Our Favourite Indian Stories

by Khushwant Singh

  Sage Deerghaloma was happy to welcome ascetic Needak to his hermitage. He prayed that through his supreme wisdom the ascetic would be able to dispel the ignorance of the pleasure-seeking mind.

  The hermitage was filled with the fragrance of aromatic roots, herbs and offerings made to the sacrificial holy fire. To this was added the scent of wild flowers wafting in the breeze. Sages and disciples had gathered under the big banyan tree to listen to ascetic Needak's sermon. A few elderly nuns and the girl Siddhi were also seated on one side.

  Coloured rice had been scattered on the ground to welcome the sages. The hermitage deer frisked and frolicked about. Melodious tunes from the birds on the trees wafted about in the air. Indifferent to these distractions, learned sages engrossed themselves in listening to Needak's discourse on eternal bliss.

  A long flowing beard covered Needak's face. Adorning his forehead was the sign of the trident, drawn out with the earth of the Narmada. Eyes bright with knowledge, he radiated self-confidence. The sacred thread across his broad, hairy chest tapered down to his narrow waist. Below the waist he was covered with a rough fabric. Seated thus in the yogic posture of Padmasan, the lotus position, he spoke on for hours.

  'Logic is a perversion of the mind. Human needs and desires dictate one's reasoning; hence, directly or indirectly, they start advocating the cause of temptation. Knowledge of the Eternal Being can be attained only through inner perception, which transcends all other human faculties. Logic too is dependent on such perception. An air bubble is ephemeral,' he explained. 'Though it skims the surface, it is only a part of the mass of water. So is life merely a bubble on the ocean of the Supreme Being. A bubble such as this cannot be real. The eternal reality is Brahman. The cause of material consciousness is desire. Desire creates the bubble of life through this airy consciousness; and the bubble creates the ego and resultant suffering.'

  'The soul is but a fragment of the Supreme Being' he continued. 'It is a manifestation of its playful aspect. Sensory perception— pain as well as pleasure, is an illusion. When the bubble created by the air of material consciousness disappears into the water, the soul reunites with the Supreme Being. In this lies eternal joy and salvation.

  Everlasting pleasure is to be found in the rejection of ephemeral pleasure and in the pursuit of life everlasting. The path to vanquish desire is through meditation. Through meditation the barrier of material existence can be overcome and assimilation of the soul with God achieved. The body is the prison of the soul. To give attention to the body is to strengthen the prison. Those with wisdom should shun the needs of the body as this leads only to illusions. To rise above bodily needs is to find the way to salvation.'

  Ascetic Needak glanced at his audience to observe the effects of his sermon. Some devotees sat with their eyes closed as if in an effort to assimilate this knowledge. Some gazed at him intently. He looked to his left. Nuns of the hermitage sat at his side. Their bodies were spent and shorn of youth. Devoid of any hope of physical pleasure, their eager eyes stared at the ascetic from the caves of their decaying forms, as if to absorb as much of the sermon as possible by way of some consolation. Their backs were bent. Their dried-up breasts hung uselessly down to their knees. Like mango peels which have been sucked up and then discarded, their bodies appeared to be monuments to the seeming meaninglessness of human life.

  The girl Siddhi was sitting with the elderly nuns. Rigours of asceticism had lent brightness to her glowing youth. She looked like a sunflower blossoming out of common manure. Her long hair was tied up in a tight knot on top of her head. Her softly curving eyelashes were closed. Her youthful bosom was gathered up in a plantain bark, which she had tied at her back with a string. She sat, spine erect, in the yogic posture of meditation. Her shapely arms carried the holy signs of the morning's ablutions.

  Ascetic Needak could not help noticing her presence. He said, 'The most opportune time for renunciation and meditation is youth. One should realise that attachment is misleading and it is renunciation that leads to supreme happiness. To realise this one does not have to wait for the onset of old age... In old age the physical senses, losing their vitality, become incapable of experiencing even the bare pleasures of life. In such a state how can they contain the subtle knowledge which leads to salvation?' He glanced at the frail wrecks of the nuns' bodies.

  The confidence of youth surged through Needak's powerful frame. 'The time when the body radiates vigour is the time for battling with desire, for pursuing knowledge and self-mortification.'His gaze now wandered to Siddhi's bosom which was heaving with her deep breathing.

  When the sermon ended at noon the sages dispersed for their frugal midday meal. Lost in thought, Needak walked by the riverside and settled down on a rock. Pangs of hunger reminded him that it was time to eat. He ignored this bodily need. Asceticism meant rigorous discipline of the body and control of its demands. The girl Siddhi was a living example of such self-control. Instantly, the ascetic reminded himself that it was not proper to let thoughts of the hermit-girl enter his mind.

  Looking at the turbulent flow of the river he fell into a reverie. He looked at the fish playing about in the clear water and began to think about how carnal desires—the root cause of man's suffering could be conquered. Yet his thoughts kept returning to the vision of the hermit-girl in the posture of meditation. The erect spine, the forehead, nose, chin, the confluence of the breasts, the navel hidden in the folds of the stomach — all in one line.

  Needak had seen women earlier. But he had passed by the simply clad nuns of the forests as well as the finely clad sinful women of the towns in detachment. Not once had he spared a thought for them. But the image of Siddhi continued to disturb him. Why, he asked himself, had she closed her eyes, when everyone else, including the other nuns had looked straight at him? Was she listening to him with unusual attentiveness? Or was it because she did not wish to look at him? Why did she not wish to see him? Was she afraid of him? But why? His thoughts began to torture him.

  The frivolities of the fish distracted him. 'Those fish........' he muttered. A screech pierced the expanse of sky above the high rocks by the Narmada banks. Two kites were engrossed in love play. One, with wings outspread perched on the edge of a precipice while the other hovered above it under the sun. Here was need and deep animal compulsion. A kind of magnetism seemed to prompt the kites towards each other. Their cries filled the sky. Needak became agitated. With single-minded concentration he sought an answer to the riddle. 'What was it in the nature of those kites that was disturbing them? Could they not control their instincts? Why were they not afraid of the bondage of life and death? Why did their souls not aspire for final release, for Mukti?'

  He answered his own questions, 'Because of ignorance and illusion these birds do not see pain.' But the answer put his thoughts in a turmoil. 'What is the cause of an animal's ignorance and illusion? Desire.... appetites? If so, then such desires and appetites must be part of its body and soul. If this were a part of God's design, how could it work against God's will? Is not man's nature a manifestation of God?'

  Once again the ascetic's eyes turned to the fluttering wings and the cries of the birds on the peaks. The two were now lost in the processes of procreation. Needak felt an unfamiliar urge stir through his veins. The moment, however, was lost in a haze of confusion. Why was his mind so crowded with arguments and doubts? Could one look for happiness through self-denial? Drawing a deep breath he whispered to himself, 'Is the struggle for life opposed to the laws of life?'

  The sun had dipped towards the West. It was the moment when Nature appeared to be flowing naturally towards its consummation. A sound in the river attracted Needak's attention. His gaze fell on a deer skin and an ablution bowl kept on the banks. Whose was it?

  He stood transfixed at what he saw. Siddhi, the young nun was standing shoulder deep in water. In the gradually gathering dusk she dipped herself in the river again and again. Her movements agitated Needak's pulse as much as they did Narmada's water. He
looked on, spellbound.

  At last she waded through the river towards the bank. Needak looked unblinkingly at the gradually emerging figure. His breathing became hard. Strange feelings rose from his heart into his throat.

  Apparently secure in this secluded spot, Siddhi stripped off her wet garments. Carefully, she wound the deerskin around her middle, and covered her breasts with the plantain bark. Then she filled her bowl with water and, making an obeisance to the sun, which was now concealed behind multicoloured clouds, she proceeded towards the hermitage.

  A sudden movement made Siddhi look in his direction. Coming towards her with long strides was ascetic Needak. She greeted him with bowed head but her body trembled with apprehension.

  She awaited the ascetic's command. Needak's gaze was upon her embarrassed figure. After a while he spoke in a trembling voice,

  'Nun, what is the goal of life?'

  'Life's goal is salvation from life's bondage,' she answered.

  Looking at her intently he questioned, 'Is life's goal its own destruction? What is life, Sister?'

  Eyes lowered, she said, 'According to the seers, life is a bondage of pain.'

  Needak went on, 'Life is a bondage of pain and the same life has as its goal freedom from itself? Nun, forget what is said. Consider this. Does the life-giving Brahma, the creative life force, create life only to end it? Does it will its own destruction? Such an argument appears illogical!'

  Pausing a little, Siddhi replied, 'This topic has never arisen in our Maharishi's discourses. How would the Enlightened One explain it?'

  Ignoring her question Needak pursued, 'Which is life's deepest pain, Sister?'

  Siddhi's answer was brief, 'Death.'

  A faint smile appeared on Needak's lips. Siddhi looked away at the Narmada.

  Needak exclaimed, 'Death! Nun, in life's progress death is inevitable. It is foolishness to fear death. Death is not the end of life; it is only the end of one link in life's chain. To continue life is life's main goal. To doubt this goal, to oppose this goal, to fear unhappiness and look for ways to end it - is that life's purpose? Nun, desire is life; love is life; life's demands are natural. Has life never beckoned you towards it?'

  Siddhi answered tremblingly, 'O source of light, my penance and meditation are incomplete. My soul has not yet received the light.'

  'Nun, I'm not thinking of the light that is arrived at with eyes closed. I'm thinking of the wisdom one gathers from the experience of life!'

  Her voice faltered, 'I do not follow the Enlightened One's words correctly. Please enlighten me about life!'

  Taking a deep breath Needak answered, 'Narmada's flow is Narmada's life. If you try to reverse its course the result will be unnatural. If this river, imagining its flow to be painful were to oppose it, what sort of salvation could it expect?'

  Siddhi bowed down and pleaded with folded hands. 'Enlightened One, my soul is weak and full of ignorance.'

  Needak replied, 'Nun, do you take the love of life itself as weakness? By calling life lust and appetite and pitting all of life's energy against it — you are only trying to forget what life really is all about.'

  Siddhi remained unaware of Needak's fast pulse. What she could sense, however, was a sudden change in his tone. The ascetic who had given his morning discourse in a calm, majestic voice and the one who now spoke in a trembling, hoarse voice appeared to be two different persons. Meeting him in solitude, where she could well have expected to feel a certain hesitation only caused a strange sweetness to enter her soul. Looking down on the ground she said, 'Would the Enlightened One initiate me into Wisdom?' 'Wisdom!' Needak exclaimed and took a deep breath. His gaze fell once again on the peaks where the pair of kites was still busy creating new life. Their love play reached a climax and they broke away from each other, their cries echoing in the gathering dusk. The waters of the Narmada reverberated with the sound. 'Look - that way...' cried Needak, pointing upwards.

  Siddhi looked up. She had watched such love transactions earlier. On all such occasions she had turned her eyes away and by controlling her mind and senses had striven to save her spirit from corruption. In the presence of the youthful ascetic, however, her body felt a sudden anguished restlessness. She lowered her eyes, her face reddening.

  Needak's breathing became faster; his nerves were taut like the strings of a sitar. The nun's body pulled him like a magnet. He restrained himself with difficulty as he looked at the lowered eyes of the blushing girl. Coming a step nearer to her he whispered in a trembling voice, 'Is this corruption and sin? Is life the result of sin and corruption?'

  Tremblingly, the nun answered, 'Lord, such conduct, according to the sages, is due to the ignorance of the soul; to be in lust is to stray from the true path of salvation. They say that life is an illusion and a mirage.'

  Coming a step still closer to the nun, Needak said, 'Is this suffering, nun? Do you really believe that this pair of kites is crying because of the fear of life and death? Does it appear to them as mere illusion? Are they not involved with their entire being in the joyous task of creating life?'

  'Is this life a delusion, nun?' He flung the words again at the silent figure of Siddhi. 'To deny the joy that one can get out of one's senses and to take the consequent happiness as pain-Is this right? Is it the truth? Are we really supporting Brahma by believing that all his Creation is a mirage and an illusion? Are we not taking truth as falsehood and falsehood as truth?'

  Siddhi remained silent.

  Pointing with his little finger, Needak exclaimed, 'Nun, do you not harbour in your heart the surge of this life-force? Don't you too feel this struggle, this assertion of life?'

  The nun lifted her half-closed eyes for a moment, 'O Enlightened Master, your words are true. I'm a weak soul; I have not yet been able to master my senses completely!'

  Needak put his hand on Siddhi's shoulder. He felt her body tremble. Supporting her with one arm, he tilted her chin up with the other and whispered, 'Is the touch of my harsh body painful to you, Siddhi?'

  Leaning towards his body, Siddhi muttered in a broken voice, 'No, it is an unknown quantity, quite unfamiliar, quite... something dear, very dear....' Her voice became hoarser. The knot of her hair was now resting on Needak's broad chest. His lips touched her wet, sandy hair. Startled, Siddhi straightened herself and gasped, 'O Enlightened One, the darkness of ignorance overpowers me; please show me the light.'

  'The light of knowledge!' His voice grew in power. 'Sharpen your senses; the way to wisdom is through sensibility. To repress and crush human nature is ignorance.' Feeling weak, Siddhi placed both her arms and her weight upon Needak's shoulders.

  Making a double pair of footprints, they proceeded towards a deserted part of Narmada. The cool rays of the stars, piercing through the monsoon clouds seemed to express satisfaction at this earthly transaction; Nature seemed to be conspiring with the creation of life.

  It rained in torrents the next morning. But the sages and inmates of the hermitage, who stuck to their rules without fail, gathered as usual beneath the giant banyan tree for meditation and sermons. The fragrant smoke from the holy fire, moved by the breeze, seemed to have become entangled amidst the trees and become strangely motionless.

  The absence of Needak and Siddhi from the previous evening had become a cause of concern for all the hermits.

  In his discourse that morning, Sage Deerghaloma pointed out, 'Lust is man's greatest foe. In the flames of lust, man's knowledge is reduced to ashes.'

  At daybreak, in one of Narmada's caves, Needak stretched himself languidly, still drowsy with sleep. The movement woke Siddhi. Even before he could open his eyes, she covered her body with a deerskin. Looking outside the cave she exclaimed, 'The Brahma-Muhurta must have been on for quite sometime!'

  'Yes,' Needak answered, 'the time for immersion in the samadhi has passed.'

  Drawing Siddhi to himself, he held her by the nape of her neck, 'Tell me the truth. You have tried to be forgetful of the self for so many years. For so lo
ng, you have tried to forget the world through samadhi. But, truthfully, have you ever been as content, as self-forgetful as on this night?'

  And he smiled into her sleepy eyes.

  Once again, self-abandon took possession of Siddhi, 'Arya, you speak the truth!'

  Translated by Keshav Malik

  Edited and condensed by Ms. Neelam Kumar

  Under Cover of Darkness

  Nirmal Verma

  Bano had to cut across three goat-paths to reach our house. 'Any news?' She always fired the question at me immediately on entering the room. I was sorely tempted to lie to her and say, 'Yes, there is. It's all settled. We'll be leaving for Delhi soon.' But I refrained from doing so. Bano was too shrewd not to see through my lies. Instead, I lay silently, with my eyes closed.

  As usual, she came over and felt my forehead. When her touch was cold, I knew that my fever had not gone down. But when it was warm I felt elated. Eagerly opening my eyes I would ask, 'Bano, don't you thing I am getting better?'

  Looking disappointed, she would reply hopefully, 'But your temperature is bound to shoot up in the evening!'

  She was unhappy whenever my temperature came down. She knew that as long as my fever lasted I could not leave her and would stay put in Simla. Sometimes when I heard her footsteps, I quickly applied a wet towel to my forehead.

  'Feel my forehead.' I would reach for her hand and brush it against my brow.

  'Cold, is it?' Without a word, Bano would start looking out of the window.

  Outside, one could see the forests enveloped in a blue haze, and lofty mountains, range upon range. When the curtain fluttered in the breeze, the room was drenched with a dream-like fragrance, wafted from afar.

  'Beyond those mountains, lies Delhi. You know that, of course,' I said.

  Bano nodded. She had no interest in Delhi, had never been to that city. Her father's office remained in Simla all the year round. I pitied her.