Unni : Being Woman

Unni : Being Woman

[1]

Benares!

At the western side of the Ganges, in Uttar Pradesh State in India, lies the six kilometers long town of Benares. It is the holiest of the seven sacred cities of Hinduism in India and the most famous pilgrim center for Hindus.

 

The Ganges!

 

The Ganges, Ganga, is the most sacred river to Hindus. It flows through Benares, dividing the city to two. Varanasi, the pilgrim center for Hindus on one side, and Saranath, the holy place for Buddhists, on the other.

The half-burnt dead bodies thrown out from the cremation grounds on the banks of the river, and the dead-body eating crocodiles that cleanse them, play hide and seek in the holy water.

Benares - Varanasi, Kashi.

The Ganges, river Ganga - The 2,525 km river rises in the western Himalayas in the Indian state of Uttarakhand and flows south and east through the Gangetic Plain of North India into Bangladesh, where it empties into the Bay of Bengal.

Manikarnika Ghat – One of many places on the shores of Ganga for bathing and doing rituals for dead parents.

Saranath – It is where Buddha preached his first sermon.

The small waterfall which starts from the Himalayas, covering a distance of many kilometers, passing through many lost and live settlements and witnessing many ups and downs in the growth and development of the civilization in this continent, becomes a great river when it reaches Kashi.

While sitting on the steps to the river, looking at the forceful flow of Ganga, Unni’s mind dived deep into another great flow, the flow of time and history.

Hey, Ganga!

Do you remember, Ganga, the times when our ancestors, the giant dinosaurs, shake the earth with their heavy footsteps? Before some millions of years ago, they disappeared totally from the face of the earth due to some reasons unknown to us.

Then came the small creatures. They dominated the water, earth, and air. And, then, at last, appeared the hero of the story, the ancestor of homo-sapiens! After undergoing many internal and external changes, the present man, with many good and bad qualities and abilities, entered the scene and conquered the plains, water, and air. As there is nobody to question him, he grew up to a horrible giant, threatening even the mother nature who had given birth to him and fostered him.

Religions declare that man was created by God. The clergymen say God sits on the rock or wooden idols in the sanctum sanctorum (dark inner room) of the temples. The scientists tell another story. The theory of evolution or survival of the fittest. What is this fitness? Physical, mental, or both? To clear all doubts of man, mother nature often releases some invisible creatures, called viruses, to remind him that she is the boss!

But, none of these arguments about gods and temples satisfy me, Ganga! The truth is something else, I believe. It can be something beyond our three-dimensional experience.

The truth may, perhaps, correspond with the revelations of our ancestors.

…“ Then, in the beginning, there was no Sat (being) or Asat (non-being). There was no anthariksha (atmosphere) and the sky above it. Then what was it? Where was it? To which it depended? 

 

…What was the terrible and horribly deep water. Where was the water, and where did it lie or stand?

 

…The seen world, developed later, was not there. Hence there was no difference between permanent and temporary. The symbol, which helps one to differentiate night and day, was also not there. Only the unknown Swadha, which is dependent on itself, and which could breathe without air, was there. There was, then, nothing other than it (Swadha).

 

…In the beginning, it, the world, completely covered with darkness, had no sign of anything to understand it, as to what it is. From the one, only thing, which was the essence of Swadha, arose Hiranyagarbha, the golden womb, by the greatness and intensity of penance.

 

…In the beginning, it was imaginary or seed in imagination. It was the first seed in the mind, the desire to create. The first teachers decided the relation of sat (being) in asat (nonbeing). (That is, sat arose from asat)

 

…The rays of Hiranyagarbha’s penance entered time and space and spread over everywhere and everything.

 

… If it was down below, it was also up there. The Jivatmas (souls) were the beejapradars (distributors of individual souls). 

 

…And there were these gods.

 

…Nature was in this shore and the creator was in the other shore.

 

…Who knew as to how it all happened? Who could predict it! Who knew as to from where this unlimited creation came to existence? The gods were born after creation. Who, then, knew from where it came into existence? 

 

…From where this unlimited universe come into being? Was it made or not made? The great being who is presiding over this function, creation, maybe knowing the truth. Or, perhaps, not knowing! ….”

 

--Thus sang our ancestors in Rik Veda, many thousand years ago, you know Ganga!

Whatever it may be, my dear Ganga, we have no doubt in one thing: The civilization was first born on the banks of rivers like you.

 

It is said that the first sounds of horns, from early civilizations in the continent, were rose from Mohenjo-Daro in Sindh and Harappa in Punjab. There can be many more places of early civilizations, still remaining under the earth, waiting for the excavators. Yet, Ganga, there is one confusion that hurts our peace of mind: how, why, and when did these settlements bury many feet deep under the cover of the earth?

Whatever it may be, Ganga, the first time we hear the slow rumbles of our civilization is with the songs of Veda mantras, flying up, as thithiris from the Yagasalas.

In Veda mantras, beliefs and literature, Ganga, you danced as an immortal goddess. The gods whom these people worshipped were Indra, Rudra, and Varuna. Still, they were conscious of a power called Purusha who had a thousand heads, thousand eyes, and thousand legs and who remained covering the world completely and stood ten measures above it. The systems which regulated their life stood on four varnas or castes and four ashramas or stages in life. Later, in the course of time, warriors (kshatriyas) and clergymen (brahmins) became more powerful. Then instead of karma (profession) birth became the criteria of the caste system. And, as a result, the right to rule a country became the monopoly of Kshatriyas and religion the dominion of brahmins. Rituals defeated sincerity. Accompanying the sound of Veda mantras, the blood of innocent animals flowed down from yagna peedas.

Mantras – hymns, quotations from Vedas etc.  

Thithiris – a kind of birds, partridges

Yagasala – A place, a hall or a tent, where holy sacrifice (yaga) is performed.

Purusha –“Sahasra seersha purusha, sahasraksha, sahasra path…”Purusha suktha . Rik Veda

Four varnas - brahmana, kshatriya, vysia and sudra

Four ashramas-brahmacharya,garhastha,vanaprasha and sanyasa

 

 

Then came the new gods (Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva with their wives and children) and their stone or wooden idols, and the temples which accommodated them became the centers of social activities. They competed themselves for money and power, and attracted gangs of robbers from outside the continent, continuously.

Hey, Ganga! Need I describe the scenes witnessed by you in the following centuries. How many times has your pure water become crimson with human blood? How many hundred murdered bodies flowed down over your wide breast?

“Ganga mata ki…”

“…Jai !”

Loud cries from many throats in a chorus broke the chain of thoughts.

No, Ganges, no more sad memories. We will stop the discussion here, Unni said to himself.

Manikarnika has awakened from her sleep, ready to welcome pilgrims. The cremation grounds were also ready to receive the dead bodies for cremation.

Unni rose from the step to bathe in the river. A middle-aged man, perhaps an agent of a Panda (clergyman) approached him with the words:

 “Ready for the karma?”.

Yagna peeda – a platform built with bricks for sacrifices Ganga mata ki Jai ! – Hails to mother Ganga!

“What karma?”

“Udakakriya.” 

 “Udakakriya for whom?”

“It can be for anybody”, the man replied with some anger in his tone.”

“Then let us do it for your good self!”.

The man returned with inaudible curses.

Now let us have a bath. Unni rose from the step. Wearing a turkey towel, she undressed and kept all his belongings, ie., shirt, pants, shoes, wristwatch, and money purse, into a bundle and kept on the step. A few yards away a sanyasin, wearing saffron robes, was sitting, meditating. His lips were repeating some mantra silently.

The water was not cold and, instead, it had a sweet warmth. The flow of water was very strong and it discouraged her from a swim. She felt some fear to swim in the flow and hence returned to the first step, dried his body with the towel, and turned to fetch his dress, to change the wet towel.

It was really a shock! The step where he kept his belongings is clean as a slate. The sanyasin was also not there.

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Sanyasin – Hindu monk. Karmas – rituals. Udakakriya - rituals with water for the peace of the departed.

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The young woman, with a strong mind and body, stood sweating on the step, in spite of the cool atmosphere of the river in the early morning.

[ 2 ]

The train that was running all over the night, kicking on the rails regularly, whistling intermittently, and shaking the uninhabited terrains, arrived at Varanasi, when the face of the east was turning to red.

Vasu who was in deep sleep, jumped to the state of awakening, with a start, as a result of some unknown inner impulse

The train had stopped and the passengers were rushing to the doors. The people, without any patience, rushed through the doors, like the bees whose nest was hit by a piece of stone. In that rush, some clever fellow, snatching the handbag of a passenger, merged with the flowing crowd. The “chor!” “Chor!” calls of the man who lost his bag fluttered over the sound of the fury of the railway station and dimmed in a few seconds. In its place, another shout approached the train: “Ghodavala Panda!, Ghodavala Panda!”.  It was the shouting of an agent of some clergyman with a horse cart, ready to take the pilgrims to the shores of the river for conducting rituals of their departed ancestors. Sitting on his seat for a few more minutes, Vasu stepped down to the platform, bearing his airbag, and stood at ease in a corner. Then as expected an old Brahmin approached him and asked:

“I think you are a Madrasi”.

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Chor – thief, Goda - horse. Ghoda vala - Man with a horse.

Vasu looked at him with interest. Lean body. A small bunch of long hairs at the back of his head is kept in a knot. Unclean sacred thread across his chest. Rudrakha

mala. A single cloth covered the lower portion of his body. Oh! This is a Panda, the clergyman!

“Not a Madrasi, but a Malayali”, Vasu said: “Do you know Malayalam?”

“To us, all the South Indians are Madrasis!” The old man replied: “As regards Malayalam, I know only a few words. Have you come here to perform the rituals in Ganga for your dead parents?”

“Yes”, Vasu replied.

“Then follow me.”, the old man began walking.

“One minute.” Vasu asked: “I have heard that the men in Varanasi are greedy. I have got some money only. What is your rate?”

“Don’t generalize the men in Kashi. There can be some greedy people. All cannot be like that. You, tell me, can you show me a single place in the world where there is no greedy people. The lobha (greed) is a natural quality, like love and hate.”

Vasu stood still. This is pure philosophy. And it seems that this is not an ordinary clergyman.

Vasu then remembered his experience at Rameswaram (a pilgrim center in South India.) A fat

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Sacred thread - mark of upper castes  Rudrakshamala - ornament for neck made from a seed, rudraksha

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man, with a thick and white sacred thread, led him to the shore of the sea, saying he would be satisfied with what Vasu could offer. But, during the karma itself, he started to play tricks, asking for dakshina for this karma, dana for that karma, etc. And at the end, he demanded a remuneration of rupees one hundred and one!”

“I cannot satisfy with that reply. I have not got much money. I require at least rupees three hundred to return to my place.” Vasu said in a breath.

“Look here, my boy! You can believe my words in the name of Lord Viswanatha that I will not demand anything from you”.

Vasu hired a cycle-rikshaw and proceeded to Manikarnika ghat accompanied by the old man, to fulfill his long-cherished desire to liquidate the strong debt to his mother who had undergone all hells to foster him and his sister, in spite of all the limitations of a young brahmin widow.

The shore of Ganga.

“Still sleeping? We have reached the place. Step down”, the voice of the old man shook up Vasu from the drowsiness.

“Do you know to swim? ”  The old man asked.

“I know”, Vasu said: “but not in a flowing river”.

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Dakshina, Dana – gift to the clergyman.   Karma - rituals. Viswanaatha - The god in Kashi temple.

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“Then be careful”, the old man warned: “Now the flow is very strong”.

Leaving his bag and dress at the care of the old man, he stepped down to the water. Suddenly, Vasu had an impulse to dive deep to the water and to end all the agonies within seconds, following the footsteps of his beloved mother. But, before thinking further, his wife and child appeared before his inner eye. And further, he found, the old man standing near him, within reach of his hands.

Vasu repeated the mantras, sung by the old man, and completed the rituals with raw rice, darbha grass, and gingelly seeds. He paid a remuneration of rupees fifty-one. The old man with a smile returned rupees thirty to Vasu, saying: “Keep it! You have to go a long way.”

Vasu could not say anything except muttering “Shukriya”. (Thank you!)

Unni was still standing there, a few yards away, wearing the turkey towel, watching the rituals performed by Vasu.

When the old man left and changed his wet dress Vasu was preparing to leave, Unni approached him saying: “I was waiting for the Panda to leave. My name is Unni, Now somebody has taken away my dress. Can you spare me a dhoti?”

Vasu looked at him suspiciously. This woman appears to be very decent externally, but external appearances are often deceptive. She might be making friends with me for some other purpose

“Theft and deceit are common in all pilgrim centers”, Vasu said: “When I was in Rameswaram I had witnessed an incident like this. A family from Ottappalam, consisting of a mother with a son and his wife and a daughter with his husband and their small children were there on the beach. The elders were sitting at a safe place, looking at the sea and talking. The children were playing on the sand. They had kept their luggage at the seashore and engaged one boy of ten years to keep them. But, when they stood up and turned to go, they found the boy still sitting at the same place, watching other children playing, but all their luggage vanished to thin air. They immediately rushed to the police station and complained that they lost everything and got no money to return. The inspector asked whether anybody had seen the thief? Nobody had seen him. He replied that he knew some persons who are engaged in lifting bags from the shore and promised to inform them if they get any link. Malayali association helped them collect some money to return. I don’t know what happened next.” Vasu stopped his story and handed over a dhoti to Unni. He also took out a shirt from his bag.

“It will not suit me”, Unni said: “I am huge and you are small! Now it will do with this cloth. I have forgotten to ask your name.”

“My name is Vasudevan. People call me Vasu”.

“Place?”

“It’s Cheruthuruthy, near Shoranur.”

Unni knew the place. It is a village, on the southern shore of river Bharathappuzha, famous for the deemed university Kalamandalam where Kathakali is taught.

“I am from Thrissur.”

“A good coincidence!”

“Coincidence or programming? Let us see!”

“What programming? By whom?”

“Let us see”, Unni repeated. “When did you come and where are you staying?”

“I have reached here only a few hours ago. I do not indent to stay here and will be leaving in the night itself.”

“You require a place to take rest till the time of the train and to keep your belongings. “ Unni said: “Come with me. We will go to my room, visit the temple, and have breakfast after I change my dress.”

Wearing the single dhoti as a clergyman, Unni walked to her lodge with an upright head. She did not forget to buy a cigarette and smoke it on the way, borrowing a few coins from Vasu.

“Smoking is injurious to death!”, Vasu reminded.

“No apologies. The authorities issue warnings that smoking is injurious to health and causes cancer. Then another warning, alcohol drinking is a dangerous habit. There is no sincerity in these advertisements. The warnings are only to blind some organizations. At the

same time, they encourage the selling of alcohol and cigarettes. Why? These are two big sources of income to the exchequer. As regards my case, I can stop it at any moment.”

Vasu followed him silently.

While walking to the room, Unni opened her heart. “We make much ado about nothing. How many innocent women and children are killed or misused every second? How many factories pollute our drinking water without any break? How many poor people die every moment without getting proper treatment. How many soldiers are killed every moment as preys of ego of their rulers? The pseudo, mainly political, men with two faces, the advocates for stopping cigarette smoking and quitting alcohol drinking, enjoy both drinking and cigarette smoking in roaring parties, arranged by business magnets with hidden agendas, when orphans die on the foot-paths, as unwanted dogs. We are all fools, Vasu.”

Vasu followed him silently. This woman is high, fat, and strong not only in the physical body but in his mental constitution also, he smiled admiringly. Is this actually a woman?

                                    [3]

“Oh! My dear Malayali friends! Welcome to Kashi!”

A young man of about thirty years old, with long hair and uncut beard, wearing white Kurtha and pyjama blocked their way. His dress was not at all clean, perhaps, due to living in the street. His eyes had an extraordinary shining.

“Hello. Comrade!”, Unni welcomed him laughing: “How do you do? When did they release you?”

This sudden and unexpected attack unbalanced the newcomer. But, regaining his composure and avoiding Unni, he faced Vasu: “Happy to meet you! My name is Shankar and I am a tourist guide. I will take you through all nooks and corners of Kashi.”

“Let us go, Vasu. Now we will go to the temple, as it is your priority. I am very hungry. I think the breakfast will be delayed further.”

“Ok! Ok!” Shankar said. “I will wait here”.

“Thanks”, Unni said: “for keeping our foot-wears free of charge”.

Shankar turned his look in the opposite direction.

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Kurtha and pajama – a traditional dress in north India. Resembles loose pants and shirt. Malayalam – Language of Kerala.

Malayalis – People from Kerala

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While entering the temple, Unni asked: “Have you listened to his looks? Something is wrong with him” .

Vasu did not comment.

Inside a narrow compound, the gold-covered Vishwanatha temple stood, steady and aright, forgetting the wars of invaders which erased it many times to the ground. Inside the golden temple, the abstract idol of Lord Viswanatha stood in a square peeda. Behind the

idol stood two brahmin poojaris. Their dress was white dhoti and white shirt. There was also a small bunch of hairs on the back of their heads.

The pilgrims who came after a dip in the holy water of Ganges, poured the water they brought from the river, on the idol.

      A thought about the customs prevalent in the part of her country flashed through Unni’s mind. The gods in the shape of idols are kept in the dark inner rooms, away from the devotees, as milk-giving cows. The sole purpose of the temples is to extract money from the devotees, exploiting their sorrows.

Even now, a devotee can enter the temple as half-naked only. If you are wearing pants, there is a counter to rent dhotis!

The sky will fall down if you enter the temple wearing the usual dress of pants, shirts, and shoes!

My lord! Forgive them as they are ignorant of their ignorance! Unni swallowed laughter that arose from deep of his mind’s sanctum sanctorum.

 

“It’s luck there is no rush in the temple”, Vasu said with relief.

“Your luck is ill-luck to the demons guarding the idols”, Unni said. Vasu could not understand as to what was meant by the word demon but kept silent as he was not in a mood to argue. He presented a ten rupees coin to the poojari, as dakshina. The poojari, in return, gave a small sweet eatable as prasadha. Vasu broke it into two and offered one piece to Unni.

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Poojari - The priest who makes ceremonial offerings or worships in temples.

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       “I don’t want it, sir! Eat it yourself!”, Unni said: “Who knows how many germs it contains.”

“This is insulting the god”, Vasu retorted.

“My God stands above praise and insult of the worms like human beings.” Unni spoke as a philosopher: “He hears only the prayers coming out of a clean heart. Can you declare that your mind is clean?”

“Then why did you come all the way from Kerala to Kashi? To do the rituals and worship lord Viswanatha or to see the sights?”

“Who said I came to Kashi to worship the idol?” Unni’s voice was harsh.

Vasu kept silent. I cannot understand this woman. I will never win arguing with him, he said to himself.

In all places, inside the golden temple, there were innumerable Sivalingas and near them sat greedy poojaris waiting to jump on the prey. One poojari beckoned them to him and put crimson dots on their foreheads. When they turned to walk away, he asked for dakshina.

“What’s your rate?”, Unni asked

      ‘One rupee please”, the poojari replied :

“One rupee for a dot of synthetic kumkum!” Unni cannot believe it.

“It’s only a dakshina”, the poojari smiled, the smile of a predator to its prey.

Vasu gave one rupee coin to him and ignoring all other demons they left the place.

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Prasada – remnants of the offerings to the deity Sivalinga – Abstract idol of Siva, Lord Viswanatha. Kumkum - saffron powder.

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In one side there was a well, guarded with half-walls.

“This is Jnanavapi”, the man with a sacred thread, sitting near the well, said.

“What is its importance?”, Vasu asked.

The man said: “The original temple of Viswanatha was in the place where that mosque now stands. One mogul empire demolished the temple and constructed a mosque in its place. When the invaders attacked the temple, poojris put the Sivalinga in this well, where it remained for many years, till it was reinstalled in the new temple.”

“Do you too demand dakshina?”, Vasu asked.

“No. I have not given you anything. Hence no dakshina is required. I do not ask money for sitting here and telling the story of this well”, he replied: “But if you want the holy water of this well in a hundred ml bottle, it costs ten rupees. It’s the rule of the temple.”

“Somebody told me that if we drink a sip of this water daily, we will get divya drishti.” Vasu said: “ Is it true?” 

“Sure!”, was the reply.

Unni interfered: “Sir, I think you see lord Viswanatha in every morning?”

 “Correct.”

“I also expect that you drink a sip of this holy water daily?”

 

“OK.”

“For years?”

“Surely?”

“Now the last question. Where do you stand now in the case of this divya drishti?”

The man blinked and sat silent. Unni turned to go, saying: “He is not a demon”.

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Kumkum – saffron powder   Divya drishti – Sixth sense.

 

 

[ 4 ]

Unni who was taking rest after the noon meals asked: “For what purpose did you come to Varanasi? To do the rituals for a dead mother or father?”

“Mother.”, Vasu replied: “My mother had a desire to visit the places like Rameswara, Kashi etc. But I could not help it then due to money problems. My father died when I was one year old and my mother became a young brahmin widow. I have got a sister also. Mother looked after and taught us up to the tenth standard. Her meager income was what she got from brahmin houses by reading Puranas and Ithihasas. She knew some Sanskrit and astrology. I got a job when I was nineteen years old. Then my sister was sent to Madhya Pradesh, as the wife of a Tiwari brahmin there, as we could not bear the dowry system prevalent in our caste. I asked my mother to wait for a few years so that I can make some money and arrange her marriage in Kerala itself. But mother fell for the temptation of the agent that the bridegroom is a rich man and got acres of land and horses. The marriage was taken place in a temple at Calicut where they had got a Mutt. The tragedy was that she returned within one year as pregnant and never returned. I got married last year. And now we have got a child of four months”.

“How old was your mother?”

“She was sixty years old and was very healthy because she walked many kilometers a day to earn our lively hood.”

“Then why she left you so unexpectedly?”

“It was a suicide”, Vasu said: “ she had developed some sort of old age depression, perhaps due to the stress, strain, and tension, she underwent during the course of all these years. I was in my office at Thrissur when it happened.”

“Sorry”, Unni said: “I never thought when I met you that you are bearing so much fire in your mind.”

“Whatever it may be”, Vasu said: “now I feel some relief.”

“The relief you get by bathing in this unholy water, where dead bodies flow and chemicals and plutonium from factories make it a poison, is false. If a dip in this water will cleanse you of all sins, the first could be the dead-body-eating crocodiles to enter heaven or the promised land. Instead of coming to Varanasi spending a huge amount, you might have spent it for feeding the beggars on the street.”

Vasu remained silent and the discussion ended there in a pathetic mood.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Shankar entered the room and sat on a chair with a burning beedi in his lips.

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Beedi – country cigar

“Ready to go?”

“Go?” Unni asked: “to where?”

“To see sights. You have got many interesting places to visit in this town. At first we will go to the south.”

“Oh my guide! Do you know the importance of the south?”, Unni asked.

 “What’s it”, Shankar was curious.

“South is the place of Yama, the lord of death”, Unni said: “We don’t want a guide to meet Yama”.

“Sorry”, Shankar said: “I did not know that south had such a dangerous meaning. Within a radius of ten kilometers we can visit more than ten places”.

Unni with Vasu followed Shankar. On entering the main road, Shankar showed a sign to an auto rikshaw to stop. It went on without minding them. Within a few seconds, another auto came from the opposite direction and stopped before them. It was the same auto! The guide recited a list of places they want to visit and asked for his charges.

“Rupees one hundred”, the driver replied bluntly.

Shankar looked at Unni. Unni offered thirty rupees.

The driver was stern but inclined to rupees ninety.

“Only thirty”, Unni was adamant.

“Let us reach an agreement”, the driver said:

“Give me seventy rupees.”

Unni turned to Shankar and asked: “You call another auto. This man is greedy.”

“Ok! Ok!”, the driver came down: “ Let’s agree with forty rupees.”

Unni did not continue the argument but stepped to the vehicle. Vasu followed him, and Shankar took the seat as a proud guide and the auto started its long mission.

After visiting some places, the auto halted for a short break. It was a temple for Hanuman, the monkey god. He was an important character in the epic Ramayana and when the hero Rama was promoted as a god with devotees all over India, Hanuman also became a god with many devotees, especially in north India. Pictures of Hanuman hung on the walls of many houses.

It was the time of evening meals, in the veranda of a hall adjacent to the temple, after a marriage. Some fifty persons including women and children were sitting in two lines. At a prominent place were sitting the bride and bridegroom. The bride was a girl of about thirteen years and the bridegroom was above fifty years.

“This is in that country where child marriage was banned some fifty years ago”, Unni exclaimed.

“It is common in north India”, Shankar said: “ You can see often a procession with a boy bridegroom and girl bride. That is a marriage in advance.”

Some persons were serving roti and dal to the sitting guests. Then a huge monkey appeared from nowhere and paused before a boy exhibited his fierce teeth as a menace. The boy rose with fear. The monkey snatched the boy’s share of food and charged to the roof.

The auto resumed its running.

The famous temple of Durga.

The temple of Kaveri

Thulasi manasa mandir.

Benaras Hindu University.

The famous university was spread in a vast compound donated by the king of Kashi. In the middle of the campus stood a beautiful Viswanatha temple, constructed with marble. There were the idols of Viswanatha, Lakshminarayana, Durga, and Parvati inside the temple.

The walls upstairs were adorned with Sanskrit shlokas from Bhagavad Gita and sacred scriptures.

BHU is located on the southern edge of Varanasi, near the banks of the river Ganges. Development of the main cam

While going on reading the writings on the walls, Unni turned abruptly and asked Shankar: “Where is the place, the staff of the university live?”

“The staff quarters is very near”, Shankar replied.

“Then I have to see one man there.” Unni said: “You both wait here. I will return soon”.

“Where are you going?” Vasu asked.

Without waiting to reply, Unni left them. Then they heard the starting sound of the auto.

“This woman is a riddle!”, Vasu said to himself.

“Correct. All people are riddles.” Shankar supported.

      Vasu spent a long time reading the scriptures on the walls and appreciating the drawings. Then he, accompanied by Shankar, came outside of the building and spent some more time viewing the scenery.

It was darkening. Still, there is no sign of Unni.

When the evening was turning to a dark night, the headlight of the auto appeared from the gate, followed by a shout from Unni: “What are you doing there? It’s already late. Come quickly. Let us go.”

This fat woman swallowed the time and now blaming me! Vasu lost his temper: “I have told you that I want to return tonight”.

“You are not leaving tonight”, Unni said: “We will return together. I have come here with a purpose. It will not take much time.”

“I told you that my wife is waiting there with much tension. It is the first time that I undertake a long journey to an unknown place. She is afraid, very afraid of the situation”

“Don’t worry. We will send a telegram now itself. You have met a friend here and will be returning within two or three days.”

Vasu was not willing, but could not propose an alternative.

“Oh rikshawala!” Unni said: “let us go to the nearest night post office.”

     The auto riksha started with shivering.

[5]

The building is trembling!

Something is falling down!

What is this? An earthquake?

Vasu, who was in deep sleep, enjoying the sweet cold atmosphere of early morning, jumped up from the bed with a shudder. It took a few seconds to regain full consciousness. The scene that welcomed him caused innocent laughter.

The high, fat, young woman, wearing only a bra and underwear, was jumping up and down in a corner of the room.

Exercise, forgetting time and space!

“There are people sleeping in the rooms below us”, Vasu said: “They will kill you for breaking their sweet sleep.”

Putting his right-hand index finger to her lips as a signal for silence, Unni continued her exercises.

When Vasu rose from his cot and went to the bathroom, Unni was doing sheershasana, as the last step to his exercises.

And then, quite unexpectedly, somebody opened the door and a middle-aged man and a teenage girl entered the room. The sheershasana of the fat young man caused a burst of loud laughter from the girl and hearing that sound Unni in confusion jumped to her feet and wearing a towel welcomed the guests with some shyness.

“Oh! You are still the same woman”, the guest said with a smile. : “Sixteen years in Arabia did not make any change in your routine.”

“Please be seated!”, she invited the guests to a sofa: “Why a surprise visit in the early morning?”

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Sheershasana – Standing on head with upright legs.

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“It is not early morning. Kashi awakens at 4 O clock. Now it is 7 AM. The purpose of our visit is to invite you to our residence as my wife is very eager to give you a treat.”

 “That’s good!”, Unni said: “But there is a problem. I am not alone here.”

“Who is it? I thought you are alone.”

At that moment Vasu came out of the bathroom.

“Vasu, this is my relative BN. He is a Sanskrit professor in Benares Hindu University. This is Vasu from Shoranur. He has come here to do the rituals for his mother.”

“Vasu, Unni had visited us yesterday and my wife has insisted to take her to our house. We will be happy if you too come with us.”

“Sorry! Today we have got some urgent plan. I have told you the purpose of my visit. It is the first in the list. At any rate, I will come before leaving Kashi”.

“Oh Unni! Devaki started the preparations in the early morning itself. What I will tell to her?”

“Sorry! Very Sorry! Tell her that I will not disappoint her.”

“Father, let us go.” The girl said: “He will come.”

When they left the room, Vasu asked: “Why can’t you spare a few hours for your relatives?”

       “It was connected with my purpose”, Unni stopped talking and hurried to the bathroom.

[6]

A big cloth mart, in a corner of the town. Benares Saree Centre!

The salesmen and the customers sat on carpets on the ground, examining sarees and other items. In a corner of the shop sat an old man, concentrating in a thick account book.

BN led Unni towards him. The man rose with respect: “Welcome, sir! We have received some brand new items yesterday. Can I summon the salesman to bring samples”.

“Not now”, BN said: “We have come with another purpose.”

 “What’s it, Sir!”

“This young woman Unni is my relative. Unni, this is John from Ernakulam.   I had arranged for admission to one of his friends Appu for research in my university. On tenth of last month, she sent that boy in Ganga-Kaveri Express from Chennai. She also sent a message to me to that effect. That boy Appu should have reached Benares on the third day. I waited for him in the railway station at the time of arrival of that train, but I could not see him even though I waited until all the crowd is gone. It means that he left Chennai on the appointed date but did not reach Benares.”

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Saree – a long cloth for the Indian woman

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“You mean he disappeared on the way?”

“Maybe”, BN continued: “ When I was waiting at the railway station I had seen you coming out of a compartment.”

“I also remember it.” John said.

“ Our doubt is that some accident occurred to him during the journey. That is, he fell down while traveling standing at the door or was taken to some hospital during the journey due to some serious illness. Do you remember of any such incident?”

“I do not remember any such incident” He replied: “ But I remember some other occurrence at Allahabad railway station. A passenger had left his bogie to collect drinking water and returned when the train started moving. It was a few minutes later he found that his bag missing. There was some hue and cry in the compartment. Railway police came and left with him in the next station.I don’t know what happened after that. ”

“Can you remember him?” Unni asked.

“I have a vague idea. He was a young man of some twenty-five years with a neat haircut and clean shave. He was of a dark complex and wore blue pants and a red shirt.”

Unni looked at BN: “Appu is of white complexion and has a thick mustache. He always wore a white dhoti and white shirt.”

      “Thank you, Sir!”, BN said: “it is not our man”.

When leaving the shop in a pensive mood, BN asked Unni: “What we will do now?”

“Appu had some inclination towards spiritualism. He was initiated to that path by one of his teachers while studying in high school. It was a school of Ramakrishna Mutt and the teacher was a sanyasin.”

 

“Then, I think, he might have gone to some Ashram in Varanasi.”

“Maybe”, Unni said: “There is one more possibility. I had seen “Buddhist Logic” in his personal library. No layman will read that book. It means he is seriously interested in Buddhism also and when reached Varanasi he might have gone to Saranath as in a trance.”

“Maybe or can be”, BN said.

“Then Ok! Tomorrow I will go to Saranath and contact you on return.”

BN bid farewell and walked away.

Then quite unexpectedly, Vasu appeared before him. He had with him a packet, containing some cloth.

“I did not expect you here”, Unni said.

“I came here to purchase a saree, to my wife. I had not got much money and hence it is of chief quality.”

      “Who asked you the price and quality. Stop this complaint about money. I have got money with me. How much do you want?”, Unni asked.

Vasu was silent.

 “However, Benares saree is Benares saree, even though it is of cheap quality”, Unni continued: “I think you canceled your program to visit Saranath.”

“That Shankar did not turn up, though I waited for him”.

“Don’t worry. “Unni said: “we will visit Saranath tomorrow. Now let us go to the room. I want a cold bath and then a rich supper.”

“Before returning to the room, let me sit on the shore for a few minutes, if you don’t mind”, Vasu said.

“No objection,” Unni said: “cut short it to fifteen minutes. I am hungry!”

They found out a suitable place in Dasaswamedha ghat and sat on a step to the river.

It was already dark and the ghat was almost lonely. There were some local boats, tied to some poles. In some of them, oil lamps were burning, indicating the presence of inhabitants. The humming of a Hindi song fluttered in the wind.

Unni searched in his pocket for a cigarette. There was none. Asking Vasu to wait there she left the place in search of a shop to get a cigarette.

Entering the main road she purchased a packet of cigarettes. She also purchased a packet of nuts for Vasu. Enjoying the views of the town she returned slowly to the ghat where Vasu was waiting for him.

But to his astonishment, Vasu was not there. Instead, a small crowd had gathered there, speaking loudly.

“What’s the matter”, Unni asked.

“Oh! A very serious.” A man replied: “One man was sitting there on the shore looking to the river. Then another man came from behind and pushed him to the water and ran away, with that man’s bag.”

Unni cannot believe her ears. She asked: “Have you seen it?” 

“Yes. I have seen it. We were standing there talking.”

Unni felt she is losing consciousness and sat on the ground.

“Do you know that man who was pushed to the water?” The man asked.

“We both belong to one place in South India and staying in one room”, Unni replied: “Have you seen the man who pushed him to the river?”

“Yes”, The man said: “He is a beggar, wearing unclean white pajama and kurta, with long hair and beard.”

Unni did not require more explanation. She recognized the culprit and rushed to the police station.

“What is your problem?”, a policeman asked.

Unni described the incident and said: “We don’t know as to what happened to Vasu.”

“Give me a description about your friend and the culprit.”, the policeman asked.

Unni described the looks of both persons in detail.

“Oh! It is very serious.” The policeman said: “The flow of water is very strong nowadays and the possibility of the man’s survival depends on two matters. One: could he swim back to the shore? Two: the incident was seen by somebody who was near the spot and who might try to save him? Now you give a complaint in writing. ”

Unni gave him a written complaint.

“My name is Shameer. I will take necessary action, consulting my superiors. And as regards, the man who pushed your friend to the water, we have got some idea.”

The policeman opened a file and concentrated on it.

[7]

Unni had lost all interest in life and felt to forget all, using bhang which is abundantly available with sanyasins in pilgrim centers like Kashi. But then she remembered of her pending work. She has to find out what happened to Appu and Vasu. If Vasu is dead she has to take Vasu’s belongings to his house. Vasu had said that he had got a young wife and a son of four months. But, how? How will I face that girl? She asked himself.

The inertia prolonged to a period of six days when she got a message from the receptionist that one policeman Sameer had asked him to reach the General Hospital immediately. Even though she did not know what could be the reason, she had a premonition about the tragedy of Vasu.

Sameer, the constable, was waiting for her in the reception. He said: “The doctor told me that they have got an unidentified dead body in their mortuary. Let us see whether you can help me.”

Unni followed him silently. There were some four or five corpses on the post mortem desks. Sameer lifted the cloth covering the face of a body. Unni was shocked. It was not Vasu, as he had expected, but it was Shankar. His skull was broken by a hit of a stone or an iron rod. How and why? Unni could not find a reason for such tragedy to this poor man. Then the comment of a bystander in Dashashwamedha ghat echoed in his ears. We will not allow him to repeat this!

“I know him”, Unni said: “ it was he who pushed Vasu to the river.”

“You had taken revenge?”

“No sir! I have no guts to kill a man. If you have any doubt, you may question me. ”

“It’s my police mind”, the constable laughed.

“By the way, have you got any news about Vasu.”

“No”, the policeman said: “We have not got the dead body of such a man from the river.”

“OK! Thank you!” Unni said farewell to the policeman and left the hospital. 

On the way back to her room, Unni thought of the next step. What should I do? Stop the search for Appu and return to Kerala and convey the sad news to Vasu’s wife? Or just make one more attempt to gather the whereabouts of Appu? After some thinking, she decided to go to Saranath and to enquire about Appu, then itself.

She hired an auto and proceeded to Saranath. At the railway station of Saranath, which resembled the Stupa of Sanchi, she sent back the auto and stood there thinking.

It was here where Buddha preached his first sermon.

 

Who was Buddha? He was a prince in Nepal who left his palace and escaped to the forests in India in search of an answer to a question that disturbed him for some time. He found out reply to this question after a penance of seven years and his first sermon was born out of this bodhodaya.

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Bhang - Some organic drug, Marijuvana. Stupa – pillar, column. Bodhodaya - Realisation, enlightenment.

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“…Bhikkus, those who are in search of Truth must always avoid the two extremes. The first extreme to be avoided is the life of luxury and passion, as it enslaves man to gross needs and debases his human qualities. The second extreme to be avoided is the life of self-torture through penance, because it is not only painful but also

useless. The middle path is the best: it produces insight and mental calm, which ultimately lead to Nirvana.

 

…And what is the middle path? It is a state of self-discipline, through an eightfold endeavor. I call it the “eightfold path” – consisting of right understanding, right aspiration, right speech, right conduct, right vocation, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration. One who follows this eightfold path develops an insight and a mental calm which ultimately leads to Nirvana.

 

…Bhikkus, now I will tell you the four noble Truths. These are sorrow, the cause of sorrow, the uprooting of sorrow, and the eightfold path.

 

…Sorrow is everywhere: Old age, disease, and death; frustration, dejection, and despair – all lead to sorrow. And any contact with this world of sorrow leads only to sorrow.

 

…Desire is the cause of sorrow: Desire is a selfish, blind force that demands more and more and is never satisfied. Dejection and frustration are its very essence. It is ever unfulfilled and therefore always produces sorrow.

 

… Desirelessness uproots sorrow: The only way to uproot sorrow is to strike at its root – desire. If the desire is abandoned sorrow too will be eliminated.

 

…The eightfold path disciplines the mind and destroys desire. By right understanding, aspiration, speech, conduct etc., man can curb selfish desire and can rise above himself.

…These are the four noble truths, bhikkus. By realizing them, knowledge and wisdom came to me and I achieved enlightenment….”

 

Unni felt enlightened.

 

She walked briskly to the Buddhist monastery, intending to start her search from there.

In a hall, sat a monk teaching some boys, all wearing saffron clothes. None minded the visitor. Unni went to another hall. There a group of monks sat meditating. They also disregarded her. She returned outside and began to circumambulate the monastery. At the backside he found an old monk watering some flower plants.

 

“Come, my girl”, the monk welcomed: “What is the purpose of your visit? To see this place or to meditate?”

“No.”, Unni said: “I have some other purpose”.

“In that case, we may go to my room”, he led  Unni to a room that appeared to be an office room and asked him to sit.

“Now tell me”.

“I am coming from Kerala. My friend Appu had started from his house to Benares Hindu University, a few weeks ago, but never reached there.”

“A case of man-missing?”

Unni nodded.

The monk evaluated the young man silently and said: “follow me.”

Unni followed him to a hall, adjacent to the monastery. There were several beds arranged there in two lines. Almost all the beds were vacant. The monk paused before an engaged bed. A man was lying there covered by a yellow cloth from his neck to feet. The face was visible. It was dark and appeared to be lifeless. Still he could recognize the face. It was not Appu, but Vasu!

“Don’t be afraid”, the monk said:” he is alive but unconscious.”

After remaining silent for a few moments, the monk continued: “This man was caught in a net, set up to catch dangerous crocodiles, by a foreign company. When some heavy thing enters it, the door will shut automatically and the device will come out of water. The electronic instrument in it will make a beep-beep sound. The people on the watchtower brought him here, as it was in this side of the river and we have got a hospital here, not the modern system, but our own, developed by Nagarjuna. The man was unconscious when they brought him here and remains in the same condition. Do you know him? Is it your friend?”

“I know him, but it is not the man I was looking for.”

“Now what will you do? If you want to take him to the Medical College or Mission hospital at Varanasi, for better care, you may do so. The first is a government institution and the second is run by nuns.”

Unni thought for a minute and said: “I will take him to the Mission hospital. Thank you for this kind heart”.

The monk did not reply but smiled.

“Can you arrange for an ambulance?”, Unni asked.

“Surely. Wait here.” The monk rushed out and returned within a few minutes: “The ambulance is ready”.

With the help of some monks, the patient was taken to the ambulance and it drove away sounding an alarm.

[8]

The Mission hospital was a big institution spread over many acres of land. Vasu was carried to the casualty ward and from there to ICU. Unni waited in the corridor. A doctor, an old man, came running and rushed to the ICU. From the window, Unni could see the doctor examining the patient and the nursing staff working in a hurry. After a few minutes, the doctor came out with slow steps. Unni approached him.

“I am Unni, that patient’s friend. What is his condition doctor?”

“Let us go to my room. We have to complete some formalities.”

Unni followed him in silence.

The doctor bid Unni to take a seat and said:  “I am Dikshit, a professor retired from Medical College. Now tell me. What happened to your friend?”

Unni explained the story he heard from the monk.

“Surely. The monastery has treated him well. Otherwise, he would have already gone. He continues to be in the same state. The response to the spot injection was also poor. We do not know any miracle, like the people in the monastery, but we will try our level best. Pray to Vishwanatha!”

When Unni left the doctor and returned to the corridor, a duty nurse followed him with a notepad.

She spoke in Malayalam and asked some questions about the patient to fill up a form and when it was over she left with a smile. Unni felt relieved. She has heard that Malayali nurses are working all over India and abroad. Now it has become true.

Vasu remained in the ICU for a few more days without any progress. Unni also remained in the same place, on the same bench in the corridor all these days. She had brought some dresses from his room ad satisfied herself with the canteen and bathroom in the hospital.

There were some other patients also in the ICU. The doctor visited the ward several times a day and he appeared in the night also, if necessary.

A group of Malayali nurses made friends with Unni and talked about themselves and the condition of Vasu.

On the sixth day at 2 AM, an announcement echoed through the corridor. “Call Dr. Deekshit! Call Dr. Deekshith!”

Within seconds, Dr Deekshith appeared at the door and disappeared to the ICU.

There was a chilling silence for many minutes. Unni felt some premonition. She left the bench and began to walk up and down restlessly. Minutes followed minutes silently. At last, after about an hour, Dr. Deekshith came out of the ICU with downcast eyes.

He asked: “Doctor! Was it Vasu?”

“No”. The doctor said in a weak voice: “It was my daughter” and walked out of the corridor to the dim light in the courtyard with slow and unsteady steps.

Unni stood to dumbfound.

A man who was sitting some feet away came and sat near Unni and asked: What’s the matter?”

“The doctor said it was his daughter.”

“I know her”, the man said: “The doctor is a widower. He has only one daughter. She was about forty years old but still unmarried. She was a heart patient and lying there for more than one month.”

The man did not expect an answer and hence Unni remained silent.

It was only temporary relief. Vasu succumbed to his destiny on the third day.

Unni returned to his room the next morning leaving Vasu’s dead body with the mortuary. He wanted some time to make arrangements to carry the body to Kerala.

While she was lying in bed thinking of a future plan, someone knocked on the door, entered the room and sat on a chair. He was about fifty years old and wore pants and a shirt.

He said: “I am an astrologer and your neighbor in this lodge. I am watching you for some days. It seems that something is disturbing you.”

Unni nodded.

“Can I help you?”

Unni again nodded.

“What is your star?”

“Rohini”.

The stars in astrology, which are different from the stars in astronomy, are called constellations and mark a space of 13 degrees and 20 minutes in the zodiac of 360 degrees. Rohini is from 53.20 to 66.40 degrees.

“The men born in Rohini will be handsome and their behavior will be sweet. They will know many things and always succeed in persuading others with good manners.”

“I am not interested in soothsaying. Can you help me as promised?”

“Surely. Now Jupiter is in your fifth house. Your mind will move towards spiritual thoughts. Mars is in the seventh, the death of a relative can be predicted. Venus shows a long journey. Mercury indicates heavy expenses….” The astrologer continued his predictions without any bell and break.

Unni did not find any interest in the predictions. Her mind fell into some drowsiness, resulting in sleep. She had not slept for days. When she woke up, the man had gone. Her airbag remained opened and the money purse was found missing.

Unni had kept a major portion of her savings in a secret pocket of the bag and it was still there. She decided to leave Kashi as early as possible, taking the dead body in an ambulance.

She put some money in his pocket and left the room to meet BN to say goodbye.

[9]

    When she arrived at the quarters of BN, she found a small crowd there, all wearing masks. They appeared to be the staff and students of the University College. There were some neighbors also in casual dress. One man approached Unni and handed over him a mask.

“What’s the matter?”, Unni asked.

“Oh! You did not know!”, the man exclaimed: “He succumbed to coronavirus.”

“He! Who?”

“Professor BN.”

“I had seen him a few days ago. He was OK then. And I had not heard of Covid in India.”

“This is the first death in India due to corona. He was the first victim. The disease was presented to him by a Chinese student, returned from her country, after vacation. The girl visited this place, gave some presents to him and spent some time in his study. The real gift given by her to BN was this fever. She was not wearing any masks. Luckily, members of his house had no contact with the girl, and the college was not opened after vacation.”

Unni wearing the mask sat on a chair.

BN! I have come here to say goodbye. But you already left without waiting to tell adieu.

Where have you gone? To heaven, hell, or nowhere.

We believe in rebirth. But what is reborn?

When the wick of a lamp dies, to where goes the fire?

It’s all a riddle.

…At whose inspiration, the mind falls on the subjects? 

By whose direction the breath brightens the living beings? Whose pleasure instigate the words? Who manages the sense organs eye, ear, etc?

 

…Whose presence in the body gives the power of hearing to the ears, mind to think, sound (words) to create pictures, breath to move the body, eyes to see things?

 

…The sense organs, like eyes, or the words or the mind cannot reach It.

 

…It is different from the known and the unknown, says the scriptures. 

 

…The words cannot describe it, but it makes the words.

 

…The intelligence cannot know it, but it creates the intelligence…

 

We don’t know, Unni said to himself: we will never know!

 

The body of BN was packed suitably to avoid infection to others. Unni heard one man commenting that the virus will not live in a dead body for more than three hours. No one replied and the body was carried to a remote ghat for cremation. When they left, Unni entered the hall of the house to see the widow and her daughter. They were sitting in a corner, huddled up, and appeared to be in a shock. Without uttering a word she left the room and went to the Mission hospital to arrange for taking the body of Vasu to his house. The ambulance was arranged to take the body at 9 PM.

But the journey in the night did not take place.

Unni heard the sound of some shots, from a distance, at about 7 PM, while packing her bag. It was followed by an announcement from hotel reception: “Some terrorists have landed in the city and walking through the streets, shooting at pedestrians. You may remain in your room, keeping the room locked. Keep the key in the keyhole.”

The announcement continued for a long time with the sound of shots in the background. Then it was followed by a fearful silence for more than one hour. At about 11 PM, a different announcement echoed in the rooms and corridors of the hotel.

 “There were more than ten terrorists in the group and they were from Pakistan. Except for one boy of eighteen, all were killed by police. It is reported that 161 persons including six American tourists were killed in the terrorist attack. Now the situation is under control, says the police.”

Though Unni remained in the room all night, she could not sleep at all.

[10]

It took sixty hours for the ambulance to reach Cheruthuruthy. When Unni saw Kalamandalam, she asked the driver to wait there and entered to a small teashop. It was already 7 PM and the owner was preparing to close the shop. However, he heard Unni with patience, keeping an eye on the ambulance, and replied.

“There are many men here with the name Vasudevan. Do you know whether he is a Nair, Namboodiri, or of some other caste? As this is a village, caste will help us to identify him.”

“I think he is a Namboodiri Brahmin.”

“There are no Namboodiris here. The nearest Illam is about one kilometer west from here. Try there. If he belongs to that house, it’s OK. If not, you will get some clue from there.”

The ambulance ran a distance of one kilometer towards the west and stood before a big house. Unni went to the house and asked about Vasu. An old man, sitting on an easy chair on the veranda, said: “Nobody from here has gone to Kashi. I had heard that a boy from Panjal has left for Kashi and so far not returned.”

Saying thanks to the old man, Unni returned to the ambulance. They had to return back to Cheruthuruthy and from there go-ahead for two kilometers towards east.

It was already 9 PM.

The road was passing through a vast paddy field. Both the shores of the field were seen at long distances, like shadows of shores of a very wide river. It was a new moon day and there was no light anywhere. It seemed the village has already fallen asleep after the toil of a long day.

Unni stood in the middle of the road without knowing what to do next. The driver came down from the vehicle. He said he is not willing for any more aimless journey. He has already lost his patience. Unni felt him as reasonable because he had driven all the time without any murmuring. She paid the driver’s charges with reference to meter reading and the extra amount demanded by him. She also purchased the freezer containing Vasu’s body, to the astonishment of the owner of it, who had accompanied them from Varanasi. They helped her to take down the freezer to the roadside and the ambulance drove away. The light of its headlights faded slowly and also its running sound.

Unni sat on the freezer with ease.

It was dark. Very, very, dark. There was no moon, no stars, and even no glow-flies or glowworms.

And the frogs in water in the paddy field were singing loudly in a chorus.

In a chorus…

…“ Then, in the beginning, there was no manifested or unmanifested. There was no atmosphere and the sky above it. Then what was it? Where was it? 

 

…What was the terrible and horribly deep water. Where was it, the water, and where did it lie?

 

…Nature was in this shore and the creator was in the other shore.

 

…Who knew as to how it all happened?  Who could predict it! Who knew from where this creation came to existence? 

 

…Was it, made or not made? 

 

…The great being who is the director of this program, creation, may be knowing…

 

…Or, perhaps, not knowing! ….”