The Power of Love

The Power of Love

a novel by

Kamaraju Susila

translated by

Uma Eachempati

Copyright © 2013 by Uma Eachempati

All rights reserved. 

Published in the United States by Uma Eachempati. 

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. 

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is merely coincidental, and names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. 

For information, visit us at http://www.umaeachempati.com to learn more. 

Cover by Kristina Blank Makansi, Treehouse Publishing Group 

ISBN: 978-0-9914885-1-3

Chapter One

It had become a habit in the life of Raja Rao to supervise the gardener each evening. He would go around the four corners of the garden and stand near each plant, checking that it had received enough manure and water.

One evening, Raja Rao was standing near the jasmine plant. He exclaimed to the gardener, Mallaya, see how these jasmines are blossoming!

Oh, yes, said Mallaya with pride.

Send the flowers inside to Amma garu.

I do send them every day, replied Mallaya.

Raja Rao walked towards the house, removed the mud from his shoes at the veranda, and entered the hallway. Upon seeing the servant boy, Gangaram, at the entrance, he asked, Is hot water ready for a bath?

Yes, sir, he replied with a blank face.

Raja Rao did not reply and went briskly inside.

Within fifteen minutes, he had bathed, put on the white dhoti and lalchi that the dhobi had brought, turned on the ceiling fan, and was sitting on the sofa, reaching out for the newspaper on the side table. The clerk, Subbiah, brought in some papers.

What are those papers? Raja Rao queried.

We have to pay the taxes. These are related to that.

Sit down. Raja Rao pointed to a chair beside him. Subbiah drew up a chair and sat down.

Subbiah’s father had worked as manager for Raja Rao’s father. As a child, Subbiah was very much a part of the household and part of the family. When Raja Rao took over the business, he enlisted Subbiah into the establishment.

Did you bring the tax forms? Raja Rao asked.

Oh, yes. Subbiah handed him the forms and a pen.

Raja Rao signed at the specified areas and returned the papers.

What is going on with our business? Raja Rao said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

Just like everything else, prices have gone up—even for clothes. So our business is booming. All three of our branches are packed with men and women at all times. I check on the accounts every day, Subbiah said.

Do you remember the days of Father?

Why not? He started as a small business, ran a lorry service, and earned lakhs. His vigilance, his charity—he wouldn’t refuse anyone who asked for help.

Those days were different. It isn’t the same nowadays.

That’s true.

These days there is no happiness for the haves or for the have-nots. Raja Rao flicked the ash from the tip of the cigarette with his finger.

You said it well. For people like us who live a hand-to-mouth existence, not only Lord Brahma but the Trimurti have to descend to help us.

Raja Rao smiled at Subbiah’s comment. I am not going to rely on this business. I am educating my younger son to become a doctor, Subbiah. Just as a shine is important for gold, education is important for a man. What do you say?

Of course, sir!

For a moment, Raja Rao fell into a reverie. What is Amma garu doing?

She is supervising the making of the mango pickle.

That means she will distribute the old pickle to all of you.

Yes, sir. That has become the tradition.

Telegram! They heard a shout.

The telegram boy stood at the door. Subbiah received the telegram and handed it to Raja Rao. Subbiah signed the receipt, dispatched the delivery boy, and approached Raja Rao, who opened the envelope in a hurry.

Ayyo! Subbiah! Raja Rao was agitated upon reading the contents.

What happened, sir? Subbiah asked, showing concern.

Without replying to him, Raja Rao rushed into the kitchen, shouting, Lalita! with a racing heart.

Lalita! Where are you? he shouted again.

What? What happened? Lalita came to him.

He’s gone! Brother-in-law! He’s gone. Raja Rao slumped into a chair.

Which brother-in-law? Lalita questioned.

What do you mean, which brother-in-law? Purnamma’s husband, Raja Rao growled, grief-stricken.

Hayyo! What horror is this? When did he pass away?

The day before yesterday. They sent an urgent telegram the very same night, but we just got it today!

Wonder what illness?

It was not an illness. It was an accident, he said curtly.

Subbiah! Raja Rao shouted.

Subbiah, standing nearby, approached, terrified. Yes, sir.

I have to go to Madras on tonight’s train. Get the car out. You must also come with me to the station.

All the formalities will be over by now. What will you do by going in such a hurry? For the tenth day— Lalita drawled.

Even before she could finish the sentence, Raja Rao cut her off. Are you out of your mind? She is my only sister, and she is younger than me. When she is crying at the loss of her husband, you are suggesting to me to wait ten days! Go and pack my bags! Raja Rao screamed.

As there was nothing else to say or do, Lalita packed the box and brought it out in half an hour.

The bond between Raja Rao’s family and Subbiah was unimaginable. Subbiah was relied upon for errands in the house as well as anything concerning the business. Everything went through him. But he did not intrude in family matters or give his opinion. Still, being a well-wisher of the family, he shared Raja Rao’s heartache at the loss of Purnamma’s husband. He had tears in his eyes. Wiping them, Subbiah picked up the bags and announced that the car was ready.

All right, let’s go. Raja Rao looked towards his wife. Lalita, I need one thousand rupees. Being a careful man, Raja Rao always kept about two thousand rupees in the house. One could never tell when the necessity would arise.

What will possibly cost one thousand rupees? Maybe he will buy a white saree. There is no need for a blouse piece even, Lalita muttered, giving her husband the thousand rupees, which he placed in his purse.

I am bringing Purnamma and Malati along with me, he announced as he walked out the door.

Lalita followed him to the car.

Emandi, if you don’t mind, listen to what I have to say. Women know more about these matters than men do. Do you really think your sister will accompany you now?

If she does not, I will coax and cajole her until she does.

You are leaving without having your dinner?

I will eat somewhere. He was abrupt.

It is getting late, shouted Subbiah.

After the luggage was loaded, Raja Rao got into the car. The car went out the gate. Lalita, absorbed in her own thoughts, sat down with a thud on a cane chair in the veranda.

Ayyagaru left without eating. Should I serve you? the cook asked, coming into the veranda. Lalita came out of her trance.

Yes, I am coming. Let’s go. She rose from the chair.

She lay in bed after dinner with her thoughts rushing in waves.

It is better to be frank at the outset, than at the end. If Purnamma and Malati come here, there are sure to be misunderstandings. Better to throw some money at them and have them stay in their own dwelling. That would be best for everyone. Poor man, Purnamma’s father-in-law! Has anyone thought of what is going on with the old man? In his old age, he is crying for a dead son. Everyone is being selfish and taking care of his or her own comfort and happiness.

Lalita was bitter and harsh.

Chapter Two

As soon as they reached the station, Subbiah ran in and bought one ticket to Madras for Raja Rao and a platform ticket for himself. He settled the box under the berth, spread the bedding over it, and waited on the platform with Raja Rao.

It is time; please get inside, Subbiah said.

Raja Rao got onto the train. You can go home. It is already late—your family will be waiting for you.

It is all right. Somehow we made it to the train. 

One man was shouting, Bananas! Bananas! 

Cashews! shouted another. A young man pushing a cart with biscuits and other eatables was followed by another who had books and magazines. Some coolies were taking away their empty luggage carts. 

The Madras Mail will be leaving from Platform Number One, said the announcer on the public system in Telugu, English, and Hindi.

I will return on the thirteenth day. Bring the car to the station, Raja Rao instructed.

All right. Subbiah reinforced his words by rotating his head.

The hustle on the platform subsided. The guard waved his green flag. The long train filled with hundreds of passengers lurched forward and puffed away, heaving like a pregnant woman at term, then gradually picked up speed. Raja Rao looked out the window. The scenes were competing with the train, running along with it. But Raja Rao’s mind was rummaging the past. He did not notice the scenery.

Chapter Three

Rajashekhar Rao and Annapurna were parents of Padmanabham, who named his own children after them in gratitude. The first child was a boy, and then four years later, a girl was born. In daily parlance, they became Raja Rao and Purnamma.

Padmanabham rented some lorries, and with this service earned his fortune. From the profits, he started Padmanabha Silk House, which soon expanded into three branches. He desired to give his son a good university education, but Raja Rao obtained a BA degree with great difficulty. Padmanabham accepted the fact that the Goddess of Learning, Saraswati, had not favored his son.

Raja Rao’s mother, Kamakshamma, carried out her household duties diligently. Friends and relatives were welcome at her home at all times. Being devout, she performed Tulsi Puja every day. She also invited the neighborhood women to come for many pujas and chants. She would have gatherings where the Gita and Ramayana were read.

Purnamma quit school at the age of fourteen to stay home and learn household duties. When she turned eighteen, her father arranged a marriage to an only son. The wedding was celebrated with great pomp and splendor, as was befitting his social status.

On the day of the wedding, Purnamma had the traditional Mangala Snana and decked herself in a Benares silk saree. Her feet were decorated with turmeric and red dye. The traditional red dot of marriage adorned her forehead, and the black dot to ward off evil eyes decorated her cheek. With jasmine flowers wound around her long braid, Purnamma looked divine. However, there was no trace of happiness either on the face of the bride or of her mother. But Raja Rao hoped this was natural for the mother of the bride.

The bride was seated next to the groom in the decorated tent. To the beat of the traditional drums and pipes, Rama Rao tied the mangalasutra round her neck. Colored rice, showering blessings, fell on them from all corners of the tent. Following the sacred promises with the seven steps, they exchanged the pouring of colored rice to signify prosperity and happiness. They bowed and took the blessings of all the elders. Purnamma cleared her saree of the rice and approached her mother, then drooped over her shoulder and sobbed. Kamakshamma, wiping her own tears, held her daughter to her bosom before she let her go out of her parental home. This sight tugged at Raja Rao’s heart.

To live the rest of her life with another human being—the man who tied the three knots round her neck—seemed a formidable task at this young age. These young women must have patience, forbearance, strength, and a capacity for compromise in order to live together in harmony with a spouse. He was appalled. His father had furthered his education, but denied the sister who was meritorious in class.

Now, she was leaving her maternal home.

Raja Rao was wistful.

At the time of the wedding, Purnamma’s husband, Rama Rao, was a law student in Madras. Padmanabhan opined that Purnamma could join her husband after his graduation, but Rama Rao firmly expressed his right. He had not gotten married to leave his wife behind with her parents. His mother had died, and there was no woman to run the household. So Purnamma, traveling with her father, uncle, and husband, left for Madras. But Purnamma was unhappy there. The house consisted of two rooms separated by an open space. Of the two rooms, one was a kitchen, which did not have a proper window. It was dark, so she kept the light on all day.

In order to reach the college on time, Rama Rao left home at nine in the morning to catch the bus. Purnamma woke at five in the morning to get his food ready. She struggled with these demands.

Chapter Four

Raja Rao did not notice the number of stations the train had passed. He was thinking of his sister with sadness. Fifteen years ago, Purnamma, pregnant with Malati, had to be brought to the maternal home as was the custom. Padmanabham wrote to her father-in-law and husband individually. They replied that Purna would stay in Madras for the childbirth as there were many good doctors and hospitals in the city. Kamakshamma wished to go to Madras to help her daughter, but the offer was rejected as unnecessary.

A few months later, Kamakshamma got sick, and the doctors gave up hope. She wished to see her daughter one last time. A telegram was sent informing Purna of the news of Kamakshamma’s terminal illness and her desire to see her daughter, asking to please send Purnamma home. Since the expenses were not paid for, the husband did not send her. In the end, Kamakshamma closed her eyes without seeing her daughter. Purnamma agonized, as she could not see her mother one last time. Four years later, when Padmanabham got sick, Raja Rao sent a telegram to his sister and sent the fare for her travel. Purnamma arrived with her daughter, Malati. Four days later, Padmanabham died, and Purnamma left after fifteen days. Again today, Purnamma lamented the sudden loss of her husband. Raja Rao’s heart melted thinking of his sister.

Rama Rao, Purnamma’s husband, entered law college but