Hitec Nijam - My first Telugu short film...

The Floods

Pattiseema is a sleepy village on the banks of Godavari in West Godavari District of Andhra Pradesh. With the village on one side of a bumpy road and a levee separating the village from the river on the other side, it is difficult for English language to describe its grace.The river flows towards the west into the Bay of Bengal and on its way beautifies the entire Coastal Andhra region. Coconut trees, greenery, sand, laid-back life and air so fresh that you'd never want to get out of there make you feel jealous of the natives. 

But the picture isn't so glorious when it rains. Last month, there were heavy rains, the levee saved the village from being flooded. My friend clicked a couple of pictures and I have included them here. Also, he told me about his uncle, Mr. Kanna Rao who has lived in Pattiseema since his birth. The story he told me gave me goosebumps. I was speechless for a long time. This is what he had to tell me.

In 1987, there were severe floods owing to incessant rainfall. This was when the Douwleshwaram barrage built in the British era was damaged. And in Pattiseema, there was no levee and neither was there a road. The village just lay on the bank of the river. Looking at the relentlessness in the flow of the river, the villagers could guess what to expect in the next couple of days. That night, the water lever reached the edge of the village. As it kept rising, people in the first houses facing the river shifted backwards to their neighbors. At midnight, two rows of houses were in water. Whoever had pucca houses, ran to their terraces. Those who didn't, took shelter with the fortunate lot.The whole village was awake. There were two big bungalows where most of the villagers gathered and prayed for divinity to intervene.

That night, Kanna Rao, his wife (my friend's aunt) and their two kids - one nine and other seven stood on their terrace and watched nature unleash its fury. The rain had stopped. That was the only respite. They waited for the next morning on their terrace as their kids slept on their shoulders. The next morning, nothing much had changed. People could see household articles like utensils, chairs, even bicycles flowing away at breakneck speed. The water level had reached the top of Kanna Rao's main door and they could hear articles bang at their wall. Another family and a couple of men also managed to reach their terrace for company and shelter. They spent that day eating bananas which they managed to get. That night, the water level seemed to have receded marginally and this was the chance for making arrangements for food. He decided to wait for the night and by next morning, the water level reduced significantly and was up to shoulder level of a normal Indian man.

Kanna Rao, along with two of his neighbors, decided to go and get something to eat for the others. When they came out into the street, only thing they could see was water everywhere. No step was taken without stumbling upon objects under water. Sometimes, they were dead cattle or may be even humans. With a beedi katta and a match box carefully packed in plastic, he began his journey to Jangareddygudem, a town about 53 kms from Pattiseema, the nearest place where relatives lived and also was a place relatively less affected by floods. When Kanna Rao began his journey, he didn't care about 'what ifs' like more rainfall, water level, snakes, succumbing to the force of the water, pits, manholes, bridges and many other possibly dangerous things which were under water. He just began. After they walked in chest level water for about three kilometers, one of them gave up and walked back home. He was tired. 

The other two carried on towards their destination. At one point, water level rose and they began swimming. Taking a break wherever they could, they swam and swam and swam. This way, until that night, they covered thirty kilometers. They decided to stop on an elevated piece of ground for the night. A few men were on it already. They got to eat something from them for that night. The next morning, when Kanna Rao woke up after an insignificant nap, he found his neighbor had fever. He gave up and didn't want to continue the journey. Kanna Rao was all alone and had twenty kilometers more to cover. He went on. Wherever he could walk, he walked. Wherever he could swim, he swam and beating everything, he reached Jangareddygudem that night. There, he filled a huge sack with well packed rice, gram and other Kirana. He borrowed some money and with about 25 kgs of luggage on his back, fresh beedi katta with match box tucked under his lungi, the next morning he started his journey back home. 

On his way back, the it had started pouring again. It was quite a challenge to keep everything dry. He knew that everything was packed well in plastic, but then he was worried too... worried that his kids would stay hungry. Taking every care, he tied the large cement bag  luggage to his back and swam his way back. He stopped for the night where his friend had fallen sick, picked him up and also got a few vegetables which were being distributed by the government officials in a boat. This added to his luggage and responsibility of an ill friend. But he didn't mind. Taking a break wherever possible and lighting up a beedi under serene and unknown islets, he finished his journey and they reached home by midnight and then, they cooked a meal on the terrace  on a borrowed kerosene stove and their kids ate. 

It is awe-inspiring what a man can do for his family. To me, Mr. Kanna Rao, now about 60 years old, is a hero. I have met him and he is a very humble man. I asked him what made you go that distance and get all that stuff. He replied, "Pillalu Unnaru Kada. Vallaki aakalestundi ani vella" (Kids will feel hungry, so I went).

- Deepak Karamungikar

My book: Love at first sight & other stories - Now available here.

Beauty Kills.

I was 16 when I first saw her at a relative's wedding. Unusually, that was the only wedding where I didn't have many of my cousins for company. I had present at the function hall a day before the wedding. And like all Maharashtrian weddings, here too, there was a ceremony called the Srimanti Pujan which happens one night before the wedding. I was the only one from my family to attend as the rest were to arrive next morning. 

I was on the bride's side and had lots of things to do. After the pooja ended, at about 10.00 pm, I was introduced to a very beautiful woman, a relative of the bride I had never met before. She was may be about five years older than me. She was slim, had shoulder length hair, beautiful eyes and had there was something in her eyes that could enslave any man.  I was asked to accompany her to the STD Booth as she wanted to call her father. Yeah, in 1998, STD Booths were in great demand post 10.00 pm. And then, my walk with her began. 

As I walked through the dusty lane of Secunderabad that night along with her, she started a conversation with me and asked about me, my relationship with the hosts, then about my studies, etc. She made a quick call to her father and finished it in two minutes. Then, the next number she dialed was to the same town, but to another number. Because of the broken glass pane of the telephone booth, I was able to hear what she was speaking. In a minute, I could realize that it was her boyfriend. As a teenager, I could only feel jealous of him. After she came out, she looked at me and smiled. She said, 

"Did you hear what I spoke?"

"It was audible," I said.

"Don't tell anyone, he's my hero," she said.

"That's nice," I said. I don't know why but I was a little disappointed. However, as we walked back, she told me everything about her, how they met, how they built a relationship and how it grew stronger. I was a little too immature to understand all the she said. Only one thing was on my mind. I wondered how lucky that guy must be, to find a beauty like this one. 

The next day she wore a saree and looked so beautiful that she almost killed me. Since she was older and eying her wouldn't make any sense, I decided to enjoy her company. At about four o clock that evening, almost all guests had left. The marriage hall floor was full of flower petals and rice grains. Some chairs were racked one upon the other at every corner. Everyone looked tired. She came to me and asked me to accompany her to the STD booth, again. I readily agreed and like the previous night, I waited outside the same booth and could hear what she said into the microphone.

While what she spoke into that microphone is not important, when we returned to the bride's home that evening, women gathered in one room and men in another. Long discussions followed the dinner even after the tiring day. At about 8 pm, she came out with her mother and they had their luggage in their hands. As they left, she didn't even turn and look at me. There was no good bye, there was not even a smile, nothing at all. They just crossed the street and disappeared. I was a bit disappointed, I didn't even know why. 

Slowly, I forgot everything about it and never even bothered to ask my cousin about her.  

In 2007, I had the good fortune to travel to another town for a distant cousin's marriage. At the Srimanti Pujan, the marriage-eve ceremony, as I struggled to keep my eyes open at 12.45 in the night, I was shocked to see someone. It was her. Nine years had made no difference to her apart from a couple of pounds added to her weight. She was still the magic that I had once met. I had grown up since the last time I saw her. She had a kid in her arms. I didn't know whether to smile at her or not. But when I did, she smiled back too. I was glad and waved at her and she waved back. The next day, I saw her with a handsome man who had thick mustache. He was quite tall and they made a good couple. Their kid was cute too. But she looked murderously beautiful.

Two years later, in 2009, I came to know that in 1999, when she had declared to her parents that she wanted to marry her boyfriend (apparently from a lower caste), her father had passed away because of a heart attack. Within an year, she got married to this man, the mustached college professor. When her boyfriend heard the news, he left home. They tried to search for him but to no avail. Many years later, he was found roaming around in tattered clothes near a very famous temple. The brought him home, but he ran away again. Their parents don't search for him anymore. 

This winter, another cousin from the same family is getting married. I am not sure if I will go. 

- Deepak Karamungikar
 (My book, Love at first sight & other stories is now available online for purchase - Click here)