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Horoscope
By Meena Bhuvan
Anand woke up with a start , as the train gave a giant hiccup, jolting him off the
berth. Its guttural rattle against the tracks, 'kadakut-kadakut-kadakut' had
mellowed to a slower, 'kat---kat-kat-'as it heaved its long body slowly towards the
next station, hissing and moaning like a tired dragon. It paused for a moment..,
almost coming to a standstill. In the distance, Anand could see the barebodied
farmers with their oxen, plowing the fields, while groups of women, their sarees
tucked up to their knees, walked along the tracks, balancing water pitchers on
their covered heads.
The train resumed its slow rocking , as it jabbed the tracks and finally groaned
to a stop, just past the sign, "Keshavpur" . The porters had already started
darting towards the opening train doors, like a cluster of flying red moths , in
their red uniforms with flashing brass badges.
Anand looked at his watch and tried to recall the words of Sharmaji, the family
priest. "After Keshavpur, you have three hours to go before you reach Bheda.
That’s where you get off and go to the waiting room , to wait for the midnight
train to Meethapur. It is usually on time." Sharmaji had turned to Anand’s
mother and told her.
“And, yes, since the best day to travel would be on a Friday, Anand should
leave for the station before l0am. You know , after that , the next two hours
would be inauspicious for going to see a prospective bride."
Anand bought a cup of hot tea from the tea vendors walking along the platform
and looked around the compartment , as he sipped , turning the cup around to
avoid its chipped edge . The old lady sitting on the next berth had packed up
her little bundle of food, after finishing her puri-subzi. He had politely refused
her offer of puri,but the pungent and spicy odor of fried onions, garlic and curry
powder, continued to, tickle his nostrils. She had dozed off , after covering her
feet with an old gray blanket .
The plump priest sleeping on the opposite berth was snoring loudly. Anand
watched with amusement , as he saw his fat paunch bulging in and out under his
dhoti . He had turned his face to one side after covering it with a small towel and
only his bald head with its tuft was visible. He reminded Anand of Sharmaji.
Anand could hear Sharmaji’s excited voice, as he talked to his mother, his
narrow eyes peering through thick glasses at the two sheets of paper spread in
front of him. "I am telling you , Mataji, I have,not seen this kind of horoscope
match in years -all 60 points . This is a match made in Heaven. "
His mother had smiled uncertainly, "But what about the girl herself?"she had
asked him.
"She is a real Lakshmi, just 2l yrs old , finished with her B.A. in Home Science.
She is the only daughter. They are very traditional godfearing people. You
don't have to worry about the family. Just tell me if I can go ahead and pursue
the matter. " Sharmaji had rejoined with absolute confidence.
"But Meethapur, where you said they live, that is so out of the way! " his mother
had said. She was still reluctant to make important decisions on her own,
though, his father had been gone for almost six years.
“No, no it is really not so far. All he has to do is to change at Bheda and he will
be there in a matter of hours." Sharmaji had reassured her.
She was anxious for her son to get married, before he moved out of their town,
Sharadpur, to Mumbai. He had just landed a good job there,as an engineer.
His father, Rai Sahib,had been a Professor and then principal of the local
college for many years. He had inherited his title from Anand's grandfather, who
came from an aristocratic family in Sharadpur. Anand had just turned twenty
seven and was a tall handsome young man with curly hair and a sharp aquiline
nose that made everyone remark about his striking resemblance to his father.
Suddenly the old lady, who had woken up and was looking out at the platform,
shouted out pitifully, "Bhaiya, what station is this? "
"Keshavpur", Anand answered, looking obviously, she had no idea about her
The old lady almost fell as she frantically, "Oh Ram, That is where I have to get
off.” she looked at Anand helplessly, trying to collect her two bags
Anand got up from his seat quickly, -picked up her bags and walked her to the
compartment-door. She got down gingerly, hobbling on her right foot, as she
held on to the bars on the side of the door. She stood on the platform, like a
lost waif, helplessly scanning the faces of the passersby walking on the platform.
He wondered as to how she was going to get anywhere, when he saw a young
man running towards her. The young man, who looked to be in his twenties,
touched her feet respectfully and took her bags, as she hugged him and gave
him -- a broad toothless smile .
Anand got back to his seat with a sigh of relief, picked up his mystery novel and
started reading. Suddenly he saw a porter rush in with an old suitcase ,
thrusting it under his berth, almost pushing Anand's feet out of the way. He was
followed by a very short, wiry: old-man, breathing heavily as he climbed up the
steps to the compartment door. He slumped to the berth and seeing the porter
glaring at him impatiently, dug into his shirt pocket with his bony fingers, to
pullout some notes. The porter grabbed the money and almost leapt out of the
train door, as the train gave a warning lurch and pulled out of the platform.
The old man mopped over the orange tilak on his wizened forehead with a large
striped handkerchief and let out a long sigh .
"I am getting too old for this sort of travel," he muttered to no one in particular
and took off his black silk cap, revealing an almost bald head with a few grey
tufts sticking out like little whiskers on an old cat. Anand had a strange feeling
of deja-vu, as he saw the old man stroke his head in a helpless gesture. Had he
met him before? The thought kept returning to him, as the old man took off his
dark leather sandals and folded up his feet on the berth. Anand moved closer
to the window, to make room, and the old man smiled, deepening the furrow that
ran from his nose to his mouth. He gave Anand a puzzled stare and looked
away .
Anand returned to his novel , but every time he looked up , he could feel the old
man staring at him, his gold rimmed spectacles pulled down over his large
bulbous nose, an uncertain question in his gaze. He was still staring at him , as
he took off his glasses and scratched the gooseberry mole on his nose.
"Another hour," Anand thought to himself, turning his gaze to his watch. It was
sunset and through the window of the compartment, he could see the skies
turning fiery pink, then dark, dropping little black shades over the clumps of
trees and the rows of little thatched huts set along the track. The old man was
leaning against the berth with his eyes closed and the pundit with the tuft, had
woken up and was trying to get up, as the train neared Bheda..
"We'll be reaching Bheda soon", the old man announced in a sleepy voice, as
he woke up suddenly and fixed Anand with another piercing stare. Anand got
up from his berth and pulled out the old man’s suitcase from under his berth, so
that he could get his own luggage out. As he tied his shoes, the old man asked
him, in a puzzled tone, "Are you getting off at Bheda too? " As Anand nodded,
he asked, ""You live in Bheda?"
"Oh no! I am just taking the connecting train here.”
"That must be the train to Meethapur. " he answered, to Anand,s surprise. He
paused for a moment and stared at him, watching Anand take out his comb and
start grooming his curly hair.
"So, who do you have in Meethapur? "
"Just some friends I have to go and see."
"I think you are going to see a girl." the old man smiled, shaking his head.
"Why, yes. " Anand said with a faint blush, surprised by the man's astute remark.
By the time the train jerked to a stop, the fat priest was already at the door. The
porters climbed up the doors to the compartment, jostling each other as they
hustled to grab a fare. Anand helped the old man down the steps from the train
door. They started walking together on the crowded platform, weaving their way
between the vendors pushing their carts full of magazines, toys and snack, while
trying to sell their wares to the young mothers carrying tired, wailing babies.
They followed the porter up a short crowded staircase that led to the street,
when the old man suddenly stopped.
"Son , can I ask you a question,... if you won’t mistake me?” Taken aback,
Anand stopped, trying to keep an eye on the porter. "Why, yes , of course."
"Are you by any chance, related to Rai Sahib, of Sharadpur?" He burst out, like
a child unable to contain his curiosity.
Anand turned around to look at him open mouthed. "I am his son Anand. But
how do you know my father?"
The old man smiled triumphantly. "I knew I couldn't have been mistaken - that
nose, that high forehead, that square jaw. Why you are a little replica of the Rai
Sahib. But tell me, how is your respected father? "
"I am afraid he passed away few years ago."
"May God rest his soul in peace. I had hoped to see him again." he said in a
disappointed tone.
Anand suddenly realized why he looked so familiar. This man was the poor
stranger-who had come to their house -almost two decades ago! The old man
caught the glint of recognition in his eyes and smiled at Anand, showing the
many holes between his teeth.
"You must be the pratyaksha Gopalakrishna" he continued still smiling.
"Remember my name? Bijay Mishra."
As they walked along, he spoke hurriedly, "Why do you want to take the night
train? It is so slow, and uncomfortable. Take the morning train. It is much
faster."
"But what about the ticket? "Anand exclaimed.
“Don't worry, the station master is an old friend of mine. He will put you on the
morning train."
"But they will be expecting me at Meethapur."
"I will have the station master send a telegram. Just give him the address."
Mishraji had thought of everything.
"But where will I stay overnight? I don't have anyone in Bheda." Anand was still
hesitant.
“But you do son! You will do me the honor of spending the night at our
place. My wife will be so happy to see you."
As they walked along , Anand passed a small room with a faded sign, 'Waiting
room'. He cou1d see a crowd of peop1e sitting on a bench, opening up their
food packages and eating. In a corner, a harried father was trying to pacify his
screaming children. As he passed by, he got a faint whiff of rotten food and
urine. Suddenly, Mishraji’s invitation seemed to be a good solution, much as he
hated to change his plans.
Asking the porter to wait, Anand followed Mishraji, as they went to meet the
stationmaster. As they neared his office, he heard a loud booming voice,
"Mishraji! Where are you coming from? " Anand saw a tall man, with a slight
stoop and a head of white hair, approach Mishraji and greet him with folded
hands.
"Tiwariji, I was just coming to see you." Mishraji smiled.
"He is the stationmaster I was telling you about." he told Anand.
"How is the family? How is your grandson? And who is this handsome
young man?" Tiwariji piled him with questions.
"By God’s grace, we are all. well. But, I need your help. This young man,
Anand is the son of a very revered friend of mine. He needs to get his ticket
changed from the night train to the morning train, you know, the one to
Meethapur."
"Of course, Mishraji, no problem. Anything for you or your friends." Tiwariji
grinned, showing a row of glistening white teeth and whispered in his ear.
"Oh yes! Tiwariji, Please send a telegram to this address." Mishraji took
the paper with the address from Anand and gave it to the stationmaster.
Tiwariji beckoned to a conductor on the platform and gave him a note.
Then he turned to Mishraji, "Well, that will all be taken care of."
“Thank you, Tiwariji. Please give my regards to the family."
"See, that was not hard. I told you he was a friend of mine. Now, let us go
home." Mishraji patted Anand on his back and started walking towards the exit.
Before he could say anything, Anand was in a rickshaw on his way to Mishraji’s
house.
The rickshaw driver, Gopi, was a scrawny man in his forties. He wore a dingy
turban on his head with a bright checkered shirt flowing over over a dhoti tucked
up to his knees like a pair of shorts. Gopi had a tongue which never seemed to
stop wagging. He must have known Mishraji for a long time, Anand thought,
from the way he talked to Mishraji about all the members of his family. He
looked at Anand, sizing him up and remarked,
"So, Mishraji, are you taking home a son in law?" he continued, looking at
Anand's stylish clothes with admiration.
"I know I have to take the son in law home safely - eh " he grinned at Anand with
betel stained teeth. The rickshaw seemed to groan and tap as he speeded up
after leaving the station and got on to the main road into town. Gopi seemed to
be hitting every bump on the unpaved road.
Anand was almost asleep when the rickshaw jolted him awake suddenly, as it hit
a large pothole. He was terrified of toppling over, but Mishraji sat calmly, giving
Gopi directions as to the best route home.
Anand's thoughts went back to that Sunday afternoon about twenty years ago,
when Mishraji had come to their house.
His father had just finished lunch and was resting in the living room in his
favorite easy chair. Anand remembered hearing loud shouts near the gate
outside their bungalow, which was just off the road to the railway station. The
gardener was shooing off a man. Anand remembered that the man was so short
that Anand could barely make out his small head above the gate.
"Let me just talk to Rai Sahib." he was telling the gardener, who was eyeing him
suspiciously, especially after the recent robberies in the neighborhood.
"Go away, Sahib doesn't want any strangers loitering around.” He was afraid of
the gate being left open by the stranger. Only the previous week , a herd of
cows had come in through the open gate and trampled through the rose garden,
destroying some of Rai sahib's favorite roses. Rai sahib had been livid and had
a1most fired the gardener.
The man at the gate was very thin and looked pathetic in his white kurta pajama,
now splattered with mud from walking in the slushy pools on the road left by the
heavy rain. He was trying to drive away a stray dog which kept pulling at his
kurta. His dark sandals were covered with mud.
"No beggars here." The old servant Bholaram had heard the gardener shouting
and come out to investigate.
"I am not a beggar, " the man said, in an offended tone.
He reminded Anand of an African pygmy chief who had temporarily lost his
retinue, but none of his dignity. The big orange tilak on his forehead, seemed to
glow with his indignant remark. He ran his hand through his graying,
dissheveled hair, and repeated a little impatiently, "All I want to do is to speak to
Rai Sahib."
By this time Rai sahib had heard the disturbance at the gate and come out to
the gate, asking Bholaram, as to what was going on.
Hesitantly, the latter pointed to the man at the gate, "He wants to see you,
Sahib."
“Dirkhayushman bhava," Rai Sahib was startled by the cultured tone of the
blessing and softening his usually loud voice, greeted him politely as he bent a
little to get a good look at the stranger. The stranger looked up at Rai sahib and
gave him a weak smile.
"Rai Sahib , I have heard a lot about you from the station master. He
suggested that I ask you for help." He paused for a minute and spoke in a
trembling voice. "Sir, I don't know if I am being punished for my sins or what! I
was robbed on the train last night, as I slept. Must have been the two young
men who got off during the night. I had borrowed money for my daughter's
marriage. Now everything is gone except for this small bag of clothes ...They
even took the bag.. with the train ticket." he stammered indignantly.
"How much do you need, Mahashay?" Rai sahib spoke gruffly, eager to get rid
of him without seeming to be rude. In spite of himself, he felt sorry for this man,
who was obviously not a common beggar. The gardener and Bholaram were
surprised, since usually the master was almost paranoid about letting strangers
anywhere near his house, especially after the recent burglary last week, just a
few houses away .
"Just two hundred rupees. I will return it as soon as I can . ...My name is Bijoy
Mishra, I am a 'Sanskrit professor." he added hesitantly.
Rai sahib smiled. He was sure that he would never hear from him again, but
decided to say nothing, as he took the money out of his wallet and gave it to
Mishraji.
The latter blessed him and picked up his bag , turning toward the gate. He must
have walked a few steps, when he suddenly stumbled and would have almost
fallen, if the gardener had not caught him and helped him to sit down on the
steps to the house. His face had gone pale .
"Have you eaten,? " Rai sahib asked him, noting his famished look.
"No, I was busy trying to get the station master to help me catch the thieves." the
man replied, sighing.
Rai Sahib called out to Anand's mother to set a plate for him and asked him to
go in.
"But sir, I cannot eat without having a bath." The stranger looked at Rai sahib
, reluctant to go inside the house. Rai Sahib hesitated for a minute, then called
out to Bholaram to set out a bucket of water in the courtyard.
Anand had been amazed. This was the first time a stranger from the street had
been allowed into the house.
Anand was intrigued by the sacred thread glistening on Mishraji's dark trunk, as
he poured water on himself and took a quick bath. He looked much more alive,
as he sat down to eat, with Anand watching his every move. Mishraji closed his
eyes and said a few prayers ,before starting his meal. He ate ravenously, for
such a thin man. Anand sat near him ,staring at his tilak. Amused, Mishraji
patted his head and smiled. "Twam pratyaksha gopalakrishna!" meaning, (you
must be the Lord Krishna in person!}
After he had finished eating, he asked for a place to rest for a while before
leaving. The servant spread a mat for him and in a few minutes he was fast
asleep. Rai sahib was getting impatient and as soon as he woke up, bade him
goodbye. Mishraji carefully noted down their address, promising to repay the
money soon and left. He blessed everyone again, calling Anand’s mother
Annapoorna, the Godess who feeds the hungry.
Later, Anand overheard his father telling his mother, "You know, I really can't
believe that I let a total stranger into the house. Of course he wasn’t really a
beggar, Sanskrit professor and all, but who knows anything about a man from
the street."
His mother had answered, "Whatever you might say, it was good we fed a
starving Brahmin. "
"Yes , yes, I know you have added to our record of good deeds today," Rai
sahib had joked .
Soon, the incident was forgotten, until, six months later, a money order arrived
from Mr Mishra , repaying the money. He had also sent an invitation to his
daughter’s wedding. Rai sahib was pleasantly surprised and sent a wedding gift.
Years passed and one day Rai Sahib suddenly died in his sleep, from a massive
heart attack . Meantime Anand completed his engineering course and became
busy with his search for a good job.
The rickshaw gave another jolt, breaking Anand’s reverie. Mishraji was
explaining, "You know how this town got its name? Long ago, I believe there
was a valley around this town. It had the largest herd of sheep anyone had ever
seen. Then suddenly, one year there was some kind of disease. It spread very
quickly and the whole sheep population was wiped out. The name Bheda ,a
place with sheep, still stayed, though ."
The streets of Bheda were dimly lit, leaving some of the streets in total
darkness. Gopi seemed to be navigating by smell, rather than by sight, as the
rickshaw went through narrow alleys, criss crossed with clotheslines festooned
with old sheets, dhotis and pajamas. As they passed rows of thatched huts,
they could see the children being patted to sleep, on the shoulders of their
mothers. The women looked up at the rickshaw for a minute and went back to
their patting. Outside the huts, there were rows of old wooden charpoys, on
which old men were getting ready for bed. Some of them sat up and watched
the rickshaw pass. As the rickshaw turned the corner, a foul smell of urine
arose from an open sewer. Mishraji looked at him apologetically, as he saw
Anand cover his long nose." Just a few more minutes Gopi, please get us out of
here fast. ", he admonished the driver.
He was right, for almost in the next instant they were out of the dirty alley and on
to a pucca road with neat little brick houses and buildings. Relieved, Anand
took a deep breath. As they turned a corner, Anand saw a tall brick building set
in the middle of a garden with a statue.
Mishraji pointed to it with pride, "This where I used to teach, as a Sanskrit
professor. Of course I retired a few years ago."
"We are almost there," he continued, as the rickshaw slowed down and stopped
in front of a small brick house with bright blue curtains on the front windows .
Gopi helped them get down with the suitcases. Mishraji paid him and told him to
return early the next morning , to take Anand to the station .
As they walked to the door, Anand saw the mistress of the house,a short plump
lady in her sixties, clad in a red bordered Bengali saree with the palloo draped
on her greying head, a bunch of keys swinging from her waist , a large bright
red vermilion dot on her wide forehead. Her chubby, fair face lit up with a broad
smile as Mishraji told her excitedly, "Bina, you will never believe whom I have
brought home.” Bina’s round eyes widened in surprise as he paused and said
triumphantly, "This is Rai Sahib’s son, Anand!"
She looked at him with motherly affection, as she said, "We are truly fortunate.
Come, son ,you must be so tired after the long journey."
She led him into the courtyard in the back of the house. The aroma of cooked
chick peas and freshly made parathas wafted from the kitchen, making him very
hungry. The small house,was very clean and cosy, with two rooms and a
kitchen. The front room had a small divan lined with colorful cushions
embroidered with red and green peacocks and flowers. The only other furniture
in the room was a pair of wicker chairs set against the wall. Two neat rolls of
bedding lay tucked into a corner, over an old white and brown jute rug spread
on the cement floor.
The next room led into the kitchen and served as the dining area. In a little
corner alcove, stood idols of the family deities, Ganesh and Lakshmi , garlanded
and decorated , a small shiny brass lamp lighted in front of them .
As they ate ,Bina sat and fanned them, filling Anand’s plate with hot parathas.
Mishraji told Anand that he had been travelling to see an old ailing friend near
Keshavpur.
"And this, Anand, is my only grandson Nikhil." Mishraji pointed to a photograph
on the wall. It showed a grinning handsome boy, with missing front teeth.
"My daughter and son in law live about two hours away by train, in Dharampur.
He paused, closing his eyes, "I still remember that dreadful day, when I got
robbed on the train. I was totally devastated, all that money for the wedding
stolen! If it hadn't been for your father's kindness to a stranger, ...don' t know if I
would have been able to .. go on with the wedding and all." he put his hand on
his forehead ansd shook his head silently. '''We can never repay Rai Sahib!"
his voice cracked. For a minute, he was speechless. Then he got up and
pointed to the bedding which had been rolled out by Bina.
"It is late and you have to get up early. I don’t have the kind of bed you must be
used to, but Bina tried her best. Sleep well." Totally exhausted,,Anand fell
asleep.
He was rudely awakened in the middle of the night, by the loud howling of a dog
, followed by a pitiful wail. It was picked up by another dog and yet another, till
the night was thick with canine lament. Maybe the dogs had decided to have a
nocturnal pow-wow, he thought ruefully, stuffing his ears with the edge of the old
blanket. He jerked his arm up as he felt a sting and a horde of mosquitoes
descended on him, stabbing him everywhere mercilessly. He now realized why
that room smelled of Flit spray. Bina had tried to saturate the room with the anti
mosquito spray, but it was no match for the bloodthirsty night runners. They bit
him wherever they could ,as he tried to cover himself with the old bedspread. He
could see Mishraji and Bina sleeping soundly in another corner of the room.
"Perhaps I was too hasty in changing my plans.” he thought ,tossing and turning,
unable to
asleep. He cursed himself for having agreed to spend the night at Mishraj's
house.
"Wish I could just get out of here and be on my way." he thought irritably, as
another mosquito found a bare spot on his wrist.
He must have eventually dozed off in the early hours of the morning, for he felt
Mishraji patting him on the back, asking him to get up and get ready for the
train. He ignored Mishraji’s concerned enquiry, "Son, did you sleep well?,"
Feeling peevish and miserable as he scratched his arms full of large itchy
wheals. However, as he saw Bina waiting for him, with a cup of hot tea and a
plate of steaming poha, his bad temper seemed to vanish , like a snowman
melting under the sun, forcing him to smile, in spite of his discomfort.
Gopi came in , just as Bina was bidding him goodbye with a warm smile, marking
a tilak on his forehead and offering him a tray of fruit and coconut. She gave
him her blessings, and wished him good luck, as he went to see a prospective
bride.
Gopi watched, a smug grin on his swarthy face. "So, is the son in law ready?”
he asked, amused by Anand’s bleary expression. Anand tried to stifle a yawn,
as he climbed into the rickshaw with Mishraji.
Since it was early in the morning , there was hardly anyone on the streets , but
as they neared the station , they could see a big crowd gathered on the
platform. Mishraji asked Gopi to go in and find out if it was safe to go, since riots
were very common in these parts.
Some people were shouting excitedly, pointing to the tracks. A few were
snatching the morning paper from the paper boys , and reading it with a
shocked expression.
Gopi came back running and screaming hysterically, "Mishraji , Mishraji,
something terrible has happened!" Mishraji grabbed a paper from the paperboy
who was shouting, "Extra, Extra, Midnight train derails just before Meethapur.
All passengers feared dead."
"OH God! That was my train !" Anand gasped hoarsely, as he felt Mishraji grip
his shoulders.
By Meena Bhuvan
Anand woke up with a start , as the train gave a giant hiccup, jolting him off the
berth. Its guttural rattle against the tracks, 'kadakut-kadakut-kadakut' had
mellowed to a slower, 'kat---kat-kat-'as it heaved its long body slowly towards the
next station, hissing and moaning like a tired dragon. It paused for a moment..,
almost coming to a standstill. In the distance, Anand could see the barebodied
farmers with their oxen, plowing the fields, while groups of women, their sarees
tucked up to their knees, walked along the tracks, balancing water pitchers on
their covered heads.
The train resumed its slow rocking , as it jabbed the tracks and finally groaned
to a stop, just past the sign, "Keshavpur" . The porters had already started
darting towards the opening train doors, like a cluster of flying red moths , in
their red uniforms with flashing brass badges.
Anand looked at his watch and tried to recall the words of Sharmaji, the family
priest. "After Keshavpur, you have three hours to go before you reach Bheda.
That’s where you get off and go to the waiting room , to wait for the midnight
train to Meethapur. It is usually on time." Sharmaji had turned to Anand’s
mother and told her.
“And, yes, since the best day to travel would be on a Friday, Anand should
leave for the station before l0am. You know , after that , the next two hours
would be inauspicious for going to see a prospective bride."
Anand bought a cup of hot tea from the tea vendors walking along the platform
and looked around the compartment , as he sipped , turning the cup around to
avoid its chipped edge . The old lady sitting on the next berth had packed up
her little bundle of food, after finishing her puri-subzi. He had politely refused
her offer of puri,but the pungent and spicy odor of fried onions, garlic and curry
powder, continued to, tickle his nostrils. She had dozed off , after covering her
feet with an old gray blanket .
The plump priest sleeping on the opposite berth was snoring loudly. Anand
watched with amusement , as he saw his fat paunch bulging in and out under his
dhoti . He had turned his face to one side after covering it with a small towel and
only his bald head with its tuft was visible. He reminded Anand of Sharmaji.
Anand could hear Sharmaji’s excited voice, as he talked to his mother, his
narrow eyes peering through thick glasses at the two sheets of paper spread in
front of him. "I am telling you , Mataji, I have,not seen this kind of horoscope
match in years -all 60 points . This is a match made in Heaven. "
His mother had smiled uncertainly, "But what about the girl herself?"she had
asked him.
"She is a real Lakshmi, just 2l yrs old , finished with her B.A. in Home Science.
She is the only daughter. They are very traditional godfearing people. You
don't have to worry about the family. Just tell me if I can go ahead and pursue
the matter. " Sharmaji had rejoined with absolute confidence.
"But Meethapur, where you said they live, that is so out of the way! " his mother
had said. She was still reluctant to make important decisions on her own,
though, his father had been gone for almost six years.
“No, no it is really not so far. All he has to do is to change at Bheda and he will
be there in a matter of hours." Sharmaji had reassured her.
She was anxious for her son to get married, before he moved out of their town,
Sharadpur, to Mumbai. He had just landed a good job there,as an engineer.
His father, Rai Sahib,had been a Professor and then principal of the local
college for many years. He had inherited his title from Anand's grandfather, who
came from an aristocratic family in Sharadpur. Anand had just turned twenty
seven and was a tall handsome young man with curly hair and a sharp aquiline
nose that made everyone remark about his striking resemblance to his father.
Suddenly the old lady, who had woken up and was looking out at the platform,
shouted out pitifully, "Bhaiya, what station is this? "
"Keshavpur", Anand answered, looking obviously, she had no idea about her
The old lady almost fell as she frantically, "Oh Ram, That is where I have to get
off.” she looked at Anand helplessly, trying to collect her two bags
Anand got up from his seat quickly, -picked up her bags and walked her to the
compartment-door. She got down gingerly, hobbling on her right foot, as she
held on to the bars on the side of the door. She stood on the platform, like a
lost waif, helplessly scanning the faces of the passersby walking on the platform.
He wondered as to how she was going to get anywhere, when he saw a young
man running towards her. The young man, who looked to be in his twenties,
touched her feet respectfully and took her bags, as she hugged him and gave
him -- a broad toothless smile .
Anand got back to his seat with a sigh of relief, picked up his mystery novel and
started reading. Suddenly he saw a porter rush in with an old suitcase ,
thrusting it under his berth, almost pushing Anand's feet out of the way. He was
followed by a very short, wiry: old-man, breathing heavily as he climbed up the
steps to the compartment door. He slumped to the berth and seeing the porter
glaring at him impatiently, dug into his shirt pocket with his bony fingers, to
pullout some notes. The porter grabbed the money and almost leapt out of the
train door, as the train gave a warning lurch and pulled out of the platform.
The old man mopped over the orange tilak on his wizened forehead with a large
striped handkerchief and let out a long sigh .
"I am getting too old for this sort of travel," he muttered to no one in particular
and took off his black silk cap, revealing an almost bald head with a few grey
tufts sticking out like little whiskers on an old cat. Anand had a strange feeling
of deja-vu, as he saw the old man stroke his head in a helpless gesture. Had he
met him before? The thought kept returning to him, as the old man took off his
dark leather sandals and folded up his feet on the berth. Anand moved closer
to the window, to make room, and the old man smiled, deepening the furrow that
ran from his nose to his mouth. He gave Anand a puzzled stare and looked
away .
Anand returned to his novel , but every time he looked up , he could feel the old
man staring at him, his gold rimmed spectacles pulled down over his large
bulbous nose, an uncertain question in his gaze. He was still staring at him , as
he took off his glasses and scratched the gooseberry mole on his nose.
"Another hour," Anand thought to himself, turning his gaze to his watch. It was
sunset and through the window of the compartment, he could see the skies
turning fiery pink, then dark, dropping little black shades over the clumps of
trees and the rows of little thatched huts set along the track. The old man was
leaning against the berth with his eyes closed and the pundit with the tuft, had
woken up and was trying to get up, as the train neared Bheda..
"We'll be reaching Bheda soon", the old man announced in a sleepy voice, as
he woke up suddenly and fixed Anand with another piercing stare. Anand got
up from his berth and pulled out the old man’s suitcase from under his berth, so
that he could get his own luggage out. As he tied his shoes, the old man asked
him, in a puzzled tone, "Are you getting off at Bheda too? " As Anand nodded,
he asked, ""You live in Bheda?"
"Oh no! I am just taking the connecting train here.”
"That must be the train to Meethapur. " he answered, to Anand,s surprise. He
paused for a moment and stared at him, watching Anand take out his comb and
start grooming his curly hair.
"So, who do you have in Meethapur? "
"Just some friends I have to go and see."
"I think you are going to see a girl." the old man smiled, shaking his head.
"Why, yes. " Anand said with a faint blush, surprised by the man's astute remark.
By the time the train jerked to a stop, the fat priest was already at the door. The
porters climbed up the doors to the compartment, jostling each other as they
hustled to grab a fare. Anand helped the old man down the steps from the train
door. They started walking together on the crowded platform, weaving their way
between the vendors pushing their carts full of magazines, toys and snack, while
trying to sell their wares to the young mothers carrying tired, wailing babies.
They followed the porter up a short crowded staircase that led to the street,
when the old man suddenly stopped.
"Son , can I ask you a question,... if you won’t mistake me?” Taken aback,
Anand stopped, trying to keep an eye on the porter. "Why, yes , of course."
"Are you by any chance, related to Rai Sahib, of Sharadpur?" He burst out, like
a child unable to contain his curiosity.
Anand turned around to look at him open mouthed. "I am his son Anand. But
how do you know my father?"
The old man smiled triumphantly. "I knew I couldn't have been mistaken - that
nose, that high forehead, that square jaw. Why you are a little replica of the Rai
Sahib. But tell me, how is your respected father? "
"I am afraid he passed away few years ago."
"May God rest his soul in peace. I had hoped to see him again." he said in a
disappointed tone.
Anand suddenly realized why he looked so familiar. This man was the poor
stranger-who had come to their house -almost two decades ago! The old man
caught the glint of recognition in his eyes and smiled at Anand, showing the
many holes between his teeth.
"You must be the pratyaksha Gopalakrishna" he continued still smiling.
"Remember my name? Bijay Mishra."
As they walked along, he spoke hurriedly, "Why do you want to take the night
train? It is so slow, and uncomfortable. Take the morning train. It is much
faster."
"But what about the ticket? "Anand exclaimed.
“Don't worry, the station master is an old friend of mine. He will put you on the
morning train."
"But they will be expecting me at Meethapur."
"I will have the station master send a telegram. Just give him the address."
Mishraji had thought of everything.
"But where will I stay overnight? I don't have anyone in Bheda." Anand was still
hesitant.
“But you do son! You will do me the honor of spending the night at our
place. My wife will be so happy to see you."
As they walked along , Anand passed a small room with a faded sign, 'Waiting
room'. He cou1d see a crowd of peop1e sitting on a bench, opening up their
food packages and eating. In a corner, a harried father was trying to pacify his
screaming children. As he passed by, he got a faint whiff of rotten food and
urine. Suddenly, Mishraji’s invitation seemed to be a good solution, much as he
hated to change his plans.
Asking the porter to wait, Anand followed Mishraji, as they went to meet the
stationmaster. As they neared his office, he heard a loud booming voice,
"Mishraji! Where are you coming from? " Anand saw a tall man, with a slight
stoop and a head of white hair, approach Mishraji and greet him with folded
hands.
"Tiwariji, I was just coming to see you." Mishraji smiled.
"He is the stationmaster I was telling you about." he told Anand.
"How is the family? How is your grandson? And who is this handsome
young man?" Tiwariji piled him with questions.
"By God’s grace, we are all. well. But, I need your help. This young man,
Anand is the son of a very revered friend of mine. He needs to get his ticket
changed from the night train to the morning train, you know, the one to
Meethapur."
"Of course, Mishraji, no problem. Anything for you or your friends." Tiwariji
grinned, showing a row of glistening white teeth and whispered in his ear.
"Oh yes! Tiwariji, Please send a telegram to this address." Mishraji took
the paper with the address from Anand and gave it to the stationmaster.
Tiwariji beckoned to a conductor on the platform and gave him a note.
Then he turned to Mishraji, "Well, that will all be taken care of."
“Thank you, Tiwariji. Please give my regards to the family."
"See, that was not hard. I told you he was a friend of mine. Now, let us go
home." Mishraji patted Anand on his back and started walking towards the exit.
Before he could say anything, Anand was in a rickshaw on his way to Mishraji’s
house.
The rickshaw driver, Gopi, was a scrawny man in his forties. He wore a dingy
turban on his head with a bright checkered shirt flowing over over a dhoti tucked
up to his knees like a pair of shorts. Gopi had a tongue which never seemed to
stop wagging. He must have known Mishraji for a long time, Anand thought,
from the way he talked to Mishraji about all the members of his family. He
looked at Anand, sizing him up and remarked,
"So, Mishraji, are you taking home a son in law?" he continued, looking at
Anand's stylish clothes with admiration.
"I know I have to take the son in law home safely - eh " he grinned at Anand with
betel stained teeth. The rickshaw seemed to groan and tap as he speeded up
after leaving the station and got on to the main road into town. Gopi seemed to
be hitting every bump on the unpaved road.
Anand was almost asleep when the rickshaw jolted him awake suddenly, as it hit
a large pothole. He was terrified of toppling over, but Mishraji sat calmly, giving
Gopi directions as to the best route home.
Anand's thoughts went back to that Sunday afternoon about twenty years ago,
when Mishraji had come to their house.
His father had just finished lunch and was resting in the living room in his
favorite easy chair. Anand remembered hearing loud shouts near the gate
outside their bungalow, which was just off the road to the railway station. The
gardener was shooing off a man. Anand remembered that the man was so short
that Anand could barely make out his small head above the gate.
"Let me just talk to Rai Sahib." he was telling the gardener, who was eyeing him
suspiciously, especially after the recent robberies in the neighborhood.
"Go away, Sahib doesn't want any strangers loitering around.” He was afraid of
the gate being left open by the stranger. Only the previous week , a herd of
cows had come in through the open gate and trampled through the rose garden,
destroying some of Rai sahib's favorite roses. Rai sahib had been livid and had
a1most fired the gardener.
The man at the gate was very thin and looked pathetic in his white kurta pajama,
now splattered with mud from walking in the slushy pools on the road left by the
heavy rain. He was trying to drive away a stray dog which kept pulling at his
kurta. His dark sandals were covered with mud.
"No beggars here." The old servant Bholaram had heard the gardener shouting
and come out to investigate.
"I am not a beggar, " the man said, in an offended tone.
He reminded Anand of an African pygmy chief who had temporarily lost his
retinue, but none of his dignity. The big orange tilak on his forehead, seemed to
glow with his indignant remark. He ran his hand through his graying,
dissheveled hair, and repeated a little impatiently, "All I want to do is to speak to
Rai Sahib."
By this time Rai sahib had heard the disturbance at the gate and come out to
the gate, asking Bholaram, as to what was going on.
Hesitantly, the latter pointed to the man at the gate, "He wants to see you,
Sahib."
“Dirkhayushman bhava," Rai Sahib was startled by the cultured tone of the
blessing and softening his usually loud voice, greeted him politely as he bent a
little to get a good look at the stranger. The stranger looked up at Rai sahib and
gave him a weak smile.
"Rai Sahib , I have heard a lot about you from the station master. He
suggested that I ask you for help." He paused for a minute and spoke in a
trembling voice. "Sir, I don't know if I am being punished for my sins or what! I
was robbed on the train last night, as I slept. Must have been the two young
men who got off during the night. I had borrowed money for my daughter's
marriage. Now everything is gone except for this small bag of clothes ...They
even took the bag.. with the train ticket." he stammered indignantly.
"How much do you need, Mahashay?" Rai sahib spoke gruffly, eager to get rid
of him without seeming to be rude. In spite of himself, he felt sorry for this man,
who was obviously not a common beggar. The gardener and Bholaram were
surprised, since usually the master was almost paranoid about letting strangers
anywhere near his house, especially after the recent burglary last week, just a
few houses away .
"Just two hundred rupees. I will return it as soon as I can . ...My name is Bijoy
Mishra, I am a 'Sanskrit professor." he added hesitantly.
Rai sahib smiled. He was sure that he would never hear from him again, but
decided to say nothing, as he took the money out of his wallet and gave it to
Mishraji.
The latter blessed him and picked up his bag , turning toward the gate. He must
have walked a few steps, when he suddenly stumbled and would have almost
fallen, if the gardener had not caught him and helped him to sit down on the
steps to the house. His face had gone pale .
"Have you eaten,? " Rai sahib asked him, noting his famished look.
"No, I was busy trying to get the station master to help me catch the thieves." the
man replied, sighing.
Rai Sahib called out to Anand's mother to set a plate for him and asked him to
go in.
"But sir, I cannot eat without having a bath." The stranger looked at Rai sahib
, reluctant to go inside the house. Rai Sahib hesitated for a minute, then called
out to Bholaram to set out a bucket of water in the courtyard.
Anand had been amazed. This was the first time a stranger from the street had
been allowed into the house.
Anand was intrigued by the sacred thread glistening on Mishraji's dark trunk, as
he poured water on himself and took a quick bath. He looked much more alive,
as he sat down to eat, with Anand watching his every move. Mishraji closed his
eyes and said a few prayers ,before starting his meal. He ate ravenously, for
such a thin man. Anand sat near him ,staring at his tilak. Amused, Mishraji
patted his head and smiled. "Twam pratyaksha gopalakrishna!" meaning, (you
must be the Lord Krishna in person!}
After he had finished eating, he asked for a place to rest for a while before
leaving. The servant spread a mat for him and in a few minutes he was fast
asleep. Rai sahib was getting impatient and as soon as he woke up, bade him
goodbye. Mishraji carefully noted down their address, promising to repay the
money soon and left. He blessed everyone again, calling Anand’s mother
Annapoorna, the Godess who feeds the hungry.
Later, Anand overheard his father telling his mother, "You know, I really can't
believe that I let a total stranger into the house. Of course he wasn’t really a
beggar, Sanskrit professor and all, but who knows anything about a man from
the street."
His mother had answered, "Whatever you might say, it was good we fed a
starving Brahmin. "
"Yes , yes, I know you have added to our record of good deeds today," Rai
sahib had joked .
Soon, the incident was forgotten, until, six months later, a money order arrived
from Mr Mishra , repaying the money. He had also sent an invitation to his
daughter’s wedding. Rai sahib was pleasantly surprised and sent a wedding gift.
Years passed and one day Rai Sahib suddenly died in his sleep, from a massive
heart attack . Meantime Anand completed his engineering course and became
busy with his search for a good job.
The rickshaw gave another jolt, breaking Anand’s reverie. Mishraji was
explaining, "You know how this town got its name? Long ago, I believe there
was a valley around this town. It had the largest herd of sheep anyone had ever
seen. Then suddenly, one year there was some kind of disease. It spread very
quickly and the whole sheep population was wiped out. The name Bheda ,a
place with sheep, still stayed, though ."
The streets of Bheda were dimly lit, leaving some of the streets in total
darkness. Gopi seemed to be navigating by smell, rather than by sight, as the
rickshaw went through narrow alleys, criss crossed with clotheslines festooned
with old sheets, dhotis and pajamas. As they passed rows of thatched huts,
they could see the children being patted to sleep, on the shoulders of their
mothers. The women looked up at the rickshaw for a minute and went back to
their patting. Outside the huts, there were rows of old wooden charpoys, on
which old men were getting ready for bed. Some of them sat up and watched
the rickshaw pass. As the rickshaw turned the corner, a foul smell of urine
arose from an open sewer. Mishraji looked at him apologetically, as he saw
Anand cover his long nose." Just a few more minutes Gopi, please get us out of
here fast. ", he admonished the driver.
He was right, for almost in the next instant they were out of the dirty alley and on
to a pucca road with neat little brick houses and buildings. Relieved, Anand
took a deep breath. As they turned a corner, Anand saw a tall brick building set
in the middle of a garden with a statue.
Mishraji pointed to it with pride, "This where I used to teach, as a Sanskrit
professor. Of course I retired a few years ago."
"We are almost there," he continued, as the rickshaw slowed down and stopped
in front of a small brick house with bright blue curtains on the front windows .
Gopi helped them get down with the suitcases. Mishraji paid him and told him to
return early the next morning , to take Anand to the station .
As they walked to the door, Anand saw the mistress of the house,a short plump
lady in her sixties, clad in a red bordered Bengali saree with the palloo draped
on her greying head, a bunch of keys swinging from her waist , a large bright
red vermilion dot on her wide forehead. Her chubby, fair face lit up with a broad
smile as Mishraji told her excitedly, "Bina, you will never believe whom I have
brought home.” Bina’s round eyes widened in surprise as he paused and said
triumphantly, "This is Rai Sahib’s son, Anand!"
She looked at him with motherly affection, as she said, "We are truly fortunate.
Come, son ,you must be so tired after the long journey."
She led him into the courtyard in the back of the house. The aroma of cooked
chick peas and freshly made parathas wafted from the kitchen, making him very
hungry. The small house,was very clean and cosy, with two rooms and a
kitchen. The front room had a small divan lined with colorful cushions
embroidered with red and green peacocks and flowers. The only other furniture
in the room was a pair of wicker chairs set against the wall. Two neat rolls of
bedding lay tucked into a corner, over an old white and brown jute rug spread
on the cement floor.
The next room led into the kitchen and served as the dining area. In a little
corner alcove, stood idols of the family deities, Ganesh and Lakshmi , garlanded
and decorated , a small shiny brass lamp lighted in front of them .
As they ate ,Bina sat and fanned them, filling Anand’s plate with hot parathas.
Mishraji told Anand that he had been travelling to see an old ailing friend near
Keshavpur.
"And this, Anand, is my only grandson Nikhil." Mishraji pointed to a photograph
on the wall. It showed a grinning handsome boy, with missing front teeth.
"My daughter and son in law live about two hours away by train, in Dharampur.
He paused, closing his eyes, "I still remember that dreadful day, when I got
robbed on the train. I was totally devastated, all that money for the wedding
stolen! If it hadn't been for your father's kindness to a stranger, ...don' t know if I
would have been able to .. go on with the wedding and all." he put his hand on
his forehead ansd shook his head silently. '''We can never repay Rai Sahib!"
his voice cracked. For a minute, he was speechless. Then he got up and
pointed to the bedding which had been rolled out by Bina.
"It is late and you have to get up early. I don’t have the kind of bed you must be
used to, but Bina tried her best. Sleep well." Totally exhausted,,Anand fell
asleep.
He was rudely awakened in the middle of the night, by the loud howling of a dog
, followed by a pitiful wail. It was picked up by another dog and yet another, till
the night was thick with canine lament. Maybe the dogs had decided to have a
nocturnal pow-wow, he thought ruefully, stuffing his ears with the edge of the old
blanket. He jerked his arm up as he felt a sting and a horde of mosquitoes
descended on him, stabbing him everywhere mercilessly. He now realized why
that room smelled of Flit spray. Bina had tried to saturate the room with the anti
mosquito spray, but it was no match for the bloodthirsty night runners. They bit
him wherever they could ,as he tried to cover himself with the old bedspread. He
could see Mishraji and Bina sleeping soundly in another corner of the room.
"Perhaps I was too hasty in changing my plans.” he thought ,tossing and turning,
unable to
asleep. He cursed himself for having agreed to spend the night at Mishraj's
house.
"Wish I could just get out of here and be on my way." he thought irritably, as
another mosquito found a bare spot on his wrist.
He must have eventually dozed off in the early hours of the morning, for he felt
Mishraji patting him on the back, asking him to get up and get ready for the
train. He ignored Mishraji’s concerned enquiry, "Son, did you sleep well?,"
Feeling peevish and miserable as he scratched his arms full of large itchy
wheals. However, as he saw Bina waiting for him, with a cup of hot tea and a
plate of steaming poha, his bad temper seemed to vanish , like a snowman
melting under the sun, forcing him to smile, in spite of his discomfort.
Gopi came in , just as Bina was bidding him goodbye with a warm smile, marking
a tilak on his forehead and offering him a tray of fruit and coconut. She gave
him her blessings, and wished him good luck, as he went to see a prospective
bride.
Gopi watched, a smug grin on his swarthy face. "So, is the son in law ready?”
he asked, amused by Anand’s bleary expression. Anand tried to stifle a yawn,
as he climbed into the rickshaw with Mishraji.
Since it was early in the morning , there was hardly anyone on the streets , but
as they neared the station , they could see a big crowd gathered on the
platform. Mishraji asked Gopi to go in and find out if it was safe to go, since riots
were very common in these parts.
Some people were shouting excitedly, pointing to the tracks. A few were
snatching the morning paper from the paper boys , and reading it with a
shocked expression.
Gopi came back running and screaming hysterically, "Mishraji , Mishraji,
something terrible has happened!" Mishraji grabbed a paper from the paperboy
who was shouting, "Extra, Extra, Midnight train derails just before Meethapur.
All passengers feared dead."
"OH God! That was my train !" Anand gasped hoarsely, as he felt Mishraji grip
his shoulders.
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