My long lost best friend Govindu

I was tutored at home during the early years. Our teacher would come to our house 6 days a week to teach my sister and I. He taught us all subjects. He was also the one that performed my అక్షరాభ్యాసం (Aksharabhyasamu). Majority of Telugu children start their education by writing in rice at an auspicious time picked by a పూజారి (Pujari). My  teacher was a pujari and an educator. He picked a time and I sat in Nanna’s lap as he held my right index finger to guide me to write Telugu alphabets అ, ఆ, ఉ, ఊ …

Being tutored at home meant I didn’t have any friends. I hung out occasionally with our neighbor’s teenage daughter who lived across the street and a 10 year old boy named Govindu was my constant companion besides my family.

గోవిందు (Govindu) was our live-in nanny and an errand boy all rolled into one. Govindu was born into వద్దెరా  (Vadde or Vaddera) Community, whose ancestors were stone-cutters before switching to agricultural work. According to legends, they belong to the lineage of Bhagirath Ganga, who during a hundred-year drought in northern India dug a canal from the Ganges in the Himalayas to Prayag thereby saving all of Northern India. Govindu’s family sent him to work for our family to take care of me. It was a common practice then and even now to hire children to take care of infants. Families place their children to work as live-in servants to earn money and also have a better life. Families that hire them send them to school or teach them at home. It isn’t ideal and sad for these children to be working when they are supposed to have a carefree life.

Govindu was 9 or 10 years old when he came to our place to take care of me during my  infant days. Later he took good care of both my sister and me. Amma taught Govindu how to read and write while he stayed with us. I couldn’t pronounce his name correctly and called him Gonday. Govindu was with us until I turned 4 or 5 years of age. He would carry me everywhere before I could walk. I spent almost all day with him. He would give me piggyback rides. Amma told me he was responsible for leaving me on an anthill by accident when he was called away to do a chore for Amma. When they found me 10 or 15 minutes later, my bottom was swollen and as red as the red ants that didn’t like my bottom blocking the entrance to their home.

Govindu rescued me when I got lost at a bus stop. This incident happened in a village where I lived from my infant days to 3 or 4 years of age, before moving to the next stop in my life’s  journey, another village to where Nanna's work took us to.  As the story goes, Amma couldn’t say no to a group of teenage neighborhood girls who asked her if they could take me for an షికారు (outing in Telugu). I could have been 3 or 4 years of age at that time. They left me at the APSRTC (Andhra Pradesh State Road Transportation Corporation) bus station; my guess is that they just got distracted and went somewhere leaving me all alone at the bus station.

I don’t remember this incident. Amma said, I got on a bus and asked the conductor of the bus to take me to Bapatla where Nanamma (paternal grandmother in Telugu) used to live. We used to travel to Bapatla to visit Nanamma over the weekends and I was familiar with riding on buses by that time. Nanna was a Government veterinary doctor and well known in the village. The conductor recognized me as the Veterinary Doctor’s daughter. As he was holding the bus to see how he could send me home safely, Govindu happened to be walking by the bus stop. Govindu brought me home safely. Amma said Nanna was very angry with her for sending me with teenage hooligans. The conductor was my unsung hero for holding the bus to make sure I got home safely.

Govindu was my confidant, savior, and one of my go to people when I was happy or sad or afraid. He was the person I went to when I needed rescuing when Compounder or Nurse came to our place to give me injections. You will find out why soon enough. I don’t recall why I needed injections. Our Nurse used to stop by in the evenings before dinner time to give me injections. As soon as I got a glimpse of him getting off his bicycle at the frontgate, I would run to the backyard where Govindu would be busy grinding soaked మినపప్పు (Urad dal) for ఇడ్లీలు (Idlis) or boiled ఖీమా (Kheema is ground goat in Telugu) getting it ready for sauteing with onions for dinner.

Govindu knew I was afraid of getting injections. He would take pity on me and ask me to hide in the చుట్టిల్లు (Chuttillu is a round one room house in Telugu) in the backyard that housed tools and supplies to take care of cows and calves at Tatayya’s place in Ongole. It was used to store grain by the original owners of the house. This round house was built out of red bricks and had one little window close to the rooftop. It was very dark and damp even during the day and was especially scary during the evenings. It smelled musty like very damp dried grass. I never ventured into the round room unless the fear of injections drove me there. I would hide there knowing that Govindu was right outside and would come to rescue me if I needed help.

I have to admit none of this heroic hiding really helped. Nanna or Nani babayya (Nannna’s younger brother) would come to find me and would carry me back into the house for the injections. I managed to negotiate a treat of my favorite orange soda called Gold Spot or ice cream in return. I don’t think Govindu got in trouble for this, but he could have been. He stuck his neck out for me time and again even though it could have gotten him in serious trouble.

I remember Govidu to be loving and caring. I was very sad when he went back to his village. I have several pictures from this time in my album, however not a single one with Govindu. I don’t remember his face or smile and what he looked like. I am very sure he had a kind face and a beaming smile. If I could ever figure out how to go back in time, I would go back to this time in my life to get a picture of Govindu and give him a hug and be silly for he was my very first best friend.