A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

and panegyrists going and singing praises.
Some of them were so stupefied with pleasure
that they made their mouths like a particular
musical organ. The procession took full
forty-eight minutes to pass out and I
remained standing that long like a stockstill
idol.
The procession out of sight, I got up
as if from sleep. I gathered from the
townsmen that a son was born to Prince
Krishnavardhan, brother of Maharaja Shri
Harshdev and today the child was going
to be formally named. On hearing this
I was crestfallen for a while. My own
state flashed across. One is lucky enough
to generate so much of festive celebration
at one’s birth—in contrast I’m so ill-omened
that home and abroad are equally buffeting
me. My own birth came to my mind.
My mother passed away to the other world
only some years after. Father had grown
old then in his already multifariously dutyoriented
life of study and teaching, worship
and sacrificial rites, he had to take upon
himself the heavy responsibility of my
upbringing. Affection is a terrific thorn
in the flesh, attachment a superlative
vitality, inasumch as to the tired life of
my old father one more suffix was added;
still he looked after me with an untiring
mind. Up from the predawn when he seated
himself on the grass mat, my dust besmeared
body was usually in his lap. The ardour
and affection I received from him simply
outbalanced the learning. When I was
fourteen even he left me an orphan.
Whatever is quintessential in my life is
the love of my father. That marred me,
that also made me. This tumult of pleasure
today flung me into my father’s hold and
fulcrum. Once I looked upward. I felt as
if my forebears were shedding upon me
tears of sorrow. Whereas the ancient family
of the Vedic redoubtables recognized in
the seven spheres by the silvery beams
of glory and standing, here I am a mere,
wretched bund. Oh earth, cleave apart
that I may hide myself.
Suddenly did it strike me why should
I not go and congratulate prince
Krishnavardhan on the occasion of his
son’s birth. To bless is a Brahmin’s religious
persuit, moral obligation, and also a
vocation. Although I fail to do anything
after a worked out plan—and this explains
why I could not complete any book—
yet in taking decisions I never spin out.
So, with the idea surfacing in my mind,
I began preparing for the Prince’s palace.
That day I took a hearty bath, then
besmeared the body with unguents of
sandal, wore a wreathe of white flowers,
put on a shining outer garment up to
the ankle—this was my favourite
appearance; and off I was after offering
my prayers washed with tears at the feet
of the Three-eyed deity. It was dusk at
that time. The rays of the sun god had
not only left the earth surface and were
atop the trees but also receded to sit
on the summit of Sunset Hill #. It was
then a slow pervasive moonlight. It was
January-March 2012 :: 31