My Father’s Place

Mungari Rajender (Jimbo)

Though I was watching TV, RamaRao’s words were haunting me. How could he pass such comments in the office so easily? The very thought of them would upset me. As he smiled and said, “The Muslim saayibu, would have a wish that Pakistan should alone win.” His words pierced me like thorns of a creeper.

It was just past 9.30. Still there were one and half-hours for the office. I just sat before the TV but my mind rambled on. The ringing of the calling bell brought me back to this world. I got up and opened the door. It was the postman with a telegram. After signing the acknowledgement, I received it.

“Puppu passed away at 5o’clock.” – Reheman Puppu (aunt) would have crossed seventy-five. It was also known that she had been sick for the past two or three months. I had wanted to see her once when she was alive but I couldn’t. For that I felt annoyed at myself. Puppu was the last person related to my Pappa (father). It had been eight years since Pappa breathed his last and six years since Taaya (father’s elder brother) departed. Puppu was the last among them. Their parents died when I was a child. Aunt did not have any children. Her husband had already died. Reheman had taken care of her, he was the eldest son of our Taaya.

I might have gone only three or four times to my Pappa’s village since I remember things. Six years ago when Taaya died I visited the village. Again at this time. But for marriages and funeral ceremonies, I had never been to my Pappa’s place. Even for them once my elder brother, another time my second brother and at times myself attended in turns. Taayizan wrote to me many times asking me to visit during the vacation, but some how I hadn’t visited.

My Pappa had a quarrel with his father when he was twenty-two and came to this place and settled. My father was the first doctor in that vicinity. He married my mother who hailed form a village near by. The distance between our place and my father’s village was nearly five hundred kilometres. My father himself often used to go to his place. We didn’t have much association with that village. My Pappa’s relations used to visit us once in a while. My sisters, brothers and myself were born and brought up in our place.

Taking the telegram, I went inside and told the news to Ammi. Ammi felt sad. Though death was inevitable, some strange fear haunted everyone. She said that we should go. I asked my wife to prepare my baggage. I gave a leave letter at the office and came back. The bus to Hyderabad was at eleven o’clock. From there it was five hours journey. I rang my brothers in the village and told them the news. They said they too had received the telegrams. They asked me to go along with mother and said that they would attend the ‘dahum’ (Ten days ceremony).

Ammijan and myself set out for my father’s village. We reached there by six o’clock. We could find out the location of the house without any difficulty. I remembered. Silence pervaded my father’s old house.

It seemed Reheman’s children had not come from Hyderabad. A few relations and Reheman’s sisters and brothers were in the house. On seeing mother they broke out. They said they had waited for us till then and the body was taken in a dola just half an hour ago. They sent a boy to guide me to the kabaristhan. I rushed there. After performing namaz for zanaz at the mosque, they had just brought Puppu’s dead body to the kabaristhan. The last glimpse of the body, aakari deedar was shown. I saw Puppu’s face for the last time. Tatphiz, the burial was over. Mother could not see Puppu’s face.

Mahaboob maamu was our close relative. He took me in to the village. One or two persons wished me. A few were introduced to me. I did not remember them. They said they were my father’s schoolmates. Maamu showed me the school where they studied, the playgrounds where they played and the streams in which they swam. But all of them appeared unfamiliar to me. He related some of his memories of my father. I listened to them with attention. We came back. Maamu showed me my father’s study room, the old chair in which he used to sit and all other sort of things.

The day dawned indolently. I had to return, as I didn’t have leave. The bus was at two in the afternoon. I told Reheman that I would go by that bus. Reheman bhabi jaan urged me to stay back for that day. I told them that I had some work in the office. I took a few photographs of Puppu, Luyi, and Pappa from the photo album. “When will you come again?” Reheman said sorrowfully.

After having meals, Ammi and myself started by bus at 2’o clock. The bus moved on passing by the school in which my father studied, the playgrounds where he played, the house that was intertwined with my father’s childhood. And it went through the village. Reheman was right in his remarks. When would I visit my father’s village again?

We reached Hyderabad at 7o’clock. That night we went to my choti bahen’s (younger sister’s) house. The next morning we left for our village as ammijan wished. The bus entered the outskirts of our village around ten o’clock. I was thrilled the moment I breathed air there. So many memories. When I saw those fields I remembered the reminiscences- the games we played there, the days when the maize corns were roasted on fire and eaten. I remembered all those events. I sent my mother to the house in a rickshaw and I walked in to the village. As I crossed the stream I recollected the days when I swam and jumped merrily there. After a chat with Chandramouli at the Medical shop and with Ravindra at the photo studio, I walked towards home answering my friends’ and the relatives’ enquiries and wishes on my way. My heart fluttered with memories of my old school at Bhemanna temple.

I reached the house. My father’s photograph in the office. The chair he always used to sit in. When I saw the room in which he used to see the patients I felt as if my father was still alive. I went to the well and washed my feet. My father used to have his bath there and also bathe us. I was soaked in the memories. What a difference between my father’s place and mine? Disparity as it was between a stranger and a close companion. When I entered my village, it embraced and stroked me with affection. When I saw my father’s place and his house, I did not have any emotional response as I found them alien. So how could I, with such feelings, have affection for a country, which my father and my grandfather had not even seen? I wanted to pose this question to Ramarao.

- Andhra Jyothi weekly, 16-06-1995

Translated from Telugu by Dr. T. Sreenivasa Reddy