The Happening
Inspector Naresh Sawant sitting at his desk in the evening at the Shirdi police station was disturbed. There had been sporadic incidents over the last week where a seemingly mentally deranged elderly man in a long kurta style dress and nothing else had been asking the shopkeepers, the stall owners in the marketplace to go away. Initially, the people in the market and the shop owners had shrugged at his antics with tolerance and asked him to move on. But then he kept coming back with the same refrain – ‘Close this down! I want peace!’ Along with it he was becoming increasingly physical and had in some instances overturned some of goods on display at the stalls. Thus it was told, as Inspector Sawant had heard, the old man was no longer welcome near any of the shops and the owners would shoo him off, keeping even a lookout for him when they saw him coming from a distance. Nobody including Inspector Sawant wanted any trouble. Sawant felt that if the old man moved on like most of these disturbed people do, tiring of the same surroundings and go to some other place where they felt more comfortable, Sawant’s problem would be solved. After all, this person was an old man and must have had family problems which got him into this mental state. Who did not have problems these days? Everything was changing and changing fast. It was difficult firstly to keep pace. And secondly, to cope. The old man hopefully would sort out everything in his mind and move on.
But then by the reports, he had been sighted at each of Baba’s temples and now that the shop owners were not tolerating him, he had taken it upon himself to accost the pilgrims. ‘Move out! Don’t come here! Go home! There is nothing here! There is nothing left of this place!’ The pilgrims took the old man sportingly. After all this was the place of Baba. And he was also an old man when he was working his miracles. So why bother with this old man. Let him go his way. We will go ours. After all we have come for a visit. And it would be another tale to tell about the old man when we get home. Ignored even by the pilgrims, the old man had as Sawant was told, started pulling at some of the men and boys among the pilgrims, saying – ‘Did I not tell you to go home? There is nothing here. I am Baba!’ Reports of this had come from all the sacred places in Shirdi. From around the Samadhi Mandir. Dwarkamayi. The Sacred Tree. Almost everywhere. The pilgrims continued to treat the old man patiently saying – ‘Yes. Yes, we know. We are going back today.’
It was then that the old man started possibly getting despondent. Maybe because he was being brushed off. Maybe for the manner in which some people rejected him. He took to sitting alone and quietly for long hours. Talking to no one. Someone had said that they had seen him in front of Dwarkamayi from the Kakad aarti time at dawn to the late night aarti. He would sit motionless and not move an inch. Sitting on the parapet there with the left leg raised against him, resting his bearded face on the left hand folded at the elbow, on his kneecap. There was abandana cloth covering his head. His right hand was loosely resting on his right leg. The old man was the very picture of ultimate resignation, helplessness and disenchantment.
But what disturbed Sawant was the report that had reached him late afternoon. It was understood that the old man had been seen at all the shrines related to Sai Baba and was shouting at the top of his voice – ‘You people did not listen to me! I will take all this back! This will all disappear! This is mine! There will be nothing here tomorrow.’ The next day was Rama Navami. The crowds as each year passed were unprecedented. This year also was no different. Added to that was the terrorist scare. Sawant had his cup full. He did not want any loose ends. However much he did not like, he would have to bring the old man in. The threats in the old man’s words could not be ignored. He called out to his constable – ‘Patil! Go find out that old man and bring him here!’ Patil saluted smartly, said ‘Yes, sir!’ and was on his way. Sawant could hear the police jeep moving out from the courtyard.
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In about an hours time the old man was presented in front of Sawant. He had been sitting in front of Dwarkamayi as usual. Sawant looked at him. The clothes were disheveled and dirty. The feet were bare. The hands long. The palms large. The fingers long and rough hewn. There was a three day old stubble on the face. The nose long and almost aquiline. The mouth small and set firmly. A black bandana covered the head. But what attracted Sawant were the eyes. They were steady and resolute. And when you looked at them it was almost as if they were bottomless. You could get lost in them. But at the same time they were kind and sympathetic and filled you with a warm glow when you looked into them. Boundless compassion seemed to flow out of them.
Inspector Sawant addressed the old man – ‘Kai re? Gondol karto ithe eun?’(What, man? Creating trouble here?) The old man did not reply. Sawant was not feeling very comfortable under the steady gaze that he was being subjected to.
‘Kai mhanun tu loka madhe bhiti nirman karto?’ (What are you saying, to make people afraid?) Still the old man did not say anything. But the eyes seemed to convey that there was nothing to be afraid of. And they seemed to say, it was not fear but solace that he had come to offer the people.
‘Tu bolat ka nai? Tu kuthun aala? Tujha ghar kuthe aahe?’ (Why are you not talking? Where have you come from? Where is your home?) Sawant almost blurted everything out together wanting to finish off in one breath. He was still not feeling very comfortable and wanted to get this over with. But he could not understand what was happening. Twenty years on the force, he had gone through these situations hundreds of times. But it was only today, it was almost as if those eyes of the old man were quizzing him, rather than the opposite, him quizzing the old man.
Then the old man spoke – ‘Me kuthunuhi kashala ala paije? Ye gaon majhach aahe.’ (Why should I come from anywhere? This village is mine.’)
Sawant felt comforted that the old man had spoken. He would not have to resort to any third degree methods with him. He also thought that the man must be really mad since he was spotted just over the last week in Shirdi so obviously he must have come from somewhere. Again if he felt that the old man was mad he could pass him to the doctors at the hospital and he could wash his hands off this matter. Thus comforted, Sawant said –‘Samajhla. Pan ithe mala gondol nako havai. Tu samajhla!’ (Understood. But I do not want any trouble here. Do you understand?) The old man said nothing. He seemed to have relapsed to his dormant self. The eyes had darkened and almost seemed shut for any further conversation.
Sawant was glad that this was over. He called out to Patil. ‘He Patil! Ithe ye ani hala gheun za.’(Hey Patil! Come here and take him away.) Patil came in and reaching out to the old man, asked him to come along.
At this the old man turned and looking straight at Sawant said – ‘Baala, tula baiko aahe? Tula baal aahe? Magh, ghari ja. Aaj tu tyancha barobar asla payeje. Ghari jhavun tanchyakade vell kaad. Tana bara vatel. Udya ikde kaahi nahi rahnar. Samadhi pan naahi. Dwarkamayi pan naahi. Naahi ye bazaar. Naahi ye imarat. Pan Shirdi rahnar. Majh gaon jasa hota, tashach parat hoyil. Nako mala ashi lokanchi gardi! Nako mala yevdi paisechi kankanahat! Nako mala iti yash! Nako mala itka khota samman! Mala shanti havai! Mala shradha havai! Allah malik hai!’ (My dear, are you married? Do you have children? Then, go home. You should be with them today. Spend time with them. They will like it. Tomorrow, there will be nothing here. No Samadhi. No Dwarkamayi. No market. No buildings. But Shirdi will remain. My village the way it was, it will go back to the same. I do not want these crowds! I do not want the sound of money! I do not want all this splendour! I do not want all this false respect! I want peace! I want faith! Allah is the Master.’
Sawant heard all this silently. The eyes of the old man were shining brightly as he spoke. He seemed extremely disturbed. Sawant was slowly getting upset. He had thought it was all over. But after this he could not let the old man out on the streets again. He looked at Patil and said – ‘Put the old man in the lock-up. I will be gone for some time. Look after the work until I return.’ The old man was looking at Sawant – ‘Mi sangitla pramane ghari jataat na?’ (Like I said, are you going home?) Sawant did not reply but went out.
The police station was near the market. As usual there was a lot of commotion near the police station. With Rama Navami tomorrow the place was chock-full of pilgrims. It was hot. A slight breeze was blowing through. The moon was up. Sawant’s thoughts returned to the old man. ‘Why did he ask me about my wife and children? Why did he ask me to go home and spend time with them? Must be the usual advice that elderly people give. But this old man was different.’ There was something about him that Sawant could not put his finger on. ‘And then he had said - Allah Malik Hai! But that was nothing important. Anybody who came to Shirdi would say the same words particularly the older people.’ Sawant brushed these thoughts from his mind. He felt clearer now and dwelled on the old man’s advice to go home. It sounded good to him. Best to take that advice. Today’s work was done. And tomorrow would be a big day. Go early today and rest. Patil could handle anything that came up. If need be, Patil could call him. Sawant lived nearby and could reach the police station in minutes. It was quite a while that he had spent time with his family. Today would be different.
He walked towards his jeep. Got in and started for home. On the way he had to pass a clump of trees. A lot of birds had built their nests in these trees. And come sunset, there was complete cacophony under them with the birds returning from their day’s wanderings and talking to each other. Many a time you would find the young children and sometime even elders stop by at the trees to watch the birds go about their business, listening to them chirping and cackling. Sawant while passing the clump now saw that the birds had not settled down though it was close to ten o’clock in the night and were flying around with some brave enough to venture further in the dim glow of the street lights. Also there were a lot of stray cattle on the road it seemed all bound away from Shirdi. Sawant wondered whose cattle, these must be? But all were leaving and the owners would have a hard time getting them back. Not my problem, Sawant thought.
By this time he had reached home. Hearing the sound of the jeep his two sons came running to the door. ‘Appa aale! Appa aale!’ (Father’s come! Father’s come!) They were just six and eight years old. His wife, Nalini came out of the kitchen wiping her hands to greet him. ‘Mi puranpoli banvat hothe. Udya Ramanavami aahen na! Kay jhala? Aaj ushir nahi, laukar aalat! Jaavu dya. Haath pai dhuvun gya. Mi jevayla dete.’ (I was making some sweets. Tomorrow is Ramanavami, no! What happened? Not late today, come early! Let it be. Go wash up and come. I will get dinner.’ Sawant immediately forgot his work and with the smaller fellow in his arms and the bigger fellow hanging on to the other shoulder he went in to his bedroom to change and freshen up. Sawant’s day had effectively ended.
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Shirdi, 13.4.11: Yesterday, 12th April 2011, a major earthquake struck Shirdi. The first shocks came at about 12.30AM and lasted for about a minute or two. After that through the night there were aftershocks of similar intensity at intervals of about two hours each. The last shocks were just before dawn. Everything was destroyed. The whole town was converted to rubble. Nothing remained standing except for Dwarkamayi and the Sacred Tree under which Sai Baba used to sit. Sai Baba’s Samadhi though is intact but not the structure above it. Everything is converted to dust. The surprising thing was that the earthquake was not felt anywhere except in Shirdi. None of the seismological labs recorded any earthquake in the Shirdi area. The scientists are puzzled by this occurrence. They are trying to see why such an earthquake which brought down an entire town was not recorded on their instruments. Not only that there was no loss of life. By some miraculous hand everyone in Shirdi was safe and survived. Even livestock and animals did not die. But none of the buildings escaped and every structure was razed to the ground. Shirdi is a ghost town now. People in the town are trying to fathom the damage and piece together their lives. But they all are unanimous that their lives were saved by Sai Baba alone and because they happened to be in Shirdi. You could hear these quake affected people collect in groups and exclaiming – Sai Baba ki jai ho! Sabka malik ek hai! Jai Sai Baba Ki!’ PTI
BREAKING NEWS
New Delhi, 13.4.11: All idols of Sai Baba have disappeared from across the country. There is not a single idol of Sai Baba in any of his temples around the whole of India. Nobody is aware of how this has happened. There is no sign at any of the temples of any break-in or forced entry. The idols have just vanished from the pedestals along with his padukas. Or wherever the temples had only Sai Baba’s padukas, the padukas are gone. Sai Baba’s devotees are stunned by these happenings and yesterday’s (12th) earthquake at Shirdi as earlier reported which razed it to the ground. The government sources say they are consulting the religious heads of different maths to try and explain these miraculous happenings. PTI
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12th April 2011: Naresh Sawant was picking up the pieces of his home in the morning. His wife, Nalini and his sons were safe. There was not a scratch on any one of them. But the house wasgone. It had been brought to the ground and damaged beyond recovery. His jeep and scooter had also been damaged by the falling debris and were completely unserviceable. But, wonder of wonders, his wife was not upset. His sons were cheerful. Picking up small bits of masonry, they were throwing it at the trees. Sawant knew it was time to go. Time to move on. He told Nalini – ‘We will take only what we can carry. We will build our life afresh. Anew. At another place. I will leave the police force and look for another job.’ Nalini without a murmur agreed. In about an hour’s time Naresh Sawant and his family, each with a small cloth bundle slung across their shoulders, got on to the road to go out of Shirdi. As they took the first steps Sawant told Nalini –‘We all have been blessed yesterday. Me more so than you and the children. I will tell you this story, as we go.’ And they joined the long line of people on the road leaving Shirdi. The saffron pennant was fluttering proudly on the Dwarkamayi temple as Inspector Naresh Sawant looked back over his shoulder.
THE END
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