Doll's Wedding and Other Stories by Chaso

Author:Chaso [Chaso]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788184755992
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2012-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

A Kiosk at the Junction

‘WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THIS DISASTER ON ME, MOTHER ELLAMMA? Did I ever fail in my vows, Mother Ellamma?’ Ramayya demanded of the goddess as he was crying in his hut, amidst his wife and children.

Ellamma was their family goddess. He always offered her a new sari and a chicken for her festival. For generations, the first girl born in the family had been given her name. Ramayya’s aunt was Ellamma. His father’s aunt was Ellamma. His own eldest daughter, who was married and living with her husband, was Ellamma. Ellamma had been protecting them for generations. That’s why Ramayya was asking Mother Ellamma why she was being unkind to them, why she had brought down this calamity. Earlier, Ellamma used to possess the grandmother in the house and, through her, say what was good and what was bad. Nowadays, Ellamma was not possessing anybody in the house.

‘What’s the way out, Ellamma?’ yelled Ramayya. When he heard the yell, the neighbour Poli came into the hut.

‘What’s happened, Ramayya?’ he asked.

‘What’s happening on the street is what has hit us,’ said Sitamma, Ramayya’s wife.

‘Nothing would harm us if Ellamma were kind to us. Mother somehow got upset,’ said Ramayya.

‘Forget about Ellamma or Poleramma. What’s your problem? Tell me that first,’ said Poli.

‘The damned municipality has ordered the kiosk to be removed,’ said Sitamma, in tears. The kiosk was their whole life.

The path leading to their village was small and narrow. Not even a bullock cart could go through it. These days rickshaws were going through. The path had been extended by twenty-five yards and joined the road, making a three-road junction. Near the junction, a small drainage canal took a sharp turn. For thirty years, Ramayya’s kiosk had stood at that turn.

‘This is Ramu Nayudu’s doing,’ said Poli right away.

Ramu Nayudu was their ward councillor. He became a councillor on the strength of his caste—by begging everybody, falling at their feet, touching their chins, gathering his caste fellows. Though his opponent spent thousands, the people of the village sent him packing. Only yesterday Ramu Nayudu was wearing a loincloth and grazing cattle. At best he would have become a bullock-cart driver. Today he wears a dhoti in high style with a shoulder-cloth embroidered in gold, and he’s a councillor.

‘What a horrible thing to say! Ramu Nayudu called me Uncle from the time he was young. He was always kind to me. I don’t believe he would harm me,’ said Ramayya.

‘I believe it’s his doing. Only he can protect you. Go to him. Show him the paper,’ said Poli.

Ramayya went to Ramu Nayudu’s house. Nayudu’s house had been totally redone. On the front porch there were folding chairs made of iron. Ramu Nayudu was sitting in an easy chair. It was just after dawn, but there were people all around him. As soon as he saw Ramayya, Ramu Nayudu got up from his chair and received him from a distance, very sweetly: ‘Uncle! What brings you here?’ Feeling comforted, Ramayya relaxed.

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