One
March is a month of fun. Schools declare
holidays. The weather becomes nice. It is neither too cold nor too hot. Flowers
bloom. There is greenery everywhere. Children play anytime they wish. They stop
worrying about the school and start visiting amusement parks, zoological
gardens, museums and other tourist spots.
The four friends,
Tina, Inder, Nitu and Yousuf, were different from the usual fourteen-year-olds.
They loved to explore unique places and experience exciting adventures. The
habit rewarded them with courage and knowledge, though it also sometimes put their
lives in danger. Regular readers would know how Inder was transformed into a
gorilla during a trip to a hidden picnic spot. If you do not know about it,
read 'The Sting of the Giant Bee' in Readomania.
Regular readers
would also be aware how different the four friends were from each-other!
Large-eyed Tina loved to dance, skinny Inder was brilliant in studies but spoke
little, curly-haired Nitu was into acrobatics, and tall Yousuf excelled in
comedy. Tina was a Christian from eastern India, Inder was a Sikh from the north,
Nitu was a Hindu from the west of India, and Yousuf, a Muslim, was a South-Indian.
The children had a
four-legged companion, Wonders. They had picked up the lonely mongrel shivering
under a tree on a rainy day two years ago. He had grown into a loving golden
dog with a fantastic sense of smell. Wonders often tried to match steps with
Tina, ran very fast, and captured sounds that were inaudible to others. He jumped
like Nitu, looked around with intelligence like Inder, and could stand tall on his
hind legs in an attempt to match Yousuf's height. Just like the four friends,
Wonders was also fourteen in terms of human-years!
Two
The four friends decided to take a long walk
on the first day of the vacation. Wonders joined them. He rarely walked! Either
he waited several metres ahead of them, or tried to make up from a good
distance behind. It's not that the four friends walked together at normal pace.
Tina's footsteps were in accordance with the beats of a popular song—Dhinak
Dhinak Dhin Dhinak Dhinak, Tunak Tunak Tun Tunak Tunak! Nitu was jumping
from one spot to another—Heyy Yeah, Heyy Yeah! Yousuf had made it a
point to touch all the low tree branches on the way as he sang his favourite
song, "Ha! Ha! Hee! Hee! Hoo! Hoo! Hey! Hey!" Only Inder was silent, progressing
at a steady pace while looking around carefully.
"Arre Baba, it is
the same path we take to the school every day. There is nothing new here. Don't
spoil our holiday. Say something, don't be so serious—we are not going to appear
in an examination," an impatient Tina admonished Inder.
"Caring makes
your life happy, Baba!" Yousuf teased Tina and Inder with a nursery
rhyme.
Nitu took a high
jump and pointed towards a dilapidated wall, "A real Baba is behind
that wall!"
Inder said,
"I was also noticing some movement there through the missing bricks in the
wall."
Tina was excited,
"A Baba? What kind of a Baba? One with saffron robes and a
lot of garlands around his neck?"
"Or one with just
a loincloth on him?" Yousuf interrupted Tina.
"I only caught
a glimpse of the man in a long white beard and white clothes." Nitu jumped
again to catch another sight of the old man.
"Why should anyone
go that side?" Inder looked puzzled. The wall, perhaps erected decades ago
to protect a plot of land, had collapsed at many places. Inder could see a
number of wild trees and bushes on the other side.
"That place
once used to be a grazing ground for cattle, but off late I have never seen
anybody venture that side," he thoughtfully remarked.
"The practice
was abandoned with the opening of the dairy farm and park," Tina pointed
out.
"Let's go and
see who is that man and what is he doing there!" Nitu declared.
"And if he
harms us?" Yousuf was skeptical.
"Let two of
us go there and examine the matter, and the other two remain here to handle
rescue operations!" Tina said.
"Okay, Inder
and I will go there! Come Inder!" Nitu raced towards the wall.
"Oh, no! I
wanted to go there." Tina complained.
From the corner of
his eye Inder saw Nitu jump over the wall.
"God knows
what lies there! Nitu has taken a huge risk by not consulting others before
jumping in an unfamiliar area. We have no time to waste. Here I go!" an
alarmed Inder said to nobody in particular and ran towards an opening in the
wall. It was about thirty metres away from the spot where Nitu had crossed the
wall.
Wonders had jumped
behind Nitu, and his barks were indicating that something was not smooth on the
other side of the wall.
Three
"Oye Meri Bebe!" The
words emerged automatically from Inder's mouth. Nitu was trying to help the
bearded old man while a super-excited Wonders was licking the face of the
stranger, sniffing him all over and barking in happiness.
"What's all
this?" Inder asked.
Nitu explained
shyly, "I landed on this Babaji on my jump. He fell down with the
impact. Meanwhile, Wonders also landed and felt that I was playing with Babaji.
He is not allowing Babaji to get up."
"I am so
sorry, Babaji," Inder offered a helping hand to the old man.
"Oh, it's
nothing, it's nothing!" The old man muttered, picked up his things, and started
walking away with a slight limp.
"I'm so
sorry, Babaji," Nitu repeated Inder's words. The old man waved but
did not look back.
"Why is he in
such a tearing hurry? And what was he doing here?" Inder thought aloud.
"Perhaps he
was relieving himself!" said Yousuf, who along with Tina had also reached
the spot.
"But there is
no evidence of any ...," said Tina.
"Old people
take a long time to do their business. Possibly Nitu jumped on him even before
the poor fellow could begin the flow!" Yousuf speculated.
"These look
like some kind of seeds," Inder looked at the ground. "The old man
was here not to relieve himself but to collect these," he showed a handful
of the brown-black objects to his friends.
"Amma! So he is
a smuggler!" Nitu exclaimed.
"Come on!
Smugglers move around in swanky cars, wear expensive glasses, and smoke long
cheroots. This poor chap is perhaps nothing more than a petty thief." Tina
retorted.
"Thieves
visit such secluded places only to hide stolen goods. They do not go on picking
seeds from the ground like peacocks," Yousuf demonstrated fluttering of
wings with his hands for added effect.
"Is it
possible that these seeds release some kind of toxic substance, and the old man
is an addict?" Nitu was not ready to drop the criminal angle.
Inder looked at
her for a while. He then carefully stuffed his pocket with the seeds. "We
will know about that in a day," he said in a mysterious voice.
"I am certain
of one fact," Inder continued, "I never met the gentleman
before."
"Nor have
I," agreed Nitu.
"We haven't
met so many people in this city. What's the big deal?" Challenged Yousuf.
"We know almost
everybody in our neighbourhood. And, we are still in our
neighbourhood." Inder stressed on the key words.
"We are
dealing with a stranger who prefers to walk away in spite of suffering from a
fall, who hides his face with a beard, and speaks little. O Ma!" Tina
was finally able to see the gravity of the situation.
"Many
innocent looking people are actually spies from other countries. Or, they can
be criminals hiding from the police or waiting to commit another crime. My Ammi
Jaan has told me several incidents about such people," Yousuf
elaborated.
"His identity
has become a riddle," Inder gave his final opinion. No one disagreed.
Four
Seven days passed. The situation changed
dramatically in those seven days. The old bearded man no longer remained a
stranger. The children started meeting the old man every day behind the broken
wall, helping him in collecting the seeds from the ground and accompanying him
to the dairy farm and park. The seeds were ground and mixed in the cattle feed
to improve the yield of milk. Though the old man had joined the establishment
as a casual labourer four months ago, he regularly tended to the plants and the
livestock there. The plants looked well-nourished. The cows licked his arms
with affection. Wonders had become his friend in the first encounter itself,
and now the four friends were treating the old man as an authentic source of
information. The old man taught them simple but little known facts about plants,
farm animals, stars, and climate. The children loved to listen to the nice and
humble man. They were curious to know more about him—what was his name, where did
he come from, did he have any grandchildren, etc., etc., but every time the
topic was raised, the discussion ended right there. The old man always remembered
some urgent and important task to complete, and excused himself.
As
the friends returned from the dairy farm and park one afternoon, Nitu remarked,
"Babaji is so kind! Even the birds come down to accept grains from
him."
"And
he is so knowledgeable! He knows exactly which plant must be watered and which
one must be left dry," Tina added.
"Our
Wonders looks at him with such devotion!" Yousuf observed.
Nitu
had not finished, "He must be so old, but yet doesn't take rest except for
a while after lunch."
Tina
was also full of admiration, "And he suggests that we should also work
hard—the harder the better!"
"All
that glitters is not gold! If the Babaji is really so nice, why does he
not talk about his past? What lies in history that he is so afraid to
reveal?" Inder challenged.
"May
be, there is nothing much in his life to talk about," Yousuf became
serious.
"Come
on, old people have a wealth of experience. Inder is right, the Babaji's
past is a mystery," Nitu declared.
Tina
thought aloud, "May be, you are right! We have been meeting Babaji
for a week now and have learned so many things about gardening and animal
husbandry, but we know nothing personal about him. To talk of it, we don't even
know his name!"
"Who
is Babaji? A spy? A criminal?" Yousuf murmured.
No one replied. No
one had the answer.
Five
"Let's
not meet him tomorrow morning. We shall go there just after lunch," Inder
announced.
"Why? You wish to sleep longer
tomorrow?" Yousuf asked.
"We have not been able to learn
anything personal during the morning meets, perhaps that's why Inder wants to
...," Nitu was hesitant.
"Brilliant! Actually people are
less vigilant after lunch, and mistakes in dance performances are overlooked
the most during post lunch sessions." Tina was excited.
"Seriously? Are you planning a
dance recital before the Babaji tomorrow?" Yousuf mimicked her, "Baba,
while I dance you sing about yourself?"
"Arre Baba! Babaji will
also be less guided after lunch and may slip some useful information about
himself," Tina completed the argument.
Inder looked at her with admiration.
"But what will we ask?"
Nitu quipped.
Inder thought for a moment before
saying, "He keeps preaching about working hard. Perhaps the key to his
life's secret lies hidden in that preaching."
"Perhaps! And perhaps not!"
Yousuf observed.
"Well, we stand nothing to lose
by trying that approach," Tina once again toed Inder's line.
"So be it!" The final
stamp of approval came from Nitu.
Wonders looked at them with
pleasure. He would get more squirrels to chase in the afternoon.
Six
When
the four friends and Wonders reached the dairy farm and park the next
afternoon, they found the old man lying on a charpoy of strings under the shade
of a tree. A brown and white goat sat ruminating under the cot. A reddish cow
was licking its calf. Koels were singing. A flock of parrots was feasting on
something up on the trees.
Wonders immediately got busy in chasing a scurry of
squirrels.
The old man's eyes were shut but he
wasn't asleep. Hearing the approaching footsteps, he turned in the cot,
covering his head with a makeshift towel.
"Oh, so you have finally come!" he muttered.
Nitu jumped to the other side of the
cot and demanded, "Babaji, tell us a story!"
"Let me sleep for a while."
The old man clearly longed for some moments of solitude.
"But after that you will start
working and we will not learn anything from you today," Inder pleaded.
"Who says you can't learn by
observing others! Actually you learn more that way." The old man declared.
"Well! You say one must work
hard, and so I will not take it easy. Friends, watch, here is the latest tukda
I learnt yesterday." Tina started demonstrating some intricate dance
steps.
The old man looked at Tina with
half-open eyes. It was difficult to say whether he was amused or bored.
"Babaji, these children
will not let you enjoy your siesta today. If you keep trying to sleep, you may end
up with a severe headache. Why not drop the idea of sleeping, and work harder
today?" Yousuf talked as if he was much older than his friends.
God knows what prompted Wonders to
do it, but he suddenly came and licked the beard of the old man. The children
started laughing.
"Let me wash my face first," the old
man said.
Gingerly getting up from the cot, the
old man proceeded slowly towards the hand pump. Yousuf loved to operate it. He
gave two quick jerks to the large handle, and a thick stream of water began to
flow. The old man took his time in washing his face, cleaning his eyes, clearing
his throat, and rinsing his beard. Meanwhile, Wonders drank some water, sniffed
around, and examined the small drain through which the water was getting
released into the garden.
The old man sat down on the cot. The
four friends surrounded him, as if the old man was a tail-ender and they were
close-in fielders in a cricket match. As if, every word out of the mouth of the
old man was a catch that must never be dropped. As if, they would never get another
opportunity to listen to the old man and unravel his mystery.
The old man began, "Hard work
always bears the sweetest of fruits ..."
Nitu interjected, "As per a
French writer, the fruits of labour are the sweetest of all pleasures."
"The same thing, just different
words!" the old man said. Before he could continue, a ripe guava fell on
his head. The children started laughing. Yousuf took a bite of the fruit and
teased the old man, "Are you sure, Babaji? This fruit is sweet and yet
you got it without doing any work!"
The old man smiled, "I lie down
under this tree often, but this is the first time that a guava has fallen over
my head. Think of it! Years ago someone must have planted the seed, someone
must have nurtured the plant, and someone must have taken care of the tree
before I came here. Isn't all that work?"
"Where did you arrive from, Babaji?"
Nitu asked.
The old man touched his head where
the guava had fallen, looked at the horizon for some time, ignored Nitu's
question, and began the story.
Seven
"It
is not a fabricated tale. I speak little, but I stick to the facts," the
old man looked at the four children. The friends nodded in agreement.
"Many years ago, a Diwan
Saheb lived in a small town. He was honest, loving, and truthful, but
unfortunately found it difficult to keep his anger in check. He wasn't highly educated,
but had an excellent sense of judgement. People respected his decisions. The Diwan
lived a simple life. He had hardly any money, but that did not prevent him from
helping the poor. His wife was a pious lady who observed many religious fasts
that sometimes continued for many days at a stretch."
"Mahatma Gandhi's parents were
also a bit like that," words slipped out of Inder's mouth.
"Yes, but Bapu's father was a Diwan
in Porbandar in Gujarat. I am talking about eastern India," The old man looked
at Yousuf, who was dividing his attention equally between the guava and the
story.
"Both the sons of the Diwan
Saheb used to go to the village school. Now, you can't expect much in a
village school, can you? The Masterji spent his entire time on teaching
multiplication tables, but only a few students could learn them—there were so
many distractions!" The old man started regarding the big toe of his left
foot with interest, as if it would prompt him with the next part of the story.
When the old man didn't speak for a
while, Tina asked, "Then?"
"Then?" The old man
took a deep breath and continued, "Ram, the elder son of Diwan Saheb,
was least interested in learning the tables. They used to be so
monotonous!" He defended the lack of interest of Ram with a smile and
added, "He was always busy in felling fruits from the trees, flying kites,
catching fish in the village pond, stealing the eggs of crows, trying his
slingshot on squirrels, drinking milk straight from the udders of the cows, and
such other exciting engagements. His younger brother, Lakshman, followed
him."
"It's natural to follow the
elder sibling," Tina commented.
"Yes, but that changed after an
encounter between Diwan Saheb and the Masterji. Diwan Saheb
thrashed the boys black and blue. How they cried their heart out and cursed the
teacher!" The old man stopped for a moment and then resumed, "Ram was
an angry boy in the school the next day, but Lakshman was uneasy. He forced himself
to concentrate on the multiplication tables that ranged from one-and-a-quarter
to two-and-a-half of common numbers! Within months Lakshman could read and
write alphabets and flawlessly recite multiplication tables. Ram watched the
progress of his brother, but did not leave his world of fun. Masterji
didn't complain. He was satisfied that at least one out of the two boys had
mended his ways."
"Naturally, a bird in hand is
better than two in the bushes!" Yousuf made a rather inappropriate
observation.
The old man nodded his head, and
continued the narration, "Lakshman started assisting Diwan Saheb in
the office. Gumashtas were no longer able to bungle the accounts. Diwan
Saheb saw a lot of possibilities in his younger son, and got him enrolled
at a good school in the city. Ram stayed back in the village. What would he
have done in the city school, anyway?"
"They wouldn't even have
admitted him," Tina felt.
"Possibly, though school
admissions were a lot easier then," the old man agreed. "Lakshman did
exceedingly well at the city school. Diwan Saheb somehow arranged funds
and sent him abroad for higher studies. Who would have thought that he wouldn't
survive to see the return of Lakshman! The poor father passed away, and people
started bothering Ram's mother. They claimed that they had loaned money to Diwan
Saheb for Lakshman's education. Most of the claims were false, but it was
impossible for illiterate Ram and his mother to know chalk from cheese. They
tried to contact Lakshman, but failed. By the time the younger brother returned,
everything had changed!"
The old man got immersed in his
thoughts. The children were also lost in the story.
Eight
"His
father was dead. There was no sign of his mother and brother. His house had
been misappropriated by a stranger. People who sang praises of his father were
no longer interested in even looking at Lakshman." There was a quiver in
the old man's voice. No doubt, he was a great story teller.
"Poor Lakshman!" Nitu
exclaimed.
"Nitu, Laskman wasn't a
weak-hearted person! Yes, he was in an extremely difficult situation, but he
didn't give up. He used his education and perseverance to tackle the situation,
and not just tackle, but to progress meaningfully in life," the old man
retorted. "He looked around in the nearby villages and towns, and finally
went to Calcutta."
"Kolkata!" Tina
corrected.
"Today's Kolkata was called
Calcutta till 2001." Inder was always ready with the facts.
"Though Bengalis always called
it Kolkata," the old man interjected.
"So, what did Lakshman do in
Kolkata, or, Calcutta?" Yousuf asked.
"He started practicing law
there. He had neither shied away from education nor did he avoid hard word. The
results didn't disappoint. His practice flourished. He became successful and
happy. He had only one regret," the old man pointed out.
"The regret of losing his
mother and brother," Tina guessed.
"Yes! He didn't even have their
photographs to publish 'Missing' advertisements or posters. The police was also
not able to help much. But, characteristically, he didn't give up. He started
organising a feast in his native village every year. Anyone could have a hearty
meal at the feast without paying a single anna. The feast became
popular, and assumed the form of a fair in the name of his father, Diwan Dashrath
Mela. He hoped that the name would attract his mother and brother. In
spite of his very busy schedule, Lakshman stayed at the village during every
fair, and distributed free clothes and utensils to the needy at the end."
The old man spoke with admiration for Lakshman.
"Did the strategy help?"
Nitu was anxious to know the outcome.
"It did not, at least, in the
initial years. But once, as Lakshman finished distributing the last of the
utensils, he noticed two shy beggars standing at a distance. That they were in
abject poverty was evident from their appearance. They were so dirty! Perhaps
they had not taken bath for months. They had no footwear. Their feet were full
of small cuts and wounds. The shaggy hair and beard of one of them reached his
shoulders. The man was naked except for a torn piece of a jute sack barely hiding
his crotch. The other person was a woman, bent at the waist, supporting herself
with a makeshift cane and covering her dignity with an old sari that was
torn all over. Several knots kept the fragments together. Lakshman, clad in an
expensive Dhoti, a silk Kurta, a Pashmina shawl and
leather pump shoes, looked at the strangers with amazement. Tears welled up in
his eyes. He had never hoped to find his dear ones in such a poor state,"
the old man wiped his eyes dramatically.
Tina and Nitu also became emotional.
Yousuf and Inder were no better.
The old man looked at them, and carried on, "Lakshman
took his mother and brother to Calcutta. Their days of misery were over. But he
was not prepared for a development."
"A development? I thought, the story ended there!"
Yousuf commented.
"Man proposes, God disposes!" The old man had
become philosophical.
Nine
"So,
what was the development? Did Lakshman fall in some kind of trouble?" Tina
was eager to know.
"Well, you can say that
Lakshman did fall in trouble, albeit, in a different manner," the old man
started fondling his beard.
"Enough of the riddles! Please
tell, what happened next." Nitu was on the verge of losing her patience.
The old man tweaked his moustache, rubbed
fingers on his lips, and disclosed, "Actually, Ram started feeling very
uncomfortable soon. He could not stop comparing himself with Lakshman. He felt
guilty about his irresponsible behaviour in childhood. Only if he had paid
attention to studies! Only if he had not chosen the easy path of avoiding
books! Only if he had learnt to read, write, and calculate! Every moment spent
in the luxury of Lakshman's residence started reminding him of his failure.
Finally, he could not take it anymore. He slipped out of Lakshman's bungalow
one night, went to the Howrah junction, and sat in the Bombay Mail."
"You mean, Mumbai,"
Tina corrected.
"It was called Bombay those
days," the old man sighed. "Ram was in two minds. Bombay was too far.
Should he continue his journey to an unknown place or return to Calcutta before
it was too late? But would he be able to live happily with Lakshman doing all
the work and he enjoying all the comforts? The thoughts kept on tormenting him.
He kept thinking throughout the night and the morning. When the train stopped
at the next station, he got down ..."
"... and took the return train
to Howrah," Yousuf completed the sentence.
"No! His sense of self-esteem
was stronger than his need for support. His pride did not allow him to go back
to Calcutta. The people at the platform were dressed like him and spoke his
language. Ram felt that he would be able to jell with them and begin a new
life." The old man stroked his cheeks.
"So, he got down at which
station?" Inder asked casually.
The old man stayed silent for a
moment, and then blurted out, "Allahabad."
"Prayagraj! It was
called Allahabad before 2018," Tina could not stop herself from updating
the audience. "So, what happened then, Babaji?" She asked.
"Not much, really! Ram was able
to take care of himself. He worked somewhere as a gardener, somewhere as a
caretaker of cows, and somewhere as a guard over the years. He managed to get
two square meals a day and a set of new clothes twice a year doing small jobs.
He didn't want anything more in life. So, we can say that he started living a
satisfied life." The old man said with a concluding tone.
"And the story ends there! Tin
Tin!" Yousuf mimicked a radio sound.
"Just one doubt, Babaji!"
Tina asked, "Why did Lakshman and his mother not look for Ram?"
"They might have searched for
him in the nearby areas, but how would have they known that Ram had settled
down eight hundred kilometres away? Plus, Ram had ensured that he would remain
untraceable by not staying at any place for long. He was also particular about
not revealing his personal details, even his name, to anyone." The old man
clarified.
"If Ram did not reveal his personal
details, and it is not a fabricated tale as per your claim, how did you come to
know so much about him?" Inder asked the old man with penetrating eyes.
Stunned, the old man started dabbing
his eyes with the makeshift towel.
The children looked at each other. The
mystery had been solved. Silently, they left the place one by one. They felt
guilty about making the old man uncomfortable. He was not a criminal or a spy. He
was just an ordinary person whose pride had motivated him to earn his own bread.
They understood why he preached about working hard.
If you sympathise with them, tell me. I'll ask the kids
to accept you as their friend!
---------
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