Veranda Tales-Little joys of life
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.
కన్నామేగానీ, కడుపులో పెట్టుకుంటామా? (Kannamegaani, kadupulo pettukuntama?)
Springtime is magical. It catches us by surprise after every winter. Every year barren trees and landscapes come to life overnight. Not too long ago trees were shivering in the winter winds eagerly waiting to cover themselves with fresh green leaves. Spring arrives with force covering trees with vibrant and delicate leaves and an explosion of blooms in every color known to human eyes transforming an old black and white picture in a split second into a High Definition high color picture. Nature springs to life all around us busily getting ready for a period of abundance. I wake up to the music of birds arriving in my backyard every single morning.
Robins arrive building nests. If you look closely you can watch the dance between male Robin and the female. Male Robin will fly away to find and bring the finest twigs he can find to build and perch the nest in a spot he thinks is the best for raising his offspring. He spends days carefully placing each twig on another intertwining them to form a sturdy hole for the eggs and the little ones that hatch from them. His mate sits on a nearby branch watching him build the nest. Once he completes the work, he calls her. She comes poking the nest with her beak, examining if it is worthy of her precious eggs. If she likes it, the nest will be full of robin eggs in a few days. If it doesn’t pass the inspection, the nest will be abandoned.
I watch this play out year after year in our backyard. I feel sorry for the male robin who spent several days carrying twigs and building the nest only to be rejected. I have a selfish interest in being able to witness the little ones. Some years I am lucky. I eagerl;y wait for the eggs to hatch, staying away from the yard and the nest. Once they hatch, I get to watch the little ones in their nest as they eagerly wait for their parents. I see the parents taking turns looking for worms and carrying them to the nest. The little ones start chirping and opening their mouths vying for the delicious worms their parents brought for them. As spring turns into summer, the little ones grow and leave the nest. The maple tree which was sought after by robins died a couple of years ago and I no longer see robins in our backyard.
A few weeks ago, I peeked out the window admiring the cherry tree in full bloom. I was taking in the view as the white petals gently fell on the lawn and patio like snowflakes. All of a sudden, I spotted a bunny sitting on the lawn very close to the patio staring right at me with large brown unblinking eyes fixed on me. I was taken aback a bit and wondered how long could this bunny stare without blinking. Then I spotted another bunny sitting on the other side of the lawn who also stopped in its tracks staring at me like deer in the headlights. I didn’t move and they didn’t move. I blinked first as I had things to do, leaving them to their devices cheering up with the thought that they could be a mating pair getting ready for the arrival of their offspring. I was happy that I mowed the lawn the day before and I wouldn’t have to bother them from their important pursuits of caring for their young. I was surprised to find a borough full of little ones a few years ago when I went out to mow the lawn.
Bunnies dig large boroughs lining them with dry leaves and their own fur a week to a day before giving birth. This was the first time I got to watch the mother dig the hole with her little paws while her mate stood guard. They both disappeared when I went back to check on them. They were nowhere to be seen for a couple of days. It started to pour in the evening of the third day and it continued to rain all day long. I was quite worried about the little ones drowning in the borough. The next morning I saw mama or papa bunny sitting under a tree close to the borough shivering in the rain and cold. Too bad mama and papa bunnies look the same from a distance and you can’t tell them apart. It would be nice if mama bunny wore a saree or papa bunny wore a dhoti. Then there will be no confusion. I considered going out there to give the bunny a soft blanket.
The rain stopped and it dried out. I keep seeing mama or papa bunny sitting under the same tree or by the fence guarding the borough from a safe distance to throw off the predators. I suspect they know my better half and I wouldn’t harm them. I am enjoying watching bunny come to the borough to feed her young in the mornings. She sits upright warming her paws feeding her babies as they hide safely in their borough. If you didn’t know about the borough you would think the bunny is pruning herself. The babies are very well hidden. My better half isn’t very pleased since he had to stop his planting project waiting for the little ones to be old enough to emerge from their safe haven. It could take 4 to 5 weeks. I can’t wait for the little bunnies to start running around the backyard. I know the cycle will repeat and these little ones will be old enough to care for their young in a year or two. They are under the care of their parents now safely hiding in their borough until it is safe for them to step out into the world.
As I witness the magic of spring and life coming alive all around me, I am reminded of the births of my children and how they are all grown up now out in the world by themselves. కన్నామేగానీ, కడుపులో పెట్టుకుంటామా? (Kannamegaani, kadupulo pettukuntama?) sameta comes to my mind as I think about the bunny parents in my backyard. This sameta means, “We give birth, but do we keep them in our womb?” It is a statement in the form of a question. It is intended to convey the importance of letting your children go when the time is right to live their own lives. It reminds me of my parents giving me wings and watching me fly away to the other side of the world. Life comes full circle as I have done the same with my own children controlling my own urge to keep them close to protect them forever.
The bunny parents in my backyard will do the same soon when their offspring are old enough to keep themselves safe from predators while fending for themselves. I just can’t wait to see the baby bunnies running around. I am looking forward to watching them grow as the spring gives way to summer.
