MIDDLE CLASS COMPLEX
By Mullapudi Venkataramana, Chennai, India
Translated by Nidadavolu Malathi
(Translator’s note: The original title, “Janata Express” is the name of a train in South India, introduced in the
1950s, specifically designed to make travel comfortable for the common man—a sort of people’s car.
The author depicts the day-to-day lives of middle class families and unmarried individuals, with all their dreams,
aspirations, eccentricities, as well as their community spirit.
The families are: 1. Subbarao, his wife Narasamma and Maavagaaru [father-in-law];
2. Chakravarti and his wife Sundaramma; 3. Janaki [Janakamma], a school teacher and prospective bride; 4.
Veerraju, landlord of the complex and bachelor; 5. a neighbor-aunty.
The term ‘complex’ in translation may be interpreted as middle class complexes [mentalities] or as an
apartment complex for the middle class. The story addresses both the aspects.)
***
Raamakumaree mee iLLa undaa?
Ratnakumaaree mee iLLa undaa?
Peruperulatalli mee iLLa undaa?
Peddappa dorasaani mee iLLa unddaa?
[Is Raamakumaree in your home?
Iis Ratnakumaree in your home?
Is my child with several names in your home?
Is my sweet baby in your home?]
Narasamma sings as she goes around peeking through the neighbors' doors.
The women in the other dwellings reply as usual, ‘No, we didn’t see her.’
illillu tirigeTi pillallakoDi
alladugo chuuDave tellavaarenu
meluko, meluko O Sundarammaa!
melukove inka bangaarubomma.
[The chicken is walking round the block with her brood
Oh, Sundaramma!
Oh, doll of gold!
The sun is up
Time for you to wake up!]
Narasamma’s music woke up Chakravarti and he started singing his own tune. As always, his
poetry frightened his wife, Sundaramma. She jumped out of the bed, scribbled “Sri” in her palm ,
lit up the stove and went to the neighbor’s house to borrow coffee. The neighbor-aunty returned
with sugar she had borrowed from Janaki. Janaki, also known as Janakamma, is a school
teacher. She is working in the same school Sundaramma’s husband is working. For that reason,
Sundaramma does not like to borrow from Janakamma. To be specific, Sundaramma borrows
from nobody else except the neighbor-aunty. They both share expensive desires. Therefore they
are a good match, as the phrase goes, in all respects, whether it be fighting or befriending.
Sundaramma believes that she and the neighbor-aunty got stuck in this middle class complex
only because of some temporary setbacks, and also, because the neighbor-aunty could not find
a bigger house.
Sundaramma has been entertaining a strong desire to buy a brand new Jaguar. The neighbor-
aunty has similar thoughts about a mansion at the present. Eventually, she would have a huge
house built, fully equipped with a phone, a radio and a shaggy dog. She has already bought the
cloth for the table cover, stitched embroidery on it and kept it ready for the table on which she is
going to set the radio. She bought a beautiful collar and a chain for the cute dog she is going to
have. She has mastered the code of conduct, befitting rides in a classy car. She has found out
about those things by reading and observing others with big cars—things like waiting until the
driver comes around and opens the door, putting one foot out the door elegantly while getting
out of the car, letting one sandal loosely hang on her foot, making sure that there is at least a 60-
degree angle between her toe and the insole of the sandal, stylishly let the sari end get stuck in
the car door, and then chime a charming exclamatory note like ‘OOH’ in English and act out an
impressive and astounding scare … Stunningly beautiful Sundaramma has practiced all these
techniques when she went to the movies in a taxicab.
“Aunty, yesterday I saw a beautiful, beautiful black car, you won’t believe it. It was soooooo
beautiful! It was so dark, just like my black Hyderabad sari,” Sundaramma said to neighbor-aunty.
“Which one? You mean the one that goes on our street every day at about 10:30? Is that it? … I
saw it near our boss’s building. By the way, did you see the new building they had bought? That
is exactly the one I had in mind. Trust me, for a second, it felt like they stole my plan. The only
difference is the compound wall. It’s a kind of short,” neighbor-aunty said.
Chakravarti is still in bed on the other side of the bamboo partition and listening to their
conversation. He is fully aware that, if he lets this chatting continue, he will end up with coffee at
dinner time, and dinner at bedtime. “Sundari…” he shouted crossly.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I ran out of coffee…”
“I am afraid I ran out of it, too,” neighbor-aunty replied, starting to show signs of displeasure.
Sundaramma realized her mistake, she bit her tongue.
“Just a little, just for this morning, just one Nagpur cupful measured with your Nagpur cup,” she
said.
Neighbor-aunty felt like she had bought the building of her dreams. “Of course, here, as you
please,” she said amiably.
As soon as Sundaramma left, Narasamma came to say hi to neighbor-aunty. “Is my little one
here?” she asked gently.
“No,” said neighbor-aunty, maintaining her distance.
“Hum. Strange! She loves you so much. She always talks about you, keeps chiming, ‘aunty,
aunty,’ wouldn’t stop even for a second. She likes it here… your house is spacious, you know.
She really likes it here,” Narasamma said.
“Ah, what space? I am choking. The more I wish for a bigger house the farther it is getting it
seems.”
Narasamma changed the subject, “Anyway, can I borrow some rice? Only if you can spare, I
mean.”
“Of course! If I don’t have it, how can I loan you. Frankly, we are never short for anything. No
such word as ‘don’t have’ in our house…”
“It is not that, really. I’d been to eight homes so far in this complex. All of them said no. I am telling
you this only because you are my friend,” Sundaramma said.
“So be it. Surely, a day will come when they’ll have to account for their lies. Here. Take as much
rice as you need. Why only half a pound, take a quarter more. Did you bring a container or would
you rather take it in your sari palloo ?”
“Let me have it in your Culcutta silver dish,” Narasamma said. Neighbor-aunty gave her the rice,
some eggplants and a slice of squash, additionally.
Narasamma went home and opened the door. All the four children rushed out in a flurry,
screaming, ‘I want rice,’ ‘I want snacks,’ ‘money’ ‘clothes’ and so on. Narasamma slapped them—
two slaps each as usual—and told them to get lost.
In the next five minutes, all the eleven families in that complex heard Narasamma’s children’s
clamor, which meant the day dawned. They all woke up.
***
Here is how the complex has come into existence:
Some thousands of years ago, the noise that woke up the people in that terrain did not come
from children but from crows and roosters. In those days, the little daughter of one sage, whose
ancestral background included Kanva, Viswamitra and Vasishta , performed a dolls’ wedding. All
the other sages wanted to have a beautiful ceremony and so created a garden with flower beds
and shrubs. They also built a home in the middle of the garden as a temporary residence for the
bridegroom’s party and several huts on either side. Several centuries passed by. And then
several years and, finally, the twentieth century set in.
Eventually, the civilization caught on, and there developed a township. The landlord who bought
the huts removed the thatched roofing and replaced it with tiles and old tin sheets. In place of the
old bamboo partitions, he had walls built with clay and brick. He demolished the main hut at the
heart of the area and raised a house with a flat roof at first and then added a room upstairs.
In course of time, these tenements or dwellings changed hands but not the tenants. Now several
families live there in the outlying one and a half rooms paying ten rupees rent each. The centrally
located house is divided into two portions. One gentleman and his family are renting one portion.
Subbarao, his wife, and the wife’s father, Maavagaru, occupied the second portion. The other
small dwellings in the area are occupied by tenants like the charming couple, Chakravarti and
Sundaramma, and Narasamma, the mother goose with her brood and also the target of
Chakravarti’s unbearable poetic exuberances.
Amidst these families, there is a woman named Janaki or Janakamma renting one of the
dwellings. She is a 5th grade teacher, unmarried and a doll of gold for looks.
Veerraju, the landlord, lives in the upstairs room of the house in the middle of this complex. He
lives alone. He possesses some of the heroic qualities of the main character in the novels of
Sarat Babu. He has no relatives of any significance. Any relatives he may have are living far
away. Veerraju has no great magnetic personality, and in no position to claim the tenants as his
family.
He is not crazy about living amidst this crowd and so hardly pays attention to the rumpus in the
area. However, his curiosity got the better of him as the neighbors started coming to him and
telling on each other. He would sit in his room upstairs like the captain of the sea, and watch while
all the people in the apartments get into a brawl, scuffle, squeal, or shriek and what not.
Nevertheless, he has a soft corner for them and that is evident from the rents they owed him.
Sometimes their defaulting on rents gets to him, especially, when he is short for cash. He
watches them go to the movies while defaulting on rent and that gets under his skin.
On one such Sunday, Veerraju stopped Subbarao as he was on his way to a movie. “Please,
pardon me, sir. Could you please pay me this month’s rent, at least?”
That surprised Subbarao. “Haven’t I paid you on the first of this month? What do you mean ‘at
least’? I never defaulted on rent!”
“I haven’t received the rent for the past five months,” Veerraju replied.
“You must be mistaken. I have been sending it each month the day after I’ve received my
paycheck.”
“But I did not receive it, sir.”
Subbarao was irritated by Veerraju’s tone. He rushed in to the house which meant ‘I am going to
settle this right now.’ He questioned his wife in the strongest terms, and she replied, “What’s got
to him? What do you mean we are not paying rent? We are paying each month regularly.”
“All right, you tell him that,” Subbarao told her.
“Great! You are telling me to confront that gentleman and tell him that we had been paying rent
regularly! Let’s wait until my father returns. He was the one who’s been depositing the cash,” she
said.
Subbarao’s fervor shrank as he heard that Maavagaru was depositing it. He cooled down.
Maavagaru went for a walk. He usually returns home after taking care of his princely errands.
Subbarao could not think of any words he could say to Veerraju. He was depressed. His
suspicion was increasing by the minute. He looked out the window. The tenants in the three other
apartments lined up like the audience at a circus performance and were watching. Only Janaki
stayed in the kitchen, busy with her cooking. Subbarao swallowed his pride and went back to
Veerraju. He said, “Let’s talk about this later tonight,” and went away.
***
It was eight at night. Subbarao was reading newspaper.
“You’ve come home early today?” Maavagaru entered and asked him, zealously.
“Change first. Let’s eat,” Subbarao said.
Maavagaru pulled up his shirt to remove. He was half way through the process; his head was still
in the shirt, partly covered. In that specific moment, Subbarao said, “Veerraju says we defaulted
on rent.”
Maavagaru did not finish removing the shirt, nor did he pull it down. He hid his face behind the
shirt, and said, “What rent?”
“What do you mean what rent? Think the rent for my head? I am talking about the house rent,”
Subbarao snarled.
Maavagaru slid down his shirt and peeked through. He said, “Look, Subbarao! Tell me this. If we
can’t even default on rent for this dungeon of a house, why should we stay here at all?”
“Not one, not two but five months’ rent! Five times thirty, that is one hundred and fifty! That is
what we have defaulted in rent,” Subbarao said.
Maavagaru pulled his shirt up quickly and hid his head again in it. “Who told you that? I don’t
think it is five months; maybe three months, or four months tops.”
Subbarao asked him, impatiently, “Maavagaru, why are you doing this to me? Is it fair to make my
life miserable like this?”
Maavagaru did not remove his shirt. Luckily, one of Subbarao’s friends, who usually approaches
him with a ‘hello’ walked in and said, ‘hello’, meaning, a loan. He also told him that he was
planning to repay the entire amount he had borrowed previously on various occasions—a five, a
ten, and a ten plus two that is twelve….
“What is new?” Subbarao said. It was more like a growl mixed with a shade of sarcasm.
“I will receive a Money Order today.”
“That’s great. You could have waited until you had it in your hand and then come to pay me. Why
announce it like this?”
“No reason. If you give me another eight now, I’m hoping to repay the entire twenty.”
“Your idea is good, but I don’t have the money. Even if I had, I will not give you,” replied
Subbarao, annoyed.
Maavagaru pulled down his shirt to its normal state and kept watching this show.
“Okay, give me just three. Let’s make it fifteen in all,” the friend said, hopefully.
Subbarao smiled and said, “My dear friend, sit down. I will explain to you,” and continued
solemnly, “I know of two jobs in the government. How about taking one of them?”
“Oh, no, sir. I will not work for the government.”
“No? You just want to live pestering people like me?” Subbarao asked.
“Okay, tell me. Let’s see what you’ve got?”
“These jobs are independent contracts. No monthly paychecks. Your income depends on your
ability.”
“Tell me about it.”
“The first one is in the Postal department. Light work. See those small post offices? You go there
with a small bottle of ink and a pen. People come there to write letters. Your job is to lend your ink
bottle and the pen and lean forward so he can use your back as a desk to write on. After that,
you stick out your tongue like an automatic machine and let him moisten the stamp and then
retract it. That is your second job. After that, you lend again your back for his use to affix the
stamp on his envelope. You can charge one half of an anna per envelope. Imagine your income
per day at this rate,” Subbarao said quickly and zealously.
The friend was speechless. Maavagaru pulled his shirt up again pretending to remove it and hid
his face in his shirt. Subbarao pretended not to notice any of this, and continued, “If you don’t like
this job, there is another you might want to consider. Take a kerosene lantern and run along the
railway tracks one half of a mile ahead of the Calcutta train. If you notice any problem with the
railway tracks, your job is to signal the train to stop. This is night shift, completely.”
“Cchup,” Maavagaru said. The friend left irately.
“Did you say something?” Subbarao asked Maavagaru.
“You used that idiot to insult me and that is rude. … Why can’t you just ask me to move out?”
Maavagaru spoke through the shirt.
“Did I ask you to come and live with us? I am respecting you for your age, treating you like a
father, and look how you are repaying me. Did I say one word to hurt you? Now you start playing
with the rent money as well. You tell me how I am supposed to deal with this?”
Subbarao’s wife called from the kitchen, “Father, you come inside. Don’t get into an argument
with him.”
“You keep quiet. I will settle this right now,” Maavagaru replied, hiding behind his shirt.
“Settle what? The shirt?” asked Subbarao.
Maavagaru was furious. He tried to act out several emotions like ‘You idiot, you are being
sarcastic or what?’ The shirt gave in to his frustration and got ripped, creating two holes in the
panels. His two hands emerged out of the two holes, leaving his head still in the cover.
Veerraju heard the commotion from his room upstairs. He rushed down three steps and was
stunned. There was only one doorway between Subbarao’s portion and the next door neighbors.
Veerraju saw the most charming scene through the window:
The next door neighbor was sitting in a chair at the center of the group. His wife was sitting next
to him in another chair. Their sons, daughters and grandchildren surrounded the couple. Some
of them were sitting on the floor at their feet. All of them, sitting on the other side of the door,
could not see but were enjoying whatever was audible, to their hearts’ content.
Veerraju saw them all lined up as if for a group photo and scoffed. Janaki just returned after her
tutoring session. She also noticed this scene and was disgusted. She went away into her home,
feeling good that Veerraju shared her sentiment.
While Subbarao and Maavagaru were engaged in a verbal exchange, a huge noise—as if a
Canadian train engine was rolling down a steep mountain slope—was heard. They both stopped
for a second. A 1928 model automobile came rolling down, making unbearable noises like DHAN,
DHAN, TAK, TAK, and stopped in front of Subbarao’s home.
“WE BOUGHT A CAR, WE BOUGHT A CAR,” Sundaramma screamed from inside the car,
bursting at the seams. She lay back fashionably.
All the tenants were so absorbed in the on-going argument they did not pay attention to
Sundaramma’s car. Even Narasamma’s children were scared a little.
Sundaramma, disappointed, turned to the driver and said, “Right, right, let’s go.” The car moved
forward, turned to the right, and to another right and stopped.
“Hold on,” Sundaramma shouted as the car pulled in front of her home.
Chakravarti was in the porch. He turned around quickly and looked up. “What is this?” he asked.
Sundaramma thanked the driver, gave him a rupee and told him to go home.
“Our car! What do you think? I paid only four hundred, just four hundred,” She said.
“Are you out of your mind? You bought a car! Tell me this first. Where did you get four hundred?
… Do you have any idea how much we are paying for rent?” Chakravarti said.
“Wait a second. I will tell you all about it. First I need water,” Sundaramma said.
In the meantime, the argument between Subbarao and Maavagaru reached the peak. The
audience heard the words, spoken in a high pitch, “I am giving you not only the pocket money but
also letting you do the grocery shopping, aren’t I?”
Nobody in that entire complex could believe that Subbarao could speak so harshly. Therefore,
they all were stunned. Maavagaru did not expect this, not in his wildest dreams. Therefore, he
was also flabbergasted. His lips quivered and eyes turned red. He was eager to utter several
words but none of them came out. All he could say was, “wait,” like a thunder. Then he left the
house. After that, however, he was not sure what to do next. He looked back and saw Subbarao
go into the house.
Maavagaru deliberated for one more second and walked straight into Janakamma’s portion.
“Amma , you’ve heard it too, right? Here, I am holding your hands. I could fall on your feet too. I
am old. Unfortunately I ended up in this horrible condition. Please, loan me one hundred and fifty
rupees. I will pay you back by tomorrow evening, pawning my head if necessary. In this complex,
if there is one person willing to loan me money, that is only you,” he said.
Janaki was sorry for him. But she did not have that much cash on hand. Besides, she was not
really paying attention to what had happened there earlier. She was million miles away, lost in her
own thoughts. “You go to the store for a soda or something, and come back after five minutes,”
she said.
Maavagaru left. Janaki went straight upstairs. Veerraju was feeling sorry for causing so much
trouble for everybody. Janaki stood in front of him and said that she needed fifty rupees, it was
urgent she added. Janaki rarely talks to him. He could figure out right away the real reason
behind her request now.
“You are a very nice person,” he said, handing her five new bills.
Janaki smiled. She had heard similar compliments frequently from other teachers, the
headmaster, and the secretary at school. Even the slightest complaint like headache from her,
they all would jump in with numerous suggestions, all sorts of medications from all kinds of
systems like Allopathy, Ayurveda etc. They poured sympathies on her nonstop.
Veerraju noticed this line of thinking in her smile. “Please don’t take it as a lip service,” he
added, also laughing.
“You paid compliments to my good nature, not to my lips,” she said, turning around to leave.
“Oh, that? If you want only that kind of praise, I can do it nonstop. I can write an amazing paper
and have you scored ten for ten on it,” he said.
“You’re funny,” Janaki said and left.
Janaki gave the one hundred and fifty rupees to Maavagaru. He told her several times and in a
choked voice that he could never repay her debt. He went home and threw it in front of
Subbarao. Subbarao took the money without saying a word and gave it to his wife. The wife gave
it back to her father, Maavagaru.
Maavagaru picked up the money, holding it with his finger-tips, as if it was something
untouchable, and went straight to Veerraju and paid off the debt.
The rumpus in the complex settled down. The only audible sounds were those coming from
Sundaramma’s dwelling. All the other families turned off the lights, after enjoying the argument
between the husband and wife, like a light breeze. They all were ecstatic that they had the
pleasure of two altercations in one day, and now joked about some specific phrases and points.
***
“Are you out of your mind?” Chakravarti asked his wife.
“Why are you shouting?” Sundaramma retorted.
In the next two minutes, the argument reached the climax. Sundaramma’s language acquired a
shade of sobbing. Chakravarti’s voice was reverberating like a metal bell. Their words were flying
like blazing coal.
“Where did you get the four hundred rupees, anyways?”
“I’ve been saving for some time. I sold my chain and the silver dish for which I’ve got three
hundred rupees. Maavagaru noticed my desire and loaned me one hundred rupees. Don’t worry,
I will repay it myself,” Sundaramma replied tensely.
These words were heard in each of the dwellings as if the words went and knocked on their
doors. Subbarao also heard them. Now he understood the real story.
Maavagaru paid the rent, came back, lowered the kerosene lamp wick, and went to bed.
“He [Subbarao] says he will not eat today. Come father, I set the plate for you,” Subbarao’s wife
said to her father, Maavagaru.
“I don’t want it either,” he said, lying down on his bed. He kept looking at the little lamp.
“So that is the real story,” said Subbarao.
“What story? Didn’t I throw the rent in his face?” Maavagaru said, turning toward the wall.
“I am talking about Sundaramma’s car, nice car. And you were kind enough to lend her the
money. Of course, with interest. So what? You let her have one hundred rupees,” said Subbarao
gently.
Maavagaru did not respond. They were quiet for about fifteen minutes. Subbarao waited until his
wife had fallen asleep and started the conversation again, “You are an adult. Why do you act like
this?”
A few words emanated from the mouth of Maavagaru in that darkness, like the smoke from a
chimney. He narrated the story slowly and unemotionally: “I was never short for anything as long
as my wife lived. She always served the food, no matter what-- whether I brought in the dough or
not. Now I am alone and possess the misfortune of living under my son-in-law’s roof. All I want is a
home of my own. Sometimes, I am embarrassed, you know. I resent it but can’t help it. The desire
is not going away. I am hankering for money simply because I want my own home. Look, I will
repay your debt some how,” he said.
Subbarao did not know that Maavagaru was worried so much. He felt sorry for him. He also
resented a little that Maavagaru used the darkness as a shroud to express his wishes. He rolled
over to the other side and after a minute or so, and said, “Let’s forget the whole thing.”
***
At dawn, Narasamma and her children woke up and got dressed. She went to neighbor-aunty’s
house but did not ask for a loan. She and her children were invited to the wedding ceremony on
the next street. Narasamma came to ask the aunty if she would go with them. Aunty said no. She
turned around pompously waving her Benares silk sari in the air.
Aunty was sweeping the floor. She looked at Sundaramma and laughed. Aunty had noticed long
time ago that Narasamma had only one silk sari. She even told Sundaramma that Narasamma
was wearing the same sari again and again for each and every occasion. She hoped that
Sundaramma would understand the underlying meaning of her laugh and agree with her. But
Sundaramma did not respond. She put the water on the stove to make coffee.
Aunty felt let down. She had been feeling let down since 9:00 p.m. last night. In the entire
complex, they are the only two persons with expensive desires. If it comes to that, Aunty’s wish is
a notch higher. But then Sundaramma beat her to it by buying the car first. From that moment on,
it became her sole aim to exchange jokes with Sundaramma.
“Sundaramma, would you like to borrow coffee?” she asked in a soft tone.
Sundaramma needed coffee but would not want to admit it right away. She replied, “Oh, no. Not
necessary. We have car, you see. We’ll go to some restaurant, have coffee, and then buy
vegetables on our way home.”
Chakravarti was still grumpy about it. Her response ticked him off.
“Oh, no. Haven’t we got a car, of course? Let’s drink the gasoline for the present. Later, we can
cook the tires for our next meal,” he said in a whisper.
Aunty ended up loaning a Nagpur cupful of coffee to Sundaramma.
***
Chakravarti, still whining, finished his coffee and went to the market. He was embarrassed to
leave the complex and step outside; he was embarrassed for having the car parked in front of his
one-and-a-half room home. He left home quickly, and soon enough, he ran into Subbarao.
Both of them were aware that the scuffles in their heavenly abodes last night were a matter of
public knowledge. At first, they were too ashamed to see into each other’s face. The next
moment, both of them looked up first and then straight into each other’s face. Each one felt pity
for self and sympathy for the other at the same time. They broke into a loud laugh.
Subbarao’s laugh meant, “Maavagaru in my case and the car in your case.”
Chakravarti’s laugh implied, “Car for me and Maavagaaru for you.”
“See you later.”
“All right”
***
The brains of Maavagaru worked fast, as he noticed Subbarao and Chakravarti leave their
respective homes. He went to Sundaramma and demanded the fifty he had loaned her earlier
and also an additional one hundred. Sundaramma spelled n-o. Maavagaru returned home and
fell into deep thought. He was about to bite off his nails when Subbarao showed up.
“Maavagaru, I think you borrowed the money last night in a fit of anger. Let bygones be bygones.
Here, take this money and pay it back,” he said, handing him the one hundred and fifty rupees he
had withdrawn from the bank.
Maavagaru was surprised and was about to protest but Subbarao had left the room to take bath
before he opened his mouth. So, he cancelled that thought and set out to put his original plan.
First, he separated twenty-five rupees from the amount and tucked it in his lungi at the waist. He
went to Janaki’s room with the remaining one hundred twenty-five rupees. He told her that he
would never, not even in his future lives, forget the help she had done last night. He gave her the
one hundred twenty-five rupees and alerted her to make a note of the balance of twenty rupees,
he still owed. He expressed his gratitude one more time and also avowed that he could never
repay her kindness. Yet, he would not sleep until he had settled her account, he assured her.
“No. Please don’t lose sleep over this,” Janaki spoke respectfully.
“That is not possible. I am dead set on returning the favor. Look! Go ahead and finish teaching
for now. .. But take the time off for this afternoon. No. Don’t say no. I will explain it to you later.
You must be home this afternoon, don’t forget,” he said and left in a hurry. Then, he went straight
to the next street. He did not even care to eat. Narasamma was scurrying around in her silk sari.
Nobody could tell whether she was in the bride’s party or the groom’s party. Maavagaru told her
to come home that afternoon. He kept repeating that she should be home by 1:00 without fail,
told her to leave the children at the wedding party, and insisted that she should give him her
word. Narasamma gave him her word.
Maavagaru returned home and ate. After Subbarao left for work, he asked his daughter to sit
down and explained his plan to her. The daughter was surprised. He convinced her to go along
with his plan. He told her to make snacks, picked up his uttareeyam and went to take care of the
rest of the arrangements.
Janaki came home at 1:30 as was told and was surprised to see Maavagaru dressed like a
bridegroom.
“Good, you’ve come home and right on time. You may get the rest of the day off. Good. Sit down
for a few minutes. No rush,” he said, zealously.
“Rush for what?” Janaki asked.
“Right, right. Rush for what? No rush, no rush at all. Go, freshen up. Fix your hair. No? All right,
no need. You are looking great just the way you are. Looking like a goddess,” he said.
Janaki was confused.
“Dear Janakamma, come here,” Narasamma said, flaunting her new silk sari.
Before Janaki could respond, Subbarao’s grabbed Janakamma’s arm and dragged her into the
house.
Inside the house, there were three chairs and a rug spread on the floor. Subbarao’s wife seated
Janaki on the rug and started to chitchat.
“Did you see Sundaramma’s car?” she asked. “Are the people at school making fun of
Chakravarti?” she asked.
Janaki smiled timidly and said, “Yes. The news reached our school right away. Everybody has
been asking him questions--whether it was true, whether he really had bought a car? Why didn’t
he come in his car? Poor man! He is very frustrated. Those idiots. I don’t know why they can’t let
others live their own lives. What is it to them who bought what?”
“Yes, yes,” Said Maavagaru. In the next minute he said, “There, they are here!”
A 35-year old man named Ramarao and a 30 year-old woman named Lakshmikantamma arrived.
***
Maavagaru and Ramarao met a year ago. Soon, they became bosom buddies. Ramarao became
the best friend and right-hand man to Maavagaru and vice versa. For Maavagaru, Ramarao’s
sister became the goddess, the center of his universe, and winning her hand his life’s mission,
and so on. He coveted her to be his life-partner. That woman, Lakshmikantamma said she would
agree to the proposal, provided he could run her clothes store profitably. If he agreed, so would
she. There was however one more glitch. Ramarao also had been unmarried for some time.
During that time he saw Janaki and fell in love with her, head over heels. He had been praying
day and night for his marriage with her. He even fasted four to five times toward this goal.
Maavagaru said that was no big deal. Ramarao said, “Well, if you fix that, your marriage is
confirmed. Both of us can live happily ever after.”
Accordingly, on the afternoon in question, Ramarao and his sister, Lakshmikantamma arrived
there to set a date for pradhaanam. Janaki was not aware of this story.
When she saw the strangers, she said “You have company,” and was about to leave. The entire
group assured her unanimously that she should stay.
Subbarao’s wife served snacks and coffee. They all started eating snacks and talking small talk.
Janaki did neither eat nor talk. Narasamma noticed that. “Come Janaki, eat something. No need
to be shy,” she said coaxingly. For the moment, she was playing the role of an senior aunt for
Janaki. She was following the instructions Maavagaru had given her earlier and treating Janaki
like her own “little girl.” Amidst all the excitement, her hand shook and the coffee spilled on her
blue silk sari.
“Oh, Oh,” Narasamma moaned.
Rest of company, startled, turned around and looked at her.
“Ohh, no. What can I do now? It is a mishap. Let’s wash it right away. Then it won’t smudge,” she
said, watching Subbara’s wife, apprehensively.
“Don’t worry. We can take care of it later,” said Subbarao’s wife, sounding casual.
“Well, whatever you say. What do I’ve got to lose. It is your sari that is ruined,” said Narasamma.
The rest of the party burst into a big laugh. She was perplexed.
Maavagaru cleared his throat and opened the subject, the real reason for the meeting.
“Ramarao, what do you think? Do you like her? I am telling you, she is a gold cluster. You can
search all the three worlds but won’t find a gentler woman,” he said.
“That is the truth. She is gleaming like Mahalakshmi [the goddess of wealth],” said
Lakshmikantamma. Janaki looked at them, totally lost.
Maavagaru said, “Janakamma, he is like a younger brother to me. The best qualified man ever.
You don’t have to worry about annoyances like mother-in-law and other children. He has a sister
but she will get married soon enough and leave for her in-law’s home.”
Ramarao laughed a silly laugh and said, “True, no time to waste. We the bridegroom ready and
willing; it is as good as done.”
Maavagaru was embarrassed. He lowered his head, smiling shyly.
“Wait, what is the matter? Where are you going?” Narasamma said. The group turned and looked
up.
Janaki stood. “What is all this nonsense? Is this the reason you asked me to be here? Nobody
needs to arrange my marriage. It is my headache and I will take care of it, anyway I please,” she
said and rushed out of the room. She went to her room, threw herself on the bed and broke into
sobs.
She cried for sometime and felt relieved, slightly. Thoughts started to surface slowly and
gradually as if they were scared to come out. It felt like she had all these problems only because
she had no immediate family to take care of her. Every man she came across talked about either
marrying her or arranging her marriage with someone. They had nothing else to talk about, it
seemed. Every man watched her in some warped way… Janaki was scared. She dozed off while
the thoughts were still floating in her head.
She woke up at about five in the evening and came into the front porch. The entire complex
looked lifeless, like a graveyard. Probably, the tenants in this side of the complex went for a walk.
... Suddenly, she heard the rattling noise of the car.
Chakravarti sat in that old convertible Austin, a piece of junk. Sundaramma was sitting next to him
ostentatiously. They were going for a ride. She wore a red sari and a black blouse—a horrible
mismatch, and a bunch of flowers tucked in her hair. She also wore a pair of dark eyeglasses.
Janaki smiled kindly. She noticed that Chakravarti was driving like a scared kid, and pitied him.
Then her eyes turned to the room upstairs. Up there, Veerraju stood by the window, looking sad,
and smoking a cigarette. He was watching the couple in the car.
Janaki felt pity again. She wondered if Veerraju was disappointed for not being in Chakravarti’s
unfortunate predicament. Suddenly, she remembered the money she had borrowed from him the
night before. She went in, took that money and went upstairs.
Veerraju felt a flutter for a second. And then was charmed. He took the money from Janaki
mechanically.
“Aren’t you feeling well?” Janaki asked him.
“I am fine. The problem lies in my heart,” he replied, looking out the window.
Janaki was not interested in finding out what problem lay in his heart. She did not appreciate that
kind of reply for a casual question. She turned to leave.
“I pulled myself out of a huge plot a little while ago,” Veerraju said without looking at her.
Janaki did not leave. Nor did she ask what the plot was about.
“You see, everybody is aware that I own all these units yet no person I can call my own.
Therefore, they all are sworn to arrange my marriage. Earlier this afternoon, a friend of mine
invited me to his home on some pretext, showed me a ghastly looking woman and asked me if I
liked her. A group of men and women—twenty in all—were staring at me. I was exasperated and
left,” said Veerraju.
Janaki’s heart started thumping faster. She was about to say that she was the object of another
plot in that very moment but held back.
“Living alone in this world is such a hassle. Nobody minds their own business, nor let others live
as they please. Sometimes it scares me,” he said.
Janaki’s heart leapt to her throat. He was reading her mind. She wanted to tell him that. She
looked at him sharply for a split second. He was not joking. He looked at her straight into her face.
“It’s true,” she said and started to leave.
Veerraju said, “Janaki.” His tone has changed. Janaki turned around, warily.
“I did not tell you my life’s story, just for fun. I respect you and trust you. I believe in you. For that
reason … I am thinking… if I marry you, I can be happy myself and make you happy,” he said.
From Janaki’s perspective, Veerraju dropped a bomb out of nowhere. She could not decide right
away—Should she jump with joy? Or, cry for help? Or, resent his proposition? In the next
moment, she was irate. At school, the headmaster, some teachers, the secretary, and here,
Maavagaru—they all had been pestering her on the same lines. Now Veerraju also appeared to
be doing the same thing.
“You too…” Janaki murmured and left hastily.
Veerraju crashed on the chair and smoked ten cigarettes in a fit of desperation.
Janaki, in general, considered herself good at giving cautious replies, now was feeling bad for the
first time. She wondered if she had made a mistake.
Chakravarti’s chariot finished its rounds and returned to the complex. The few people who fell
asleep were woken up by the noise. They all heard the loud laughs from Chakravarti’s home very
clearly.
As for Chakravarti, he was becoming increasingly aware of his wife’s naivete. His anger was
diminishing and his love for her was escalating. That evening she visited few expensive stores,
checked out the high priced saris and bought a hand kerchief for one rupee. In another store,
she bought a couple of items and asked the store clerk to put them in her car.
“Which one, madam?” the store clerk asked.
Sundaramma felt embarrassed to point out her grungy vehicle standing amidst the other pristine
automobiles.
“There, that grungy car. Throw them in,” she said. Then, whatever came over her, she added,
“That is our driver’s. We gave our car for service.”
Chakravarti was standing next to her. He struggled not to laugh. On the way home, he teased
her, “Today you said this car belonged to your driver. Probably, tomorrow you would tell them
that your silk sari belonged to the maid. What about me?”
She shut him up with her palm saying, “Cchup. What kind of talk is that?”
After a few minutes, Chakravarti planned to turn right. But God intended otherwise. as his wont.
The car, having a will of its own, recalled the proverb, murare thruteeyah panthah [God’s way is
the third way], and headed for a huge tree before Chakravarti could hit the breaks, tried to knock
it down but changed its mind.
Chakravarti and Sundaramma spent ten rupees and brought the car home. …
Chakravarti begged Sundaramma, and finished his speech, saying “… … for these reason, my
beautiful Sundaramma, we can be happy only if we don’t have this car. We can buy a good car
after saving some money. But, if you insist on keeping this car, we will be spending all our income
on the repairs and we will starve for want of food. We will have to lie down with our knees wedged
in our bellies literally. Do you understand?”
Sundaramma was already on the brink of tears. Yes, she said.
“Let’s get rid of it for whatever it brings. Maybe, our landlord Veerraju will buy it,” he said.
***
That Saturday night went by for each one of them in the complex in a different way—with
nightmares, sweet dreams, fears and frustrations.
And the Sunday morning dawned for each one of them in a different way--beautifully, happily,
hideously, or hopelessly.
Within a few minutes, Maavagaru went into Narasamma’s dwelling. He told her not to tell the
others about the wedding plan that had taken place the day before. He said she could keep for
good the sari she had worn on the previous evening, which in fact had belonged to his daughter.
Narasamma agreed. She shook her head in assent but the thought that she had a tremendous
secret nearly choked her. She could hardly keep her feet on the ground.
Within the next half hour she heard another piece of news. Veerraju was leaving town. It seems
he would not be back for another five or six months. He told all the tenants to pay the rent to the
gentleman living in the other portion, and that the gentleman would forward the money to him.
Narasamma noticed that Veerraju did not go to Janaki’s home.
She rushed to Janaki’s home and said, “Girl! Veerraju is going away for good, do you know?”
Janaki was surprised. “Is that so?” she said and went about doing whatever she was doing.
Narasamma’s zeal fizzled away. “Look, dear, can you loan me one rupee?” she asked.
Janaki went in without saying a word and gave her one rupee. Narasamma was even more
disappointed that she could get the rupee so easily. She went to a few other homes in the
neighborhood and asked them rice on loan. They all said no. “Why should I share my secret with
these crooked devils,” she told herself. Finally she went to Sundaramma and asked for rice.
Whatever mood Sundaramma was in at the time, she gave her the rice right away. At once, she
became Narasamma’s best friend. Narasamma insisted repeatedly that she should not tell
anyone, not even the neighbor-aunty, and let out the secret about the wedding plan that had
taken place the day before.
The neighbor-aunty was sitting quietly behind the bamboo partition and heard the entire story.
After Narasamma left, the neighbor aunty came to Sundaramma and told her the same story as if
she had known it since her childhood days. She also expressed her deepest sympathy for Janaki.
“I wish Janaki would marry Veerraju,” aunty said suddenly. Immediately she bit her tongue for
saying it. She had a good reason for regretting her comment. Earlier, as soon as she heard that
Veerraju was leaving town, she went to him and made him promise his apartment to her. She was
excited that she would have at least the good fortune of renting a two-storied building, if not buy
one. It was no small feat to move into a two- storied building--that would be like a slap in the face
for Sundaramma who had bought a car just couple of days ago. Her [aunty’s] husband never
went against her wishes. People referred to him as “aunty’s husband,” pretty much the same way
Maavagaru was always “Subbarao’s maavagaru.” Anyway, the current problem was, if Janaki
married Veerraju, the upstairs apartment would not be available for her. Therefore, aunty closed
her lips tight and left.
Sundaramma, however, continued to mull over aunty’s suggestion. If Janaki married Veerraju,
she could sell her car to them and it would still be in front of her eyes. She might even borrow it
occasionally. .. Besides, the story of the wedding plans for Janaki struck a chord in her heart.
She felt a surge of warmth for Janaki.
It was Sunday. Sundaramma made Chakravarti’s favorite dish that afternoon. She made coffee
with utmost care and removed the creamy floats. She handed him a cigarette and struck the
match for him.
“Look, this is the last Sunday we will have the car. By next week, it will be gone. Let’s go to the
movies today,” she suggested.
Since Chakravarti was still glad that his wife was favorable to his suggestion, he agreed to go to
the movies. It was five in the evening. She got into the car along with the others--Narasamma who
became her best friend by sharing her secret, the neighbor-aunty who entertained expensive
desires and even Janakamma, whom she sweet-talked into accompanying them. Janakamma
thought she might as well go somewhere in stead of staying at home and watch the
heartbreaking departure of Veerraju. So, she agreed to go with them.
As the car was about to leave, Maavagaru appeared. It scared him to see Janaki somewhere with
others. He was sure that he would succeed in convincing Janaki to accept his proposition, if not
today, he could the next day. He was not willing to let go of her that easily.
“Going for a ride?” he asked.
“No. We are going to the movies,” Chakravarti replied.
“What movie?”
Chakravarti told him the name of the movie.
“I will come with you. I wanted to see it too,” said Maavagaru. They had no choice but let him into
the car.
A few minutes prior to starting the show, Sundaramma pulled Janaki to a side. “Janakamma! I am
like a sister to you. Let me ask you this. Be frank with me. Are you interested in marrying
Veerraju?” she asked her.
Janaki could not utter a sound.
“Tell me. It’s all right. I have heard about last night’s wedding party. …Listen girl! They all get
crazy ideas as long as you are alone. Listen to me and marry Veerraju, that is, if you like him,”
she added.
“Did he tell you too to ask me?” Janaki asked, looking down.
“What? Did he propose to you? What did you tell him? No? …Ahh, What a stupid thing to do. …
So, that is the reason he is leaving town. ..Be straight with me, Janaki, quick. We are running out
of time,” Sundaramma said hurriedly.
“Yes, sister,” Janaki said, dabbing her tears with her sari end.
“People will laugh if you cry here. Don’t cry. Let’s go back to home right now,” she reassured
Janaki, went into the movie theater and explained the situation to Chakravarti.
He stepped out and said to Janaki, “Good for you. Veerraju is a good man. You will be happy.”
Within a few minutes, they all changed their minds about the movie and got back in to the car.
Since Maavagaru came only for Janaki’s sake, he had no problem leaving. For Narasamma,
Sundaramma’s word was vedic command. How could aunty stay back and watch the movie
alone? Thus, they all had agreed to return home.
“Janaki is going to marry Veerraju,” Sundaramma blurted out; she could not help herself.
Then followed words conveying several emotions like surprise, pleasure, anger, etc. all at the
same time.
Maavagaru did not like it. Nor did aunty relish it. The thought that the upstairs room will not be
available to her crushed her spirits.
All the thoughts together in that crowded car started emanating in their exhale and thereby
created a strange mix of emotions. The car was moving forward in the heavy rain in a desperate
attempt to catch Veerraju before he got to the train station.
Chakravarti, still new to driving, hit the breaks to make a turn but did not shift the clutch in time.
As a result, the engine stalled. “Push the car,” Chakravarti said.
Who would push it? There were four women and two men in the car. It was pouring outside, and
the winds were gusty. Sprinkles were pouring straight into the car.
Maavagaru said, “I am feeling weak and also running a little temperature. I can’t move a muscle.”
He did not want the car to move and reach home while Veerraju was still there.
None of the others spoke. Huge, expensive cars were gliding by smoothly like swans on the wet
black top roads. All the adults in Sundaramma’s car slipped into a reverie. Sweet thoughts seized
them.
Maavagaru was dead set against the car’s movement. After Veerraju left, it would be easy to
convince Janaki to marry Ramarao. If Janaki agrees to his plan, then he can marry Ramarao’s
sister and have a home of his own. His heart screams, that is how it should happen.
Janaki was entertaining a different scenario in her mind. Every particle, each drop of blood in her
body was longing for the car to move. If she marries Veerraju, she would have a good life. With
that thought her desire was escalating. At the same time, a fear that it might not happen was also
growing in her mind.
Sundaramma was anxious to reach home quickly and earn the credit for making a new life for the
prospective couple. Then she could sell her car to them. The vehicle would still be in front of her
eyes. It’s all right if she could not own a car herself.
Chakravarti was anxious to get rid of the car before his wife came up with another deviant idea.
If the car starts and reaches home before Veerraju left, the marriage is certain to happen. Then
aunty will not get the upstairs room for renting. The couple will stay in the same place. Her desire
will not be fulfilled. For that reason, aunty was begging the Almighty Lord every which way to stall
the car.
Narasamma’s silk sari was getting ruined by the raindrops. She was praying the Almighty Lord to
start the car and bring them home soon.
Suddenly, a lightning struck. A thought flashed in Chakravarti’s brain. He let go of the breaks.
Strong winds blew with all their might.
The car, carrying the crowd, beset with strong desires, moved forward like the Janata Express.
(Telugu original entitled “Janatha Express” was published in the 1950s and later was included in
an anthology entitled, “Janata Express: Mullapudi Venkataramana kathalu,” published by
Navodaya Publications, Vijayawada, 1959. Reprint 1967)
(Telugu original entitled Janatha Express was published in the 1950s and later was included in
an anthology entitled, Janata Express: Mullapudi Venkataramana kathalu, published by
Navodaya Publications, Vijayawada, 1959. Reprint 1967)