Stopped In Our Tracks

"I used to hear that there were great loyal ladies who lived in such unity with their husbands' lives that they didn't even preserve their own lives. I didn't realize until after she had died that none of them would even stand comparison with my mother," said Bulbul [Usha, U.G.'s daughter] speaking the other night about her mother, Kusuma.

"You became a great king because our Janaki kept your company, or else was it your own achievement?" so said Tyagayya defiantly. True. What did Sita gain by marrying an ideal person like Rama? How happy was Kusuma made by loving him with all her heart an idiosyncratic individual like U.G., let alone being married to him? Kusuma was a faithful wife who suffered for her husband's pleasure, and with a view of not standing in the way of his attaining his goals. She was caught in the dilemma of, on the one hand, wishing to provide for her children's future, and, on the other hand, wanting to be in her husband's presence, a presence which was so vital for her own well-being.

Finally, she punished herself cruelly and separated herself from him. She became an object of scorn in her relatives' eyes, but she wouldn't care about whatever they said about her. If anyone even hinted at blaming U.G., no matter how close a relative that person was, she would lash out at him like a veritable Kali. For the sake of her children, she sacrificed her life of 35 years living in the remote village of Pulla. Apparently she said to her sister Minakshamma before she died, "Sister, thus I not only became unwanted by my husband but also am becoming useless for my children. What good is it for me to live?"

When Bulbul was narrating to us these events on the terrace that night, we could clearly imagine Kusuma's suffering. We could understand why she had moved away from U.G. We also knew how inevitable the occurrence of such an event was in U.G.'s life, this separation from his wife. When Bulbul was crying loudly because she couldn't contain the pain of her memories, we too cried with her silently.

If a person who first didn't want to marry at all, melted like snow as soon as he saw Kusuma and decided that if he ever married it would be only to her, we need not be surprised. Her personality, beauty and nature were of that sort. Why did such a person move away from U.G. in her final days? U.G. had told her that she could leave the U.S. and return to India. All her efforts to persuade him to return with her to India, to live together as one family with him and the children as before, failed.

U.G. was not interested in the family life. When she thought of the future of her daughters, her heart sank. She insisted on keeping them in India because she worried: "In this God-forsaken country my children will get used to this culture and will marry Christian men." She wanted to send them to school in India. She wanted to raise them according to the Indian cultural tradition, and not to play with their lives. At least that was her intention.

U.G. was adamant: "If you want, you can go. You can stay in India with them. I will live alone in this country or another country, but I won't return to India." By then he knew that separation with his wife was inevitable. He knew that his life was like a rudderless boat tossed away by Fate and drifting in the ocean of existence.

Having no alternative, Kusuma returned to India alone. She left her life behind with her husband and landed in India looking like a lifeless corpse. It's a wonder why the earth didn't take her into its womb immediately. Circumstances in India were topsy-turvy. Nevertheless, Kusuma was brave and would not admit defeat. She believed that U.G. would someday return to India for her sake and for their children's sake.

She kept her hope alive as long as she believed that even though U.G. had no use for her, her children needed her. She bore and defied all hardships as well as her ill-health. One day in Pulla, Bharati (U.G.'s eldest daughter) and Bulbul came from Visakhapatnam for vacations. When she assigned small tasks for them, they wouldn't do them. She was hurt by their complaints.

No matter how low a state she was in, she was so proud that she wouldn't let others know of it. When she was trying to feed him, and he wouldn't eat, she learned that the four-year old Bujji (Kumar, U.G.'s second son) had gone to someone's house and ate a full meal that afternoon. She put the little kid down and made marks on his stomach with a hot pancake turner. Then she started crying. How many could understand the agony and tears of that mother!

She didn't like to inform her husband of her hardships. "Wouldn't he suffer from pain knowing that I and the children are going through such hardships? How sorry will he be!" she thought. Her brother-in-law, Mr. Mrutyunjaya Rao, trying to set right the affairs of this family, and with the intention of calling U.G. to India, wrote a pleading letter to U.G. When she learned of it, Kusuma became a veritable Durga [a fierce form of the Mother Goddess], picked the gentleman up by grasping him from the sliding chair he was sitting on and threw him on the floor. She was so proud.

"Sister, he will come. U.G. will certainly come. Didn't he treat me like a princess? My prince will come on the seven horses." Kusuma used to daydream in this fashion. She had great imagination and an artistic bent of mind. There was not a moment when she didn't think of U.G. She used to reminisce about the days of her married life with U.G. and talk about them to her sister.

She recalled that one day she and U.G. went to some town. The hosts had given them a room to sleep in. There was only a camp cot, which would sleep one person, in the room. Kusuma became angry when U.G. told her, "Kusuma, you sleep on the cot. I will spread my bed on the floor and sleep on it."

"He used to bring me anything I wanted. He used to send me a sari wherever I was. When he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him I wanted a sari. I was so foolish. Why did I ask for a sari?" she said, sobbing. Perhaps Kusuma was regretting that she should instead have asked him to stay with her.

"Sister, my husband used to look like Nagayya [a famous South Indian movie star]. He was fair, with long hair, white shirt and a panche [loin cloth]—he looked like a prince. Her tapas was only to constantly think of U.G.'s appearance." Kusuma's daily routine was to recall the memories of the days she had spent with U.G. in the U.S. and talk about them.