A short Story

I love writing stories, my few friends already know that. So here is my new story. Its basically about the village and a villager. Just because I have returned from my village, don't think the story has anything to do with it, the story was in the head, village gave me the suitable plot. Here is the story.

ELEPHANT OR FATE?

Night was beautiful, darkness ruled on the streets, but inside the corridor which people call ‘dalaan’ here was illuminated by a lantern, attracting different kinds of flies and moths. On the greasy old wall above my head a lizard had just gobbled a fly. In front of my eyes a man was sitting who was about to become my story’s central character. He was a short man right now slouched in his old chair coated with a greasy layer of all day’s sweat and dirt shining in the dim light of lantern. Tiny beads of sweat made his nose look nauseating, probably he used his nose to make oil, at least it looked like that— an old oil factory. His nostrils used to tighten up everytime he stared at me as if he used his nose to see me. He was bald on top but still was left with some crop on the outskirts of his shiny (One more object in the shiny list!) crown. I had given him his due name Mr. Frog, shiny yet creepy.

Mr. Frog is known as Mahesh ji in the village, one of those very influential people of the village. He had well enough money, land pieces and long enough contacts! I was visiting my village after a long time so he had invited me on dinner. No way I could have refused, after all he was the powerful…the stronger one here. I reached for dinner just in time, but dinner reached an hour late just like the trains of Bihar. I didn’t eat much, hence was finished with my dinner when Frog was starting his 3^rd chapatti. In village strange customs rule like a never ending contagious hope. And one of them is that you are not supposed to leave the table before everybody is finished especially when you are the younger one. I was left with no option other than watching him eat his food; tongue comes out, wraps around the bite in his hand and swallows the whole—perfect frog!, I thought. But believe me he was not as bad as he looks to be. He cracked jokes in between, laughed and then expected me to laugh on those already umpteenth time heard jokes. During the dinner he told me about his farms, revenues, contacts and offered me his free help as well, which I just wondered where would I need.

He also told me about his son who was in fifth class(that’s means around eleven years old I calculated), bright…very bright as he had described his son, but there were some fears lingering around the corners of his eyes clearly visible even in the dim light of the lantern. Reason was there as well; his boy’s health was the subject of concern these days. Initially he thought Bihar’s loo had kissed his son, and the effect would fade away in 2-3 days, he tried all the villagish methods of curing loo, but nothing worked like the cure was sleeping in the darkest corner of the earth. Several hakeems and vaids had visited his son and asked him to swallow different things from weird bitter roots and leaves to strange smelling ash powders. Nothing worked, no one stayed. I expressed my concern for his child, which I admit was not totally genuine, and departed from his dalaan.

Next whole day I kept meeting new people, various unknown faces eager to watch a city guy. As if in cities people live with few extra eyes and ears. Only when darkness had announced its arrival on the village streets I was given the privilege of being alone on my dalaan. My head was buzzing with words, with blurred faces I had seen all day. I saw Mahesh ji passing by, eyes stressing hard to see the path in the darkness, taking long strides, and hands moving with legs in perfect symphony. He saw me sitting alone at the dalaan and for a moment he stopped, a familiar fear was still in his eyes. Undecided he looked at me and then probably decided against of whatever he wanted to tell me, I didn’t stop him. Few more steps and he stopped again; he came back and said “My son’s health has deteriorated since last night, so I am going to Pandit Yashu Maharaj”. Pandit? I screeched, this was my first reaction and then in a bit lowered voice I asked adapting a sarcastic tone in my voice “Don’t you think you should go to a doctor?” “Doctors are real illiterates; they don’t know anything, only Pandit ji can ask God to save my child, would you like to come with me?” I nodded and followed him. This time I really wanted to see how God treats a boy. This sheer curiosity of watching villagish trends made me follow Mr.Frog.

Pandit ji came, wearing a dhoti, his huge tummy attracted all the attention, still panting as Mahesh ji made him jog from Pandit ji’s house to his own dalaan, and started looking at the now unconscious child. After a long time he asked is the boy still alive? Mahesh ji lowered his head and placed his ear on the boy’s chest and after few seconds said “yesyes he is alive, I can hear his fain heart beats”

“What is your boy’s name?” Pandit ji asked again? “Ganesh”. “Hmmmm…”he said in a tone as if he had caught the bug and continued “Now I understand the whole story. See your name is Mahesh, Shiva, the lord of destruction and recreation and your son’s name is Ganesh. Probably God needs some kind of service from you for using his name. Do one thing Mahesh buy an elephant and start taking care of him, and see the magic, life would wash your boy’s face” Hands joined in front his chest, back slightly bowed out of respect Mahesh agreed, and for me all this was nothing but utter nonsense. How can an elephant save a boy’s life?

Next day I saw crowd flowing towards the ancestral garden of the village, popularly known as “Bageecha”. Even I accompanied the rest of my family members. A small crowd had already gathered around a huge…huge black as black elephant. Pandemonium was becoming intolerable now. Elephant was fully grown up, he was decorated with rice-powder. I don’t know who the beautician was, but make up was impressive, especially around the eyes, it made him look a heavenly creature. Name was a big question, after several rejections Mahesh ji agreed on the name ‘Gajraj’. The crowd expressed their happiness, some people demonstrated their whistling skills, some limited their happiness to occasional ‘Ho-Hos’. Gradually the crowd dispersed and even the elephant looked relieved now. That day nothing occurred to me but while having my dinner I saw another lizard, this time on the wall of my room gobbling a mosquito and a question flashed in my head “what about Ganesh, did this elephant trick really cured him?” I wanted answers, so enquired my brothers, to my surprise the answer was YES, they had seen the same Ganesh playing with some other village boys in the Bageecha. Was it a coincidence, or really the elephant affected the child’s health, I have no answers, neither I have any suitable logic to produce, it just happened so.

Days passed and smile on Mr. Frog’s face had come back, smiling Frog looks better I used to think whenever I saw Mahesh ji. Who knew the seeds of destruction were sown by the invisible hands of destiny when everybody was busy reaping the benefits of glory. An elephant is after all an elephant, his meals also matches its huge shape. Meals were huge as well. What Mahesh ji and his son would have eaten in 1 week, the elephant used to eat in one day. Few days later even Mahesh ji started feeling the weight of elephant on his cotton money bag. The elephant’s tummy expanded and the cotton money bag shrunk further, deflated like a punctured balloon. This reverse elephantiasis had started showing its affect, smile faded as swiftly as it had come. Mr. Frog was left with the ever loyal fear. Fear of losing, losing money, money needed for life, life money. Money life, all these words used to dance in the dark corner of his brain. Within a month cotton bag was empty and Mahesh ji decided that since boy was perfectly alright, there is no need of the elephant any more. The elephant was sold, Mahesh ji was relieved, more so because his son was fine even after the departure of the elephant. Whole village started guessing the fate of Mahesh ji and his son. Few said his son would die, few said he shan’t have sold the elephant, few expressed their sympathy for the situation in which Mahesh ji was. It had become the hot burning topic in the chit chats. From sas bahus, old under-the-tree card players, farmers, everybody was discussing just one thing, the fate, fate of a person. Speculations were high, on stake was nothing just one life, one story. No one cared who would die who would gain who won’t, what mattered was who guesses it right.

On the fourth day, it was Ganesh Chaturthi, I was having my fresh breakfast, my brother’s only son came running and said Ganesh died, hurry, Ganesh died. First I couldn’t believe my ears, but it really happened, Ganesh died. What is this, a coincidence again, is it possible? No one had a clue how Ganesh died, not even Mahesh ji. He died while sleeping, closed his eyes, never to see the world again. Howling women circled the dead Ganesh. Though Ganesh was motherless ever since he announced his existence, people say his mother couldn’t even hear the first cries of Ganesh. But suddenly after death he had found several mothers to mourn on his death. Funeral process started, Pandit Yashu Maharaj started chanting mantras and shlokas with supreme expertise. This time there was not much chaos; crowd was there, but no pandemonium. None of the Mahesh ji’s high contacts were present, money had already dried, the black elephant had suck all of it, fields were standing right where they were, smiling with the waves of winds. For few days whole village renounced spicy food as a ritual. Food used to be simple khichdi, only with some very basic ingredients. Days passed and I didn’t see Mahesh ji.

Finally the day came when I had to leave for my city. I woke up a bit early as I had to pack my scattered belongings. Train’s arrival time was 3.26 pm, so at noon after having an early lunch I was all set to go, but before that I needed to meet few people for the last time. I met many people, again many unknown faces and a series of pranams’ and Kush rahos’. But I didn’t meet Mahesh ji, just couldn’t gather the courage, just couldn’t find the correct words to console him.

My brother was standing at the door with his jeep parked on the roadside. I threw my only luggage, an airbag inside the jeep and as I turned to see the village for the last time(at least for the time being) I saw Mahesh ji passing by slowly with a lota in his hand. Clothes were not as good as the first day when he had invited me on dinner. Dirt coating was evident on the dhoti; socks were bearing huge holes near the toe part. Long dried tears had made a passage on his cheeks like the silky shiny path a snail leaves as it crawls. His back was bent slightly, this time not out of respect, but because of the burden of the elephant and his son’s fate. But one thing hadn’t changed, the shine of many ingredients of summer on his body, in fact it looked as if an extra coating of mourning had made him shine even more. Beads of sweat were still present on his nose just like the loyal fear, which was still residing inside the shallow Mahesh ji. Many people called him, but he kept walking as if he was deaf. I jumped inside the Jeep and suddenly Jeep’s engine came to life. We were moving, when we reached a bit far I saw a figure walking slowly across the fields, holding something in his hand, we both were moving away from each other. And I had just one question in my head was it the elephant or the fate?