Kingdom of Amor (Fiction-3)

Village of Suyesh was part of a very rich kingdom called Amor. It had a large part of continent under its rule. Kingdom had a large, well equipped and powerful army and administrative staff. Except for heavy taxes and compulsory public attendance at king’s palace temple, Amorans were generally considered happy.

One fine day the ministers of the king Vikram started becoming restless due to continuously declining numbers of Amorans in the temple. Vikram was a reasonable king but his deputies did not like the dwindling attendance from nearby villages, especially from Jandera. They were lesser number of silver coins in the donation box and fewer gifts of rice bags for the temple. They were also losing their peace of mind thinking that those commoners perhaps had found better things to do, than to just pay obeisance to the king. The paintings of King’s ancestors now looked down at king’s forlorn space of a near empty temple.

Blame for this phenomenon were placed on the popularity of Suyesh. They felt humiliated by the fact that the king was losing his shine to a mere village carpenter. Most worrying part was that even people living in the city of Amor were beginning to get attracted to this carpenter who was always seen in just a dirty white cloth wrapped around his waist! Jewels in the crown of the king, his silk robe and throne of gold, no more impressed the fools of Jandera. They wondered why. If too many people moved out to the villages from Amor, then the taxes too may start falling short. Of course nothing like that was happening as yet. But, the paying obeisance to the king was important too. For many years villagers had known that King Vikram’s ancestors had taken good care of the village ancestors. For this reason Vikram was treated like a god. Now the halo behind his head created with carefully hidden oil lamps was getting no one’s notice. For those greedy administrators and politicians it was a matter of great concern. The importance of kingdom’s royal office had to be restored.

Suyesh had to be stopped!

King’s deputies put forth their observation to the king, ‘O most powerful, our god, lord of Amor…’ King heard them in silence and dismissed them with a loud ‘no’. Deputies persisted. It took almost a year’s persuasion to establish Suyesh as a threat to the kingdom to extract ‘yes’ nod from Vikram.
They sent a team of sleuths to observe what was happening in Suyesh’s meetings. They wondered if he was plotting to topple the king and expose the corruption in temple donations. They came back with news that in the last meeting there were a whopping 50000 people listening to Suyesh. But he was not a type to be a threat to the king or anyone else. But certainly you cannot deny the popularity of the man. It may not be a good idea to take action against Suyesh or his team. Someone suggested, ‘but we should discourage the Amorans who visit him regularly’. ‘Good idea’, others agreed. Let us start…

Late at night there was knock on the door of a middle class Amoran house. A bleary eyed old man opened the door to find a royal soldier. A horse cart was waiting. Dragged by the guards, the old man found himself in the cart. Old man tried to question them but he was snubbed. The cart stopped at the ‘offense control center’ and they went in.
‘Why do you go to attend Suyesh discourses?’
Hearing Suyesh’s name old man relaxed and opened up, ‘oh, you want to know about Suyesh? He is so impressive. Sir you should also come with me one day. You will see all your problems in life will vanish in a snap.’
‘No nothing of that sort. King Vikram is very upset with many of you Amorans who are not attending temple rituals.’
‘Sorry sir. But I do pay my taxes on time always.’
‘It’s not about taxes.’
‘Sir, do you want to restrict my movements? You are telling me where I should or should not go at this old age. We need peace now. And that is perfect place for us to be. Sir, I strongly recommend you too listen to him once and ask him any question you want. He will have a good answer for you…’ A stinging slap rang across his face. Sleeping birds perched high up, fluttered. He did not know what happened. Next he found himself lying on the ground, all confused. He started getting a feeling of wetness in the corner of his lips. Looking at the soldier with scare and shock, he wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt. Another soldier lifted him roughly and made him stand again.

Across the street, outside the offense control center everything was quiet, except frequent sounds of slaps, groans, falls and then crying. Finally figure of the old man tumbled out of the door and slowly tried to negotiate the steps to come down. A soldier was giving him instructions with his index finger pointed at him.

Wife of the old man had been worried sick. Her husband had left the bed to answer the door and never came back. It was almost morning. Two women from neighborhood were trying to comfort her, when they heard the sound of the door being pushed. Then they heard a soft knock. Old lady rushed. She was facing her all bloodied and badly ruffled husband.

In the large empty office, king was in a secret meeting with security officers. He looked very unhappy while listening to last night’s report. From a distance you could make out whether he was angry with the soldiers for beating up an innocent Amoran or disturbed with the strength of Suyesh’s popularity, which was displayed through the old man.

In both cases king Vikram of Amor was in serious trouble.

Sucharit/Suyash (Fiction-2)

It must have been nearly 20 years after that adventurous evening, when I met those three saints and also witnessed the dramatic scene of a pregnant woman delivering a baby, who then shockingly was forced to abandon it in the middle of the dense forest.

My village Jandera had got its name from its own population; because all of them followed one faith and ideology called ‘Godaism’. Jandera was under the kingdom of King Vikram, who ruled from the capital city of Amor.

Jandera was very lucky to have a young villager who had become well known for his spell binding discourses. Even nearby villages were buzzing with news of this young boy’s abilities. His speeches had become very popular. He did not talk about the religion or scriptures, but about practical issues of how to lead a simple and uncomplicated life. People were visiting him in herds, because the boy had practical answers to everyone’s day to day problems. They asked him various house hold, health or relationships related questions and he offered them long term easy solutions. He never said, ‘I will give you something’. Instead he said, ‘you have it all in you. You have all the solutions inside you; you just have to learn how to discover them’. Due to this the flock was getting self-empowered, especially women. Many of the listeners now wanted to stay with him as long as they could, to learn the art of living, the art of staying happy and be confidant! But he would always refuse such offers, ‘you have to take care of your own life and family. No one should turn away from his basic duties. All you have to do is do your job well and lead an honest life’. In spite of this people just kept walking behind him; there was no way to stop them. His disciples were growing every day!

The boy’s name was Sucharit – man of good character. Strangely his huge popularity got him another name, ‘Suyesh’ or the one who is famous for good reasons. Sucharit was about 20 years old. He was tall, had a lean muscular body. His beard grew a little scanty. His curly hair was up to his shoulders. He was mostly seen in a white cloth wrapped around his waist and a pleasant expression on his thin face.

Like everyone else, Sucharit too followed a near 2000 year old religion called Godaism. Followers of Godaism believed that the universe was created and governed by a single omnipresent, omnipotent power called, God. He lived with three old men, who were carpenters. Yes, these were the same three saints had rescued this howling baby boy, from a forest 20 years ago. So, Sucharit was a carpenter too, expert in making simple and economical furniture. He did most of the work himself, so that his old saviors could take it easy in the dusk of their life. All his life, the saints had fed him, taken care of him and most importantly sown seeds of good qualities in him. They adored him for the way he had grown up- so bright, so strong and so humane. But they had never bargained that he would be so popular.

It had not been easy for those saints at all, bringing up a child right from his birth. They never let out the secret how they had found him. Only dismissive answer they had for numerous questions and doubts for nearly 20 years was, that ‘his mother’s name was Meera, who was known to them and God was his father! Can’t you see it on his face? Look at the peace and glow! Doesn’t he remind you of God?’ It was nearly a declaration from those well respected saints to make a point for the boy. A thoroughly impressed village crowd ‘semi believed’ them. Everyone knows how babies come on earth. An abandoned ordinary child was turned into an extraordinary phenomenon, only to cover up the absence of his father. Whoever met Sucharit just once, who he was did not matter. Sucharit spoke in a common man’s language. Slowly a belief started developing that he was a god and not a human. He physically ‘touched’ them to make them believe that he indeed was a human being. Due to constant speeches and interaction with troubled lot, Sucharit had grown very sharp in his mind and kind in heart. He could genuinely feel or even guess everyone’s pain. ‘Suyesh Sucharit’ had become a strong magical magnet. His strong attraction converted many of his listeners into his disciples. They really loved Sucharit from their heart.

Sucharit as a rule did not allow women to follow him permanently. He knew women are needed at home much more than men. But nobody had been able to convince or force ‘Mangala’ away. She had to face a lot of criticism from everyone. At that time it was looked down upon for a woman to live with a man, without village head’s consent. She in fact lived with many men, because they were all his disciples. She took up the job of doing all day to day chores for Sucharit on the pretext that he had no time to do them anyway. She smilingly, cooked, washed and mended his clothes, took care of all important visitors, who were growing in number. Now Mangala became a strong confidante of Sucharit. And gradually got a nod of all his followers, to be with them.

She would wait by his side until he fell asleep at night. She was ready by his side again with a jar of water in morning. Watching her devotion, everyone developed a deep respect for her too, not so much because she was close to Suyesh, but because Suyesh also had so much respect for her. Mangala was now Ma Mangala for everyone. Phenomenal popularity of Suyesh now could not be handled by the usual small scale arrangements. It needed planning at a much higher level. Ma Mangala stepped up consultations with other colleagues and designed a security net for Sucharit. Since they had spotted spies from Amor too many times in the crowd, visitors were not allowed to get very close to him. Donations too had become large to be taken lightly. They had to be received, stored securely and properly accounted for. Thankfully Sucharit’s ministers had kept all these worldly matters away from him. His last meeting had so many visitors that they had to meet outside the village in a more open space. Sucharit spoke for a long time making everyone spell bound. Someone guessed there might have been nearly 50000 people in that gathering!

And that did not send a friendly message to king Vikram of Amor.

I remember (Fiction-1)

The incidences of this story are more than 2000 years old. I was much younger then, but details of those memories still clearly float in front of my eyes. With the passage of time the scenes may have turned a little sepia but they still play back faithfully. The landscape was hilly all around, but the hills were not very tall. The trees or bushes were very few and far apart. Yet it was not exactly a desert.

On that particular day, sun had just gone behind the western hillocks. Winter had set in. So, it felt quite cold after sun set. But unaffected by the clean, cool breeze of dusk, I noticed three wise elderly men resting on a plateau near my village. They were watching the redness of western sky and scattered patched of red clouds. Their smiling eyes seemed to be looking far away in the distance, as if they were able to see the edge of the world. They seemed to be enjoying the uninterrupted panorama all around. These wise men were there because they were tired of their journey and were hungry. One of them untied a knot of his simple whitish cloth containing some bread and few boiled eggs and was eating silently. Others were in the process of opening their pieces of bread, meat and potatoes from the pockets of their tattered but flowing robes. Their faces looked peaceful. They had three cloth bags, each filled with carpenter’s tools, like hammer, saw and plainer. They seemed so content as if the whole world belonged to them. They had kept their tool bags very respectfully, close to them. I thought they might be traveling saints or sages who spread the message of love and harmony among all. They surely did not look like carpenters to me. I approached them curiously. As they saw me one said, ‘oh hello, come here taste this bread’ and offered a piece to me. The offer was so unexpected that I just took the piece and humbly took a bite. ‘Are you carpenters or saints?’ I asked. They all seemed amused. Huh huh-huh, one laughed. Both, we are both. We move from village to village, teaching people values of love, family life and respect for your profession.’ Other filled in, ‘and if it is required in every new village we do carpenter’s job too, since we need to survive until we move on to next place.’ ‘We don’t live on alms. We like to earn our bread. You go home now it is getting dark’, last one said. ‘Let me stay’, I pleaded. ‘My village is right down there and I can sprint down to my home in a few moments.’ They seemed to agree.
I knew all the saints then used to preach only about virtues of love, living harmoniously in a family, to be useful to your community, importance of studies, staying healthy, caring for young ones and respect for elders. All the saints did have self-respect of earning their own bread, rather than living off society.
The redness of the sky had faded and gradually was turning dark blue. A few bright stars had emerged in the eastern sky. I noticed that there were three exceptionally bright stars just above us. To my utter surprise the stars had the same formation in the sky as the three resting saints on the earth. I thought when you feel love, you see it in everything that you see and if you think you met spiritual people you connect heaven to it. But it is just a co-incidence, I knew. The narrow path going down looked very lonely and dark now. As I watched, they decided to spend the night under those stars. May be they too will notice the formation of stars when they look up while lying down; I thought.
If one looked down from the hill top, two villages could be seen in the distance due to their twinkling dim lights and the rising smoke from a few thatched roofs. Saints fell suddenly quiet. They had begun meditation.

In a few minutes I heard some voices. They seemed to be coming from unseen part of the path down below. I looked. Nothing was in sight. Even in meditation saints seemed to be concentrating on those human voices. As the sound grew louder they opened their eyes and we all looked in the direction of those sounds. They looked a little surprised now. Soon they noticed three people. I too saw them. As they approached near we could see, a balding old man, an old woman and another woman who had a very large stomach. ‘Oh’, one said, ‘she is having a baby.’ Another one, ‘where are they going? Reaching anywhere from here would take them very long’! ‘They also must have walked a long way to get here’, third said. They felt sorry especially for the young woman and wondered why at such time they all had to venture this far! The voices became a little clear now. It seemed that they have been thrown out from their own village due to the shame of pregnant woman. Perhaps she was not married or may be her husband died. Men were so horrible and superstitious those days. They believed that if the husband died then the woman must be evil. Poor women, they really had bad deal those days.

Whimpering and crying pregnant woman suddenly stopped walking and sat down moaning with pain. Old woman looked at her face closely. The man was breathing hard standing a little away. She walked to him and spoke softly. She then guided pregnant woman away from the path and took her behind small bushes. The man too sat down on path now and buried his forehead between his palms. His head moved side to side. Even from that far he looked a picture of frustration and sadness. Stifled cries of woman were filling the air and the anxious old woman kept saying, ‘Meera don’t scream so loudly. Be soft Meera!’
On the hill these saintly carpenters knew what was going to happen next. And I was going to learn something new. Suppressed painful cries of the young woman went on for a few moments more and then a long silence descended… finally bubble of silence broke with a weak howl that announced the arrival of a new soul. Watching this drama from a distance was such a strong experience for us all. They raised their hands in prayer and looked up. Stars were already looking at them. They mentally blessed the new born and got busy among themselves.

But what happened next was totally unexpected! Old woman had wrapped the crying baby in a cloth and kept it by the side of path. We were horrified to see that the young woman was being forcibly dragged by the other two and leaving the new born behind on the deserted path. The young woman was so reluctant to leave the baby. Being weak she got dragged away. She kept crying bitterly, looking back all the time at the small bundle kept at the side of the path; at the mercy of… no one in sight.

Trudging slowly three of them turned around the hill and went out of sight. Their voices too faded away… and soon the cries of the baby started filling the empty space once again. The saints looked at each other and at me. It was impossible for anyone to just sit and not reach out to rescue the baby. They collected all their stuff and started walking down in a careful hurry. The family had left the baby along with the name of its mother, Meera!

They picked up the noisy bundle gingerly. It was a boy. He kicked and wriggled. I too saw his face. He had black curly hair. His frantically moving fingers got caught in beard of its carrier. They put some water in his mouth and looked around at the trees to find some fruits. I found a dead wood and threw it hard at a fruit tree. It sent some fruits back. I got them to the saints. They squeezed the fruits and dropped the juice drops in baby’s mouth.

Darkness of night was everywhere. A saint carrying the baby told me that they will need to reach the baby some safe place, where regular feeds for it can be arranged. One put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘it was high time you too went home’. I agreed. They quickly organized their things started walking in the direction baby’s family had gone.

Being alone I too started climbing down to my house. I knew they will have tough time, finding the baby’s parents. And they if don’t find them the baby somehow will have to be brought up by them only. Soon three carpenter saints and the new-born baby turned out of sight.

I sprinted down. My mother had all the rights to yell at me. But I felt so very happy with the unbelievable experience I just had. It was an amazing story to tell her and everyone else.

Vadnagar

In my Gujarat trip, this was my last stop. I did Somnath, Rani ki Vav in Patan and Modhera Sun Temple.

Now Vadnagar, which strangely turned out to be much more interesting and important than I had imagined. I only knew about Modi ji’s tea shop on the railway station, their family house and remains of Buddhist education.

But my auto-driver took me to a garden named Tana Riri, When I researched Tana Riri, I realized that these two women and their story was no joke! They were around not only during Akbar’s period, they also had a serious brush against the brutal Mughal King. Tana & Riri were classical singers of highest rank. The story of classical singer Tansen falling sick and his body getting very hot due to the effect of singing Deepak Raag. To find a cure someone had to cancel heat’s effect by a cooling Raag, that could be Raag Malhar. So, to cut the story short the army general discovered about these two women. Tansen was brought to them, where they sang and it is believed that Tansen was cured. But now Akbar wanted Tana Riri to be part of his Darbar. The women kept refusing to join the Darbar as the messages kept coming and finally when the king sent the army to bring them to him… they committed suicide by jumping in a well. They kept their respect.

Tana Riri Garden

                Posing at Vadnagar platform

Tea shop of PM Modi's father at Vadnagar station platform

Unfolding The End

Time is passing

So is life

Cross roads, hairpin bends,

Steep climbs, landmarks

All falling behind

I can see a path winding away

Far in the distance

Dissolving into nothingness

One end of which is under my feet

The other seems to be

At the end of my vision

After that… nothing

Nothing,

Would be wrong to say

After all, the rest of the world

Has to be there

Somewhere,

Beyond the end of the path

Beyond the end of my vision

Yes, the world made by man

Will cease to exist

But world untouched by man

Will still be there

In its full glory

Narrating its amazing story.

I will pass away

You too will be gone

Our sorrows would be wiped off

Smiles will fade leaving no mark

Storytellers will not be around

Listeners also would have gone

But the world will go on

Narrating her story on her own.

Alexander, Babar, Genghis Khan

Christ, Akbar and Alexander 

Winners and vanquished

Killers and the killed

All dumped randomly

Unceremoniously

In the dark silence

Of a little old box

Not moving

Not speaking

Yet wearing the crowns

Holding swords in bloody hands,

Not knowing their story is done.

Words fail me

I sat down to write

As her memories

And my anxieties

Had started choking me

I placed on the desk a blank sheet of paper

Picked the pen up and guided it over

Even before I could write a word

My heart jumped out and sat on the paper

That was the easy part

But now I was thinking hard

About the words

That will replace my heart

Will express my feelings

The words that might say

That my life was missing

My pain had now breached all limits

But no words surfaced, that will fit

Even after a very long struggle

Words didn’t emerge in my mind

Gingerly I held my head

And was clearly in a bind

I dropped the pen in the slot

And shut the inkpot

My eyes were welling up

And tears were rolling down

Onto the paper in front

Forming unshapely circles

Soon entire paper was covered…

My feelings were perfectly expressed

Tears had said all that was in my mind

But real words?

Words failed me, one more time

Gautam Suffers

It is not an unusual situation if Gautam is in a pitiable state. Gautam had started suffering for others more than 25 centuries ago. He had decided to meditate to solve the problem of 'sorrows' of the humanity. But that was then. Today's Gautam is not the same.

Today he seems to be falling into a trap of getting depressed himself... due to other’s problems. He is surrounded by multiple people with multiple unsolvable problems, which is not unusual. There are too many people with too many problems. He himself is generally fine; but due to others he is attracting trouble on to himself.

He has an old uncle, who has been a dashing, strong and confident young man in his hey days. But now he is none of that. His voice is weak and movements are slow. Gautam is not able to handle it. Gautam has always been affected by problems of people who loved him and he loved them back with all his heart.

Obviously not too many people feel bad if someone unknown is going through a bad phase. In fact this Gautam is in habit of cursing some of his sworn enemies. Yes, this Gautam has enemies, quite a few of them. He says it proudly, ‘so and so is my enemy and I wish him hell’. Well this is the new age Gautam. He curses his enemies openly. Well, but right now it is not about enemies, it is about the people he loves.

There are at least six people he is close to and all have some or the other incurable situation in their lives. And they all are suffering as things are not in their control. It might get sorted, when it gets sorted. But in the meanwhile they are suffering and they don’t know that Gautam is suffering along with them, for them. Someone’s entire family is having tough luck. People are scattered all over and there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Gautam is very fond of these people; but can do nothing about anything.

Then there is someone who has covered herself with misery as she has no idea what she wants. Gautam has known her too as a very strong and confidant person in life and now such a weak side of her has cropped up. And from where? Perhaps all of us growing older and in old age weaknesses of all kinds spring up. But in the meanwhile she is suffering and Gautam is suffering too.

There are some more examples; but it’s no point going into them and make matters worse for himself. The point now is, is it worth falling sick because he is a compassionate person? I guess NOT. I told him buddy, you take care of yourself and your mental health. Right now in life things are going fine for you. So don’t drive on the wrong side because you constantly feel bad for others.

But I tell you, it is not going to be easy, for anyone. It is one of the hardest thing to take your mind off people you love and even harder to not worry about their problems. But that is a challenge. Gautam has to find a balance. Perhaps if he can contribute as a problem solver he must go ahead and do so; but when he is going to be a mute spectator, he must not allow himself to be worked up. He must save himself from falling prey to the deadly mental condition called ‘depression’.