Propitiation

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Teenager: "Mom! What do I gift to my boyfriend who has everything?"

Mother: "Encouragement, dear; Encouragement!"

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Webster:

Propitiate: to gain or regain the favor or goodwill of: appease

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A couple of years back I had to visit my home-town to settle a quasi-judicial matter in the Revenue Department's Taluq Office (TO).

I located the best Lawyer in the town and entered the Grand Old Lawyer's (GOL) Chamber.

He understood what I wanted in a couple of minutes, made a phone call, and told me to go meet Subba Rao in the TO and he would do everything for me except signatures, finger-prints and digital photos (AP has gone hi-tech!).

I was very pleased at the efficiency and courtesy of GOL, pulled out the wallet from my hip pocket and asked him: "Sir, how much do I pay?"

He gave me a disarming smile and said: "But you have already PAID!"

I was wondering how; and he came up with his quip:

"You have paid me your VISIT and that's all I want from Distinguished Customers".

I was simply charmed and pumped up, went to Subba Rao; and a day later he PAID me a visit at my home with a Bill of Rs 9,256.

That 'Rayleigh End-Correction' of Rs 256 over 9000 intrigued me; and he explained that it was the Registration Charges and Stamp Fees for which I get a Receipt.

$$$$$$$$

Aside 1: This end-correction reminds me of the Geology Student who answered his viva question on the age of the Earth as 4,000,003 years; and when asked about that 3 years, he replied that their text book was 3 years old.

Aside 2: This brand-new young wife trying to cook for her new hubby and herself bought a cook-book, a digital balance, and a pocket calculator (for 'scaling'). After going by the recipe-book strictly and adding 22.7 grams of salt to the boiling sambar (stew) she sits down wiping the sweat on her worried brow; but recalls the idiom: 'salt of the earth' and gets up and sprinkles a heaped table-spoon of salt as 'scale-correction'

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Coming back to our Subba Rao, I wanted to haggle about his greedy 'Propitiation' of a hefty Rs 9,000.

He then gave out the break-up: "Rs 1000 to Sri A, 2000 to Srimati B, and ONLY 1000 to myself".

I queried about the remaining Rs 5,000.

"That goes to that Shylock GOL!"

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I often wonder that folks who try constantly to propitiate God don't have as much sense as the mom of our teenager (see above).

In every religion there are untold number of squeamish ways officially prescribed to propitiate their sundry gods, goddesses, demons, ancestors, or just God.

In my blogs I always try to avoid religious matters since they often tend to hurt someone or the other.

But I suppose I can freely talk of my own family...if they are hurt, they can always disown me, happily for everyone concerned {;-}

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An uncle of my Father whom they used to call affectionately Kashi Mama (KM) ran away from his home at Nellore about a century ago when he was in his early teens.

Their folks went around searching for him in and around and gave up all hope after about a month.

Twelve years later (that magic dozen again!) he suddenly arrived back home at Nellore to the pleasant astonishment of all.

And he was well-dressed in dhoti-jibba, religiosity poring from every corner of his beaming face and purse; and explained that he ran away to Kashi as a stowaway, spent time on platforms whenever he was thrown out from the train, but ultimately reached Kashi and became an Apprentice to a Giant Panda there, learned every 'paying' ritual in that Burning City whose 'Business is Religion' as Mark Twain wrote more than a century ago (without doubt the Bend in the Ganges at Kashi is beautiful as he admitted).

And KM was much in demand for his wild stories as well as his many rupees.

My Father was just married by then and was wistfully yearning to follow the footsteps of his KM but my mom put her foot down and so he became HM of Muthukur School, luckily for me...

KM got married to a deserving wife at Nellore, returned to Kashi (now doubly equipped: his wife could cook and feed and charge visitors while he performed a variety of obsequies pocketing rupees every two minutes). He flourished, graduated to the position of HoD of a Panda Department, grew old, declined to return to Nellore even when he was bedridden since he wanted to die at Kashi and his cremation done as per his Will in the Harishchandra Ghat so he won't have a rebirth (I fail to understand this refusal to be born again...for he had had a fairly merry time during this innings...like me...and now there are so many more IITs to choose from).

Anyways (as Americans put it) my Father used to seat me on his tummy, lying on his cot after night meals, when I was just a kid of 4, and, after he narrated his Tall Tale of KM for the umpteenth time, he would tell me that I have only one wish of his to carry out, and that was to take him once to Kashi and its famed Burning and Shining Ghats ('Kashi' means 'shining') on a pilgrimage.

It took me 40 years to be able to afford this pilgrimage from KGP in AC 2-Tier Sleeper on LTC.

But I was told by my Father and Mother that, according to their tradition, no trip to Kashi can be undertaken unless we visit Gaya first and do pinda-dan there for propitiating our ancestors of three generations.

Since Gaya was on our way to Kashi, that was fine with me. Knowledgeable people warned me that the Giant Pandas of Gaya (unlike sophisticated KGP Kabuliwalas) are unscrupulous and so we better go to the Gaya Branch of Bharat Sevashram Sangh. So, I carried a Reco in my pocket and we three got down at Gaya at 3 AM, and were immediately met with a panda-kidnapping attempt as I narrated in an earlier blog (I think it is: Conceit).

We ran and took shelter at the BSS where they gave us a Room (bath and bed).

At 7 AM the HM of the BSS in ocher robes sat in his chair and two very orderly queues formed themselves in front of him (one for the clients and the other for the servers).

I found that everyone of the clients (as well as the HM and the servers) was Bengali which fortunately my parents couldn't follow, because all of them were being asked only one question: "Which day?". Some would answer 3rd, some 7th, and the HM would match the clients with the servers and ask them to get lost.

When my turn came, I spoke in halting Bengali that I was not there to perform obsequies for a just-dead, but pinda-dan to ancestors.

He looked at me for a long second and asked me to wait aside and sent word for the only Telugu Brahmin server attached to BSS. And when that young chap arrived duly, the HM explained to me that the rituals are exactly the same and invariant whether we pay Rs 20 (minimum) or Rs 20,000 (...the remaining 19,980 would go to the server).

This Propitiation Version simply charmed me.

My Father had the largest number of ancestors of 3 generations ever (I guess it was about a hundred) and the young server was tired doing his duties; at the end of which my HM Father wanted to settle for the minimum Rs 20, but I convinced him that the young chap deserved Rs 200, and all was well since the young chap was visibly pleased.

But it was well past noon by the time this thing was over and I was in a hurry to visit Bodh Gaya in a tonga despite my parents' Brahminical reluctance.

Not that I am an adherent of Budhism, but just that I find Budha as interesting as Gandhi.

Budha drove out Brahminism from India but his followers, despite his middle-path, succumbed to Puritanism and were driven out of India, to be overtaken duly by Thugs and Pindaris.

Just like Gandhi drove out the British from India, but his followers duly succumbed to the modern version of T & P.

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Tail Piece:

The other day I got a mail from a Reputed Organization asking me to send them an urgent (propitiating) Reference Letter for an ex-student of mine who applied for a Position there.

Having been out of this business for long, I was wondering how to go about it, when I recalled Soumendu's punch line:

rastein bahut hain padh tum gulmarg se hi jana !

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