A Handful of Sesame by Vaidya Shrinivas

Author:Vaidya, Shrinivas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gibbon Moon Books
Published: 2022-08-21T00:00:00+00:00

Souls and Salts

Keshav’s letter had arrived from Dharwad that day. Whenever a letter comes, the women crowd around Vasudevaachar and pester him for news. “What does it say? Are they well? When are they coming home?” the same questions are repeated ceaselessly. Ambakka presses the end of her sari to her moist eyes and starts to mutter her usual complaint of “Why did such young boys have to be sent to faraway Dharwad?” Because of all this, Vasudevaachar gives the letters only a cursory glance and reports on the well-being of the boys to the women before heading off to the solitude of his room where he studies them with great care. That day, he made the usual show of reading and announced: “They are well. They are going to school. It is raining heavily in Dharwad” and put the letter aside. Later that evening, he leaned back on the stone wall of the quiet Lalgade temple and took the letter out for a leisurely read.

All is Well Salutations to Lord Lakshmi Narasimhaya All is Well

Dharwad, Date: 24-7-1915

The boy Keshav Venkannachar Panth prostrates headlong at the feet of his Vasanna kaka, the equivalent of the respected father. With all being well here he begs for news of your wellbeing.

Moving on, the reason for writing this letter is: it has been raining unceasingly the last two weeks and has upset everything. It slows down to a light drizzle at times but never stops completely. Pandu and I get soaked as we walk together to the government high school under the same umbrella. Ramu has no umbrella. His Victoria high school is close-by, yes. But even that short walk is enough for him to get drenched in the rain. It is very difficult for us to manage with only one umbrella between the three of us. It is true that you had sent us a priests’ canopy umbrella from Navalgund last year. But none of the schoolboys here use such umbrellas. They laugh at us if we carry it. Also, those canopy umbrellas cannot be folded and fly away when you leave them on the ground. So, you must buy us a new umbrella this time.

Pandu has diarrhoea. Send a bottle of Shankhavati with motor-man Rajabilli. Most schools in town have started giving cholera injections. Pandu and I have received injections, but Ramu’s school isn’t giving them yet. Govindappa of the refectory doesn’t heat our drinking water anymore. ‘The firewood is damp, it doesn’t burn. What can I do?’ he says.

Awwa had sent with us roast flour and sugar to eat if we are hungry between meals. But both the flour and sugar get damp and ooze water in the moist air. The flour forms lumps. So, along with the Shankhavati, send dry parched-rice and chutney powder with Rajabilli. The roof of the room we live in leaks. The rainwater drips down on us when we sleep. When we complain to the owner of the building, he shouts at us. ‘You think you will get the palace of the Mysore Maharaja for the two rupees you pay as rent?’ he mocks us.

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