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The Chief Priest roared like a Lion.
Indeed the title of 'Lion' was once conferred on him in a grand public function felicitating him. When he roars, which is occasionally, the Priest and a dozen odd priestlings dependent on him for their living shiver and fall silent.
And then the Lion walked up to me, dragged a plastic chair, smiled and we exchanged CVs for a pleasant half hour for the first time in 12 days.
That was the 12th day...the last day of my wife's rituals held within the precincts of the Bharat Sevashram Sangh on the Lower Tank Bund Road, whose chief advantage is its locale...it is literally at the heart of the twin cities easily accessible to all friends and relatives who wished to attend and bid a fond farewell.
As it happens in our customs, the husband (meaning me) has no role at all to play in the elaborate tantric and mantric, vedic and sastraic kriyas. It was our son who had to get dressed up in dhuti and towel, take umpteen number of baths, sit down and perform as the Priest in his hurry orders...take this leaf and put it there, pour water here, pour ghee there, wash this priestling's feet or that, all the time changing his sacred thread this way and that and back and forth...
All I had to do was to dress myself in formals with pockets deep enough to hold sumptuous cash and currency and deliver them here and there as ordered by the Lion. Otherwise I didn't even have to enter the sanctum which was filled with smoke (yes, there was fire) except on one or two occasions when I had to bless my son, as ordered, sprinkling yellow rice on his head.
And return and pick up another musical chair and gather wool...which suited me eminently. Except that I had to leave my footwear before entering the sanctum and get back into them while retreating.
The Lion looked at my brand new chappals (Bata Comfit) and asked:
"When did you buy them?"
"Yesterday"
"How much did they cost?"
"Rupees one thousand two hundred only"
"Oh ok, that is why you ran back in a hurry after peremptorily blessing your son!"
"My blessings are always there and cost little, unlike these chappals."
"Why did you spend so much on a mere pair of chappals?"
"I didn't... My D-i-L was sweeping the floor yesterday morning and noticed that the straps on both of my old chappals were torn...it didn't bother me since I am used to torn chappals since my university days. But last evening my son and D-i-L quietly dragged me to the Bata outlet and pushed my feet into these luxury wear. And all my attention since then has been on protecting them. It is a perverse case of the wearer safeguarding the footwear than the other way round. We used to call our chappals 'Paadarakshas'...and now I have become my 'Paadukarakshak'..."
The conversation ended there and a couple of hours later was the climax of the 12 days of rituals. On completing them reverentially for the sake of his mother, my son was seated and several friends and relatives showered gifts on him...mostly shirts and trousers. And a phalanx of 6 Veda Pundits in unison recited lovely verses from Saama Veda, which chanting for half an hour was blissful to me...I have a weakness for them.
At the end of this, 5 pundits blessed my son with the injunction that his filial duties are now fourfold, since in the absence of his mother, he and his wife should take such good care of his father that he doesn't miss his companion and feel neglected.
It was then the turn of the Lion who led the Vedic chantings in his booming voice.
And then he refused to pontificate my son and his wife in the care they should take of me.
And simply narrated the story of my torn chappals and the new Bata Comfit I was gifted overnight.
And there was this hint of silken sweetness in his choked voice...
Lions not only roar like the MGM mascot but at times they also sweet-tweet like the kids' movie lambkin...
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The Chief Priest roared like a Lion.
Indeed the title of 'Lion' was once conferred on him in a grand public function felicitating him. When he roars, which is occasionally, the Priest and a dozen odd priestlings dependent on him for their living shiver and fall silent.
And then the Lion walked up to me, dragged a plastic chair, smiled and we exchanged CVs for a pleasant half hour for the first time in 12 days.
That was the 12th day...the last day of my wife's rituals held within the precincts of the Bharat Sevashram Sangh on the Lower Tank Bund Road, whose chief advantage is its locale...it is literally at the heart of the twin cities easily accessible to all friends and relatives who wished to attend and bid a fond farewell.
As it happens in our customs, the husband (meaning me) has no role at all to play in the elaborate tantric and mantric, vedic and sastraic kriyas. It was our son who had to get dressed up in dhuti and towel, take umpteen number of baths, sit down and perform as the Priest in his hurry orders...take this leaf and put it there, pour water here, pour ghee there, wash this priestling's feet or that, all the time changing his sacred thread this way and that and back and forth...
All I had to do was to dress myself in formals with pockets deep enough to hold sumptuous cash and currency and deliver them here and there as ordered by the Lion. Otherwise I didn't even have to enter the sanctum which was filled with smoke (yes, there was fire) except on one or two occasions when I had to bless my son, as ordered, sprinkling yellow rice on his head.
And return and pick up another musical chair and gather wool...which suited me eminently. Except that I had to leave my footwear before entering the sanctum and get back into them while retreating.
The Lion looked at my brand new chappals (Bata Comfit) and asked:
"When did you buy them?"
"Yesterday"
"How much did they cost?"
"Rupees one thousand two hundred only"
"Oh ok, that is why you ran back in a hurry after peremptorily blessing your son!"
"My blessings are always there and cost little, unlike these chappals."
"Why did you spend so much on a mere pair of chappals?"
"I didn't... My D-i-L was sweeping the floor yesterday morning and noticed that the straps on both of my old chappals were torn...it didn't bother me since I am used to torn chappals since my university days. But last evening my son and D-i-L quietly dragged me to the Bata outlet and pushed my feet into these luxury wear. And all my attention since then has been on protecting them. It is a perverse case of the wearer safeguarding the footwear than the other way round. We used to call our chappals 'Paadarakshas'...and now I have become my 'Paadukarakshak'..."
The conversation ended there and a couple of hours later was the climax of the 12 days of rituals. On completing them reverentially for the sake of his mother, my son was seated and several friends and relatives showered gifts on him...mostly shirts and trousers. And a phalanx of 6 Veda Pundits in unison recited lovely verses from Saama Veda, which chanting for half an hour was blissful to me...I have a weakness for them.
At the end of this, 5 pundits blessed my son with the injunction that his filial duties are now fourfold, since in the absence of his mother, he and his wife should take such good care of his father that he doesn't miss his companion and feel neglected.
It was then the turn of the Lion who led the Vedic chantings in his booming voice.
And then he refused to pontificate my son and his wife in the care they should take of me.
And simply narrated the story of my torn chappals and the new Bata Comfit I was gifted overnight.
And there was this hint of silken sweetness in his choked voice...
Lions not only roar like the MGM mascot but at times they also sweet-tweet like the kids' movie lambkin...
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