The TRUTH ABOUT DESIRES
Balivada Kantha Rao
In the final days of his life, Ramayya was thinking of the events in his life. It felt like they had happened
just yesterday or the day before.
Exactly thirty years back, he had come to this town wearing a threadbare dhoti and a filthy shirt and
searching for a way to fill his empty stomach. He went around for a week until his feet nearly wore off.
At the end, a contractor gave him work which earned him six annas per day. “That is good,” he told
himself and was content. He worked with determination and as if he was working for himself.
One day, he was resting under a banyan tree on the outskirts of the town along with other workers.
Then he had a wish; wouldn’t it be nice if he got the job as a clerk in the manager’s office instead of
sweating in the sun and rain like this? The manager noticed Ramayya’s skills and gave him the job as
a clerk.
He found an opportunity to prove his ingenuity, modesty, and new methods that would bring profits
directly to the owner. He wondered why he could not be the manager; he was starter than the
manager. It did not take even four years before that wish had been fulfilled. In the meantime, God only
knows how fretful he had been!
After that, profits started pouring in and he thought it would be great if he became a contractor
himself—car, two-storey building, higher education for children, better proposals for daughters …
It did not take many years for that wish to materialize. The owner gave Ramayya a small share in his
company. He kept increasing that number of shares and after sometime he left the entire responsibility
to Ramayya and went away to visit other countries. With the profits he had earned, Ramayya built a
two-storey, bought a car. His children were going to college in the car. Now, the status of his friends
and relatives, whom he was gathering was totally different.
His lifestyle and the food he was eating changed. It became necessary for him to eat on the table. His
feet were refusing to move without car. By the time the contractor returned home, Ramayya had
assumed all the responsibilities and become the proprietor himself. Big name contractors were inviting
him to some meeting or other and honoring him. Despite his seemingly vehement protests, people
were praising him and putting him down in the books as a great benefactor. A building for local high
school was built in his name. He became a great leader in that town. He started out as a council
member and soon became municipal chairman.
His eldest son grew up and started looking after the business matters. All Ramayya had to do was to
put his signature wherever he was asked to. A few other businesses like a clothes mill, two rice mills,
and salt production were opened in his name in quick succession. Even as the businesses kept
growing, generosity in his heart also kept getting bigger. He was constantly on tenterhooks and looking
for ways to give.
One day he was in bed with fever. Another wish came to his mind but the stark reality also struck; he
knew that it would work. That led to another wish. The days accumulated into years and the old age
was setting in. His health was deteriorating. He grew a beard. He was certain that nobody could
recognize him as the same Ramayya who used to be a few months back. Under the circumstances how
his wish to live very long could be granted? No, that’s not going to happen. Therefore, he had
entertained another wish.
He had been generous to many people in so many ways. He could say with his hand on his chest, with
confidence and satisfaction, that he would be leaving behind enormous fame and respect in the
community. There were poets he had praised him as a patron and compared him to Karna, the great
benefactor in Mahabharata. Ramayya was excited at the idea; wanted to go into the town disguised as
a beggar, watch with his own eyes all the respect the public had for him, listen to what everybody said
about him and die happily and contently. The thought grew stronger by the minute and settled in his
heart strapping.
Within a few days, he gathered all the necessary tools for his plan. He collected enough strength in his
body to walk a few furlongs. He told the people around him not to approach him and bother him for
anything. The home had always been in a festive mood—always filled with the hullabaloo his children’s
friends and relatives had been creating. He wanted to pick a day when everybody was busy with such
festivities, leave home by the backdoor, return to take them all by surprise. How wonderful it would be
to see their faces when they find him in the disguise of a beggar! He was quite tickled by his idea.
That day came. Everybody in the house retired to the third floor. There was a marriage proposal
younger daughter. The party came to see the would-be bride. A huge party was arranged in their
honor. After the party, a bharatanatyam performance was arranged. He could manage to go upstairs.
However, he told them he was feeling weak and could not go upstairs and sent them away.
All the conditions were favorable to him. The entire sky was filled with dark clouds but there was no
sign of rain though. “I can’t find a better opportunity than this. If they see me, they will not let me go.
Maybe, I could return before the rain hits if I leave right now,” he persuaded himself thus and changed
clothes quickly. He looked in the mirror in front of him and was surprised at his disguise himself. He was
looking exactly like an old beggar; ready to fall at the slightest blow of a wind.
He looked around, made sure nobody was watching, and hit the street through the backdoor. He bent
forward and started walking with the help of a cane. He saw somebody on the road and called out,
“Babu!”
That person said quickly, “I’ve got nothing to give, go away.”
Ramayya was irate yet remained calm and followed him, “Babu, I just came to the town for the first. I
see some noise in the mansion up there …”
Even before he finished the sentence, the other person said, “Of course, brouhaha in his mansion, ha,
where else if not in his mansion.”
“What do you mean, babu?”
“So many people are dying for want food, and he will have birthday parties even for the cat.”
“Who’s he, babu?”
“They call him Ramayya.”
“Oh, you mean that Babu? In my area, people say he is a generous man.”
The other person laughed and said, “Did he give even a piece of cloth without imprinting his name on
it? A school without his name on it? What do you know about him? Ask him when he is alone and see if
he drops a paisa in your palm. Ask him when he is surrounded by a few people, and he will throw you a
ten rupee note. He is ripping us off and to cover those sins he is donating generously. We are the
craze ones, not him, old man!”
On hearing those words, Ramayya was silent; no word could come out of his mouth. The man walked
away. Ramayya looked at him in the street light. He was no other than the man that had poured praise
on him in a huge gathering.
After a while, Ramayya got up. He saw several people walk by. His heart was sinking at the thought of
what he might be forced to hear, had he asked them the same question. As he kept walking, he
suddenly noticed that he had walked quite far and arrived at the person’s home he had met the very
first time he had come to town.
That man finished his supper and sat on the porch, chewing paan and reciting poems. He had praised
Ramayya on several occasions in several meetings, calling him Lord Indra and Lord Chandra. “He is a
poet, a representative of the people’s minds. I will hear a few good words about my Lady Fame and will
return happily to my home. Maybe I can’t walk for long. But then again, which rickshaw driver will take
me, looking like a beggar in these rags? I wish I had stuffed a rupee in my pocket before I left home,”
he thought.
Fearing the other man might recognize him, Ramayya spoke in a trembling voice in order to hide his
identity, “Babu!”
The other man said without even looking at him, “Go away. We’re done eating.”
“Babu, I heard about some Ramayya babu. I understand he is so generous. I would be committing a sin
if I don’t ask him. That great man’s name is reverberating across the entire country. Can you please tell
me where his house is?”
The man turned around, looked at Ramayya and laughed.
Ramayya was tired and could not stand anymore. He sat down.
The sky was dense with dark clouds. Off and on, cold wind was blowing. The man yawned and said,
“About Ramayya? You want to hear about him.”
“If you please.”
“Everybody thinks he is enjoying heavenly lavishness now but where is the happiness he had enjoyed
when he first came to this town in rags? I am telling you the truth. There is not a man on this earth who
is more blissful than you are. Do you know why? You have no desires. You beg for the minimum
necessities like food and clothing and you’re done. Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am
saying?”
“Ah!” Ramayya moaned.
“You see that banyan tree there? The same Ramayya used to sleep happily under that tree after
working hard, rain or shine. I knew him in those days as well, such a fine gentleman. He used to help
others without expecting fame, even when it was a little hard for him. … and now? … Whatever he
does, even giving you a paisa, he is doing it only for fame. Therefore the Ramayya of the old times is
the one who is valued as a human being but not the Ramayya of today. I am talking some big talk. Do
you understand what I am saying?”
Ramayya was almost in tears. He had to struggle even to say “um”.
As the wind kept blowing and making him feel good, the other person continued to display the
personality he had concealed up until now. “If you ask me who has been cheated most in this world, I’d
say, ‘Ramayya’. Let me tell you something. You’ve seen the world. You tell me if this is fair. You came
and said you’re hungry. I gave you not only bellyful of food to eat but also nice clothes to wear. I
treated you like family. I trusted you and went out of town on some business and returned. Then you
showed me phony accounts and ripped me off of house and my entire property. Do you see? For all
the things I’ve done for you, you stabbed me in the back, isn’t it so? Ramayya became a demon with all
his greed. The demon ate up the company. No matter how many cars he has, how many mansions he
has, no matter how many donations he has made; how can he be an icon for truth and justice? How
can a creep like him be recognized as a great man by the public? A man who gets carried away by
superficial praise is a low life if you ask me. Had he stopped for a second and thought how a devil like
himself be Indra or Chandra, he would have left all this wealth and luxuries, felt remorse for his
wrongdoing and retired to some woods and become a sansyasin. Because of his desires, he ruined the
human life, which is attainable only after doing plenty of good deeds. I am sure he is going to pay for
his sins.”
Those words pricked his heart like needles. His heart sank; he could not stay there anymore; he ran
away from that place. As he walked, his legs started trembling and eyes blurring. He could not focus.
He continued to walk aimlessly. It was dark—he could not see the road. The banyan tree was looking
like a demon.
He felt like he was hit by a thunderbolt. It was scary; he felt like somebody was following him like a
shadow; he was scared to turn around and look … ear-piercing yelps … huge fangs …somebody is
getting close to him... who’s it? Devil or an envoy of Lord Yama?
There … he is piercing through his ...he is laughing and tearing Ramayya’s stomach into two ... he is
yapping ha, ha, and saying something. .. what’s it?
Ramayya closed his ears yet he could hear them… “You’re so naïve! God grants you what you wish for
and along with that, also what you’ve not wished for. If you wish for fame, he will include disgrace. If you
wish for comforts, he includes discomforts as well. You did not understand this simple truth.”
A lightning flashed. He saw heaps of stones strewn all over on the street. After that, the area looked
like a graveyard in that night. He wondered how arrived to this place where there were no human
beings and the atmosphere was frightening. Probably, the relationship between the banyan tree and
his life brought him here. He was a little annoyed that he did not come in the daytime; it would have
been so much nicer. Rain started pouring along with huge winds. The earth was shaking with thunder
and lightning. Anxiously, he bent forward and was anxious to reach the banyan tree, with the stick as
his support. Heavy winds were blowing hard and the branches were making noises. A branch might fall
on him and kill him, he thought. He might even bit by a snake and die, squealing with pain.
“Oh, god! Why did I come out instead of staying in my mansion comfortably? I’d better run back to my
home. How about getting back on to the road… by now, they all could be looking for me in their cars.
They may not believe that I am Ramayya, seeing me in these rags. Will they let me get into my own
car? Maybe, I can’t even make it to the road. .. my heart is giving in. Oh, God, don’t let me die here…”
His Legs were refusing to move forward. “There! I see my mansions, wife and children. I’ll die here
watching them all. In the midst of this havoc, can the results of my good deeds come to my rescue?
Please, bring me to my home. If I die there, the entire village will follow me to the graveyard. There will
be drums and trumpets. Entire country will weep for me. Father, please don’t accord me a nameless
death in this place and in these rags.” He kept howling and beating his forehead.
His legs refused to walk even one foot more. The heavy winds were causing him to shiver. The sky was
howling. Rain was pouring fiercely and winds were blasting off.
A huge branch broke off from the banyan tree and fell. Ramayya shirked and bounced into the air and
the next thing he knew he fell on a heap of rocks. His forehead split, nose broke, and the face was
mangled. Blood was flowing all over. “Oh, Father, I am dead,” he shrieked. His shriek was swallowed by
thunders. The tears were submerged into the rain.
The ritual burning of his body was performed by the police at the expense of the government under the
category “the body of an old destitute beggar.”
(End)
(The Telugu original, korikala satyam was published in Bharati, 1961 and included later in Balivada
Kantha Rao kathalu, published by Visalandhra Publishing House, 1994.)
(Translated by Nidadavolu Malathi)