| |
The Priest’s Son
First part of a two-part story
The name of the first son born to the head priest in Nagapattinam district was an obvious choice. At school he was enrolled as Mayiladuturai Parimala Ranganathan, and popularly known as Ranga. Venkatacharya, Ranga’s father, wanted him to learn Sanskrit and be a priest, but the local school didn’t offer the language as a subject so he taught him at home. Every Sunday morning, Ranga, along with two of his friends, Kannan and Mani, sat cross-legged on a frayed bamboo mat with a wooden desk, which opened in the shape of an X to hold their textbooks, and learnt the basics of Sanskrit grammar, Devanagiri script, slokas, and even sandhi analysis. During the summer vacation months the classes were held four times a week. The priest was proud of his son because he was the best among the three students that he taught. Ranga had a natural gift for the language. He could construct difficult sentences with ease. His formidable memory allowed him to learn and recite lengthy slokas. Venkatacharya knew that there was another priest in the making in his own family and it filled him with immense satisfaction.
But to train someone to be a priest in a temple in the rural parts of Tamilnadu is to prepare him for a lifetime of poverty and hardship. Kanakavalli had other plans for her son. After Ranga, she had given birth to three girls. With her husband’s measly income she could barely make the ends meet. She constantly worried about having enough money for her daughters’ marriages. Ranga was her only hope for financial freedom. On numerous occasions she had requested her brother, Aravamudhan, to help Ranga get admitted to a reputed college in Madras, and later find him a job in one of the government services. Aravamudhan had assured her that he would do his best. She lived on that hope, without ever letting her husband in on her secret plan for their son. Aravamudhan worked for the Railways and had a good income with a house provided by the government. Every year he took his entire family to the distant temples in north for free. Sometimes he even took his parents on such trips. Later they would come to Kanakavalli’s home and narrate their experience with a sense of great adventure. Kankavalli pined for such trips, too, but realised that with her husband’s earnings she could ill-afford such indulgences.
Ranga topped the twelfth standard board exam and secured the highest score in the entire district. The principal was elated at the success of a student from his school. He arranged for a prize distribution ceremony at the maidanam and invited the district collector to be the chief guest for the function. When Kanakavalli learnt about this, she called her brother in Madras and requested him to come to Mayiladuturai to attend the function. Aravamudhan readily obliged to his sister’s request. The priest wore a white full sleeve shirt over his veshti and Kanakavalli wore the silk sari that she had got pressed for the function and Aravamudhan, like the collector, was dressed formally in a pant and shirt with black shoes. Ranga’s family members were seated in the very first row, in front of the podium, and it was the proudest moment of their lives. The principal spoke very highly of Ranga. He wanted the next batch of students to repeat this achievement and bring fame and glory to their school. The collector spoke next. He spoke in English, which meant that Aravamudhan had to translate most of it for the parents. The collector asked all the parents seated in the audience to give unwavering attention to education in their children’s lives. He said that the Tamilnadu government would support every student who excelled in studies. “Students like Ranganathan need to be sent to the best colleges in the nation and encouraged to get higher degrees so that they can help our country be strong and prosperous,” he said, to a round of thunderous applause.
The priest was proud of his son but confused with the collector’s speech. Venkatacharya wanted Ranga to join the matam and train to be a priest at the Ranganatha temple. The collector made it seem as if that was not the right thing to do. That night the priest consulted with his brother-in-law about Ranga’s future. Aravamudhan, being a more down-to-earth kind of a man that he was, tried to reason with the priest.
“Athimber, your son is very intelligent. He has scored high marks in Mathematics and Science subjects. If he gets admitted to a college in Madras then he will be able to get a well paying job. I can assure you that I will be able to get him a good job in the Railways or even a bank, and his income will help you get your daughters married,” said Aravamudhan.
“But I taught him Sanskrit and all the slokas and vedas so that he can help me in the temple,” said the priest.
“We have to look at this in a practical manner. In the next five years your daughters will be ready to get married. Do you think you will have enough money to get them married by then? If Ranga starts to earn well in another three years it will help you out.”
“But I do not have the money to pay his tuition fees or pay for his accommodation in Madras.”
“We can pawn some of my jewels and it should pay for Ranga’s tuition,” chipped in Kanakavalli.
The raised eyebrows suggested that Venkatacharya didn’t like the suggestion one bit. Aravamudhan spoke again.
“I will tell you what we can do. I will take Ranga to the collector’s office on Monday and ask for a recommendation letter for college admission. If the collector gives us the letter then I will take Ranga with me to Madras and try for admission at the Presidency college. Padmanabhan, my close friend from college, is the head of the statistics department there. If this works out, I will loan Ranga some money for the college, which he can repay after he starts working. If it doesn’t work out then let him join the matam to become a priest.”
Aravamudhan, when he gave counsel, had the knack of both reassuring the troubled party and at the same time finding a solution. Ranga’s parents agreed to the plan.
Kanakavalli woke up early that morning as she could not sleep well. She worried about Ranga’s future. The collector seemed like a nice man, but she was not sure. Aravamudhan had told her that he spoke very highly of her son, but would he be kind enough to give Ranga a recommendation letter? She had only heard of government officials who were corrupt and not considerate. Her husband had been turned down by several government officials when he had approached them for funds for the temple. But then, it was the collector who encouraged Ranga to get a college degree. She had the feeling that this collector might help, and she prayed to Lord Ranganatha for His help. She promised to donate five hundred rupees to the temple hundi if everything came through as per her brother’s plan. When the priest left for the temple she asked him to do a special archana for the Lord.
Mr. Pratap Murthy was a man with a modern mindset who placed a lot of importance on science and technology. He had the pictures of C.V. Raman and Homi Bhabha hung on the wall behind his chair. There was a computer on his desk and he even had a fax machine and a photocopier in his own office. While visiting the district on rounds he drove the jeep himself. He had refused to get himself a personal secretary because he felt it was improper use of human resources in these modern times. When Aravamudhan and Ranga entered his office, he offered them a seat and listened to their request patiently.
“So what do you want to study at the Presidency college?” he asked Ranga with interest.
“Statistics, sir” replied Ranga in a nervous tone.
“That is a very good subject. In fact, my younger brother did his bachelor’s in statistics and went on complete a master’s program in computer applications. Computers are the thing of future, you know. Intelligent students like you should learn about computers for sure. Last year I visited a university in England and every student in the college campus there knew how to use the computers. If India is to become a modern nation, we need to teach our youngsters all about computers,” he said, turning towards Aravamudhan.
“Sir, if you can give him a good reference letter then I will make sure that he takes a few classes in computers, too,” said Aravamudhan trying to further his own cause.
The collector turned to his computer and typed up a recommendation letter for Ranga.
“Here. Tell me how you like this,” said the collector, showing the letter to his visitors.
“Thank you very much, sir” said Aravamudhan after eagerly scanning through the lines in the letter. “Sir, if you can take a print out of this on your letterhead and also have it rubber-stamped it will really carry a lot of weight in Madras,” he continued.
The collector burst into an uproarious laughter.
“Aravamudhan, what carries a lot of weight is not my rubber-stamp, but this young lad’s performance in the board exams. One of the problems with us Indians is that we put emphasis on the wrong things. In the United States a student like Ranganathan will be sought out by the colleges and he would not need any government official’s rubber-stamp to vouch for him. In India, my rubber-stamp means more than his grades. Isn’t that a shame?”
Being totally unprepared for this kind of an outburst, both Aravamudhan and Ranga went into a shocked silence. After securing the letter with the collector’s signature and stamp they left the office at the earliest opportunity.
“Mama, why did the collector get so annoyed at your request?” asked Ranga on the way back home.
“All of that doesn’t mean much, Ranga. Once you come to Madras you will see that all government officials in power are prone to some degree of quirkiness. It is in their job description. Once we have this in our hands, who cares what the collector thinks,” said Aravamudhan raising the white envelope in his right hand.
There was celebration that night in the priest’s house. Kanakavalli cooked dinner with vadai and payasam. She was very happy for Ranga. She felt confident that her son had managed to escape the drudgery that had become a part of her husband’s life as a priest. Aravamudhan was going to take Ranga to Madras and, as far as she could remember, anyone who went to Madras only prospered by that decision. Ranga will not be a priest but an officer, like her own brother. That thought brought her great comfort. However, Venkatacharya’s plans for his son had not been quashed as yet, and little did his wife realise that.
.....What happens to Ranga? Find out in the next issue
Mukund Narasimhan
Home Page: http://home.earthlink.net/~mnarasimhan
October 2002
|