Anecdotes for humour, or wisdom

I was 15 years younger than my brother Murthy and, therefore, not very free with him. My father was 45 years old when I was born, and my relationship with him was also somewhat aloof and distant. Brother and father, however, were on much easier terms. They often had arguments in which brother came off as being a know-all. In sheer exasperation, father, one day, with a mischievous glint in his eye, asked brother what the name was of the third daughter of our neighbor. Brother drew a blank, and father triumphantly announced the name, saying “thank God, there is something I know which you don’t!”

The inseparable duo, of Bapu and Ramana, is well known in the Telugu speaking states. Their books and movies. SattirajuLakshminarayana, popularly known by the fond nickname, ‘Bapu’, was a gifted artist famous for his cartoons. The Bapu-Ramana team is remembered for some memorable movies, and books, which became very popular on account of the earthy humour and imaginative plots around which they were planned. The movies ‘Mutyala Muggu’ and ‘Sita Kalyanam’ were their master pieces. Although it began falteringly, ‘Mutyala Muggu’ soon proved to be a runaway success. Other movies by the team, such as ‘Bangaru Pichika’, were close to being utter flops. In the early days of ‘Mutyala Muggu.’ Usha, my wife, started pestering me that we should go and watch it immediately. When I suggested that we ought to wait until the theatres were relatively less crowded, she came out with her clinching argument. It was after all, a Bapu – Ramana movie, and may not play for many days! Bapu and Ramana had a good laugh when I related the story to them. With characteristic humility, and the gift of being able to have a dig at himself, Bapu once told me how some of his fans celebrated the hundredth day of one of his movies. Upon, receiving the invitation to be present at that function, Bapu apparently pointed out to the organisers, that the film had only just begun to play in the theatres. The reply he received was that the fans had begun their counting, from the day the production had started!

Bapu, and a service colleague of mine, the witty and brilliant I, Narasimha Rao, were very close friends. When Narasimha Rao got promoted to the IAS from the State Civil Services, Bapu, on a visit to Hyderabad, called him on the phone and offered to tell him a story. Narasimha Rao drew himself up to his full height (although the conversation was on the phone!), and haughtily announced to Bapu that now that he was a full-fledged member of the IAS, the story had better be worth his while. And Bapu’s prompt retort was, “don’t worry. I will remove the difficult portions and make it compatible with your present level of intellect, in view of the elevation!”

It was the year 1968, and I had joined for training as an Officer Trainee (OT), in the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (as it is now known), Mussoorie. The Director of the Academy at that time was K K Das, a very senior and distinguished civil servant. As was the custom, the Director had lined up a series of interviews with the OTs, partly in order to get to know them better individually, as also to infuse in them, a sense of confidence and comfort, about what was in store for them. My slot was at 3 pm on a particular day. I was playing bridge in a colleague’s room, when I suddenly realised that it was time for my appointment. I had barely 15 minutes within which to run to my room, dress and sprint to the Director’s Chambers. Those familiar with the terrain of hill stations will understand how much of effort is required to do all this when everything is either up there or down there.

I ran all the way up to the Director’s room and entered – a few minutes late, somewhat flustered, huffing and puffing. Guiltily I conjured up the excuse of an upset stomach as the cause for my being late. Unfortunately, the matter did not end there and the Director promptly asked what medication I was taking. Unprepared as I was for this affected solicitude and detailed interrogation; I concocted an explanation that it was a homeopathic remedy. Much to my chagrin the proceedings continued.” Ah!. And what may the remedy be?” continued the Director. Ad libbing uncontrollably by now, I said “Something my mother gave me, Sir. I do not really know the name. ”The cat was out of the bag. The Director abandoned the inquisition with a knowing smile. I still wake up at night sweating at the memory of the close escape.

I was barely three years old when my sister, Kalpakam, got married to Somayajulu, popularly known as S S Yechury. SitaramYechury, the well-known communist leader, was their son. My brother-in-law was like a father to me, not only because of the difference in age, but the manner in which he, and my sister, looked after me. I was, in fact, much closer to him than with my father or brother and took many liberties with him, such as borrowing money. On one occasion, wanting to have lunch with a friend in one of the posh restaurants of Hyderabad, I requested him for some money. Smilingly, and in a very playful manner, he suggested that he would give me as many rupees as I did push-ups. Unabashedly, and right there, in the middle of the busy Abids Road, and in full view of the public, gazing at the spectacle in disbelief, I did 40 push-ups, for as many rupees! And, by then, I was already a senior officer in the IAS!

My brother-in-law and my mother were very fond of each other and enjoyed a close and affectionate relationship. So much so, that very often, he would not hesitate to have a joke at mother’s expense. I remember how once, when mother was worried that she had missed part of a song on the radio, as she was busy in the kitchen, he offered to turn the knob backwards, so that she could hear that part again!

(The writer was formerly Chief Secretary, Government of Andhra Pradesh)