Exile

by Akhilesh

  He lifted the glass of water, sipped and then picked up the pouch of paan masala from the plate in front of him. Mr Almond Walnut took the pouch from his hand and tore it open enthusiastically even though he never used it himself. Sampoornanand looked pleased. He tucked the masala in a nook in his mouth and continued, ‘Therefore, this state requires a profitable tourism proposal, one that will yield such huge revenue, such tremendous revenue that it would immediately fill the state treasury. I would like to point out that this proposal should be so fascinating, so fascinating that there should be more tourists in the state than residents.’ He squinted around for adulation. Everyone clapped heartily.

  When the clapping ceased, he drawled, ‘Why are you all mum? You must come up with a proposal that will draw tourists and generate income. What do you say, Director Sahib?’

  The director said, ‘What can I say? If I did, it would be like shining a lamp to the sun.’

  ‘I have a plan,’ Sampoornanand smiled.

  Suryakant noticed that Sampoornanand was clad in spotless garments. He was sure that the fellow had visited the bathroom just before the meeting.

  ‘I think,’ he said, popping something in his mouth, ‘I believe we have to give tourism in the state a new face. We have to identify suitable spots and develop them to make this state a paradise for visitors for phenomenal growth of the industry. It is my fervent desire that a number of tourist spots should be groomed, with everlasting charms to tempt travellers from the country and abroad. The entire world should flock here the way the gopis were drawn by the melody of Lord Krishna’s flute. We can succeed only when we grasp the charisma and immensity of our culture and civilization which enthrals everyone. Naturally, you would be eager to know what this quintessential element is – it is our ancient Hindu religion. The belly of the tourism monster can be filled only when white men flock in with their dollars. Let alone this state, our whole nation cannot entice them in the name of comfort, facilities, our science or our modern amenities. They are far ahead of us in these fields. They will not seek here the novelty of modernity and science. They want antiquity, mysticism, miracles and spiritualism. If there is one creed that contains all of these, it is our sanatan dharm, the most ancient form of Hinduism, essential to drawing people from across the world. These two young men have prepared a draft based on my suggestions, and they’ll discuss it now.’ He concluded and unlatched a large box on the tray before him. There was a plastic spoon inside which he filled twice, poured the contents into his mouth and then peered at the young duo.

  The fellow, apparently the junior colleague, picked up his laptop and sat by the projector. The other held a pointer and said, ‘We are in UP.’ The junior fellow pressed a key and the map of Uttar Pradesh appeared on the screen. The senior executive continued speaking while the junior kept fiddling with his laptop. With every statement, either a picture of a temple or some idol appeared on the screen. Sometimes clusters of idols and temples appeared on the slide. Baolis, trees, especially peepul, ruins, excavations, remains of buildings, rivers materialized on cue and vanished immediately.

  Everyone looked on. Suryakant glanced intermittently at Brihaspatiji, who sometimes appeared to be listening intently, and sometimes appeared to have dozed off. His neck would drop on either of his shoulders. But Suryakant knew that he was not actually sleeping but listening. Perhaps he was paying attention as well as thinking.

  Suryakant looked around: the director appeared unruffled. He was trying to behave as though this was not important and that he had his own ideas. However, he also simultaneously feigned being quite serious about the project. He had made notes twice or thrice. It was apparent that Mr Almond Walnut and Mr Panchmukhi Hanumanji were also bored but they pretended that they were most interested in the demo, and nodded vigorously now and then to confirm this.

  Suryakant’s only concern was that nothing untoward about this meeting should be published in the next day’s papers. This masala-guzzling villain will suspect no one but me. And if it is published in Bahuguna’s paper, he will assassinate me in cold blood. I will ask Bahuguna who the mole in the department is. I’m meeting him today – I must find out!

  The senior executive was prattling on. Finally, the presentation ended and the clink of tea cups and saucers filled the room. The essence of the presentation follows thus:

  The Muktipath Project was conceived to appease popular sentiment but it will incur huge financial losses, losses that the poverty-stricken citizens of this state cannot afford. Moreover, no foreign government or funding agency will extend monetary support to the project. Therefore, the state needs a project that would yield plentiful revenue and be unique and nationalist at the same time – a project that will be emulated and acclaimed not only by this state but by the entire world. Mr Chairman has, in his benevolence, made us aware that such a project can be founded on the most ancient of religions, Hinduism. After all, there can be nothing more appealing and powerful than religion. National frontiers, languages, banners, bastions, laws and civilizations can be wiped out but religion endures. Cast a glance at our country, a number of foreign powers ruled it and introduced their own religions here. They changed everything – national flag, coins, laws, militia, the arts – however, Hinduism has sustained despite these assaults.

  This justifies why we should bolster tourism in Uttar Pradesh on the foundations of Hinduism. As Mr Chairman has enlightened us, it is the land of three gods – Lord Ramchandra, Lord Krishna and Lord Shiva – but tourism in the state can develop because of the other gods and goddesses as well. Even if you consider only goddesses, there are a number of places in the state with unlimited tourism potential. We can develop not one but dozens of tourist spots like the Vaishno Devi Temple at Jammu. For example, Patan Devi. Patan Devi Temple turned up on the screen.

  Senior fellow: The legend is that the clothes of Sati, the spouse of Lord Mahadev, were dropped here with the portion of her right shoulder.

  Mr Almond Walnut stood up and raised both his hands in the air and hollered, ‘Jai Mata Di!’

  Senior fellow: The idol of Goddess Pateshwari was installed in this temple by Emperor Vikramaditya, after whom the Vikrami era is named.

  There is another great temple – the Vindhyavasini Goddess Temple. It is situated on the banks of the holy Ganga and is considered a popular, blessed site. It is said that Goddess Kali had manifested there as Goddess Vindhyavasini. ‘You missed something,’ Brihaspatiji’s voice boomed.

  The senior fellow looked at him.

  ‘Both the Goddess Patan Devi Temple and the Goddess Vindhyavasini Devi Temple were demolished by the sacrilegious ruler Aurangzeb.’

  The senior fellow resumed: There are a number of temples for goddesses in UP, for example, Kankali Devi in Mathura, Sankata Devi in Varanasi, Sheetla Devi in Mainpuri, Alopi Devi in Allahabad and so on. There are other holy places as well – Lord Shankar, Lord Krishna, Lord Ram, Hanumanji, sites related with Kaal Bhairav; besides, there are several other attractions. For instance, Naimisharanya where saints and seers used to hold conferences and where the Puranas were scripted.

  The project prepared by the senior and the junior fellow on the stated and unstated holy places proposed that each and every tourist centre should be modelled on ancient times. For example, in the settlement near a hamlet there would be grass cottages, mud huts with cows and bullocks tethered in front replete with cow bells. There would be men and women crooning folk songs while doing their chores.

  At this point, the chairman intervened and informed charitably that ancient India was not only a land of hamlets, and its urban civilization also was fairly advanced. Areas around the tourism centres will be designed to replicate the feel of an ancient city. The city would include luxuriant, green gardens and pools. The trees would be only those mentioned in the literature from the Vedic Age to the age of Guptas. Amorous couples would be indulging in passionate romance in the orchards and young maidens would be warbling popular numbers, and laughing, swinging on the swings
tied to tree branches. The scenic delight would be doubled by the presence of cooing cuckoos. The ponds would be teeming with lotus blossoms and swans would be gliding in them. There would be a marketplace where Vedic sweets, costumes, jewellery, wine, drapery and household objects would be sold. Sadhus and brahmacharis would be begging in each city and tender-hearted women would be filling their begging bowls with grains and fruit.

  No city can be called perfect until there are expert and advanced artisans in streets. They will demonstrate their talent in these cities of ours.

  And surely, no one can even begin to imagine the glory of Indian culture without rishis and munis. A large number of huts would be erected for their meditation sessions and there would be holy fireplaces from where fragrant smoke would rise, making the atmosphere pure and perfumed. To fulfil this objective, sadhus skilled in yajna, astrology, tantra, yoga and meditation rituals should be brought to these centres.

  For visitors, antahpuras should be constructed according to ancient Vaastu Kala instead of starred hotels. One of the blocks would abound with all the modern amenities and in another, larger block there would be services based on ancient resplendence and lavishness. It should offer exclusive, perfect facilities where guests would be served Mukha Shuddhi when they wake up, besides tours, yoga, meditation, couture, breakfast, lunch, wines, coitus and bedding facilities. Everything would be of such a majestic class that ladies would prefer to receive seeds in their wombs from their husbands only at these spiritual centres. The foetus conceived in such great spiritual atmospheres would be extremely robust, vigorous and bright.

  Eventually, a security team would be required to guard the tourist centres, which would be a paradise on this earth. It is crucial because the world is grappling with the crisis of terrorism and our pilgrims would be faced with the danger of internal and external terrorist assaults. Naturally, there must be well-trained security forces.

  And, of course, a large sum of money would be required to implement the project, a sum in the vicinity of rupees 14000 crores – or more. To arrange funds, the government can run the project under PPP or a private-public partnership.

  Brihaspatiji finished speaking and the hall resonated with applause. The two young men stood up gracefully and put their hands together while Mr Almond Walnut and Mr Panchamukhi Hanumanji competed to demonstrate who could clap louder. The rest applauded normally yet enthusiastically.

  Sampoornanandji masticated his tobacco with a gentle, content smile. He appeared suffused with fresh energy, ‘The deputy director, Suryakantji, will undertake the task of shutting down the Muktipath Project and setting up a detailed project report and proposal for the new project. He will be the nodal officer of the project.’ Addressing Suryakant, he said, ‘I want you to take this challenge up as an opportunity to prove yourself and regain the trust of the department.’

  He smiled. ‘I am confident you will prove yourself innocent.’ A strange expression flashed in his eyes, unsettling Suryakant. Then he turned to his audience and said, ‘Our deputy director is fighting a serious illness. We hope he receives the blessings of the gods in the course of laying the groundwork for this sacred, spiritual tourism project and recover fully.’ There was more applause. As if he was reciting some profound Urdu couplet, the director threw his hands up in the air and started saying, ‘How wonderful!’

  Sampoornanand Brihaspati walked into his room after the announcement and the director followed him. Suryakant also came along. Looking at Brihaspatiji, he made an earnest appeal: ‘Please spare me the responsibility’.

  ‘Why?’ Brihaspatiji asked.

  ‘I have no faith either in the structure or objectives of this project. My commitment is to the Mukti Path project that you want to cancel.’

  ‘You will draft the proposal to terminate it.’

  The director added sternly, ‘Look, there is no room for personal conviction in official work.’

  He utilized a lie softly, ‘You’re absolutely right. But my bad health is another reason. I have already told you people about my illness. You must agree that I am unable to muster the energy, competence, capability and determination required for such an important job these days.’

  ‘It’s better that you stop coming to the office,’ Brihaspatiji said. ‘The hospital and your home are more suitable places for you then.’

  The director added, ‘Proceed on long leave.’

  ‘Do I have any leaves left? I don’t even think there’s enough provision for a medical leave.’

  ‘Take leave without salary,’ the director told him.

  ‘If it is really that difficult for you, opt for the easier alternative – resign.’ Brihaspati said, sounding really irritated.

  ‘How will my family survive then?’ Suryakant tried to remain calm.

  Unexpectedly, Brihaspati roared, ‘Wah! The person that has robbed the department, hollowed it out completely, why should he suffer from a lack of money?’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Suryakant looked at the director and said, ‘Mr Chairman is new here – please tell him what kind of person I am.’

  ‘Come to my room, Suryakant.’ The director escorted him to his own office and placed a file in front of him. ‘Go through it.’

  It was a spider web of charges against him. Three advertising agencies and two travel agencies had accused him of demanding kickbacks. The employee union had charged him with behaving badly with them. There was also a bundle of Right to Information petitions against him. Fear and anger roiled inside him as he shut the file.

  The director pulled it away from him and said, ‘I need not clarify. We all know about your honesty and integrity. I tried to convince the chairman as well, but he is pretty annoyed with you. I should not tell you but all these complaints are his doing; he is preparing the grounds to dismiss you. You have only one option. Follow his orders, and as the nodal officer, fulfil every single one of his desires in this religious tourism project.’

  ‘So that I am dismissed as soon as the next government takes charge and sent to jail? Sir, the present looks like a deep well and my future an abyss. I want neither to leap into the well nor fall into the chasm. What should I do?’ Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the director’s office and came to his chambers, lost in thought. One of the options he had was to go on leave without pay. This majority government would finish its full tenure of five years. Moreover, there was no surety that it would not receive absolute majority in the next elections. How long could he survive without pay? His other choice was to put pressure on Brihaspatiji through his journalist friends. But this could annoy Brihaspatiji further. He would hold him responsible for every single newspaper report, censuring him, denouncing him and tightening the noose around his neck.

  He thought he should draw on his influential friends to find for him a decent job instead of pandering up to Brihaspatiji’s whims. I have so many powerful friends – reporters, executive editors, special correspondents, chief correspondents, bureau chiefs – they can definitely find a respectable job for me with no trouble at all. He started scribbling an application for long leave.

  Bahuguna was startled to see him, ‘What are you doing here? Didn’t you go to the office?’

  ‘I’m coming from there. I’m nervous. I’m afraid Brihaspatiji is spinning a troublesome web for me.’ He told Bahuguna the whole story. ‘If someone takes you for an enemy, and if he turns into a well-wisher suddenly, it stinks of a conspiracy. I can smell a conspiracy in Sampoornanand’s mind.’

  ‘You can look at it another way as well,’ Bahuguna replied, ‘It’s quite possible he has had a turn of heart – sau choohe kha kar billi chali haj karne – that after eating a hundred mice, the cat wants to go on a pilgrimage.’

  ‘This is no time for jokes. I’m already in trouble, don’t mock me.’

  ‘Suryakant, it is quite possible that your illness has softened his heart and he really wants to help you in these troubled times.’

  ‘How’s that?’ Suryakant gawked
.

  ‘He was appointing you as the nodal officer. If the government agrees to the proposal, the kickback cascades will flow in like the currents of the Ganga, the Yamuna and the Saraswati from this massive project, and perhaps Brihaspati wants to assure you that these will provide for your family during adverse times,’ Bahuguna said, selecting his words with care.

  ‘Bahuguna, you’re a turncoat! You are now looking at his perspective instead of mine. Has he dangled the carrot of a contract in this project to you?’

  ‘Alas, if it were really so!’ Bahuguna grinned. ‘You know how fervently I wait for such opportunities. However, I give you my word, Suryakant, it’s nothing like that.’

  ‘Why are you supporting him then?’ Suryakant was furious.

  ‘Oh, you’re livid! In that case, you have to listen to this bhagwat katha.’ Bahuguna sipped some water and began, ‘Sampoornanand Brihaspati will certainly get the chief minister’s nod for this project. Why? He has convinced the chief minister that it will benefit him in two ways. One, it is a project with unprecedented opportunities for all kinds of pay-offs – everyone can skim off as much cream as they want to. Secondly, the chief minister needs to secure at least two-thirds of the Lok Sabha seats to fulfil his dream of stepping into national politics. Sampoornanand has convinced him that restoring these abodes of the gods, their upliftment, beautification and new constructions will win his party all the votes.’