Dadhichi,
Insects and Vishvakarma
A Translation of a Bengali story by Narayan Gangopadhyay
A Translation of a Bengali story by Narayan Gangopadhyay
Till now, I have been sitting rapt—meditating
with all my mind in a deep forest. Just that, a whole lot of insects have been streaming
across my nose and mouth, and I can’t describe how awful that is! They get into
my nose and tickle it; into the innermost recesses of my ear to fathom what
mysterious secrets, if any, lurk there. At one point, when swallowing, I even ended
up eating practically a dozen. Their taste was quite a bit like sweet fennel—but
what a terrible smell! I would have vomited, but that’s simply not done while
in meditation. Shoo them away—that is also out of the question. At present I am
still in samadhi[1]—I
have to stay absolutely still.
I had guessed right in the beginning that something like this
would happen. And I had told this to Habul. But he, having acquired the aspect
of Lord Indra, was then occupied with thoughts of going to Shiva at Kailash,
and just refused to pay any heed. He said, “go on with you, stop droning on and
on about this and that. Forests have insects and they will get into noses and
mouths. Bear it all quietly—or else how will you ever be a great sage?”
That is quite true. But, now I understand why great sages
have temperaments as touchy as a hornet’s hive, and why they let loose curses
of epic proportions at the drop of a hat. After all, there is a limit to man’s
patience! Such an invasion of insects on one’s face and even a man as serene as
Shantanu[2]
would become as dour as Durvasa[3].
I have not the faintest doubt about this, not even as little as the size of a
sesame seed.
Sure enough, I was in a fix. Truth to tell, what interest
would I, Paillaram Bannerjee, a victim of jaundice getting by on the juice of
Basak[4]
leaves, have in putting my foot into the bewildering business of sages and rishis? I live in Patoldanga, and it is
my fate to live on rice with patol [5]
and fish stew, day in and out. Just a handful of chanachur[6]
sets off my stomach into agonies, enough to almost send me packing! Poor me—as quiet
as a cow, I fell into the clutches of Tenida, all of six feet tall and with a 42
inch wide chest!
And what that means, is impossible to imagine for those who
haven’t ever had to deal with Tenida. He can make short work of anyone, from
the whites on the Fort Maidan to the shifty smart-alecky shop owners of Chor
Bazaar. Just by raising his hand, he effects the sensation of a big blow; the
mere sight of his teeth seems as if he’s bitten off a piece of you.
It is because of the clutches of this fearsome
Bhairava-like person that I sit here like a sage in meditation.
What else can I do!
It feels as if I have been sitting here forever. There is a
hole in the forest—through it I can see that worthless Habul’s nose peeping
out. Incensed by the insect-bites, I was wondering if I should or shouldn’t
bash his nose in. Just then, my disciple, Dadhimukh, made his entrance.
Dadhimukh spoke up: “Oh Master, there is a request.”
I said: “Speak, child. It will certainly be heard.”
Dadhimukh said:
“At the close of a dark night,
I saw an astonishing dream—
The Master in god-like might,
On a fiery chariot, ascending did seem,
On the great void’s shadow-path astride.
In great fear I cried—
Yuck
Yuck, thoo!”
Insects, what else? Grimacing loudly, Dadhimukh spat them
out—all on to me. Such cheek, and him my disciple. I grew livid with rage. My
plaited hair fairly stood up with the force of my fury. But to curse a disciple
is to invite ruin. I thought to myself, just you wait, my boy, I will teach you
a lesson.
I said, with a smile:
“Verily, it portends
A mystery most profound.
Your mind so dense
It would confound.
Come close to me
And I will whisper what it means, to thee.”
Dadhimukh stared at
me with his mouth open. This was not what he expected to hear. Helplessly, he
looked around, uncertain what to do.
I said:
“Why then
Do you still stand afar?
Come close if you would want to hear
This secret most astonishing.
Bring your face further here,
Come child, a little near—
Why don’t you come?”
Dadhimukh was young and naïve. Completely flabbergasted, he
brought his face close to mine. And I gave him a fitting answer. I opened my
mouth and breathed in mightily, and a swarm of insects fell into my mouth. Then
immediately, back they all went with the sound of my spitting—to Dadhimukh’s
cheek, nose, face and forehead. The affectionate blessings of a guru to his
disciple.
Dadhimukh cried out loudly. And then, the painted backdrop
descended. The bamboo hit my nose first, splat, and then straight down. The end
of Act 2, before the scene finished.
Immediately, Habul in the guise of Indra and Tenida in that
of Vishwakarma[7],
raced onto the stage.
Tenida demanded: “What was that, hey? What is the meaning
of this, I’d like to know?”
I asked rebelliously: “The meaning of what?”
Tenida, gnashing his teeth, asked: “You good-for-nothing,
you, are you planning to ruin the play? Why did you spit on Kaibla’s face like
that? The scene has been ruined. Can’t you hear the audience laughing?”
I retorted: “It was Kaibla who first spat on me.”
Tenida exclaimed: “Humph! I will clip both your foreheads
together like a pair of wood-apples. Anyway, whatever has happened has
happened. Now, the remaining scenes must be dealt with properly—do you
understand? Any more trouble from you, and I will give you a slap that will
send your nose to Nasik.”
I said: “You say this and that is the end of the matter?
But who is it who must sit there and digest insects, may I know?”
“You!” Tenida bellowed. “Undoubtedly, you. You will have
to. You think you can do theatre and not eat insects? If the occasion arises,
you will eat mosquitoes, you will eat flies—“
Habul joined in, “You will eat rats and bats.”
Tenida continued, “You will eat mats, and if you have to
eat cots and beds, that will not be surprising either. Ho, Ho my fine friend,
this is called theatre!”
“To do theatre then, does one have to eat all this,” I protested
feebly.
“Absolutely. What do you understand of all this? Have you
heard of Danibabu? Danibabu?[8]
When he enacted Sita’s part in a play, he would eat the Monument and only then
come down to the stage, do you know?”
“Eat the Monument[9]?”
“Yes, yes, the Monument on the Maidan. Go on with you,
don’t make such a fuss. The curtain will rise in a moment. Scoot from here. Go
learn your part by heart.”
With a frown on my face as dark as the blackened-pot on a
scarecrow in a brinjal-field, I came and sat at the corner of the stage. Eat
the Monument! What a story. How can a man ever do that? But, if I question this
further it will mean a tight slap, so I have to swallow this tall tale.
If you have to do theatre, you have to eat insects. Indeed!
As if by not doing theatre, I couldn’t stomach my fish stew. I, Paillaram
Bannerjee with my stomach afflicted by jaundice—what need have I to stick on a
mouthful of prickly beard and dress up as Dadhichi?
It is because I fell into the clutches of these rogues that
I am in this state.
I was sitting happily on the Chatterjee’s roak—while they
were all flinging their arms and legs around, as they rehearsed in the
courtyard. But they could not find anyone to play Dadhichi. And then Tenida,
his big saucer-like eyes swivelling around here and there, came and clapped his
hand down on my shoulder.
I said: “Aiee, Aiee, what, what?”
Tenida roared like a tiger: “Not aiee, aiee, but aye aye!
Yes, your face is very much like a sage, it has the look of a peace-loving
goat. And once we fix a goat-like beard on your cheek, how beautifully it will
become you. Aha! You will look just like old man Keshav at the Rai’s house.”
And this is the outcome of that.
I have no part in this Act, and continue to droop
discontentedly in a corner. The beard is in my hand; I wave it with all my
might to get rid of the mosquitoes. This is impossible. I simply cannot go on
stage and sit in meditation with more insects. And what deadly insects.
But what to do?
My entire being burnt with rage. Not content with taking
advantage of my kindness in agreeing to do the part, to then insult me in this gross
way. Slap my nose to Nasik. Ha! Just because your nose is as pointed as a
pyramid and mine horizontal as a Chinaman’s. Very well, just you wait, this
same nose you have slighted will appear as high as Mainaka[10]
when I teach you a lesson.
But what can I really do?
I just cannot think for the life of me; and there on the
stage, Tenida is waxing eloquent. Every now and then he leaps so high that the
old flea-ridden wooden divan of the Chatterjee’s wobbles dangerously. Difficult
to say whether he is doing theatre or giving a high jump.
The stage manager, Habul Sen, passed by. He called out, “Hey
Pailla, why are you sitting in the dark like a ghost?”
I pleaded: “Give me a little tea, brother Habul, my throat
is as dry as a stick.”
Habul twitched his nose disdainfully. “No, no, you had
better not drink so much tea. Anyway, you have a nerve, wanting tea after the
way you have been acting...”
Adding insult to injury! I bared my teeth and made a face
at Habul, but it was too dark for him to see.
Should I do the disappearing act with the beard? Go
straight to my house? When they find no trace of me during the Dadhichi scene,
then what fun it will be. But no—will that be wise? Who will save me tomorrow
morning?
One slap from Patoldanga’s celebrated Tenida and I am as
good as dead. No, no, that won’t work. I will need to contrive differently, so
that the snake is killed without breaking the stick. I will have to set such a trap
that Tenida will eat nails, and swallow them happily. And with all that, I must
teach him a fine lesson so that he sprouts another tooth—the one they call the
wisdom tooth. At the same time, I will also need to fix Tenida’s manager, Mr Habul
Sen.
I called upon the Lord and asked him to illumine the
darkness and show me the way.
And the Lord granted me light.
I told Habul I would be back in five minutes from my house.
Habul questioned fiercely: “Why?”
“Oh this stomach of mine is a little, you know—“
Habul said: “That’s torn it. This is what comes of involving
such puny stomach-afflicted creatures. You’ll ruin us all. Your part will be on
in just a while.”
I said: “No, no, I will be back immediately.”
I thought to myself, we’ll soon see whose stomach will be
in what state. You wanted me to eat the Monument, let me see what grave stuff
you can digest.
I was back in exactly five minutes.
My doctor uncle’s medicine cupboard did not take too much
time to yield to my hammer. I returned with just the medicine. I calculated
that it was almost an hour before I was to go onto the stage. The work would be
done in that time.
I went to where the big tea kettle was boiling on the oven.
No one was paying any attention, everyone was watching the play from the wings.
Tenida was leaping around to the dense accompaniment of claps. Just you wait,
I’ll see how many claps you clamour for.
Tenida returned, his pyramid-like nose elevated even higher
in the flush of victory. Smiling smugly, he enquired: “How did it go, Habul?”
Habul replied ingratiatingly: “Wonderful, wonderful! Who
can do such a part but you? The audience is cheering you hoarse—well done, well
done!”
I know why the audience is cheering. They have not
understood that this was Vishwakarma’s part, not Bhimasen’s. But the real part
is still to come, I said to myself.
Tenida let out a roar which shook the stage: “Tea, hey
you—get tea.”
Habul took a deep breath and shot off.
The curtain has risen again. In the role of Dadhichi, I am
sitting in a meditative pose and eating insects. My disciple, Dadhimukh, is
standing at a distance now. He has not forgotten our earlier encounter.
Indra and Vishwakarma make an entrance. Tenida and Habul.
Habul spoke:
“Master, O Great one,
We have come
At the bidding of Shiva,
That from the bones you bear
May thunderbolts be hewn—[11]
Tenida said:
“The genius of Vishwakarma
Will be displayed
Such weapons will I raise[12]
That the universe entire,
And all its oceans will quiver
With a great cry.
Sentient and inanimate
Intensely will radiate
Charged as the glow of a lamp,”
After that, without slackening speed:
“Oh my, what a stomach cramp”.
Habul groaned softly: “My stomach feels funny too”.
I glanced at them just once from the corner of my eye. Now
to see how strong is the digestion of those who claim that the Monument can be
eaten!
I said:
‘Stay, stay—
While I pray
To my Lord and meditate
Awhile you must wait.
Be quiet, till I say
And then I give my word, my life I will give up.”
I continued to sit immobile. This meditation is not going
to end so easily. The assaults of the insects continue unabated—but no matter.
If I don’t suffer, how will Tenida and Habul attain salvation?
Hot tea with strong purgative—let’s see what happens now!
Tenida grimaced and said hastily from the corner of his
mouth: “Quick, finish your meditation. Oh my aunt! My stomach really hurts!”
I said: “Quiet! Do not disturb my meditation
Or else I will lay the curse of Brahma on you.”
Of course, I was not actually sitting in meditation. I saw
Tenida’s pale face from the corner of my eye. Habul was in a worse state. The
Lord is compassionate.
Tenida spoke in abject tones: “Oh Pailla, I beg you, end
your meditation quickly. I fall at your feet, Pailla.”
Habul groaned: “I am almost dead.”
I sat completely unmoved. “Contain yourself. The meditation
of sages—a question of giving up one’s body—is this a simple thing to do?”
“Oh, I am gone”, and with one jump Tenida vanished. In the
absolute darkness. And behind him, Habul.
And theatre?
What is the use of saying anything more about it?
[2] Shantanu, the
Kuru King, great grandfather of the Pandavas and Kauravas. Here, there is a
play on the words, ‘shant’, or calm
and ‘Shantanu’.
[3] Durvasa was a
sage of very uncertain temper, famed for his propensity to fly into a rage at
real or imagined insults. He is the one who cursed Ganga, banishing her to
earth from the heavens, because she laughed at him. He is also the sage who
blessed Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas in Mahabharata, and granted her the boon to summon the gods at will to
father her children.
[4] Vasaka or
Shwetavasa in Sanskrit, Malabar nut in English, botanical name: Justicia Adhatoda or Adhatoda zeylanica, is a medicinal
plant native to Asia. Its leaves are bitter and widely used in Ayurvedic
medicine; their juice is believed to cure dysentery, diarrhoea, and glandular
tumour. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justicia_adhatoda, http://www.herbalnet.org/leaf/adhatoda%20zeylanica.htm,
accessed 10.07.2014
[6] Fried/roasted and spiced whole gram, a
favourite street food
[7] Vishwakarma, the divine architect, was one of the fourteen precious gifts of the Samudra Manthan. He is said to have
constructed the holy city of Dwarka, where Lord
Krishna ruled, and the wondrous
Maya Sabha of the Pandavas. He also created many fabulous weapons for the gods. He is
mentioned in the Rig Veda, and
is credited with Sthapatya Veda, the
science of mechanics and architecture.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vishwakarma
[8] Danibabu is the popular name of Surendranath Ghosh, who
lived from 1868-1932, and was a famous actor of Bengali theatre, and the son of
the great actor Girish Chandra Ghosh; see The Bengali
Drama: Its Origin and Development, 1930, by
P. Guha-Thakurta
[9] The Ochterlony Monument is a column
48 m (157 ft) high, located at the
Kolkata Maidan and a landmark of the city. With more than 200 steps that lead to its top, it is
literally a tall order to scale it, much less digest it! Named after Major-General David Ochterlony (who led the victory
of the British East India Company over
the Marathas in the Battle of Delhi in 1804, and over the Gurkhas in the Anglo-Nepalese
War), and designed by J. P. Parker, its construction
in 1828 was paid for from public funds. Renamed Shaheed Minar or ‘Martyrs monument’, it was dedicated to
the martyrs of the Indian
Freedom Movement in August 1969, but continues to be referred to simply as
‘Monument’.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaheed_Minar,_Kolkata accessed on 27 March 2014; p. 186, Stones of Empire, Jan Morris, OUP Oxford, 1983.
[10] A mountain in
the Himalayas. In Hindu mythology, Mainaka is the brother of Parvati, and the
most powerful son of the hundred sons of Maina (Mena) and Himavat, the Lord of
the Himalaya. Maina, originally resided in heaven, but came to earth because
she and her sisters did not recognize and greet some revered rishis, and were
consequently cursed by them. Another instance of the hot temper of great sages!
In the Ramayana, when Hanuman flies to Lanka over the ocean, Mainaka, pushes
himself out of the depths of the waters and invites him to rest awhile on his
peak.,
[11] Indra, the leader of the Devas, the lord of heaven, and the God of rain
and thunderstorms. He wields a
lightning thunderbolt known as Vajra
[12] As
recorded in Puranic literature,
the Asthis (bones) of Dadhichi, also known as Dadhyancha, were used
to make the Vajra. This mysterious
weapon of Vedic origin, was the Amogha Astra (unfailing weapon) used by Indra
to kill the Asura Vritra, the
demon of drought, and release life-giving waters for the benefit of
mankind. Dadhichi, revered amongst the greatest of sages, was from the clan of bhrigus,
and one of the greatest devotees of Lord
Shiva. At the request of Indra, he gave up his life by the art of Yoga, so
that his bones could be used to make new weapons to defeat Vritra, the
recipient of a boon whereby he could not be killed or harmed by any known
weapon. The Vajra also serves as the motif for the Param Vir Chakra,
the highest gallantry award of the Indian Army. See Official Website of Indian Army, and
