“Ayyababai Babu! Our Parvateesam Babu knows everything—he hasn’t forgotten any of us,” said one of our former tenants. “Is everything there completely new, sir?” a young man asked. “Yes, yes, everything is new over there,” I replied. “Then how do you manage, sir?” he asked.

Just then, someone else asked, “Does everyone there speak only English, or do they have our language too?” “Ayyababai Babu! What childish questions! Of course, those people know English,” another fellow chimed in.

I laughed and said, “Children only learn what their parents speak. Don’t we have a saying: ‘The words of elders become the songs of the young’?”

“Then, are the houses there like ours?” someone asked. “They’re not like ours. It’s a cold country, so you won’t find street platforms or people sitting on them chatting away, or sleeping right there,” I said.

At this, someone clutched his chest as if heartbroken and exclaimed, “No street platforms at all, sir?” “No, there aren’t,” I replied.

“Then how do they wash their faces and all that?” he asked. “I don’t really know, but perhaps that’s why many people there don’t wash their faces every day,” I said.

“What’s this, what’s this!” cried one of the Rajus, who had been slouching against the wall but now sat up straight. “They don’t wash their faces? Oh, these people’s faces! If they don’t wash their faces, what else do they wash? And they eat and drink with the same mouth! May their faces burn!”

Barrister Parvateesam

“Oh Parvateesam Babu! What sort of trouble have you landed yourself in now?” Desamayyah exclaimed, clutching his heart in distress at the thought of my journey.

“Every country has its own customs, you know. Why worry about what happens where? Our neighboring Tamil brothers don’t wipe their tongues, but does that mean we should burn their faces? Or cut off their tongues? Among them, aren’t there so many scholars, intellectuals, learned men, and Vedic pundits?” I said.

“Then, are there no open fields to go to?” asked one man, pitifully, as if he suddenly felt the urgent need himself.

Suppressing a smile, I replied, “There are plenty of fields, hills, and mountains as you wish, but over there, you can’t do such things. No one does, nor is it allowed.”

“Oh, what kind of death is this!” exclaimed another. “If you can’t do either of the two things one must do in the morning, how do they survive? How did you manage to live and come back alive?”

Before I could answer, another fellow chimed in, “They say you can’t go to the fields, nor can you bathe in the canals or rivers. Then what is left to do?”

As if these three were the only things to be done in life! I said, “I only said you can’t do certain things outside. I never said you can’t do them at all, did I? I only said you can’t do them in public. If you do nothing at all, how would