The village was just like any other dry and hot South Indian village except for the fact that the evenings were cooler and the nights came earlier than they should. A mountain stood between the village and the western horizon, hiding the sun earlier than usual in the evenings. It was indeed a remarkable sight because the mountain was a loner. The mountain was not part of a chain. There was nothing between this mountain and the village except a small stretch of barren land marked only by thorny bushes.
Standing just two kilometers away from the village the mountain never looked intimidating to the casual observer when he gazed at it from a distance while traveling towards the village. Neither did it seem ominously tall when one looked up at it from Ranga’s idli(1) shop right across the bus stop. However, once one crossed the barren land after the village, one could not help but be totally in awe of the mountain that stood at a point blank range, hovering like a giant who can destroy the entire universe with a single swipe of his hand.
Kissing the clouds that blew across its peak, the mountain was an arduous climb, something that would take at least three hours even for the villager well acquainted with its terrain and who climbed regularly to collect fire-wood. For the occasional visitor from the city however, any ascent would take at least five hours. There was not much vegetation at the foot of the mountain, but it slowly got denser as one trod along the rocks and about half way through the climb, the vegetation again disappeared giving way to the barren rocks. At this point, a brook flowed offering water to the thirsty and the parched.
Hundreds of people climbed the mountain on a full moon night, or any other day marked auspicious on the Hindu calendar for that matter. Men flocked to the mountain with their wives and children in tow and with hearts hopeful that the goddess of the cave temple on top of the mountain would answer their prayers. There were also those who returned to thank the goddess for her blessings.
The monolithic goddess in the cave sat on a tiger. She had four hands and thrust her red tongue out.
“Thaatha(2), why are you still here? Is it not time for you to start climbing yet?” Asked Ranga to the old-man sitting in one corner of his idli shop.
“The shadows haven’t crossed the fields yet” said the old man.
“If I start now, the scorching sun will toast me alive and the vultures will have a feast.”
The old man relied on the sun to know when to start climbing. He had never used a watch in his life. The dog that was sleeping beside him got up and looked at him with ears perked up, but went back to its dreams realizing it was not the subject of their discussion.
The old man had lived in the village as an old man for as long as anyone could remember, and he did nothing but collect firewood for Ranga’s Idli shop in exchange for a free meal every day. Some called him 'Sakiliyan'(3) and some called him 'Vannan'(4). But he was too old be either presently. He collected tea dust, jaggery and peanuts from the shop during the week, and when an auspicious day arrived he climbed the mountain well before sunset and set up a small makeshift tea shop near the brook with a sheet of tarpaulin and some pieces of wood. To the unaccustomed climber who staggered his way to the cave, whatever tea the old man offered proved heaven sent and the peanuts were a bonus. There was good crowd at the shop till late in the night and he easily made at least three hundred rupees on every such outing.
Sometime after midnight, when the numbers of people climbing reduced to a trickle, the old man would signal to the dog to follow him and they would move to the side of the mountain that offered a fantastic view of the lands below and the lights of a distant city. Sitting safely on a flat rock, they'd enjoy the chicken curry and rice that he brought along, and then make their way back to the village.
“Get up friend. It is time for us to leave” he tapped his stick twice and the dog got up, seemingly in two minds - whether to stay by the idli shop, or follow the old man. Finally, it decided to follow the old man as it enjoyed the affection along with the food. The old man then, picked up his bag and started walking towards the mountain.
Soon they crossed the barren land and were climbing. Today, the old man seemed to be climbing a little slower than usual and he coughed quite a bit on the way. The dog ran ahead of him every now and then and waited for him to catch up.
“Don’t gallop like a horse, you stupid dog!” yelled the old man. The dog gave him a quizzical look and then ran up to him and licked his foot.
Then when they reached the brook, the old man took his own time setting up the shop, a task he would normally finish in less than ten minutes. Soon after, it was business as usual. People started arriving in droves and the old man served them hot tea and peanuts, giving an extra handful to the children and shouting at those who threw stones at the dog.
“How is business today thaatha? Why don’t you make me your partner?” Ramu, the local barber, who was passing by asked the old man. He then threw some biscuits to the dog. The dog liked Ramu.
“Yes that is right, I’m Tata(5) and you are Birla(6)’s son-in-law. We should start a business together” The old man replied with a smirk on his face.
Ramu made more than his usual monthly earning on a single full moon day at the temple. Almost every other parent wanted his kid’s head tonsured so that the gods would bless them with good grades in the exams. Some women also shaved their hair in the hope that this would please the divine powers enough to bestow common sense in their husbands. Thus Ramu being the only barber around had a long queue waiting for him.
Some time later, after the moon slipped behind the mountain, the number of people passing by dwindled, and the old man sat patiently waiting for a few more to reach the top. But the dog would not wait any longer as the whiff of chicken from the tiffin-box made it restless. And it slowly licked the old man’s toes and whined. The old man smiled at the dog and without bothering to fold his tarpaulin he took his tiffin box and moved to the flat rock overlooking the valley and opened it. The dog went along with him wagging his tail and waited for the old man to keep its share on the cold rock.
Instead the old man dropped the tiffin-box on the rock and sat stiff, resting his back on a tree and staring at the distant stars. The dog waited for him to pick up the Tiffin box, but he did not move. The dog then slowly moved close to the food that had spilled all over the rock and started eating, taking for granted that the old man was not hungry and therefore had given it all the food, his share too. It looked at him in between bites to make sure but he did not seem to mind and kept staring at the stars.
"Thaatha ... thaatha" yelled Raja Swami from the top. The dog looked at the old man expecting him to respond, but he did not. It looked in the direction the old man was looking, but there was nothing interesting in those stars.
Raja called again “Thaatha, have you gone deaf? I need some help. Too many people are here today.”
Raja Swami was the priest who stayed at the temple on top of the mountain all the time and he never wore a shirt. He applied the sacred-ash profusely on his forehead and chest and offered prayers in the temple on behalf of the people who gave him a lot of money and all kinds of fruits and grains and provisions. Whenever he ran out of provisions, he asked the old man to buy from the village and paid him twenty rupees for a trip.
Raja Swami called-out for the old man many times and he came down to the brook after twenty minutes. He stared at the old man for a brief while and then went back to the teashop, opened the box in which the old man kept the money and slipped everything into his yellow bag. He then called out to Ramu who was in the temple and hurried back to the top after not getting any reply from him. The dog, a little disturbed with old man's utter lack of concern, stayed by him the entire night braving the cold wind and waiting for him to get up.
Raja Swami and Ramu came down to the brook at dawn, much before people started to descend. They looked at each other for a while and then pushed the old man off the cliff.
Ramu looked at Raja Swami and said, "He has no one in the village. Who will bear the cremation expenses?"
The priest shrugged and said, “Okay, now you have two jobs in hand.”
The dog did not understand anything and stood there looking at them, not knowing how to react. It liked Ramu and went down to the village along with him.
The dog missed the old man during the weeks that followed and stayed by the idli shop most of the time. After some days when people began climbing the mountain again, the dog went up alone to the brook where it saw Ramu selling tea and peanuts. It happily wagged its tail, ran to him and licked his toes. And Ramu gave some biscuits to the dog. It was business as usual again.
Somewhere down below, vultures fought over a few pieces of bones.
Notes:
(1) A south Indian savory cake made from fermented rice and lentils
(2) An old man
(3) Person belong one of the most marginalized social groups/castes in India whose primary occupation is that of a scavenger
(4) Person belong one of the most marginalized social groups/castes in India whose primary occupation is washing clothes
(5) One of the richest men in India
(6) One of the richest men in India
ANTON DSILVA is a software consultant (just like every other second-person in Bangalore) by profession, aspiring to be a
professional writer one day. As a reader, he has been deeply impressed by the works of Kafka, Camus and Dostoevsky. He is currently working on an anthology of intertwined short stories that focus on the joys, thrills and perils of being part of the epic that is India.
Standing just two kilometers away from the village the mountain never looked intimidating to the casual observer when he gazed at it from a distance while traveling towards the village. Neither did it seem ominously tall when one looked up at it from Ranga’s idli(1) shop right across the bus stop. However, once one crossed the barren land after the village, one could not help but be totally in awe of the mountain that stood at a point blank range, hovering like a giant who can destroy the entire universe with a single swipe of his hand.
Kissing the clouds that blew across its peak, the mountain was an arduous climb, something that would take at least three hours even for the villager well acquainted with its terrain and who climbed regularly to collect fire-wood. For the occasional visitor from the city however, any ascent would take at least five hours. There was not much vegetation at the foot of the mountain, but it slowly got denser as one trod along the rocks and about half way through the climb, the vegetation again disappeared giving way to the barren rocks. At this point, a brook flowed offering water to the thirsty and the parched.
Hundreds of people climbed the mountain on a full moon night, or any other day marked auspicious on the Hindu calendar for that matter. Men flocked to the mountain with their wives and children in tow and with hearts hopeful that the goddess of the cave temple on top of the mountain would answer their prayers. There were also those who returned to thank the goddess for her blessings.
The monolithic goddess in the cave sat on a tiger. She had four hands and thrust her red tongue out.
“Thaatha(2), why are you still here? Is it not time for you to start climbing yet?” Asked Ranga to the old-man sitting in one corner of his idli shop.
“The shadows haven’t crossed the fields yet” said the old man.
“If I start now, the scorching sun will toast me alive and the vultures will have a feast.”
The old man relied on the sun to know when to start climbing. He had never used a watch in his life. The dog that was sleeping beside him got up and looked at him with ears perked up, but went back to its dreams realizing it was not the subject of their discussion.
The old man had lived in the village as an old man for as long as anyone could remember, and he did nothing but collect firewood for Ranga’s Idli shop in exchange for a free meal every day. Some called him 'Sakiliyan'(3) and some called him 'Vannan'(4). But he was too old be either presently. He collected tea dust, jaggery and peanuts from the shop during the week, and when an auspicious day arrived he climbed the mountain well before sunset and set up a small makeshift tea shop near the brook with a sheet of tarpaulin and some pieces of wood. To the unaccustomed climber who staggered his way to the cave, whatever tea the old man offered proved heaven sent and the peanuts were a bonus. There was good crowd at the shop till late in the night and he easily made at least three hundred rupees on every such outing.
Sometime after midnight, when the numbers of people climbing reduced to a trickle, the old man would signal to the dog to follow him and they would move to the side of the mountain that offered a fantastic view of the lands below and the lights of a distant city. Sitting safely on a flat rock, they'd enjoy the chicken curry and rice that he brought along, and then make their way back to the village.
“Get up friend. It is time for us to leave” he tapped his stick twice and the dog got up, seemingly in two minds - whether to stay by the idli shop, or follow the old man. Finally, it decided to follow the old man as it enjoyed the affection along with the food. The old man then, picked up his bag and started walking towards the mountain.
Soon they crossed the barren land and were climbing. Today, the old man seemed to be climbing a little slower than usual and he coughed quite a bit on the way. The dog ran ahead of him every now and then and waited for him to catch up.
“Don’t gallop like a horse, you stupid dog!” yelled the old man. The dog gave him a quizzical look and then ran up to him and licked his foot.
Then when they reached the brook, the old man took his own time setting up the shop, a task he would normally finish in less than ten minutes. Soon after, it was business as usual. People started arriving in droves and the old man served them hot tea and peanuts, giving an extra handful to the children and shouting at those who threw stones at the dog.
“How is business today thaatha? Why don’t you make me your partner?” Ramu, the local barber, who was passing by asked the old man. He then threw some biscuits to the dog. The dog liked Ramu.
“Yes that is right, I’m Tata(5) and you are Birla(6)’s son-in-law. We should start a business together” The old man replied with a smirk on his face.
Ramu made more than his usual monthly earning on a single full moon day at the temple. Almost every other parent wanted his kid’s head tonsured so that the gods would bless them with good grades in the exams. Some women also shaved their hair in the hope that this would please the divine powers enough to bestow common sense in their husbands. Thus Ramu being the only barber around had a long queue waiting for him.
Some time later, after the moon slipped behind the mountain, the number of people passing by dwindled, and the old man sat patiently waiting for a few more to reach the top. But the dog would not wait any longer as the whiff of chicken from the tiffin-box made it restless. And it slowly licked the old man’s toes and whined. The old man smiled at the dog and without bothering to fold his tarpaulin he took his tiffin box and moved to the flat rock overlooking the valley and opened it. The dog went along with him wagging his tail and waited for the old man to keep its share on the cold rock.
Instead the old man dropped the tiffin-box on the rock and sat stiff, resting his back on a tree and staring at the distant stars. The dog waited for him to pick up the Tiffin box, but he did not move. The dog then slowly moved close to the food that had spilled all over the rock and started eating, taking for granted that the old man was not hungry and therefore had given it all the food, his share too. It looked at him in between bites to make sure but he did not seem to mind and kept staring at the stars.
"Thaatha ... thaatha" yelled Raja Swami from the top. The dog looked at the old man expecting him to respond, but he did not. It looked in the direction the old man was looking, but there was nothing interesting in those stars.
Raja called again “Thaatha, have you gone deaf? I need some help. Too many people are here today.”
Raja Swami was the priest who stayed at the temple on top of the mountain all the time and he never wore a shirt. He applied the sacred-ash profusely on his forehead and chest and offered prayers in the temple on behalf of the people who gave him a lot of money and all kinds of fruits and grains and provisions. Whenever he ran out of provisions, he asked the old man to buy from the village and paid him twenty rupees for a trip.
Raja Swami called-out for the old man many times and he came down to the brook after twenty minutes. He stared at the old man for a brief while and then went back to the teashop, opened the box in which the old man kept the money and slipped everything into his yellow bag. He then called out to Ramu who was in the temple and hurried back to the top after not getting any reply from him. The dog, a little disturbed with old man's utter lack of concern, stayed by him the entire night braving the cold wind and waiting for him to get up.
Raja Swami and Ramu came down to the brook at dawn, much before people started to descend. They looked at each other for a while and then pushed the old man off the cliff.
Ramu looked at Raja Swami and said, "He has no one in the village. Who will bear the cremation expenses?"
The priest shrugged and said, “Okay, now you have two jobs in hand.”
The dog did not understand anything and stood there looking at them, not knowing how to react. It liked Ramu and went down to the village along with him.
The dog missed the old man during the weeks that followed and stayed by the idli shop most of the time. After some days when people began climbing the mountain again, the dog went up alone to the brook where it saw Ramu selling tea and peanuts. It happily wagged its tail, ran to him and licked his toes. And Ramu gave some biscuits to the dog. It was business as usual again.
Somewhere down below, vultures fought over a few pieces of bones.
Notes:
(1) A south Indian savory cake made from fermented rice and lentils
(2) An old man
(3) Person belong one of the most marginalized social groups/castes in India whose primary occupation is that of a scavenger
(4) Person belong one of the most marginalized social groups/castes in India whose primary occupation is washing clothes
(5) One of the richest men in India
(6) One of the richest men in India
ANTON DSILVA is a software consultant (just like every other second-person in Bangalore) by profession, aspiring to be aprofessional writer one day. As a reader, he has been deeply impressed by the works of Kafka, Camus and Dostoevsky. He is currently working on an anthology of intertwined short stories that focus on the joys, thrills and perils of being part of the epic that is India.
