Speak everyday Telugu in 60 days.

No, and the difference is the entire product. A course is a fixed sequence of content — the same pages, in the same order, for everybody who bought it. If that is what you wanted, take it for nothing: the library already holds every word, every sentence pattern, every scene and all seven games, with no account and no email address. What you pay for is the app running on top of that. It tracks every phrase you have met on two separate schedules, and each morning it works out which handful you personally are about to lose. A course hands everyone the same page. This hands you the ones you specifically are about to lose.

Because meeting a phrase was never the hard part — still having it three weeks later is. A phrasebook can hold five hundred phrases and has no way of knowing which ones have gone. You have to guess, and people guess badly: they re-read what already feels comfortable, which is exactly the material they did not need to review. Matladu meets you at the phrases you are actually failing. Recognition and production are scheduled apart, intervals stretch when you answer fast and collapse to a quarter when you miss, and a claim that something was easy occasionally gets checked. If you want the phrases without any of that, read the library for free and do not pay us. That is a real option and we would rather say so.

Then use one of the other eight shelves. The story is the spine, not the walls. The library is nine separate ways into the same connected world — themed vocabulary sets, a searchable dictionary of 597 words, sentence patterns, situations indexed by moment, reference guides, the cast, every scenario open to replay, seven games, and a word album where each word you meet becomes a card that levels up. Some people work through the story and never open a shelf. Some live in the games and the dictionary. The guided path always tells you what to do next if you want to be told, and never insists.

Seven of them, and each one leans on a different sense. Sound Match works your ears — one word among four that sound almost identical. Odd One Out works word groups. Suffix Builder works endings, bending a verb through time. What Would You Say? works register, which is the thing English never made you think about: right phrase, wrong person, and you have been rude. Memory Pairs works plain recall, Opposites Sprint works meanings, Picture Match works pictures. Every round is dealt from words you have actually met, so none of it is filler, and every round ends on a doorway — the word you missed links straight into the rest of the library. All seven are open without an account.

To look around, no. To play, yes — and that is the whole of the boundary. The library is open to anyone and stays that way: every word, every sentence pattern, every scene, the games, the word of the day, with no account and no email address. Opening a chapter is where it changes. The first seven cost nothing and ask for no card, but they do ask you to sign in with Google first. What that sign-in hands over is the email address, name and picture on your Google account, and nothing else. From then on your progress is kept with that account, so the chapter you finished on your laptop is waiting on your phone, and a wiped browser costs you nothing.

Forty-nine dollars, once. Nine hundred and ninety-nine rupees in India. That buys the memory engine running across all sixty chapters, chapters 8 through 60 themselves, the challenge chapters, and every correction we make to the sixty afterwards. Set against a Telugu tutor at roughly four hours' worth, for something that works on you for sixty days. There is no second payment and no renewal. The word lifetime is doing literal work there, not marketing work.

No. There is no recurring charge anywhere in Matladu — no monthly plan, no annual plan, nothing to cancel, and no card kept on file for a renewal you forgot about. You pay once. If sixty days turns into six months because life happened, that costs you nothing extra.

Thirty days, no questions asked, full refund. You do not have to justify it and you will not be asked to. Better still: play the first seven chapters before you pay anything at all. That is about seventy minutes and it ends on a story beat, which is enough to know whether this method fits the way you learn.

If you have only used the library, nothing at all — it never asks who you are. Signing in to play hands us what Google hands us: your email address, your name, and your profile picture. After that we store your learning progress: which chapters you have done, which phrases you have produced, and when each one is next due, because carrying it between your devices is impossible without them. Buying adds one more thing, a payment reference. No advertising, no tracking across other sites, nothing sold to anyone. The privacy policy is short because there is not much to describe.

Never. Everything is written in Roman Telugu and English — Naaku chai kaavaali, not the script. This is a spoken-language product, and reading the script is a different skill that would slow down the one you actually came for.

No. You are never asked to learn a rule before you use a sentence. Patterns like Naaku ___ kaavaali surface because you meet them five times in five situations, not because a lesson announced them. Register — whether you say nuvvu or meeru — is taught as social context: who you are talking to, not which conjugation table applies.

Every phrase you meet is tracked on two separate ledgers: can you understand it when you hear it, and can you produce it from an English thought. Those are different skills, so they are scheduled apart — production comes back sooner and its gaps widen more slowly, because it is the harder one. Each answer moves that phrase's own interval and nothing else's: answer instantly and it stretches, miss it and it collapses to a quarter of what it was and drops a rung on the ladder. Nothing is ever scheduled beyond 180 days, so nothing silently leaves the list. About one time in four, grading yourself as instant triggers a surprise production check, and if your self-assessment and your actual recall disagree, every interval tightens for a fortnight. Words ride a lighter schedule of their own — one day, three, seven, fourteen, and back in six hours if you miss — woven in among the phrase reviews so that a backlog of one never buries the other. A phrase counts as known only after free-recall production, unaided, on two different days. Tapping through a conversation is exposure, and exposure is worth nothing on the ledger.

Any Roman Telugu word, anywhere in the app, opens its own page — and that page is not a dictionary entry, it is a neighbourhood. What the word means and what it is literally doing in the sentence. Its opposite: takkuva sits under ekkuva, akkada under ikkada. Where it falls on a scale, when it belongs to one. The words it gets confused with, and the difference. Every form it bends into — 597 words carry 803 forms between them. The patterns it belongs to, and every other place in the story it is spoken, by whom and to whom. Tap a person to see every scene they are in. Tap a scene to see its people and its phrases. You can wander as deep as you like, or ignore all of it — the guided path always tells you what to do next.

No hearts, no lives, no leaderboard, no currency, no shop. Mistakes cost you nothing except a phrase coming back sooner. The only thing measured is capability — what you can now say to whom — and the only celebration is a real one: you can now order food politely, you can now ask where something is.

About ten minutes: a few reviews that are due, one illustrated scene, four or five new phrases, and a short conversation that uses them. One chapter a day finishes the story in sixty days. Slower is never punished — Day 14 means your day 14, not the calendar's.

It was built by someone with the same deadline as Varun. The story is a game, but the reason for it is not: family, a language they don't share with you, and a real date on the calendar. Everything in here exists because it was needed first.