Village Pictures!
By
Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar
Notes on my translation to English:
I read Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar stories during my college days! His style of narrative, sense of humor, created an urge in me to experience village life, at least for a while. Especially as my ancestors are from Shanthi Grama, a village near Gorur. We are all known as people from around Hassan! While I never grew up in my ancestral village, visiting the place feels special! I did stay in a village to attend the wedding of a classmate! The visit was brief, and the experience felt different! A few of my classmates moved to Bengaluru to study. I do not think we had serious discussions about our different lifestyles! I believe that our life in cities was not very different from life in Hassan or towns closer to the city. Perhaps we were jealous of the village life for whatever it offered. City life was all about shortages of food, water and frequent power shutdowns!
It was nice of Dr. Govinda Raju, son of Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar, to invite me to join him on his recent visit to Gorur! A very enjoyable visit with him and his family. While Gorur has surely changed, the area we visited around the temple and the author’s home has retained its old-world charm! It was a very special feeling!
The stories written in Kannada tells us how life was in Gorur a century ago! Here is my attempt to tell the stories in English. Translating the book was challenging. The nuances of Kannada are not easy to translate! In some parts, the narration is just a summary, due to my limitations in translating old Kannada! My comments are a ‘then and now comparison.’
My father lived in Shanthi Grama around the same time. In fact, he was just two years younger than author Gorur. While both were active in the freedom movement, I have no idea if they ever met. Gorur was very deeply involved in it. He was arrested during the Quit India movement. Sadly, he lost his son in the 1947 police action!
Gorur was very versatile, and his life post-independence was highly active; he authored essays and novels while he worked! His books were adapted to produce movies, Tv serials. A recipient of Sahitya Academy Award and an honorary doctorate! Please read about him in https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorur_Ramaswamy_Iyengar
My focus is on his first book. He was in his twenties when he published it. Life was very different a century ago. Going to places from his village was on bullock carts. Crossing river was on a very basic boat.
1. My trip to attend Ratna’s wedding!
Ratna is my older sister’s daughter! It has been my brother-in-law’s desire to celebrate Ratna’s wedding in Honnahalli, and in grand style! Honnahalli is on the banks of the river Kaveri! Vedic scholars reside in the village. It is also a place blessed by Gurus! They had once set their sacred feet, ‘Padha Dhooli’ on the streets of the village. No surprise that my Brother-in-law, a staunch believer in Vedic rituals, wanted to perform Ratna’s wedding in a place thus doubly blessed! Totally engrossed in wedding preparations, he forgot that it was the season of floods!
Surprising, as the floods of 1924 are unforgettable, especially for the people living on the banks of the river! The end of July is the time when one hears the roar of the river in spate! Villagers living on the banks are used to the yearly floods! The river raises right up to the steps of their homes! Women enjoy washing their saris at their doorsteps instead walking down to the river. It was a measure of how high the floods had risen each year! Like in a competition, the women kept track on who amongst them washed their saris on their doorsteps and on which year!
During the 1924 floods, it was not the usual washing of clothes at their doorstep, many had to swim to reach home. The town, which was blessed by the foot- dust of the gurus who walked on its streets, was now further blessed by the touch of the river Kaveri on the same streets. The blessings were not equal! Half the houses in the town were washed away, and the ones which survived are in a precarious condition, they could collapse any time now!
It is not that my brother-in-law was unaware of the havoc created by the great floods! His village is about three miles away from Honnahalli, on the other side of the river. The river being impartial had bestowed on him the same treatment! The water had risen right up to his shoulders! The rice he had stored in a room was floating all over. His sugarcane farm was submerged and looked like a huge water tank!
In preparation, my BIL was at Honnahalli a week ahead of the wedding day with his family and had carried things essential for the wedding! His close relatives also joined three days before the wedding to participate in this joyful occasion and to bless the couple!
Being the bride’s uncle, I had to be there for the wedding! I boarded a train at Bangalore and jumped off the train as soon as it arrived at Mandya! The bus to Talekaadu was already waiting at the bus stand near the railway station!
I am very nervous about going by bus, afraid that I may not leave the bus alive! You may laugh, but will not, if you face similar scary situations like I have. The bus driver storming at 50 MPH on empty roads, turning blindly at corners, aiming at an approaching bullock cart like a black devil, and scaring the animals off the road! When the cart, fully loaded with grass, tilts and topples, the angry cart driver curses. The bus driver laughing at him, shoots off at 60 MPH like a maniac.
The callous attitude doesn’t end there, the driver stops half a mile away from the bus stop. The conductor without checking whether a passenger has got off from the bus, whistles and shouts ‘right’. The driver takes off immediately, causing the alighting passenger to fall and break his teeth! The passenger seated near a window gets slapped continuously by the flapping window cover. The cover cannot be buttoned up!
Later the driver picks up about ten passengers at the regular bus stop near a police station. He again stops to load, like grains into a sack, another fourteen passengers waiting at the outskirts of the town. They are all squeezed, as the bus cannot expand like the Pushpaka, the mythical vehicle!
The list is terribly long, and having experienced them, I began to shiver in anxiety as soon as I entered the bus. The bus departed on time and there were no serious incidents till we reached Bannur, except for a minor one! As soon as the bus left Mandya, the cleaner kept pleading desperately with the driver that he wanted to drive! The driver kept saying no and finally yielded about four miles short of Bannur! Letting the cleaner drive, the driver relaxed, lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in circles and watched it go up the ceiling!
It was not the first time I had experienced this kind of scary situation. A driver ignoring his responsibility towards the safety of the passengers was not acceptable to me! I reacted, went to the driver and requested, “Please stop.” Surprised he asked, “Are you not going to Talekaadu? It is 15 miles ahead!”.
I just repeated, “Please stop!” The driver ordered the cleaner to stop! Annoyed, the cleaner who had just begun to drive, glared at me in anger! As fear for my life was dominant, I ignored his angry stare. The cleaner applied the brakes; the bus stopped a little ahead.
Getting down, I walked to the front of the bus and stood facing the driver! As the passengers looked at me in wonder, I told the driver “You drive, if not, I will not get on the bus and also will not let the bus move!” The driver given no choice, got back to the driver’s seat and drove. The rest of the passengers, thinking I was either an idiot or crazy, kept staring at me till we reached Bannur!
Bannur is beautiful. We see green carpets on either side of the road thanks to the paddy and sugarcane fields. The canals are full of water, flowing gently! The pretty view uplifted my mood, and I felt enervated! Who doesn’t when one is in the midst of such beauty?
After about five miles ride on the bus, I was treated to some unexpected comedy! A car was parked on the road, seated in the car was a European lady! The driver stood near the car, surrounded by people including many women. In the midst was a 10-year-old boy, with his head bleeding a little! The lady spoke in English; driver and the villagers were all speaking at the same time in Kannada! It was obvious that the boy was hit by the car! You may wonder where the amusement was!
The lady speaking in English said, “Yes the driver was driving the car, but it is not his fault! In spite of pressing the horn continuously, the boy did not stop and kept coming forward. The driver managed to stop the car quickly, it is not a serious injury! I will compensate the boy for his injury.” The villagers, who did not understand the lady said “She broke his head and now she is giving a lecture!”
The driver had a different story to tell. “The boss- lady was driving. But it was not her fault; it was the boys! He is not hurt; the lady is very kind. I will see to that she will take proper care of the boy!” The lady, curious, asked the driver what he had told the people. I told them “You are very kind and will take care!” The lady praised him as a good chap!
I asked the driver ‘Why all this drama?’ He replied ‘I had to do it, to protect myself!’ Meanwhile the boy’s father, quite happy with the money the lady gave him, saluted her with gratitude and went on his way. We got on the bus and moved on.
But to our bad luck we soon had a problem! The engine became hot and stopped. The cleaner picked up the can to fill water in the radiator, it was empty. In addition, the bus had stopped at a spot without water around it! The cleaner walked in the direction he hoped to find water at the pace of a tortoise! He returned after about one and a half hours! Thankfully, nothing else went wrong during the waiting period and after that.
I reached my brother-in-law’s town by 3 pm. As he and his family were already in Honnahalli, I stayed with a friend for the night and planned to walk the next morning and go across the river by a boat. He and I had not met for a while! My friend took care of me well and with sincere warmth. My stay was nice, but there was a bit of tension!
The tension was caused by my friend’s mother-in-law. She was extremely orthodox. If by chance, the wind blew over used clothing and then touched her, she would go and take a bath immediately! There was always a reason for her to go and bathe again and again! The old lady bathed at least 8 to 10 times a day and in the river! The moment she set eyes on me; she shivered! The fact that I had learned English, lived in Bengaluru, and drank tap water convinced her that I had a permanent place in hell! She was very scared that I would touch vessels in the bathroom and pollute them. She gave me a silver vessel even before I asked for one. It is the belief that Silver does not pollute!
It was evening! My friend and I were relaxing at his home which was located amidst a wooded area. It was getting dark and windy. His farm worker invariably went home before dark. There was a reason! The wooded grove is haunted and has been for a long time. In fact, the worker had actually seen the ghost, wrapped in white clothes bright like the full moon. It was tall, had long braided hair, and its feet were turned backwards! People had given it a name, ‘Jade Muni’. (Hairy and angry!?) My friend offered him a lantern to carry with him; the worker still hesitated to cross the woods. Around this time the town bus arrived, it was two hours late. The worker said he could get home as the light from the bus was good enough to cross the wooded area!
As we were talking about him with a laugh, we heard him call out. We jokingly asked him if Jade Muni had chased him back! He replied that ‘A gentleman asked me the way to your house, so I came with him!’ Before we could say a word, we heard a voice, ‘Swami, I hope it is possible to have a meal tonight?’ When asked ‘where are you from?’ The voice replied ‘from another town’. My friend replied ‘Please come in’. Two gentlemen stepped forward and they were his relatives! They had come to attend the wedding at Honnahalli. We all had a good laugh at the prank and my friend said ‘I had guessed’. I replied ‘it is possible!’ Soon we went in for our meal!
My friend, a scholar, has a habit of picking up a difficult stanzas from the Jaimini Bharatha and other versions and ask his visitors to explain its meaning. For those who were not as scholarly, it was a torture! He was merciless in insisting that they explain forthwith! Friends are known to avoid him just to escape this punishment. We were once at the river washing clothes. A Sanskrit teacher walked down and took a seat near us at the river. On his head he carried a bundle, books and clothes. He had already walked for ten miles and had stopped at the river to rest. My friend, as soon as he saw him, began to quote a couple of Sanskrit verses loudly and asked the teacher translate them right away! The teacher did translate them, but my friend was not satisfied, he continued to quote more verses to be translated. It took a while before we got home!
Aware of his obsession, I was ready with his favorite poems just in case! Maybe he had guessed; he gave me different verses and asked me to translate. He began playing the harmonium, which is like an invitation to the villagers to join! I pretended to be tired, and said I had to go to the wedding early. He said the villagers were already there and cajoled me a bit. He also introduced me as a scholar of both Kannada and Sanskrit. I had no escape. It went on till one a.m. in the morning! *
In the morning, my friend who had planned to join me changed his plan and had gone to the farm! He sent me a message saying that he would be back only in the evening! The rest of us got ready, planned to walk the three miles to the river! Around that time my brother-in-law's worker appeared! My friend’s mother-in-law asked him to get a bullock cart ready and take us to the river. I was surprised at her initiative as my Brother-in-law would not have offered a ride using his pet bullocks. This prompted me to tell the lady we would walk. But an elderly person also attending the wedding protested angrily. Said we should use the bullock cart to get to the river. I agreed trying to be polite.
The worker came with the cart. As the regular bullocks were already out plowing, he had harnessed two inexperienced bulls. The road to the river was just a worn-out track created by bullock carts. We were four of us on the cart; I was heavy, another was a young kid and third was the elderly person. The young cart driver tried but could not balance our weights for the bullocks to pull easily. The bulls suddenly jumped and moved forward; the ride was erratic. Suddenly the bulls stopped. The driver was unable to coax them to move. Even beating the favorite bulls of my BIL failed to move them. After about a quarter of an hour, they began to move on their own!
My BIL was proud of these bulls. When he brought them home, a neighbor asked him the prize as he admired the bulls. My BIL proudly said that he had paid Rs 260/- and added ‘yes they are good, they eat well too’. As he spoke the bulls dropped a lot of dung! His neighbor laughing said, ‘yes they eat well and shit well too!’. My BIL failed to appreciate the neighbor’s humor.
The path we took was full of potholes! Our elderly guest was very nervous, having once fallen from a bullock cart and had got hurt. He kept shouting ‘lo lo lo’ whenever the cart tilted and would jump out! He had already jumped out 5-6 times in our two miles ride. It was difficult for me not to laugh at his antique.
When we were about half a mile from the river, I perceived two men walking towards us, covered with red shawls and an open umbrella over their heads. The bulls had seen them before I did. Totally scared at the sight of red shawls, the bulls immediately picked up speed and dashed forward like an attacking cobra. No way the old man could jump off the cart. The driver was unable to hold back the racing bulls. The elder person began chanting names of all the gods for help. Even the gods could not hold the bulls back. The cart toppled and rolled four times. We were all thrown out of the cart and were on the ground. One bull also got loose and ran off. The other just stood near the cart. Our prayers did help finally, and we escaped unhurt. We took help from people who were walking by, managed to get back the absconding bull. Lifted up the fallen cart, harnessed the bulls, and sent the cart back home.
We finally reached the riverbank. I was astonished to learn that the elderly person had not seen a Harigolu (Coracle)! I wondered whether he was from London or New York? He said ‘I never ventured out of my town!’. He was sixty years old! He hoped the boat was safe, did not want to die in an accident and become a ghost. I reassured him that the boat was safe!
The breeze blew over us from across the river chilling our bones! The small temple at the bank, which could only accommodate three people, was full. On the right was the dam, the water was deep and wide like the sea. The surroundings, with the dam, a canal, the temple, and the river looked beautiful! But we were not in a situation to enjoy the scene.
Due to the floods, the river had spread and was three furlongs wide now. The harigolu, still on the other side appeared small, like a bird. The heavy winds pushed the waves high, and they were lashing at the banks we stood upon.
The ‘round’ boat could not be taken across the river in such high winds! None knew when the wind would change, neither could they order the wind to stop! Even God Hanuman was unable to control the winds! It was a long wait, three hours had passed, yet no activity was visible on the opposite bank! I regretted I said no to the offer my friend’s wife had made, thinking we could cross the river in no time! She had offered to pack us snacks and coffee for the journey. I had two mangoes in my bag. Offered one to the older person. He was not interested; I and the kid ate one mango each! Instead of feeling better I felt hungrier. It was too little!
We had no choice but wait! Finally, we saw the boat being moved upstream. People who cross a river on a bridge may not understand. During floods, the boats cannot be rowed straight across the river; boatsmen need to compensate for the speed of the river flow. Today they pushed the boat up by about two furlongs! Our eyes became tired as we kept gazing across the river for signs of activity at the other bank! Finally, we saw the boat, just a small speck, move. The boat finally reached us, and our elderly passenger saw a harigolu for the first time in his life!
It was still very windy. The waves were dangerously high. The boatsmen were not too keen to take us across the river immediately. Feeling impatient due to the long wait, I said that we should try, just get on the boat. I was confident that we could cross the river. After all there were eight of them! Finally, one of them tersely said, ‘Okay come! Think that you are going to complete your hundred years!’. (It is our belief that human life span is one hundred years!). Ignoring their worries, we happily got onto the boat!
The boatsmen began to paddle hard. The harigolu moved but slow. It was hard work, and they began to sweat with their effort! Their activity made me eager and enthusiastic. I had believed we could reach the other end smoothly! The reality was not so! The boat would stop at points where the speed of the river and the rate of the paddling matched. At some places the boat would get caught in a whirlpool and begin to spin. It would also go up and down with the waves at some points. We had crossed half the distance when the boatsmen began to look worried! However hard they tried, the boatsmen had very little control over the boat. Suddenly one of them pointed at a rock and said ‘If the boat goes close to that rock, we will not be able to control it, the boat will go up the rock and turn turtle!’ As soon as we heard this, we began to tremble!
The elderly man lamented, ‘I knew this would happen on a Harigolu. Who can change it, if we are destined to die in this river?’ The caution one of them had given us, that we could possibly ‘complete’ our hundred years, began to scare me! The boatsmen increased their effort and paddled with added vigor. One of them even snarled at us ‘Sinners, you kept pestering us that there is no wind! Now look!’ We just kept quiet. Wisdom had taught us not to upset a boatman on the river, a barber who is shaving you with an open razor, or an advocate who is fighting for your case!
It became scarier with the increased speed of the raging wind. Dark clouds covered the earth, turned the afternoon into a night. Thunders were loud and lasted a long time! A lightening spread across the skies; it appeared as if snakes with thousands of tongues were biting the clouds. It was the end of the world! Death appeared inevitable! The harigolu, caught in a whirlpool spun like a top. We felt imprisoned by the force of nature under the dark skies! The boatsmen looked helpless, dropped their paddles on the boat. They stood, totally despondent, defeat written on their faces as the boat sped towards the rock.
If we were not in such a mortal danger, we would have appreciated and even enjoyed the nature’s threatening demeanor, beautiful in its own way! The water had turned into dark blood red color as far as we could see. With the loud music of the never-ending movement of the waves, covered with white foam, the river felt like the sea!
The experience should have thrilled us. In reality, we were now staring at our horoscopes. Our death sentence was already written! Half-dead with fear, we saw Mahakali swimming in a sea of blood. The waves depicting the dance of Shiva at the end of the world. The boat was the vehicle which would take us to our creator. We had given up and had surrendered to God, accepting our fate, and our end!
The boatsmen looked totally dejected, and their faces reflected fear. Suddenly, they shouted ‘ho ho!’ We turned to look and what we saw chilled our blood, tongues went dry, and faces turned ashen! Yama, God of death, came rushing towards us in the shape of a large tree, which practically spanned the width of the river! It became obvious that there was no hope of escape for us. The boatsmen had lost control of the Harigolu. None looked confident of avoiding the tree which was speedily bearing down on us! Our sins had ensured us a ticket to the abode of Yama! The ticket was already issued, and the train was approaching fast. The totally dejected elder was talking to himself, ‘One who drowns and dies has no ceremonies, no heaven, he will turn into a wandering ghost. Instead of attending the wedding, we are facing an unnatural death.’
One of the rowers who did not want to give up, said ‘Let us try again, hope Mother Kaveri will be kind’. The sailors picked up the paddles and started rowing with renewed energy. They had no clue how and where the tree would hit the boat. They could only guess and try to move the boat away from it. As the tree neared us, expecting the worst, we closed our eyes! A branch touched the boat, and the boat began to spin! We rolled in the boat like large gourds!
One of them announced much relieved, ‘Mother Kaveri has saved us!’ I opened my eyes, saw the massive tree floating away, it appeared ghostly. Out of danger, the rejuvenated rowers took us over the floating twigs, and we reached the bank of the river. It was not our destination; we were back to where we had started our journey. Proving to us that the earth was round! We did not dare to ask the rowers about their plans. We just waited. Around six pm the sky cleared, clouds scattered. It was a bright evening! The river was calm. It was difficult to believe we were looking at the same river.
It was an incredible feeling that a river possessed all the ‘opposing’ qualities. It could be calm or angry, peaceful or roaring, dignified like a celestial nymph or a Mahakali dancing on the doomsday, wear a pure white sari akin to moon light or a soiled bloodied garment, a bewitching wife as it gently moved in the moonlight or show sudden ferocity and growl scaring the husband. The river, now like the wife who was no longer angry and smiling. The reassured boatsmen prostrated, ‘Mother are you calm now? How can you be so cruel? What sin did we commit to be thus punished?’ They got into the boat and invited us to join!
Our old uncle, for the first time on a harigolu, was still shivering with the nightmarish experience he had gone through. His fear of the accidental death and turning into a ghost still lingered. He declined to join, ‘My good man, thank you! I had enough of Mother Kaveri and your boat. I think the enjoyment I had so far of the wedding celebrations is enough. Let me go back and bless them from the safety of my home. I am at an age when I need the comfort of a home, this kind of cold and rain is beyond me! We managed to convince him to join us. Reached our destination without any hitch! As soon as we reached, the relatives who were waiting for us laughed! Seeing the boat going back after covering half the distance had amused them immensely! When the big tree got close to us, our screams in fear, they said reverberated from the woods beyond the bank.
One said, ‘what is so big about this river?’ another boasted ‘I have swum across this kind of river ten times!’ A friend had a question ‘You know swimming, why did you not jump into the river and swim?’. Even my brother-in-law was sarcastic. ‘It is not such a broad river to cross!’ His comment upset me, I retorted ‘you, your walls in your houses are all used to the floods! But if you had faced death like we did this afternoon, it would have been a different story. You would have been crying, and us laughing!’ The elderly person had the last word, ‘I wish this town was completely washed away, then there was no need to cross the river!’
The wedding was performed in a grand style as expected. Just shared our experience which was unexpected.
 |
| The river now! |
2.About a pilgrimage!
Raju, my uncle’s son, as soon as he saw the girl, gaped at her. He acted like a young boy who found a ripe mango! He was shy, just like a girl, at the mention of marriage. The day the date of his wedding was fixed, he came running to me and asked, ‘How do I get out of it, my father has fixed my marriage. I said no, but I cannot go against his decision!’ I suggested ‘Run away to Mysore the night before the wedding!’ He said ‘okay’! Has anybody seen a boy who loves fruits, forego one within his reach? I have not.
The wedding was fixed at Shivalli close to Hassan. A friend from Melkote planned to attend! We went together for the wedding. My wife also joined! She got busy with the wedding preparations. No time even to talk! We were lucky that she remembered to get us coffee in between! Once the wedding was done, our next priority was lunch. After lunch, some of the guests got busy playing cards. We watched for a while. Getting bored, we decided to take a walk around the town. It was the rainy season; there was a drizzle on and off, also cloudy. Feeling cold, we wrapped ourselves with khadi shawls and walked out.
The surroundings were pretty. Green paddy fields, gardens with mangoes, coconut and other trees and a few small lakes. We chose to relax at a lake with steps. Nice to see fish jumping in the lake, and lotus plants and a bit of algae in the middle of the lake. We took shelter from the wind in a small pavilion.
There was a faint patter of the light rain and there was a cold breeze. No birds seen in the sky. When the birds did call, it felt like a cry. We became quiet, busy with our own thoughts. Gunda began to sing softly! He had forgotten I was with him. A brilliant singer, he moved from one raga to another seamlessly. He had created a world of music for us. Carried away by his rendering of one raga, a ‘wow’ escaped from me. That brought him down to earth. He rendered a couple of well-known songs at my request. I checked my watch, it said we had been there for four hours.
Gunda said later, ‘we cannot be doing the same, all the four days we are here. It is nice but let us go some other place tomorrow’. He continued and asked, ‘have you been to Halebid?’ I did not respond right away. Then said ‘Yes and no’! Gunda reacted, ‘Okay you must have seen it from a distance!’ I replied ‘No.” I went with a purpose to see Halebid!.’ ‘Good for you! So have seen Halebid’ he reacted. I clarified ‘I didn’t see the temple!’ He was surprised ‘You were there and missed seeing the temple? I suppose you went there for some other work. But you should have seen the temple.’ I emphasized ‘My dear fellow, I went there mainly to see but did not. Just thinking about it upsets me!’ I saw his mischievous smile and was further upset. He put his arm around my shoulder to pacify me ‘Why are you talking in riddles. Tell me what happened?.’
I began, ‘It happened ten years ago! I was part of the scouts’ group in my school. We were twenty of us. A classmate and I were brahmins and the rest eighteen were not. Our teacher was a brahmin, his views were cosmopolitan. As the son of a priest, I had not been to a hotel, and I was already seventeen. In fact, I did not even sleep with my head in its direction.’
‘One Saturday afternoon, twenty of us and the teacher began walking and our destination was Halebid. I was very keen to see Halebid! We reached Hagere around eight in the night. We had carried food for the night! We had a campfire, we ate, we sang, shouted rather, whatever songs we had learnt. Later we looked for and found a traveler’s bungalow to sleep! The bungalow was infested with mosquitoes. Their music, as they buzzed around us was constant! While I was not able to sleep, others were snoring away. There seemed to be a pattern in their snores! A type of question and answer! I was unable to sleep with this music and the mosquitoes were busy biting, it seems only me! They knew we were going to be there. The mosquitoes had fasted and were hungry. Wonder if they loved my blood or they just hated me, a brahmin!’
‘Others who slept well were up in the morning! After our morning routines, we continued our walk and reached Halebid at eleven in the morning! The topic of food came up! We, the two brahmins, wanted our food be cooked separately! There was a problem. We needed more vessels for this to happen. Finally, we, the two brahmins, in order to save our caste, agreed to cook for all! While we cooked, the rest happily went for a swim! It was not easy to cook for twenty people! Our eyes were burning because of the smoke!’
‘The rest returned refreshed from their swim. Not wanting to look selfish, we served the others first. Cooking had tired me, plus I was deprived of sleep in the night. Too tired, I just laid down under the shade of a tree! Before I knew I was in deep sleep. Meanwhile the rest went to see the temple and returned by 8 pm. I was still asleep. They woke me up. We began to walk back through the night and reached home in the morning. I do not even know the direction to the temple!’ My friend who was smiling all the while, couldn’t hold back his laugh!
We discussed and planned to visit both Belur and Halebidu! I chose not to inform my dear wife, thinking that she may want to join and it would get complicated. It was the rainy season! We decided to inform the bridegroom Raju and go. My plan was to sweet talk to my wife to pacify her after our return.
The next day, the guests sat down as usual to play cards after lunch. My wife watched them play and was also busy threading the flowers required for the wedding. Knowing it would be cold at night, I picked up my blanket to take it along for the journey. Gunda calls it my ‘romantic’ blanket. It has traveled with me to many places. My wife saw me folding it and asked ‘Why are you folding your blanket?.’ I said ‘just did it’ looking guilty.
Having guessed that I had made plans to go out, she sat there and continued with her work with the flowers. Gunda came in a couple of times as a reminder. I began to squirm restlessly. She smiled at me a couple of times. It was getting late for the bus. I had no choice but to surrender. I called her in, confessed to her about our trip. She was kind, packed snacks and food for the journey. I felt it was a subtle way to punish an offender. She did warn me though “go now, your ‘birthday’ will happen when you get back.” I was not too worried as I knew how she had dealt with her earlier threats.
We reached Belur by four pm, and went directly to the temple, went round admiring its beauty. We came out of the temple after the Mangala Aarthi of lord Keshava. We did not know how time had passed. It was 7.30 pm in the evening! The moon had risen. We chose to stay and enjoy the view of the temple in the moonlight. As we watched, the past history of the place played like a dream in my thoughts. It was sad to think of our past glory and compare it with the present.
We lost track of the time again. Around 10.30 pm, hungry, we demolished the food we had brought. Thinking of a place to stay. I remembered an acquaintance of ours, a schoolteacher who lived in Belur. We managed to locate his home. Gunda felt it was too late to disturb the teacher. Suggested that we sleep in the choultry, he said ‘we have your romantic blanket’. I was not inclined to shiver in the cold at the choultry. I did not agree, ‘He is young, will be awake. Anyway, we do not come here often.’ Gunda argued that it did not give us the right to disturb him. It was rude to do so. I ignored him. The front door of the teacher’s house was shut. We called out his name a number of times. No response. However, we had managed to wake the neighbors up. Our young teacher slept on. We gave up and were walking away. Luckily I heard footsteps and the door opened. We entered their house and soon were asleep.
Our bus was leaving for Halebid at 6.30 in the morning. His kind wife had prepared coffee and uppit for us. The teacher still slept. We reached Halebid by 7.30 am. Gunda teased me ‘You have nothing new to see, you have already seen everything in Halebid’. I retorted ‘Do not provoke me. You will be responsible for the outcome.’
Halebid temple looks much better than Belur, it is more artistic. Gunda said ‘Good we saw Belur before coming here.’ It was a happy feeling as we walked through the temple, but there was a tinge of sadness. We were affected by the lack of activity, the ring of bells, and the sound of prayers. We took another round, and it was time to leave. We walked to a well-known Jain Basti. It was locked. We saw a girl in the house opposite milking a cow. We asked her if she had the key. She said no, but her smile told us she was playing with us. We tried to peep through the windows. Finally, our pleading that we had come from a long distance worked. She opened the door, and we offered our prayers to Lord Gomateshwara.
No bus to Belur till evening. It was a ten-mile walk and not too hot; there was a cloud cover. We decided to walk the distance. I was hungry and had to eat. My friend sarcastically said ‘you are forever hungry!’ Luckily, I saw a shop selling bananas. Gunda said the weather was too cold to eat bananas. He did not want any. I bought a bunch of five bananas and a piece of jaggery. We walked a bit and found a place to sit and eat. I picked up a banana and so did Gunda. Finally, the man who did not want any, ate exactly half the quantity. When I chided him, he said ‘I took just a few.’ It was his nature!
We reached the teacher’s home. He had heated water for us to bathe! Kind of him! His wife had prepared good and tasty food. We had to gobble up the food and rush as we heard the Hassan bus getting ready to depart. Thanked the young couple and ran. Gunda grumbled, ‘Nice food! A pity that the bus did not allow us to eat!’ We reached Shivalli in the evening!
The vision of the temples continued to play within us. I was lost in thought. My wife looking at my dull face, dropped her plans to take me to task on my return. As I slept, I dreamt of the beautifully sculpted dancing girl we saw at the temple. She came alive and danced, I was in heaven. Suddenly a door opened for her, and she walked to the door. She looked sad as she paused and turned towards me and spoke, ‘I came down to teach you about art and to love its beauty. The kings and the people had responded well in the past and made art a part of their lives. Now, you have lost interest! What is the point of my staying here? Will a flower bloom in this desert?’
I begged her not to leave, promising that I would worship art and value it! She left with a sad smile, saying ‘what can one man do?’. She walked through the door and it shut as I tried in vain to reach her and hold her back! I woke up crying ‘Ayyo why did you go?’ and I saw my wife standing near the bed looking at me in wonder.
3.Jodidar Stories
3.a: Jodidar loved to swim.
This story is about our Jodidar when he was young. He was fifteen years old, athletic, able to climb coconut and palm trees with ease. Excellent swimmer in spite of his father’s strict rule against his swimming. The young Jodidar’s friend, a good swimmer died when he took a dive into the river and hit a rock. Another friend trying to cross a river just floated away. Hence the rule, in addition father had threatened that he would break his son’s leg if seen swimming in the river.
Being obstinate, young Jodidar would sneak directly from school to swim. He was ready to be caned by his father if caught. His nemesis was an old, widowed lady who stayed with them. She bathed daily in the river. The problem for Jodidar was that she went to bathe in the river whenever he was there for a swim. She would see and report to his father that she saw his son swimming! And the reason why he caught a cold so easily! His father would wait for his son with a cane ready in his hand.
When Jodidar sneaked in from the back door. The old door would creak, and he would be caught! The old lady was like the secret police, would catch him even if he changed the spot for his swim. Young jodidar had become resigned to being caught and the caning that followed.
Bhashyakar Thiru Nakshathra is an important festival for the Iyengars! On that day, an Iyengar paints ‘Naama’, not just on his forehead, but at other parts of the body as well. Seeing them with this red and white paint, babies scream in fear! Iyengar boys crowd into one of the three homes, who keep stock of the material for such occasions. It is done for free; this virtuous service earns them punya (credit). There is a prescribed way for putting on a naama. But on this day it is a mass production. The well-acknowledged experts divide their work and set to work. One covers the heads with the ‘naama,’ another the bodies and third the shoulders and arms. In no time the Iyengar boys in the village are painted with a dozen or more ‘naamas.’ This platoon of naamadhari’s move around the village, shouting ‘Ramanuja’!
Recently our religious head added a new routine! The group of boys have now gone wild! One of the boys is dressed up as Ramanuja with a rosary in his hand and another acts as his disciple, with a deer skin under his arm. Another carries a vessel and the fourth a photo of Ramanuja. With this change, the group who were shouting loud enough to scare people are now well organized. The disciple enters the house first; spreads the deer skin. Places the photo of Ramanuja against the wall in front of the deer skin. Then the boy dressed up as Ramanuja enters, sits in front of the photo trying to look serious. He chants as he moves his hand on the rosary! The rest of the boys’ shout ‘Ramanuja.’ The boy acting as Ramanuja is not able to control his embarrassed laughter. He tries to cover it up by coughing! I was once dressed up as Ramanuja. I just couldn’t control my laugh.
The family rewards the boys who perform with a measure of rice, (se’ru) and a one-anna coin! It is actually a demand. The boys continue to shout Ramanuja, loud enough to dislodge the tiles on the roof, until they are rewarded. The next day, they cook the rice and make a tasty dish! Sometimes, they gift the rice to the needy. Once our young Jodidar was the chosen ‘Ramanuja’. He looked and acted dignified. People said he looked like Ramanuja, a few women even touched his feet. His father was pleased!
The group went round the town till five pm. The chariot festival they participate in began only at eight pm. They had time, the boys feeling hot and sweaty decided to go for a swim. Seeing too many people near their regular spot, they went further, a place near the dam. The noise of water splashing against the dam felt good and they could hear the sound of oolaga (clarinet) played when the festival began.
Sun was about to set. Its golden rays rested on the tip of the hill and on the leaves. The surroundings became quiet and peaceful. The sun tip-toed away slowly like the quiet steps of a danseuse, The birds flew in a formation, like soldiers, towards the west. A cool breeze parted the crops, and they swayed with the breeze, making a path for the timid darkness to enter.
The young boys, intent on swimming had no time to pause and appreciate nature’s beauty. They shed their clothes and got into the water to swim. There was a competition among them as to who would stay underwater the longest! However, Jodidar’s bad luck with getting caught continued. Our shanubagh was returning from another village, noticed the boys swimming. He saw their clothes bundled under the tree and picked them up with a smile and walked away! The boys feeling fresh after their swim, came up and were shocked to discover their clothes had gone missing! They looked around and up the tree. They knew the story of Lord Krishna playing a prank with the girls who were bathing. No luck! They had no clothes on them except their loin cloth. After thinking about many alternatives, all impractical, they decided to split, and each boy would try to get home the best way he could!
Our Jodidar reached home, using a longer but quieter route. The back door is usually locked in the evening. He could not use the front door as his father and his friends were in the front discussing about the chariot festival about to begin. Annoyed, he jumped over the compound wall, getting scratches all over his body as he landed on the other side. He heard his mother and sister chatting inside the house. Shouting to get their attention was risky as the sound would travel all the way to the front of the house. His father and his friends were sure to hear. That wouldn’t do! He came up with the idea of going to the cow shed and knock on its door. His sister or mother would hear and think the cows had become free. They would come to check. It was then easy to get home without his father seeing him!
Convinced with his own logic, he banged on the door a number of times. It so happened that his mother and sister were talking about robbers who had tried to rob them! It had happened a few times. Their conversation had created an atmosphere of fear. The banging noise convinced them that there were robbers in the house. They walked to the front door, and the daughter told her father ‘Someone is banging on the back door, continuously!’ This surprised the assembled men, and they walked towards the back door! Our Jodidar meanwhile thought that his sister was delayed because she was getting a lantern as it was getting dark. His luck failed him again. If he had known that his father was on the other side of the door, he would have vanished by jumping over the wall like a monkey!
The door opened slowly and there stood his father. When he saw the condition of his shocked son, he laughed. So did the others, loudly! An upset Jodidar prayed that the gods would punish them for laughing at his pitiable condition! It was cruel. His father took him to task right in front of the others. It was quiet a letdown for him after the earlier honor he had received as a Bhashyakar!
His upset father threatened to push the Jodidar’s head down in the water till he choked! The word water emboldened the young Jodidar, who replied ‘Do that, I will be in it as long as I can and then float up!’ His father understood that there was no way his son would change and gave up, saying ‘You are sure to die drowning in water!’
3.b: Fun during Holi
As they do each year, the boys had collected dry leaves in the day and planned to make a bonfire at night. It was around seven in the evening. The boys went home and planned to return by ten in the night. It was a bit cloudy, our Jodidar stopped to take a look at the collection of the dry leaves. He carried a box of matches for later use. He saw the huge collection of leaves on the dry ground they had chosen for the bonfire. He suddenly felt an urge to ignite it. Out came his box of matches and soon the leaves caught fire. He enjoyed the huge bonfire, as it gradually burnt down.
He realized the enormity of his act and knew his friends would not forgive him for enjoying the result of all their combined effort all by himself. It was sure they would break his bones, even his life could be in danger! He had no place to hide. Once the news spread about why his friends were looking for him, none would protect him. His home was not safe; his father would be equally furious. It would be surely his end, if caught that night. Hoping that their anger would not be so harsh the next day, he walked towards the river seeking for a place to hide. It was quiet now and also dark. He then remembered the rock in the middle of the river. The river was very deep at that point. There was a story that a golden chariot was submerged in its deep waters. He began to swim towards the rock. Due to his anxiety, he had totally forgotten about the crocodiles said to be near the rocks.
The scene was beautiful with stars peeping out from a clouded sky. The trees in the garden looked dark and scary. Fireflies were flitting about and the bark of the dogs from the village could be heard. The river had its own gentle music as it flowed down. Our tired Jodidar dozed as he stretched his body on the rock.
He was woken up when he heard voices and saw a few moving lantern lights. People were talking loudly, one said ‘it is his work’, the other added ‘let us catch him first’. Another was grumbling that his back was still hurting with all the work he did collecting the dry leaves. One predicted ‘one punch with our fist by each one of us is enough to break all his bones!’
They wondered where he could have hidden and were totally mystified. He was not in his home, they had looked for him at all the houses in the village, the old temple, and other likely places. One hazarded a guess that he was hiding on the rock. The Jodidar shivered in fear as he heard them guess. Another, to his relief disagreed ‘no, there are crocodiles.’
They decided to turn back and go home! They declared ‘He will be surely found tomorrow’ and shouted ‘Hey, Ramu, you escaped today. Tomorrow will be your birthday celebration!’ As he had fervently hoped, the young Jodidar escaped from getting caught. The proverb ‘Avoid the swinging cane, you will live for another day’, worked! Friends impressed with his courage by swimming the crocodile infested area of the river, forgave him.
3.c: Jodidar as a student!
Jodidar’s father wanted his son to be the talk of the town with his scholastic achievements! He arranged a private tutor for his son’s lower secondary exams! It was time for the exams to be held in Narsipur. His father advised his son to keep calm and not get nervous about the exams. It was decided that the students taking exams would leave early in the morning! His mother gave him a couple of superior quality bananas and a piece of dry coconut as a snack for his journey! Jodidar packed them in a piece of cloth and put it in his box. The bullock cart, with the other students, came early in the morning to pick him up. He touched the feet of his parents seeking their blessings and joined the other students on the cart.
As they neared the riverbank, he remembered that he had forgotten to pick up his snack. He decided to go home and collect it. It was either his regard for his mother or the bananas that prompted his action! The cart was going slow due to the sand on the banks. Thinking he could be back before they crossed the river, he ran home! His parents were still up talking; they had not gone back to sleep. His father was upset, returning halfway from an important journey is considered a bad omen. He told his father he had forgotten something, collected his bananas and ran!
His father shouted at him as he was leaving ‘I will cut off my nose if you pass the exam!’ Our hero, who had never been shouted at this harshly so far, started crying, He threw the bananas and the dried coconut into the river in frustration.
He knew that he was not very intelligent and had not studied hard. He was afraid of failing in his exams and his father’s prediction broke his heart. He kept crying like a small baby. He had never cried this hard. He took the exam without enthusiasm. Remembering his father’s prediction, he cried again as soon as he received the exam papers. However, he did manage to pass!
3.d: Learning to ride a horse!
Our Jodidar aimed to add to his list of achievements. Now an expert swimmer and a skilled tree climber! Next was horse riding! He caught a stray emaciated horse on the street and took a ride. He would have tried to ride a bigger donkey if he found one. He pulled the horses into the compound of a temple nearby! It was a good place to practice, taking rounds inside the compound. Once he caught hold of a big horse which belonged to the village Shanbhag! The front two legs of the horse were tied together. He managed to lead the horse into the temple compound.
An impatient Jodidar climbed on the horse’s bare back and asked his friend to untie the rope around the horse’s leg! While his friend was untying the horses leg, there was a neigh from another horse nearby. The horse Jodidar had mounted heard the neigh and reacted; it lifted its front two legs and jumped. Jodidar’s friend, yet to untie the horse, fell back in fear. The horse kept jumping on its rear legs and the Jodidar lost control over the horse. He tried but was unable to get off the horse. The horse came out of the temple still jumping and reached the Jodidars’ house. His father, who was offering prayers to the sun, saw the horse and his son on it. The horse jumped even higher and the Jodidar fell and sprang up like a rubber ball in front of his father. His father predicted ‘You are bound to die falling from a horse, which is for sure!’
3.e A short cut over the lake!
Jodidar had to go to Narsipur. Those days there were no buses. Renting a bullock cart would cost him ten rupees. Jodidar a well-built, fit young man told himself ‘I will walk the fourteen miles.’ It was cool early in the morning! The sun came up.
It appeared as if a goddess was appearing from the east carrying in her well-formed hand a golden casket filled with the right substances for a pooja! The dew kissed flowers opened, the wind began to spread its fragrance. The chirping birds gave one’s mind happiness and filled it with energy. Jodidar enjoyed the nature’s gift as he walked.
The sun was getting sharper, he chose narrower paths to avoid the sun, to add variety and shorten his walk. After a two-hour walk reached a lake. He had another walk of three furlongs along the lake. While in summer one could walk across the dry lake and save the three furlong walk. The sight of water made the Jodidar happy. From where he was, he had to just cross twenty feet of water. Thinking of avoiding the three-furlong walk, he chose to swim across the lake. He took off his upper clothes and tied them on his head.
The planet positions were against him, even in the forests. The direction he chose to swim was exactly in line with a young girl washing her sari on the other side. She looked across and saw a well-built fellow getting into the water. She got scared and was also surprised. She began to worry ‘The walk to the road is only three furlongs; he is big and looks fierce, why is he getting into water which is ten feet deep?.’ She was about 18 years old, nice looking, though she believed she was beautiful.
Jodidar’s luck was surely not good on that day! The girl loudly shouted ‘This brahmin is coming after me!’ A surprised Jodidar smiled and thought ‘This girl has a lot of ego. Just because she has red lips and bright eyes, she thinks she is Rathi, imagines the whole world is only thinking of abducting her!’ He continued to swim and reached the other bank. He soon discovered that he was totally wrong in continuing to swim! He was in serious trouble. And what he went through, he later admitted, was such a nightmarish experience that it gives him the shivers even now, thinking about that day!
The girls shout had alerted men working in the fields, who picked up a big stick or anything else they found, and those working in the garden carried spades and scythe. Women carried whatever they could find. Looking at the approaching group of hostile people, Jodidar’s heart stopped beating! God of death was approaching. He thought he was finished. Jodidar tried to talk to the girl politely, called her ‘amma,’ a respectful way of address. She retorted ‘no mother and no son here, it is going to be your birthday!’
He was by nature a mild person. Facing so many people advancing menacingly from all directions, it was obvious that reasoning with them was not an option. Their intention was to beat him up with whatever implement they carried. Jodidar ran for his life. His survival depended on how fast he ran. Poor fellow was already tired after a long walk, and this happened when he was about to take some rest. The scene was typical, Jodidar in front and people like mad dogs behind him and both running. He was not fully clothed. His clothes were tied on top of his head. Even though he was very tired he kept running, but the speed became lesser and lesser. Gradually the distance between him and his hunters was reducing. He told himself whatever happens ‘I’m going to sit down!’ Luckily, he saw a village a little ahead and ran towards it.
The leader of the village sitting under the peepul tree was surprised to see an almost naked Brahmin running towards him. He asked ‘what happened’ The breathless Jodidar managed to tell briefly what had transpired as he pointed at the people running towards them. The village leader told him to relax and take it easy ‘if you are innocent there is nothing to fear.’ After an enquiry it was decided it was a misunderstanding. The villagers who had chased him went away, still angry. They warned him ‘you escaped today but if we see you again we’ll skin you alive.’
Since then, the Jodidar avoids the village and if he has work nearby, he'll take a much longer route but never through the village.
3.f: Jodidar’s special weapon. (Brahmma Astra)
Our Jodidar is now sixty years old, looks strong and healthy. He has forgotten English but does attempt to speak once in a while. He still is able to recite Sanskrit slokas in his own style. His belly has grown big, so also his short temper. His anger however is not directed towards others who trouble or upset him. Mahatma Gandhi had created a style of protest, known as ‘satyagraha’. Similarly, Jodidar has developed his own way of protesting. “Bayi badkoludu,” his method is to scream loudly and keep beating his mouth with his palm at the same time. It seems to work for him.
One day a Buffalo entered his farm and destroyed plants, with flowers and fruits. Our great man did not drive it away. He knew the owner, rushed to his home and started protesting in his own style, kept beating his mouth and screaming. He didn’t fight, he didn’t argue. The owner of the buffalo got the message. After this incident, the owner has not allowed his buffalo to go even in the direction of our Jodidar’s farm.
Jodidar had some urgent work at Hassan. He chose to rent a bullock cart. It was the rainy season. Normal rent was about two and a half rupees. The cart owner/ driver saw that Jodidar was in a hurry, grabbed the opportunity and demanded ₹10. For the same money, four bullock carts could have been hired! Jodidar who doesn’t like to bargain, offered nine rupees. The bullock cart owner said ‘Sorry Sir, it is rainy days. Please give me ₹10’. Jodidar with no other choice, had to be there in Hassan on that day, agreed.
They left early in the morning grumbling at the heavy rains. Even the bulls did not enjoy the rain drops constantly beating on them. Only the frogs were happy, croaking. Water was flowing like a stream on the road. Jodidar however slept peacefully in the cart. Tired, the driver took a break, parked the Bullock cart under a tree. Totally wet in the persistent rain, he was shivering. There was enough space within the cart. The driver took shelter in the cart. After all, he was also a human, right? They both slept the whole night.
The rain had stopped in the morning! Jodidar woke up first and saw the cart driver sleeping inside the cart and snoring too! Jodidar became upset as soon as he saw the sleeping driver. The driver had not only had demanded 10 rupees, but he had also the temerity to sleep inside the cart. Jodidar’s short temper made him sweat. Others would have woken the driver up. But Jodidar did not do that. He chose his special weapon. He got down from the cart, started beating his mouth and shouting at the same time. You may say he was unreasonable or whatever.
The cart driver woke up, asked ‘Sir, what happened?’ The villagers who were nearby heard Jodidar’s special weapon and walked towards the origin of the noise. They saw an angry Jodidar with red eyes. And a shivering driver, who had just woken up, blinking his eyes in confusion. Curious, they asked Jodidar ‘what happened?.’
‘What is there to happen? I gave him 10 rupees for the full vehicle. Not for him to sleep in the cart. Imagine, 10 rupees for 14 miles.’ The exorbitant rental demanded shocked the villagers and they scolded him. But none understood why Jodidar beat his mouth and screamed.
At the same time, the Jodidar felt bad that the driver was berated by others. He was angry that the driver did not accept 9 rupees he had offered. Being normally very kind-hearted, if the car driver had asked for a reward after the journey, he would have tipped the driver much more!
‘Why did I get upset just because this man took shelter within the cart? What is happening to me at my age? ‘Many in the village helped by me keep praising me. But this poor man became victim of my anger just for 1 rupee’. As they moved on, the cart driver had gone quiet! He did not even breathe hard as he drove the vehicle towards his destination. He felt guilty that he bargained for just 1 rupee, avoided looking at the Jodidar!
It again began to rain heavily. The cart driver, his blanket and clothes all became totally wet. Even Jodidar began shivering. One look at Chenna, the Jodidar asked him softly ‘Get inside. Don’t get wet, you had enough soaking already.’ Chenna could not believe his ears. He felt that Jodidar was making fun of him. He told Jodidar ‘Sir, don’t make fun of me, we are poor. We are dependent on you, otherwise will not be able to live. I will never do that again.’ Jodidar replied. ‘No, no, no, don’t worry. We are all same in front of God. I got angry, let us forget all that, come inside and sit. The man who beat his mouth and screamed, was talking to him like a father. It was mystifying.
Jodidar pulled Chenna into the cart! Chenna quietly sat down, and the bullocks moved slowly till they reached Hassan. After the ride, Jodidar gave Chenna a rupee and said ‘you are totally soaked and must be feeling cold. Go to the hotel and have something to eat. Drink our coffee, not your type!’ Chenna didn’t disobey. He had a satisfying meal. Instead of coffee, he had his favorite drink. Then forgetting the whole world, slept under the cart. Jodidar finished his work, came back around 8:00 Pm to the cart. Chenna was still snoring away. Jodidar woke him up. The sleepy driver managed to harness the vehicle again. The Bullock cart moved on its own, and these two, very sleepy, went into deep sleep in no time.
Suddenly, the vehicle stopped. Jodidar woke up first and asked Chenna to go and check. The sleepy driver got out, took a look, and silently got back. He requested the Jodidar to get down and take a look. Jodidar realized how lucky they both were! Right in front of the vehicle was a channel, it was deep and there was no water in it. If the Bullocks had taken a couple of more steps or if the wheels had rolled another few rounds. It would have been a total disaster for them.
Jodidar, the Bullock cart, the bulls all would have been down in a deep ravine. Luckily, for them, the bullocks which are used to a level path stopped as soon as they couldn’t see a place to keep their feet on. One look at the ravine, the Jodidar shouted it was only God’s grace that they were saved. It was dark and neither knew where they were nor the way to get home! They slowly guided the cart back and managed to find a beaten track. They didn’t know where they were going. Kept moving till they found a landmark they recognized, reached home. Jodidar pleased with the smartness of the bullocks, bought them from the driver.
I had said how, Jodidar, if he got angry, would punish himself, not the one who caused it. A school headmaster’s style was to beat the children mercilessly. Even the Jodidar when young was a victim of such punishments, standing upon the bench and various other kinds. This experience made him believe, without punishment, students do not learn. One day, Jodidar’s son did not recite a poem properly and was beaten up by his teacher. Jodidar, upset took a stick and went along with his son to the school. One look at him, the headmaster was worried. But Jodidar did not do anything or even scold the headmaster. He pushed his son close to a pillar and hit him again and again. And then asked the headmaster, ‘now that I have beaten him, hope you are happy! I have done your work’ and then walked away. The headmaster felt very ashamed, stopped treating his students in his old ways.
3.g: Jodidar’s stomach’s size
Jodidar’s had put on a lot of weight. He was in denial about it, and challenge ‘Who says my stomach is big’ if someone mentioned it! He got the message when a boy called him ‘Stomach Jodidar’, a very angry Jodidar bent on punishing the boy, went after the boy. The boy began to run, went round the village, becoming tired slowed down. He saw the Jodidar reducing the gap between them. Jodidar’s eyes turned red with anger scared the boy! They were near the Anjenaya temple, surrounded by a compound wall with a narrow gate that was deliberately made so, to stop cows from entering the temple premises. The boy in a flash knew what he had to do, it is said ‘necessity is the best teacher!’. The boy ran into the compound through the gate. Jodidar unable to pass through the small opening gave up. The boy very amused, could not stop laughing. Jodidar finally understood the meaning of ‘hotte Jodidar’!
Addison a famous essayist in England has written about a society of obese people. The society had made rules before admitting an applicant. There were two entrances to the society. One was normal and the other was narrow. An applicant would be admitted only if he failed to walk in the through the narrow gate! It is said if three members of the club were weighed together, they would weigh 1200 pounds!
3.h: An Active Jodidar!
Do not think that Jodidar, though obese is not active! Even youngsters cannot claim to be as active as Jodidar! Here is a story about his fitness! Jodidar was at the river. He had bathed and had already covered his body by painting twelve ‘nama’ images and was chanting prayers facing the east. There were a few well-built men bathing in the river! Women were scrubbing their vessels to make them shine! Suddenly a widow who was cleaning vessels started crying ‘Ayyo, my plate is floating away. If I lose it I will face punishment! Is there anyone who will get it back for me?’ She had realized, a bit late that the plate had floated further away. She requested the men again ‘One of you, a virtuous soul, please go swimming and bring it back!’. The young men with bulging muscles were not moved. They refused, ‘where it has gone has crocodiles. Let it go, no point in risking our lives for an eight anna plate!’ The widow became desperate ‘You don’t understand the plight of a widow; my sister-in-law will pick up a broom to punish me!’ She begged again, her face showing her agony, ‘I will fall at your feet, this deed will bless your children. Please get me the plate!’. The men were unmoved; they began to utter their prayers praising their god! The inconsolable widow kept muttering to herself ‘ayyo, what to do? My sister-in-law will break my head!’
The kind natured Jodidar took pity on the wailing widow, took off his panche (dhoti), tied a towel around his waist, jumped into the river, swam to reach the pool surrounded by rocks, he had done this as a kid, and caught the floating plate and gave it back to the lady. This amazed the fat guys, and their prayer stopped halfway as they touched their nose in wonder!
3.i: Jodidar fell off the horse!
I have laughed at some funny incidents! We do laugh when we see someone in trouble! It is not that we are happy, but the incident is so funny that we cannot control our laughter!
Our Jodidar, in spite of his big stomach, bought a horse! He did not buy a tall horse, it would have been impossible for him to get on it, so he chose a short horse, to make it easier for him! When we saw the horse we all felt that it was similar to an elephant riding a bicycle in a circus! Our guess was not wrong. The horse’s legs yielded unable to bear Jodidar’s weight. It looked like the horse’s stomach was grazing the ground when it moved. It was a big task for the Jodidar to get on the horse. Two men held the saddle and the stirrup tight on one side and two more men hoisted him up while supporting his large stomach! It needed at least four attempts before he could get on and stay on the horse! It is called Bhagiratha Prayatna in our folklore. It was the same routine with four men assisting him when he had to get off the horse.
Our Jodidar had a similar predicament. He had to get off the horse for some reason, and his people were not there with him to assist. He tried to get off on his own; and when he put his weight on the stirrup, it broke. He could not take his feet off the stirrup, and he fell on the ground and as the horse continued to walk, his body was dragged on the ground. Luckily the horse unable to pull his weight stopped. Jodidar was injured, skin on his kneecap was peeled off and there was blood. His injured nose had swollen to resemble a coconut. With a swollen face his eyes and lips looked small.
Friends and their help saw the accident and went running to help. They tried to carry him. Unable to manage, they started laughing at the whole situation. They couldn’t stop laughing as they cleaned his wounds and especially when the Jodidar’s voice sounded as if it came out from a cave. They gave a lame excuse as to why they were laughing.
I was surprised when I heard about the accident. As a boy he could ride a bare backed horse. I went to see him. His swollen face looked like a football bladder. His voice sounded like it came out of a small pipe. While I felt sorry for him, I suddenly felt like laughing at the whole scene. I just ran from there as I was unable to control my laughter.
4. Crossing our river . An experience.
Now with a bridge across the river, people are not troubled by the floods like before! Here is a story about the difficulties Ninga went through during the early days! I heard the story from him and others. His experience could be thought of as funny, while it was also scary!
Rivers Hemavati and Yagachi join together about two miles west of our village. A holy place which is mentioned in our puranas! A large garden on its bank enhances its beauty. It is cool under the trees! An Ishwara temple in its midst makes the surroundings feel peaceful. One who is tired or in need of quiet will feel refreshed in just a few minutes. It is beautiful with its row of trees, with its flowers floating on the flowing river, its fragrance spread around by the breeze. The gentle noise the water makes as it slides down the rocks, or climbs up the rocks, the chirping birds filling the quiet surroundings with its sweet music, the green carpet of the farms along both the banks, and the wider river as the streams combine, make it a memorable picture, displaying the special skill nature possesses in creating beauty.
The river Yagachi is also known as a ‘Kalla holey’ (Thief stream!). Perhaps a case is pending in god’s criminal court! It fills up with just dew and dries up in moonlight! Our Ninga and his friend Bora crossed the river to collect a special type of leaf. Muthhugada yele! The river was not deep; it just came up to their knees. While they were busy collecting the leaves, it began to rain. They took shelter in the temple. It continued to rain, and it got heavier in the afternoon and there was no sign of it stopping! It appeared it may continue to rain all evening and into the night. Around this time the river began to flow rapidly! The flood sounded like the roars of a hundred lions! The rain relented a little, the flood continued!
Bora was a good swimmer! Ninga couldn’t swim! They found an old coracle on the bank! It has been lying there for a few years. They managed to drag it into the river. Once in the water, the boat began to leak in a few places! Bora attempted to repair it by stuffing the holes with twigs and leaves. While it didn’t stop the leaks, it was better than before! Bora was confident that they could cross! The river at that point was narrow, ‘If we push the boat it will reach the other side, also its depth is not much!’ Ninga was not very keen. He felt Bora would ridicule him for being afraid, climbed on the boat, but his face looked as if he was given a death sentence!
They loaded the boat with baskets of flowers they had picked up in addition to the bundles of big leaves they had gone to collect! Without a paddle, they improvised, broke a branch and thrashed it to remove the leaves, turned it into a pole to push the boat. One push with the pole, the boat moved. However, the speed of the flood water did not allow them to continue to push the pole against the ground! Thus, they lost control of the boat. It began to move at a very high speed and instead of crossing, the boat sped down the river! The leaves used to plug the holes were washed away and water started to come in very fast! Bora was worried and felt helpless. Ninga lamented ‘I didn’t learn to swim while young! I am paying for it now! I have five children, and they are all very young’ his eyes were filled with tears as he spoke. Bora suggested ‘Ninga lie down on my back, and I will swim, we will reach the other side somehow! If I cannot make it, let’s die together. We were friends in life. Let’s be friends in death too. Ninga thought about it, suggested ‘Let’s do this way. This boat cannot take both our weights. You go swimming and reach the shore. I’m sure some fishermen will find my boat and save me. If not, we all have to die, and it will be my turn’.
Water was filling into the boat by the minute. Bora realized that the boat would not support them both. The confluence of the rivers was a little ahead and he was sure that he could not swim across the river if he got there. It was time for him to get out and swim. He also thought, with a lighter boat, his friend had a better chance of survival. As it would float a little longer and somebody would rescue him. They hugged each other with tears in their eyes. Ninga saw the hesitation in Bora, just pushed him into the water. Bora, sucked into a whirlpool managed to come up and keep afloat, managed to reach the shore.
Meanwhile, Ninga began to throw away flowers and leaves they had collected, working hard the whole day. The boat began to spin very fast. He was sure that it would hit a rock and overturn and that would be the end. Ninga started shouting ‘Govinda, Govinda’, a prayer beseeching the god to save him. A fisherman named Hanuma heard him.
Hanuma was quite a personality, a fisherman, lived near our river. A very good swimmer, even at the age of sixty. So skilled, he could dive down, pick up a coin thrown into the water and come up. He was also very fond of liquor, could not resist if he saw a pot tied to the tree collecting liquor. He would go up the tree and drink up the liquor.
Once while walking with an elderly person, he saw liquor hanging up on the tree. Unable to resist, he planned to climb up and have a quick drink. He requested the elderly person to walk ahead and said he would join him very shortly. The older man guessed what he was up to! Kindly thought ‘he is addicted to it like we are to coffee! Let him enjoy his drink’. Hanuma managed to have his fill of the liquor tapped from the tree. In the meantime, the elderly person, an Iyengar, rested under a tree. He saw Hanuma walking towards him, wobbling due to the effect of liquor he had imbibed. The way Hanuma spoke worried him, “Oh my God, he is totally drunk! He doesn’t seem to be aware of what he’s doing”. Not used to drunks, he started running away from Haruma. Hanuma tried to follow him in his drunken manner. This chase continued for a while. Iyengar saw a small tank, got there and stood near the water. Hanuma also reached there. He started grumbling, ‘Why do you have to go so fast?’ Iyengar just pushed him into the water. Hanuma fell in, came up and down a couple of times, and had drunk water too! The water which went into his stomach made Hanuma sober. He mildly asked the Iyengar, ‘I didn’t drink so much. Why did you have to do all this? My clothes are wet now’. Hanuma and Iyengar continued to walk. Being older Iyengar advised him about the ill effects of drinking.
It was this Hanuma who heard the prayers and saw the boat. It was half sunk in the river. Other fishermen with him felt that the boat would not make it to the shore. They suggested, ‘let’s take a boat there and rescue that man, you will be in trouble if you try to swim’. Hanuma was not very keen to try ‘The boat will not help and if you try to swim also, you will not be able to make it’. He calmly stood watching the boat slowly sinking. Suddenly he heard the shout, Govinda, Govinda. He could only see top part of the sinking man. A type of Matsya avatar.
Ninga was certain that if the boat moved down further, it was impossible to save him. His shout became even more desperate,… Govinda, Govinda. People had collected on either side of the river watching what seemed an inevitable tragedy. A dreadful scene. Also, a scary one. As they watched Hanuma pushed his boat into the river, they kept discussing between themselves, whether Ninga could be saved. If the rescue boat Hanuma had launched went faster, it would hit the smaller boat. The man in it would surely drown. Even for a person like Hanuma, it seemed very hard to save the man from drowning.
Hanuma knew what he was doing. He aimed his boat against the small boat. And as soon as it touched his boat, he reached out and lifted up Ninga and put him in his boat and saved him. People watching roared in approval of this amazing feat of saving Ninga from drowning. Today Hanuma is not there. But the bridge exists.
5..Anecdotes.
5.a: Seenappa’s walking.
My friend Seenappa had just passed his BA. Exam. He liked to live in style. He had a dozen suits. Would shave every day. I invited him for a walk near the paddy field. It was looking pretty and was cooling to the eyes with the green. ‘Why do you want to sit down here, like a bandicoot. Let’s go! Seenappa agreed. ‘Green fields are a sight worth seeing’ he said and added ‘You go, I’ll join you a bit later’.
I took my farm implement, was in the field and started working in the field. My help Bora also was there pulling out the plants which were ready. Bora suddenly looked up and said a Saheb is walking towards us. It is very unusual for us to see a well-dressed person like this. walking on the wet fields. My friend was fully dressed up, with the jacket, trousers, shoes and even a hat. I was amazed to see him thus dressed. I wondered whether he was on his way to a wedding ceremony. Or taking a degree in convocation. I asked myself, where was the need to be dressed like a bridegroom? Where is the need for an umbrella, goggles and a walking stick? It was too funny. I tried to control my laughter. But as he was still away, I did laugh out loud.
Seenappa stepped out of the path and walked onto the field. As our land is very fertile. We do not waste even an inch of our land. Our paths are very narrow; also wet. Water is always there. Most of us do not walk on the Paths along the channel. It is very narrow, and a slip means we are sure to fall on the slushy ground.
Seenappa began walking on the narrow bund. Either side are the fields. We need to walk carefully. He had worn a ₹17 worth, made in England shoes. He walked very carefully so that the shoes would not get wet. It was as if he was walking on a narrow railway track. The walking stick he was carrying was flexible, could not take his weight. Walking thus, I knew he was going to fall. As a friend I felt like telling him not to walk further. He would have stopped. I did not warn him, just kept quiet. Perhaps not to miss the fun of watching him fall into the slush.
He had reached a spot where the path was even narrower, and on one side the field had a dipped down a bit. There was still some distance between him and us. His black suit already had some muddy patches on his trousers. Suddenly he lost his balance and fell, and the plants appeared to embrace him with their arms.
I did not go to help him. Even Bora did not. Mainly because we were laughing so much. Seenappa managed to get up. His well-ironed trousers were totally wet and muddy. His stylish hat that had fallen on the slushy ground, half in water, resembled a broken earthen pot. He was struggling to find his eyes and nose, as his entire face was plastered with a thick coat of wet mud like a mask. His nose was blocked, and his ears were full of wet mud. Turned into brown balls as he took them out. He was in total mess even though he was not hurt. As he cleaned up, he also got angry to see Bora laughing without control. But Bora could not stop laughing. Sometimes it is how humor works.
5.b: My brother-in-law brought us a lot of Thindi (Snacks!).
My brother-in-law is very orthodox, covers his body with 12 namas, chants prayers continuously. He has memorized a huge collection of prayers which he can bring out for all occasions. He has a list of dos and don’ts. You spit only to your right. Do not hang your clothes to dry on wine-palm trees, which are used to tap liquor. His research is deep on such subjects, and his list is long!
This story is about 12 years old. There were no trains between our village and Melkote. It was a five-day trip from Melkote. We used a Bullock cart for our journey. We were afraid to travel early in the morning as thieves could attack us. Similarly, avoided travelling at night. My brother-in-law sent us a letter informing us that he would be visiting us, we sent him a bullock cart to pick him up!
His trip was planned after Krishna Jayanti. We all know how important Krishna Jayanti is for Iyengars. We make hundreds of different savories to please Lord Krishna. My sister was visiting us at that time. My brother-in-law had thus a special reason to get a lots of savories prepared. He filled a big basket ladu, chakali, manavaram and such. He took a Kadhi white ‘madi’ shawl (specially washed) and tied the basket securely. He loaded this, two boxes and a mattress, and began his five-day journey to our village.
The driver we had chosen was dependable. He ploughs our lands, his village is closeby. As soon as the oxen saw the road to his village they turned towards it. The driver suggested that he would go home, give a feed and rest the oxen and bring the cart home in about two hours. My brother-in-law tired of being on the cart for five days, his waist pained a bit, liked the idea, got off the cart. He walked home with a bag on his shoulder and reached home. He too announced ‘just wait, I have got a big basket of thindi. You will all have a lots of food, it will more than fill your stomach’.
We were relaxing after our lunch and were passing time playing a game of chowkabaara. Our minds were busy wondering when the much anticipated thindi would be brought home. Father and brother-in-law were at other jagali talking about things. Brother-in-law was praising the driver as trustworthy, well behaved and patient. As he was lauding the driver he appeared. On his head was a big basket neatly bound by a cloth. My brother-in-law, who was all praises for the driver, totally changed his tone and shouted ‘you idiot, you spoilt everything’
My father couldn’t understand the sudden change in his son-in-law! Why was he scolding the driver? Brother-in-law asked the driver ‘Why did you bring this?. Where is the cart?’ In reply the driver said his son would bring the cart later. And added ‘I thought I will carry something and picked up this basket which was the largest’.
My brother-in-law cursed again and asked me take the shawl out for a wash and give the driver the basket of thindi. ‘I ate nothing on the way, brought it all’. I duly followed his instructions about the shawl. But didn’t give away the food. We hid the food and secretly ate it! My brother-in-law couldn’t forget even after a month and would begin cursing the driver. We would go out and laugh!
5.c: Brother-in-laws Madi
My brother-in-law had to perform an annual death ceremony at my father’s home. His practice of madi had reached its peak on that day! Worried that his madi would be affected even if he spoke, he communicated only by making signs. By the time the ceremony was done it felt as if he had performed ‘ashwa meda yaaga’.
It was three in the afternoon. The prescribed ceremonies were done and Brahmins who were part of the ceremony were to be served lunch. It is customary for us to wait till they had their lunch first. We were served only after that. The brahmins had just begun to eat after performing parisechana.
We had locked the front door so that we were not disturbed. It is believed even the voice of a shudra is inauspicious. Our farmer came to see my father; he was not aware that a ceremony was being performed. The door was locked. We did not respond to his shout, so he went round and peeped in through a side window. The farmer saw my BIL, and he in turn saw the farmer. The look on my BIL’s face is indescribable. He cursed the farmer, luckily in Sanskrit.
Our farmer saw that my BIL was upset, said in a placating voice, ‘Oh! You are eating! Ok eat, eat’ and departed. My brother-in-law sat stupefied for ten minutes. His thoughts were, ‘It was an important ceremony for the departed! A shudra saw the leaf on which brahmins were eating. The sanctity is spoiled. Our pitrus will go way disappointed’. He became miserable. My father who was also taking part as a ‘Brahmin’ chose not to offer any suggestions.
My Brother-in-law tried to discover a remedy for this ‘spoilt’ ceremony. He began looking for guidance in the books my father had kept safe in a trunk. Also, the palm leaf scriptures. He kept looking, and the brahmins who had begun to eat were feeling very hungry. Yet they couldn’t eat unless a solution was found for the breach in the ritual.
BIL ran to my uncle’s house and looked for guidance and scanned about a hundred books my uncle had. No solution! He went across to a priest’s house in the street next to ours. Even the two hundred books he referred to did not give him a clue. Nowhere did he find a solution to his predicament! Question was ‘what is to be done, if a Shudra spoke while a brahmin was eating?’
The brahmins were patient, but one said he had cramps. Another said he needed to use the bathroom. Brother-in-law wouldn’t yield. He told them they are expected not speak while participating in such an event. They must even perform a prayaschttha.
Finally, he read a sentence in one of the books which said ‘it is okay if a Shudra spoke, but you should not!’ This put him in further confusion as he had shouted at the farmer. Finally, he concluded that he had spoken to himself and not with the Shudra. Brahmins began eating at 8 pm, we could eat only at 10 pm.
A year later, my brother-in-law went to invite the old person to be part of the ceremony, ‘Brahmanartha’. The elder who had somehow managed to control his urgent need to use the bathroom replied ‘my good man it took me a long month to recover last time. Please let one someone else go through the torture this year.’
My brother-in-law returned grumbling that it was due to that farmer, the husband of a widow, he had faced a refusal. Whenever I see my brother-in-law I am reminded of this event and laugh. Laugh has no discipline.
5.d: Seenappa snatched an Idly.
Venkatachari had been looking at our friend Seenappa differently. There was a valid reason. Last Ugadi festival Seenappa had been to Venkatachari’s home. Venkatacharis mother gave both an idly. Initially Seenappa said no but took it when he saw a lemon sized butter on top of the idly. The idly was delicious and he finished eating the idly cum butter in no time.
Venkatachari was eating around the butter slowly with the intention of eating the ball of butter with the last piece of idly. It was the way he ate his snacks since childhood. Seenappa noticed this ball of butter on a small piece of idly. He felt tempted and knowing it would vanish right before his eyes. Seenappa, with the stealth of a cat, grabbed the idly with butter in a flash and put it into his mouth. It happened so fast that Venkatachari didn’t realize that idly and the butter he had saved like a miser had vanished.
Venkatachari began visiting Seenappa during the afternoon coffee time. His intention was to take revenge. Seenappa guessed it and didn’t let it happen. Venkatachari was very frustrated, but Seenappa was an aggressive fellow, and any revenge had to be planned cleverly.
Seenappa’s mother had passed on and there was no celebration of festival in the year. It was customary that others in the village would go and give them anything special made for the festival. It was Krishna Jayanti time. Our village has many iyengars. So Seenappa had received a lot of this special snacks from others. Venkatachari and Seenappa were good friends, so he had brought Seenappa plenty of eats made specially for the occasion that evening. He also sat down to have a chat with Seenappa.
There is also tradition that farmers would visit us during Jayanti and we would give Prasad and also some eats that were part of the Jayanti celebration. The farmers would visit every iyengar home to collect. We would also send it to other farmers who did not visit us. There would be many groups making the rounds. One such group came to Seenappa’s home as Venkatachari and Seenappa were sitting and chatting in front of Seenappa’s home.
Seenappa’s informed the group ‘I hope you know there is no celebration this year in our home?’ The group said ‘yes’ and moved on! Venkatachari was still seeking to avenge Seenappa’s sleight of hand and the vanished idly and butter! In fact, it never went out of his mind. He looked thoughtful as he told his friend, ‘Will be back soon’ and walked out.
Venakatachari soon returned, meanwhile Seenappa had gone in. Venaktachari, quietly spread the puffed rice on the stone bench and the steps and sat at the same spot as before! Seenappa saw his friend back and joined him. He missed noticing the puffed rice that was spread around. The next group which came included Madha. Madha was known for his loud voice and short temper. Many, afraid of his loud voice, would give him more puffed rice and chakli. Even Seenappa was worried about Madha! He reassured himself that Venkatachari was with him and would be able to explain to Madha why there was nothing to give this time! Madha, as soon as he reached, demanded their share in his loud voice ‘Seenapa avre, aralu chakli prasada ella appane maadi’. (His request was polite while his voice was loud!)
Seenapa replied ‘Madhayya, we have no celebration this year. Don’t you remember my mother passed on this year?’ As Madhayya turned to leave, Venakatachari looked at Seenappa and said ‘Why are you telling lies?’ Hearing this Madha turned to look at Seenappa, and Seenappa was looking at Venkatachari in amazement!
Venkatachari looking at Madha said, ‘Madhayya I don’t know why he is not giving you. He has given it to all the others. Look at the puffed rice spilled all over!’ As soon as Madha heard and saw, he became mad with anger. Seenappa was quiet, shocked and surprised. Madha roared in anger ‘Seenappa this comes once a year, and it has been going on for generations. It is a tradition. We don’t come for this every day!’
Hearing Madhayya’s loud roar, people came running to Seenappa’s house. Saw Venakatachari laughing. I asked Seenappa ‘what is happening here?’. Pointing at Venakatachai, he said ‘it is all because of the mischief of this devil!’. It was a moment Venkatachari was waiting for a long time. ‘Where is the smartness you showed on that day when you swallowed the idly with butter. It is now time to vomit!’
We all had a loud laugh including Seenappa. Venkatachari explained all this the Madhayya, took him to his home and gave the usual Puffed rice, chakli and sent him along! Seenappa admitted that he did not expect Venaktacahri to plan a revenge and execute it!
5.e: Revenge on Revenge
Kittu was a glutton. His grandmother was the only one who understood it. He was known to eat six thick dosas in one sitting. Homemade dosas were double the size of a dosa one eats at a hotel! It was said that his grandmother had advised Kittu’s mother, before she passed on, to give him six dosas each day! His mother fearing an evil eye, didn’t allow anyone to watch him eat!
Kittu passed his lower secondary exams. His further education had to be in Hassan. His mother was worried whether he would survive eating hotel food. His father was worried about his caste getting spoilt by eating at hotels! Being a priest, even the word hotel upset him. But Narahari who was studying in Hassan assured Kittu’s father that the hotel was only for brahmins and there would be no problem! Kittu’s father believed Narahari and was ready to send Kittu to study in Hassan. His friends joked that the hotelier would go bankrupt feeding Kittu.
On his way to Hasan, Kittu forever hungry, ate up three fourths of all the food his mother had packed for him. He did share a few with Narahari. His mother had packed enough to last for at least for three days. On the first day of school he went back to his room, jointly shared with Narahari and polished off the rest of the eats his mother had given him. Still hungry he dropped hints at Narahari hoping he would open the package he had brought. Narahari somewhat miserly pretended not to understand. He saw Narahari eat his thindi in the middle of the night. Kittu decided to teach his roommate a lesson. Later in the day he managed to swipe the food and hide it. He also replaced them with similar looking things, cow dung cake and a bag of sand. Narahari again tried eat his thindi in the middle of the night. One bite he knew Kittu had played a mischief on him. He kept quiet.
Next morning Kittu's father came to meet him. He was visiting Hasan to attend a legal issue. First thing he saw was a jug made out of mud in the room. He asked Kittu to get rid of it forth with. A copper vessel was the proper way to store drinking water. Kittu obediently went out with it, but asked the owner's son to keep it for him for a day.
Kittu left early for his lunch, his father curious about the hotel asked Narahari to take him to the hotel. Narahari could have given an excuse to avoid taking him to the hotel. He wanted to teach Kittu a lesson, hence he took his father to see. On the way kittus father had many questions about the brahmins hotel. One look at the hotel, full of people , Kittu’s father made up his mind to take Kittu back with him. It was not a brahmins only place.
Narahari didn’t expect his revenge to go this far. After Kittu returned a long discussion took place and they found a compromise. They would eat in a different hotel, which was more acceptable.
As soon as his father left, Kittu got his water jug back. But luck was not with him. His father came back as his bus was delayed. Kittu tried to hide the jug. His father saw the hidden jug, just broke it into pieces by hitting it with the stick he had carried.
After Kittu’s father left, Narahari feeling avenged asked Kittu ‘shall I get you another jug?’ Kittu replied let’s eat some thindi and go. He took out the thindi he had pilfered from Narahari. They both laughed, Kittu ‘s laughter was louder!
5.f: Forced to marry.
I needed to go to my town. Missed my bus. I started walking, and saw my transport stalled after I had walked about five miles. A wheel was punctured and was getting repaired. Passengers were relaxing under the trees as they waited. I noticed a family with three small children a little away from the group. It was Seenappa my old friend. We exchanged greetings. He said he would be in the town for just three days. I asked ‘The whole family for just three days?’ He laughed and said ‘What do, a man has to listen to the wife! She wanted to come, I had to say yes!’ I quizzed ‘You remember how you jumped about resisting your marriage ? He countered ‘as if you weren’t at yours.’ I became silent.
Seenappa seventeen years old, was in high school. He took a room on rent and would eat food in an arrangement with different homes during the week. The owner of the house had three or four daughters! None were married. After umpteen attempts, their father managed to find a groom for his first daughter. The marriage was fixed, and all seemed well. But god’s will be different. On the day of the wedding the groom’s mother passed on to heaven. The bridegroom just left without a word! As the proverb said, there was slip between the cup and the lip
The bride’s father was distraught. They were fully ready. People had assembled, even the food was ready. Friends saw the name Srinivasa Iyengar written on his room’s door. It was for friends or postman to know where he lived. Relatives checked and found out more about him and asked the girl’s father, ‘why not get your daughter married to him’.
Seenappa, at school, wondered why he was not invited for the wedding. Thought that he was still new, had become a tenant recently. He was in the classroom and was getting bored, he saw his teacher getting a chit from one of staff members. The teacher let Seenappa go out and meet people who had come to meet him and the let Seenapa. He saw the owner of the house and three others waiting for him. They said that they were there to invite him to attend the wedding. Seenappa was pleased! They hustled him out of the school. It was more like he was kidnapped. Before he understood what was happening, he was given an oil bath and was made sit in front of the priests! He tried to get free. A strong man just held him tight and made him go through the rituals. Seenapa pleaded to let him go, but to no avail. He was so scared that he had lost his voice.
Seenapa declared after the wedding that he would still stay single. However, he had three kids once his wife attained puberty and joined him six years ago.
6.a: Our own Bus.
If you hear how our town got a bus, you will laugh till your stomach begins to pain. There were clouds covering the sun as if they were attacking it. I and Boriah were working together. It was noon and I was working at the paddy fields He always claimed that we brahmins, nick named pulichars, cannot work hard because of our vegetarian diet. I challenged him to prove it. We were cutting new channels to divert excess water from the fields. I was getting tired and regretted my challenge. He would make fun of me if I gave up because I was as soft as the ghee I ate.
I saw him stop working and turn his ears towards the wind which was blowing. I also stopped relieved, and joked “Bora are you getting a message from above? Or a celestial damsel was talking to you?’ He just said “please wait” and continued to listen. I too tried and heard sounds like a thunder. The sound kept increasing in its volume. Looked up to check if there was a plane flying. Just saw a few birds.
Bora asked ‘what kind of sound is this? Is the earth shaking?’ I replied, ‘nothing like that, it is the sound of a motor vehicle’. Dora claimed that it was not a motor. He knew how they sounded. As he spoke I saw a bus coming up the road. He saw too and asked ‘What is it? Looks like a devil and is zig zagging like a snake!’ I said “it is a bus.” He had neither heard of a bus nor had he seen one.
I jumped feeling happy! Finally, our town now had a bus, and we had become civilized. When the but got closer I saw it was nothing like the buses I had seen earlier. The body of the bus was vastly different. It looked more like a bullock cart, only bigger.
There is a story! A bus had fallen into a big hole by the side of the road, luckily no loss of life. It was lying there for six months as there was no way to get it out. In the meanwhile, the bus body had corroded, seats were torn. The original owner had given up and said anyone could take it out and use it. The present owner managed to pull it out. Made a few minor repairs and kept it in the village hoping it would be used by the villagers.
The bus creaked loudly as it moved. People used to say he is screaming like the bus if one spoke loudly. I took the bus, my first trip, I had work in Hassan. The place where I sat had a hole in the floor. The engine smoke came up from the hole as soon as the bus began to move. By the end of the journey my white clothes had turned black. My face too was full of soot. I looked like a railway engine driver. My first task was washing my clothes and face soon as I reached Hasan. In fact, I could not recognize myself in the mirror. My first trip on the bus still felt like a celebration.
6.b: Vascodigama becomes the agent
The bus attracted many agents. It was like the proverb, ‘The tail is bigger than the body!’ There were four agents. The bus owner had more agents than passengers! Once the number of agents had gone up to eight! On days when the bus had no real passengers, the bus got filled up with agents. In fact, all those who needed to travel had become agents! Not a good thing for the owner!
The first person to become an agent was Vascodigama. No, he was not a Portuguese. There were no shops in our village. People depended on the weekly markets in the surrounding villages. Ninga was the first one to open a shop in our village. The school kids had learnt that the first merchant who came to India was Vascodigama, and they gave that tittle to Ninga, the name stuck! He became an agent as he needed to go out of our village to buy goods for his business. Thinking smartly, he became an agent only to save money.
I joined him on the bus once to go to Hassan. On our return I noticed he loaded a container full of oil. He also placed sugar, bundled in a cloth, next to the container. Unfortunately, we were just two of us on that day. You know how the roads are in Malnad. The almost empty bus swayed from one side to the other. It was a huge effort, but somehow we managed to stay on the seat. Vascodigama hurt his nose, it hit the front seat. He was eligible for a free ride as an agent. But as nothing comes free, he paid for his free ride through pain.
Suddenly the bus jumped like a scared horse and landed on the road. The road had a big pothole. Vascodigama’s seat broke loose, we were also thrown against each other. Luckily, we survived.
As soon as we reached our town Vascodigama the bus stopped at his house first. He bent down to pick up the oil container, he was careful as it was a bit heavy. Surprisingly, it came up easily. He looked at me in shock and put the oil container down and picked up the bundle of sugar. Oil was dripping out from the bundle. Obviously, the container was damaged due to the rough ride, and the oil had seeped into the bundle of sugar. The mixture of sugar and oil had spread on the floor of the bus. The agent had lost ten rupees trying to save four annas. He looked at me sadly and said ‘I am sunk’.
He stopped being an agent and now depends on bullock carts for his trips. The flies had a good time for weeks as they buzzed around enjoying the mixture of oil and sugar. Also kept the passengers busy swatting flies.
6.c: Bhatta dreams big
My friend Narayana Bhatta became an agent for our town bus service! Here is how he got the job. The bus we were on stopped halfway! The ‘cleaner’ got down and brought some water from the roadside. The water was brown and muddy. The driver asked the cleaner to strain the water. There was no cloth to strain. While others waited unconcerned, my friend offered his white turban for the purpose. Once the water was strained, he didn’t squeeze the turban hard to dry it. The cloth was thin and delicate. He just threw it on his shoulder.
When he got off the bus, he noticed his white coat had lines of red on it. It reminded me of temples decorated with white and red paints in this manner. Noticing a small water tank near the bus stand, Bhatta asked me to wait while he washed and dried his clothes. As I waited, I wondered why he had spoilt an expensive turban!
I heard him shout ‘Rama’. He sounded scared and worried. I ran towards the sound and reached the tank. I did not see him. I was not too worried as he is a good swimmer. I heard his voice again! The tank was full of muddy and slushy water. There were tall reeds in the water, and his voice came across the reeds. Moving the reeds a bit, I saw him in water right up to his chest. His turban was on his shoulder. One hand was in his pocket protecting papers and currency notes. He carefully handed over the papers, money, and also his wristwatch. He said water has gone into it and had stopped. When I asked him to come out. He said he could not and said ‘why do you think I called out to you?’ He was stuck in the mud right up to his knees.
I asked, ‘Are you in a watery grave?’ He said ‘You can say so!’ I stretched my hands to pull him up. Bhatta is well built, and it was beyond me to lift him up. He did not want me to call others; I cursed him for being obstinate. I undressed up to my loin cloth and tried to drag him out of the slush. I could not be budge him. I said ‘It seems you have put on weight to trouble God Yama.’ Finally, I managed to pull him out. His new pair of sandals, made in Mangalore, priced at five rupees, did not make it.
‘Your sandals are gone too bad.’ He said ‘let it go, you have to lose some to achieve bigger things!’ I had no clue about what he was talking. We found another cleaner tank, washed our muddy clothes. I said ‘All this happened because you sacrificed your turban to filter water for the bus! He asked me ‘Do you know why I did that?’
I shook my head. ‘You have to be smart to understand. You are dumb! My brain works fast. It rotates like the wheel of a bicycle going at 50 mph. Not like others.’
‘Okay I agree, but how is it you got into such a mess? Your head was also turning?’
He was irritated but justified the mishap saying that he didn’t notice that the tank was not clean, his mind was preoccupied. ‘How does it matter?’ I told him it could have been his end. He countered with ‘I am not like you; I think about my plans seriously. I even miss eating my food. You were worried about the turban of eight rupees. You will never guess why I sacrificed it. Not even if you hold your nose and meditate for three days.’ I agreed.
He reminded me about Vascodigama quitting the agency. I said yes!
‘I will be the new bus agent.’
‘But why spoil your turban.’
He said I would never understand. ‘There are three applications.’
‘There you go’, when I asked him how he knew. ‘There are ways. The driver told me.’ ‘That is the reason I sacrificed my turban so that the owner knows, and I get the job.’
I still couldn’t understand how it would be a good deal for him. Five rupees for the sandals, Thirty rupees for the wristwatch. It was beyond me how the agency would cover all the losses made so far. I Kept quiet though. Did not want to discourage him.
That is not all! Actually, we were on our way to the courts. He had a case to defend; I was the witness. By the time our clothes were dried it was three pm. Anyhow, we could not go to court without our clothes. The advocate got angry as soon as we met him. He regretted taking our case. Called us immature.
He had tried his best to get more time from the judge. No luck, Judge had left, and case was dismissed. Bhatta said ‘it was not your fault, anyway just a hundred rupees, let it go!’ The advocate said ‘You are also fined for ‘the other party costs’ of eighty rupees.
We returned, you would be right to guess that we were totally upset and disappointed. While I felt dull he was sounding happy and was smiling and whistling. I felt like giving him a piece of mind. Before I could do that, he said next time I will come in my own car. ‘Yes! You are an agent, so it is practically yours’.
‘Not like that. I will be agent from tomorrow. I will learn to drive on that bus. I will look for an old vehicle and repair it and start my own service to Hasan. That is just the beginning. I will make a lots of money. Using this I will extend the service to other places. I will need drivers and clerks to manage. Once that is done I will be busy counting money. I will see that ‘Bhatta Bus Service’ spreads all over Mysore state and will make sure no one else is there. When I asked him about the competitors. He was sure to buy them off from the profits he gets.
He was indeed made the agent by the owner by evening. He focused on his job. To make time for selling tickets and learning to drive, he cut short the morning pooja he was doing to please an elderly lady staying with him. As she was blind he began uttering a mantra as he was getting ready in the morning to be on the bus as soon as it came to pick him up. He would run to meet the bus as soon as he heard it arrive. Seeing his enthusiasm, I thought he may start his service anyhow.
Once he came while I was near the fields reading a book of short stories. He called me lazy. Busy spending money father had saved. I challenged him to tell me what he was doing to boast like that. He said ‘I made Srinivasa to give up the cooperative society secretaryship’. I asked ‘how?’ He said he had paid Srinivasa a hundred rupees so that he quit his job.
His idea as secretary was that goods needed for the society would be brought from his bus service and he also expected to sell goods from the society to the neighboring villages and make profits! He expected a bonus from the society for his idea and enterprise! I was amazed and asked him how he would manage. He called me too dumb to understand, explained that he would hire people! And claimed he was capable of doing multiple tasks.
While working as a secretary he once forgot to put back an important document and money into the box. They were eaten by his buffalo as the papers flew out. This happened because the bus arrived as he was working for the society! As an agent he was always in a hurry to send the bus on a trip. There was no way to replace the document! The person who had signed the document was no more! The society asked him to resign.
An unfazed Bhatta concentrated on the bus and learnt to drive. Once while I was on the bus Bhatta who was in a good mood, took the wheel from the driver. I was feeling very nervous, however Bhatta in good spirits was humming a song as he drove. A bit too relaxed, he hit a lamp post which fell. As he had driven without a license, he was fined fifty rupees. In addition, the municipality charged him thirty-five rupees for repairs.
Bhatta is still the agent. His bus service is yet to start. I still worry about what will happen once his bus service gets started.
7. Human concerns
7. a Kali’s heart.
Kalamma lived alone in the central area of our town. She was ugly and her skin was dark. She was short tempered and harsh. I don’t think she had any friends! Not much was known about her. People were afraid of standing in front of her house. If kids tried to pilfer from her farm trees, she would chase them and beat them up. If a cow was seen grazing in her farm her loud shout could kill them. No farmer dare take his cattle near her house! She was a terror. People had given her nick names of evil women chosen from our myths.
Her neighbors were Chikka, his wife and their two kids. Chikka’s wife too was ugly. Chikka and Kali were constantly arguing with each other. While Chikka was away, his wife and Kali got into an argument, and it ended with Kali beating up his wife mercilessly till she begged Kali to let her go, promising she would not do anything to upset in future.
Chikka’s wife delivered her third child. The baby girl was ugly and one of her eyes was half-blind. People who came to see the baby were shocked and wondered why such a child had to be born! One said ‘It is better to be barren than give a birth to such a child’. Another hoped the child would not survive!
Suddenly Kalamma ppeared, and those who were there to see the baby became quiet. Kali gave the child gifts, clothes and jewelry and took the baby from the mother and kissed the child a few times. There were tears in her eyes. People were amazed at this unexpected gesture.
Kalamma passed on a few months later. A relative came to take charge of her property. People saw the baby’s clothes in her house and learnt she had given birth to a girl which did not survive! This would have explained her changed behavior when she saw the newborn baby.
7.b: Testing love
People who knew him could not believe how it turned out. He was not sharp but very meticulous. His handwriting was excellent. People would appreciate his simple qualities. We were classmates in high school. He was a Veer Shaiva, and I was a total Vedic brahmin. When I joined school I used paint our nama all over my body. He would joke all the street mud was on my body!
He was very systematic. He would make a list of the letters he received. I used to joke he was a big officer to have an in-box. We also wanted to become progressive. We wanted to promote intercaste marriage.
I still laugh at all the childish games we played. He never got upset. Always patient. Once at the river I threw water at him till he became totally wet. He didn’t grumble. Once we were at a scout camp. I stitched up the blanket around him while he was fast asleep. He woke up and stood up looking like a bear. Another scout took his picture for fun. We would laugh whenever we saw this picture. When I took him home I used to introduce him as a brahmin.
We quit school in the year 1921. I went back to the village to help with farming. He went to a village in malnaad and opened a shop. I was at his village three years ago to meet him. I reminded him about our idea of intercaste marriage. He said no need. There is a girl in our village, if you see her you will say I don’t need to marry elsewhere just to have an intercaste wedding or you may say ‘ I want to have a inter caste marriage’.
He started talking about her and describing her nonstop. I could see he was totally in love with her. I interrupted him saying he had become a poet. He was annoyed that I had stopped him, admitted that love has made him a poet. I asked whether the girl knew and whether she reciprocated. He said yes and was sure they would get married. He promised to send the wedding invitation. I felt very happy for him. I remarked ‘So no intercaste marriage for you’. He laughed and said it is a goodbye to that.
I did not hear from him after that. Three years had gone by. I met a common friend and inquired about our friend. Whether he was married. My friend remained quiet. I said it was okay if he wasn’t married to the girl. There are others. My classmate slowly said ‘he is dead’. The words shocked me, and we became silent thinking about our friend. I asked why and what had happened.
‘It had to happen’ he said. ‘He killed himself with a revolver.’
‘How about the girl’ I asked. ‘She jumped into a well to die’ was the reply. I had expected this. Her father knew about the two, still fixed her marriage with a coffee planter. They both took their life one day before the wedding.
7.c: Then and now.
I and Kamale grew up together. She would walk to school with me. If we were late for school I would blame her for the delay and escape punishment the teacher was ready to give with a raised stick. She was our queen; she was a born leader. We, boys, and girls, listened to her.
We played together at the canal near the school. She threw water high and when the tiny drops fell like pearls, she would say take it; it is yours. We would share fruits we picked from our garden. Once I collected flowers from the garden and gave them to her. She threaded a beautiful garland; I was amazed at her skill and dexterity. She threw it at me. I asked ‘Did you as goddess Lakshmi blessed me, a worshipper?’ She said ‘just like that’.
As kids we played games. I called her Damayanti, and I was Nala. She said no you are Krishna, and I am Bhame! I would be scolded when I came home after playing. Those were early days. Later I left home to study in Mysuru and then in Bombay! While Kamale got married and moved to her husband’s home.
I returned home after my studies. I heard the harsh news that she had become a widow. I was heartbroken and cried like a madman rolling on the muddy floor. It felt like yesterday we were playing like kids. Fate is indeed blind and cruel. It could not appreciate beauty, so spoilt it. I cursed it for ruining the life of a young girl. It was like cutting a plant before it became a tree. How can destiny be so cruel to Kamale?
After my bout of sorrow. I had the sobering information that she had a one-year-old baby. Kamale herself was just eighteen. Forced to face a world which is not at all sympathetic to a widow. A young girl has to bring up another girl.
I went to see my childhood Laksmi. She had lost her parents, lived with her elder brother. Her sister-in-law was in the house. Kamale heard my voice and peeped out. I saw her after eight years. She would have also remembered our childhood. I picked up the child and kissed it gently. Unable bear to see Kamale’s tears filled eyes, I came out. My life had just begun. What about Kamale?
0-0-0-0-0-0
Here is my attempt to look at the Village Pictures after a gap of Hundred years!
NOW in 2025!
1.My trip to attend Ratna’s wedding!
Our journey to Gorur was quite different. We had a safe journey! The van ride was comfortable, roads were good. The restaurant we stopped at for breakfast was excellent. We reached the Yoga Narasimha temple at Gorur easily, except we missed a turn and were given the right directions by the locals! We indeed have progressed.
Not too surprised about the casual attitude of the bus drivers a hundred years ago! I did experience rash driving by bus drivers in my teens thirty years later. Stopping for radiator water and tyre punctures, a common experience! Highlighting the need for passenger safety, and his decisive action asking the driver to take the wheel was necessary, also required now! I do remember the pathetic condition of buses and roads while young.
We certainly require greater control over vehicles driven on highways. Prevalent attitudes are needless bravado and its admiration. I recall that direct buses from Bengaluru to Mysuru and vice versa were prone to accidents, drivers egged on by passengers, raced to reach earlier than the scheduled times. A rule that punished drivers who reached earlier then specified time curbed speeding a little.
While we have improved, we do witness rash driving on highways, even in the small lanes around our homes. Road accidents in India during the calendar year 2022, claimed 1,68,491 lives and caused injuries to 4,43,366 persons. (Published by Ministry of Road Transport & Highways.)
My grandmother, while not paranoid like friend’s mother-in-law, had rules for us kids. We could not touch her until she had her lunch! Becoming a widow at an early age could be the reason. The author’s Brother-in-law forgetting the disastrous floods experienced earlier proves our memories are short! The dangers of crossing a flooded river have been brilliantly narrated. My first experience of a river was idyllic. Kaveri was gentle, I enjoyed a dip in the river. I was still a boy and went with my grandmother. Having heard about crocodiles I was looking out for them, worried.
The superstitions, belief in Ghosts, and fear of missing ceremonies due to unnatural deaths are all very real. I had heard, as a kid, these stories were narrated by older friends. The feeling of being isolated by the literate in villages feel is well brought out. Villagers were desperate to meet like-minded people.
The wedding I attended in a small town/village was different. My friend married his relative, the wedding was quite simple. The wedding was performed in a temple! He wanted it to be so. I did not expect the groom to help with serving food to the invitees. Families helped at the wedding, there were no caterers. I do remember that the elders in the family were fussy!
* I skipped the discussions about poems the host chose to recite, and how it was explained! A few Kannada poems, translations of Ramayana, Mahabharata, and its interpretation and so on! Most of it was beyond me! We do learn how eager villagers were to know more about our heritage, especially the famous stories of Ramayana and Mahabharata.
I liked the way the author tells us city dwellers how it is to live or rather survive in a village! I am sure he was asked about village life by the city dwellers when he moved from his village to study further.
2.About a pilgrimage!
The author was ecstatic about his visit to the beautiful temples of Halebid and Belur. The sculptures came alive for him. They even smiled at him. It is easy to agree with him that they were made in the abode of gods and brought down to earth. Especially the Shila Balike (Sculpture of a beautiful shy girl), I guess thousands would have looked around and discreetly caressed the girl’s cheek gently. Gunda feeling guilty and worrying ‘if every visitor touches her cheek, there would soon be a dimple!’ sums it up well.
I was seventeen when I saw the temples with my cousins! I had no clue about its mesmerizing effect, and we went round again to imprint the images in our minds. Belur temple being active, felt vibrant. Halebidu temple without the rituals confused us. We felt free as we walked around. The quiet and the emptiness affected us. It did feel like a museum.
I saw the temples again after thirty odd years. Halebid surroundings were better maintained. Belur being an active temple felt different. We were there at the wrong time. The stoned pavements outside the main temple were hot! I danced for a while on my barefoot and gave up. Once inside we waited for the pooja to be performed, offered our prayers. May be another visit is due!
I do remember getting a bit upset when I saw a steel cupboard inside the main temple. Tube lights too! Earlier designers had not provided a safe place for the jewelry. Yes, most of our temples are not built for large crowds that throng now!
The story of the girl letting Gorur and friend to see the Jain temple feels good! I had the opposite experience in Milan. I had not checked and went to see famous painting ‘the last supper’ on a Monday. The place was closed and totally empty. Not even a stray dog in it! I even thought of jumping the compound wall when a person, looking irritated, came out and told me the church was closed for visitors! I requested him to allow me to just a take a peep from outside a window! He said no! He was not even interested in hearing me out and walked away!
I grew up with my own thoughts about how our temples should be! The Rama temple near our home was very active. It is still active but not like before. It is a subject that needs a serious thought!
The problems of growing up as a brahmin boy, a minority, when they visit Halebid as scouts was relevant when we grew up, and I guess it still is! Feeling different, not eating hotel food, being a vegetarian when friends are not! It gets serious as we grow up and get into college! No idea which is more complicated! Growing up as a Brahmin in a village or being a city boy!
It is tempting to write about my reactions in more detail. However I chose to react briefly and leave it to the reader!
3. Jodidar Stories
Google knows only about one matchmaker and a movie; there is nothing about jodidars featured in them! We can assume that they were better off than the average villagers. Jodidars were gifted a village or villages, by the rulers. Jodidars had the right to collect taxes. Their status has changed post-independence. But these stories are from pre-independence days of India. Young Jodidar was part of the privileged.
Author Gorur drew a picture about a teen growing up in a village. Parents stopping their only son from swimming does happen. But when you grow up next to a river, it is cruel not to be allowed to swim.
A story about poet Pope, winning over his father who objects to his writing poems with a verse is sweet. Father, father mercy take, I shall Verses never make
3.b Fun during Holi
Holi is celebrated differently in the south. Throwing colors at people is a milder version of what we see in the movies! I relate to this part of collecting dry leaves for a bonfire at night. There were not many trees in our area, we begged for dry wood from houses in our area! We did have fun later in the evening. The weather was perfect for a bonfire. That he was forgiven speaks well of his friends.
3.c: Jodidar as a student!
A typical story of a not so bright kid of an ambitious father! It is interesting that the exam, an important one, was held in another village/town. LS. exams were public exams; we needed a hall ticket to enter the exam hall! ‘LS pass’ was the first step in our journey towards a degree!
3.d: Learning to ride a horse!
Not every kid can afford to learn horse riding! I remember donkeys which were left around our school to graze! A few of the bolder classmates tried to ride them! I gave up after getting a kick by one of small donkeys!
The author recollects his own experience of learning to ride a bike and taking his nephew on a ride. His problem was he had not yet fully learnt to stop the bike and put his foot down. They both fell trying to stop the bike. He pacified his nephew by bribing him with a peppermint and that he will not tell others!
3.e A shortcut over the lake!
We blame such instances of misunderstandings on the time we get up in the morning, or whether we turned to our left while getting out of the bed.
Villages were spread out and I guess there would be suspicion about newcomers to the area. I do remember a Bangalore which was smaller and there were gaps between different localities. I do remember kids from one area would avoid going to the neighboring areas! Perhaps it is about protecting the space! I remember during my childhood a lone person looking around would be questioned!
3.f: Jodidar’s special weapon. (Brahmma Astra)
It is wonderful to read about the bullock cart ride the Jodidar took! The cart owner trying to make the most of an opportunity and the reaction by Jodidar and the villagers tells us how exploitation was not acceptable 100 years ago. No jodidars today!
I remember the arguments my father used to have with the jatka driver, who demanded more after he had dropped us home from the rail station. Auto drivers would ask for more if they found us helpless! Today the auto drivers charge double with an attitude, it is their right!
It is also part of technology, it is practiced by airlines, by taxis and so on. Opportunities are not missed anymore! It is legal and they are doing us a service. They have no fear of losing the clientele or absolutely no guilt feeling the cart driver had!
3.g: Jodidar’s stomach’s size
An amusing story! Obviously the Jodidar was a nice person!
3.h: An Active Jodidar!
Jodidar proves to be a good hearted too!
3.i: Jodidar fell off the horse!
We could call it an innocent fun, not really cruel!
4..Crossing our river. An experience.
A chilling story. Haven’t been tossed about in a boat! While the earlier story of crossing a river was caused by people in a hurry, who knowingly took a risk. This was totally unexpected. Finally, Maa Kaveri was kind! We do hear stories about accidents on water. Often due to overloading!
The side story of Hanuma’s personality of being overfond of liquor hasn’t changed. They are still around!
5.Anecdotes
The anecdotes are more personal than the earlier stories. The pictures we saw so far were about nature, the difficulties of living in small villages. About a families who were well to do!
5.a: Seenappa’s walking.
Fun of city folks is to expected from those who are stuck in a village.
5.b: My brother-in-law brought us a lot of Thindi (Snacks!).
I can relate to this story! It was at the time we were not allowed to eat out! Neither did we had any pocket money! A Krishna’s birthday festival meant a lot of goodies for us the next few months! All homemade.
5.c: Brother-in-laws Madi
This is hilarious or sad depending on how one takes it! My father, normally calm would get into a frenzy while performing his parent’s annual ceremonies.
5.d: Seenappa snatched an Idly.
We never can say what upsets us and how we dealt with it.
5.e: Revenge on Revenge
As kids leave home and try to adjust to the town life, it is not easy to forget the orthodoxy practiced at home! Need to compromise!
5.f: Forced to marry.
Crazy, however a true story! I remember a novel. Title ? A prospective groom is duped, he is made to think that the 'wheat colored' girl sitting next to a darker girl was the girl he would marry. When he discovers during the exchange of garlands, it is the darker girl, it is too late. He is prevented from walking away. The story has a very happy ending!
6.a: Our own Bus.
Every villager dreamt of a bus would ply in his village! Fulfilled in different ways. My school days, the nearest bus stand was a kilometer away. The bus frequency was once every hour. We would go at least fifteen minutes ahead to the stand. Some times the bus would arrive ahead of time and if we missed it. The wait for another hour.
6.b: Vascodigama becomes the agent
A story about the limited opportunities a century ago.
6.c: Bhatta dreams big
How people with limited opportunities managed or tried to fulfil their dreams. We do meet dreamers!
7. Human concerns
7. a: Kali’s heart.
A tough one. Calling people ugly is now concealed with the use of softer ‘political’ words?
7.b: Testing love
A very sad story that keeps repeating through time!
I tried to see reports online about inter-caste marriages. Being a complex subject there are no clear answers. There are YouTubes, articles by wedding planners and so on. It is for the benefit of those who plan to get married to a person from a different caste or religion. Giving them an idea what to expect legally and socially!
I read that the khap panchayats in Haryana have demanded that love marriages from the same villages and from same gotra are forbidden by law!!
https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4852488/ does cover the subject!
7.c: Then and now
The story is about young men leaving protective homes and coping with new realities.
‘The Widow Remarriage Act of 1856’ existed. India is slow to adopt reforms in spite of laws and regulations. In fact, they coexist, some do change, while others are stuck in the old ways. I remember T.P. Kailasam plays brought a widow on stage. I believe it was to embarrass the orthodox!
You could read the report dated 2018! https://www.researchgate.net/publication/323691687_Widow_Remarriage_in_India
https://www.prekshaa.in/gorur-ramaswamy-iyengar-part2
https://www.prekshaa.in/gorur-ramaswamy-iyengar-part1
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Gorur Today!
The stories about Gorur and its surroundings a century ago are fascinating. Fortunately, the area we visited, so well described in the book, has retained its old-world charm! Hassan is surrounded by many villages like Gorur. We, with our origins from villages, do feel connected with each other. The temples are small, with easy access to the garbagudi. The main idols are impressive! The surroundings are calm. Shanthigrama and Mudhugere temples have lakes nearby. Gorur temple is on the banks of the Hemavathi River, it looks even prettier! Often, the elderly priests of the village know about our families. There are many such villages which have contributed to the growth of Karnataka. Some stories are written and many more are waiting to be told.
 |
| The 600-year-old temple in Gorur! |
 |
| We could walk to the river. The walk feels very calming. |
 |
| The house below is special. |
 |
| This is where Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar lived. |
As we were absorbing the scene. A girl came close to the plaque! Her friend took a picture of her reading it. I spoke to her, asked the name of the book she had read. She said ‘Gorur in America’. It was a prescribed textbook for her at school!
While simple from outside, most houses are with modern conveniences, TV etc., At present the priests of the temple live in this house!
A neighbor who lived opposite to Gorur’s home came out and sat down on a stone bench in front of his house. I went up to him and we had a pleasant conversation. He was a carpenter by profession, and said he took orders from Bangalore too! He said when Gorurs’ traveled he would sleep in their house. (A system of security in early days!)
 |
| Felt jealous of the kids having fun in the water. A small attractive shrine. |
4 comments:
😉 enjoyed reading !
Not easy to translate, I haven't read the original since my knowledge of Kannada is nil. While reading, never felt it as a translated version. Keep it going Srinidhi 👏
Interesting reading. Well constructed blog
Sorry didn't mention name in the earlier comment. Raghunath
Translation well done,
It is difficult to translate from Kannada of those times(1930) to English. English language has got the essence of the stories.
Post a Comment