MOGILI, A POTTER'S DAUGHTER
Vasa Prabhavati
(Translated by Malaathi Nidadavolu)
It was daybreak, the sun was barely visible. The world, which looked like a sea of darkness
up until now started turning into a milky ocean. The potter’s wheel in front of the house was
spinning rapidly, resonating the sounds like no other instrument could. It was like a wake up
song for the human race that was still resting. Mogili was in front of the wheel; the bangles on
her forearm were tinkling even faster. Sunbeams were reflecting on her bangles and creating
new designs. They seemed to be creating a unique vision like a weaver on the loom. Mogili,
molding the clay into pots, looked like the Creator on this karmabhoomi.
A few yards away from her, Kotappa was stomping on the clay, singing softly. Whenever the
clay hardened and his feet got stuck, he was adding a little water and softening it. He was
preparing the clay for Mogili to make pots.
In the sky, an eagle was stalking a brood of chicken, waiting for a chance to snatch away the
baby chicken. By the roadside, a couple of dogs were barking horribly and attacking each
other, as if it were their pastime.
Mogili did not pay attention to her surroundings. She was absorbed in her own work.
Kotappa screamed, “Mogili, oh Mogili, see if this is done. I’ve been stomping for so long, my
legs turned into pestles.”
“What’s there to see? I am seeing you. You'll stop stomping when I stop whirling the wheel.
Stop whining, stay on the job,” Mogili said.
Kotappa continued his stomping, he was tired though. He loved Mogili dearly and could never
say no to her. As he got busy with his work, with renewed vigor, he started singing,
I’ll go to Kotappa hills
With the bundle on my shoulder
And Mogili behind
Mogili heard her name come out of his mouth. Her heart fluttered and a charming smile
sparkled on her lips.
Venu was born and raised in a city and now was studying engineering in the same city.
Madhav was his classmate and they both became good friends. Madhav had been inviting
Venu to go to his village during every vacation. Now they were done with their final year
exams. They would have to go their separate ways, depending on where the jobs would take
them. Therefore, Venu could not refuse Madhav’s invitation this time. They both arrived at
the village.
Next morning they both went out. Venu was walking behind Madhav, watching the streets and
people with curiosity. They both arrived at the village outskirts and noticed an old house with
clay tiled roof and ready to crumble. Venu was awestruck as he saw Mogili sitting in front of
the house and spinning the wheel.
“Why did you stop, Venu? Let’s move, come on,” Madhav said, but Venu did not move.
“Is she a living and breathing person? Or, an exquisite piece of art created by a great artist?”
Venu said, astounded.
“What's it, Venu? You've become a poet all of a sudden? That's not a sculpture created by
some artist. She is a female human being. Human beings are also creators. It is a breathing
image of livelihood of some people,” Madhav said, smiling.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, she makes pots, water-jugs, small dishes for wick lamps, mugs, and other things
with clay. She can make anything that can be made of clay, not just this or that one thing.
The only difference is you are wound up in the high-tech world, and she is wound up in a
world of clay pots,” Madhav said, laughing loudly.
“Stop laughing, Madhav. The whole thing is confusing to me. I cannot believe it,” Venu said,
watching her inquisitively.
“Why can't you believe it, this is the truth. Don’t see? It is a sight in plain view. The clay pots
are needed for each and every occasion in our homes—marriages, rituals, festivals, birthday
celebrations, and death ceremonies, and all. Also, those clay pots are needed to save water,
for keeping it cool, for keeping pickles year round, and cooking, and even in death rituals.
Therefore, we still are in the world of clay pots here in our villages,” Madhav explained.
“What is that? That man is jumping like a monkey in mud?” Venu asked again, laughing.
“Poor Venu, you sit in front of the computer, and think that you are manipulating the entire
world. But, in truth, this is the real world, you are looking at it. That man is preparing the clay
for her to make the pots. Without that clay, there are no pots. Come on, move,” Madhav
rushed him.
While Madhav was talking, Venu took his camera from his shoulder and clicked a couple of
shots.
“Venu, you must not take pictures as you please in these villages. Also, she is a young man,
a living and breathing person at that. You’d better watch out,” Madhav warned his friend.
Kotappa ogled at Venu and his camera. Venu ignored his friend’s warning and clicked one
more time. Kotappa could not control himself. He threw a handful of mud at Venu. The mud
splashed on Venu’s white shirt. Venu, confused and surprised, looked at Kotappa. Kotappa
was going to throw mud again.
Madhav shouted, “Stop, stop.”
Mogili did not notice this fuss around her. With Madhav's shouting, she looked up and saw
the two men standing by.
“You Madhav babu! How come you came to our place?” she stopped the wheel, and asked
Madhav politely.
“He is my friend, Venu. He came to see our village,” Madhav said.
“Oh,” Mogili said politely. And then, she turned to Kotappa angrily. Kotappa could not stand
her angry looks; he dropped the mud from his hand.
“His shirt is ruined,” she said, feeling bad about it.
Madhav said, soothingly, “Don’t worry about it, Mogili. I think we're wasting your precious
time,” he said and grabbed Venu’s arm, ready to leave.
The village was surrounded by farmland. Birds were landing on the crops, picking seeds and
flying away. For Venu the scenery was exhilarating. He was kicked up your heels like a child,
while clicking his camera endlessly. They approached the shores of the river Godavari. Venu
saw a bird pecking at the trunk of a palm tree and was surprised.
“That's a carpenter bird. Did you see how smart she is? She's making a hole in the palm tree
for her brood, instead of building a nest. These birds want to take over the entire nature, it
seems,” Madhav said.
A little boy was riding a buffalo, as if he were a young son of the Lord Yama, and singing a
folk tune.
Venu took pictures of all these scenes with childlike enthusiasm.
“You are taking so many pictures. What will you do with them?” Madhav asked him.
“I’ll enter them in contests. I have entered in so many contests, but never won a prize. This
time I am sure I will win something,” Venu said, hopefully.
Madhav had only mother, brother and sister-in-law but no father. His family treated Venu like
one of their own.
It was almost midday. Mogili was still at the wheel. On the previous day, Mallanna, Mogili’s
father, took the new pots to a neighboring village fair and just returned. He asked, “Mogili,
What happened? It's almost noon, and you're still at the wheel. Today the proprietor's
daughter is getting married today, isn’t it? Stop the wheel and get up, come on, get up.”
“Should I leave them all there,” Mogili said, leaving the wheel.
“You, Kotappa, you got into the mud at the crack of dawn. Don’t you want to eat? Come on,
get out of it,” said Mallanna, putting away the empty balance ropes in a corner.
“I’m almost done,” Kotappa said, got out of the mud, and walked toward the water pots to
wash his feet.
Mogili was three-years old when her mother died of pneumonia. After her death, Mallanna
had taken the responsibility of raising Mogili, acting as both mother and father. Mogili started
running the household ever since she was old enough to do so. She was smart and nifty. To
her father, she was his life itself.
Kotappa was Mallanna’s sister’s son. After her husband had died, she moved to her brother,
Mallanna's house. She suffered from paralysis when Kotappa was ten, and died leaving him
in Mallanna’s care. Kotappa was not very smart, and also was afflicted with polio in his child
and was crippled in one leg. Yet, he was meticulously attending to any chore that had been
assigned to him. For that reason, Mallanna liked him a lot, also because Kotappa had no
parents. Mallanna was hoping to arrange his daughter Mogili's marriage with Kotappa and
keep both of them under his roof. The same Kotappa had come to be known as Koti in the
entire village.
That evening Venu went to Mogili’s neighborhood, without telling his friend. Mogili was
watching the clay pots smolder in the kiln by the side of her house. Her face took a new tinge
from the blazing fire, and she looked like goddess Kali. Venu was scared for a second. Mogili
saw him and recalled the face she had seen earlier in the morning.
“What do you want, sir?” she asked him politely.
“I want to take a picture of you,” Venu said, holding up his camera.
Mogili saw the camera and understood. She'd seen the camera box in her village whenever
the rich people had marriage ceremonies in their houses.
“You’ve taken some in the morning, sir. That should be enough. Please, don’t take any more
pictures,” she said. Just then, Kotappa showed up. Mogili went inside. Since Venu had seen
Kotappa and his agility, he was scared and turned around.
Madhav heard about Venu’s little adventure, and he did not relish the thought. He chided his
friend, “Did you come here to take pictures of girls? Getting carried away is not a good thing
for any reason.”
“I am taking pictures just for the fun of it. What’s wrong with that anyway?” Venu asked him,
laughing.
“That’s not it, Venu. This is village. If you keep taking pictures of unmarried women, her family
will you rip you apart, you had better be careful,” Madhav said, trying to scare Venu.
Venu closed his eyes, ignoring Madhav's concern. He spent the entire night dreaming
Mogili's face. He got up early in the morning, picked up his camera, and went looking for
Mogili.
Mogili sprinkled water on the front yard, and started putting floor designs. She was shocked
to see Venu at that time there. She was even afraid that someone might see him and cause
trouble.
“City babu, please don’t come here as you please, that's not right. If my folks see you, they
might say things. Don’t come here again. Just go,” Mogili said, quickly disappeared into the
house, and closed the door.
Venu did not lose hope, he did not leave. Mogili opened the door slightly to check if Venu
had left. She saw the handsome, fair-complexioned young man, with dark hair and white
outfit; her grimness was blown away. Additionally, new tunes resonated in her youthful heart.
Yet, she quickly remembered her father's habits and collected herself. She pulled herself
together and shut the door again.
Kotappa went out on an errand. He walked in on Venu and shouted, “Why are you still here?
Go, go away.” Venu got scared and left. He got home, he was depressed.
Madhav looked at the sad face of Venu, and could guess right away, what could have
happened at Mogili’s house. He did not ask Venu though.
“I'm done shooting this reel. I need to get it developed,” Venu said.
“No such facilities in our village. The city is about ten miles away from here. We have to go
there for getting the pictures developed,” Madhav said.
“Madhav, please, let’s go to the city now. I’ll be grateful to you forever.”
Madhav, moved by Venu’s plea, took him to the city, although it was getting late.
Venu was overwhelmed by the pictures. “Madhav, see this one,” he shoved Mogili’s picture in
his face.
“We can look at all of them after we reached home. If we miss this bus, we’ll have to spend
the night here. Quick, let’s go,” Madhav said, and walked towards the bus stand in big
strides. Venu had no choice but to put away the pictures and follow his friend.
As soon as they reached home, Venu spread all the pictures in front of Madhav: Mogili at the
spinning the wheel, Mogili sitting amidst pots, and the cowherd riding on a buffalo. Madhav
was astonished to see those pictures.
“These pictures are brimming with life. You must enter them in the contest,” Madhav said.
“Yes, I will definitely send them. I am sure to get an award this time. Not only that. I will keep
these pictures of Mogili in front of me forever, I will cherish them in my heart,” Venu said
exultantly.
Madhav was taken aback. He told himself, ‘maybe, it’s okay if he cherishes her in his heart
but ...
“Are you worshipping her? Loving her? Will you marry her? Or, will you use her as a model
and make money?” Madhav kept asking his friend.
“I can’t tell anything for sure at the moment. But I do want her,” Venu said and set out towards
Mogili’s home with the photos.
For Madhav, it looked like a journey without destination.
“Mogili, here, see your pictures for yourself how beautiful they are,” Venu showed the
pictures to Mogili, who was at the potter’s wheel.
Mogili looked at the pictures and was elated. She grabbed the pictures from Venu’s hands,
and kept looking at them eagerly over and again. She was elated to see herself in the prints.
She thought she was lucky to be in those pictures, and was glad Venu was responsible for it.
In that moment, she forgot about her father, Kotappa and the rest of the world. Her heart was
filled with the thoughts of Venu.
“Here, I will give you these pictures. Not only that. I will show you how to take pictures with this
camera, and also I’ll give it to you for keeps,” he said lovingly.
“What do I do with that box? You should have it with you,” Mogili replied, shyly.
“I’ll show you how to take pictures with this. Come with me,” Venu said in a charming voice.
Mogili walked behind him, like a peacock fanning the feathers at the sight of clouds.
On the outskirts of the village, she stood next to him. Venu put his arm around her neck and
showed her how to click the button. With his touch, not just her neck but the entire body
shivered and she moved closer to him. Her heart was racing to grab something even more
joyous than the feeling of his closeness. She ran behind him on the open fields.
Just then, Mallanna was passing by to the next village with his goods on his shoulder. He saw
them and was furious. He canceled his trip to the village and returned home. He never
thought that his naïve daughter could change so dramatically on seeing a babuji from the
city. The sun was scorching.
He burst into a fit of anger as soon as he saw Mogili. Mogili went in, dodging her father.
Mallanna picked up a rod and hit her.
“Ayyo, nayanaa, don’t beat me,” Mogili started crying. People around heard her cries and
came running.
“Maava, stop beating. You’ll kill her,” Kotappa intervened and tried to stop but Mallanna did
not stop. Mogili could not take the beating anymore, she fell on the ground, like a tree trunk
chopped.
The crowd managed to contain Mallanna.
“You’ll kill her,” a neighbor-aunt said, and took her into her home. Mogili spent the day with
her woman, who took her in. She gave her broth first and later cooked rice. By evening,
Mogili felt better. Her entire body was aching.
Mallanna also cooled down by evening, saw his daughter’s suffering, and broke down.
“Mogili, you are not a little girl anymore. What do you have anything in common with that city
babu? You must not trust the city folks. Today he’ll hover around you like a bee, and
tomorrow will go to somebody else. We are committed to this clay, not people. For the work
you do, Kotappa is the right one; he will bring the clay to you. Don’t ditch him and me,”
Mallanna could not speak anymore; sorrow choked him. He wiped his tears with the towel on
his shoulder and went away. Kotappa sat down at the door, feeling depressed.
“Osey, Mogili, be careful with men like him. You’ll become pregnant even if you touch his
arm,” her aunt whispered softly.
“What’re you saying?” Mogili asked in surprise.
“That’s the way it is. You’ll miss your period. You know man and woman need to be together
to have a child. Don’t go near him,” her aunt said, hoping to scare away Mogili one way or the
other.
Mogili was very scared and told herself that she would stay away from all men thenceforth.
She said the same thing to her aunt. Nobody could eat for entire the day; and nobody could
sleep well that night.
The news about the incident—Mallanna beating up Mogili—broke out in the entire village like
a wild fire. Madhav heard it too and advised Venu strongly to stay away from Mogili and her
whereabouts. He even cautioned him, “If they want to, they can make a minced meat out of
you.”
Venu stayed away from Mogili’s colony for about four days. But he was dying to see Mogili,
wanted to speak with her. On the fifth day, he decided to go and see her.
“Venu, where are you heading? Approaching Mogili spells disaster for your future. You’ve
taken her pictures and that is fine. Your family is not going to let you marry her. What's the
point of this relationship? Don’t ruin her future. Think about it,” Madhav tried his best to
explain the reality of it.
“I love Mogili. I want her,” Venu said and left swiftly.
Madhav was worried about his friend. He was afraid that Venu’s parents would blame him
[Madhav]. He went to the post office and phoned Venu’s parents; informed them about the
situation, did not go into elaborate details though. After that, he felt a little better.
Mogili saw Venu and ran into the house, scared. She was about to shut the door.
Venu stopped her and said, piteously, “Mogili, don’t be afraid of me. I will marry you. I will take
you as my wife, without my parents’ consent, if it comes to that. I cannot live without you,
cannot live without seeing you. Trust me. Listen to me.”
Mogili’s heart was pulled towards him like a magnet. She opened the door, which she was
going to shut. Her face opened up like a lotus at the sight of the sun. She followed Venu, as if
under a spell.
Kotappa just woke up. He tried to persuade her in so many ways, “Mogili, don’t go with him.
Nayana will be upset and beat you up, don’t go.” But Mogili would not listen.
“Just you go to your job,” she snapped. To her, in that moment, Kotappa looked ugly, the
house and the area disgusting, even her father’s words sounded coarse. Venu in a sparkling
white suit, on the other hand, appeared to be the god of love. She could see nothing but
Venu’s build.
On the sands of Godavari, Venu sat down amidst shrubs, and Mogili lay in his lap. Venu’s
hands were caressing each particle of her body gently. Her heart was floating around on
some pleasurable planet.
Suddenly they heard a voice in a high pitch, “Mogili, nayana is here.”
Mogili sat up, petrified, and hugged Venu. In a fit of confusion, she came out of the shrubs,
fixing her sari folds. Her body shivered slightly as she recalled the beating from the day
before. She ran down the street along with Kotappa, and without saying another word. Venu
called out for her from behind but she would not listen. Mogili and Kotappa reached home but
there was no sight of father. Mogili admonished Kotappa.
By the time Venu returned home, there were two telegrams waiting for him—one informing
him that he got the first prize for his photo, and the second telegram saying that his mother
was sick, and that he must return home right away. Madhav gave him both the telegrams as
soon as Venu walked in.
Venu was choked with the two conflicting emotions. On one hand, an enormous amount of
joy, and on the other, the bottomless pit of despair. Madhav tried to console him but Venu
decided to leave immediately. He packed his suitcase and left. Madhav felt relieved after
Venu had left.
Kotappa and Mallanna heard about Venu’s departure and were happy about it. Mallanna also
thought that it would be the best time to perform Mogili’s marriage with Kotappa. Only Mogili
felt horrible, she missed Venu very much.
“I’ll arrange your marriage with Kotappa,” Mallanna insisted. Mogili could not say no to him.
She was losing hope about Venu coming back and marrying her. It had been two weeks since
he left. She had not seen even Madhav anywhere again. Mogili felt dejected at heart. The
neighbor-aunt also was nagging her to marry Kotappa. Mallanna fixed the date for her
marriage. His wife’s memory brought tears to his eyes.
The wedding day was approaching. The neighbor-aunt did not see any trace of happiness in
Mogili’s eyes. “What’s it Mogili? You’re sad, why? Who’s getting married; you or somebody
else?” neighbor-aunt said, sitting next to her, and comforting her.
“I made a mistake, pinnamma. That city babu cheated me, I think. He said he would marry
me, and caressed me with his hands; he touched me. Maybe, I will become pregnant,” she
hugged the neighbor-aunt and cried her heart out.
“Oh, no, you silly. You’re not going to be pregnant simply because he touched you,” and then
she explained the secret of reproduction, the conjugal relationship between husband and
wife, and broke into a big laughter for Mogili’s naiveté. Mogili also joined her in her laughter.
She felt relieved.
Mogili concluded that Venu cheated her, went back on his word. She made an effort to erase
his memory and his picture from her heart. She understood that Kotappa was the correct
match for her in so many ways. It had been a month since Venu had left.
It was the day of Mogili's wedding with Kotappa. The area was bustling with strings of
beautiful green mango leaves hung all over. Mogili’s face was sparkling with the looks of a
new bride.
Venu came back to the village on the same day. Despite Madhav’s pleas, he set out to see
Mogili. Madhav followed him, fearing a possible disaster.
“Mogili, Mogili, I came back,” Venu shouted, heedless of all the festive signs around.
Mogili came out and stood in front of him. Venu was shocked to see her in a wedding sari.
Mogili said, “City babu, I can't go with you. The difference between you and me is as big as
the distance between the earth and heaven. I’ve learned to click that box of yours, but you
don't know how to spin this wheel, nor stomp on the mud. Even if you could, still your people
will never let you marry me. And I can't live a sneaky life with you behind their back. So,
please, go to your people, babu.” She turned around and went into the house.
Kotappa could not hold his anger; he picked up a stone and threw it at Venu. Venu was hit,
and blood spurted out from the wound on his head.
The eagle, which was stalking the brood, could not steal the chick, and so went away.
The stray dogs were still fighting.
The wedding band started playing music. Kotappa tied the tali around Mogili’s neck.
Madhav walked Venu home slowly. ‘For Venu, this is a journey without destination,’ Madhav
told himself.
*
(The Telugu original, Mogili, was published in patrika, March 2004)