STEPPING TO THE FAR-AWAY MUSIC
By R. Vasundhara Devi
(“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the
music he hears, however measured or far away. -- DAVID HENRY THOREAU)
***
It was recognized all-round that Kalindi’s husband Vijayarama Rao was not a practical man, but
nobody said it in so many words. Everyone seemed to respect him. When he spoke about worldly
affairs, they listened attentively.
But Kalindi felt a vague unease. It took some time for her to understand that there was a problem.
People were mainly interested in material success, but Vijayarama Rao was happy discussing
abstract values and philosophies in life and had not much to say about moving up in the world!
That wealth was the measure of a man’s worth was an issue that frequently came up for discussion
when Kalindi visited her parent’s home. But Kalindi could not understand the full implications of it.
She was content with her own understanding of life. “They don’t know!” she used to think with a
superior air.
Since her father’s death, Kalindi’s mother, Kanthamma, lived alone in the village. Like Kalindi, her
brother and sister had married and left home. On occasions when she visited her mother, they
talked about many things casually.
Kanthamma sat on the floor with a winnow, cleaning rice, while Kalindi relaxed on the bed, with a
book in hand.
Suddenly she put her book down and said, “I wrote three letters to him. He never cared to reply!
He sends a greeting card on new-year’s day but he never writes. He has grown lazy!’’
Her mother didn’t reply. Kalindi was irritated.
“What is with Raji?” she said, ”She never writes either! When I press her, she says that she talks to
him on the phone whenever she feels like it. She tells me to get a phone in my home. She thinks
writing letters is boring! See how they have changed...To think that we are all children of this
family!”
Kanthamma was silent for a while. Then she felt impelled to respond to enlighten Kalindi.
She said in a gentle voice but in her usual blunt way, ``maybe they are a little indifferent because
you are not well-to-do!’’
She was being frank. After a pause she continued, ``that is my worry too…if only your son had
some luck! Habits and attitudes go with affluence and you can’t blame them!’’
Kalindi didn’t quite grasp what her mother had said. It was a shock, which she slowly absorbed.
She suppressed her emotions within herself and was silent.
Memories crowded her mind. As an elder sister, she had narrated stories to them, taught them
lessons and cleared their doubts. Childhood memories of caring intimacy and togetherness alone
remained with her…Maybe she had not followed the changes in their attitudes with the passage of
time. Even now, she could not convince herself that the `I`, the focal point of human emotions, paid
court to riches. But now, the attitudes of her own siblings challenged her. The uncertain future of
her son, Sasi Babu, questioned her assurance.
When Kalindi was taking leave of her mother for her return journey, Kanthamma gave her two
hundred rupees to buy a sari as she usually did. At the sight of the money Kalindi felt irritated and
wanted to refuse it. Her mother seemed to insult her by offering that money. She didn’t need it, she
told herself with disgust. But she controlled herself and quietly put the money in her purse. It was
mother’s habit to give money to her daughters in lieu of the customary gift of a saree every time one
of them visited her. By rejecting the money this time, she would only expose her pique!
She had learnt a bitter truth and returned home with a heavy heart.
***
Returning home from school, Vijayarama Rao announced to Kalindi that Shyamal Rao and Rajayya
would be arriving at six p.m. They were his old college-mates. They had hailed from a village near
Guntur and had rented a room in the town near Vijayarama Rao’s house. The three of them had
always been together back in their college days. Vijayarama Rao and Shyamal Rao were bright in
studies, while Rajayya was just average. Rajayya admired Rama Rao and used to constantly be
around him. After college, Rajayya entered politics and became an M.L.A. and was considered a
successful man. Shyamal Rao started as a salesman of automobile spare parts and he too went up
the ladder of success. Both of them had purchased land together on the town outskirts and had laid
out house sites, amassing jointly a crore of rupees. Vijayarama Rao, working as a teacher in his old
high school, earned a good name and was now the head master of the school. With his salary, he
was able to make both ends meet and lived a simple, happy life. Even now, whenever Rajayya
visited his constituency, the three of them invariably met in Vijayarama Rao’s home.
Kalindi thought these visits were pointless as the three of them had very different attitudes to life
and as their lives had taken different directions. Now she started on a sarcastic remark but desisted
and said instead, ``this is our Sasi’s last chance for taking service commission exams, considering
age-bar. For people like us, a government job is the only straightforward way to make a decent
living these days. A first class M.Com., he should have found a good, well-paid job long time ago,
if there had been fair play. You should mention this to your friend Rajayya and get something done
about it. Otherwise what is the meaning of this friendship?”
“Well, let us see!’’ said her husband.
That gave Kalindi some hope. She started making preparations to offer them coffee even though he
didn’t ask her to. Sometime ago, he had asked her to serve coffee to a visitor, and she had replied:
“I have the responsibility to provide a wholesome diet to this family from the meager allowance I
get from you. I find it hard enough. How can we keep up extra formalities and proprieties when our
income is so limited?’’ He became thoughtful and said, “Perhaps you don’t have milk?” Of course
she had milk! A middle-class housewife is so resourceful and discreet she can supply coffee to
visitors today and make the next day’s buttermilk thinner with water. Or she can say, “I don’t feel
like drinking coffee today and I don’t need buttermilk tomorrow because I am in for a bad cold!”
Or she can tell her youngest son, “You have been so good today! I will give you your favorite tea
instead of milk!” She always could manage, but that day, she had been in a carping mood when she
had said it. Since then he had not asked her to serve coffee or snacks to visitors…
When the three friends assembled, many topics came up for discussion.
“A man is born. He dies. He is forgotten, if that is all there is to it, why live? Is life utterly
meaningless? These days I am afraid to find myself alone. Thoughts like these trouble me,” said
Rajayya morosely.
“You are only fifty, and it is too early for such resignation. When you reach seventy, you may
consider that aspect. For now, you should concentrate on becoming a cabinet minister so you may
serve the community better!” said Shyamal Rao, trying to cheer him up.
During the recent apportionments of ministerial posts, Rajayya’s name had figured prominently
twice in the newspapers, but he hadn’t made it. Instead he was doled out a corporation
chairmanship. He was affronted by this disdain shown by those in power but was quietly biding his
time.
Now Rajayya perked up and said, “The first fundamental requisite for democracy is equality of
opportunity. It should be open to all men in a proper setup. When it is not so, the great ideal of
democracy degenerates into organized self-aggrandizement. Any position of power—a mere clerk
or officer or a cabinet minister--becomes a means to promote oneself, one’s family and one’s
caste. The higher the position, the greater is the harm to society. Therefore those in the highest
posts should not be allowed to be stay put. No minister should stay in office for more than five
years!” Rajayya spoke with vehemence.
The speciousness of the argument amused Vijayarama Rao. Rajayya had started with the roots of
democracy and ended up with an implied claim for his ministership! He noticed that Rajayya was
fast molding himself into an accomplished politician. Earlier, he could never have spoken with such
a gloss!
“Look here, a lecture like this is for the masses. Now you have to think about what to do to
improve the situation. My view is this: there is The Blessed Lord, the all-giver. If He wills,
everything becomes possible. If you really desire a minister’s berth, make your request with a
promise of a substantial offering to the Lord and go for it!” That was from Shyamal Rao, the
practical, no-nonsense man.
“If the Lord grants all that you ask for, he is the blessed all-giver! If he doesn’t, then he is not?”
said Vijayarama Rao with a smile.
“Well, if one’s desire is fulfilled, it is a blessing. Is it not?” said Shyamal Rao with irritation.
“You appeal to God, collect all the good things and call him the blessed all-giver. Those who miss
on the good things, what should they call him?” countered Vijayarama Rao. “God is the cause of all
happenings, wished for or not. So blessedness can only be found in understanding Him as the giver
of all experiences - not just boons. Asking for boons is a kind of relationship with him certainly, but
understanding Him as the universal supreme Blessedness is a different matter altogether,” he
explained.
In the next room Kalindi was listening to this discussion with impatience. She had been waiting for
her husband to mention their son, but he hadn’t. He went on talking philosophy! She despaired and
grew angry.
Shyamal Rao said impatiently, “Rajayya has no children, no bothers. Philosophic speculations
overwhelm you, Vijayarama Rao, and you don’t bother about worldly matters. My mind is filled
with worries–how to secure a college seat for my boy, how to put him in the way of earning, how
to get my son-in-law promoted in his job …I will have peace of mind only if Rajayya gets his
ministership by the time my son graduates!”
“It’s true I have no children. But I have my brother’s family to look after. Even a yogi who has
renounced the world has the welfare of the world at heart. My nephew, Shekhar, has finally gotten
through his B. Com. He wants to join the commercial taxes department or become a bank officer!
He is not interested in other common jobs. I have to see what can be done for him!” said Rajayya.
“Ah, Shekhar! He is a genius, smarter than Gautama Buddha! Did he not suggest, when he was a
little boy, that Gautama should have stayed in his palace and still gotten his enlightenment by going
occasionally into the forest in his golden chariot? He is a very shrewd fellow, no doubt about it!
You take up his case this year, but you must help my boy next year!” said Shyamal Rao, clinching
the issue with a flourish of his hand.
Kalindi stopped listening. Her eyes turned on the wall opposite where a fat gecko waited, calmly
meditating, with its whole concentration on a moving, little fly. The unwary insect flitted about
singing, flapping its diaphanous wings, unaware of danger. Suddenly the gecko made a dart across
the wall, grabbed the insect between its jaws and resumed its contemplation. The insect’s flutter
stopped. The lizard moved its jaws three times earnestly, tenderly, and solemnly. There was no
insect any more. The lizard moved away to resume its meditation elsewhere…
When the outcome of the recruitment was finally announced after an inordinate delay, Sasi came
home silent and crestfallen. He failed to get a selection. Rajayya’s nephew got his lucrative
commercial taxes job.
Kalindi stared out of the window with a vacant gaze--the men on the street in front of her, the trees
and plants in her front yard, and their unmoving leaves–all frozen into a picture that she did not take
in or perceive.
When Vijayarama Rao returned from school in the evening, Kalindi said sneering, “On that day you
took a lot of trouble to explain to your friends about God’s blessings. Please explain that to me
now, I will be enlightened. Has it anything to do with fair play and justice?”
Vijayarama Rao in a tone of mild admonition said, `` Look here, Kalindi, disappointment and
sorrow are private and personal. They could become gifts and enable the mind to explore its own
depths and gain clarity. But a mind fixated on the `fruit of action` gets tossed about. Hope and
despair, success and failure, ups and downs—these dualities become demons gnawing on it. It’s
not free to laugh. It is a long time since you have laughed, do you realize that? If there were an
inevitable link between worldly success and laughter, most people in our country would never dare
even to breathe, let alone laugh! But the wonderful thing is, the capacity to laugh still exists with the
lowly—the failures in life, according to you!
”You ask me to explain “blessedness”. God or truth can be felt by man; but not understood by
mind through words. Because word is only a symbol for some idea or thing and it is for the mind to
grasp its import. It understands only through contrast. It defines Blessedness as non-unhappiness,
non-frustration and non-sin; it defines purity as non-pollution; even the word ‘I’ is defined as ‘not
the rest of the world’.
I am `I` because I have my own individual presence! I do what comes naturally for me and move
on. About Sasi, I am not worried. I am sure he will find some good way to live in comfort. You
may think that I am not doing my duty properly as a father. But only if you stop thinking that way
you will be able to understand what I am saying.”
“He thinks his responsibility is over!” she thought unhappily. There were several sharp retorts she
could make in reply, but somewhere deep inside she seemed to appreciate what he had said and
was troubled. What good are this inner order, this good faith, and this moral certainty in practical
affairs? He doesn’t understand! Could it get her son a job according to his merit? Nirmala could
hear her mother admonish: You can’t blame them! That is the way of the world! I hope your
son has some luck! Luck!
“There is a whole practical world out there! It will never show any respect for people like us!” she
shot back bitterly.
“A person’s life is his very own. His actions proceed from his own sanctions. If the world can come
to understand and approve his ways, well and good!” Vijayarama Rao’s response was immediate.
She knew him. She knew his way of thinking. She knew well enough that that was the only answer
he could give! Her problem and its solution were no part of this reply but the words coming from
his mind were clear and firm. The power in them touched her.
Vijayarama Rao looked at her unhappily. ”I know you are not happy with my way of thinking and
this quiet way of life. You are not happy.” His tone was now uncertain. “I don’t know how to be
different. Times might change, I hope, for a more forthright social Order!” He stopped and looked
away.
Listening to his halting, hesitant words, Kalindi felt a tender affection flooding her. What is he
apologizing for? Of-course he is right, she thought, as a warm, protective impulse seized her.
She became aware of something she had lost sight of—a connection that superceded the
dichotomy in thought, that something universal and at the same time intense and personal, a
sweetness, a trust, an affirmation, a far-away music…
With this connection restored, the heavy burden that had been weighing on her now lightened.
Culture and its mores are changing things. I don’t have to be enmeshed in an uncritical
scramble unless I choose to. And I would hate myself if I did! Realization of this simple truth
came as a surprise and a relief for her.
Kalindi sighed and smiled self-consciously. “Of-course, Sasi will find some proper way to make a
living! We know how to live modestly…we will get by…” Her words were gentle. “You are a
teacher with a simple answer for every problem!” She concluded, laughing.
The world outside the window had come alive. Kalindi saw some men bustling along, talking and
laughing. She could hear the burr of an auto-rickshaw and the tring-tringing of a hurrying cyclist.
Inside the compound, a group of sparrows busily twittered, picking on the ground. She absorbed
the yellow merriment radiating from the small patch of chrysanthemums. She fondly observed the
jasmine creeper confidently hugging the trellis, the white laughter of its maiden flowers peeping
through its greenery. By the compound wall, two coconut palms stood proudly erect… Kalindi
took this blessedness in and hastened to the kitchen to start on her evening routine.
* * *
(The Telugu original, KALYANA MURTI translated by the author, published in the Deepavali
special issue, JAGRITI, 1983.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I knew some people in India--just normal people--who lived and felt the
way Vijaya Rama Rao felt about life and the right way to live.
Maitri, a sharp New Yorker, born 1986, had this comment to make about the content of this story: “The husband, when he
is explaining to the wife his outlook on life, he seems to be more preaching than explaining to someone who is on the same
intellectual level as he is. The reader sympathizes with the wife, and the reader wouldn’t want the wife to be condescended
to. Maybe it’s just me being slightly feministic—but I don’t really like the concept of the husband “teaching” the wife the
way to live her life.”
Back then perceptions were different. Generally, Women were mostly homemakers and were raised to accept man as more
worldly-wise and men called it “joint decision making” [Socratic style?] --Vasundhara Devi.)