Fiction
Mayank
had been through countless admission tests.
The worried look on his mother’s face had become a source of guilt for the
little boy.
“I’m
sorry, mom,” he consoled his mother. He
didn’t know what else to say. The way
she looked at him with so much pity in her eyes made him feel guilty, guilty of
being alive, guilty of having been born.
Mayank
was lucky that his father was so busy with his job in the city that he lacked the
luxury of the time for worrying about his son.
Otherwise how would he bear to see two dear faces carrying an endless
worry named Mayank? Mother was a teacher
in Ananda Vidyashram which belonged to Phenomenananda Baba and faced the threat
of extinction.
Mayank
was a class 3 student of Ananda Vidyashram.
But when the new session started there were only a handful of students
all together in the school.
Phenomenananda Baba was not interested in running the school. The school was started by his great, great
grandfather, Anantananda Baba, as part of his ashram so that wholesome
education would be provided free to the children of the locality. The Babas who succeeded brought about various
reforms in the school according to the needs of the times. The regular rise in the fees, removal of
certain facilities and closing down of sections were some such reforms. Now
the school itself faced demolition because Phenomenananda Baba’s increasing
number of rich devotees required parking space for their cars. Mayank’s mother did not want her son to be
left in the lurch halfway through the academic session. So she sought admission for him in any of the
reputed public schools in the city.
Mayank
failed in every admission test. Each test
seemed to add a new wrinkle on his mother’s forehead. Each test carried his mother to more and more
idols in the temple complex of Phenomenananda Baba’s ashram. Mother’s purse became lighter; the temple’s
donation boxes were the gainers.
When
the letter from the hundredth school came, Mother said, “No, we won’t open it
here. We’ll take this letter to the
temple and open it in front of the gods.”
Mayank, his head weighed down by the guilt of being such a burden to his
mother, accompanied Mother to Phenomenananda Baba’s temple complex. The myriad gods waited to be appeased. Mother
went from one to the other offering prayers and aratis, tears dropping down her
cheeks, the smoke of hope rising from the lamp in offertory tray. Mayank
followed her with folded arms.
Having
appeased all the gods with whatever was in Mother’s hands including the last
coin in her purse, Mother opened the letter from the Hundredth Public School.
A
ray of light descended on her face. The
gods and goddesses were now pleased with them.
She hugged Mayank. “Didn’t I say
the gods were kind?”
A
monstrous bulldozer was droning along through the gate of Ananda Vidyashram.
interesting story!
ReplyDeletethis piece of fiction brings out such latent points around blind belief, human worship and pain that a normal man goes through. very nicely written :)
ReplyDeleteReligion makes life more complex than we normally acknowledge
Delete:) Phenomenananda Baba.. Can't stop grinning over that name.. Your signature style!!
ReplyDeleteReligion has become my inspiration :)
DeleteVery interesting story! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks :)
Delete