"Savitri Teacher garu"

Ammamma was actually happy enough in Diamond Jubilee School and her ability to make friends helped her settle very fast in the school. Ramzan/Christmas/Deepavali saw hordes of friends as well as us, dropping in/visiting and I learnt a lot through this exposure to different cultures. To this day, I remember some of the faces and names. The true India in its diversity and unity even today lives in the habits and hearts of people who love other people irrespective of their background and this enduring quality endured relationships even when out of touch for years. One day in Maapi's boutique (Medha's in Dwarakpuri Colony), around 2001, Ammamma met a lady who was her student and had acted in a Hindi play which Ammamma had scripted and directed in Kurnool! In Diamond Jubilee School she was respected by all and earned kudos for the school from the inspectors. She asked and then fought for a raise and she resigned without a thought for livelihood problems on a matter of principle. She would have probably got her raise, had she given a little time for the Management to come back to her, but the fighting spirit of the communism days made her too action oriented, a trait that still lives in me when I take a stand on what I believe is right and with similar consequences!

As if Ammamma being so quick to action was not enough, Tatayya was also of the same genre. When he was working with Andhra Prabha, he and a colleague of his called Sampath, who worked in the sister publication Indian Express, went on a sympathetic strike for their colleagues in Madras. They were dismissed. Both of them filed a case against wrongful dismissal and won the case against the Indian Express group of publications - a case which Nishu had to refer to, to her pleasant surprise and pride, in her coursework at NALSAR! Now both Ammamma and Tatayya had to search for jobs and they soon found them by scouting around with friends and acquaintances from Kurnool Assembly days. Initially Tatayya even worked temporarily as a Transport Operator to make ends meet, refused a job with Times of India as they posted him to Bhubaneshwar, and finally landing in a job as a reporter in Andhra Patrika, an innings that brought him recognition in Telugu journalism and access to many people. Ammamma got a job as a Hindi Teacher in a girls' school as mentioned in my earlier blogpost.

The pinnacle of Ammamma's teaching was in Madapati Hanumantha Rao Memorial Girls' High School, more popularly known as Narayanguda Girls' School. It was here that I saw my Mother being adored by her numerous fans in school. Good teachers always make an impression on kids in school and mould the character of impressionable minds. The context in Ammamma's case is what makes it interesting. A language teacher, that too a teacher of the third language, is usually the butt of jokes in school or affectionately tolerated if he/she is a very nice person. That Ammamma was teaching the third language and she was one of the top favourite teachers in the school speaks volumes for the passion she brought into teaching - it was as if all her energies that were pent up in domesticity and withdrawal from active politics, were channelized into teaching. It also satisfied her penchant for creativity in writing. Sometimes I used to go to her school after my school, which used get over earlier and I was witness to her resounding and electrifying classes and the adoration of all her students. It was a sight to watch and it is etched distinctly in my memory. Her lessons were nothing short of a theatre performance - one special poem recital she was known for and for which she got a thunderous standing ovation and requests for encore was on Jhansi ki Rani Lakshmi Bai - "Khoob Ladi Mardani woh tho Jhansi wali Rani thi!" It gave me goose pimples too! I was also witness to many students wanting to befriend her - go out with her to movies and restaurants and take pictures with her. Can you believe girls, Ammamma prepared these Telugu medium kids to participate in inter school Hindi debates, where the participating teams came from Hindi medium schools? And the girls won prizes with her preparation! She was in the forefront of plays and other activities and the Principal, Kasturi always made Ammamma in charge of all the activities in Hindi, even though there was another teacher also (and, whose mother tongue was Hindi!). Neighbouring class teachers used to come and see why her classes were so lively and happy. Ammamma's several fans include Kanthamani (a lifelong friend), Balamba (the famous doctor), Vijaya Ghanta and others. Kanthamani became a permanent member of our household and her father used to come and literally drag her away at night.

I used to go to many of these competitions, as baby sitting was a concept unavailable at that time and urbanization made neighbours shy away from helping others. I remember going to one such debate and wondering why we had to sit on the ground in a school in Kothi, coming as I was from a convent school and blissfully ignorant of the harsh realities of some of the poorly endowed schools. I also remember going on a trip to Nagarjunasagar with hordes of students and teachers, including one teacher called Seshumamba, who was also fun loving and boisterous. So I had the advantage of not only my school excursions, but also those of Ammamma's school! Ammamma got along very well with people who had a sense of humour and were energetic. She was always cracking jokes or making fun of people and people used to be in splits - they used to beg her to provide some respite as their stomachs were paining with continuous laughter, both in school and in relatives' houses. And of course, when Suryavathi Atthayya and Ammamma used to meet, it was a riot of laughter with every body else running for cover from their practical pranks and scathing but highly humorous parleys.

A very significant event that Ammamma remembers from her days in Narayanguda school was the sad story of a teacher called Mythili and the suffering she had to endure because of media glare. This lady was a brahmin who had married a Scheduled Caste and the marriage went sour due to incompatibility at a later date after a couple of children were born. Divorce proceedings are in any case unsavoury - more so in those days, when facts had to be stretched in all their ugly details before the award of a divorce. To compound the problem, the husband of this lady chose to share his story with a novelist called Muppala Ranganayakamma, who used to be very popular because of her style, and she started serialising his version of the story. Obviously this made life even more difficult for Mythili, and this beautiful woman and her daughter were the butt of gossip in the school, of which many were brahmin teachers. A couple of times, she came with Ammamma to Charminar area for matters related to the court. Ammamma used to feel compassion for her, but there was little she could do for her in the glare of the popular serial and the media sensationalised court case. This made a deep impact on her as women do bear the brunt, whether sinned or sinned against. And even though media was hardly the kind it is today, this must have been thoroughly discussed, merely for the lack of many such items. I do remember reading the story in bits and pieces and not really understanding much - it was later made into a hugely successful full length feature film called Bali Peetham starring Sarada and Sobhan Babu. In this, stereotypically the man is a saint and the woman is arrogant and intolerant of the lower caste and status of her husband and finally dies after realising her error of judgement. Oh to be killed in so many ways by so many people while you are still alive!!! And to think that this story was penned by a person known for her libertine views and anti-religious radicalism was something that I could not digest. It appeared as if being a brahmin was the sole crime and all actions are therefore circumspect.

During this period I was also witness to the vividly discussed passion killing of a woman and her lover by her naval officer husband called Nanavati and this was discussed ad nauseum in a weekly called Blitz, which lived upto its name and was quite a paper. It was edited by Russi Karanjia, fearless maverick. I was around 8 or 9 years old, and I am surprised today that my parents discussed these with me when I was so young and allowed me to read all papers. I devoured anything that was written and I was made to listen to the radio for the children's programmes and the sunday afternoon radio adapted movie audio, as also the weekly plays. Radio was a great institution and I always got up to the strains of the signature tune of All India Radio and the dignified and imposing voice of Melville deMello with the morning news. The stars of those days were invariably the news readers like Surjeet Sen, Latika Ratnam, Kongara Jaggaiah, and anchors like Radio Akkayya and Annayya, Amin Sayani and his Binaca Geet Mala aired from Radio Ceylon, and Ratan Prasad (Manju Aunty's mother) in her very popular worker's programme, and the Vividh Bharati, and I am struck with the coincidence of reading the same in our latest Book Club selection, Llosa's Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, set in Peru! What effect those voices had on us! How powerful they could be and make you want to move into action! Of course, I was advised by Tatayya to never skip the news and also learn good English from the newscasts and the Presidential and Prime Minister's addresses on the eves of Republic Day and Independence Day. How wonderful the diction, word fluency and grandiose stringing of phrases of Nehru and Radhakrishnan! I was fascinated with the spoken and the written word and consciously or sub consciously I strove to use those words in my school homework, prompting teachers to ask me if I was helped by somebody or copy it from somewhere. This comment used to be invariably made of me even as late as in my Higher Secondary in Delhi. One thing that Ammamma and Tatayya did not scrimp upon even in their days of penury are newspapers and magazines, a habit that continues even today.

Both Ammamma and Tatayya loved languages. Ammamma was great at Hindi and had fluency in English, though the beauty and passion she could whip up in Hindi was much more expressive than her English. Tatayya was great in Telugu and English and he was a poet to boot. I fell in love with words, phrases, idioms, adages and alliteration because of being brought up with parents like these two. Tatayya wrote several poems on me and published some of them. Unfortunately, none of those endured and I wistfully hope that I would see one of them somewhere, sometime. Both of them thoroughly approved of the library habit enforced in school and encouraged me read as many books as I could and also write about them, but I was lazy and wrote only a few during th elong summer holidays when 24 hours was a very long time without TV or computer or games. I also educated myself with old coins, Ammamma teaching me the difference between old rupee and new rupee and why the beda (2 annas) had to be phased out. She took me to several programmes to widen my thinking, specially if they were children's programmes. She gave me a nurtured childhood that eluded her in her own childhood. But she wouldn't spare the rod either! I remember that on one holiday I had gone off to play in the Mecca Masjid with my friends Ravinder and Mahender and did not return till late afternoon - she hit me with such force that the imprint of her palm and five fingers stayed on my back for hours. Once when she was beating me up, Tatayya tried to protect me and he also suffered a couple of blows which were raining on me!

We lived for four years at Charminar. During this period, I basked in the sunshine of Ammamma and Tatayya, despite my various illnesses. Tatayya doted on me and I used to be wonderstruck at all the stories he used to tell me. He also used to show me newspaper headlines. Ammamma used to be busy getting things and herself ready for school and I was always indolent and dawdling. Tatayya used to shield me from her berating and indulge me to the hilt. It was his duty to make me brush my teeth and drink my milk and have my breakfast. This we did on a leisurely pace and enjoying talking to each other and having fun. One day Ammamma lost her patience and left me home and went away to school. I started crying and Tatayya somehow got me ready (with my dress all on the wrong side) and rushed me to school with my uncombed hair. After that of course, I got ready on time. Such was my mother's strictness in bringing me up, even though it is from her that I had the best of clothes and food and the best exposure to life and the world. One dress was particularly otustanding - a black taffeta with shining dots all over and stitched like a Jodhpur coat. Today I am mortified to think that I wore it (or made to wear it) to many places, though it was a sure attention getter everywhere. I adored her and I was pretty scared of her too! Charminar was a medley of cultures - our neighbours were bengalis, kannadigas, sindhis, telugus from all regions and this was also an education for me.

Suryavathi Athayya, Satyam Mamayya and Jhansakka came to live as neighbours initially and later moved to Seetaphalmandi when Ammamma and Tatayya managed to get Jhansakka a job there. Hyderabad was th eland of opportunity and several people came for some help of the other and Ammamma and Tatayya helped so many of the relatives and friends with education admissions, jobs, etc. I remember going to Warangal with Ammamma and Chittattha for her admission in the medical school, in which Ammamma and Tatayya helped a lot.

I loved those days with Suryavathi Atthayya - I used wait for Padmaja, Jhansakka's eight month's old daughter to be fed, so that I could eat the yummy ghee soaked leftover rice balls, and in any case I loved Suryavathi Atthayya's way of dealing with children with an acid tongue and a very caring touch. Between Ammamma and her, I was taught the way to bring up children as friends and cherish relationships with a solid grounding. Alas, in a couple of years they had to leave because Jhansakka's husband, Paramatmannayya did not want to relocate to the city. He was another person with rip roaring humour. Growing up with such sunny optimism around me even in the face of subsistence and adversity, I just could not cope later with many who do not have a similar disposition in life. Suryavathi Atthayya also made me overcome my hatred and nausea for yoghurt and cajoled me to eat it with allam pacchadi (ginger chutney). Preeti - are you listening??

At the end of 1960, a new chapter started in our lives, which happened when we moved to a house in Amrutnagar Colony in Kothi. This was a two bed duplex house which was allotted under the Rent Control Act to Journalists. It was the opening to a slice of India to which I had been shielded till then - a brahminical world and to Tamils. 1961 was to be phenomenal in more ways than one - it brought in my little sister Madhuri into our lives. The next blog is devoted to her arrival.