The Mystical Mr.B: Part two

In part one, I told you how Mr B wore his magical bead necklace and cured Mrs Chakravarty of her chronic illness by tying ordinary copper wires around her wrists and ankles. When Mr B was asked to explain his magic, he refused to reply then, saying he would explain when his magic actually brought desired results. Now that the patient was cured, Mr Chakravarty and other friends pressed Mr B for a satisfactory explanation.

As a caution before he spoke, Mr B said:

“Friends, please do not speak about anything I am about to tell you with anyone. Never, ever. This incident should not reach my son and daughter-in-laws’ ears. If it does, they will turn me out of their house, and I have nowhere else to go. Remember this.”

The friends, my father included, were amazed. Here was a man, a hero who had done what no doctor could do. Instead of feeling elated about his feat, Mr B was reluctant to speak about it for fear that his son would throw him out! The mystery deepened and the curiosity of the elderly friends heightened. What could be the secret that Mr B dreaded to speak?

Mr B began narrating his story from the beginning. He was a man of limited means and had a son and a daughter. He lived in Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu and worked in a South Indian company called TVS. The company ran public transport (buses) in the city, and Mr B worked in the logistics department as a lowly clerk. The group owner was a religious man and also a music buff. The company would therefore periodically sponsor concerts by famous south Indian musicians and singers. One a while, the owner would also arrange religious events like a big yagna or homam. 

That year, decades ago, the company was sponsoring a monumental event where saints from different parts of the country would gather for a grand pooja in the city. They hired a massive ground for the event and arrangements made meticulously for the event. Mr B was one of the company’s several employees whose services were requisitioned to manage the event. They gave him charge of arranging and managing transportation for the guests.

The event went off well, as did all the arrangements. One day, Mr B was escorting a group of sadhus to their camps in a bus owned by the company. He enjoyed being in their midst and listen to their discussions on religion and other topics. He noticed one particular sadhu looking at him rather pointedly. Their eyes met, and he averted his gaze. As they reached the destination, the sadhus began disembarking from the bus when this sadhu who had been staring at Mr B tapped him on his shoulders and asked:

“Son, what is your name?”

“Balasubramaniam Sir.”

“Can you take me to your house? I would very much like to see your family.”

Mr B was pleased and took the sadhu to his house. There the sadhu mingled with Mr B’s family and readily took some snacks and coffee. While departing, the sadhu asked Mr B for a piece of paper and a pen to write something. The sadhu wrote the address of his ashram in Benares and gave it to Mr B saying:

“Don’t forget to meet me when you are in Varanasi.”

Mr B dutifully kept the piece of paper in his shirt pocket and nodded. Within his heart, Mr B knew that he would never visit Varanasi, but he did not want to disappoint the kind sadhu.

Years passed. The sadhu’s visit was forgotten, and so was the piece of paper with the address. Mr B’s daughter was of age and her marriage was being negotiated with a boy who worked in BHEL.

Eighteen months later Mr B received the news that he had become a grandfather of a beautiful girl! His daughter- and son-in-law were living in Varanasi, where the son-in-law was now posted. Mr B and his wife packed their trunks and boarded a train to bless their granddaughter.

Mrs and Mr B spent a blissful week with their daughter and granddaughter in Varanasi, and it was not time to depart. As Mrs B was packing the trunks, she found a piece of paper stuck to the walls of the trunk. She carefully pulled it out and to her surprise found that it was the same paper that the sadhu had given to her husband years ago when he had visited them in their house. Mrs B gave Mr B the paper, and they began to animatedly discuss the issue.

After discussions, both of them paid the sadhu a quick visit before they left the holy city. They were not sure whether the sadhu would be still alive or the ashram would still exist at this location. They, however, tried it.

To their surprise, they found the ashram at the address. They asked a disciple to take them to the Guru. They were guided to a room where an old man with a flowing beard was sitting. Mr B could not recognize him immediately but the old sadhu smiled at him and said: “You have come finally, and you remembered me!”

Mrs and Mr B were dumbfounded and fell at the sadhu’s feet. They were warmly welcomed and treated to Prasad from the sadhu’s kitchen. The sadhu blessed their granddaughter and when the time came for them to depart, he took out a necklace made of mercury beads and gave it to Mr B. “This necklace is for you, only you. Never give it to anybody for any reason. Wear it when you feel the need for my guidance.”

My father and others listened to Mr B’s story in silence. It was amazing. They did not, for a moment though, doubted Mr B, for they knew him to be a simple, unassuming and God-fearing man. The story raised more questions in their mind. What did Mr B do with the necklace? Had he used it before and if so, what happened? Why did his son and his wife ask him not to use the necklace?

“This”, Mr B said with a sigh, “is another long story. Maybe I’ll tell you another day.”

Wait for part three of Mr B’s engaging story to find out how he used the necklace and why his family warned him to put the necklace away.