Nobody saw Chalapati Rao so angry and restless before. He was generally known to sport a perpetual smile on his face. At times his smile was like that of an innocent child; at other times condescending and overbearing…but a smile nevertheless. He was also known for his humility among his peers, patience with employees and modesty in public. He was not someone who worried about an impending cyclone or an election outcome. Income tax officials or even Lord Indra himself could never arouse any dread in him. When he drove through the city in his car, even animals moved out of the way respectfully. Sparrows which fluttered about the cobwebs sat still and listened to his conversation when he presided over a panchayat meeting. And he seldom worried about his life.
But today Chalapati Rao was a picture of restlessness; a worry that bordered on irritation and anger.
*
Chalapati Rao came from humble beginnings. His father, Simhachalam sold lime soda outside cinema theatres. Like all other vendors there, when the show was in progress, Simhachalam would sit on the threshold of the hall and watch movies every day. He was fascinated that the poor potters, farmers, cooks, daily wagers on the silver screen worked very hard and made their children rich, educated and successful! He wondered how poor fathers in the movies made their sons collectors and police officers. It seemed like a very good idea to Simhachalam. He was convinced that he could make reel life into reality. So, he worked hard, dreaming that one day he would make his son an accomplished man. He didn’t want Chalapati to become a street vendor.
But Chalapati’s plans were far from his father’s dreams. School was not his favourite place. He completed Std 5 with difficulty and much to Simhachalam’s disappointment, decided to quit school forever. He followed his father’s footsteps and started selling lime soda. Not that he liked selling lime soda; he simply didn’t know what else to do. After a few years, life took a turn and Simhachalam left for the heavenly abode and Chalapati found no other livelihood but to continue selling soda for a few more years. But he was not satisfied with the money he earned. So to make ends meet, he worked as a daily wager in a factory. During his free time, he also sold lottery tickets.
Life taught him bitter lessons. He decided that money ruled the world; that education neither fetched a decent livelihood nor status and fame in society. That education gave you employment, but if you had money, you could ‘buy’ whatever job you wanted for yourself. With such quick conclusions, he erased the guilt of not completing his basic education.
Since then, there was no looking back. A daily wager may not become a collector, but he could definitely become a trade union leader. And he became exactly that. With his newly acquired position, he managed to build a house, bought a few trucks for his business, became the ward member and climbed the ladder quickly. He married his childhood friend Venkata Lakshmi, and as years rolled by, he became the President of his panchayat. Now he was addressed and revered by people as ‘Nobleman Chalapati’.
If his life could be compared to a game of snakes and ladders, he was fortunate to have just climbed the ladders but never been devoured by a snake. Such was the success that he tasted all his adult life…and so he thought there was no looking back.
Fate had other plans though. Years rolled by but Chalapati Rao and his wife did not conceive a child. They prayed, implored and pleaded with all the Gods that they could think of, but to no avail. They poured milk in every snake nest that they came across, walked up the seven hills to appease Lord Balaji of Tirupati, went on a pilgrimage to Mantrālayam and Mangalagiri, offered a pearl nose-pin to Goddess Sita in Bhadrachalam, presented a diamond armlet to Goddess Lakshmi in Visākhapatnam. But neither the Gods nor the Goddesses bestowed them with a child.
When they were on the verge of losing hope, their wishes were finally fulfilled by a wandering mendicant. This ascetic was highly revered for his spirituality and divine gifts; he had a radiance about him that was at once reassuring and calming. He was known to have mastered many world languages and believed to have cured untreatable illnesses with holy ash.
Now it was a custom of the town that any passing mendicant, a movie celebrity or a politician, should stay in Chalapati Rao’s house. The wife and husband thought it was their good fortune that this holy man should visit their house at such a sombre phase of their life. They invited the mendicant to their abode with wholehearted reverence. Venkata Lakshmi served the holy man with utmost devotion – a service that surpassed that of Subhadra’s towards Lord Krishna. If Subhadra pleaded for Lord Krishna’s hand in marriage, Venkata Lakhsmi implored this holy man for a son.
And the virtuous saint could not deny her request.
Two months after the holy man left their house and the town, Venkata Lakshmi became pregnant and soon delivered a son.
They named him Chiranjeevi Vara Prasad – an eternal divine gift.
Chalapati Rao’s happiness knew no bounds.
Vara Prasad grew up in that house with the best possible affection and luxury. His bath soaps and toiletries were imported from France; toys came from America. Anticipating his many future needs, Chalapati Rao ordered a luxury car for his son to go to school in; the best tennis racket came from England; the stroller for his evening walks was imported from Switzerland. Chalapati Rao appointed an Anglo-Indian nanny to expose his son to English right from his childhood.
Such was the care and comfort with which Chalapati Rao nurtured his beloved child.
*
Chalapati Rao paced up and down the drawing room. His wife Venkata Lakshmi stood there, watching him; the household staff forgot their duties and stood motionless. Nobody in the house had witnessed Vara Prasad cry this past year and half of his life. It was a miracle that when he was born, he did not wail like the other babies. When the doctor slapped his bottom to make him cry, the staff was taken aback that instead of his first cry, Vara Prasad smiled. This story was immortalised by the doctors and nurses who birthed him that day.
But what made him cry now!
The parents were beside themselves trying to pacify the wailing child. Attempts at offering him his favourite food were futile. His wails became louder by the minute.
“I have money, fame and an army of attendants ready to help! Yet, I am not able to help my child stop crying! What is this misfortune!”
Since his birth Vara Prasad has never been left on the ground. He was always made to play on the softest mattresses or the warmest laps of the parents and the household staff. But never on the cold, hard and inhospitable floor.
But today was not like every day. Despite Venkata Lakshmi’s efforts, Vara Prasad refused to stay in the clasp of his mother. He was adamant on climbing down to the floor. His mother looked helplessly towards her husband.
“Leave him down!” Chalapati Rao growled.
Freedom!
As his feet touched the ground for the first time in his life, Vara Prasad’s eager legs moved fast. His inept, immature feet made his walk unstable and wobbly. But there was a purpose and assertiveness in his walk; a sense of worth and freedom.
The entire household walked behind him with bated breath as he toddled towards the main door.
And then he stopped at the main entrance and gazed at something in the garden outside.
The household was dumbstruck at the spectacle in front of them. Chalapati Rao stood there furious. Paidamma, the domestic help, looked on helplessly.
Next to the gate, under the tree, oblivious to the attention that she had attracted from the onlookers, was a little girl bent over her toy, immersed in her world. A foot and a half tall, naked to the bone, covered in dirt, the girl was playing with a ragged doll as dirty as she was. Her face was smeared with drool and sweat and she kissed her doll fondly again and again.
She was Paidamma’s baby girl. Every day, Paidamma left her daughter to play under the shade of the tree, and picked her up again after she finished the household chores.
Incidentally, today was not like every day.
To Chalapati Rao’s utter dismay, Vara Prasad resumed walking towards her with renewed enthusiasm. Horrified and embarrassed at the scene in front of him, he turned and walked quickly up the stairs, into his room.
His wife and staff stood there rooted, unsure whether they were expected to stay on or get back to their work.
Venkata Lakshmi broke the silence finally.
“Paidamma, take your girl home.” she ordered.
Before Paidamma responded to her mistresses’ orders, Vara Prasad continued walking towards the girl. As if she was expecting this, the girl turned and ambled towards him too, carrying her precious doll with her. The mothers just stood there motionless, watching their children advance towards each other.
The girl stopped in front of Vara Prasad, and with sparkling eyes and an unadulterated smile, gazed for a few seconds into his face.
After what seemed like ages, Vara Prasad stopped crying. His face broke into a radiant smile. An expression of pure joy, untainted and carefree.
She lent him her ragged doll and picking up his hand, she led him to her corner under the tree to continue her play time.
Beena Devi’s original Telugu story, Sarihaddu, was first published in ‘Swati’, a monthly magazine, in May 1981.
Tile Image Credit: Aparna Nori