SitaRama Kalyana Vaibhogame …

Year after year, on every Sri Ramanavami, my mind simply goes straight like a missile to my native place, Tenali and fondly roams under the pandillu  (temporary shelters from Sun erected by roofing with Palmyra leaves)  erected for about a kilometer and a half or even more... all the way from the market abetting the three canals that are flowing like Bhavabhuti’s gad gada  Godavari … a massive assemblage of people under that sprawling pandiri … waiting for the priests to bring Rama and Sita from the Ramulavari temple in procession to the kalyana mandapam….  crawling through that massive crowd assembled to watch  SitaRama  Kalyanam …which is all set to double up by the Kalyana mahoortam...

and fearing the crowd... present and the prospective ... if one crosses that flood of people by walking along the margins of the gathering,  of course, under the pandillu through the main bazaar right up to Gandhi Chowk and beyond … up to the end of medical shops… that are decorated nicely … ceiling false-proofed with white cloth, sides adorned with garlands of mango leaves, there in the middle colored ribbons, paper cuttings… crisscrossing the roof … here and there chandeliers …  the whole road packed with people—male and female, children and aged moving slowly like a stream… speakers blaring out all kinds of sounds…. including the song of the day—Seetha Ramula Kalyanamu Choothamu rarandi.... 

petty vendors , coming from different regions, selling all kinds of fancy things under those pandillu spreading their ware before the shops … all within that narrow strip.. some even placing their goods on the wooden planks placed over the drains and dancing to balance themselves while reaching to pick out a little away flung items … some shouting in Telugu, some in half Telugu and half Tamil, yet a few others in Hindi… indeed it is Hindi vendors who attracted everybody’s attention, for their anxiety to speak Telugu made everyone amuse heartily … indeed I learned my first few Hindi words under this pandiri from a vendor when he cried rhythmically: “Bacchhonki khel neki  cheese hai .. bachhe ki sath bap bhi khel sakathe hai, do ane me donombhi khelsakte hai…then translating himself into Telugu  he would yell : “pilla adochhu… pillaki sath talli bhi adocchuu.. beda me iddaru adochhu… child can play, dad too can play, in two annas both can play” and that was pretty amusing to listen for everybody …

and as we move further down we come across flower vendors… and the mighty intoxicating fragrance of sampangi.. jasmine, kanakambaralu … maruvam… then the cloth shops… book stores, and finally the Raju Soda Fountain and his badam palu, Soda, ice-soda and all other kinds of chilled beverages… in the mirrored enclave that reflects the whole of Bose road, of course, in awkward shapes… nevertheless interesting to sneak a look....

suddenly as we enter the Bose Road … coming under the sweltering Sun and walking on the baking cement road … jumping up and down in discomfort for a step or two … then, of course, the anticipated  respite—respite from the bright sun and frying cement road… for we are already under the pandillu  in front of the Central Cooperative bank …stretching up to anjaneyaswamy temple ... a huge mass of people sitting under it … fanning with whatever they had in hands—pavitachengu,  palmyra fan, uttareyam, doesn’t matter, even Vishalandra paper, indeed anything that comes to hand—all eyes pinned on the stage where the idols of Rama, Sita, Laksmana and Hanuman are placed on a decorated pedestal… with priests all around with their bright bellies draped in zari-bordered white silken clothes and

their reciting of the mantras in a rhythmic style of their own which of course listened to devotionally though understood nothing of it… and finally the whole mass cheered hysterically as the main priest raises the mangalasutram for the bhaktas to stare and revere …  the pious ornament that Lord Rama is going to tie around Sita’s neck, of course through his agent, the main priest…  at the prescribed—muhoort… auspicious minute ….  accompanied by nadaswaram and the mantra ghosha—both go so well with the occasion that it sways everyone under the pandillu into a kind of ecstasy of their own… With everything thus coming to a happy ending … suddenly everyone becomes conscious of the nauseating sweltering and comes out of the pandillu heaving “ush” “ish”, all kinds of haas and ohos  and then begins the struggle for snatching a fistful of vadapappu (splits of Greengram soaked in water for four-five hours) and a glass full of panakam (made out of mixing jaggery, crude form of sugar and pepper powder in water)…  and finally as people walk back home in groups of their own… there on the way… so many datalu, philanthropists serving the tired masses with glasses and glasses of panakam … perhaps to enable people quickly assimilate the required glucose to walk back alright without dehydration and fainting, perhaps… safely walk back even long-distance  under that sweltering Sun with a little comfort…"a good deed in a naughty world"... how many such dispensers of Panakam!… all those rich people perhaps thinking they would get rewarded by god come out with these servings all through up to evening… walking back in droves narrating one’s own experiences of watching the kalyanam … as the whole town is still echoing with recitations of Vedic mantras—chanting—associated with SitaRamakalyanam …

and from the opposite side you would encounter the stream of incoming people who had been just offloaded by the train coming from Repalli side … that was another interesting scene to watch for as many people as there are inside the railway compartments, would be there on the roof-tops of the compartments too … for us, all that looks like cinematic daredevilry… … 

indeed many of these people from villages come mostly to watch Edla poteelu —cattle competition shows conducted in the big stadium-like enclave erected temporarily in the fallow land abetting Repalii railway track, near the outer signal of Tenali station, in which rich farmers from the nearby districts too participate in the competition ... entry was, of course, against the purchase of tickets ... betting involving huge sums was so common; winners were presented with silver cups/shields, besides a share in the booty... in those days it was a kind of crazy activity among the farming community... indeed they look forward to these competitions year after year... ...   

or to watch the newly released cinemas… see all the four shows and then fly back by late night  … again on rooftops of trains.. and you know what .. without buying ticket too.. and in those days that’s another great wonder for us … something interesting to chat about next day in the school … either in the drawing class or citizenship class … as teachers of these subjects merrily sleep out  ... some of the boys who have been studying the same class for second time or third time used to share their experiences about their visiting these cattle competitions… drawing of 150 lb slab or a 250 lb slabs …that too in sand pits … … or something like that … they gloat about even their betting on a particular Ongole bull’s  and winning a fat sum but who knows what the truth is … … you know we have to simply listen … not only merely listen  but must listen with wonder about their greatness otherwise … … looking back … for us, who cannot yet decide independently to even go out of the house … all these things sound pretty exciting, no doubt… 

mere recalling of those memories is a dear delight … no matter, how many years, indeed decades have since elapsed … but this nostalgic trip on every SriRama Navami is something that I could not but undertake…