Thousands of years ago, a very prosperous kingdom lay south-west of the river Ganges. It was called Magadh. The residents of Magadh were well educated and culturally advanced. Naturally, there was peace and happiness all around. That is, if we ignore Veersuta.
Twelve
years old Veersuta was an orphan, having lost both his parents before turning
five. His frail grandmother had taken care of him for seven years before quietly
passing away on a stormy night. While children of his age were pampered by
their guardians, poor Veersuta had to rough it out on his own. And, for a
twelve-year-old, he did it remarkably well.
Perhaps
his name had something to do with his resilience. Meaning 'the brave son,' it
motivated him to courageously tackle the hardships of life. He found a job with
an affluent family and started earning enough to meet his daily needs. Within
three months, he was able to churn out tasty meals. Living in the hut of his
parents, he lovingly tended to their belongings and kept his cot, a trunk, an
earthen oven, and some utensils in a corner. He even started taking lessons
from a kind-hearted scholar, whenever time permitted. In short, though life
wasn't exactly a bed of roses for Veersuta, it wasn't utterly bad, too. But who
knew that things would suddenly take such a drastic turn that Veersuta would
have to starve in spite of cooking lip-smacking meals?
One
evening he was cooking some delicious khichdi for dinner. It would have
been ready in ten minutes, but hungry Veersuta was losing his patience. The aroma
of food was simply overpowering. He started humming a tune to forget about his
hunger, but there was hardly a need for it. A sick-looking man at the door was
seeking his attention!
"Who
are you? What do you want?" Asked Veersuta.
"May
I comes in?" The sick man answered Veersuta's two questions with a
question of his own in broken language.
"Come
in," Veersuta responded without much thinking.
"Grr,
grr, grr, good food gets cooked here," the sick man observed in a strange
tone.
Veersuta
checked the contents of the pot with a ladle, and said good-naturedly, "It
still needs some time to be ready. Do you want some? We can share it."
The
sick man roared with laughter. "Some I wants? All I wants! Today I wants,
every day I wants!"
Veersuta
was taken aback. The sick man did not look sick any more. To think of it, he
did not even look like a normal human being. His red eyes were enormously big.
His yellow teeth looked like the gardener's spade. His awkwardly shaped head
rested on a huge tummy with no neck and chest in between. The hair on his body
would have put a sloth bear to shame, and his stinking breath was unbearable.
He was a monster! A monster with perhaps a very small brain and a poor grasp of
grammar.
"You
invites, so you can't denies! I eats every night, food enough for twenty-nine."
The monster thundered.
"But
I am a poor young boy. I cannot prepare food for twenty-nine people,"
Veersuta pleaded.
"Grr,
grr, ahem, ahem, but that certainly isn't my problem!" The monster rumbled
in a sing-song voice, "If nothing to eat, it's you I eat!"
"But
then I will die!" Veersuta was on the verge of tears.
"Grr,
grr, ahem, ahem, but that's also not my problem! Now, serve food in dinner, or serve
yourself as dinner!" The monster burst out in uncontrollable laughter.
Veersuta
served the entire contents of the pot. The monster gulped it down in seconds,
burped loudly, and demanded, "Was that your best, or does something come next?"
"I
cannot serve more than this. Today, or any other day." Veersuta was
trembling with fear.
"Hmm
... your food good. I likes it. Okay, from tomorrow I comes here after eating
stray animals. That way I is not too hungry, and the good aftertaste of your
food lingers on in my mouths," the monster declared without rhyming the
words. "Tell anyone about this arrangement, and I will kill you there and
then," he warned before departing.
And
thus, misfortune once again embraced Veersuta. The poor boy had to cook nice
dinner every night, but sleep on an empty stomach. The monster always insisted
on being served the best food, and that too with a smile.
Days
passed into weeks and weeks into months. The ordeal continued. Earlier the
monster used to leave immediately after dinner, but later he started staying
back for some relaxation and gossip. He took particular interest in describing
the happenings of heaven and hell, both of which were unknown to Veersuta. Mental
trauma and lack of adequate food started taking a toll on Veersuta's body, making
him thin and weak. He thought and thought till an idea finally emerged in his
mind.
As
the monster was picking his teeth with a stick one evening after dinner,
Veersuta asked, "Do you visit heaven regularly?"
"Yes,"
the monster replied.
"But
you are a monster. How do they allow you in heaven?"
"Open
for me are heaven's gates, I became a monster due to a silly mistake."
"Oh,
I see! I always knew that you were basically very good. Please tell me, do you get
to meet all gods? I mean, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, etc.?" Veersuta was
curious.
"I
am unable to see them, but I meet Chitragupta and Yama often, one keeps the
accounts there, and the other takes lives here."
"That's
wonderful! Will you do me a favour, please?"
"Okays,
asks," the monster was unusually benevolent that night.
"Please
find out how long will I have to live in this nasty world where beings like you
are so heavily penalised for silly mistakes."
"Grrr,
I does that tonight itself," the monster boasted.
His
words were not empty promise, for the next night he came with a news,
"Chitragupta says, you lives to the ripe age of ninety years, four months
and twenty days."
Dinner
over, Veersuta sought another favour, "You are so influential up there!
You found out exactly how long would I live, while the astrologers here simply
waste time making wild guesses regarding our fate."
"Very
trues," agreed the monster.
"Actually
I have no one other than you in the world. And I can meet you anywhere, whether
it is the earth, heaven, or hell."
"Trues,
again," the monster nodded his ugly head.
"Please
do me another favour! Ask them to end my life immediately. If they show
reluctance, at least get it reduced to the minimum. But no, perhaps doing that
would be too difficult for you," Veersuta hesitated.
"Nothing
is difficult for my might, I will ask them this very night, if luck favours you
dear bloke, you will be gone as a puff of smoke," the monster broke in the
uncontrollable laughter that was so typical of him.
But
Veersuta did not die that night.
As
he finished cooking dinner the next evening, heavy footsteps were heard and the
monster entered.
"I
am still alive," Veersuta complained.
"What
cans I do? That stupid Yama refuses to take you away, and Chitragupa says that changing
fate isn't a child's play!" Stating irritably, the monster extended his
arm to pick up the food pot.
"Leave
that alone, you ugly monster," shouted Veersuta.
"What's
gone wrong in that small head of yours?" The amazed monster forgot to
rhyme his words.
"Nothing!
Stay back a moment more and I will throw the burning wood on you,"
Veersuta challenged.
"You
tiny rascal! Doesn't you know I can kill you before, you take one breath and
have no more?" The monster was burning with rage.
"When
gods can't reduce my life even one bit, how can a monster do that? Go away and
never return, you fool!" Veersuta exclaimed.
The
monster looked dejectedly at the burning wood, then at Veersuta, and then again
at the fire.
"Grr,
that breaks my hearts, I never knew that children could be so smart!" He
mumbled and went out.
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