“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 anyone survive? Each country and time has its own arrangements for people’s needs. They too wake up in the morning, relieve themselves, eat their meals, and stay in their houses.” I hadn’t even finished when—

“Then what about marriages and such?” interrupted someone.

“Ah! They do get married. After that, everything happens as usual, and they have children,” I replied.

With that, some of them stopped their questions, but one man—

Mokkapati Narasimha Shastri,

“Sir, forgive us if this sounds foolish, but we’re asking out of pure ignorance. How do people live over there? What are their customs and ways of life? How do they run their households? If you could elaborate a bit, we’d love to hear it,” he said, his curiosity plain.

“I have no objection to telling you all about it. But if I start that story now, it’ll go on as long as the Kondaveedu chains—it’ll stretch out till evening! Unless we’re ready to skip our meals and sit patiently, I don’t mind telling it all,” I replied. At that, half the enthusiasm in the room died down. Still, one persistent fellow couldn’t hold back:

“Sir, are all the people there white-skinned, or are there people like us too?” he asked.

“Except for our own people who have gone there, the rest are all white,” I said.

“So, the children there are all white too, then?” he asked.

“Oh, you silly fellow! If white people didn’t have white children, how would black people be born? And if, by chance, a black child is born there once in a hundred or a thousand, you can be sure something fishy has gone on!” I replied. The whole room burst into laughter. The poor soul who asked the question couldn’t grasp the hidden meaning in my answer.

Everyone was about to get up when one of them quickly piped up, “Sir, what about food? What do they eat over there?”

Before I could say it’s not rice, another interrupted, “Oh, leave it! They eat some kind of grass, what’s it to us? If they didn’t eat grass, why would they come here and sit on our heads? If they had food, why would they come here at all? Whether it’s an Englishman, an Arab, a rat, or a Yanadi, they all come here because they have nothing to eat there! Isn’t that why our Parvateesam went so far, and why so many of our people go there?” declared the future village accountant.

“Let me tell you, slowly! I’ll tell you everything. Just put your work aside for a bit!”

Barrister Parvateesam

From now on, let us not gather on the porch in the evenings, nor on Raju’s verandah, nor even in any field. Instead, let us sit together every day for an hour or two, chatting leisurely. I will tell you all sorts of stories—so I said, and got up. Everyone was overjoyed and said, “Agreed! Agreed! This is a wonderful idea.” Raju said, “This way, we’ll have a