Barrister Parvateesam

A certain boy, thinking himself clever, decided to play a prank on the professor. He went up to the notice board and, in the word “Classes,” neatly erased the first letter, “C.” What remained was “Lasses,” which, as everyone knows, means “girls.”

The next day, the professor saw this, and without the slightest anger, without uttering a single word of reproach to anyone, simply erased the second letter, “L,” and went on with his lesson as usual, unperturbed.

Many students, not having glanced at the notice board, were anxiously whispering among themselves, “Did the professor see it or not? If he saw, didn’t he get angry?” As soon as class was over, everyone rushed in a single file to the notice board. Now, with the “L” gone, only “Asses” remained.

To the professor’s clever move, we had no counter; we hung our heads in shame and quietly slunk away. We were all amazed at how deftly and wittily the professor handled such childish mischief. We went away, inwardly applauding his presence of mind.

Recently, one day, my friend pulled off a prank none of us had ever imagined or expected. He had already made a name for himself in another incident before. Among all the Andhras here, he is the most lively and talkative. Not only that, he is fond of humor and possesses a sharp wit.

He was a man of many talents. He could charm and captivate everyone with his words. A lover of the Andhra language, and something of a poet. He possessed a melodious voice that could sing enchantingly. Yet, he was a thorough mischief-maker. All day long, he would pick on someone or the other, making them cry one moment and laugh the next. With this penchant for pranks, he would keep us all on edge, making us laugh till we were nearly dead. This great man was Duggirala Gopalakrishnayya. He would often come to my room, chat for a while, and then leave. From the very first day he saw me, he held me in great affection and regard. When Sri Ananda Coomaraswamy visited and I unexpectedly recited some verses from the Bhagavatam at the gathering, his fondness for me increased tenfold.

One night, around ten o’clock, as I was studying with great concentration and dedication, Gopalakrishnayya burst in, flustered and anxious, with a most grave expression on his face, and knocked on my door. Who could be coming at this hour? Wondering, I got up and opened the door, and he immediately stepped inside.

“Babu, quickly get dressed! Our Rao has suddenly fallen terribly ill. He’s suffering a lot and doesn’t even know what’s happening to him. You must run there at once. I’ll go and rouse another ten of our friends, and bring the doctor too,” he said, not waiting for any response from me, and dashed out into the street.

I, who had been standing there, collapsed into my chair, utterly bewildered. This Rao was our friend, also studying