Sadhu on the step

 Sadhu on the step

…………………………..

After visiting Kal Vairav and Sankatmochan we rushed back to hotel for rest. After a while we headed for Assighat by a scooter rickshaw. It was around noon but the sun of December month was not harsh in Banaras. It was one of our yearly visit to this thousand of years old holy city.

The clean India movement was very much visible at the ghat, found it to be cleaner than last year. This time I nudged my wife to climb the stairs leading to Pizzaria restaurant where Pizza baked in wood fire oven is available.

Having taken a seat facing Ganges noticed that most of the customers were foreign tourist, the menu card showed Italian preparations in addition to Indian cuisine. We had pizza and coffee and then headed for the river bank to catch a boat.

“What is the hurry?’ I heard a sound thrown at us. I looked back and found the smiling face of a sadhu perched on the steps. Around him were arrangement for preparation of tea and personal belongings.

‘’Don’t stop, keep walking !” my wife hissed at me. She knows that I have this weakness for sadhus and get into discussion with them, finally land up shelling out money .

I ignored her caution and walked up to the sadhu , he gave a knowing smile with twinkle in his eyes.

“I am in a hurry to keep my programme, so going to catch a boat, that is why I was climbing down the stairs.” I informed him.

“We are all going up and down the stairs of our life, here some go down to take a dip in the holy Ganges thinking that it will wash off all sins.”  he said philosophically. His  these words made me interested in continuing the conversation, my wife started pulling the sleeve of my blazer but I stayed on.

“Yes I know one dip cannot wash away the accumulated sins of years or for that matter any dip at all but it gives a momentary satisfaction !” I said.

“Yes, the dip is significant for cleaning the visible dirt on the body but not the subconscious!” I was impressed by these words, he appeared to be a learned sadhu. I have a theory that all sadhus are not fraud, there are some who have chosen this path to get away from the routine life.I am always in the lookout for such wise sadhu.

‘’How long have you been sadhu?” I took the liberty of asking this personal question.

He laughed out loud and said, “You too are sadhu but that moment comes to you when you are alone, your mind is more or less a vacuum but those moments for family man like you are far and few. The other thoughts related with your day to day chores keep you occupied subconsciously. For us we get into that state of vacuum more frequently. If I give 50 out of hundred to my sadhuness then you will get 10.”

I sat down on the step besides him and my wife went down to fix a boat.

In the meanwhile, the sadhu started pumping the kerosene stove and started boiling water. In that windy winter afternoon by the side of Ganges a cup of tea was welcome. He took lot of care in boiling the water and then put tea leaves, put off the stove, put some tulsi leaves. Allowed the concoction to soak for about 3 minutes, I requested him not to put sugar and milk, I wanted it to be black.

“What you have already consumed your life quota of sweet?’’ he said teasingly while handing over tea in earthen glass, kulhar to me .

I took a sip of the tea, it was not scalding hot but the taste and aroma were out of this world. I complimented him for the tea.

“You might have noticed that to produce that tea I controlled the boiling time of the water and also put tea,tulsi in measured quantity. Our life is like this tea, to enjoy the life one has to go through hardship, like I boiled the tea. I could have boiled the tea leaves along with water and save time but I did not do that. For every good thing you have to wait for your time but that will come only if you have put sincere effort.”

I could know that I was talking to a learned man who has turned himself to a genuine sadhu and his offering tea to me was meant to give some wisdom to me as I gave my time to him. In today’s busy world no one wants to give time but doesn’t mind giving money.

I could make out he was enjoying our discussion, I also started feeling relaxed as he put a break to my rush to catch the boat.
He pulled out an envelope , handed that to me and said, "Open that when you are alone after you leave this place."

He picked up a guitar lying by the side of him, it had only one string. I was surprised as I knew either there are 4 or 6 strings in guitar so I asked curiously about the guitar.

‘’You are pretty observant! My this guitar is having only the last E string, see the grooves of the other five are vacant. I can easily strum this string and chant OM .” He strung the E string, the thickest string of the guitar which was making thung, thung sound rhythmically  and started chanting OM by closing his eyes. I could sense that our conversation has come to an end, Istood up, I wanted to give some money but there was no bowl or box for money anywhere visible. I slowly started walking off to the bank of Ganges where a boatman was waiting for us.

“You had quite a long discussion with ketlibaba!” the boatman said.

“Does he serve tea to everyone?” I asked.

“I have not seen many people talking to him, mostly he sits there and reads books and strums his that odd guitar.I heard that he belongs to a rich family, unlike other sadhus!”

After boarding the boat I looked up at the steps , the sadhu was busy chanting Om and the sound of the E string from a distance was casting a spell , the sun was slowly setting casting long shadows of the edifices on Ganges.

After returning to the hotel i opened the envelope and found a letter. 
Dear Friend,
I don't know your name but the moment you crossed me it appeared as though i know you. I am not a sadhu but i am pretending to be one for 1 month till i pass on this mantle to someone for a month. Let me explain, there is a group of professionals who have formed this exclusive club for professionals who sometimes feel to get out of the rat race for sometime, a kind of sojoun. This spot where i am sitting has been reserved by that group and there are people around who make sure nothing untoward happens. I am top man of a MNC and was disturbed, like you i came to Varanasi and met the Ketlibaba here, he was also a disturbed soul like me. We had conversation and he passed on the letter to me asking me to become sadhu for one month. I went back home, had discussion with my family, came here and have almost finished one month. The group has a guest house where i stay and if you wish to become next Ketlibaba then you too can stay, fooding and lodging are free. Whatever you saw around me will be yours of course not the one string guitar because that's my personal instrument. You don't have to carry these items everyday as there is a guard who looks after these. Yes, you have to get gerua uniform of your size. Before completion of your stint you have to select the next one and give a similar letter to him. I know you are curious to know how it works, who is funding? This organisation is funded by some HNIs ( high net worth individuals) as an experiment which may in future roll to some more sacred places.I have selected you as the next Ketlibaba after scanning a few. You have 10 days time and contact me on the mobile number given at the bottom.
Regards,
Ketlibaba.

I was not ready for this but the offer was unique. I was thinking why not take a chance? After returning to kolkata i have to discuss with my wife and son, then probably i may take the plunge.He carried his guitar, i will carry some of my books and painting set for my newly acquired hobby. What do you say friends?

The genie and me

The genie and me

Abu Sayyd's tent

Me in bottle

I was trapped in the bottle and the bottle was among many such bottles stacked on the crude desk  in a tent. The night was in it’s last lap, the morning comes early in the desert. I was in some kind of tunic fitting to my minuscule body inside the bottle. 
You must be wondering how come i am in a 75ml bottle, well that's'a long story but let me try to cut it short. 
It all started with my visit to Al Maha desert resort in Dubai. 

We were there for a musical soiree, many Mideastern activities like writing one’s name in Arabic script, henna tattooing, writing name on sand in bottle etc were going on side by side.After watching the program for a while i was curious to know more about those other activities of tattooing by henna, writing on sand etc  going on, I asked my wife to wait for me along with other guests . I sauntered to the old fellow with leathery skin in a typical Arabian white dress known as thawb at the corner writing names on sand in bottles. It was late in the evening and in the dim battery powered light he was looking like a character from Arabian nights with his pointed beard bending down and doing his craft on a wooden table. My interest was not in the writing of name on sand but something else.

Seeing me approaching he looked up and smiled. 

“Hello” I said.

He nodded at me. It was not clear to me whether he would understand English.

 As though he read my mind , smiled at me and said,”Yes, I can speak a little bit of English. Without knowing that language how can i run my  business with foreign tourists who come here for desert safari .”

I was relieved. In a conspiratorial tone I asked ,”Do you have any genie in those bottles?”

To my question he winked at me and asked,” Why do you ask that? Are you looking for some unfulfilled wishes?’’

I shook my head vigorously and said, “Just curious!”

“I must admit that you are the first person who asked me such question and I have been waiting for someone to tell my expertise with genies.”

He offered me a chair to sit by his side and we got into animated discussion about genie and the various stories I have heard. He informed that putting genie in a bottle was the practice of many centuries old, it was a kind of punishment given to the soul of a person who crossed path with some influential person. The flip side of the punishment was that whenever the genie could come out from the lamp or bottle he had the power to bestow anything under the sun to the person releasing him. An invisible bond started developing between us, may be the vast shadowy desert was having effect on me.

“I belong to that family which had the expertise of putting genie in a closed space.” He had a melancholy look on his face as though he was missing his ancestral importance of good old days. Now of course in modern age no one gives a fig for such medieval practice. 

I pointed to the bottles and mischievously asked, “Any of those bottles have genie?’’

He looked up at me and said, " just follow me a few meters in the desert to that tent.”

I could see some scattered lights at a distance. He informed me that those tents are meant for people like him who are carrying on ethnic activities around the resort. 

I was a bit reluctant but curiosity and the newly developed bond compelled me to follow Abu Sayyd.

He pulled out a torch and both of us started walking towards those tents. I was following him in that uneven sandy desert with his dancing light of the torch. Nights are pretty cold in desert, i pulled my jacket lapels to save myself from the chilly draft.The distance was not a few meters, we walked for about ten minutes but still could not reach. I kicked a bottle stuck in the sand, Abu Sayyd looked back and warned me to be careful as there could be some bad soul trapped in the bottles. When he said this I started getting goose bumps.

“How long will it take?” I looked back to the resort whose bright light was casting a magical spell in the desert.The mesmeric sufi song of Rahat Fateh Ali Khan who was giving live performance was wafting in the vast empty desert, his song sounded much better at a distance than sitting near one of those super big sound boxes.

“Don’t look back, walk faster.” There was urgency in his voice.

I heard some whispering sound, it appeared as though the sound of wind sliding down on those sand dunes and sounding like banshee, it was aerie . The tracks of Suvs,Quad bike and camel hoofs have left deep impressions on the sand. In the dark I was walking like a drunk on that wobbly track on sand, occasionally stumbling on those deep tracks gauged in the sand when I heard that strange sound. Something swept on us , both of us fell down on , something hard hit me.

When I came back to senses found myself in a bottle and Abu Sayyd too was in another bottler.He was gesturing at me in the dim light of the tent. No one was visible. From the bottle I had a good look of the tent, because of my tiny size the tent was appearing like a cavern, through the glass of the bottle and the refracted refracted light of the dim battery powered overhead lamp i was getting a tunnel vision of each angle. It was a Spartan tent with a bed, a tin box, few clothes hanging from a cloth line, a stove with some boxes at a corner and a pitcher of water. Apart from me and Abu Sayyd there were some more bottles with names written. From the gesture of Abu Sayyd I could make out that it was his tent.

Many questions were racing through my mind but the main issue was getting out and regain my normal size. I could see my pair of trouser, shirt, undergarments lying on the floor. I guess whoever had put me in the bottle could not shrink those garments. Abu Sayyd gestured at me to go for sleep , but how sleep can come to me? As far as I know souls were put in a bottle ,that is per those fables i had heard, but here I was shrunk to a Lilliputian size to fit in that bottle. Abu Sayyd could feel my dilemma , gave beatific smile to me and went to sleep sitting in his bottle. I don’t know when I had fallen asleep.

When I woke up I found myself lying on the cot with my regular clothes on. Abu Sayyd and a teenager leaning over me.

“How did we come out and regain size? My wife will be worried.”

“Don’t worry I am here.” I heard my wife’s voice as she came forward from the shadows.

She explained that she had watched me from a distance  going to the desert with Abu Syyd and she was about to warn but by the time we had melted in the dark desert. She waited for a few hours and then came out in search of me and met that boy Salamuddin who was grandson of Abu Sayyd. Then both came to the tent .

"How did you know we were in the bottles?" I asked
"We saw your cloth strewn on the floor and then Salauddin derived from all the tell tale signs that you must have been put in the bottles by casting spell by some evil soul."
"Yes i remebered to have kicked a bottle in the dark when that evil soul might have escaped."
 Luckily Abu Sayyd has passed on the knowledge of genie to his grandson and who knew the process of reversal.The process was pretty complicated and it took sometime to extract us out. 

I profusely thanked Salamuddin and gave him 100 Durham as bakshish. We came out of the tent , did not forget to take the the bottle on which my name was written, the sun had come out full and 2 camels were waiting to take us back to the resort. The desert was glaring with bright sunlight.





I was clutching the sand bottle with my name written on sand in our hotel room in Palazzo Versace, Dubai, told my wife that i must write a story about this bottle. So i thought of this plot in Dubai and wrote the above story, i have not shown the story yet to my wife. Hope you guys liked the story.
Though the story will appear to be impossible for some but then how today's generation lap up Superman,Batman or Harrypotter? My story is no different from those fantasy things.