Souls of Samaritans

By Krishnamurthy Srinath

The storys focal point is a village Giripura where a fight between nature and Mans greed ends up devastating the entire village.
Ramnath who comes to this village to seek refuge in his last days ends up fighting to save whatever is left of the village.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jan 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482867848

Krishnamurthy Srinath

The author of this book hails from Mysore in Karnataka India. He had his early education in a remote village near Mysore.

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Copyright © 2016 by Krishnamurthy Srinath.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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I had not yet received my test reports pertaining to my illness. I was personally in strife. My wife Ayuesha was very much reluctant to accompany me to the hospital to obtain those test reports of my ailment. It appeared that she had almost decided to get away from my life forever. In one or two occasions I had even over heard her conversations with her lawyer which had brought a crucifying distress within me. This was much more unbearable than my physical condition. I was agonized when her lawyer came to my house. I only had to open the doors when he rang the door bell. The lawyer without bothering to wish me or acknowledge my smile, straight away went into my wife’s room. They were closeted for nearly an hour while I was waiting outside the room like an animal in despair and about to be hunted down. The feeling of alienation has had engulfed my whole being. I was also suffering from the dreadfulness since a serious ailment was suspected to have had afflicted my body. After the lawyer left our house at last, I could garner some strength and courage to drive myself to the hospital and collect the reports. When I entered the hospital the nurse who was attending my case appeared to have been anguished, gave a look of compassion towards me. By this posture of the nurse I was very much scared. The much dreaded diagnosis was confirmed. I was told that I may live for another few years. They did not particularly disclose how many more years I might live. The attending doctor personally told me to go to a place with a serene environment and spend the remaining part of my life. He also had indicated that the change in the environment might even extend my life by many more years. ‘Environment would play an important role in the process of healing and recovery.’ the doctor had said. The doctor also had advised me not to miss the medication even for a day. Giripura was the first place that came to my mind when the doctor mentioned ‘nature and serenity’. I had spent my child hood in this village Giripura. Throughout my life I had intuitional yearnings to go back to this place and relive my bygone experiences and pleasures. ‘Time has had arrived to bid adieu to USA.’ I thought.

I had with much deliberation and regret agreed to give a consent divorce to Ayuesha, my erstwhile ‘wife.’ She only had sought for it. I offered her much more compensation than she had ever expected. She had declined to accept the compensation initially out of modesty but under my persistence and insistence she reluctantly agreed to take the money. I really loved her from my heart of heart. ‘The compensation would hardly replenish the compassion and comfort I was bestowing to her and also receiving from her.’ I thought. On that regretful day of our divorce she had enquired in the court hall about my medical problem. But I had no vigor or steam remaining within me to disclose her anything volubly. It appeared as if she was not very much willing and keen to discomfort herself by knowing the harsh truth. Closing curtains were waiting to drop on our twenty years of acquaintance. I had bequeathed large funds to my daughter and the son who were studying at different universities in USA. They had their own value system and priorities which did not include obviously their parents. I had started regretting my marriage which had taken place in spite of my father’s vehement opposition and mother’s whimper. The pain and disappointment they might have had faced during that period continued to haunt my conscience time and again.

Later on one fateful day I was sitting alone inside my huge mansion amidst oriental furniture and drapes, which were the evidence of Ayesha’s expensive taste and aesthetic senses. All of a sudden I had developed violent convulsions. With great effort and difficulty I could call 911 and consequently I was admitted to the hospital. That spoke of the fast service citizens are getting in America as for as health care is concerned. The absence of caressing and comfort at this frantic moment seem to have aggravated my illness and loneliness. This feeling took me back to my younger days. There was a time when I was suffering from typhoid in our village. The love, affection and attention I had received from my mother and sisters were worth cherishing memories. I remembered the attention I had received continuously day and night. During that period each and every one of my siblings were taking turn to administer the antibiotic every four hours. That was a time when love and compassion had turned my sickness into as pleasurable episodes. Whenever we were facing the severe winter in our village, warmth of my mother’s sari would hardly match any of the present day warm winter cloths. The very reason for me to abandon all the material comforts of the west was to relive those child hood days. I had sold everything belonging to me in USA except my Mercedes car. I was constrained to keep this car since it would not fetch any reasonable resale price in America. I went to a shipping company and booked the car to India. My air ticket to India was confirmed. I had finally boarded a plane to India en route to my village. It was my final destination where I would spend the rest of my life and eventually till my death. The plane had touched down in Bangalore international airport. I had booked a room in a hotel not far off from the airport. I wanted to spend few days in Bangalore by staying in that hotel all alone incognito.

It was one month since I came to Bangalore. I had nothing to do in particular. A few days back my Mercedes had arrived at Chennai port. After knowing this I went to Chennai by train and took delivery of the car and finished the exacting formalities. I drove the car myself to Bangalore and parked it in the hotel’s parking lot. The next day I settled the accounts in the Hotel and drove in the morning to Giripura via Mysore.

I had reached Periyapatna which is the administrative head quarters of our village and also called as taluq. It is situated just 15 kilometers away from Giripura the village I was heading for. From Periyapatna itself I could witness the majestic hill standing ebulliently since thousands of years reassuring the villagers of their happiness and protection. It was appearing smooth and beautiful like a beautifully made-up female artist standing on the stage. By just seeing the hill my yearning to reach there, was unstoppable, so was the palpitation in my heart.

The new road to Giripura was well laid. It was painted with white lines in the centre to mark the lane. The only factor which was very much disappointing was the disappeared trees which were making traveling on this road a pleasure irrespective of the condition of the road. Its presence was soothing to the agitated minds of the travelers. Its rhythmic existence was proliferating comforting vibrations. During our travels to Mysore from this village Giripura in my childhood in the only one bus available at that time. We as a family, my father, mother and my sisters were occasionally traveling to Mysore to attend some function or the other; like marriage or naming ceremony etc. We all are, that means me and my sisters were finding immense pleasure while counting these huge trees as a past time while the bus was speeding up towards Mysore. It used to appear as if the bus was competing with the trees by running in the opposite direction. Presently the painted white lines on the road ironically seem to have replaced the lost beautiful trees. I was imagining this as a duel between the hackneyed development and unbridled assault on nature. Sardonically the winner was the irrational development. The balance has had not yet been struck at. The beauty and aesthetics of the nature was the victim of these imbalanced advances. It is not far off the day when in the garb of development we the inhabitants of this mother earth reach the annals of oblivion. It is a hard fact that we all are sitting in the chambers of illusion into which we are deliberately sending the poisonous and lethal concoctions and augmenting our own destruction. These missing trees were sounding like the harbingers of still more dastardly developments waiting for me as I was speeding towards my village. This has had replaced by euphoric mood by an uncomfortable melancholy. I had already become apprehensive of the missing serenity for which I came here seeking for.

-2-

I was just recalling my younger days in the village Giripura while I was driving speedily on the newly laid road towards Giripura.

"My father’s transfer from place to place was not guided by any definite pattern. It was always the outcome of vengeance and communal discords. His reticent nature along with his callous attitude towards the locals was the additional materials he himself had made available for his opponents and vested interests for his indictments and disadvantages.

Early at 4 am we the five siblings and my father and mother stood shivering in that cold day in the bus were standing waiting for the Shankar bus to arrive.

We were all holding luggage packed in large gunny bags. All these bags contained all our house hold items. My father never wanted to waste money on a separate tempo when sufficient man power he had created within the house which always came in handy. My mother wasn’t in conformity with my father’s idea of making small and also weak kids of hers to carry the luggage all along. She was sorry for her meek children who were struggling with the weight of the luggage. She said how can these young ones could carry these heavy luggage? scorching reply came from my father I have not received six months’ salary where is the money for the transporter? Does your father would come from the heaven and pay? My mother was sore at bringing in her father’s name who is dead and also said If he were to be alive he would have looked after all of us. What to do he died at a young age afflicted by tuberculosis. He was much more generous than your cantankerous mother. she said sarcastically. I just felt sorry for these young kids she said with remorse. On the day of our departure many friends visited us. Predominantly they were from the poorer sections of the village. One of them was from the family of Narayana, the local barber. Narayana had two children, a son and a daughter. Son was 11 year old and the daughter was 10 year old. An interesting incident made them as one of the members of our house. One day we were all about to complete our dinner. On that fateful day, my last sister had developed convulsions and fell unconscious. There was not even a single doctor available in the village during that time. My sister had this medical problem earlier also, but it was never of the present severity. No one had viewed this problem seriously. But the present recurrence was alarming. All of us were in a state of panic. My father was so much shaken that he could not decide what to do next. The barber Narayan was residing in the opposite of our house. He was a barber who was living in penury. He could hear the commotion in our house. Worried about the commotion in our house he rushed into our house could see the distressful seen. He found my younger sister lying on the ground with her mouth frothing and convulsing violently. Narayan for a moment knew that getting medical help at this hour is impossible. But somehow he wanted to come to our rescue. Since his son also had accompanied him to our house he whispered something in to his son’s ears. His son after hearing his father ran out like a rocket. Narayan took pains to assure all of us that he had sent for a doctor. My father was relieved a bit. Within half hour Narayan’s son came running into our house with the doctor. He brought him on a bicycle which he had hired from the cycle shop after waking up the owner of the cycle shop. The doctor sporting long beard appeared like a local aurvedic doctor. He immediately came near my still unconscious sister and checked her pulse. He took out some already prepared herbal powder and a few roots of a plant and told us to give it every half hour by making a paste of it. He assured that he would keep ready additional medicine by tomorrow. He also had asked for a glass of water and mixed some powder and made my sister to drink it. It was to wake her up. He also told me to collect the medicine tomorrow from his house in the neighboring village. By this time my sister woke up. All of us were delighted. He also told with a satisfied voice, You have sent that boy to fetch me at the right time; otherwise it would have ended up with more complications. He did not elaborate on what the complication meant. He also assured us that if the treatment is continued for one month the episode would never recur in her life time. In the latter years that was proved beyond doubt. After the completion of this treatment my sister’s ailment became only a matter of history. The doctor went back to his village on the same bicycle with Narayan’s son. My sister had recovered within three hours and had remained healthy throughout her lifetime. After the doctor left, my father told Narayan I forgot to ask the doctor’s name, and also his fee, what a lapse on my part! remorsefully he said. Narayan answered my father At this time of crisis anybody would do that. Any way his name is Dr Siddiqui Is he a Muslim? He doesn’t look like one. My father said. Narayan was proud to say that "people say that he has even cured cancer patients but has kept himself in a low profile. Humbleness and humility is his strength. He doesn’t even bother about the payment in return of his services and continue to live in penury in a small hut.In a nutshell we can call him as divine. He often says that curing is after all my prayer and a pay back to god for he has given me.

This was the occasion and the reason why Narain’s and our family became inseparable. Whenever my mother would prepare special dishes and sweets she used to share with all the members of Narain’s family. It was the fact of our departure from the village permanently that had created gloom and despondency in the family of Narayan. Those were the times when separation was begetting agony among people.

-3-

I was almost reaching Giripura in my Mercedes Benz. The fatigue and the consistent anxiety which had engulfed me was replaced my euphoric excitement after I reached my tiny village Giripura. My Mercedes was drawing attraction from the passers by all along. That was a little embarrassment to my conscience because of its conspicuousness among those half naked poor folks. That was the moment I thought that sporting wealth and luxury among these poverty stricken villagers would hardly help me to amalgamate as one among them. I had immediately decided to get rid of this vehicle as early as possible. These thoughts which were passing through my mind kept me unaware of the elapsed time. It was already nine p.m. and I had almost made way into the streets of Giripura. I was awestruck by contrast I was witnessing as compared to the olden days when I had lived there. There was only one hut like tea shop during the time I had lived here. Now I could see two hotels with A.C. rooms and a restaurant which was quite big. All along my drive I was worried about about the place I would live for the rest of my life. After seeing the lodges and hotels I was partly relieved. I had parked my car before a lodge which had a few AC rooms. The name of the lodge was Basava lodge and the name board was inconspicuously hanged in a corner. The owner of the lodge, latter whose name I came to know as Shailesh, was peeping outside and was petrified to see a Mercedes turning up near his lodge. I got down from the car and directly went to the desk where Shailesh was sitting and enquired about the availability of a room. It was at this moment that Shailesh’s face brightened up and joyfully said yes sir. He had swung into action and made arrangements to make my stay comfortable. He had apologetically requested me to bear with the malfunctioning of the AC and had assured that he would charge only non AC rates. For me it made no difference as I was already in the realm of joy of resting in a place where I had spent days and years learning the intricacies of inculcating a positive outlook within my personality. My dream of spending my last days in this beautiful village was appearing to get materialized.

-4-

The Shankar bus for which we were all waiting in the bus stand as a result of my father’s transfer had finally arrived. All of us including my mother and father boarded the bus. The bus slowly had marched out of Giripura leaving behind the good times we have had, towards Mysore en route to Gurupura, our final destination along with the anxieties engulfing in the minds of all of us.

It was in the night at nine p.m, when we all had finally reached Gurupura the place where my father, the Head master had to join the duty. And it was also a place where our mother had to re-establish new acquaintances and new likeminded friends to lead a harmonious life in the ensuing future days in this new village. The same pattern as it was in the earlier transfers, we were all made to sleep in the school, as we were yet to discover a new house for our livelihood. With the earlier knowledge of our arrival subramanyamadhyastha the Kannada teacher who was the only Brahmin staff of the school, had made arrangements for our dinner at his house only. He had taken exceptional interest in preparing the meal with two curries, sambar, and rice for all of us. He came to the school holding a dim torch amidst that dark night and guided all of us to his house for the eventual dinner. His house itself was a small dwelling place without any additional bedroom. There was only one hall in which partition was made by a screen mad of nylon cloth to make the one half appear like a kitchen. The head master could not contain his curiosity. He asked the kannada teacher Why your wife is not to be seen? The teacher was little ill at ease and did not anticipate such an embarrassing question. Remorsefully he said my wife despises this village so much so that she had refused to stay with me until I manage to get a transfer. And repent fully he added being a Brahmin how would I muster enough clout to manage a transfer from this village unless and until I belong to a powerful cast? The head master who had faced the brunt for having talked about the dominant cast wanted to give a piece of advice to the kannada teacher. ‘Never name any caste by any chance, particularly about the dominant ones. Being born as a Brahmin you would be facing the wrath of the majority. My case itself is a striking example. It is a sin even to talk about the intellectual superiority of our caste, let alone the virtues. The local math seer in Giripura during my previous tenure termed certain of my remarks about his caste as sacrilege. In fact I was praising a reformer who was the founder of the caste he was representing, just out of academic interest. He querulously prevailed upon the education minister who also hailed from the same community and made me to leave that village. At least in that village there were few houses belonging to our community, who were of use for any type of religious functions including annual death ceremonies of my parents. And see how ungrateful these people are sometimes. My wife who had learnt from her mother about some of the herbal remedies had cured the seer of that mutt who was suffering from a strange skin disease. And in the middle of the year I was shunted out. I don’t know when the persecution of our cast will end. And the honest and capable people are denied of due recognition. And all these poor fellows (pointing to all of us) had to suffer in spite of my ardent commitment to the work. Even my salary bill was held up in the district board office which was full of communal elements. After hearing our conversations it was my mother who was disturbed and fell back in to silence. She was worried over the impending travails lying ahead and already was thinking about the hurdles she had to face in providing all of us a meaningful livelihood. What was bothering her was the possibilities of making both ends meet in this strange village. But the head master was confident that something will come up out of providence. He thought his devotion to the teaching profession would never let him down. In the meanwhile my mother was making herself ready for another battle of survival and sacrifice. So are the mothers of this land who would sacrifice anything and everything for the welfare of their families.

We had to put up with the cold breeze, mosquitoes, lack of proper bed and bed sheets, in a small room in the high school that night. It was that traumatic travel and the sleepless previous nights which had made all of us to slip into deep sleep. Only person who was awake all night was our mother. She was concerned about the availability of a dwelling place to accommodate all of us. The house in which the predecessor head master was staying would be too small to accommodate all of us, she thought. The previous head master was staying alone and had left his family in Mysore. My mother got up early the next day while we were all asleep. She had gone in search of the school peon. She had made arrangements to procure milk and kerosene through him. She would not dare to invite the wrath of her husband. It was one thing that used to make my father vexed if he did not relish a cup of good strong coffee early in the morning. And so the mother, the mother of the million problems created each and every day by exacting circumstances and also by her children, and her husband, was here to invoke her management skills to establish harmony and happiness of her family members again in this new setup. Once after this excruciating exercise by my mother everyone would chime in contented and as usual the person responsible is forgotten without a word of praise.

My father had an implicit inkling that his wife is going to do something to find out a house in that village by wielding her charm, sociability and tenacity. He had a great confidence in her imbibed skill of survival against all odds. On the contrary my father had imbibed in himself procrastinating traits which was one of his many weaknesses. Hence he would conveniently transfer certain tasks like this to my mother. My mother was well accustomed to this nature of my father and had now set upon herself the task of searching a house. She went and met the school peon and requested him, she told him Siddappa please help me in searching for a House, and we cannot stay in this school room for ever.

Siddappa with a reluctant face said Why don’t all of you go to the same house where the previous head master lived

How can all of us stay in that house? It does not have even a separate room; my son is in tenth standard. He needs a place to study my mother bluntly said, annoyed by his casual reply.

Yes yes, I did not realize that, you go and request Doddannappa. He has one house which he is keeping vacant. He is the panchayat chairman. You need to request him; your words should always be choosy and cajole him as much as possible. Moved by my mother’s predicament Siddappa said. My mother after finding the location of Doddannappa’s house went straight to his house with a determined mind. She tapped the door even though it was wide open. Doddannappa, a hefty person appeared and asked my mother what do you want madam? curiously.

After learning that my mother is the wife of the new head master, Doddannappa and his wife respectfully welcomed my mother inside the house. My mother eagerly came to the point at once and told him, Sir, we are looking for a house. Ours is a big family, and you know the predicament of a teacher, who always remain poor. My husband has not received even his salary for six months from his previous school.Please take pity on us and provide us your vacant house for rent. I and my children would remember this help throughout our life, to make the situation touchier she allowed some tears to drop from her eyes without wiping so that the sympathy it might have created would not get erased. Before the tears in my mother’s eyes dried up Doddannapa agreed to give his house on one and only condition. My mother becoming panicky about the impending condition asked would you please let me know what the condition is? Doddannappa replied the condition is that you should not at any time think of paying the rent. My mother was bashful