Part 2
'Reddy is our Mother Teresa'

Part 3
'He was a smooth operator'

Part 1


He has perhaps never seen the squalor and poverty of Velvadam. Which could be why Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister Nara Chandrababu Naidu once unhesitatingly described it as "little America."

But there is a "little America" in Velvadam. Belonging to its most famous -- now infamous -- personality, Lakireddy Balireddy.

It is a four-acre estate, where an array of marbled Hindu gods adorn a sprawling bungalow of granite floors and intricately carved doors. Grand iron gates, high fencing, a well-manicured lawn, and an army of servants to tender the coconut and palm trees there complete the picture of opulence.

Balireddy's bungalow and his lifestyle awe the poor villagers. He visited the buffalo-rearing folks twice a year, during the Mahashivratri and Vinayaka Chaturthi festivals. Yet he has been a larger-than-life figure for many years. And he continues to be so, despite the charges he faces in the United States.

It is from this village that Balireddy allegedly began exporting young girls to the greener pastures of the US. He introduced Viagra in Velvadam, where drinking water is a scarcity.

Nearly 300 kilometres away from Hyderabad and 30 km from southern India's biggest railway junction, Vijayawada, Velvadam is a large village of more than 8,000 people -- many of them illiterate -- in Krishna district, considered one of the richest in Andhra Pradesh.

But Velvadam and the nearby township of Mylavaram are far from rich. Fruits of Chandrababu Naidu's infotech reforms are yet to reach the inhabitants. Telephone lines are few. So are tarred roads and transport. An untarred, pothole-ridden narrow lane leads to the grand home of the Mylavaram assembly constituency's richest NRI offspring.

Villagers found out about their saviour's arrest in Berkeley through the newspapers. In fact, Balireddy's "enemies" in the village -- those who could not go to the US under his wing -- made photocopies of the newspapers that carried photographs of his arrest.

When he came down to Velvadam in August, Reddy is said to have distributed Viagra tablets to his rural friends, boasting: "I am young because I take this."

He spent lavishly whenever he came home. He built schools, colleges, bus stands and temples.

"People are now telling us he used to boast of his sexual exploits. He wanted to always look young. When he came last time, he gave some of them Viagra," claims Venkata Rao, an employee at the Mylavaram post office.

"It was during his holidays at the village that he recruited young girls. Those who wanted to go to the US had to stay with him for some days in the bungalow," alleges G K Satyanarana, a local medical shop owner. "He used to take the girls to the local cinema theatre and temples," he claims.

Charity was Balireddy's weapon. He paid at least Rs 500,000 each for the Mahashivratri and Vinayaka Chaturthi celebrations every year. Small wonder then that he became a cult figure to the villagers, who looked at him with awe.

Balireddy's sibling Venkateswar Reddy, who is now in Velvadam for his annual holidays, says his brother made several enemies in Krishna district as he could not recruit many for employment in the US.

"My brother needed people as masons, cooks and assistants in our various establishments in America. So the best way was to help the village by recruiting our own people," says Venkateswar. "Those who could not make it to the US complained against my brother at the US consulate in Madras."

"If you are rich you make more enemies. Everyone wants to go to America. The mistake that my brother did was that he imbibed in them the American dream," Venkateswar adds.

The gravest mistake Balireddy committed, according to his brother, was to offer the American dream to the villagers of Velvadam and Mylavaram.

But for their dreams to get fulfilled, the villagers allegedly had to pay a price -- their children.

Thus, Prathipatty German and Lakshmi German -- an old dalit couple with no means of livelihood -- were thrilled when Balireddy told them he had found a job for their daughter Usha Kiran in America. Balireddy changed Usha's name to Sitha, which he claimed would help her get a passport and visa easily.

Prathipatty these days does not speak to anyone. He refuses to believe his daughter is dead. Sitha, 17, died from a carbon monoxide leak in a Berkeley, California, apartment which Balireddy owned during Thanksgiving week. Her sister, 15, was also in the apartment when the leak occurred. She was found unconscious, but was released from hospital the next day.

"Reddyji was very nice to us. After she went to the US, my daughter used to send me money," he moans, showing the one-room concrete house he built from Sitha's earnings.

As Prathipatty begins to speak, a neighbour rushes in and whispers in his ears. The manager of Balireddy's estate has ordered him not to speak to anybody. Prathipatty nods, gets into his tiny house and shuts the door.

"Usha was a maid in Balireddy's house. We were happy when luck smiled on her. We really do not know whether he was exploiting her and the others," Prathipatty's neighbour adds.

"Money was what the villagers desperately needed. So some gave their daughters to Reddy. Some sent them along with him knowing fully well that they were being exploited," alleges a local journalist.

It was easy for Reddy to zoom in on the young women in Velvadam. Parents worshipped Balireddy. Many still do. Because if it were not for him, they would not have heard of that opulent land of dreams, America.

ON TO PART 2: 'Reddy is our Mother Teresa'

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