Kathaakaar: An Anthology of Short Stories

By Leena Adrushta Ganti

Relatable stories told in an inimitable style, this anthology of short stories is a must read. It talks of the simple villager and the city dweller too. The quiet streets and the busy metropolis both, find a place in these stories. Lose yourself in the imaginary world of Kathakaar, the storyteller who weaves these tales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Apr 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781543781472

Leena Adrushta Ganti

Writing is Leena’s passion. You will find her typing away on the go and while at rest too. She thrives on her on hot chai, books, and music. As she travels with her family around the world she collects stories like a magpie does shiny things! This is her second book, the characters are very close to her heart! They have been her travelling companions on many sojourns to places familiar and new. Her debut publication Khewat and Other Short Stories is available with all major retailers both in paperback and ebook formats. She blogs sporadically, you can catch her articles on : https://wordpress.com/home/thecacklingwitches. wordpress.com Happy reading!

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Copyright © 2024 by Leena Adrushta Ganti.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

For Pradyumna and Gowrie,

Deeksha and Emrys

To Circuit, Neela and Veera

CONTENTS

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Kathaakaar

Meenakshi Part 1

Meenakshi Part 2

Meenakshi Part 3

Neelima’s Home

Sumi

Chandra’s Gulmohar

Mira

Sacrifice

Bhumija - A saga of Love and Loss

Ketakipuram

Anjali

About the Author

FOREWORD

This anthology of stories though largely based in the Indian subcontinent spans cities and towns across the world and even time! The trials and travails of the characters are universal.

The fairer race, the weaker ones, the damsels in need of rescue and often hidden away from the world! That’s how women are perceived. Women cannot all be coloured with the same brush anymore than men. History talks of Indian women in glowing terms. They were known not just for their ethereal beauty but also for their incredible wisdom, courage, and grace. The modern woman in India is also the heroine of her own unique story.

Bhumija Sita, Mira, Neelima, Chandra, and even little Sumi and Kantha fight their own battles before a semblance of equilibrium emerges in their lives. From Vidhushi Devi, the Queen of Nandavanam, to Meenakshi in Madurai, the shades in their personalities are myriad. In trying times, they emerge like butterflies out of a chrysalis.

Yet another curious reader of the Ramayana seeks to understand it better and the true meaning of sacrifice is explained to him. Can the Ramayana be spoken of without feeling Sita’s heartbreak and loss? It is as much Her story as His and so She makes her presence felt too. The good exists with the bad and oftentimes in the same person.

Kathaakaar is the storyteller, he has spun so many tales in his time, and now he waits in the shadows of Time. What will this new journey bring to him?

Find yourself in their journeys through life!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Words are hopelessly inadequate in expressing what the heart feels!

Gouri who is a constant in my writing journey, to her my eternal gratitude and love. My FPOC (first point of contact) as she calls herself!

Aparna, my friend, philosopher, guide, and editor-in-chief!

Jaideep, thank you for your unwavering trust and support.

Sindhu, thank you for always being with me.

Sashi Kiran, as always you are en pointe with the illustrations! You draw what I dream up!

Some friends come back into your life when you least expect it and make their presence felt with a bang! Preethi Sanjeevi here’s a huge shoutout to you, my girl!

Bharati Murali, my musical friend, you have enriched my life in so many ways in such a short span of time. Your voice fills my life with music and your gracious gestures fill my heart with love and gratitude!

To my family, thank you for being so patient with me during my writing journey.

The team at Partridge Publications has been extremely professional and supportive in helping me get this book through despite my chaos! Many thanks to Carl Amaba, Jerry Gabriel, and the entire team!

Kathaakaar.jpg

KATHAAKAAR

I F YOU LIKE a book, let the author know. If a song speaks to you, applaud the singer. When the sculpture brings the story home to you, support the sculptor. An artist needs his audience; but for them, his art would not find expres sion.

Art is as much for the audience as for the artist. It is never about the money and always about the soul sustenance of the artist and as well as his audience.

An artist’s soul that isn’t so fed, stops creating. His art dies within and so does his soul, forever more. What’s worse, he joins the herd around him in existing mundanely.

Kathaakaar Kammudiah, as he was once known, was one such artistic soul who had taken to merely existing. His sustenance came from the odd jobs that he could pick up now as an agricultural labourer. Even these were steadily becoming scarce. Land was being sold away by the farmers who no longer wanted to practise agriculture.

Cities held a strange allure and foreign countries were even more tempting. The landowners had managed to educate their children and those children had moved abroad. With facilities being few and far between, the elderly landowners had either moved to the cities or fallen for the shimmer of the Green Card!

What of the likes of Kathaakaar Kammudiah?

His childhood had been carefree and spent along the banks of the river Chitravathi in the South Indian state of Andhra Pradesh. His boyhood days were spent in learning to make leather puppets from his grandfather, Sivaiah. His father Chandram, was often away from home with his performing troupe. All that Kammudiah knew about puppetry and spinning lore was a legacy handed down to him by his grandfather. As his mother Sitalu, fed him the night’s meal, she would often recount lesser-known tales. Her own fertile imagination spun a few tales spontaneously. The young boy never knew boredom.

Kammudiah had been a renowned artist in his youth. Kathaakaar Kammudiah was his prized epithet! He had mastered the art of transforming lifeless leather sheets into magical people whom he brought alive at night! The preparation of the leather sheets was a tedious and hard process. Painstakingly he drew and shaped the puppets into the characters after that.

The painting and drying of the puppets would take a while too. This would be followed by making the parts moveable so that the storytelling was engaging. And then finally, they would tell all the tales that Kammudiah had spun in his head! Tales of brave kings, their beautiful queens, of men who were holy, and those who were demon-like. There were also stories about animals, forests, vales, and mountains. The puppets would spring to life and perform as if by magic on the screen! It was Kammudiah’s nimble fingers and his enchanting voice that kept the audience rapt.

In crafting his puppets, Kammudiah conscientiously followed all the injunctions that his grandfather and father had taught him. Only the best of the skins was used to make his puppets. Gods and Goddesses were crafted out of antelope skins. Rough and ready characters that would portray action meant that a sturdy deer skin would be required. The more easily available and cheaper goat skin was used for all the other characters.

Never use the leather of an animal that was killed. We cannot be violent in any way when we want to talk of peace, his grandfather had said. Tell your stories with the blessings of the beings that went to their Maker in peace, and in that, you will find your own salvation too.

Kathaakaar Kammudiah’s world came alive at nightfall! The oil lamps shone just enough to bring out the beauty of the handmade leather puppets. The simple cotton screen was his canvas. Stories from the Hindu epics of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata were recounted with great fervour. Kammudiah also wove his own lore and they were equally popular with the people.

Battles were fought energetically, the maidens swooned, and their heroes rescued the blessed damsels. The crowds cheered on and the stories were kept alive for many years to come. One village to another, on and on, they had travelled coming home only for brief spells of respite during the harvest festival of Pongal in his own village.

He had pulled the puppets’ strings and manipulated them all their lives. Today they lay ignored in a dusty corner of his small dwelling. He had spun stories out of thin air. He had repeated scenes from the grand epics. The puppets for their part had danced, cowered, run, fought battles, celebrated, according to the tale he was telling at that moment.

Kammudiah would commence his performance with a prayer. The puppets that he had crafted so painstakingly would be lined up on the screen to the side. Mounted onto palm stems that ran down the middle, the puppets would come to life as soon as Kammudiah used the handle that would enable various movements. Their limbs were manipulated by pegs and strings and Kammudiah used his hands to get them to move fluidly as he told the stories.

Endless evenings had stretched into midnight as the audiences had begged him not to stop. Only when it seemed as if the fatigue of his troupe would overcome them all, would Kammudiah bring the show to a pause. The other two puppeteers in his team would often complain about the long hours. Kammudiah thrived off the adoration of the crowd. His art and their adoration kept him alive. As he operated the puppets on the screen at the same time, as delivering their lines, he relived the incidents from aeons ago.

The characters would appear and disappear magically as Kammudiah placed them on the screen with swift movements. The puppets could walk, dance, hop, and fly too. With great skill and care he pinned his puppets to