THE MEDIATOR
by Vivina Murthy
Translated by
Nidadavolu Malathi
²²²
My grandfather was a
good man, a great man. I was told that he was good and great; he could make a
tiger and a goat drink from the same beach. My father told me this story
frequently and he would go into raptures as he spoke. He said that I should
also revel in the glory of our ancestors in the same manner.
I thought about it
for a while. The Tiger has four legs. The goat also has four legs. The tiger’s
blood is red and the goat’s blood also is red. The tiger breathes air and so
also the goat. The tiger drinks water. And the goat drinks water too.
As long as I
continued to draw similarities between the two animals, I was mesmerized even
as my father hoped. I was enthralled with the thought that my grandfather and
my family lived by the ideal, peaceful co-existence, which was essential for
the peace and happiness of the entire world.
Then I gained my vision. Goat is food for the tiger and
leaves are goat’s food. People run away at the sight of tiger. But if they see
a goat, they go after her. I started noticing the differences on these lines.
After that, I couldn’t go into raptures for the things my father was rapturous
about. I could not help asking myself how is it a great accomplishment—making
the goat and the tiger drink water at the same beach? How is it possible? At
one auspicious moment, I asked my father, “Nanna garu! Nanna garu! Thatha
garu was a great man, right?”
“Yes.”
“He could make the tiger and the goat drink at the same
beach, yes?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen? And, why is it a great
accomplishment?”
My father laughed. It was not the kind of laugh one would
laugh at the other party’s ignorance. It was more like the laugh one laughs
when one is happy that the other person is willing to learn.
Then he started explaining to me in detail.
Ramudu was a poor man. One day, he went to the king.
“Who’re you?” the king asked him.
“I am Ramudu.”
“Who’re you? You belong to what religion? And what caste?”
“I’m a poor man. I need a basket. I need ropes and such.
Also shovels and tools, and animals.”
“Who’re you? Why do you need all these things?”
“I am a poor farmer called Ramudu. We need all these things
for tilling this vast land, for farming and for feeding our families.”
“Ask Tavitayya, the basket-weaver, for a basket.”
“I did.”
“Ask Brahmayya, the rope-weaver, for ropes.”
“I did that too.”
“What did they say?”
“Oh, Mighty King, the provider for all people! They replied that I must ask you, who shows work for all.”
The king was impressed with the farmer’s humility. He was
pleased to note that people of all vocations would bow to his power.
The
king made a note of the farmer’s needs and told him, “Farmer, farmer, I’ll have
the wells dug, trees planted, wayside lodgings built; I’ll have the roads laid
and castles erected; I’ll protect you from the robbers, kill the cruel animals.
And, you, in return, must pay my share of the harvest. You must pay taxes.”
Ramudu nodded in assent.
Days went by and then several years.
Forests became townships.
Kings turned into stones at heart.
Farmers’ lives became desolate.
“You, farmers, farmers!”
“Yes, Rajah, Rajah!”
“New rulers have arrived. You must pay tariff.”
“Rajah, our grandfathers and their grandfathers told us that
you must have the wells dug, trees planted, roads laid, wayside lodging built;
you must protect us from the robbers and control the cruel animals. That’s what
your grandfathers and their grandfathers did, we were told. You put an end to
that tradition and you built more mansions for yourself, have more queens than
any other king. You are using all these castles and the army to protect
yourself. You are not taking care of people like Tavitayya, Tathayya, Brahmayya
and Gopanna. You are not consulting with farmers like Ramudu. All the taxes
we’ve paid are used up for your luxuries. Under the circumstances, we can not
pay the additional tariff imposed by your white rulers.”
“Oh, farmer, farmer! You are a little man and yet talking
big. Foreign rulers have arrived. They measured the land, laid the boundaries,
counted the birds and the beasts. They have determined the amount of taxes
you’re obliged to pay—they raised the amount, lowered it and then finalized it.
They said you had rented the land from me for the purpose of farming. They came
up with the markers and defined the terminology. You must not tell me what I
should do. You must not defy my order. That being the case, you must pay the
tariff.”
Some people listened to him without argument. A few
listened to him after they were beaten. And a few others listened to him only
after they were beaten black and blue. At the end, they all broke up and
disappeared.
Then, your great-great-grandfather gathered them all,
shouted and yelled at them
He said, “My grandfather’s grandfather stated that naa
vishnuh prthvipathih.[1]
Your grandfathers and great-grandfathers, all of them, had agreed, yes, yes.”
“So we heard.”
“Since the king is Lord Vishnu according to that statement,
the king is obliged to attend to the needs of all his people, take care of
them, and make sure they all are fed.”
“That’s what we thought.”
“Now, for our kings and us, the foreign ruler is an
outsider. He is a ruler of several countries; he is extremely knowledgeable in
several policies. For that very reason, he wishes to share his knowledge and
power tactics with you. The bridges he is building belong to you; the railway
tracks he has got laid down are for your sake; the machines he is bringing are
yours to keep, and the education you are receiving, thanks to him, is yours. He
will show the path for those who behave, and find jobs as well. That’s why you
all must cooperate with him; follow the rules he has laid for you. You must
accept our kings as his representatives. You all must pay all the taxes imposed
by him, dutifully.”
People did not make a sound; they did not assent to his
proposal.
“You people, who’ve been battered and mangled until now,
listen. This king is not a king anymore but your servant,” he said.
The people were elated at the thought that their king has
become a servant.
The other kings were depressed at the notion that a king was called a servant.
Then your great-great-grandfather turned to the group of
kings.
“Kings, oh, kings.”
“Yes?”
“You, who’ve been enjoying luxuries all along, would you
become servants just because somebody said so? You have the power and we have
the brains. As we join the two forces, we’ll win the public applause. The white
rulers are sure to shower us with compliments!”
With that argument, the tiger bowed down and the goat also
bowed down.
“That’s
how your great-great-grandfather mediated and made the tiger and the goat drink
from the same beach.
In this manner, things kept moving smoothly for a while.
One day, a businessman had a dream. He saw the goddess,
Motherland, in his dream. Her bosom was trembling. She beat her chest with her
fists as she spoke, “My babies! My riches!”
“Oh, Mother, what happened?”
“My children have become slaves. A foreigner robs me of my
riches. Whatever happened to your education? What has become of your brains?
Evidently the kings have fallen asleep but whatever about your prudence? Wake
up, save me, my child!”
All the businessmen gathered and whispered to each other.
They all were troubled.
They raised a commotion.
“Our wealth is slipping away, Tavitayya, Tathayya, Gopayya!
They are not allowing us to arrange our own adoptions, not allowing us to farm
our own land, weave our own thread, nor let us eat our own food. They’re not
letting us cherish our own cultural values.”
“Sir, we did not lose our ropes.”
“We did not lose our baskets.”
“No, we did not lose our shovels, tools, nor we lost our
animals. No, no, no.”
“We sustained no loss.”
So saying, people did not listen to the businessmen.
They did not see the deplorable state of affairs the country
is in.
They did not feel the
smell of a dying flame.
Then the native rulers went into deliberations.
“We need a mediator.”
“We need a middleman who could treat them and us
impartially.”
Then they sent for your grandfather.
“Oh, Mediator! Oh, impartial man! Commentator of all vedas!
Get up, Come on, Sir, come.”
“What, Rulers! What do you want me for?”
“We need your compassionate eye.”
“We need your sweet word.”
“What’s it? Rulers, Why do you need such things now?”
“The Goddess Motherland appeared in our dreams. She stood in
front of us with stifled voice. She was upset because the kings were not
focused on her welfare. You need to bring them together with your kind looks
and sweet words. You must scare the white rulers and drive them away from the
country. For that reason, you will have to wake up urgently; you’ve to save
us.”
“I will, New Ruler sir.”
Then your grandfather rubbed on the old makeup on the new ideas; masked the old ideas with new makeup; put on sugary smiles and sansyasi robes; and, walked into the midst of the people. He felt their pulse. The people responded to his presentation.
Before the people picked up sticks and stones, the foreign
rulers sent for the native rulers. “We’ve got a new kind of tigers emerging in
the country now. They are cooking up a scheme against your power and our
businesses. They’re rounding up the people.”
“You’re the rulers of many countries. You have been
protecting our extravagant ways. What’s going to happen to our lifestyle now?”
“We’ll offer a share in our government. We’ll arrange a
competition between your group and their group. We’ll support you and you
support us in turn.”
“Oh, Your Highness! So be it!”
That’s how the government had been allocated. The native
rulers met with your grandfather again. They begged him to show a feasible
solution for them.
Then your grandfather met with the kings.
“People like Tavitayya, the basket-maker, and Tathayya, the
rope-maker, are obsolete now. All the values that helped you to exercise your power
over them are also gone. Hundreds of craftsmen like Tavitayya and thousands of
workers like Tathayya are being rounded up in one place. They’re preventing the
items produced by Tavitayya and Tathayya from reaching farmers like Ramudu.
They’re also preventing the farmers’ goods from reaching the craftsmen. They
are creating the circumstances in which both the craftsmen and the farmers
become dependent on these middlemen. They’re also inventing new ways to keep
the people under their control. You can stay alive only if you join hands with
the native rulers. You will grow only if you understand the new ways. You will
win only if you drive away the foreign rulers.”
Some of them listened.
A few said they’d think about it and get back to him.
Others said they’d meet separately for deliberations.
Thus your grandfather brought the new and the old tigers to
a common ground. The foreign rulers left without feeling slightest pain.
After that, your grandfather lectured to the public, “They
maybe tigers but they are also the watchdogs of your wealth. They’ll develop
scientific knowledge for you; build bridges and several new varieties of
temples. They’ll show you ways to make a living, teach you methods of devotion,
and offer you redemption.”
“But they’re not giving us freedom,” one person from the
crowd shouted.
A destructive element of the society, your grandfather
called him. He also said to others that whipping him is patriotism. He gathered
all the tigers and told them, “You’re all equal to me. However, I’m dividing
you, the tigers, into two groups for the sake of convenience. I’ll give a whip
to one group and sacks to the other group. Neither of you should step into the
other’s area. Each of you may compete with each other within your own group.
Your whips must serve to grow their sacks; and, with the help of their sacks,
your whips must flourish. You all must play along with a spirit of mutual
cooperation between the two groups. You may create laws accordingly. You may
compete with each other as much as you please, but never let go of the man who
had brought you all together under one umbrella. I’ll receive the credit due to
me only if you all abide by these rules; then only my plan works. The phrase
that all are created equal will live forever as the divine truth.”
Thus the tigers, wearing several varieties of masks, jumped
on the people for their food while pretending to be fighting among themselves
for all the appearances.
After a few days, Tathayya, Tavitayya, Brahmayya and Gopayya
met and felt their thinning abdomens. They could hear their intestines
groaning. They wondered how long they could live under the circumstances. They
all had the same thought, the same goal. They jumped to the streets, up in
arms, with their chests braced up and waistbands tightened.
Then I got the word from the rulers.
“What’s this chaos?” they asked me.
“What’s this crazy nuisance?”
“What’s this uproar about? What’s this violence for?”
I laughed. I walked up to the people, “Tavitayya, Tathayya,
don’t kill, with just one blow, the goose that lays golden eggs. You poor
people do have your problem, which is not having enough to eat; and the rich
people have their problem, which is not having enough to spend; it is the same
as yours. We’ll provide you with a voice to express your problems. Let’s
discuss the issues and arrive at a solution.”
The people listened and shouted jindabad.
The rulers asked me what was that all about? They asked me
if I were slipping into the equality principle the rebels were fixated on.
I stroked their backs and gave them my advice: Throw them a
morsel each time they raised their voices; make it into a law; double the
number of people who would shout in your behalf; you scream the equality
principle louder than the rebels; put your arm on the shoulders of those who
bowed to you; and eliminate those who refused to listen to you.
The Rulers listened.
Thus we brought all the workers to one place; redirected the
attention of the tigers, who were getting the service, to negotiation; and we
shaped the negotiation the basic principle for survival!
Whenever the tigers frowned, we pointed the goats to them.
On the other hand, whenever the goats attacked us, we showed them the tigers.
In our minds, they all were equal; we wanted them all to be happy; that’s the
reason we forced the tigers and the goats to drink from the same beach.
Nanna garu elucidated all this to me on one auspicious moment. He coached the brahma mantra¸ sarvam brahma mayam,[2] to me again and again.
I however could not imbibe the spirit of that brahma mantra.
I did not see justice in it. My heart did not cooperate and
let me live by that principle. I could not enjoy the role of a mediator.
I walked into the midst of the people and explained the
injustice to them.
I moved forward with the belief that I can lead any group
and with a determination that I can set things right.
I hoped that, with my entrance into the field, Tavitayya,
Tathayya and Gopayya would walk towards light. I thought they’d stand behind
me; would take my advice and fight for justice.
They eyed each other and whispered to each other; and
outlined a plan in a language that is understandable only to them. They all
looked at me pitifully and said, “Our pain is different! Our stories are
different! Our clothes are different and our actions are different. We’ll train
our own leaders! We’ll share the outcome whether it is sweet nectar or poison.
We have no need for your leadership.”
So saying, the people moved forward. I could not catch up
with their speed or direction. Yet I kept walking, stumbling, falling and
getting up, in a desperate attempt to mingle with them, and feeling happy that
I could find some room behind them, even if it were a small spot, at the least.
That was the beginning of the end of the middle man. I'm
glad it's started with me.
²²²
(The Telugu original “Samavarti” was published in Jyoti
Deepavali issue, 1981; and included in the anthology, disa, published by
Kavisri pustakalu, 2002. Permission from the author is gratefully acknowledged.
I am also grateful to sri Kalipatnam Rama Rao garu for gifting the anthology
for my personal library. --Malathi.)
²²²
