As the famous saying of Albert Camus goes, “it is the sum of all choices small and big that shape up your life”. You make these choices depending on a number of factors like your childhood, the environment you grew up, your parents, siblings, friends, and the situations you come across. It is never an easy choice, but when you believe you are doing the best, it feels good. Yes, you are haunted by the memories of these choices and your inner voice makes you think from time to time about what if you had made a different choice at that time. Well, it is a never ending cycle as different choices could have lead to different consequences. As I begin to analyze the choices that I have made in my life, I need to talk about my childhood which I gathered from my own memories and what I had heard from my Ammamma (Grandma – Maternal) ), Mom, Dad, Sister, my Aunt Vijji and other relatives.
I was born in a small town called Vizianagaram (spelled with a Z to differentiate from the Vijayanagar of Hampi) in the coastal area of the state Andhra Pradesh. Vizianagaram is known for its huge fort (http://mansasedu.org/fort.html) which was built by king Vijaya Rama Raju in 1713. The fort was known for its massive stone walls and the moat that surrounded it.
Mom used to tell me that I was born in the early hours for December 31st, 1966 while her doctor Dr. Subhadramma was at the temple for her morning prayers. She was rushed to the hospital to deliver me, and she was always joking with me later that I could not wait until the new year. Mom and Dad named me after my paternal Grandpa (Jagnnatham), but also called me Uday (sunrise) due to the time of my birth. Family and close friends still call me Uday. Unfortunately, me and my sister did not get to see our grandfather. He passed away ion June 6 of 1964, just a few months before sister was born. Grandpa worked as a post master, and he served for the British army during World War II. He was captured by the Japanese and returned home after the War. Dad used to tell us stories about the horrible time he had in POW camp. To this date, I regret the fact that he was taken away by God so soon, and I did not get to spend time with this great person.
At that time Dad was working in a town called Kharagpur (closer to Kolkotta) and it was an overnight journey by train to Vizianagaram. Kharagpur was also home to one of the premier IITs (Indian Institute of Technology). Dad was actually born in Kolkotta, and was named Ravindranath after the famous poet Rabindranath Tagore of Kolkotta. We lived in Kharagpur for a couple of years. Unlike my sister, I did not have any photos of my early childhood days. Our old album had many photos of sister when she was a baby, but not a single photo of me. The reason was that Dad was suffering from gall bladder stones and finally a major surgery during that time helped him out of that pain and suffering. There were not many celebrations or festivities I guess because of his illness. The very first photos of myself that I remember to have seen were when I was 4years old. He had a big scar on his belly as in those days they had to cut open even to remove the gall bladder stones.
One of the interesting episodes that I remember from Mom was about a near death experience I had as a toddler. I was always interested in playing with kitchen utensils and that’s how she kept me busy while she was doing the cooking. One day, I was playing in the kitchen, and by accident fell into a large bucket of water. When she did not hear me for a while, Mom checked around and found me in the bucket, with my belly like a inflated balloon and me lying motionless. She carried me immediately to the near by clinic (No 911 or 108 in those days). I still remember how emotional she got ,whenever she spoke about this incident. She had lost her first child (would have been our elder brother) during delivery a few years before. He was still born and Mom was devastated because of that. She did not want to lose another child, and she was praying to God to save me. Luckily, I had just fainted and the doctor was able to revive me. Mom would then smile and tell me that I peed for a long time before I was breathing normally. I now know that how little water is required for babies to drown (https://www.tessarhodes.com/least-amount-of-water-it-takes-to-drown).
She also told me that we had a pet dog and cat and the dog was always looking after me. It was so strange that we did not have any pets after that until Dad retired, and then he got a doberman. Somehow she loved Kharagpur as it was her first experience outside Vizianagaram. After marriage, she moved to Kharagpur as Dad was stationed there. He was working as Sub-Inspector in the Railway Protection Force. It was predominantly Hindi speaking town in those days and Mom did now know a single word of Hindi. She still managed initially with sign language and some broken Hindi she picked up later. She was a confident woman and a true inspiration to us and many others.
Dad was later transferred to a small town called Santragacchi near Howrah (Kolkotta). Sister started her schooling there, and I remember myself carrying her back pack of heavy books because I liked to go to school but was not old enough. Santragacchi at that time was not a safe town and Dad was constantly in trouble with the gangs and criminals. One of his colleagues was Mr. Pathak and we became family friends. We would frequently visit them for dinner and socializing. I remember they had a handsome son, called him Guddu. His mom whom we called Pathak Aunty use to make very delicious fish curry. It was always a long night whenever we went to their house for dinner. Later we used to joke about how Pathak aunty would save the left over snacks for next time instead of trashing them. Pathak uncle was tall and handsome and took good care of himself. I still remember him always applying face cream (it was called snow) before going out in the evening. We used to go out on boat rides on the Hooghly river, and have picnics in the Botanical garden (Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose Indian Botanic Garden). I remember once sister was playing with some lily flowers in the garden and a small flower went up her nose and got stuck. It was a dramatic scene that day with Dad, Mom and uncle Pathak trying to get it out of her nose. Every time she tried to sneeze, it went further up, and as a little kid, I was just amused by the whole situation.
It was during this time that Shyamala aunty (Mom’s second sister) was engaged to be married. For some reason, Dad did not approve of the match, and I remember Mom and Dad having a heated argument about it. Dad even stopped Mom from attending the marriage. Later we heard that Shyamala aunty was not treated well by her in-laws. The next year, one day we got news through a telegram, that Shyamala Aunty passed away during child delivery. We rushed to Vizag that night and this was my first close experience with death. I was very scared as we traveled with her body in a taxi from the hospital back to Ammamma’s place. It was only a short journey from the hospital, but it felt like it took for ever with Mom crying all the way. I still remember the whole ritual of how her body was bathed, turmeric paste applied to her face, dressed in a beautiful sari, and then she was carried off by four men for cremation. Shyamala Aunty was well educated and a great inspiration to all of us.
After a brief period in Santragacchi, Dad was again transferred to our native place Vizianagaram. I was four years old and sister was six at that time. Back in Vizianagaram, we frequently visited Ammamma’s house. My favorite pass time with her was after dinner when she told us a lot of stories. I still remember the folk tales (“Kasi Majli Kathalu”, “Pedarasi Peddamma Kathalu”), and the way she narrated them made it very interesting. She was not formally educated, but she could read Sanskrit and Telugu scriptures and explain to everyone. She used to take good care of Grandpa, even though he was complaining all the time. I guess that’s what Men become in their old age I thought at that time.
She used to tell me that I was born with a blue skin, and that it took several weeks of massaging and other natural treatments before my skin turned normal. I used to fight with her that they should have left me with blue color skin, just like Lord Krishna. As we lay on the cotton tape cot (“Patte Mancham”) in the open air watching the stars and listening to her magical stories, our summer holidays just melted away in joy. But the stories she told us did have a lot of influence on me as I pictured myself as the heroes that were able to overcome any difficulty in life because they never panicked and managed the situation with timely actions.
Ammamma’s house was very unique in its layout and construction. It was on a street called Arakala and the entrance led to a long path way, with restrooms to your left, and servant quarters to the right. Then there were a row of houses on each side of the path way. The houses in one row were all under the same tiled roof and single storied. The first of the houses belonged to my Grandpa’s elder brother, the second one was his and the third one belonged to a goldsmith. On the opposite side were the kitchen with bathroom for shower only, and additional rooms. Opposite to the Goldsmith’s house was a big hut where they had their kitchen. The kitchens had big mud stoves and the fuel used was thin wood sticks (“katika pullalu”). It was fun playing in the kitchen while trying to help Ammamma when she was making delicious dishes for us. The goldsmith had seven kids and there were always funny stories about how they lost count of them whenever they travelled. I used to play with them the game of marbles and “Gilli Danda” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gillidanda).
We lived in the Railway quarters near to the Cantonment area . It was few miles from Ammamma’s house. Mom’s younger brother Krishna, and my Aunt Vijji also lived in the same house. Mom had two brothers Prasad (we called him Bucchi Mavayya) and Krishna, and three sisters. Mom was younger to Uncle Prasad, followed by Krishna, Ammaji, Shyamala, and Vijji. I later ended up staying in Ammaji Pinni’s (Aunt) house for a few years, but that’s another chapter. It was very interesting marriage that Mom and Dad had what was called “Kunda Marpidi”, which basically meant that Mom’s elder brother was also married to Dad’s sister Vimala. So the kids were related from both sides of the family. Uncle Krishna was very entertaining, and he was the best comedian of the family. I vaguely remember his face which was very charming in spite of the spots from childhood small pox. He always had a joke or two to tell us, and was the first mimicry artist that I knew of. He was very good at imitating the village folks in the market (“Rellolu”), the ladies at the fish market, movie actors, and especially my Aunts. Prasad uncle was very sophisticated and very handsome. There was a portrait of him on one of the walls in my Grandpa’s room. He was the typical uncle who teases you just for fun. I respected him, but could not mingle with him like I did with Krishna uncle.
It was during one of these visits, that Ammamma asked me to stay with them for few more days as Mom and Dad had to return back to the quarters on Sunday. I was initially very happy and bid goodbye to Mom and Dad. A few minutes after they left, I felt very sad and ran on to the street on bare foot to find them. I knew they would be going in a cycle rickshaw (3 wheeler cycle driven by a man) and the first turn that we usually took on the way to our house. As I was running, I saw Mom’s pallu (end piece of sari) from behind a rickshaw and instantly recognized it.. I might have run for a few minutes, as my uncle Krishna and others were running after me to stop me. Mom heard me screaming and asked the driver to stop. I was crying so much, that they decided to take me with them back to our house. I never imagined that only a few years from that day, I would have to leave them to stay with my uncle and aunt in Visakhapatnam for many years.
I was very fascinated by mythological stories that I heard from Mom and Grandma. I was a keen reader of comics from Amar Chitra Katha and had collected hundreds of them. I would go to the railway station book stall (the famous A.H Wheeler book store) and buy lots of comics.
Mom would take me to watch a lot of mythological movies based on the epics Ramayana and Mahabharata. When Mom took us for movies, she was all prepared with home made snacks (halwa balls, mixture, biscuits) along with water bottles. We were not allowed to eat popcorn or samosas from the theater, and especially no coca-cola. I was a foodie and did not mind that, but akka was always interested in going to the movies with Dad. He would let us have popcorn, coca-cola, 5-star chocolates and it was totally different experience. Once we were back from the movie, we would enact the movies, I would be playing the male characters like Bheem, Hanuman, Ram etc and Akka would be villains like Ravana, Surpanakha, Duryodhana. After watching Balabharatam, that night I wanted to become strong like Bheem. In the movie he goes to nagalok (land of serpents) after being poisoned and drowned by Kauravas. He gets to drink a lot of magical nectar for strength and becomes very strong. After coming home, I sat on a big chair and ordered akka to serve me nectar in big water vase. I raised the vase and drank all the water. Then I ordered for more and this continued for 3 to 4 vases. I was so tired that I feel asleep. When I woke up in the morning, Mom and sister were smiling at me. I was feeling wet and realized that all the nectar I drank the night before had left me.