2. s

I get pulled towards them. Like they have lassoed me. I feel like a zombie walking on his master’s command. Except that I have no master. Or I don’t know who my master is. I only know these voices. These vague voices.

In slow steps I move towards them. The voices open their large moth. They suck me inside. A high power vacuum. My feet detach from the ground. I begin floating. I am dragged towards those voices. I give in to their pull. I go flowing towards them. Like a gush of wind takes a dry leaf along with it. I sway upon them then and land before their source.

A voice blares something over the hand held speaker into my ear. Two voices sing rhythmically to compete with the voice on the speaker.
I come back to the senses dazed. I can just see these men on speakers tearing their throat out and voices ringing in my ear. I keep looking at them. And something catches my dilating pupils.

Bhagwad Geeta.

This time it was ‘Geeta Gyaan Prasaarak Sangh’. Another sect claiming to be the true patrons of Bhagwad Geeta. Another fundamentalist organisation exploiting the mysteries in Bhagwad Geeta.

The man said “Geeta Geeta….Bhagwad Geeta!...Real Geeta…No editions.. Geeta Geeta…Bhagwad Geeta!”.

Two men behind him sing aloud “Bolo Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna…..Bolo Radhe Krishna Radhe Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna”.

All backed by a neatly chiselled idol of Krishna.

And a Krishna on the cover of the Bhagwad Geeta. The eternal Sudarshan Chakra on a tallest human index finger on one hand and a clean palm with rays radiating out from it on the other. As I looked up, I realised that it was the same as that on the book. A neatly chiselled Krishna.

I don’t understand why couldn’t I realise it before. Hadn’t I observed it before. Or was it that there was some different idol here which was not there on the book. That they had changed it instantly. Or was it that I had seen something else.

The wheel-chaired beggar blew air into his wooden pipe with seven holes. And sounds of a flute filled touched the station’s roof and spilled all over the place.

Something came fluttering at my feet. I looked down. A peacock feather had rested on my toe. I picked it up.

A man covered in blue distemper from station renovations, walked past me. His body brushed mine. I saw my hand. It was coloured in blue.

“Oye!...What are you doing here?” Sudesh wakes me up. “I thought you would stand there….I am so sorry for the delay yaar”

I just shake my head blankly.

“And what happened?...why are you standing here?...you buying a Bhagwad Geeta?...I can’tr believe this!!”
“No yaar….was just seeing”
“then it’s fine…don’t buy it!....it’s all a religious propaganda!!”

We walk towards the bridge. I turn back keep looking at the stall those guys had put up. That is the same moment the fluted beggar, The feather fan seller and the blue distemper came and stood together. Looking at me. I looked back. In pure astonishment.

The three of them stared at me into my eye. I gulped them down through my eyes.


(Contd.)