Veranda Tales-What happens when a fence eats the crop?

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.

కంచే చేను మేసినట్లు (Kanche chenu mesinatlu)

I was running late two days in a row to get back for my afternoon classes at college. I came back to my hostel (dorm) to grab lunch and pick my books up for the afternoon sessions. I couldn’t find my lab notebook right away and that wasted precious time. I ran to the mess hall and had to wait there to find a seat. Our mess hall wasn’t like the ones you find at universities in the USA. When we entered the mess hall we would find an empty seat at one of the many tables arranged in rows in a large hall and grab it or we would find a spot next to one of our classmates. After that we would wait for servers to bring a clean plate and glass. After that another person comes around with a large bucket of rice going around the room serving rice. Another person shows up with a large bucket of curry of the day serving curry to all of us. This is usually followed by sambar or rasam, and finally curd. If we ran out of rice, we would raise our hand to get the attention of a server. The mess halls were lively places with people talking and sharing what happened at school. This whole process could easily take half an hour or more.

Our hostel sat close to the ocean on a narrow road as it sloped down to the road that ran along the beach. Buses didn’t come down to the hostel and they picked us up at a busy intersection with ISKCON temple on one side, a small tea stall across from it and a clinic. Our university ran buses to take us from our hostel to the university and back for lunch, waiting for us to take us back to school for the afternoon session, and then brought us back at the end of the school day. If we were to miss the university bus, there were several city buses that ran from our hostel to the university, but it required us to walk from the bus stop to the campus.

I ran uphill dodging women on their way to the beach for their ocean bathing and walking back up in their wet sarees. It must have been an auspicious full moon day. I made it up the hill to find one of the university buses waiting there at the top of the hill. I got on the bus and found a seat. I realized this bus would drop me off close to my campus, but would not take me all the way to my building. Even so, I was happy that I wouldn’t have to wait for a city bus. After settling into my seat, I heard a gregarious voice of a girl who I ran into often in the hostel corridors and mess halls. She stayed in a room close to mine on the same floor. She was always in a good mood with a bright smile lighting up her face. She had delicate features, yet gave out a strong character vibe.  She often wore a blue colored sarees and today it was a sky blue polyester saree with large white and darker blue flowers all over it. She was much taller than me and had a sturdy frame. She carried herself with ease. She was chatting animatedly with her classmates and others on the bus. I couldn't help overhearing the loud conversation and surmised that she was a student at the University Law School. She was sitting next to another girl who was quieter, shorter, and slender. I recognized her friend as I had seen them both together in my previous brief corridor and mess hall encounters. I wondered if they were classmates or roommates or both. I usually gave a nod, a quick hello and walked by them when I ran into them. As I was thinking about introducing myself, it was time to get off the bus and walk to the class.

A few weeks later, she tapped on my shoulder as I was having dinner at the mess hall. She sat down next to me saying, “Hey, My name is వసంత (Vasantha), I heard you are looking for a new room. Would you be interested in moving into my room I currently share with a friend, మాలతి (Malathi)?”. The new room was just a few doors down from mine. Within a few weeks I moved in and put up my favorite movie posters on the cabinet doors. We got along very well in spite of personality differences. My roommates were older than me. I found myself sharing a room with a gregarious and fun loving big sister and a second quieter and mature one. They were both protective of me.

I was a shy teenager with a few friends. వసంత (Vasantha) had lots of friends and a few in her inner circle. She looked like unhappiness didn’t touch her. As I got to know her better, I came to understand that her carefree and fun loving vibe was a facade. She had a depth to her character. She was very sensitive and fragile. She was afraid of being alone where unpleasantness in her life closed in all around her. As I got to know her better, it became clear to me that she came from an unhappy household.  She didn’t like talking about her family. When we both came back from the holidays, I would share my summer experiences. She was rather quiet about her summertime in her village. It puzzled me to no end since she talked about her other aspects of life. She talked about how her court sessions went during her final year of law. She would talk about what she liked and what she didn’t after each session.

As it was getting closer to her graduation, we stayed up late talking about where our lives would lead us and how much we would miss our time together. A couple of months before she graduated, she shared her plans to get married to a classmate of hers. I knew him as her classmate and met him a few times. She was apprehensive that her parents would not accept her choice as he belonged to a different caste. She was determined to make tough choices if needed to be with the love of her life. She was excited about her plans to get married soon and start law practice with her future spouse. She was passionate about the prospect of defending innocent people while she lived happily with the love of her life.

Two months evaporated quickly. It was time to say bye to my friend, వసంత (Vasantha). We promised to write letters to stay in touch. It was a different time and place where you couldn’t just pick up a phone to connect with friends on the other side of the globe over text, calls, and zoom sessions. We exchanged letters often. I gathered from her letters that she was unable to get her parents’ approval and she was at a loss on what she should do. Letters stopped after the last letter in which she sounded depressed and sad. మాలతి (Malathi), who was still my roommate, was equally concerned. 

When we came back from the holidays, terrible news reached us that వసంత (Vasantha) was gone. మాలతి (Malathi) knew వసంత (Vasantha)’s parents well. She went to visit the grieving family and found them getting ready for a festival just a few weeks after a death in the family. They told మాలతి (Malathi) that వసంత (Vasantha) was as good as dead to them the moment she chose to marry outside their caste. వసంత (Vasantha) took her own life as she couldn’t find a way forward. We were devastated with the news.

It is apt to use కంచే చేను మేసినట్లు (Kanche chenu mesinatlu) which means “It is like fence ate the crop”  in this case.  Parents and family members who had the responsibility to keep వసంత (Vasantha) safe and happy failed her. She spread happiness to people around her. I remember her smiling face even today. She was my beloved friend and roommate who was like a protective big sister to me. I keep her alive in her memories.