The most ardent devotee of Shri Hanuman

One person narrated to me about one big Temple of Shri Hanuman in Indore. There was one ardent Bhakta of Lord Ram, the seventh incarnation of Lord Vishnu. Mr. Pande said that there is a splendid ghetto, a collocation of eight temples all knitted into one composite campus. There is one lonely unmarried fellow of fifty years who is madly crazy of Shri Hanuman. He has been coming to the temple of Bhakt Hanuman from many years. Even when the Sun is full of ire of blazing red heat his calm placidity remains undisturbed. He would also not be the least perplexed when torrential rain falls. The eccentric man would not accept a head cap or an umbrella despite several people come to help him. He would prefer to go bareheaded getting drenched in the falling rain but would not accept any offerings from anyone. He also did not desire to increase his needs. Neither the rain falling and drenching him nor the sun burning him, was his tranquility not the least shattered. Little eccentric surely but he was not mad although the people began to label him as a mad fellow. He worked one full day and if he could manage with that money for three days, he would not go for any work for next two days.

He would be regularly reaching the precincts of the Hanuman temple and would stand before the idol for a very long time. Other devotees would bow before the Hanuman, but he would not leave the temple. There were other temples of Lord Krishna and Radha or Shri Ram and Sita and Laxshman, the temple of Shiva with Parvati and also Ambadevi and still many more but he chose one and one only. He would shout an eloquent speech “Aye you Hanuman look here into my eyes. I come to meet you as my friend only. One does not bow down to prostrate in a friend’s company. Am I right? Speak truly don’t speak lies with a friend. He would stare at him bathed fully in emotional conjugation as a lover looks into the face of his girlfriend. It was an awful wonderful look so unbelievable. There after he would shout “Come on my boy; leave that platform where you have placed yourself. Shake your hands with me, let me feel the warm touch of your strong hands.” He fully trusted as if he was actually expecting the idol to move forward then he would cry and this is what the fellow uttered “Are you not ashamed to torture me in this way?” He would go back muttering to himself “Oh he is cruel god-so careless, so worthless with ears just only fully deaf”.

As he went on his way he whined and made high pitched complaining cries calling Lord Ram as if the God was with him. “Oh Raghupati Ram your bhakta (devotee) Hanuman does not hear me and remains untouched by my crying calls. Why do you not intervene in this matter and persuade him?” With passing of several days in succession, these slow murmurs increased in high pitched sounds and heard like the whines of black dog slowly and softly whimpering.

The people who chanced to walk close by would look at him loudly rebuking him, (You sala ullu ka patha). You stupid fellow you are shouting on Hanumanjee. Are you not ashamed “sale narak me sade ga narak tak”. You bloody rascal owlish bull you are shouting on Hanuman God. Do you not feel ashamed you bastard you will be rotting in the hell for one hundred years.

During one of the cold winter evenings a kind Samaritan approached him with his folded hands. This sight was symbol of greatest respect for a person in ‘Indian culture’. He had never been accosted in this respectful manner by anyone in his whole span of life. He had been permanently sealed as a mad lunatic fellow worthless idiot insulting Shri Hanuman every day of his life. He had been attacked and insinuated in the most slanderous and abusive language. He was awfully dumbfounded at the sight of such respectable salutation from an alien stranger. The most obstinate and meticulously careful person of self-respect unwilling one willingly accepted the warm pullover with tearful eyes. He prostrated himself before the human saintly man. But the other person bent soon as electric current flows and lifted the fellow who was full of thousand tears like waterfall. Both the men got arrested as magnetic contact in the eyes of each other. An unconscious or perhaps a spontaneous action and soon unconsciously they got locked into each other’s arms. Here was a man with eyes of a soul full of holy benediction. Both were crying like two brothers separated from each other. They both were enchained by a mysterious life previous human bond. Parting from each other became a tough job. Like a young boy joining a job in other city cries as he parts and departs in a train for other city leaving his parents behind.

The extraordinary person fell down listless on the crumpled bed. He could not sleep for pretty long hours. He had never received so warm emotional humane reaction from anyone in Jabalpur. All his life he had been despised and kicked like a football by any gatherings of four five boys or even girls or old men. When and how the angel of sleep descended on this emotional sentimental person of uncontrollable monologues’ bursting one cannot possibly decipher the mystery. At an unknown awful hour he had simply succumb to sleep. The sleep was having a sedative effect on the most tortured heart. In long trance of sleepy drowsiness the sorrowful sentimental fellow was speaking in insulting times “Get up stop this wretched Hanuman. “Oh you Hanuman ke bache. Aap apneko itna mahan samjte hai, Mere se ab to thappad khayega badmaash kahinke” “Get up fast this wretched Hanuman. You Hanuman naughtiest boy what the hell you think of yourself. I am mentally ready to slap you on your cheeks. You loafer idiot….” And he was full of sobs. In his low pitched hoarse cries he visualized the back of Hanuman’s body and faintly caught his back to look at him. Was it just and idol or live God? Here he was in a deeply drowned in the laps of fast sleep yet all these actions and reactions went on happening. The movement of slaps was almost absolutely real or perhaps an ascending grapple in the semi-conscious, para unconscious or semi unconscious of subconscious operation of mind. In his body he was in deep sleep “Aye you mad sinful fellow sale (bastard) you’d land in hell fire for hundred years, you’d be in blazing fire of hell.” It was a simultaneous conglomeration of antagonist unconscious mental operation. These were the perturbed thoughts of a person of strong sensibilities.

It was thereafter the morning time of four when stars achieve a dim glow. The wooden door without a call bell was knocked slowly and steadily. The fellow waiting outside gave him enough time. Thereafter he struck the iron handle loudly as if banging the door as hard as he could do it. The sleepy man opened his unwilling eyes and shouted in anger “Who’s this bloody fool disturbing a man in sleep? But was there any option? He got up murmuring with loud complaints. There stood none else but live Hanuman in full dress and all smiles. “Mai Hanuman, bhakta of Shri Rama, I am highly pleased with your unconditional devotion. Look at me, touch me, feel me and demand anything as Ramjee would not refuse anything for you. “Oh my dear Lord my dearest friend I don’t want anything but meet me in all lives thereafter” “All lives? No, no Lakshman you are henceforth free from any births or any deaths. You are redeemed. You will live with me and I live with Lord Shri Rama. He blessed him, smiled, touched his forehead and vanished in invisible air. Hanumanjee just a moment before stood before him and the so called mad was in tearful thanks.

This essay reminds me of S.T. Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” and it won’t be out of place to quote the last three lines of his romantic imagination:

“And close your eyes with holy dread

For he a honey dew hath fed and drunk the milk of paradise”