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Sunday, September 04, 2005

The Convert

I was 10 then. I lived in a different world--a world that I can only dream of now; a world where my biggest responsibility was to rise before 8 in the morning and not say "Arrey, 5 minutes Amma"; a world where my only prayer to God would be "Swami (I always address Him that way), please, please bring such heavy rain that the roof of the school building flies away and we have a holiday for at least a week".

And one splendidly bright morning in the month of August (the clear blue sky would have sent a chill down my spine had it not been a holiday), I was entertaining my friends, all comfortably seated around the computer monitor, when, there was a knock on the door. I sprinted towards the door, silently hoping that it was a courier so that I could try out my new signature that had the 'S' all loopy and winding.

I couldn’t tell whose face was more disappointed. I saw no courier boy with a pen and paper in his hand and all they saw was a 10-year old who looked as if he had been told that he had to go back to school for an extra hour. The woman, however, smiled. I did the same, rather uncertainly. She looked about thirty and she had brought along a friend, a granny and a little girl.
"Yenu beku?" I asked (what do you want?)
"Ammey illva?" she asked back(Isn’t your mother there?). 'Malayalis' I thought.
"No, no one is at home" I replied, quickly switching languages. Better Malayalised English than Malayalised Kannada.
"Oh" she said, unable to mask her disappointment.
Then they had a little discussion amongst themselves while I practised some shots with the cricket bat that lay outside, getting restless with every passing second.
Then they suddenly stopped talking. She looked at me solemnly and asked,
"What is your name, kutty?"(Aha, kutty! definitely Malayalis!)
"Sharan"
"Do you believe in god?"
"Yes" (what is this?)
"Really? Which God?"
"Rama, Krishna, Shiva, Saraswathi, Vishnu..."
"You are Hindu!"
"Yes. I also like Brahma. He is my favourite. But we never pray to him"
"So, Shravan--"
"Its Sharan. And Oh! I almost forgot. I like Ganapthi too. I got prize for drawing him last year, you know?"
"Very good" she said, clearly unimpressed "Are you habby with your life?"
"Happy? Yes"
"Really?"
"Yes, umm...No” (Something told me she wanted ‘No’)
"Why aren’t you happy?"she asked, now clutching a cross that she wore around her neck.
"I don’t know" (You tell me!)
"I know, child. This world is so full of misery and zuffering. Even small children like you have so many broblems."
"!!?"(I had absolutely no idea what she was driving at)
But, do you wand to be really habby?"
"Mmm? Yes, I think so"(Please just let me go)
"Then read this bassage,” she said, extracting an old bound book that I immediately recognised as the 'Bible'.
"Okay." I said, and holding the book that was surprisingly heavy said, "Pasalm 23."
"Not Basalm, Psalm!"
"Psalm 23. A day will come when the tiger and the deer will live in harmony……………a child will put his hand in a snake's hole without fear"(I was beginning to get bored)
"Child, do you underzdand whad it means?"
"Yes"
"What does it mean?"
"Jungle book. I knew it was copied from somewhere. Was Kipling a christian?"
"Gibling? Who Gibling?"
"The author of Jungle book! It used to come on DD too! Don’t you remember the song? Jungle Jungle patha chala hey.……" I sang one full paragraph before I realised that she was not interested and quickly sang the first line again and stopped, looking slightly sheepish.
"But child, the paragraph is not about some Jungle book. It has a very deep meaning. It speaks of paradise on the earth. Where there exists perfect harmony and absolutely no fear. Do you understand me?"
"Paradise? I have been there. What ice creams you get! And the book shop next to it, what is it called? I forgot. Anyway, I bought an Enid Blyton there"
"No, No, child, Paradise is heaven. You get everything there. That is where He resides-- Jehovah, the father of Jesus. The ultimate supreme being....."
"No, Paradise is not heaven! That other shop, 'Muktha' is definitely heaven. You get better ice creams there and the choco-bars' I continued, looking mistily, " Only 5 Rs 50 paisa!"
"No, child. Its Jehovah-- father of Jesus Christ"
"Jehovah? I thought it was Thomas or someone like that"
She stood and just stared at me. Clearly it was a battle lost and it was time to go. I waited for her to make a move. At last, she fished in the back parts of her bag and handed over a small book that spoke of Jehovah and his son, Jesus Christ. She then added, somewhat tentatively,
"Son, I was wondering if you could give some monetary help"
"Monetary help? No, actually, I am busy now, and I am playing with my friends. So, I really can’t help. I am sorry"
"No, No, no help. Only some money"
"Money? I have no money"
"Actually, we give that book only to people who give donations...."
"Then, you can have it back. I have no problems"
"No, keep it child. Read it and become pure" she said sadly and turned to leave.
And then he came. My heart missed a beat, and I ran to the gate bumping into one of the three women, not even bothering to apologise. He smiled and gave me the post, a pen and the paper where I had to sign. I cracked my knuckles, practised writing the signature in mid-air and then with a flourish of fingers and ink, signed on the sheet. And the loopy and stylish ‘S’ came out just perfect!