by Victor Mahn
Siddhanath heard the chirping of a cricket very close to his mat. He immediately knew this must be the signal that the Rogue spoke of during their meeting earlier. The Rogue had said, cryptically, “When two parts of the body are entwined together as a form of dance, and thence a melodious sound emanates from that motion, such will be your indicator to depart your home, my dear. And soon you and your beloved will be interlaced together as well!” The instruction ended with a sniggering. And Siddhanath thought it amusing that the cryptic message would come in the form of stridulation, thus limiting the cue to that of the sound made by a common domestic cricket.
At that, he flung open his eyes, and peered about the room. He had been shamming for about four hours now. Consequently, his eyes had not been operating for that time, and he realised that he now had blots around the centre of his vision. After several moments, with his eyesight now able to make out the outlines of objects he was accustomed to, he arched his hips to the right and pushed himself up from the ground.
The thin blanket that had been placed on his body as he had been lying down now rolled onto a wad at the side of the mat. He picked it up charily and checked if there were signs of the chirping cricket. Of course, there won’t be any such sign! Satisfied, he placed the blanket on the hard pillow, and noiselessly walked out of there to the back door of the house, placing each foot as softly as possible—from the heel to the toe. He smiled as he relished the fact that this was not the first time he had been carrying out such a walk around his house; there had been many an occasion he had engaged in the silent walk. Now he would need to be sure to be just as silent throughout his venture out of the Holy City.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Well, sister! Have you ever thought that, maybe, Rudra and Shiva are not the same person? Our scholastic tutors have not gone to any great lengths to discover why, for instance, that in the Rig-Veda, there is only reference to Rudra, the Roarer, and no mention of Shiva, the Kind Recluse?” Atharv asked Kausalya. He seemed to be radiating with a certain confidence – and defiance of sorts – at the prospect of putting forth such a controversial theory. He found it incongruent that he had been named after another collection of the scriptures of one of the four Vedas. Quite incongruous, indeed…
Kausalya baulked at the idea. “That is the most absurd thing you’ve said so far in your life, Atharv… Different persons! I wonder sometimes, how is it that you could think of such crooked things? It does amaze me, brother.”
“It takes a deep-thinking mind to manage such feats, sister. It is not for everyone,” he said, and gave a sly wink. “I just thought that since the temperaments of both Shiva and Rudra – one representing the aspect of being tender, while the other is that of wildness – is a curious thing. And throughout the entire Rig Veda, there is no mention of the name Shiva. Not once. There are only the citations on the Roarer, who wields a bow, and thereby is ultimately an archer. Have you seen any depictions of Shiva hunting with a bow, sister? Or were the illustrations of Him featuring only drums and a trident? Well? What do you think?” Atharv said.
Kausalya had begun matting her lustrous hair. The evening prayer at the mandir – with the chief priest being the only one allowed into the inner sanctum – will be held in its usual grand fashion. The hundreds of oil lamps adorning the stairway leading to the entrance and all around the edges of the main halls, would have been lit up by now. She always found it a fascinating sight; the lambent essence transformed the mandir with the simple aid of oil lamps. She had heard her brother’s query, of course. But I do not think that it warrants a reply. Such heresy! And if Father found out…
The window at which they were both seated, which is triangular in shape, with the lower part being a tall rectangle, let in the moonlight and stellar luminescence. It is vital to have such light when studying the Brahmanic scriptures, young ones, their tutor had once said. He had a rather comprehensive analysis of the matter, and he hoped that it would be scribed onto parchment and be read throughout the lands. Kausalya looked up at the stars and called on the memory of the instruction that she and her brother had received on the first day of their tutor’s commencement with them at their home. It seemed that there was a connection between the stars and the moon, and the knowledge which had been acquired by the ancients. It seemed clear that they had looked to the night sky for the answers to their pressing wonders of creation. What had been obscure to other cultures beyond the vast system of valleys and mountains, we understood after a while—the universe moves at an awfully slow pace, and a single human lifetime is not sufficient to study such movements. It would take several lifetimes for an analysis of interest, and that means that the data that is being passed on from one generation to the next would need to be recorded. Therefore, language and a system of writing and archiving would need to exist before any form of investigation could be undertaken. I like this one, she had thought then, awestruck at the depth of his knowledge. He is younger than most, but more knowledgeable than them all.
But now her brother seemed to be ridiculing him, and she was lost for words. Perhaps they are different persons. Perhaps not. Why does it matter?
Atharv continued looking at her. Agitated that there seemed to be no response forthcoming from his sibling, he ventured into a satirical mode, “Perhaps you do not have the wisdom nor the wits for such things, Kausalya. Would you rather we had a banter? I have some new ways to attack you! You are just a pretty face. A pretty face that will one day be a householder, and you’d spend your days in the background of your husband.” There! That’ll get her started.
But, again, nothing came out of her. She continued gazing outward, with her hand still working on her hair. Atharv said, “What is wrong with you today? You’d best get used to talking, for when our tutor gets here in… several minutes, he’d have some questions lined up for each of us.”
She placed her right foot down on the large Rajasthan dhurrie they were seated on, adjacent to the short chair on which the tutor would seat himself. She looked at her brother, said, “I had some… thoughts to consider, Atharv. Father’s becoming ill, he’s not as fit as he once was. With the season of harvest here now, there have been all sorts of festivals—at least one each week, I imagine. And for each of those nights when he is out at the altar conducting prayers for the pilgrims and the families, he’s exposed to the huge amount of smoke from the burning of firewood in front of the mandir. I hear him coughing ceaselessly through the night, and he’s not having enough sleep either. He’s… aged.”
Her brother had been listening silently, and very attentively, with his eyes cast downward. Yes…he’s not as spry anymore. There will be a time for reckoning for that, and there was the obvious fact that their father was the sole breadwinner of their family. Though he had been provided a house and monthly provisions for their household needs, which was decent enough, Atharv knew that this would only continue so long as he was able to serve the mandir as chief priest. Also, as part of the decree made with the Maharaj of Kāsi, their father would need to indoctrinate the younger priests to the Sanskrit rituals. But with his health in a state of detriment, their place in the chain was in jeopardy. “I know,” he said quietly.
“Mother is worried, too. I sense it, though she does not show it. She has always kept such things to herself. I think that she fears it, the thought of losing him, and the question of what will become of us. Especially… me,” she said. She tried to ascertain the spot where her brother’s gaze was fixed at, planted her sight on a point of the pyramid-like images on the dhurrie.
“Of course, she’s worried. She’s thinking about you being a wife to someone, someday. And to whom, and how, is what’s in her mind. How would she be able to carry out those tasks, being a woman? And her own brothers are away on a nine-year pilgrimage to the various mountain shrines in the Himalayas. No one would be able to reach them, and they wouldn’t know what is occurring here. Another five years to go for their return… I miss the three of them,” Atharv said. “I’ve been close
r to Mother’s siblings than I have been to Father’s.”
“Me too,” Kausalya said, sighing. “Things will be fine,” she added at last.
“Yes. Yes, they will. But you still need to… Well. You know how it is for daughters. Once they leave for the home of their husbands, they rarely would be able to come to their own parents’ house. Even for a visit,” he said, contemplating the dire circumstances that would definitely follow. Some day.
“I do not want to be reminded of that, Atharv!” she barked, her eyes now wide with rage. “Why do you do these things? You always play the role claiming to be ultimately all-rational, with no emotion. I guess that you are truly pretending, that you do have a soft interior, after all. Too soft for the likes of the son of a priest.” It is my turn to taunt, brother!
“Hum! Are you not the Princess of Lofty Tenderness? I am soft, indeed! I should give you a punch, break your nose. Perhaps that’ll make you nice and neat,” he said, suppressing a laugh. He looked at her for a moment, then said more seriously, “But I have to tell you, Kausalya, you’re looking like a bride.”
She blushed at this, turned away for a second, then looked back at him, “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Well, it is true. And you know me—I am an advocate of the truth!” he beamed. “Every boy in Kāsi, and from all four quadrants, has been looking at you in an odd way. Odd! But I know what they’re thinking… the scums… Even the girls have a thing or two to say about your looks.” She will feel uplifted now…
“I really don’t know whatever it is that you mean,” she said, looking out through the window again. Time seemed to be trailing rather slowly for her today, and she ached for it to be sped up, by any of the gods that could manage that. She’d gladly give Them her devotion—just make the time go on quicker…
There was a knock on the door, to which Atharv said “Please enter.” The tutor stepped into the room, which was one of the most heavily decorated that he’d ever seen, turned to shut the door, and proceeded to the low chair placed before the two teenagers. The tutor was aware of the traditions, and he approved of them, of course. For instance, the guru, which, in Sanskrit means, ‘the one who removes darkness’, is supposed to be seated at an elevated level; his students below him. Of course, it has some symbolic elements, one is to show that the intellect of the guru is elevated above those of his students. And then there was the practice with regards to teaching female students: families would place a piece of cloth (usually a piece of saree or a woven blanket) up between two walls, held together by hooks. The guru was not meant to see his female students, nor should the student see the one who is instructing. And, almost always, lessons are conducted only verbally. Now, the tutor placed himself onto the seat, darted out his arm to make sure that the thick saree that was suspended in front of him, was an arm’s length away. “You two, ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir, we are,” Atharv said. A part of the custom is that the female student should not speak unless spoken to, and she could not be alone with a guru. Many a time Atharv wondered if the lessons were actually meant for his sister, and whether their father made him sit through the classes as… well, sort of a proxy without a purpose.
“Very good. Let’s quickly review on the segment we have been—” the guru started, then paused as he saw, through the veiled cloth, that Atharv had his right arm raised, indicating the need to say something. "Yes, Atharv?"
“I have a doubt, Sir. One I’ve recently picked up. I am sure that you are the sagacious one to alleviate it,” Atharv said. His sister rolled her eyes. Oh boy, here we go…
“Yes? What is your query?”
“It is… about the great war of Bharat. The Mahabharata. And the Ramayana, too. I have been contrasting these two great epics, Sir,” Atharv said. Kausalya turned to look at him, slightly amused that this was not the subject of discussion that they had been having earlier. Oh, brother, you’re rich, truly!
The guru had a look which seemed very poised and very collected. And he delighted at the fact that there was one other in Kāsi who’d spend some of his time out of the classroom to contemplate academic matters.
“Yes, Atharv. The two of the greatest epics of our forefathers. What do you seek to know about them?”
Atharv leaned forward, planted his hands under his folded legs, and, as though was about to say something truly clandestine, whispered, “Did it truly happen? These two epics? Did the characters in them really exist, as in flesh and blood?”
The guru took a moment, then, “Yes. They really existed, and these epics did take place. They are an historical account, recounted orally through the ages. Why do you ask that now? Do you doubt its merits?”
“Oh no, Great One! I do not doubt it. I just… well, I do have a doubt, but only relating to a small part of it! Not to the entire chronicles. Just to their timelines, Sir.” Atharv said.
“The timelines?”
“Yes, Sir. About which of these epics occurred first.”
“Well, we have not covered them just yet. That’s still some weeks away, after we have gone through the details of the astrological functions played by the planets. But since you have asked me this now, I might as well tell you. The Ramayana happened first, and the great war some thousands of years thereafter,” the guru said.
“All right…” Atharv said, looking at Kausalya. She knew that her brother had already known this. There is something else brewing here…
“But... I was wondering of another possibility, Sir…” he stretched out the query for as long as possible.
“Yes? Do tell me what it is.”
“I have a… well, let’s say it is a suspicion. That’s all, a suspicion. That they really occurred around the same time. That they happened concurrently, or in sequence, one after another,” Atharv said.
“Why do you think that?” the guru asked.
“Well, Sir. It is because I had been going through the scriptures in the archives here in Kāsi. And through the annals. And I have been reading about the characters… well, only the major characters, in both these epics. And I have hit upon a most intriguing fact, Sir. I believe that I should one day write about it, and perhaps even preach about it!”
“Is that so?” the guru asked, probing the subject and the boy. “What have you found out, then?”
“There is this one character—Parasurama. He is the who wields an axe, right?”
“Yes, that is right.”
“He occurs in both tales. He makes an appearance in both the Ramayana and the Mahabharata,” Atharv said. Now let us see the response…
Kausalya looked on at her brother. Not bad, Atharv…
“Well… I’ve never thought of that,” the guru admitted. “That is very clever. A very mindful analysis.”
“Yes, Sir. That is why I believe that the events described in these tales happened about the same time,” Atharv hit the hammer on its mark. How exciting! I could make a living by posing such theories…
CHAPTER SIX
The early hours of day were cool and inviting in Kāsi. Siddhanath kept his pace as regular as he could manage,and it was a quick pace, at any rate. And it needed to be quick, for his game would be known to many in a matter of an hour, according to his estimate. And then a search party would be assembled and the hunt for them would be underway.
There were many oil lamps lit up tonight, and the illumination from them had a grand appeal for the wandering pilgrim. In fact, I am a pilgrim who is to step out of the Holy City, he remarked to himself. A smile touched his lips, as he kept walking through the inner roads and back paths and alleyways. He would need to keep going southward, and he was well aided by the River Goddess, Ganga, which he could invariably spot on his left. The environment was quiet, save for the occasional cough and stirrings that could be heard from within homes and huts.
He wore thick paddings on his feet – no sandals – and he was glad for having done so, for the ground was unforgivingly cold, and he wondered at how much worse it was going
to be for him and Kausalya when they crossed the Ganga – on foot, immersed in the mighty river up to their necks. The chill of the waters was just one problem; the other, and which now seemed to be a major problem indeed, was the aquatic animals that were apparent in the river—several types of trout and catfish made the river their habitat.
But there was also hearsay about gharial, a small version of a saltwater crocodile. And they were always hungry, with a set of a hundred-and-ten interdigitated teeth. In addition, they would have to deal with the skulls and other bone structures from corpses that had now sunk onto the riverbed; these would make excellent homes for the local groups of fishes. Thus, they would need to be cautious about where they would place their feet. Not that we could know how, in this darkness.
Siddhanath became aware of the growing steepness of the road he was traversing now. And he knew where he was, it was an ancient part of the city. Very ancient, in fact, and he pondered whether he should make the trip to see the holy grounds, which were just several steps away. He affirmed that he should, with the notion that he might never be able to see it in the future (even if he wanted to).
At a steady pace, he ran onto a narrow sidewalk, which opened to a flight of stairs going upward. He climbed the steps, breathing heavily both from exertion and because of the significance of the place he was about to step onto, and before he knew it, he reached the top, and beheld the view. This was the original site of the ancient temple of Vishveshvara, the presiding Lord of the City of Kāsi, who is Shiva, in the form of a Linga. He bowed down in reverence, thought that it would be better to prostrate himself on the ground instead, which he clumsily did, after removing the paddings from his feet.