Over the
years his audience grew to include some important persons like the sarpanch
(who became a sarpanch after receiving advice from the Guru), the local lawyer,
the retired subedar saab, the employed and unemployed countrymen.
Everything
was going nice for Samrat. He just sat under a tree everyday, the
passersby’s and regular visitors gave him things to eat, clothing and enough
money to meet his needs. His home was the local dharamshala which would hold in
house preaching sessions in winters. One such wintry day in November, it
wasn’t too cold and sun was shining outside so he decided to sit under the
tree. He was just meditating there when a snake appeared from somewhere around
the tree and bit him on the right foot. The bright winter morning became the
last day for the sage and died. Some people noticed the unconscious body of
Samrat and took him to the hospital. The doctor’s declared him dead on arrival
with the cause of death being snake bite, most likely by a Russell’s Viper.
Then his devotees took him to the local vaidya( herbal medicine practitioner)
who also declared him poisoned. Then the devotees took the corpse to the local
Shiva temple believing lord shiva would grant him life once again. The priest
told the people to leave him in the room built behind the temple wrapped in the
holy cloth.
The whole
village went into mourning. People who didn’t even know him cried regretting
not being able to meet such a divine soul. Just after hours of mourning,
speculation started on how to cremate him and who would cremate him. Someone
raised a voice while crying saying,” the holy guru isn’t dead. He’s still among
us. We should wait”. This was the sentence that threw people into real
confusion. Some said he’s in deep meditation and could wake up any minute. Some
said his soul has gone into the other world and must return in due time. All
in all, the conclusion came out to not bury or burn him. His body should be
preserved as it is now for sooner or later he will wake up.
As
ridiculous as this sounded to me, some reporter caught this story from
somewhere and publicized the whole affair. In no time, the village lit up with
a festival like scenario. A media circus bombarded the village folk with
questions those peasants never even imagined. But as new thoughts kept on
coming to them, the mystery became more tangled with unnecessary attention it
was getting. Now people wondered, “was that snake a messenger of lord shiva who
called the sage to meet him?”, “did our beloved saint died due to his own
will”, “what was he doing outdoors in such cold? Where did the snake come from
and bit only him? Did he know the snake’s coming?” "Did someone conspired to kill him" "Who would harm such a godly figure" "But then affable people have the most envious foes"
Maybe I was
the only one who didn’t miss him. I was maybe the only person aware of the fact
that his presence didn’t make any difference nor does his absence. The only
thing people miss is the figure they could believe in. Well this show went on
for a whole month and plagued the minds of all the folks until another old
fellow who claimed to be his most devoted loyalist claimed that he’d seen
Samrat in his dream. He told the people that he received word to bury him and
create a Samadhi beside the tree where he sat and has commanded him to carry on
the Jan-Seva as he’s leaving part of his divinity to him.
Now after a
few days, the media cleared off and the regular lot returned to seek advice
from a wise saint. One can say things went back to normal. Although this time I
knew the backstory of this incarnation of Samrat. The man was in his late forties, I can’t recall his name Mahesh or maybe Ravi but I knew him well as a
regular face. His sob story was the talk of the town a few years back. He sold
most of his land to a real estate mogul and lived off very comfortably for
years to come. But during this time he developed a drinking habit and earned
the title of the local drunk. Soon the money got used up and he struggled to
even earn enough for his day to day expenses as there was no irrigable land
left. He worked as a daily wage labourer and spent most of his income on his
habit. He worked when he pleased and spent the rest of the time being passed
out on the streets. Sometime later an NGO picked him up and straightened him
out in about eight months.
Now as he
was supposedly clean of his alcohol addiction, he worked as a helper in other
people’s farms. Sometime around this he discovered the Sage Samrat and became
his devotee and eventually the self-proclaimed heir.
Now the
folks have their saint back, I wonder how would he advise his subjects.. Will
he continue to play it safe or we’ll see some differences around. Well it
doesn’t matter now, I won’t be around to see them. Yes, you read right. This is
my last diary entry. From now on, I am going as well on my own journey in
search of the ‘Actual Truth’.
-The humble local freelance journalist, Govind P. Waagle
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