My Grandfather from Guttavalli

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This is the untold story of a village cradled in the embrace of lush greenery, far away from the rush of the city. In the courtyard, a little granddaughter plays, while on a cot nearby, her doll lies under the open sky, counting countless stars as Grandpa’s stories fill the night. Under the silver moonlight, tales of seven princes and seven fishes unfold, carrying the young girl into a world of dreams.

Grandpa’s cherished granddaughter, a radiant source of joy for the entire village, becomes the center of every gathering. With her tiny hands painting her nails red, she charms everyone with her innocent grace. The courtyard soon transforms into a meeting place for villagers, where they gather to watch television together, and Anandrao Master’s granddaughter becomes the beloved playmate of many households.

The highlight, however, is the granddaughter’s delightful talent for adorning her nails—something so simple, yet it creates a stir throughout the village. Neighbors gather just to witness this little spectacle, while Anandrao Ji, brimming with pride, boasts of his granddaughter’s gifts. Nights come alive with laughter, as stories, games, and shared moments sparkle beneath the star-filled sky.

A nightly ritual soon emerges: the young girl earns a precious rupee by pressing someone’s feet—a valuable sum in those days. The village’s only famous shop, run by Nagbhushan Uncle, becomes the hub of conversations, where people gossip about Anandrao Ji’s elder son’s daughter and even jokingly suggest marrying her to the doctor’s son.

The granddaughter’s charm extends beyond her home. She visits her grandmother’s Telugu-speaking friend, Avulanamma, who shares stories with her before letting her cow graze freely. The girl walks home with such poise that even the village head is left in quiet admiration.

Anandrao Ji’s house becomes the center of attention whenever important guests arrive. He proudly introduces his granddaughter as someone who lives in Delhi, fluent in both English and Hindi. To showcase her talent, he hands her a slate and asks her to write the alphabet. With remarkable self-confidence, she writes each letter, leaving everyone impressed.

Yet, not every night holds stories. Some nights pass in silence, while the granddaughter lies awake, her eyes unblinking. Days slowly fade into nights, and soon, preparations begin for her journey back to Delhi. The once lively courtyard now echoes only with the rustle of dry leaves. Anandrao Ji’s cough grows heavier, his breath carrying a dark stream of smoke that drifts into the sky like restless clouds.

Written & Illustrated by Swati Patnaik
✉️ swatipatnaik@yandex.com
Swati Balivada
✉️ swatipatnaik@yandex.com
17-08-2020



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