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‘Gangu's son is named Prasad. Since we didn't know whose son he was, we called him the prasad of Hardwar.’
Narayan spoke half-jokingly, reaching out to include Dinakar. There was in him a touch of urbane courtesy, as if — even after twenty-five years — he were asking, ‘Do you approve of the name?’ Dinakar respected Narayan for this, and felt that his friend had gone beyond him. But what Narayan went on to say pushed him into a sorrow that would remain with him.
‘Until Prasad was five years old, Gangu and I would meet in her house secretly, without any anxiety. Chandrappa was our protector. When she and I were together, he would be breaking logs outside the gate, or drawing water from the well for the flower garden. If anyone came and asked for her, he would say, “Gangu not there.” It used to pain me that this dull-wit could comprehend so much. I do not know what Gangu felt about it. How could we ever repay Chandrappa?
‘As Prasad grew, so did our anxieties. Our lovemaking became a matter of haste. It seemed to me that she always wanted it to be over quickly. And since she was eager for it to be over as soon as possible, my attention got distracted. I also thought of you. How, after taking your pleasure, there was no need for you to have anything more to do with Gangu. You had become invisible for us. But because of Prasad, you stayed in my mind.
‘As Prasad grew older, he became unhappy because the other children at school made fun of him. My son Gopal also seemed discontented. Although he had grown up under Gangu's care, if she came to see him, he would get irritable. He became quiet only if my mother rebuked him. And it made me uneasy, thinking that I was leading an immoral life using my mother's protection. But such guilt leads nowhere. We don't get liberated from maya by such feelings. Anyhow, as I became well known, everyone accepted me. My relations with Gangu became a secret that everyone knew.
‘Yet I stopped going to meet her when Prasad was at home. Gradually, it became more and more difficult to make love discreetly. This has been so for the past ten years. It is far more than ten years now since we have been able to meet without strain, because one day Prasad openly said to his mother, “Let him marry you if he is my father.” Somehow I could not take that step, and I suffered because of it. But what is the use of such suffering?
‘Prasad stopped going to school. He would sit moodily in the house. Gangu had done well as a teacher, but she too began to suffer, keeping her son's unhappiness in her belly. Yet nothing changes if we groan, we just keep on groaning. And how could she ever leave me?
‘Then everything changed when Prasad started to learn music. He developed and got better. But he wouldn't sing to just anyone, though when he comes to our house, he always sings bhajans for my mother. He wouldn't sing even to his own mother. And if I came anywhere near him, he would stop singing.
‘The mystery was that he would sit in his own room and sing for hours before Chandrappa. And Chandrappa, whom we thought a dumb animal, would listen for hours, sitting in front of Prasad with his mouth hanging open. Before and after singing, Prasad would bow to Chandrappa and to his tamboura.
‘But all along Prasad must have been developing vairagya. He even began to seem tolerant of me. If he smiled at me I would be happy the whole day, forgetting all the irritations that Gopal caused me. Prasad looked exactly like the holy sage Shuka, as my mother also said. His serene eyes, long beard, hair falling onto his shoulders, the white clothes— dhoti and dhotra — in these he looked just like a young sage. I would think, “He is nobody's son, he is God's son,” and feel at peace.
‘But this morning something happened. Prasad went and stood before his mother and asked, “Who am I?”
‘Gangu said that her eyes filled with tears because she couldn't lie to this son of hers who looked like a rishi, yet she did not want to speak the truth. She also felt confused, and wondered why Prasad should now be asking this, when for so long he had been made fun of as my son. But then she understood that Prasad wasn't asking her that question, he was questioning himself. And having asked, “Who am I?”, he added, “Mother, I want to take sanyas to understand this question. I want to go to Hardwar where my life took root, and there I will also meditate on the roots of music. Please give your permission for this. The attachments of samsara are difficult to break. So I will also take Appayya with me. He seems very devoted to me.” As you know, it is only Chandrappa whom Prasad calls “Appayya”. After saying all this, he touched his mother's feet.
‘Gangu now feels desolate and deeply troubled because of what Prasad said this morning. She does not know what will become of her if she loses her only son.
‘She spoke to me of ways to keep her son. Should we tell him the truth of his birth? That would mean telling about you too. So you see, your coming just now must have been fated. Gangu has the illusion that her son will stay back in her house once he learns the whole truth. Another illusion is that if she gets a wedding thread tied by me before God, her son's agitation will end.
‘I do not see what relationship there is between the two. Perhaps to my lawyer's mind things don't happen that way. Still, I agreed to tie the thread. But now I am worried about Gopal. Maybe my greedy son will even want to kill me, fearing that the property will be divided. Haven't I already seen what his politics is like? He gets his opponents beaten by thugs.’
Narayan once again started sounding like a lawyer.
‘Since Prasad is a vairagi, I will have all my property registered in my son's name, even that which is not ancestral property, but out of my own earnings. I have already registered Gangu's property in her name. Anyhow, what she earns is enough for her. But I am still worried about my mother. I know that she will accept my tying the marriage-thread on Gangu. One day she saw me looking worried, and said to me meaningfully, “Find a girl for your son and get him married. He can live separately with his family. He will learn to be responsible. Then you can do what you please.” After saying this, she surprised me even more by what she said next in a whisper.’
Narayan stopped talking, opened the door of the car, waited for Dinakar to be seated, and then started the engine.
‘Do you know what Mother told me?’ Narayan asked, beginning to drive the car.
He paused, and then continued in a respectful tone, ‘For my mother there will be no need to take another birth. Although she lives in this bhava, she is free from it.’
After some time he spoke again, his voice trembling.
‘What Mother whispered to me was, “Gangu is like a member of our family.” She said this to me a year ago. I told Gangu and she said, “Because of Amma's words, I have truly become your wife.”’
Dinakar felt depleted. He thought, ‘I am part of Narayan's life, but have no role to play in his release. He is framed by the samsara of his daily world, and I don't have that. There are people to advise him, people to listen to him, society to look out for. He has a place in society, but I don't. There are people to whom he can cause pain, people who expect things from him, but I have none. Prasad exists for Narayan, not for me. Prasad may be my son, or he may not be, but there is nothing for me to do about it. It is as if I am dangling, not knowing in which direction I should turn. And this body cannot endure being directionless indefinitely. For a rudderless man like me, there is neither samsara nor sanyas. I can't be in the world or be out of it. I have no ground to stand on. No matter how much I search, I will never find who I am.’
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