Hemantha Kalam - 100 "Men who mattered more - Uncle Sarma'

    (Most of the back dates are courtesy my mother’s rich memory! 

Dates about Sarma uncle are from his family members!)

(‘Garu’ (pronounced Gaaru) is a respectful addressing in the Telugu language – something like Sir)

It was on 21^st July, 2013 that I wrote my first blog. Though I did not chalk out any time table for writing, I thought to myself that it would be nice if I could write a blog every fortnight. However, as is being seen now, that wouldn’t be the case! Either for lack of creative juices, or suffering from the writer’s block, which I do suffer a bit from, or sheer laziness, it took me almost nine years to hit a century which made it about an average of one blog a month. Nothing great really, but not bad either.

There have been faithfuls who have always responded to my earlier 99 blogs and encouraged me to keep at it. There also were some, who requested that I don't send my blogs anymore to them as they considered them as spam. And then there have been silent readers who, on occasion, said that they did not seem to be receiving my blogs anymore, which is so reassuring, indeed! So on the occasion of hitting a century of blogs, A “BIG THANK YOU” to each one of them and you, my dear reader.

But being the 100^th blog, I thought I would write this for someone who really had a role in shaping up my life. That set the machine (I do think I have one alright, hunh..) working in my mind and I started thinking who could have influenced me and who could have been my role model.

As a member of the society, I know, for sure, that every person I came across in my life, for more than half an hour, had some influence on me – be it good, bad or ugly. I have certainly learnt from and influenced by every one that I came into contact in this global community. If I am not acknowledging that, yes, I am fooling myself. But, what about a role model for me? Alas I don’t seem to have a single person, in my mind, who I can call my role model, till date. I am a mostly self-made man shaped by the forces of the society.

Well, I had been a seeker all my time. If it is not knowledge, it is a job or money or fun or new places or what not! So, around the turn of the new millennium, I was seeking – a job, and a bit desperately too, as I was getting to be unemployed soon.

I had received an interview invitation from the MD of a lower-mid ranging advertising agency in Chennai, for a job, in their creative department, with a major focus on copy-writing. I was always fancying myself as an ad guy (I have been a member of the Ad Club too) and so was pleased to accept the invitation. I am also a polyglot and having airs of creativity – I have it or not, only my poor audience can vouchsafe!

The only question the MD asked me during the interview was “who is your role model?” I was zapped, as I didn’t think of any person as my role model. I still don't do! And in all truthfulness, I told him so – that I didn’t have a role model. Had the question been who inspired me, probably I would have had an answer for that, but the MD did not ask me that question.

The MD said that the interview concluded and he cannot offer a job to a person who doesn’t seem to be having a role model! He didn’t say it in so many words, but his looks conveyed to me that I was an alien to him and that he was being very wary of me. Till this day, for the heck of it, I don’t understand why I should have a role model for myself to qualify for the job of a copy-writer in an ad agency.

So, some 20 years later, I thought I shall try answering his question, still not the way he wanted though, but for whatever it is worth and for a reason. I am not getting any younger and if not now, when?

There have been several people who inspired me in my life. Apart from my parents and some of our relatives, any number of persons had inspired me. Every time I saw a picture on the cover pages of business magazines, I was inspired and sought that one day I should be written about too! I haven’t reached that spot yet, but I can certainly say that I had tried making my way in that direction and have been written about in magazines and even in foreign newspapers. I may or may not reach the wider spot, but I can die with the satisfaction that consciously I did my bit though! I was inspired by the comic hero ‘The Phantom’. I was inspired by Dara Singh, the wrestler.

But, apart from my parents and immediate family members, there have been a clutch of persons in my life who had clearly inspired me in measurable ways. This blog is the beginning of a blog series to acknowledge my association with those good persons.

So let me start at the beginning - with the first person, who helped me gain my knowledge, whatever etiquette and manners I could learn and in general, my demeanour,  Late Evani Krishna Sarma or Sarma mavayya garu (Uncle Sarma) (the surname Evani is to be pronounced as 'Eevani").

Madras (now Chennai) has been our foster city which nurtured us in its warm bosom (sometimes really hot too, but never mind that). I grew here, learnt here, imbibed its culture to a large extent and probably may also die here. But when I arrived in Madras on the 1^st November, 1957 (exactly on the first anniversary of the formation of my native state Andhra Pradesh) along with my mother, my father, who was already in Madras, was living with some friends.

With the arrival of his wife and a son, it became imperative for him to shed his ‘bachelorhood’ and become a responsible family head. The first thing needed for that was a house of his (ok, ok, ours). So, on 28^th November, 1957, we entered our house in Ramanujam Street in Thyagaraya Nagar (the spelling ‘Theagaraya’ came in much later with the interference of super intelligentsia in the bureaucracy) or T. Nagar of Madras. It was just a hut or a cottage if we have to add some respect to a home. As I was a toddler, and could remember only a few glimpses / scenes of the house, I guess the dimensions were some 8 (W) x 12 (L) x 10 (H) feet hut with a small porch of about 2 ½ feet in front. It was one long room which served as the living room, hall, bedroom and kitchen. Kitchen could be demarcated by a curtain. Bath and toilet were outside and common for all tenants. The rent was a princely Rs.15 per month with Rs.1 extra for the power.

The house owner Late Ranga Pillai constructed some huts in his compound and let them on rent for economically poor and ultra lower middle class people. But he always ensured strict discipline among the tenants and the cleanliness of the premises and the public utilities in the compound.

We stayed in the place till August, 1960 (a different blog on life in the hut in Ramanujam street later, perhaps). As Ranga Pillai kept pressurising us to vacate (normally landlords do not want the tenants to stay longer in the same premises) we found a house, a couple of kilometres away,  again in the same T. Nagar area, in a street called Chinnaiah Pillai Street. Late Chinnaiah Pillai was a famous advocate and as he constructed the first house in the street, it was named after him (as the system was in vogue in those days in Madras).

The premises were in an interesting neighbourhood. We had the husband and wife film playback singer duo of A. M. Rajah and Jikki (P. J. Krishnaveni) as a neighbour and living diagonally behind us was the famous film actress Shavukaru Janaki (more popularly known as ‘Sowcar’ Janaki). Living a few houses away was another film actress E. V. Saroja. I cannot swear on it but I understood that at some point of time, even the famous actress B. Saroja Devi was a resident of the street.

A few blocks away Chakravarti Rajagopalachari had his Swatantra party’s office and the other side again a few blocks away was chief minister Kamaraj’s house. I had seen the unassuming down to earth Kamaraj ji several times while going to or coming from school. He had just one or two policemen taking care of his security. With such illuminating neighbourhood and later with my father’s professional connections, it is only natural that my filmy and political knowledge gained considerably.

But, back to the original story! We arrived at our new home at No.3 Chinnaiah Pillai Street, on the 8^th August, 1960 along with our frugal possessions that were carried on a bullock cart. We had occupied the backside house; what normally is referred to as ‘Out House’. Actually, this was originally constructed for the watchman and for storing the construction material, during the construction of the main building. Once the construction was over, it was to be dismantled. But then there was a big car shed adjoining the house and so it was left off. Our home was of one small hall cum living cum bed room, a kitchenette and outside, connected was a small bathroom. Here too the toilet was away from the outhouse and was in a corner portion of the main building with access from outside. Our home was covered by asbestos sheets.

There were two mango trees in front of our home giving us a generous supply of shade and leaves for auspicious occasions but never any mangoes. In all the years we stayed there, we never saw them yield any mangoes at all. These trees were fondly called as "Rama Lakshmanulu". During summer, we used to sleep on camp cots, under these trees. Behind the trees was a small hut where Mr. Ponnuswamy’s family lived. Ponnuswamy used to do some odd jobs and stayed for some time.

Now, this whole house belonged Sarma mavayya garu. His was a well-to-do family and never really wanted to or needed to rent the ‘Out House’. But since known persons recommend, sometimes he used to oblige by letting out the place. The previous tenants of the house used to pay Rs.25 per month as rent (interestingly, I married the niece of the earlier tenant's wife). But when he came to know of my father’s precarious work situation, he offered the house to us at Rs.20 per month all inclusive. Only condition is that we have to keep the house clean, and that the rent should positively be paid on the first of every month without the need for asking or follow-up in any way.

Once settled, we were upto ourselves. My father was either working or trying for work and it was just my mother and I, left to ourselves. So my mother took it upon herself to start teaching me. That way it is my mother who had been my first guru and she has been so till that position has been usurped by my children now. I learn all the new and hick things from them nowadays.

My mother hung a big hard-board sheet with large hand-written Telugu alphabets on it (which she prepared herself) and made me recognise them by sight and rote. So I learnt alphabets without ever writing them. This was so because I was not officially initiated into learning by the ritual called ‘Akshara abhyaasam” ('akshara' is alphabet and 'abhyaasam' is practice). I just completed four years and four years was too early to start any stratified learning, those days.

Yeah, chubby cheeks, dimple chin and that’s me!

Pic: Circa 1961-62 by late J. P. Sastry (maternal uncle)

The auspicious day of ‘Vijayadasami” (day of victory) also called as ‘Saraswati Pooja’ day, very auspicious to begin new ventures and new learning, was chosen for the occasion. On this day, the child is made to write holy letters on rice first and then on a slate (I am talking of our custom – India being a cauldron of varied customs, it might vary from place to place). Both my parents wanted their son to become illustrious (sic) and they did not want to do this initiation by themselves as they thought that their education was inadequate.

Hence they approached Sarma mavayya garu and requested him to initiate their son into literacy, if not education. He had gracefully accepted to do the same. Sarma mavayya garu was a post graduate who had done his M.Sc. Those were the days when any post graduation was revered, as not many could afford such studies nor could the normal students last upto the vagaries. Post graduation was a symbol of education, perseverance, being cultured, not to talk of the elite status it afforded.

Born on 13^th September, 1927, Sarma mavayya garu did his schooling around 1942-43, in S.R.R. High School, Nuzvid, Krishna district, Madras Presidency; his ‘Intermediate Course’ from Andhra University by around 1944; his B.Sc., Honours and M.Sc., both in Chemical Technology and in the specialised subject of Sugar from Jeypore Vikrama Deo College of Science and Technology, Waltair (now Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh) and came out from both, by 1949, in first division.   

He must have come to Chennai after his post graduation and he was embraced with a job in ESSO. When I grew up to move on my own, I had seen his office behind the petrol pump next to Safire theatre complex (which is now razed to the ground). His monthly salary then was estimated to be about 10-12 times more than that of my father’s, as I understood later. He had a black car, a Bug-Fiat I was told. Later he had a black coloured Fiat car with the registration MDU 7070. After a few years, he sold away the Fiat and got a larger, pistachio coloured, Ambassador with the registration MSV 3711.

Late Evani Krishna Sarma (E. K. Sarma mavayya garu)

Pic: Circa 1965-66 Courtesy – Courtesy: Family members of Late E. K. Sarma

He was a smooth and safe driver who was never tempted to speed, whatever the provocation could be. Those days the Madras Police used to recognise good driving and praised such drivers. As I remember, he gained several such accolades quite a few times.

Coming back to my story, on the Vijayadasami day (Google search puts the date as 29^th September) in 1960, my parents made me take an oil bath, put Vibhuti stripes across my forehead and vermilion Bottu between both my eyes. I wore a white towel and both my parents took me to Sarma mavayya gari house which was in the main building.

Sarma mavayya garu and his wife {whom I called Attayya (aunty) garu} already prepared the place in the hall with a big Peeta (wooden seat on the floor) and a set of some new books, one new slate, slate pencils, flattened mound of rice (for me to write my first holy letters on them) and some goodies to eat. Sarma mavayya garu finished his daily prayers and came out into the hall wearing a pure white dhoti in the Andhra tradition. At the auspicious time I was made to sit in his lap and holding my right hand he made me write the holy letter “Om Sivaya namaha, Om Siddham namaha” with my index finger. Later he made me write the same onto the slate three times overlapping the first time writing. I was initiated into writing, literacy and education and till date I have not stopped doing any of the three.   

They didn’t have their own children yet and I had a run of both the houses. Over a period he found a job for Ponnuswamy in his office and asked Ponnuswamy and family to move out of our compound to a different house of theirs. Their hut was dismantled and we had a bit more space in front of our tiny home.

A year or so later, Sarma mavayya garu replicated the ground floor of his house onto the first floor also, with a few minor modifications and settled there. They rented out their ground floor to an architect called Ramachandra Row Sajip (late) who was teaching Architecture at Guindy Engineering college if I remember right. He had only one daughter who was doing her Pre-University Course (PUC) by that time. So in the entire compound I was the only kid and I had truly very good time. During Deepavali festival I had the crackers from all the three houses for myself nothing to mention of the various sweets which I am still so fond of. I had a free passport to go or come into any of their houses at anytime.

That was when my education began. Again, apart from the learnings from my parents, I was being gently educated by all in the compound in different ways. Both landlord and the other tenant used to take a nap in the afternoons during weekends, so I had to learn playing cricket without any noise. The crux is not just in keeping my mouth shut but also the other neighbourhood boys who used to come to our place to play with me. Chinna, the grandson of the immediate neighbour advocate Chinnaiah Pillai was a gent and never needed any further instructions. But keeping the other boys in control gave me a leadership edge! J

I was exposed to building drawings by Prof. Sajip who used to have a big drawing board in his room and I used to admiringly watch him do it with finesse. Interestingly it was he who drew the house plan for our home when my parents constructed it later.

It was in Sarma mavayya gari’s house that I first saw a dining table, a refrigerator and a big radiogram. I wasn’t much enamoured by the dining table but refrigerator and the radiogram (a radiogram was a contraption where a valve radio, a record playing turntable, space for records, and a group of speakers all are constructed into one piece like a part of a furniture) were different.

It was in his house that I was introduced to Coca Cola and Fanta and Spencer’s Soda. Again I wasn’t tickled much by the Spencer’s Soda but Coca Cola and Fanta were a different game altogether. What started on and off became an addiction and during my final years of schooling I used to win bets by continuously (without gap) drinking not less than 6 bottles of ice cold Coca Cola in pouring rains. Of course, that led me to suffer from Eosinophilia and once I almost choked to death at home. But I somehow feel that today’s quality of those drinks is not as the earlier quality, so much so that I don’t prefer to drink soft drinks anymore.

I don’t remember the brand of the radiogram (was it Bush, Murphy or Philips?) but it was a big sized chest, the size of an ice cream freezer that we see often in shops nowadays, having a long ensemble of speakers running at the bottom, a multichannel radio with a piano switch system on the left side. The right side of the cabinet was divided into two segments, one for the turntable and one for storing the stack of records. There was a melange of records all 78 rpm as at that time 45 rpm were not yet introduced or just being introduced. The choice were Instrumental, English, Telugu, Hindi and Bhajans.

Pic courtesy: https://www.junkmail.co.za/antiques-and-collectables/antique-furniture/western-cape/parow/blaupunkt-radiogram-golden-series/eb6826ff41a6404ca507aa0ee70680d7

This was not the radiogram that Sarma mavayya garu had in his house (his was more elegant and maintained well too) but this is as close a picture as I could get to the subject radiogram!

It was not the first time that I saw music records, since my grand uncle was a music director and saw records at his place, but this was the first time that I saw an automatic record changer in my life. With a record changer, you can pre-select upto eight records and place them on the axis rod of the turntable in a stack and once a record is played off, the stylus would mechanically rise and gently hit the next record in the stack to land on the turntable and start playing. I was fascinated with this and I used to regularly pester aunty (mostly) to set the player for me. I used to indicate the records I wanted to listen to on that day and enjoyed them playing the music, but never ever touched the radiogram on my own. That was the discipline I was taught both in my home and in Sarma mavayya gari’s place. My daily ritual on holidays used to be to finish breakfast at home and go up to his house, have a bottle of Coca Cola or Fanta depending on my mood and listen to music.

The collection of records used to comprise of “Billy” Vaughn’s ‘Come September’, ‘Berlin Melody’ Bhajans like ‘Thumak Thumak Ramachandra’ by Lata Mangeshkar, some songs from Telugu films and most importantly from the Hindi films “Hum Dono” and "Sangam", whose songs I used to listen almost every time. It was virtual heaven times.

Sarma mavayya garu used to take us to the airport along with aunty whenever he had to fly on official visits. He used to treat us to goodies in the small but very clean restaurant in Madras Airport. I remember being introduced to cutlets and varieties of sauces there. Today’s eateries in any of the airports cannot hold a light to the elegance of that tiny restaurant. He used to treat us once a way in Hotel Woodlands’ Restaurant, which was a to-do thing those days, and where even then a good full meal used to cost about Rs.5/= per head. During such times, he used to teach me table manners.

For one of my birthdays he asked me what I wanted. I couldn’t reply as I was scared of my parents’ strictness. But every time I used to be in their house I used to sit in a small cane rattan chair. So for one birthday I was given a similar and brand new chair which we used for no less than 10-15 years till the chair lost its shape entirely.

We stayed in their compound for seven years till 30^th April, 1967 when we moved to our own house that my parents constructed at the edge of the city in 1967 (now it has become the heart of the city due to rapid urbanisation and expansion of the city).

During these seven years, Sarma mavayya garu moved from ESSO and joined as the Madras head of an organisation called Synthetics and Chemicals Limited where he apparently enjoyed better benefits.

Mr. Krishnaswamy was his chauffeur and who remained faithful to him till the end.

Soon after we moved to our own home, Prof. Sajip and family also vacated the place and the ground floor remained empty. Left alone, Sarma mavayya gari couple became, apparently lonely and preferred to sell their place and move out to an apartment in Mowbray’s Road (now TTK Road). Though we never owned their place in Chinnaiah Pillai Street, we were attached to it emotionally, owned the place in our thoughts and memories and felt bad when they sold and vacated.

As time passed by, Sarma mavayya garu was blessed with a daughter and a son, both of whom are in good positions now.

Over time Sarma mavayya garu quit Synthetics and Chemicals Limited also, and became a technical consultant. He surrendered his office car and bought another Fiat 1100D model. Though other brands like Maruti-Suzuki started marketing from 1983 onwards, he apparently was more comfortable with either a Fiat or an Ambassador, perhaps as both of them used to have hand shifts than floor shifts like today’s cars. Being a careful driver, over a period he found it stressful to cope up with the unruly traffic hooliganism and drove only if it was a must. Yet, we continued to visit each other’s place occasionally.

Simultaneously he also indulged much in spirituality and did ‘nirantara naama japam’ (continuous chanting of God’s names) like a ‘Thaila Dhaara’ (A benchmark for Bhakti – literal translation is “continuous flow of oil”) (Ref: https://www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/religion/benchmark-for-bhakti/article4079022.ece) and apparently was on the path of reaching exalted position in spirituality and realisation.

His children, who have been well educated and became gems in their own fields are also of equal spiritual inclination.

When I received news on the 24^th November, 1994 that he breathed his last I was crestfallen. I left office and rushed to his place which was just on the other side of the road. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. As our customs do not permit a person, whose parents are alive, to go to a cemetery on final journeys, I could not participate in his last journey and cremation.

But as a person, who has initiated me into my education and my demeanour, Sarma mavayya garu would remain in my heart, forever, in absolute reverence. I owe that much to him. With his gentle and spiritual way of life, I am sure that he would have attained satgati.

Sarma mavayya garu in his office

Pic Courtesy: Family members of Late E. K. Sarma

Until the next, 

Krutagjnatalu (Telugu), Nanri (Tamil), Dhanyavaadagalu (Kannada), Nanni (Malayalam), Dhanyavaad (Hindi), Dhanyosmi (Sanskrit), Thanks (English), Dhonyavaad (Bangla), Dhanyabad (Oriya and Nepalese), Gracias (Spanish), Grazie (Italian), Danke Schon (Deutsche), Merci (French), Obrigado (Portuguese), Shukraan (Arabic and Sudanese), Shukriya (Urdu), Sthoothiy (Sinhalese) Aw-koon (Khmer), Kawp Jai Lhai Lhai (Laotian), Kob Kun Krab (Thai), Asante (Kiswahili), Maraming Salamat sa Lahat (Pinoy-Tagalog-Filipino), Tack (Swedish), Fa'afetai (Samoan), Terima Kasih (Bahasa Indonesian) and Tenkyu (Tok Pisin of Papua New Guinea), Malo (Tongan), Vinaka Vaka Levu (Fijian)

 

Hemantha Kumar Pamarthy

Chennai, India