The Pearl Palanquin (1)
1 Melodious Nadaswaram music filled the marriage pendal. The popular tune generally played on the occasion of marriages, ‘ Sitamma Pelli Kuturayene, mana Ramaiah Pelli Kodukayene ’ was being played on the nadaswaram. The bandsmen who were also present in attractive uniforms joined the traditional music and began blaring the same tune on their instruments. The raised platform on which the bride and the bridegroom were seated was richly decorated with green cocoanut branches and fresh mango leaf buntings. Colourful garlands of different flowers were hanging on all sides of the raised platform. Dasaratharamaiah stood staring at the bride and the bridegroom for a long time lost in thought. As the marriage ritual progressed the ‘ marriage V.I.Ps ’ were busy moving about with an air of importance. Marriage is a sweet experience in the life of every individual. One can recollect and look back on this unique experience in later years, remember with nostalgia the lovely experiences of the past and re-live them. Not all persons enjoy this experience in life. God denies some this joy. This is a stark truth. Dasaratharamiah was denied the experience. He wanted to celebrate his adopted son Narayana Rao’s marriage on a grand scale and planned his wedding procession in the pearl palanquin. However Dasaratharamaiah could not do so for reasons beyond his control. Narayana Rao was his second brother’s son. Dasaratharamaiah who came to town from his village was on his way to his son Narayana Rao’s house. As he walked towards his son’s house from the bus station, a marriage pendal attracted his attention. The typical wedding music enthralled him. He stopped there and peeped into the pendal like a curious boy. After a while he walked into the pendal. The bride was tenderly touching the ‘ mangala sutra ’ tied around her neck by the bridegroom. The guests were all given the akshatalu. Dasaratharamaiah also received some. The guests started showering their blessings on the newly married couple literally by sprinkling the sacred rice on them. Dasaratharamaiah, though unknown to either party, blessed the couple with all his heart wishing them long life, health, wealth, prosperity and children. He was satisfied that the couple looked made for each other. He then surveyed the place. He was disappointed that there was no palanquin around. He saw a car decorated with flower garlands. ‘ These cars are no good for wedding processions. The pearl palanquin is the only right thing for a marriage procession ’ he thought. He threw a dissatisfied look at the car and walked out of the pendal towards his son’s house. Narayana Rao saw Dasaratharamaiah entering his house and went to receive him. “Why did you not write to me? I would have sent someone to the bus station.” He said and offered to take off the bags of vegetables and fruits his father was carrying. Dasaratharamaiah had tied fresh brinjals into a bundle at one end of his upper cloth. He balanced a big sized pumpkin on his head. An equally big ash gourd was pressed under his arm. He held a thick roll of plantain leaves in one hand and a bagfull of goas, oranges and other eats children relish in the other. He had walked into the marriage pendal with all the load on his person. “Oh God! How could you carry all these things from the bus stand? Give me first the pumpkin,” said Narayana Rao to his father. “No! No! You can’t carry it! You better take this bag and the upper cloth,” said his father looking at his lawyer son affectionately. The clients of Narayana Rao who were dressed decently stood staring at the old man wondering how he could carry such a load of things effortlessly. Dasaratharamaiah was dressed in a light brown coloured dhoti with a blue border. He had put on a buttonless old-fashioned shirt of coarse cloth. The half arms of the shirt came down his elbows. His eyebrows hand turned silver white. He sported a twirling mustache, which was graying. He was tall, and well built. His stature and attire aroused respect. When he went out, he preferred to walk and never engaged a rickshaw. As Narayana Rao relieved his father of a few things, his wife Annapurna came and took from her father-in-law the plantain leaf roll and the bag of fruits. His grandchildren who were playing at a distance came running into the hall shouting, “ Grandfather has arrived! Grandfather has arrived! ” “Grandpa! What have you brought for me?” Asked Murali, his twelve year old grandson, as Anuradha, his eight year old grand daughter started searching the bags shouting that all the fruits and eats were for her alone. “No! They are all for me! I asked grandpa to bring them for me. You will not get any.” Said Murali and pushed her away. “No! They are for me alone!” Shouted, Anuradha. Murali slapped her in anger at her words. Dasaratharamaiah was taken aback at Murali’s action. He grew angry at his grandson and cried ‘Murali!’ at the pitch of his voice. Narayana Rao came running from the verandah and Annapurna from the kitchen into the hall. “Murali! You shouldn’t beat your sister. Where did you learn this brutal act? Do you know who she is? She is the blessed daughter of this family; the very personification of Sri Maha Lakshmi ” said the old man emotionally. “She is not Maha Lakshmi. She is Maha Kali! ” Said Murali angrily. The next moment his check received a terrific blow from the old man. Narayana Rao and Annapurna stood motionless at what they saw. Murali left the place in a huff kicking off the vegetables heaped on the floor. Dasaratharamaiah recovered his composure equally fast. “Murali! Don’t go away! All these things are for you. Here take these groundnut cakes. ” Murali stopped at the doorway. “I don’t want any of them. Give them all to your beloved Sri Maha Lakshmi. I will not touch them. No. Never! ” So saying he went out. Narayana Rao felt angry at his son’s behaviour but controlled his emotion. Dasaratharamaiah took his bath and sat down for his meal. Annapurna started serving the dishes in the silver plate set apart for him. As he ate his meal she stood fanning him with the palmyra hand fan. Anuradha sat beside her grandfather and ate from one of the plantain leaves brought by her grandfather. “Annapurna! Murali is growing stubborn! You have to take extra care of him from now on. If he does not bend now, he may not care for you when he grows into man ” said Dasaratharamaiah relishing the bites of his favorite ‘avakaya’ pickle with curd rice. “Yes, father-in-law! Murali gives me jitters sometimes. He does not care for me at all. Your son is always busy with his court work and the clients. ” “How does Murali fare at his studies? ” asked the old man, pouring water into his open mouth from the brass vessel lifting it high up and swallowing it with a gurgling noise. Anuradha stopped eating to observe her grandfather drink water in this peculiar manner. “He is alright in his studies. He stands first in his class always. If he does not secure high marks he can’t sleep, ” said Annapurna. Dasaratharamaiah smiled at his daughter-in-law twirling his moustache meaningfully. “The other day our relation Kameswari aunty stayed with us for two days. She was on her way to Kashi. On seeing Murali she said a number of times that you looked exactly like Murali when you were of his age – in gait, in looks, in mischief making, in studies and other aspects.” As Annapurna went on chatting in this manner about his youthful days, Dasaratharamaiah’s face glowed with pride. Murali who had left in a huff returned after two hours. His face was tanned as he was exposed to the hot sun. He walked straight into the kitchen, drank a vessel full of water, rushed into his room, threw himself on his cot and covered himself with a blanket. He did not relent to the entreaties of his mother to eat his meal. Dasaratharamaiah who was relaxing on his cot observed all this. “ He is small as my little finger. Yet how proud he is! How stubborn! One has to handle him carefully. Any way, who is he?… is he not heir! As the grandfather, so the grandson! ” Thought the old man with a smile as he slipped into sleep lulled by the cool breeze of the neeme tree. 2 By evening Murali forgot all about the fuss he made in the morning. Dasaratharamaiah stayed with his son for four days and got ready to go back to his village. “Murali! Come along with me to the village! You have holidays now ” he said to his grandson. Murali jumped with joy at this invitation and quickly stuffed a pair of shorts and shirts into a bag. He held his grandfather’s arm. Annapurna did not like sending her son to the village. She revealed her mind to her husband who had returned from the court and was sipping coffee. “He has holidays. Let him go ” said Narayana Rao to his wife. Annapurna kept silent. “Poorna! Murali is growing up. We should also know whether he can stay away from us. The village is not far from here. It is good to send children on an outing like this now and then. For a boy like Murali it will do him good. What do you say? ” Said Narayana Rao. Annpurna kept silent again. As she was taking the empty coffee cup away, Narayana Rao pulled at the end of her saree. “I didn’t get your response to my proposal, ” he said. “It is difficult to explain my view point, ” she said softly. “ I have only this to say. I feel it is not a good idea to send Murali to the village. ” After a pause she added “ I leave it to you, ” and walked away releasing the saree end with jerk from his grip. Narayana Rao stood staring at her. “ Instead of telling me that you don’t like it, you could as well tell your son no to go. How can I tell dad that I don’t like it? Anyway Murali has holidays now. I don’t understand what harm there is if he goes to the village.” His words were lost as Annapurna walked away fast. ‘ My God! It is difficult to know the mind of women. I have been married to her for fourteen years. Yet Annapurna defies my understanding, ’ he thought. “Narayana! We are getting along. It is already late. I was waiting for your consent all this while ” said his father stepping into his chappals holding his grandson’s hand. “I am afraid Murali would make a nuisance of himself in the village ” said Narayana Rao. “No. Father. I will not make any mischief ” said Murali with an innocent face, holding his grandfather’s arm. “It does not matter. It is our village. Well, Annapurna, we will get going. Murali will be a well-behaved boy. He has not left you any time before. If he doesn’t feel homesick, I shall keep him with me for a few days. If he feels unhappy, I will send him away soon. I will send him through some court bird or other who comes here often from the village. Murali will give me some company there. This fellow has to come to me hereafter for every holiday. This is the beginning, ” said Dasaratharamaiah. “Come! Let’s go! ” Said Murali tugging at his grandfather. “Take leave of your father and mother ” said the old man to Murali. He saw Narayana Rao calling a hand-pulled rickshaw. “ I can’t think of riding on a vehicle pulled by a human being. Not even on a cart drawn by a horse, ” said Dasaratharamaiah. Narayana Rao had to walk to the bus station to see them off. He engaged a rickshaw to go home after the bus left. 3 It was getting dark by the time Murali and Dasaratharamaiah got off the bus near the village. They started walking on the katcha road towards the canal. A number of ryots were standing on the canal bund waiting for the bamboo raft-boat to take them to the other side. Some of them who were impatient tucked up their dhotis waist high and started wading in the water towards the other side. Murlai was astonished at what he saw. As the bamboo raft-boat did not return Dasaratharamaiah also tucked up his dhoti and lifted Murali to his shoulders asking him to hold the bag. As the old man started to wade in the canal Mulai’s heart began to beat fast in fear. He began to sweat all over though it was a cool and pleasant evening. Some cowherds drove their cattle into the canal and the animals began to wade or swim towards to opposite shore. The cowherds started swimming along with their cattle or sat on the backs of the cattle. This was a strange spectacle to Murali. He stared at the cattle and the people in wide-eyed wonder as he sat perched on the shoulders of his grandfather. The water was waist deep in the middle of the canal. The water current was pushing the people and some were losing balance as they waded in the canal. Murali felt like bending down and playing with the water. As he bent down his grandfather thought that Murali was falling into the canal. He got scared and shouted to Murali not to move and almost lost his balance as the water current pushed him to one side. If the people nearby hand not come to their rescue the old man and his grandson would have got drowned. When they reached the canal bund on the other side Murali felt disappointed. He wanted to continue sitting on his grandfather’s shoulders for some more time in the canal. Dasaratharamaiah on his part was panting for breath, as he was not used to carrying children on his shoulders while wading in the canal. Now they started walking towards the village. After a little distance the old man stopped at a thatched ship, drank some water and bought two pieces of groundnut cake made of jaggery and gave them to Murali. Murali’s legs began to ache after a while as he was not able to keep pace with his grandfather’s fast pace. The kerosine lamps of the Panchayat Department threw their faint light on the uneven road as they reached the village. They passed the shandy area, the school street and the temple street. As they took a turn, a big neem tree and at a little distance from there a huge tamarind tree greeted them, another turn here, they saw an old tiled house. Murali held the arm of his grandfather tightly as he walked into the dark front yard through the high and big double door of the thick mud wall. A hurricane lantern was hung to the bent beam of the verandah. A big rickety cot was placed along the wall. Dasaratharamaiah put the bag down and sat on the cot. Murali took a look around his surroundings. He was afraid of the darkness. “Dear boy! Why are you still standing? Come and sit by me here ” said Dasaratharamaiah to Murali, held the boy’s hand and made him sit by him. He then called out “ Yashoda! Yashoda! ” “Yes! I am coming! I am milking the black cow. ” A female voice was heard from inside the house. Murali stared into the darkness from where the female voice was heard. As he stared, he could see after a while a black cow licking the body of its calf and a dark woman coming towards them holding a vessel with the milk. The woman was about forty five years of age. She covered the vessel with the saree – end and came towards them. She wore a dark blue saree and a red blouse. She had neatly combed and tied her hair into a Burma knot. She had sparkling white teeth. A single-stone nose – stand flashed as she walked towards them. The big round ear studs had red stones. She was well – built and walked with a steady gait. Though dark, she was attractive and good-looking. Murali stared at her with his round big eyes and assured himself that this woman was the person his grandfather had called. But he did not know who this woman was. “Do you know who this boy is? ” Asked his grandfather addressing Yashoda, his eyebrows going up as he intimately laughed at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Murali had not seen his grandfather laughing and raising up his eyebrows like this before. He thought that this gesture was a little strange. He turned at the woman and looked back at his grandfather again. Murali had known his grandfather as one who brought fruits and vegetables from the village, one who talked in a dignified manner. He hand known him as one who told him and his sister many stories with great love. Beyond that Murali had not known anything more about his grandfather. He did not have any idea how the old man lived in the village and who else lived with him. But he knew there were goa, cocoanut and pomegranate trees in the village house as also a ‘badam’ tree which produced big nuts of which he was very fond. Beyond that nothing else. After coming here his little brain began to think that he had to learn of many other things, which existed here, Yashoda being one of them. He stared at Yashoda for a long time looking at her with his big round eyes. Yashoda looked at Murali with a happy expression, “ It is good Murali Babu has come” said Yashoda smiling at him. She turned to Dasaratharamaiah. “ Why did you not tell me about his coming? ” she asked a little annoyed. “I didn’t want you to leave milking the cow in he middle, ” he said laughing again with a twinkle in his eyebrows raising. “Murali! Did you walk the two miles from the bus stand? Your grandfather is hardhearted. Perhaps your legs are aching. Wait, I shall be back in a minute ” she said to Murali and went in quickly. Dasaratharamaiah observed through the corners of his eyes the happiness of Yashoda on meeting Murali and smiled in satisfaction. “Grandpa! How does she know that I am Murali? ” Asked Murali with wonder. “Yashoda knows that you are Murali. She knows what class you study, how much mathematics you know, how many prizes you won in games, how many stories you can narrate. All this and more too. She also knows how Anu looks like, how she talks, how she walks. ” “Is that so? But she has never some to our house in town. ” “So what? My coming is as good as her coming. ” “Is that so? ” “Yes! ” “Then grandpa! Who is this Yashoda? ” Asked Murali in all seriousness. Dasaratharamaiah was startled at this question. He was silent for a while. “Tell me grandpa! What is she to me? Why are you silent? Don’t you know? Then atleast tell me how she is related to you. I shall work out how I should call her. ” “……….” “Tell me quickly. She is coming… She is coming. Tell me. ” “Ask her yourself, ” said Dasaratharamaiah closing his eyes. Yashoda brought cool buttermilk in two large glasses and gave them one each. Murali was hungry and feeling very sleepy. He drank the buttermilk quickly. His grandfather drank off the buttermilk, covered his face with his upper cloth and stretched himself on the cot. Murali did not know what to do. He stared at the floor with bent eyes. “Murali, when did you start from your place? ”Asked Yashoda affectionately to make him feel at ease. “At four O’clock. ” “You must be very hungry, ” said Yashoda. She looked at Dasaratharamaiah. “ Are you already asleep? Snoring too? The boy is hungry. Get up and cook some rice. He will eat it with some pickle. ” “Yes! He must be hungry. Prepare something for him to eat. Murali! Go to Yashoda and eat what you want ” said his grandfather and turned aside to sleep but couldn’t. His grandson’s question about Yashoda silenced him. Had he thought in his youth that a situation like this would arise in the future, his life would have taken a different turn. This is nice! He will wake up only in the morning. How can I feed the boy with my cursed hands and make him lose his caste? I should not dare do it ’ thought Yashoda searched the tin boxes, took out some boiled and pressed rice, soaked them in curds and gave the dish to Murali. Murali quickly ate the contents and slept off. Murali woke up once in the night. He was covered up to his neck with a blanket. Yashoda was sitting on the floor resting her head on the cot with one of her arms on his chest. “Mother! ” he said touching the hand on his chest. He felt the ear studs and the thick bangles. He suddenly realized he had come to his grandfather’s village and that the woman was not his mother but Yashoda. Murali could not sleep. He looked alternatively at his grandfather who was snoring on another cot and Yashoda who was asleep sitting on the floor with her head resting on his cot. He heard a cat mew and shouted “grandfather!” in great fear. Yashoda woke up and asked what the matter was. “Ca… Cat ” Murali could not speak in fear. “Oh! That! It is our pet cat. You needn’t be afraid of it. Why should you be afraid when I am by you?” “I am not able to sleep, ” he said. “ Then I shall sing a lullaby, my little Krishna! ” she said smiling. “ My name is Muralidhar! ” he said with a frown. “ Muralidhar also is Krishna! Murali has another name. Do you know what it is? ” “……….” “ Blue skinned God! Krishna likes butter. What do you like? ” “……….” “ I shall give you some butter in the morning. Go to sleep now, ” so saying she began to sing a song a Krishna tapping Murali’s back gently. Murali kept awake for some time and then slept off lulled by her song and her patting on his back, keeping tune with the song. 4 Murali returned to his parents after staying in the village for four days. He started narrating his experiences in the village to his friends, mostly about the palanquin he saw there. “ My grandfather has kept reserved for me a beautiful palanquin in the house. My bride and I will go in a procession sitting in that palanquin at the time of my marriage. I just can’t describe to you the beauty of the palanquin. It has four inch long slender glass rods of different colours hanging artistically in arches around the outer edges of the roof border. They make a rustling and jingling musical sound when the wind blows or when you pass your fingers over them. Shining gold and silver lace flowers hang down from the roof of the palanquin. There are also small light bulbs fixed to the roof. Inside the palanquin there are velvet cushions placed for me to lean upon. The palanquin is colourful and is made especially for me. It is a wonderful palanquin…”
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