Veranda Tales-Strength of calmness

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.

నిండు కుండ తొణకదు (Nindu kunda tonakadu)

My earliest memories of spending time with my బాబయ్య (Babayya is uncle in Telugu) go way back to my toddler years. We used to live in a small village back then where my father,  a Veterinary doctor, was working for the Govt. of Andhra Pradesh. My uncle was in Medical school studying to be a doctor at that time. He would come to visit us during his time off from school. He never stayed very long when he visited us, staying just for a day or two. My first memory was rather eventful that happened at night. My uncle was sleeping outside on the veranda adjacent to the only large room in our house which doubled as a bedroom for the entire family of four, family room, playroom, and household chores area. We slept in that room at night, sat on the floor in the afternoons cleaning, rice, dals and other grains separating small stones, and read books some afternoons and evenings. This room had three doors, one connected it to the kitchen, another connected it to a front room, and the third one connected it to a large veranda.

My uncle spread a mattress on the hard concrete floor of the veranda to sleep under the stars enjoying the cool breeze. We had large trees all around the house which kept the outside nice and cool at nights even in the middle of summer. We went to sleep in our usual beds in our bedroom. It must have been around midnight when there was a loud knock on the door and we could hear my uncle shouting for our attention. We all woke up and my father rushed to the door to open it. As soon as the door was open, my uncle rushed into the room in a state of panic, shutting the door in a rush as soon as he got inside.

My father asked him, “What happened?” My uncle started telling us the story, “I saw a ghost. He was an old man with wrinkly skin. He sat on my chest with his legs dangling on either side of me. He was pressing down so hard on my chest with his hands and his legs were squeezing my ribs. I couldn’t breathe.” My mother rushed into the kitchen to get him water. He took a few sips of water and resumed his story. I was sitting up crossed legged in my small cot with my eyes open wide listening to the story intently.  My uncle continued, “I was very scared. I somehow mustered all my strength to shake the old man off my chest. He was running after me as I was running towards the door.  He went away when I started knocking on the door to get help.” We were all awake talking about the ghost for the rest of the night. I stopped going out on the veranda alone at night after that incident realizing that I wasn't as strong as my uncle to be able to fight off a ghost.

We were still living in the ghost house when one day my father came home early from the hospital asking us to get ready quickly to get into a taxi to go see my uncle who had undergone an emergency appendectomy. The taxi took its own time to take us to the hospital 50 kilometers away, while my mother and father were on pins and needles the whole time. I remember walking into the hospital room and seeing my uncle hooked up to all sorts of tubes. 

We moved to another place soon after his surgery. The rest of my memories of spending time with him are from our next house. By that time he grew a U shaped mustache which looked just like a large caterpillar. He had to deal with my pulling his mustache calling it a caterpillar (గొంగళి పురుగు - gongali purugu in Telugu) while I sat in his lap. He was all smiles and never complained. During those years my father took me for dental treatments every other month to a nearby town where my uncle was going to school. I got to see him more often during those visits. My father would take me and my uncle with him as he ran errands all over the town. My uncle and I would wait outside in the taxi while my father took care of his work related meetings. My father would take us both to go get my favorite orange flavored softdrink, Goldspot and vanilla ice cream. The ice cream came in a small ball-shaped container with a tiny spoon. Once the ice cream was consumed, I could save the containers for playing. I looked forward to spending time with my uncle which made the pain of getting a tooth extracted so much easier. These years went by very quickly. My uncle graduated from Medical school. After he moved to a different city for his Master’s program, I didn’t get to see him much.

My uncle is a unique individual. I learned important life lessons from the way he has approached the world around him and lived his life. He has been a role model for me since my childhood. I learned an important lesson when our entire extended family of 17 adults and fifteen children gathered together at my grandfather’s place for a special occasion. These gatherings were full of laughter, games, and conversations. My uncle was the youngest of 8 siblings. He was a frequent visitor to his siblings’ places when he was in school. They were curious about how he was adjusting to a new school in a bigger city. They were peppering him with questions one after another.

They were curious if he was able to go for jogs. My uncle has been an avid jogger all his life. He said, “All is well. I wake up early in the morning and run around my dorm building.” Somebody asked, “Don’t your classmates think it is strange to be jogging around the dorm that early in the morning?” My uncle shrugged his shoulders and said, “Yeah they did at first and a few of them made snarky comments. I just continued to do what I do and now they are all used to it.” The lesson I learned from this exchange was, “Be true to yourself and live your life. Don’t change yourself for the world unless it serves you well. The world will accept you just the way you are.” This has become my guiding principle in my life and has served me well. It doesn’t mean that you don’t care for others, it just means don’t live for others at the expense of your life. This lesson stayed with me and guides me even today.

Our lives drifted apart as I went to school and moved half way across the globe. We reconnected at a deeper level after my father passed away. We discovered our shared love for history, literature, ancient ruins, and archeology. When I go to India we make plans to go see ancient temples, ruins of kingdoms such as the Kakatiya and Vijayanagara from 700 hundred years ago. My uncle is a walking encyclopedia of Indian history and history of Andhra Pradesh region. It is fascinating to tag along to go see historic places with him.

On my recent trip to India, I traveled 2000+ kilometers through early morning fog, during hot days, and cool nights with my uncle at the helm. These trips took me to beaches, waterfalls, lush green spice farms, ruins, and temples traveling on ghat roads, nicely paved highways, smaller country roads winding through villages, and going by banana plantations. My uncle did all the driving, entering and leaving traffic on these roads that looked like Padmavyuham, a multi-tiered defensive formation that looks like a blooming lotus. He drove through thick morning fog with almost zero visibility before sunrise. He kept passing two-wheelers and bicycles without any lights one after another. It was very difficult to spot these vehicles especially devoid of lights in the front and back of them. They were laden with produce, vegetables, and other goods. And there were people walking along the road. He had to dodge vehicles of all sizes from the opposite direction on a narrow two-way road. It was remarkable to watch him drive through difficult weather and road conditions.

As I reconnected and spent more time with him, I came to understand that the little brother of the family is now the elder of the clan. He carries that role with ease, confidence, compassion, and empathy. He has become a confidant and friend to his five sisters, his sister-in-law (my mom), and thirteen nieces and nephews. He took on the responsibility of caring for my mother. He is there for everybody giving the gift of his time and company. He is an embodiment of నిండు కుండ తొణకదు (Nindu kunda tonakadu) sameta which means, “Liquid does not splash around when the pot is full”. This conveys the sentiment that a confident person stays calm amid chaos and they don’t sweat the small things. My uncle continues to be my role model as I strive to be more like him.