The Crematorium

Patiala, India

As they got down at the Baradari Cable-car station, Rajat and Vibhu saw a formidable temple spire across the road.

“That is the Kali temple.” Vibhu pointed out to the white and red color spire.

They descended down to the ground level quickly as Vibhu continued, “We are already a bit late. The temple lamps would be lit by now. If they start the fire ritual, we won’t be able to enter for an hour. They stop the entry.” He continued moving fast as he talked. “ We need to reach there soon.”

As Vibhu descended the lift, he transformed into his true self, a tall and handsome young man. He pulled Rajat by his arms, “Hey, don’t worry, the magic doesn’t work here. I can’t hide myself from the Goddess. Just come fast, we need to go!”

Rajat had a bewildered look on his face. He had never seen a human being transform this way. He wore a puzzled look on his face as both of them rushed to the temple gates.

They had barely managed to enter the sanctum sanctorum when the gates closed behind them. They would’ve missed it by seconds, had they been a bit late!

Just moments after they entered the temple, all the lights went off. It was pitch dark in the temple. In that moment of silence, it felt that the whole universe was closing in on them, entering into an infinitesimally small nothingness. The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of five conches blown together. As the sound faded away into an echo, there was a moment of silence once again. The silence and darkness were both broken by the kettledrums and nine lamps as the fire ritual started. The lamps would be rotated in front of the Goddess as the first prayer of the day. The kettledrums were joined with trumpets, plates and conches to form a mix of greatest tumult and trance that Rajat had ever heard. As the gongs and temple bells added up, the sound became a sound of unison of diverse vibrations. The ritual continued and culminated in closure of the curtains before the deity. Moments before the lights were to be switched on, Rajat felt someone pulling his arm. Before he realized what was happening, Rajat was being led into darkness through a descent. The sounds kept getting farther and farther, till it became pitch dark and silent again. It was warm, and a bit suffocating. He touched the warm hand that held him.

“ Where are we going, Vibhu?” Rajat asked in confusion.

The sound came from behind. “Don’t worry Rajat. We are safe!” The sound wasn’t Vibhu’s. 

As they walked on for some time, Rajat saw a light at the end of the tunnel. As they ascended, the light became too bright for Rajat to bear. As he accommodated his eyes, Rajat found himself standing in front of  a classical red building. Right in front of the building was a red signboard with golden letters carved on it. The board read:

SHAHI SAMAADHAN: THE ROYAL CREMATORIUM

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…..

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.”

Deborah & Kali

London (continued from previous)

  John was her best known relative since childhood. He   always loved her like a daughter. After the sudden death of her parents in car crash when she studied in London, John had been her guardian and father figure. She always made a point to meet him every fortnight when she visited Coventry. Lately, on her insistence John had started dating Jennifer Brown, an upcoming pop singer. She wanted him to marry and have a life. Even though John was a bit reluctant in the beginning, but both of them had turned to have a good understanding. The relationship had clicked. Deborah was really happy!

“She is a bitch,” Deborah thought in her mind. “I never thought she could ever do this.”

Just as she entered the fast tube station at Paddington, she could clearly see that this had become big news. There were small groups of people standing by the TVs watching the news. She saw the news flash on the TV.

Dawson Case: Girlfriend Jennifer Brown found dead at her home.

Everything seemed so stunning. She couldn’t understand how the things were moving.

“Did she commit suicide? Stupid girl!  She never had her head right.” Deborah thought as she boarded the zero gravity tube.

In next ten minutes she would be at Coventry at the helm of affairs.

 

3
Bangalore

At the crematorium, as Rajat’s head lay by the sacrificial pit; his body was hung by the hook and his skin was removed. Vikas used the skin as his seat as his team members cut off the rest of body into pieces and chopped the bones off further so that they could be cooked. They gathered the blood in the cooking bowl in which they started cooking him. As the meat was ready, Vikas took a bowlful of cooked meat and with chants introduced it in the fire. As fire engulfed the meat, smoke appeared. The smoke increased till nothing, but a white blanket of smoke was visible. And then she appeared –

Around her neck was a garland of chopped heads, all drenched in blood. She looked fearful – completely black in color, with a shining skin. Her sharp teeth projected externally and invoked fear. She was the one who, thus, lived in cremation grounds, wandering with untied hair.

She carried heads of decapitated men and also, a sharp sickle-sword in her hands. She was smiling with blood drenched lips. On the whole she inspired fear, but at the same time she looked pretty in an unusual way.  

She wore ornaments, ear rings, armlets and girdles made up of dismembered parts of corpses. Her hair was long and beautiful. Sitting on a corpse, she shone like a sun and made fearful sound that rocked all the directions with fear.

Trembling with fear, Vikas and his team prostrated in front of her. She was looking all around in extreme anger, ready to devour the earth. Her shrieks deafened the ears of the sinners. In a single stroke, she decapitated Vijay, a member of the team standing to the left and drenched his blood in her pot. As she drank, blood drenched her hair as it flew from the corners of her mouth. Vikas and all others were trembling. It was the first time that they had invoked Kali. They never knew what would happen. Demigoddesses were comparatively more benevolent, but Kali was the ultimate power. No one could stand in front of her. As she finished the meal, she threw Vijay’s head on the ground and crushed into pieces .His decapitated body lay, still trembling on ground some distance ahead. She gave it a single blow of foot and it was gone. It lay there – still and dead. She roared like a lioness and then said – “The sinner could not control his senses. He was already dead when he tasted the meat before it could be given to the fire!”  

“Goddess, please forgive us.” Vikas prayed. His hands folded and his lips shivring in fear. “You know about everything in the minds of the people.”

“This isn’t a business Vikas.” Kali roared. “There are things that you don’t know. Everything happens for a reason. I don’t appear on the earth without a deeper cause. Never in this age have I stepped on the alter to taste flesh – but when I come, it’s an indication of great changes. Tell me why you killed this man?” She stopped abruptly.

“Goddess, I want to restore him with Pankaj’s soul.” Vikas answered meekly.

“Did you get paid for it?” Kali said in a loud serious tone.

Vikas knew that these are going to be the last words from his throat. He knew that this was not a business. How did he even think that he would escape the goddess with this? He had been a fool.

“Yes Goddess” He answered, just ready to be slain.

“Let this be a lesson for you. I told you that this is not a business. Your Guru took a word from you for this before teaching you this science. Tantra is to be used only for a greater benefit of humankind. Not for greed. Though there is a reason behind everything, but you won’t know that. You would get what you want, but there would be a price that you would have to pay. You will lose two people who are closest to your heart in return of this so that you never repeat this again.”

Kali immediately took Rajat’s fallen head and blew a whiff of air, and there he was, complete with all his limbs – just as he was before. The only difference was that of soul. He now had Pankaj’s soul in his body.

Kali Turned to Vibhu. “Give me your hand.”

Vibhu moved forward. Kali took his hand and immediately dug a black iron nail in his palm. Vibhu cried in pain.

“Don’t worry. You won’t die. I have tied Rajat’s soul with you. He will be with you forever. He was a good man. His soul would be free from all the sufferings. You would be the one who would suffer for him. As for this pain in your palm it would never go away.” Kali roared, rocking the directions and into the smoke from which she had materialized, she vanished.

Vikas looked at the horizon. The night had ended. It was the dawn.