Veranda Tales-Pleasures of bald heads

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.

చుట్టుగుడిసంత సుఖము, బోడిగుండంత భోగమూ లేదన్నారు (chuttu gudisanta sukhamu, boodigundanta bhogamu ledannaru)

I lived in small houses during my childhood. I am used to family life where all of us would spend the majority of our day in a small family room which often doubled as a bedroom at night. We had folding cots and folding chairs which helped us use the space we had in many different ways. The same space was a study room during the evenings with a folding table that served as a desk for doing homework and studying. In the mornings and afternoons we had clothes drying on clotheslines in that very room. It was the same room where we entertained occasional visitors who weren't close family and friends. We had another room that doubled as my parent's bedroom and family room for chilling in the afternoons and entertaining close family and friends.

In some houses we had enough space for my parents to dedicate a room as a kid's bedroom which I shared with my sister and grandmother. In other places, నాన్న (nanna is father in Telugu)  set up beds for us kids on the floor or on folding cots at night and folded the cots and rolled up పరుపులు (parupulu are mattresses in Telugu) after we got up in the morning. We moved very often from one small house to another small house all through my school years.

Having grown up in small houses as a nomad, I am drawn to smaller homes. The house I live in now is a mansion compared to the houses I lived in during my childhood, but it is smaller than most homes in the area. Our family room doubles as a TV watching place, my kid’s study room, and my office room. My kids grew up doing homework sitting next to me after coming back from school. I would pick them up from school in the afternoon and continue working from home the rest of my work day. I have been working remotely from home for a number of years now and even now they like playing video games sitting next to me.

I am fond of multi-use spaces as opposed to dedicated spaces. Just the thought of a large house overwhelms me with the thoughts of the time and energy it requires to decorate, maintain, and clean. I don’t have the skill and eye for decorating houses. I admire nicely decorated houses and spaces when I visit family and friends. When it comes to my house, decorating has never been a priority for me. It is possible this is an outcome of having lived a semi-nomadic life during my childhood.

If I could, I would live in a tiny cottage or a cabin. I feel comfortable in small houses and I dislike cleaning.  చుట్టుగుడిసంత సుఖము, బోడిగుండంత భోగమూ లేదన్నారు (chuttu gudisanta sukhamu, boodigundanta bhogamu ledannaru) sameta speaks to me for a number of reasons. It means, “Nothing beats the happiness of living in a round one room cottage and pleasure of having a bald head”. చుట్టుగుడిశ (chuttu gudisa is a round hut in Telugu) and బోడి గుండు (bodi gundu is bald head in Telugu).

I used to have very long hair that came all the way down to my knees until my early twenties. It was very hard to take care of it. One fine day, I decided to part with it. I walked into a hair salon and asked them to cut it short. Hairstylist looked at me horrified as if I asked her to shave the hair on my head. I was thinking she would make me sign a document like they do when you go rafting saying they aren't liable for damage to lives and limbs. I went in with a long braid and came back with shoulder length hair without needing to sign any documents vouching for my sanity. Since then my hair keeps on getting shorter. I love the freedom of being able to wash my short hair and step out of the house with damp hair delegating the task of drying it to the wind gods and goddesses.

Before the covid days, I used to go to a hair salon to get a haircut once every few months. During covid I started giving myself haircuts. This has been so liberating and I am sticking with it even after the covid days. The difference between a bad haircut and a good one is just a week with an added benefit of saving precious time and a few bucks.

In addition to my own pleasure of sporting short, no nonsense hair, the second part of the sameta reminds me of my father who came from a long line of bald headed men. My paternal grandfather, and paternal great grandfather both had bald heads. My great grandfather looks very distinguished, sporting his bald head and round eyeglasses dressed in తెల్ల పంచ (tella pancha is white Dhovathi Telugu), తెల్ల లాల్చి (tella lalchi is a long white shirt in Telugu), and తెల్ల కండువా (tella kanduva is a white Scarf in Telugu) with a walking stick leaning against his leg in a picture taken when he was in his seventies. My grandfather used to patiently sit in an easychair while I combed his almost nonexistent hair on his head to amuse me.

నాన్న (nanna) lost most of his hair by the time I was born leaving him without the pleasure of blaming his hair loss on the troubles and tribulations of having raised me. My uncle totally embraced the pleasure of the gift of a bald head and keeps it shaved. We swapped stories about the pleasures of taking care of short and hairless heads with no nonsense attitude. Besides, I don't have to look at my hair unless I am standing in front of a mirror.

Owning large houses and sporting long hair is overrated. The real happiness comes from not having to do house cleaning and hairstyling chores. Life is too short to waste it on mundane tasks or I am just lazy. Either way I am sticking to saying hello to చుట్టుగుడిశ (chuttu gudisa) and బోడి గుండు (bodi gundu).

I am dedicating this story to my long line of distinguished bald headed patriarchs who taught me the value of a simple life and to my one and only one who has yet to embrace the pleasures of a bald head.