
“He did what he wanted to. He
revolted against the British kingdom in which the sun never sets. This stupid
seems to have canvassed for people not joining the war at the military
recruiting centers. Handcuffing him, police took him away akka! How stupid of me! I thought of marrying off my daughter to
him!”
Late in that night, two unknown
students came to their home. No women could venture to say even a word to
Janakamma. It was like… her heart would stop throbbing if anyone uttered even a
single word. But those two students, the classmates of her elder son, consoled her
saying, “Why are you crying amma? Your
son is a noble son of Bharatmatha[10].
Even we didn’t have that courage. Unless the lordship of white people is driven
out, he says there would be no relief for the Indian mothers from their
anguish. You must only be proud of him, but not sob for him!”
“Nayana[11]!
Will they let me see my son?”
“He is still in the sub-jail.
Magistrate is an old gentleman. We shall go tomorrow through him amma!”
Janakamma met her elder son in the
jail. There was no fear in his eyes. No dissatisfaction. Nor repentance. Seeing that stilled-idol-like son, Janakamma withheld
her sorrow.
“Why did you do this stupid act, my
son? Want to torture your mother? Want to betray your mother and brothers who placed
all their hopes on you?”
Janakamma’s elder son didn’t
answer her. Pushing forward his hand through the jail bars, he touched her
shoulder. She then remembered what her son had said on that day—“Amma, I am studying only to wipe away the
tears of all the mothers in the world. Not only my own brothers, I will not forget
any brother in the world amma!”
3
A kind-hearted woman, saying, “Are
you to be sad of what your elder son had done! Watch! In another year your
second son will fetch a job and take care of the family”, tried to console
Janakamma. Subbamma came, saying, “Janakamma your second son is brilliant. If
someone gives him money, he will not spend it, instead saves it. He would be
the son who will set right your family.” Though these kind-hearted words moved her
so much, she remained silent.
Once in a while, those who read
the newspapers used to inform Janakamma about her elder son being released from
the jail or about his re-arrest. One day, a boy coming with a newspaper in hand,
read to her the letter that her son had stealthily written to the patriots from
the jail. Jankamma’s eyes welled up.
Janakamma’s second son passed school
final. In the past, his brothers used to flood her with questions: “Amma why have they arrested annayya[12]? When will he come back?” Nowadays,
while roaming on the streets, if anyone, reading about the brave acts of their
brother from the newspapers, discussed it loudly they used to listen silently.
They did not even bring it to the notice of their mother.
Visiting employment exchange
offices, their maternal uncle somehow managed to get a job for the second son.
He could thus earn something and with it the family was moving forward. The
third one was studying alright. As the second year was passing, one day her
second son fell at her feet and said: “Amma,
I can no longer do the job!”
With a shattered heart, she looked
into her son’s eyes. She knew fully well about her son—she was aware of his sitting
with hermits and ascetics at the
choultry that abutted the village tank till late night, coming home quietly,
nibble something and then pretending to be sleeping.
“Nayana, you get married … have a family … and take care of your
brother. How are we to carry on without your doing the job, nanna?”
“Amma, you don’t know! … I have no interest in anything.”
Within three months of this
conversation, her second son disappeared from home. It stirred up many rumors
and wild gossips. One day Gurunatham coming home told Janakamma that a certain
carpenter from Ponnur village had seen her son at some mattam[13].
This time round her eyes didn’t moisten.
“Gurunatham, I have to see my
elder son. Could you write a letter to him?”
Catching hold of those who
regularly read newspapers, and picking up some cue about her elder son, he wrote
a letter to some address. It was not, however, known to whom it went. By now
Subbamma had lost her sight completely. Limping to Janakamma with the support
of a shaft in hand, she said, “Janakamma, your family is having this trait …
trait of joining the hermits … in the past, your father-in-law’s younger
brother went away from home to join the monks … he hadn’t even undergone his upananyanam[14]
by then.”
Janakamma didn’t speak to anyone.
She was getting her third son educated with the support rendered by her brother.
Despite all the affection showered on him for being the youngest in the family,
he never failed in the exams. He stood first in all. The kind-hearted mothers
said that if there was anyone to wipe out Janakamma’s struggles, it would be her
youngest son.
All of a sudden, one day her
elder son came home. Leaders of the nearby villages and many other villagers came
to see him. He was fully occupied for the whole day. He didn’t get an
opportunity to speak to his mother even. People hadn’t allowed him even to have
his lunch. Getting ready to leave the home, he said to mother, “Amma, what’s happening to you! I feel
brother took a wrong step. Amma, you
may read the “Geetarahasya” written by Balagangathar Tilak!”
People talked well about her
younger son passing the examinations that were meant for the award of a higher
degree.
She asked her younger son, “Nayanaa! Why don’t you try for a job?”
By then her sight had diminished slightly, hearing had impaired, and even she
had lost a few teeth. He replied thus: “I am not looking for the routine jobs,
am aiming to write for newspapers, and for that to happen, I may have to
struggle for five to six years.”
“How will you carry on till then,
nayanaa!”
“True, but then can this little
belly be not filled somehow? Work in the newspapers is like an offering to god amma.”
“Fine, nayanaa!”
4
The press people proposed to
depute her third son—who, staying in towns and cities for five long years, had learnt
journalism—as a special correspondent to foreign countries. After five years he
went home to share the happy news with his mother.
Greeting him, “Good, my son!” she
tumbled into his hands. Gurunatham came forward
alerting him, “She is no more.”
****
At the time of lighting the funeral
fire, all her three sons were there—the elder son coming from north and the second
son coming from some hermitage down south joined the ritual. Around ten
thousand people walked along her corpse to the burial ground. A big condolence meeting
was held at the burial ground.
“What a great lady! Gave birth to
three diamond like sons”, murmured all those who had a kind heart for her.
Coming home, Gurunatham said to his mother in the bed, “Amma, Janakamma died.”
Subbamma murmured, “Amma dead?”
* * * * *
Acknowledgements: I am thankful to Shri Munipalle Raju garu for
graciously permitting me to translate a few of his stories and post them in this
blog.
[1] Akka—elder sister.
[2] Peddabbai—elder son.
[3] Chinnabbai—younger son.
[4] Ammagaru—a respectful way of addressing the
woman of the family.
[5] Astothara nama pooja—pooja performed by
chanting 108 names of Lord Chennakesavaswamy.
[6] Anna—one-sixteenth of a rupee.
[7]
Nanna—an affectionate way of addressing
a child by a father or mother, or elders.
[8] Amma—mother.
[9] Tammuduu—younger brother.
[10] Bharatmatha—mother India.
[11] Nayana—an affectionate way of addressing
the younger ones by the elders.
[12] Annayya—elder brother.
[13] Mattam—hermitage.
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