Armed with a BE in electrical engineering and ME in computer science, Sudha Murty’s letter to the then Tata chairman, J.R.D. Tata, complaining of the company’s gender bias, resulted in her being hired at Telco (Tata Motors) purely on merit. Her life with N.R. Narayana Murthy and her myriad experiences as a teacher, social worker, philanthropist and mother of two children get reflected in her works of fiction, non-fiction and children’s books that add up to 140 titles in 14 different languages. Bestselling author and chairperson of the Infosys Foundation, Sudha Murty talks to Sangeetha Chengappa about her latest book, The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk, which is scheduled to be launched on August 18, a day before her 62nd birthday. The book chronicles anecdotal instances of the lives of people who have taught her some crucial life lessons.
What or who inspired you to write this book There is no one in particular who inspired me to write this book. I have been fortunate to have met and interacted with people from different walks of life and socio-economic strata, all of whom have influenced and impacted my life in many ways. But I must admit that one woman in a remote village in Orissa taught me the lesson of my life. I was in the village building a school for children, when there was a heavy downpour... My translator took me to a hut nearby... The owner of the hut asked if I wanted tea or coffee and I said I do not drink tea or coffee. He then offered me milk and I agreed, so as not to hurt his feelings. Then I overheard his wife, who was trying to pacify her bawling baby, tell her husband that she could offer tea with a few spoons of milk or fish curry or leftover rice cooked with water, as there was only one glass of goat’s milk left for the baby. She also told her husband, “That lady has grey hair but no common sense. Doesn’t she realise we are poor people who have to work hard to even get a glass of milk She shouldn’t be asking for an expensive drink like milk.” The couple did not know that I could understand Oriya. When my host brought some milk for me, I refused saying that I had forgotten that I was on a fast that day. From that day on, I drink milk only at home. I realised that I am a difficult and expensive guest, especially in the company of poor people.
You have written about many women in The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk — Chitra, Savitri, Ganga, Hirakani, Kashibai — all of whom belong to different times. How has life changed for women today Women today have three things which women didn’t have 40 years ago — access to contraceptives for family planning, good education and economic independence. Many women were not allowed to study beyond a particular level. Even if a few families educated their girls, they would do BA or MA, and get married. If the husband did not have a great job, the woman would be expected to teach or work in a clerical position in a bank or in LIC. Women today work not because they have to earn money, but because they want a life of their own. They can choose what to study, where to work, whether to marry or stay single. My father who was a doctor insisted on educating all his daughters. I took up engineering and was the only girl there. There was no separate toilet for girls, so I used the toilet at home when I went home for lunch.
At what point did you realise that you wanted to become a writer and which of your works is your favourite My tryst with writing began in school when I enjoyed writing prize-winning essays on “A rainy day”, “My holiday”, “The man who was responsible for India’s freedom” etc. One year after I married NRN, who was then working in the US, he asked me if I was willing to backpack across the US on a shoestring budget. I agreed and visited almost all the states in the US after which I wrote my first travelogue in Kannada that translates to Beyond the Atlantic. After that I continued to write novels, travelogues, collections of short stories based on my experiences, technical books and children’s book. I have three idols of Saraswati — one in my office, and I have given one to my daughter and another to my son. I pray to her every day to inspire me to write more and more. Asking me to choose my favourite book is like asking a mother which of her children is her favourite. While I like all of them, I prefer four books that are a collection of stories based on my experiences, of which The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk is my latest. The other three are Wise & Otherwise, The Old Man and His God and How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories. Who is your role model and what was the hardest period of your life I don’t believe in role models, because once you get close to them, you see that they are not larger than life; they are as human as we are. Contrary to what most people think, starting Infosys and struggling through the initial years did not take a toll on me. The hardest part of my life was bringing up two children with middle-class values when there is a lot of money around. I didn’t allow them to have everything they wanted and told them that Lakshmi does not stay in one place for too long. I told them I would be their best friend until they get married, which allowed them to share their moments of grief, anger and joy with me. I kept telling them, I can see life in “fast forward” mode, while they could just see it in “play” mode. Although they did not follow many things I wanted them to, I realised that it’s okay, because ultimately everyone has to run their own marathon.
Excerpt from The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk:
Rahman was a young and soft-spoken employee who worked in a BPO. He was also an active volunteer in our Foundation. He would not talk without reason and would never boast about his achievements. Rahman was a perfectionist. So any assignment given to him was done exceedingly well. He worked for the Foundation on the weekends and was very kind to the children in the orphanage. He spent his own money and always brought sweets for the children. I really liked him. Since we worked closely together, he learnt that I am from North Karnataka, from Dharwad district. My language has that area’s accent and my love for Dharwad food is very well known. One day, Rahman came and asked me, “Ma’am, if you are free this Sunday, will you come to my house My mother and sister are visiting me. Incidentally, my mother is also from Dharwad district. My family has read your columns in Kannada and your books too. When I told them that I am working with you, they expressed their earnest desire to meet you. Is it possible for you to have lunch with us ” “Will you assure me that I’ll get a good Dharwad meal ” I joked. “I assure you, ma’am. My mother is a great cook.” ...That Sunday, I took some flowers along. Rahman’s newly constructed apartment was on Bannerghatta Road near the zoo. When I entered his home, I met his wife Salma. She was a smart and good-looking girl. She worked as a teacher in the kindergarten nearby. Then, he called out to his Avva. A mother is usually referred to as Avva in North Karnataka. An old lady with grey hair came out of the kitchen. Rahman introduced her, “This is my mother.” I was a bit surprised — she was not quite what I had expected. She was wearing a huge bindi the size of a 25-paise coin and an Ilkal sari with lots of green bangles on both arms. She kept the sari pallu on her head. She had a contented smile on her face and with folded hands she said, “Namaste”. Rahman’s sister entered from another room. She was so different from Rahman. Rahman was fair and very handsome. His sister was tall and dark. She was wearing a cotton sari with a smaller bindi than her mother and also had two gold bangles on her hands. Rahman said, “This is my sister Usha. She stays in Hirekerur. Both her husband and she are school teachers.” I felt confused after meeting Rahman’s mother and sister but I did not ask any questions. After I sat down comfortably, Usha said, “Madam, we love your stories because we feel connected to them. I teach some of your children’s stories at school.” Salma also joined the conversation. “Even I like them, but my students are too young to understand.” Rahman smiled and said, “You must be surprised to see my mother and sister. I want to share my story with you.” “...Thirty years ago, Kashibai and Datturam lived in the outskirts of our village with their six-month-old daughter Usha. They looked after the 10-acre field of their landlord, Srikant Desai, who lived in Bombay. Srikant only came once a year to collect the revenue. The field was very large and it was too much for Kashibai and Datturam to handle. So, they requested the landlord to get another family to stay with them and help with the field. They also welcomed the thought of having company. “Srikant contacted his acquaintances and found a suitable family. Soon, Fatima Bi and Husain Saab came to the village. They occupied one portion of the house and the other portion stayed with Kashibai and Datturam. Husain Saab and Datturam got along very well. However, Kashibai and Fatima Bi didn’t see eye to eye at all. It is not that they were bad women but their nature were very different. Kashibai was loud, very frank and hard-working. Fatima Bi was quiet, lazy and an introvert. Inevitably, there was a fight. It all started with a hen. Kashibai’s hen would come to Fatima Bi’s portion of the house and lay eggs. Fatima Bi wouldn’t return the eggs because she thought that her hen had laid them. Kashibai even tried colouring her hen to distinguish it from Fatima Bi’s. Both the ladies shared a common well and would fight because both wanted to wash their vessels and clothes almost always at the same time. They also fought about their goats. Fatima Bi’s goats came and ate Kashibai’s flowers and leaves, which she used for her puja. Sometimes, Kashibai’s goats went to Fatima Bi’s place and left their droppings behind. Fatima Bi wouldn’t return the droppings either... As time went by, Kashibai’s daughter Usha turned two years old. Fatima Bi loved children and enjoyed seeing Usha play in the field. Fatima Bi liked henna a lot. Every month, she coloured her hand with henna from the plant in the field and Usha always joined her. Usha was fascinated with the beautiful orange colour. She would come home and tell her mother, ‘Why can’t you also colour your hand like Fatima Kaku ’ (Kaku is equivalent to aunt in the local language.) “This comment irritated Kashibai. She said, ‘Fatima can afford to colour her hands because her husband works and also helps in the kitchen. She sits on the bed and listens to the radio. If I do that, will your father come and work in the kitchen ’ Fatima Bi would overhear their conversation but still she continued her friendship with little Usha. “When Fatima became pregnant, she became even lazier. She eventually reached full term and a distant relative came to help Fatima with her delivery. A few days later, there was a festival in the village and Datturam and his family went to attend it. When they came back, Fatima Bi was not there. She was already in the hospital in critical condition and had delivered a son. The house was in complete silence. But the silence was deafening to Kashibai’s ears. She started crying. She was very sad because Fatima Bi was in the hospital in such a serious condition. The next day, they learnt that Fatima Bi was no more... “One night, the child started crying non-stop and Kashibai could not take it. She felt that enough was enough. After all, it was a little baby. A woman is so different from a man when it comes to rearing a child. Her motherly instinct made her go next door and tap on Husain Saab’s door without even waiting for her husband. When Husain Saab opened the door, she told him, ‘Husain Saab, give me the baby. I am a mother. I know how to handle him.’ She picked up the baby boy, held him in her pallu and brought him to her house holding him tightly to her chest. The baby boy stopped crying immediately. For the first time since the baby was born, Husain Saab slept through the night comfortably... When Rahman was 10 and Usha was 12 years old, Husain Saab fell ill and all his savings were spent on his treatment. Meanwhile, Kashibai purchased two she-buffaloes and started a milk business. She started earning more money than her husband. “That same year, Husain Saab died of tuberculosis. Rahman was left all alone. There were hardly any people at Husain Saab’s burial. A distant uncle came and told the mullah that he would take care of Rahman. But when the time came to take Rahman away, the uncle did not turn up at all. Without a second thought, Datturam and Kashibai took him in. Rahman was happy to stay in Kashibai’s house. “Kashibai was very conscious about Rahman’s religion. Every Friday, she sent him for namaaz and on holidays she sent him for Koran class at the local mosque. She told him to participate in all Muslim festivals even though there were very few Muslims in the village. Rahman also took part in the Hindu festivals celebrated in his house. Datturam and Kashibai bought two cycles for both the kids. Rahman and Usha cycled to high school and later they also rode their cycles to the same college. “Eventually, they graduated and that day Kashibai told Rahman, ‘Unfortunately, we don’t have a picture of your parents. So, turn towards Mecca and pray to Allah. Pray to Fatima Bi and Husain Saab. They will bless you. You are now grown up and independent. Usha is getting married next month. My responsibility to both Usha and you is now over.’ “Kashibai’s affection and devotion overwhelmed Rahman, who could not remember his own mother’s face. He prayed to Allah and his parents and then touched Kashibai’s feet. He said, ‘Avva, you are my Ammi. You are my Mecca.’ “Rahman got a job in a BPO in Bangalore and left home. He worked for different firms for a few years, grew in his career and started earning a good salary. He met Salma at a friend’s wedding and fell in love with her. After getting Kashibai and Datturam’s approval, he got married to Salma.” ...I looked at the wall in the dining room and for the first time I noticed two pictures in Rahman’s house, one of Mecca and the other of Krishna, both hanging side by side.
