Veranda Tales-Connecting with roots
Storytelling has been an integral part of my life since childhood. I grew up listening to stories during the hot summer evenings and nights with my cousins. Mothers and grandmothers would gather all of us children for story time. It was usually pitch dark except for a very faint light coming from the flickering candle. Power cuts were as frequent as the hot and humid summer days. We all spread out on a cool concrete floor or bamboo mats on the veranda intently listening to fascinating stories about kings, queens, princes, princesses, and peasants alike. Stories about love, life, families, and people entertained and taught us life skills. These stories transported us to distant worlds, strange yet familiar. Often the same story told by two people sounded different as storytellers added new twists and turns adding their personal style and flair to the stories.
Storytelling wasn’t limited to summer evenings and bedtime. I was surrounded by adults who didn’t pass up an opportunity to share their wisdom using the art of storytelling. These rich vibrant oral traditions include songs, poems, stories, and సామెతలు (Sametalu are proverbs in Telugu). Men and women sing songs as they work in the fields, grinding grains and spices and doing other daily chores at their homes. Stories are often used to teach important life lessons, interpersonal skills, and survival skills. These stories and the time spent listening to them made our lives richer leaving an impression on me. This series is all about reliving those memories as I share these stories.
మనుషులు పోయినా మాటలు వుంటాయి (manushulu poina matalu untayi)
“Did you know your father took me to school on his bicycle when I was in 8th grade?” asked my aunt while we were looking at old family pictures. నాన్న (Nanna is father Telugu) was the oldest of eight children. His five sisters and a middle brother were bookended by him and his youngest brother. He lived with his maternal grandparents for a number of years when he was in school. He would visit his family during holidays and summer breaks. He told me about his early childhood. I didn’t know about my father taking his sister to school and wanted to know more about that part of their lives. She told me about the time they both lived at their maternal grandparents’ place during their school years. She was in 8th grade and నాన్న (Nanna) was in a higher grade. He would have her sit on the back of the bike as he pedaled them both to school.
The last time my aunt and I were together was at my father’s funeral ten years ago. She continued to reminisce about her older brother. She said, “He gave me a watch as a gift when I got married. It had a beautiful gold colored strap with light blue stones. I loved it.”. She was looking into the distance as if she was again in that time and place admiring the watch her older brother had just given her. She continued to say, “He told me he would pay for my college if I wanted to get a Bachelor of Art degree. He was working by that time to be able to afford the college expenses.”. I asked if she took him up on his offer. She said she couldn’t as my grandmother had plans for her to be married soon. I continued looking at the stash of precious family pictures as she continued to tell me family stories.
నాన్న (Nanna) was close to his siblings. They have always been a tight knit group being there for each other through thick and thin. I grew up visiting my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Life takes twists and turns as I ended up thousands of miles away from all of them. I didn’t get to see them for years on end for one reason or the other. My direct connection has been sporadic relying solely on నాన్న (Nanna) for learning about the lives of my extended family. Time slips by until one day, reality hits home with the loss of the pillar of the family. నాన్న (Nanna) left us ten years ago. That was when I realized how much it meant to him to be close to his siblings. He refused to move to be close to where I live saying, “I want to be close to my kith and kin. I want to be able to be part of the family events, both happy and sad. I am sorry I won’t be able to take you up on your offer”. The house was full of his aunt, siblings, his nieces, and nephews and all their spouses on hand to celebrate his life. I respected his decision even though it would mean I would be far away from him. నాన్న (Nanna) gave me the gift of his unconditional love and I reciprocated. We didn’t talk about him moving close to me ever again.
When you lose someone unexpectedly, life closes one door and opens many others if you choose to see and walk through them. My first wake-up call was when I lost my cousin and best friend a few years before losing నాన్న (Nanna). I am like a migratory bird that leaves the flock and continues to think everybody will be fine and well. When I heard about my cousin’s illness, I couldn’t believe it to be true. I made contact with her just in time to talk before she left us. She was loved and cared for by her parents and sister. The second wake-up call was when నాన్న (Nanna) left us. I made some attempts to reconnect with my extended family after his loss. The third and final one was the Covid pandemic that made me spring into action. I could no longer keep flying without the flock with me. This time I dove into the deep end of the pool to reconnect. My flock welcomed me with open arms as I stepped back into the family as if the time apart didn’t make a difference.
Reconnecting gave comfort during early years after his passing and continues to be a source of support. I am still a migratory bird with an expanded world. These connections give me comfort. I get to hear about aspects of నాన్న (Nanna)’s life I didn’t know about. I keep learning something new about him from one of his siblings whenever we chat as they remember and honor him. Our shared past continues to fuel strong bonds of today.
I had been wanting to visit the places my cousin and I roamed when we were growing up. This would be a way to honor her memory and recognize what she meant to me. An opportunity presented itself a few months ago to do just that. I visited the farm where we played together and visited the ruins of హంపి (Hampi) where we traveled together. When I was visiting the ruins, I could picture her sitting on the rocks on the shore of the తుంగభద్ర (Tungabhadra) river and standing next to me at various sites at Hampi. These memories for sure are aided by the old family pictures which are a precious gift from నాన్న (Nanna). I chose to keep memories alive in my mind and keep making more instead of crying over the lost time. Our loved ones live in our memories and keep speaking to us as we recall the time we spent with them. మనుషులు పోయినా మాటలు వుంటాయి (manushulu poina matalu untayi) hits this point home well. This sameta means, “Conversations remain even after people pass away”.
Covid made me realize time is short and precocious. I started visiting more often than I did in the past, making it a point to spend time with each and every member of my extended family as much as I can. Technology is wonderful for erasing distances keeping our flock connected over the ether. I often start my day laughing while I read a post from a cousin. These conversations give us an opportunity to take a break for a second from our busy lives to meet at the virtual watering hole to share, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company from afar. We are still flying in a flock together virtually. Our flock’s motto is “Love unconditionally supporting each other knowing fully well that we are all imperfect humans”.