by Joydip Datta
The previous issues have been included in this post because they needed to be modified a bit. This post thus contains the full story till today.
Sometimes time flow so stupidly you often fail to realize that it is actually flowing. You have engaged yourself in some stuff which now seems stupid and baseless. Thinking of the past days of glory... Rahman was lying idle... yet another day of no-output “Yet another day towards the complete bullshit that is going to come.”
Rahman knows very well that the money he has got from the old lady will end soon. And she is not very keen on spending this money either. It pains him a lot to use the money got from a dying lady. When he helped her in drinking water he had no idea of using this courtesy later in life. He also promised her the due funeral (which he kept) but accepting money in return... was a sin. But when the lady said that, "You seem a good boy to me. See, I have this tiny amount of money. But it has no use for me. You keep it dear... You require it more." And she died.
When Rahman was done with the funeral task, he first thought he won't use the money the lady gave him. Somewhere it was pinching. To use the money got in return of putting water in the mouth of a dying lady was strictly unacceptable. But as time passed and his resources were ended, he thought, "Ok... I will not spend the money... but I can borrow a little amount. Dear, when you are hungry, everything else gets less priority than food itself. And the tradition of borrowing continued. And today, that money too was near its end.
What will Rahman do now?
Rahman was thinking all these stuff while doing his evening namaz. When the namaz was over, he was again angry with himself. While doing a namaz, full concentration should be on Allah. But he was thinking these material problems! He is surely a bad Muslim. He pinched himself again and again for this. His bad mood got worse.
After a while, again the material problems surrounded him. Oh my God! He can at most manage some food for the next morning only. What will he do after that? What will he eat?
With these thoughts that never come to a conclusion, Rahman slowly felt asleep. Rahman was sleeping. Suddenly he saw a man. Dressed like a common farmer. He saw the man working in a coarse field with an axe. When the man saw him he said, "Rahman, you are a very nice child. Just know one thing. If you know your path and can gather enough conviction to keep on walking the path then the energy will eventually come to you. " saying this, the man hit the rough soil hard with his axe. And within the next split second, the coarse field was gone. Instead, there was the eye soothing greenery of a paddy field.
Rahman wake up. He was full with confusion. Who was this man? Was he his father? Rahman had never seen his father before. He has been told that his father died before his birth in a road accident. He was walking drunk when a truck ran over him. Rahman's idea over his father was not that bright. His father was a regular drinker. And if he didn't die in that accident, he would die out of liver failure. That man he saw last night had a kind of glow emerging from him. No. He can not be his father.
Rahman was thinking under the dizzy for quite a long time. Then he tried to get up. He needed to move on… and get somewhere meaningful. The dream was still ringing in his head. The farmer, the green paddy field, the golden axe was still vivid in his eyes. But enough of this lazy dream, he thought. The time was to do something.
But as he tried to get up, he could not. His whole body ached. His head span and Rahman realized that he had fever. “A bit strong one” he thought. He lied down at the same place where he was sitting for a while. And he fell asleep for once again.
There was the paddy field and the farmer too; smiling proudly with his golden axe in hand. Grinning to him the farmer said, “And I will guide you in your path of quest. But it is up to you to find out the markers I provide. Never be afraid my dear. The path will be troublesome. But believe me, that trouble is worthy of it. Just stay noble by heart, and you will succeed. And one last thing, do not get too much upset in seeming me in this way. True religion does not depend on strange rituals.”
Rahman saw it was raining in the field; a heavy rain that made the farmer not visible. And when the rain stopped, the farmer was gone and in the whole field was golden glee of mature grains.
He woke up for the second time. He was feeling a lot better. In fact, his whole body was experiencing a comfort he never felt before. His fever was gone. By that time it was almost noon. He stood up to get to the nearby food stall to get some food with the last few paisa of the old woman. After eating, when he went to pay the vendor he saw something unusual. He had 3 rupees left. One two rupees coin and a one rupee coin was his last possession. The boiled egg was of rupees two. But there was something very strange with the one rupee. On tail side it was very normal but on head side instead of the national emblem, there was an arrow.
He came back to the lone rock on which he was sitting earlier. He was still puzzled over the dreams. Was He God? Or was just a nonsense outcome of a troubled brain? Did that meant anything or was just gibberish? Who was the man? Was he his father? Or was an incarnation? What he meant by quest? Rahman was surely not in a quest. Every quest has a particular aim… a particular destination. And the very lack of aim and destination was the tragedy of Rahman’s life.
While thinking these, Rahman was tossing with the coin absentmindedly. But then another strange thing happened. Perhaps it was a day of strange things. With utter astonishment, Rahman discovered a pattern when he tossed the coin. The result was always the same… a head. And more than that, the arrow was pointing the same direction every time the coin was tossed. And the direction was pointing the road beside.
“…I will guide you in your path of quest. But it is up to you to find out the markers I provide…” was it a marker? Rahman thought. Was it pointing the path to pursue the quest? Shall Rahman follow the direction the coin was showing?
Rahman did not have any option.
He did not have any path to follow. He was a perfect vagabond. In fact he was grateful to the coin for showing him at least one way go. At least he will not have to ramble in the streets. At least he is getting a mission in life, an aim and a reason to live.
Yes, he will follow the path the coin was showing.
When he reached the road, Rahman tossed again. To his relief, the coin pointed along the road. It would surely be worse if he had to follow the coin through bushes. Road are always better for walking.
And Rahman walked for the whole day. He tossed the coin to be sure about the direction in every few minutes and the coin always told him to move forward through the same path. He walked, walked and walked. Glad to be in a cause after so many days of rambling here and there. But as he was walking and the day was moving towards dusk, Rahman felt hungry. And as Rahman felt more and more hungry, the urge for quenching the hunger felt more important for him than pursuing a seemingly foolish quest and following a seemingly bogus coin.
When he stopped at a small tea shop beside the road, it was already evening. The visibility was reduced as the sun sat half an hour ago. The tea shop was shabby. The inside of the shop was shadowy. The shop was selling tea, toast, bread etc. As expected in a lone shop in a deserted place, the shop was empty. Only the middle aged shopkeeper woman and an aged person were sitting inside. There were biscuits in glass jars at the front of the oven. On the oven, tea was steaming in a old bowl. The bowl was black outside. The breads were piled on one side of the oven.
Rahman reached the shop. He could only afford one half breads with the one rupee left. But as he was going to pay the woman with the one rupee, the woman responded, “Son, First stop people do not take money from the sacred walkers.” Rahman could not get the meaning. He was too amazed to ask what she meant. The woman said, “Take this bread son.”
As Rahman was leaving the shop, he heard the woman saying to the aged man “Saw him? He is the chosen one.”
Rahman’s ear drums were buzzing. What were these things? What is meant by sacred walkers? What was the meaning of the chosen one? Totally puzzled Rahman stood in front of the shop and tossed the coin again. This time the coin landed vertically.
Rahman knows very well that the money he has got from the old lady will end soon. And she is not very keen on spending this money either. It pains him a lot to use the money got from a dying lady. When he helped her in drinking water he had no idea of using this courtesy later in life. He also promised her the due funeral (which he kept) but accepting money in return... was a sin. But when the lady said that, "You seem a good boy to me. See, I have this tiny amount of money. But it has no use for me. You keep it dear... You require it more." And she died.
When Rahman was done with the funeral task, he first thought he won't use the money the lady gave him. Somewhere it was pinching. To use the money got in return of putting water in the mouth of a dying lady was strictly unacceptable. But as time passed and his resources were ended, he thought, "Ok... I will not spend the money... but I can borrow a little amount. Dear, when you are hungry, everything else gets less priority than food itself. And the tradition of borrowing continued. And today, that money too was near its end.
What will Rahman do now?
* * *
Rahman was thinking all these stuff while doing his evening namaz. When the namaz was over, he was again angry with himself. While doing a namaz, full concentration should be on Allah. But he was thinking these material problems! He is surely a bad Muslim. He pinched himself again and again for this. His bad mood got worse.
After a while, again the material problems surrounded him. Oh my God! He can at most manage some food for the next morning only. What will he do after that? What will he eat?
With these thoughts that never come to a conclusion, Rahman slowly felt asleep. Rahman was sleeping. Suddenly he saw a man. Dressed like a common farmer. He saw the man working in a coarse field with an axe. When the man saw him he said, "Rahman, you are a very nice child. Just know one thing. If you know your path and can gather enough conviction to keep on walking the path then the energy will eventually come to you. " saying this, the man hit the rough soil hard with his axe. And within the next split second, the coarse field was gone. Instead, there was the eye soothing greenery of a paddy field.
Rahman wake up. He was full with confusion. Who was this man? Was he his father? Rahman had never seen his father before. He has been told that his father died before his birth in a road accident. He was walking drunk when a truck ran over him. Rahman's idea over his father was not that bright. His father was a regular drinker. And if he didn't die in that accident, he would die out of liver failure. That man he saw last night had a kind of glow emerging from him. No. He can not be his father.
Rahman was thinking under the dizzy for quite a long time. Then he tried to get up. He needed to move on… and get somewhere meaningful. The dream was still ringing in his head. The farmer, the green paddy field, the golden axe was still vivid in his eyes. But enough of this lazy dream, he thought. The time was to do something.
But as he tried to get up, he could not. His whole body ached. His head span and Rahman realized that he had fever. “A bit strong one” he thought. He lied down at the same place where he was sitting for a while. And he fell asleep for once again.
There was the paddy field and the farmer too; smiling proudly with his golden axe in hand. Grinning to him the farmer said, “And I will guide you in your path of quest. But it is up to you to find out the markers I provide. Never be afraid my dear. The path will be troublesome. But believe me, that trouble is worthy of it. Just stay noble by heart, and you will succeed. And one last thing, do not get too much upset in seeming me in this way. True religion does not depend on strange rituals.”
Rahman saw it was raining in the field; a heavy rain that made the farmer not visible. And when the rain stopped, the farmer was gone and in the whole field was golden glee of mature grains.
* * *
He woke up for the second time. He was feeling a lot better. In fact, his whole body was experiencing a comfort he never felt before. His fever was gone. By that time it was almost noon. He stood up to get to the nearby food stall to get some food with the last few paisa of the old woman. After eating, when he went to pay the vendor he saw something unusual. He had 3 rupees left. One two rupees coin and a one rupee coin was his last possession. The boiled egg was of rupees two. But there was something very strange with the one rupee. On tail side it was very normal but on head side instead of the national emblem, there was an arrow.
He came back to the lone rock on which he was sitting earlier. He was still puzzled over the dreams. Was He God? Or was just a nonsense outcome of a troubled brain? Did that meant anything or was just gibberish? Who was the man? Was he his father? Or was an incarnation? What he meant by quest? Rahman was surely not in a quest. Every quest has a particular aim… a particular destination. And the very lack of aim and destination was the tragedy of Rahman’s life.
While thinking these, Rahman was tossing with the coin absentmindedly. But then another strange thing happened. Perhaps it was a day of strange things. With utter astonishment, Rahman discovered a pattern when he tossed the coin. The result was always the same… a head. And more than that, the arrow was pointing the same direction every time the coin was tossed. And the direction was pointing the road beside.
“…I will guide you in your path of quest. But it is up to you to find out the markers I provide…” was it a marker? Rahman thought. Was it pointing the path to pursue the quest? Shall Rahman follow the direction the coin was showing?
Rahman did not have any option.
He did not have any path to follow. He was a perfect vagabond. In fact he was grateful to the coin for showing him at least one way go. At least he will not have to ramble in the streets. At least he is getting a mission in life, an aim and a reason to live.
Yes, he will follow the path the coin was showing.
* * *
When he reached the road, Rahman tossed again. To his relief, the coin pointed along the road. It would surely be worse if he had to follow the coin through bushes. Road are always better for walking.
And Rahman walked for the whole day. He tossed the coin to be sure about the direction in every few minutes and the coin always told him to move forward through the same path. He walked, walked and walked. Glad to be in a cause after so many days of rambling here and there. But as he was walking and the day was moving towards dusk, Rahman felt hungry. And as Rahman felt more and more hungry, the urge for quenching the hunger felt more important for him than pursuing a seemingly foolish quest and following a seemingly bogus coin.
When he stopped at a small tea shop beside the road, it was already evening. The visibility was reduced as the sun sat half an hour ago. The tea shop was shabby. The inside of the shop was shadowy. The shop was selling tea, toast, bread etc. As expected in a lone shop in a deserted place, the shop was empty. Only the middle aged shopkeeper woman and an aged person were sitting inside. There were biscuits in glass jars at the front of the oven. On the oven, tea was steaming in a old bowl. The bowl was black outside. The breads were piled on one side of the oven.
Rahman reached the shop. He could only afford one half breads with the one rupee left. But as he was going to pay the woman with the one rupee, the woman responded, “Son, First stop people do not take money from the sacred walkers.” Rahman could not get the meaning. He was too amazed to ask what she meant. The woman said, “Take this bread son.”
As Rahman was leaving the shop, he heard the woman saying to the aged man “Saw him? He is the chosen one.”
Rahman’s ear drums were buzzing. What were these things? What is meant by sacred walkers? What was the meaning of the chosen one? Totally puzzled Rahman stood in front of the shop and tossed the coin again. This time the coin landed vertically.
(May be continued)
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