Atmagatam (Introspection)

Tripuraneni Gopichand

About the Author

Tripuraneni Gopichand (1910-1962), of Tenali, Andhra Pradesh, India, is a Telugu short story
writer, novelist, editor, essayist, playwright and film director. His writings exhibit an
exceptional interplay of values, ideas and ‗isms‘—materialism, rationalism, existentialism,
realism and humanism. He is well-known among Telugu literati for his psychological novel—
Asamardhuni Jeevayatra (The Incompetent’s Life Journey). He was posthumously presented
the Sahitya Akademi Award for his novel, Panditha Parameshwara Sastry Veelunama (Will of
Panditha Parameshwara Sastry), in 1963. Radical humanist, profound thinker, philosopher,
social reformer and an inveterate votary of truth, Gopichand was a versatile genius, which
reflects well in his scintillating stories that are told in crisp language. His stories pose many
questions that challenge the wit of readers. His birth centenary celebrations are set to
commence from September 2009.

Translator

GRK Murty
As Leela walks towards the window in the first floor and stares at
the sky, clouds are gathering. All of a sudden she feels like going to
her father‘s house.

It‘s two years since Leela got married. In the past two years, such
an idea never ever struck her mind. It must be said that she has
almost forgotten her parents.

Her husband, Mohan, used to say, ―Well! Why don‘t you visit them
once!‖

―Without being asked by them?‖, Leela used to say.

Mohan did know that her parents would not invite them to their
home. None of them had liked Leela marrying him. They held a high
opinion of Leela‘s beauty, intelligence, and her horoscope. It was
also their belief that Mohan was not the right bridegroom for Leela.
They had also attempted to preach Leela against it in different
ways. They had exaggerated the inadequacies of Mohan to her.

―He has no eye for earning‖, said they.

This didn‘t appear to her as an inadequacy then. It is the common

folks who would stay focused on making money. ―Mohan is an
uncommon man‖, thought she.

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―He has no stable mind‖, said they.

This didn‘t appear to Leela as an inadequacy then. She thought

―Mohan is a devotee of art, ever-new, an intellectual who strives to
acquire fullness of life by constantly imbibing new experiences.‖

They told many things against him. She thought it was Mohan‘s
thirst for art that lead to their misunderstanding. She laughed at
their innocence. She marveled: ―Would Mohan —her Mohan—be
comprehensible to these common folks?‖

Much against the wishes of everybody in the family, Leela finally

married Mohan. Neither her parents, nor her brother or sister
attended her marriage. Of course, for Leela, who was floating in
happiness, the not coming of her kin didn‘t matter. All the poets,
writers, art-lovers of the town have come and blessed the new
couple. Mohan, who was striving for newness everyday, was
complimented by everyone that he is blessed with a ‗divine-light‘.
Leela was floored by their commendations. She felt proud of
becoming the wife of such a great man. She decided to dedicate her
life to assist Mohan in fulfilling his ideals.

Desiring to spend the time immediately after marriage merrily, they

set out to visit pilgrimage centers, important places, and beautiful
sights. They visited Srirangam, Kanchi, Mathura, Ajanta, Hampi,
Ellora, etc. When Leela saw the sights of Hampi and Ellora, her

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heart thawed. Mohan explained their past glory and present status
vividly to her. He also described to her the marvel of the sculpture
in Hampi and the dexterity of the art in the Ajanta caves.

―See! That‘s the greatness of our past!‖ said Mohan.

Her heart swelled with joy.

―Look at the current plight!‖ said he.

Her heart sunk.

She was angered at the inability of the race to protect and enjoy
such lofty grandeur, and beauty. She thought that if only there are
a few more art connoisseurs and worshippers, like Mohan, the
nation would have not ended up in such a plight. At that moment,
Mohan appeared to her as a demigod. He appeared as an
embodiment of natural grace.

―My Mohan! My Mohan!‖ she whispered to herself; lulled herself in

ecstasy. She had decided to get Mohan perform many great deeds.

The couple returned home.

Mohan is an artist. He had inherited very little wealth. Hence, he

used to encounter many financial problems. Leela was, of course,

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aware of this. Well before marriage itself, he had told her about his
family background and financial problems. She felt happy about his
frankness.

―Man of no worldly wisdom!‖ said she coquettishly.

―What?‖ asked Mohan anxiously.

―Would anyone let the girl whom he is going to marry know these
truths?‖ said she.

―Ok, as you wish‖, said Mohan.

―Forever, that‘s what my wish is‖, said Leela.

This conversation was always fresh in her mind. Hence, immediately

after returning home, having decided to manage the family frugally,
she spoke to Mohan about it.

―As you like, we are after all two, won‘t it get managed?‖ said
Mohan with a smile.

Leela understood that smile. Mohan didn‘t like having children. She
too didn‘t have the desire of having children. She has seen many
families living in disgust with plenty of children not being able to
run the family. It was her belief that art and children will not go

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together. She could not imagine Mohan, her art-loving Mohan, as a
father of children.
In ecstasy, Mohan would be drawing a picture. His younger son
would run to him asking, ―Nanna1, kani2‖. Startled, Mohan would
suddenly come into this world, stare down as though staring from
another world. Son would say, ―kani‖.

Daughter would come. Mohan would be drawing a picture; would be

anxious when it will be done. Daughter would say, ―nanna‖. With
brush in his hand, Mohan would turn and look. ―Take me up‖, would
say the daughter.

She would come. Mohan would be drawing a picture. ―Mohan! My

Mohan!‖ she would call. He would turn and look longingly at her.
Seeing her, he would become despondent. She would not look like

1
Nanna—father.
2
Kani—Denomination that was in use up to 1960; sixty-fourth of a rupee.

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herself. Now, she is a mother of many children. Beauty declined.
Youth lost. Skin wrinkled.

―Who are you?‖ Mohan would say.

―Your Leela‖, she would say.

Mohan would say: ―No‖, ―No‖. He would drop the brush in hand. He
would stumble into the chair lying beside.

―No‖, ―No children‖, Leela tells herself.

Since then, Leela was not moving out of the house. Won‘t go even
for a stroll. Was not visiting even her close relatives. Always stayed
beside Mohan. She used to arrange everything that he needed for
his painting. She used to ensure that he was not subjected to any
problem. She thus ended up with no life of her own. Mohan‘s life
alone had become her life.

Days were thus rolling on. Mohan was painting picture after picture.
Leela should always remain by his side. Without Leela, his brush did
not move. If she is not visible even for a minute, he would go
around in search of her, calling, ―Leela‖, ―Leela‖.

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Mohan‘s infatuation for her made Leela happy. The fact that her
beauty was the cause for Mohan drawing so many pictures, made
every cell in her body feel proud.

―My poor Mohan! What would have you been, had I not been …‖,
saying she used to set his front-locks.

―If you aren‘t there, there would be no Mohan that day‖, Mohan
used to say.

What a sway these words of Mohan used to put her heart into! She
used to long to listen to those words again and again by making
Mohan say them.

Usually, every evening they used to sit in the backyard in chairs put
under the jasmine bower. On such occasions, it had become a habit
for Mohan to bring with him aromatic substances such as Sandal
paste, Civet, etc. Keeping them carefully beside her, he would pick
handful of jasmine flowers and put them in her hair. He would
spread the aromatic substances around her neck and over his hands.
In the charm of their enthralling fragrance, he used to read books
for her. But those books were beyond her comprehension. However,
his way of turning the pages of books with his fingertips was a great
attraction for her. In between, he used to say, ―Wow! What a
profound thought‖. She used to say, ―yes‖ staring at his fingertips.

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―Leela! What else do we need in life except to read books like this,
draw pictures and sit together far away from worldly quarrels‖, he
used to say.

―Yes‖, she used to say watching his fingertips.

―Leela! We are an ideal couple. Aren‘t we? How lucky we are!‖

Mohan used to say, while taking her into his embrace.

At such moments, she used to feel as though she was taking bath in
Mandakini3 in the heaven. But soon, some certain anguish—
dissatisfaction used to emerge from within. She used to think that
such dissatisfaction was more out of her own fault. She used to

3
Mandakini—As per Hindu mythology, it is a celestial river.

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curse herself for not being able to catch up with the stature that
Mohan was heading towards.
Immediately she used to remember the state of affairs of the
family. Every art lover of the town did praise Mohan‘s paintings. But
there were none to buy them. Leela used to think that someone or
the other would come some day. Leela used to hope, ―Wouldn‘t
there be at least a single art lover somewhere, wouldn‘t he turn up
sometime or the other‖.

One day that man did come. He requested Mohan to draw a picture
for him and went away.

Mohan started painting it. He said to Leela that he would draw a

magnificent picture using all his adroitness. Leela hurried him to
finish the painting quickly. Fearing that it may get delayed, she
used to arrange for everything that is required for his painting
without being asked. Colors exhausted. Brushes changed. Slowly the
picture acquired a man‘s shape. Seeing it, Mohan overflowed with
joy. He explained to Leela all that he wanted to express through
that picture. She too felt it was a masterpiece. Both were
enthralled.

Next day, the gentleman who asked for the picture came. Mohan
showed the picture to him. Leela anxiously waited for his response.
The gentleman examined the picture.

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―Oh, No!‖ he expressed his dissatisfaction.

―What?‖ asked Mohan. He felt that the whole world was reeling.

―What picture is this?‖ asked the gentleman.

―Why?‖ asked Mohan.

―This is not what I asked you to paint‖, said the gentleman.

Mohan got angry. ―This uninitiated (into art) asking me to draw a

picture, and me to draw?‖ felt Mohan. He also felt a little happy at
not painting it the way he wanted.

―I painted the way I liked it‖, said he.

―So then you retain it‖, said the gentleman.

―Ok, you can go‖, said Mohan.

The gentleman hurriedly walked out. Leela could not understand

what to do. In despondency, she stood staring.

As soon as he left, Mohan losing his senses in intense anger started

murmuring, ―Stupids, cultureless fellows, impoverished art-
seekers‖. He could not look at Leela‘s face. He knew that Leela‘s

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heart might have broken into pieces. He was afraid to look into her
face that was clouded by despair. He went out.

Leela stood lifeless. Didn‘t even know how long she stayed like
that. The painting that they had created by working day and night is
just in front of her. It appears, as though staring at her. The
colors, and the brushes that were used for painting the picture are
right there staring at her. That room was boiling with all the labor
that she expended for getting a great painting done by Mohan.
Every article in that room was echoing this loudly. She could no
longer stand there. She moved towards the window with heavy
steps. As she looked at the sky, clouds were gathering. Suddenly,
she felt like going to her father‘s home. At once Leela remembered
her whole life. It appeared as a fathomless abyss. Mother, father,
brother, sister, she remembered everything.

―Amma4, you are younger, you listen to me‖, said father.

―His manassu5 is as soft as butter, nanna‖, said she.

―That‘s not a good quality amma. It is an inability that comes out of

one‘s lack of courage to face the challenges of life‖, said father.

―See nanna, he adores women folk‖, said she.

4
Amma—mother.
5
Manassu—cognition power.

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―What adoration for women, amma?‖ said father.

―Not that nanna, he has terrific respect for women. He speaks to

them quite softly and pleasantly‖, said she.

―Whoever looks at every women alike, cannot make a wife happy

talli6‖, said father. Now, her father‘s words appear to Leela to be
true. Many women used to come to see Mohan‘s paintings. He used
to behave as closely with all of them as he behaved with her. He
used to give aromatic products such as Civet, Sandal paste, etc. He
used to pluck jasmines, tie them into a garland and present to all of
them. In Mohan‘s perspective, me and other ladies are one? No
difference? There is no special affection for me? To adore women is
his nature, is it the same reason for adoring me too? Nothing special
about me? Not my beauty? Not my intelligence? Not even my
adoration for him?

6
Talli—A father while addressing his daughter with flowing compassion, uses the word ‘talli’ which
literally means mother.

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All these thoughts stirred up a thunderstorm in her heart. She
turned her stare towards the street. Men and women are running in
the street hither and thither in confusion. Everything appeared new
to her. Having lived with Mohan in a castle built in air, the world
has suddenly become new for her. Not being able to see it, she
turned her face to another side. There, children are playing. She
remembered their decision not to have children. It immediately
reminded her of her friend, Vimala.

Vimala is her childhood friend. Both had studied together. After her
marriage, she came to see her once. Seeing Vimala, her life
bounced back. She had shown all the paintings drawn by Mohan. She
told her about Mohan‘s greatness. She praised his lofty ideals.
Listening to all that she said, Vimala questioned her: ―That‘s ok!
What are you doing?‖

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―Me…?‖ she stammered. She realized then that she was not doing
anything specific and she is accountable to do something of her
own.

―Not doing anything‖, said she.

―Why?‖ asked Vimala.

―Mohan cannot draw pictures if I am not by his side‖, said she.

―What is this Leela? You are educated. Should there not be life of
your own?‖ asked Vimala.

―I didn‘t feel it necessary. I feel contended with helping Mohan‖,

said she.

Hearing this, Vimala cast look of surprise. That stare was still
haunting her, still pin-pricking her. Vimala appears to be engaged in
social service. She talked for an hour about the problems that ladies
and the poor folk in the society are suffering. She said: ―Woman
should not remain a mere slave of man. She too must have a life of
her own. After all, she is also a living being. She too will have her
own thoughts and her own wants. They are to be fulfilled.‖ Finally,
before leaving, Vimala said, ―Your Mohan appears to be pretty

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selfish, Leela! Except about his comforts, he does not appear to be
thinking of you.‖

―Oh! Please don‘t say that of him‖, said she.

―So then what is he doing?‖

―Has he asked me to do it? On my own volition, I am doing.‖

―So what, even if you like? He knows everything. Hasn‘t he the

responsibility to explain to you?‖
Leela thought over. Was it true that she didn‘t have a life of her
own? What is the truth in the sayings of Vimala? Doesn‘t she have a
life of her own? To cheer up Mohan and make him draw good
paintings, enable him to perform great deeds was what her life was
all about. Without helping others, if everyone starts creating a
small world of their own and sit in it, how could there be harmony
in the world? How could cooperation become feasible? How could
there be progress? Why then, this dissatisfaction for her? About
whom? For what? Is this dissatisfaction not concerning herself! How
come, what had this far given her pleasure, was now not able to
give the same? Whose fault is this? Is it hers? Mohan‘s? What is
Mohan‘s fault? Despite reasoning critically, nothing appears as his
fault. Even now he is treating her with the same love and affection
with which he had cared for her in the beginning. There is not even
an iota of change in him. It is the same thoughts… same changes…

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same actions… same perspective… so, where is then his fault! Then,
has she done any wrong? She has been trying to do her best to keep
Mohan happy. She still loves him deeply. But, how come, the words
that earlier moved her are no longer able to create the same effect
in her? Earlier, even if he sits by her side, she used to experience
ecstasy. Now, it is vexation. She is fed up with the mildness of his
tone. Why can‘t he speak firmly with authority? She felt like seeing
him in anger. How would it look if he yells?

Prior to marriage, when she was with her friends, if he came and
talked sitting by her side, she felt proud of it. But now, if he even
comes nearer to her in the presence of her friends, she feels
embarrassed, a kind of uneasiness. Why? Because, they may think
otherwise? Previously, isn‘t it their thinking of that sort, which
made her feel proud! Why now this…?

Has she changed? Changed because, he is not earning? The fact that
he is not earning is his affliction too, but he does not appear to be
suffering from pain.

Otherwise, as Vimala said, go for social service? Then, what would

happen to her Mohan? Can she continue to love Mohan as hitherto?
What if, if she cannot. All of a sudden, life appears to her as a
desert. Her heart, choked by so many thoughts, all of a sudden
became non-existent. Not being able to love Mohan, her Mohan!

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―Leela‖, whose is that call? Where did she hear that? Ajanta –
Hampi – Srirangam – Kanchi – Mathura – Ellora….

Mohan entered the room. He is anxious to say something. He had

seen tears in her eyes.

―What is this?‖ asked he.

―Nothing‖, said Leela.

At once she was reminded of their resolution not to keep secrets

between them. But what else could she say?

*****

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