A Travel to the Goddess

Patiala, India

It was an hour to dawn break, but the women of this classical town had woken up already. Some of them had set off for Gurudwaras on foot. The Gurudwaras were alive with the recitation of the Japji. It was calm and solemn. It would remain so for next two hours before the Punjabi vibrancy takes over. The noise and traffic were minimal. A distant sound of chants of Gurudwaras and temple bells mixed with the sound of breeze in the trees. The peace was broken by a solitary vehicle here and there.

Rajat and Vibhu arrived at the Rajpura station on the Sutlej Express. As they crossed over for a helitaxi to the downtown, Rajat imbibed the atmosphere of the place in his mind.

“It feels so different.” He said to Vibhu as the taxi took off. The city was a mix of the traditional and the modern. It had grown as a hub of education, music and fashion. However, its residents actively worked to conserve its culture. People came from around the world and got modified to its culture – enriching its composite culture in that process. Rajat looked down at the urban sprawl. They would be at the Moti Bagh helipad in next ten minutes, whereon they would take a cable car to their destination – Baradari.

The city was founded by Baba Ala Singh – a chief of the Sikh clan of Phulkian who were Siddhu Jatts of the area around Barnala. He had defeated the Mughals and carved a principality that he wished to centre around a new city that he built on the fertile mound close to the Delhi-Lahore highway otherwise known as ‘Patti’. Around the rivultes dominted by what is now called ‘Patiala ki Rao’ or ‘Badi Nadi’, he built a fort that he called the ‘Mubarak’ – the blessed one.

More importantly, it was also the city of her Goddess, Kali…..

In Afghanistan

Afghanistan

“Father, you look relieved.” Zaheer sat with a cup of tea in his hands opposite to his father. Zaheer was Wazir Khan’s only son. Twenty five years old, strong and handsome. He had the long nose of his father and gait of an aristocrat. True to his upbringing – he was humble and intelligent. He had just post graduated in political science from the Bamiyan University.

Wazir Khan smiled, “Yes, son. I am. When you are on the chair, you always have a responsibility on your shoulders. You have to act for the chair. Sometimes that is in conflict with your true self.”

“True, father. But I always thought that you acted like yourself.” Zaheer said.

Wazir straightened his back and then relaxed it again on the chair, leaning back as he rested his hands on the armrest. He was in some deep thought.

Zaheer tried to change the subject. “So father, what are you planning to do now?”

“Let me give you the answer to your first question first. I tried to act the best I could in the situation, but still I cold not control many things.” Wazir Khan said.

“What things father?”

“Hakim Baksh.”

“What about him father?”

“You would be shocked to know that your father owns a secret agency.”

“What?” Zaheer was in a state of shock. The tea almost spilled off his hands. “Why?”

“The Indian agencies told me that there might be a constant threat on Bamiyan and Afghanistan – especially from the western quarters. I found that the Indian agencies were very much true.”

“How?”

“The western agencies were spying Hakim Baksh.”

“Why?”

“The wing was started by Nilofar Khanam.”

“Father, you are confusing me. The foreign secretary in your government is being spied, and his daughter is the one who is spying on him.”

“I’ll tell you about that later, but another thing I found was even more suspicious.”

“What was it father?”

“Nilofer has contacts with the KGB. She is continuously in touch with them.”

“Hell! How do you know this?” Zaheer was hysterical by now.

“R&AW”

“Can they be trusted?”

Wazir nodded his head. “That’s why I built a small spy agency of my own. It was a difficult, and task it took years. All of them know that I have some spies, but they still don’t know who they are?”

“But how did you go upon building the thing?” Zaheer asked, seemingly astonished.

“Oghab2”

“Iran helped you?”

“Yes, and the love of tradition in Bamiyan helped me.”

“How?”

“The pomp loving assembly loves its people to put up requests for personal attention to their grievances to the convener. These, they have to give in writing on a piece of paper which is available free of cost at the assembly itself and then drop it in an old style request box to be taken out by the convener’s personal reader and read aloud to him weekly.” Wazir Khan explained.

“I know that father. It seems a stupid tradition, but the things get done surprisingly.” Zaheer said.

Wazir smiled. “Yes, they do; but it forms a foolproof way for passage of information directly to the convener.”

“Oh!” Zaheer gave a startled look.

“Everyone has a secret.” Wazir continued. “I found that Rahim Khan, the reader had an extramarital affair. If it was made public, his family and his social life would have been destroyed. He was blackmailed into submission. His affair was used as a messenger to the spies. No one knew what is happening.”

“That’s excellent.” Zaheer smiled. “But I don’t completely approve of it being morally correct.”

“That’s another thing, entirely. But, it’s a wrong for the right end.” Wazir said.

“As for your second question on what I have planned. The family is going to the Hajj next month.”  

The housekeeper of Kolkata

3 Karunamayee, Kolkata

Rajat wanted to be as close to the city centre as possible. He bought himself a small home at Karunamayee. He would take a bus to Rashbehari where his office was located. Kolkata healed him a bit. He was away from all the old faces in Bangalore, and moreover, he felt closer to the goddess. Kolkata was the city of Kali. Rajat often took the monorail from Rashbehari to Kalighat. He would sit there in front of the goddess, and then they would talk. No one saw them talking, but in course of time, he felt that answers came more often. Was he blessed? Was he cursed? He didn’t know! It became confusing at times, but he felt happier day by day. Company of the goddess was far more secure than that of a human being.

He had a servant named Biswaroop Das. People knew him by the name Biswada more than the original name. The only thing worthwhile that he cooked was Bath-Macch – the Bengali fish curry with boiled rice. Rajat tried teaching him how to cook Curd-rice, Besse-belle-bath and sambar through the internet, but he himself learnt it better than him. Often, when he was fed up with Biswada’s Hilsa and rice – he would cook for both of them. Biswada would tell him weird historical stories from Kolkata’s past.

“Kolkata was the city which the world was searching. The Europeans came here and kali gave them refuge. She had pity on those fair skinned people, but they betrayed her. They betrayed her sons and daughters, and then they were kicked from here, and from India.” He would tell Rajat.

Rajat would often correct him. “Biswada…. Where did you learn your history from?”

He would then click a huge volume of ‘Day’s Comprehensive History of Medieval Bengal’ and watch the things happen in front of them. He would keep the volume high and turn Bengali text for Biswada.

“See Biswada, the British found Kolkata, and an Indian cheated the king of the Bengal and helped the British win. From Bengal, they went to take over whole of Indian subcontinent, which they ruled for two hundred years. After that, during the time of the goons rule, the city changed its name from the then Calcutta to Kolkata. The city was thrown into dark ages and degradation. It was during the rule of the buddhijivis that the Bengal was reunited and the prestige of the city was reinstated.”

Biswada often told him interesting stories about Kali, authenticity of most of whom was questionable, but Rajat enjoyed these stories a lot. He would somehow connect the historical facts with Kali. Rajat would smile at many of his innocent mistakes, but not interrupt him. Kali was the good part of his life too.

One day as they were having dinner, Biswada asked him for a day’s leave.

“Do you have a family Biswada?” Rajat asked.

“I had one.” He said somewhat indifferently. “They became ascetics.”

Rajat almost choked at it.

“They might be happy wherever they are.” Biswada continued. “I didn’t want to become ascetic because I wanted to be in this world at the feet of my goddess.”

Rajat was looking straight at Biswada’s face. He couldn’t find the right expressions. He was surprised and amused at the same time.

“You didn’t stop them?” Rajat asked.

“No. The ascetics from Himavant took them.” Biswada said.

He was both surprised and raged by now. “You allowed some ascetics to take away your family Biswada. You didn’t do anything?”

“Not some ascetics Rajat Babu.”

“Then?”

“Four of them.”

“How does it matter if they were four or even four hundred?”

“Yes, that doesn’t matter.” Biswada said. “What matters is that who they were.”

“Who were they?” Rajat asked. There was inquisitiveness in his eyes, and impatience.

“The Kumars – Sanak, Sanad, Sanaatan and Sanat Kumar.”

His eyes opened wide. He felt they would tear off.

“What?” was all he could say in a hoarse voice that his throat was capable of producing in that state of shock.

The Kumars were the mind born sons of Brahma – the creator. The eldest and forever young ascetics, they wandered among the heavens and the earth at their own will – forever chanting – Hari sharanam – we are in the refuge of the God.

They were famous for remaining at the doors of the householders only for the time equivalent to that in which a cow is milked. They would ask for alms, but would give salvation in return. If they didn’t get, they would just move on.

“Please Biswada, don’t be stupid.” Rajat said, wildly in a tone of protest.

“It’s true Rajat Babu.” Biswada emphasized his truth.

“How did you know?”

“What?”

“That they were the Kumars?”

“Children don’t vanish into thin air, or cause others to vanish. Moreover they introduced themselves.” Biswada explained.

Rajat’s hairs were standing at the end by now. “What did they say?” He asked.

Biswada sighed. “I’m going to Dakshineshwar tomorrow. I met the Kumars there. Come with me if you want to know.”

“Dakshineshwar, where is that?” Rajat asked.

“A little distance from Kolkata, there is a huge temple of Kali there. She is called the Dakshineshwari.” Biswada answered.

Rajat closed his eyes momentarily and then said calmly – “Biswada, I’ll go with you.”

End of an era

Bamiyan

It was the year of power transfer. The Bamiyan Assembly held an election every four years in which the general public elected its representatives. The assembly had two limbs – the residential corporation and the commercial corporation. The residential corporation was elected by the people based on the geographical locations. Each location had a member who took care of the interests of the residents. The commercial corporation was elected by the trade guilds based on various registered professions. The trade guilds were elected by the professionals. The main work of the commercial corporation was regulation of the professions. Elected members of the residential corporation were simply called corporators, who were headed by a mayor, while those of the commercial corporation were called ministers. The ministers were headed by the chancellor. The mayor and the chancellor were integrated by the Convener of the assembly. The mayor, chancellor and the convener made the board of the governors, who also took care of the home office, the treasury, and the external affairs respectively. A shadow government was, likewise, made to represent the minority voice in the assembly. The shadow assembly had half the vote of the actual assembly. Every resolution was passed on a three fourth majority. As a result a second choice poll was usually conducted.

 

In the Grand Hall which was the office of the Convener of Bamiyan Assembly, Wazir Ali Khan signed on the sheet of parchment with his traditional fountain pen. As he ended his signatures with a dot, he broke the nib.

As was the tradition, the last sermon; as the law was called in Bamiyan, would be issued by the Convener in the Grand hall in presence of the mayor, the shadow mayor, the chancellor and the shadow chancellor. Over a period of time, the Conveners had made another unwritten rule of breaking the nib on the last sign.  

“Indeed, this era would be written in golden words in the history of Bamiyan.” Muzammil Hussain said holding Wazir’s hands, kissing them, and touching them on his eyes.

“Definitely sir! You make us proud.” The other voices added. There was an overwhelming atmosphere in the hall.

Wazir Ali smiled gently, took a seal out of his drawer and put it under his signatures. The seal bore the emblem of Afghanistan and under it was written:

W. A. Khan

Convener, Bamiyan Assembly

The sermon pronounced the dissolution of the Assembly and passage of all the powers to the chair of the highest power - ceremonial chair of the god kept under the golden dome in the central hall of the assembly. The chair would, thereafter, bestow the powers to the peoples’ representatives after elections. He passed the parchment over to his clerk. The clerk would later broadcast it and digitalize it for its use for all practical purposes. As for the parchment – it would be laminated and kept in the Assembly Achieves like all other sermons.

Wazir Khan folded his spectacles into his case. His Durban took hold of the case and followed him. As he moved on to the corridors, his staff had gathered on both the sides to see him off. He had been there for eight years – two consecutive terms. He had denied contesting for the third time.

Wazir took the stairway at his right that led to the central hall and stood before the chair of the highest power. He closed his eyes and said:

“Allah! Let there be prosperity and peace!”

All the people repeated the phrase. The only difference was that everyone prayed to his own god. The Chair of the hisghest Power was the place where the god sat – the one god, called by innumerable names. He protected the city and the world through ages. In this age of decline – Bamiyan was verily a heaven.

Wazir Khan left the building through the northern stairway that led straight to the Republic Street. People had gathered at the Assembly Square to see Wazir Khan leave the office. He was, perhaps, the most popular face in Afghanistan, and one of the world’s most important persons.  Just as Khan came out of the high door, there was a massive applause from the people at the square. Khan waved at them shortly and then descended the stairs onto the official wagon waiting to drop him home for the last time. He sat on his wagon and took a sigh. His work wasn’t over as yet, though.

A History into the future.

4

Bamiyan, Afghanistan

  

When it came to controversy, or the matters of faith and pride, last three centuries saw a shift of geographical favoritism to the central Asia. Bamiyan had become the Jerusalem of the east. It was hotly contested by various faiths and nations. Its development over the other greater cities of central Asia like Kabul, Samarkand, Tashkent or Kandahar could be chiefly contributed to the symbolic presence or absence of the giant Buddhas there. So intriguing was their effect that every community in the world tried to make its presence felt in Bamiyan; turning it into a mixed and shortly even the most inflammatory city in the world.

The city was initially in control of the Arab s, who built the white mosque with its blue onion dome. Towards the end of the twenty first century the predominantly Shia Iranis captured the city and established a higher centre of Shia spiritual learning that centered on the Farsi Mosque. The Farsi Mosque and the Farsi University still formed an exceedingly Persian majority area of the city. The Persians had the hold on the city for almost 100 years. This led Bamiyan to peace and prosperity. This was the time that a majority of Hindu traders settled in the old city. They still have a strong control over the trade of the city. The Hindu areas of old city were established. It was the Hindus who established the Taksalkhana which still holds a lot of influence over the commercial markets of the region. When the Americans and Jews overran Iran, Bamiyan fell into Jewish hands. The Jews replicated the Temple of the Rock at Bamiyan as the easternmost outpost of their influence and developed it as a seat of the Rabbi of the orient. The Christians were still conspicuous by their absence from the city. It was not till the Russians ousted the Americans and Israelis from the city that the first church was built. It was the Russian Orthodox Church of Jesus the Apostle which was later upgraded to the status of Archdiocese with the reigning Archbishop of Bactria. There was a brief re flourishing of the Buddhists with the coming of the Chinese whom Russians recruited in a large number in order to have a greater control over the city. The Chinese brought back Buddhism with them and reconstructed the lost Buddha of Bamiyan and built the Pagoda to Avalokiteshwara the Bodhisattva.

By the end of the twenty fourth century the Hazars and Pathans from Bamiyan and the surrounding parts of Afghanistan had approached India so that the power could be restored to the natives.

In year 2374, Indian forces crossed the Suleiman and captured the city of Kabul. By the end of the year the united Baloch and Indian forces entered Iran and toppled the western forces at Yazd in the middle of Dasht – e – kavir. By the end of the year two armed groups were marching towards Mazar-e-Sharif. The Chinese forces got no re-enforcements from the Russians.

The Russians, who were always wary of the Chinese had entered into a secret treaty with the Indians at Baku whereby they would not reinforce the Chinese military and let the natives ovetake Mazar –e- Sharif,  and later Bamiyan with the help of Indian forces, if the Indians could ensure that the Christians and the Archdiocese remain safe, and that the Russian companies, and traders were given a special status. In fact they offered help to India in case China starts any military operations on the Indian borders.

By the year 2376, the Chinese had retreated from Afghanishtan and Bamiyan had fallen into combined Indian and Afghan forces. An Indian cantonment was constructed at Bamiyan and two great Indian style mosques were constructed – The Akbari Mosque in the east and Jama Masjid in the south. In the north-eastern corner of the city a new Indian enclave was constructed in the traditional Mandala design and was named Somapuri as Afghanistan was considered the traditional land of the Soma and the temple of Somnath was built – the largest Hindu temple outside of India. This made the religious diversity of the city complete. By the year 2377, the Indian army had moved back and Afghanistan was rendered a republic with Bamiyan having a special status and the Bamiyan Assembly representative of all the communities taking care of its legislature.