A Story for Sarkari Executive Kids

A Story for Sarkari Executive Kids

Part- 1

A government job is full of challenges thrown up not only by the works but also by the workers
generally known as ‘Babus’. To achieve the objectives set by the policy makers,the newly
inducted executives have to identify these elements who are involved fully in putting obstacles
in the working of the system and take them along to make it work as a well oiled machine in spite
of their support!
In a governmental organization,there are officials in the habit of negating any proposal-the
abominable no men-who know how not to do any work quoting rules and regulations to justify
their stand; there are also babus who find ways and means to avoid doing any job- the
shirkers - asking every time why a specific work need to be done by them since others are
supposed to do it; there are also the ‘money makers’ who lose no opportunity to make money
while the going is good.
The limited few of the species actually moving the wheels of the government machinery are the ‘sincere silent workers’who believe in the dictum that ‘work is worship’.
The need is therefore to identify,control and manage these abominable no men,shirkers and the money makers so that the silent workers can peacefully carry out the works and achieve the targets.
The good old story of the mother bird and the little ones living in an uncultivated field is relevant here as it brings out how the attitude of people involved to carry out a work reveals whether the work would be done at all or not.
The story begins with an old farmer accompanied by his sons coming to the field and asking them to prepare the field next day for sowing.The little birds ,overhearing the conversation,are scared of getting thrown out of their nest once the works start; but the mother assures them that nothing would happen for some more time to come as evident from the attitude shown by the farmer’s sons.After a lapse of many days, the old man, failing to get his sons doing the job ,decides to come next day to prepare the field himself .The mother bird then asks her young ones to get ready to shift to a new location, as the work was certain to be executed.
Moral:
1.Self help is the best help.
2. Do not keep for tomorrow what you can do to-day.

Many generations after,the new age mother bird with its little ones had its nest in a wooded area far away from fields.The story begins with a Revenue officer accompanied by his subordinates visiting the place to plan a road through the area to connect two villages.Showing the location,he tells them to come with some labour the next day to remove the bushes and mark the road alignment.
“Open a file on the subject, get the necessary approvals and start the work without any delay”,he told them.The juniors did not appear to be enthusiastic about the job murmuring that being a forest area it was the job of the forest officials to make the road.
The birdies, listening to the conversation were certain that the mighty government officials would throw them out the next day.The mother consoled them saying that the party would not come for a couple of months because the junior’s expressions indicated that the officials fell in the category of ‘shirkers’.
The mother’s reasoning proved true as no one turned up for days together.

Moral:
1.For starting any work in government,a file is to be opened, just like the Ganesh worship before attempting any venture.
2.In government,one should be well-versed and thoroughly knowledgeable about the duties others are supposed to do,so as not to get drawn into doing unnecessary work.

The newly opened file moved at snail,s pace between Revenue department and the Forest department and from one official to another to decide as to who should do the job.Fortunately both had officials ,who had expert knowledge about what others were supposed to do.Ultimately, the Chief of the Forest department agreed to get the job done by his officials.

Part-2

It was the turn of the forest officer this time to go with his assistants to plan the road in the locality where the birds lived.”Since it has been decided that we have to make the road,you come with labour to start the work tomorrow,” he told his juniors.
The assistants did not appear enthusiastic about the proposal.”we do not have the expertise nor the budget for this sort of work,”they murmured.”When the Public Works Department has engineers to do the job,why get into other’s territory and get bad name for a work which is not ours .We have none to check the quality of the works even.”
The officer was convinced of their stand.”We would take up the matter with the PWD for their action,”he said. “In the meanwhile, we have to clear the bushes tomorrow so that the engineers can start the work early”.
The little birds who overheard the conversation urged their mother to shift to another locality before the foresters axe their little dwelling. “Nothing to fear,” she consoled them.”The facial expressions of today’s officials indicates that they belong to the category of abominable- no- men type and they know how to negate any proposal.”
Her words of wisdom proved to be true.For a couple of months,none came to inspect the place since the snail-paced file was getting thicker with notings,minutes of meetings ,interdepartmental correspondence etc. Finally, the forest men could convince the concerned authorities that PWD alone is responsible for the job as per ‘allocation of business rules’ circulated by the government to all its departments.
A couple of months thereafter,the file landed on the chief engineer’s table

Moral:
1.Everything is fair in love (for rest) and war (threatening rest).
2.The officials of the same mind-set,flock together.
3.An excuse a day can keep the work at bay.

Next came a group of engineers and contractors for inspecting the site. They decided to come with labour the next day to start the work.The little birds were not worried this time since they knew that as the monsoon rains had begun, no one could start the work.But the mother bird told them to get ready to shift since those present belonged to the ‘money makers’ category.They believed in the adage that ‘make a way while the rains pour’since road works in monsoon offered more repair jobs and hence more money.
Threatened by a possible eviction,the birds shifted to a safer haven immediately thereafter.

Moral:
1.Where there is a way (road),there is a bill (money).
2.A contractor reaps (money) from what he shows (as repairs).
3.All that glitters (in monsoon) is not road(but water in potholes).

The story can continue with many more such examples,the idea being to locate the sincere ones from different categories of officials. Once this Herculean task is achieved, it would then be possible to take up any work and achieve the set targets

CALL OF CHOTTANIKKARA

CHAPTER I

Platform number 10 at the New Delhi railway station was crowded with people who had come to see off their relatives and friends. Turbaned porters in their red uniforms moved through the crowds, carrying heavy luggage. 

The Grand Trunk Express whistled to move.

Shankar sat in the sleeper compartment of the Chennai- bound train, watching the crowd. Being summer holidays, it was with great difficulty that he could get a seat in the train, but he would have to sweat out the entire journey. He had seen from the reservation chart that his companions in that section of the sleeper coach were 2 doctors, 2 university students on vacation and a family of 3 entraining at Mathura. Luckily his journey from Chennai to Cochin by the Trivandrum Mail would be an easy one in an air-conditioned coach.

The metallic voice informing the public about the departure of the train resonanced under the station roof. It acted as a spur to two men standing on the platform. They rushed in and sat opposite Shankar. The students also rushed in, surveyed their baggage and went away to join their friends in the adjoining coach, informing Shankar that they would be back only for sleeping.

Shankar watched the platform sliding away behind as the train picked up speed. Rows of houses streamed past him. 

For sometime, it was fun to watch the flicker of buildings and the resulting shadow effects, but soon he got tired of the view outside. He pulled out a magazine from his bag and tried to read. Concentrating on reading the magazine was difficult, for his mind was elsewhere seeking answers to many of his queries which vexed him during the past many years.

It was fate that brought him to Delhi, he was certain. It was fate alone that made him close his flourishing tutorial college at Panaji, to seek a teaching job in Bhopal and after a stint of few years there shift to Delhi to suffer the dust storms of the summer and chill winds of the winter in the capital.

Lila, his wife, would have explained it as the will of ‘Amma’, the presiding deity of the Chottanikkara temple in Kerala, that made him settle in Delhi. She would have pestered him to believe that it was ‘Amma’ who gave him the mental peace at his new place of work.

He had been to Chottanikkara years ago. Then he came out of the temple as a skeptic with whatever feelings he had of religion dead and buried deep.

He was then serving as a lecturer in a degree college in Mumbai. During the summer vacation, while in Kerala, he   had to go to the temple just to please his ailing grandmother. Their family friend, Sridhar, was also with him during his   visit to the temple.

Shankar was not interested in such religious exercises, for he was strongly of the view that such aspects concerning spiritual matters be left to those who practise the same. He was not interested in discussing or entering into a debate on such issues.

On the contrary, Sridhar wanted him to take a more involved approach to the spiritual side of life. He tried to convince Shankar the need to believe in the Supreme Power. He explained to him the need to surrender to ‘Amma’ so as to experience the divine grace and to enjoy the inner peace.

Shankar turned a deaf ear to the old man’s blabberings. The very atmosphere of the temple with many people dancing in gay abandon, infuriated him. 

Shankar asked his companion whether it was a temple or a mad house where one could get any peace, leave alone the inner peace, at such a place which was full of chaos and confusion?

“Let me go,” Shankar continued, saying he was there to please that old lady. His mission was over and if he continued any longer, he was sure to get mad instead of getting the so-called divine grace.

Sridhar blurted out. “This is a place famous for faith healing. You cannot just ignore its sanctity.”

“Having lived for years in Mumbai, you might not have had any opportunity to look beyond the materialistic side of life. I do not blame you for your indifference, but my complaint is against the society which made you oblivious of the spiritual aspects of life,” Shridhar continued

Shankar expressed his annoyance and added, “Look at that woman hammering her head on that tree. What does she gain by hurting herself excepting some head injuries? And you call it faith healing?”

“Oh! That was the ‘Pala’ tree or usually known as the spiked tree, where ghosts of the dead are nailed down by those haunted,” Sridhar clarified.

“Well, there is a limit to beliefs and superstitions,” Shankar said mockingly. “But this certainly surpasses that limit.”

“You have not heard me fully,” Sridhar continued. “It may be superstition, but it was faith certainly. It depended on how you look at it.”

“If you wanted to talk of faith and superstition, in terms of the prevalent theories on psychology, I am not interested in it”, Shankar said icily. “What I wanted to know was this.

How could anyone, by inflicting injuries on self, get rid of the ghosts of the dead?”

“Well, you want to know why she is injuring herself?” Sridhar asked. “Who says she is injured? Have you not seen ‘yogis’ drinking bottles of nitric acid without affecting their body system? Have you not observed some of them eating glass pieces as if enjoying peanuts? How do you give a scientific explanation to these feats? We have become spiritually so bankrupt that we can believe only in a proved theory than in a power greater than us. Unfortunately, as we have discorded religious beliefs, we now groping in the dark, not knowing where to go,” he added.

“These are achieved by controlling the body mechanism, which only a few can do”, Shankar agreed. “But these mad women have not reached such a stage of concentration to do wonders”.

“All these feats have a scientific veneer but are unashamedly irrational,” Sridhar said. “But these are needed to convince the vast possibilities of a human body so as to convince the modern soul, lonely and tormented, crippled by its own inability to accept meaning in anything far removed from technological explanations.”

“They were mentally affected people” Sridhar continued. “But they too have reached some level of control and with the blessings of ‘Amma’; they are going to be alright like any other sane person.”

“This is what I call downright stupidity,” Shankar interrupted to say. “You are a respected educated person. Still you appear to be fully tied down by the shackles of superstition.”

Sridhar did not respond to the comment.

“You have become suddenly silent,” Shankar taunted. “What are your views on these?”

“I was thinking of those days when I was also one like you, not having any faith in ‘Amma’”. Sridhar said and added, “Years ago, I was a non-believer, but not now. Today I am convinced that there are many fields in religion and spiritualism unknown to the present day man.”

After some time, he continued, “From my personal experience, I can assure you that man turns to mystical explanations and seek a haven for peace and consolation only in times of great insecurity, when his own desires and ambitions are shattered, when he is confused with his despairs and disappointments and crushed beneath his duties and responsibilities, Till then he thinks that he is supreme”.

Shankar was not prepared to listen further. He retorted that only a man who has nurtured the fear of god ever since his childhood would say that. To him, religion was the only recourse when his built-in fears and anxieties come to surface, but not for others.

“Well, you have the right to your own counsel,”Sridhar replied with a voice wrought with conviction and sadness. “Only time will tell whether you can still hold on to your views”.

Over three decades had rolled by since then. Did the intervening years change his views on religion and matters connected with that? Certainly it did, Shankar was sure. Otherwise, how could he, an agnostic till then, undertake this journey for seeking the ‘darsan’ of ‘Amma’? How could he, a critic of yester years, suddenly feel an unexpected emptiness within to become interested in the quest for spiritual salvation? Was it due to the continuous indoctrination by his wife, Lila? He still had his doubts.

Lila was typical in more than one way. Though a city-born, she was more influenced by the spiritual way of life than the city’s materialistic way of life. Not only Lila, the entire family were devout worshippers of ‘Amma’ and felt Her unseen powers supporting and moulding the happenings in their lives and guiding their day-to-day actions.

They could not be blamed for that as they were brought up in such environments. They lived and grew up under the protective gaze of ‘Amma’. They were made to believe from their very childhood that whatever happened in the house occurred with Her approval only.

It was a case of downright brain-washing done from generation to generation and nothing surprising about it, Shankar used to tell Lila.

How the furnace of experience moulded people to change ideas! Three decades were not a long period in his life. How his own beliefs, which he considered strong enough to withstand the tides of time, had changed to an entirely different orientation during that period.

For years, he had fought against heavy odds, unsupported and single handed, only for sheer survival. He resigned from the college he served for years and shifted to Panaji (Goa) to start a tutorial college there, thinking that it was the best way to improve his financial position. There was none to help him then. But when his college flourished, there were people to offer their valuable services. And now through his wife, even god entered the arena to share the credits!

How fast he had changed in his attitude to religion, Shankar mused. Since many years, he had been a critic of religious ceremonies, terming them as wastage of man-hours. The passing of years had sobered him, making him to pause and think before pronouncing any such verdict.

The train slowed with a grinding of brakes. A platform slid along.

“Mathura Junction,” Shankar heard one of the passengers telling his companion. “The train will stop here for about 10 minutes”.

On the train’s arrival, the place was electrified into action. People hurried along looking for their seats. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” a young man who had come to off an old lady, her younger companion and a child, told them. “You have a long journey before you. Take care and have a safe journey.”

Shankar felt amused listening to this. After-all, life itself was a long journey similar to a rail travel. There were signals, points and crossings in its course checking its speed. And there were hazards too lurking at every turning. Still man did make his life worth living. 

He was becoming more philosophical, Shankar reflected. Instead of trying to scrutinise his own feelings about religion, he was getting ready to accept situations!

Were the incessant strifes and struggles he had in the past dulled his mind and heart to such an extent that he lost his reasoning capacity? Or could it be due to the fact that the anxieties and fears he had all along the initial period so blunted his analytical power that he felt it preferable to take refuge under the cover of religion?

He knew that in accepting such a path, no logical explanation would be needed as every occurrence then could be attributed to the decision of a Supreme Power. Still he had his doubts, he needed answers to his queries. Till then, there was no running away from the path he had chosen, the path of scientific reasoning.

Events of the past few years had confirmed that he was being looked after by unseen powers, for he used to be cautioned in advance of the impending dangers; many a time he was warned of the lurking hazards sufficiently early; he was guided in time to avoid accidents; and there were many such instances when divine powers took care of him, protected him.

‘Amma’ was considerate to Her devotees. She would not leave one in the lurch at any time, Lila would console him whenever he faced difficult situations. Was it her faith in ‘Amma’ that gave him the strength to face those agonising days? Or was it just a chance that he survived from certain collapse?

The train screeched to a halt, awakening Shankar from his reverie. His co-passengers were already asleep. He stretched on his berth thinking of the long journey ahead.

Outside, the outline of a wayside station loomed large. The terrain was laced with gully formations, cutting up the entire ground into an unattractive pattern. A few flickering lights far away indicated the existence of some lonely settlements. The ravines of Chambal, deep and yawning, took fearsome shapes in the grey light provided by the starlit sky.

A night suitable for the forces of evil to carry out their nefarious activities, Shankar mused.

Suddenly, his thoughts wandered into the past reminding him of the days in Goa, when in a similar night, he survived certain death. The landscape outside helped only to revive those bloodcurdling memories which he had wished to forget since years.

Shankar sat up frightened, as the gruesome scenes of that suffocating dark night flashed past him, like a recurring theme in a demoniac symphony.

CHAPTER II

That night in July, 1974, was dark and misty, brightened at times with a streak of lightning, Shankar remembered. The atmosphere was heavy with an oppressive sense of thunder. The wind moaned and whistled through the groves while branches of trees crashed together.

“It is likely to rain now”, Shankar told the class. “Let us close for the day. I shall resume the lecture to-morrow.”

His students nodded in agreement. Within a few minutes, they dispersed leaving the professor to complete the pending paperwork.

Shankar felt worn out. He wanted to hit the bed straight away, but half an hour’s distance separated him from his home.

The professor did not mind walking that distance four times a day; for he liked the building which he rented out as his residence, particularly its location. It was situated just outside the crowded areas of Panaji, isolated by fields and mango groves. After staying in the oppressive flats of Mumbai for years, the change was a welcome one. When he finalised the deals for his residence, and for his office, he was fully aware of the distances involved.

Shankar locked the ground floor apartment which he had taken on lease in a building complex for his tutorial college and stood for a while near the main gate, debating whether to take the short route or walk along the highway. Once decided, he took the short cross-country path to his house. There were no one outside and the route which wore a deserted look even during day-time, appeared lonelier than usual in that night.

He felt uneasy as if some danger was lurking in the darkness outside. Though he had been moving in those areas for the past many months, he had never experienced such an uncanny fear of the unknown which he was having that day.

Something jumped across his path. He braced himself in sudden fright. It was that black cat, the one he usually saw at that hour chasing some rodents. He chuckled at the thought of cowardice he exhibited.

He walked past the row of houses lining the old part of the town and entered the mango grove. The trees had thrust up a black barrier against the sky and whatever little light that peeped through them was uninspiring and cold. He followed a well-worn track that twisted through the thick under-growth. 

Suddenly, he stopped. He felt as though someone was trailing him. He turned back to see whether anyone was behind him, but in that dreary light he could not see much.

“It must have been the tire-some schedule of the day that is causing the uneasiness”, Shankar reflected. “Otherwise, why should I feel so nervous at the very movement of a blade of  grass?”

Of course, it was a busy day. ‘Shankar’s Tutorial Academy’ being a one-man show, he found it hard to cope with the work, particularly, in finalising the list of admissions. He was selective and he restricted the intake of students, though students in hundreds thronged his office to join the institute.

His rivals in business tried hard to hinder the functioning of his enterprise. They spread rumours alleging malpractices, brought in local politics and even tried to drag him in court cases. But their attempts failed miserably. His institute continued to be the most favoured by the students.

Shankar had reason to be proud of his achievements. After resigning from service, when he decided to start the college, many made fun of his adventuristic attitude; some of them even cautioned him that his venture might collapse. Still, he was perseverant in his attempts to build up the institute. When it flourished and established in a short time, it was a success much beyond his expectations.

Some movement behind him again disturbed his thoughts. He could swear that he heard a thin continuous spatter somewhere from behind. Someone did follow him, he was sure. Who could be this nocturnal adventurer ? Why was the chap trying to conceal his identity? 

Shankar looked back to make sure. There was no one.

“Tonight is ‘Amavasya’, the night of the demons”, his wife had cautioned him that morning. She had specifically asked him to return from his college before nightfall on that account.

She was always like that, talking about ghosts and evil spirits. She feared more of the formless figures of hell than the bony human folks around.

That night in July, 1974, was dark and misty, brightened at times with a streak of lightning, Shankar remembered. The atmosphere was heavy with an oppressive sense of thunder. The wind moaned and whistled through the groves while branches of trees crashed together.

“It is likely to rain now”, Shankar told the class. “Let us close for the day. I shall resume the lecture to-morrow.”

His students nodded in agreement. Within a few minutes, they dispersed leaving the professor to complete the pending paperwork.

Shankar felt worn out. He wanted to hit the bed straight away, but half an hour’s distance separated him from his home.

The professor did not mind walking that distance four times a day; for he liked the building which he rented out as his residence, particularly its location. It was situated just outside the crowded areas of Panaji, isolated by fields and mango groves. After staying in the oppressive flats of Mumbai for years, the change was a welcome one. When he finalised the deals for his residence, and for his office, he was fully aware of the distances involved.

Shankar locked the ground floor apartment which he had taken on lease in a building complex for his tutorial college and stood for a while near the main gate, debating whether to take the short route or walk along the highway. Once decided, he took the short cross-country path to his house. There were no one outside and the route which wore a deserted look even during day-time, appeared lonelier than usual in that night.

He felt uneasy as if some danger was lurking in the darkness outside. Though he had been moving in those areas for the past many months, he had never experienced such an uncanny fear of the unknown which he was having that day.

Something jumped across his path. He braced himself in sudden fright. It was that black cat, the one he usually saw at that hour chasing some rodents. He chuckled at the thought of cowardice he exhibited.

He walked past the row of houses lining the old part of the town and entered the mango grove. The trees had thrust up a black barrier against the sky and whatever little light that peeped through them was uninspiring and cold. He followed a well-worn track that twisted through the thick under-growth. 

Suddenly, he stopped. He felt as though someone was trailing him. He turned back to see whether anyone was behind him, but in that dreary light he could not see much.

“It must have been the tire-some schedule of the day that is causing the uneasiness”, Shankar reflected. “Otherwise, why should I feel so nervous at the very movement of a blade of  grass?”

Of course, it was a busy day. ‘Shankar’s Tutorial Academy’ being a one-man show, he found it hard to cope with the work, particularly, in finalising the list of admissions. He was selective and he restricted the intake of   students, though students in hundreds thronged his office to join the institute.

His rivals in business tried hard to hinder the functioning of his enterprise. They spread rumours alleging malpractices, brought in local politics and even tried to drag him in court cases. But their attempts failed miserably. His institute continued to be the most favoured by the students.

Shankar had reason to be proud of his achievements. After resigning from service, when he decided to start the college, many made fun of his adventuristic attitude; some of them even cautioned him that his venture might collapse. Still, he was perseverant in his attempts to build up the institute. When it flourished and established in a short time, it was a success much beyond his expectations.

Some movement behind him again disturbed his thoughts. He could swear that he heard a thin continuous spatter somewhere from behind. Someone did follow him, he was sure. Who could be this nocturnal adventurer ? Why was the chap trying to conceal his identity? 

Shankar looked back to make sure. There was no one.

“Tonight is ‘Amavasya’, the night of the demons”, his wife had cautioned him that morning. She had specifically asked him to return from his college before nightfall on that account.

She was always like that, talking about ghosts and evil spirits. She feared more of the formless figures of hell than the bony human folks around.

Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes. Ahead he saw some one beckoning to him. The fellow stood hardly 100 yards away. He was clad in black robes from head to foot.

What could that fellow be doing at such an hour of the night? What could be that interesting sight which that person wanted to share with him? Shankar waited for a moment. There could be some danger, he felt. Slowly and cautiously he moved ahead.

Hardly 30 yards away stood that figure. It looked like a ‘Titan’ with a disproportionate body and twisted limbs. Surprisingly, it had no palms, but only stumps as if those parts were amputated.

And where there should have been a head, the star lit sky stared at him!

The very sight of the monstrous figure sent a chill through him. His hair stood erect and heart beat vigorously. 

It was only a couple of months back that a headless body was recovered by the police from the very place. They had difficulty in identifying the victim. There were many versions as to who was the murdered one and the reasons behind such a crime.

Could it be the roaming spirit of that body that faced him there?

His friends had advised him not to frequent that lonely path during nights.

“People say that during the dark nights preceding and succeeding the new moon days, they have noticed an apparition roaming in that area”, the local postmaster had told him. “Though, I do not believe in ghosts, I do not prefer to have any encounter with such spirits”.

“All apparitions are the products of an unstable frame of mind”, he had then replied him. 

That conversation had taken place hardly a month back. And now, he was standing face to face with that headless figure!

A few days back, Lila had narrated to him the incident of a brahmin’s encounter with a ‘yakshi’, the female species of those evil spirits. The brahmin, a devotee of ‘Amma’, fell a victim to the spell cast by the yakshi while going along a deserted path during a new moon night. But for the timely intervention of ‘Amma’, the fellow would have been reduced to a bundle of bones.

Shankar had then queried about the veracity of the story, but Lila had shown him the books from where she had quoted about the incident. 

The professor was upset seeing the Titan blocking his path. Still, he took his steps carefully.

The figure did not show any intention to move as the professor came near it. Suddenly, he stopped and started laughing on recognising the fellow. It was the trunk of a dried mango tree which he used to see every day on his way from home! Except for a couple of stumps jutting out of the main trunk, the rest had been taken away by the locals for use as firewood.

What had gone wrong with him that day? Even such a regular sight as of that mango tree could make him nervous!

Lila was to be blamed for such a state of his, he felt. Very often, she used to narrate incidents woven around the temple of Chottanikkara to impress upon him how ‘Amma’ protected Her devotees. There were stories of black magic, haunted houses and of haunted human beings. Even if one did not believe in such humbug, they were enough to make one nervous while walking along deserted areas in a dark night.

With renewed confidence, the professor moved ahead. He would have hardly covered another 100 yards, when he heard a faint, low pitched sound that rose and fell, apparently menacing and then fading. He remembered his mother telling him as a young boy, how dogs heralded the arrival of ‘Yama’, the god of death, in a locality. The moan he heard now very much resembled that.

Shankar stood in rapt attention to locate the direction from where the sound emanated. The prevailing darkness was not very helpful.

The moaning sound rose again, this time from somewhere behind him. It did not fade, but continued in a feverish pitch. It looked as though some invisible being was following him out to disturb his mental peace.

He crossed the graveyard and entered the main road. Another 10 minutes, and he would be at his residence.

He felt something scurrying behind him. He looked back again to make sure that nothing followed him. And then he noticed it!

Hardly 50 yards behind, he saw the outline of a dark creature of incredible shape advancing towards him. It looked the very personification of cruelty. Its jaws opened exposing the blood thirsty fangs and its eyes emitted fire. It moved cautiously as if sizing up the game.

This time there was no mistaking the identity of the adversary. Shankar recognised it as a hunter’s dog, similar to the ones he used to see with the villagers. He was glad that at least this time it was not a dead spirit! Suddenly, the dog bounced towards him, snarling at him. The bestial face contorted into a howl of triumph as another moan rent the air.

He was unarmed and there was nothing readily available on the roadside to scare away that animal. He did not know what to do; his reasoning had failed.

There was only one way to save himself- that of running away from that incarnation of death. He ran fast, as fast as his legs could take him. He felt that the god of death was approaching him in the form of that spaniel.

Till then, he never thought that his residence was so far away. The distance seemed to be multiplying with every pace he covered. He felt that it would take years for him to reach the destination. At last, after what seemed to be ages, he found himself knocking at his door, shouting like a man possessed, asking Lila to open the door. He panted heavily, gasping for breath. 

“What happened to you? Why are you trembling? Why do you appear so terror-stricken?” Lila asked in one breath.

He had no patience to clarify her doubts. He rushed inside shouting, “it is after me, the dog. Close the door.”

She did as directed without asking any further. Then she went straight to the ‘puja’ room to bring the turmeric powder of Chottanikkara temple. She applied it on his forehead, chanting the hymns of ‘Amma’. She sprinkled it near the door through which he entered and thereafter sat praying in front of the photo of ‘Amma’. Unable to understand the significance of her actions, he sat by her side.

For sometime, he heard the dog scratching at the door. It was followed by heavy thuds, so heavy that he feared the hinges give away. 

After dinner, when he was more at ease, he narrated the happenings of the day.

“Now, what do you make out of this?”, he asked her for an explanation.

“I had been telling you all these days to be cautious of the evil designs of your competitors, but you did not take heed,” she said accusingly. After a pause, she added, “Any way, they seemed to have exhausted all their means to get rid of you. Otherwise, they would not have stooped to such a low level to resort to sorcery.”

“You are too superstitious to connect any incident with mysticism,” he said appearing irritated. “Have you any proof?”

“May be I am superstitious,” she conceded. “But any one in my place, would accept these views, when they see the cause and effect.”

“How do you link up the incidents?” He asked. “What would my competitors gain by resorting to black magic, except in losing some money in such futile exercises?”

“Futile exercises?”, Lila looked stunned. “You have already experienced the fright it has caused in you. I have read of deadly occult practices carried out to destroy generations. I firmly believe that your experience to-day is the outcome of an unsuccessful attempt of black magic by some of your enemies.”

“What I have read in the books delving on the subject and told by old people in the village is that in all such rituals, an animal is sacrificed to propitiate evil spirits. The exorcist then directs these evil spirits to destroy the person against whom the sorcery is being done”, Lila added.

“In theory, it is all fine,” Shankar said. “How can these spirits recognise their prey? What happens there after? ”

“I am told that any of the personal effects of the intended victim can be thrown into the sacrificial fire so that the spirits would be able to identify him”. his wife replied. “ I am to infer from your experience today that as a consequence of the ritual, you became panicky at whatever sight you saw or whatever sound you heard. The immediate result of the exercise was that you lost your will-power.”

“The next stage of the ritual is to convert those evil forces into a creature of fright, such as a blood-hound or a monstrous figure which is capable of frightening a normal man to death”, Lila continued ignoring the cynical look of her husband. “As you know now, their plans tripped. You could reach the house in time and save yourself from those forces by the grace of ‘Amma’. The spirits had to retreat then. May be, they might have shown their anger to those who planned and executed it”.

“Well, this interpretation could be contested”, Lila said in conclusion, “but it is only my surmise. If you are not convinced, you please read the book on ‘Krishnavathara’ authored by the late K .M. Munshi in which such rituals conducted in an Aghori’s hut have been described.”

Shankar did not wish to further argue with her. He felt that she could be right. Though he had been frequenting the cross-country path from his college to his residence for the past many years, never once he had experienced such a commotion within him as in that night. It was not the sight of a mere mongrel that caused fear in him. Certainly not. It was something else, a feeling which did not have any explicable reason behind it, mostly a psychic scare.

Could it be that those evil mongers through their unknown acquired powers of black magic tried to instill fear in him? Could it be that the dog was a mere illusion designed to strike him with horror? If that be so, then who scratched and thumped at his door in that night? He was not sure.

But, there was a chance, a chance in a million, that the dog which trailed him in the past few hours was not an ordinary one but one surcharged with deadly powers, out to kill him!

Whatever be the cause, the fact remained that he escaped death at the hands of that mongrel by sheer chance. 

It could be just a coincidence that he did become nervous, but could Lila’s such explanation be put aside as simple as that? There could be some other reason, something mystical and extraordinary about that.

The questions had haunted him ever since that incident.

Even though he had shifted to Bhopal in an attempt to erase the memories of Goa due to          the death of his only child, the weird shapes the Chambal ravines took in that unfriendly night reminded him that those doubts had remained with him all these years. 

Would he at least get a satisfactory answer to these when he visited the temple? He was not certain. 

His heart wanted nothing more than to believe in what Lila explained to him, but his intellect cried out for scientific reasons, Shankar turned uneasily on the berth as the train trundled along.

CHAPTER III

Shankar woke up early in the morning. The train was at a wayside station waiting for the signal. 

The professor was still feeling drowsy since he had a disturbed sleep all through the night. He dreamt of ghosts attacking him, dogs chasing him and of evil spirits dancing around him thirsting for his blood.

“It is going to be a clear, but hot day,” Shankar murmured to no one in particular.

“Yes, it may turn out to be one of the hottest days,” the man sitting opposite commented.

“Sorry, I could not introduce myself to you yester-night,” he continued. “I am Vishwanath and he is Dr. Krishnaswamy.” The middle-aged man occupying the upper berth bowed to acknowledge.

“Nice meeting you,” Shankar said introducing himself. “Staying at Delhi?”

“No. We were there in connection with a seminar and are presently on our way back home,” Vishwanath said “What about you? A Delhiite?”

“Presently, I am a resident of the capital,” Shankar replied. “I am on my way to Kochi on a pilgrimage.”

“To Chottanikkara? To seek the blessings of ‘Amma’?” They both asked in unison.

“Yes, but how do you know the place?” Shankar asked.

“It is a long story,” Vishwanath said. “A story of my life”.“Doctor, I knew that you were a devotee of ‘Amma’,” Krishnaswamy said. “But, I never knew that it had something to do with your very personal life.”

“Yes, that part of my life is known only to my near ones,” Vishwanath said. “If you are not bored , I do not mind in narrating the incident which led me to ‘Amma’.”

“By the way, do you believe in miracles and faith-healing?” Vishwanath asked the professor.

“Certainly not,” Shankar said “I consider these as a ploy used by religious bigots to cheat the gullible public. Any way, I would be the last person to be impressed by such trash.”

“I was also under that impression years ago, when I was a student of medicine,” the doctor said. “I would have also continued to fight against such preconceived notions on rituals, but for an incident that changed my attitude towards religious exercises. I was then doing a postgraduate course in surgery, when I got a message that my father was admitted in a serious condition to the local medical college hospital. I rushed there. My people told me that he had been suffering from tremors for the past some months, but they did not consider it as dangerous till it became serious. I discussed the case with the doctors, but they had no hope since his was a case of medic –resistant tremor, a progressive neurological disease ultimately becoming debilitating. And for which no cure has been found.

Remorse overwhelmed me with the thought that I, as a medical professional cannot cure my father of such a disease”, the doctor continued “I started groping in the vast expanse of the medical literature to find some ray of hope to cure him, who had spent his entire life’s earnings and health to make me a doctor, but I could not find any. I was totally dejected.”

For some time, Vishwanath kept quiet as if collecting his thoughts. None of them spoke for some time. 

“It was my mother who showed me the way”, the doctor continued. “An ardent devotee of the ‘Amma’of Chottanikkara, she believed that ‘Amma’ would take care of him as She used to do during all those difficult years in the past. 

“Let us go to the temple and pray for his quick relief”, she told us. “After all many miracles occur there every day under Her divine presence. I am sure that he would also be cured by Her blessings.”

“How can a ritual in the temple cure this neurological deficiency as no one has found a suitable medicine to activate that part of the brain to produce the requisite chemicals?,” I had my doubts. But since medical science had failed in this case, and as there was no other alternative available, I agreed with my mother.

“For a couple of days we stayed in the temple attending to all pujas and partaking the food given from the temple. After the rigorous ‘upasana’ carried out for 41 days, and after attending to the pujas thereafter, my mother’s prayers had the desired effect, and my father was fully relieved of the symptoms of the disease! Subsequent tests revealed that his brain functions were quite normal! I consulted my colleagues in the medical profession and they too were surprised at the outcome.”

“It is good that you are usefully employing your vacation to visit the shrine”, Vishwanath said. “Please also make it a point to look at the ‘Spiked tree’ and understand its significance.”

“I would like to know more about the temple itself,” Shankar said. “How the temple got established, who decided the specific rituals now being carried out there day in and day out, etc.”

“The origin of the temple is shrouded in mystery,” Vishwanath said. “According to folklores, the entire area was a forest of tamarind trees mainly inhabited by tribals. Their chief, Kannappan, struck terror among people in nearby villages and was notorious for his ruthlessness. 

Being a widower, he stayed with his daughter, Pavizham, and her pet calf, Malliga, in the premises where the temple is presently situated. In course of time, his daughter also died and, having lost interest in mundane things, he turned his thoughts towards god and took solace in fostering the calf as his own daughter.

“As per the legend, one day Kannappan saw Mother Parashakthi in his dream. She told him that the calf which brought about his transformation was Herself and the cowshed further on would remain sanctified by Her idol and that of Lord Vishnu.

“Next day when Kannappan went to the cowshed to feed Malliga, he found the 2 idols as seen in the dream, instead of his calf. Thereupon, he built a temple there and spent the rest of his life in the worship of the Mother Parashakthi.

“After the death of Kannappan, the temple got ruined and people had forgotten all about the temple. Subsequently, the wild growth and availability of plenty of grass there attracted shepherds and grass cutters to the place.

“According to the folklore, a woman, while sharpening her sickle on a stone found blood oozing from there and alerted others about the incident. The local villagers informed a learned priest, Edathu Namboothiri, of this occurrence who, on visiting the spot felt the divine presence of Mother Parashakthi in the stone and of Lord Vishnu in the adjoining one. 

Subsequently, the priest built a shrine and started performing pujas there. Presently, the temple is under the administration of the Cochin Devaswom Board.

“Whatever be the stories on its origin, the divine grace can be realised only by being there and not by hearsay”, Vishwanath concluded.

“Well, I was there years ago, but was not impressed by that atmosphere”, Shankar said. “Some how, temple rituals sicken me more than uplifting my spirits.”

“From my experience, I can assure you that you would not feel sorry for having gone there, particularly when you are going there with single minded devotion,” Vishwanath said. “The charm of ‘Amma’ will engulf you within its spell.”

For a long time, the three of them talked on such topics as miracles, faith healing and superstitious beliefs, the experiences documented by many authors, their own experiences and what they had seen around them.

The night was sultry. Shankar felt restless as he could not get a wink of sleep. He tried to analyse what the doctor narrated. The incidents detailed certainly had some story value. But could he just pooh pooh these, when he himself was witness to such situations?

He was suddenly awakened from his reverie, disturbed by the commotion made by people outside. He sat up on the berth watching the pandemonium before him. The roar of human chaos reminded him of the Bhopal gas tragedy and the connected incidents which he witnessed years ago. 

However, he was relieved to find that the present din was due to the train arriving in Vijayawada Junction. Recollecting every bit of that incident which occurred while he was teaching at a college in Bhopal, Shankar remembered that the tragedy had left an indelible impression on him since years.

Shankar remembered the day very well because he had arranged a special class on that day to discuss the subject of supernaturalism in Shakespeare’s dramas.

“Do you believe in the myths on supernaturalism?”, Shankar asked initiating the discussions. “The question is one of belief and disbelief”, Rajesh intervened to say. “Some need concrete proof to confirm the existence of such a supernatural being, while some others are satisfied if they hear reliable people narrating their experiences while encountering such unseen beings.” 

Others were more vociferous about the existence of phantoms and ghosts as reported from many haunted buildings. 

There was no need to prolong the arguments beyond 4 p.m., he decided. Hence winding up the discussions, he pointed out that people of Shakespeare’s time might have believed in the existence of such apparitions and hence he made use of the then existing myths in his scripts to give a feeling of reality.

Even after dinner, he continued pondering over the discussions of the day. “Foolish or clouded thinking alone could attribute such incidents to mystical powers in the present day world”, he concluded while retiring to bed. He tried to sleep, but the thoughts of ghosts continued to prop up disturbing the sleep process.

He was woken up by the continuous knocking on the door.

He looked at the watch. It was 2 a.m. Outside, he heard some commotion. As usual, the late night cine goers were returning home after the last show, he presumed.

The knocking continued for some more time. Who could be the intruder at this hour of the night, Shankar thought for a while. The knocking stopped abruptly. He heard the main door creaking open.

Shankar was sure that he had bolted and locked the door before he went to bed. He could still feel the keys below the pillow. No one could have opened the door without his knowledge. His wife was still sleeping by his side. There was none other than them in the house. Then who opened the door and permitted the stranger inside the house?

He heard steps nearing the bed room. Soon he felt the presence of some one looming over him.

It could simply be a hallucination due to a tired brain, he thought. In the lethargy of half sleep, he must be dreaming. But when he wiped his eyes to have a clear look at the intruder, the realisation came in a shocking flare of certainty.

Some body was standing at his bedside! The figure clad in white was gesticulating to him to get up and to follow him!

He rubbed his eyes again to confirm that he was not dreaming. The chap was still there, as real as his own existence. He could see the books he had left open on the table, could see the calendar hanging beyond on the wall.

Shankar sat up and covered himself with a shawl to ward of the December cold. He felt suffocated and his eyes began to water as if some one had thrown red chillies into a fire nearby. 

Though a bit scared, he followed the nebulous figure, as he wanted to know what mischief it intended. The figure led him to the drawing room and then to the verandah. Once outside, it enlarged in size and dissolved into thin air!

Shankar stood gasping, suddenly feeling exhausted. Luckily, the eerie figure did not do him any harm. By then his wife had also come out complaining of suffocation.

“What is happening? Why is there a commotion outside?,” she asked.

Outside, people from their colony were running, shouting “get away from death, there has been a disaster.” All types of vehicles were racing in mad haste crowded with passengers, all shouting “bhago” It appeared as though some major explosion had occurred nearby.

“Let us also get out of the place,” he told her. “I am getting too suffocated.”

“Before making any decision, better to phone and find out what is happening,” she advised him. The telephone was dead. He came back not knowing what to do.

“Let us pray to ‘Amma’. She would guide us and keep us away from danger”, she told him.

“There is no time to waste”, he told her. “Do you want to perish in this house inhaling poison when all sensible people are rushing out of their dwellings to keep away from death?’

“What guarantee is there that we would be safe out side?”, she asked. “It is better to seek Amma’s blessings when we do not know what to do.”

Both went to the puja room to pray. They remained there in the closed room praying till dawn, comforted by Her presence. At 6 in the morning, the telephone rang. Shankar came out to attend the call.

“Are you still there?” Gautam, his cousin from Hoshangabad asked. “The whole colony of yours is bereft of any soul except you. How come you stayed on?” 

“We just remained here not knowing what to do”, he replied. “By the way, what caused the turmoil? Any bomb explosion?”

Gautam replied, “It was the worst industrial accident the country had ever witnessed”.

Gautam narrated all that happened the previous night, the unprecedented death toll caused by the leaking MIC gas from the Union Carbide factory. The tragedy had also left an unaccountable number seriously affected .

“You were lucky to have taken a decision to remain indoors”, he continued. “You are the only family not affected by the gas. Many who ran out fell dead on the way. I am told that Ramesh and his family staying next to your residence, had a tragic end last night while driving to escape the gas effect.”

Shankar could not believe that their decision to stay in the house saved them. He narrated the conversation to his wife.

Lila thanked ‘Amma’ for having guided them away from the lurking danger to the safest place in the house – the puja room –where the atmosphere remained purified by the burning joss sticks and camphor cubes. Luckily, they were not exposed to the killer gas by being insulated within its serene environments.

It was not the first time that he got such a guidance which saved them from instant death, Shankar remembered. It had happened before also in entirely unbelievable circumstances.

“At least now you will have to believe that ‘Amma’ is taking care of us”, Lila said.

“It was just a chance”, he responded to tease her. “Fate did not want us to die so early”.

He laughed as if enjoying a joke at her expense. “You can believe in chance and fate, but not on the grace of ‘Amma’?”, she asked losing temper. “You still consider that life is controlled only by opportunities and chances and not by a power Supreme? Just because it is beyond your comprehension, you have no right to treat it as a laughing matter.” 

“All right. I agree that it was all due to the blessings of ‘Amma’,” he said in a conciliatory tone.“Will you cool down now?”

The incident did not have any logical explanation to offer, as with many incidents in his life, Shankar recollected. Could it be just a chance that he woke up and followed that formless figure to find out the lurking danger outside? Or could it be due to the ardent faith his wife had in ‘Amma’ that saved his family from a tragedy? If that be so, how could he brand the experience narrated by the doctor as just a story? He was getting more questions than answers to his doubts, Shankar felt.

As the train chugged along, with the rugged whir of the wheels intoning a hypnotic rhythm, he stretched on the berth to catch up with whatever remained of the sleep.

CHAPTER IV

The train was running unusually late, Shankar noticed when he woke up. Chennai was still hours away.

“You look as though you did not have a proper sleep?”, Krishnaswamy asked during breakfast.

“Yes, I was caught in the whirlpool of thoughts during the night”, Shankar replied. “I was trying to understand and correlate my past experiences in the light of what Vishwanath said”.

“So you too had faced similar incidents?”, the doctors showed surprise. “Something connected with inexplicable happenings?”

“Do not know how to connect them up”, he replied. “But something beyond scientific explanation.”

Shankar narrated the incidents he encountered during those troublesome years in Goa and Bhopal.

“Though I consider them to be just coincidences, my wife feels that it was ‘Amma’ who helped us every time. I just cannot believe it.”

“In my opinion, your wife has correctly analysed it,” Vishwanath said. “There are many fields still unknown to man where bizarre things are happening throwing up challenges to the scientific community”.

“I do not have any scientific background”, Shankar said. “But as a lay man, I am still to get convinced of some of the basic issues in religion”.

“Such as?” Krishnaswamy asked.

“For example, how can a temple, a centre of religious activity, claim to help and cure psychic disorders if the patients observe some prescribed rituals? Is it not a fraud being played on society?”

“There is nothing fraudulent about it”, Krishnaswamy intervened to explain. “Unfortunately, we are not knowledgeable about the old religious practices. We are still to understand the various actions triggered in the brain when one attends to these rituals which cure the mentally afflicted”. 

“In fact scientific explanation is still lacking regarding the unusual psychic powers exhibited by some people,” Vishwanath said. “Powers like telepathy, psycho-kinesis etc. are still to be explained with scientific reasoning for acceptance by intellectuals. Still these feats are there to be seen and experienced and there are no clarifications forthcoming”.

“As to your query on the capability of a temple to cure afflictions of individual patients, I am convinced that there are various factors contributing to this – the serene atmosphere there and the pervading spirituality within the premises creating an environment suitable for concentration”, Vishwanath continued. “Moreover, the unflinching faith in the divine power to cure all their mental sickness, brings ultimate relief to the patients. In short, disciplining the mind is what is needed and this place is ideal for that.”

“Still, I cannot accept that such rituals could cure mental afflictions”, Shankar said. “It is beyond the comprehension of an educated man.”

Vishwanath did not respond immediately. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

“After my father’s surprising recovery from the dreaded disease by the grace of ‘Amma’, I had the opportunity to scan some literature on the subjects of psycho-neuro-immunology and spirituality,” Vishwanath said.

“Scientific evidence shows that abnormal signalling of neurons in the brain could contribute to diseases like tremors. According to case studies reported in the journals, the techniques of deep brain stimulation being developed by neuro-surgeons and the application of Psionics- a blend of psychic power, extra sensory perception, electromagnetic radiation and biochemistry- being attempted by scientists, hold huge potential as a therapy for many brain ailments.

“The various studies done so far indicate that by stimulating the brain through emotionally- charged environments, one could achieve enhanced mental activity and reach the state of higher consciousness, also termed as altered state or super-sentience in psychology. In these moments of increased cerebral activity, remarkable solutions to seemingly impossible problems often occur. 

“Using the information as obtained from the documents, I tried to analyse the phenomenon of miraculous cures occurring in the Chottanikkara temple.” Viswanath continued. “I found out that in the temple precincts, the environment is vibrant with the continuous chants of ‘Amme Narayana, Devi Narayana’ and with the fervent prayers of the devotees; also the patients have disciplined and purified their physical and mental faculties by Upasanas and have the body-mind combination focused on ‘Amma’ seeking Her blessings. In such an atmosphere charged with positive vibrations, the brain gets stimulated and, in most of the cases reaches the state of higher consciousness, triggering electrochemical activities by releasing extra Adenosine chemical, to rectify the abnormal functioning of neurons which are either overactive, under-active or poorly coordinated, in the specific brain area.

Thus, the dysfunctional electrical activity that is causing the medical problem is corrected by overriding the faulty connections, thereby initiating the process to give relief to many seemingly incurable neurological ailments.

“When I look back on the cause and effect in my father’s case, this feat could have happened in his brain to relieve him of the disease. This is what I consider as ‘Amma’s blessings. I therefore, do not doubt about miracles occurring in temples as also about faith-healing, a fact my eyes have witnessed. Like me, thousands of devotees also feel that their patients get cured due only to Her intervention,” Vishwanath concluded. 

“Whatever be the advances made in the medical field, there are such instances when faith had cured many, while modern medicine had given up them as lost cases. I can authoritatively say so”, Krishnaswamy said vehemently. 

For sometime none of them talked. They remained immersed in their thoughts.

By the time the G. T. Express arrived at its destination, Chennai, the Trivandrum-bound Mail was already on the platform the passengers boarding it.

“Let us hurry up to put you in your coach”, Vishwanath said.

“Wish you a nice time in Kerala”, they both said while the train moved. “Hope all your doubts would get cleared after your visit to the temple”.

The train would reach Ernakulam only by morning. Till then, he could make up for the sleep he lost during the last two days, Shankar thought.

Ever since sharing his experiences and discussing his doubts with those doctors, his mind was in turmoil. They did not appear to be exaggerating their feelings while narrating the incidents they faced. Their expressions gave ample proof of their sincerity. Moreover, what would they gain by bluffing him? They were just passengers and neither of them needed any favour from him in return. What would they achieve by telling him something false?

After all, why should he turn to others for knowing their reactions to the incidents they had? His own life, particularly for the past two decades, had its own quota of troubles and tribulations and still he could survive those days. Certainly, some unknown force had helped him tide over those difficult days, he was convinced.

Was he foolish in trying to belittle the significance of those incidents? Or was it his ego that prevented him from acknowledging the help he had from unknown quarters?

It was true that he was going to the temple half-heartedly. But would he be able to overcome his cynical attitude? Would he be able to get his doubts cleared?

In the past, he had considered religious exercises as a curse to mankind and God to him was nothing but the creation of a diseased mind to suit its whims and fancies. The furnace of experience had moulded him to realise the existence of powers which were beyond his comprehension till then. To that extent Lila was able to convert him.

Shankar remained in a state of confusion throughout that night as his mind got bogged down with a number of queries. Sleep avoided him even though the gentle swaying of the carriage and the rattling of the wheels as the train sped on, provided an irresistible lullaby.

“If ‘Amma’ wants me to believe in Her, let Her do the needful to make me so”, he decided as the bustling city of Ernakulam came into view.

Lila was awaiting him at the station.

“I have got a taxi”, she said. “First we go home and then proceed to the temple.”

The tiresome feeling of the long journey was gone in no time, after a refreshing bath at home and the road journey to Chottanikkara.

The ‘Gopuram’, the main gateway to the temple, with its gabled roof towering into the clear blue sky presented an imposing sight against the backdrop provided by the morning sun.

Shankar vividly remembered the layout of the temple. Like other temples of Kerala, it had its courtyard with a paved path for circumambulation enclosing within it the cloister and the central shrine- the Srikoil- where the idol of ‘Amma’ was installed.

There were similar shrines, though smaller in size, dedicated to other idols like Sastha, Ganesh and Shiv within its precincts. Then there was the temple tank facing the Srikoil and adjacent to it the Kali temple where the spiked tree stood.

Years had elapsed since his first visit to the temple, Shankar remembered. Then he was there as a critic, to find fault with religious practices, to mock at the age-old traditions and rituals. He was then of the firm view that God was a hallucination, a delusional crutch for those too weak to face the challenges in life. In those days, he used to question the basis for so-called divine guidance in one’s life as he believed that an individual alone could make or break one’s life through proper reasoning and circumspection.

But now he was back at the same temple to find answers to many of his unanswered questions!

“Let us go to the Kali temple first”, Lila suggested, “You may see there how the possessed got rid of the evil spirits”.

Shankar knew that he was being led to the very same place which he once described as a lunatic asylum. Would it in any way be different now?

In the forecourt of the temple, a woman was dancing in gay abandon. She did not follow any known rhythm or standard pattern. It was just a wild one not related to any known dance form. Her relatives crowded around her praying and watching in apparent distress, the scene unfolding before them.

Shankar recollected that he had seen such postures in the past in a tribal village in Dandakaranya, deep inside the Bastar district. He had gone there to meet the tribal chief and to learn some of their customs. During the course of discussions, the chief invited him to a function to be held around midnight which gave insight into some of their rituals. Though he did not like to spend the night in their company, he had to go for the function just for keeping the chief in good humour. He was told that the ceremony was being held to get rid of the evil spirits which had haunted a woman in the locality.

All of them were seated in a large clearing in the wooded area, well lit with brass lamps. Burning joss sticks spread a pleasant smell in the atmosphere.

The articles for the puja were kept in one corner. There were some red flowers in a leaf, some uncooked rice in a bowl and some coloured water in a jar. Shankar felt that the place held a strange aura of foreboding.

First the priest came in, a gaunt, hairy figure. He was clad in orange red robes and he carried a cane. After seating comfortably on a plank placed near the puja articles, he asked the concerned family members to bring the afflicted woman.

The victim came muttering her protests all along. She was made to sit within a circle marked with rice powder.

The priest chanted some hymns. Then he threw some flowers on the woman, some on the floor and some on himself. He then employed a series of prayers alternated with commands to the spirit to vacate its abode, unauthorisedly occupied within the body of the woman. His tone was appropriate for the occasion- a gutterish rumble, like a gathering storm.

The woman grew violent. She bared her teeth as if to bite the priest. Her tongue flicked like a serpent. She screamed in a voice harsh and threatening. As if in some post traumatic trance, she began blabbering, whispering to some unseen spirits and raised her hands to strike him.

The priest continued his rites unperturbed. He sprinkled some water on her body. He chanted some more hymns and placed his right hand on her forehead. Staring at her, looking into her eyes, he shouted at the top of his voice: “I command thee to vacate the seat. leave her free; leave her in peace”.

The voice reverberated throughout the place. 

The woman grew more violent. Her face appeared flushed with blood. Her eyes bulged and filthy words of hate and anger issued from her. 

The priest stood up this time. He poured the water from the jar into the bowl of rice and mixed the contents. Continuing the chants, he lifted the bowl thrice, touching her forehead each time mumbling certain words to invoke the spirits. Then with a voice vibrant with authority, he commanded:“I give thee two minutes to quit”.

For some time nothing happened. Then suddenly the hand carrying the cane came down with all its might, striking the bowl once, twice and again a third time. The bowl was shattered and the contents spilled all over the circle within which the woman was seated.

The woman let out a scream of anguish that resounded across the village. She writhed and twisted in pain as though she was hit by the cane. Then she collapsed. The wind, whistling through the surrounding trees, let out a sepulchral moan as if it was carrying away the evil spirits from the scene.

The village elders came to check out the woman’s condition and pronounced that she had been cured of her affliction and was fit to carry out her daily chores.

The bizarre actions of the woman dancing there in front of him in the Kali temple, resembled the queer behaviour of that tribal woman, Shankar recognised. Both were psychic cases being branded as haunted.

Suddenly, the woman stopped dancing and started conversing with herself. Initially, she seemed to be lisping, but soon it became apparent that she was talking alternately as an elderly man and a young woman. A case of split personality needing prolonged hospitalisation and treatment rather than leaving to the whims of the temple priests, Shankar felt.

“Her month long ‘Upasana’ is over and she would be fine soon by the grace of ‘Amma’,” Lila said as if reading his reaction. A priest brought holy water and sprinkled over her.

He then applied turmeric powder on her face and made her wear a garland of red flowers.

“These are specially brought from the ‘sanctum-sanctorum’”, Lila said seeing the quizzical look of Shankar. “ ‘Amma’ works in mysterious ways. Now see what happens”.

Even before he had time to digest the import of what Lila told him, Shankar was shocked to see the woman going round the spiked tree a couple of times and thereafter, driving a nail into the tree with her forehead. When she showed signs of collapsing, those around her gently laid her on to the ground. After a while, the woman got up as if from a deep sleep and was looking as fresh as a lily.

There was something unique about the place, Shankar felt. He could not understand as to how a psychic case like that could become normal in such a short time and walk about as if nothing had happened. Many cases he had seen elsewhere in the past took years of medical treatment to get a semblance of being normal!

The central shrine, the Durga temple, was closed for puja, by the time they reached inside. They had to wait for another 15 minutes for the puja to be over and for opening the Srikoil. Both moved forward to be near the ‘sopanam’ when the doors of the ‘sanctum’ open.

Having nothing else to do in the meanwhile, Shankar surveyed the pilgrims around him.

It was an assembly of sorts, he observed. Some chanted the prayers of ’Amma’, some kept mumbling of their domestic problems to Her seeking Her intervention, while some others lay prostrated on the ground oblivious of the environment.

What motivated them to assemble there, what did they gain by pleading with Her, by actions bordering madness? Shankar kept asking himself

As the doors of Srikoil opened amidst beating of drums and ringing of bells, revealing the decorated idol of ‘Amma’, the goddess of Chottanikkara, the devotees thronging the cloister chanted in unison- ‘Amme Narayana, Devi Narayana, Lakshmi Narayana, Bhadre Narayana.’ The prayers of the congregation rose in crescendo and erupting like a volcano, exploded into a frenzy sending waves reverberating the temple premises.

Shankar saw before him the Mother of all creations, the primal force of life underlying all existence that vitalised the Universe through Her cosmic energy. Watching Her effulgence, he stood there dazed, with his hands folded in humble prayer, himself absorbing every bit of Her all pervading mass of spirituality.

Something was happening in him, the professor felt, but the reason he could not comprehend. There were rumblings within him, indicating the simmering discontent of an inquisitive soul. The volcano of pent-up feelings was about to explode within him, he could recognise.

Suddenly he realised that the floodgates of knowledge were opening before him and he was getting a new direction in life. It became clear to him that all along he was leading a wrong life, pursuing tensions and strains, creating chaos within and confusion without. Instead of following the path of holy thought patterns of prayer and surrender, of love and peace, of tenderness and kindness, he was generating within him the poisonous fumes of discord and ending up in a self-created state of restlessness and weariness.

He forgot himself, his environments, his problems and disappointments. He felt as light as a cotton wool moving carefree at magnanimous heights of divine splendour and glory. And then he knew that ‘Amma’ had graced him showering Her illimitable mercy on him.

Without hesitation, he prostrated before Her like a child approaching his mother for consolation and comfort.

Shankar came out of the temple, this time a changed man. He was happy. He was grateful to Sridhar, the old man who took him to that temple years ago. The old man’s voice still rang in his ears: “The divine grace cannot be understood by intellectual argumentation or by exploring scientific methods. It is beyond normal theories of reason and can be appreciated solely by realisation.”

That old man was right after all, Shankar nodded his agreement. The temple of Chottanikkara substantiated it.

Published in Bhavan's Journals, from September 15 to October 31 2009