Barrister Parvateesam

“What’s all this commotion, Parvateesam?” they asked.

“I have no idea, sir. I just arrived at school this very moment, after being delayed by some chores. The moment I entered, all the boys started cheering for me, made me sit here, and asked me to give a speech. Then someone else recited some poems, and now they say they’re going to hold an ‘Ashtavadhanam’ competition. Ah, very nice. I’m glad. But it seems your felicitation was interrupted midway by this avadhanam,” said my uncle.

“Never mind, we’ll arrange for another speech some other time when there’s leisure,” he said, patting my back affectionately and giving two gentle knocks on my bald head. “For now, be content with this honor,” he said, and went away.

Smiling to myself, I went on my way.

Because of all the goings-on in the village, my studies at school fell behind. The good opinion my teachers once had of me changed. Determined to teach me a lesson, they kept me in the fifth form itself. This was the first time in my life I had to repeat a class for a second year. I felt terribly ashamed and afraid.

When my father heard this auspicious news, he scolded me in every possible way: “No studies, no prayers! Four years you shone as a student in Narsapur, and now look at you—”

Enough of your mischief! If you stay at home and look after the farming, it will be a help to me, and the land will come in handy. Besides, you know a few Sanskrit verses—recite what you know. They might be useful for something. So, go to Narsapur, fetch your box and bedding,' he said.

I pleaded in every possible way, 'Let me at least somehow struggle through this year and pass Matriculation. After that, I’ll stop. I’ll be more careful from now on.' My mother, too, took my side and said, 'He only got into this mess because of the company he kept, but does he lack intelligence? Is he dumb? What mischief can he get up to sitting here at home? Let him study until he finishes that Matric class he’s talking about, then we’ll see what to do next.' She gently persuaded my father.

He sat there in silence, unable to say anything.

My mother signaled for me to go. Without wasting a moment, I set off for Narsapur in a single breath. But as soon as I arrived, I felt terribly embarrassed to go back to school and sit in the same class again. However, some of the fellows who studied with me last year were still there this year, which gave me a bit of courage.

The headmaster, instead of scolding me as before, said, 'So, Parvateesam, have you finally come to your senses this year? Have you decided to bid farewell to village affairs and study diligently? Whether you’re here or not, the meetings and events in the village won’t stop. They go on every day, whether anyone is there or not. You’ve realized by now that you gain nothing from them, and your studies here are suffering because of it. Lectures and Harikathas are not for you right now, my boy. You’re a clever lad, meant for greater things. From now on, take care and focus on your work.' He gave me this friendly advice.

I thought, 'Ah, I’m saved!' and bowed, saying, 'Yes, sir.'

My return to school was not at all to my father's liking. Unable to refuse my mother, unable to scold or beat me, he sat there in the twilight, probably brooding over me and my future. After much thought, he decided that if I got married, I might become more responsible and enthusiastic. Then, perhaps, I would remember my duties and either study carefully or—

Whether to give up and stay at home, or to make my own decisions—I imagined I would decide for myself. He must have whispered this matter into the ears of two or three people. From then on, without any effort from him, marriage proposals began to pour in. Whenever a good day was thought auspicious, someone or other would come as a prospective bride’s party, and my uncle would summon me home. I would go, they would look me over, and there would be some polite conversation. What happened afterward, I never knew, but my uncle could never finalize any alliance. The bridegroom being liked by the bride’s family was the only certainty. Why wouldn’t they like me? A youth as plump as a fruit, a man of property, with no one else to share that property. On top of that, I was in the fifth form, intelligent, clever—there was no question of them not liking me. It must have been that the girl wasn’t up to the mark, or their family customs didn’t suit us, or there was a dispute over dowry and gifts—whatever the reason, every month or two, someone would come and go. This went on for several months.

I thought this wasn’t good, and decided that somehow this business must be stopped. If I absolutely had to get married, then at least the girl must be to my liking, and for that, I insisted that I must see the bride myself. My mother agreed that this was best!

At last, as fate would have it, a bride’s party came from some village in our own district. When my uncle inquired, their circumstances and background seemed agreeable, and they promised to give a handsome dowry and gifts. The horoscopes too matched well, so after discussing, they sent me, my mother, and my maternal uncle to go and see the girl. We traveled part of the way by boat, part by cart, but even by sunset, we couldn’t reach the village. After finding out the bride’s house, we went there quietly. I don’t know whether they had been informed beforehand of our arrival, or if they simply didn’t care, but the bride’s father,