Annayya’s letter… naanamma’s death anniversary... come without fail…

Have eight months passed since naanamma passed away… she moves about before our eyes, we feel… did naanamma really pass away… is she not a part of me… half of me is naanamma herself… the remaining half is amma… amma and naanamma together is me… Do I have a separate individuality for myself without both of them… I don’t know… those who know about it have to confirm it.

The influence of naanna and taataiah on me is not much. Naanamma’s influence on me is greater than that of amma. I was brought up like that. My friends used to make fun of me saying that I talk exactly like naanamma. I used to feel so happy at their words than get angry… as if I had grown big like naanamma… as if I had known a great lot…

I am told that naanamma was born before I was born. Also that naanamma was born even before nanna was born. She was born ten years before our chinnanna6 was born. When I ask her how old she was, naanamma would tell stories like this.

Do naanammas and ammammas7 really have any age?! Do goddesses have age? They look the same all the time. They appear to us the way we think of them. Though years pass, generations change… even if they die… naanammas and goddesses, would perhaps look the same.

Ammas and naanammas will be ageless. We can behave lovingly and affectionately like children with them whatever be our age. Our years will not come in our way to move with them holding on to their apron strings, laughing, crying and fidgeting. I wonder how naanamma had the power to make me just a child always…

When I was in my tenth class, whenever naanamma looked at me with concern as if saying “little girl… innocent child… I wonder how she would get on in life…” I used to get terribly upset. I was studying tenth class. Was I still a small child… I used to look angrily at her. That feeling did not last long. After four years I again became a little girl in her presence. From then on… I was always a little girl to naanamma. Perhaps every living person feels like being taken as a little girl by someone or other. That feeling gives life to childhood naturally again.

I know naanamma liked me a great lot. Naanamma, it is said, used to resemble me when she was a girl. “you are my avva… you are the avva that fondled me… you are my avva born again…” she used to say taking me into her arms in a playful mood.

I read Annayya’s letter once again. The explanation Annayya gave me made me read his letter again.

To dear baawa, Sri Dyavamapelli Gangadhar,

I, your wife’s brother, Lakshmirajyam, write this letter offering you ten thousand namaskarams.  I request you to send sister so that she could stay here with us for ten days without fail. I pray sincerely that you all should be here for naanamma’s death anniversary. I offer my namaskarams to you all there. Suguna – you must start immediately without fail.

Suguna! I request you not to find fault with me for performing the death anniversary so soon. You cried and made a lot of fuss saying that the final ritual was completed on the fifth day itself when it should have been done on the eleventh day. You felt that people may think that we were eagerly looking forward for her death. This adjustment had to be made to finalize the date of the marriage of your niece. It is said that there are auspicious days for marriage only after the New Year’s Day next year if we miss the date now.

It is learnt that the bridegroom is finding it difficult to manage his cooking. He is very eager to get married soon. Other families are approaching him offering him higher dowries. Suguna! I want you to understand my difficulty as the father of a girl. You must start immediately so that you could stay here for ten days. We decided to build naanamma’s tomb by the side of taataiah’s tomb. We are all living at different places and could not meet again. We will decide only after you come here and talk over things. If naanamma’s tomb should be constructed by the side of taataiah’s tomb as decided by you, you should stay here for ten days and get it constructed yourself.

I remain

Your anna – Lakshmirajyam.

Ever since I read the letter, I was too eager to start and go. My mind got fixed on mother’s house. My niece, Sujatha, must have written the letter herself. That was her handwriting… More than the groom, she was in a greater hurry that the alliance should not be missed. She wrote the letter very thoughtfully… Is it already eight months since naanamma passed away!

Though the bus was going fast, the movement was not felt at all. How can the bus catch the speed of my thoughts!

As soon as naanna passed away, how much did amma’s life change! During a month in the house of an elder brother, another month in the other elder brother’s house, one month in the younger brother’s house. What is this movement once a month? How do people feel if they are transferred to a different place once each month?

How will it be if Annayya is asked to work in a different school every month? Will it not be the same for amma to move every month… After the death of naanamma, when I asked her to stay away with me forever, she did not listen.

“What will the world think if I live with the daughter… no.” she said.

This time I must bring amma to my house without fail. Amma needs rest now, who did service to naanamma for years and years as her own daughter.

If elderly persons like ammamma, naanamma and tata are in the house, the very nature of life in that house is different. If there are elderly persons in the house, the house enjoys the glory of the presence of a married woman. The house will look full. There will be a festival atmosphere in the house. How many things do grandsons and granddaughters learn from the elders… children are getting spoiled by watching the T.V. all the time. I must bring back amma surely. I must make her tell beautiful stories to my children.

How many stories naanamma used to narrate! How hard she worked! How many cow dung cakes she would gather! If she went on any other work, if she saw cow dung, she would bring it holding it in her palms.

You should see her when she was working at the charaka. The charaka used to make a soft humming sound with the castor lubricant. How melodious was the sound when the thread was winding itself around the spindle!

When naanamma was weaving at the charaka, when I was hanging on to her back and looking at naanamma working… she would say that the thread was wavering and was coming out thick… “get off, you girl…” she would say feeling lovingly disgusted… how sweet did naanamma’s sweat smell…

When naanamma wore the nine yard saree with a neat fold going up her back form behind, between the legs, how like a goddess she looked! Naanamma never wore a jacket. She used to wear a blouse without buttons, tying the ends up on her belly. How like silver strings did her grey hair appear, curly…

When naanamma was weaving at the charaka, I used to feel like taking a snap shot and keep the photo by the side of the photo of Gandhi tata weaving at his charaka. Naanamma looked more attractive than Gandhi tata.

It is said that for fifty years all the blankets in our house were woven with the thread made by naanamma.

Naanamma was spinning thick thread for the blankets of the people in town. She used to be paid for the blankets taking into consideration the weight of starch also. If two folds of khadi blankets were stitched together for use, the old washer- woman used to grumble. They were so heavy. 

For her nuptials, naanamma got with great difficulty good quality cotton and spun the blanket. In winter when she covered herself with that blanket, her husband expressed his displeasure saying “this smells of starch” and took it off. Then how sad I felt! For the handloom weavers who were born in the smell of starch and who work in the smell of starch, will starch smell like starch at all! The smell of starch gives life to us.

In the houses of the handloom weavers the sour smell of starch and the wet balls of thread used to be very sweet. That thread, those colors, the starch, all these together would produce a fragrant smell. It was difficult to believe a house where this smell was not felt, to be the house of a handloom weaver.

Naanamma used to say, “The lives of all the handloom weavers got destroyed after mills made their appearance in Bombay.” She used to feel pained and say, “what benefit did your father’s elder brother get after going to Bombay, though we asked him not to go there?” She was anxious to see his children. But he never took her to Bombay. They never came to our place. Except once in a way, as if a star had fallen off the sky, I wonder whether they would come this time at all.

Father got made ‘satin’ looms, not being able to face the competition with normal looms. Many experiments were made and finally the device was discovered which helps in weaving designs on the cloth. The more I observed the device moving above the loom when father was weaving and the threads moved changing into designs on the cloth, the more I wanted to keep observing.

Once, it appears, taataiah hit naanamma throwing the whirl at her saying “what happened to you? Why don’t you give me the spindles?” Naanamma had much work to do, looking after the children, cooking and also twirl the wheel to make the thread. The whirl hit the back of naanamma. “How suddenly did you hit me?” Uttering a curse she hit back taataiah with the same whirl. From then on taataiah’s anger was expressed only in words and he never lifted his hand.

“These men are work thieves. We do the work. They get the name. We have to get the yarn and threads on the loom, bring the starch, roll the spindles, cook the food, attend to the children and while doing all this work, the weaving on the loom also has to be done. The women have to weave the borders of the cloth. What have the men to do? They weave the yarn, go and sell the product. Having gone out to sell the cloth, while coming, they drink toddy. They tell lies saying that as the cloth was thick, it was bought at a lower rate.

This family has settled after many difficulties. We don’t have lands and fields. The prices of seeds were touching the skies. I work as a labourer and buy the seeds. If everyone could eat Jowar gruel I won’t get even that. When I go to bed in the night with ganjee and salt, I suffer from stomach ache because of hunger.

Weaving cloth can be done only with women’s help. “If the woman of the house is dead, it is equal to the family deity being gone. That house is no house. It will be like a place where donkeys lie and roll. The boys will be dirty looking as if they rolled in bushes.

Naanamma used to say many such things… Naanamma was like a walking life history.

On the way to Annayya’s house from the bus stage, there was a silent crowd. I was pained thinking whether someone had committed suicide by hanging.

They were close relatives. As I went nearer, their words were heard in low tones.

The grown up girl had eloped with someone. She left a letter saying, “Father, don’t feel sorry that you could not perform my marriage – we’ll get on somehow with our problems.”

I saw Naanamma and Gandhi tata in my mind’s eye. How fortunate they are in leaving the world without witnessing this kind of life of the weavers!

“Gandhi tata! You made the charaka the symbol of the nation by putting it on the flag. But what support did you give us to live?” I asked him silently.

I did not observe my niece Sujatha come running saying “Sugunnakka!” There was already the glow of marriage on her face. I saw only naanamma in her. Naanamma who was born again in my goddess. How much has she grown within these eight months! She came before me like a young goddess. I felt worried that I did not get any ornament for her marriage.

I feel surprised why I thought only about myself and never about her ever since I received annaiah’s letter… I must get some ornaments made for naanamma who was born again.

Sujatha took the suitcase from my hand and led the way to her house.

Original in Telugu published in Andhra Jyothi (Telugu Daily)
 

Critical Review of the above story by Dr. Kolahalam Ram Kishore

Love, Legacy, and Transformation: A Portrait of a Telangana Weaving Family

The story presented above offers a sensitive, deep, and multi-faceted portrait of the life of a weaving family from the Telangana region. It not only depicts family values and personal relationships but also portrays the evolution of a traditional livelihood and the lifestyle attached to it against the backdrop of a changing socio-economic landscape. Primarily, this story allows for a subtle examination of three major life evolutions.

1. Evolution of the Individual and Relationships: From the Concept of 'I' to Collective Identity:
   
   The story begins in a very introspective manner. The protagonist ponders that her "individuality" is fused with that of her mother and grandmother. In the words, "I am the combination of Amma and Naanamma," the notion is revealed that her identity is more about her connection with her family, and especially her female ancestors, than it is about her status as an independent woman. This hints at the reality that in traditional family systems, individuality is often subsumed within a collective identity.
   
   She describes her childhood as one merged with her grandmother. However, the story also shows a transition from this fusion towards independence. The incident in the 10th class, where she felt anger at Naanamma still seeing her as a "small child," is evidence of this transition. Yet, she later becomes a "small girl" again in Naanamma's presence. This cycle signifies the fluidity in relationships and the dynamic nature of one's connection with ancestors through various stages of an individual's life. At the end of the story, she sees her grandmother in her niece, Sujatha. This depicts the flow of legacy, genes, culture, and love across generations, expanding from 'I' to 'We'.
    
2. Evolution of Family Structure and Social Values:
   
   The two letters in the story clearly reveal this evolution. Naanamma's Era: Here, the family lived together under one roof, united around the elderly (Naanamma, Tata). The primary source of family income was the home-based weaving profession. Women (Naanamma) were central to this livelihood while also performing multiple roles like managing the household, raising children, winding spindles, and weaving borders. This shows both the strength of the joint family system and the invisibility of women's labour.
   
   The Present Era (Time of the story): After Naanamma's death, the family has scattered like splinters. Amma lives a life without a permanent home, rotating between her sons' houses every month. The phrase "change of home every month" reflects the fragmentation faced by joint families in the modern era. There are even social barriers ("What will the world think?") preventing Amma from living permanently with her daughter, indicating persistent traditional constraints.
   
   Furthermore, at the very end, the incident of another family's "grown-up girl" eloping for a love marriage is shown. This signals the transition from the control of the older generation to the freedom sought by the new generation, where marriage is becoming an individual choice rather than a family decision. Family structure, marriage practices, the place of the elderly—all have undergone significant change.
   
   
3. Evolution of the Weaving Livelihood and Economic Life:
    
   In this story, weaving is not just a profession but a complete way of life, a culture, and an identity. The descriptions of Naanamma spinning at the charakha, the smell of starch, the sounds of the looms—all these create sensorial memories associated with this lifestyle. It reflects a life of labour, skill, partnership between men and women in the family, and self-sufficiency.
   
   But this traditional life comes under pressure from external economic forces. Naanamma's words, "The lives of all the handloom weavers got destroyed after mills made their appearance in Bombay," point to the devastating impact of industrialization and commercialization on traditional crafts. The father brings in "satin looms" and discovers a device for weaving designs—an attempt to adapt to modernization. But the story doesn't tell us how successful that attempt was.
   
   Finally, the protagonist silently asks, "Gandhi tata!... what support did you give us to live?" This question is profound. Gandhi placed the charkha as a symbol of the freedom struggle and economic self-reliance. But after independence, was effective support provided to nurture this profession and give these families a dignified place in the modern economy? Through this question, the story raises the issue of the challenges faced by traditional working classes in post-independence India and the loss of their distinct identity.

The Essence: The Thread of Legacy, the Loom of Change:
 
This story shows how it weaves two threads simultaneously: Tradition and Transformation. Naanamma is a symbol of tradition, stability, and inner strength. After her death, that unity and stability also begin to fade. But her values, her love, her memories continue to flow through generations. Until the very end, the protagonist sees Naanamma in her niece – this suggests that tradition continues, transforming from one form to another.

The decline of the weaving livelihood, the change in family structure, the struggle for personal identity—all these are consequences of changes brought by modernity. The story portrays these changes not judgmentally, but by indicating both their sorrow, loss, and their inevitability.

In conclusion, this story leaves us with a question: In the name of progress, convenience, and individual freedom, what are we leaving behind from our tradition? The unity of relationships, professional skill, knowledge and love that does not separate generations—how do we weave these values into the loom of progress? This story suggests that the threads in that loom never break; they merely change form, and it is our duty to carefully preserve those threads. It is a portrait of life, love, and transformation.