Veranda Tales-One step at a time …
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.
మొక్కై వంగనిది, మ్రానై వంగునా? (mokkai vanganidi, maanai vanguna?)
నాన్న (Nanna is father Telugu) was working at the Block Development Officers Training Center in Bapatla during my early years. It was a Government run educational institute which trained future generations of officers who would be responsible for overseeing services provided to villagers across the state of Andhra Pradesh. He oversaw their dairy and poultry farm operations and taught dairy and poultry farm management courses. His office was a single square shaped room located in the middle of a dairy and poultry farm built on sandy soil. The room had two flights of stairs that led to the doors on either side of the room with a large window on the wall in front of his desk. There was a large thatch roofed structure which housed dairy cows, buffaloes, and calves behind his office. Several cows and buffaloes rested in their dedicated smaller areas underneath the large structure. The structure was held up by bamboo poles and beams and divided into sections to house each animal. Younger calves were housed next to their mothers while they were being fed by their mother. Older calves had their own enclosures.
Another smaller thatch roofed structure adjacent to the dairy housed chicken coops. Chickens of all sizes and colors were housed in several rows of wire mesh coops resting on elevated tables built out of bamboo poles. You could hear them chattering away when you walked closer to the coops. It was darker inside the coops. Chicks were housed safely in separate coops so they don’t get trampled by hens.
It was my favorite summer pastime to go over to the poultry and dairy farm to check on the animals, and gather eggs from the chicken coops. I would stand and watch from a safe distance while workers milked cows and buffaloes. They would squat down beside the cow with a container held between their legs, splashed water on cow udder before starting milking. As the fresh milk splashed into the container, it froths. Cows and buffaloes had their favorite person who they would let them milk. If another person went near them, they would get agitated kicking their legs in protest. Chickens were crafty in laying eggs where people could not find them easily. I would stick my hands through the wire mesh searching for eggs fending off the chickens trying to peck me. It was fun to gather eggs and fill the egg trays. I felt like a real grown up as I gathered eggs and filled the trays with them. I was under the supervision of people who worked there. They would help me find eggs. They were friendly and if they were annoyed by their boss’s daughter slowing them down, they did not show it.
After I was done checking on the cows and gathering eggs, I would go to నాన్న (Nanna)’s office. I would pull all the desk drawers from his heavy wooden desk looking for ledgers and books. Then I would find a book to read sitting on his wooden chair. The chair and desk were too large for my little legs and arms. It took some work just opening the heavy drawers. I would sit there with my legs dangling as I read, occasionally looking out the large windows across from the desk. If నాన్న (Nanna) happened to be in his office at that time, I would sit cross legged on the cool concrete floor reading the book I brought with me from home, foregoing the fun of desk inspection.
When it was time to head home, I would wind my way through the forested area instead of taking the main roads. This forested route had several large trees. My favorite was a grove of నేరేడు (Neredu) trees full of juicy fruits. నేరేడు (Neredu) whose botanical name is Syzygium cumini is called Java plum or Indian blackberry in English, Jamun in Hindi, and Jambu Phalam in Sanskrit. నేరేడు (Neredu) tastes delicious. I didn’t need to climb up the tree to find fruits. The ground under the tree was covered with delicious fruits that fell down from the tree. I had to dodge wasps and bees as I picked the fruits. I often didn't have a small basket with me. I would simply fold my frock up to form a basket to carry them. I had to hold the two ends of the folded up frock as I walked or ran home with the fresh loot. This got me in trouble with అమ్మ (Amma is mother in Telugu) on occasion if the juice stained my dress purple. It wasn’t easy to get rid of the dark purple stains from cotton frocks. The heavenly taste of the fruits was worth all the trouble as I filled my face with them.
అమ్మ (Amma) took advantage of the abundance of milk from the dairy farm which was sold to employees. She made fresh butter and with that she made delicious sweets of all kinds. We had khova made out of rich cow and buffalo milk, Gulab jamun, Mysore pak, Sunnundalu, and several sweets in the house at all times. అమ్మ (Amma) was busy perfecting her recipes and I was busy eating the sweets. Soon enough I was chunky and overweight resembling Harry Potter’s cousin, Dudley Dursley. I was being teased at school and at home by friends and family. One merciless teasing incident occurred in front of నాన్న (Nanna) when his uncle’s family came for a visit.
నాన్న (Nanna) must have decided it was time for an intervention. He called me aside after the visitors left to have a chat with me. He gave me a white jump rope made out of jute. In his usual gentle fashion, he explained to me that it was time for me to get into a routine of exercising. He knew me well to know that it would not work if he asked me to wake up early to workout. He must have known, asking me to stay away from sweets would not work either with my sweet tooth. He asked me to get into the habit of jumping rope after I came back from school. So I did, every single day in the evenings before dinner. I started slow with 100 and worked my way up to a 1000 count. I would jump rope barefoot on the cool concrete floor on the veranda. I have fond memories feeling proud of my accomplishment and sharing my progress with him. The weight came off as I fell in love with jump roping.
The habit of working out which started at the age of 9 stayed with me. It is my go to activity when I feel stressed, depressed, happy, or restless. I was doing squats well into the 36th week of pregnancy with both my children, but stopped when my doctor said, “You better stop doing squats if you don’t want your baby to come out mid squat”. I kept up with my routines through the years going through various types of workouts, Nordic skier, stationary bike, weight training, and so on. I came upon one I could stick with for the rest of life.
I started traveling for work twelve years ago. I went from two trips in twelve years to six trips all over the world every year. It has become a routine now, but initially it was emotionally and physically taxing. I kept lugging around my heavy backpack, slinging it up onto my left shoulder. Less than six months into my new jet setting lifestyle, my left arm started protesting. I was diagnosed with tennis elbow without picking up a tennis racket ever. After weeks of ultrasound therapy draining my pocket, I discovered my arm felt better when I did high planks. As I was shelling out precious money for yet another session, I seriously considered giving yoga a try.
I thought yoga should be a piece of cake after years of doing strength training workouts with weights. All those hours spent doing lunges, squats, bench presses, and shoulder presses made me feel confident about taking an advanced yoga class. I waltzed in wanting to join an advanced heated Vinyasa class. Instructor asked me if I had taken any yoga classes before. I said no and talked about my strength training. The instructor gently pushed me to sign up for a non-heated beginner class. I was deflated a bit as I walked into a beginner level class feeling great about my abilities to ace this stretching class. How hard could it be? I was proven wrong. My calf and arm muscles screamed at me as soon as I attempted my first ఆధో ముఖశ్వాసన (Adho Mukha Svanasana). I looked around to find my fellow yogis and yoginis with their feet planted on the ground forming a perfect upside down V with their outstretched arms. Here I was struggling to plant my feet without screaming out aloud.
I kept at it class after class, week after week, month after month, and year after year. Twelve years of yoga opened a whole new inner world that I didn’t know existed within me. During early years of practice, I couldn’t have imagined I would be able to complete the entire routine blind folded. When I practice yoga my mind and body work in unison. It is an opportunity to escape the chaos outside and be one with my body and mind. It gives me an opportunity to be fully present with just my instructor’s voice in the head. Everything disappears for those 60 minutes more so than any other kind of workout.
My physical and mental wellbeing continues to be tied to the habit I formed during my childhood. It reminds me of, “మొక్కై వంగనిది, మ్రానై వంగునా? (mokkai vanganidi, maanai vanguna?)” sameta. It means, "If a plant doesn't bend, will it bend when it becomes a tree?”. It is a statement in the form of a question conveying a deeper meaning that when a habit is formed early on in life, it sticks with you the rest of your life. It takes time to form habits whether they are good or bad. Once they are formed, they become muscle memory. I never worked on getting rid of my sweet tooth, my exercise routine counters the pitfalls of consuming sugary foods. I am very thankful to నాన్న (Nanna) for encouraging me to form a habit that serves me well even today.
