Wild Animals Prohibited

by Subimal Misra

Speaks only in English even at home, oh, I can't bear it any more –

  Calls his father Big Bum

  Says, Nasty Papa, you're a peasant with your lungi and bare body…

  In some parts, pervasive boy–metaphor–rage–adorned– tiger-torment

  Some people's calves had been carried away by a tiger

  Full of rage, they made a tiger trap

  The last few pages of the calendar of the year '76, with the image of Goddess Durga, She who drives away all danger

  Blows animatedly in the wind sometimes it flutters phur-phur

  The walls of Alipore Jail rise higher

  The age of Emergency ripens

  Morning's sweet date juice

  Becomes intoxicating toddy by evening

  We, true revolutionary intellectuals,

  Overnight

  Cork our mouths, each one of us hides in our respective burrows

  We'll think of revolution and all that after saving our lives now

  Depending on opportunities and sources, some of us get into banks and into the accountant general's office

  Some become professors school-masters disciples of Sai Baba

  Some of us merrily play ball games in the nooks and corners of Victoria Memorial

  And some, unable to disregard mother's request,

  Select and bring home a beautiful-looking 'slave'

  We are rapt in our household and family affairs

  Going for a few days' outing to a friend's village home

  We offer a filter cigarette to Ikram Miya in the village

  We find out how bad his situation is

  Returning to the city, we boast about our knowledge of the living conditions of sharecroppers

  Fondness, affection and love remain intact in people's hearts.

  Hemnalini is busy making bullish Indians in her womb

  With the American bull's seed

  Every once in a while, she snaps: Why so horny, smartass cow?

  One-cowrie Mondal's son hawks bread like before

  In compartment after compartment of the trains

  Only we, youths aged 25–30, observe and hear everything

  Yet, despite observing we don't see anything, and hearing everything heed nothing.

  We eat and sleep and get on with our lives and lick dad's shitty bum

  Keep licking.

  _________________

  Ghora Jebhabe Gadha Hoy: Ghora > Ghodha > Ghadha > Gadha, 1976

  A Gem of a Man

  First God created earth. And then He wondered who would take care of the vast earth. For that it was necessary to create living beings. And so, just as God wished, beings were created. Then came the time to allot lifespans to them. Now He had to determine how long each creature would live on earth. He wanted to seek their opinions on the matter.

  The first one to present himself before God was the monkey. He came and asked: 'Lord, how long will I live?' God said: 'I've given you a life of thirty years. You're happy, aren't you?'

  The monkey said: 'Must I live for so long? That's just not possible, Lord. It may look like my life is a very happy one, full of joy and laughter, but it isn't. Fatigue accumulates beneath my laughter. All the nuts that people fling at me are bad ones, worm-eaten. Those who throw them think, What better than this would a monkey eat? It'll survive even if it can't eat, rapt as it is in fun and frolic. Think about my situation. And in order to make people laugh, I have to make all kinds of faces. But, beneath all this, fatigue overflows. Every time I make people laugh I feel exhausted. Lord, please reduce a good part of this long life.'

  Hearing this supplication, the Creator reduced his life by ten years. The monkey was pleased, and left.

  Bucket Baba, of Deoria district in Uttar Pradesh, was very famous. He was renowned for a specific reason. If one went to him to ask a question, it had to be written on a piece of paper and thrown into a bucket. After a while, Bucket Baba would insert his hand into the bucket and pick up the piece of paper. The answer to the question would be written on it.

  Bucket Baba was not a false baba like Rajneesh or Mahesh Yogi and so on. He had nothing to do with millions of dollars. He probably didn't even have a foreign agent. One heard that Bucket Baba had undertaken penance for sixty-two years. During his penance he had stood on one foot with one arm raised. There was a story in circulation about his powers. Once, Baba and some of his devotees arrived at a forest. It was a vast forest, a lair of tigers and bears. Everyone, including his devotees, warned him about going through it but he did not heed them. In the dark of twilight, he walked into the forest. Halfway through, there was a tiger occupying the path ahead, standing in the darkness, with gleaming eyes. Baba advanced fearlessly. Going up to the tiger, he patted its head. The tiger licked his hand and lay down at his feet like a kitten.

  When Baba returned he delivered a sermon: 'Love animals. Man betrays but animals do not.'

  Be aware that on this earth created by God, Bucket Baba was the one with the longest life. Not just uneducated villagers but even accomplished leaders the world over admitted unanimously that His Holiness Bucket Baba's age was definitely a hundred and fifty years. It could even be two hundred.

  After the monkey left, the donkey presented himself before God. He was not as clever or as cunning as the monkey. He was late in arriving. Affectionately drawing him close, God asked him: 'Tell me, dear donkey, how long do you want to live? I gave the monkey a life of thirty years. Shall I give you the same?'

  The donkey wept when he heard this. 'Have I to live for so long? Please think about my harsh life. From morning till night I have to go around carrying heavy loads of clothes so that people can dress in a civilized manner and live decently. Every day, all the time, I have to listen to taunts about not being able to carry even more load. Lord, you know that my life has been created to carry other people's burdens. How can one love such a life? I implore you to reduce my life by half.'

  As he listened to the donkey, God felt compassionate. He stroked his head lovingly. He reduced his life to eighteen years. Happy, the donkey bowed before God and went away to cart more loads. He had wasted a lot of time.

  There were many stories in circulation about Bucket Baba's age. One of them was that when the first President of India, Dr Rajendra Prasad, was a small baby he had been brought before Bucket Baba to be blessed. If one were to calculate, this incident would have taken place almost a hundred years ago. He had said on seeing the child: 'The baby shall be President of India.' The people of India, eight hundred million Indians, bear witness to whether this came true or not.

  Bucket Baba lived on a machan built on a tree, avoiding contact with the sinful earth. The machan was made of bamboo and was fifteen feet high. Most of the time Baba didn't want to descend to the sullied earth. He blessed everyone from his perch on top. Thanks to God's blessings, there was no shortage of sadhu babas in the country. Some of them possessed great powers. Frauds like Rajneesh and Mahesh Yogi had amassed millions of rupees and were in the pink. But Bucket Baba had no money. Yet, compared to them, he was a genuine baba. He did not take money from anyone. He wouldn't even touch something as sinful as money. But if he was offered pure ghee, prepared at home with pure thoughts and wearing pure garments, he accepted it, but not with his own hands. Baba did not receive anything himself, his disciples received it on his behalf. He only blessed the offering. He had no objection to unadulterated pulses and flour, and fresh fruit too. Some Marwari devotees had biryani prepared by satvik brahmins and sent it for Baba. He accepted it gladly. He loved to eat biryani very much. These biryanis were, of course, entirely vegetarian, made using Ganga water, pure cow's ghee and cooked on a sandalwood fire. He did not object if a devotee offered fine saffron silk. But if the cloth was cotton he returned it. Cotton pricked his soft body too much. He wanted to be turned out in a civilized manner in decent society, so he always wore silk. Recently a devotee had donated him a videocassette player. He watched films sitting on a branch of the tree. He said, 'Everything is God
's divine play.' His enemies said quite a bit of money was spent to get an electric connection for Baba's machan, but in fact this had been given by the devotees. If a devotee gave something out of love, could any guru refuse?

  "

  The donkey left. Soon after, out of nowhere, came the dog, panting, and presented himself. He was quite old, his teeth long gone and his vision poor. He was in a bad shape for having come all this way. God asked him to rest for a while and gave him a piece of meat. Because he didn't have teeth, he sucked and gnawed at the meat with great difficulty, but finally ate it up. Once he'd eaten, he felt contented. God asked him: 'How long do you wish to live? Monkey didn't want to live for thirty years. Donkey thought a life of thirty years was too tiresome. Shall I give you the thirty-year life? What do you say?'

  Paws folded, the dog whined, 'Lord, I'll be completely finished with a life of thirty years. Please be kind and don't give me such a long life. While I am young I can run around, I can chase robbers, this is why people like me. As soon as I'm old and my legs are no longer strong and I have no teeth to bite with, they snap at me and curse me and drive me away. One look at me and you will understand, Lord. I haven't eaten a morsel in three days. Please think about my condition, Lord.'

  God felt compassionate towards him. Accepting his plea, He gave him a life of twelve years. The dog went away happily.

  The greatest accomplishment of Bucket Baba was that he was one of the leading voices of the movement to ban cow slaughter. Under his leadership, the cow protection movement spread across India. In his view, God dwelt in every part of the cow. Cow was Mother. The day cow slaughter stopped, India would be transformed into Ram Rajya. Sorrow and suffering, violence and conflict, riots and commotion would all disappear. The fundamental reason for the all-round backwardness of India and Indians was the slaughtering of cows.

  Baba was also famous for divining the future. Everything he said was fished out of the bucket. It was said that devotees came from across the world for Baba's darshan. Recently, the Japanese prime minister's paternal cousin's brother-in-law had come to Baba's ashram for darshan. He came to receive blessings on behalf of the Japanese prime minister. His disciples said it was because the prime minister had a lot of work and was so busy day and night that he couldn't come personally, and had sent his paternal cousin's brother-in-law instead. Many political leaders of the country went to Baba and he gave them good counsel. Ordinary people came too, as did businessmen. The renowned film director Raj Kapoor had put into the bucket the question of what kind of film he should make that would do well in the country. The answer that emerged was that he should come up with eternal themes and put in a lot of sex. Only Indians will know what the outcome of that was. Satyam Shivam Sundaram, Ram Teri Ganga Maili– who in India has not seen these films? Even outside India, in countries like Russia, in the communist countries, these films were well-regarded and highly acclaimed.

  Once, Sanjay Gandhi too had put a question into the bucket. The answer that emerged said: 'Never be separated from Mother Earth. Make sure your feet are always on the ground. If you fail to do this, you will die.' And that's exactly what happened. When his feet rose above the earth, when he tried to fly in the sky, he died. He went away, leaving India in darkness.

  "

  Right at the end came man. God said to him: 'Neither monkey, donkey nor dog wants to live very long. How can creation survive then? You have to live for at least thirty years.'

  Crestfallen, man said: 'Only thirty years? No more?'

  God asked him: 'Why do you want to live longer?'

  Man said: 'I've just built a house beside a bounteous river. I've learnt to light fire. I planted trees and the flowers have bloomed, they will fruit in just a few days. I covered the fields with green stalks. Next winter, the harvest will come home. Can't I enjoy the fruits of my labours? Please increase my lifespan.'

  God said: 'Fine. I reduced monkey's life by ten years. I will give those years to you.'

  Man said in a disappointed voice: 'Only ten years? No more?'

  'Fine, I give the twelve years of donkey's life also to you. Are you happy now?'

  Man stood silently. He was not happy.

  God smiled and said: 'All right, you'll get the eighteen years of dog's life as well. But you can't get any more than that.'

  Man was not content with this either. He raised his head once and looked at God. He wanted to say something. But realizing it was inappropriate, he took His leave with a glum face.

  "

  One heard several opinions regarding Baba's age. But no one said it was less than a hundred and fifty or two hundred years. If asked, Baba would reply: 'I have become Indraneel. I do not age.' Baba's disciples explained what exactly 'Indraneel' meant. Those who attained self-realization after severe inner and yogic practices were able to transcend life and death. Baba was definitely two hundred years old, perhaps even more. He had seen the Sepoy Mutiny, he had seen the time when Lord Dalhousie was Governor-General of India. When asked whether he had lived in the time of Shivaji, Baba just smiled inscrutably.

  Politicians across India ran to Baba to receive his blessings and he distributed his blessings generously. Devotees said: 'All those who took Baba's blessings before the elections won. Indira Gandhi lost in '77 because she had forgotten to take Baba's blessings.' This was the secret about Indira's loss that no one knew.

  Thus did man receive a total of seventy years of life. The first thirty were from the Creator's own compassionate design. The splendid days of infancy, childhood and early youth rushed past and were gone before he knew it. He did not realize what he was losing. In this period his health glowed, his mind was keen and he was proficient in his work. Then came the turn of the monkey's ten years. The lustre of early youth gradually waned. Outwardly he appeared hale and hearty, but inwardly a sense of fatigue steadily accumulated. Handfuls of dry nuts were flung in his direction but they were worm-eaten, lacking any substance inside. Then came the eighteen years of the donkey. He had to carry the washerman's loads, carrying clothes to and from the washing site all the time. Every day he had to hear rebukes for being unfit to work. The final twelve years of his life were a dog's life. He lay curled up in one corner. He had neither teeth to chew with nor claws to strike with. He ate only if someone took pity on him, or else he went without anything.

  The time came for the long-lived Bucket Baba to finally lay down his body. It was because of a mere bite from a snake that had slithered up the trunk of Baba's tree. It bit him in a critical spot: right on his penis. It was rumoured that Baba wanted to be taken to the hospital. Some detractors said: 'Baba wept inconsolably. “What are you doing to me? Take me to the hospital immediately, or I'll die.”' But the disciples didn't let that happen. 'Let Baba die, if he was taken to the hospital the greatness of his soul would be dented.' They tried faith-healing, they gave him herbs and roots, but Baba's life was over. And thus did Baba give up his body. Cynics say a lot of things. But who can alter destiny? After all, the circumstances of his death were preordained.

  Before being consigned to the fire, his body was daubed thickly with cow dung. He was dressed up in cow attire. Fourteen thousand cows took part in his funeral procession, and there were nine thousand buckets. Nine thousand cow protection committee members, each one receiving nine rupees a day, marched in front, carrying nine thousand silver buckets on their heads. Behind them was a procession of fourteen thousand cows. Behind this came Bucket Baba's dead body. The government of India volunteered to bear all the expenses of the funeral procession. Photo features of the procession of cows were published in newspapers across India and, for that matter, in foreign newspapers too.

  _________________

  Manush Ratan, 1987

  Drumstick Flowers

  Make a Fine Chochchori

  The drumstick tree in the courtyard has flowered white flowers, the colour of terrycot

  Sway in the breeze

  Drumstick flowers make a fine chochchori with bori

&nbs
p; The seekers keep track

  One and a half babies are born in the country every second. There's nothing to fear, more than half of them kick the bucket even before they can eat properly. Red-blue festoons were being put up in every direction. The International Year of the Child was going to be inaugurated. My brothers, look around you, today there are dense clouds of disaster on the firmament of Bengal's destiny. There were tears in Malabika's eyes because a mosquito had entered her mosquito net. The fields were laden with the landlord's harvest. It was as if the very country now belonged to Anadi Dam, the village landlord-cum-don. Just as it had been his father's earlier. The green harvest was ripening to gold. Donning khadi dhuti– punjabi, Anadi Dam – look at his neck, just like the buffalo's in the cattle shed – had entered the political arena in order to serve the people and be one with them. He had joined the successful party, the one that would yield maximal gains, and obsessively engaged himself in party affairs. Actually, politics had been his father's forte. Like him, his father, Three-cowrie Dam, simultaneously managed his lands, oil-press, jute warehouse and a lorry business, and was a bulwark of the local Congress establishment. His son, our Anadi Dam, matched his dad in every way. He watered his own pumpkin fields with the fire-fighting hosepipe provided by the government, and did so with pride. The people didn't snatch it away! After completing his chores with field–farm–workers– accounts, wearing his khadi outfit, he headed straight to the local meeting of the red party. At night, when he sat down to eat, he whispered to his Calcutta-based younger brother-in-law: I hear that in your Calcutta one can get memsahib whores? What's the rate, pal? Come, let's go one day, drink English liquor and have some fun. The Coffee House stamp-bearing lecturer brother-in-law – for want of flesh, the rear of his trousers hung loose – kept his Marx–Lenin carefully arranged at home, he was ill at ease but he couldn't protest. After he arrived that evening, he had gone around and seen his elder brother-in-law's farm lands and rice mills, and got a sense of his reputation and influence. In front of him lay rui fish-heads and a pitcher brimming with creamy milk from their own cow. A goat had been slaughtered in his honour. The intellectuals' faces turned glum sometimes, and at other times took on the look of Bruce Lee. Established writers never think of removing the cataract in their eye – what if one loses the eye in surgery? 'Moshai, you could make a buck and get by during the Congress regime, with some help from mantras, and you can do the same during the Communist regime' – those who earned a little bit from politics were enraged when the question of investigation or punishment was raised. At the railway siding, the engine went and pushed the standing coach – is this what's called railway shunting? After three love affairs, it was Malabika's prenuptial turmeric ceremony the next day. The son could be heard quarrelling with his clerical father: Hey, Dad, you fucker, you gave birth to me by doing you-know-what, so what the hell do you mean you can't feed me – do you think you can fuck with me? Two blooming schoolgirls, wearing red frocks and with red ribbons on their heads, pushed open the iron gate of the park and ran to the flowerbed. The expanse of the sky in every direction, how immense this deep blue sky was. He didn't think it necessary to read the Manifesto, those who had become heroes by burning trams and buses now controlled leftist politics. The babu-faced revolutionaries standing beside had done well for themselves and prided themselves on explaining the politics of wage hikes to the people. In the same district where in a span of ten days as many as six class enemies were annihilated in various outlying regions, the landlords had returned to their erstwhile glory, they had become friends with the electoral revolutionaries. And of course, it was well known that the electoral babus had to spend most of their time in the city, they had to be on intimate terms with leaders and ministers, for a vital need might arise at any time – they didn't have the time to show their radiant-as-moon bodies in the village, except during elections. All around lay muddy pebbled roads with dried sludge, terribly furrowed. After a whole day's work, the middle-aged farmer sat with his back against a wall and sang: 'I'm a sad soul in love's marketplace … I've come to love … Oh, innocent heart, heart of mine…' Sixty years ago, his grandfather too had sung this song. His son, who was born the same year the tricolour flag was flown aloft the Red Fort and the country became independent, says – listen to what he says in his own words: