Brother-Sister

It is always fascinating to go through the fictional works of earlier generations. It is all the more so when the writer belonged to the first few decades of the advent of fiction-writing. With limited means in respect of exposure, techniques, publishing and audience, we marvel at their craftsmanship in imagining situations and characters based on day to day life. In the present short story, Ayodhya Rama Kavi brings into focus many familial and social issues: bonding between wife and husband, mutual affection slightly ruptured by distrust, openness in their relationship, removal of misgivings by the husband, restoration of faith, the pathetic conditions of bhogum women, the protagonist Ramam, offering a helping hand to such a woman in distress whom he treats as sister. The story moves at a brisk pace without divulging much, while giving enough hints that help the progression of the narrative. The writer does not take his audience for granted and so, leaves the story open-ended. It is left to the conjecture of the readers why Janaki is left aghast at seeing those who accompanied Ramam.

Adluri Ayodhya Rama Kavi  was born in 1922 at Illanthakunta in Warangal district. He attempted almost all the genres available then. He authored Telangana Mantallo (Short stories) Samskaranalu (Burrakatha), Andhra Kesari, Ghantaravam (1944),  Deepavali (poems and lyrics), Rudrama Devi (drama), Annapurneshwari Satakam, Sitarama Satakm and some freedom songs. He published a periodical, “Bhagyanagar” from Hyderabad during 1949-50. He travelled across the state as Congress party worker and propagated its policies through his songs. He founded “Vignana Granthamala” at Hanamkonda and published about ten books.  

“Aravinda! You know everything. What can I say if you suspect me that way knowing me well,  even after three years of our married life? Have you ever seen your Ramam talking to any other lady?”

“Then, what’s this photograph? You know what people are talking about in the family and outside?

“Abba! How can I convince you? Believe me! Just because relatives and others deride me, you can’t  suppress your love for me and get away from your life partner!”

“——–”

“Abba! I can’t bear to see the tears in your eyes. Don’t blame me without reason.  She is my sister. Can’t you perceive it through the photograph? A woman is obviously envious, if her husband is a philanderer. But think of me with an open heart.”

“Last time, when you had been to the city, you did not come home for four months, perhaps, this is the reason. I didn’t have an iota of suspicion then. But, what do I see here in this photograph? As though a wife washing the feet of her husband, how could I not believe?”

“I’ll tell you what all that happened and then leave the matter to you so that you can decide by yourself. I don’t say anything more.”

“In those days, as I was unable to bear the troubles at home, I went to city in search of a job. For a month and a half, I wandered all around. My feet swelled, yet could not succeed in securing a job.  But because of the mercy of  Andhrapithamaha who published some stories in his periodical and with some amount paid by him, I tried to eke out my living. Meanwhile, one day, a conference was going on in the pedda bazaar and I wished to go there. It was already five in the evening and the meeting was to begin in ten minutes. Thinking that I would be late if I went through the main road, I started walking through that–their–lane. After seeing the street with its appalling conditions, tears rolled down my cheeks. What Aravinda! What a miserable life theirs was! While I was walking through the street what flashed in my eyes was, the trumpet blows of bhogam people, prostitutes, their customers, their awkward gestures, uncouth acts!  I thought, “It was they who created such street.” On the way, suddenly there appeared a shape. I was taken aback. All of a sudden, my college life and the lives of those next to my house reeled through my mind. She beckoned me with open hands. I could not but go. After getting in, I slipped into a chair.

“What Janaki – Your life! –”

“Yes! Prabhakaram had been with me for a month and left. It was from that day, I went on persuading my mother how I wanted to marry him and wished not to be in this trade any more. And you  knew the day-to-day incidents taking place at that time!”

“Yes! And then?”

“What’s there? Mother met her death. I felt alone that day. I managed for six months with the property I had. Later, when I ran out of money, I wanted to depend only on my hard work. I used to go to working in a mill. The manager one day tried to sexually abuse me. I gave up the job. My Prabhakaram will not come, and no prospect of marriage. That was the only thing  in my mind, waiting for him. For a few days, I did menial jobs in a house. But, unfortunately, because his wife was unattractive, he too tried to follow the manager’s path. With that, I gave up that job too! Thus, facing odds at every step, I would still wait for Prabhakaram. “He first accepted me and therefore he should only be my husband,” with this thought I waited for two years. But I felt that the whole world was lustful about me. I felt as though everybody incarcerated me.  I became furious. And I have been staying here for fifteen days. I am a prostitute now. Selling my body for money. Here, all attempt to be attractive. All those who come to this lane make a line to their houses. For, I have no outward grace. I don’t have cosmetics either. No one ever stares at me. I don’t even have rice to cook for today. The sister who once called you ‘anna’ stands before you to call ‘naatha’ and satisfy your desires. But my heart remembers the earlier addressing of ‘annayya’. As the tears were streaming down her cheeks, my heart sank.”

“Now tell me Aravinda, what should have I done.” So I said ‘Chellee!’ She raised her head. I shook my head and I said, ‘Yes! There is nothing to worry about. Till your Prabhakaram is back, I take the responsibility of looking after you. Let the world say anything, I don’t mind.’ I gave her fifty rupees.”

One year passed. Prabhakaram did not turn up. I used to send her twenty five rupees a month. One month it was delayed. “One day I received a card,” he said and as if suddenly recalled something, he took out a card carefully preserved in the drawer and showed it. Aravinda was shocked. “Aravinda! Last time when I went to her, she pleaded and I could not say no, and so took this snap together.  She wished that I should also have my sister’s photo and therefore she put this with me, but not with any other intention. Is your suspicion cleared, now?” With those words of Ramam, she leaned her head on his chest and made his shirt wet with tears. Ramam felt reassured.

Ramam came know about the poetic recitation of the noted poet, Kavikokila Prabhakara Shastry. Ramam came to the city along with Aravinda. She never visited the city earlier.

As long as he was reciting the poems, Ramam looked contemplatively. The presiding man was delighted at the seamless poetic flow. But his poetry was completely subjective, it was about separation and repentance. It was only Ramam who could sense that.

When Prabhakara Shastry, Aravinda and Ramam went to Janaki’s house, she was spinning yarn over the wheel, then got up and greeted him saying “Anna!” A moment later, looking at his side she  was astonished. Looking at the other end, she was further astounded. Her state of mind at that moment would better be imagined than described.

1945

Andhra Pithamaha refers to Sri Madapati Hanumantha Rao

Translated  by: Damodar Rao , Thummuri Sharath Babu

Featured image credit: Queen of the Heart (1993) by Jyoti Bhat (WikiArt.org)