daridrayam

8/14/2019 Daridrayam

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Daridrayam

(Impoverishment)

Tripuraneni Gopichand

About the Author

Tripuraneni Gopichand (1910-1962), of Tenali, Andhra Pradesh, India, is a Telugu short

story writer, novelist, editor, essayist, playwright and film director. His writings

exhibit an exceptional interplay of values, ideas and ismsmaterialism, rationalism,

existentialism, realism and humanism. He is well-known among Telugu literati for his

psychological novel Asamardhuni Jeevayatra (The Incompetents Life Journey). He

was posthumously presented the Sahitya Akademi Award for his novel, Panditha

Parameshwara Sastry Veelunama (Will of Panditha Parameshwara Sastry), in 1963.

Radical humanist, profound thinker, philosopher, social reformer and an inveterate

votary of truth, Gopichand was a versatile genius, which reflects well in his

scintillating stories that are told in crisp language. His stories pose many questions

that challenge the wit of readers.

Translator: GRK Murty


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There is a tiled house adjacent to ours. It is a small house. Within that,

its owner has rented out the front two rooms to another family.

The tenant earns a monthly salary of fifty rupees. It is of course not

known what kind of job he does or where does he work, but well before

8 oclock in the morning he used to finish his lunch and set out. Again

after dusk he used to return home.

I have, of course, never seen him coming home. But the moment heenters the house, I used to know that he has come.

Almost everyday after coming from the office he used to beat his wife.

She used to cry loudly. Thats how I used to know that he has come

home.

He has three childrentwo sons and a daughter. Both the boys are

younger. The girl is the eldest. She crossed her puberty some four years

back. She is not yet married.

As soon as he comes home, his wife would ask him, Will you perform

her marriage or not?

He would say, How am I to perform?

Just as all others are doing, the wife would say.


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There is not even a pie in hand, the husband would say.

The wife would say, What is that you want me to do for it.

I say, there is no money, the husband would say.

The wife would repeat, Perform marriage.

Then, wait, I will perform, saying, he would beat her with a stick.

She would cry loudly.

I have come to know about all these happenings. Suddenly, I feel pity for

the unmarried girl.

There is a two-story building opposite to their house. It belongs to an

income tax officer. He gets a monthly salary of rupees one thousand. He

lives in pomp with four servants, a car, a wife, and a son. They are good

neighbors. They do not indulge in anything except mind their own affair.

The income tax officer returns home from the office at 5 oclock in the

evening. His wife, well dressed up, used to keep herself ready by the time

he returns home. They would go out for a stroll with the kid.

It was quite a pleasure for me to watch the boy. He roams hither and

thither on the road by driving a toy car one day, another day by riding a

tricycle. He will not let go any vendororanges, pomegranates, ice-fruit,

including the candy floss fellowwithout calling him.


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Both the parents pamper him enormously. Wherever they go they used

to take him with them. They kept him spick and span by clothing him

with good dresses. They gave him money whenever he asked for. I have

never seen them ever scolding him or spanking him.

Because of the boy, a quarrel arose.

One day, as I came out of my house, the income tax officers wife stood

in the balcony of their first floor. The lady from my neighboring house

stood in her front door along with her three children. Both of them were

quarreling.

Shouldnt you have at least that much wisdom? questioned the lady of

the neighboring house.

How much? questioned the officers wife.

Our neighboring lady explained how much they should have.

Intruding into the house, see how your son had damaged the cooking

vessel, said the neighboring lady.

Is it, babu1? enquired the officers wife with his son.

No amma2. Today I havent even gone to their house, said her son.

1Babuaffectionate way of calling a son.

2Ammamother.


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Are you listening? asked the officers wife.

The neighboring lady accused her: Supporting yourson? She went on

to say, Now, I have to purchase a new pot, means, have to spend ananna3.

Take one annaand keep quiet, said the officers wife.

How arrogant! said my neighboring lady.

Then her unmarried daughter said, Its the pride of her husbands

earnings.

It is watching this girl that I feel pity!

So what, if she is rich she would enjoy? said our neighboring lady.

Both the mother and daughter continued bad mouthing her. Not being

able to put up with their abuses, the officers wife asked them with a

pale face, What then do you want me to do?

Make your son behave, said our neighboring lady.

When I asked him to let me board the car, he refused! said the son ofneighboring lady.

3Anna one-sixteenth of a rupee.


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Bashing him, will you prevent him from coming to our courtyard or

not? asked our neighboring lady.

No, I cant beat him, said the officers wife.

What do you say then you would do? asked our neighboring lady.

I will see that he will not come to your house, said the officers wife.

Saying so, she goes inside along with her child.

If he steps into our yard, I shall crush his bones. If he speaks to our child,

I shall tear open his stomach, said my neighboring lady.

He is spoiling every child in the street, said her unmarried daughter.

When I asked him to share a little of his candy floss with me, he didnt,

said her son.

Great lady, would she allow it? said the neighboring lady.

Insolence, for her husband is earning a lot, said the unmarried girl.



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Listening to this quarrel, I am surprised. I have a doubt that my

neighboring lady is clamoring to somehow pick up a quarrel. However

deeply I may think, I am not able to get the reason for such quarrel.

Feeling restless, after a while, I came out to go downtown. The officers

house is bolted from inside. But my neighboring lady is still at the front

door with her three children. The neighboring women too assembled

around her.

You have made her come to her senses, said a lady.

What else, shouldnt there be a limit? Filling the pocket with money and

buying everything that comes on the road. Seeing him, my children too

are learning afresh; pestering me for buying, said our neighboring lady.


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My son is pestering me to buy him a silk shirt, like the one her son had

put on, said another lady.

You know, my son is pestering for a similar car, said yet another lady.

Simply because there is lot of money, would anyone give money to

children like that? After all he is not even five years old and see how

many attires? This way how are we to run our families? said our

neighboring lady.

You have given her enoughtoday, said a lady.

Not yet; unless I drive them out of our street, I will not get sleep, said

our neighboring lady.

Thats it, thats it, said the assembled ladies.

What then, shouldnt she think of others too, besides her son? said our

neighboring lady.

Sheer arrogance, for her husband is earning a lot, said the unmarried

girl.


Night came. My neighboring ladys husband has come home. No sooner

than he entered, she asked, Will you perform her marriage or not?


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How am I to perform? said the husband.

Just as all others are doing, said the wife.

Not even a paisa in the hand, said the husband.

What am I to do for it? said the wife.

I say there is no money, said the husband.

I say perform the marriage, said the wife.

Saying, Wait then, I will perform, he beats her with a stick.

She cries loudly.

* * * * *

Personal Website: www.karpuramanjari.blogspot.com E-mail: [email protected]
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