Title is Untitled: First Night, No Light

By Santosh Avvannavar, Kundan Srivastava, Raghunath Babu Are and Mohit Goel

Love. Lust. Desire. Rape. Anger. Education. Profession. Maladies of life? Title is Untitled helps us into a sneak peek at a unique combination of facts and fiction. Three authors join their heads to weave a book that would hold fact high along with fiction. You knew the statistics, but you didn’t know the paths that lead to the situations we are facing these days. Coupled with adequate dose of humour, Title is Untitled will enhance, enrich and enlighten your knowledge. Come, join hands with us in spreading knowledge and awareness about issues that are plaguing our society now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483544120

Book preview

Chapter 1

Kamali: The Desires of My Heart

‘Heart itself can understand the desires of a heart.’

People who live in the city think that a country is all about cities. I see every day in the newspaper and lately in the neighbour’s television about the people’s demanding growth. If one wishes to see their true country, it is through its villages, in their traditions, values and lives of the common people. Kamali brings you a story from a village of North Karnataka, southern part of India.

Present, April 13, 2014

Fairs in my village are only a means of entertainment and shopping. I always longed for such fairs to attend. Ugadi (Baisakhi in Punjabi and known as several other names across the country) is a day when the farmers start harvesting. People from nearby villages make a beeline to our village fair as it consists of several stalls, toys shops, ladies items (like bangles, nail polishes, lipsticks and others) and others. At some corner, I heard some loud music of devotional hymns and film songs being played. Some people were dancing; the juggler was showing some tricks, a large crowd of people stood around a snake-charmer singing with his pipe in front of a cobra, whose hood was raised. In the middle of all this, I saw my Madam, Charulatha.

Kamali: (Pats Charulatha’s back)

Charulatha: Yes, How may I help you?

Kamali: (Smiling) Madam ree (‘ree’ is used to show respect in Kannada; similar like jee in Hindi), this is Kamali.

Charulatha: Kamali, sorry my daughter, unable to recollect you. Please can you help me recollect.

Kamali: Madam ree, I used to come to your NGO for various stage shows. I won appreciation and certificates from your firm.

Charulatha: Ah! Ya Ya…Hey Kamala, How are you doing? Nice to meet you after a long time, it’s been nearly four years.

Kamali: Yes Madam ree, it’s nearly four years.

Charulatha: Where are you studying now?

Four Years Ago: (flashback)

Sir: Roll Number 1, 2, 3…. Roll number 11…Roll number 11. Kamali, Kamali….

Kamali: Present…Present sir

Sir: You are always dreaming in class.

(Ding a ling a ling, school bell rings…. All my friends started to rush out of the class)

Ding a ling a ling… children wait for this ring to rush back home. There is definitely some pull in this bell and the rushing says it all. I am probably one of those few people who didn’t want to hear this ring.

(While walking towards home…)

Each step taking towards home seems difficult to put, and before I tell you the reason behind this emotion journey, let me tell you about my family. My name is Kamala Menasinakai; people like me often get a nickname like Kamali. Kamali for being single, Kamalamma or Kamalavva after tying the marriage knot. This often looks funny; the name gets degraded and upgraded with the status change. We have two acres of land; it grows mostly Jola grains (Roti is made of this flour) if there is rain. At times, the crops fail because of excess rain or untimely monsoon. I have two younger sisters, and one elder brother. Ajji (Grandma in Kannada language) died a few weeks ago and I miss her love and care. Till last year, I was allowed to play with the neighbouring boys but after the delayed puberty playing has become a big ‘No-No’ for me. I am glad in a way for this delay, but feel sad for my younger sisters for their precocious puberty. At least I could get to live my childhood life, unlike many other classmates who are chained to the traditions and system. I understand that Indian parents are protective (many a times over protective) and with increasing violence this is expected. There is often a question that crossed my mind is that, ‘why are boys permitted to play after their puberty?’

Within few days I shall finish schooling (X standard), It’s quite difficult to convince Appa (father in Kannada language) for my higher education. My brother is quite lucky in this aspect; his demands are often met at our cost. Don’t my parents believe that a girl can also take care of them? Why am I the one seen as a burden? I hear frequent talks about my marriage. I also have a longing to have a life partner but with some amount of education to ensure my children are educated. I also like to be at par with my children’s expectations and become an understanding mother. I am saying this, as Awwa (mother in Kannada language) is illiterate and she is unable to cope with our expectations.

(Present - Reached home…)

Awwa: Hey Kamali, Kamali… are you dead?

Kamali: Awwa, tell me what you need.

Awwa: Where the hell were you? Did you not hear me?

Kamali: Awwa, I was in...tell me…

Awwa: There is a lot of household work to do. I don’t understand what will you do by going to school? At your age, I was married and had two children. Your Ajji had four children, and you still want to study.

Kamali: Awwa, Awwa, I want to study for some more years. Please let’s not prolong this discussion.

Awwa: Do you want to put on pants like men and work? It’s not good for women. For a woman four walls and a husband is everything. Paramatma! (Oh God!) Take this Kamali’s burden off our shoulder soon.

(Awwa kept murmuring…)

Kamali: (Teary eyes, helping Awwa in household work)

After a Few Hours (Around eight in the evening)

Appa: Kamali’s Awwa, get some food for us. Your son, Lakkappa is hungry. Do you want us to starve to death?

Awwa: Kamali, Hey Kamali, get some food for your Appa and Anna (brother in Kannada language).

Kamali: Yes Awwa.

Appa: Lakkappa, what do you want to become?

Lakkappa: Appa, My friends say that I can follow the footsteps of ‘Annavaru’ (Dr. Rajkumar, Superstar of Sandalwood, Kannada film industry) and become a great film star.

(Kamali is standing behind the door of kitchen)

Kamali: (This pig, Lakkappa considered to be a moon. First let him wash his face regularly says in her mind.)

Appa: I am proud of you Lakkappa, you will bring glory to us.

Kamali: (First let him clear his 12th standard; he is in the same class since three years says in her mind.)

Awwa: Kamali, take the plates and give some amount of water to your Appa and brother.

Kamali: (As if they will die if I don’t give water says in her mind.)

Awwa: Kamali, Hey Kamali…what are you dreaming? (while picking up the plates) Lakkappa’s Appa, see some bridegroom and get this burden off our shoulder soon.

Appa: Why to look for anyone else? Your brother is here for her.

Kamali: (Throws the plate on the floor with anger at listening to their conversations.)

Awwa: Kamali, you cannot manage a plate; how would you manage a family?

Kamali: Awwa, I don’t want to marry your brother.

Awwa: What is less (deficient) in him? He is still young, just over 33 years old, lost his wife two years ago. He has a boy as well. He has five acres of land, and five buffaloes. He will take good care of you.

Kamali: I’m not a buffalo to be taken care of. All of you give so much freedom to Lakkappa. Even I want to study; your son has not even passed the 12th standard. I have consistently topped school.

Appa: What will you do by studying so much? Girls are supposed to take care of their household and husband. Lakkappa is a boy and he can take more time to finish studies. Do you agree with my view, Lakkappa? (Smiles)

Lakkappa: (Nods with smile)

Kamali: (Walks into the kitchen with teary eyes to wash vessels.)

This perhaps has become an integral part of my life. If this didn’t repeat each day, Awwa wouldn’t have sound sleep.

In spite of topping the school every year, my parents neither appreciated me nor gifted a smile to my happiness. I would often go to the open area and pray