The Mines of Magadha

There was once an austere bard named Abdhisayana. He lived in a small hut on the fertile lands of the kingdom of Magadha with his wife Kadambini. His job was to recite tales every fortnight to the people of his village. They flocked in hundreds to listen to his tales of adventure about foreign lands filled with monkeys, demons and talking birds.

When the king of Magadha, Ratnakara, came to know of Abdhisayana, he immediately invited him to his court. After paying due respects, the king spoke with reverence, “O great bard! My queen is very fond of hearing stories. I beseech you to please her with a recital of your wonderful tales.”

Abdhisayana bowed before the king and began narrating an epic tale. The queen listened mesmerized by the magical words that flowed out of the bard’s mouth like the mighty river Ganga. For seven days, the story went on. People left all their work and gathered outside the court to hear bits and pieces of the miraculous tale.

At the end of it, King Ratnakara rose from his throne, ran to the bard and hugged him.

“Abdhisayana, I have never seen the queen so happy! I am pleased. I shall give you five measures of land and one thousand gold coins!”

Abdhisayana bowed humbly and accepted the honour.

“The gold you give me are nothing when compared to your heart, O patron of the arts! Your heart is a mine of priceless jewels and I vow to sing its praises forever!”

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Some time later. Just outside the court.

Ignorant man 1 : “The story’s over?”

Ignorant man 2 : “Yes. And the king seemed pleased.”

Ignorant man 1 : “Abdhisayana is a genius! Wonder what he got as the prize!”

Random stranger : “The king has given the bard a mine full of priceless jewels!”

Ignorant man 2 : “A mine of jewels? How do you know?”

Random stranger : “From where I was standing, there were only a couple of guards between me and the king. And I heard the bard say he is grateful to the king for giving him a mine of jewels.”

Ignorant man 1 : “But there is no mine in our kingdom”

Random stranger : “How would you know? Have you even crossed the banyan tree over there? Do you know how big our kingdom is?”

Ignorant man 2 : “He is right you know. Probably there is a mine somewhere.”

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A few days later, far, far away, in the court of King Gaganaghosa.

“Victory to the king!”

“What news have you brought, my dear messenger?” asked King Gaganaghosa, with a pleasant smile (the after-effects of a sumptuous meal prepared and served by his two wives)

“Maharaj! We have news that several mines filled with priceless jewels have been found in Magadha", reported the messenger, "In fact, they are so many in number that the king is giving away some of them as prizes to singing bards.”

“Time to wake up our army”, spoke the king, patting his tummy, “I want those jewels!”

The wise minister with grey beard stood up. “But Maharaj, it is not right to…”

“Shut up you old fool!” thundered Gaganaghosa, “You wise men have no life and I have no ears for you!”

And Gaganaghosa stood up and announced.

“Battle tomorrow morning! Get ready folks!”

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“But why? I don’t understand”, spoke King Ratnakara. His forehead was creased with lines of anxiety.

“Our spies are working overtime on it, Maharaj!” reported the Minister,  “Once we come to know his purpose, we could probably negotiate!”

“I shall not be able to see my men die”, said the king and leaned back in his throne dejectedly. After some thought, he proclaimed to his minister, “I need wise counsel. Summon Guru Mahamati.”

“Sacrifice, Maharaj! That is the only solution”, spoke Guru Mahamati, “The Shastras say, that if we sacrifice a virgin buffalo on the night of a full-moon, the gods shall be pleased and shall help us win!”

“But the next full moon is thirteen days away. Do we have a more instant solution?” asked the minister.

The wise Guruji glared angrily at the minister, “The Shastras are not meant to give you what you demand, but give you what is right!”

“But I do not want victory Guruji. I just want peace”, expressed the worried King Ratnakara.

“Peace is something you’ll have to fight for, Maharaj! I advise you to enter the battlefield. Fight for Magadha’s honour! Fight for righteousness! It is your karma! May God bless you with victory!”

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“And so your honour, the Battle of Rajagriha, which is well-documented by early historians was fought for the mines in the ancient kingdom of Magadha. Later historians have also marked out the location of these mines, which falls exactly under the area where the Sholepur Mosque is currently located. Hence, it is convincingly established that the mosque is not built on land that originally belonged to the Muslims”, concluded Lawyer Kishan Das.

“Objection, my lord!” stood up the defence lawyer, “Scientists have questioned the existence of mines in ancient Magadha based on lack of geological evidence.”

“What do they not question?!” asked Lawyer Kishan Das, sarcastically, “If you let them, they will even question the existence of Krishna!”

The few people in court sniggered along with Kishan Das, highly amused by the ignorance of those who question the obvious truth.

Ignoring the chuckles, the defence lawyer went on, “My lord, mines in Magadha are purely a myth. The historical documents that mark out the location of the mines, were written 300 years after King Ratnakara’s rule, and were merely speculative in nature. This is proved by language analysis experts whose reports you can find on your table.”

“What does that prove?” asked Lawyer Kishan Das in an irritated tone.

“It proves that there is sufficient doubt regarding the existence of the mines on which you claim the mosque was built”, retorted the defence lawyer.

“Sufficient doubt?!” questioned Kishan Das, “You can go on and on, doubting anything and everything in this world. You will get nowhere.”

“Atleast, I won’t pull down a mosque”, said the defence lawyer, “That’s it, your honour!”

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The Astrologer's Fate

When he was five years old, his mother scolded him for telling a lie. “You little brat! The mouth that lies shall never get food!” This statement haunted him for a long time. But, only when he became an astrologer did he realize how wrong his mother was.

Throughout his childhood, he was popular in school for cooking up stories. In fact, the excuse he had given for missing a particular Math class was later adapted by one of his friends as the plotline for a successful school play.

“Put your creativity to good use”, his Math teacher had told him, patting his back. And that is what he did years later, as he sat at his stall inside Hotel Green Star. “Back To The Future” his stall was called. His job was to sit there beside a caged parrot and attract gullible foreign tourists, who checked into the five-star hotel. And it was a jolly good job indeed for a twenty-year-old man.

“Her name is Lakshmi, sir – the goddess of wealth. But, she has another formidable power. And that is to peep into the future and give you a glimpse. She even predicted the big tsunami, sir. And all she does is pick cards with her little beak.”

Whether they believed his story or not, the tourists gazed open-mouthed as the green bird obeyed every single command of the astrologer. Young couples were his favourite targets. A husband, who conceded to the fancies of a newly married wife, meant the astrologer could make more money. And a young woman was the easiest to put into a trance with beautiful words. He always said good things, sweet things, and hopeful things. In the end, the tourists got some fun and memorable photographs of an “interesting Indian” and “his parrot” (facebook tags). The astrologer got his money, Hotel Green Star got its rent and Lakshmi got her nuts. Everyone was happy.

And so, life rolled on for the astrologer - at a pretty slow pace though. The all-powerful stars in the heavens were quite irritated by this. They hated to watch a monotonous life. In fact, it was not only the astrologer, but also several such humans all over Earth, who bored the stars with their routine life. So the all-powerful stars held a meeting one night and a clever little star came up with a bright idea. All stars twinkled with delight as they heard it.

The next day, the economic depression struck the world.

Hotel Green Star was closed. The astrologer had to sell Lakshmi. The little goddess of wealth fetched him enough to put up a little shop of his own and buy a magnifying glass. He was officially into hand-reading now.

He did get a lot of hands to gaze at – most of them had tapped away at keyboards earlier. But, the astrologer realized that people were no longer happy to hear hopeful mumbo-jumbo. They had grown sceptical. There was anger and even the slightest mistake could incite a mob to pull down his shop. He knew what had happened to Mr. Gnani, a very famous astrologer in the city. He had said that Pluto was unhappy after being denied the status of a planet. And that is what caused the economic depression. Some people merely laughed on hearing this but there were some who took offence and packed up Mr. Gnani to some hospital ward. So, the astrologer was careful with his words.

The all-powerful stars were having fun of course. The bright little star was busy, suggesting further ideas to complicate the existing plots of human lives. And while considering the astrologer’s fate, the star decided to spice up his life a little.

And that is how the astrologer met her. The astrologer shall never forget that day – the day he held her hand and gazed into her eyes. Yes. He knew it. She was the one. He thanked the stars and played his cards well. Soon, he was sitting in a park hand-in-hand with her and their four eyes gazed into the future – together.

“A huge white house in a green countryside with chirping birds. No neighbours to trouble us. No noisy in-laws. No fat aunts and uncles to drop surprise visits. Just the two of us and our happy life”, dreamed the astrologer.

But, the stars would not make it easy for the astrologer, would they. Another pair of eyes stomped into the beautiful vision the two lovers were enjoying. It was an angry pair of eyes – the eyes of the girl’s brother. After some “Biff!” and “Bang!” at the park, the girl sat crying in a locked room in her house while the astrologer got a bed beside Mr. Gnani.

“And what did you say?” asked Mr. Gnani, through the plasters covering his face.

The astrologer merely moaned, unable to lie on his back in the hospital bed.

“This is a disloyal world, my friend”, spoke Mr. Gnani, “You feed their ears with what they want and your praises their tongues shall tweet. You try to feed them something else and your ass gets kicked by their feet.”

The astrologer broke down crying. Mr. Gnani lifted up his head.

“What’s wrong? It didn’t rhyme?” he asked, concerned.

“I love her…” mumbled the astrologer, “… and I don’t know what to do…”

“Cheer up, my boy! I am an astrologer!” proclaimed Mr.Gnani, leaping out of his bed and spreading his arms, “I say and it shall happen!”

A nurse, who was passing by, pushed him back onto his bed. Falling back in a reclining position, Mr. Gnani moved his head closer to the astrologer and whispered into his ear.

“We just need to outwit the stars. That is it”, he said and chuckled to himself.

“I am an astrologer too”, replied the astrologer, amidst his sobs.

“So?” asked Mr. Gnani.

“So, I know your bloody tricks. Shut up and sleep and let me cry.”

“An egoistic fake pearl always thinks there is no real pearl. So any pearl it sees should be fake”, said Mr. Gnani with a smile.

“Okay! I admit I am fake”, spoke the astrologer, “But I’ve been in the business. So tell me honestly. You really think the stars control every man’s life? Every man’s future is written down on his palm?”

Mr. Gnani nodded calmly, “And like I said, we just need to outwit the stars”

The astrologer gazed at Mr. Gnani’s solemn face for a long time, then he held out his palm. “What should I do, Mr. Gnani?”

Something about Mr. Gnani’s voice made the astrologer trust him. He did not have time to wonder what it was. He did as Mr. Gnani asked him to. It was only when the rituals ate up his cash, did he realise that it was not the stars that Mr. Gnani was trying to outwit. The all-powerful stars had played their mischief once again – this time through this Gnani. The astrologer went into a fit of rage. He broke a piece of metal pipe from his toilet.

Knock! Knock! On Mr. Gnani’s door. The door opened and Mr. Gnani smiled. Whack! Dishoom!

Knock! Knock! On the girl’s brother’s door. The door opened and the villain of the love story frowned at him. Whack! Dishoom!

Knock! Knock! On another door. The door opened and his girl stared at him. On her finger, he saw a ring. From behind her shoulder, peeped another man. There was a cracking sound. It was the astrologer’s heart.

She fell down on her knees and began to cry and mumbled something about, “My brother… my family… cannot shatter their hearts…”

The astrologer heard nothing. His ears were filled with a horrific din as the white house of his dreams came crashing down. The birds chirped no more. He stood alone amidst the rubble – with no shelter beneath the vast sky. And that is when he heard it – a subdued chuckle.

“Did you hear that?” he asked her.

She looked at him puzzled.

She was acting, he knew. He could hear it distinctly. Slowly, the subdued chuckles grew louder and turned into howls of laughter. He looked up at the night sky and knew instantly. The stars! They were laughing merrily at his plight. God damn stars!

To Live Or Not To Live

The patter of the raindrops hitting the tar road was loud. It was eating into his brain. He sat there beneath the shelter of the bus stop, his head in his hands, eyes gazing into a void as vehicles sped past him. He sympathized with the water on the road. It was trampled upon by numerous wheels – wheels of vehicles that churned the water and sprayed it around carelessly – wheels that cared for nothing except their own progress.

“Excuse me. What’s the time now?” asked a voice. Siddhartha turned to his right. The source of the voice was a girl, about twenty years old, sitting on the bench beside him. She was dressed in a green salwar kameez. The wetness of her hair suggested she had just entered the bus stop. Siddhartha smirked. “The one source of all misery in life…”, he thought and turned away.

“Excuse me? The time?” she repeated. Siddhartha did not turn. He merely pointed at the rain and asked, “Does it even matter now?”

He knew what her reaction would be. She would shut up and let him be with his thoughts.

“Well, I could plan out some things now if I knew the time”, spoke the girl.

“Oh!” said the guy, turning back to her, “Plan out great things that would change this world? Or merely things that would empty a guy’s pocket?”

She stared at him, reading his face. Her expression was a mixture of anger and pity. “All girls are not like the one who probably ditched you!” she said, after much thought.

The guy turned away, a little taken aback.

“I am sorry”, he said after a moment’s hesitation, “But let me tell you something. If you plan out life, then shit happens.”

“Really?”

Siddhartha smirked, the kind of smirk that suggests “I’ve seen it all in this cruel world…”

He then spoke slowly, “Setting goals… working with passion… maximizing your potential… managing time… nothing works. All you need is luck and money in this bloody world!”

“Aha!” exclaimed the girl, “At last, I get to meet the ‘angry young man’ in person!”

“Fed-up-with-life young man would be a better description I guess”, spoke the guy, attempting self-pitying humour.

“Oh! So you’ll be one of those guys whom I can see in the obituary columns soon.”

“Won’t that be a good ending?” asked the guy.

The girl shrugged her shoulders, not knowing the answer.

“I mean think of it. It’s good to end it now. It could get much worse otherwise”, said the guy.

“It could get better?”, suggested the girl.

“Ah! The pessimist versus the optimist. Let’s not get into that. There’s something called being practical ok?”

“And there’s something called forgetting your past and moving on ok?”

“Yeah right!” said the guy mockingly, “You girls just cannot stop arguing, can you?”

“Why do you keep generalizing?” shot back the girl, “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what astrology does too. Anyone hardly questions it”, stated the guy.

“Come on! Nice predictions give you hope for the future, don’t they?”

“But hope is just an illusion.”

“Fantastic!” exclaimed the girl, turning away and folding up her hands, “Please take the next bus to the Himalayas.”

The guy could not suppress a smile.

“I am really curious. How old are you?” she asked in mock puzzlement, “You talk like a soul who has seen a lot of misery.”

“But I speak the truth”, said Siddhartha.

“What is truth anyway?” asked the girl instantly and even before the guy could answer, she exclaimed, “Oh god! I cannot believe I’ve started talking like you now!”

A thunder rumbled in the skies but the two humans mused over their little joke.

“Tell me something”, spoke the guy, “What do you think is the purpose of life? Why do we live?”

“I don’t know”, confessed the girl.

“See? What’s the point in living when not knowing the purpose?”

“Maybe you should try and find yourself a purpose,” stated the girl. After a brief moment of thought, she spoke again, “Look. We’re just kids who find some toys in a garden ok? We don’t know where the toys came from. We don’t know why someone put it there. But if we play with them, we are happy.”

“So you’re happy playing with toys?” asked Siddhartha, with a wide grin.

“Yeah. What’s so funny about…” and then she realized it.

“That statement could be misunderstood you know”, spoke the guy, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

The girl smiled too. “So you’re a pretty good pervert as well!”

“Just that the human mind thinks a lot sometimes. Can’t help it.”

“It’s ok. I don’t hate perverts, especially if they can be philosophical.”

“Nice.”

There was a brief minute of silence. The girl began watching the rain, splattering down from the heavens.

“I had a grandma, who firmly believed there is a god out there”, spoke the girl, looking up at the cloudy sky, “looking down upon us, watching our every action, putting us through tests, guiding us through our joys and sorrows. And my grandma always believed true happiness is in doing good deeds and reaching the feet of god.”

Siddhartha smiled because it reminded him of his own grandmother.

“But she’s no more now”, spoke the girl, “And I would like to think she has indeed reached the feet of God. It feels nice to think that way.”

“That’s what everyone wants. To feel nice and happy”, said the guy, “That’s why we have religion. That’s why we have god.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t die”, said the girl.

“That I wouldn’t agree”, the guy shook his head vehemently. “It’s always tough for me to feel nice and happy. I am never able to do what I like. I always have to strive hard for getting the things that I want, while others seem to be getting it easily. Why is it that way?”

“Because you think it’s that way.”

“Oh!” spoke Siddhartha, understanding where she was driving at, “The usual ‘you are what you think’ crap! I’ve heard it a lot of times.”

“But you’ve never really understood it, have you?”

“I just don’t believe that crap okay?”

The girl persisted. “Okay. So what is it that you believe in?”

“Life is a cruel game of dice. Period.”

“Great! So why don’t you just end the game?” she suggested.

“Sorry?”

“I mean why haven’t you died already? You could just walk to the middle of this road you know. There are lots of kind-hearted cars passing by and one of them should do the formalities.”

“So you are asking me to die now?”

“No. I am helping you make a choice – your last choice in fact. It better be good.”

“Trying to be clever with words eh?” asked the guy, getting a tinge of seriousness in his voice, “You think all this is funny?”

“To me, honestly, yes”, replied the girl.

“You just do not understand how I feel do you?”

“Ok. Tell me. What is it that you feel? Guilt over some little mistake you did long, long ago? Dejection that all your efforts end up in failure? Sorrow that some girl refused to sleep with you?”

“Are you trying to suggest that these are things not worth dying for?”

“I never said anything like that”, said the girl.

“So what are you saying?”

“Attempt the question paper. Don’t walk out of the exam.”

There was a silence, broken only by the rain, which was growing feeble.

“You’ll make a good teacher”, said Siddhartha with a smirk, “You have a very irritating way of getting your point across.”

The girl ignored his comment and asked, “Tell me something. How do you feel now?”

The guy looked at her, unsure as to what she meant.

The girl repeated, “How do you feel right now? Forget the past, forget the worries you have for the future, how do you feel right now?”

Siddhartha thought for a moment. “Ok”

“So if you could feel ok after a little conversation with a complete stranger, then imagine how it would feel to talk with people who enjoy your presence.”

“I don’t think there’s any such person.”

“Think again. There’s nobody you know who feels nice if you are around? Nobody who cares for you?”

Siddhartha knew the two people the girl was referring to. But he disagreed, “This is emotional blackmailing! You’re just…”

“Dude!” she interrupted, “Forget your parents. Just get a girlfriend man!”

The guy smirked again. “It’s so easy for you to say that right?”

“Come on. Girls are not that hard to impress.”

“One failure is more than enough for me.”

“Oh! So you are happy being a Devdas?”

“A clean-shaven one. Yes”, said the guy, proudly stroking his cheek.

The girl laughed and shook her head. “I really don’t know what more to say.”

The rain was getting subdued.

“You don’t have to say anything”, said the guy, “I don’t think I’ll end my life. Let me give myself one last chance.”

The girl just smiled.

“I think you should watch a lot of Youtube”, she suggested.

“Why would you say that?” asked the guy.

“There are some people out there, whose videos you need to watch. You’ll know you’re not the worst. You’ll feel better about yourself.”

A vision of a bear-faced man dancing to a crazy tune popped up in Siddhartha’s mind instantly and he started laughing. The girl’s smile grew wider.

“You have a point”, he conceded.

The sky was beginning to clear. The patter of the rain came to rest finally. The sun glistened from behind the departing clouds.

“The rain seems to have stopped now”, spoke the guy, looking around.

“I need to get going then”, spoke the girl, getting up.

“Me too”, said the guy and stood up.

“It was nice talking to you”, she said, putting forth her hand.

“No formalities please”, said the guy, holding his hands away.

And they turned to walk out of the bus stop, in opposite directions.

“What’s your name by the way?” asked the guy, turning around suddenly.

“Sujata”, she replied, “And yours?”

He put on his cap and said with a smile. “The name was Siddhartha.”

“Did you say WAS?” asked Sujata, a little confused.

And then after a moment, “Oh ok, I get it Mr. Buddha”, she said and smiled.

“By the way, would you know how to get to Anna Nagar from here?” she asked.

“I have a bike”, he replied, “I could drop you if you want.”