FUTILE LIFE
By
Kodavatiganti Kutumba Rao
Translated by Sharada
Twenty-five years ago
Markandeyulu and I studied together. I knew him very well since then. He is
intelligent and a good person at heart. In fact, he has nearly everything one
needs in life. But he seems to lack something necessary for living happily. All
his childhood, everyone gave him the same advice, “why don’t you mind your own
business?”. That was one thing he never learnt.
Don’t think he
interfered in everyone’s affairs always! He was really not interested in
others’ lives and affairs. He only put his head on roll when he felt there was
some injustice going on.
When we were both in
seventh class in our village school, our school head-master’s son, Nageswaram
was in the same class with us. All the teachers gave him marks generously since
he was the head master’s son. Telugu teacher lovingly gave him the first mark
in the whole class! But the fact was that Srirammurthy was the cleverest boy in
the whole class who deserved to be the first in class. (He is now a lecturer in
a college!). He and Nageswaram were quite friendly. Once however in the
half-yearly tests Nageswaram stood first in Telugu while Srirammurthy scored
lower. Srirammurthy was very offended at this. He took Nageswaram’s answer book
and compared with his own. There was no comparison between the two! He showed
both the answer books to everyone among the friends and we all sympathized with
him and left it at that. But Markandeyulu went to the head master with both the
papers and complained “Just because Nageswaram is your son, Telugu teacher gave
him the first mark while there was someone else who deserved it.” The head
master did not bother to see the answer books and instead gave a sound
thrashing to Markandeyulu with a warning “don’t interfere in the affairs that
are not yours!”
The other outcome of
this incident was that Nageswaram and Srirammurthy continued to be good friends
and jointly avoided Markandeyulu!
****
What I don’t
understand is Markandeyulu’s utter abhorrence to injustice. He must have
inherited that attitude from either of his parents. As far as I know, people
remain happy and peaceful if they ignore the injustice that goes on around
them.
There is no proof
required to say that he did not prosper in life. What is more difficult to know
is whether he was happy! I never saw him regret his attitude or his scuffles
with people. So, perhaps even if he was not happy and comfortable, he must have
been ignorant of that fact.
All through his
student life he clashed with fellow students and teachers. One of the
principals gave him a transfer certificate and threw him out of the college.
His fight for justice
troubled him in several ways. All the people around him not only avoided him,
they poked fun at him. If he ever felt the mistake was his, he always
apologized sincerely. Just as he could not stand others’ follies, he was
equally scrupulous with his own behavior. This also made him the butt of many
jokes.
Markandeyulu was not
from a rich family, so he had to look for a job as soon as he got out of the
college. In profession and work place too he had the same problem. He could not
stick to any job for a long time. Slowly over the time he also started fighting
for peoples’ rights. He understood the close, subtle relationship between
justice and rights and as a result he was always clashing with different people
for his rights and those of others.
***
Markandeyulu got
married, eventually. His wife came to live with him as soon as he was out of
college. His parents-in-law were not extremely rich but were certainly better
placed than him financially. They helped him often as he moved from one job to
another, His wife’s uncle worked as a sub-inspector in the police. He one day
asked Markandeyulu to attend selection process for the post of sub-inspector in
the police force. Markandeyulu critised the entire British raj and the police
and finally concluded that he wouldn’t attend the selection process.
“My uncle works for
the police. What do you mean by such criticism? What would he think of you?”
his wife protested.
“What would he think,
indeed? Why, he would think that I hate the police. What else?” replied
Markandeyulu naively.
“How can you insult
the elderly man who is only trying to help us?”
“”When did I insult
him? Do I have to praise the police to show my respect for him?”
“Oh no! You should
show your respect to him by critising his job, I guess.”
“Please don’t think
that you are the only sensible person in this world. I would not have spoken
about the police if he had not advised me to join the force. I believe that
police force today is very inhuman. He wouldn’t be working there if he had the
same belief. I am just trying to tell him something, which he didn’t seem to
know. Why does he have to do such a mean job and expect everybody to appreciate
him?”
“He did not boast
about his job!”
“Then why did he ask
me to get into the police force?”
“What is your problem?
You could have just refused without argument..”
“Then he would ask me
for my reasons.”
“You could have just said
that you do not like it.”
“Then what if he asks
me why I hate the police?”
“He wouldn’t ask like
that.”
“He would, if he were
a real wellwisher. ”
“Oh come on! Why
should he care about your opinions?”
“I thought he did care
and so he was thinking about my job. It looks like he just wanted to get a good
name among the relatives. In that case, it doesn’t matter even if I have hurt
him.”
“You will argue to any
extent just to prove that what you’ve done is right!”
“Perhaps you would be
happy if I meekly agreed with you, without any discussion! Tell me, do I never
own up if I ever did a mistake?”
During such endless
arguments, his wife would stop the discussion out of sheer frustration.
***
It is very difficult
to gauge Markandeyulu’s love for his wife. Certainly, he is not somebody
incapable of love. The issue is how far his wife loved him! Indeed, only really
loving can be loved. But it is rather difficult to love a person who seems to
love abstract principles. Hence the very great artists and people who love
principles go about without being loved. There would be nothing surprising if
his wife could not love him. It seems he never even felt that she understood
him completely, leave alone loving him. The lack of children only widened the
emotional gulf between them.
The five and odd years
of the war (1939-1945) were really difficult for Markandeyulu. His
parents-in-law’s family, however seemed to prosper during this time. His
brother-in-law earned heaps of money with their uncle’s help.
Six months after the
war Markandeyulu was his usual jobless self. In the past six years he managed
to save one hundred rupees, which disappeared quite fast.
One fine day his
eldest brother-in-law came to his home and discussed about their future.
“Why do you struggle
with these jobs? Come to our home. Help us with our business. You will be well
off. Of course, Swamiji is there to enlighten our minds. He is so detached from
the world. He never visits anyone’s home. But he comes to our home at least
once in ten days.”
Markandeyulu never had
a chance to meet this particular Swamiji but he heard a lot about him.
A few years ago on the
Krishna-Ashtam[1]i
this Swamiji proclaimed himself to be the Lord Krishna and indulged in the “Rasa leela”. As the devotees were deeply
intoxicated with devotional singing, he insisted that all the ladies present
disrobe themselves like the cowherdesses.
Luckily few people had their sense about them and they managed to politely
drive him out of the village. Being a Swamiji, he escaped a thrashing from the
villagers.
“I believe neither in
black marketeering nor in Swamiji. Just leave me alone to live my life my
way””, he replied to his brother-in-law curtly. He refused to look at his wife
during this conversation. Instinctively he could feel the horrified look on her
face.
“Oh, yeah! We know how
principled and straightforward you are. Unfortunately you are not alone in your
life. My sister happens to be tied to it. I guess you don’t remember that.”
“In our wretched
society a woman cannot do anything other than mutely taking part in her
husband’s life,” he replied philosophically.
“Exactly! And you are
taking advantage of that without doing your duty towards her!.”
“So you want me to
discharge my duties by involving in black marketing and cheating!”
“You are calling it as
black marketing, but.”
“What would you say
about your business?”
“What I would say is
why should my sister who can lead a relaxed life at my home should suffer in
your home? Your pig headed ness is going to ruin her!”
“You seem to be thinking
that I am wallowing in poverty just for the sole pleasure of starving your
sister! She is free to go away from here on the day she feels her life as
unbearable. I might have not given her physical comforts but I never denied her
personal space and rights.”
“That day too is not
very far off!” grumbled his brother-in-law
***
Within a week after
the Mahatma’s assassination, Markandeyulu and his wife moved to her parents’
home. A fortnight earlier he had lost another job. Being in that depressed
state, he did not protest about moving to their home.
Swamiji also seemed to
be living at his parents-in-law’s home. The house was a like a thoroughfare
with people coming in to see the Swamiji. Most of the devotees were well
employed, well educated and rich. The entire show with Swamiji, his discourses,
and the devotees turned Markandeyulu’s stomach. He felt the entire atmosphere
revolting. He found the Swamiji’s discourses absurd and ridiculous.
Swamiji would speak
only on few issues, and for any length of time. One of them was his super
natural power! He said he could reduce anyone to ashes, if he wished to. He
declared in front of all the Government officials that it was indeed he who
decided that the Mahatma should be assassinated. The other issue he loved to
talk about was about the heaps of gold he made with his occult powers. He
declared that since he had no need for the gold, anyone who wanted it was most
welcome to take it. Strangely, he never seemed to tell where exactly the heaps
of gold were and no one ever seemed to ask about them.
But his most favorite
topic was women. He could speak untiringly about women, childbirth,
breast-feeding and their menstrual periods!
He seemed to think of
himself as omni potent who could get the devotees jobs, promotions, money and
difficulties if the devotees proved to be less faithful!
First time when
Markandeyulu heard Swamiji’s discourse, he wondered if Swamiji though all the
people around him are fools! After an hour the doubt disappeared. Indeed, all
the people listening to the Swamiji, and believing it without a question were
fools, he decided. Whatever Swamiji would blabber, they would receive it,
believe it.
“How can people be so
ignorant? What happens to their thinking faculties?” He wondered.
After a few sessions
he got the answers to his questions. People who go to Swamiji are not going as
seekers of knowledge or truth. They have taken leave of their senses and they
go for the very worldly possessions of prosperity, fame, etc. Their
intellectual faculties are slaves of Swamiji and so they cannot question,
criticize or rebel against Swamiji’s commands. Swamiji was a clever man who
realized that society has been crumbling, man’s social conscience is decaying
and individual selfishness is all set to rule the world. The monk seemed to
have understood the reality better than any politician. He has them all in his
grip now.
“I am going home.
Would you like to go with me?” Markandeyulu asked his wife.
“But we arrived here
only today morning. Why leave so early?”
“We can take the night
train. If you don’t go with me, I shall leave alone.”
“Tell my brothers
about it.”
He did so, adding his
opinion of the Swamiji.
“Why don’t you take
Swamiji’s permission before leaving?” his brother-in-law suggested.
“How can you believe in
such trash?”
“Of course I believe
in Swamiji! I have seen his divine powers with my eyes.”
“I don’t need his
permission. He is not my guardian.” He replied vehemently.
“He is the guardian of
the God Himself! I shall ask his permission for you, if you don’t,” the
brother-in-law said and left to ask Swamiji on his behalf.
“Your sister doesn’t
have my permission to leave. Soulless bodies may leave if they want to,”
replied Swamiji gravely.
“Ï am leaving. What
about you? Markandeyulu asked his wife.
“Oh no! I am scared”
she replied. Markandeyulu left by train the same evening. On the way to the
station he was pelted with stones, which missed him. He was amused to see that
Swamiji had enough power to throw stones at him, but lacked the power to make
the stones hit the mark!
***
Markandeyulu’s wife
stayed at her parents’home after that. A year ago she delivered a child. His
brother-in-law says Markandeyulu came to their home ten months earlier and
stayed for a night. He demanded for some money, which Swamiji has given him
kindly. Swamiji seemed to have given lot of jewelry to Markandeyulu’s wife.
On the day he came to
know about the delivery Markandeyulu came to my home. He told me about all the
events in his life, in detail. He borrowed some money and left the next day
morning without telling me his destination. Nobody knows where he is now. He
did not drop a letter to me. I have no hopes about him. I consider his life as
a closed chapter.
“Why does life end up
like this?” his question echoes in my ears as long as I live. I wonder if he
was thinking about himself when he asked that question.
***
(Translator’s note: This
story titled Vyartha
Jeevitam appeared in Andhra Jyothi
in May 1950.
What is amazing about this
story is it seems to be pertinent even today. Even today we see courageous
people who struggle to live their lives according to what they believe is
justice while others around them and the life itself are doing their best to
pull them down.
Thanks to Sri Rohini Prasad
gAru, on behalf of the author, for his kind consent to translate this story
from Telugu and publish on Thulika.
-Sharada)
