CHOICES
ChaSo (Chaganti Somayajulu)
[Telugu Original, “Empu” published probably in 1940s or 1950s. The current version for the purpose of
translation is taken from an anthology, CaSo Kathlau, 1968]
Translated by Nidadavolu Malathi
[A telling story about the fundamentals of economics the beggars community lives by; a quick look into a
day in their lives, and the choices they make. The names, Kunti (Cripple) and Guddi (Blind) are used as
personal names. ]
Today is a great day for Kunti . He got a bagful of rice; that is almost two pounds of rice. For him, it is a
special holiday; the bag, filled with two pounds of rice, is hanging heavily, and rubbing against his thigh.
His face glowed with content. He need not worry about food for the next ten days.
Kunti went to the mango grove on the outskirts, hopping on crippled legs. He gathered a few dried sticks
for the stove; he has also three mangoes, stolen earlier. He returned to the shelter , and improvised a
stove with three stones. He pulled out the clay pot from his bag, and started cooking.
The red flames surged, enveloping the pot. His body, cold and coiled until now, started unwinding. He lit
up his tobacco roll; the tobacco smoke was filling his heart. He felt the heavy rice bag against his thighs,
to his heart’s content. The rice on the stove started simmering.
“Erri!” he yelled. Erri and her dad, a leper, made their home at the other end of the patio. Erri heard
Kunti, and came to him.
“Get your soup dish, please?”
“What kind of soup? Ho, ho!” said Erri. Her face lit up.
“What kind? Mango and nelli leaf.”
Erri noticed the heavy rice bag sitting nicely by his side. Erri’s head filled with hope.
“Seem like you made a bundle today. Must have seen somebody’s lucky face this morning!” she
commented.
“Somebody lit up the campfire early in the morning. The first thing I saw was your bright face in the light,”
he replied.
“Couldn’t you think of something better?,” she said teasing him, “Not even on the day you could? Stupid
nelli leaf. Get some fish, at least. I would have bought meat, you know.”
“Oh, no. The entire bag of rice would be gone in no time. I am hoping the heap would get me through for
a couple of weeks.”
“Why? Won’t you go begging, tomorrow again? How big a stomach, you have anyways? Three fistfuls are
plenty. Come on, get some fish,” she said.
Erri summed up the fundamental philosophy of the economics of the beggars community. All a beggar
needs is three fistfuls of rice to get by the day, and he or she will get that much, if a couple women were
kindly disposed. That thought gives a lot of strength to the begging community. Kunti got up, and went to
the old woman’s store, hopping on his crippled legs. The old woman sells groceries, vegetables, and
firewood to the beggars.
The old woman gave him some dried fish, and other spices for the soup, in exchange for a cup of rice.
Erri brought her soup dish.
“Hey, can I ask you a something?” she said.
“I know what you are going to ask,” he said.
“What?”
“Rice!”
“Dad is sick. He couldn’t go out for three days now.”
“No. I will not.”
“I am not asking for free. Let me borrow today. Next time you are short, you can take from us.”
“No. I will not.”
“Hey, come on.”
“You go and ask that horse cart driver. You like him.”
“You idiot, the horse cart driver left me.”
“Go away. He lets you sit on his cart, and waves his whip with tussles; you like that. Go to him.”
“He got married.”
“Then, go to that bum. I am no good; you think even the bum is better than I; and, you ask me for rice?”
“Do you know what the bum did? One day, at midnight he got drunk, and came on to me. ‘What would
you say?” he asked me. ‘Give me a rupee,” I said. ‘Do I look like I have a rupee on me?’ he said. Then, I
told him to go and drink more. He looked around, sneaking, like he was being careful, and pulled out a
rupee. The bums are crooks, you know. They have a lot of money. You tell me, what did you give me?”
“What do I have to give you?”
“Whatever you have...”
“If I have…”
“What are going to do with all that rice?”
“Okay, take it. I am telling you, you must keep your word, though.”
That night Kunti begged Erri in any number of ways; he wants to marry her desperately. He promised her
that he would move in with them, and stay with them, if she married him, and cooked for him. Erri was
moved.
The next day, Erri and Kunti cooked their meals, together, and sat down to eat. Erri cooked fish soup
again. All the other beggars in the shelter relished the fine aroma from her soup. The old man, who was
lying down with fever, woke up.
“Who is he?” he asked Erri.
“Right from here, you know Kunti,” she replied.
“Why is he here?”
“We did the cooking together.”
“Together?”
“Yes, maamah . We are together,” Kunti replied.
The old man looked at him, gruffly. “You dirty rogue, get out of my sight,” he said.
“Why are you mad? I am not all that bad, you know,” Kunti said.
“I know alright. Get out of my face, you low life.”
Kunti was ruffled. “I am low life? I am a Kapu boy. You don’t know. Ha! You are talking like your girl is a
royalty. She slept with the horse cart driver. That horse cart driver is a Mala boy,” Kunti yelled, angrily.
The old man got up and kicked the soup bowl. It turned into a big brawl. The other beggars intervened
and calmed them down. Kunti left, hopping.
“Couldn’t you find a better guy than that idiot? I am going to find a man, the right one for you,” the old
man guffawed, and left.
Kunti came back. “Did you hear what your dad said?” he asked her.
“What can I do?” Erri said, weakly.
“You got to do what you got to do.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Come with me.”
“To where?”
“What do you mean to where? Anywhere, all the way up to Rameswaram , the country has no bounds.”
“What about the old man?”
“He is not your problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let him take care of himself.”
“God, you scoundrel! You want me to leave the sick man, and fool around with you?”
“Only, if you like.”
“Go, go away,” she screamed.
Kunti curled up in a corner, like a caterpillar, covered himself with a gunnysack, and lied down.
Erri poured the soup in a bowl, and took it with a couple of peppers as a side dish, to Kunti and woke him
up.
“Here, you had better eat the food, before my dad comes back. I can’t take his hollering.”
“Go away, I don’t want your food,” Kunti said. He did not get up; Erri kept pleading, but he would not
listen.
The old man returned, with Guddi . “Erri,” he called out.
“Cook for three today. Guddi is here, remember him?”
Erri knows him. They went to Srikurmam , long time ago, with him, on a pilgrimage.
“Hi, Erri, how are you?” Guddi said.
“What can I say? The old man is sick,” Erri replied.
“Well, he is getting old,” Guddi said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yeah, that is true,” Erri, said.
“Erri, from now on, we are three. You cook for all the three of us,” the old man said.
Erri was beside herself. She was aware that the old man brought into this world, and took care of her; he
was suggesting that she should marry the blind man; the old man could not see that Kunti, was a fine
man, and he was crazy about her. It annoyed her that dad was pushing away Kunti!
Erri failed to see her dad’s logic. What is the point? She cannot say ‘no’; she has to go along with dad’s
proposition. He raised her.
At the other end of the patio, Kunti curled up like a rolled up straw mat. He did not eat. It is his rice she
cooked, and the thought was killing her.
“Erri, you are really stupid . I am telling you, you don’t understand, you really are stupid,” the old man
said.
Erri was ready to break down.
“You, come here,” the old man took her to a side, and asked her, “Did you see Guddi, I mean, did you
take a good look at him?”
Of course, she saw him. She has known him for a long time. His body was dark like a boulder; a huge
smack of white paste covering his entire forehead, his eyeballs, popped up like cotton balls, hanging
from his eye sockets-- his looks scared her.
“Yes. I have seen him,” Erri replied, scratching her thighs.
“You are stuck on Kunti,” the old man said, teasingly.
“I am not stuck on anybody,” she replied.
“Come on, the truth. Tell me, really.”
“I don’t know.”
“You want Kunti.”
“Whatever you say…”
“Now, we are talking. That is good; that’s how the world sees it, you know. Listen to me,” the old man said.
Of course, she would listen. What other choices she has? If he says, jump, she has to jump; he says
‘take him’, she has to take him. She is not free to say ‘no’, even when her heart is set elsewhere. She has
no strength to rebel; it is not in her nature. Where is he getting his strength from? An old man, rotting
with leprosy and ready to die, is powerful enough, to dictate terms to her. The parents who raise children
will earn that power over their children. The children evince that kind of respect toward their parents.
“Did I say ‘no’?” Erri said.
“You tell me the difference between the two men,” he asked her.
“Kunti is a hunk; and Guddi looks scary.”
“Don’t I look scary, with my all sores? How come you are not scared of me? You have no problem feeding
me?”
“You are my dad!”
“I am okay ‘cause I am your dad; well, you can be okay with him too ‘cause he is your husband. You start
living with him, and he turns out to be okay, too. Kunti is no good for you.”
“Why not?”
“How?”
“Can’t he get three fistfuls of rice a day?”
“That is exactly my point. Listen to me,” the old man said, and delivered a long sermon, encapsulating
the entire philosphy of the panhandlers community in that brief speech:
I don’t want you to blame me, later, and say, I did not take care of you, while I was alive. You will not be
happy, if you go with Kunti. Listen carefully, and mark my words now. Check them again, after a decade
or so. When a crippled man goes to beg, people shut the door in his face. Nobody is kind toward a
cripple. He would be living off you. He would sell you to other men.
The blind man is a charmer, a prince without eyes. That is the biggest plus in his favor. Everybody would
be kind to him. Any woman would be moved, and would gladly give away some rice to a blind man.
Besides, he is a great singer. He knows so many lyrics. You take him to some street corner, spread a
sheet in front of him, and you wander away as you please. When he starts thumping his cymbals and
singing, I am telling you, he will make a rupee a day, at the least. That is your proof.
You see his body? He is strong, like a shovel, not like me, you know, no sicknesses, no problems, not so
much as a sneeze. He will have no problem earning enough for both of you. He will be counting on you
for help, too, he has to; and lives by your rules. He will not bother you; no matter where you go, what you
do. You can do anything you want, and he couldn’t care less… Do you see what I mean? Wouldn’t you
agree?”
“What can I say?” Erri replied.
“No, listen to me. Don’t let go of him.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Nobody really knows this big secret. All the beggar girls should go looking for blind men, and marry only
blind men, if you ask me.”
“Let’s go.”
Erri and her dad returned to the shelter.
“Hey, Guddi! Erri has agreed. I know she won’t change her mind,” the old man told Guddi jubilantly.
Guddi was ecstatic. For a man like him, to have a woman like Erri is a blessing!
He went to Erri, pulled out the stash he was keeping tied to his waist, and said, “Erri, here is my bag.
Take this money and get yourself anklets.” It was a huge bag, filled with loose change. Erri’s eyes
dazzled to see the hoard of coins. She did not expect Guddi to be that rich.
“I want red beads necklace,” she said. She has been dreaming about a red beads necklace, for a long
time.
“Then, you buy the necklace; and also silver anklets. That is what makes a woman a woman, you know—
her anklets. Anklets add a lot of beauty to a woman,” he said. Probably, the sounds of anklets arouse
sweet thoughts in a blind man!
“Alright. Let’s go, have something to eat,” the old man said.
Erri served food for all the three, and handed Guddi his bowl.
“That is my girl. Feed him, and serve some for me. You two together, make my day. I am telling you, Erri,
don’t let go of the blind man. And, you make me happy as long as I live,” the old man said.