By Subhadeep Santra
Pandu and Hariya had been gawking at a pair of grey clouds for quite some time. The pair of clouds moved from the right end to the left end of eyesight stealthily like a thief breaking into a house. Bringing the neck down to worldly affairs Pandu gasped “No rain!” Hariya repeated the same phrase “No rain!” with an even bigger sigh of despair as if in a competition of remorsefulness.
They are not the only people who are morose in this village named Vishnugiri. The clouds had been playing hide and seek for the past few months. Destruction of crops shall be inevitable if it remains dry for another month. The farmers shall laugh when the sky weeps.
While busy caressing their strained necks they did not fail to notice that Phulia Devi has picked up an altercation with the shopkeeper. Thanks to their trained and agile ears they were able to nitpick rumour worthy extracts from the conversation between the combatants. Pandu was the first to react “PhuliaMausi (aunty) gets really flagitated by the slightest opportunity of an argument, is it not?” Hariya replied, “True! But today is different. It is the fault of the shop keeper. The bottle of oil that Bhiru gave to her cannot hold oil to the capacity of one litre. The bottle falls short by 100 ml and that wretched Bhiru does not admit it. What do you think?” Pandu however did not care to give a reply. However he believed Hariya. After all he was a daily drunkard. Only veteran drunkards like him can gauge the measures of a bottle from such a distance.
The intensity of the argument has subdued. They have apparently come to an agreement. Phulia Devi now entered a temple adjacent to the shop. She held the bottle of oil in her right hand. A currency note was peeping out from the clenches of her left palm. Pandu commented, “Hariya, look. I think Phuliamausi did not pay for the oil. But what is she doing with a container of oil inside the temple?”
Pandu was the more inquisitive of the both. He entered the temple following the women. Phulia Devi sat in an asquat posture pouring oil in a lamp burning in front of the deity-MahaDurga. Pandu asked “Phuliamausi, is this some special custom-this pouring oil in lamps of the temple?” Phulia Devi did not care to look up and spoke andante as if her words could spill the oil that she was busy pouring. “Ma Durga appeared in my dreams and asked me to pour oil in the lamps kept in this temple.” Observing through the corner of her eyes that he was still standing there she added with banter in her voice “Is there anything more Pandu?”Pandu did not sense the subtle annoyance in her tone and stood there unabashed for few seconds. None the less he departed to attend other worldly affairs like spreading rumours and backbiting.
When Pandu appeared out of the temple he was greeted by a dark morose earth. Several black clouds had assembled in the sky. The sun was nowhere to be seen. The thunder roared like a disaster alarm. The sky had burst out and water came splashing to the earth drenching Pandu in a matter of seconds.
***
“What?” exclaimed the Panchayat Pradhan (Village headman).Pandu who stood just beside the arm chair of the Pradhan confirmed “Yes sir, Phulia Devi called the rains by pouring oil into the lamp.” The pradhan closed his eyes as if in a trance. His eye brows remained twitched during this prolonged silence. His eyeballs kept flickering now and then. He opened his eyes with excitement in them. “Phulia Devi must be promoted as the angel of God. Thereafter she shall accompany me for the election campaign. The Panchayat elections are knocking at the door. Their faith in Phulia can help us garner some votes.” Pandu gestured with a nod and said, “I know what to do sir?”
The next few days Pandu was busy proclaiming the greatness of angel Phulia. Some villagers readily believed him. Raghu had even commented “Disbelief in the supreme mother is sacrilege. Disbelief is the instrument of the atheist.” Most of the villagers were unsure. They could not openly challenge the notion lest Phulia Devi really turns out to be a messenger of the Goddess and the rain stops. It had been a week since the God of rain had smiled on them. It had showered sporadically and in drizzles.
The people who disbelieved in the miracle of the Goddess suffered various mishaps in their life. Janaki had slipped over a banana peel and fell on the ground hurting her knee. Though the banana peel was thrown on the ground by her own child she proclaimed, “Children are God’s Gift. Goddess has sent me a message that I must not lose faith in her miracles.” She completely forgot that the day before she had hit this God’s gift with a cane since he broke a clay pot. She had also murmured, while still thrashing him, “You DEVIL! I shall kill you today.”
Chintu failed in the exams. He claimed that it was the making of a divine intervention because his mother did not believe in the angel of MaaDurga. His mother could not agree more. She said, “Poor Chintu. He suffered because of my lack in faith. In the previous semester he had received one mark more than the pass marks. This semester he failed by one mark. Surely a Divine intervention.”
Gradually everyone believed in the divinity of Phulia Devi. She tried to bust the rumour but to no avail. None believed her words because everybody believed in her. The campaign by Pandu was so strong that people flocked to her house to pay her a visit. Phulia Devi was deeply annoyed but she could not send away guests. Though not so rich she managed to serve some cheap snacks to every guest that appeared at her door. Earlier when a guest would come to her house he would be reluctant to accept snacks to maintain a respectful gesture of courtesy. Now they devour the snacks like hungry demons in the pretext that these snacks are now ‘Prasad’-divine offerings.
One day an old woman in her early eighties paid a visit to Phulia Devi. The other guests who had crowded her house were surprised to see the lean and tiny old woman walk by the door. Someone in the crowd had asked “Isn’t she supposed to be bed-ridden?” “It is all the miracle of Devi Phulia” another answered.
Phulia Devi was seated in a chair placed at the centre of the house. The old lady had almost reached the chair when she felt weak and fell on the feet of Phulia Devi. Phulia Devi was holding a garland in her hand that somebody had offered her earlier. On seeing a women double her age falling to her feet she jumped and shrieked in dismay loosening her grip over the garland. The garland fell on the head of the old woman. Someone from the crowd yelled “Look! MaaPhulia Devi blessed dadiji (granny) with garland.” After an undecipherable murmur a group of people raised unsynchronised slogans “Hail MaaPhulia Devi!” After a few sporadic chants the slogans got more synchronised and a strange apprehension of the unknown gripped Phulia Devi more and more. Phulia Devi grew reckless with every passing moment. The overbearing attention was unbearable. She decided to confront Pandu over this issue.
***
“No way PhuliaMausi! I cannot tell the people that you are no divine entity.” Pandu waved his hands and head in straight denial. Phulia Devi being greatly annoyed reprimanded him “You fool! You are the one who started the rumour and you should be the one who redeems it”
Pandu clarified, “I did not spread any rumour. I had only told them what YOU told me about your dream.” His voice had a tinge of scorn. Phulia Devi understood that she was entangled in her own words. “I had no dream. I was just kidding” she explained. Pandu exclaimed with clear flamboyancy “What! You told a lie! Oh no!” “Stop over reacting and get me out this mess.” She insisted. Pandu now turned a grave face “The situation has gone out of control. If I tell them now that you are no messenger of the Lord these fat heads will hung me by a tree. I cannot take that risk.” “There must be SOME solution.” Phulia Devi was desperate.
Pandu took a long pause and said, “Let it be the way it is.” “What?” yelled PhuliaDevi.Pandu gestured his hand asking her to calm down. “Phuliamausi there is no other way to deal with the situation. You did try to convince the villagers, didn’t you? Rather you must take advantage of this accidental bliss” he opined. She questioned, “And what should I do with the insane flurry of people flocking outside my house everyday?” Pandu replied “You need not bear with this torture for more than a couple of days.Tribenibabu shall return day after tomorrow and he will surely have a solution” Tribenibabu was the village headman and regarded highly by the villagers. He was not in the village in the pretext of visiting a neighbour. He had kept himself out of the rumours on purpose. He wanted things to go worse for Phulia Devi before she could ask for her help. Tribenibabu was an ace politician. He was waiting for the opponent to get desperate before the bargain begins.
***
People would not stop knocking at the door. Whenever she moved out of the house they flung to her feet to take blessings. She was now afraid to leave her house. But there was no food left in the house. She proceeded to the ration shop nearby amidst religious stalkers. When she was returning home with a bag full of groceries a bunch of followers jumped to her feet scaring Phulia Devi out of her wits. The bag of groceries fell down and food was scattered all over. A herd of followers picked up the scattered foods and cried in ecstasy ‘Prasad! Prasad!’Phulia Devi returned empty handed. She stayed hungry that day.
At the midnight while she was twitching in hunger she made a decision. It was an unethical decision but probably the first thing that hunger eats is ethics. She quickly got up from the bed, got ready, and moved out of the house. She saw a couple of middle aged men, probably those who were fed up of their wives, sleeping on a cot laid in front of door blocking the passage. She put her left foot on the chest of the one who slept nearer to the door. She kicked him to wake him up. The man rose up in a jolt. PhuliaDevi instantly threw her hands up in the air and with widened eyes she glared at the man. She shook her head as if suffering from hysteria. She spoke in a deeper and coarser tone “You are a sinner! You are a sinner!”
The other man woke up too. They now stand with folded hands. They tremble with fear and ecstasy. They yelled aloud sparkling the midnight lamps of the houses nearby “PhuliaDevi is possessed by MaaDurga! MaaDurga has come! MaaDurga has come!” Some doors clanged open. She was still fervently moving her head like a crazy women pointing finger at the man and growling “You are a sinner! Atone for your sins.” A few men and women had gathered already. Phulia Devi maintaining her new tone and pointing at the man said, “Jagan you are a sinner. ATONE! I say ATONE!” Jagan looked stupefied. Everyone started murmuring. A kaleidoscope of fear, reverence and suspension lingered in the eyes of the onlookers. They feared the wrath of the goddess Durga. They also suspected that a sin committed by Jagan will be the harbinger of a disaster.
Jagan asked Phulia Devi with trembling body and shivering voice, “What sins have I committed MAA?” Phulia Devi had now stopped shaking. “Don’t you remember what you did ten years ago during a full moon?” she asked while both assuming and hoping that Jagan should not have remembered anything of such distant past. Jagan was quiet. He was busy recollecting his misdeeds. Somebody form the gathering prompted, “I think she is speaking of the abduction Jagan had committed.” Some other person commented “Kidnap? I thought Binita had eloped with Jagan.” Now a third person clarified, this time a lady, “That was 5 years ago. MAA must be referring to the abduction that happened 10 years ago.” Jagan now vehemently opposed “Stop hurling false accusations. It was not a full moon when I kidnapped Charulata.” After an introspective pause he replied, “Maa are you referring to Sarika? I do not remember if it was a full moon when I teased her.”
Phulia Devi was amazed to know that a random man of this God-fearing religiously inclined village may have such a flamboyant past. She struggled to obstruct such amazement from appearing on her face. She gained composure with a deep breath and declared, “You fool! You had committed a grave sin during the full moon. No mortal is aware of your deed. I will not disclose it for the sake of the prestige of your family. Offer Phulia Devi with sumptuous meal twice a day for next seven days as atonement. Through Phulia the offering shall reach me. “
Jagan was still trying to remember what he did in the full moon. None the less, he agreed to atone “As you command MAA?” Shortly thereafter Phula Devi feigned unconsciousness. He mimed waking up after a few seconds later and said with soft breaking voice, “What the hell are you all doing in my house at midnight.” She than saw the surroundings and the open sky and feigned unconsciousness yet again.
The next few days Phulia Devi was full on stomach. Delicious meal was presented before her even before she could ask. However, Jagan was yet unable to remember what he did at a full moon. On the contrary the others started enlisting their sins for atonement. The temple priest had also struck a deal with Phulia Devi. The priest will bring sinners for atonement. The sinners will offer food to Phulia Devi and money to the priest. A food chart was also prepared. Vegetarian food was generally aligned with petty crimes. Non-vegetarian was aligned with heinous crimes. Some sins could not be classified as petty or heinous. For instance, wife beating is petty for the husband but heinous for the wife. In such cases a special discount was offered. One may atone for an unclassified sin and a petty one with a non-vegetarian meal alone.
TribeniBabu had returned to the village quite a few days ago but Phulia Devi did not go to meet him. After all there was a massive change in the perspective of Phulia Devi. Earlier she disliked anti social elements and criminals. Now she realises that criminals are not so bad after all. Earlier she was terrified by the unsolicited crowd hovering over her house day and night. Nowadays she isn’t so annoyed. After all a 25 rupees per visit is not so bad. However this amount was chargeable only from the good ones. The sinners were given VIP entry pass free of cost since they brought food.
***
Tribeni was walking to and fro frantically in his courtyard like a bee over a discarded piece of sweet. Pandu stood a foot away with his head swinging to trace his path. Tribeni suddenly stopped and growled, “Pandu, things did not go as planned. I had anticipated that Phulia will be troubled by this extravaganza of religious attention. And then she would come to me for help. After all I am the village headman.” Pandu chirped in “But she was indeed troubled!”Tribeni growled even louder “But not for long. She is now enjoying the adulations. But that is not what is troubling me!” “Then?” asked Pandu with a poker face. “You fool!” roared Tribeni. After an angry frown he continued, “YOU are the one who informed me about her candidature. I thought the closing date for submitting candidature for the panchayat election is already over.” “It is over” confirmed Pandu. Having gauged a questioning glance in the eyes of Tribeni he clarified, “The concerned officials allowed late entry since Phulia Devi was a messenger of GOD.” Pandu had not noticed until now that Tribeni was carrying a walking stick with him. He realised it now because Tribeni had banged it on the floor in desperation. He commanded “Pandu I need you to besmirch her divine image.” Pandu nodded in acceptance but his eyes were dull with apprehension.
***
Pandu realises that the task at hand is not an easy one. Defaming someone is not a difficult task for him. But demeaning someone who he had himself tossed to a higher pedestal is a different ball game altogether. He fidgeted through sleepless night fumbling for a glitch to attack on the popularity of Phulia Devi. Then one day he met a farmer named Panigrahi.
Panduhad met Panigrahi at a tea stall. Panigrahi looked crestfallen. “What’s the matter Pani?” Pandu asked. Panigrahi replied with a deep sigh “I cringe over my fate Pandu. Earlier when it was not raining I was sad. Then the rains came and my ankles dip completely in the water accumulated on the fields. I smiled. I smiled even more when the water reached half way between the ankle and the knee. But now I apprehend that the water will rise up to my knee in next couple of days destroying the wheat crops. I shall be glad if the drizzle stops until the harvest.” Pandu murmured some inconsequential condolences to appear good mannered. But in reality he was brimming with joy. It was a bleak opportunity but a timely strike juxtaposed with the ignorance of the villagers can work wonders.
With utmost alacrity he created a list of wheat growers. He met them over the next two days over various pretext. He fed them apprehensions cleverly woven amidst hundred of unworthy blabbers. He would say “Hey! You do not seem to be worried like the other wheat growers are?” This diligently placed question would provoke the listener to seek clarification. Pandu would then explain how the wheat cultivation of the village would be hampered if the rain did not stop soon. And then he would console “Have faith in MaaPhulia Devi. Rain will soon stop.”
The rain did not stop. The wheat growers became sceptical of Phulia Devi. Pandu summoned a meeting among the community of wheat growers. Although there is no such community in the village Pandu was able to organise a temporary group. Pandu is no authority to do so but his ability to feign as an agony aunt gave him unprecedented power.
The secret meeting that was kept secret only from Phulia Devi was held in the courtyard of Tribeni. The oldest member of the group presided over the meeting. Though he could not hear anything he had requisite experience to preside over the meeting. He can announce the initiation of discourse when he sees that most of the invitees have arrived. He could declare the day when he sees that most of them look tired and desperate to leave. He could also raise his hand and shout ‘silence! Maintain decorum’ whenever he gauges a chaotic disruption in the meeting merely by looking at the facial expressions of the members. It is for this vast experience that he had opted to preside over the meeting.
Pandu was the first to speak. He spoke throwing his voice to the last man sitting. “Dear friends and seniors. We have gathered here to discuss a painstaking issue. Many of us have raised a doubt regards the sanctity of the divinity of Phulia Devi. I have no doubts that Phulia Devi is a divine women and I have complete faith in her. I witnessed how she brought rain on earth. We all saw how non believers were punished. If she is not the messenger of GOD then what gives her the power to call the rains and punish people? The question asked as rhetoric was not a rhetoric at all. All the members except the deaf president, of course, were searching for answers to this very question. All members gave their opinion one by one. Some confirmed their faith in Phulia Devi. Some shared apprehensions of the unknown. No considerable majority could be attained. When the president was asked to render his opinion he simply stood up and raised his hand and said, “It was an enlightening discussion. The meeting is now adjourned. We shall assemble again on the next date.” Then he walked away from the gathering. The others though astonished at first gradually left the courtyard in groups murmuring within themselves.
These murmurs did not confine itself to the boundary of the courtyard but spread across the village. Some started denying the concept of divinity in Phulia Devi. Phulia Devi however heard nothing of the rumour but she apprehended growing hostility in the air. People would turn eerily silent in the market place when she is around. The silence grew louder day by day scaring her little. She realised that the number of visitors stalking her house has declined not by the reducing girth of the crowd but by the decrease in funds collected. But majority still believed in her.
Then suddenly something happened out of the blue. Phulia Devi’s husband Bhanuramwho was in jail for committing double murder had died. He was set to release the next year. When the news of his death broke she shed not a scintilla of tear. She did not even adorn the white attire like any other widow in the village. She did put a frown for a day or two but it faded away in no time. Now more and more people grew sceptical of her. Many widows despised her attitude. Radhamani, a middle aged widow had opined “Phulia Devi cannot be the messenger of MaaDurga. She must have surely saved her husband if she was divine. She is evil. Isn’t a pious women supposed to discard colour after husband’s death? Why isn’t she wearing white?” She however did not mention that she would drape herself with her old colourful saris when nobody is at home. Chandrika who is a young widow had commented “She still accepts non-vegetarian food from her followers. A widow should not even think of non-vegetarian.” She too was careful enough to not give away the fact that she would take a lengthy detour to reach home every time she visited the market. On the way she passes through a non-vegetarian ‘dhaba’ (Motel). The kitchen window of the dhaba faced the road and the strong smell of the cooked meat would greet her nostrils as she stood there for a minute or so.
The women in general spoke ill of Phulia Devi. It is not that they despised her but demeaned her only to project oneself as the torch bearer of pious womanhood. They are taught from a tender age to carry the grand onus to prove to the society that they are pious, loyal to their men and ever sacrificing.
One fine morning, just before the day of the Panchayat election the temple priest was found dead in his house. Somebody has slit his throat to death. It was the last straw on the camel’s back. Nobody visited Phulia Devi that day. When the sun had already reached the zenith with no visitor she felt a cold wave down her spine. With the passing time she got engulfed in fear. When the sun was losing its shine for the day and she yet had no visitor she gauged trouble. She started to pack her bags quickly. It was too late. It was already dusk when she hardly finished tucking all essentials in a single bag. A strange sound reached her ears scaring her. It sounded as if somebody was banging the door. The sound was heard again and again. The window now broke open with a thud and a chunk of stone entered flying inside the house. She saw a mob of people standing on the other side of the window with somebody holding a burning torch in his hands. She frantically looked around her to find anything that she could use as a weapon. She froze for a second when she found none. They are banging the doors continuously. It will break any moment. She ran to the kitchen to fetch a knife. When she came out of the kitchen the door had already surrendered. Two men came running to grab her. She managed to cut a slice at the arm of one of them. But the other one grabbed her from behind and twisted her hand that held the knife. The knife slipped of her clench and another man grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out.
She was dragged to a nearby tree and tied to it. While still struggling to free herself and shrieking “Leave me!” she saw with horrific glare that a man was coming near to her with a white translucent container without a lid. The pungent smell of kerosene terrified her further. She lamented “Leave me! Please!” She cried so loud that her voice was choked. When the kerosene was smeared on her body she wept silently. Then the man with a burning torch approached towards her. She now cried “Help!” continuously. Realising that no spectator will ever come for help she asked in a weeping broken voice “Why?” she repeated the question again and again.
“You are a witch! A wicked magician! You are not the messenger of GOD.” proclaimed Tribeni who stood a step ahead of the crowd as if leading them. “Save yourself and prove that you are the messenger of MAA DURGA.” A few unknown voices repeated the last words in an unsynchronised manner like some followers in stance. “Yes! Prove that you are messenger of MAA DURGA.”
Phulia Devi was now dejected. The fear of death was lingering on her eyes. The man with the burning torch had come very close. The spectators pressed their ears with their palms tightly. They are aware of the ear jarring sound that a burning woman makes. Yet a shrill voice managed to pierce through their ears and died down in few seconds.
***
After 3 months a piece of news flashed on the radio. It was about a prisoner who was serving life sentence for a double murder and died in prison a few months ago. The police have found evidence that the man was planning to explode a village named Vishnugiri with RDX soon. He was earlier caught red handed by the villagers while committing a murder and they handed him over to police. He wanted vengeance. He had also chalked out an escape plan. But he died before he could execute the plan. Some inmates were also involved in the plan.
***
After a long wait of 6 months the temple is now ready for worshippers. The newly elected Panchayat PradhanTribeni took special care so that the statue is erected just above the ashes of Phulia Devi. The statue of Phulia Devi was erected amongst great pomp and pleasure. The temple gate was rendered open for public after the newly appointed priest performed a religious ceremony. However the entry was not free for sinners. You must make offerings at par with your sins. A chart was also prepared and hung at the gate:
Petty crime: 100 INR
Average crime: 500 INR
Serious crime: 1000 INR
And yes! At a democratic meeting held among the men alone it was decided ‘Wife beating is a petty crime.’
*****
By Subhadeep Santra
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