106 - Simien Mountains - God's own playing ground!

Finally, we were on our way to the Simien mountain viewpoint. The drive was as scenic as it gets. As we started climbing higher and higher, the air got crisper, and we could sense and feel the mountains, literally. 

Picture courtesy https://pixabay.com/photos/ethiopia-mountains-road-valley-sky-1960539/

Some of the most spectacular mountains surrounded us! Jagged and abruptly arising from the surroundings. Before we could admire one set of mountains, another would appear and gone before we could saviour them. The entire tour party had fallen silent.

The drama that was unfolding in front of our eyes was as spell-bounding as an Imax 3D movie. We can watch an Imax 3D movie again, but a trip to Simien has to be captured in the hearts and treasured!

The mountains were not bare. They were bathing in shades of yellow, purple and green. The yellow colour was from the Meskel flowers, and the other predominant colour was purple. The purple flowers were small but made it up by their enormous volume.

They were simply a riot of colours! Surprisingly some of the mountain slopes and meadows had dark yellow flowers, and some had light coloured ones. Throughout our drive, we could see either dark yellow or light yellow flowers. Never a mixture of light and dark yellow Meskel flowers together.

Anasuya aunty got overcome by the visual tapestry unfolding in front of her eyes, “The yellow colour reminds me of the turmeric that we had pound for Satish’s (Padma’s cousin) marriage”. Not to be outdone her daughter, Padma piped in, “Yes Mom” she exclaimed, “the vast yellow and purple colour in-between reminds me of Dhup-Chaav (double colour) sarees ”.

I groaned internally. Women! They immediately have to associate the scenery with marriages and sarees!!!. But the grandeur was such that it gave people ideas, even to the very practical Padma.

The van screeched to a halt, and a check post beckoned. Swiftly we got out, and an officer took a roll call. The government officer quoted an astronomical permit fee. By now we knew the game! Mulugeta feigned disgust and threw in a barrage of Amharic. 

We could not understand the conversation but could get the gist of what he was saying. He was uttering the words Astamari (teacher) and Abessa (a native of Ethiopia and not a foreigner) quite frequently. He was telling the government official that we were a group of teachers who have come to Ethiopia and that we were not foreigners but were residents and that we had R.P's (Residence permits).  

The government officer wilted like a tired rose faced with such eloquence. He meekly asked us to show our residence permits and grudgingly agreed that we could pay the Ethiopian fee to enter the Simien Mountain National Park. I think the fee was 20 birr per person and the fee was around 20 U.S. (170 Birr) dollars for a foreigner. The difference was quite astronomical.

But the government official had the last laugh. Mulugeta returned to the group. His demeanour was down, and he looked crushed. Semien Mountain National Park was a protected area, and it was quite common for tourists to tease and harm the wild animals.

The national park was also home to many wild animals including the unpredictable Galada baboons. We had to hire the services of a guard, and the guard came with a fee of 250 birrs (almost 30 U.S. dollars). It was a shocking price. At that time our secretary in the management department at Bahirdar University salary was 250 birrs/month.

We had no choice. Either we take the services of the guard, or we had to turn back. Faced with an ultimatum, we caved in and meekly paid the 250 birrs. The guard appeared. He was a lean non-discrepant Ethiopian man, quite frail. He didn't inspire any confidence or had aggression that would frighten a band of thieves or a group of marauding monkeys (Galada baboons).

Picture Courtesy https://pixabay.com/photos/ethiopia-africa-national-park-2980034/

The guard sensed our scepticism. He went to an Almirah and whipped out something nonchalantly. And in his hand appeared – a shining mean as mean can be AK 47 gun, fully loaded and ready to take on the bad guys and the badder Baboons!

Pranav was mesmerized with the AK 47. He had (in fact all of us had) seen AK 47 guns only in movies and seeing one in real life, and that too in such proximity was an experience in itself. The guard turned out to be a lovely person. Quiet and friendly he later allowed all of us to handle his gun (of course with the safety catch on). We took keepsake photographs of us brandishing the AK 47 gun, the Simien Singhams! 

We spotted a grand waterfall snaking its way through the majestic mountains. The waterfalls, the colourful mountains and the foggy and dreamy weather made the sight of water gushing through the fall made for a great view. 

The foggy weather and the low slung clouds made the drive surreal. It was as if we were driving among the clouds. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Simien Fox, Simien Fox”.

The van screeched to a halt. We poured out. The spotter was damn sure that he saw the elusive Simien fox chasing an Ibex, the beautiful Ethiopian mountain goat. But the foggy weather meant that we could spot neither the cunning fox nor the doughy Ibex.

Ibex are incredible climbers and can climb any mountain cliff. They are such good climbers that they can climb even the most vertical cliffs and graze in a matter of fact manner – as if they are on stable ground.

As we were climbing to the viewpoint, I explained to the group “Ras Dashen the highest mountain among the Simien mountains is close. But the non-motorable road means that it takes a seven-day trek to reach the summit and come back. The trek is arduous, and only the most experienced trekkers can endure the trip. And the mountain top at Ras Dashen can be biting cold”. 

93 - Tryst with Tiss Abay Water Fall - Ordeal by wet Mud - Ethiopian Journey

The tryst with the tourist guides, we thought was done and dusted. Oh boy! We were mistaken and How! The motley crowd of wanna-be-guides were not to be discouraged. They were made of sterner stuff! They followed us just like the children following the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Hamlin’s Piper must have had it easy.

The children following him would have laughed and giggled, not our Ethiopian lot. They were noisy and made many comments. And the entire crowd would howl away to glory. We were used to it but the experience unnerved aunty. She is from United States, where privacy is respected and valued. Privacy in Ethiopia was in short supply. You take a turn and the crowd is in your face.

There were many other wanna-be-entrepreneurs among the crowd. Some were selling handloom items of dubious lineage, some were selling small baskets and some were marketing long sticks!! why sticks we wondered?

Few minutes later, we understood the reason. It was the peak rainy season and the route was sticky and quite slippery. The mud had the look of a slippery goo. So slippery that walkers would slide helplessly and fall head or butt first right into the wet, slushy and sticky Ethiopian clay soil.

The locals had made rickety bridges with the logs which they must have taken from the surrounding forest. The smart entrepreneurs plonked themselves next to the rickety bridge and demanded 10 birr per person for the privilege of using their ‘golden gate bridge’. “If you don’t, you are welcome to eat the fine Ethiopian mud (when you fall)”.

Then there are the smart kids who would politely offered to hold our hands and guide us. These are the second generation entrepreneurs who are great at offering services instead of products. For a birr they would hold your hands and allow one to cross the bridge. And the third generation entrepreneurs are those who sell a steady stick that we could use to walk in the muddy terrain and the cost was cheap - 10 birr at the least.

Our mathematics teacher, Dr. Kuldeep Singh’s eyebrows were furrowed so deeply that they almost disappeared! ‘Ah, ah’ he exploded “10 birr for the stick, at least 3 birr for using the bridge and another 1 birr for holding their hands. That is a total of 15 birr!!!”. “By the time we reach the falls I will have to pay my entire salary to them”. His indignation was a sight. We did not have smart phones at that time. Otherwise we could have had a price winning photo opportunity.

The Ethiopians used the stampede technique. They would crowd us and create claustrophobia. We resisted their ploy but the going was tough. Every one slipped and fell. It was like the coming of age initiation ceremony.

‘Thou shall fall atleast once’ Tiss Abay waterfall seemed to whisper in our ears. And pronto people would fall, seemingly obeying the command of the naughty Tiss Abay.  Finally, it was only me and Padma, who did not bite the dust. Padma was carrying Sahithi in her arms.

She turned to aunty and said “No mummy, it is all about balance. You need to step gingerly and not firmly”. By this time she had the attention of the entire group “Like this, mummy“ She demonstrated. “One step at a time and you would never fall”. Our very own PhD ‘in slippery mud walking” was prophesizing.

Aunty turned, her eyes full of admiration. She wanted to take a look at her spider woman daughter who had a vice like grip on the slippery ground.  But where was her dear daughter!!!???? Nowhere to be seen!

Padma was sitting heavily on the ground. Just as she was prophesizing she slid rapidly and landed almost ten feet away. She was like an ice skater, totally out of control! Her breath was knocked out. She was not hurt but her pride was! We all had a laugh of our life time. Sahithi who was in Padma’s arms had a jolt of her life and she did not like it one bit. She started wailing indignantly. All for may be 30 seconds.

Our entrepreneurial lot had an opportunity of their life. All of them started crying in a falsetto. Incredibly all of them were imitating Sahithi. It was eerie to say the least! The sound was like 1000 banshees wailing! Sahithi had a shock. She had never been teased so mercilessly. She shut down as tight as a clam!

But the crowd would not stop. It was a party time. Even I could not avoid the Tiss Abay trail by Wet mud. My foot got stuck into the most annoying “try as you might” can’t take it out mud. I tried a lot but my shoe would not budge. I had to stick my hand into the nauseating and quite smelly mud to extricate my foot and yes my shoe too. I had to spend an exasperating ten minutes trying to get the mud off my shoe and then from my socks and foot too!

Nothing more annoying than trying to dry wet socks and wetter shoes, that too in humid conditions and in rainy season. Finally, I put my wet foot into an equally wet shoe and the shoe made sickening squeaky sound every time I walked. It was like walking forever in a field full of wet mud. The mud seemed to want to grab and hold me down. My shoes were squeaking like a badly made musical shoes of a one-year-old toddler.

By the time we reached the meadows our spirits were down and we were snapping at each other. The sight was majestic. We could see the majestic waterfalls in full flow in the back ground.  We sat down to eat. We had blankets but they too were soggy and wet. But they were much better than the beastly wet ground. As we started to eat, a melodious sound wafted towards us. It was the most incredible sound ever.

We were transported back to the times when Krishna frolicked in Dwaraka along with his friends. It was a heart touching flute recital by a cow herder. This kid wearing an angelic smile played on his rustic flute and as long as we had our lunch.

We beckoned him. He refused to eat Indian food but gleefully accepted the 10 birr note that we gave him. God Bless you dear cow herder. Hope that you made it big in life and are touching many other people’s lives – the way you touched ours and got permanently etched in our minds. 

91 – Aunty arrives, Grating German and Enduring Ethiopian Customs Officer – Ethiopian Journey.

The dye was cast and I prepared to stay in Addis Ababa. The next day as I was sipping my morning Cuppa (Shai), I was approached by a smart Ethiopian. “Mister” he greeted me cheerfully “You, Teacher!”. It was more than a question. It was an assertion.

“Yes” I said “Teacher from Bahirdar university, Bahirdar”. “Bahardar” he was impressed “You very lucky”. To the uninitiated, Bahardar is one of the holiest places in Ethiopia and is famed as the place of Amhara, the most populous tribe in Ethiopia.

It has many island monasteries and Tiss Abay the highest waterfalls in Ethiopia. He had a wistful look “How I wish; I could visit Bahardar”. He shook himself and said “One day, I visit” and added with a twinkle “would you host me, mister??” and thumped me on my back.

 “Sure, Sure” smarting under his too healthy smack. He told me that he was a taxi driver. He was a cheerful character and he made me promise that I would take his taxi whenever I visited Addis the next time. He also had a very smart way of picking up business.

He would wait patiently at the Bole International Airport and quote slightly less rate for a drop to the city. He would ingratiate himself with the tourists who would take a liking to this jolly, well behaved, English speaking Ethiopian.

He would generously pass information about places to visit and volunteer to help. Within no time he would be ferrying them around Addis Ababa and act as a tourist guide, friend, historian and also give them personal transport at a reasonable cost. The loss he made by offering a drop at a low price was more or less compensated by the day long travel that the tourist would take in his taxi. “How much do you make per day?” I asked him.

He gave a half wink and said “100 birr per day and rarely even 150 birr a day. Sometimes some generous tourists might even give me a tip of 10 - 20 dollars”. I was impressed. He was practicing invitation pricing. The initial offer of a product or a service is at a low price and when the customer samples the product, charge regular rate.

Making 100 -150 birr per day was a great deal in 2003 and that is what I admire about the self-employed of the world. They have no complaints about lack of government jobs. They don’t curse their bad luck. They smile and live their life as it comes. I told him that I would use his services to get dropped to the airport and for intra-city travel. “awo, awo (yes in Amharic sounds like aah, aah)” he said on his way out.

That afternoon, I went to a movie “L. A. Confidential” in Piazza. The movie hall had a primitive look and had hard seats. They were uncomfortable to sit upon and the theatre was not air-conditioned. It had some very old fans which were struggling to work. The movie hall was stuffy and on the top of it neither the audio nor the movie projection was working well. The audience were a mix of young and old and most were quite passive. The movie too was not very interesting and I left within half an hour.

Outside on the pavements, I found some old novels. I picked up two of them at a very reasonable price. I still remember the novels and the authors. 

One of them was “The case of the Velvet Claws” by Erle Stanley Gardner (my favourite author and it was the series featuring the ace criminal lawyer, Perry Mason).  I already had this novel in my collection in Hyderabad, India but Perry Mason is like first love, you can never forget them! You want to revisit the memory again and again.

The second was “ABC Murders” by Ellery Queen. Ellery Queen was a maverick crime novelist. Agatha Christie, the queen of crime, slowly builds up the story and leaves too many clues which are some times ambiguous. One needs to keep guessing about the identity of the murderer.

Ellery Queen’s technique is totally different. He would lay out the entire plot, give the summary of all the clues, sometimes even provide diagrams and pictorial illustrations and say “the entire case is in front of you. There is no intention to confuse or side track. Can you solve the case?. No guessing”, It has to be good old fashioned detective work based on logic and clarity of thinking. Even the most ardent crime fans have not been able to crack an Ellery Queen mystery, the way the author explains it right at the end.

That day evening Padma had good news for me. Aunty’s ECNR clearance work was done in a jiffy and she was flying to Ethiopia two days later. Once the date was known the time passed quickly. Of course Messers Perry Mason and Ellery Queen helped a lot. They were with me in the Tourist hotel. I had so much time that I read both the books twice over. Cover-to-cover. Perry Mason should be made a compulsory read for all aspiring lawyers. They would pick up the nuances of how to fight and present a case and use the law to benefit the innocent.

Two days later (29-07-2003) at 10.30 p.m. I found myself waiting outside the arrival gate of Bole International Airport. I was an hour early and there I was hanging onto the entry gate. Facing me was a menacing Ethiopian army person. After glaring at me for half an hour, he said “Asitemarie? (teacher)” “Asitemarie, Asitamarie” I said “Mother, mother, coming from India”. His face broke into a smile “Inati, Inati” he said “Hind, Hind”. What he said was “mother, mother from India”.

After a long wait, I could finally see the travelers emerge from the immigration and come on to the customs clearance area. The line was long and moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. I saw many young Ethiopians and Indians come out first. I knew the reason, the able bodied and the agile must have raced through and made it first to the que lines. Aunty would be coming in slowly.

Then I saw her walking her way to the customs area. FINALLY SHE WAS IN ADDIS ABABA!!! In front of her was a huge man (later Aunty told me that he was a German). In front of the German was an Ethiopian lady with her two children and the customs officer was dealing with them and the process was taking some time.

Even from the distance of atleast 100 feet, I saw it coming. The German first said something and then said something else quite loudly. Aunty later told me that he made some snide comment about the speed (or lack of it) of customs check and said something obnoxious about Africa and its airports.

The customs officer was upset but chose not to speak. He quietly went through the Ethiopian Lady’s belongings, let the lady go and gave his full attention to the German.

And oh boy, he gave the German full attention!!!!! He looked at the German’s passport very carefully, put it through the computer and checked it many times to find out if it was genuine or not. Then he very politely opened each and every item that the German had and went through it with maddening thoroughness. This really got to the German. He was seething with anger but there was nothing he could do about it. The customs officer was simply doing his job.

Finally, the customs officer was satisfied. By this time the customs officer’s counter looked as if a cyclone had hit it. It was cluttered with the German’s belongings. The customs officer looked at the German, stamped his passport and said “Okay, you can go”

This left the poor German with a herculean ask. Whenever we pack a suitcase at home, we have the luxury of packing leisurely and with a plan. A suitcase packed at home, can never be packed the same way once it is opened at the airport, especially by an irate customs officer who unfolded all the shirts and trousers and made a heap of them. Aunty had finished her own customs check pretty quickly and I went forward to pick her up. I am sure that the German would have spent the next 30 minutes to repack. He had learnt a lesson of his life – You don’t mess with Customs officers!

Aunty and me stayed in the airport and early in the morning took the first flight to Bahirdar. The flight landed in Bahirdar and Aunty was surprised to see, Padma, Pranav and Sahithi at the airport. They all hugged each other and we were all relieved that Aunty finally made it safe to Bahirdar without any problems. It was second time lucky for her. We also thanked Dr. Kuldeep Singh for accompanying Padma and the kids to the Ginbot Haya Airport, Bahirdar.

90 – Man Proposes and God Disposes – Ethiopian Journey.

The flight from Mumbai to Addis Ababa was supposed to depart from Mumbai at 7:30 p.m. Indian time. The flight time was five hours and the time difference was 2.5 hours (India is ahead of Ethiopia).

So Aunty would land by 10:00 p.m. local time and by the time emigration and customs check would get done it would be 10:30 to 10:45 p.m. I could start at 10:00 p.m. and reach Bole International Airport within fifteen minutes.

Ten minutes in the room and I got bored. We have to remember it was 2003 and there were no Mobile phones or TV available in hotel rooms. Even if TV was provided the programing was all in Amharic. English was not very popular and we hardly got any English newspapers, magazines or novels. I was glad I was leaving the next day morning. Man proposes and God disposes!!! 

Just to break out of the melancholic mood setting in, I stepped out for a shai at the Tree Top Bakery, situated right opposite, Tourist Hotel. The Shai perked up my mood and I returned. The receptionist was literally laying kittens. She gesticulated and shouted in a loud voice (quite in contrast with her usual persona of a demure and dainty lady) “Dr. Aneel, Dr. Aneel” she was frantic.

“We just phoned your room and even sent a room boy. You were not to be found. A message from Bahirdar. Someone called Paadmaa called”. I was perplexed “Did she leave a message?”.

“Oh, yes” she rummaged through the drawer and triumphantly took out a small paper “Paadmaa said that your mother was not coming. She asked you not to go to the airport”. I immediately understood mother to be mother-in-law. I did not expect the diminutive receptionist to understand the word mother-in-law.

I was taken aback. Luckily I had Kuldeep Singh’s landline number. I called from the reception itself. Kuldeep came on line and he was sympathetic. He confirmed that there was something wrong and that it was infact Kuldeep who received the phone call from India.

I believe the call from India shocked Padma. The gist of the matter was that Aunty was not allowed to board the flight from Mumbai to Addis Ababa and that she was sent back to Hyderabad. Padma had twin worries, the trauma that was caused to Aunty on her shocking ordeal and the second was how to inform me that her mother was not arriving. If the information was not passed on, I would have waited for hours together at Bole International Airport, waiting for Aunty.

It was Kuldeep who found out that I would stay at Tourist Hotel. At that time there were no telephone directories in Bahirdar. Many frantic calls later, one of the Indian finally gave Kuldeep the phone number of Tourist hotel. It was then Padma called the hotel reception and passed on the information.

All this was mumbo-jumbo to me. I asked Kuldeep to call Padma. It was an anxious ten-minute wait. Padma was on the phone. Her voice was quivering and she appeared strained. She said “Even I have very sketchy information. I was told by nannagaru that mummy checked in at Mumbai International Airport, the luggage was loaded on to the plane and that she was breezing through the customs when the tragedy struck.

The customs officer apparently looked at mummy’s passport and said that she had ECR (Emigration Check Required). (ECR was a provision made by the Indian government to prevent uneducated Indians being exploited especially in the Middle East).

As mummy did not have a ECR clearance stamp or a ECNR the customs officer refused to allow her to board.”.

Padma continued “I believe there was a considerate frequent traveler who was in the same flight. I believe he said that as mummy is a green card holder and frequent traveler to many parts of the world that she need not have an ECR”.

But I was told that the stone hearted customs officer became more and more angry and refused to budge from his stand. He glibly stated that aunty needed to go back to Hyderabad and get an ECNR clearance from the Hyderabad passport office.

Ethiopian Airlines were forced to off load aunty’s luggage and she was left stranded in the departure lounge. Some good Samaritans came to aunty’s help and assisted her in buying a ticket back to Hyderabad.

This information hit me like a bolt from the blue. I asked Padma “How much time will it take for aunty to get an ECNR and fly to Addis Ababa?” “No idea” Padma, replied “May be 4 to 5 days”.

This new information was like as if somebody drove a sledge hammer into my stomach “4 to 5 days!!!!” what will I do in Addis Ababa??”. Poor lady, Padma did not have the answer.

I returned to the room. The first thing I did was to check the money that I had. Remember, I bought the air tickets so that was not a problem. I had around 500 birr and a US 100-dollar note. If I were to change the 100 dollar note, I would be richer by another 800 birr.

That triggered me. I rushed to the Ethiopian Airlines office. They were about to shut shop for the day. The smiling booking counter lady canceled my next day morning flight to Bahirdar and put me on hold. I would have to confirm my next flight date at least a day in advance. Thankfully the rate would remain the same and I was not charged any cancellation fee. She shyly accepted my exuberant “Ameseginalehu (thank you in Amharic)”.

I went back and sat on an empty table at the Tree Top Bakery. Should I go back to Bahirdar? Travel takes two days both ways and I might have to rush back as the exact date of Aunty’s flight was unknown. I decided to stay back and rough it out in Addis Ababa. Luckily for me it was vacation time and there was no urgent need to get back to Bahirdar University, Bahirdar.

“When things get tough the tough get going” I reminded myself. 6 days x 40 birr would come up to 240 birr as room rent. That left me with 260 birr for me to have food and spend four to five dreary days in Addis Ababa. I was determined to hang on to the US 100-dollar note. I might still need to change it into birr!

Food was quite cheap in Addis at that time. Breakfast could be had for 5 birr and Bayenetu would set me back by another 3-5 birr. Even if I felt like indulging myself with Injera with Dorovat (chicken curry), Injera with Asa dulet (fish curry) or Injera with Tibs (mutton pieces roasted in Ghee) would cost 10-15 birr. I was super confident that my total food expenses would be around 20 birr per day. 20-birr x 6 days mean another 120 birr.

260 birr as lodging expenses and 120 birr as boarding expense meant that I would be left with 120 birr (around 600 rupees) to stay calm, cool, sane, collected and wait out the time for Aunty to make her hard earned trip to Addis Ababa. That night sleep proved to be an elusive mistress – teasing me all the time but not enveloping me in her broad bosom.

Memories, memories and memories - Ethiopian Journey - Post Blog no - 28

I am getting many queries as to how I am able to remember so many details and that too so graphically. I am letting ‘the cat out of the bag’. Right from my childhood, I was fascinated by things and had a gifted memory to remember and reproduce the same dramatically.

Muscat, Oman 

During all my trips I had maintained a diary of some sorts and even for my Oman trip (my first foreign assignment) I have copious notes. These are not notes parse but very elaborate letters that were written to my wife and parents.

Letters were a life line to sanity in those days. I was a forced bachelor and talking on phone was exorbitant, so sending and receiving letters were the only way to get connected with near and dear.

It was quite frustrating when our man Friday (the person who got us the letters from the Post box) pass my cabin and look at me and say “Anil Bhai, aaj aap ke liye letters nahi hai”.

I used to type out my letters and send them to India. During one of the phone conversations my sister Dr. M. Uma whose family was staying in Yemen wanted to know about Oman and its culture.  I took a copy of one of the letters and posted it to Sana'a, Yemen. She liked it very much.

Sanaa, Yemen 

I started posting all my earlier letters too, starting from the first letter to Sana'a, Yemen. To make it exciting for her family, I posted one letter per week. Later my sister told me that this gesture of mine made her family the cynosure of the entire medical fraternity in Sana'a, Yemen.

Non Resident Indians very rarely get letters and even if they receive they are mostly aerograms and that too very irregularly. Getting a letter in a month itself was very rare. Sana'a hospital had a huge display board where the letters would be displayed and all the Indians would eagerly go and check if they had got a letter.

So a thick cover that arrives every week and that too with the name of M. Sandeepthi (My niece and now a budding Cosmetologist) made my sister’s family and especially Sandeepthi a minor celebrity of sorts. The medical fraternity were quite envious about the entire thing.

But the real chronicler of our journey is my wife M. Padmavathi. Padma with all her busy schedule of being a full time home maker, managing the kitchen with only one Kerosene stove for nearly four months, no maid (she was scared that the local maids would be of an inconvenience), a small kid of two years, taking care of all the washing and the cleaning, trying to home school a very naughty seven-year boy, taking care of the garden and writing laboriously for hours together late into the night, OOF! I think it was a super human effort – Padma a one woman army, a virtual super woman.

Padma wrote so many letters and that too, with so much detailing that it makes for stunning reading. The letters remain fresh, even after fifteen years! So much of history and memories captured on paper. Reading these letters is an amazing experience.  We had completely forgotten some of the incidents. The detailing is helping me make the journey more accurate and getting my time lines more in sync with reality.

The letters that we have sent both to India and USA were lovingly preserved both by my father Sri. M.C. Anjaneyulu and by my mother-in-law Mrs. Anasuya Devi in USA. These letters which were preserved over 15 years-time are worth their weight in gold. They arrived from USA and we eagerly received and we read them with anticipation.

To our utter dismay the prima Donna, the first letter from Ethiopia was missing. The entire set of Padma’s travelogue came to a whopping 440 pages (A4 size paper, written very closely and compactly to squeeze in as much matter as possible). We consoled ourselves saying “it is all right if the first letter was missed, we have all the rest”!

The next day, there was an email from M. Sai Prasad, (Padma’s brother who stays in USA). He has send me a scanned PDF of the first letter and it was 28 pages long! Apparently Padma’s mother by mistake did not send the first letter and asked her son to scan and send us the same! Knowing us, she was pretty sure that we would be doubly anxious.

Nannagaru (my father Sri M.C. Anjaneyulu), Mrs. M. Anasuya Devi (my mother-in-law), M. S. Sai Prasad (Padma’s brother) and Padma, I owe you people. You were instrumental in clearing some of my mental cobwebs.