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">Futile Life
By Kodavatiganti Kutumba Rao

There are several ways of achieving fame. Some do it by living a hundred and fifty years, others by acquiring a man of seven hundred pounds. Sometimes people manage to acquire fame of a somewhat inverted nature. Though there is no record of anyone acquiring fame by being stillborn or dying at birth, it is true that people, who weigh only thirty pounds even after they are fully-grown, do become famous. People get famous for doing certain unnatural things. Nobody speaks of persons who can thread a needle with their hands, but if anyone can do the same thing with their toes, they are exhibited and you pay to watch them thread needles with their toes.

I knew a man who could eat a whole sheep at one sitting, but he did not become very famous because of it. His real fame was acquired when he wrestled with Kodi Ramamurthy (a famous strongman of India, hailing from Andhra, who had borne elephants on his chest) and was defeated. When I heard of this incident from his own lips, I could not doubt the real joy he got from being defeated by the Master! He knew that fame could be acquired even through a defeat.

I knew all this for a long time so much so that I was not greatly surprised when the other day, America felt proud of its failure to send a rocket to the moon. The rocket, which started on a journey of a quarter of a million miles, burst within the visible range of Mount Everest and its possible journey of five days or so was abruptly terminated at the end of seventeen seconds.

It is the nature of a rocket that it should explode just as it is in the nature of nuclear weapons that they should wipe out life. But this lunar traveller burst too soon. Haste appears to be an American trait. We know with what haste the American armies once crossed the Thirty-Eighth Parallel in both directions. Subsequently, the American forces exhibited haste over several other parallels but it is neither here nor there.

Of course, haste is not speed. Had Ike, Dulles & Co. drawn the distinction between the two, there would be considerable easing of world tension.

Even the American statement that they were the first to have made an attempt to hit the moon and failed seems to be hasty. I am afraid that several attempts have been made to hit the moon long before the Americans thought of failing at an attempt of that nature.

"Having failed at an attempt to hit the moon", a knowledgeable gentleman once assured me, "the Soviet people have made capital out of their failure and invented the inter-continental ballistic missile." It is quite usual for scientists to achieve knowledge through their failures and since the Soviet Russians have abolished capitalism, it is quite proper that they should make capital out of anything and everything. But the scientists of America, the Mecca of capitalism, do not have to stoop to such things. They have dollars for capital and their failures are scattered on the oceans, ships, the fish and so on. However this does not concern us.

What is more to the point is that I once knew a man who aimed a rocket to the moon. I'm afraid it did not reach the moon, but I cannot prove it. He keeps asserting that his rocket did hit the moon and anyone could go there and see it with his own eyes.

Let us call this man Lingoji (I cannot reveal his real name as he is occupied in the making of crackers and things without a licence.) Before the system of licensing was introduced, he used to make crackers that were fired on the festival of lights and on marriages. His rockets were particularly very fast and went to great heights. People who saw his rocket up in the night sky would at once recognise it and say, "That one is Lingoji's thing!" As a matter of fact, it was admiration for his rockets that prompted me to make his acquaintance.

Lingoji worked secretly without anyone to assist him. He was afraid of others coming to know his secrets. At first, his own children had assisted him. In the final stages of manufacturing, he forbade even them from being near him. I was told that Lingoji at one time, had his own brother to assist him while his kids were too young. But Lingoji had suspected that his brother was prying into his secrets and drove him away. After that, this unfortunate brother starved for a while and then turned beggar.

It was Lingoji himself who told me about this affair. "If he really got hold of your secrets", I said to Lingoji, "he would have earned some money. Since he is evidently innocent, how is it that you allow him to live as a beggar?"

"What you say is true, sir", Lingoji replied, "but don't you see that I have made an enemy of him. If I take him back, he is sure to get at my secrets. A woman declared disloyal even by mistake is bound to become a disloyal wife forever. Sir, you must realise that there is no difference between a culprit and a man accused."

Lingoji taught me a great political truth. Originally, he belonged to a village. Once, during the marriage season, he burnt down the entire village while manufacturing his stuff. Had he not run away from that village during the hubbub of the conflagration, there is no doubt that he would have been thrown alive into the flames he had caused.

Then Lingoji set up in a distant place. When he did not manufacture stuff for sale, he spent his time in "research". He was a true scientist. His kids assisted him even in his investigations. They knew his chemicals only as the "yellow powder", the "white powder", the "white powder in the pot", the "rough grains", "red powder" and so on. For security reasons, he never told his children more than this.

True science demands huge sacrifices and I am happy to say that Lingoji was no exception. His daughter lost a leg and his second son, a hand. And then one day, Lingoji came upon his youngest child gleefully crawl towards a ball-like thing out of which sparks were coming. Before he could prevent it, the child caught hold of it and before he could think of what to do, there was a terrific explosion. Since then, Lingoji's wife went dumb. After that, everyone thought that Lingoji would never touch his yellow and red powders again. But they were mistaken. Lingoji was a real "hero".

I had a discussion with Lingoji as to the heights achieved by his rockets. "What do you think, good sir?" Lingoji asked me.

"I should think they go to the height of a furlong", I replied, hoping to flatter him.

"One furlong…" Lingoji went speechless. Then rallied and said, "Miles, my good sir, miles!"

"They do not appear to go so far, do they?" I asked.

"Ah, you are assuming that the rockets stop rising further the moment you stop seeing them" he said laughing boisterously.

I confessed that I did commit such an error.

"Look, sir. Come with me outside the village and you'll see something" Lingoji suggested.

That night both of us went towards the boat-canal. Lingoji was carrying something wrapped up. He unwrapped it and I could see a rocket with two "heads", connected with a fuse. He fired the lower head. The rocket rose into the sky slowly at first and soon picked up speed. In the sky I saw the second head burst into flames.

Dusting his hands against each other Lingoji said, " Let me tell you the people in Visakhapatnam can see it. Now it's gone. It will never come back."

"You don't mean that it will reach the moon?" I asked him incredulously. You see, this was long before sputniks and I knew nothing about earth satellites.

"No, no!" Lingoji said modestly. "It hasn't enough force to reach the moon. It will go beyond air and keeps wandering in the sky this way and that." Evidently he did not know that it could go round the earth.

Then came sputniks and I contacted Lingoji.

"Don't tell me about these sputniks," he said with contempt, "we put sputniks in the sky long ago, my good sir, and you know it. Now here is the rocket that can reach the moon." Then he showed me a rocket with seven "heads". He also showed me the weight he had attached to the bottom of the long stick so that the rocket will not turn upside down because of the weight of the heads. He told me how he made the lowest "head" very big so that it could lift the weight. He also told me something about this head being the centre of gravity of the whole missile.

We fired the rocket that night. I saw three of the heads burst into flames one after the other. But presumably the other heads too burst though I could not see them.

I am not biased. I do not want to assert that "the Dragon" (the name given to the seven-headed rocket by its maker) reached the moon, nor that it did not fall into some well or hill, sea or bush. I do not even assert that it is going round as a satellite of the earth. What I do want to assert is that Lingoji was certainly the first person to aim to hit the moon and it is good that the fact is recognised by Americans as well as others.

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By Kodavatiganti Kutumba Rao

Hundreds of workers waited on the platform to welcome the Labour Leader.

As soon as the train was in right up went a shout, "Hail the Labour Leader!" and the railway station echoed with it.

When the Leader's face appeared at the window the workers were so excited they hailed him until they were hoarse.

The Leader was looking out a first class window, his eyes searching for newspaper reporters.

As he got out of the train he was surrounded by a large crowd and representatives of fifteen unions garlanded him one after another.

The press cameras flashed and the reporters pushed themselves forward.

"What shall I speak to you about?" the Labour Leader asked them.

"The napkin manufacturers have refused bonus to the workers in defiance of the decision of the arbitration committee. Would you advise the workers to go on a strike?" one of the reporters asked him.

"This is a very complex problem", said the Leader. "I hold that strike should not be resorted to until all peaceful methods of negotiation have been tried. If we violate Gandhiji's principles of Truth and Non-violence, we shall be condemning the labour movement to death."

"What in your opinion is the international part played by Russia at present?" another reporter asked him.

"The Third World War", said the Leader, "which America was afraid of starting, has been started by Russia in Korea on June 25th. Everyone has read the news in the papers but no one seems to realise this fact."

"Is Russia alone behind Korea, or is China too behind it?"

"In future the entire world will become Russian and Chinese empires. Once these empires come into being, the people can not liquidate them. So we should take all precautions to prevent them from coming into existence."

"The same thing was said about fascism."

"Bolshevism is much worse than fascism."

"Is it not Marxist Communism that exists in Russia and China?"

"I've lost faith in Marxism after knowing Gandhism. Yet I must say that communism as defined by Marx exists to a slight extent in Britain and to a much greater extent in America."

"Coming to the problem of the napkin workers, what will you do if they insist upon a strike?"

"I shall try my best to dissuade them. But if they are adamant, I shall lead the strike."

* * *

Soon after the press conference the Labour Leader got into a fifty thousand rupee car which was waiting for him and went to the house of a multimillionaire where he was to lodge.

The Worker's representatives met him there and explained how their bosses swindled them regarding the bonus and described to him their miserable situation. The Leader heard them patiently, wiped his tears and told them in a choked voice, "We shall ask for the bonus. Let us see how and why they refuse it. Don't you worry. I am here to look after your legitimate rights. I shall send word to the bosses today. After they meet me here and talk things over with me, everything will turn out alright.

The workers could see that the Labour Leader had great influence over the rich class as was evident from the palatial building in which he lodged. They went away satisfied.

The evening papers published the Labour Leader's statement and his photo "Napkin workers should not strike. Labour Leader's Advice", said a paper. "Bolshevism more frightful than fascism. Revelation by Labour Leader", said another. "Gandhism superior to Marxism. Assertion by Labour Leader", said a third.

That night, two men came to see the Labour Leader. They were representatives of the Napkin manufacturers. Secret talks were held on the top floor.

"What about the strike?" the representatives of the bosses asked the Labour Leader.

"I don't like it, " said the Labour Leader. "Haven't you seen my statement in the evening papers?"

"Ah, that’s a pose!" said the representatives. "You are a Labour Leader. It is your business to conduct strikes." They appeared dejected.

"You need not remind me of it. I am afraid that things are not favourable for a strike."

"Why not?"

"There are workers who are against a strike"

"But the workers are in a frightful state as they did not receive their bonus, poor fellows!" said the bosses' representative.

"Besides, the napkin workers' union has not enough funds to go through with a strike," said the Labour Leader.

"That is not a serious problem"

"If that was the only reason I would not have worried. If I lead the workers I can even manage a general strike. But considering all these things I decided against a strike and told the workers as much this morning."

"But is necessary that they should go on strike" said the representative of the bosses.

"Why is it so?"

There were bales and bales of napkins lying in the godowns. The unreasonable government would not allow the mills to be closed. The price of napkins was at its lowest. International unrest hit the export of napkins very badly. The bosses were paying the workers with their lifeblood, as it were. Gandhiji had said that manufacturers were guardians of the working class. But the bosses were in a terrible plight. Let there be a strike for a couple of months and the bosses would breathe more freely.

"Two months?" exclaimed the Labour Leader. "How are the workers to carry on for two months? They may stand a month's strike. How to keep up their spirits longer than that?"

"That is your job. Have public meetings and the Government is bound to promulgate Section 144 (prohibiting public assemblies). And there are the police."

"Supposing the papers let out that the strike benefits the bosses?"

"We shall look after the papers"

"How about expenses?"

Out came the chequebook. A cheque changed hands with a large figure on it. "How about the party fund?" asked the Labour Leader as he pocketed the cheque nonchalantly.

Another cheque changed hands.

"My personal expenses?"

A wad of notes was handed over to him.

The faces of the visitors blossomed bright. They praised the Leader for his deep patriotism, admired his competence and departed.

There was a meeting in the office of the Napkin Workers' Union. There were only the important leaders of the union present. The Labour Leader told them, "I talked to the bosses. They will not give bonus for the mere asking. Even Sait Makhichoos, that is my host, spoke to them at length. The bosses openly say that the workers are not in a position to strike, nor do they have the unity to do so. I am afraid it is time that the bosses are given an idea about the strength of the workers. But it is up to you to decide upon the strike. I am here only to carry out your decision."

"If the bosses are determined to rob us of the bonus, there will be strike," said the union leaders.

"Let me warn you right now. If I lead a strike, it must not fizzle out. I must see it right through to the end. You are responsible for the morale and unity of the workers. You must make them stand up to the strain of police lathis and so on. This is a big thing. It will be written in golden letters in the history of Labour. I expect the strike to last a minimum of three months and you should be prepared for it."

The union leaders showed spirit. "Our union is game for it," they said, "but will you promise that the unions under your leadership will carry out sympathetic strikes?"

"Leave that to me"

"Some of the napkin workers belong to our rival union. They help to break the strike."

"They are only a few", said the Labour Leader. "In any case they are bound to come in as soon as we call for a general strike."

The strike began the day after the workers got their pay. The second day of the strike the number of strikes went up three times. On the fourth day of the strike most of the napkin workers were idle. There were sympathetic strikes all over the city. The papers played up the strike prominently. There were figures regarding the fall in the manufacture of napkins per each day and the corresponding loss to the owners in thousands of rupees.

As long as the workers were peaceful nothing happened but once the workers showed signs of unrest and indulged in destructive activities, Section 144 was promulgated. But the Labour Leader was not arrested.

The strike lasted twenty days and the papers were giving out the losses of the factories in lakhs of rupees. Yet the bosses did not seek to come to terms and this puzzled the workers.

On pretext of hooliganism of the workers, government unleashed the police. There were firings. Some of the striking labourers were killed.

"Through this, the strike gains strength" declared the Labour Leader.

* * *

The napkin manufacturers had every reason to be satisfied. The strike had saved them hundreds of thousands of rupees of wages for the labourers. The price of napkins went up and a good lot of the stock in the godowns was cleared.

Representatives of the manufacturers and workers met the Labour Leader in the palace of Sait Makhichoos.

"for heaven's sake," said the bosses to the Labour Leader imploringly, "drop this strike. We will let the workers come back to work. We are not in a position to give the bonus recommended by the arbitration committee but we are still ready to give the month's wages, which we promised to pay. We are not capable to bring back the dead, but we can represent to the government that those of the workers who have been sent to jail should be acquitted."

"What about our pay during the strike period?" the workers' deputies asked.

"That is beyond us."

The workers' deputies looked at the Labour Leader.

"In the light of the present international situation," said the Labour Leader, "I feel it is unwise to go on with the strike any longer. The workers suffered a lot. But then so did the manufacturers to a colossal degree. The strike has been successful and the bosses have come to terms. The workers should be satisfied with their moral victory. It is against the tenets of Ahimsa (non-violence) to take material advantage of those who have been defeated."

The workers' deputies looked at one another and agreed to abide by the decision of the Labour Leader. "A correct and Timely Advice", said the papers, boosting the Labour Leader for his able handling of the labour problem.

Two or three days later, the papers reported that the Labour Leader had moved to another city, but there was no news that the workers gave him a warm send-off.

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Suri's Theory
By Kodavatiganti Kutumba Rao

I tried to argue with Suri, that childhood is the best part of one’s life. He did not pick up the issue, but gave me some papers and said "Read this first and then I will answer your queries". The essay ran as follows.

"…..Everyone praises childhood. They recall those good old days and happiness with a sigh. Christ said theirs is the heaven. Gay said ignorance is bliss.

Memories of my childhood, the inadequate knowledge I had those days, make me feel miserable now. I now realise, that knowledge is painful. I would pray to God for a life without childhood.

There is no point in finding fault with the world for its wrong ideas. A patient in mortal pain asks for chloroform for relief. A labourer who toiled through the day makes his way to the local bar to relieve himself of pain. The world finds truth painful and so takes solace in ignorance.

Ignorance and lies are the most popular things on earth. Little kids are taught "obedience" by their elders.

"Mummy! Grandpa reeks of snuff," exclaims a little boy. Mother says "You naughty boy! Is that the way to talk about elders?" A smart boy escapes his mother’s rebuke by keeping such things to himself, but never forgets the fact that his grandpa smells bad. A not-so-smart boy believes that it was wrong to say such thing, repents for having said it and tries to convince himself that grandpa doesn’t smell bad. Naturally the former is branded as a " naughty boy" and the latter, a "good boy".

However good a boy is, he cannot know on his own, that he should respectfully greet his teacher whenever he meets him or her. How can he know, unless someone tells him, that being asked to stand upon the bench in the class is punishment? When I went to high school an amusing incident took place on the very first day. All the students stood up when the teacher entered. I was slow on the uptake and tried to pull the boy next to me to make him sit down. He stood up immediately and complained to the teacher about me. The teacher got angry that I did not show respect like the others and asked me to stand up on the bench. I was thrilled to stand up on the bench.

For many days after that I was never convinced that standing on the bench was a greater punishment than standing on the floor! How can I feel proud of my childhood? Just as a river flows between its banks, the child’s attitude is restrained by that of its parents. (Sometimes the river overflows and breaches the banks and so does the attitude of a child). The bond between the mother and the child is stronger. The river flow follows the bends and the curves of the inner bank. The child picks up all the faults of the mother. Our institutions of marriage and law keep our women in slavery. The social hierarchy and the family structure make women cowards. Our religion and scriptures equate our women with animals. In this scenario mothers are not fit to spend even an hour with their children, forget about bringing them up.

Though I have my father’s attitude to a great extent, I also have a slight dislike towards him and love towards my mother. In my love towards my mother, there could be an element of natural attraction of a man to a woman. But mainly, her opinions and her ignorance meant a line of least resistance in my life. A kid has to put in certain amount of effort to learn anything. It is easier to stagnate and procrastinate. This natural inertia encouraged me into idleness. I felt that approaching my father was like approaching the fire. He was like blinding light. And my mother was like blinding darkness. When both have the same effect why bother to approach the light? Nobody told me that light would give me benefits which darkness cannot line of least resistance

Even when I was a five-year-old boy my mother treated me like a two-year-old. My father treated me like a grown up. He would criticise her. "Why do you make a sissy out of him?" He seemed ignorant of everything. "Why do you treat him like a baby?"

"Oh! He is a little boy. What can he know of anything?" my mother would say. And they would continue to argue. What my father said is true. If we stop treating a five-year-old kid like a milksop, he can easily learn to behave properly and go about without bothering others at home. At the age of ten, I did not know how to fill my bath. I could not eat my meal on my own. My father disliked a kid who said, "Dad I need a pencil, what should I do?" My mother firmly believed that children should never touch money and children who asked for money were "bad kids".

There was always a certain amount of responsibility involved in behaving in accordance with my father's wishes and I disliked that.

My parents had other differences of opinion too. My father felt that I should be given freedom in my movements and behaviour and that it would be impossible to protect a child all the time. My mother found such ideas incredible. She would argue "Can you look on impassively even when he is playing with fire?"

"Let him take care of his protection to some extent. Mental handicap is far worse than physical handicap," said my father. He has this tendency to exaggerate during arguments. I feel that you can protect your child from both mental and physical damage, without hovering and fussing over him.

In any case, my mother’s hovering and fussing over me fetched very few good results. She was famous for her feeding habits. Everyday she would prepare my favourite dishes. When I struggled to finish the meal on my plate, she would say " my poor baby! You don’t know your own hunger. Do you know what happens when you don’t eat properly? When you sleep your soul goes to eat in the pots of the low caste people and they would close the pot with a lid." To save my soul from such a sin I had to wipe the meal plate clean. Every week I would fall sick and my mother would pray to God for my health, with pledges to God for my recovery!

In all other issues, she would behave as a safe keeper for my life. I was not allowed to peep into the well and shout "BOOM". I was not allowed to look out of the window in the train and inhale the smoke. I was not allowed to go the railway station, count the compartments of the goods train, wait till they light the gaslight and come home after it is dark! When my mother protected me like that, my father said "Your over protection is ruining him. You are making him an orphan. He is scared of going out, even when there is moonlight!" My mother would feel enraged.

" How can you call him an orphan, when we both are alive to look after him?"

" Not having anyone to look after does not make one an orphan. Not being able to live, unless someone looks after him, makes one an orphan" he said. She did not understand his words, not being a very intelligent woman.

"In any case you look after him as long as he is well. Once he is even mildly sick you run to God with all your bribes" he taunted.

" Oh! Won't you have pity even when he is dying" lamented my mother.


My father continued his taunting, " Now that is mother’s love. Just for an indigestion, she thinks he is going to die!"

At this point I would like to say a few words about infant mortality. With our ignorance about children, any child below the age of 2-3 years is likely to die any moment! Whenever any child dies, mother cries," Oh! My child, I never imagined that you would go so early!" We pay very dearly, if we are not mentally prepared for our near one's death. Every time a death occurs, temporarily we become detached from life, but never think of the inevitability and purpose of death. Nobody ever thinks, how can death be evil, if it happens to everyone. There is no way to prove that people who die are reborn. For convenience sake, let us assume, it is true. Some one asked a saint, if we are reborn, why don’t we remember details of our previous life? The saint replied, when we can’t recall events that took place a few years back, is it incredible that we can’t recall events of a previous life? In any case, I feel it is better to forget the past. If we can recall the previous life, there is no difference between sleep and death. I accept that life is a journey, but I don’t agree with the philosophy that preaches detachment in life. One need not be detached from wife and children to find happiness. They are one’s co-travellers in life. One needs to give them up only when one feels that they are not capable of travelling with oneself. The main problem with our philosophy is that it is not understood by people for whom it is meant. A man becomes unfit for travelling through life after a few years. At that time death occurs. But if death occurs very frequently, life is forever stumbling. What the doctors should find out is, with one physical body, how long can we travel through life? Bernard Shaw said that three hundred years is the desired span of life. If there is a way to forget yesterday’s trouble today, a man is reborn after every sleep. If there is a way to solve problems on a day-to-day basis, we can use every sleep as death that gives a new childhood.

Any way, what I liked in my mother’s attitude was irresponsibility. Hiding the truth, ignoring facts, lack of self confidence, considering all others better than myself, feelings of jealousy towards people who do things which I could not, thinking that people who speak truth are cruel, since truth hurts me, are only part of my character.

I always liked to play with girls. My father was quite old fashioned in such ideas. He would say "Why is that idiot always playing with girls? He will become shy and timid like girls!" I am well aware of the problems that arise due to partitioning girls and boys into separate compartments from childhood. But still, there is an element of truth in what he said.

Then, my education became a problem. My father argued that everything was to be learnt and nothing could be taught. My mother argued back, saying, how can a child learn without anybody’s help? They never understood each other’s language. My mother won this round. They put me in the local primary school.

As my father predicted, I learnt in two years, what could be learnt in two or three months. Then I was put in a bigger school. At that time, my father again commented that it was a waste of time. My mother asked, with sarcasm, "Do you want him to be ruined without proper education? "

"You call this education? Let him follow me and I can make him self reliant and earn up to two hundred rupees per month."

"Can you tell me what you will teach him?"

"Anything! Carpentry, music, acting! He can easily earn ten rupees per day. Anyway, what do you understand such things? "

She returned the ridicule " Of course I can understand. You want him to run around drama companies, get into liquor and girl friends and other such things."

My father stroked his moustache, and said absently, "I acted in dramas for nearly two years."

My mother won this round too. I joined high school. The world around me suddenly changed. I grew up beyond my mother’s comprehension, when I started to learn English. All around me were new teachers, new ideas, and new friends! To adapt to this new environment, I shed part of my old character. There was a world of difference between obeying my mother and obeying the unwritten laws of this society. Cutting my hair, wearing pressed clothes, going out with friends to plays, movies and hotels were few of the habits I acquired. I knew not all of it was sinful. What could my mother understand? Why couldn’t she realise I was no longer tied to her apron strings? Why did I have to pretend to obey her? I felt proud of the fact that my knowledge was improving by day. I started aping the western culture.

When I was about to appear for my B.A. exams, my father passed away. I felt like a fellow who was sleeping in hell, dreaming about heaven and woke up to reality suddenly. What had my education, tea parties, my arrogance given me? All I learnt at school was a waste. I learnt about English culture, fashion but what about the money to afford that culture? I remembered a conversation with my father.

I had asked him money to go to a play. He gave me the money and said "This month your expenditure is already fifteen rupees."

My mother interjected saying " Oh, why are you bothering him with such details? "

He replied patiently " He has to know how difficult it is to earn money."

I wish he were my mother. He would have been better than all the books on child rearing!…….

I finished reading the piece and said " perhaps you should have written a straight essay on child rearing." He said, "I always notice that you are dissatisfied with whatever I say or write. I wonder why!"

I didn’t answer but he was right. When he talks about something, he beats around the bush without explaining his point. He continued "Perhaps, you want me to be explicit. If I start talking about a cow, you expect me to give you statistics about its ears, eyes etc. Am I right?" "Yes, but you never do it!" I complained.

"Why should I? I would rather tell you how to think than tell you what to think about an issue. It is not books on child rearing hat we need, which anyway people don’t read, but good mothers. Every woman should be trained and groomed into an excellent mother."

"By the way, what do you intend to do with these papers?"

"Why do you ask?" "Give them to me. I shall send it for publication."

He snatched the papers from me, before I completed my sentence.

"I would rather burn them!"
I realised his reason. A few days ago, I liked a particular essay in a popular magazine and tried to read it aloud for him. As soon as I started with "Unite, the brave brothers of Andhra!" he got up to beat me up.

I am sure he will kill me, if he comes across all this I am writing about him!!!

(Translated by B. Sharada)

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