Animal Instinct

When I see a crawling child smashing a passing by cockroach, I am convinced that I might have killed several when I was a nappy child. This conviction grows stronger when I glance through my past life as a growing child later attaining adulthood and then migrating into the other side of the age.

When I started walking and could throw a stone, my first causality was a frog. It used to be an easy target but it seldom got hurt. Most of the time, it leaped away even after being hit by a stone of its size.

At the age of ten, I gained expertise in using a catapult. Basically, catapulting was meant for felling mangoes and guavas but if a bird came into the eyesight , it had to fly before my stone bullet reached it. I must have injured and killed 5 to 6 sparrows, a mynah and finally a crow. The last was a nightmare for me for days to come. As soon as , I came out of my house, crows started to cry hoarse and tried to injure my head and face. It continued for more than a month. That was the end of catapulting.
Next in line were the stray dogs. We used to take pot shot from a distance. After getting hit, the howling of the dog gave us immense happiness. This foray also stopped when my house got a pet and a passing boy hit it with a stone when my pet was relieving itself outside the gate in the bushes. I could not stand the cry of my favourite.

My father used to give his 0.22 bore rifle to his workers to kill stray dogs suffering from hydrophobia. Once in a while, he used to correct his rifle’s sight by aiming and hitting a target which normally used to be a fruit on a tree.

When I was 21, I accompanied my senior colleagues to have a look-see of a shikar party. We went to a nearby jungle with 0.22 bore rifle. One of my colleague bagged a rabbit while another used his splinter gun to shower splinter on a bunch of pigeons. He killed two.I did not fire even a single shot.

My Muslim friends took delight in slitting the throat of chickens in slow motion which they termed as “Halal”. I am a non-vegetarian. I generally favoured the meat of a goat whose throat was slit before me to be sure of its freshness and masculinity. Once, I took my 3 year old daughter to such a sight. She became vegetarian thereafter.

When, I was thirty, I was given an opportunity to kill a goat . In fact, 11 goats were purchased for the purpose of serving NV delicacies to the guests of my brother-in-law marriage. I was told that this was the prevalent Rajput tradition there and the sister’s husband was honoured by inviting him for the first kill. I was given a hereditary sword. I was instructed the way I would operate the sword. I was successful in parting the head from the body in one great blow. That was the turning point.

Suddenly , I found myself turning my eyes from goats getting beheaded or chicken getting their throat slit. Even felling of fully grown trees started giving me uneasiness. I owned the hobby of gardening. I had turned 50.

It was 1998 when my son brought in a puppy. It was a mixed breed so I started teaching it to fetch balls and obeying some small commands. Once, when I threw a ball towards it, the ball hit the pet on its face. From that day, the pet just backed down when I tried to give him any command. I hit it with a chain. That made it still more afraid of me. I could not stand its misty eyes. From that day, I never inflicted pain on any creature. Rather, I would sprinkle some grains on the terrace for the birds and bought bread and biscuits to give to pets living in my vicinity. By the time , I had two pet dogs with me.

In 2008 my 1998 born pet ran out of my house panicked by the  bursting fire crackers seven days before the Deepawali(light) festival. Last year, my second pet died of injury inflicted on its stomach by a big dog. While dying, he left my house and sat near the portico to take its last breath. I vowed never to keep a pet.

My younger brother who lives in the main house inside the campus has 5 dogs of different pedigree. They come in the morning to demand a piece of bread from me. My day begins with such a good note.

Apart from animals, the plant and the trees also respond. When I came to live in my present abode, the mango tree by the side of my room seldom gave fruits. But once I started living with my family , it seemed to have a company. It is a fully grown tree planted by my late mother. I have never done any rearing or watering but yes I always watch it affectionately. It started giving the most delicious mangoes and is by far the most fruit laden tree in any year.

This year I was away since eight months and returned only in mid-July. This is the time when mango trees are fully relived from fruits. On my way home, I prayed that I would like to see only one mango still hanging on the tree. The next morning, I went upstairs. I looked up towards the tree.. There was one fruit still there. Five minutes later , a parrot came . It plucked the fruit. It sat on the roof by the side of the tree. It took ten minutes to eat that fruit which I would have taken 1 minute to devour. The longest enjoyment that I ever had of eating a fruit of that size.
How true are our holy books which says that in the beginning there was only stone and debris. Then there were vegetation. Thereafter came the animals. The social animal called "Man" was the logical progression. And in the end there is the humane, , the exact specification to reach the doors of the Almighty.

The News Paper

My first tryst with a piece of news paper was when I was 5 years old, and the roadside vender gave me peanuts wrapped in it. My father used to read news paper when he took his breakfast. The title of the newspaper “The Statesman” always fascinated me.

My real rendezvous began with the search of photos related with cricket in the sports page. My serious confrontation started when my father began giving me passages to read, write and discuss.

Then there was the first student disturbance in 1957 at Patna. When hearing the voice of the news paper vendor, I ran to the door, I found my elder brother already clutching the newspaper and escaping to a remote place in the house. The competition raged with time. Sometimes , I got beat up for not backing down or handing over the paper to my brother. He never liked taking one or two pages to share reading. He wanted all. The most surprising thing was that I never found him abstaining from waiting for the paper at the door or the outer gate as the case might be. It only subsided after 15 years when my brother went to Delhi to oblige an employment.

My father was an ardent reader of  NJ Nanporia, Pran Chopra and particularly S. Nihal Singh. He used to ask us to read their articles so that our command over English language strengthened. My brother reaped the harvest, and he opted for master degree in English and his English could easily be ranked with top notch of the time. It seemed that I was more interested in teasing my brother and making a hollow competition, the result was my English never reached the second step of the ladder. 
The fight for getting the print first remained alive with my younger brothers lining up with me , sometimes ahead of me.

I went for higher education in the science stream and took Masters degree in Physics. But my appetite to stand erect before my elder brother never succumbed. I learnt and relish one Latin phrase in Science, and that was Q.E. D.(quod erat demonstrandum, which translates as "which was to be demonstrated") . I chose only those matters to write which have a punch and that finish with a triumphant QED.

When, I was of my own, I remained a regular reader of “The Statesman”. When, my children became of age and needed some brushing up and keeping pace with advancement in various fields, I began purchasing “The Hindu”. This news paper had more educative material as compared to others in the 90’s.  My son, who used to go to catch the school bus in the morning, sometimes took the paper with him for reading during the long bus ride. 
Only last year, in 2011, my friendship with print media began diminishing as at 66 , my eye sight does not   relish small prints, and then there is the online media with the latest in happenings with YouTube to complement.

However, the crave always draws me to the gate now captured by sons of my younger brothers and their pet dogs. The dogs love to play tear-tear. Most of the times, when I used to return from my morning walk, I found news papers loitering on the pathway inside the gate. Sometimes, the dogs relished biting and tearing. To stop this nuisance, I instructed the vendor to position the paper on top of the cemented pillar of the gate so that the dogs have not their day.

I returned to my native town Ranchi after a gap of 9 months. The TV channel had to be revived ; the internet had to be reconnected. Next morning, I found two news papers waiting to be availed on the pillar of the gate. But I resisted my temptation. The papers remained there for almost two hours after which I found them to have been removed.

For several days when I returned from my morning walk, I used to find news papers kept at their assigned place on the pillar. One fine morning, I could not resist. I was sure that my nephews would need it after two hours. I assured myself that I would place back the papers after glancing through only after 15-20 minutes.

I reached my open verandah. I sat on the chair. I wore my reading glasses. My wife gave me my first cup of tea of the day. I took up the first news paper. That was  “ The Times of India”. And there was that big news,”India Against Corruption: Team Anna eyes 2014 polls, to call off fast today”. Suddenly a shadow fell on the news paper. I raised my head.

My young nephew was smiling, and his pet dog had a puzzled look in his eyes. Now people having concern with newspaper are getting up early in the morning.

A Pilgrim Odyssey

Indian temples and places of pilgrims gain importance and reverence in order of their location; more tough is the path- more valued is their worship and more possibility of reaping rewards from such pilgrimage. Swami Shankracharya had , therefore, stamped four temples in the four corners of India of which one is at the top North.

My friend Ashok, when he became a senior citizen, opted for the life of a pilgrim. It seemed that the Gods were also with him. He always found the way to pilgrimage paved for him. While going to Puri, his next berth traveler in the train was from Ram Krishna Mission. The later arranged for his stay at Puri for free. When he went to Trivandrum, his taxi driver was from his village. He took him to his home and to all places of worship without asking for any payment. At Hardwar, he stayed at a lodge operated by a person who was his class mate in school.

In his journey to Amarnath Caves which was at an attitude of around 4000 meter and 150 KM from Srinagar, he had no such assistance and had to be of his own. It was a nightmare when terrorists attacked and all the pilgrims fled away helter and skeltor. He had one blanket with him when it became dark and very cold. He somehow reached the place of temporary stay in tents. He was very tired and shivering with cold when he saw row of tents. He slipped into the first tent . There were twelve people sleeping there. He did not bother for food though he was very hungry and slept a good sleep.

He only arose when he heard voices. There were Indian soldiers talking over his head. One was asking others as to how the hell there were thirteen corpses when they had brought in only twelve.