The Treasure Hunters

Chandu hefted the rusty pick and confided to Bhairo in a fierce whisper, "Arre, Bhairo! You don't really know these bandits! They are busy stealing kings and lords all the time, and then they hide their wealth under a Peepal Tree."

Tired Bhairo was sitting on a mound of earth near a freshly dug pit and looked up disconsolately, "But, there are just a few bones here, Chandu!"

11 years old Chandrakant Pandey smiled pityingly at his 10 years old teammate Bhairav Singh, "If it were so easy to find buried treasure, do you really think that the grown-ups wouldn't dig away all Benaras and be rich like Kashi Naresh, or like Chhenu Halwai, who earns around 2 rupees each day?" He shook his head in amusement, "These robbers are quite vile and brilliant enough to hide their treasures in places where no one can reach them. Then they are killed by kings and the money stays there."

Bhairo was goggle-eyed, "Wow! Then there must be a lot of money around in Benaras!"

Chandu smiled, "So? Why do you think Kashi Naresh is so rich? He has a squad of pandits and soldiers who have nothing else to do but divine where such treasures are and dig them out. Then they give those thousands of rupees, which they unearth, to Maharaja Benaras and he buys and puts on a golden dhoti and jewelled swords."

"But why do they give it to Maharaj? Why can't they keep it?" Bhairo was out of his depths, goggle-eyed, in spite of his screaming lungs.

Chandu was amazed at the stupidity of his subordinate. Probably the result of his young age. "Idiot! This is how things are in this world! Once you grow as old as me, you will understand that there are rules which bind us. Like that Maha Mrityunjay mantra, which ensures that I'll never die. Kings always have followers who do whatever he wishes. He can demand Langda Mangoes in winter and the soldiers will find it. You stop wasting time. Sun is about to set. How would you feel when we lose the treasure just because we didn't dig the last few inches?"

The setting sun in the 19th century Benaras was smiling indulgently at the two sweating kids outside the Chunar Fort in Ramnagar. Then he jumped into the Ganges to wash all the sins he had accumulated all day in the world during his weary travel, and two dog-tired children tramped towards their hovels in the poor city of Ramnagar, which was just under the rich eye of the King of the world: Mahadev. At times, Sun hated his job. 

It was a winter morning in the month called January by those British officers when Chandu sidled up to his co-conspirator at the gurukul. Pt Chunnilal Tripathi was dozing as always on his rickety chair, while the little scholars were supposed to recite Laghu Siddhant Kaumudi. The scholars were more interested in those fishermen trying to find food in the ample bosom of Ganga, exploiting her ruthlessly - as we have been doing to all females for generations, be it a mother or a river - than in this ancient Sanskrit grammar, which would make them worthy of a place as a servant in the British Raj. 

"I just found a hidden book of my father." Chandu whispered mysteriously, "It says that it's possible to resurrect lost treasures."

Bhairo dropped all the pretence of learning. Who wants to be a scholar, when you have Hundred rupees in your pocket? Anyway, being a Thakur, all he would be doing after this school was to work for Brahmins for a pittance, who ruled the Earth under the benevolent eyes of Mahakal! He was all for this hunt. Who knows? He might buy Brahminhood for him and then rule the planet. Wasn't Maharshi Vishwamitra a Thakur? He happily agreed. 

They were discussing the mantras and their effects in earnest when a thick wooden rule thwacked on their tiny backs. Pt Chunnilal had suddenly woken up from his meditations like that terrifying Kal Bhairav arising from those intricate lanes of death and was trying to annihilate his little world. 

After the educational penance, the hunters sat under a banyan tree at the bank of the Ganges and tried to explore the mantra. Chandu was sure that it refers to crematoriums and death, as whoever can earn money without death? As the son of a Brahmin, Chandu was a born scholar, blessed by Shiva, consequently, he was born with the inherent knowledge of Mahakal's language, Sanskrit. Bhairo bowed before the masterly interpretation and was awed.

"Rest all the implements are easy to acquire, but where will we find the third partner? And won't we have to give him the third share?" The uninitiated and anxious mind of Bhairo wondered. 

"Don't worry, Bhairo. We will ask Gangu. He is an untouchable who wouldn't dream of touching our money and will work as our assistant."

Gangu was the 13 years old son of the village cobbler. Being an untouchable, he lived on the outskirts of the village and was not allowed to enter Ramnagar or any of its inherent villages on the pains of Instant strangulation. His father was allowed to visit the village and city whenever any animal died, so that he may carry away the carcass to skin it and eat the flesh. Gangu and his entire cast were suspected of eating cow and bull meat, hence were decreed by Maharaja Benaras to stay where no one can come across their cursed shadows unless specifically required. 

The pandits of Benaras were very wise! Whoever wants a Shudra to stain the Holy Fabric of the Milky White Holy City? Gangu tried to burn those rejected cow bones and hides in freezing winters while hoping for charity from the benevolent Upper Casts, which was scarce at the best. The good bones and hides went back to the City as good shoes or statues of carved Shiva, masqueraded as ivory all over Benaras, so treasured by those British officers and ignorant tourists. 

Even Vedas allow fraternizing with enemies at our own profit, and so did Hinduism then. His sisters and mothers were regularly raped by the same benevolent people, who refused to touch him but were so merciful to plant their seeds in his kins during those sinful nights when even Moon was ashamed to look. They ensured to mask their faces in charity, lest they be recognized and shamed as a giver! The famed Persian-born poet Abdurrahim Khankhana once said, 'Whenever I raise my hands to grant, my eyes bow in shame, as it's not I who is giving, but people think it's I.'

They never owned their kids produced by those lucky females, as a great man never wants him to be noticed after giving. All the Brahmins, Thakurs and Baniyas were so benevolent to him and his! They all followed Rahim. They just lacked the meaning of the poet's name. Mercy! Kashi Naresh approved this and Mahadev must be in accordance, as this happened in His Own City. 

The Sun had to wash himself each day in the Ganges, because, somehow he didn't approve of it, irrespective of his deified status, probably, even though he was an atheist! 

Gangu wept in gratitude when he was ordered to assist them. No one ever talked to him. He swore solemnly under his breath that he will lay his life to helping those masters, who considered him a human being, while Chandu chanted some mantras, which will allow him temporarily to interact with his uppers, 

"Apavitroha pavitro va

sarvasthang-gatopi va,

Yah smaren Pundarikakshah,

Sa bahya-antarah bhav shuchih"

He sprinkled water from Ganga, the mother of all human beings and made Gangu a temporary Brahmin. 

It was on Saturday, 13 January 1824, according to the Julian Calendar, that the planets were in an auspicious pattern. Chandu proclaimed that it is the right time to go for their hunts. Yesterday he had dreamed about the location. All he needed to meditate in a crematorium to find the exact location. He had learned the mantras by heart to associate him in his quests. Mantras don't assist. They associate you, O uninitiated reader! 

Both were jubilant in the school and even managed to torment the ever-suffering Chunnilal by hiding his khadau, because they knew that without those wooden slippers, he won't ever dare to move anywhere. They knew that once they get their treasure, they won't be coming here again. Bhairo dreamed of hiring Chunnilal to clean his boots, but Chandu objected. What if Chunnilal died? Then he will become a Brahm-Rakshas, then will all the gold in the world would save them from his rightful ire? Whoever wants a Dead Brahmin as an enemy? Bhairo quacked within at the consequences and regretted that he thought so. He touched the feet of Chandu for saving him from this sin. 

The children planned meticulously. All the implements were arranged. They had a red rooster (stolen by Gangu from Paserilal Baniya), a rusted sword (stolen by Chandu from Mahakali temple in the village square. He planned to replace it with a gold sword anyway, so technically not a sin); a small pouch of ganja (stolen by Bhairo from his father) and a bottle of alcohol to appease Kal Bhairav, the Watchman of Kashi (Stolen by Gangu from his father), as they were going to steal under his very nose and knew that he was an unforgetting and an unforgiving policeman, who would never give up after their death and hound their souls too unless appeased. After all, a god is a god. Even the rich fear gods. They fear the most because they tend to lose the most to misfortunes. The poor are already lost and don't care either way. Our heroes were going to be rich, hence they ensured to keep their gods on their right side. 

The only thing they lacked was a sense of reality and the fear of the most powerful force in the world... 

The Truth!

Tonight it was a full moon. He was busy flirting with stars when they saw our trio trudging towards Manikarnika Ghat with weird packages and a struggling rooster. Moon laughed and stars twinkled in humour. 

Chandu found a Peepal tree and sat in trance. Reciting Rudri and Maha Mrityunjay, just to ensure his and Bhairo's safety. Bhairo sat on his left and Gangu at their feet, according to the scriptures. The rooster was at their feet, aware of its fate. The Moon was in the sky, wondering. The stars were subdued in terror. Then the three went in search of a skull. 

The sand of Manikarnika leaps out to her Lover in yellow flames like a beloved extending her pale arms towards the unattainable. Yellow lights leapt towards the dark sky mysteriously, and the later scientists deciphered that yellow phosphorus formed with the chemical reaction of silica chemically interacting with oxygen. They forgot the ancient chemistry between lovers, as nowhere else in the world does and reach out to the sky, but as this is not a scientific journal, let's focus on our heroes. O Reader, when this story was composed, yellow phosphorus wasn't discovered. The ancient Benaras still were under the mercy of Bholenath, who ruled life, and Manikarnika, who owned death. 

They found a half-burned body and Gangu sliced off the head and skinned it. He threw away the content and burned the skull clean. 

They returned to the Peepal, where Chandu lighted two bamboo pipes with ganja. He and Bhairo smoked while Chandu fiercely recited some arcane mantra, which your knowledgeable writer isn't aware of, otherwise, he would have been rich himself and wouldn't be penning this for a living. 

As it happens with first-time smokers, initially they coughed and vomited, but they persevered. The lust of gold beckoned them with its jaded fingers through the smokey mists and was as powerful here in backwater Benaras as in those barren fields of California, where bearded prospectors toiled and rotted away their lives to see a tiny speck of that elusive Golden Curse. 

Chandu picked up the skull after a few drags and began to blow smoke in its mouth, reciting the mantras. He kept thrusting the bare-toothed rictus morticus to his ears in an effort to listen. Meanwhile, Gangu sliced the rooster and spilt the alcohol on it. He placed the offering at Chandu's feet reverently, as already coached by his masters and sat with folded hands on his haunches. Bhairo was fallen senselessly under the narcotic effect of marijuana. 

After Chandu heard what the skull had to tell him, his face broke into laughter. He whooped in a frenzy. His dancing eyes signalled Gangu, who was ready with his sword. With a single trained fierce downward blow, he cut Chandu's head away and with a backhand swing of his trained hand, he beheaded sleeping Bhairo too. 

His deed done, he sat on his haunches on the freezing sand under the frozen stars, awaiting the Maha Mrityunjay Mantra to take effect and resurrect these corpses. 

The appalled Moon waited for some time, staring at this tragedy with his unbelieving unseeing eyes, then sighed and suddenly begin to shrink in abhorrence. There were no stars above Manikarnika anymore. 

The lazy Sun woke up over East of Kashi and was surprised! Today there was sand in his eyes from Manikarnika.