The Soul of Truth

by Shaji Madathil

  The Nineteenth Night

  Oppol and Vishnu are sitting cross-legged in front of the lamp, chanting the evening prayers. Deepu is following their chants, leaning on the pillows in his room.

  My helpless little brother epitomises the unfairness of this world. While his peers are enjoying campus life, dreaming about bright futures, what dreams does Deepu have? A life confined to a room. Totally dependent on others. He faces each day bravely. But does he have a choice?

  On the other hand, there are children with too many choices. Born in the lap of luxury, brought up by doting parents. Never having known difficulties or wants, they sometimes fail in adult life, just because they have no idea how to deal with the realities of life.

  Why was fate so cruel to my little brother? People of the older generation have a ready explanation. It is the result of the sins committed by the previous six generations of his ancestors. This is an attempt to find a reason where there is none. What is the point? It makes sense when bad people suffer. But how can we ever justify when innocent people like Deepu suffer? A sea of questions. No satisfactory answers.

  Like night and light. The overpowering darkness of night. Little lights trying to find a way in pitch black, mostly failing.

  But there is always hope. Like the tiny fireflies lighting up the night. They might be inconsequential, but those bobs of light give hope—that even the tiniest life has a purpose, a meaning.

  Vishnu looks very sweet with the sandalwood paste on his forehead. He is very particular about that. Everyday, after his bath, he seeks out Radhika and demands she apply the paste on him. Radhika makes a paste with water, out of the dry sandalwood she has brought from the temple, and carefully dabs it on his forehead. It is fun to watch him stand absolutely still for her to do it properly. And once done, he runs to the mirror to make sure that it is perfectly in the middle of his forehead. He is a perfectionist, just like his father.

  He loves the nightly ritual of chanting prayers with Oppol. Shalu and Malu sometimes play truant, but Vishnu always sits down with Oppol and repeats the chants after her. He seems mesmerised by the glow of the lamp reflected on Oppol’s calm face and her rhythmic reciting.

  These days, he is closer to Oppol. He has noticed the obvious change in Radhika. She seems lost in thought most of the time and sometimes doesn’t even notice him when he is near. He doesn’t like it, more so when he sometimes comes across her sobbing heartbrokenly.

  His mind is now full of questions. And he is worried about voicing them to the adults. He doesn’t want to provoke Radhika to tears. He is worried that Shalu and Malu will ask him to keep quiet. Oppol is his best bet. She has infinite patience. And she sees me in him. She always tries to satisfy his curiosity.

  When they are done with the prayers, he starts hesitantly, “Aunty?”

  “Yes, mon.”

  “You know, the crow that came and ate the rice I gave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then Amma and Sumathy aunty said that Achen is happy with Vishnu, and that is why he came to eat the rice.”

  “Yes, Vishnu. Aren’t you happy that Achen came to mon?”

  “How did my Achen become a crow?”

  For a split second, Oppol looks taken aback. But then, she smiles and says, “You should sleep with me tonight. Then I will tell you all about it.”

  Vishnu is ecstatic. It is a rare treat to sleep with aunty. She always puts him to sleep with songs or stories.

  He runs inside, shouting out to Radhika, “Amma, I am sleeping with aunty tonight!”

  “Why?”

  He runs away without answering her.

  Naanu uncle crosses the gate and walks in hurriedly.

  “Oh, good that I could reach here before the rains.” Radhika and Oppol are very happy to see him back. He hands over the bags to them and walks to the well to take a quick bath.

  That is his habit. A bath in the cold well water, prayers, a thorough reading of the newspapers, dinner and sleep.

  Vishnu can’t wait for Oppol to come to bed. His mind is full of doubts about crows and offerings and his father and a hundred other questions.

  Finally, Oppol finishes all the chores and curls up next to him.

  “Vishnu, have you heard of Markandeya?”

  “No.”

  “Have you heard about the time when there was no God of Death?”

  “No! Tell me, aunty!” He can’t wait.

  “Okay.” Oppol laughs.

  “Once upon a time, a long, long time back, there was a very good, pious couple. They were sad because they didn’t have any children. So they prayed hard to Lord Shiva to bless them with a child. Lord Shiva heard their prayers and allowed them a boon. They could either have a son full of virtues, but with a short life of only sixteen years or they could have a son with low intelligence who would live a long life. The parents chose to have an intelligent, virtuous son who would live only up to sixteen years. Markandeya was born to them, and he grew up to be a wonderful son and a great devotee of Lord Shiva. He prayed everyday to the Shiva linga. On the day of his sixteenth birthday, his parents were desperate, and when Markandeya asked the reason, they told him about the secret of his birth and that he was to die that day. But Markandeya wasn’t worried. He had full faith in his Lord Shiva. He walked straight to the Shiva linga and hugged it tight and kept on praying to his lord.”

  Vishnu is listening with wide eyes. “And then?”

  “When Yama, the God of Death came to get Markandeya, he was still hugging the Shiva linga. Yama, in his arrogance, didn’t care and threw his noose around the boy’s neck. But the noose went around the Shiva linga too, and a furious Lord Shiva emerged out of the linga and killed Yama.” Oppol paused.

  “That’s it? But where is the crow?”

  “Wait. Let me finish. When Yama’s body was decaying, a clever crow took his thigh bone and hid it in a hole in a tree.” Oppol continues. “So, now the world faced a terrible crisis. There was no God of Death. So nobody died.”

  Vishnu clapped his hands in glee. “Very good!”

  “Why, Vishnu?”

  “If nobody in this world died, then I won’t die, you won’t die, Amma won’t die, and my Achen too wouldn’t have died!” His answer stuns Oppol. She is silent for a moment and then kisses Vishnu tenderly and continues with the story.

  “Actually, it is not very good, Vishnu. If nobody dies, then this world will be full of old and sick people, and soon there won’t be enough space for all the people. Now, that is exactly what happened when Yama was killed. Mother Earth couldn’t sustain all the living people. She prayed to Lord Shiva to bring Yama back from dead. But for that Lord Shiva asked Mother Earth to first give him a bone of Yama. Mother Earth was desperate. Yama was dead a long time. All his bones had decayed and become one with soil. But she didn’t give up hope. She appealed to all the living beings to somehow try and find a bone of Yama. When the crow heard her appeal, he flew up to his tree, got Yama’s thigh bone and gave it to Mother Earth. She was so relieved that a crisis was averted. Lord Shiva now revived Yama. He blessed the crow to become the recipient of the offerings for the dead, and Mother Earth blessed the crow with immortality.”

  Oppol finishes the story and smiles at her nephew. She can tell that he loved the story, though he couldn’t have grasped it all. But now he understands that Achen can come to him as a crow because the crow was smart enough to please the gods.

  “Now, go to sleep, mon.” Oppol cuddles him to her.

  Vishnu closes his eyes and tries to sleep, listening to the snores of Naanu uncle from the next room.

  The rain lashes down with renewed fury. Thunder and lightning reign supreme. The power goes out. The whole village is suddenly plunged into an eerie darkness, occasionally lit up by brilliant flashes of lightning.

  Inside the house, everyone is fast asleep, except Vishnu. His mind is full of Yama and crow and thigh bones and Achen. Thunder shakes the house, and he snuggles closer to Oppol, falling into an uneasy sleep. And
he dreams.

  A crow was resting on the branches of the tree above Achen’s grave. It was gazing at the grave intently. Then it flew down and started pecking at the soil. It was working so fast that soon it dug up all the soil in the mound and piled it to the side. It went deeper and deeper into the hole, and Vishnu couldn’t see it. Suddenly it emerged from the grave with a piece of bone in its beak and flew away.

  Vishnu looked into the hole. He could see nothing. It was too dark. Pitch dark.

  Just then, he saw two bobbing lights moving towards him. They came closer. They were two crows. And one of the crows had Achen’s face! The crow with Achen’s face came near him and smiled. That smile filled Vishnu with all the love and peace in the world.

  “How are you, Vishnumon? Are you well?”

  Achen’s voice! Vishnu felt tears welling up in his eyes.

  “Yes. But where did you go leaving us alone?” He started crying in earnest.

  “Please don’t cry, mon. Achen had to go because God called me. I had to go to God’s land. Far away…”

  Vishnu put out his hand to feel his Achen crow. He could feel only soft feathers.

  The other crow flew down and started covering the grave with the soil.

  He turned back to Achen. Achen was watching him and smiling again.

  “How is everyone at home, Vishnu? How is your mother?”

  “Amma is always crying. Aunty and Deepu uncle also cry a lot. Shalu chechi and Malu chechi don’t even play much with me now.”

  Vishnu opened up his woes to his father.

  “What about Sumathy?”

  “She too is sad.”

  The other crow finished covering the grave. It looked undisturbed now. How can a crow do so much hard work so quickly, Vishnu marvelled.

  “Achen has to leave now, Vishnumon.”

  Achen crow looked at him sadly and kissed him.

  He returned the kiss and ran his hands over Achen’s feathers.

  “Vishnu, stop pulling my hair,” Oppol’s voice wakes Vishnu up. He is bewildered for a moment but then slips back into sleep.

  My poor boy!

  I am thankful that I have been granted this blessing to visit him through a dream. Will his intense desire to see me grant more such favours in the future? Or will I be cut off all that I love, completely, on the forty-first day when I finally leave this earth? I have no knowledge. I have no experience.

  I am just a witness to time.

  The Twentieth Night

  An areca nut tree had fallen in nature’s fury yesterday. The yard is still waterlogged. In the still waters, the reflections of the trees run deep.

  Naanu uncle is resting on Achen’s recliner. He has caught a cold and is sneezing and coughing intermittently. Sometimes, he hurries out to the edge of the courtyard to blow his nose and spit out phlegm. His sneezes are phenomenal, shaking the earth! One wonders how his nose stays in place after such terrific efforts.

  Deepu has the cold too, probably from Naanu uncle. Uncle likes keeping Deepu company. He stops by his room often and talks to him. “Poor boy, how much reading can he do? He needs to talk to people, otherwise, left alone, he will lose interest in life,” is Naanu uncle’s constant refrain.

  Normally, Radhika and Oppol are careful not to let anyone sneak into Deepu’s room. But they respect Naanu uncle too much to tell him not to. How can they, when his presence is such a relief to them. Anyway, it is nothing to worry about. A bit of steam inhalation should cure them both.

  Robin had come in at dusk. He brought medicines for the invalids and stayed for a few minutes. Only Radhika and Oppol came out to greet him. Sumathy was probably heeding Oppol’s warning to practise restraint. Robin did look disappointed. I could see him glancing towards the windows while leaving, to see if Sumathy was behind the curtains.

  Naanu uncle is a favourite with Vishnu. He loves listening to uncle’s repertoire of stories. Uncle even acts out those stories to make them more interesting, and Vishnu would watch, mesmerised. Also, Naanu uncle brings him lemon drops, whenever he goes shopping. The orange and yellow hard candies are Vishnu’s favourites, as they were mine, once upon a time.

  When uncle is home, Oppol breathes a sigh of relief for more than one reason. When he is around, Vishnu always shifts his loyalties from her to him. He bombards him with his incessant questions, questions which Oppol often finds perplexing and unable to answer to the point.

  Naanu uncle never discourages Vishnu. He, in fact, prompts Vishnu to question more, just the way it should be.

  The curiosity of children is their biggest asset. If we discourage their curiosity when young, they might always be scared to question this world and grow up to be narrow-minded, subservient adults. Keep that flame of inquisitiveness brightly lit—feed it with generous helpings of oil from our part; never let it die out.

  Radhika and Sumathy are busy in the kitchen, making dosas for dinner. That is a tradition in our village. Light evening meal. Usually made out of rice or wheat. The smell of crispy dosas fills the air.

  Presently, Naanu uncle joins them inside. Everyone must be in the kitchen having dinner. The air is absolutely still. Nothing stirs. The magic of nature! Who would believe that it is the same nature that was dancing a tandav last night.

  The door opens again. Naanu uncle comes out, with Vishnu tagging after him. Very soon, Radhika and Oppol join them, sitting down on the smooth floor of the verandah.

  Uncle loves to talk. Especially if he has an audience.

  “Each man has a destiny.” He starts. “Nobody can escape his destiny.”

  “But why do some people die young, uncle?” Oppol asked. She is looking thoughtful. Radhika wipes away a tear that threatens to fall.

  “Mol, that is their destiny. They live up to the time decided for them. They would have fulfilled all their entrusted duties by then.”

  Now, Radhika is crying openly, hugging Vishnu close to her.

  “Don’t cry, Radhika. We have to submit to fate. And shoulder our responsibilities bravely. Put your faith in God and discharge your duties to the best of your ability. All through our lives, we are indebted to others—to God, to our ancestors, to our society, to all the living and non-living things in this world. You know that the most significant stage of life is Grihastashram. That is the time when man fulfills his duties—taking care of his parents, marrying an appropriate partner, bringing up his children.’’

  “What happens if a man dies very soon after assuming Grihastashram and is not able to fulfil his duties?” Sumathy joins the conversation.

  “If he has done what is expected of him in the time allowed, then the rest can be carried out by his son, if survived by one, or by his nephew, or any close relative. Here, Uthaman is lucky. He has Vishnu.”

  Vishnu climbs into Radhika’s lap. He is getting sleepy.

  “Human birth is the most precious. The one incarnation that connects us with the gods. But man doesn’t realise the importance of this gift. He is more concerned with pomp and show.”

  They listen intently to uncle, even though they can’t grasp the full essence of his wise words. Vishnu has already fallen asleep. Radhika is listening raptly. She has suffered the ultimate loss and is trying to find some solace in his words.

  A mosquito buzzes around Vishnu and bites him, startling him out of his sleep. He looks up, and spots a lone star in the sky. He looks again and then shouts excitedly, “Look Amma, Achen!”

  He hurriedly gets up from Radhika’s lap and runs inside to get Shalu and Malu who are doing their lessons. They were the ones who once told him that his Achen is now a star in the sky. The three of them come running out.

  “Look. Up there.” Vishnu points.

  Shalu and Malu can’t see the star at first. But Vishnu pulls them by their hands and points through the leaves of the palm tree.

  “Yes. Yes. I can see!” Malu starts jumping in excitement.

  Radhika, too, is looking up with hope and excitement. At this moment, she simply wants to belie
ve that her Appuettan is up there in the sky, a bright star, watching and smiling over them.

  “That is enough, children. It is too cold out there. Come inside.” Oppol calls out. Shalu and Malu obey. Not Vishnu.

  “No, I want to see my Achen.” He stands at the edge of the verandah gazing at the star. Radhika lets him. She keeps glancing up at the star too.

  “A lot of people are atheists these days. They don’t believe in God or religion or traditions or beliefs. They argue that it is all superstition. But faith is essential to heal hurting minds. It is an anchor, where we can put down our burdens of sorrow. The rationalists need a reason for everything. When they grieve, they grieve alone and that must be unimaginably heavy and lonely. Look at Vishnu. He believes that the star is Appu. Whether it is true or not, that faith gives him so much peace. He feels he is seeing his father again. Isn’t that a huge blessing?”

  “Uncle, I always had doubts regarding our rites and rituals. Nobody has given a clear answer.” Oppol says.

  Naanu Uncle beams. He is loving this attention and clearly relishes the opportunity to put his immense knowledge to good use.

  “You can ask me, mol. I will explain as well as I can,” he says.

  “Uncle, why do we add sesame to the rice offering?’’

  “Sesame is the favourite food of Lord Shani who rides the crow. So it is offered to appease him. The souls also love sesame.”

  “Why is panchagavya used in the rites?”

  “The bones of the deceased have to be recovered on the third, fifth, seventh or ninth day after death and purified with panchagavya before being immersed in the holy rivers. Panchagavya is made from five derivatives of the cow—dung, urine, milk, curd and ghee—and is supposed to cleanse the bones of any impurities that might have occurred during the burial or cremation ceremony.”

  “Impurities during burial?” Sumathy sounds incredulous.

  “Yes. The impurity of any of the persons involved in the ceremony can affect the soul adversely. It could be the person who does the rites, the person who cuts the tree for the pyre, the person who cleans the vessels for preparing the offering, anyone. Do you know that in the olden days, every morning, before putting their feet on the ground, our ancestors used to beg forgiveness from Mother Earth? That we asked for forgiveness before cutting a tree? Blessings before we erected a building? Now none of these traditions are observed, and the human race is paying the price.”