Yes. April 4, 1990 was a turning point in our life. Amma, who caringly steered the family through difficult times, had just departed. Having lived all our lives in rented houses, we decided to build one of our own. We moved from the heart of the city to outlying but serene Alkapuri as a first step in this direction.
The fledgling colony boasted of vast open spaces; houses were few and far between. Some families raised crops in large plots close by. The air was pure. To our parched urban eyes, the place looked almost like a pastoral image from William Wordsworth. We basked in its heavenly ambience. In due course, the romance faded as the harsh realities of life dawned on us.
The place barely had any amenities. No piped water, no sewerage, no telephone booth, no buses. Drinking water was supplied by tankers where those with muscle and lung power edged out the meek and the mild to access water. Kirana shops too were few. While buses plied on the ring road from the JBS to Ibrahimpatnam, the colony itself had one service number 100 A to Nampally, making two or three trips a day.
The Alkapurians had to walk more than a km to catch the bus on the Dilsukhnagar – LB Nagar main road. Walking back home from the main road was a debilitating experience after a hard day’s work. One considered oneself lucky if one chanced to board the usually elusive 100 A. The sight of 100 A elicited the same feeling as of a stranded man on a shipwrecked island spotting a ship.
By the summer of 1991, our house was ready. Coming home was such an exhilarating experience that we forgot all our hardships. Things got better with time. More shops, piped water supply, more buses and other amenities were added.
This also meant that life picked up speed and became hectic. Sumana joined the family as the daughter-in-law. Yamini had to cook, do puja and get ready for office in the exhibition grounds. Praveen worked for a media company near Birla Mandir, and Sumana was a feature editor in the now defunct AP Times in Lower Tank Bund road. Naveen went to college in Dilsukhnagar. We left for work in the same direction, one after another, but rarely together, which meant a heavy drain on the purse.
Praveen was not happy about me riding 40 km. to work and back at the age of 53 in an increasingly polluted atmosphere. He exerted subtle but sustained pressure on us to move back to the city. ‘Besides’, he argued, ‘each of us is spending a bomb on autos alone.’
He succeeded in his campaign and in the summer of 1996, we shifted to Durganagar colony in Punjagutta, a walking distance from The Hindu. Praveen and Sumana went to the US for higher studies in 1997 and Naveen to the UK in 2002. Fortunately, the ‘empty nest syndrome’ was short-lived. Naveen returned home in 2004, and Praveen, Sumana, Kaivallya, and Anirudha in 2008.
MEMORIES LINGER: Thirty years on, memories of those days remain fresh. They transport us to another world, another time.
Modesty prevents me from saying our dream house became the cynosure of all eyes (there was no evil eye among the friendly neighbours). The green ceramic tiles, the spacious sit-out, the brick-red portico, and the ornate parapet made it stand alone. The young couple, who rented out the place, were so unassuming they never told us they were grand-children of the late prime minister, P.V. Narasimha Rao.
Mosquito menace from the nearby Musi bed was such that the first duty on returning home was to smoke them out – an hour-long process. Compounding this was the pungent smell of the toxic effluents released by the pharmaceutical chemical industry.
A huge compensation for these troubles was our Sneaky, the German Shepherd. He would not allow me in until he got his daily ‘round’ on my scooter.
The colony bus started from a stone’s throw away. Once, Sneaky broke loose and jumped onto the bus to say ‘bye’ to the madam. On seeing him, the terrified driver, conductor, and passengers scrambled out for their dear lives. It happened more than once. My wife had to take pains to assure the crew that Sneaky was harmless and playful.
The Dasu and Komarraju cousins and kids would visit us off and on, spreading fun and festivities.
Well. One can go on and on like this…
