Saaru Bidda- Teacher's Daughter

During early 1980s, my father worked as a teacher in a tiny remote village called Nandi Vanaparthi in the Ranga Reddy district of Telangana State (then Andhra Pradesh). I don't remember much of that place as I was very young, and we moved to Hyderabad before I turned five. But there are some distinct images  that flash in my mind when I think of it. I am not certain if it is from my own recollections or if it is my imagination based on the stories I heard from my parents over the years describing our life there. 

We lived in a small rented house, the branches of a huge pomegranate tree right outside our front door spilling into the window by our bed. The landlord's home adjacent to ours had a huge front yard with a big rusty-red gate. Across from the gate were endless acres of rice fields that almost seemed to blend into the distant horizon. A short walk away along the fields lived a potter's family. I remember the potter giving a quick spin of the wheel to get it rolling, his fingers wetting the clay at the beginning and gently narrowing the neck of the jar (kujas, as they are called in Telugu) towards the end before skillfully snapping the formed jar off the wheel and setting aside. I remember my sister asking the potter endless questions- she was quite the talker then, from what I heard and remember. Even today, when I think of pottery, this potter's kujas are the second things that come to my mind (first being Demi Moore in Ghost, :)). My sister and I took this path along rice fields and past the potter's house to get to our school- the school where our father worked and the only school the village could boast of. 

My mother says I was unmanageable at home during my terrible twos to the point where she decided to send me to the village school. This school didn't have any kindergarten classes, only first grade (for 5yr+) and up. So my father talked to the first grade teacher to let me hang out (or nap) in his class, the arrangement made possible only because my father was a teacher in that school. All of my classmates were quite a bit older than me and I was the baby of the class. Everyone used to call me as "Saaru bidda" (Teacher's daughter) and needless to say, I got a lot of attention from my classmates and school staff.

A couple of years later, we moved to Hyderabad and I went to a school where my father did not work. But my pedananna (father's older brother) taught there and that helped retain my "Saaru Bidda" tag. I was a pretty decent student while there and was often the topper of the class. But some of my classmates would say that I get all the prizes because I was "Saaru Bidda" and this treatment somehow made me feel very dissatisfied. It made me feel as if I was falsely deprived of the credit I thought I deserved.  It wasn't until fifth class in a new school that I was able to start fresh and stay clear of any associations with school staff. I wasn't always the topper of the class in this school- maybe there was some truth in the accusations made in my prior school of people playing favorites- but I was happy and content with my grades.

Back to the present, today marks the conclusion of September bike challenge, the challenge being that one must ride the bike to work every day of this month. I have been totally up for it, rode to work every day of this month, 20 trips for a little over 300 total miles. My standard path to work is a 13 mile round trip but I sometimes take scenic paths to boost my miles. This year too, I took the scenic path a couple of times and that helped me get past the 300-mile mark. I was quite happy with my riding, especially given that this was the month with various challenges on the home front too (single-parenting for a couple of weeks, kid's new school, new after-care etc). But my riding buddy quickly burst my bubble by saying that my 300 miles are not legit. He thinks that I should only enter 260 (20 trips, 13 miles round trip) into my trip log as that is the distance between work and home. 

Seriously, I cannot be penalized for living too close to work or for going the extra distance, right? I rode those extra 40 miles myself, it is not like I took a lift from my husband or anything! Then why do I feel this dissatisfaction? It feels the same as it did all those years ago when people said I got the grades I got because I was a teacher's daughter and not because I deserved them. I rode those 300 miles between work and home like the challenge requires us to and I should totally get the credit for it (imagine my full on grumpy/defensive/argumentative tone as I say this). Wait a minute. I just realized I am behaving like a silly six year old! Ha! That brought me a chuckle. Signing out, content, smiling and humming a tune that I often sing during my bike rides.