A State of Uplifting Bliss

I have always wanted to write. There is pleasure in writing. There is enjoyment in expressing our views in words. We all do this when we speak. I have been writing something or the other right from my early childhood. I love words and their meanings. I may not have any profound views. At times there is an absence of novelty in my thoughts. It hardly matters to me for the moment.

The very act of placing words together to express my views makes me happy. I bestow a kind of permanence to my thoughts when I write them in words. I find a special joy when I read my own thoughts. They are my thoughts. They have come out of my own thinking. They are part of me. Still, at times, they look so alien to me. When I think of something that I have written quite a long time ago, I find it as though I never wrote those thoughts. They appear so remote and alien to me. What makes them appear so remote from me? May I have to investigate into this matter? Are they not my thoughts? Am I not the creator of those views?

I am like a small child learning to walk. It takes time for me to run, to write effortlessly. There are times when I ask myself: “Why do I write?” What purpose do I want to serve by writing? I do not know any answer. Can I restrain myself from writing? Certainly I cannot. There is something within me that compels me to write. There is an irresistible urge that propels me to express myself in words. It is something innate. It is certainly an innate compulsive urge to free myself from the burden of thoughts.

Thoughts enter my consciousness without any of my efforts. Thoughts haunt me. They enter me. They urge me to translate them into words. This is something spontaneous, something that happens without any of my involvement. I am a mere spectator. Thoughts enter my mind, find their expression, and appear as clusters of words when I write.It is for this reason some thoughts appear so alien to me. It is I who give those thoughts a form in words. Did I think those thoughts? I am not certain. Perhaps I am a sort of a medium. Thoughts do not belong to me. Where do these thoughts come from? I do not know for certain. The fragments of sentences I compose with words are mine.

I am certain about one thing. I have got to write. Writing is an intrinsic part of my being. I cannot keep away from writing. We need to communicate with others for our survival. We speak mostly out of necessity. We need to talk to each other in order to get things done. We certainly use words when we speak. In one sense, the act of writing can also be used as an essential operation for worldly existence. It is a mundane crumb of the writing act.

Creative writing would never turn into a routine activity. Writing, in its true form, is not merely meant for worldly communication. Writing has a sublime role to play in the life of the writer. It helps the writer in his contemplation. One can discover oneself only when he is conscious and mindful. Writing helps to refine ones powers of concentration that lead to contemplation. Writing paves the way for self discovery.

There is magic in words and in the feat of writing. Yes, it is a feat. Man can reach his inner source through this feat. He can find his original self only through an act of writing. True writing evolves simply through an awareness of the reality of this wonderful creation. Writing is a kind of penance that takes the writer into a state of uplifting bliss.

He had a large circle of friends

My father was a curious amalgam of worldly wisdom and crass gullibility. His hard-earned money did not stay with him. He performed the weddings of my two sisters when he was financially sound. We are six siblings—I have two younger sisters and three younger brothers. I am the eldest of all.

My marriage with Saraswathi took place around 8.30 pm on 11 March 1982 Thursday in Rajahmundry. The kalyanamandapam was beautifully decorated, and my father took special care to see that all our relatives and family friends not only attended our wedding but also stayed till the end of all the matrimonial rituals. He had a large circle of friends, and he liked the way the wedding rituals were performed, and he enjoyed himself conversing with his bosom friends. Prominent among them was one of his Tamil friends, Krishnamurthi, a dark short man with a cheerful smile on his face, who came from Dindigal of Southern Tamilnadu. I was told that my father and Krishnamurthi commenced their apprenticeship in accountancy together and became intimate friends. Guided by my father, Krishnamurthi opened a small vegetable shop in Dindigal market in 1960s, and in a short time he became a rich man, and later he tried his luck in selling groundnut oil. He was a success and was very grateful to my father. He spoke to me with great affection in Telugu with a Tamil accent. He told me that he and my father were very fond of Sivaji Ganesan’s movies, and used to watch every Sivaji movie several times. Krishnamurthi used to take me around the market place when I was a small child. My grandmother used to treat Krishnamurthi as one of her sons, and he was with us on the day of my marriage.

A large contingent of people arrived from Charla, my father-in-law’s place, to witness our wedding. The number was quite huge and was rather unmanageable. Initially, my father-in-law was a little worried about their make-shift shelter. My father asked him to stay cool, and assured him that he would take care of everything. My father-in-law was all praise for the excellent arrangements made for the guests for their rest and dining. Balathripura Sundari, elder sister of Saraswathi, was in full charge of the womenfolk who came from Charla to attend my marriage. My father was gregarious and extravagant. He was loved by the young and the old. He promised gifts to most of his cousins, and these young women were after him. There were my school friends and college friends. He also had a hearty chat with my friends. He knew most of them by name. There was lot of fun, and it was a memorable evening to all of us.

My mother, sisters, brothers and several of my aunts added charm and grace to the function. My two sisters were married, and my three brothers were attending high school. I have several aunts from my father’s side. There were no video cameras in early 1980s, there were only colour photographs. The wedding photographs could not be developed in Rajahmundry. We could get the negatives of the photographs developed in Hyderabad one month later. There were giggles and jokes on me from the womenfolk. It seems that I tied four knots of the mangalasuthram instead of the traditionally prescribed three knots while placing it around Saraswathi’s neck. One of my aunts commented that I would love my wife more than anyone in the world.

My maternal grandmother, who was very possessive of me, was in all excitement during my marriage. My maternal and paternal grandfathers did not live to see my marriage. My father had friends among mridangam players since my paternal grandfather Mallikharjuna Rao was an eminent drama artiste. My paternal grandfather played Hiranyakasipu a number of times in Bhakta Prahlada on stage and on silver screen. His performance in the role of Hiranyakasipu in a silent movie Bhakta Prahlada, made in late 1930s in Calcutta, made him very popular with his people in his prime time. His name found a place in the book Nataratnalu authored by Mikkilineni Radhakrihna Murthy in 1960s. Later he received an official monthly pension from the government of Andhra Pradesh for his contribution to Telugu drama till he died in February 1974. My father requested the mridangam players to choose good tunes during the wedding function since there were several music-loving elders in the audience. The mridangam-sannayi music troop played mostly to memorable tunes like “Seethaaraamula kalyaanam choodamu raarandi...” and pure classical Thyagaraja numbers.

My college friends asked Saraswathi to answer a few questions about me. She remained silent. My father intervened and told my friends that she could answer questions about her father and their family. Later she smilingly told them she would answer questions about her father. They asked a few questions about her parents, elder sister and younger brothers. She answered these questions with a little diffidence. My friends certified that Saraswathi was articulate. Some of the girls from our neighbourhood took a closer look at her since they were looking at her for the first time after our marriage was announced. A day after our marriage, my parents took Saraswathi and me to Annavaram to worship Sri Satyanarayana Swami. My sisters, brothers, some of our intimate relatives accompanied us on our journey to Annavaram on an RTC bus specially booked for the marriage party.

While our convoy toward Annavaram was on the move, some of my aunts asked my father how he came to know about Saraswathi’s father. My father surprised them by telling them that he knew Saraswathi’s parents for quite a long time. He told them that Saraswathi’s mother was one of his distant sisters. He knew Saraswathi’s father and their family for several years. It seems my father called on them earlier in Charla when he visited their village on business to purchase red chillis. Raayavarapu Suryanarayana, a gold merchant in Rajahmundry, a common friend to my father and my father-in-law, played middleman in arranging our marriage. The merchant’s son was my classmate in my elementary school. My father told my aunts that he was convinced that Saraswathi was a rare girl with a spiritual bent of mind, and she would make an ideal housewife. We returned home by late evening after paying our respects to Sri Satyanarayana Swami at His Temple at Annavaram.