Since the alms, collected through conventional mode, became minimal and hardly enough for sustenance, the beggar started begging from passengers travelling in long distance trains, running between big cities and moving at high speed with limited stoppages.These are vestibuled trains through which many compartments can be covered (except the air conditioned ones) and thereby enhances the scope of collecting the materialistic form of compassion trickling from the tight-fisted hands of passengers. Some giving with utter disgust, just to get rid of the nagging or to show-off his class difference from the rest of the passengers of the cubicle. Some drop a coin in the begging bowl with an air and pang of parting with his Kohinoor and there are some who join their palms, after dropping a small piece of coin, as if to remind the almighty to register this accrued virtue against his/her name so that it may be taken into account at the time of final judgement. But most of them look at the begging bowl as the carrier of the germs of some deadly disease and become busy in shielding themselves, vehemently waving their hands and keeping their breathing process stopped, as long as possible. Rest of them will turn their faces towards the window and start criticising and blaming the Government for ignoring this disturbing phenomenon.
All these acts make no mark on the beggar--it is almost like the same script, shown at a Cinema Hall, in matinee, evening and night shows, days and nights. But, unlike the script in cinema it does not change after a few weeks. It goes on..the same script goes on and on..although the faces change,compartments change...trains change...as if to all the passengers,before en training, a crash course in acting is being meted to them.The beggar boards a train, crosses a couple of stations and when all the available compartments are explored and done with, there comes the time to detrain and catch a train in the opposite direction. In between these acts there lies the process of dodging and greasing the palms of the guardians of laws and rules....the people who generally leave certain aspects like compassion, morality and similar petty intricacies behind them, safely closed in a certain vault the nature of which are known only to those creatures.The booking of a ticket could never be there in the scheme of things of the beggar.
The uneventful, monotonous life of the beggar was going on except on one day a man in police uniform caught hold of the beggar in a station. All the common tricks of escape fell flat and the beggar was dragged to the office of the senior officer in-charge.The herded crowd in the room started thinning out,the cases disposed--either fined or taken to custody.The beggar was then pushed forward to face the menacing officer.Where from you are coming and where do you stay?No answer, Silence. Name? Silence. Nationality? Silence.Are you deaf and dumb? More silence.The officer stood up from his chair, roaring like a caged tiger. As he was about to give the order, he gave another look to that mute statue with tears rolling down the cheek. He paused for a moment, slid back on his chair and set aside his pen.The colour of his face changed. He asked the sentry to let the beggar go..unpunished.
After all some one who is already punished by God perhaps deserves some compassion, he argued with his conscience for a fleeting moment before moving to the next case.
The Beggar was an Androgyne.
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Visitor
"Atithi Deb O Bhaba"-Treat a visitor as the incarnation of God..an axiom which is going down the annals of Indian Philosophy and Culture for several thousands of years...irrespective of the nature of visitors...benevolent & kindhearted or shrewd & injurious or a foe in the guise of a friend or an intruder with some ulterior motive.
As a religious minded Hindu house wife, she was also treating her visitors likewise, albeit,in consonance with her capacity and means. But her watchful eyes had spotted the wrong one..one which was trying to sneak into her house to steal..to rob her of her most valuable possession and so with firm determination she stood on-guard. There after it became a war of wits along with a deep hatred for each other. He was trying to make an in road but she was foiling all the attempts. She was using all the weapons in her quiver to thwart the move and, one after another, she continued to repulse his efforts of intrusion. It also became a concern for the visitor. Never before, in any other place, his advances had been so meticulously spotted and thwarted.Very much like the valliant Knight, returning from The Crusade in "Seventh Seal" of Bergman, she was making the moves of her chess-men in this battle of mental and action game. Ironically, in an identical analogy, the cunning visitor deceived her, surreptitiously grasped the idea of her next intended move, her next line of defence. The simple house wife, although witty and intelligent was not cunning and was not apt in any foul game. So, after finding all her are defences at the desired places, she retired for the day.
The cocks started crowing in the morning, heralding the advent of another day. She woke with sleepy eyes, in fact she had over slept a little. Immediately She started checking with her possessions, starting with the most precious one. She went to the bed of her ailing husband, felt his body and found the warmth has left him, the warmth stolen, stolen by that shrewd cunning visitor....the all-powerful Queen Piece of Her chess-board, the sparkling vermilion at the parting of her hair could not help her. She has been check-mated. Battered, defeated, dazed she slid to the ground.Tears started rolling down her eyes and through her frosty eyes she blankly looked at calender,hanging on the wall.She felt that the invisible visitor had been flexing His muscles, mocking at her and dragged Her eyes to the date when she had lost her valiant fight against the all pervading power of Death.
It was the dawn of 3rd February,1977.
As a religious minded Hindu house wife, she was also treating her visitors likewise, albeit,in consonance with her capacity and means. But her watchful eyes had spotted the wrong one..one which was trying to sneak into her house to steal..to rob her of her most valuable possession and so with firm determination she stood on-guard. There after it became a war of wits along with a deep hatred for each other. He was trying to make an in road but she was foiling all the attempts. She was using all the weapons in her quiver to thwart the move and, one after another, she continued to repulse his efforts of intrusion. It also became a concern for the visitor. Never before, in any other place, his advances had been so meticulously spotted and thwarted.Very much like the valliant Knight, returning from The Crusade in "Seventh Seal" of Bergman, she was making the moves of her chess-men in this battle of mental and action game. Ironically, in an identical analogy, the cunning visitor deceived her, surreptitiously grasped the idea of her next intended move, her next line of defence. The simple house wife, although witty and intelligent was not cunning and was not apt in any foul game. So, after finding all her are defences at the desired places, she retired for the day.
The cocks started crowing in the morning, heralding the advent of another day. She woke with sleepy eyes, in fact she had over slept a little. Immediately She started checking with her possessions, starting with the most precious one. She went to the bed of her ailing husband, felt his body and found the warmth has left him, the warmth stolen, stolen by that shrewd cunning visitor....the all-powerful Queen Piece of Her chess-board, the sparkling vermilion at the parting of her hair could not help her. She has been check-mated. Battered, defeated, dazed she slid to the ground.Tears started rolling down her eyes and through her frosty eyes she blankly looked at calender,hanging on the wall.She felt that the invisible visitor had been flexing His muscles, mocking at her and dragged Her eyes to the date when she had lost her valiant fight against the all pervading power of Death.
It was the dawn of 3rd February,1977.
The Scalpel
The bandage was being taken off, slowly, by the nurse under the watchful eyes of the doctor. Mr Bannerjee was looking at the proceedings with a fixed stare, tensed with anxiety, worries and expectation. The doctor then removed the pads of cotton and asked Shova to open her eyes ,very very slowly.Then the doctor asked her whether she could recognise any body.Pointing to Mr Bannerjee, she nodded her head slightly.The doctor then started to go ahead with his next course of treatment, asking others to leave the room and telling Mr Bannerjee that the operation of the eyes of his wife is successful and that he would give him all the instructions, after coming out of the cubicle. Till then Mr. Bannerjee is to wait out side in visitors complex. Along with Mr. Bannerjee, She was also allowed to go inside and was standing at a distance. She had been watching everything and presently took Mr.Bannerjee to the visitors' complex holding one of his hands,trembling with the relief of intense anxiety and fear. Mr. Bannerjee looks at her as his daughter and friend. Earlier he used to live in one of the rented pigeon holes, decoratively called flat, in the same building where in another such hole she lives. But recently he had shifted to another flat, in the same complex, bought with his savings but registered in the name of his youngest son, a medical representative.
Just to get acquainted with this gentle man, it is necessary to know something about him and his family. He is on the wrong side of eighty, so far as age is concerned. Apart from his garrulous, simpleton yet golden hearted wife,Shova, he has two daughters, both married and living with their husbands and in-laws and two sons both of whom are also married..The elder one is a doctor by profession and recently bought a new,spacious flat, suitable to his status and income,in the same complex. A retired assistant station master,Mr. Bannerjee is a very lively personality, having active interest in viewing all sorts of games, especially the telecast of cricket where India is one of the participants, but because of health, he no longer can take part in any role in any amateur theatre,which was his first love.He goes to the market,daily,to buy his favourite vegetables, fish or meat and prefers to cross the distance on foot, avoiding rickshaw, as far possible. When he was in the same building, She used to visit him daily but now her visit is still regular but less frequent. Generally it becomes once in a week but it increases if her local guardian, her foster father becomes sick. Apart from that, she keeps regular touch with him over phone.Recently, She had been there to talk to him although, some times, she finds it difficult to tolerate the act of his moron wife,tuning T.V. in ample volume,to cover up her hearing problem and unable to part with her addiction to soap-serials. With Her by his side, Mr. Bannerjee becomes more lively and prefers to discuss all the intricacies,tit-bits of his life. In this new flat, a smaller than earlier rented flat,he and his wife had to accommodate themselves at the corner of dinning cum drawing room.The other room is meant for his younger son, wife and grand daughter. Of-late,during her visit, She found that,off and on, the old man becomes some what unmindful and goes beyond her reach,fixing his gaze to some unknown distance and in a pensive mood. As if, the young station master in him is gazing at a fast,express train,crossing his station, blowing a whistle, as if to acknowledge his presence on the station and spewing tall columns of smoke which gradually reclines on the cushion of air making room for the next columns and mingles with the air. As if he is trying to find some analogy with his own life, seeking for reclining on the care of his children and grandchildren or perhaps he was thinking about something else regarding which she did not have any idea. During such moments, She never disturbed him nor ever she asked about the reason of his occasional unmindfulness. After one such visit when She wanted to take leave of him, he caught her hand and told her that He wants to come to her flat. After weighing the stress this visit is likely to affect him, climbing up and down so many stairs, She decided to give it a go as that might help this gentleman have some diversion from the monotony.
One day,Mr. Bannerjee came to her house in the evening, panting heavily although he had taken some rest in one of the flats belonging to one of his old acquaintances. He sat and drunk a glass of water, relaxed for some time and then asked for tea, a favourite drink of his. He enquired about her health, the health of her mother and about other members of her family. After spending about an hour,discussing different current happenings, in a very jovial mood he suddenly became silent and after a little pause, he rose and wanted to take leave of her. She was a bit perplexed, but felt that perhaps he had some thing else to discuss apart from idling some time with her but thought it unfair to ask about it, and so she requested him to spend some more time and after that she will go along with him up to his house.He pondered for a few minutes and then again took his seat. With a little pause and some fumbling,a very unusual thing for him,He started his monologue..meant of-course only for her ears."When you go to our house,I know you feel irritated by the full-volume tuning of T.V. by your Mashima but perhaps you are not aware of the reason behind it.Her eye sight is very poor, she cannot see any thing on the T.V.,apart from her hearing problem. But she pretends to the viewing of T.V. as out of shame, she can not divulge her agony to others. Both of her sons are aware of this problem but are unconcerned and never bothered to take any initiative to get her cataract operated upon. Now my body has become frail and I can not summon sufficient courage to take her to the Doctor and to the nursing home. So I have come to plead to you to take us to the nursing home for the examination and operation.But I request you not to tell this to any members of my family".He started sobbing. She, with clenched fist and tightened jaw controlled her rage , consoled him and told him that it will be taken care of. She, a widow with some provisions left by her late husband and her Masters degree as her capital for sustenance, has got one son who is still striving hard to establish himself to come to the aid of his mother.But this financial condition never could deter her to keep her head aloft on her shoulder neither she had ever asked for anything from any body.
Her resolution taken on that day and subsequent action had culminated to the incidence of this fate-full day. On the following day,after collecting all necessary follow up instructions and medicines from the Doctor, she escorted both Mr. and Mrs. Bannerjee to their house.Helping Shova to lie on the bed in the correct posture,as suggested by the the Doctor, she took leave of Mr. Bannerjee and headed for her flat.
To her surprise, she found that all the children of Mr.Bannerjee present in the house including the eldest son,the doctor.But none of them spoke any word to her.She came back to her empty flat, had a bath and sat quietly on a sofa in her drawing room. Rage,anxiety,exertion, irregular schedule along with sleepless night took a heavy toll on her health. Now ,although she was totally exhausted, she was feeling very light,both mentally and physically as she has been successfull to discharge the responsibility bestowed on her.
But something was gnawing the core of her heart.The doctor had done his job with success.But will the invisible "Ethical Scalpel" wielded by her be able to do its intended
job...Will it be able to remove the 'Cataract" from the eyes of any of the children of Mr.and
Mrs. Bannerjee?.
Just to get acquainted with this gentle man, it is necessary to know something about him and his family. He is on the wrong side of eighty, so far as age is concerned. Apart from his garrulous, simpleton yet golden hearted wife,Shova, he has two daughters, both married and living with their husbands and in-laws and two sons both of whom are also married..The elder one is a doctor by profession and recently bought a new,spacious flat, suitable to his status and income,in the same complex. A retired assistant station master,Mr. Bannerjee is a very lively personality, having active interest in viewing all sorts of games, especially the telecast of cricket where India is one of the participants, but because of health, he no longer can take part in any role in any amateur theatre,which was his first love.He goes to the market,daily,to buy his favourite vegetables, fish or meat and prefers to cross the distance on foot, avoiding rickshaw, as far possible. When he was in the same building, She used to visit him daily but now her visit is still regular but less frequent. Generally it becomes once in a week but it increases if her local guardian, her foster father becomes sick. Apart from that, she keeps regular touch with him over phone.Recently, She had been there to talk to him although, some times, she finds it difficult to tolerate the act of his moron wife,tuning T.V. in ample volume,to cover up her hearing problem and unable to part with her addiction to soap-serials. With Her by his side, Mr. Bannerjee becomes more lively and prefers to discuss all the intricacies,tit-bits of his life. In this new flat, a smaller than earlier rented flat,he and his wife had to accommodate themselves at the corner of dinning cum drawing room.The other room is meant for his younger son, wife and grand daughter. Of-late,during her visit, She found that,off and on, the old man becomes some what unmindful and goes beyond her reach,fixing his gaze to some unknown distance and in a pensive mood. As if, the young station master in him is gazing at a fast,express train,crossing his station, blowing a whistle, as if to acknowledge his presence on the station and spewing tall columns of smoke which gradually reclines on the cushion of air making room for the next columns and mingles with the air. As if he is trying to find some analogy with his own life, seeking for reclining on the care of his children and grandchildren or perhaps he was thinking about something else regarding which she did not have any idea. During such moments, She never disturbed him nor ever she asked about the reason of his occasional unmindfulness. After one such visit when She wanted to take leave of him, he caught her hand and told her that He wants to come to her flat. After weighing the stress this visit is likely to affect him, climbing up and down so many stairs, She decided to give it a go as that might help this gentleman have some diversion from the monotony.
One day,Mr. Bannerjee came to her house in the evening, panting heavily although he had taken some rest in one of the flats belonging to one of his old acquaintances. He sat and drunk a glass of water, relaxed for some time and then asked for tea, a favourite drink of his. He enquired about her health, the health of her mother and about other members of her family. After spending about an hour,discussing different current happenings, in a very jovial mood he suddenly became silent and after a little pause, he rose and wanted to take leave of her. She was a bit perplexed, but felt that perhaps he had some thing else to discuss apart from idling some time with her but thought it unfair to ask about it, and so she requested him to spend some more time and after that she will go along with him up to his house.He pondered for a few minutes and then again took his seat. With a little pause and some fumbling,a very unusual thing for him,He started his monologue..meant of-course only for her ears."When you go to our house,I know you feel irritated by the full-volume tuning of T.V. by your Mashima but perhaps you are not aware of the reason behind it.Her eye sight is very poor, she cannot see any thing on the T.V.,apart from her hearing problem. But she pretends to the viewing of T.V. as out of shame, she can not divulge her agony to others. Both of her sons are aware of this problem but are unconcerned and never bothered to take any initiative to get her cataract operated upon. Now my body has become frail and I can not summon sufficient courage to take her to the Doctor and to the nursing home. So I have come to plead to you to take us to the nursing home for the examination and operation.But I request you not to tell this to any members of my family".He started sobbing. She, with clenched fist and tightened jaw controlled her rage , consoled him and told him that it will be taken care of. She, a widow with some provisions left by her late husband and her Masters degree as her capital for sustenance, has got one son who is still striving hard to establish himself to come to the aid of his mother.But this financial condition never could deter her to keep her head aloft on her shoulder neither she had ever asked for anything from any body.
Her resolution taken on that day and subsequent action had culminated to the incidence of this fate-full day. On the following day,after collecting all necessary follow up instructions and medicines from the Doctor, she escorted both Mr. and Mrs. Bannerjee to their house.Helping Shova to lie on the bed in the correct posture,as suggested by the the Doctor, she took leave of Mr. Bannerjee and headed for her flat.
To her surprise, she found that all the children of Mr.Bannerjee present in the house including the eldest son,the doctor.But none of them spoke any word to her.She came back to her empty flat, had a bath and sat quietly on a sofa in her drawing room. Rage,anxiety,exertion, irregular schedule along with sleepless night took a heavy toll on her health. Now ,although she was totally exhausted, she was feeling very light,both mentally and physically as she has been successfull to discharge the responsibility bestowed on her.
But something was gnawing the core of her heart.The doctor had done his job with success.But will the invisible "Ethical Scalpel" wielded by her be able to do its intended
job...Will it be able to remove the 'Cataract" from the eyes of any of the children of Mr.and
Mrs. Bannerjee?.
The surreal soliloque
(1)
Since quite some time this idea was gradually taking a firm grip on my thinking.I have started feeling that my days are being numbered and soon my limbs and different parts of my body will stop functioning,they are going to lose their rhythm..the very essence of my life.
Lying in the corner of a room of a desolate house,with closed doors and windows,where hardly there is any difference between day and night,where all sorts of mites and insects are having their field day...mocking at and sprawling over me-which they could never dared to do during my hey-days. I have waited for quite some years,expectantly,with a hope that days might change..perhaps I will again get the warmth of the feel of life..of joy and sorrow..of laughter and despair but with the passage of time the elixir of hope has hit the bottom and now only the Leese is left behind .Before that too gets emptied,I was thinking of writing an epitaph.But,alas,I am not a living being and I can not write any epitaph and apart from that I still feel that with the touch of a caring hand,like that of my last mistress,I can still have a long lease of life.
But over the years, I have come to know that hope and reality-these two step brothers are not in best of the terms.
So at last,I have decided to do some thing which I heard long ago from the discussion of a boy of this house with his friends during my golden bygone days.They had been discussing about the fate of a wretched fellow,like me,who was debarred to go out to his beloved from a plague infected settlement and ultimately that desperate man had gone to the fringe of that quarantined place, floated his words and gave vent to his feelings in the air with the hope that his message will be carried to the intended ears.I heard them talking that this fantastic idea was the brain child of some Albert Camus.I have decided to borrow this idea,fortunately still lingering with me,and I have resolved to resort to a soliloquy(like some tragic heroes,about whom also I had heard from them at that time) as I have got a trove of tales to tell.
I was not born in any hospital or under any medical care as a total entity,since those are meant for,so called, living beings.Different parts of mine were assembled together and I came into being at a place which is termed as factory.Just after my 'birth', I came to know from other members of my clan that how we have pushed the wheel of civilisation of mankind by so many leagues.I also came to know that before our arrival, human folk used bones and guts,painstakingly,to do the things which we are doing with ease and speed.I also came to know that a gentleman at a far away place known as France tried to do something similar like us but he could barely get away with his life and all his crafts and belongings were burnt to ashes by the enraged crowd,afraid of losing their lively hoods.Listening to this, I got scared of that hostile terrain.But my 'siblings' comforted me.I was told that things have been sorted out through a process known as 'Industrial Revolution'
I was told by 'senior members' of my clan that since 'life' has already been instilled,we are likely to be taken away from the present location,which they told to be the city of New york,in a country known as America,to different parts of the world.
Naturally my 'young mind' was excited and expectant to see New places and New people.
Very soon each of us were dressed for the occasion,put in beautiful jackets,embossed with golden monogram of our common generic name, a name given by our 'father'.In fact he had taken out a part of his own name to give it to us so that we can feel the pride of being associated with him.
Issac Merritt Singer was not an ordinary man and we,his children, were also determined to have our presence felt all over the world.
Initially,I was not very much respectful of my 'father' because of his little care for scruples in business but,afterwards, I changed my views when he amended and atoned his attitude.
Presently,silently,we took leave of each other and, as we could come to know that hardly there will be any more chance of seeing each other again.
I started my journey,crossing the vast expanse of blue water,which they called ocean,boarding on big floating object,which I came to know to be a ship.
The ship intermittently stopped at different places.I lost count of days and then the ship came to a halt,at a place known as the city of Calcutta,in a country known as India.
I came to know that India,at that time, was ruled by a British King and as well the city of Calcutta was the most precious Jewel of the crown of the Monarch.
When we had been taken out of the hold of the ship I saw people of different complexions,Black,White,Brown,dressed in different queer dresses,talking in languages which I had not heard before.
Finally the first phase of my journey came to an end and I was taken and placed on the displaying counter of a big shop,proudly flashing the hoarding 'Army Navy Stores',situated on one of the main boulevard of the city.
I knew that my real life was about to be started,the sole purpose of my coming into being will be put to test.Although I was apprehensive about my new phase of my life,I was determined to hold the banner of our clan aloft and resolved to remain faithful to my new would be master or mistress as I had come to know from one of my brothers,who had also come with me in the same ship and presently kept at a place adjacent to me,that soon we will find our places at different places of the city.
At last that fateful arrived.One bright complexioned gentleman,having features similar to Nordic people,along with a companion,came to the shop, had a look at me,paid the price and took me along with him.
Since quite some time this idea was gradually taking a firm grip on my thinking.I have started feeling that my days are being numbered and soon my limbs and different parts of my body will stop functioning,they are going to lose their rhythm..the very essence of my life.
Lying in the corner of a room of a desolate house,with closed doors and windows,where hardly there is any difference between day and night,where all sorts of mites and insects are having their field day...mocking at and sprawling over me-which they could never dared to do during my hey-days. I have waited for quite some years,expectantly,with a hope that days might change..perhaps I will again get the warmth of the feel of life..of joy and sorrow..of laughter and despair but with the passage of time the elixir of hope has hit the bottom and now only the Leese is left behind .Before that too gets emptied,I was thinking of writing an epitaph.But,alas,I am not a living being and I can not write any epitaph and apart from that I still feel that with the touch of a caring hand,like that of my last mistress,I can still have a long lease of life.
But over the years, I have come to know that hope and reality-these two step brothers are not in best of the terms.
So at last,I have decided to do some thing which I heard long ago from the discussion of a boy of this house with his friends during my golden bygone days.They had been discussing about the fate of a wretched fellow,like me,who was debarred to go out to his beloved from a plague infected settlement and ultimately that desperate man had gone to the fringe of that quarantined place, floated his words and gave vent to his feelings in the air with the hope that his message will be carried to the intended ears.I heard them talking that this fantastic idea was the brain child of some Albert Camus.I have decided to borrow this idea,fortunately still lingering with me,and I have resolved to resort to a soliloquy(like some tragic heroes,about whom also I had heard from them at that time) as I have got a trove of tales to tell.
I was not born in any hospital or under any medical care as a total entity,since those are meant for,so called, living beings.Different parts of mine were assembled together and I came into being at a place which is termed as factory.Just after my 'birth', I came to know from other members of my clan that how we have pushed the wheel of civilisation of mankind by so many leagues.I also came to know that before our arrival, human folk used bones and guts,painstakingly,to do the things which we are doing with ease and speed.I also came to know that a gentleman at a far away place known as France tried to do something similar like us but he could barely get away with his life and all his crafts and belongings were burnt to ashes by the enraged crowd,afraid of losing their lively hoods.Listening to this, I got scared of that hostile terrain.But my 'siblings' comforted me.I was told that things have been sorted out through a process known as 'Industrial Revolution'
I was told by 'senior members' of my clan that since 'life' has already been instilled,we are likely to be taken away from the present location,which they told to be the city of New york,in a country known as America,to different parts of the world.
Naturally my 'young mind' was excited and expectant to see New places and New people.
Very soon each of us were dressed for the occasion,put in beautiful jackets,embossed with golden monogram of our common generic name, a name given by our 'father'.In fact he had taken out a part of his own name to give it to us so that we can feel the pride of being associated with him.
Issac Merritt Singer was not an ordinary man and we,his children, were also determined to have our presence felt all over the world.
Initially,I was not very much respectful of my 'father' because of his little care for scruples in business but,afterwards, I changed my views when he amended and atoned his attitude.
Presently,silently,we took leave of each other and, as we could come to know that hardly there will be any more chance of seeing each other again.
I started my journey,crossing the vast expanse of blue water,which they called ocean,boarding on big floating object,which I came to know to be a ship.
The ship intermittently stopped at different places.I lost count of days and then the ship came to a halt,at a place known as the city of Calcutta,in a country known as India.
I came to know that India,at that time, was ruled by a British King and as well the city of Calcutta was the most precious Jewel of the crown of the Monarch.
When we had been taken out of the hold of the ship I saw people of different complexions,Black,White,Brown,dressed in different queer dresses,talking in languages which I had not heard before.
Finally the first phase of my journey came to an end and I was taken and placed on the displaying counter of a big shop,proudly flashing the hoarding 'Army Navy Stores',situated on one of the main boulevard of the city.
I knew that my real life was about to be started,the sole purpose of my coming into being will be put to test.Although I was apprehensive about my new phase of my life,I was determined to hold the banner of our clan aloft and resolved to remain faithful to my new would be master or mistress as I had come to know from one of my brothers,who had also come with me in the same ship and presently kept at a place adjacent to me,that soon we will find our places at different places of the city.
At last that fateful arrived.One bright complexioned gentleman,having features similar to Nordic people,along with a companion,came to the shop, had a look at me,paid the price and took me along with him.
In search of a missing link
"PROVIDENCE IS LOOKING AFTER HIM, HIS LIFE WILL FOLLOW ITS OWN COURSE..DON'T WORRY"...Holding this telegram from the savant,revered family Guru in hand,the gentleman and his wife was trying to put a rein on their grief and anxiety.
What else they could have done? The sudden disappearance of their eldest son,who was only twenty two years old and just crossed the final steps of Calcutta University, topping the list first class students of "A difficult branch of science" had totally shattered them.
Since this had happened at a time when abduction,ransom and the likes were very rare, they had searched all the possible places..with friends and relations..with hospitals,nursing homes and police stations and even with morgues..but drew a blank.
When such terrible things happen to a near and dear ones,and when reasoning and all practical approach do not yield any result,even the wisest men venture to seek for Divine Intervention and as such the old man,a professor by profession,wrote a letter to their family guru at Benaras and in return he got that telegram.
Indeed The Providence Looked after him.
Indeed his life followed its own course.
As otherwise how could I have this versatile genius of a man,who had already left seventy two springs behind him and still maintaining all the faculties of his incisive mind sitting by my side and taking me for a ride through different complicated areas of science, literature,history and arts...all with equal ease and lucidity?
Two years after his disappearance,he came back and there after lived a successful life of a teacher (retired as a head of his stream of science of a university),of a husband and of a father.
In fact, in my younger years,I had heard about the incident and there after when I grew up we met with each other,quite a number of times,but I had to keep my curiosity to myself.I did not dare to ask him to take me for a ride through those obscured years of his life.I was very much curious to know what a brilliant and idealistic boy in him did during those two years of time.
Perhaps he had some fancy,some affection for me ,perhaps the ambiance was conducive enough to open up the mind because he allowed me to have a peep at the pages of those years of his life ,sitting under shadow of a tree, in a mildly cold winter afternoon.
With few bucks in his pocket and with one set of garment,a wrapper and a rug in a cotton side bag, he left his home in one winter morning.
On the previous night,he went on,he had a vision that he was to meet with 'Some one' in the deep forest of 'Nimsha'..better known as 'Naimesharaynna'.He boarded a train,crossed some stations and detrained.After dis-embarking from the train and coming out of the station,he parted with the money,still lying with him by giving it to the beggars.Feeling light and comfortable, he started walking towards his destination.
But without money or any other means how could he keep his body going?Did he have to resort to begging?In reply,he simply gave a queer smile and told that food and shelter never posed as a problem.Although he was prepared to remain unfed or lie by the side of a road under the open sky,had that been the design of The divine power...but he always got some sort of shelter to rest or food to
eat.--whether it was in any city or a village or in the midst of any dense forest.
Although I did not get any day to day account of almost seven hundred days,he,,just to dispel any doubt of mine about his generalised version,cited one example.
On a particular day,he walked all through the day-crossing a remote area in the northern part of Biher,and at the end of the day,completely exhausted,he came near to a Meter-Gauge station.To take some rest,he sat on bench on the small waiting room, outside the platform...bracing himself to spend an un-fed day and night.
As he was sitting over there,a lady, draped in a black Burkha,accompanied by a child came and sat on the bench.The lady opened a bag and brought out some closed aluminium boxes.There after she started arranging Puries,curry and a few pieces of sweet on a plate made of 'Sal leaves'.After that,She softly told him..extending that loaded plate towards him 'Seva Kijyea' and walked away..holding the hand of that boy.....Days were coming and going,one after another and his feet, bearing the 'load' of his body and 'mind' were also crossing the expanse of land and humanity,regores of endurance and stages of salvation.In the mean time the needle of the compass of his journey changed its direction(the reason was beyond his perception) and instead of going towards 'Naimesharanya' he headed towards North..towards the Shrines and Caves on the lap of Himalayas.At a place near Karna Prayag,he met with a monk who in turn took him to his guru at his 'Akhra'.The first discourse of the Guru for him was to start with 'Seva'.As such, he used to get up much before the day-break and after smearing the whole of his person with ashes left at the site of the religious rites,to ward-off the intense cold ,he used to clean and sweep the floor of the Ashram,did the washing of the utensils used for different religious rites along with other daily chores and thereafter,just at the moment of 'day-break' he used to take a dip in the ice cold water. Subsequent drying up and further smearing of the body with ashes,his first secession of meditation of the day used to be started.As another part of his daily ritual he had to accompany two other inmates of the Ashram,to go to different villages down the hill.The villagers, on their own,used to give different provisions and vegetables to them, with which the Mohanto and other inmates used to sustain themselves.
He felt that finding him to be a literate fellow the Mohanto,like Father Perrout of Sangrila in the fictional novel of Lost Horizon, was trying to pass on the mantle of the Ashram to him and to make him his successor.But on one night while he was doing his meditation, he perceived that hardly he could make himself freed from the bindings of a domestic life.The same chores of procuring food, cooking and the likes still following him.But he had set out to get away from all these trifle things; He had set out to know the meaning of life,to know and perceive the inner meanings of strictures and scriptures of wise sages,coming down the line through thousands of years.Gradually, this feeling started taking hold of him and,to him, the ambiance of the Ashram became suffocating.He started feeling very un-easy.Ironically on the same day the Mohanto sent for him.
After giving him some religious discourse,for quite a length of time,the Mohanto suddenly told him that he had already learnt whatever he was to learn from that place and now it was time for him to move ahead,without having any reason to feel guilty or neither any reason of getting suffocated over there,asked him to leave that place after giving him some directions of the road and as well some directives to follow.
So after collecting his meagre belongings again he took to the road.With the sense of "Make Me Thy Lyre",he totally left it up to The Providence to chart the path for him to travel. He moved through different places, met different peoples but did not find anything to enlighten him further.
On one day, while he was trodding through a remote part of M.P,he found a bearded man with a rustic look having his meals, sitting under a tree, by the side of a narrow path weaving towards a forest.
As he was crossing him,that old man called him by his first name and asked him to share the food with him.A little stunned,he looked back at him...An old bearded man with a pair sharp eyes and piercing look but not in garb of a Sadhu.
He went to the stranger,sat by the side,and not to take anything for granted,asked suspiciously,how come that fellow could know his name.Without paying any heed to that question or giving any answer, the stranger handed over to him a part of his meal and asked him to eat the same.
When he finished the eating,the old man told him,in brief,everything from his fleeing from the house up to his present stage of mental dilemma..of longing and restlessness.
The Sadhu in disguise then told him to accompany him on his way to Amarkantak.So with his new found mentor he took the route to Amarkantak..sleeping wherever he was told to, eating whatever they could get on the way.One day they had been crossing through a dense forest.On the way he felt thirsty and hungry.The old man looked at him and asked him to sit by his side on a large boulder and told him not to worry and the food and water are being brought to him.Who would be bringing food in the midst of this dense forest..he kept asking himself and through the corner of his eye he saw the old man...unperturbed and smiling.
After some time he herd the voices of some ladies,talking amongst each other and the sound was heading towards them,and after a while three village women came to them and sat in front of them.Then from the baskets they had been carrying, they brought out 'Chapaties,Achar and water in an earthen pitcher.
They were the wives of wood cutters and went to give food to their husbands but as none of them felt like eating,they had been returning with the food in the baskets made of grass and twigs.They sat and waited there till the mentor and disciple finished their meals and then they departed towards the village climbing down the forest and the other two rose and started moving ahead..
With the setting of the Sun,the darkness descended in the forest.The old man lighted a small fire with dry leaves and twigs and asked his new found disciple to clean some area so that both of them could sleep there for the night.The myriads of all sorts of sounds,the puzzling behaviour of the old man along with the manifestation of his super-human qualities,kept him awake and he felt that sleep is not going to visit him easily.He found the old man was sleeping soundly by his side-a few paces away from him.After some time he herd a familiar sound.It was the the sound of movement of a reptile,probably a snake,through the twigs and dry leaves and the sound was coming nearer to them.He remained absolutely still and when the sound stopped,he waited with a bated breath and then he tried very slowly to look around.In the feeble moon light he figured out that a snake with open hood and raised head was sitting on the chest of the old man.He got frightened and failed to understand what should have been done by him.Any effort to drive that snake away or to wake up that old man could be proved to be fatal ,as he could figure out from the glistening hood and body,the snake to be a poisonous cobra;Without any movement,he kept looking at that sight,almost holding his breath.The old man continued his peaceful sleep and the snake with its open hood and raised head kept sitting on his chest,motionless,as if to maintain some entrusted vigil;Almost without any blink,he kept looking on and could not feel how the night had passed.The chirping and twittering of birds along with the dilution of darkness made him aware of the approaching day-break.Suddenly he saw that,with the dilution of darkness and the advent of day-break,the snake shrunk its hood,disembarked from the chest of the old man and went away into the forest.
After some time,the old man woke up from his sleep and looking at his drawn face and blood-red eyes asked him whether he remained awake or feeling feverish?He told the mentor about the incident of the night.The old man did not attribute much importance to that incident and told him not to worry or pay any heed if he came across any similar incident in future..without any further explanation.He could not under stand the meaning of his sayings.
Presently, the old man told him to start walking in a hurry so that they could reach the bank of river Narmada as early as possible.They arrived to the bank of the river at the evening.The old man asked him to tie his meagre belongings to his body as they were to swim across the river.
He was finding it difficult to swim against the strong current of the cold water with his exhausted body.The old man was swimming with long strides along with him.Gradually he came to the verge of total exhaustion.In the dim moon-light he saw a floating piece of wood and, out of desperation,using his total residual energy,surged towards it and caught hold of that floating log and tried to remain afloat by clinging to that log.But his body and limbs started getting numb and then he lost his consciousness.
When he came back to his senses he found him lying in the bed of hot sand at the other bank of the river.The sun was almost at the middle of the sky.He also found that except his head,the rest of the part of his naked body to be covered with sand.He found that old man sitting by his side and as well two other men from a nearby village were also standing there.
The old man told him not to make any move and as well told something to one of the men.Soon that man came back with a small earthen pitcher filled with hot milk along with an earthen glass.The old man pour some milk to the glass,mixed some crushed herbs and raising his head with one hand,slowly poured the milk into the mouth.The process continued till the pitcher got emptied.He saw the old man to tell something to one of the villagers and went away with the other villager.One,who was left behind,stood there and kept a vigil on him.Again he went to sleep and in his subconsciousness he felt that the sand covering his body was being replaced by hotter sands of the shore.
After about a couple of hours,he became awake and opening his eyes he saw the old man sitting by his side.Although he was running with high fever,he felt much restoration of his energy.Now on a closer look he saw that the old man had brought another villager and with a piece of rug and branches of wood already had made an improvised stretcher.Covering his modesty with his dried clothes,all four of them placed him on the semblance of a stretcher,and carried him to a hut in a near by village.He stayed there for almost one month and gradually he was coming round and regaining his strength.During that one month,he was given herbal medicine with milk,almost a pitcher full a day and a bowl of 'ghee' at night.Bur he found this queer medication had brought him back to his self and he became rest less to resume his journey.One morning,after having his bath and meditation,when he was coming back from the bank of Narmada,he saw the old man ,sitting still like a piece of stone,deep in meditation,by the side of the river.That day,after finishing the evening rites,the old man told him that he has had the vision and received his guidance.On tomorrow morning,the old man,will perform the necessary rites and will pass on the spiritual path finding teachings to him,but by proxy,acting on behalf of the person he was to see at Naimesharanya. Accordingly on the following day every thing went on, as discussed earlier,since after that ritual,he found himself to be a completely different man---in spiritual sense...the difference experienced by him was not explained to me...neither did I ask him anything about that.Next day,the Old man told him that what was to be given to him had already been given and now it was time for him to move ahead,in that charted path,on his own,as well God has got a different design for him.He is to live simultaneously a dual life....to live the life of an unpretentious sage and also the life of a wise man,serving the God in a different way-- by showing right path to others and delivering a host of good souls to the God.So he had to take leave of the old man and started heading for his 'root'.On the following day,abiding the advise given to him,he headed for his home.A few days later,a thought crossed his mind.He started thinking of going to 'Sringeri Math' of Sankaracharya to further sanctify his soul.Accordingly,at a crossing near Bilashpur,he enquired about the direction of the road that will lead him towards southern part of India from a man,appeared to be a nomad,sitting in a way side tea shop.That man gave a patient hearing,looked at him,became enthusiastic and told him that he had also a habit of visiting religious places,offered him a cup of tea and became ready to accompany him.Soon after, both of them started moving.But before they had crossed more than hundred yards,a man suddenly came running to him,caught hold of one of his hands,and asked him where he was heading for?He told the stranger where he had been going along with that man and turned his head for the confirmation from his companion.But on turning his head,he did not find his new companion and on a closer look he could see a man,at a long distance from him and running away from him as fast as possible.Being perplexed,he looked at this new gentleman with questions in his eyes.This man simply told him to accompany him to his house.After offering him a cot to sit on and giving him food and milk,that man sat by his side and told him that at the right moment he was intercepted as otherwise,by that time,he would have been a corpse rather than a living being drinking milk,being murdered by that man.But why?He exclaimed.That man appeared to be quite friendly and innocent and as well he did not have any earthly possessions for which one can venture to murder him.He requested the villager to explain and heard the explanation.That man was a professional murderer,that he becomes friendly with innocent passers by and after taking them to a desolate place,on some pretext or other,and commits the murder and as regarding his earthly possessions,he pointed towards the gold ring on his index finger....a gift of his mother he had forgotten to part with.The villager kept him over there for three days and during this time made the necessary arrangements for his return to his home.So almost after two years he came back to his parents.But he felt one problem.The first part of the advice of his Guru,by proxy,was understood by him and he knew what he was to do.But what about the other part of the advise?How he could live a meaningful life in the best possible way.Having the information of his return,offers for different jobs started pouring in.His professors started asking him to go abroad for higher studies.Lucrative assignments from foreign concerns were also coming to him.Now he was to decide his future course of Life.After much thinking he resolved that....1)He will not work in any factory or in any commercial establishment and 2)He will take up the profession of teaching as through this means he will be able to instill the sense of self dignity,sense of honesty,sense of mental cleanliness to his students and as well he will be able to transmit his wisdom to them.He began his life as a junior professor of a University and after successfully discharging the duty entrusted on him,he retired as Head of the department.
After coming to this point,the gentleman became silent,kept staring at the crimson-miracle...the setting Sun.Perhaps he was reminiscing those bygone days,Perhaps he was verifying the 'balance sheet' of life prescribed for him....
Birds,above on the tree, returning to the nest from their day long forays and through chirping in obscured language,perhaps had been exchanging respective encounters and experiences,in the process of survival for the day...
The gentleman suddenly broke his silence,put an affectionate hand on my shoulder and urged me softly to accompany him to his house for a cup of tea...
What else they could have done? The sudden disappearance of their eldest son,who was only twenty two years old and just crossed the final steps of Calcutta University, topping the list first class students of "A difficult branch of science" had totally shattered them.
Since this had happened at a time when abduction,ransom and the likes were very rare, they had searched all the possible places..with friends and relations..with hospitals,nursing homes and police stations and even with morgues..but drew a blank.
When such terrible things happen to a near and dear ones,and when reasoning and all practical approach do not yield any result,even the wisest men venture to seek for Divine Intervention and as such the old man,a professor by profession,wrote a letter to their family guru at Benaras and in return he got that telegram.
Indeed The Providence Looked after him.
Indeed his life followed its own course.
As otherwise how could I have this versatile genius of a man,who had already left seventy two springs behind him and still maintaining all the faculties of his incisive mind sitting by my side and taking me for a ride through different complicated areas of science, literature,history and arts...all with equal ease and lucidity?
Two years after his disappearance,he came back and there after lived a successful life of a teacher (retired as a head of his stream of science of a university),of a husband and of a father.
In fact, in my younger years,I had heard about the incident and there after when I grew up we met with each other,quite a number of times,but I had to keep my curiosity to myself.I did not dare to ask him to take me for a ride through those obscured years of his life.I was very much curious to know what a brilliant and idealistic boy in him did during those two years of time.
Perhaps he had some fancy,some affection for me ,perhaps the ambiance was conducive enough to open up the mind because he allowed me to have a peep at the pages of those years of his life ,sitting under shadow of a tree, in a mildly cold winter afternoon.
With few bucks in his pocket and with one set of garment,a wrapper and a rug in a cotton side bag, he left his home in one winter morning.
On the previous night,he went on,he had a vision that he was to meet with 'Some one' in the deep forest of 'Nimsha'..better known as 'Naimesharaynna'.He boarded a train,crossed some stations and detrained.After dis-embarking from the train and coming out of the station,he parted with the money,still lying with him by giving it to the beggars.Feeling light and comfortable, he started walking towards his destination.
But without money or any other means how could he keep his body going?Did he have to resort to begging?In reply,he simply gave a queer smile and told that food and shelter never posed as a problem.Although he was prepared to remain unfed or lie by the side of a road under the open sky,had that been the design of The divine power...but he always got some sort of shelter to rest or food to
eat.--whether it was in any city or a village or in the midst of any dense forest.
Although I did not get any day to day account of almost seven hundred days,he,,just to dispel any doubt of mine about his generalised version,cited one example.
On a particular day,he walked all through the day-crossing a remote area in the northern part of Biher,and at the end of the day,completely exhausted,he came near to a Meter-Gauge station.To take some rest,he sat on bench on the small waiting room, outside the platform...bracing himself to spend an un-fed day and night.
As he was sitting over there,a lady, draped in a black Burkha,accompanied by a child came and sat on the bench.The lady opened a bag and brought out some closed aluminium boxes.There after she started arranging Puries,curry and a few pieces of sweet on a plate made of 'Sal leaves'.After that,She softly told him..extending that loaded plate towards him 'Seva Kijyea' and walked away..holding the hand of that boy.....Days were coming and going,one after another and his feet, bearing the 'load' of his body and 'mind' were also crossing the expanse of land and humanity,regores of endurance and stages of salvation.In the mean time the needle of the compass of his journey changed its direction(the reason was beyond his perception) and instead of going towards 'Naimesharanya' he headed towards North..towards the Shrines and Caves on the lap of Himalayas.At a place near Karna Prayag,he met with a monk who in turn took him to his guru at his 'Akhra'.The first discourse of the Guru for him was to start with 'Seva'.As such, he used to get up much before the day-break and after smearing the whole of his person with ashes left at the site of the religious rites,to ward-off the intense cold ,he used to clean and sweep the floor of the Ashram,did the washing of the utensils used for different religious rites along with other daily chores and thereafter,just at the moment of 'day-break' he used to take a dip in the ice cold water. Subsequent drying up and further smearing of the body with ashes,his first secession of meditation of the day used to be started.As another part of his daily ritual he had to accompany two other inmates of the Ashram,to go to different villages down the hill.The villagers, on their own,used to give different provisions and vegetables to them, with which the Mohanto and other inmates used to sustain themselves.
He felt that finding him to be a literate fellow the Mohanto,like Father Perrout of Sangrila in the fictional novel of Lost Horizon, was trying to pass on the mantle of the Ashram to him and to make him his successor.But on one night while he was doing his meditation, he perceived that hardly he could make himself freed from the bindings of a domestic life.The same chores of procuring food, cooking and the likes still following him.But he had set out to get away from all these trifle things; He had set out to know the meaning of life,to know and perceive the inner meanings of strictures and scriptures of wise sages,coming down the line through thousands of years.Gradually, this feeling started taking hold of him and,to him, the ambiance of the Ashram became suffocating.He started feeling very un-easy.Ironically on the same day the Mohanto sent for him.
After giving him some religious discourse,for quite a length of time,the Mohanto suddenly told him that he had already learnt whatever he was to learn from that place and now it was time for him to move ahead,without having any reason to feel guilty or neither any reason of getting suffocated over there,asked him to leave that place after giving him some directions of the road and as well some directives to follow.
So after collecting his meagre belongings again he took to the road.With the sense of "Make Me Thy Lyre",he totally left it up to The Providence to chart the path for him to travel. He moved through different places, met different peoples but did not find anything to enlighten him further.
On one day, while he was trodding through a remote part of M.P,he found a bearded man with a rustic look having his meals, sitting under a tree, by the side of a narrow path weaving towards a forest.
As he was crossing him,that old man called him by his first name and asked him to share the food with him.A little stunned,he looked back at him...An old bearded man with a pair sharp eyes and piercing look but not in garb of a Sadhu.
He went to the stranger,sat by the side,and not to take anything for granted,asked suspiciously,how come that fellow could know his name.Without paying any heed to that question or giving any answer, the stranger handed over to him a part of his meal and asked him to eat the same.
When he finished the eating,the old man told him,in brief,everything from his fleeing from the house up to his present stage of mental dilemma..of longing and restlessness.
The Sadhu in disguise then told him to accompany him on his way to Amarkantak.So with his new found mentor he took the route to Amarkantak..sleeping wherever he was told to, eating whatever they could get on the way.One day they had been crossing through a dense forest.On the way he felt thirsty and hungry.The old man looked at him and asked him to sit by his side on a large boulder and told him not to worry and the food and water are being brought to him.Who would be bringing food in the midst of this dense forest..he kept asking himself and through the corner of his eye he saw the old man...unperturbed and smiling.
After some time he herd the voices of some ladies,talking amongst each other and the sound was heading towards them,and after a while three village women came to them and sat in front of them.Then from the baskets they had been carrying, they brought out 'Chapaties,Achar and water in an earthen pitcher.
They were the wives of wood cutters and went to give food to their husbands but as none of them felt like eating,they had been returning with the food in the baskets made of grass and twigs.They sat and waited there till the mentor and disciple finished their meals and then they departed towards the village climbing down the forest and the other two rose and started moving ahead..
With the setting of the Sun,the darkness descended in the forest.The old man lighted a small fire with dry leaves and twigs and asked his new found disciple to clean some area so that both of them could sleep there for the night.The myriads of all sorts of sounds,the puzzling behaviour of the old man along with the manifestation of his super-human qualities,kept him awake and he felt that sleep is not going to visit him easily.He found the old man was sleeping soundly by his side-a few paces away from him.After some time he herd a familiar sound.It was the the sound of movement of a reptile,probably a snake,through the twigs and dry leaves and the sound was coming nearer to them.He remained absolutely still and when the sound stopped,he waited with a bated breath and then he tried very slowly to look around.In the feeble moon light he figured out that a snake with open hood and raised head was sitting on the chest of the old man.He got frightened and failed to understand what should have been done by him.Any effort to drive that snake away or to wake up that old man could be proved to be fatal ,as he could figure out from the glistening hood and body,the snake to be a poisonous cobra;Without any movement,he kept looking at that sight,almost holding his breath.The old man continued his peaceful sleep and the snake with its open hood and raised head kept sitting on his chest,motionless,as if to maintain some entrusted vigil;Almost without any blink,he kept looking on and could not feel how the night had passed.The chirping and twittering of birds along with the dilution of darkness made him aware of the approaching day-break.Suddenly he saw that,with the dilution of darkness and the advent of day-break,the snake shrunk its hood,disembarked from the chest of the old man and went away into the forest.
After some time,the old man woke up from his sleep and looking at his drawn face and blood-red eyes asked him whether he remained awake or feeling feverish?He told the mentor about the incident of the night.The old man did not attribute much importance to that incident and told him not to worry or pay any heed if he came across any similar incident in future..without any further explanation.He could not under stand the meaning of his sayings.
Presently, the old man told him to start walking in a hurry so that they could reach the bank of river Narmada as early as possible.They arrived to the bank of the river at the evening.The old man asked him to tie his meagre belongings to his body as they were to swim across the river.
He was finding it difficult to swim against the strong current of the cold water with his exhausted body.The old man was swimming with long strides along with him.Gradually he came to the verge of total exhaustion.In the dim moon-light he saw a floating piece of wood and, out of desperation,using his total residual energy,surged towards it and caught hold of that floating log and tried to remain afloat by clinging to that log.But his body and limbs started getting numb and then he lost his consciousness.
When he came back to his senses he found him lying in the bed of hot sand at the other bank of the river.The sun was almost at the middle of the sky.He also found that except his head,the rest of the part of his naked body to be covered with sand.He found that old man sitting by his side and as well two other men from a nearby village were also standing there.
The old man told him not to make any move and as well told something to one of the men.Soon that man came back with a small earthen pitcher filled with hot milk along with an earthen glass.The old man pour some milk to the glass,mixed some crushed herbs and raising his head with one hand,slowly poured the milk into the mouth.The process continued till the pitcher got emptied.He saw the old man to tell something to one of the villagers and went away with the other villager.One,who was left behind,stood there and kept a vigil on him.Again he went to sleep and in his subconsciousness he felt that the sand covering his body was being replaced by hotter sands of the shore.
After about a couple of hours,he became awake and opening his eyes he saw the old man sitting by his side.Although he was running with high fever,he felt much restoration of his energy.Now on a closer look he saw that the old man had brought another villager and with a piece of rug and branches of wood already had made an improvised stretcher.Covering his modesty with his dried clothes,all four of them placed him on the semblance of a stretcher,and carried him to a hut in a near by village.He stayed there for almost one month and gradually he was coming round and regaining his strength.During that one month,he was given herbal medicine with milk,almost a pitcher full a day and a bowl of 'ghee' at night.Bur he found this queer medication had brought him back to his self and he became rest less to resume his journey.One morning,after having his bath and meditation,when he was coming back from the bank of Narmada,he saw the old man ,sitting still like a piece of stone,deep in meditation,by the side of the river.That day,after finishing the evening rites,the old man told him that he has had the vision and received his guidance.On tomorrow morning,the old man,will perform the necessary rites and will pass on the spiritual path finding teachings to him,but by proxy,acting on behalf of the person he was to see at Naimesharanya. Accordingly on the following day every thing went on, as discussed earlier,since after that ritual,he found himself to be a completely different man---in spiritual sense...the difference experienced by him was not explained to me...neither did I ask him anything about that.Next day,the Old man told him that what was to be given to him had already been given and now it was time for him to move ahead,in that charted path,on his own,as well God has got a different design for him.He is to live simultaneously a dual life....to live the life of an unpretentious sage and also the life of a wise man,serving the God in a different way-- by showing right path to others and delivering a host of good souls to the God.So he had to take leave of the old man and started heading for his 'root'.On the following day,abiding the advise given to him,he headed for his home.A few days later,a thought crossed his mind.He started thinking of going to 'Sringeri Math' of Sankaracharya to further sanctify his soul.Accordingly,at a crossing near Bilashpur,he enquired about the direction of the road that will lead him towards southern part of India from a man,appeared to be a nomad,sitting in a way side tea shop.That man gave a patient hearing,looked at him,became enthusiastic and told him that he had also a habit of visiting religious places,offered him a cup of tea and became ready to accompany him.Soon after, both of them started moving.But before they had crossed more than hundred yards,a man suddenly came running to him,caught hold of one of his hands,and asked him where he was heading for?He told the stranger where he had been going along with that man and turned his head for the confirmation from his companion.But on turning his head,he did not find his new companion and on a closer look he could see a man,at a long distance from him and running away from him as fast as possible.Being perplexed,he looked at this new gentleman with questions in his eyes.This man simply told him to accompany him to his house.After offering him a cot to sit on and giving him food and milk,that man sat by his side and told him that at the right moment he was intercepted as otherwise,by that time,he would have been a corpse rather than a living being drinking milk,being murdered by that man.But why?He exclaimed.That man appeared to be quite friendly and innocent and as well he did not have any earthly possessions for which one can venture to murder him.He requested the villager to explain and heard the explanation.That man was a professional murderer,that he becomes friendly with innocent passers by and after taking them to a desolate place,on some pretext or other,and commits the murder and as regarding his earthly possessions,he pointed towards the gold ring on his index finger....a gift of his mother he had forgotten to part with.The villager kept him over there for three days and during this time made the necessary arrangements for his return to his home.So almost after two years he came back to his parents.But he felt one problem.The first part of the advice of his Guru,by proxy,was understood by him and he knew what he was to do.But what about the other part of the advise?How he could live a meaningful life in the best possible way.Having the information of his return,offers for different jobs started pouring in.His professors started asking him to go abroad for higher studies.Lucrative assignments from foreign concerns were also coming to him.Now he was to decide his future course of Life.After much thinking he resolved that....1)He will not work in any factory or in any commercial establishment and 2)He will take up the profession of teaching as through this means he will be able to instill the sense of self dignity,sense of honesty,sense of mental cleanliness to his students and as well he will be able to transmit his wisdom to them.He began his life as a junior professor of a University and after successfully discharging the duty entrusted on him,he retired as Head of the department.
After coming to this point,the gentleman became silent,kept staring at the crimson-miracle...the setting Sun.Perhaps he was reminiscing those bygone days,Perhaps he was verifying the 'balance sheet' of life prescribed for him....
Birds,above on the tree, returning to the nest from their day long forays and through chirping in obscured language,perhaps had been exchanging respective encounters and experiences,in the process of survival for the day...
The gentleman suddenly broke his silence,put an affectionate hand on my shoulder and urged me softly to accompany him to his house for a cup of tea...
The tale of a walking shadow
(1)
This had happened during the golden era of All India Radio.The audition test ended smoothly.The 'Ustad' was highly satisfied and enthusiastically told the young boy,over the intercom,"Very good,Very Very Promising;Sing one more song...My child."
As the jubilation and enthusiasm of audition arena started picking up the tempo,after such a frank and open comments of the Greatest Classical Hindustani Musical exponent of that time,very much well known also for his fastidious nature,all of them saw with utter dis-belief and awe that the young singer of the audition room took of all the gadgets from his person,went straight to the Ustad Gulam Ali and told him that he only sings whenever he wishes to and for his own joy and satisfaction and never at the behest of any body else...and saying so he stomped out of the room and mingled with the crowd. A small report appeared on the News papers of the following day,highlighting the audacity of the young singer and as well with a small comment of the Ustad that he had never seen before such a haughty musical genius and,unfortunately, surely his talent is bound to remain un-tapped.The news lingered for a few more days in the musical circle and then passed to the limbo of oblivion.
( 2 )
Did you notice any commotion in the road on your way to the school?The question was from a colleague of mine..a teacher of the school where I had been teaching at that time.No..I did not find anything unusual...I answered. He went one step ahead and specified the spot he wanted to mean and asked to think again for any indication worth while to notice.Now I remembered that although as such no commotion was there but something unusual I had definitely spotted at that place.On any other day,I always found,seated on the veranda of a house near the crossing of Nanda Kumar Road,close to the post-office,a thin dhoti-punjabi clad young man in his late twenties,surrounded by a group of young boys.But on that day,neither that man nor those boys were there.In fact,the stubs of un-shaved beard,the deshelved hair,the lighted cigarette in one hand and an earthen cup of tea at the other hand along with his authoritative attitude of conducting the conversation,only a glimpse of which I could see while crossing that small stretch of road,made him a 'stand alone' personality and that is why I could identify the happening when the 'spot' was mentioned by that colleague.Finding him much worried, I asked him about the reason which was bothering him.He sarcastically replied that it is not possible for some one like me,who is still smelling of the milk of his mother...an oblique remark about my tender age...the meaning and subsequent consequences of arresting 'Muloh'.A law and order problem will be there-in and around that area,school is likely to remain closed for 3/4 days leading to leave without pay for a family man but what with that to you...he said so pointing his fingers to me...as if my long walk from my house and the hard toil through out the day was a past time for me.But has he got any political affiliation?I did not get the answer from my colleague but I came to know every thing from the animated discussions in the Teachers room.
'Muloh' is the para-pet name of Shyamal Roy,member of a respectable and wealthy family of that area,someone with a mercurial temperament and a kind heart,haughty but generally respectful to his seniors,commands authority over that area although he does not have any political affiliation and has got both friends and good number of foes too.Some one of them also told that he could have been,by this time,an All India Figure in the world of Classical Music had he shown a little bit of restraint during his audition test.From the last information I had again been reminded about the vulnerability of the 'poor player' who is not aware of the 'play' he is to enact 'upon the stage' ....when and where...before heading for the wings.
( 3 )
A Musical Soiree,covering three nights, had been organised,three years after that incident during third week of the month of December.First night was ear marked for classical musical events.I had arrived early to have a seat to my choice ,for covering the whole night,since as per the system of those days,the function was organised in the play ground ....adjoining the Municipal Building. After being seated comfortably on the tarpaulin,padded underneath with straw to keep cold at bay, I looked around for a known face.The attendance was sparse and sale of the tickets were much less than expected as the programme had coincided with a much well known Sangeet Sanmelan of Calcutta.Most of the Organisers,along with Badges,were also wearing a distinctly noticeable worried face.Suddenly I saw a known face,an Epitome of confidence and Non challance. The owner of the face hurriedly crossed me ,with a lighted cigarette dangling from the grip of his fingers.I came to know that Muloh was the 'Prime mover' of that Classical Musical Night Event.Presently I found Muloh escorting Pandit Joshi to the Dias.Although Ustad Gulam Ali was still alive,much younger Joshi had already become the Un-crowned King of the Hindustani Classical Musical Exponents of India.Pursuing his vocation right from his childhood,blessed with the encouragement of his School Teacher Father,Joshi did not even hesitate to work as a house servant of a Film Actor at the far away city of Calcutta as that was to help him to achieve his goal...to muster the intricacies of Classical Music.The Singing started and 'suddenly' it ended but I found in my wrist watch the 'hand' for the hour had advanced by four places and during these four hours I did not know where I had been taken to by the magical voice of that man,immaculately dressed in a Black Suite and a matching Necktie,sitting crossed legged on the Dias with a ram-rod straight spine.As he was getting up and we were trying to come to terms with the change of our mood,we saw Muloh approaching Pandit Joshi,with folded hands,to shower the gift of a 'Bhajan' of 'Brahmanada'.Joshi complied with a smiling face and 'Paradise' descended for another forty five minutes.Pandit Joshi took leave of the audience,amidst thunderous applauds and I left my place to go outside the auditorium to smoke a cigarette and to quietly savour the ecstatic feelings just been experienced.As I lighted the cigarette,I saw the quick movements of some people heading towards the the temporary Rest Room Of the Artists and as well I heard some louder voices.Crushing the cigarette under my feet, I immediately headed towards that place.The sight I saw there was difficult for me to believe.I saw Muloh,kneeling down in front of Pandit Joshi,with his head on the pair of shoes of Joshi,weeping profusely.What I could surmise from his smothered utterance and intermittent assurance of Joshi,that he never met with such situation in his life,that his associates have let him down and he begged to be pardoned by Joshi and as well requested Joshi to consider the situation and to accept Only Two Hundred Rupees ,which he could manage to collect instead of his minimum fees of Five Hundred And One Rupees.Pandit Joshi took some time to grasp the situation and then holding firmly his shoulders, raised him on his feet,led him inside the room and asked him tenderly to sit on the sofa.He then took out notes of Three Hundred Rupees,gave them to Muloh and asked for a coin of One Rupee.While taking the coin of one rupee and stuffing three hundred rupees forcibly into the pocket of Muloh and he told him that he had taken a part of his fees as otherwise it would have been an insult to the music and leaving the rest of the money for paying to the other artists so that some one like you,dedicated to the cause of classical music, may not get humiliated.As Pandit Joshi was boarding his car for the Calcutta event,Muloh again touched his feet.Joshi patted his back and sped away after blessing him.Lights turned dim,accompanying instruments were being tuned.A voice announced the next programme.The singer will take the audience,with his vocal charm to the Mystic world of 'Malkosh'.But who could be that charmer?....To sit and sing from the place just been vacated by Pandit Bhimshen Joshi requires a Singer with a Lion's heart,...an undaunted soul completely dedicated to music?
Oblivious to the surrounding world,Muloh started the Alap holding his Tanpura in one hand.
This had happened during the golden era of All India Radio.The audition test ended smoothly.The 'Ustad' was highly satisfied and enthusiastically told the young boy,over the intercom,"Very good,Very Very Promising;Sing one more song...My child."
As the jubilation and enthusiasm of audition arena started picking up the tempo,after such a frank and open comments of the Greatest Classical Hindustani Musical exponent of that time,very much well known also for his fastidious nature,all of them saw with utter dis-belief and awe that the young singer of the audition room took of all the gadgets from his person,went straight to the Ustad Gulam Ali and told him that he only sings whenever he wishes to and for his own joy and satisfaction and never at the behest of any body else...and saying so he stomped out of the room and mingled with the crowd. A small report appeared on the News papers of the following day,highlighting the audacity of the young singer and as well with a small comment of the Ustad that he had never seen before such a haughty musical genius and,unfortunately, surely his talent is bound to remain un-tapped.The news lingered for a few more days in the musical circle and then passed to the limbo of oblivion.
( 2 )
Did you notice any commotion in the road on your way to the school?The question was from a colleague of mine..a teacher of the school where I had been teaching at that time.No..I did not find anything unusual...I answered. He went one step ahead and specified the spot he wanted to mean and asked to think again for any indication worth while to notice.Now I remembered that although as such no commotion was there but something unusual I had definitely spotted at that place.On any other day,I always found,seated on the veranda of a house near the crossing of Nanda Kumar Road,close to the post-office,a thin dhoti-punjabi clad young man in his late twenties,surrounded by a group of young boys.But on that day,neither that man nor those boys were there.In fact,the stubs of un-shaved beard,the deshelved hair,the lighted cigarette in one hand and an earthen cup of tea at the other hand along with his authoritative attitude of conducting the conversation,only a glimpse of which I could see while crossing that small stretch of road,made him a 'stand alone' personality and that is why I could identify the happening when the 'spot' was mentioned by that colleague.Finding him much worried, I asked him about the reason which was bothering him.He sarcastically replied that it is not possible for some one like me,who is still smelling of the milk of his mother...an oblique remark about my tender age...the meaning and subsequent consequences of arresting 'Muloh'.A law and order problem will be there-in and around that area,school is likely to remain closed for 3/4 days leading to leave without pay for a family man but what with that to you...he said so pointing his fingers to me...as if my long walk from my house and the hard toil through out the day was a past time for me.But has he got any political affiliation?I did not get the answer from my colleague but I came to know every thing from the animated discussions in the Teachers room.
'Muloh' is the para-pet name of Shyamal Roy,member of a respectable and wealthy family of that area,someone with a mercurial temperament and a kind heart,haughty but generally respectful to his seniors,commands authority over that area although he does not have any political affiliation and has got both friends and good number of foes too.Some one of them also told that he could have been,by this time,an All India Figure in the world of Classical Music had he shown a little bit of restraint during his audition test.From the last information I had again been reminded about the vulnerability of the 'poor player' who is not aware of the 'play' he is to enact 'upon the stage' ....when and where...before heading for the wings.
( 3 )
A Musical Soiree,covering three nights, had been organised,three years after that incident during third week of the month of December.First night was ear marked for classical musical events.I had arrived early to have a seat to my choice ,for covering the whole night,since as per the system of those days,the function was organised in the play ground ....adjoining the Municipal Building. After being seated comfortably on the tarpaulin,padded underneath with straw to keep cold at bay, I looked around for a known face.The attendance was sparse and sale of the tickets were much less than expected as the programme had coincided with a much well known Sangeet Sanmelan of Calcutta.Most of the Organisers,along with Badges,were also wearing a distinctly noticeable worried face.Suddenly I saw a known face,an Epitome of confidence and Non challance. The owner of the face hurriedly crossed me ,with a lighted cigarette dangling from the grip of his fingers.I came to know that Muloh was the 'Prime mover' of that Classical Musical Night Event.Presently I found Muloh escorting Pandit Joshi to the Dias.Although Ustad Gulam Ali was still alive,much younger Joshi had already become the Un-crowned King of the Hindustani Classical Musical Exponents of India.Pursuing his vocation right from his childhood,blessed with the encouragement of his School Teacher Father,Joshi did not even hesitate to work as a house servant of a Film Actor at the far away city of Calcutta as that was to help him to achieve his goal...to muster the intricacies of Classical Music.The Singing started and 'suddenly' it ended but I found in my wrist watch the 'hand' for the hour had advanced by four places and during these four hours I did not know where I had been taken to by the magical voice of that man,immaculately dressed in a Black Suite and a matching Necktie,sitting crossed legged on the Dias with a ram-rod straight spine.As he was getting up and we were trying to come to terms with the change of our mood,we saw Muloh approaching Pandit Joshi,with folded hands,to shower the gift of a 'Bhajan' of 'Brahmanada'.Joshi complied with a smiling face and 'Paradise' descended for another forty five minutes.Pandit Joshi took leave of the audience,amidst thunderous applauds and I left my place to go outside the auditorium to smoke a cigarette and to quietly savour the ecstatic feelings just been experienced.As I lighted the cigarette,I saw the quick movements of some people heading towards the the temporary Rest Room Of the Artists and as well I heard some louder voices.Crushing the cigarette under my feet, I immediately headed towards that place.The sight I saw there was difficult for me to believe.I saw Muloh,kneeling down in front of Pandit Joshi,with his head on the pair of shoes of Joshi,weeping profusely.What I could surmise from his smothered utterance and intermittent assurance of Joshi,that he never met with such situation in his life,that his associates have let him down and he begged to be pardoned by Joshi and as well requested Joshi to consider the situation and to accept Only Two Hundred Rupees ,which he could manage to collect instead of his minimum fees of Five Hundred And One Rupees.Pandit Joshi took some time to grasp the situation and then holding firmly his shoulders, raised him on his feet,led him inside the room and asked him tenderly to sit on the sofa.He then took out notes of Three Hundred Rupees,gave them to Muloh and asked for a coin of One Rupee.While taking the coin of one rupee and stuffing three hundred rupees forcibly into the pocket of Muloh and he told him that he had taken a part of his fees as otherwise it would have been an insult to the music and leaving the rest of the money for paying to the other artists so that some one like you,dedicated to the cause of classical music, may not get humiliated.As Pandit Joshi was boarding his car for the Calcutta event,Muloh again touched his feet.Joshi patted his back and sped away after blessing him.Lights turned dim,accompanying instruments were being tuned.A voice announced the next programme.The singer will take the audience,with his vocal charm to the Mystic world of 'Malkosh'.But who could be that charmer?....To sit and sing from the place just been vacated by Pandit Bhimshen Joshi requires a Singer with a Lion's heart,...an undaunted soul completely dedicated to music?
Oblivious to the surrounding world,Muloh started the Alap holding his Tanpura in one hand.
The confession of a smoker
The cursory assuring 'Plastic' smile of The Doctor,draped in white-apron with a Stetho around the neck and hoards of boys and girls in toe ended the daily evening ritual in the condemned ward of a city Government Hospital.
The patient of corner-bed of the first row saw it all,trying to keep the intense pain under control with gritted teeth.
A Hospital is meant for patients,A Human body can pretty well get infected with a disease but even then his mind was racing fast to a long past era,trying to track a train of incidents ,before he gets run out of his time......
'A Pair of Parrots',along with a 'catch them young' phrase adorning a tastefully decorated hoarding of a good- brand of cigarette was abundant in the city,along with other modes advertisements of tobacco products, always with an almost invisible one-liner statutory warning hardly ever caught his attention,more intensely than a passing tram or a bus or an un-known passers-by.
He was trying hard to exactly ascertain the date and time he had lit the first stick?Was it at some small hour of a Cold December Night? With Harry Weber in the company?Could not figure out.But whether it was Harry or Some one else,he was certain that it was on a cold winter night during one of his Night shifts.
The thing which was bothering him was not the initiator,neither the time but why and how he took the first draft?A room-mate smoking four packs of Macho brand of cig...The Charminar...never even drew a fleeting glance from him,what to speak of interest of having a puff.Curtain changed.Another room mate and a chain-smoker of a better brand of cigarette failed to entice him to go for a casual fag;
The patient passed out for a while,a male nurse reluctantly came near the bed but did nothing.After some time,on his own,he came to his senses.
With all his might,he was trying hard to turn the wheel of the pulley of time to raise a curtain of one of the days of his past life....At last the curtain raised,he found a young man standing in front of a baldy, old man,with specks on..sitting on a bed-stead.The head of the boy was hung low,eyes pointed towards his toe,obviously he was in shame;.
But what was expected did not happen.The young man,as apprehended,did not receive any scolding;On the contrary,a soothing,reasonable voice entered his ear.He found it to be coming from the mouth of the old man,in the form of interactive question
"Have you started smoking?"
Yes...very recently..already told it to my mother.
Smoking is an addiction and as well it is not good for health....are you aware of it?
Yes.
Then you should give it up and I should ask you to go for it.But unfortunately,there is a catch.Morally I cannot ask you to give up this addiction as I have also one and that also is too old...an old habit for almost fifty years.
But we can sort it out,we can pretty well have a sporting deal...Let us resolve that from tomorrow I will give up my habit of taking snuff and you will stop smoking.
Meeting ended.
Rendezvous between the two in next Sunday morning.
Have you given up smoking?The first and only question from the old man.
The young man stood like a statue...The answer was obvious.
Slowly,the old man told that to be a human being is not as easy as it seems to be.However,try and one day you may achieve the faculties of a Human Being...putting a little bit of emphasis...for the benefit of the young man.
The old man gave up his habit of fifty years from the very next day.
Hairs turned grey,frame drooped,years rolled on.No request or order,cajoling or persuasion could force him to stop his smoking although it was not unknown or UN-expected to him of his present fate.But how he could make others feel the intense humiliation he had suffered,the self humiliation he had been suffering not being able to give up a few days old habit whereas some one in front of him gave up fifty years old addiction without any qualm or remorse.He resolved that if ever he gives up his habit then he will do it on his own..a step towards the faculties of a Human being.Curtain pulled down.Darkness and etetrnal silence engulfed everything.A known hand was extended towards him....a thought communicated to him to catch hold that hand...not through any word or sound but through a sort of wave of instant understanding...he has crossed the land of mortals.He caught hold of that hand with fervour and vigour and started following it with glee.It took you a long time to shake it off..a thought with a tinge of remorse came to the boy from his father.
The patient of corner-bed of the first row saw it all,trying to keep the intense pain under control with gritted teeth.
A Hospital is meant for patients,A Human body can pretty well get infected with a disease but even then his mind was racing fast to a long past era,trying to track a train of incidents ,before he gets run out of his time......
'A Pair of Parrots',along with a 'catch them young' phrase adorning a tastefully decorated hoarding of a good- brand of cigarette was abundant in the city,along with other modes advertisements of tobacco products, always with an almost invisible one-liner statutory warning hardly ever caught his attention,more intensely than a passing tram or a bus or an un-known passers-by.
He was trying hard to exactly ascertain the date and time he had lit the first stick?Was it at some small hour of a Cold December Night? With Harry Weber in the company?Could not figure out.But whether it was Harry or Some one else,he was certain that it was on a cold winter night during one of his Night shifts.
The thing which was bothering him was not the initiator,neither the time but why and how he took the first draft?A room-mate smoking four packs of Macho brand of cig...The Charminar...never even drew a fleeting glance from him,what to speak of interest of having a puff.Curtain changed.Another room mate and a chain-smoker of a better brand of cigarette failed to entice him to go for a casual fag;
The patient passed out for a while,a male nurse reluctantly came near the bed but did nothing.After some time,on his own,he came to his senses.
With all his might,he was trying hard to turn the wheel of the pulley of time to raise a curtain of one of the days of his past life....At last the curtain raised,he found a young man standing in front of a baldy, old man,with specks on..sitting on a bed-stead.The head of the boy was hung low,eyes pointed towards his toe,obviously he was in shame;.
But what was expected did not happen.The young man,as apprehended,did not receive any scolding;On the contrary,a soothing,reasonable voice entered his ear.He found it to be coming from the mouth of the old man,in the form of interactive question
"Have you started smoking?"
Yes...very recently..already told it to my mother.
Smoking is an addiction and as well it is not good for health....are you aware of it?
Yes.
Then you should give it up and I should ask you to go for it.But unfortunately,there is a catch.Morally I cannot ask you to give up this addiction as I have also one and that also is too old...an old habit for almost fifty years.
But we can sort it out,we can pretty well have a sporting deal...Let us resolve that from tomorrow I will give up my habit of taking snuff and you will stop smoking.
Meeting ended.
Rendezvous between the two in next Sunday morning.
Have you given up smoking?The first and only question from the old man.
The young man stood like a statue...The answer was obvious.
Slowly,the old man told that to be a human being is not as easy as it seems to be.However,try and one day you may achieve the faculties of a Human Being...putting a little bit of emphasis...for the benefit of the young man.
The old man gave up his habit of fifty years from the very next day.
Hairs turned grey,frame drooped,years rolled on.No request or order,cajoling or persuasion could force him to stop his smoking although it was not unknown or UN-expected to him of his present fate.But how he could make others feel the intense humiliation he had suffered,the self humiliation he had been suffering not being able to give up a few days old habit whereas some one in front of him gave up fifty years old addiction without any qualm or remorse.He resolved that if ever he gives up his habit then he will do it on his own..a step towards the faculties of a Human being.Curtain pulled down.Darkness and etetrnal silence engulfed everything.A known hand was extended towards him....a thought communicated to him to catch hold that hand...not through any word or sound but through a sort of wave of instant understanding...he has crossed the land of mortals.He caught hold of that hand with fervour and vigour and started following it with glee.It took you a long time to shake it off..a thought with a tinge of remorse came to the boy from his father.
An addendum to 'The destiny'
With a heavy heart I went to sleep
I saw her again in my dream
Innocence oozing from her eyes
But with fierce and courage
Potent.
She grows and strides
Strides and grows
Till she gets a Pen.
She scribbled and scribbled
Scribbled and scribbled.
I woke up,drenched in sweat
And saw her standing
In front of me;
A shadow draped in darkness.
A shadow assuring me.
'I have come again
And the War is about to begin'.
In the shadow I saw
Standing there with spine erect
And head aloft
The Harriet Beecher Stowe.
I saw her again in my dream
Innocence oozing from her eyes
But with fierce and courage
Potent.
She grows and strides
Strides and grows
Till she gets a Pen.
She scribbled and scribbled
Scribbled and scribbled.
I woke up,drenched in sweat
And saw her standing
In front of me;
A shadow draped in darkness.
A shadow assuring me.
'I have come again
And the War is about to begin'.
In the shadow I saw
Standing there with spine erect
And head aloft
The Harriet Beecher Stowe.
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