The Temple-goers

by Aatish Taseer

  I could hardly believe, given the hour, that the tent was full, and at least half full with children. They sat mesmerized, watching the re-enactment of these ancient stories. And for a moment it felt as if we were all children, with our tired, gaping expressions. The pageants in their medieval and ribald way brought out instinctive emotions – tears, laughter, sadness and joy. And this also deepened my feeling of childhood.

  In his second act Sudama became a comedian. He had a mobile phone, which rang incessantly. He would answer it, saying, ‘Oh, hello, you’re such and such person from Madras. Funny, you should call right now, you know who I’m sitting with? Yes, Krishna, Krishna Kanhaiya, right here in Dwarka. Oh yes, he has a very nice palace. The wife’s a demon, but the palace is beautiful. What? You want to speak to him? Hold on one second.’ Then he would run among the crowd, handing them the phone. Each skit ended with him hugging and kissing the person he gave the phone to. He came over to us and gave Aakash the phone, and from the applause and hooting that came from the colony boys, it was clear how much they admired him.

  When he had gone, Aakash, perhaps feeling better, began to tell me some of what had occurred between Megha and him. ‘She showed me her scars, you know?’ he said. ‘Her skin is bruised and dried up in many places. I can’t tell you, I felt such anger. She was saying, “Take me away from here. What kind of people are these, who don’t love me the way I am, but make me have lipo so they can marry me off?” I felt so bad. I could have made her lose the weight, but she said, “No, if you had, they would have married me off. You were right to leave the weight on. And anyway, anyone who marries me won’t marry me for my figure, but for me.” You know what her mother said to her?’

  ‘Her mother?’ I said, fighting my way out of this sudden outpouring. ‘What, does her mother know?’

  ‘Yes, man. Lul told her. Not about the marriage of course, but about the relationship. I told you before, tonight is final. Everyone’s finding out.’

  ‘What did the mother say?’

  ‘She said, “Pack your things and go. He’s eyed your money and that’s all. In a few days, when the money doesn’t come, he’ll start saying, ‘Come pick up your daughter, she’s waiting.’” She was ready to come then and there. I’d spoken to my father and he also agreed. He said, “Bring her. We’ll give her the full respect of a daughter-in-law.” But I consulted with some people and they thought it wasn’t wise. The family could have slapped a kidnapping case on me.’

  ‘But you’re legally married.’

  ‘Still, they can,’ Aakash said gravely. ‘You know, I’m not worried about myself. I think nothing of my safety. It’s my family I’m worried about. I don’t want them to endure anything on my account. I worship my father, you know? He’s done so much for me.’ Then his tone changed. ‘But if they lay a finger on me,’ he said, ‘I have some pretty good connections too. I’ve lived many lives. I know people who even make thugs shit in their pants, believe me. And they’ll never find me. I’ll quit Junglee; my address, they don’t know; my credit card is not linked to my home address; they’ll never find me.’ It was the first time I had heard fear and resignation in his voice. And it drew animal instincts like self-preservation from him. He said, ‘I love Megha. I would do anything for her happiness. But you know, I’ve come a long way too. I can’t throw it all away for love. I have to think of my family, their reputation in the colony…’

  He was unable to say more because the MC, now full of fresh energy, had retaken the stage.

  Though it was nearly five a.m., he said, ‘The second phase of the night is about to begin. All that has occurred so far has only been to awaken the night.’

  The tent rang with cheers and applause. The MC smiled, showing bright orange teeth. ‘The most important segment of the night is the telling of the story of Tara and Rukmani, the two daughters of Raja Patras. I am inclined, as I tell this story, set over three lifetimes, to sometimes forget what I’m saying in the middle. Should this happen, you must come to my assistance.’

  The tent thundered in approval, then a deep quiet fell over the crowd and the story began. But a few seconds into it, someone was heard speaking in the back. ‘Go home and sleep,’ the MC snapped. ‘Really, go home and sleep. This story is the jewel of the night. I will tell it even if there are only five people listening. If you’re going to utter even a single word, then please go home and sleep. This story is not for you.’ A shamed silence prevailed. A few people turned their head to see who had spoken. The MC, calm once again, restarted the story.

  ‘Raja Patras, content in his kingdom, had all that he ever wanted – money, power, the love of his people. The only thing he lacked was a child. He prayed to the goddess, performing the appropriate ceremonies, and soon he won her favour. He was told that within a fixed period he would be blessed with two daughters. And he was.’

  At this, a stray cry from one of the colony boys went up: ‘Victory to the true durbar.’

  The MC’s expression darkened. He held up his hand, with its many gold rings, threateningly, like a mother about to beat a child. The tent shook with laughter.

  ‘But when the daughters had their astrological charts sent to be read, the royal priests returned with grim news. They said that while Tara, the eldest daughter, was born with a great future and would make the kingdom proud by marrying another powerful king, Rukmani, her sister, was twice accursed and would live among fishermen, among scales, among boats and black water.’ The MC, with his special Hindu horror of the sea, dragged his words. The crowd howled with dismay.

  ‘The king was shocked to hear this news. But the Rishis consoled him, telling him that the girl was no ordinary accursed girl, but Bhargavi, the sister of Suraya.

  ‘ “Who is Suraya?” the king asked timidly.

  ‘ “Suraya,” the pundits began, “was a very pious princess who, about to make a ritual offering one morning, saw that there was no food in the house for the offering. So she asked her sister Bhargavi to go out and buy some. But when Bhargavi arrived at the market, she found that there was nothing available except for raw meat. Seeing no other option, she returned with the raw flesh, and putting a cover over it, left it in the kitchen. When, a few moments later, Suraya resumed her prayers, asking her sister for the offering, Bhargavi handed her the covered vessel. But it was only once Suraya had made the offering that she discovered her sister’s deception.” ’

  The people in the tent, each with food anxieties of their own, emitted a collective gasp of horror. The MC, answering their consternation, picked up the pace: ‘Discovering her deception, Suraya was filled with fury. And in that instant she cursed her sister. It was a vicious curse: “In your next life,” she said, ”you will be born a creature that eats flesh its entire life and scavenges after tiny, many-legged creatures.”

  ‘And in her next life,’ the MC said with some resignation, leaving a pause for the crowd to wonder what creature Bhargavi would be born as, ‘Bhargavi was born a lizard, clinging to walls and eating spiders, insects and other many-legged creatures her entire life.’

  Toning down the horror in his voice, and seeming almost to begin a new story, the MC then said, ‘Now, just at that very time, etasminn eva kaale, as they say in Sanskrit, the Pandavas were performing their great ceremonial sacrifice, their mahayagya. And our little lizard, by some happy chance, finds that she is a lizard on the wall just as the mahayagya is about to begin. Not only this; she is an eyewitness to the revenge of a sage whom the Pandavas had forgotten to invite to the sacrifice. The sage, blessed with the ability to take other forms, in his revenge adopts the form of a small animal, a mongoose, and sabotages the Pandavas’ sacrifice by polluting the offerings with the body of a dead snake. As it happens, our little lizard sees him do this. But what can she do? She can’t speak; she has no way to let the priest know that the offerings are polluted. All she can do is sacrifice herself and save the ceremony. So just as the priests and sages are beginning their incantations, she lets herself drop from the wall an
d lands in the offerings. The priests see this and are enraged. The ceremony is brought to a halt and they curse our little lizard, telling her that in her next life she will live among fishermen, among scales, among boats and black water.’

  The tent roared with delight, being brought, two lives later, to where the story had begun.

  ‘When the priests,’ the MC said, begging the tent’s patience, ‘when the priests tell the servants to throw out the offerings, or rather bury them, so that no other creature should eat them, they discover the dead snake at the bottom. The men come running back to the priests, saying, “But this lizard has saved us: the offerings were polluted anyway!” The sages and the priests sadly confess that a curse once given cannot be taken back, but they offer an amendment: in her lifetime, the accursed girl will see the curse broken.’

  The crowd in the tent murmured at the excitement of this fixed outcome, with the respectable depth of two lifetimes behind it.

  Taking the voice of Raja Patras’s advisers, the MC picked up the story’s original thread: ‘ “This girl born to you,” ’ he said, ‘ “is that very same girl!”

  ‘But Raja Patras was disconsolate. “What can I do?” he asked. “I can’t abandon her. She is my daughter, and a royal princess.” The priests thought hard about what might be done and at last advised that she be placed in a gem-encrusted vessel, half-filled with jewels, and set adrift in the river to find her own fortune. And this was exactly what was done.

  ‘On the morning the vessel was set afloat,’ the MC said, ‘a Brahmin performing his ablutions on the banks of the river saw something glitter in the water and his heart was filled with greed. He asked a nearby fisherman if he would help retrieve the vessel. The fisherman said, “Why would I do that? With the time I waste retrieving your vessel, I could catch so many fish and feed my entire family.” The Brahmin answered, “All right, whatever is in the top half of that vessel is yours, whatever is in the bottom is mine.” The fisherman agreed and the vessel was retrieved. When the two men looked inside, they found the girl in the top half and the jewels in the bottom half. The fisherman was delighted. He said, “All that was missing in my life was a child and now I have one!” The Brahmin, also now cured of his greed, said that the fisherman should take the jewels, sell them and spend the money they would bring in on the girl’s marriage. And,’ the MC added pointedly, ‘her education.’

  At that moment one of the colony boys yelled, ‘Sure. Did the “Save the girl child” commission make you put that in?’

  The MC bristled. ‘Who said that?’ he shouted.

  The colony boys offered up a thin-limbed, bespectacled candidate, who grinned sheepishly at the congregation.

  Seeing him rise, the MC bellowed, ‘Come here, you little wise ass. I’ll show you “Save the girl child” commission…’ As the boy approached, the MC took hold of him, and shaking him up like an old rug, said, ‘Who will save your girly little neck?’

  The boy, with his faint pubescent moustache, feigned fear. ‘Please, sir, forgive me, sir. I didn’t know what I said.’

  ‘Shame on you,’ the MC said, and becoming serious, added, ‘You know what a remark like yours is saying to those around you?’

  ‘What?’ the boy whined, as the MC clenched his ear.

  ‘That our great religion, that our great forefathers, who produced these marvellous texts and stories, were not wise enough to protect our lovely damsels. That we need the government of India to tell us what to do with our girl children.’

  An expression of fear crossed the face of the young boy as he realized the gravity of the offence he was being charged with. ‘No, no,’ he said, squirming, ‘I would never say that.’

  ‘But you did,’ the MC said, laughing, ‘you did. And now, for the rest of the story, my little girl child, you will sit at my feet.’

  The congregation made known its approval of this punishment through loud applause and laughter, then the MC resumed the story: ‘And so, gradually, both girls grow up. Tara, a prize catch, is married to the king of a neighbouring kingdom and lives the life of a queen in palaces. Rukmani, coincidentally married to someone who works in the same palace, lives the life of a maidservant.

  ‘One day Rukmani’s husband falls sick and she goes in his place to the palace. There she sees the palace temple and falls to her feet outside it, asking for a child. For some reason, perhaps being very tired from nursing her husband the night before, she falls asleep in this posture. And this is how Tara finds her. Waking her, Tara asks her why she is outside the temple. “I am of the fisherman caste,” Rukmani replies, “and forbidden entry into the temple.” “But this is nonsense,” Tara says. “Don’t you know that in front of the goddess there is no big or small, all are one?” Rukmani, moved by Tara’s compassion, tells her of her longing to have a child. Tara advises that Rukmani perform a jagran.

  ‘Victory to…’ the MC prompted.

  ‘Victory to the true durbar!’ the tent thundered.

  The MC smiled and returned to his story: ‘And to help her, she gives Rukmani a pouch of money. Rukmani takes it and wanders from temple to temple in the vain hope of trying, as a low caste, to organize a jagran in her house. Who will come to her house? One priest says, “You can give me the money and I’ll have it for you in the temple.” But she refuses: “It must be in my house.” At last, in tears, she bumps into a holy man who tells her that she must give her pouch back to Tara and ask her to host the jagran at Rukmani’s house on her behalf. If she accepts, then everyone will come. Rukmani follows this advice and Tara accepts.

  ‘In the meantime,’ the MC said, his tone becoming conspiratorial, ‘in the meantime, a barber has overheard the entire exchange. And when the king comes for his haircut, the barber accidentally cuts the king’s finger. The king starts yelling at the barber, but the barber, low as he is, says, “This is nothing. What is a slight cut on the finger of a man whose wife is going to the house of a low caste tonight for a jagran?”

  ‘The king is mortified,’ the MC breathed, ‘and asks the barber what he should do. The barber tells him to tie a salt bandage around the wounded finger. This way he’ll run a fever and he can ask his wife to be at his side. She won’t be able to refuse him. And this is just what he does. He returns to the palace moaning and complaining. The wife is bound by his request and rests his head in her lap.

  ‘In those days,’ the MC said, changing his tone, ‘the dutiful Hindu wife considered it her religion to obey her husband. Not like today, where the woman is walking ahead with her handbag.’ The MC did an imitation of a woman stomping ahead. He looked quickly down at the colony boy whom he was still holding captive, then raising his eyebrows at the audience, he said, ‘And the man is running behind, with the money, buying her things.’ He trotted down one side of the stage, his hands hanging limply by his large chest. The colony boy saw his chance and fled. The late-night crowd howled with delight at this spontaneous entertainment. The MC walked mournfully back, returning with a sigh to his story.

  ‘Tara puts her husband’s head in her lap and settles down into one position for many hours. But when it becomes dark, Tara, true to her vow, replaces her leg with a pillow and sets out into the night for Rukmani’s house. On the way, she encounters two bandits who try and rob her. She falls to her feet and prays to the goddess. Immediately one of the men is mauled by a wild animal; the other loses the light of his eyes. When finally Tara arrives at Rukmani’s, the two of them, within closed doors, perform the animal sacrifice to Kali.’

  The tent was silent. A new urgency entered the MC’s tone. The open sky above the tent had become pale. The MC looked up and was alarmed.

  ‘I must hurry,’ he said. ‘The morning is on its way.’ Then looking back at the crowd, he began, ‘In the meantime, Tara’s husband has woken up to find that Tara has gone. He instantly saddles his horse and sets out in search of her. On the way, he, too, encounters the same bandits who had tried to rob Tara. They manage somehow to tell him where she went and he gallops o
n, arriving at Rukmani’s hut just as the sacrifice is about to begin. From a window he watches the two women perform the rites to Kali. When they are complete, Rukmani offers the raw meat to Tara, urging her to eat it. Tara balks and tries to resist, making the excuse that she can’t until her husband does. But Rukmani implores her, saying she knows that Tara intends to return to the palace and distribute the meat without eating it herself. She must at least take one bite to show that she has honoured the sacrifice.’

  The crowd watched in horrified silence as the MC raised two fingers to his mouth, holding an imagined morsel of flesh.

  ‘Tara is about to eat the meat,’ he says, ‘when her husband, now no longer able to restrain himself, barges in. Tara quickly hides the meat in the end of her sari. “What are you hiding there, Tara?” the king demands. “Nothing, nothing,” she says. “I’ll tell you when we’re back at the palace.” “No, tell me now,” he says, and pulls at her sari. It comes away in his hand, but instead of meat and blood, honey and butter fall to the floor.

  ‘Raise your hands,’ the MC roared, ‘and say, “Victory to the true durbar!” ’

  ‘Victory to the true durbar!’ the tent thundered back.

  The MC, adopting his best sarcastic voice, and imitating Tara’s husband, said, ‘ “Oh, Tara, you’ve learned magic in one night, have you?” She says, “No, this is the goddess’s work.” “Is that so?” the king replies. “Then let’s see if your goddess can fix this.” He pulls out his sword and in one stroke slices clean through the neck of his favourite horse. At that very moment Tara is herself transformed into the goddess. “What harm did this animal ever do you?” she asks the king. “You think this is a test of my powers? Go home and sacrifice your son, then you’ll see my powers.” ’

  The MC was speeding along, fighting the break of day: ‘Tara returns to her original form and the two rush back to the palace.’