Nate and I drove to Tankbund instead of Thatha’s house and sat down on one of the benches, right next to the statue of Krishnadeva Raya, the great king of the Deccan.
Krishnadeva Raya was part of my childhood; part of my knowledge of Indian history and mythology, of Thatha telling me rich, vivid stories of the king and his wise court jester, Tenali Raman. They were fables, part of folklore that had traveled generations to be revealed to me and hopefully to my children through me.
Thatha would sit me on his lap out on the veranda swing. He would fold one leg, which I would sit on, and keep the other leg on the floor to keep the swing in motion. He would then tell me a story.
My favorite was the story where corrupt Brahmins try to swindle the king and both the king and the Brahmins are taught a lesson by Tenali Raman.
I would make Thatha tell me the story again and again of how, when the king’s mother dies without her last wish of eating a ripe mango fulfilled, Krishnadeva Raya is filled with guilt and fear that his mother’s atma is wandering around the earth because of an unfulfilled desire. The court priest, a horrible Brahmin, decides to take advantage of the grief-stricken king and tells him, “Since the Queen Mother died without eating a mango, her soul is lost, crying for closure.” Thatha would say this in a sad quiet voice, imitating the Brahmin.
The king would then ask in Thatha’s humble voice, “Mangoes were out of season, there was nothing I could do. What should I do, O great Pandit, to make this right?”
“You have to do a puja, a big puja,” the Brahmin says. “And to ensure that your mother’s soul rests in peace, you must give a golden mango to fifty noble Brahmins.”
The king thinks it is a wonderful idea and decides to do accordingly, only he thinks fifty to be a small number and invites every Brahmin in his kingdom.
“Every Brahmin got a golden mango?” I would ask Thatha the same question each time. “How many gold mangoes would that be, Thatha?”
“Hundreds,” Thatha would say and then would come to the part I loved the most.
Tenali Rama, seeing his Lord and Master being swindled, decides to teach the Brahmins a lesson. After the king’s puja, Raman shows up at the temple and asks the Brahmins to come home with him as his mother had also recently died of an unfulfilled wish. Expecting more goodies the Brahmins follow Raman to his house.
When they get there they find several branding irons resting in hot fire. “What is that for, Raman?” the court priest asks and Raman folds his hands and raises them over his head (Thatha would do the same with one hand while the other would hold me), “My mother died of rheumatism and her last wish had been to be branded at her knees to ease the pain. But I am no king, I can’t afford gold rods, so these will have to do.”
I would cover my mouth with shock. “Did Raman brand the Brahmins, Thatha?”
“No.” Thatha would laugh. “They all ran away, leaving their golden mangoes behind. Seeing them run, the king realizes that he was being conned and thanks Raman for showing him the truth.”
“Are all Brahmins cheats?” I asked once, and Thatha had shaken his head violently. “No, Priya Amma, this is just a story. Brahmins are honest and good people. Tenali Raman was also a Brahmin . . . and he is good, isn’t he?”
There were more stories, some about Raman, Jataka tales about Bodhisattva, stories about Jain and Buddha, about Lord Indra, The Mahabharata, The Ramayana . . . everything. Thatha had been my source of Indian history and mythology. He had been a great storyteller, just like his brother Kathalu-Thatha had been. But after I grew too old to sit on his lap, storytelling was replaced with discussions and now, finally, we had reached an impasse.
“I know I eventually have to go to Thatha’s house and face the music, I just don’t want to,” I said to Nate.
“Then come home with me,” he suggested. “Call and let them know you are at home. A good night’s sleep will put everything in perspective for everyone.”
“I don’t know where Nanna went and . . .” I shrugged.
Nate nodded and put his arm around me. He pulled my head against his shoulder and kissed me