God’s Command Fulfilled

J.L. Narasimha Rao

It was 1999,the penultimate year for the dawn of the 21st century and the birth of the year 2000, but that one year seemed a distant dream  as the world had lost its reason and plunged into turmoil.

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  The sky was dark and ugly like a monster. The intense heat of the atmosphere was such that people were panicked as if the clouds were raining fire.

  Everything on earth, trees and plants, animals and birds and the once green fields were scorched as black as coal. Rotting corpses and carcasses were littered in the dried fields.

  People thought that it was the end of the world and accepted their destiny stoically. The desperate conditions drove many people to crime and violence and they indulged in looting, arson, rape and killing.

  Could it be the end of the world really? If so, why does God, who created this beautiful world of myriad wonders as his divine sport, sing a dirge to it.

  No! It cannot be. It must be the wrong interpretation of the theologians. No artist destroys the beautiful painting he has created.

  Count it be that the Almighty who has created the world out of himself is withdrawing it into Himself again.  

  Acharya Ananda was troubled by these thoughts at his ashram at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna and Sarawati. He was in deep meditation in front of the large bronze image of Lord Shiva - Nataraja in the dancing pose. As he passed through the five levels of awareness and entered into deep consciousness he experienced strange vibrations all over his body. He knew by intuition that he would receive a divine command shortly.  He opened his eyes and beheld the image of Lord Nataraja. It was no more a bronze image. It was God Himself. The brilliant divine light flooded the ashram for a full minute. Gradually the effulgence became a small spark and it circumambulated thrice round the image of the God. Then it entered Ananda’s head.

Now Ananda had become aware of the divine command imparted into him.

  Anand was the only son of Ramananda, a middle class orthodox brahmin, who taught Sanskrit and the  basics of shastras on a raised platform in front of his house. Though it was a small household school, it was considered to be a seat of good learning for brahmin children in the village because of his vast erudition of the Vedas and Upanishads.

  Anand, the apple of the eyes of his parents, was brought up with great love and affection. But the parents doting on the boy did not come in the way of their stern discipline in learning and performing religious duties.

  When Ananda was eight years old, his head was tonsured, with five small tufts round his head and the sacred thread marriage (upanayanam) was performed. 

 After upanayanam, he was initiated into the perusal of the holy scriptures and when he was fourteen, he had mastered all the shastras by the grace of Goddess Saraswati.

  Now Ananda assisted his father in running the home school.

  Thus elapsed fifteen years and Ananda was about to be betrothed to his maternal uncle’s daughter, who had bloomed into youth on an auspicious day.

  When Ananda’s father was looking into the almanac to fix an auspicious date for exchange of betel leaves in acceptance of the marriage proposal, came the command from the pontiff through a messenger that Ananda be initiated into the religious order which preached  that the universal soul and the individual soul were one.

  Ananda’s father accepted the command stoically as ordained by God Shiva. He felt an intuition that his son was born for a divine cause.

  But it was a sentimental blow for Ananda’s mother, who wanted the house to be filled with half a dozen noisy grandchildren and a dutiful daughter-in-law to look after her in her old age. Alas! Ananda should remain a celibate if he was initiated into the Advaita order.

  But Anand was Sri Rama in obedience to his father and eventually he found himself in the presence of the Pontiff in flowing saffron robes.

  From his childhood Ananda was always perturbed by the plight of the poor and the diseased.

  At the tender age of seven, he was seized with the burning question that if God were the creator of this University, why should He create the ugly along with the beautiful, the pauper along with the prince and the barren land along with the fertile one.

  Unable to contain his troubled mind any longer, he expressed his doubts to his father. His father sat him in his lap and kissed his forehead.”Son,”he said, “the mysteries of creation are not to be questioned. The humble human being should accept whatever comes across the path of his life, as ordained by God. Even those great savants who could churn the four Vedas, the one hundred and eight Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita into a glassful of water and drink it in libation, are unable to realize the inscrutable will of the Almighty. So my dear little son, do not trouble yourself with such profound questions.  Pray the immortal One for salvation. Proceed that way. Do not question the wisdom of the Sastras. It’s time for you to offer obeisance to the setting sun (Sandhya Vandan). Go and perform it with deep concentration. my son.”

  But Ramananda’s exhaustive answer could not clear the philosophical doubts of Ananda. He thought that his father gave the same answer which the scriptures say time and again.  These burning questions made Ananda realize later that he could no longer confine himself within the four walls of the center of the religious order.So with the permission of the Pontiff he left the center. He established an ashram at Triveni Sangamam.

  “Yes! Now I have found the answer” Ananda said to himself.as he opened his eyes and came into the physical reality, from meditation. 

  “Man suffers from an innate weakness to do wrong. If wise counsel prevails upon him to do the right then he will be a good person and a child of God.”

  “Man is a spoke in the wheel of birth and rebirth which goes on rotating  as long as the past deeds have a sway on the present life of a person.”

  “Yet man is endowed with discretion. By discrimination the wrong from the right and by deep meditation on the Eternal Consciousness, one realizes that he is none but the universal consciousness (Aham Brahma). With that enlightenment, one should help his fellow beings to attain the same supreme bliss and encourage them to follow their profession with the greatest possible work culture.

  With this divine message on his lips and with an ethereal  light glowing all over his body, Ananda left his ashram.

   Ananda, now the messiah of God, was treading the lanes and bylanes. He was visiting the houses of the poor and the rich alike. Just by the magnificence of his presence, the rich realized their follies and parted their excess wealth to their poor brethren.

  There was death in a house. Ananda’s discourse about the perishability of the human body like an earthen pot, brought solace to the grieving family. 

  There was a wedding in another house. Ananda blessed the couple and enlightened them with the knowledge that the wife and the husband are two equal halves of a single soul and they should pass through the various phases, their attention constantly fixed on the Almighty.

  At another house, a young bride was being burnt.by their avaricious inlaws for not bringing enough dowry. Ananda made his way into the house through the crowd that gathered outside. Ananda rushed to the kitchen and cast his spiritual glance at the bride, who was set on fire. The flames on her body disappeared and she felt she bathed in cool, scented water. Ananda casts his benign look at the villainous bridegroom and the inlaws. Then it dawned on them that a daughter-in-law was part and parcel of the family and should be treated affectionately like a daughter. They prostrated before Ananda in repentance and Ananda blessed them with long life and prosperity. Ananda kept walking through villages, towns and cities. Sometimes he appeared like a miniature being and some other times he was a macro being. While he walked, his pace had become superhuman. Sometimes a single pace of his foot covered hundreds of miles.

  By the touch of his blessed feet, the barren fields turned lively green and the dried river beds became moist and were soon flowing with water.

  While Ananda was walking a sea of humanity was following him. As he crossed the Deccan plateau, a fierce communal riot was in progress in a big city. People who lost their reason and were intoxicated with communal frenzy, were cutting one another’s throats in the name of religion. There was looting, arson and killings everywhere.

  Ananda raised his hand and said ‘stop.’ 

  Suddenly all the lethal weapons in the hands of the hooligans slipped and fell down. The warring communities realized the essential nature of religion. A feeling of brotherliness dawned on them and all of them hugged one another like brothers.

  “Religion is nothing but a way of life that lays down social and moral codes for the well being of the people and ultimately prepares them to become one with the Supreme Spirit” thus  spake Ananda and move on. The gospel of Ananda put an end to the bloody wars in the name of religion and politics forever.  As Ananda reached the outskirts of Delhi, word reached the prime minister about Ananda’s arrival to the capital city.

  The Parliament was summoned urgently and the President, the Prime Minister and the opposition parties adopted a unanimous resolution declaring Ananda the spiritual, moral and political  head of the country. The President and the Prime Minister would rule over the country as Ananda’s representatives. 

  The President approached Ananda and prostrated before him. “Oh, the enlightened One!”he beseeched, “ War has become imminent with our neighboring country, which threatens the peace of the sub-continent. No doubt, our soldiers are valiant and we are sure to win the war. But the price is heavy and our future generations have to pay for it. The war will mostly be fought with nuclear weapons.

  “Fear not,”Ananda said and proceeded towards the frontiers of the country where the nuclear war was to take place.

  To keep pace with Ananda’s gigantic foot steps, the residual army in Delhi had to move in fast army vehicles in escort.

  Ananda’s blessed feet touched the battlefield where the conventional weapons like the battle tanks, cannons and the long range firing guns of both the sides were ready to plunge into action. 

  A little distance away, medium and long range missiles which could reduce their targets into ashes and asphyxiation bombs which could suck away life in the range of about fifty kilo meters were ready to be activated to wipe away the human race from the sub-continent.

  As Ananda stood at the center of the battlefield, the soldiers of rival countries witnessed nothing but Ananda and Ananda only. He was here, he was there, he was everywhere. There was little space left where there was no Ananda.

  By Ananda’s divine presence everywhere, the weapons of death and destruction were immobilized. News reached the president of the rival country who rushed to the frontiers of his country to see the wonder for himself. 

  Ananda cast his divine look upon the dictator and he realized his inner self  immediately. He avowed in the divine presence of Ananda that he would not wage any war, not only against India but also not against any other country.  In the same breath he declared Ananda the spiritual and political head of his country.

  Thus Ananda’s march of victory continued and country after country, continent after continent accepted his spiritual and political supremacy. 

  Wherever Ananda treaded, the touch of his blessed feet brought peace and prosperity to the region. Throughout the world people spoke nothing about but the divine name of Ananda because he was their Messiah who mitigated the suffering of humanity.

  When Ananda reached the statue of liberty in the United States of America, the people there were panicky. They were awaiting the arrival of Ananda eagerly because they believed that he might do something - some sort of a miracle to ward off a nuclear  conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union. The realization that the world was going to end due to nuclear catastrophe drove the people of the US, western and eastern Europe including the Soviet Union to commit all sorts of violent acts. The world was literally burning. Ananda stood beside the statue of liberty. A benign look from the kindly eyes of Ananda restored order throughout the world. The three commanders of the army, navy and airforce resigned to their posts and fell at Ananda’s feet. “Oh, enlightened One,”the three said in unison,”Our president and the president of the Soviet Union, gave commands to activate the most modern nuclear weapons to outdo each other in a fit of rage. The nuclear bombs were to be exploded in a matter of minutes. Only a miracle from you can save the world.”

  The multitudes of the people who assembled there were looking at Ananda with a desperate ray of hope. 

  Ananda invoked the mantras which bestowed the ANIMADi SIDDHIS (power to become a macrobeing  to power to grow into a micro being). Ananda was growing and growing into space.

  Now he was a macro being. The liberty statue and the skyscrapers of the States looked like tiny structures before his gigantic size. He raised his hand and stretched his palm, which spread the entire space.

  Now he had all the nuclear weapons of the big five countries in his vast palm which spread throughout space. He crushed all the nuclear arms in his palm, which turned into

Petals of roses.

  Ananda was everywhere. His macro being was a divine feast to the eyes at Lenin Square in Moscow, Trafalgar square in London and Eiffel Tower  in Paris at the same time.

  The numerous ecclesiastical heads of various nations arrived on the scene in their nuclear powered airplanes and declared Ananda to be the spiritual head of their respective seats. 

  The spiritual heads of the USA and the USSR also prayed to Ananda to be their spiritual mentar.  

  Ananda spake: I am with you. I am everywhere. I am with you and you are with Me. Man has an innate Godly spark in him. He should realize it through constant practice of  meditation on the Absolute. As the Supreme Spirit enlightens the individual, the individual should behold Him in every animate and inanimate things and serve humanity. 

  Whenever there is decline in Dharma I manifest Myself in any form and restore Dharma.”

  The people of the world listened to the divine revelation with rapt attention. 

  “  We thank thee, O Lord,” they prayed in one voice. “Thou hast led us to light from darkness. We humble mortals abide  by thy divine command.”

  Ananda blessed the world. Gradually the macro form of Ananda was reduced to micro form and disappeared. 

  Having fulfilled the divine command, Ananda found himself at his ashram at the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati. He sat in deep meditation before the huge bronze image of the dancing Siva.

  As Ananda gradually reached the first stage in meditation, the light of life departed through a micro hole in his head and merged in the breast of Lord Nataraja. Ananda’s mortal remains fell dead.

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  This story is woven on reading about  the prediction of  Nostradamus  that a Hindu sage of South India unifies the world and restores order in 1999.

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 The Twilight Tragedy 

J.L. Narasimha Rao

My father wired me not to risk a journey in the cyclonic storm.  “Your absence at your sister’s wedding will be fully justified,”  he said in the telegragram. My friends too persuaded me to cancel my journey to Madras.

  But I brushed aside their warnings. The cyclonic storm was a God-given opportunity for me to show my adventurous spirit in driving and possibly create a world record by covering three hundred miles in less than four hours in the inclement weather.

  It was past midnight when I took out my Scuderia Ferrari from the garage. In fifteen minutes I was on the national highway, driving at break-neck speed. 

  It was raining heavily and the wind was howling. The depression in the Bay of Bengal which had formed the previous day, intensified into a cyclonic storm with winds blowing at great velocity along the coast. I looked out through the windscreen.  Fields were submerged in the flood waters and giant trees were lying uprooted on both sides of the highway. I saw a thatched hut being washed away in the waters like a boathouse in a flooded lake. I thought I heard desperate cries from the hut. ‘Nature’s fury” I muttered, “nobody can pacify. Yet man’s brave struggle against it has been going on since prehistoric age and it has been a continuous process.

  Suddenly I applied brakes as a ghost-like figure in a long rain coat waved its hand to stop my car. But, to my surprise and joy it was not a ghost but a damsel in distress. 

  “The cyclone…I am scared.”she cried incoherently. “Please drop me at a safe place. Your kind help…”her obliging words were drowned in the ear piercing crash of a tree in the fields nearby.  She pulled open the door with all her strength and jumped into the car.

  “Where are you going?” I asked her.

  “Madras.”she replied

  “Me too,” I said and started the car.

  The whistling wind, the rain and the flood with a charming girl by my side lent a romantic atmosphere to the place.

  She took off her raincoat and leaned back on the seat, quite exhausted. She was panting for breath and her bosom heaved in perfect rhythm.  Driving the car, I cast a sidelong glance at her. I thought that she had become conscious that I was devouring her beauty with my eyes. She drew the pullover round her shoulders. “Marooned here?” I looked at her.

  As if in an answer, she began to cry. 

 I was taken aback and asked myself whether I had said something improper.

 “The bus”she said between sobs,”I was travelling in, washed away in the floods I jumped out and swam to a boulder near the road.

  “You are the lone survivor then,” I said, slowing down the car to avoid hitting a carcass, being washed across the road. 

  “Yes,”she said, “ I started from Vijayawada by bus. I was going to Madras to join my parents. When the bus crossed Chirala, it was swept away in the flood waters.”

  “And you escaped with the raincoat and the pullover as your only baggage,” I completed her harrowing account.

  “It’s horrible,”she hid her face in her hands. “The bus was full with passengers but no one was left alive but me.”

  “Thank God, You’ve survived,”I said, “please try to get over the shock.”

  It was past midnight and the heavy downpour continued to spatter the windscreen of the car. I felt terribly hungry. I stopped the car by the side of the road.

  “Why, why've you stopped the car? ”she said anxiously. 

  I understood her instinctive womanly fright.

  “Don’t worry,'' I chuckled, “I am not a movie villain to harm you. I have stopped because I am very hungry.”

 “ Sorry,”she said regretfully,”I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I am a girl, I was afraid.?”

 I removed the lid of the lunch box. I put the idli and dosa into two plates and offered one to her.  “Thank you,”she tasted the idli and said. “It’s very delicious.”

   As she was eating, I stole a look at her face. She had wide eyes and a long, attractive nose. Her lips were rosy and when she drank water, her white teeth glistened. “She was born of a great sculptor’s chisel,” I thought. The numbing pain which a man experiences in the presence of a beauty incarnate, had seized me. Many girls had shaken hands with me, some of them had even given me bear hugs whenever I won a motor race. But this was the first time I was stirred by romantic sentiments. I felt an yearning to claim her forever.

  “The idli and dosa are very tasty,”she said.

  “I have an excellent cook,”I said, “she prepared them. When she leaves next month, I have to cook for myself. I should admit that I am a very bad cook. I hope a sweet angel enters into my life and makes home for me.”

  She did not reply.

  I thought that she got the intended meaning of my words. “I tend to be playful at times,”I said, breaking the silence, “hope you’re not offended.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,”she smiled, “There is nothing wrong with a bachelor when he says that he wants to get married.” I felt that a thousand roses bloomed when she smiled, flashing her beautiful teeth. 

  I was happy. I thought that she was disposed towards me favourably. 

  We finished with our lunch. I poured  steaming coffee into two cups from the flask. “Please have it,”I said, “we’re dying of chill.”

  Sipping at the coffee she choked. I patted her back to make her normal again. “Sorry,” I said, “I have taken liberties.”

  “You say or do something and then say ‘sorry’ pretending to be innocent.” she smiled, putting down the empty cup.

  We resumed our journey in the hurricane. 

  I switched on the tape recorder beside the dashboard and noisy pop music blared out.

  “Don’t you have any cassette of Carnatic music?” She asked.

  “I shook my head in the negative.”

  “Why?”she persisted, “don’t you like it?”

  “It’s not that,” I replied, shifting the gear. Classical music, whether it is Carnatic or Hindustani, is soft and arouses sweet pangs in the listener. It lures you into a void, from where you’re little inclined to come out. It is like the poetry of Shelley, beautiful but painful. But Pop music is the vigour of life.  It sweeps you off your feet in mad excitement; and I need it very much.”

  “No, you’re mistaken,”she said in defence of her argument, “have you ever heard the Kadanakutuhala Raga in Carnatic music? The Thyagaraya’s symphony - Sri Raghuvamsa Sudhambudhi Chandra…Swamy Raa…Raa '' was set to this raga. This raga literally sounds like war music. Kadanakuthuhalam means enthusiastic to jump into the battlefield. It swells your bosom with war spirits. Anyway, opinions differ.”

  I spoke praising the background music of the baby elephant walk in Hatari and the music of For A Few Dollars More and The Good, The Bad And The Ugly.

   We were silent for a while. “ I didn’t think,”she said breaking the silence,” that a playful boy like you had such a profound interior.”

  I did not reply. I drove on for about an hour regardless of the fury of nature. Suddenly I applied the brakes and brought the car to a halt. An uprooted huge tree lay across the road.

  “Oh! Bad luck,”I muttered and got down the car. “It will take at least half an hour to drag the tree to the side of the tree, which means we’ll reach Madras half an hour late.

  “No, we won't,” she shook her head in the negative,” A presentiment tells me that I will not see my parents again.”

  “Nonsense,” I said a little impatiently, “this is a race car in perfect condition and I had won Sholavaram and Himalayan motor races last with this car. Once we remove the obstruction, it is just three hours more to reach Madras. Once we get into the car, you can begin the countdown. Cheer up and lend me a helping hand.”  Like a gallant knight I tried to refresh her spirits.

  We tried to drag the tree off the road but it did not move even an inch.  While we were thus struggling with the fallen tree, she uttered a startled cry and clung to me. She pointed her finger to the bridge. The dead bodies of a mother and child clasped in each other’s arms in fear were being washed away in the flood water under the bridge.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I said to her, “I am with you.” 

  Then the biological instinct took hold of me and I held her in a tight embrace.  She also crouched into me with fear. I brushed my face against her conch shaped neck. “What is your name dear?” I whispered into her ear.

  “Prema,”she said and rested her head on my shoulder.  I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her lips ardently. Her lips were warm and sweet. There was death and destruction around us. But we were not disturbed. We soured into a glorious and romantic world which seemed to last forever. When our lips touched, time stopped for an instant and the past, the present and the future were blended into a beautiful, single whole. Caressing her back, I gently ran my fingers to the knot of her skirt in the folds of her saree. She gave a jerk and moved away as if she received a shock. “Not now,”she said., “it’s only after we were united by the holy fire.”

  I was hurt. I was angry with myself. I was angry with her also as she denied me the pleasure of sex. Yet her refusal increased my love and respect for her. There is nothing wrong in wanting to be pure till marriage. 

  A distant thunder and the crash of a tree in the fields brought us back into the real world. We did not speak to each other for a while. I walked back to the car and opened the dicky.. I took out a rope from  the dicky and uncoiled it. I fastened one end of the rope to the bumper of the car and the other end to the trunk of the tree. “Prema,” I said,”You stay away while I pull away the tree. If you sit in the car you may hit the dashboard.”

  As she stood under another tree to take cover from the rain, I started the car and ran it back and forth in a zig zag away. Gradually the big tree was giving way. After a few more pulls, the tree moved aside.

  Through the rear view mirror, I looked at Prema with a chivalrous spirit. 

  Standing under the tree, she waved at me in applause. Suddenly the tree began to shake dangerously in the strong winds. I shouted at her to move away but she could not hear me in the howling wind. I sprang out of the car and ran to her. But it was too late. The deadly tree crashed down crushing Prema under its wild branches.

  The sun hobbled onto the eastern horizon.  The fury of nature continued unabated. Prema lay dead in my arms. Tears flooded down my cheeks. I gazed at her. Death had not yet spoiled  her 

Beauty. She looked like a sleeping angel tired after tripping all the fairy worlds. The thought of love and marriage had not crossed my mind before I met her.But now I called her, Prema my love, my wife emotionally again and again. I imagined that we had been man and wife for several lives. I kissed her lips which were still warm. “Farewell my wife,” I said and laid her on the side of the road. I sat cross legged beside her.

  My grandfather was a purohit and initiated me into the mantras including those of the  apara karma at a tender age. Now those mantras welled up from my lips. I cupped the rain water into my hands and performed her last rites with all the love of a husband to the soul of his departed wife. 

  I walked to the bridge and stood over the wide parapet wall with the body of Prema in my arms. Countless bodies of humans were journeying through the flood of death to the destination they had come from. I slid her body into the waters and watched it being carried away in the stream gradually out of my sight.

  I walked back to my car listlessly and reversed it into the void.

 Where Love Is

I had no inclination to write about the love story of Satish, when he begged for it. But by the time I resolved to write about him, he had simply vanished, leaving me in the void without a good friend.

  It had all happened in my early thirties, when I used to turn out cart loads of fiction.

  When I recollect Satish now, I cannot help but a tear in my eyes.

  On that day Satish charged into my study. “Rao” he said, panting “don’t disappoint me this time, you must pen the beautiful love story of Sarada and myself.”

  The moment he hopped in, I guessed the purpose of his visit. Satish and Sarada were happily married for five years and since then he had been pestering me to write about their love story. I tried in vain to explain to him many times that a writer needs an impulse from within to produce anything worthwhile.

  “Ish” Satish used to sigh; ‘Rao, whatever you say is Greek and Latin to me. Aren’t many others spinning out boy meets girl stuff.? Our, on the other hand, is a true love story. Can’t you realize the charm of it.?”

  Helping himself to a cup of coffee, Satish resumed, “Rao, do you know what happened the other day? While returning from the office I lost control of my bicycle and hit a scooter. Of course it was a providential escape and I escaped with minor bruises. I got the bruises dressed up at a clinic and  went home. Believe it or not, when Sarada saw my bandaged arms and forehead, she shrieked and fainted. I bet Rao, any other woman in her place would have been just worried for a while. That’s all. But great love only can cause a terrible reaction as Sarada’s. Rao, will you accept now that my Sarada loves me with all her heart and soul? In what way is our love inferior to that of Romeo and Juliet and Laila and Majnu?”

  His tone was charged with emotion. But for me they seemed just man and wife devoted to each other, like many other couples. Nothing more than that. But for fear of losing his friendship, I did not tell Satish how I felt. So I said soothingly, “Satish, right now I am working on a novel. On finishing it, I will think about your story definitely.”

  Later he was transferred to Delhi. When I accompanied him to the station to see him off, he entreated me again to take up his story. I smiled and assured him.

  Years passed by. Meanwhile the letters which I used to receive from him once in a fortnight gradually ceased. On my part, I also forgot Satish and the story I promised to him. Meanwhile  I suffered severe setbacks in my writing career as publishers refused to publish my works, complaining that they were stereotyped. 

  But in due course of time the wheel of fortune turned in my favor again. I caught the attention of the public with a classical novel and won the Academy award for the same. I left for Delhi to receive the award.

  On my way back, when the train halted at Bitragunta, a man in shabby clothes and a long beard got into the compartment and sat opposite to me. He put the suitcase on his lap and began to drum on it. “Love is illusory,” he muttered under his breath. Suddenly his eyes were fixed on mine. “Hello Rao,” he said.

  I stared at the unfamiliar figure and it took me a good minute to recognize the emaciated, careworn man as Satish. “Satish, It is you.” I cried.. “Where were you all these years?”

  For a while he did not speak. Then he began to talk as if talking to himself. “Rao,”he said, “life is like a detective story with a lot of suspense in it. You do not know what will happen the next moment.”

  He stroked at his unkempt beard and gave a little laugh. “Last year when I was in Delhi, on a fine sunny evening I was sitting with Sarada with a cup of coffee in our garden. “Honey,” Sarada said, sipping at the tea, before I had met you and married you I thought that my parents were everything to me, But now”she added looking into my eyes adoringly, “It is you, you only what means everything to me. You’re my world. There is nothing else.”

  I was overwhelmed with love for her. I held her tight in my arms and kissed her again and again.  Suddenly we heard a hissing sound. We were startled and got up. A white king cobra of about six feet was standing on its tail with a raised hood. It was ready to strike. I let a cold sweat run all over my body. I was perplexed for a while. But soon I was myself and threw the table cloth on the dangerous hood of the serpent.  As luck would have it, a snake charmer was passing by. I gave him ten rupees. He enticed the snake into his basket and took it away. 

  When it was all over I looked around for Sarada. I thought that she was by my side all the while. But she was not there. She had locked herself in the house safely and came out only after I had convinced her that the snake was not there any more. Then she came out. She hugged me and kissed,”Honey,”she said, “how fortunate I am! God heard my prayers. You’re saved.”

  I disengaged myself from her serpentine embrace. I wished I hugged the cobra instead. I thought that at the moment of impending death she was by my side. But she was not.It was a deadly shock for me from which I could not get over forever.

  The train stopped at an outer signal near Secunderabad station.

  I saw nothing unusual in what Sarada had done. Instead I pitied Satish for having not realized the basic instinct of human nature. When death stares straight into your eyes, self preservation comes first and every other thing is secondary. I closed my eyes and pondered for a while as to how to explain to Satish this elementary truth in a delicate way.

  When I opened my eyes, the seat opposite to me was vacant; Satish was no longer there. Through the window I saw Satish disappear into the darkness gradually. Looking at his diminishing figure, I muttered to myself that I must write about Satish and this is it.

 A Silk Saree For Sister-In-Law

Raghu was desperate. He was trying his best to make his wife Sita attend his younger brother’s wedding. “Sita dear” he implored. “We may have umpteen family squabbles among us. But on a festive occasion like this we must seem united.” So you’re attending the wedding: Aren’t You?”he looked at her hopefully.

  But contrary to his expectations, she declared “ No, I am not. I don’t care even if the heavens fall down.”

  Sita was the eldest daughter-in-law of the family. Raghu and she lived in the joint family till recently. But they were forced to opt for separate accommodation a little far away because individualism, a synonym of selfishness in many cases overtook them. Raghu had no objection to live with his parents, brothers and sisters. But his wife brainwashed him into seeking separate accommodation.

  Now came the wedding of Raghu’s younger brother Raju. A dowry of thirty thousand rupees was agreed to be paid and apart from the dowry, in-laws gifts were also agreed upon. The five daughters-in-law were to be presented with a five hundred rupee saree each during the wedding by the bride’s parents.

  It was suggested by the bride’s party that the gift sarees could be bought at a notified cloth emporium where a wide range of selections were available. All the other in-laws' hearts throbbed and their eyes glittered as they visualised before their eyes terene, terycot, nylex, American georgette, chiffon, polyester and voile sarees in bright colours and beautiful designs.

  And here came the hitch. The domineering daughter-in-law Sita rejected the proposal. She demanded that she be presented with a Jaipur silk saree which cost ten thousand rupees, because she was the eldest daughter-in-law.

  The hapless mother-in-law Lakshamma  found herself in a fix. A Jaipur silk saree would not cost less than ten thousand rupees. If Sita were to be presented with a costly Jaipur silk saree, in recognition of her seniority as the eldest daughter-in-law, other daughters-in-law would demand the same. Lakshamma was conscious that it would be a financial liability on the bride’s parents. Obviously Lakshamma was opposed to it.

  Now poor Raghu found himself a piece of thread in the scissors. He could neither convince his wife nor persuade his mother to buy the costly saree. Yet he had not lost his hopes. “Look dear,”he said,”After all this is the wedding of Raju whom you have raised in your arms when he was a little child. You’re like a mother to him. Have you forgotten?” He tried to appeal to her sentiment.

  But Sita was intelligent enough to see his game through. “Yes, I brought him up like my own son. I know it.”she replied. “I would like to invite Raju and the bride to our home and present them with a mixi as soon as the wedding is over. But mind it, I won’t be attending the wedding.”

  “Do as you like,” Raghu lost his temper and cried. Having failed to make her fall in line, he badly wanted to escape the tense atmosphere. “I am going out,”he said bitterly. “Mind one thing, we’ll not be on talking terms unless you change your obstinate attitude.”

  During their happy married life for two decades, Raghu had never been so rude to her. He was so understanding and affectionate to her. Now his tough attitude made her cry. “It’s all because of me.” she thought, sobbing and blowing her nose. “After all this is the wedding of my brother-in-law Raju. Shouldn’t  I make it up?” she thought.

  Then there was a knock on the door, Sita peeped through the keyhole. Her bosom friends Shakuntala Bai of Sholapur and Meenakshi Ammal of Madurai were standing in the verandah. On seeing them, Seeta’s face beamed with joy. “Please come in.” She opened the door for them. 

  Hefty Sakuntala Bai and lean Meenakshi Ammal were seated on the sofa comfortably. Sita served them hot, steaming coffee.

  Sipping the coffee, Sakuntala Bai asked eagerly,” Sitaji, have you brought your husband round? Did he agree to convince his mother into buying you a costly Jaipur saree?”

  Sita shook her head in the negative. “No, I couldn't,” she said. “My heart melts at the predicament of my husband. Tell me Shakunlaji, can’t I come down? Can’t I attend the wedding and make my in-laws happy?”

  “Hey Ram!” Shakuntala Bai exclaimed and drew the veil over her head. “An in-law gift of a hundred rupee saree for the eldest daughter-in-law!”

  Shakunlaji is right, Sita,” Meenakshi Ammal chimed in. “Do you know what I did during my sister-in-law’s wedding? I threatened my mother-in-law that If I were presented with a cheap saree as the in-law’s gift, I would throw it into a dustbin at the street corner. This made her realise that I was a tough daughter-in-law to deal with.”

  Once the poison was injected into Sita, who otherwise would have come down, it began to work on her gradually.

  When Raghu returned late in the night, his needs were looked after by his three children. Sita had locked herself in the bedroom.

  This way a week rolled on and Raghu and Sita had not patched it up. The worst sufferers in this conflict were the children. But they bore it stoically and prayed to God that their parents should be friends again.

  Meanwhile Raghu was not blind to the thickening gloomy atmosphere at home. He had hectic consultations with his mother as to how to resolve this issue. But she pleaded her inability. Both of them reviewed the pros and cons in case they demanded Jaipur silk sarees for all the in-laws but realised the impossibility of the demand. Then they were worried about the social impact of Sita’s absence at the wedding. They would have to devise an excuse for it. Otherwise what would the bride’s people think about Sita’s absence at the wedding. Then Raghu hit upon a bright idea. “Mother” he suggested,”can’t we say that Sita is busy preparing Ravi for his engineering entrance exam?”

  Lakshamma appreciated this ruse. They sighed with relief as if they had surmounted a great tension that gnawed at their minds for two weeks.

  Then the unexpected happened. Sita arrived on the scene. She looked at her mother-in-law and said,”Mother, how are the wedding preparations going on?”

  The mother and the son looked at each other, unable to comprehend this sudden development. Raghu scratched his head and as soon as the act cleared his head, he looked at Sita with love and gratitude.

  Lakshamma also adjusted her spectacles and offered Sita hot coffee as it would keep her in good stead. 

  Sita said, sipping the coffee, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t assist you all these days in the wedding arrangements as I had been busy all these days, helping Ravi in his engineering entrance exam. Now the revision of the lessons is over, I am at your disposal.

  That Sita had changed her mind and decided to attend the wedding was now clear to the mother and the son. But what brought about change? Is this realization or repentance? They did not know.

  Naturally Sita also had no intention of revealing what factors had brought about the change in her. How could she? A cantankerous wife, a domineering daughter-in-law and a formidable neighbour when her strong individuality is threatened, is but an indulgent mother to her children.
The children made her swallow a bitter pill to bring their mother to terms with their father.

  Sita was too proud to let the others in the family know that her children, inspired by the Gandhiji lesson in their textbook, made it clear to their mother that they would not touch their meal if she did not change her decision.

  “Anyway, all is well that ends well,”thought Raghu. He was very happy.