My childhood and the story of a village family

This story could be of any village family in India.
I am glad, my childhood the had best of the rural experiences and I always regret, my children can never have that.
Both my parents were from villages and since my father moved to town to look for a town job, family also moved with him. We as small children used to go to village as often as we could. But our attachment was more to our mother's village. Our father and his brothers had seperated and they lived on their own with their families. I donot remember my grandfather (father's father) but my grandmother stayed with us till she breathed her last.

It was totally a different story with my mother's village- a small village of about 100 households. My grandfather and grandmother were quite welloff and they had a lot of lands and so many cattle which I was never able to count. They had a big cattle shed for cows and bullocks and seperate pens for sheep and goat. They had well built bullocks for carts and ploughing and innumerable poultry birds.

After we started going to school, we were waiting for our summer holidays or any holiday for that matter, to visit that village. The house had so many mysteries and dark attics and big granaries all around. I was always afraid to venture in to the attic but was always eager to explore. Whenever my grandmother went, I used to follow her.

She had a huge wooden trunk which was always locked and would never allow us to peep into it. There were long swords in the house which they cleaned them and worshipped them on Ayudha Puja. They were telling that their ancestors were soldiers in an unknown army. The swords were so huge and heavy, we children could never lift them with both our hands.

Here I am with my grandfather, grandmother, brother and aunts. I donot know another grandmother who is standing. Can you guess who I am in this picture?
Well, I am with my grandmother who is sitting to the left. I had a long hair and my mother has decorated it with flowers! First hair of the kids will not be cut until a ritual called `Dyavara' was done. Since my Dyavara was not done I had a long hair.

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The village was about 2-3 kms from the bus road and we after getting down from the bus had to walk in the mud route. I remember very well, there was a tamarind tree on the way and I was always afraid to look at it. It was huge and people always said some ghost stories about that tree. There was a community graveyard on the way to our lands. I was always afraid to pass through that road. My grandfather after his death was buried there. After that I got courage and pacified myself saying that if any ghost comes to threaten me, my grandfather ghost would come to help me!

Here I am with my brother, mother and aunt (my mother's sister). Hope you have no problem in recognising me!




All the cattle are left out to graze and there was one person to look after them. Sometimes if he does not turn up for one or the other reason we cousins were asked to herd them for grazing. We were having a tough time keeping them together! Usually bullocks are not left out on their own. They needed to be taken everyday morning and evening to water pond to allow them to drink water and quench their thirst. Some bullocks were dangerous and were not allowing strangers near them.

We used to climb trees, swim in muddy waters, go for catching fish. There was so much milk in the house and there were no milk collecting centres or dairy at that time in the village. Our grandmother always had a `bigger hand' and we townsfolk enjoyed milk, butter and ghee as if we had never tasted it before.

Well,
the story has changed now and so is the family. One day my father went to the village to settle a dispute and I also went with him. My mother is the eldest and she has three brothes and two sisters. That day the property was to be distributed among three brothers. By that time my grandfather had died. My father was the person who needed to settle things amicably. I witnessed a scene which I had never seen before. The three brothers quarrelled, argued, scolded and literally fought among themselves. My father had a tough time and finally the settlement was made.

Now also I visit the village whenever I get a chance. I am still nostalgic about it, but the eagerness is not there. Now there are three houses where three of my uncles live seperately with their children. Actually four houses, one son of my elder uncle has seperated and he has a house of his own now. There is no intimacy , no affection among brothers. The old house is till there, but there are no mysteries in it now. The heavy and long swords have disappeared (probably sold for some money). My grandmother's old trunk has vanished. No attics and nothing to explore there now. My grandmother came out of the village and stayed with us till she died. She was a powerful lady, who fed many people. During her last days she insisted on returning to her house and die there and she had a miserable end. Fortunately my mother was with her when she closed her eyes.

My children love to go to that village. They like to swim in the well which my grandfather built during 1962. It is almost 60 feet deep and has water till its brim almost throughtout the year. You can see my son and daughter swimming in that well. I also join them, since I can never remove my memories from that village.

This is a recent photo. My daughter had already learnt swimming. She jumps as my wife watches.


My son (on the leftside) is very fond of swimming. He likes this village very much because of this open well.


Here I have joined my kids. My brother and his kids watch me as I dive.


A view of the farmlands of the village taken during a recent visit.

I always wanted to write about this man.....

I always wanted to write about this man, but I was always out of words to describe him and his life. It is just because there was nothing extraordinary about him. He was just an ordinary man- simple, honest, down to earth, very complacent, never aspired for anything in life, he was not a politician, not a bureaucrat, not an intellectual of sort..... He was a good husband, good father, good friend, good neighbour etc. etc.

He came from a remote village. He was the last among 5 children born sometime during thirties. His was not a rich family- had a few acres of dryland and may be considered a marginal farmer's family. None of them went to school except this man who studied up to 10th standard or SSLC and that changed the course of his whole family. He went to school may be because he was lazy to do agricultural activities or may be he liked to study, no one knows.

From his village Mandikal he moved to his brother's house to Arakeri village to study in high school. His brother had married a girl from Arakeri and had moved there. He daily walked 8-10 kms to school. After completing his 10th standard he did not join any college- may be because no asked him to or no one supported him financially. He started to look for jobs here and there. Though unemployed he married an woman from neighbouring village Siddaghatta. Before he could get an employment he had become a father. First baby boy was stillborn. Second also was a baby boy. He desperately wanted an employment, His wife stayed in her parents house. They were quite rich and could afford to keep her as long as she wished.

At last he found a job, but he was asked to deposit Rs.500-00. He was not so rich to afford Rs.500-00 but he couldnot afford to lose this oppurtunity. He literally cried sitting on a pavement. Went to his wife and expressed his helplessness. She consoled him and gave her gold chain and asked him to sell it or pawn it for the money. He pawned the gold chain with his own elder brother who lent him Rs.500-00 which helped him to get the job. (He never got that gold chain back though money was returned is a different matter).

He moved to the town with his family. Another son was born. Since they were in town, now they could afford education to their children. Gradually through years he bought a site and constructed a house. Meanwhile he adopted two more kids (one boy and one girl) and helped them to get education. They stayed with his own children, like his own children. At a point of time there were 3-4 additional students in his house who were children of relatives who stayed in his house as they were from villages and couldnot afford to travel everyday to schools or colleges of the town.

He never knew the term `luxury'. He was happy and contented. He had given his children best education he could afford. Both his sons were well settled with their jobs. Elder son was with them and his younger son at Bangalore. He always resented wastage of any sort. He used to repair his own clothes, used a bicycle to travel to his office. Once he bought a Jawa motorbike but later sold it. During his last days he bought a Luna and later a TVS 50 moped. That was his fleet of vehicles.

He was always restless, looking for something to fiddle. He never kept quiet. After retirement from the job he used to work as an accountant- a part time job. He said, it was not for the money, but it kept him engaged.

He was diabetic, also had hypertension. He used to smoke heavily but had stopped completely when Doctor had warned him strictly.

His children were happily married with their own children. Both owned cars which his father never even dreamed of. They had their own houses. His younger son thought about his father many a times, wondered many a times about the time his father came out of the village in search of a job and landed in town. That is the moment which changed the course of the whole family. If he had never ventured out of village, probably his wife and children too would have ended up staying in the village without education and doing agriculture as their cousins are still doing. Now they view this man and his family with envy.

His children many a times think about their past and their present position. Now they can afford still better education to their children which their cousins at the village cannot even dream of.

One night he woke up with breathlessness. His wife and son also woke when he was moving around in the house. He asked for water and drank it. His wife and son insisted on visiting a hospital. He was reluctant, but later agreed. Sat on his son's bike and both went to Hospital. He was taken to the ward on a wheelchair. BP was taken which was quite high. Doctor wanted to do ECG. His wife was standing beside him. He held her hand and closed his eyes. He was 68.

He was Jurappa who later changed his name to Janardhana and I am his son.

`I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately....

My friend G was inviting me from a long time to visit the forests.
`This is the occasion, tiger census is going on and we can join as
volunteers' he called up and said. I packed my backpack and when I
reached the Tiger reserve at Bhadravathi it was 6 PM. The forest
Officer suggested we can stay at guest house at BR Project which
has all the facilities. But we chose to stay at Sukalhatti 15 kms deep
inside the dense forest where there is are no luxuries, not even
bedding. But there is a building built by Britishers during 1906 and
some Watchers of forest department stay there.

The jeep took us to
Sukalahatti through the dense forest. It was already dark, the road
almost did not exist. The watcher accompanying us said, `If a tiger
comes in our way, there is nothing to fear. But an elephant.... it is
totally a different matter'. It was so dark and every shadow looked
like an elephant. We stayed there for three days. We went around the
forest looking for all animal signs. We found pug marks of tigers



and footstep marks of elephants.



A baby deer which had never seen
an humanbeing before came running towards us, but immediately
ran away. Certainly, man is a deadly creature!



The evening we spent at Tadasa camp watching the
sunset beyong the horizon of backwaters can never erase from my
memory.

I remembered Saint Exupery's `Little Prince' and his desire
to watch sunsets- many a times in a day! I remembered my earlier experiences of the forest. That
was R's first trek and also her last trek to a forest. After the horrible
experience of blood sucking leeches and treacherous ravines of
Barapole in Kodagu she swore she would never venture in to a
forest on a trek again.



But I enjoyed the trek and the risk. One rarely
gets such oppurtunities to be with wild nature. My second trek was in Kodachadri hills. It was an all
male gang- very spirited and adventurous troup. While getting
down the forest hills, we avoided the usual track and took the
forest route. One of us spotted a cave- a real cave and decided on
the spot to spend the night in that cave.



I can never forget that night. The campfire was burning
throughout the night to keep away
the bears and other wild animals. I still remember, in the middle of
the night a rustling sound woke me up and saw the feeble campfire.
Somu was also awake and we put some more twigs to the fire and
increased the flame.



Usually the last nights we spend at such forests are
laced with gloom of sadness, for we have to leave to the city the
next morning, a place of traffic, pollution, chaos and a 'civilized'
world.

During such times I remember Thoreau's words about
nature in his `Walden', `I went to the woods because I wished to
live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I
could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die,
discover tht I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life,
living is so dear, not did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was
quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow
of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that
was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into
a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be
mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and
publish its meanness to the world; or it if were sublime, to know it
by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next
excursion.'