It was the best time of year in our part of the world. That time when the dying monsoon winds and the incoming October warmth combine to form loving coolness. It was the time of year when a morning walk must be done with camera in tow.
I looked up at the brilliance splayed above and my heart skipped a happy beat, the reds and greens against the calm sky. The stray leaves jutting out like so many balloons keen to be freed of their woody shackles
The configurations of the ground beneath this tree were decidedly circular, maybe to denote the circularity of life and all form.
Random thoughts were doing their rounds: What goes round, comes round. If I circumambulate the mother tree, do I get back to life as a leaf? Life comes back full circle, the tree is life circled by falling leaves, leaves falling to their death. The tree tops are filled with new life.
‘Hey,’ a voice called. I turned, that was all I did, I turned.
That was my first meeting with Hasiramjibaba, my mentor, my guru, the charlatan, the thief.
There he stood, sparse of built, scarcely there, broad smile on all, what was he, 4 feet of frame? Maybe a little higher. He was beckoning me towards him, ‘Come, sit here a little. Talk, have some some chai.’
No, no chai, I was in a hurry. I nodded and shook my head all at once and waved my way on.
‘Arre baba, you are going to the Shiva ‘mandir’, wait, take this 5 Rs and give it to the old woman who sits outside. Tell her I sent it.’
I must have looked exasperated because he added, ‘So busy?’
HmHmm, I walked back to him, ready frown on my brow. One should not be called back, didn’t he know? My mind was racing, screech-racing, non-stop. An effulgence overcame me. The surroundings turned golden, I looked around, the green grass had a hue of light gold. I looked up.
The sky was an unnatural yellow. I looked at him in shock, was he playing tricks on my mind? Calling me back, smiling too much. There are robbers who hypnotize innocent passersby and take things away, they just throw some powder at you and the world looks different. You fall into the trap and hand over your gold, your house keys, your car, your life.
He was smiling, clearly he had done some magic. Why had everything turned Golden? Why was I even listening to this unknown? Something forced me to.
I stepped back, slightly. He moved forward holding a coin, ‘Here, take this, she will have a cup of tea. Now go fast, she gets impatient.’ I took the coin and made to turn away but my eyes danced.
‘Sun is shining too much,’ he grinned. ‘Summer time, no? Drink some water, nimbu-paani, rest in a dark place, you will be fine.’ He raised his hand in part-blessing, part-wave.
Suspicious, I hurried away. The gold shine, what was that? Why had I listened to the man? What made me listen? Surely, it was magic not summer heat. I was feeling cool. I reached the temple quite forgetting about the coin. I prayed hard, ‘please please rid me off that yogi’s effects.’
An old man, came to me, hand outstretched, ‘Do you have money to give me a cup of tea?’ And I remembered. I looked around for an old woman, he had said ONE old woman. There were three. Clearly this was a sign I should hand the coin to the man. I did just that and started back.
As soon as I got home, I had a cool glass of nimbu-paani and felt much better. Nimbu, aha, that had got the magic off. Now I knew why they put Nimbu on trucks, to wash magic things away. The wisdom of our old ways, the younger generation may rubbish them. Our generation may not know the truth, why, neither did our parents otherwise wouldn’t they have taught us?
Golden effulgence like this is certainly unnatural
hasiramjibaba 