The Landlord who Bit his Tenant

 

Some incidents are really surprising. One such strange episode was an owner biting a tenant. So far, we’ve moved through eleven rented houses, and every landlord has had a different style. Just as there are good and kind owners and landladies, sometimes you also come across extremely troublesome ones. Not only that, some rented houses too seem to put you through all kinds of difficulties. At times you even feel like you’re living in a haunted house.

In this section, I’d like to share a few such experiences with you.

Those were the days when I was working at the Andhra Prabha office in Vijayawada. It was around 7 p.m. Another hour and my duty would be over. I was busy working on the page that had been assigned to me. Just then, the office attendant Rama Rao came up to me and said,

“Sir, there’s a phone call for you from home.”

I quickly told the paginator what the next item was and exactly where it should go on the page, and hurried over to the phone at the news desk.

“Hello…”

“It’s me… Sridevi.”

It was my wife calling.

“Yes, tell me…”

There was a note of concern in my voice.

She seemed to understand my anxiety.

“Everything’s fine here. But apparently our house owner has bitten one of the tenants. There’s a big commotion here. Please come home quickly.”

For a moment I couldn’t make sense of what she said.

The owner… biting a tenant? What was that supposed to mean!

I immediately told our desk in-charge about it.

“There’s a lot of news in this! ‘Owner bites tenant’—wow, that would make a fantastic headline! Anyway, finish your work quickly and go. If you need any help, give me a call.”

He said that in a way that mixed his journalistic instinct with friendly concern.

At that time, I was working on the sports desk. Normally, you can’t leave in the middle of your shift until your reliever arrives. Luckily, just then the night in-charge came on duty. I quickly handed over the rest of my work to him and hurriedly started my two-wheeler, a TVS moped…

No Mobile Phone:

In those days, it wasn’t possible to keep calling home from the office frequently. And back then (early 1990s), my office hadn’t even given me a landline connection. The only phones that existed were the landlines installed by the Telecom Department. The idea that mobile phones would come in the future didn’t even occur to us. If you wanted to use a phone, you had to go to the place where it was kept. You couldn’t carry it around with you.

Still, some people used to turn even a landline phone into a kind of “mobile phone” in a funny way.

In old movies, whenever I saw rich zamindar using what looked like a “mobile phone with a wire,” I used to be fascinated. A servant would stand nearby holding a big tray with the telephone set placed on it. The telephone wire would be coiled up in the tray. When the master picked up the receiver and started talking while walking around, the servant would slowly release the wire coil from the tray, letting it extend little by little. The master would walk downstairs from the first floor while still talking on the phone. That was their version of a mobile phone! The idea that cordless phones would one day exist never even crossed our minds.

When I got a promotion at Andhra Prabha, they started paying the phone bill. They also took care of the connection charges. That’s how a landline finally came into our house.

Once a week, a young woman from the Telephone Department would come home, clean the phone set, and even put a little scent on it before leaving. We used to feel quite proud about it.

Having a phone at home might have been new for me, but not for my wife. When her father, Mannava Giridhara Rao, was serving as an MLC, they already had a landline at their house. Even so, having a phone now in her own home gave her a lot of happiness.

In those days, middle-class homes rarely had a phone. So, the moment people heard that our house was getting one, even those who didn’t know us earlier started coming home and introducing themselves. Eventually they would say things like, “We might use your phone once in a while, hope you don’t mind,” or “Our elder brother lives in Hyderabad. If there’s any need, he might call you. Could you give us your number?”

That’s how they slowly began using us.

Out of politeness, my wife couldn’t refuse anyone. At first it felt like a matter of pride to help people like that. But after some time, the trouble that came with those phone calls started becoming irritating.

I often had night duties. In the middle of a good night’s sleep, the phone would ring. Everyone’s sleep would get disturbed. Thinking that I was calling from the office during my night shift, my wife would wake up with sleepy eyes and pick up the receiver.

And the voice on the other side would say,

“Could you please call Anasuyamma your neighbour?”

With no other option, my wife would go and call her. Then Anasuyamma would sit and talk on the phone for nearly an hour, and finally leave saying, “Thanks, dear…”

And it wasn’t even an urgent call—just endless gossip!

After a while, whenever the phone rang at night, my wife would get annoyed. At one stage, we even started feeling scared of the phone.

Anyway, I was telling you about the trouble our house owner created… so let’s get back to that.

What exactly happened?

How could a house owner bite a tenant?

I knew the owner was a ill-tempered man. But could someone get so angry that he would actually bite? Biting is an animal’s trait after all. Was he a dog or a pig?

With all these thoughts in my mind, I sped up my TVS moped. 

Moped Journey:

Actually, no matter how much you pushed it, a moped would lose control once it crossed 40 kmph. The poor thing would almost tremble as if it was pleading, “Hey, save me!” Even 30–35 kmph felt quite fast.

Back then, in our office, most people used either scooters or bicycles. There were one or two TVS bikes, but those were old models. So, when my new-model TVS moped came to the office, it immediately became a bit of an attraction in the office premises.

Our News Editor himself came over warmly, wished me, and even took it for a small trial run around the office compound.

“Your bike is good! Looks nice,” he said, appreciating it.

In those days, you hardly saw much hierarchy in positions. Everyone worked together in a friendly and relaxed way.

When I told my senior friend Lanka Venkata Ramana that I was thinking of buying a moped, he took me to the showroom and helped me get one. There were four or five colours, but for some reason I liked the postal red colour. Later, people at home teased me saying,

“What kind of colour is this? Looks like a moving red post box!”

But I didn’t bother. If four bikes were parked in the parking shed, mine would stand out immediately.

Ramana garu took me to the showroom on Bandar Road, helped me get the bike, and then said,

“Alright, now go home,”

and left.

Before leaving, he also gave me a free piece of advice:

“Fill one litre of petrol at the petrol bunk next door.”

Driving a motor vehicle was completely new to me. On top of that, riding a brand-new moped for the first time on Vijayawada’s busy Bandar Road… I started sweating!

Still, somehow, I gathered a bit of stubborn courage. I filled one litre of petrol, rode the bike slowly through familiar roads, and finally reached home safely. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

My wife was happy. At least the bicycle problem was gone. And since it was a moped, she could ride it too — that made her even happier.

That night she came up with a proposal:

“Tomorrow morning, let’s go to the Machavaram Anjaneya Swamy temple and perform a vehicle pooja.”

The moment she said that, I started sweating again. I hadn’t even properly learned to ride the bike yet!

Actually, my father used to say,

“Why don’t you just buy a bicycle? That’s enough for your needs.”

But I didn’t like that idea. My dream was to buy a scooter. In the end, since neither option worked within my budget, I settled for a moped.

The next morning, somehow, I managed to ride the moped successfully to the Machavaram  Anjaneya Swamy temple, got the vehicle pooja done, and returned home.

Both of us felt as if we had achieved some great victory. Even our neighbours were happy for us.

A Strange Connection with Veturi garu:

The next day I rode my new moped proudly to the office. As soon as I arrived, Lanka Venkata Ramana greeted me: “So, how’s the new bike?”

Ramana garu was actually the nephew of the famous Telugu film lyricist Veturi Sundararama Murthy. That’s how I eventually got introduced to the great man.

One day, soon after I reached the office, Ramana garu came to me and took me to the canteen. While we were having tea, an elderly gentleman walked in. Ramana garu introduced him to me. He was none other than the well-known film lyricist Veturi Sundararama Murthy.

Until then, I had only heard about him. I never imagined I would see him in person. During our college days, the film lyrics he wrote used to echo everywhere. Especially the songs from “Adavi Ramudu” and “Yamagola” made youngsters like us dance with excitement.

My friend Girish once said, “This fellow has surpassed even Athreya!”

I still remember that comment. In those days, we were a group that was crazy about film songs. In fact, we even decided that we should learn music and start singing ourselves.

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The Day I Saw Jaladi Garu:

One day, quite unexpectedly, Girish took me and another friend to meet a music teacher who lived in a room on the terrace of a building near the old bus stand in Nandigama. We climbed the stairs and went into a small room. Inside, a man was sitting in front of a harmonium, playing musical notes. Girish told us that he was Jaladi Rajarao. At that time, I never imagined that he would later become famous as the well-known film lyricist Jaladi garu.

Years later, I saw his daughter, Jaladi Vijaya garu, speaking at the TANA World Literary Conference. I was also present at the same event as a special guest. When I saw her there, this old memory suddenly came back to me. In fact, while writing this now, I even spoke to Vijaya garu on the phone. She was very happy. She told me that her father had gone to Madras from Nandigama in search of opportunities in the film industry, and that his first film song was “Choorattuku Jarathadi, Chittukku Chittukku Vana Chukka” from the film Palle Seema (1976). Vijaya garu also shared a few memories from her childhood days in Nandigama.

Anyway, let me come back to Veturi garu. In the film Adavi Ramudu, he wrote the line:

“If there is hard work, ordinary people can become sages… even great men.” (Krushi unte manushulu rishulavuthaaru…)

Even today, that line remains very inspiring.

Sometimes we never know why certain acquaintances happen or where they will lead us to…

What connection did I have with Veturi garu taking a bank loan? And why was I constantly following up to see whether he had repaid it or not? It may sound strange, but that’s exactly what happened. A rather unusual bond formed.

Veturi garu needed a loan to produce a TV serial (I think it was Jhummandi Naadam). Indian Bank agreed to give him a loan of one lakh rupees, but they required a guarantor’s signature. Ramana garu brought Veturi garu to our office, introduced him to me, and asked if I could help. He also told me that before entering the film industry, Veturi garu had worked as a sub-editor at Andhra Prabha in Vijayawada. I couldn’t refuse. I signed as the second guarantor for the one-lakh-rupee loan.

But things didn’t go as planned.

Veturi garu couldn’t repay the loan on time. Soon I started receiving notices from the bank as well. Naturally, I was worried. Ramana garu would talk to his uncle and somehow arrange for part of the amount to be paid. Like this, the matter dragged on for quite some time. These notices continued even after I moved to Hyderabad.

Finally, the loan was completely repaid. Veturi garu called me and said warmly, “Thanks, my boy.” I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders.

Right then, I made a firm decision — never again to sign as a guarantor for anyone. And I have stuck to that decision ever since. Even though the loan issue caused me a lot of anxiety, my respect for Veturi garu never diminished.

My TVS moped turned out to be very useful. Our family grew. When my son went to Hyderabad to join engineering college, I also applied for a transfer. The management agreed, and we shifted our family. Along with us, the TVS moped also reached our rented house in VV Nagar near Chaitanyapuri.

Later, when I was working as a News Editor at TeluguOne.com, I sold the moped to a friend for a very small price. By then a Bajaj motorcycle had come into our house, and the poor moped had already begun to look neglected, standing quietly in one corner — almost as if it was saying, “I served you and your family so much… won’t you care about me anymore?”

Still, I handed it over to a good friend. And that’s how the story of the TVS moped came to an end.

A Man’s Bite:

My moped entered Satyanarayanapuram. Our rented house was very close from there. But one question kept bothering me — why on earth did the house owner bite his tenant?

They say there’s no proper medicine for a human bite. And if a case is filed, imprisonment is imminent.

A crowd had gathered in front of the house. I parked my moped on one side and went inside. My wife started explaining what had happened.

In the house where we were staying, there were five portions on the ground floor and five on the first floor. The owner kept two portions upstairs for himself and rented out the rest. People said he had high blood pressure. Normally he behaved like a very disciplined man.

How disciplined?

If the rent wasn’t paid by the fifth of the month, he would send his ten-year-old son. The boy would rush into the house like a spark and ask bluntly, “Are you staying here or vacating? My father asked me to find out.”

The owner also was a misogynist. He imposed conditions on the women tenants. Even if they spoke to the vegetable vendor, he couldn’t tolerate it. If two women stood together and chatted, he would get furious.

This behaviour used to make me so angry that I felt like giving him a piece of my mind. But my wife would say, “Why get involved with him? Just pay the rent on time. That’s enough.” She also said that the owner’s wife was a very kind woman who supported everyone. Hearing that, I would calm down.

One day the owner picked a quarrel with a tenant who lived upstairs. The argument escalated, and finally it turned into a physical fight. But the owner didn’t stop there — he actually bit the tenant’s hand. The tenant, with blood dripping from his hand, went straight to the Satyanarayanapuram police station.

Only then did the owner realize the seriousness of what he had done. The law suddenly flashed before his eyes. He was terrified that the tenant might file a case.

His wife ran to our house and explained everything. My wife immediately called my office. I went to the police station and somehow helped settle the matter. In the end, we managed to calm the tenant down and avoid a police case against the owner.

After this incident, a new discussion started in our house. We realized it might not be safe to live in such a place. So, we slowly began looking for another house. By then we had already lived there for seven years and had developed a good attachment to the house.

But what could we do?

Whoever got angry, I or the owner, it was clear that the one who would bite was the owner. So, we moved to a small portion nearby.

Before my marriage, I had rented a small room on a terrace in Poornanandampet, along with a friend. After marriage, we packed our belongings and started our life in a rented house.

In those days, nearly half my monthly salary would go towards rent and electricity bills. Still, since it was a new family life and we didn’t have many expenses, the days passed happily.

In that house, the landlady was in charge. The landlord had passed away, and she was raising her children all alone. My wife would listen to her stories and lend her whatever she asked for.

They even had a dog. Without any hesitation she would say, “Our dog needs some milk, amma.”

Around that time my salary increased, and we thought of moving to a better house. That’s when we moved into the house of the “biting owner.”

After shifting houses two more times, my wife finally said she couldn’t handle the troubles of rented houses anymore. Around that time, we learned we could get a housing loan, so we decided to buy our own house. 

We bought a flat in Surya Bala Apartments in Ayodhyanagar, which had just been built. But for some reason that house was ‘not lucky’ for us. Within ten days of moving in, the transformer behind the house exploded and caught fire. Our children also started having health problems.

So, we rented out that house and moved back to Satyanarayanapuram, to a place on Shiva Rao Street. The accommodation there was quite comfortable. After some time, I sold the house. Soon after, I got a transfer and moved to Hyderabad.

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Rented House – The Fears:

Sometimes we move into a rented house thinking, “After all, it’s just a rented place.” But occasionally such houses end up frightening us. They don’t let us live in peace. A friend of mine, speaking from experience, used to say that just as we take many precautions while buying a house, we should take the same care while renting one. His words made me think so much that I even wrote a couple of playlets based on those thoughts.

The first rented house we moved into, in Hyderabad, was very close to a cremation ground. (I had already mentioned this house in the chapter titled “Passion for Pets” Somehow, we managed to move out of that house safely.

One of our relatives once told me that as soon as he moved into a rented house, he started feeling as if ‘there was another person living there.’ His family consisted of just four people—husband, wife, and two children. Yet they kept feeling that a ‘fifth person’ was moving around in the house.

Another friend of mine came to Hyderabad for his job and hurriedly moved into a rented house. At that time, he was not yet married. After a few days, while observing the house carefully, he noticed some strange signs. The window frame looked as though it had been pulled out and fixed again. The wooden door had cracks and marks as if it had once been broken open. It was also clear that a new latch had been fitted to the old door.

Later, when his parents came and started inquiring about the house, shocking facts came to light.

Earlier, two people had committed suicide in that house.

A young woman had hanged herself from the ceiling fan above the very bed he was sleeping in. Another person had committed suicide in the bathroom. To remove the bodies, the doors had to be broken open, and even the windows had to be taken apart. This information came to them through the maid working there.

Hearing this, my friend was terrified. Within a week he vacated the house and moved into a new one.

From then on, whenever he looks for a rented house anywhere, he inspects the walls, windows, doors, and surroundings with a detective’s eye. He even makes sure to check whether there is a cremation ground nearby. He has his own fears, after all.

That is why he always advises everyone to be careful while renting a house.

Apart from such fears, there is another difficulty - if the house owner is not a kind person. Imagine the owner living upstairs and we living downstairs. If we cannot follow all the rules they impose, and yet cannot openly oppose them, life becomes quite miserable. There are many people who end up praying to God for deliverance from such rented houses because they cannot bear the troubles caused by the owner or the land lady.

With this theme, I wrote a radio play for All India Radio, Vijayawada, titled “Narude Ownarudaithe!” (When a tenant turns into a landlord)

In the play, a middle-class family man (a tenant) suffers greatly under a landlord and longs desperately for a house of his own. Pleased with his intense longing, a goddess appears before him and grants his wish. With her blessing, he soon becomes a house owner.

But along with that, his attitude also changes. Forgetting the hardships he suffered as a tenant, he starts troubling his own tenant in the same way.

Angered by this, the goddess turns him back into a tenant again. Then he realizes that it was all just a dream. The man then resolves that if he ever becomes a house owner, he will never trouble his tenants.

That, in brief, is the story of the play.