The Thousand Hoods

THE THOUSAND HOODS
CHAPTER V

Original in Telugu: Veyipadagalu
by DR VISWANATHA SATYANARAYANA

Translated by
Dr. J. S. VENKATESWARLU
D. N. R. College, Bhimavaram

            [Veyipadagalu is a thousand-paged novel by the Poet Laureate Dr. Viswanatha Satyanarayana, the dazzling celestial that blazed exasperating trails on the literary horizon of Andhra dominating it for several decades. A prolific writer he was, He wielded his pen in every literary form of Telugu prose and poetry with grace. This novel, an epic in prose, is his magnum opus which touched unprecedented poetic heights. It is done in the best of Indian tradition or Lakshana, offering the reader an authentic account of, and an authoritative appreciation of Bharatiya Vidya, the rich repository of Vedic philosophy, Sastras, scriptures, literature, art, music, thought and culture, through the medium of novel. The artist sets up a galaxy of true-to-life characters on his literary canvas and brings out the subtlest shades of hues blended in a variety of harmonies contrasting vividly the spiritual and the temporal, the sublime and the ridiculous, and the puritanic and the cosmopolite types. His characters enact the human drama, fully subserving the gracefull imitations of the national character in speech, thought and action, breathing rich the varied fragrance of Indian culture. His erudite pen sways freely along unbeaten literary tracks delinating the curves of his novel-theme in unexcelled styles. As a rare document of social history in literary form, the novel genuinely traces out the complex life-web of men and women that once walked this great land and faded out into oblivion facing the trials and tribulations of a changing social life with a smile ed up by the innate power of a tradition bound frame of mind. The beauty about the Indian way is that despite the intermittent exposure to the impact of several alien cultures of dubious value, it still sustains the vital soul of its life and thought nurtured by the nectarus quintessence of its hoary past. That is why the novel, though written four decades ago at a time when the Indian society stayed static severely suffocated by a crimping rule, is still effulgent sprawling out to beat the linguistic barriers through its translations into Hindi, Gujarati and other languages with a universal appeal that is unfettered by imposed values of time and language. The present wide acclaim to the novel by the multilingual world of Indian letters four decades after it was originally designed in Telugu is a historic test it successfully stands in values threatened so much by change in every direction. The springs of a perennial life-stream, it strikes in its pages, of an integrated national culture of eternal excellence but prophetically do echo the renaissant melodies for a spiritual resurgence of this hitherto supine nation. The novelist fathoms the depths of thought scooping up invaluable gems hidden in the deep-rooted past and portrays them with a finished polish that is rare for its exemplary quality. The intensive, as well as extensive, human study of the varied textures of social conflicts germane to the soil, revealed and resolved in its own right, offers the discerning reader sumptuous material to meander thoughtfully in a provoking world of apparently imponderable values swinging between Dharma and Moksha on the one side and Artha and Kama on the other, if only to sharpen one’s faculties of understanding and judgment. Indian sentiment freely flowing in life and culture, if ever captured and capsuled truly, that is probably done in this single novel written in an uncompromising style of superb finish by a renowned litterateur who faced life, literally and literarily, with the uncompromising fervour of a prophetic poet.

This isthe fifth chapter of The Thousand Hoods, my forthcoming English translation of Veyipadagalu ordained by the kindly sanction of Dr Viswanatha and the merciful blessings of Lord Subrahmanyeswara.]

Ranga Rao reached Madras even before the rains receded. Compared to the dull lifeat Subbannapeta, Madras offered him a life of luxury and rich variety, association with Englishmen, their ladies, the Governor and other big officials, and cinemas, parties, black-topped roads, seaside strolls, cool breeze and all that. Ranga Rao found himself in his element at Madras.

Within the first ten days he threw a grand coronation party to all the officials and Englishmen in the capital. He paid fifty thousands to the Dongezes Hotel and the Spencers alone. He offered the Governor and his lady gifts in gold and necklaces studded with precious gems worth a lakh each.

The final accounts revealed an expenditure of nine lakhs, six for coronation and three at Madras. This showed a deficit of eight lakhs, apart from the current revenue arrears recovered. Krishnama Nayadu somehow developed the ten lakhs handed down to him by Harappa Nayadu to twenty; the way he did it with his characteristic charitable disposition toward public good was anybody’s guess. Within six months of his coronation Ranga Rao had already spent eight lakhs!

True or otherwise, it was very much in the air that Dewan and other elders made fifty thousands each at coronation time surreptitiously; anyway, the wastage was colossal. With rains receding, Dewan also retired to Madras while Radhakrishnayya and Sarvarayudu retired to their villages. Rameswaram was the lonely soul left in the fort. He was minding other duties and there was none responsible in the fort to supervise, and the materials had all mysteriously disappeared.

Rameswaram had now two bitter enemies: Ratnagiri and Dharma Rao. Being the sole monarch of the situation Rameswaram was now keen on avenging them. Ratnagiri, a prostitute, was no problem at all, he thought, and Dharma Rao therefore became his first target. He summoned him into the fort one day, and pat came the reply disobeying his summons! A streak of indignation sparked off at his navel; it gave a stroke in his heart; from there, it struck his face and finally settled down at the trijunction as black blood-clot! Rameswaram would have straight given him an affront; but, he knew well enough the antecedents of Dharma Ra and the goodwill he had in the village. He showed timely restrain thinking that discretion was the better part of valour. Nevertheless, he soon gave expression to his wrath in a long letter he dispatched to Ranga Rao at Madras with a bundle of falsehoods concoct against Dharma Rao; this partly pacified his fury.

Rameswaram was not the man to be disheartened at that: he then turned his wrath upon Ratnagiri for he was bent upon humiliating her somehow. He deputed a khasa (servants in fort are known as khasas) for the nefarious purpose. The fort servants and the nautch community in the village were one. Kabir was Ratnagiri’s brother. At forty, he looked sturdy and was a rank rowdy of the place. He could easily negotiate a cart of two-putti load by putting his shoulder to the wheel. In sword and stick-fights he was second to none: he learnt this art from Krishnama Nayadu. He was once engaged a coach to Ranga Rao when he was a boy! as Ranga Rao showed aversion Kabir often used to spank him for his indifference. Quite disgusted with Kabir, Ranga Rao once complained against his ill-treatment to his father. Nayadu had strong views in such matters; mastery over such skills of valour for a zamindar’s son was a must, he held. He therefore did not take note of the complaint. Owing to chagrin Ranga Rao thereafter developed antipathy for Kabir. Khasa and the menial servants were all close to Kabir; this mutual trust was something endemic with them. Rameswaram’s machinations against Kabir’s sister drew out a righteous response from the khasa as could be expected. He went to Ratnagiri the same evening and hinted it to her.

Rukminamma Rao was the wife of Krishnama Nayadu and was sixty years old. Ratnagiri approached her that evening to give her a vivid account of the vindictive attitude of Rameswaram toward her. The Queen-mother had an inkling of it even on the coronation day. She had the corroboration of the khasa and sent away Ratnagiri. She sent for Rameswaram and reprimanded him for his unworthy conduct. Rameswaram’s head was down with shame. In deep mortification he deplored the betrayal of the khasa. With subdued animosity he however moved about with an artificial show of cordiality.

From the time of Nayadu’s death Rukminamma Rao stayed a recluse never stepping out of her room. She regretted her widow-hood and often cursed herself over the king predeceasing her.

She was always punctilious about the religious formality; she solemnly observed the eleventh and the twelfth days of each lunar fortnight fasting partly and visiting Venugopalaswamy’s temple those two days. The last six months after Nayadu’s death she did not visit the temple at all. It was the tenth day of the first fortnight of the fifth lunar month, Sravana, the day she took Rameswaram to task; that very night she had the vision of Swamy in a dream!

Swamy appeared to her in the youthful form of Krishnama Nayadu with vertical white marks on forehead. His face had the pleasant look, and on the lips those enchanting smiles offering the devotee-world the complacent bliss of divine protection. He wore his turban with a yadava slant; tucked in it was a tuft of Royal insignia. There were ornaments worn on the neck–a rosary of Tulasi beads and others in gold. His shoulders, hands, the ten fingers, the legs, the waist-line, and in fact, the whole figure was ornate in gold studded with precious gems. The yellow silk-dhoti worn was elegantly dropping down to the ankles. Even with the toughest of yogic practices one would seldom have a glimpse of Swamy’s full divine form. Meditation, however persistently pursued, would not bring the mind to focus upon even a solitary limb, and if it did at all, it would flash for a split-second! It was indeed the supreme fortune of Rukminamma Rao speaking volumes about her past good and the degree of control she exercised over her five senses! Never before was a boon of the divine vision granted in such a beautiful form to any!–none, not even to the most devout Leelashuka! To appear in the form of Krishnama Nayadu was itself a divine recognition, the sublimation of her devotion and the culmination of her chastity in the Almighty!

Swamy’s lips tenderly moved and some words slipped in sotto voce: they were inaudible to the Queen. From the lip movements she gathered somehow that Swamy reminded her of the morrow as Ekadasi. She suddenly experienced an all-absorbing thrill, an inexplicable compunction, an infinite bliss and an overpowering grief, all at once, as she woke up from sleep. The eastern sky cleared as the routine instrumental music of the morn was being lilted. The shenai melodies of that serene dawn floating over the cool breeze aloft pleasantly reached the Queen’s ears offering her a fulfilling bliss.

“Hey Rama! Hey Krishna! Awake!
Hey Rama! Hey Krishna! The Preceptor of the three worlds!
Hey Pundarikaksha! Protect the righteous!”

Barber Ranganayakulu, renowned in the Dravidian land too, played this song upon his shenai, a song from ‘Krishnaleela Tarangam.’ Those saveri Raga tunes skidded along the tranquil wind-waves like the tiny yacht sailing along the river-waves under favourable winds. Raga and rhythm danced at the hands of Ranganayakulu in mellifluous unison. Rukminamma Rao liked some Ragas very much–saveri, malayamarutam and chakravakam. God was already there–no need to wake him up, she believed.

She had a bath from head to foot as it was Ekadasi; she observed fast that day and wished to listen to a discourse of Bhagavatam. She sent for Dharma Rao, for she knew him well. That threw Dharma Rao in a dilemma: a call from Queen he was obliged to honour in the face of the oblique attitude of the fort towards him. He came to a quick decision, however, to face the situation boldly. On his way he met Kabir accidentally. Kabir never spoke to Rao and he usually shunned his notice. But this time, he could not resist asking him: “Where’re you going Babuji?” Rao was surprised: “Into the fort,” he replied. “Fort!” Kabir exclaimed doubly apprehensive. “Then, I’ll go with you” he said and followed him. Nobody in the fort knew that Rao came there on a call from the Queen and they all looked aghast.

Rameswaram observed Kabir and Rao moving together into the fort but he kept quiet prudently. Rao’s arrival was announced to the Queen. He was soon escorted into her ante-chamber, as Kabir stayed out, “An invitation to the rank enemy of the fort!–and that too, from the Queen!” Rameswaram felt rather uneasy in mind and his blood boiled at this fresh provocation. He took the opportunity to despatch another complaint letter to Madras the same day.

The Queen received Dharma Rao, showed him a seat, and said: “Babu! Today is Ekadasi. I wish to listen to a Bhagavatam recital or Bharatam. I know you do it very well.” A copy of Bhagavatam was already there at hand. Dharma Rao bowed respectfully and started with the usual prayer: “He who is black in complexion...;” Krishnama Nayadu and Gopanna flashed across his mind and tears whirled round his eyes! “Why? my boy! what’s the matter?” the Queen enquired eagerly. “Nothing, madam!” he replied, concealing his emotion and proceeded with the epic. He picked a story at random from the book, the wedding story of Rukmini.

“The boon-bestowing stories of Vishnu remain ever fresh in mind upon each repetition,” Dharma Rao read out a verse. In her childhood the Queen read this story many a time. She knew almost every verse by rote. She spontaneously reacted with a sparkle in her eyes in affirmation of that eternal truth. “Which salvation-seeker is satiated (over the repetition of Vishnu stories)?” Rao quoted another verse to please her. The Queen felt blessed at his discerning remark.

“As I hear your qualities my physical passions are pacified...,” Rao rendered this verse in shrill voice with a thrill. His eyes were filled with tears; in sympathetic response the Queen’s eyes too shared his tears. The story was completed. They spent sometime discussing divine topics. “Why stop reading it further, Babu?” she reminded him encouragingly. Rao did not reply and she seemed to understand why.

The Queen went to the temple that evening in a special coach. Everyone was sent out of the temple as she entered. A man was somehow left inside the temple unnoticed. She went round the temple accompanied by two attendants whose anklets produced tinkling sounds as they walked. Rukminamma Rao’s feet lost this grace with Nayadu’s death; and indeed, she lost all her former charm. She noticed a man and a woman seated on the lake steps behind the temple. She identified Dharma Rao but was surprised to see him in the company of a woman at that late hour. Silently she moved behind a bushy sampenga tree. She could not identify the  girl as she never saw her before.

Man: “Devotion is one thing while wisdom is another. The path of wisdom is arduous and it is not for all. The path of devotion is easier and accessible to everyone.”

Woman: “Who’s to be worshipped–Shiva or Krishna?”

The dialogue tempo pacified Queen regarding her apprehensions about Rao; but, she did not quite follow their trend, and that girl!

Man: That’s however revealed by Leelashuka:

“What is the essence of family life?
Worship of the lotus feet of Krishna,
The destroyer of Kamsa!
What is the path of wisdom
In the darkness of ignorance?
Worship of Shiva, the destroyer of Andhaka!”

To the Yogins of Bhakti cult, Krishnaswamy is easily accessible and to those of Jnana cult Shiva is the goal of worship!”

Woman: “Goal of worship, you say! Isn’t He easily accessible?”

Man: “Madam! the path of wisdom is sufficiently strenuous.”

The Queen was surprised at the girl’s insight. With his mode of address their relationship still confounded her. “Dharma Rao had no sisters of this age, nor his father had daughters by his other marriages. Who then was this girl? Ratnagiri’s daughter, perhaps. Then, a nautch girl!” she wondered. The Queen’s former views about nautch girls and what she now viewed here, it was all incompatible and incomprehensible!

Woman: “Bhakti and Jnana, what are they?”

Man: “All is Brahman. Brahman doesn’t imply Brahma of the divine trinity–Brahma, Vishnu and Maheswara. It is the supreme power transcending this trinity, it is indefinable; yet, it has the divine form, a confluence of the three supreme attributes–Sat (existence), Chit (activity) and Ananda (bliss). You can’t know it now and I’ll tell you later. The senses, their knowledge and their attributes–all are false! Whoever gains knowledge of this falsity naturally, by virtue of his past good, is the Jnani or the Knower of the Truth and he will be relieved from bondage of births and deaths instantly. I’ve to improve my own knowledge of it by further study. Potana had clarified what devotion is: “The unity of the expressions of body and heart...; don’t you remember that verse? Quote it.

Devadasi quoted it. He wanted her to give its gist and she gave the gist.

Man: “You know the devotion of Prahlada? That sort of devotion is appropriate for men; the sort of devotion Gopikas exhibited is worthy of emulation by women.”

Devadasi looked into the placid waters of the lake. The sunset was not too long ago and the abutting ponna tree was clearly reflected in those waters. Devadasi: “Brother! Krishnas it is said, stood upon a ponna tree carrying away the clothes of Gopikas bathing in the lake! I hope He won’t do the same with me! I’m not born Yadava, however.”

Dharma: “Gopikas do not mean Yadavas alone but women with a deep love for God. You too are a Gopika for that matter. ‘Lo! Nanda’s son has disappeared! Help us to find Him, O Trees!’ –such ecstatic yearning for Him characterises Gopikas!”

Deva: “From Gopika Geetas–ayn’t it so?”

The Queen’s joy knew no bounds: the girl was hardly twelve to thirteen and she seemed a gem! She walked up to them slowly. At the sound of her steps Dharma Rao turned round and stood up in reverence. Devadasi was deeply contemplative. Dharma Rao stood up and therefore she too stood up.

Dharma: “Queen!–the Queen-mother!”

Queen: “Who’s this girl?” Rao did not speak

Deva: “Ratnagiri is my mother.”

Queen: “Discussing something?–go ahead!” Both felt shy and it was the shyness manifested in innocent hearts.

Queen: “Carry on your interesting dialogue and I go to see the deity!”

They expressed a desire to accompany her. Devadasi followed her closely behind, while Rao kept some distance. Strange enough, Devadasi did not seem to feel uneasy in her company at all–probably, it was an affinity of the other births!–and her gait too bore out that past intimacy. Dharma Rao first entered the temple followed by the other two. Reciting verses was his wont whenever he visited the temple but this time he did not, because of the Queen’s presence. The priest shuddered at Rao’s presence while the Queen visited the temple. He noticed she did not mind it and so he kept quiet. After she received blessings with Vishnu’s feet and some worshipped flowers the Queen started out, but Devadasi did not move.

Queen: “Why don’t you come along?”

Deva: “Krishnadeva’s love for Satyabhama excels His love for Rukmini; Bhama was always by His side.” Queen felt elated, body and soul.

Dharma: “In fact, Swamy’s love for Gopikas is immeasurable, none to compare! – not even His love for Satyabhama!”

Deva: “Yes! yes! – that’s what the ‘Bhramara Geetikas’ reveal!”

The Queen felt transported to a different world. After a while they all came out of the temple and the Queen soon left with her attendants. Devadasi glanced at the Queen innocently which she responded with an endearing smile. Dharma Rao escorted Girika home and turned pack. Girika entreated him to walk into her house many a time but he would not. After he reached home his mother served him food, with just one course of chutny made of tamarind. There was no ghee to serve. She borrowed ghee from many a neighbour already. He did not relish food without ghee. He was through the last course of his meal, buttermilk.

Mother: “My boy! There’s a messenger from Rangapuram. It’s nearly a year since the girl attained puberty. The consummation is to take place soon. Uncle wants you to fix up the date and send him a word.”

“It’s like feasting in a Zodiac of fasting!” Rao replied rather lightheartedly even without lifting his head,” The consummation!...now! and in this tough-going! uh!...not to be so devoutly wished for at any rate now!”

Mother: “We can’t put it off, money or no money. The girl’s matured and she shouldn’t be kept there any longer.”

Dharma Rao relaxed after food on a cot in the verandah. His grandfather, Somanna, was very much annoyed once about his son’s marriage. Rameswara Sastry then interfered and went in search of a bride for him and managed to get him one from the Palnad region against odds. He was issueless for a long time after that marriage: this was another worry, rather to the old Somanna than to the son himself. Gangadharam’s wife Nagamma was a veritable virago!–tall, rugged in build, dark in colour and absolutely uncivilised she was, but of a careful type. She had a daughter ten years after she joined her husband. Somanna’s regret was that it was not a male child. Three years later, she gave birth to another girl: it was a shock to the already disgusted grandfather. He cursed himself. The elder one grew up to be five. Somanna then proposed her for Dharma Rao. He literally teased Sastry. “I’ve become old–perhaps, I’m not destined to have a grandson! I wish to see these girl’s married off and die peacefully,” he constantly dinned into his ears. “You seem to be after a better alliance for your son; any rich alliance you may seek will not be like ours, be assured!” he insinuated at times. “It’s strange you’re so merciless to this old man. All right! I’ve all these days been reckoning you and Gangayi as my two eyes,” he tried to appeal to Sastry sometimes. Savitramma too played no mean part in the matter. The result was Sastry yielded to their pressures and his eleven-rear-old Dharma Rao was married to the five-year-old Arundhati. The wedding was celebrated at Rangapuram on a grand scale. Krishnama Nayadu graced the function and presented the couple a thousand rupees. Sastry spent in all five to six thousands for the marriage; he gave a sovereign to each Brahmin who completed Vedic studies and a rupee each to others. Looking an imbecile like a three-year-old Arundhati could not face the ordeal of the ritual. She wept weighed down by the heavy wedding clothes which were retained for the essential part of the ceremony only and removed later. Most of the ceremonial formality had to be gone through without her. When she felt sleepy once during the offer of sacrifice to fire and dozed off cozily in Dharma Rao’s lap, the little Dharma Rao himself was yawning, and it was a delightful spectacle! Somanna felt blessed and fulfilled. In another two or three years, Sastry found himself in straightened circumstances. Nagamma began to taunt them for not offering the new bride conventional gifts in the month Sravana and for other lapses of the kind. Savitramma felt miserable. Gangadharam too assumed a hostile attitude towards them fanning the fire already kindled by Nagamma. That no good sari was presented to Arundhati at puberty was a major allegation. The relations between the two families were on the whole strained, with the sisters-in-law taking a pique each against the other. Dharma Rao never received a pie from his uncle, not to speak of anything in kind either, even in his bad times. How to go on with the expensive function was what puzzled Dharma Rao now.

Dharma Rao stared thoughtfully at his house as he lay musing in the bed. It was indeed a spacious one housing just two souls, himself and his mother. If his wife were to join them now it would not however be that vacuous. The last he saw her was nearly four years ago when they all came to Subbannapeta at his father’s death. She was then a ten-year-old moving about the house smartly and shyly. In his bereavement he had not the peace of mind then to eye her sportive movements with satisfaction. Moreover, he was too young to be youthfully aspiring at that. She must by now be really beautiful and in good form with age. A paragon of beauty even then, she had a thin and reddish face! Dharma Rao’s spirits sprang high suddenly in a self-designed fantasy that Arundhati was present with him as the life and soul of his enterprise – Arundhati, the embodiment of chastity, with her enchanting smiles, strutting around gracefully and spicing his home-life with fortunes of glee, and in his tight embrace! He required money for this consummation! – and, how to raise it? He had but just one way out left: he had however been resisting it the four or five times he had the idea before–to mortgage the house and raise the needed money. He grieved it was tantamount to taint the memory of Krishnama Nayadu for the good turn he did him. On the other hand, he held the home-coming of his wife might augur well! The hundred rupees he would now raise on mortgage could somehow be discharged. He vacillated in the turbulence of his mind and at last decided to raise the money somehow. He slept fitfully till almost the cocks crowed in the world of Arundhati! He then slept well. He woke up late in the morning and he changed his mind again as he was totally averse to the mortgage idea. Would it do him any good betraying such a noble couple?–he questioned himself. The Queen who showed him so much concern and the King’s spirit always shadowing him! – he deliberated deeply. Two or three days later, he met a village pandit to fix up the date for the nuptial function. It was to come off ten days later. He informed his mother and said: “Mother! Can’t we wait for another month, till Magha?” She smiled indifferently and conveyed the message to Rangapuram the same evening and told her son about it only the next day. “I wanted you to put it off!” Rao stressed. “You didn’t say so!” his mother replied emphatically. Had he pressed for a change at that stage his uncle would let off much steam. Dharma Rao therefore kept quiet. That evening he went to see Naganna Setti. Setti’s son Venkataratnam was managing their family business. Theirs was a monopoly in Subbannapeta, a place neither totally rural nor urban. Father and son were both there in the shop but both deliberately ignored Rao’s arrival. During the last four years of Krishnama Nayadu’s life, Setti was very obsequious to Dharma Rao. He however began to treat him lightly the moment Rao lost the zamindari patronage. Disregarding the callous neglect aired by Setti, Dharma Rao said: “Setti! I’ve some business with you,” with solicitude. “What business?” enquired Setti after a calculated pause. “I want a loan of hundred rupees,” Rao said. “What! We already lost heavily on your transaction! Barely we got half the money lent. Moreover, what’s your ground that I should burn my fingers again?” said Setti, disgustfully. “I’ve the house worth five thousands,” replied Dharma Rao. Setti became avaricious. Actually, the house was worth ten thousands; nevertheless, Nayadu struck it off for five. The last occasion and the house seemed to woo him again. “Do you wish to pledge the house for a hundred? Anyhow, I don’t have the money now,” said Setti with a reservation that was rather understandable for its intentions.

As a matter of fact, Rao did not offer to pledge the house in his talk and he was naturally perturbed, but he remained silent prudently. “See me tomorrow, please!” said Setti after a while; “Morning?” enquired Rao eagerly, noticing his affected courtesy with concern. Setti said “yes”, and then Rao went away. When he came to see him again the next morning Venkataratnam said: “My father’s gone out. I think we can’t accommodate you now.” Rao however waited there to take the ‘no’ from Setti himself, but vexed with waiting there any longer he left later.

Rangajamma went to see Savitramma that evening. Savitramma was not well disposed towards her in those initial by-gone days. She often referred to her in quite ignoble terms. Sastry always stood by Rangajamma in the bitter strife between them. The succour Rangajamma gave them and the stand given through thick and thin totally changed Savitramma in her attitude toward Rangajamma. Later, the two moved on quite intimate terms and Savitramma used to refer to her respectfully as the elder-in-law of the house and so on and so forth. Savitramma told Rangajamma about her son’s consummation and informed that he went out to raise money for the function, presumably from Setti. Rangajamma did not say anything at the time. She left the place very late in the evening and went straight to Setti’s house. “Madam! What brought you here at this hour?” enquired Setti anxiously. Everyone had respect for Rangajamma, for she was a solvent with ten acres. “Has Dharma Rao approached you for a loan? she enquired. “Yes,” replied Setti. “How much?” she asked. “A hundred,” he said. “I’ll pay you after I get paddy in the season; lend him the amount now. If you want, take, pro-note from me,” she said. “Sure, madam!” promised Setti and then she left. The next day Rao went to see Setti again. Both father and son received him cordially this time. He was nonplussed at such a sudden change overnight. He guessed it to be the mortgage that allured them. “Attend to Raoji’s business first, my boy!” said Setti to his son. The stamped covenant was kept ready at hand and they took his signature on it. Deducting one anna for stamp Venkataratnam placed the balance of ninety-nine rupees and fifteen annas in his hands. “Take a letter from me if you like, instead of the mortgage.” Rao offered. “No, sir!” said Setti in complimentary tones, “You’re Sastriji’s son and we know you stand by your word.” A whole mystery seemed shrouded in every syllable Setti uttered, Rao wondered. He returned home. Later, he brought ghee, dhal, cereal, etc., worth about ten rupees. Over the next ten days his mother put him on a preparatory dietary schedule which brought a fresh bloom to his face with puffed up cheeks. A day prior to the function, Rao went out into the village. Older generation of the Kamma, the Kapu and the Reddy communities had all good regard for Rao, because he was Sastry’s child. “So, the grandchild is ready for the nuptial, right now!” accosted a grand-old Reddy of ninety, a land-owner of about fifteen acres. Dharma Rao blushed at the old man’s humour. Those of that era were unique in their hits and pranks, at times bordering on roughness. He continued: “These youngsters are a good-for-nothing lot. They can’t eat nor digest what little they eat. Me? oh! I used to consume jaggery cakes by maunds!...polished rice...two or three seers barely sufficient for me!...from morning till evening I used to till the land and could easily jump over Gunderu!...” Kabir was just then passing by. “Look! Here’s a robust man at forty and I’m ninety! Let’s test our strength,” and in challenging tones he extended his arm toward Kabir. Kabir had bitter experience of this “old man” and of his strength four or five times before; he therefore he did not wish to make it the sixth. He curved away from the old man letting off an unconquerable smile. “Thatha!” said Rao, “Your diet is your strength–corn, ragi, etc. Our fragility is reared on rice. We’re indeed no match for you. Don’t know if we can make the ninety like you!” he complimented him heavily and politely went away. He went to Setti from there. He purchased new clothes, took small change in coins, nuts, cloves, etc. Savitramma was the sort who never cared for the morrow; whatever he brought home she exhausted in the ten days. Rao despatched invitations to all relatives. He purchased three measures of ghee and other needs for about sixty rupees leaving a balance of twenty-nine rupees in his hands. He bought a golden sovereign for fourteen and that left a balance of fifteen and change for two rupees. Rangapuram was close by and so they decided to leave the next day only. Rao’s sisters, in-laws, and their children were all expected by night. It is rather a peculiar feature: despite the bitterest animosities brewing, relatives invariably rally round promptly on occasions like this.

It was the time of sunset. Even with such a sun so close to big setting-time the characteristic hues still lingered on. Flocks of birds tined up in arrays were to be seen flying across the horizon. The top of the Aswattha tree in the front yard beautifully silhouetted the same hues against the tinted ground of the Western horizon at sunset. Devadasi came to see Dharma Rao. He saw her from a distance and came out of the house with an upper cloth and they moved out toward temples. “Look! how handsome my son is!” Manga observed proudly to Rami of the weavers’ community as she met Rao en route. Rao noticed she was watching him keenly but she never spoke to him. They went to Siva’s temple where the sister stayed in the portico as Rao entered the sanctorum. Swamy peeped into Devadasi’s face over Rao’s shoulders. He regarded Krishna to be more fortunate than himself!

Rao had a split-personality that was half-spiritual and half-temporal. On seeing Parvati Devi beside Swamy be fancied upon the idea that family as an entanglement was one God Himself could not escape! As the priest took out the Rudra’s Feet to offer them blessings the metal plate underneath was displaced and it gave a loud sound. Rao quickly turned round to look at Swamy expecting to see Him laughing over his fanciful thought. Then they visited Venugopalaswamy’s temple. It seemed to Rao that Swamy fixed His constant gaze all the while at Devadasi and never noticed him at all! It was slightly dark as they set out homeward. Rao escorted Girika home and turned . “Brother!” Girika called him . He turned . “Tomorrow is the day of consummation! Once my sister-in-law joins you, I’m afraid, you’ll abandon us all!” “You!...mischievous girl!” ejaculated Rao with the affected modesty of a nuptial groom. “Please do me a favour,” she said, “give this as my present to my sister-in-law” and she passed on to him the one ring which crowned her hands all these days.