A Bizzare Celestial Chess

GOD! What a whimsical and capricious character it seems to be, lurking in the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to play a cosmic game of chess with unsuspecting humans. This story unfolds in a quaint corner of the world, nestled in the heart of a rural mountainous village in Arunachal Pradesh, where education and electricity are equally elusive entities (don’t ask me about the internet).  I had the privilege to serve as a Teacher in a Government Residential School. It was an Upper Primary School in Yaglung Village near Palin at Kra Daadi District. My residence was a humble but cozy quarter attached to the school's hostel, where students from nearby villages, ranging from class I to class VIII, found their second home. I often spent my free time engaging with these young minds, eager to understand the tapestry of their lives.

One fine day of September 2017, right after the school bell had sung its freedom song, I ventured into the boys' hostel, a cacophonous space of youthful exuberance. Rows of beds lined both sides of the room, leaving a narrow corridor for navigating through the commotion. As I entered, unnoticed at first, I observed an array of activities – Some boys are asleep (because, why not?), some are deep in conversation (presumably about the logical implications of Physics in the South Indian Action Movies), and a few are partaking in playful shenanigans (because kids will be kids, even in the mountains of Arunachal Pradesh) and a handful lying on their beds, lost in thought (maybe about the next free meal without the nutrition). 

Clearing my throat, I mustered a bit of authority and said, "What's going on?" An immediate hush fell upon the room, and all eyes turned towards me. Seizing the moment, I declared, "Gather around, children. I have a story to tell." I took a seat on a nearby bed, and the room once again echoed with youthful enthusiasm as they scurried to form a semi-circle around me. One thing about children is their ability to find joy in the simplest of things, and it's contagious. "So, what kind of story do you want to hear today?" I asked, trying to match their enthusiasm. "Bhoot ka kahani  (Ghost story)!" one enthusiastic voice shouted, while another demanded an "Avengers ka kahani ( Avenger’s story)." A chorus of different requests filled the air, rendering it impossible to choose. I decided to put the onus on them, saying, "Today, I want to hear your stories." A brief silence descended upon the room. Anyone who has dealt with children knows that asking a kid to tell a story is akin to inviting chaos for tea. And so, the barrage of bizarre and fantastical requests commences, then I prodded, "Do you believe in God?" A quirky and utterly irrelevant query for the youthful intellects before me, and yet, their response was surprising. A resounding "Yes" reverberated through the room, but beneath the unanimous affirmation, I could catch a few faint "Nos", you see, skepticism thrives even in the most improbable of places. Ignoring those few unpopular skeptic minds, I continued, "Why do you believe?" A young boy to my left, Tanu, raised his hand and replied, "Sir, I believe in God because he saved my father." Intrigued, I asked, "Tell us more, Tanu."

Tanu, a 13-year-old dynamo in Class Seven, was a bundle of energy and chatter. Despite his slender frame, his head appeared larger than most boys of his age, as if it harbored the vast universe of his thoughts. Although his height was shorter than most, his confidence always stood tall.  And so, with that inquisitive spark in his eyes, Tanu began his tale, "My father is an electrician, a devout man who never missed church and would pray for the sick and needy. One fateful day, we went out together for one of his usual repair jobs. A power line was damaged due to heavy rain and strong winds. It's a common occurrence in our village during the monsoon. My father climbed the electric post to fix the wire, and I stood below, watching him work.”

Then, his voice trembled as he continued, “Suddenly, I saw him shaking violently on the pole. I called out to him in panic, "Aboh ! Aboh !" He didn't answer, but I could tell he was in unbearable pain. His hands seemed stuck, and there were sparks and smoke, with a horrifying smell of burning flesh in the air. I screamed for help, praying for someone to come to our aid. After a terrifying minute of electrocution he was thrown to the ground and narrowly missed a massive stone that almost struck his head.” My brows, which had been at ease moments before, were now knitted together in a furrowed tapestry of shock; look's like our almighty has some wicked sense of humour.

Tanu goes on, “He lay unconscious, with his right arm severed below the elbow, the burnt skin hanging like melted plastic, revealing dark, charred flesh underneath. I knew not to touch him to avoid electrocution, my father taught me that. Terrified, I rushed for help and found my uncle on the way. My father spent three months in the hospital, surviving this horrific accident."

"Tanu, I'm truly sorry about your father," I consoled him, "How is he now?" Tanu interjected, "There's more, sir. My story isn't over." I smilingly apologized and wondered how many more tricks does God has up his sleeve? 

"My father once went on a fishing trip with his friends, but he accidentally slipped into the river. Due to his severed arm, he couldn't swim, and the strong currents carried him downstream.” Well, you see, a one-armed swim is a bit like a one-legged man in a Kick boxing fight – it doesn't end well.

With a curious gleam in his eyes, Tanu shared, “His friends tried to save him but couldn't, and they assumed he had drowned. The entire village joined the search, but we couldn't find him. The relentless monsoon river currents made it nearly impossible to locate him. Yet, almost 15 hours later, some people discovered him buried beneath a heap of plants and bushes on the riverbank, about 5 kilometers away. He was alive but in critical condition, with a broken leg and other injuries. His unshakable faith and belief had saved him. My father is a living testament to miracles."  

At this point, his story had me pondering that the almighty just wanted to sit back and enjoy a bigboss kinda show and his divine writers who had run out of plot ideas had decided to make each episode more bizarre than the last. Clearly, God had plans for this Man. And just when I was ready to put my popcorn down and declare, "The end!" to his poor old dad's misadventures and the thrilling game of life and death, he hit us with a Sequel...

"After that incident, he had to make regular trips to Itanagar for medical treatment. Once, while on his way, the vehicle he was traveling in, broke down. While the driver was busy fixing the vehicle, my father, in a hurry, unknowingly drank sulfuric acid from a bottle left by the driver under the dashboard, thinking it was water. The colorless liquid burned his mouth, neck, and internal organs severely. It seemed impossible for him to survive due to the extent of his internal injuries, but, by the grace of God, he defied the odds. It took almost 10 months before he could return home from the hospital. He was alive despite drinking acid. These days, he is bedridden, unable to move or speak, and my mother and younger sister take care of him. God has granted him life."

"Good, Tanu," I said with genuine admiration, "I hope your father continues to recover. Your story is truly remarkable." Tanu, however, wore a dejected expression and interjected, "No, sir, the doctor says his chances of recovery are slim due to permanent organ damage. But we pray every day for his healing. I believe God will take care of him. After all, He has saved my father's life..." Tanu's eyes conveyed a profound sadness. As Tanu concluded his tale, I sensed a collective intensity among the young listeners. Their faces reflected a blend of sympathy for Tanu's father and awe at the inexplicable machinations of God's grace.  

I mean, seriously, I was sitting there, befuddled, wondering if God was playing celestial chess with Tanu's dad? Did the almighty upstairs want to checkmate him into the afterlife, or was he just tossing dice and playing games? Nonetheless, we were all deeply moved by Tanu's story, and while I couldn't affirm that it constituted irrefutable evidence of God's existence, I rather found myself in a divine dilemma.

"So, who's next with a story to share?" I asked, breaking the profound silence that had enveloped us, and the tales continued to unfold.