chittoor

Rosy

7 months ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under chennai, childhood, chittoor, stories
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Raghava Reddy’s Turtle

8 months ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, stories

An exaggerated version of a true story, as told to me by a friend who chose to remain anonymous. Yeah. You’ll know why he did so after you have read this story.

He threw our clothes, splashed some kerosene on them, and set them on fire. We stood there, standing by the edge of the irrigation well, and watched. Once he was satisfied that our clothes were burnt to his satisfaction, Raghava Reddy, turned to us. The only thought that was running in my head was ‘if he hits me, I can’t raise my hands to defend myself: my hands were busy defending something far more important.

Raghava Reddy was an ancient man. Some said he was 60. Some said 80. But from when I knew him, I was 14, he had been the same: lanky, dark man with More...

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The Legend of Elikunji

9 months ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under chennai, childhood, chittoor, india, stories

Mothers spoke about him in hushed whispers. When they fed their babies. “If you don’t finish your lunch, Elikunji will take you away.” We debated “Does he exist? Or is it just a maternal conspiracy to make the babies eat?” But, somewhere in the dark corners of our minds, a nagging question kept us on tenterhooks: what if he is for real?

There were too many small stories, snippets, trivia that contributed to the larger-than-life outlaw called Elikunji. First, the name: Elikunji in Tamil meant ‘baby rat or rat’s penis’ depending on how you look at it. Conversations with old men on Pagadamanu street confirmed my doubts. Elikunji was vertically challenged. He is only 3 ft tall, said some old men. The deaf Iyer next door had a different take. “He is as elusive as a rat,” he said More...

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Dabur Partha and the Tusker (part 2 of 2)

1 year ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, cricket, stories

Continued from part 1

My feet refused to move. It was as if my legs had a mind of their own, and they hated me. A wave of dust blew right through me. I rubbed my eyes and opened them to the captain of the Srinagar colony team alighting from his car like a Telugu movie hero: he gave a nonchalant kick to the door to close it, adjusted his Royban shades, surveyed the surroundings, and finally stood in front of me and cleared his throat. As if I was blind and didn’t notice this colossal personality. My legs were shaking and I wanted him to not see my fear. It was important to let the opponent know that I wasn’t scared. I wanted to tell him “I had nothing to do with it. You may want to talk More...

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Dabur Partha and the Tusker (part 1 of 2)

1 year ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, cricket, stories

Someone stole Niall O’ Brien’s kit and that inspired me to recount this story

The match was, how do I put it… ah!, tantalisingly poised. It was a ‘bet’ match. We were playing for money. Not for a ball or bat. The money at stake was 110 INR. Each player contributed 10 bucks. 10 bucks was a lot of money then. I am talking 1986/87 here. The Greamspet team, our team, was chasing and the Srinagar colony boys were all over us. Two wickets to go, ten overs remaining, and some 90 odd to get. Parthasarathy, my first friend, neighbour, and captain of the team was a worried man. I was curious. ‘Machan only ten bucks da, relax.’ I said. ‘Yeah but my dad had only 15 Rupees, for the entire month. And we have two weeks to go. More...

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Did you do it?

1 year ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, cricket, stories

Somewhere from across the hills abutting the Chittoor Arts college grounds, the Lapwing’s shrill call pierced the peace of our cricket match. “’Did-yoo-doo-it! Did-yoo-doo-it!” It questioned. I ambled to the bowling end. Scratched my calf with my toes and took my position as the umpire. L. Ramesh, self-proclaimed ‘pace’ bowler adjusted his spectacles and waited as Farooq took guard. He took his own time. He took a bail out and rammed it into the ground, to mark his leg stump. And then, took about half an hour to place the bail back on the stumps, thumped his hands on his sides, dusting them. He studied the field, multiple times. I was almost dozing off when Farooq’s “LEG STUMP EMPIRE!” woke me up. I never quite understood why some people called an umpire an ‘empire’. I shook off the grogginess More...

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The End of the Revolution

2 years ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, politics, stories

A look at the news should tell you how the so called Maoists have embarked on a highway to self-destruction. No, I don’t know enough about their philosophy or why they took up arms struggle. Not because I don’t care. Because it doesn’t make sense. It probably did until the economic reforms started in the early 90s I don’t know. Probably. But now, it doesn’t make sense to blow up rail tracks and kill cops. And civilians.When I was a school kid in Chittoor, in the early 80s, I was mesmerized by the ‘Annalu’ (as they were referred to in A.P.) I used stop by our school walls and read the Radicals Students Union graffiti. “Viplavam vardhillali” (long live the revolution) was ubiquitous. So was “Dunney vaadidhey bhoomi” (he who plows the land, owns it.)

We never saw More...

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The Price You Gotta Pay

2 years ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor, movies, stories

It was five in the morning. It was a balmy October day and the trees stood still. The town of Chittoor was pregnant with expectation. Chiranjeevi’s Raakshasudu was releasing that day. The Chiru fans’ association had arranged for a special show. Quite a few people I knew were going for the special show. I wished I knew someone that would get me inside MSR movie hall for that show but I wasn’t lucky. But, that didn’t dampen my spirit. Srinivas and I were ready with our star: a bamboo and cardboard affair with an assortment of Chiranjeevi’s pictures stuck on it. That was the tradition then. If you were a real fan, you installed a star (no matter how small) in the movie hall. On day one of the release.

I More...

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‘Pitchi’ Rammurthy

3 years ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under childhood, chittoor

The bogeyman of Pagadamanu street in Greamspet, during the early 80s, was none other than ‘Pitchi’ Rammurthy. Pithchi means mad in Telugu and our bogeyman was as mad as mad can get. He strutted about, perennially clad in a dirty white shirt with no buttons and a dirtier white dhoti, drawn up and tied up at knee level. His yellow, front teet jutted out and rested outside his mouth; you could drive a car through the gaps between his teeth. He was half bald. The remaining grey, frazzled hair clung to the back and sides of his head. He looked the part but that’s not what made our hearts skip beats. It was his war cry.

He walked up and down the street around lunch hour, when the sun tried in vain to fry the town. And he would More...

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Grandmaster Muniyandi: The Sham-Sac (concluding part)

3 years ago Posted by Suman Kumar Filed under chittoor, stories

[Continued from Part 1 and Part 2]

Young people, especially those that are heartbroken, are a showy lot. Ravi was no different. His world knew that he was, to use the archaic term, ‘licked’. Or as boys in Chittoor called it, ‘she gave him haath’. Like all rejected lovers, Ravi went into a stage of sleeplessness, lack-interest-in-life-ness, and solitude. He tried talking to her but the city girl was brutal: she would not budge. She even cracked smart lines (which part of get lost you didn’t understand?). Some thought she was overboard, and some, enjoyed it.

Then started a procession of speakers, veterans at the game of love, that argued, pontificated, and reiterated the rallying cry of all failed lovers: girls are vicious.

Ramesh, poet-cum-failed lover-cum-classmate told Ravi, while smoking endlessly into the night, “They More...

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