THE OTHER SON OF GANGES: PART 8

8. A DROP OF WATER

“Come now, Panditji. It’s time for the Puja”… (PART 7)

It was a night of questions. There was not a single soul who knew answers. Shukla was the reason for these questions. A man with a sensitive tooth, Shukla was the cleverest of the lot. Bhanu Bhai thought that the cleverest should be used in a better way. And so, he became an ‘insider’. And now, the cleverest chose to use his cleverness in a different way. It was getting dangerous.

There had been trouble before. And there was trouble now. A trouble that needed to be solved without a trace. Inspector Sinha got his holiday in Malaysia for dropping off this piece of information on Shukla. The night posed just one question. How to ‘out’ the ‘insider’? Bhai was sitting on his Diwan, his eyes closed. Bhanupratap could tell that he was deeply troubled. Someone began the talk. It was slow. But it was a beginning.

Water, leaking somewhere- nearby. Drop by drop. As each drop fell, Bhanupratap saw a new bead of sweat on Bhai’s forehead. The heat inside, desperately trying to cool-off the ‘heat’ outside. Water- the universal solvent. Everything is in it. The good and the bad. A life in distress, plotting the end of another. How was that possible? Suddenly, he seemed to know answers. Why him? He wondered. It would be wrong for him to know answers for the questions being asked here. But he knew. It needed to come out.

When he spoke- they all listened. No one thought of stopping him. No one bothered to call him, Panditji. They knew that he knew. They knew that he was right. The beads of sweat on Bhai’s forehead had vanished.

Poison deposits in the cavities. Shukla’s toothpaste had contained traces of Thallium poisoning. Bhai could not be charged on murder, since he was in jail, according to Sinha’s records. Panditji had said his mantra well. Bhai, had his plans…

It was raining when Bhai called Bhanupratap to the terrace. There was no one else on the terrace, except Bhai. He was standing at the edge of the terrace, looking at the plains stretching towards the horizon. Bhanupratap saw something extraordinary in him. Power, perhaps. This man could have been anything else. Bhai, Bhanupratap thought, could do anything! Why did he choose to be this?

When young, all children are taught about the good and bad. Why was ‘the bad’ so glamorous? Why was it that his mother never tried to make him go back to her? He stood behind Bhai, looking at him. Why was he being called?

“You did well, Panditji…”, said Bhai.

“I didn’t mean to”, replied Bhanupratap.

Bhai turned around to face Bhanupratap. Bhai was an element of time. His face was the past, present and the future. Something about him, made Bhanupratap to stop thinking about anything else and just listen to Bhai.

“You want to know the reasons, do you”? asked Bhai.

“Well…”, began Bhanupratap.

“You pull the nerve. You pull the life…”, began Bhai.

(..To be continued., Part 9: “The Pandit’s Obsequy”…)

THE OTHER SON OF GANGES: PART 7

PART 7: THE PRIEST

“Yes. I shall come”, replied, Bhanupratap. (PART 6)

It never occurred to him that the room was dark. The creaking cupboard rattled noisily, as he stood there- rummaging its contents. He had been searching for so long, that he had almost forgotten what was that which he needed? A murky brown envelope fell on the floor, its contents spread everywhere. Dirty little bits of paper, they were. No. Not dirty. It was money. And that money, those little bits of paper, had cost him- his self.


It was almost a year since he had become one of “them”. His head felt heavy even as he thought about it. He was never one of “them”. Not now, nor then. He had joined them, nevertheless. He had refused to take a life. He refused to carry a gun. He refused women. He refused stealth. He was a medium. A transporter. A link between two links. He chose to be at the middle of nowhere. It was Vishwa who found it most amusing. “Sin-less Sinner”? He would say. “You really believe you could be that”? Bhanupratap could not answer him. He did not know the answer. Deep down, he knew that this was where he fit in. And that was why, they called him “The Priest” or the- Panditji.

Not many of Bhanu Bhai’s men, approved of Bhanupratap. Shukla- one of Bhanu Bhai’s ‘insiders’, even called Bhanupratap a “man with a price”. A few of them, even told Bhanu Bhai, to dispose of Bhanupratap. But Bhai only told them- “How can I not trust myself”?

Vishwa was good to him. Vishwa- was Bhai in all aspects. Bhai never did anything without Vishwa. Vishwa’s liking for Bhanupratap had what sealed him within their world, even though he was not one of “them”. Vishwa had said, “It’s always good to have a Priest around to wash our sins”.

Though the true meaning of those words only occurred to him later. The men of ‘darkness’ never joked about business. Bhanupratap occasionally became others too. Sinha’s lessons had their uses. But mostly he was Bhanupratap. The prison register bore his signature- “Bhanupratap”, it read. One day, Sinha asked him, “Bhanupratap, what is your name”? “Bhanupratap”, he had replied. Sinha looked at him for a few seconds and said- “Yeah, right. You are nobody if not Bhanupratap”!

The dark liquid needed water to quench itself of its wrath. The water he knew, spoke of stories. Stories of her life, and his life and dreams. The water he knew was hope was life to many in the place he knew from his previous birth. The water he knew was his mother- his Ganges. But this water knew no stories. It knew only pain. The pain of the dark liquid that she had absorbed into herself. And when drunk- she would rest not until she transferred all the pain deep down through your throat. The pain of the dark liquid blended itself with the pain in the heart- and out came the tears and words never uttered otherwise. The tears were her tears. The tears of the Ganges in his blood.

The ringing of the phone. Bhanupratap gathered the little pieces of paper and put them back into the envelope. The “darkness”- they often told him, helped them to see “light” better. He chuckled as he picked up the phone. It was Vishwa who spoke from the other end-

“Come now, Panditji. It’s time for the Puja”…

(..To be continued., Part 8: “A drop of water”…)

THE OTHER SON OF GANGES: PART 6

PART 6: HE AND I

Four months- and he was almost Bhanupratap. A man with just a name. No birth. No life. No death. Somewhere amidst everywhere. Sinha called him that night. He held a Rs.1000 in hand. Smiling as he spoke, “Would you like to earn more, Bhanupratapji”? (PART 5)

In movies, there were heroes who were jailed for crimes they had not committed. They spoke of justice and revenge. Their passion for justice and doing the right thing, assuaged the burning rage in many of those ‘common men’- awaiting for a spark, somewhere from someone to lead them on. He was no hero. Who was he? Shravan- son of a masterji, from Kashi? Bhanupratap- a criminal? But who was this Bhanupratap, who has completely taken over his life? The questions that he could never find answers to.

True to his promise, he had stayed back. He would be released, paid. And then, he would again be sent back to the prison. No one knew the son of masterji any longer. In fact, the prison had become more like his home. May be this was what he had come to see. He had heard tales, back home- of boys running out of their home to become a movie star or eloping away with girls. But he came to the city- to see new world. He wanted nothing in return. And this was his new world. He knew he was safe here. He had money. There were no pavements here where he was not allowed to sleep. There was no cruel sun here, burning him alive. There were no strange people here, who would not smile at him. He wanted to see where it lead him to, his life. His mother had assured him that there was a path laid out for him. He waited.

On a night of his release, he was called for by Sinha. Sinha, was sitting in one of the prison cells along with other men. These mean, Bhanupratap could tell, had never seen the light of the day. Something told him that these men, all of them, belonged there- belonged to the night. There were bottles of whiskey and soda- and many other beverages that often made men, men. Sinha was looking at him- in a way a teacher looked at his favorite pupil. He called out to him, loudly- his voice croaking due the liquids taking an effect over his vocals, “Come-Come Bhanupratap saab… C’mon here”! He entered and stood there in a corner, uncertainly. Sinha now spoke to the man, who appeared to be in command. Big, dark, balding and drunk. Sinha said, “Want to meet yourself Bhanu bhai”? And he pointed towards where he was standing. The real one was now scanning Bhanupratap, closely.

“What’s your name”? asked Bhanu bhai.

“Bhanupratap”, he replied. He did not know why he said it. It was may be because he was so used to it.

There was a moment of silence. And then, all of a sudden, the room rang with laughter. Bhanu bhai now spoke, “Good training, Sinha”. Sinha looked pleased with himself. Bhanu bhai spoke now to Bhanuprtap- “You have done me a huge favour. I am indebted to you. And I never liked being in debt to anyone”. There was silence once more. Everyone looked serious. Bhanu bhai spoke again, “Come with me, Bhanupratap. I’ll teach you, how to be like me”.

Bhanu bhai. A leader. Bhanupratap could tell that he was everything. He controlled almost everything. It was absolute power that spoke through his eyes. A power that could never be denied. A power that could never stop luring you towards itself. There are just too many of those little fire-flies that are attracted to the shining light. But the light wants only a few of them. The power in Bhanu bhai’s eyes- told Bhanupratap that it wanted him. The steady stream of the Ganges took a steep turn, deep inside his mind. It was as though his mother was saying to him- “This was what I had warned you about…”.

Ganges did flow everywhere. The hills and valleys alike. She changed herself and became a part of everything, wherever she went. But once she was a part of them- they were lost to her. It was not hills or valleys any longer. It was just, Ganges.

“Yes. I shall come”, replied, Bhanupratap.

(..To be continued., Part 7: “The Priest”)