Honor

Telugu: Bhaskarabhatla Krishna Rao

[“Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.” … William Shakespeare ]

*

Finally, Ranga Rao made up his mind.

Two shirts, one dhoti, one banian and a towel he tucked into a handbag and started.

As he slipped his feet into the chappals, his widowed mother came in, and asked, “Where are you leaving, my son?”

If her crossing his path seemed ominous, her enquiring about where he was going seemed doubly ominous. He apprehended if his mission would be accomplished. So, he vented his anger and disgust for asking ‘where’ he was going. Without another word, his mother walked in. Having made up his mind to go, he did not want to retreat for fear of omens. He stepped out of his house quickly. Hardly had he put forward a few steps, he heard someone sneezing loudly behind. Standing where he was, he was in two minds for a moment whether to continue with his journey or postpone it. But the impending necessity compelled him to go forward come what may. He walked briskly towards Secunderabad railway station, bought a ticket, and stepped on to the platform. The train was late by half an hour.

His mind was like a campfire in the making. Like the initial fumes, his thoughts wavered in every direction:

There was hardly two months’ time for the proposed marriage of Chaya, his elder sister. He had to shell down a dowry of a thousand and one hundred and sixteen rupees besides bearing the marriage expenses. They had already fixed the Muhurtam (auspicious moment) for the marriage. All things put together the marriage expenses would come to three thousand. It’s a good match. The groom is a nice boy. An arts graduate working as a clerk, like him, in the Secretariat. He draws a salary of one hundred per month. He had no encumbrances. With his income, the young couple could live happily without any worry.

As for himself, he was short of money. With the kind of responsibilities he had, he was hardly able to make ends meet. Then, where could he muster the three thousand? The times were hard. To raise a loan was difficult. And even if he could, he had no steady means to repay it. On what assurance would anybody lend him such a huge amount? Of course, he had a ten-acre dry land and another acre, or acre and a half of wet land cultivable under a well in in his native village Raghunatha Palle. He could raise about five hundred by hypothecating the well but what purpose would it serve? He might get about three to four thousand by offering it for sale. But he was not sure if anybody would come forward to buy it. Though the property was registered in his name after the demise of his father, it was once an Inam land. All Inam lands are somehow getting converted to leased lands these days. Mallayya and his family had been cultivating those lands for generations. “We are born and brought up on this land,” was Mallayya’s favorite refrain. Mallayya was a god-fearing man and of a very docile nature. He neither offered his land on lease in writing to Mallayya, nor had he ever insisted on it. Regarding the lease rent, paid in kind, they often came to an understanding by deliberating face to face; and Mallayya promptly executed it as per their understanding. That was how it had been before him, and the tradition continued under his ownership too. He never went against tradition, nor was there any compelling reason to change his mind. Mallayya was defraying all taxes on the land and paying him a Putti (Twenty measures) of grain every year. He might fail offering flowers to lord Shiva, but never failed him. But it was only for the last two years he had not paid him. He performed the wedding of his daughter recently. He incurred heavy expenditure on that count. Compounding his troubles, part of the land suddenly caved in; and he was not able to raise any crop there. Neither Mallayya nor he could bear the expenses to level the land. They needed a minimum of five hundred rupees, and it was beyond them. Had it been a sizeable hole, the government might have given some assistance. Yet, he applied for assistance and the revenue officials inspected the place that caved in. When the size of the hole did not meet the norm, what could any official do? It was a small pit where water collects during the rainy season, overflowing to adjacent fields. During summer, the collected water was not enough to raise any crops. Thereby, the land had fallen fallow and Mallayya failed to pay the agreed rent. Poor fellow! How could he help? With the land reforms under implementation, Mallayya got tenancy rights over the land and could not be alienated unilaterally from the land. Even if he wanted to sell it, he should offer Mallayya first. And again, Mallayya need not pay the entire amount in one instalment. He could pay it instalments for an indefinite period. With the financial mess Mallayya was steeped in, it was very unlikely that he would come forward to buy the land. If the rumors he had heard were correct, Mallayya was barely making a hand to mouth existence.

Will he absolve his rights over the lands? Will he come to a reconciliation? Impossible. He would neither absolve his rights nor come to any reconciliation. He was not able to pay the lease rent either. What makes these farmers so attached to the land?

First, he should pressurize him for the grain due. He would anyway fail to do that. Then he should force him to sell his drought animals. But he heard that Mallayya had already sold two young calves of late to pay his creditors. He might not have been left with many. He would be shattered if he was forced to sell the remaining cattle and might come forward for a settlement. He should somehow convince Mallayya to relinquish his rights over the land. He was apprehensive that Mallayya might not agree. He could offer one or two acres of dry land for free. Then, he might agree. He could then sell the remaining land and make some money. He could come out of the present predicament then. But he should manage the whole affair with finesse. That’s where the village Karanam Ramachandrayya’s services would come in handy. Soon after reaching Raghunatha Palle, he should try to get Ramachandrayya to his way. He was an old horse in handling such intricate litigant matters. He should throw some bait to get the deal in his favor. And, of course, without tarnishing his image. The sale of his lands would snap his ultimate bond with this village.

Raghunatha Palle is a small remote village in Telangana. It is still far aloof from civilization and the news about land reforms has not reached there. But things won’t be this way for long. It would be wise to dispose of the land before things turn critical, thought Ranga Rao. If the farmers come to know of the Estates Abolition Act and its implications, no one will come forward to buy the land. He regretted that he had already delayed in disposing of his lands. Any further delay would be to his disadvantage. In a way, Chaya’s marriage turned out to be to his benefit. Without such pressure for money, he would have indefinitely delayed his decision.

After finally solving his teething problem in his mind, Ranga Rao looked at the station clock. It was five minutes past ten. He walked onto the platform at ten. That means, within five minutes he made a round of Raghunatha Palle. Strangely, he felt there was a marked difference between physical time and mental time. While the mental time rolls by at lightning speed, the physical time seems to remain where it was. Even if it moves apparently, it drags its feet slowly. He could not make out why such difference is felt.

After using all available modes of transport… like train, bus and walking on foot… Ranga Rao reached Raghunatha Palle by sunset. Leaving his handbag with a well-known shopkeeper and finishing his ablutions, Ranga Rao went straight to the house of Ramachandrayya, the Village Karanam.

The house was flanked by two raised platforms at the entrance. Ramachandrayya was seriously discussing with a farmer by the time Ranga Rao went there. Folding his hands in a gesture of greeting, he said, “Welcome, Pantulu^[1] garu! When did you arrive?”

“May God bless you with long life,” said Ranga Rao and resorted to formal enquiries. Sensing the purpose of Ranga Rao’s visit intuitively, Ramachandrayya quickly finished his business with the farmer he was talking to and turned towards Ranga Rao.

Ranga Rao briefed him on the purpose of his visit. And finally added, “Without your help, this mission will not conclude successfully.”

“That’s not a big deal. We can send word to Mallayya to be present here by tomorrow morning,” said Ramachandrayya.

“That’s not enough. Please take this as your personal affair. After vacating him from the land, you must oversee that it gets the best price,” said Ranga Rao mentioning clearly what he was expecting from the Karanam.

“The toughest part is to make Mallayya to agree to leave the land. As for the sale, it was only a matter of minutes thereafter. If we don’t get a suitable price from the farmers of this village, we offer it to others from the neighborhood,” said Ramachandrayya stressing indirectly that vacating Mallayya from the land was a greater challenge than selling it for a suitable price.

“Help me get out of this fix. It’s as good as conducting Chaya’s marriage yourself. I will suitably satisfy you for rendering this help,” assured Ranga Rao, realizing it was not wise to hide one’s intentions having come to seek his help.

Ranga Rao came to an agreement with Ramachandrayya to pay him two hundred rupees. Ramachandrayya in turn, would facilitate Mallayya relinquish his rights and then sell it between three to four thousand rupees.

“Take peaceful rest tonight. Have no worries. I assure you that this affair will conclude successfully by this time tomorrow. Call me names if I fail,” assured Ramachandrayya finally.

“Then, let me take leave of you,” said Ranga Rao getting up.

“Then I remain. My respects to you,” said Ramachandrayya, getting off the platform.

Ranga Rao blessed Ramachandrayya with long life once more before leaving.

*

The following day, Ranga Rao was ready at Ramachandrayya’s house by eight o’ clock in the morning, after attending his ablutions and taking his first cup of tea. Ramachandrayya was sitting on the raised platform of his house. By that time, the Karanam sent word for Mallayya, and he was already present there. Ranga Rao’s left eye tingled suddenly. Setting aside his inhibitions about the omens, he walked forward to take his seat on the platform. He once again blessed Ramachandrayya for his obeisant greeting.

“Pantulu garu! My salutations to you!” said Mallayya looking at Ranga Rao. Strangely, he could not invoke the same blessings on Mallayya as he did on Ramachandrayya.

“You have not paid the agreed measure of grain as rent for the last two years. Pantulu has come from the city to collect his grain. Pay him his due and settle the issue,” said Ramachandrayya initiating the conversation.

“Where can I bring the grain now, my lord? If you give me few days’ time, I will repay with all dues,” appealed Mallayya with a look of anguish.

“You went on buying time this way for the last two years. How long do you want to evade paying this brahmin his due?” asked Ramachandrayya without mincing words.

“The floor of the land caved in. I could not realize even a handful of grain from the land. The well is getting dry. How can I pay the rent?” Mallayya tried to explain the ground reality.

“If the situation is so horrible, relinquish your rights over the land. The brahmin will lease it out to another person,” suggested Ramachandrayya.

“I was born and grown up working on this land. Should I die, I would rather die on this land only. How come you ask me to relinquish the land, master?” asked Mallayya addressing Ranga Rao.

Ranga Rao was startled when Mallayya asked him that question. But he did not intervene.

“I don’t tolerate this kind of over smart argument. Either you pay him the rent due immediately, or get away from the land instantly,” insisted Ramachandrayya with a tone of finality in his voice.

“We have been cultivating this land for the last three generations. Where will I go now leaving this land?” asked Mallayya with pitiful eyes. There was an appeal in his eyes seeking an alternative source to make his living. Ranga Rao was whelmed with pity and a fleeting thought … ‘Why should I bother him? Let me leave it here’…  flashed in his mind. But Chaya’s marriage loomed large on his face as an insurmountable challenge. And the pity subsided with it.

“Alternatively, sell off some of your ornaments or cattle and repay the old dues,” suggested Ramachandrayya.

“I do not have any valuables or cattle with me, my lord! I borrowed heavily for the wedding of my daughter. The creditors took away two young male calves. One ox died of bloat. All I am left with is a lean male buffalo,” replied Mallayya.

Ramachandrayya got furious and ordered the village servants, “This man is not going to heed good advice. What are you waiting for? Bend his back and put a boulder on his back^[2].”

“I fall at your feet. Please don’t dishonor me, don’t dishonor me!” pleaded Mallayya crying helplessly. The two servants held him, forced him to bow down and placed a boulder on his back. Mallayya did not resist. He surrendered to them as meekly as a domesticated beast. Ashamed, he did not look at anybody and sat crying endlessly for the humiliation heaped on him. Tears streamed down his eyes.

Ramachandrayya took a break from this affair and turned his attention to another matter.

Ranga Rao went pale. He sat like a statue.

After a while, Mallayya started sweating profusely. Ranga Rao feared that he was melting out of shame. He did not have the courage to look into the eyes of Mallayya and turned his eyes elsewhere.

Mallayya grew weak. Soon he had a reeling sensation. For a moment he had a transient vision loss and collapsed to the floor along with the boulder.

People flocked around him immediately. Some people tried to lift him to a shady place. Others tried to refrain from disturbing him.

The moment Mallayya collapsed, Ranga Rao and Ramachandrayya jumped off the platform and ran up to him. They scattered the gathering lest Mallayya should suffocate and sent someone to fetch some water. They also sent word for his wife.

Mallayya came to his senses after spraying some cool water on his face.

“I lost my honor! Of what use is my living anymore?” he mumbled in his semi-conscious state.

Ranga Rao came to tears listening to his mumbling.

“Poor fellow! Nobody knows when he had his last meal!” somebody from the crowd pitied.

Ranga Rao heard that. He was not aware that Mallayya was in such a wretched state.

Malli, Mallayya’s wife, came running wailing and enquiring about what had happened to him. People made room for her.

Malli drew near Mallayya, sprinkled more water on his face, and dried it with the hem of her saree.

“I lost my honor, girlie!” said Mallayya. Somebody handed over a glass of warm milk to Malli. When Malli tried to offer him,  Mallayya refused turning his head sideways.

Ranga Rao pleaded, “Mallayya! Take some milk.” One or two others from the crowd also pleaded. But he did not take the milk.

“Get up, mama^[3]]! Let’s go home!”

She garlanded his hand around her neck and sat him up. Two to three people assisted her in standing Mallayya on his feet.

“Let’s go,” she said and walked him up to their home. Ranga Rao followed them up to Mallayya’s house.

“Won’t you take a gulp of congee?” Malli asked after everybody retreated from their home.

“Where did you get the grain from?” Mallayya asked her anxiously.

“Yerravva lent me some bullrush millet,” replied Malli.

“Girlie! My mind is disturbed. You take a gulp yourself and feed the kid with the rest,” said Mallayya.

“Mama! You haven’t taken anything since yesterday morning. Please take a gulp,” pleaded Malli. Mallayya could not ignore her pleadings anymore.

To please her, he took something for the sake of it.

Ramayya, their three-year old child noticed people carrying his father home and had an intuitive, vague idea that something went wrong with his father. He did not get out of his bed that day.

“Boy! I could not uphold the honor of our elders. At least you should do it!” he said, caressing the boy, taking him into his embrace.

Mallayya tried to take a nap in the afternoon, but he could not. The events of the day repeatedly played before his mind. He rolled restlessly on the bed.

He got up from bed as evening fell.

“Mama! Where are you going?” asked Malli anxiously. But he paid deaf ear. Tucking a brass pitcher under his arm and concealing it behind a bedsheet spread over his shoulders, he walked out dragging his feet. Malli instantly realized where he was going. “His mind is disturbed. Let him,” she kept mum reconciling reluctantly.

Mallayya returned home after eight. She noticed that the pitcher did not return with him. She understood that he pawned it for his swig.

“Girlie! Is the child asleep?” he asked as he walked into the house.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Did you take some gruel?” he enquired anxiously.

“Where is the gruel? The grain from Yerravva were over in the morning itself.”

“Pch! We are not destined anything for the night!” he despaired in a philosophical vein.

“Girlie!” He called her again.

“Um,” she answered.

“Will you listen to me?” he asked.

“What is it, mama?” she asked.

“Don the saree I bought for our daughter’s marriage with that mirror-work blouse,” asked Mallayya longingly.

“It isn’t night fall yet. Why this dalliance, Mama?” said Malli feigning anger.

“I swear on our kid if you don’t,” compelled Mallayya.

Malli could not but oblige. Donning the green saree and putting on the mirror-work blouse as he asked, she nestled comely in his bed.

“You look like the goddess of the woods,” complimented Mallayya kissing her wildly. “Check whether the child is asleep or not,” said Mallayya.

“Seems he is not asleep, Mama!” replied Malli.

Mallayya closely watched his child for a minute. He was sleeping like a log. That reassured him.

“Girlie! You are lying.”

“No, Mama! I thought he was not asleep.”

“Girlie! You are mischievous!”

She was overwhelmed with delight at his compliment.

Two hours after midnight, Mallayya got up from his bed silently. Malli was deep asleep beside him. The boy was sound asleep oblivious to the worries of the world. Mallayya leaned over the boy and kissed him gently. He did not get back to Malli lest he should wake her up. He looked at her face attentively for a moment. He went into the adjacent room with a rope. He bolted it from inside. He never came out of it.

In her hypnagogic state in the wee hours, Malli groped for Mallayya on the bed. His was not there. She arose with a start. She waited for a moment to see if he was attending his ablutions. When he did not turn up, she searched for him everywhere in the house. She suddenly noticed the west-side room was bolted from the inside. She started wailing loudly. Neighbours woke up to her wailings and gathered around her. They broke open the west-side room. Mallayya was found hanging to the beam.

“Poor fellow! He lost his honor! He committed suicide.” Pitied everyone.

Malli’s wails reverberated through the village.

For the next two days Raghunatha Palle was busy with the visiting police officers.

Ramachandrayya had to move earth and heaven to convince them that there was no external reason behind Mallayya’s suicide. Of course, people who dislike him say that he and Ranga Rao bribed two hundred rupees each to close the file.

Four days later, Ranga Rao reached home evading a certain disaster by a whisker.

“What happened to your mission?” his mother asked him.

“Chaya is not destined to marry,” was his curt reply.

He wrote to the groom’s party that the match did not suit them.

He could not sell his land to this day!

Nor could perform Chaya’s marriage!

*

Telugu Original:  Ijjat

Courtesy: Sata Vasantala Telugu Katha, March 2017

Eds: Sri Talluru Nageswara Rao and Hita Sri

Publishers: Visalandhra Publishing House.

^[1] That’s how a Brahmin is addressed in the villages.

^[2] In the good olden days, it was a kind of sentence imposed on farmers who failed to pay their dues. Poet Srinatha was a famous example.

^[3] A common word used by country woman to address her husband.