1. The Journey Towards Reddipalem
Before Bala’s
story can truly unfold, we must return to the deeper roots of Bala’s family—to that red sun-warmed land of Andhra Pradesh where the lives of ordinary
villagers were shaped by courage, faith, and quiet determination.
Among those
families were the Catholic Reddys of the Guntur region, heirs to an old
agricultural tradition and guardians of a faith embraced across generations.
Their migration to newly forming villages such as Reddipalem, where Bala would later be born, was neither accidental nor merely practical. It was a deliberate movement of hope—a search for a place where their families could grow in dignity, stability, and spiritual freedom.
In the years
preceding Bala’s birth, the lands around Guntur had become crowded with multiplying
families. Many Catholic Reddy families, seeking new possibilities, moved inland
to find affordable farmland where their labour and perseverance would truly
bear fruit.
Reddipalem
became one such destination: an open landscape waiting for those who wished to
build a future with their own hands.
But land alone
did not draw them. These families longed to live within a cohesive Catholic
community, where faith would not be a source of social tension but a foundation
for solidarity. Catholic missions, active in the region at the time, encouraged
precisely this kind of community: villages centered on education, health, and
mutual support.
There was also
a practical dimension to this migration. The Reddy community had long been
recognized for its expertise in tobacco and chilli farming, crops that required
skill, timing, and intimate knowledge of the soil.
The soil of Reddipalem was exceptionally well suited for tobacco cultivation—its texture, drainage, and climate offering the ideal conditions for a product that sustained many families for generations. This natural advantage strengthened the appeal of the area and contributed to the economic stability of the new settlement.
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| Reddipalem, chilli, and the church—from home roof |
Thus,
Reddipalem became more than farmland. It was a place where the Reddys could
cultivate not only tobacco, chilli, and rice, but also peace, autonomy, and a
renewed sense of community life. Away from the social tensions, they found a
space where families could live with greater equality, supported by shared
faith and collective resilience.
Their journey
was also a way of preserving identity. By leaving Guntur, they carried with
them their Reddy traditions, their language, and their sense of honour—enriched by a Christian faith that shaped their daily life and aspirations. For
their children, they imagined a future that united pride in their heritage with
openness to service, compassion, and education.
It was in this
environment—a village born from hope and built through hard work and
solidarity—that Bala’s childhood took root.
Reddipalem was
a place where every family carried with pride the story of their ancestors and
their perseverance; where red earth absorbed the laughter of children, the
rhythm of prayer and the cycle of the seasons.
This is where
the story begins.
A story
emerging from a courageous migration, woven from faith, labour, and love,
carrying the quiet light of generations who prepared the path ahead.
2. A Dawn in Thammadapalli: Birth and Beginnings (1941)
I was born on
February 4, 1941, in Thammadapalli village, in the home of my maternal
grandparents in Warangal district, Telangana. One week later, on February 11, I
was baptized and given the name Bala Theresa Singareddy. My paternal
grandparents, Singareddy Showreddy and Lourdhamma migrated from Guntur with
family, and settled in Reddipalem
village, in Warangal district. My father, Chinnapu Reddy, was their only son
among four daughters—a beloved and unique position in a family where two of
his sisters, Sr. Scholastica and Sr. Anna Theresia, joined the JMJ congregation
in Guntur. A third sister, Showramma,
also entered religious life but later left, married briefly, became widowed
within six months, and spent the rest of her life with my grandparents and
parents. The youngest sister, Agnesamma, married and raised nine children.
On my mother’s side, my grandparents were Dodda Kiriti Reddy and Mariamma, also from Thammadapalli. They had one son, Innareddy, who would father nine children, and two daughters: Gnanamma, the mother of six, and Chinnamma—my mother. Our families were rooted in the land and in faith, their histories intertwined with the soil, customs, and kinship networks of Telangana.
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| 1st row from right to left: Bala (6 years old)—Mary—Lourdhu—cousin—cousin—cousin 2nd row from right: Maternal grand-father—father (Chinnapa)—Paternal grand-father—uncle 3rd row from right to left: mother (Chinnamma)—aunty —aunty—uncle |
3. The First Family Circle: Becoming Ten
When I entered the world, our household consisted of eight people: my grandparents Showreddy and Lourdhamma, my great-grandfather Vatti Kiriti Reddy, my widowed aunt Showramma, my parents, my sister Mary (born in 1938), and myself. Over the next years we grew into a family of ten with the births of my brothers. In 1946, my brother Lourdhu Marreddy arrived—a long-awaited joy for my grandfather, who dearly hoped for a boy to continue the family name. Two years later, in 1948, my youngest brother Raja Reddy was born. These ten people formed the intimate circle of my childhood, a world of affection, tradition, and steady rhythms.
4. Prosperity and Status in Reddipalem
My paternal
grandmother Lourdhamma was the only daughter of Vatti Kiriti Reddy and Annamma,
inheriting all their property. Because my father was also an only son, he
inherited the full estate of his own parents. My mother, coming from an
affluent family, contributed a substantial dowry. As a result, our household
was considered the wealthiest in Reddipalem by the standards of village life.
Stories passed
down spoke of the grandeur of my parents’ wedding, celebrated over three days—an extravagance unheard of in our clan. My maternal grandparents gifted saris
to every woman in the village, a gesture that people remembered for years. Our
home was the best in the village, surrounded by at least one hundred acres of
fertile land. We had servants for both the fields and the household, and we
were the only family to own horses. The Italian parish priest even insisted
that his daily supply of milk and yogurt come from our home, convinced that it
was the cleanest and most reliable.
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| Bala's father and mother |
5. A Childhood Surrounded by Family: The Circle of 43
I grew up in a world rich with people. My parents had four children—Mary, myself, Lourdhu Marreddy, and Raja Reddy—and we were surrounded by a vast web of cousins. From Aunt Agnesamma came nine cousins; from Uncle Innareddy, another nine; from Aunt Gnanamma, six more. Together with our own family of ten and the spouses of aunts and uncles, our close family circle numbered forty-three.
Beyond this core were relatives numbering in the hundreds—the families with extended branches of my grandparents and parents, with their cousins and their children from two generations whom we met often. Then came the neighbours and friends. My childhood unfolded within this embrace of people who cared for me, watched over me, and shaped my sense of belonging.
6. Our House in Reddipalem: A World of Its Own
Our home was a small universe, alive with fruit trees—orange, papaya, guava and pomegranate—and animals: buffalo, cows, oxen, chickens, and horses. We had our own drinking-water well and another well that served the villagers. Full-time and seasonal workers tended the land, while my grandfather and father, both respected, were addressed as “Patel.”
My father was
gentle, generous, artistic, and deeply kind. He sang beautifully, played the
harmonium, memorized poetry, and performed in village dramas. He lent money
freely and rarely expected repayment, often losing large amounts but never
losing his peace or his instinct to help others. My mother, in contrast but in
complement, was the pillar of household and field, rising at dawn to milk the
buffaloes, preparing food for both family and workers, managing the land, and
welcoming every visitor with dignity and hospitality. She carried most of the responsibility,
yet she never complained. From her, I learned compassion, discipline, and the
quiet strength of service.
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| In front of the home: Family and servants—Bala is the nun |
7. Village Life:
Reddipalem and Its People
Reddipalem was
a remarkable village, marked by a tall church tower that could be seen from
afar. It had two parish priests—one Italian, one Indian—and was home to the
Mother House and Novitiate of the Catechist Sisters of St. Ann. There were a
school, boarding house, and dispensary; Catholic culture shaped the rhythm of
village life and the openness of its people.
Beyond the
Christian Reddy core of the village lived the Harijan (Dalit) families in a
separate section with modest dwellings. As a child, I did not yet understand
caste; I merely obeyed the elders who instructed me to bathe after playing with
Harijan children, unaware of the social structures behind such rules.
8. Childhood Memories and Schooling
My earliest
memories include surprising everyone by speaking many words at six months,
living for a short time in Garnepally near our farmland, and visiting the
village "chelam", the communal water source. I remember the tenderness of my
father singing “Lali Lali” at church and the sorrow of losing my grandmother.
I began my
schooling in Reddipalem, studying Kindergarten and Grades 1 through 5 there. My
teachers—Sr. Judith, Sr. Regina, and Sr. Annunciata—were women I admired
deeply. In Grade 3 I learned Urdu, until the curriculum changed to Hindi.
During this period my mother fell ill with tuberculosis and was hospitalized
for six months. I missed her terribly, and her return home was one of the
tenderest moments of my young life.
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| Bala, circa 6 years old |
My sister Mary
married at the age of fourteen—a love marriage, something very rare in those
days.
9. Middle School, High School, and Awakening
Grades 6 and 7
took me back to Kurnool, where I forged close friendships, particularly with
Rosy Yasaggari, and navigated the cultural shifts that followed the merger of
Andhra and Telangana. Boarding life was harsh, yet it instilled resilience and
independence.
For Grades 8
to 10 I returned to Reddipalem, where I excelled academically, became a school
leader, wrote poems and even a drama, and grew under the guidance of excellent
teachers. I passed the State high school exam with top marks. During these
years I experienced my first menstruation and deepened the friendships that had
begun earlier. My religious faith also intensified, becoming a vital part of my
identity.
10. Family, Faith, and Daily Life
My father
continued to be a profound influence—gentle, musical, generous, and
unwavering in his principles, even as unreturned loans reduced our wealth
significantly. My mother remained tireless in her service to the family and the
poor. My sister Mary and I shared many struggles during our mother’s illness.
My brother Lourdhu
Marreddy grew into a talented singer, later becoming a choir leader and village
Sarpanch. He married Gethrutha. My younger brother Raja Reddy, who had missed
much maternal affection in early childhood as my mother was sick, faced more
difficulties in life. He married Anthonamma, and we later adopted his daughter
Sunita as our own.
Our extended
family, including priests like Bishop Shoury, Fr. Anandam, Fr. Thomas, and
numerous relatives from many branches, enriched my youth with their presence
and affection.
11. The Influence of the Sisters of St. Ann
The Sisters of
St. Ann shaped my life deeply. By Grade 10, guided especially by Sr. Enriquetta
and supported by the parish priest, I felt a strong call to religious life. Out
of sixteen girls in my class, grade 10, fourteen would eventually enter the
convent—ten after Grade 9 and four after Grade 10. I wanted to join sooner, after
grade 9, but I had to wait until puberty.
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