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Sane and Insane
Vijval walked along the street dancing to the tune of an old Hindi-film that was buzzing out from a battered radio somewhere. His bizarre and out-of-rhythm dance drew the attention of all the shopkeepers who sat in their congested shops, flailing a newspaper. Someone from a group of workmen who sat at the tea-stall shouted in a gruff voice, "Aré O Paagal"
Vijval danced without paying heed, until a half-naked seven-year-old boy who lived in the nearby slum area threw a big stone that hit his left ear. Vijval pressed his hand on his ear and ran down the street, crying. He halted at some distance and gasped for breath.
He returned to his usual blissful state as soon as he saw a brightly illuminated bangles-stall that stood besides a paan shop. He rushed towards the stall. With his wide opened eyes, he looked at all the bangles, one by one, admiring their dazzling colours and symmetrical shapes. A calm breeze swept past and brought all the hanging bangles into motion. Their soft chime delighted him more than the old song to which he was dancing.
A tall man, who stood leaning by the red-stained wall and had been looking at him all the while, spoke up:
"What do you want boy?"
Vijval looked up, and got frightened by the tall and rough figure, and coarse voice.
"I-I want these-bangles."
"Which colour?"
Vijval pointed his index finger towards a set of fiery-red bangles that were hung with a thread just in front of him.
"Twelve rupees," the man said.
Vijval looked at him with surprised eyes. Then he slowly turned his eyes towards the fiery-red bangles that were gently touching each other and were creating an irresistible chime. This aroused a desire in him, and a thirst to quench that desire. His smile shrank as he realised he hadn't got enough money. The feeling of incompetence brought a thin layer of water on the outer surface of his eyes. He looked at the shopkeeper, and then again at the bangles. The shopkeeper saw the reflection of those fiery-red bangles in his wet eyes and said, "Eight rupees. Final price."
Vijval thrust his hand in his pocket and took out all the contents. He placed the smooth marble stone, a torn letter, and a small black coin back in his pocket, and placed the worn out notes and coins on the wooden rim of the stall.
He counted them. Yes he was right, he is incompetent. He muttered to himself, "Only five-rupees and fifty-paisa,"
"Give me half only," he said to the shopkeeper in a gloomy voice.
The shopkeeper untied the bangles, kept some of them in a square metal box, and packed the rest in a page of an old newspaper. Vijval kept four-rupees on the small wooden counter, took the packet, forced it into his pocket and ran.
He stopped in front of a big shop, stuck his nose to the glass and peeped inside. He saw his big reflection in it. His face had become dark and speckled, and his skin coarse. His cheeks looked as if there is air filled in them. His stomach had been bulging out day by day, as if planning to touch the ground one day; since the last few days, it has caused him great difficulty in running after flies. His shirt was spotted with tea stains and ink marks. But all this did not worry him. He was more interested in the black-current-topped-with-vanilla sundae that was kept on the other side of the glass. He was about twenty years old, but the candle of desire that lit in his heart at that sight had the same warmth as it had twenty years back. As soon as he stepped into the shop, a stout old man, who was sitting besides the counter got agitated. He hurriedly picked up his walking stick and tried to shoo off Vijval by banging it in front of him. Vijval felt like a cockroach. He ran from there. While crossing the streets, he recalled when his mother ran after a cockroach with her broom. The cockroach stopped on the door mat, and she banged the broom in front of it. He cockroach went out, just as Vijval went out of the shop. He cast a glimpse on his arms, legs and stomach to make sure he hadn't turned into a cockroach, because his mother would also shoo him then.
He stopped on the other side of the street, and saw a garden at some distance. He ran inside it. He chose an empty spot and lied down on the soft and wet grass. He fixed his eyes on the white clouds, which were present in the sky like foam in a cup of coffee. He was able to make shapes out of them: one of them looked like a sheep with two missing legs, and the other one looked like a smiling doll that he had once seen in a toy shop. Hiding behind the clouds, was the shy sun. It would have resembled one of those big and tasty oranges that his mother used to get for him, had it not been so bright. Moreover, the oranges sometimes had a stalk and a leaf attached to them; but the sun didn't. The azure sky formed the perfect backdrop. It reminded him of that blue bed-sheet which his mother had brought long back. It had white flowers, along with pale green leaves printed on it. He remembered how he would eagerly wait for her spread it on the bed, and then he would suddenly jump on it. The blanket was cold, and he felt very comfortable in it.
He closed his eyes. He recalled those days when his mother would go out of the house to buy vegetables and he would hold her saree and follow her. She'd laugh and would call him a tail. And he really liked being called a tail, because being a tail he could always follow her. Sometimes, his hand would slip off her saree. Then he would start crying; then she would pick him up and try to quieten him. But he remembered that he was very smart at that time; he would not stop crying until she hugged him and brought him one large dairy-milk. Vijval turned his head to his right, and solemnly looked at the sharp grass blades. He really missed her.
He felt something crawling up his stomach. He stood up and looked at it. It was a big worm. Its body was made up of a chain of green spheres. Vijval felt sad for him. He felt that it was wrong on the worm's part to be moving about park carelessly; he could get under someone's feet.
He picked it up and placed it on his palm.
"What are you doing here buddy?" Vijval whispered "You mom would be waiting for you at home. You know it's dangerous to roam around like this. You can get under someone's feet . . . and then . . . whoosh! All the green stuff will squeeze out."
The worm didn't reply, but only looked at Vijval.
He picked him up, placed him on the grass, and said, "Go directly home from here."
The worm didn't reply, and walked off.
Vijval looked about him. The park was not filled with ice-cream stands and parents with their children. A tall man, wearing an army uniform with three metal stars pinned on the shoulders, was strolling around. His army uniform made Vijval recall his past. Glorious memories of his army days flashed through his mind. He recalled that feeling of joy and happiness that rushed in his blood at the moment he found out that he had got selected for the army. Every time he opened his closet and saw the army uniform hanging in there, a feeling of pride spread across his blood system. That feeling of triumph in the battlefield! Those loud words of praises! Those medals from the president! He wished he could get back in the army once again, and knock off the traitors like nine pins, and wipe off the enemy from the crust of earth. He knew that he still had that valour, that courage, that heroism, that power . . . but . . . wait a second. He went back to his bench scratching his head. Something crossed his mind. Oh! He realised he was never in the army. Sigh. Actually, there was some confusion. He just recalled a game of chore-police he once played . . . or something else. Moreover he was too young for the army. It was all so confusing to him. He does not like confusions; they make him feel tired. He rubbed away the thoughts, laid his head on the wooden bench and slept.
***
He opened his eyes and stood up. He didn't feel like a cockroach now; he felt fresh and active. The sun was still bright, but now it wasn't overhead now. The sun was going somewhere. Vijval knew where; his mother told him about it once: It was going towards the ocean, where it will take a bath and will come out clean and fresh. It loses its colour and becomes white. And his mother told him that its name also changes: it is now called moon. Vijval was confused - why doesn't his name and colour change when he takes a bath. He took his eyes off the sun and looked around. A little girl was sitting in front of him. She had dismantled and muddy hair. She was wearing a blue frock which had patches of other cloths arbitrarily stitched to it. She was giving final touches to the sand castle she had been making since the morning. Vijval saw a plastic gun kept next to him on the bench. He picked it up and pointed it towards the girl.
"Hands up," Vijval called out.
The girl looked up. Her face was very pretty, and she was not more than six-years old. There were patches of mud on her lips, ears and on the tip of her nose.
"Hands up, I say!"
She raised her hands, but was not frightened.
"What's your name," Vijval asked.
"Ka-ka-"
"What? Kaka? That's a boy's name. Are you a boy? Then why are you wearing girl's clothes?"
"No no. It's Kali, not Kaka."
"Then why did you say Kaka?"
"Where do you live?" Vijval asked after a pause.
"Over there." Kali pointed towards a small shack. In front of the shack, two people were squatting and a woman was cooking food in a clay pot placed over a square brick structure. Vijval looked back at Kali. Her eyes were fixed at the house and she was taking out something from her pocket.
"What's that?" Vijval cried out.
"Toffee."
"Give me one," said Vijval.
She took out another one from her pocket and gave it to him. Vijval kept the gun aside. They both unwrapped their chocolates and silently ate them.
On the other side of the park, two fat men, wearing a blue uniform, were searching for something. They went to an old man who was sitting on the bench and showed him a photograph.
As soon as Vijval saw them, he got curled up like a worm and started shivering. His face was hidden under his arms. Only his legs, hands and back were exposed.
Kali asked, "What happened? What are you doing?"
"Th-they will b-beat me. Th-they will beat me."
"Who will beat you?" Kali asked.
The two fat men stopped beneath a tree and talked to each other. Then they walked towards the street and climbed on a white van. Vijval removed his arms and slowly raised his head. With his bloodshot eyes he looked at the van speeding away on the road.
Kali asked him, "Who were they?"
"Bad people."
"Just forget them, and don't worry. They won't harm you. By the way, you wanna be friends?" she said laying out her tiny hand towards him, and exposing her rows of teeth, which had two windows for ventilation.
Vijval was surprised. This was the first time someone had asked him to be his friend. He didn't know how is to be a friend. He shook her hand and said, "Sure."
"Hey, you want to come to the merry-go-round?"
"Yes!"
After five-minutes, Vijval stopped it by rubbing his feet to the ground and said:
"Hey I gotta go."
"Where?"
"Home."
"O come on. Please stay."
"Don't worry. I will be back after some time."
"Ok. But give back my gun."
"Oh, it's yours."
His house was a small, rectangular structure with three partitions. One served as a bedroom, one as a drawing-room, and the other as kitchen. In front of the house was a square empty space, to be served as a lawn. Vijval slowly walked towards the kitchen door, now and then looking at his sides. He peeped inside. A woman stood in front of the counter, wearing an old white saree. She looked very tired and lean and her whole face was covered in sweat. With a wide smile on his face, he stepped ahead. But his foot was drawn back by an invisible force. Before he makes her aware of his presence, all he wanted was two-minute time in which he wanted to look at her calm face, because he knew that it won't last long if she sees him. He was afraid, but this did not prevent his face from being lit up by a smile. It rarely happens that fear and joy penetrate together without harming each other. At the end of two minutes, he gathered some courage, and called in an inaudible voice, "Mother."
She didn't hear.
Stepping ahead, he tried once again, "Mother"
She raised her eyes from the dough and looked at him. Her lips trembled and her face turned red with horror. She said, "Vijval, is it you?" She looked at him for two minutes, first with joy, and then with sorrow. She came towards him saying, "Why did you come back? Tell me!" He knew what was coming. He sat down on his knees, and with tears gushing down his cheeks begged her not to beat him. With all her power she hit his shoulders. He stood up and leaned against the wall. She continued hitting him with all her power. Her bangles broke and their remains scattered all over the floor. Then something stopped her attack: a jingle of metals was heard from his pocket. She became more nervous and asked, "What's that, huh? Money? You stole money!" She ran inside and came out with a thick bamboo stick in her hands. She cried out, "I will kill you today!" and flogged him. Every time the stick hit his flesh, two tears trickled down her cheeks also. It was more painful to her than it was for him. It continued for five minutes, and then she grew tired. In the end, she sat down on the steps and sobbed, muttering, "Why don't you just die and leave me to peace." He lay moaning besides the tap. His head was sunk in his chest and his hands covered his head. He had become a constant source of pain for her, and he hated himself for it. He felt that there was no aim for his existence; he was nothing but a burden on earth. For the first time, he wished he was never born. He stood up and crept out of the house, without her notice. He rushed towards the garden, where Kali was waiting for him. She was busy with her sand castle.
"Can I help you?" Vijval asked approaching her.
"Yes. I'll get some water, and till then you dig this cave. But-what happened to you face!"
"It's nothing, I just fell down."
With a tin can in her hand, she ran to fetch water. There was a big mound of sand in front of Vijval. On the top of it was a small castle like structure. Below it was a big hole which ran across the mound. All he had to do was to insert his hand in the hole and rotate it like a corkscrew until it came out on the other side. He inserted his hand and tried to rotate it, but the hole was already very deep and it was hard to maintain his balance. He leaned forward. His whole body fell on the mound and all the sand flattened. The castle fell into ruins. In a frenzied state, he tried to restore it. What looked like a castle now looked like an ant hill. Kali was standing behind him. The tin can fell from her hand and she cried, "What have you done!"
He looked at her. Her lips were trembling, waiting to burst out shrieks. Her eyes were wet, and Vijval knew if something's not done soon, they would unleash floods. An idea struck him.
"Look over there! Bhel-puri! Yay! Wanna eat?"
The trembling lips turned into a smile, and she ran towards the stall. Every soul in the colony craves for Bhel-puri, and luckily for Vijval, so did she. It costed Vijval all the money he had for this treat. But nevertheless, it was worth it. They brought their Bhel-puris and sat near the fallen castle.
"We are friends and I don't even know you name. What's your name?" asked Kali.
"Vijval?"
"Oh. Is that you only name? Or you have any pet-name also?"
"I have three pet names. My mother calls me Vijval, and other people call me Idiot, Fool and Mad. Five pet-names and one real-name. All total four."
She held her belly, fell back on the grass and laughed. Vijval was puzzled. He silently ate his Bhel-puri.
"Do you even know what your names mean?" she asked still laughing.
"No. I don't. But why are you laughing?"
"Nothing, nothing. Just forget it. I will call you Viji, ok?"
"Ok. Now I have seven names. And I will call you Kaka."
"No no. That's a boy name."
"Ok then, I will call you Kali only."
"Ok."
"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Viji?" asked Kali.
"Yes, One sister. You want to meet her?" Vijval said keeping his empty paper plate aside.
"Ya, sure," Kali said throwing her empty plate aside. "Let's go."
Kali brought two orange-candy ice-creams for them on their way.
"How far is it?" asked Kali.
"Not far."
Vijval took her to a tree that was not far from his house. Below the tree was a rectangular patch where there was no grass. He pointed towards it and said, "There she is."
"What's this?"
"My sister lives down there."
"How can she live down there? How does she breathe?"
"She is dead. She does not breathe."
"Oh. How did she die?"
"I'm not sure. Father says she died because she was ill. But mother says that father killed her. She says that they didn't have money to feed her, so father killed her."
"O!"
They both stood there for two minutes, gazing the grave, licking their ice-creams. The top portion of Kali's ice-cream fell down on the grave. Vijval shouted, "Hey, what are you doing!"
"Sorry."
Vijval knelt down and carefully removed the orange piece. He threw that portion of mud which had turned to orange. He dug out fresh mud from nearby, placed it over the grave and levelled it with his hand.
"I'm very sorry, Viji."
"Fine. But don't do it again, or I'll kill you. I really love my sister."
By the time they reached the garden, it was already dark. They decided to meet near the bench the next day, at 1 O'clock, to rebuild the castle. Vijval went back towards his house; this time without fear. He is not blessed with sanity, but he understands his mother more than she herself does; he can predict every action of hers. He peeped inside the main door. She was sitting over a mat, still weeping. Vijval knew she was waiting for him. As soon as she saw him, she stood up and wiped her tears with her saree.
"Come in, my son," she said, "Sit, I'll get some food for you. I have made allu ka paratha especially for you."
Vijval had prophesied all this. He knew that she would behave as if nothing has happened.
Vijval went towards the kitchen door. She was heating parathas over the burner. They had no tongs in the house, because of which her fingers would remain burnt most of the time. He hurriedly went to her and said, "Don't heat it. I will eat it like this only." She was well aware of the reason that lurked beneath his statement. "No Vijval, it's fine. I will heat it." He took the paratha from her hand and kept it in his plate, without speaking anything. "Sit over there. I'll also join you."
After the dinner, she laid the mattress on the floor, and spread the blue bed-sheet on it. It wounded Vijval deeply to find out that the bed was sold, but in the end he understood, like always. They laid themselves on the cold blue bed-sheet and slept. Owing to the tiresome day he had had, dreams quickly overtook reality.
After some time, in the midst of his sleep, he felt some cold liquid being poured over his right hand. He slowly turned his head and found his mother kneeling besides him, with a piece of cotton, soaked in Detol, pressed between her index finger and thumb. In a voice which was not louder that the chirping of crickets, she said, "I was just-" Fresh tears trickled down, and prevented any utterance. She wiped them off with her saree and said, "I am sorry, I hit you today." Vijval woke up and sat besides her, cross-legged. He wiped the new tears with his index finger and said, "Don't cry, mother. It was my fault, I ran from-" She held his shoulders and hugged him before he could finish his sentence. Her sobs were now louder than ever. She wiped her tears with her saree and said, "Just forget it. We will talk about something else. What did you do all day?" He laid his head on her lap. A pleasant feeling overtook him; a feeling, for which there is no word in the dictionary; a feeling that cannot be explained, only felt.
"I went to a garden today."
"What did you do there?"
"I made a friend there. Her name is kali, and she is six-year old. She is very nice."
"Oh, I see."
"Mother, what does my name mean?"
"Vijval means "intelligent and wise". Your grandfather kept you name."
"Oh. And mother, what do my other names mean?"
"Other names?"
"Yes. The paan-walla outside out house told me I have four names: Idiot, Fool, Mad and Vijval. What do they mean?"
"No. Don't ever listen to what he says. He is a bad person. And remember, you have only one name: Vijval."
"Ok mother."
She said in a low voice, "Vijval, tell me the truth, why did you steal money?"
"Mother, I didn't steal! I swear I didn't! Those were not coins," he said and took out the crushed newspaper from his pocket. He untied it and laid it in front of her. "Mother, those were bangles I brought for you. You remember you gave me six-rupees fifty-paisa before I went there? I saved that money to buy bangles for you when I come back after some time."
She blankly looked at the crushed paper and broken bangles kept in centre of it. She scattered the reminiscent, to see if any one survived as a whole. Vijval looked at them and said in a consoling tone, "They have died."
"Don't say died. Say "they are broken""
"Broken."
"Mother," Vijval said, looking into her face, "w-will you send me there again? Please-" Tears seized his words and broke them into parts "P-please don't. P-please, mother."
She replied, "I swear I won't. I'm very very sorry." She held her ears with her burnt fingers and said, "You will always be with me now, mera baccha."
He laid his head on lap for the whole night and talked to her. Neither of them felt tired. A mysterious force kept them awake all night, and none of them felt tired.
***
Vijval's mother woke him up early in the morning, and told him to come outside. When he went out, he saw her sitting on a mat with a thick book in her hands.
"Come sit. Let us begin our lesson."
"Lesson?"
"Yes. From now on, I will teach you a lesson each day, at this time. And to make things interesting, it will in the form of a story, with a moral."
Vijval sat throughout the story without stirring a muscle. His mother was so pleased that she gave him a kiss after the lesson was complete.
***
For two years, their lives continued without a fleck of change. Vijval would wake up every morning and would sit on the mat before his mother even woke up. Vijval could never know what is it to make friends in school, but his mother made sure that he knew what knowledge was. Throughout the story, he would sit cross-legged and listen to the story as if he was mesmerised. It may be a hard task to decide why he woke up early every morning and sat down on the mat before his mother and looked forwards to the lesson with an eager heart: the story, or the kiss in the end. The lessons had an enduring impact on his character. Every word uttered by her was precious as gem for him - sometimes he would go back to his room after the lesson and recall her words, in case he forgets anything. He obeyed the morals of the story with a blind faith. But at times, Vijval misinterpreted the meaning of the morals, for he had never gone to school. On a certain day, his mother narrated him a story whose moral was, "All beings are equal". The same day, when she was spraying rat-poison in the cupboard, he rushed and snatched it from her hand. He said, "Mother, what are you doing! You taught me all beings are equal and you . . ." She found herself devoid of a suitable answer and hence, only said, "I meant all human beings".
Everyday after the lesson, he would go to meet Kali in the garden. After making castles and caves, destroying them, re-making them, and spending time on the merry-go-round, they both would visit his sister's grave and would pray for her.
For all, life went smooth as a drop of water sliding down the glass.
***
After a dozen failed attempts, Vijval gave up the castle re-construction. Kali's determination was unshakeable, hence, she continued. Vijval looked around, trying to find something interesting. His eyes fell on a big green worm.
"Hey Kali, look!"
"What's it Viji?"
"Look! It's my friend. I met him yesterday."
She turned her eyes from the castle and curiously looked at the worm.
"Wow! What's his name?"
"I don't know. I just met him yesterday. I told him not to roam about like this in the park-but he won't listen."
The worm crawled on without paying attention to them.
"Ok just leave him," said Kali and carried on with the construction.
Vijval's spirit had acquired a new aim now: searching for new friends among the grass. He knelt down and looked under the bench. Empty. He went near an empty packet of ice cream. The packet was empty. Vijval sighed. But his search did not go vain, as he found something interesting two yards from the packet. A group of ants were feasting over the carcass of a bird. Vijval exclaimed, "Look!" Kali looked up from her castle and shouted, "What happened now?"
"Come here. It's amazing."
Deep curiosity arose in her to see what was so exciting over there.
"Oh! Poor creature," she said looking at it.
"I got an idea!" said Vijval. He thumped his hand next to the carcass. The orderly line of the carriers got disrupted. They moved about disorderly, and some collided with each other, dropping their share. After two more thumps from Vijval and three from Kali, the ants marched away.
"Dig a hole. We will bury her."
They both got to work, and soon forgot that a castle was waiting nearby. They carefully placed the bird in the hole.
"Wait! Wait!" exclaimed Vijval.
"What?"
"Don't put the mud now. We haven't done the rites."
"But, I don't know any rites. Do you?"
Vijval thought for a minute.
"No," said Vijval, "but I have an idea."
He ran near the tree and brought a flower. He plucked one petal and placed it above the bird. Then they happily put the mud over her. Vijval planted a small seed-whose plant specie was not known-on top of it, so that the grave becomes recognisable.
They went to the castle, but soon gave it up due to the lack of interest. The merry-go-round looked more fun and less boring. After an hour, they grew tired and rested besides the bench.
"Hey Kali, I'll go and meet my sister, want to come?"
"You go, I'm tired."
Vijval stood up and dusted his pants.
"Wait, I'll also come."
Kali had got her pocket money the same day, and hence, brought two mango ice-creams for them. When they reached there, Kali asked:
"Err...but what do we do here?"
Vijval didn't know but tried to pretend he did.
"Oh come on! Don't ask such silly questions. What do you do when do you go to someone's grave, huh?"
"I don't go to graves. We burn dead people, and not bury them."
Vijval closed his eyes and prayed. Kali copied him. When Vijval opened his eyes, he saw that Kali was deeply immersed in her prayer. The top portion of the ice-cream had fallen on the grave.
"What have you done!" Vijval shouted.
Kali opened her eyes and say the orange mud beneath.
"I'm very sorry."
"Arg...you need punishment now!"
She stepped back frightened. "W-w-what?"
Vijval cleaned the mud, replaced it with freshly dug mud, levelled the ground and said, "Become a hen, and lay an egg."
"I don't know how to lay an egg."
"Try it."
She tried but failed. She again tried and again failed. Finally, Vijval pitied her and told her to become a hen for ten minutes. She readily agreed.
The next day, Vijval came and sat on the mat early morning for the lesson. His mother came in with the giant book in her hand. She opened the book and said to Vijval, "Vijval, what is this, huh?" Vijval looked at the opened page and the black and red spots on it. She said, "You have been killing mosquitoes with his book?" Vijval looked down. "If I ever find this again, I swear that will mark the end of you lessons."
Vijval felt pity, and swore never to do so again.
"Ok now, coming to the story. Today's story is about Raja Harishchandra.
"Raja Harishchandra ruled Ayodha in the North India. Among the precincts, the only two people who led a life of woe were: the king himself and his wife. Their misery was solely due to the lack of a child. They held yagnas and went on pilgrimages, but in vain. Then finally, on the advice of many wise sages they prayed to Lord Varun and sought for his help. Contented with their devotion, Lord Varun said, "You will be blessed with a son, but only if you agree to sacrifice him as soon as he is born."
"They were appalled with his words, but their wretchedness and blind desire made then agree to Lord Varun's proposal. Very soon, a son was born. It brought forth from the heavens garlands of joy and bouquets smiles for the couple. But unfortunately, trailing behind the white clouds that were hovering over their lives, were the black clouds, waiting to unleash storms and lightning. Soon, Lord Varun appeared before Raja Harishchandra and asked him to fulfil his promise. Raja Harishchandra, filled with tears, begged, "Oh merciful Lord! Saviour of the saviours! I touch your feet and beg before you to wait until the child grows his teeth." Lord Varun accepted his plea. As soon as the boy's teeth appeared, Lord Varun appeared before Raja Harishchandra and told him to fulfil his promise. Raja Harishchandra begged, "Oh merciful Lord! Saviour of the saviours! I touch your feet and beg before you to wait until the tonsure ceremony of the child." Lord Varun accepted his plea.
"Year after year, Raja Harishchandra begged Lord Varun to wait for some more time. Soon, their son came to know about his father's promise. One day, he ran away from his house and disappeared. On learning of this, Lord Varun cursed Raja Harishchandra. Raja's entire body swelled up. The entire kingdom was aghast at Raja's pain and misery. Lord Varun himself pitied his condition, and hence, cured him of his pain. Raja Harishchandra became a changed man now. Raja Harishchandra's son was found, and he took a vow never to lie or to go back on his word.
"One day, Lord Indra came to know about Raja Harishchandra's vow, and on his command, Vishvamitra appeared in Raja Harishchandra's dream and demands his whole kingdom. Raja Harishchandra agrees. The next day, Vishvamitra appeared before Raja Harishchandra in his court and told him to abide his promise of donating his kingdom. Though the promise took place in dreams, Raja Harishchandra, in reality, complied his promise and donated his kingdom to Vishvamitra. The scriptures have prohibited the use of things once donated. Hence, the land of Kashi remained the only place of earth where Raja Harishchandra can step on.
"Vishvamitra appeared before Raja Harishchandra and told him that his donation cannot be completed without a Dakshina (Grant money to a sage). Bereft of his kingdom, and not possessing even a rupee, Raja Harishchandra fell to misery. His wife consoled him, and asked him to sell her as a slave. Raja Harishchandra agreed with a heavy heart. He went to the town and sold her to a rich Brahmin. Vishvamitra refused such a small Dakshina. As rest of the Dakshina, Raja Harishchandra agreed to become Vishvamitra's slave. Vishvamitra sells Raja Harishchandra to the Yamraj. Yamraj forces Raja Harishchandra to collect grave clothes in cemeteries. One day, Raja Harishchandra sees his wife in the cemetery, who had come to perform the last rites of their son. Raja Harishchandra decides to devote himself to the hands of death. Just then, the holy God, along with Lord Vishnu and Indra appear in the cemetery. They praise Raja's virtues and his steadfastness. They bring alive his son, and offer the couple instant places in the heaven. Vishvamirta grants Raja Harishchandra half of Lord Indra's powers for 14 manvantaras (4,29,40,80,000 years).
"This story teaches us two things: first, one should never go back on his word, and second, one should never utter a lie. Vijval my son, never forget these words of mine, Never."
Vijval was sitting in front of her like a carved statue. His eyes were fixed on her eyes. She closed the book, stood up, kissed Vijval and went to do her cooking. The story, and specially its moral, dragged Vijval into a whirlpool of thoughts. Every word of the story got engraved in his memory. He tried to recall all the things he had ever said to make sure he had complied everything he had said. His memory being narrow, he was able to recall only once occasion where he hadn't done as he had said. Vijval was afraid that if he goes back on his word, he would lose his mother's trust. Drenched in his thoughts, he lost the trail of time. His mother came in and said,
"Vijval, you've still not bathed? Come on now, get up."
Vijval looked at her. His suspicious behaviour was confirmed by the missing natural smile from face.
"What happened? Are you all right, Vijval?"
"Mother."
She sat next to him and asked, "Yes my son, what happened? You're looking so pale"
"Mother," Vijval asked in a mirthless voice, "should a person never go back on his word? Never ever?"
"Yes my son, never. He will have to go through pain in the beginning, but in the end, he will rejoice; just like Raja Harishchandra."
"Mother, in any case one can't go back on his word? Even if he had said that thing by mistake."
"Yes my dear, in any case he can't. Raja Harishchandra promised Vishvamitra his kingdom in his dream just as a mistake; but yet he did not go back on his word. He was a great man."
"Any case?"
"Yes any! Now get up and take a bath. Breakfast is ready."
***
He stepped out of the house and walked towards the garden, where Kali would be waiting for him. The heavy rains last night had washed the roads clean. Clouds of ubiquitous dust were missing today; yesterday's rain had transformed the dust into mud. And when the heat would strike again, the mud would lose its faithfulness to the rain and would become dust once again. Vijval thought how easy it would be to become dust. No worry, no tension, no pain, no tears - no feelings. A life that is nothing but an eternal cycle of transformation: from mud to dust, from dust to mud. How easy it would be to live like an inanimate being. On the either sides of the road was tall green grass. It would have been hard to recognise their presence till yesterday; but today, the rains raised their heads. Hiding among the blades were vibrant coloured insects, who had taken shelter under the shadow of leaves, just like a trespasser takes shelter under the home of an anonymous person. There isn't much difference between the lives of insects and humans. In fact, Vijval thought, that it was better to be an insect; specially a cockroach. One need not worry about good, bad, truth or evil. A cockroach only has to sleep and search for prey. He need not bother about truth, morning lessons, or Raja Harishchandra. He wised he could become a cockroach. Cockroaches don't get confused; they don't have to learn lessons; and most importantly cockroaches don't cry. How good it would be live like one. Suddenly his vision became blurry, as if he was looking through water. Two drop of salty water fell down: one the nail of his right thumb, the other fell on his left rubber slipper. His vision became clear again. He wiped off his eyes with the handkerchief and rushed towards the garden.
***
Vijval's mother had made khichdi for him. She kept the plate on the table and sat down besides it. She got worried what took Vijval so much time in the bathroom. She looked around. The yellow mass of khichdi kept on the shiny steel plate looked boring and dull. She thought about the various quick ways in which she can garnish it. She decided on a ring of tomato pieces around the khichdi. She went inside the kitchen and picked up two tomatoes. She went towards the counter to fetch the knife. The cutlery lay dishevelled in the rack. Just then, a boy came rushing in the kitchen.
"Are you Vijval's mother?" he asked panting.
"Yes."
"Come there. Vijval has . . . .Please come in the garden. Fast." He ran out before she could put forward any questions. She rushed for the garden with the tomatoes in her hand.
A crowd had gathered around the bench. Rumours were running among the people. All waited form someone to announce something, so that it could be decide whose rumour was true. Vijval's mother pushed the people aside and made her way. She had lived with a tyrannous husband for ages, and had seen the world's most appalling sights - this prevented her from losing consciousness. Vijval was sitting on the bench, crying and panting. His head was sunk in his chest, and he held a bloody knife in his hand. Near his feet, lay the body of a small girl. Her face was towards the ground. There was a dark red region on her back. Blood flowed out from it and formed a puddle next to her.
***
When Vijval opened his eyes, a yellow light made its way through his eyes and got engraved on his retina. Tears came out with pain. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He again opened his eyes. He was sitting on a broken chair and was in a small, empty room. The only source of light was the blinding bulb fixed above his head. His hands were tied around his back. His prior concern at the moment was the barbarous act he had done. Tears of guild trickled down. He wished he could just die. There was no reason for his existence. He had killed her. And why? Just because a few foolish words came out of his mouth when she dropped her ice-cream on his sister's grave? He did wrong; yes, he did wrong. He recalled the story of Raja Harishchandra and his greatness. The words of his mother rung his ears now, ‘...one should never go back on his word, and second, one should never utter a lie. Vijval my son, never forget these words of mine, Never.' What he did was not wrong. Yes, it was not wrong. Pride filled his heart and erased the guilt. He had done what she had said, and she would surely be proud of him. She would hug him and say, ‘Vijval, I love you my son. I knew you would obey my words." Tears evaporated and a smile of pride shown on his face.
***
The inspector in charge of the area was a smart young man. Looking at him, one expects him to be an IAS officer or a part of special force. But he, coming from the family of a freedom fighter and having hot blood in his veins, tried his best to get a transfer to the nastiest crime filled city in the country.
He leaned back on his chair and constantly looked at the old wooden desk, drumming the desk with his pen. At last, he spoke, "Vijayram, what do you think about the case?" The constable woke up from his sleep and looked around to find who spoke his name. "Yes sir?"
"I asked - what do you think about the case?"
He rubbed his eyes and spoke, "Sir I . . . I think . . . sir, that." He found himself short of words and halted here.
The inspector, still looking at the wooden table and drumming it with his pen, said: "I've heard from people that he is a kind person. He was mad but . . . he never did any such hideous thing before. He just behaved odd. I can't find a reason why he should murder her; they were good friends also, people in the garden told me."
The constable had fully recovered from his sleep by now. "Sir, he was a mad-man, and one can never trust a man-man, they can do anything."
"Yes, you're right. But then . . . what could the reason be . . . . Let's see what he has to say."
The inspector went inside the room, followed by the constable. They had to forgo their routine method of obtain truth from convicts. They asked Vijval a hundred times the reason of his outrageous act, and every time, met with a silent mouth. They gave up and went out. Vijval was left alone to his thinking.
He could have done anything to protect his mother. It was she who told him that one should never go back on his word, even if he said it by mistake. But no, he would never reveal this to the people. Just then, the story Raja Harishchandra again flashed through his mind. She wanted him to be like Raja Harishchandra, and yes he will become like him. Raja had two qualities: he never went back on his word, and never uttered a lie. Vijval had done the first thing, and now he had to do the second: he had to tell the truth. But no, how can he do this? He can't tell them he did it because his mother told him. He can't. But if he did not, then she would not like him. It would hurt her to see Vijval not obeying her word. Yes. Yes, he will tell them, he will tell them the truth. The inspector and the constable came back after five-minutes.
"My mother told me do it," he said. On further asking why she told him, they again met with a silent mouth
***
"Vijayram, tell me, was there any feud . . . or any sort of fight between Vijval's and the girl's family?"
"Sir, I am not sure, but I had heard that there was a small dispute; it over the two acre land beyond the lake. Vijval's father had owned it before, but after his death, the girl's father took over it."
"Oh yes, the girl's father. He is very cruel, right? What's his name?"
"Yes sir, his name is Rajesh. He is very cruel. He often beats his wife in front of the people. We have two murder cases pending against him. He killed people in the open public, but then, no one came forward as a witness."
"Oh God! Vijayram, open your ears and listen: you wont let his confession get out of this room, understand? You will not discuss it with anyone. Remember it."
Vijayram stood up from his chair in agitation and said, "Sir but-but what difference will it make?"
"Don't be so foolish. One can't even imagine what Rajesh will do to the widow and her child. They will suffer a fate worst than death. If only they reach the court safely . . ."
Vijayram sat back on his seat, and looked at his shoes. His face had become red and his eyes bloodshot. The inspector looked at him and shouted, "Vijayram, did you . . . ? You bast . . . . Whom did you tell, huh?"
Vijayram said, crying, "Sir, sir that-that watchman from nearby came and asked. I just told-him that his mother said him to do it, sir I am sorry I didn't know, I am very sorry. Sir, can anything be done?"
The inspector fell back on his seat and sighed. "Only pray that they die before they get into the hands of Rajesh. You told them how much time back?"
"Sir sir t-two hours."
"God, I'm sure Rajesh know about it now and is out for them. God, why did I even-"
The inspector stood up and ran towards the room where Vijval was kept. The ropes was cut, Vijval was missing. The wall two-inch wall behind was torn away, just like a cloth. Before they cold curse the infrastructure, the shouts and scorns diverted their attention. The inspector and the constable knew what it was, and hence, did not go out so see. The inspector felt incompetent and useless. He had been in this city for years, but failed to make a speck of change in the mind of people. He concluded that they will always remain animals. He gave up the idea of ‘reformation' and decided to get a transfer soon. The constable slowly opened the window and looked outside. He felt ashamed of being a part of such a city.
The crowd had gathered in a circle. Most of them were drunken men from the local tavern, and others were old men and Rajesh's family members. In the centre, a fence was erected. Inside the fence were Vijval's mother and Vijval. Rajesh, with a bamboo stick in his hand, was driving them around like cattle.
The constable looked at Vijval's mother; she had lost her reason. The constable was a bit relieved, for he knew that the burden of reality is harder to carry for sane people. When one becomes insane, there is no more mental pain. He turned his head and sighed. The inspector's head was sunk in his table, and room was filled with quite sobs.
Copyright 2008 Nishant
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