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.”
