Telugu Original by Pasupuleti Thatha Rao

Translated into English by S S Prabhakar Rao

 His association with that tree had not been of recent time. It was a close bond for over eight decades. Whenever he would look at the tree numerous memories would pass through his mind like scenes in a movie reel. The tree had been in the front yard of his even earlier than his birth. With well grown branches spread wide, the tree with its thick leaves obstructed the sun heat from beating down. The tree must have been a hundred years old. He used to collect the raw fruits under its feet where the roots had struck. He used to take rest under its cool shade.

One day, he felt sorry for the silent agony of the mother tree when he cruelly tore the roots of the tree with his top. He remembered the observation of Jagadish ChandraBose that even plants had feelings and since then he discontinued playing with the top on the roots.

Sitting at the bottom of that tree, he ate peanuts along with his friends. When the girl from neighbor’s house came from behind, closed his eyes and asked him to tell who it was, he pretended that he did not know, right under that tree. Under that tree he tore off the sugarcane bark with his teeth and ate the sweet sugarcane. He used the tree suckers as swings and enjoyed himself till his hands were swollen. They played thief and police under that tree. One day, when he was hiding behind a branch he encountered a monkey and frightened by the monkey he fell ill for a week.

It was all during his childhood. Now he crossed eightieth year and entered the eighth decade. But that event was practically left unnoticed by his wife and himself. Only the calendar gifted by the shopkeeper was aware of that fact. The reason was that there was no one to offer a packet of sweets and melodiously sing, “Happy Birth Day to You!” 

Those, who would sing sweetly, greet one another in English and enjoy, forget not only the birth place, the mother and the sweet mother tongue, too; they are hundreds miles away from that village.

As Sriramamurty was recollecting his past memories looking at the tree, while sitting in a folding chair placed in the verandah of his house, his wife Varalakshmamma brought two cups of tea and sat beside him. 

“Do you remember, Varalakshmi, exactly fifty years back you used to bring two tumblers of ganji and offering one to me, you used to drink from the other and talk to me? Now, tea has taken the place of ganji. What a change!” said he, flashing a toothless smile. 

“True, in those days, if we add a little butter milk, it used to taste wonderful. After we got used to this tea, we are not able to get rid of it. Don’t know what kind of spell this tea casts on us!”

“All the changes nowadays are like this only! Like the glow worms, which are drawn by fire, people cannot help falling into that illusion. After falling into the quick sands, they realize the truth but they cannot get out of it.” 

To avoid the heat of the tea up, she held the cup with the saree end and tried to cool it, blowing a little air.

“It is all very true, Varalakshmi! It is painful to see how families are breaking up, in their pursuit of external pleasures. Waging bitter struggle, women have achieved reservation in jobs. Both on land and in the air, they have secured good jobs. Proved that they have the skill and ability. They announced triumphantly that there is no job that they cannot perform efficiently! Up to that, it is alright. But are they happy? There is no guarantee. It appears that they are carrying on with their jobs, worrying all the time that they are sacrificing their family life for their jobs!” he said, sipping his tea. 

“If it is so, can’t they give up their jobs? It is difficult to secure a job, but isn’t it easy to give it up?”

“That’s where the problem lies. Nowadays, it is easy to secure a job, but it is very difficult to give it up.”

“Why is it so?”

“It is like that only. Actually, why do both of them want to earn? If they have two pay cheques, they can acquire a number of gadgets and facilities - car, apartment, AC, washing machine - and status in society. When they get used to them, how can they forego them easily? In our time, we were able to buy anything with the money we have earned ourselves. Now, people are buying everything with the money they will be earning in the next twenty years. They get mired in the debt for the next twenty years. And to maintain all of them, they have to incur equal expenditure. Is it then possible to give up the salary of one person? That is why, they are suffering hell with husband at one place and wife at some other place and are able to see their children only rarely. For example, let us consider the town in which our children are living. Almost everybody is like this only. Though it is a city, they won’t talk with one another. It is an urban jungle!”

“Yes, I also heard like that. It appears no one walks there. All of them are in a hurry running along to overtake the others. It is a world of hurried running. But don’t know why, everybody wants to move over there.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Glow worms!” 

“Can’t make out! This generation of people does not know contentment. They do not seem to know how to live happily. What a pity!”

“It is no wonder, Varalakshmi! People do not realize that, though they are anxious to overtake a few, still there are many more far ahead of them. Unable to finish their race,
they squat down helplessly. If we worry looking at the people ahead of us, that worry will haunt us all our lives,” he said, heaving a deep sigh. 

“Even our son and daughter-in-law are like that..?” Varalakshmamma said and stopped midway.

“No doubt! They are also people living in that world only. They are also suffering like everybody else. They too are running after the glamour imported by globalization and consumerism. And getting tired out. They are pulling on with their existence without getting to know the meaning of life. That is why, after visiting us for the sankranthi festival last year, they had no time to look at our village,” he said.

“True, it is a long time since we had a look at them! How nice it will be if they visit us!” 

Just when she said like that, the telephone rang. It is only rarely that the telephone rings in that house. Keeping aside the tea cup, Varalakshmamma almost broke into a gallop, like a deer, forgetting her age. She was afraid, if she delayed a moment, the ringing would stop. Sriramamurty smiled to himself at her anxiety.

She returned as quickly as she had gone inside and with immense joy, she said, “Haven’t I told you just now that I want to see our son? Just now call from them. They are coming!”

There was joy in his eyes, too. But keeping it away for a while, he looked at her face, with great curiosity. Even with his poor eye sight, he could notice the joy in her eyes. From where did she draw such liveliness into her eyes? He wondered.

It is the magical power of the sweet bonds of affection between people! It is that affection that keeps people alive till the end, though denied any other hope!

“Good! When is he coming?” She told him. 

Looking at the tree, he slipped into past memories, once again. 

A cab pulled up in front of the house. Bhanuprasad and Srujana got off, with suitcases. Twenty five year old Hrithik, with a handycam and seventeen year old Sruthi with a headset of MP3 player, too got off. All of them entered the house.

“How are you Bhanu? Keeping good health?”

“I am OK, daddy. How is your health?”

“With God’s blessings I am keeping well and have pulled on so far. Now, waiting for call from God!” 

Evening time. The cool breeze blowing has made it pleasant. But somehow Srujana was feeling uncomfortable. As she was used to live in AC rooms, she was feeling that she could not stay long in that house. She was making her feelings clear by fanning herself with “Woman’s Era” magazine. Her lipstick daubed lips were glowing red. She was anxious to impress onlookers that she and her daughter were of approximately same age. The boss at her office and colleagues joke with her, “Hi, which college are you in?” She would feel awfully proud then. 

She would spend at least two thousand out of her salary on perfumes alone. And she never calculated the amount she spent on shoes for feet to goggles for eyes. 

Hrithik went into the front yard and started shooting the branches of the tree with his video camera. He had never seen such splendid sight in his city. He wanted to record the heavenly scene of the breeze dancing with the backdrop of moving clouds and upload into youtube in his site in the internet. He liked it so much! 

“O dear son, a hundred years for you! We were just saying that it had been quite some time since we had seen you last and then your call came. See how the house, which had been silent for a year, has come to bright life,” said Varalakshmamma, all overjoyed.

“Isn’t it for this that I have been asking you to sell the house and come away with us? But will you listen to me? For you this tiled house is very heaven! What can I do? Look there. Isn’t hot sun beating into the house through the broken tiles? When it rains, won’t it drizzle into the house? Then, collecting the water in a pitcher or bucket, we must pour it out, once a minute. What a nuisance it will be!”

Varalakshmamma kept quiet. She could not understand why her son was upset. During his visit last year, when he was asked to attend to the repairs, he pleaded inability on the pretext of lack of time. He asked us to attend to it ourselves and left. She was at a loss to understand his irritation, which in fact they should feel.

Sriramamurty said, “Look, it is not easy to snap the bond of eighty years. What you say is true. This is a tiled house. Full of cracks. Still, it is our heaven. Look, that tree has been my companion, my mother, my goddess. What is more, it is everything for me! It is the live witness to all the past events in my life! When I sit in front of the tree, I lose count of time. That is why, we are not able to come to your place. There is no other reason.”

“Out of the rack in the wall, a centipede has crawled out, you know? If it stings you, what will happen? We are far away. If something like that happens, who will take care of you?” said Bhanuprasad.

“Oh, is that your fear? That is a harmless creature. It won’t sting. We have been living in this house for eighty years. Has any creature stung us? In creation no creature will harm any other creature without reason – except man!” said Sriramamurty. He did not pick up ever the smartness in his life of eighty years to understand the motive behind his son’s sudden fear, which he had not felt for so many years in the past. 

“Whatever it might have been, this time you should listen to me. You are coming with me to the city. From now on, you will be staying there only. Because … because this house … I am selling away!” he said. 

For a moment they did not understand what his son was telling them. When they understood the import, the old couple shivered as though they experienced an electric shock. 

“What are you saying?” Sriramamurty asked.

“Yes, daddy. A business magnate’s eye is attracted by our site. Learning that an airport will be coming up near here, he wants to construct a star hotel. As he is an acquaintance of my friend, the opportunity has come to us. If we delay a little, he will choose another site. If we sell as it is, we don’t get more than ten lakhs. But he is offering twenty five lakhs. That is why, I want to dispose off the site.”

Sriramamurty’s face turned pale. Worry thickened in his eyes. As the house is inherited from his father, he has no right to sell it. But his son has the right. But so far he had no need to think of that legal point, but his son, taking advantage of that point, is shamelessly announcing his decision.

“But this is the house I have been living in for eighty years. Now, all of a sudden…”

“Only these! These sentiments are coming in the way of our growth and crushing us down. Opportunities come only once, they say. And the fellow who cannot avail himself of that opportunity is a misfit. That guy Suresh, who did graduation with me, bought a site for fifty thousand rupees, taking a loan at ten rupees interest per hundred. Now the plot is worth one crore. My junior, who joined service one year after me, sold away his old house, invested in shares and earned crores. Now he is a big industrialist! But sticking to my job, I have remained like this only!” He said, terribly worried. 

“At least ….. as long as we are alive…” Sriramamurty mumbled.

“Meanwhile, situation may turn upside down. Airport will come up. Star hotel will be constructed, but our house will stand like a scarecrow. Let us not talk any further. I have already given my commitment,” said Bhanuprasad, as though there was nothing more to discuss.

Sriramamurty sat in the folding chair, deeply worried. Son, daughter-in-law and grand children left for their place. But he did not recover from the lightning stroke sent down by them. 

“What are you thinking?” Varalakshmamma came along with two cups of tea and passed on one cup to her husband.

“Nothing, really! While it took fifty years for us to replace ganji with tea in our tumblers, it did not take more than ten years for our son to replace motor cycle with car! Still, he is not contented. He is eager to secure something more and for that he wants to sell mercilessly the house in which we have been living for eighty years. To think that in fifteen days we will be leaving this house, this tree and this village is harrowing my mind,” he said, sorrowfully.

“Don’t worry! Where are we going? To our own son! Who knows it may be better there than here? He is better than many!. He is inviting us affectionately. Some other sons are telling “Don’t come to us!” to the face of their parents,” said that old timer lady, not knowing that within a couple of weeks his son too will be telling the same.

“True! True! We must satisfy ourselves that way only!” he said, in a lifeless tone. 

The sound of a lorry stopping outside. They looked that way. Getting off the lorry, four hefty persons, looking like the messengers of Yama, pushed the compound gate and were entering the front yard. Keeping his palm to his forehead, Sriramamurty peered at them. In their hands were crowbars, axes and metal containers. 

Unable to guess why they came, he asked, “Eh, who are you? Coming inside!” 

Without paying heed to his words, they seriously moved towards the tree. One person started digging around the bottom of the tree with a crowbar. Another was cutting down the roots grown around at the bottom with an axe mercilessly. The third person firmly tied one end of a rope to the tree trunk and another end to a short pole driven into the ground. The arrangement was for making the tree fall only on the road side after it was cut down. 

After he realized what they were doing, he felt as though all energy was drained out of him. He said, “Nayanalaara! What is it that you are doing? Why are you cutting down the tree?”

“Ayya garu, it appears, some other persons have bought this house. And it is they who asked us to cut down the tree.”

“It is not sold yet. Son said, only an advance of one lakh rupees was given. And when we are still here, to do like this is not fair! Please stop!”

But they did not pay heed to his appeal. They were carrying on with their task. With trembling hands, he searched and located his glasses and rang up his son.

“They want to construct the Star Hotel on war footing, daddy! To save time, they told me that they wanted to cut down the tree and I agreed. Anyhow registration will be completed within a week. That is why, I consented. Why do you have attachment to the tree still? You are any way coming over here! Forget about the tree!”

Sriramamurty hung up weakly. How easily he could ask us to forget! Forgetting the memories of these many years in a moment! Is it possible really? He came out with a worried face and looked. 

As the messengers of Yama were cutting down his friend of eight decades, his heart was lacerated. Each strike at the tree appeared to him as a blow on his heart! As he recalled the lesson on Jagadish Chandra Bose he studied as a child, there were tears in his eyes. He slumped on to the folding chair. Though the tree became the property of someone else, his association with it was still with him! That was why, the agony was unbearable!

The job of cutting down the tree was completed in just four days. The felled tree, like a wounded soldier, collapsed on the compound wall and under its weight, the wall cracked up. They lifted the tree onto a lorry and carried it off. The area which was sprightly all these days looked pale and colorless. Only the stump cut down to the bottom remained. The tree with a century old past faded out in a jiffy. Hundreds of birds lost their abode. "O god, let not their curses affect my son!" Sriramamurty prayed to God. But the God did not appear to heed the appeal.

Sitting in the folding chair, as he looked at the bare stump, a deep sorrow gnawed at his heart. Unable to bear it, in his old age, he suffered limitless agony. 

Varalakshmamma too was agonized not able to look at her husband's sorrow. She hoped that after they moved to their son's place there might be considerable change in her husband's sorrow. 

The day actually arrived. They packed their bag and baggage. His son sent his friends to help them. They packed the luggage themselves and prepared the parcels. They engaged an auto to take them to the railway station in time for the train. 

While getting into the auto, the couple looked at their home for once to their heart's contentment. Their hearts became heavy at the thought that their bond with the home was getting snapped. Unwillingly they boarded the auto and the auto carried their physical bodies.

Waiting for the train which would take them to their son, they remained silent and agonized. The friends left for having a cup of tea or on some other purpose. In a little while, one of the friends came running to them and said,

"Uncle, Just now I have received a call from your son. He wanted that you should not come to him but go back home. Please come, the auto is waiting outside."

"What is the matter, son! What happened meanwhile?" asked Sriramamurty. Varalakshmamma too was confused. She was astonished at the sudden development.

"We will give you the details at home. Let us start," he said.

Afer they reached home, even the luggage parcels too arrived. Sitting in the folding chair, Sriramamurty anxiously waited for his son's friend to come out with the reason for the sudden development. 

"Uncle, the sale of the house hasn't come through, it appears. Government gave up the idea of constructing the airport here. That is why, the builder told your son that he would not go for registration of the sale deed. He is prepared to forego the advance of one lakh."

"Why did he ask us not to come to him? They cut down the tree in no time. We cannot live here any how! When we thought we would get over the loss at his place, why doesn't he want us to go to him?" he asked.

"That ... he said, he would explain to you himself later," he mumbled.

Anxiety appeared in the eyes of the old couple. They could sense vaguely that something untoward had taken place. "It is alright, son. Tell us what happened. Don't worry about us," said Sriramamurty, though worried all over.

"Your son took a hasty decision, uncle. He bought a large number of shares from a company. Their price had been rising at hunded rupees a month. Expecting that the price would reach the 9000 mark, he invested 25 lakhs. . 

"Afraid that if he waited for the sale of the house the the price would increase and he would have to buy the shares at a high price, he mortgaged his apartment and took a loan and bought the shares, fully confident that he would get 25 lakhs through the sale of the house. He wanted to get the house released from the mortgage by selling the shares at the high price.

."Meanwhile, there was economic recession in America and the financial system of the nations of the world collapsed. Many companies, which had been making huge profits, turned bankrupt. The company of which your son bought shares ran into heavy losses and as a result the share price fell to two hundred. That is why, he asked you not to go to him - now!" he said.

Sriramamurty sighed worriedly. He was all pity for his son's plight. But he knew, he could help him no way. Son's world was an agitated ocean of hurry and worry. His world was a sobre, tranquilent stream. There was no comparison whatever!

The next day, he was sitting in the folding chair, as usual. Varalakshmamma brought his cup of tea, as usual and sat on the floor beside him. The same house. The same folding chair, the same floor and the same tea. Only the tree wasn't there. The stump left behind in the earth remained pitifully. And the cracked wall beside it appeared to mock at them. 

"How did our son's fate turn this way?" she asked, her voice full of sorrow.

"Nothing happened to him, Varalakshmi! Today he has lost lakhs. Tomorrow he will earn crores. He will always be that way! There is no problem for him. Only we have lost everything!" he said.

"Let it be! We are staying in our own home, just as you wished," she said, consolingly.

"Our home! No, Varalakshmi. This is not our home! Have you thought that the house means only these tiles and walls? I never thought so. All these days I have thought my house includes the goddess tree. But where is it now? Where has it gone? It is not a mere tree. It is the great tree divinely capable of presenting the essence of my eighty years existence before my eyes as sweet memories. It is the diary I haven't kept. It is to me more valuable than crores of rupees and millions of dollars. And where is it now?" he said, his voice filled with anguish.

"Babu might not have done it consciously. Only times turned against him..." she said tying to placate.

"I am not blaming your son, Varalakshmi. I am surprised that we, who have made no mistake, have turned into sacrificial goats for something that happened somewhere! Where is that airport and where is the tree in our front yard! The born airport that never will be destroyed our tree.

"Where is Amereica and where is our sleepy hamlet? For the economic meltdown which was caused by the cheating perpetrated by somebody the lives of two innocent old couple are torn to pieces. It rooted out all happiness from the peaceful lives of our people. Why is all this happening this 

"There is a basic problem somewhere, Varalakshmi. Something that ought not happen is happening! Some are soaring suddenly skyhigh. Some are instantly sinking into bottomless pits! People are confused and have no clue who is responsible, who is cheating whom, what is right and what is wrong!

"If one does not look within and carry out introspection, such mess is inevitable," he said, closing hiss eyes and falling back in his folding chair.

His health that remained unaffected all the eighty years appeared to wilt a little. That was why, he closed his eyes a while. The sight that flashed behind the eyelids: the tree turned into memory which remained as live witness to his own memories! 

Pasupuleti Thatha Rao, born at Samrlakota and settled in Rajahmundry, works in the zonal office of Andhra Bank at Eluru. He is an upcoming writer of short stories. 

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