From afar, the villagers could see a little silhouette, more a shadow lined in the light from the setting sun. It looked like that of a man, but it was hard to tell...they just saw something transposed against the backdrop of a very large, red blob in the horizon, as the lone road leading up to the village sloped up, almost as though it were reaching into the very heavens, or perhaps the heavens were bending low to touch the earth.
Gathered around the old banyan tree, some sitting on the clay embankment around it and some just standing, they watched on as the figure approached them.
It was an old man...about five feet and eight inches in height, graying hair with a little bald patch showing, right on top of his head. He had a longish flowing beard and unkempt hair that reached up to his shoulders. He must have been about sixty five or seventy, but walked with a sturdy and springy gait. On his back was a frayed, old and stained cloth sack (which used to be white), that he held onto with one hand, while his other hand held a four'ish feet long wooden staff/crude walking stick. His kurta was ripped and patched over in many places and his dhoti was old, weather beaten and showed the effects of a possibly long walk.
Any how, as he approached the group congregated around the banyan tree, the villagers looked on out of curiousity. The old man cut a strange figure, even among this motley bunch of poor farmers.
"Namaskara" (Greetings) hailed out a strong voice, as the villagers looked on. "Namaskara" a chorus of voices (with different levels of enthusiasm) chimed back at him.
"Is there any place a weary traveller can rest for a while around here? Perhaps even get a bite to eat and a cool drink of water?" the old man inquired.
Madappa, the oldest of the villagers gathered around replied "There's the local hotel (that's what restaurants are called in rural India) you can go to...they don't close till Nine PM. They serve a fine idli and saambaar, mister." "But you are welcome to sit here on this katte (embankment) with us and rest up a while if you'd like. There's fresh water from the tube well a few yards from here, you can even freshen up a bit if you'd like."
"I think I will do just that Sir" said the old man and walked in the direction that Madappa had pointed towards. A good fifteen minutes later, he returned, looking refreshed, his face and hands washed and some water sprinkled on his gray hair.
Madappa and the others had discussed amongst each other (while the Old man was gone), each having a differing opinion on what the Old man did/who he was. Rameshanna, the local barber was of the opinion that the old man was a wandering Sadhu (Mendicant). Sidamma, the village fish-monger thought he was a homeless destitute but not a Sadhu. Others have differing opinions on whether he was a Sadhu or not...for he sure did have an air of serenity and quite strength about it (most unusual for a destitute beggar).
Madappa, being the oldest of the lot, automatically assumed the role of communicator/interpreter for the whole bunch and said "Barni saar..." (Come sir), "are you refreshed now?"
And then he turned around to the little chai-walla, sitting in a shack by the road side and shouted "Re Jawali...ondu Masala Chai kalasi illi..." (Hey Jawali, please send one Masala Chai this way). And turning towards the old man again (semi-apologetically), he asked "I assumed that you wouldn't mind a cup of tea...I hope you don't mind?"
The old man was really touched and said "Dear Sir...I am honored to have a cup of tea in your midst...me a simple wandering destitute..." Jawali, the Chai-walla sent his young (really young) assistant with a little glass tumbler full of masala chai (made by boiling tea leaves, half water, half milk, ginger, cardamom and sugar), who promptly ran up to the banyan tree katte (embankment) and handing the tea glass to the old man, ran just as quickly back.
The old man started to feel around in his tattered shirt pocket for some change, but Madappa stopped him with a gesture, saying "Saar...don't worry, we all have a tab running with good old jawali and will settle matters of money with him at the end of each month. Besides, you are a guest of the village and Srirangapura (the name of our village) doesn't like to have its guests spend money on little things like chai and all"
The old man said with great gratitude and humility, "Dear sir..I am deeply honored and touched by your kindness...may you always be on the great way".
Madappa and the rest of the villagers were very curious as to who this interesting old man was. Where did he come from? Where was he headed? So many questions were running around in their minds. It wasn't everyday that they had visitors come their way. Srirangapura was quite a ways off the beaten track, being about thirty kilometers south of the main highway, cradled between two really ancient mountains, almost totally bare and stark, standing in contrast against the green fields that matted the landscape.
The old man took a deep long noisy sip of the tea and exhaled throatily right after gulping the bitter-sweet concoction down "Ahhhh...".
And with a slight smile on his face, he started to speak --
"My name is Bhadramanu, and I am an old homeless, wandering nomad. I am on my way to the Temple of mother Chamundeshwari in Kanakapura and felt that traveling through Srirangapura would be beneficial. As I can see now, my instinct was accurate...I got to meet such wonderful people such as my esteemed company right now!"
Rameshanna, the short, skinny barber interjected, in his high-pitched voice -- "So you are a Swami, going to visit your deity Mother Chamundeshwari" and turning to the rest of his friends he crowed "See I was right..I was right...he IS a Sadhu".
Bhadramanu smiled gently and said "Dear Sir, you would be right in saying I am a devotee of Ma Chamundi, but I am not really a Sadhu...I am just an old homeless vagabond who has entrusted his life and everything else linked with it to the Divine Mother". Madappa chimed in "Dear Swamiji, please accept our humble veneration, because even if you do claim that you are not a Sadhu, we can see in your countenance and presence that you are one. Please stay at my humble abode for as long as you would like, to rest up for your journey to Kanakapura. Should you want it, we do have occasional buses traveling between our Village and Kanakapura. As I recall, the State Transport bus does come by this way every Monday. Since today is a Wednesday, you have a whole four days you could spend with us and bless us lowly villagers".
Bhadramanu, who was already very touched by the generosity and affection of these obviously not so well-off villagers towards a total stranger said "Dear Sir, I will gladly stay with you at your home if it is not too much of a burden to you. But like I said, I am a stupid vagabond, I don't really have any blessings or knowledge to share. However, if you do think there is something of mine that would benefit you, please ask and I will do everything in my capacity to respect your requests."
So Madappa and the rest of the villagers, escorted their now honorable Guest to Madappa's old home. Madappa's home was his ancestral home, built over seven hundred years ago.
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written by narensomu, 2009-07-21 01:15:12
The narrative makes us see the little village before our eyes.
Keeps the interest until the last line.
Regarding the story,the hospitality that an average villager in India shows to total strangers [ despite his/her affordability] is indeed remarkable.
It' s the same all over India-also the ability to recognise higher souls and the humility shown before them...
Regards
ns
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written by karigar, 2009-07-15 16:17:12
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