Telugu Original in Telugu by Ampasayya Naveen

“Bhavani, are you home?” came a voice from the front door. Bhavani Devi, who had just finished her prayers in the puja room, realized someone had come for her. She stepped into the drawing room.

Her elder brother, Satyanarayana, was sitting on the sofa with a man she didn’t recognize.

“Oh, you’ve come just now, annayya? How are your wife and children? Funny, isn’t it—we live in the same city, yet we hardly see each other,” said Bhavani Devi, smiling faintly.

“In this giant city, Bhavani, getting from one part to another feels like a pilgrimage. We’re all doing well. But listen—do you know who this gentleman is?” asked Satyanarayana, gesturing to the man beside him.

“How would I, unless you tell me?” Bhavani replied, glancing at the stranger with interest.

He had a commanding presence—his skin tinged red, his frame broad. He wore rich silk garments, and on his forehead were the vertical markings of a devout Vaishnavite. Just looking at him, she felt sure he must be some renowned astrologer or priest.

“This is Lakshmanamurthy garu—a respected expert in vastu. You remember, don’t you? You mentioned after moving into this house that things hadn’t really gone well. You even said there might be something off about the house itself and asked me to bring someone who knows about vastu, if I knew anyone. So, here he is. I can’t quite put into words how highly regarded he is. When the seriously wealthy—the industrialists, chief ministers, cabinet ministers, film stars—build anything new, he’s the one they call. And whatever he tells them, they follow to the letter,” Satyanarayana said with unmistakable pride.

“You’ve done the right thing, annayya,” Bhavani said. “We’ve a daughter of marriageable age. It’s been more than five years now—we’ve looked into so many matches, and not a single one has worked out. We even sent our son to America, hoping he’d land a good job. But he’s still struggling to find something that actually suits his qualifications. We tell everyone he’s doing well, of course. And plenty of families have come forward, offering crores in dowry to marry their daughters to him. But we don’t want to get him married while our daughter is still waiting.”

Lakshmanamurthy nodded gravely. “The moment I saw your house, I could tell. There are serious vastu imbalances here. When the energy of a place is disturbed, nothing goes the way it should.”

“It’s not just you—lots of people have said there’s a vastu issue with this house,” Bhavani said.

“It’s one thing for people to say it,” Satyanarayana replied, “but quite another when Lakshmanamurthy garu says it. He’s a master of his field. His word isn’t taken lightly. Lakshmanamurthy garu, please—tell us what’s wrong with the house, and what needs changing to set things right.”

“I will, of course. That’s why I’m here,” Lakshmanamurthy said. “Let’s walk around the place first.”

Satyanarayana stood up at once. “Yes, let’s.”

Bhavani Devi led them through the house—a dream home that had taken shape just four years earlier, built at a cost of two crores. She showed them each room, each corner, as if revealing something both loved and troubled.

When they returned to the drawing room and sat down again, Lakshmanamurthy looked around and said, “Nothing in this house is in the right place. Without certain changes, no good will come to you.”

“Only if you promise to convince your husband to carry out the changes he recommends will Lakshmanamurthy garu tell you exactly what those changes are,” Satyanarayana said, turning to Bhavani.

“It’s my responsibility to convince him,” she said. “You just tell me what needs to be done.”

“The kitchen should be in the southeast,” Lakshmanamurthy began, “but here, it’s in the northeast. That’s wrong. The staircase is in the northwest—it shouldn’t be. That’s a serious flaw. Your borewell is in the southwest. It should be in the northeast. And the main entrance—yours faces west. That’s not good. You’ll either need to move it to the east or the north. Judging by the position of your plot, east isn’t an option. At the very least, shift it to the north. And the stairs—get rid of them from the northwest and rebuild them in the southwest. If you make all these changes, there will be good fortune. Your husband will get a promotion too.”

“If we do all this,” Bhavani asked, her voice sharp with something between hope and doubt, “will our daughter finally get married? Will our son get a proper job?”

“Without a doubt. Your daughter will get married, and your son will find a high-level job. Ah—almost forgot. You’ll need to move your septic tank as well. It’s in the southeast right now. That needs to go. Shift it to the northwest.”

Bhavani smiled. “Well, if you tell him he’ll get a promotion, my husband won’t waste a minute agreeing to all of this.”

“To carry out these changes,” Lakshmanamurthy said, pausing for a moment, “you’re looking at a cost of around ten lakhs. Your husband…?”

“My sister will talk him round,” Satyanarayana cut in. “He’s an Assistant Engineer in R&B. Money’s not an issue. Just hand it over to a contractor—job done in no time.”

“I’ll bear whatever I must,” Bhavani said quietly. “I’m convinced now—it’s because of the vastu in this house that our daughter’s marriage has stalled for so long.”

After that, she led them into the dining room. She asked the cook to serve snacks, and followed it up with coffee for both of them.

As they were getting ready to leave, Satyanarayana turned to Bhavani and said, “Lakshmanamurthy garu’s consultation fee is ten thousand. Do you want to give it now, or would you rather ask your husband and give it later?

“There’s no need to wait. I’ll give it now,” said Bhavani Devi, and went inside. She returned with ten thousand-rupee notes, placed them carefully on a small silver tray used for arti, and handed it to Lakshmanamurthy.

“May your wishes bear fruit,” he said, offering a formal blessing. He tucked the money into his pocket and stood up. “Right then, I’ll take your leave. May good things come to you,” he added, and walked out with Satyanarayana.

Satyanarayana lived in Hyderabad as well, with his son. Though technically Bhavani Devi’s husband’s cousin, he’d always been more like an elder brother to her. They treated each other as siblings—not in name alone but in spirit.

His friendship with Lakshmanamurthy went back years. Whenever someone in his circle built a new house, Satyanarayana would bring Lakshmanamurthy over. Without fail, Lakshmanamurthy would identify some vastu flaw or other—there was always something that needed fixing. He would lay out the changes that needed to be made if the family wanted peace and prosperity. A portion of the consultation fee invariably found its way back to Satyanarayana. Between them, the two had supervised countless adjustments in newly built homes. Those who knew them often said the pair had racked up a mountain of merit—and no small fortune—by doing what they did.

Bhavani Devi’s husband, Vaman Rao, didn’t believe much in vastu. When she told him about the changes Lakshmanamurthy had recommended, he didn’t even try to sugar-coat his response.

“It won’t stop at ten lakhs,” he said bluntly. “You’ll need twenty—at least. And I don’t have that kind of money. I’m not going along with this nonsense.”

But Bhavani Devi knew how to wear him down.

She told him she would rather die than live in a house that blocked her daughter’s future. He snapped back, “Go ahead then. I’ll find someone else and get on with my life.”

She broke down in tears and climbed onto the guest bed, sulking. She stopped eating. Her hunger strike dragged on for a week. She wouldn’t budge.

After seven days, Vaman Rao stood by the bedroom door and looked at her. For the first time, the thought struck him—what if she really dies?

That was the moment he gave in.

He agreed to carry out the changes Lakshmanamurthy had advised. Bhavani Devi, still weak but triumphant, drank the lime juice he brought her and broke her fast.

Tearing down parts of a house that had been lovingly built is painful for anyone. For Vaman Rao, it was gut-wrenching. He had designed every part of that house with care. Now he had to watch the stairs being broken apart. The kitchen—torn down. The borewell—sealed. The front door—moved. His eyes stung, but there was no room for protest.

Over the course of six months, and at the cost of twenty lakhs, every one of Lakshmanamurthy’s vastu corrections was completed.

Bhavani Devi felt as if a great weight had lifted off her chest. She was filled with hope.

She told herself it wouldn’t be long now—soon, a good match would come for her daughter, Mounika.

And it did.

One day, Satyanarayana turned up at their door, smiling.

“Bhavani, I’ve found a fine match for Mounika!”

“Really, annayya? You think this one will actually work out?” she asked, trying to keep her excitement in check.

“Of course it will. There’s nothing in your house blocking her path now,” he said. “All the obstacles—gone.”

“You’re absolutely right, annayya,” said Bhavani. “Ever since we made all those changes Lakshmanamurthy garu told us to, it’s been nothing but good news. Your brother-in-law got promoted to Executive Engineer just last month. Madhav, who’s in America, finally landed an excellent job. And now this proposal you’ve found for Mounika has come through as well—it really does feel like Lakshmanamurthy’s hand is behind it all.”

“This match will definitely go ahead, Bhavani,” Satyanarayana said with confidence. “They’re more than eager. They’re the ones pushing for the alliance. Apparently, they looked us up online and were quite impressed. You upload all of Mounika’s details on the internet, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we did. But tell me—what’s the boy studied? What job does he have? Where’s he from? Who are his parents? Have you found all that out?”

“I’ve got everything, sister. His name’s Vinod. He’s working in California as a software engineer. His monthly salary—converted to our currency—is about ten lakhs. His parents live here in Hyderabad, but they visit the US regularly. His father retired as a high school headmaster. He worked hard to put his son through college and turn him into an engineer. Just the one son and a daughter. The daughter’s married and settled in the States too, along with her husband. The family knows plenty of prospective brides, but they’ve picked us first. They’ve given us top priority. In fact, Vinod just came to Hyderabad from the US specifically to get married. He’s in a real hurry. If we say yes, they’ll come round as early as tomorrow to see Mounika.”

“Everything sounds perfect, annayya,” Bhavani said. “Your brother-in-law will be home for lunch soon. Once he’s back, I’ll tell him everything. If he agrees, let’s ask them to visit tomorrow itself for the match.”

While they were still talking, they heard a car pull up outside.

Vaman Rao stepped out, walked into the house, and saw Satyanarayana sitting in the drawing room.

“Namaskaram, bava garu!” Satyanarayana greeted him cheerfully.

“Namaskaram. You’ve come again, which can only mean trouble for this house,” Vaman Rao said dryly.

“Now, now—don’t say that. I’m the first person who prays for this house to prosper,” said Satyanarayana.

“Right. That’s exactly why you had the whole place pulled apart the other day,” Vaman Rao muttered.

“When a house has vastu faults, there’s no way around it, bava garu. It’s only after we sorted them out that you got your promotion to Executive Engineer. And Madhav landed a great job in the States too,” Satyanarayana replied.

“That promotion was long overdue. There were some technical issues that caused the delay. Once they were cleared, it finally came through. It had nothing to do with vastu," Vaman Rao said.

“You’ll say that, of course,” Satyanarayana said. “But there’s another good thing coming your way—very soon.”

“A good thing? What now?” Vaman Rao asked, clearly surprised.

“Our brother has found a wonderful match for Mounika,” Bhavani said. “Tell him the details, annayya.”

Satyanarayana explained everything.

Vaman Rao listened without interrupting. When Satyanarayana had finished, he nodded slowly. “It does sound promising. We’ve seen so many matches for Mounika. They always seemed to go well at first, then something or the other would crop up and ruin it. There’s nothing wrong with her—she’s beautiful, she’s well-educated. It’s just that she’s a bit dark-skinned. That one thing has stood in her way for well over five years now. If this match actually works out, I’ll admit there must be something to vastu after all.”

“This one will work out, bava garu. I’ll ask them to come tomorrow. It’s a very auspicious day too,” said Satyanarayana.

“Maybe we should let them know she’s a bit dark in complexion—might be better to mention it upfront,” said Vaman Rao.

“They’re already aware of everything, bava garu. You don’t need to worry. They’re very keen—just as much as we are. This match will go through,” Satyanarayana said with certainty.

“In that case, ask them to come tomorrow,” Vaman Rao said.

He and Satyanarayana stayed for lunch. After they’d eaten, Satyanarayana stood up and said, “I’ll bring them tomorrow—around half ten in the morning.” Then he took his leave.

The match came through for Mounika.

Within fifteen days, she was married to Mahesh, a man introduced as a software engineer. The wedding was a lavish affair. Vaman Rao gave a dowry of fifty lakhs and spent another twenty to see that the wedding lived up to every expectation.

Two months later, Mahesh took Mounika with him to America.

“All this is the power of vastu,” said friends and relatives, showering Lakshmanamurthy with praise.

But six months after the wedding, the family was blindsided by events no one had seen coming.

Mounika returned to Hyderabad from the US, shaken and resolute. She said she couldn’t spend another moment under the same roof as Mahesh. She demanded a divorce.

Mahesh, it turned out, was not working as a software engineer at all. He didn’t even have an engineering degree. He held a petty job at a bank—something equivalent to an office attendant back in India. Day and night, he pestered her. He wanted her to ask her father for a crore so they could start a business in America. He wouldn’t let up.

Not long after that, Vaman Rao was caught red-handed by the Anti-Corruption Bureau, accepting a bribe of one lakh rupees from a contractor. He was suspended from his job immediately.

News reached them soon after that their son Madhav—who was still in the US—had married a white woman without telling anyone. Bhavani and Vaman Rao were devastated. They had dreamed of arranging a grand wedding for him and taking a crore in dowry. Those dreams collapsed overnight. For a long time, they were too dazed to speak of it.

Some of Vaman Rao’s relatives approached Lakshmanamurthy and asked, “So this too—is this what you call the greatness of vastu?”

“What happens, happens as fate intends,” Lakshmanamurthy replied. “We’re all just instruments.”

“Couldn’t you have said that earlier?” someone asked.

Lakshmanamurthy smiled faintly. “Even what is said—and when and how it is said—unfolds only when fate dictates.”

“The Power of Vastu” (titled “Vastu Mahatmyam” in Telugu) by Ampasayya Naveen was first published in Chitra (Monthly Magazine), and later included in the collection of short stories Asmadeeyulu Tasmadeeyulu in 2011.

About the Author Ampasayya Naveen

Ampasayya Naveen is an accomplished author and Sahitya Akademi laureate who has to his credit more than 30 novels and 100 short stories. The most well-known of his novels are Ampasayya, Antasravanthi, Kalarekhalu, and Premaku Aavali Teeram. He is a pioneer of the stream-of-consciousness mode of writing in Telugu. His fictional works have been widely translated, including into English and various other languages. In recognition of his contribution to Telugu fiction, apart from the Sahitya Akademi Award, he was conferred at least two honorary doctorates by universities.