DV Gundappa: Life with the Ink Pot (Part-1)
[[DV Gundappa: Life with the Ink Pot (Part-1) Source: prekshaa]]
When I was studying in the High School, Mr. Gopalakrishna Rao was one of the teachers. Though he did not teach me, I am grateful to him for certain reasons. As he was the warden of the hostel, we got to know each other quite closely.
I have heard that Gopalakrishna Rao taught Kannada to some Americans at the American Mission in Kolar. They had great regard for his words because of his deed. Gopalakrishna Rao somehow came to know about my feeble financial condition. There was often a delay in my payment of the hostel fees and it was perhaps because of this that he must have surmised my condition.
My Life with the Ink Pot
Once Gopalakrishna Rao called me, handed me a letter and asked me – “Could you translate this into Kannada?” I took the paper saying that I will try doing so. The (news)letter was published in English. The contents of the paper was some kind of a Christian preaching. It was originally a lecture delivered by the Bishop Thoburn of Lucknow. I translated the essay into Kannada and handed it over to Gopalakrishna Rao. After about four to five days, he called me, handed over a five rupees curreny note to me and said – “This is the honorarium for your Kannada translation.” I thanked him and said – “Please adjust this with the monthly fees that I need to pay for the hostel”. He was happy and said – “Let us do this every month, if possible.” This went on for about seven to eight months.
From then on my life with the ink pen started.
Gopalakrishna Rao had great affection (and regard) for me. He often visited the hostel rooms early in the morning. One day, he casually appreciated me before the other hostelers.Cintamani Subbayya and Cintamani Srinivasa Rao lived in rooms neighbouring mine. They were my dear friends as well. They also happened to be the witness for his words of appreciation for me. It was as follows: “You are all students of Matriculation and still you are in bed even at five in the morning! What do you study? Look at him (Gundappa). It appears that he studies all night. I have seen him so many times. The rest of you sleep at all times and it is only his room which is always lit up”.
My friends heard this and did not utter a single word. They stood with their heads hung low.
The next night, they remained awake and waited without going to bed. They were expecting the arrival of the warden. They brought him to my room. The lamp was burning and I was immersed in deep sleep. Looking at this, Gopalakrishna Rao exclaimed – “O, I did not know that this was the reality!” Thanks to their loud conversation and laughter, I was shaken awake from my sleep. I was suitably exposed and was embarrassed. What more did I need?
This is how my studies at the High School progressed.
Sleep Over-powers
In my childhood, I would slip into deep slumber the moment I took a book in my hand to study and that inspired my revered aunt to compose a Telugu poem (to ridicule me) –
ಪುಸ್ತಕಮು ಚೇತಕಿಸ್ತೆ
ತೂಕಡಿಂಚುನೇ
ಮುಚ್ಚೋರಲು ಮುಂದ್ರ ಪೆಟ್ತೆ
ಕಂಡ್ಲು ತೆರೆಚನೇ
ಚಕ್ಕಾನಿ ಪೆಂಡ್ಲಿಕೊಡಕಾ
ಕುಕ್ಕ ಮಂಗಳಂ (Telugu)
On the other hand, my grandmother was full of empathy looking at me with heavy eye-lids; my father was always angry. In his younger days, my father used to beat me up – this brought tears to my granny as I cried, getting beaten. The others in the house did not care much for this – they spoke at times on my behalf and at times sided with my father.
My grandmother thought of a plan to save me (from my father’s hands). There were about three to four people in our house every night for supper. Uppittu, Tappale rotti and Gojjina Avalakki were usually prepared for their sake (These dishes constitute phalāhāra). It was not difficult for my grandmother to think of a kind of snack that would act as an antidote for my sleepy eyes. (i.e., if my mouth were to be engaged in the business of eating pungent and salty dishes, my eyes would automatically get engaged in reading and thus, sleep would be avoided). My grandmother lit a lamp in the middle of the house around seven in the evening. (The lamp was usually lit with oil from the ‘honge’ tree – Avenue tree). I was to sit in front of the lamp. Some snack was to arrive before me in about five to six minutes after I sat down there. The theory behind this was – “If the teeth and lips are engaged, eyes will also remain active”. Similarly, “if the tongue comes in contact with something spicy and salty, eyes will remain alert as well”. My grand-father (and grand-uncles) laughed listening to my granny’s theory. “Let the experiment happen”, they would say.
This went on for about seven to eight days. Every day, the snack got consumed. My head only knew to slip into slumber.
This is the English translation of the twenty-fourth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 8) – Sankirna Smrutisamputa
DV Gundappa: Life with the Ink Pot (Part-2)
[[DV Gundappa: Life with the Ink Pot (Part-2) Source: prekshaa]]
Another Idea
There was a new theory (regarding my tendency to fall asleep while studying). “The child is going to feel bored if he has to study all alone. If he is joined by another person, it may ward off all boredom and he will remain awake”, my father (and the rest of the family) surmised. They arranged for a companion for my studies. Varahamurthy, the son of Madhvarayacharya was the scape goat. Madhvarayacharya was the Divan of Majjigehalli Mutt. He often visited our house. He was a friend of my granduncle (paternal grandfather’s younger brother). Thus, it was supposedly good company for me. Varahamurthy was to finish his meal at his residence and visit me at seven-thirty in the evening. We were to sit close to a lamp and study our lessons. Varahamurthy was to read the lesson out loud and I was to pay attention to it and grasp it with my ears. This was the arrangement. Varahamurthy was quite an orthodox in his practises and therefore, would not eat certain kinds. He would not eat food items that fell under the category of ‘musure’ , i.e., those that were prepared by boiling with water; Uppiṭṭu, for instance. Only fried items such as araḻu-saṇḍige, cakkuli, koḍbaḻe and muccore were given to us, thanks to his orthodoxy. My paternal aunt drew great inspiration for her poetry from muccore. These snacks were placed before us on two separate plates. The poor guy Varahamurthy wanted to keep his image clean. He would continue reading and I considered it my responsibility to empty the two plates filled with snacks.
This brought an end to the second experiment.
Excessive Sleep
One day, my father was enraged and threatened me that he would smear oil from the Beech tree (hoṅge) to my eyes. Fortunately, my grand-uncle stopped that from happening. “Hold on! He might lose his eye-sight!” he shouted at my father.
Despite all these incidents, my eyes never learnt their lesson. Among the various complaints that my father had about me, a few made it to the top ranks. Two among them were very important
- I lay down while studying a book 2. I oversleep
Both the ‘defects’ in my character were, in fact, true. Even after I grew up to be an adult and successfully gave the illusion to the world that I was intelligent, my father did not stop testing me. I would lie down on the bed even when I had to write important articles for magazines. I usually lay on my abdomen on the bed and write with a pencil. Whenever I wished to read a book, I lay on my back on the bed, hold the book at my chest and read it. My father could not stand these practises of mine. He reprimanded me now and then and called me names – ‘ignoble’, etc.
Sleep was a gift of the Divine. Unfortunately, He snatched away the gift from me during my father’s lifetime. I started getting sleep when it was not required and could not sleep when I really needed it – either way I was unlucky. This is was Śiva’s unwise decision for me.
When I was in the Lower Secondary (L.S.) my father had a natural fear that due to my tendency to over-sleep I might score a zero in the exams and I might fail in my studies. Because of this fear of his, I was often given mouthfuls of scolding. I was also beaten by him from time to time. Seeing these ugly happenings, Kashi Rao and his wife Bhagirathamma were very worried. Kashi Rao and my father were close friends and he lived in the house in front of ours. He worked at a local Taluk Office. He did not have children back then. Bhagirathamma would shed tears whenever she saw me getting beaten up.
In the meanwhile, Kashi Rao got transferred to Bowringpete. After about a month since his moving to the town, he wrote a letter to my father and asked him to visit Bowringpete. He handed over a pillow to my father and asked him to give it to me. It was designed in such a way that when I put my head on it, it would produce a peculiar sound (which could potentially disturb my sleep). I figured that there was a spring placed amidst the cotton that the pillow is filled with, within a wooden framework.
Today, there are several such rubber dolls available in the market. It was a rare and unique thing back then. Bhagirathamma and Kashi Rao were under the impression that the pillow would help ward off my sleep and would help me focus on my studies. This would in turn stop my father from reprimanding me from time to time. Apparently, Kashi Rao had spoken about my situation to one of his friends and confided his empathy for me in him. The friend described the greatness of this kind of a pillow to Kashi Rao. When he narrated about such a pillow to his wife, Bhagirathamma insisted that they should gift me with one such object. They went to Bangalore in search of the pillow and had bought it for my sake.
Ten to fifteen days after the pillow fell into my hands, Kashi Rao visited Mulbagil and enquired about my well-being. I said –
“This is a nice pillow, uncle. It helps me sleep well.”
Kashi Rao: “Does it keep you awake?”
Me: “How can it keep me up? I don’t even hear the sound it produces”.
I have, perhaps, got used to this kind of haughtiness from a young age.
Concluded.
This is the second and the last part English translation of the twenty-fourth essay in D V Gundappa’s magnum-opus Jnapakachitrashaale (Volume 8) – Sankirna Smrutisamputa