Saturday, January 5, 2019

Tiger & Other Tales: 9. Bhobla's Thunderbolt

Bhobla’s Thunderbolt

Everyone in the village of Tinpukur near Balasore was tired of Bhobla’s antics. They were at their wits end to decide what to do with him. After his mother had died recently of the fever that gives you the shivers, Bhobla had flipped. His father had died earlier about two years ago. But his mother’s death is what seemed to have affected Bhobla strangely. 
He had no one in the village, near relations or whatever and Bhobla lived in his hut all alone. He had not been seen outside for the last couple of days. Chandrima who lived in a hut nearby and was his childhood friend said that he was moping alone in his hut. Most of the time when she went to give him some food, she would find him either sleeping or looking into the middle distance unseeingly with tears streaming down both cheeks. When he was sleeping Chandrima would leave the food in the hut and come away. More often than not she would find that the food remained uneaten. When Bhobla was up, Chandrima would try to persuade him to eat something and get back to doing something or the other.
‘Now, look Bhobla. You have to eat something or you will fall ill. But if you eat then you will have some strength. Then you can go out and do some work. That will take your mind off Ma’s death.’
Chandrima seemed to be talking to a wall. Bhobla would look past her hardly recognizing her presence. Once Chandrima lost her patience and held him by both shoulders and shook him hard. ‘Bhobla! Bhobla! Are you listening to me? Say something.’ She was a couple of years older than Bhobla and like his elder sister. So she had the right to remonstrate him!
It was then that Bhobla had said – ‘I am waiting for Ma to come. She has gone to the temple. When she is back, she will give me the pantha bhat – rice gruel that she had left from yesterday in that bowl there.’
Chandrima turned around to look near the hearth and there was nothing there. The hearth was cold. The ashes from the last time someone had cooked were still there in it. There was also no bowl lying around and no pantha bhat either. Tears came to Chandrima’s eyes. How could she tell Bhobla that first, his mother was dead and would not be back and second, that there was no food that she had left around for him. Wiping her tears with the end of her cotton sari, Chandrima knew that she had to be patient with Bhobla and try another way. So she told him –‘That’s fine, Bhobla. What you do is put these small morsels of vegetables and rice in your mouth and eat them. When Ma comes you can also have the pantha bhat that she will give you.’ Bur Bhobla was adamant that he would eat only what his Ma would give him. Chandrima was angry now. She said – ‘Do what you like. I will leave this rice here. If you want eat it. If you don’t want, throw it away or give it to the dogs.’ Saying this she stormed out.
That was the third day after Bhobla’s mother had been cremated. Because Bhobla was alone and there was no one to help him, the village people had helped with the cremation. Chandrima and her husband having taken the lead.  They had brought him back from the cremation ground after the ceremonies and left him in the hut. Hoping that he would get over the loss of his mother. 
The next day the village folk found that Bhobla wearing a tattered dhoti irregularly tied around his waist was sitting outside his hut throwing stones. He was not aiming at anything in particular but just dejectedly lobbing the stones in front of him. He seemed to be trying to see how far each stone would roll. That evening when the cows were coming back from the day’s grazing and going past Bhobla’s hut because it happened to be on the trail, Bhobla started throwing the stones at the cattle. It was not just to hit them but determinedly hurt them. The cows panicked and started to run helter-skelter in the manner of a stampede. The cowherd, Donku was aghast and with great difficulty was able to stop them. Otherwise the cows would have gone into the village main road which would have meant someone or other would have got hurt. Donku was middle aged and had been in the village for donkey’s years grazing cattle. He had been a friend of Bhobla’s father. So after settling the agitated cows, he came back to Bhobla. ‘What do you mean by throwing stones at the cows? Don’t you know that you are hurting them?’- Donku yelled at Bhobla. Bhobla looked up at Donku as if he was seeing him for the first time and responded – ‘What stones? What cows? Who are you?’ ‘I will show you who I am!’, Donku exclaimed, ‘Throwing stones at the cows and then pretending as if you do not know anything about it.’ He cuffed Bhobla hard on his ear and went away, saying – ‘That should be a lesson for you not to repeat it again.’ Bhobla fell to the ground holding his left ear and crying inconsolably.
For a few days as far as the village was concerned Bhobla was quiet. But Chandrima was still finding it difficult to get Bhobla to eat anything. He had also not had a bath. He was wild-eyed with his hair standing on end, all stiffened up. A stranger looking at him would think he was mad. It was only Chandrima who knew him and his circumstances could dare go near him. Bhobla on his part was acting very erratic. He would say that he could see his mother with him and would talk to her for hours on end. Chandrima had seen him in this way and at these times when she came into his hut, it was as if Bhobla was not aware of her presence. It seemed that Bhobla did not want her to intrude between him and his Ma. Then he would throw the things inside the hut all around. Once when Chandrima went in she found all the earthen pots and vessels broken and strewn around the hut. She thought that Bhobla was searching for food and in the anger of not finding it, had broken the vessels. She was carrying, in any case, food for Bhobla. But when she gave it to him. He threw that also away. Chandrima was losing patience with Bhobla. After all she also had her family to look after.

Bhobla seemed to have also damaged one side of the hut. The pole holding up the thatched roof on one side was broken from the middle and the thatch had collapsed leaving that side of the hut blocked. From outside, the thatch seemed askew. When Chandrima asked Bhobla – ‘What happened?’ Bhobla said – ‘I thought Ma was calling me from there. When I could not find her, I became frantic. I started looking for her there. In the nooks and crannies in that corner, I looked and looked… But I could not find her. Then I I pulled down part of the thatch because I thought she was hiding in it. When I pulled at the thatch, there was this big cracking sound. Turning around I saw the pole had broken and next to it, Ma was standing……as if she was there all the while! And then we talked and talked for hours…..!’ Chandrima was coming to the definite conclusion, by now, that Bhobla was off his rocker. She left then back to her hut. She had more than her share of the work at home and there was only so much that she could do for Bhobla.

The very next day, Bhobla it seems was sitting in front of his hut and the village priest was passing by. Bhobla had rained stones on the hapless priest. The priest unable to contend with the barrage, took to his heels but not before one of the larger stones caught him in the shoulder resulting in a big bruise. Even then the priest while running away had cursed Bhobla - Baaz podbe dekho ek din tomar mathai! – One day you will see that the thunderbolt will fall on your head!’ Bhobla seeing the priest scurrying away had laughed merrily at the sight. The priest was not one to keep quiet and he had immediately gone to the village headman and complained about Bhobla for his shameful act. ‘You have to do something about this boy. Nobody is safe on the path in front of his hut as long as he is in the village. Today, it is me that he has hit with stones. See my bruises…..See! See!’ He showed the reddening bruise on his shoulder which looked pretty bad. ‘It could have hit my head, that stone! And where would I be now? Sitting in Heaven! And then what would my family do? You have to do something, Sir… This will not do. This boy cannot act like that. Today it was me, tomorrow it can be anybody, even you! And then what will happen?  You have to do something, Sir… And now!!’ The headman somehow pacified the priest and sent him home, telling home to go via the vaidya’s house and get some medicine for that ugly looking bruise. This incident made the rounds of the village and the consensus among the villagers was that Bhobla must have hit the priest because he had cursed Bhobla during his mother’s funeral when the rites were being performed. Bhobla had no money and could not pay the priest for the funeral rites of his mother and he had also not paid him for Bhobla’s father ‘s funeral some two years ago. 
But the stoning was not to end there. A few days later when a group of village women were passing Bhobla’s hut, he had thrown stones at them also. But they being in a group had caught hold of Bhobla and thrashed him. Chandrima was working in her vegetable patch that morning when she heard a commotion from the direction of Bhobla’s hut. ‘Are! Are! What are you doing?’ ‘Ouch!!’ ‘Ouch!!’ ‘Catch that Bhobla! It’s him throwing stones at us.’ And then the rushing sound of many feet scampering. ‘No! No! Don’t do this to me. Are Baap Re! Ore Ma Go! Bachao! Bachao! (Oh My God! O Mother! Save me! Save me!) The last cries were in Bhobla’s voice. Knowing Bhobla and his tendency to get into trouble, Chandrima rushed across to see what was wrong. What she saw was that Bhobla was on the ground surrounded by six women who were beating him sticks and brooms, actually whatever they could lay their hands on. And Bhobla was writhing on the ground seeking mercy. Chandrima ran to stop the women, taking some of the sticks and brooms from their hands and throwing them away, screaming – ‘Don’t hit him! He has just lost his mother and this is what you do?’ The women were in no mood to stop  since two of them had been hurt badly by the stones that Bhobla had hurled at them. But considering Chandrima’s intervention they desisted after some time. Bhobla was a dusty wreck by then with welts across his body and whimpering. He got up and hobbled across into his hut. The abuse of the women followed him –‘If you do this again to us or anybody, we will not listen to Chandrima here. We will come and beat you up so badly that you will never forget it.’ They left then but had also complained to the headman about Bhobla. 
This was the second complaint about Bhobla that the headman had received. The headman did not like trouble. Tinpukur was a quiet village. The villagers were law abiding and peace loving. The only major noise that one heard in the village was whenever the adjoining, though it was some ten miles away, government rocket launch facility sent up their rockets. They were testing the rockets some said. Others said they were testing the air high above the earth. Yet others said that our country would be sending a rocket to the moon and they needed very powerful rockets and that is what they were testing. But there had been no problem for the village with the testing except for the noise. Whenever a big rocket went up there was a massive commotion for almost half an hour when all the houses in the village shook and then you could see in the distance the rocket, sometimes as big as the tall buildings in the cities, going up and up. But this was not a regular affair maybe once in three months, more correctly would probably be twice a year. There had been no recent launch but they had said there was one scheduled next week. Each time there was a launch the government would inform all the villages nearby so that they were forewarned. And now this fellow Bhobla had come up to disturb the peace of the village. He was forcing the headman to think and maybe consider some action. And the headman did not like to work and would prefer that the problem got corrected on its own. But he could not make Bhobla disappear! Maybe the gods would give Bhobla peace of mind and make him less of a nuisance.
But what took the cake in the Bhobla saga was that just a few days after the throwing stones on the women incident, Bhobla was caught peeing on the temple building. Though he was peeing on it from outside, a villager saw him and informed the same priest on whom Bhobla had rained stones. He came out and caught Bhobla by the scruff of the neck and with the help of the villagers paraded him in front of the headman. When questioned by the headman, Bhobla said – ‘It was a natural thing. I could not control it and had to pee.’ Now who could question that? But the priest and the villagers would have none of it and being horrified by the act wanted Bhobla to be suitably punished. The headman had no choice and thus forced, ordered that Bhobla be tied to the peepul tree in the village square the whole of the next day without any food and water. The compulsory fasting and abstinence from water seemed to satisfy the priest on religious grounds. The headman was pleased with himself for having sorted out the issue amicably. For Bhobla it did not matter since with no semblance of food in his stomach for the last four-five days, he was already in a state of delirium and was not even aware of what was happening around him. Another day without food and water did not matter to him.
Then the other incident happened. Bhobla had hardly been released the next day from being bound to the peepul tree, when in the afternoon at about four o’clock he was seen running stark naked through the village shouting – ‘Maa! Maa!’ at the top of his voice. The village you could say was shocked to say the least. It was stunned. Everyone who was up and about heard Bhobla’s yelling first and then the visual sight of this skinny man, with streaked hair running through the street without a stitch on him.  Bhobla suddenly became the talk of the village and the undercurrent in that buzz was that something should be done about him. They could not have him in the village anymore. He needed to be banished from it. There were people milling around the headman’s house asking him to take swift action otherwise they would have to physically take it out on Bhobla. 
There happened to be a quaint rule in the village that banishment meant being sent out five miles from the village in any direction. The headman seeing that the public sentiment in the village was going the other way, decided to call the meeting of the panchayat – village council. The five wise men of the panchayat including the headman met and took a decision to banish Bhobla from the village of Tinpukur. 
So Bhobla was escorted to a grove of trees about five miles from the village. Chandrima when she heard this, had cried. But what else could she do? She had tried to help him. But Bhobla should have realized and tried to become normal also. The grove of trees was visible from the road which connected Tinpukur to the district town of Hareshwar. So people from Tinpukur passing down that way would peer and see if they could catch a sight of Bhobla and see what he was doing. On the third day some people had seen Bhobla sitting on the embankment of the field near the road in the blazing sun. The general feeling in the village was that at least, Bhobla was alive. 
After a few days in the morning was the sub-sonic cruise missile Nirbhay’s test launch from the government rocket launch facility near Tinpukur. The villages near the launch facility had been informed and everybody was already anticipating the deafening noise. The day of the launch dawned bright and clear. The initial sound started and gradually picked up moving to a deafening crescendo and then the huge rocket Nirbhay was up and away.   When you saw the rocket going up, when it was near to the ground, it was almost like it was taking off in slow motion belying the tremendous amount of power that was driving it upward. It was only when it was up in the sky, profiled like an arrow aimed at the heavens, that you could sense the speed since it was difficult even for the eye to track it on its upward journey. This day everything seemed to be going well. When in a couple of minutes after the blast-off there was a heart-rending sound from the skies as if the heavens themselves were torn asunder. The villages even In Tinpukur which was some fifteen miles away found the huts shaking with the blast. Some of the mud walls of the thatched huts developed cracks. Those with pucca houses found their doors and windows rattling, some of the glass panes shattered. Vessel and utensils on the shelves were shaken free and clattered to the ground. The domestic animals like cows, goats and dogs became restive. The cows and goats mooing and bleating tried to break off their tethers desperately wanting to escape. The dogs were barking frantically and running helter-skelter looking for some safe shelter. And then the rain of fire started. Flaming fragments of rocket were falling to the ground leaving the villagers petrified. This was one more trauma for them after that ear-shattering blast of the rocket splitting into pieces. But luckily Tinpukur was saved. The debris of the rocket fell away from the village in the empty fields. Except for minor damage the villagers did not lose much. Importantly no life was lost.
In all this none of the villagers had any time or the inclination to think about Bhobla and what would have happened to him. It was only Chandrima after things had normalized who shaded her eyes and looked out towards the grove of trees where Bhobla was last seen. There were patches of fire in the foreground where the flaming debris had lit up the dry grass and plants. The grove of trees seemed to be intact and not damaged. But even then Chandrima coaxed her husband to go and see if Bhobla was all right. Not very keen to go Chandrima’s husband finally wended his way through the fields to the grove of trees. He did not have to go far before he saw a figure lying prone on the embankment where  Bhobla had last been seen. Rushing to it he saw Bhobla with his head crushed, one side of his body completely burnt. The face was unrecognizable. But from the figure, the tattered dhoti and the rudraksha beads tied around his right hand, Chandrima’s husband could recognize it was Bhobla. And he was dead. There was nothing of the rocket debris nearby but even then Bhobla had been killed by something which struck him with tremendous force and also heat considering that his body had been burnt. But only on one side! It could only be God who had struck down Bhobla with his thunderbolt.  Chandrima’s husband with the help of some of the villagers brought Bhobla’s body near his hut and cremated him. The same priest did the ceremonies grumbling all the while that even for this funeral, he would not get paid. That he had to do the last rites of the entire family of Bhobla free. But the headman was happy that his problem had been solved. The village being sick and tired of Bhobla’s antics used to say that it would be best that the gods do something about Bhobla like having a thunderbolt fall on him.  According to their wishes what they wanted had happened to Bhobla. 
The official press release from the government rocket launch facility at Balasore was that the sub-sonic missile Nirbhay was destroyed when it went off-course and parts of it fell on land. However, the release hastened to assure that there was minimal damage to property and no loss of life. What had actually happened was that Bhobla was sitting on the embankment. It was the twelfth day after his mother’s death though he was in no mental state to be aware of that. Suddenly it was as if the skies burst and a shattering sound broke his delirium. Looking upward, he could see his mother welcoming him with arms outstretched. She was saying, ‘Come, Bhobla! Come to me!’ Bhobla seeing the vision of his mother above him, extended his arms also in the manner a baby does when it wants to be picked up in an elder’s arms. ‘I am coming, Maa! I am coming!’ It was at that instant that the flaming part of the missile hit him glancing off his head with the impact killing him instantly. The debris bounced off and finally came to rest some hundred meters from first impact in a trough in the land ahead. Thus there was no civilian casualty arising out of the missile debris falling on land but there was one person who had been killed by God’s thunderbolt for which the villagers thanked the Gods for their merciful action. The villagers also did not believe that the rocket had been destroyed by the scientists when it went off course. What they believed was that Bhobla was ordained to die and it was God’s thunderbolt that caught the rocket in-between on its way up and destroyed it too, along with Bhobla.  

THE END 

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