A Bicycle in Bettalli - ಕುವೆಂಪುರವರ ಮಲೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಮದುಮಗಳು ಕಾದಂಬರಿಯಿಂದ ಆಯ್ದ ಭಾಗದ ಇಂಗ್ಲಿಶ್ ಅನುವಾದ

Gutthi was equally fascinated by two things: Jeevarathnaiah – the Christian priest’s ‘beesekal riding’ as well as by his magnificent teaching of such riding skills to Devaiah Gowda – the oldest son of Bettalli Kallaiah Gowda. In order to watch this splendid riding show, though Gutthi decided to move towards Bettalli, upon later thoughts, he decided to visit his holeya quarters first. However, as he met on his way a couple of the Halemane holeyas and a few people of Konur, he forgot to turn at the corner that would have led him to the holeya quarters and instead, as if swept by the stream, started moving towards Bettalli along with those people, ignoring even his dog Huliya’s barking. After some time, stung by the desire to talk, he asked his fellow-mates: ‘Ey! Tell me if you know, how does one ride on the beesekal?’

‘Probably the priest knows for sure some witchcraft’

‘Isn’t it true then that he is planning to convert the junior Gowda to Christianity using the same witchcraft?’
‘
It seems the priest would climb on the beesekal and sit upon it. Then, he would hold the bar and rotate it as fast as we rotate the grinding stone. The beesekal would then inadvertently jump up and rush toward any place of our wish within a flicker of the eye’
‘Well, our Bettalli prince is always on the lookout for doing something new. In fact, he was the first to buy a cart and a horse to draw it…but later the horse fell into a well near his farm, broke its leg and died soon afterwards.’

‘Oh, look! Do you hear the uproar near that place? Looks like people have already gathered together to watch the riding show’.

When Gutthi reached Bettalli with his companions, the show had not yet begun. But since all the children, elders, men, women, servants of the whole neighborhood had gathered well in advance with a desire to watch the magic, the clatter that got created rose to match the noise in a cattle-fair.

The news of Thirthahalli priest Jeevarathnaiah’s promise to teach bicycle riding to the enthusiastic youngster of Bettalli, Devaiah, had assumed various shapes and had drawn the people of the whole neighborhood to Bettalli. In the age when the ox-drawn cart itself was a wonder to villagers, a foreign word like ‘bicycle’ and riding of a thing such as that was in itself a great supernatural event. The word ‘bicycle’, in the mouth of villagers who could not pronounce it properly, had become ‘beesekal’ – a word they were familiar with, which meant in their language ‘grinding stone’. Because they were unfamiliar with a thing called bicycle, and also because they were perfectly acquainted with beesekal, the rural folk thought that the priest knew how to ride on a grinding stone and therefore were curious to watch how the priest would teach Devaiah to ride on it. These folk had imagined that the priest would ride on the beesekal with the help of some magical powers much akin to what they had heard in stories about the riding of witches and magicians on a wooden horse or carpet.

All of a sudden, people felt the clatter came down and the whispers rose here and there. As people watched, both the priest and Devaiah emerged from behind the bushes and came straight to the filed where people had gathered with a desire to witness a great spectacle. The priest who was as dark as charcoal was wearing clothes as white as jasmine. A borderless white muffler had decked his head. The shirt buttons, which were visible from his open white coat, were shining in the daylight. A white shawl had covered his neck with its borders on his chest and back. The chain tied to the watch, which had wondered the folk, had come out of one of the coat pockets. He had worn shoes that had turned the people’s curiosity to reverence for they had occasionally seen the well-to-do village elders using footwear. By looking at such a tall and lean person wearing all these clothes, even those who had considered him a low character because of his conversion disease began feeling impressed with such an appearance.

Devaiah who stood next to the priest had a better physique. Devaiah was very wheatish in complexion, which provided a stark contrast to the priest’s dark complexion. Such a physique and skin-colour were the characteristic features of the Gowda lineage to which he belonged. But in dress and make up, the essence of his Gowda caste had begun turning Christian. His head was bare without any turban and one could clearly admire his trimmed hair. He wore shirt marked with stripes, and a black coat with a red-bordered white dhoti. And despite his misleading external appearance, the ear-rings remained as the only indicators to declare that by birth he belonged to the Gowda caste…

Since Bachcha who was assigned the task of bringing the cycle to the field did not come for a long time, Devaiah himself ran home along with his servant to enquire what caused the delay. When he reached home, he found Bachcha with a reverential look in his eyes standing before the bicycle totally stupefied. In fact, Bachcha had happily agreed to bring the bicycle to the field when the priest asked him to do so. Carrying out such a task was a matter of pride to him: he thought who else but he was eligible for the task and none of his friends were chosen for the purpose. But yet, when he went to lift the vehicle he was struck with an unknown fear. It became a big problem for him because he did not know from where to lift the bicycle. When he first attempted to lift it, he heard a strange ‘trin, trin’ sound that completely frightened him. Next time when he tried, his fingers got stuck in the wheel. When, after some time he attempted again, the stitches of his clothes came-off as they got stuck to the cycle chain. Now he was absolutely baffled and felt dejected. He began cursing his own enthusiasm for accepting the task. Hence, he was standing stupidly mute when Devaiah Gowda entered the house. ‘What are you gaping at, you idiot?’ scolded Devaiah, and with the help of his servant and Bachcha he carried the cycle to the field.

The whole crowd watched in dismay the bicycle that was carried by these two. Many responses, some praising, some disapproving, and some others exclaiming, emerged from the crowd. They began speaking loudly about the object they were watching for the first time:

‘Look! Look! That is the beesekal!’

‘What kind of beesekal is that? It’s glittering’

‘The beesekal that we know has two stone slabs, but this one seems to have two wheels’

‘Oh, shut up! It is not beesekal, it is called bicycle’.

‘Look now! How he is holding it!

‘But, aye, tell me, here are wheels, one after the other horizontally, instead of one next to the other vertically, how do you balance and ride it then? Won’t you fall?’

Ha! Ha! Ha! What is it that makes that ‘trin, trin, trin’ sound?’

‘It’s a bell to shout for the way’

‘Then, if you make the sound will the way clear itself automatically?’

‘Oho! Look at that Bachcha! How cockish that untouchable brat has become! Look at his shirt; He is even wearing a red turban! Even the Dhoti has crossed his knee!”

“What to do you think of him? Within a couple of days he is going to be a bridegroom, and will be with Thimmamma, Dodda Beera’s daughter, and…”

“Vare Wah! See there! The priest has climbed on that!”

Waves of surprise, excitement and enthusiasm ebbed in full swing and the woods around them only echoed their celebration. Jeevarathnaiah removed his coat and turban, tied his dhoti, and without removing his shoes, he rode the bicycle around that coarse field. The whole crowd, as if by a collective will, rushed forward from all the directions towards the bicycle. In that rush and exuberance, the division that existed between touchables and untouchables got a concession. The Priest’s professional instinct thought at once that in order to spread Christianity, bicycle is more effective than the Bible and Jesus!

Gutthi was a little apprehensive while touching the wheel tyre of the bicycle. In fact he was wondering why the wheel did not have an iron railing like the wheel of a cart and instead had a cushion-like, black band tied around it. While he was contemplating that it resembled the body of a King Cobra, somebody from behind trampled on his foot.

“Who is this fellow? Don’t you have eyes in your face?” enraged, Gutthi turned back with an angry look and suddenly the mood of his countenance changed from anger to surprise as he saw a friendly face. He accosted the person with “oh! It was you, I thought it was someone else.”

With a submissive grin, Aitha as a reply to Gutthi’s remark, requested: “Will you please let me touch this for a while?”, and immediately Gutthi accommodated him.
Aitha was touching the various parts of the bicycle as dearly and tenderly as he was touching for the first time the tender parts of his wife, and sighed heavily after he was satisfied.

Gutthi could see that another arm was trying to touch the bicycle over his shoulders: turning back, he found the wine-seller, Chinkra! Neatly trying his hair and decorating it with some flowers, he too had come to watch the show.

By then, the pastor asked the people gathered around the bicycle to move back, so that he could teach Devaiah how to ride it. Finding that people still congregated around the bicycle, he rang the cycle-bell continuously for a couple of minutes! Now, people were really scared and ran back immediately, making the way for Devaiah to learn the art. Ok, the practice began!

Both, Bachcha and the priest stood on either side of the bicycle and held the handle to keep the bicycle steady. Removing his coat and footwear, Devaiah tied his Dhoti, and as directed by the priest, putting his entire weight upon the pedal, sat on the seat.

As the entire weight of Devaiah fell on Bachcha’s handle, the bicycle was about to tilt and fall, but the pastor pulled his handle strongly and maintained the balance. Looking at Devaiah’s huge body, which sat on the seat as if it sat on thorns, swaying without any balance, the crowd guffawed hilariously, clapping their hands. Devaiah who was already scared now felt insulted, and furious. As if tired by mere excitement, he was sweating too. Understanding his mood, the priest asked the people not to scream, laugh and shout as it would disturb and frighten Devaiah Gowda. All at once, the sound seized and one could hear the parrots and other birds chirping while flying across the sky.

In that uneven ground, both Bachcha and the pastor were cautiously, but laboriously pushing the bicycle. And as the pedals moved up and down, Devaiah’s legs on the pedal would also make a similar movement inadvertently. But, in a slope down area, when Bachcha who was holding the handle for balance, freed his hands as instructed by the priest, the bicycle lost control, rolled fast, and before the priest could run and prevent the accident, it rushed into a thorny bush! Devaiah fell on the thorns with face down, and soon rashes appeared all over his face and chin. The priest shoved the gathered crowd, and with the help of Bachcha dragged Devaiah and the bicycle out of the bush.

“You Bachcha, get a bamboo stick”: Following the instructions of Devaiah, Bachcha tied the bamboo pole to the handle with some creepers. Then he invited some on-lookers to come and hold either side of the pole. Thimmi’s father Doddabeera was also one among the volunteers who came forward to pull the bicycle. Now, Devaiah confidently mounted on the bicycle, knowing too well that the bicycle stood perfectly still with the new arrangement and ordered the folk to drag the bicycle. Since the pole was tied tightly to the handle, there was the least possibility for the handle to move freely. Since it was now in the control of people who were dragging it, it was moving in the speed and direction that the people chose. Devaiah enjoyed his ride. But the priest clearly knew that it meant only enjoying and no learning!

Suddenly there was a big uproar because Doddabeera fell miserably while drawing the bicycle. This provided the crowd an opportunity to shout as they were already brimming with vigour and joy. By the time Aitha ran to the spot, Devaiah had already dismounted from his bicycle and was attending Doddabeera.

The sun was about to set slowly and the top of the nearby hillock had cast its shadow on the woods of the valley. The greenery of the forest, which had got a thorough wash in the previous day’s rain, now began shining in the orange shade of the setting sunrays. The tranquil beauty of the twilight began hugging the land. In order to reach home before it was dark, people were about to disperse.

But suddenly, the priest, who was well-versed in the art of influencing people in favour of his religion whenever the time occasioned, began speaking loudly to grab the attention of the mass: “Gowdare, how lovely is God’s creation! This is both an appropriate time and place for Praying Him! Come, let’s offer our prayers to our Saviour! By saying this, he knelt down with half-closed eyes.

“This priest has begun his old tricks,” announcing his comments with contempt, holeya Manja left the scene with his friends.

“Alas! Even our junior Gowda of Bettalli has knelt down”, thus, exclaiming, Chinkra was goading Aitha to accompany him, when they heard the symphony of the priest: “O God in the heaven, let your name be holy! Let your kingdom prevail!”

Looking at the scene, a folk of Setty Community from South Canara district, murmured: “What is this, that these people speak while folding their hands at the forest?! There is neither a God there, nor a temple!
The troop from Peraour can speak better than this in their show of Bhagavatha Purana. Leave that priest aside, why is our Gowda after such madness?”

Showing something to Chinkra, Aitha hilariously laughed and said: “look there! Look at him! Even that untouchable Bachcha has knelt down like his master, ha, ha, ha!”

“Whether he sits down on his kneels or on his buttocks, why are you bothered? Come, let’s go! It’s already dark now”. Well, Aitha looks around only to find that just above the nearby Kunda hillock, the evening star had risen across the golden hued sky in the West.