"There's nothing black, nor there's anything white. The world's a smoky illusion of grey" - Old jungle saying
Life exists in the strangest of places, in the strangest of forms. We refuse to believe certain life forms exist because we cannot see or perceive their existence. That's because we're attuned to a set of images our mind has formed about the places we live in and travel. We refuse to see anything beyond these images, and only when there's a gross change in the picture is when we're forced to accept this change in the picture. This is called conditional vision or perception, a game played by the mind.
So, we're seeing in effect only what the mind wants us to see! And how does the mind know all of this? This happens indirectly when our likes and dislikes become strong enough to voice out their opinions, and begin colouring the mind. Once this happens, the mind shows us only what we want to see, and nothing else. This is our make believe world ladies and gentlemen!
And in this make believe world, i, Prakash Verma too had a small piece of earth to call my own with a roof over my head. Living off the land, working at famous corporation who'd invested deeply here and earning a bit more than my neighbours. This slight advantage made my life a bit more enjoyable, and to put things in a nutshell, i was living in my own designer cocoon!
Life can get a bit dull once the challenges have been settled and there's not much turbulence to everyday life. We're a paradoxical people, us humans! We crave for a small measure of peace and quiet in times of trouble, and when we attain this peace, we begin to feel "bored" and seek further challenges to spice up life! Funny isn't it...?
It was at a time like this that i met him. Enroute to the railway station, a dense grove of banyan trees grow thickly in a small space of earth. The roots droop downward, dig back into the earth and at another corner of the plot, re-emerge as another tree.
This cluster parented from one ancient banyan, was now 6 trees thick! This cluster is of paramount importance for the events that are about to transpire.
Legend has it that the place is a bloody grove. Indeed, a murder was reported when i was a school boy. The blood had seeped deep into the dark brown soil, but was still visible on the surface. There was a marsh nearby where wild boar used to haunt, and the whole place had an eerie and spooky appearance. All of it has now but gone, but the banyan cluster remains.
I usually gave this place a miss when returning from office, but once in a while i would come via this less trampled path only because it was quieter than the traffic congested stretch of M.G.Road. And on just another regular evening, close to dusk i met Vetaal.
Vetaal in colloquial Hindi means a sprite or a celestial being, usually a mischievious prankster, something like Casper the lovable ghost! Vetaals across India have different attributes, some even border on the verge of murderous beings capable of dangerous manipulations, while others are lost souls damned to haunt the nether world, neither hell nor earth until the time of Judgment or when their sins would be forgiven, whichever came first.
The vetaal i met was an altogether different creature or being, bearing no semblance whatsoever to anything or anyone who could call himself a sprite! He looked every bit like just another old man on the street. Tucking in his dhoti (an Indian sarong) between his legs, and wearing a knotted piece of cloth as a turban and a white kurta covering his torso, he looked like a traditional headman from someplace in rural Gujarat or Rajasthan.
Squatting in the shade of the tree the way only an Indian can squat, he had a look of peace and content on his face. The sun was dipping in the western horizon, and after yet another day at the place i called my place of work, tired and hungry i headed back home when he called out to me. It was October and the season we call "second summer", the weather was a bit sultry. Yet there was a strange chillness when i passed by the banyan grove. Must be because of the tree cover i thought.
"Time kya ho raha hai bhaisahab" a slightly accented voice called out from my right handside. Turning to locate the source of this voice, we locked gaze. Vetaal saw me, and i saw Vetaal."Pouney saat" i spat out without much effort or attention spare a glance at the wristwatch. I didn't intend having a conversation with this stranger, and i'd answered the man's question. That's enough as far as public courtesy's concerned!
"Rushing home to savour supper Prakash Verma?" the old man who called himself Kanhaiyalaal called out in a snide tone to me. Surprised more than shocked, i turned back to see him squatting still, but smiling deviously. A few teeth were missing in what could be called a toothy grin.
"Reality can be stranger than fiction, 1 plus one's not always two, logic is a make believe truth!" the words were coming in a flurry, and he was looking at me with a devilish expression, and the above dialogue happened in English! Quite surprising for someone who looked like he needed a bit of education in English (i'm such a bourgeoise bugger at times!)
The incidents happening in the next few seconds have been the most terrifying moments of my life, it was a wonder i didn't have a heart attack! In the twinkling of an eye, the guy squatting on the ground leaped up into the air with a cackling laugh and before i could realize was piggybacking me with his hands firmly twisting around my neck.
"What the...??? What do you want you %^&^%#$#$3" and i tried grappling him down on the earth where i could teach him some manners.
But the twist around my neck was as firm as a vice grip, and try as much as i may, i couldn't get him off my neck! "Relax Prakash Verma, i won't kill you unless i have to. I'm not trying to kill you now, so please don't force me to kill you now!
All i want you to do is answer my questions and i'll let you go" the weird cackling laugh now screaming loud in my left ear. If you're wondering what happened to the quiet and sparsely but populated street, we were there but then the time zone seemed like we'd traveled sometime back in time, a few millennia would be quite an accurate number.
"Who're you mister, and what do you want? You're not just another local, and you're something far from human. Are you some kind of a poltergeist or a spirit? Or some celestial being?..." The questions just kept coming in a flurry "The wallet's in the bag, you can have my soul if you want to, what'll you give me in return for my soul, are you the one they call Beelzebub...?"
"Shut up Prakash Verma, and listen to me for a change. Just fucking listen to me! Just keep walking, and talk when i ask you to, do i make myself clear?" curtly he shut up my whining. The place we were walking through was the same banyan grove lane, just that it didn't have any signs of civilization and it was nightfall and it looked every bit like a forest, something it was until just a few decades ago!
We walked for a good distance in silence, the weird travelers walking through a forest which obviously had wildlife everywhere and were audibly vocal after sunset. "Can i know who're you kind sir, and why do you enjoy piggybacking on my back?" this time i was more calm and composed.
"Good evening Prakash, my name's Kanhaiyalal or must i say that was my name until i died. Humans are one miserable race. The moment i died, or just left my human body, they called me spirit. Fate has it that i roam the earth until God knows when.
Overpopulation's not a problem only on earth, even the celestial abodes are having tremendous queues, and i didn't quite know any famous saint or politician to gain a VIP entry, so..." And from here began a journey i would later term as my path to evolution...
Life exists in the strangest of places, in the strangest of forms. We refuse to believe certain life forms exist because we cannot see or perceive their existence. That's because we're attuned to a set of images our mind has formed about the places we live in and travel. We refuse to see anything beyond these images, and only when there's a gross change in the picture is when we're forced to accept this change in the picture. This is called conditional vision or perception, a game played by the mind.
So, we're seeing in effect only what the mind wants us to see! And how does the mind know all of this? This happens indirectly when our likes and dislikes become strong enough to voice out their opinions, and begin colouring the mind. Once this happens, the mind shows us only what we want to see, and nothing else. This is our make believe world ladies and gentlemen!
And in this make believe world, i, Prakash Verma too had a small piece of earth to call my own with a roof over my head. Living off the land, working at famous corporation who'd invested deeply here and earning a bit more than my neighbours. This slight advantage made my life a bit more enjoyable, and to put things in a nutshell, i was living in my own designer cocoon!
Life can get a bit dull once the challenges have been settled and there's not much turbulence to everyday life. We're a paradoxical people, us humans! We crave for a small measure of peace and quiet in times of trouble, and when we attain this peace, we begin to feel "bored" and seek further challenges to spice up life! Funny isn't it...?
It was at a time like this that i met him. Enroute to the railway station, a dense grove of banyan trees grow thickly in a small space of earth. The roots droop downward, dig back into the earth and at another corner of the plot, re-emerge as another tree.
This cluster parented from one ancient banyan, was now 6 trees thick! This cluster is of paramount importance for the events that are about to transpire.
Legend has it that the place is a bloody grove. Indeed, a murder was reported when i was a school boy. The blood had seeped deep into the dark brown soil, but was still visible on the surface. There was a marsh nearby where wild boar used to haunt, and the whole place had an eerie and spooky appearance. All of it has now but gone, but the banyan cluster remains.
I usually gave this place a miss when returning from office, but once in a while i would come via this less trampled path only because it was quieter than the traffic congested stretch of M.G.Road. And on just another regular evening, close to dusk i met Vetaal.
Vetaal in colloquial Hindi means a sprite or a celestial being, usually a mischievious prankster, something like Casper the lovable ghost! Vetaals across India have different attributes, some even border on the verge of murderous beings capable of dangerous manipulations, while others are lost souls damned to haunt the nether world, neither hell nor earth until the time of Judgment or when their sins would be forgiven, whichever came first.
The vetaal i met was an altogether different creature or being, bearing no semblance whatsoever to anything or anyone who could call himself a sprite! He looked every bit like just another old man on the street. Tucking in his dhoti (an Indian sarong) between his legs, and wearing a knotted piece of cloth as a turban and a white kurta covering his torso, he looked like a traditional headman from someplace in rural Gujarat or Rajasthan.
Squatting in the shade of the tree the way only an Indian can squat, he had a look of peace and content on his face. The sun was dipping in the western horizon, and after yet another day at the place i called my place of work, tired and hungry i headed back home when he called out to me. It was October and the season we call "second summer", the weather was a bit sultry. Yet there was a strange chillness when i passed by the banyan grove. Must be because of the tree cover i thought.
"Time kya ho raha hai bhaisahab" a slightly accented voice called out from my right handside. Turning to locate the source of this voice, we locked gaze. Vetaal saw me, and i saw Vetaal."Pouney saat" i spat out without much effort or attention spare a glance at the wristwatch. I didn't intend having a conversation with this stranger, and i'd answered the man's question. That's enough as far as public courtesy's concerned!
"Rushing home to savour supper Prakash Verma?" the old man who called himself Kanhaiyalaal called out in a snide tone to me. Surprised more than shocked, i turned back to see him squatting still, but smiling deviously. A few teeth were missing in what could be called a toothy grin.
"Reality can be stranger than fiction, 1 plus one's not always two, logic is a make believe truth!" the words were coming in a flurry, and he was looking at me with a devilish expression, and the above dialogue happened in English! Quite surprising for someone who looked like he needed a bit of education in English (i'm such a bourgeoise bugger at times!)
The incidents happening in the next few seconds have been the most terrifying moments of my life, it was a wonder i didn't have a heart attack! In the twinkling of an eye, the guy squatting on the ground leaped up into the air with a cackling laugh and before i could realize was piggybacking me with his hands firmly twisting around my neck.
"What the...??? What do you want you %^&^%#$#$3" and i tried grappling him down on the earth where i could teach him some manners.
But the twist around my neck was as firm as a vice grip, and try as much as i may, i couldn't get him off my neck! "Relax Prakash Verma, i won't kill you unless i have to. I'm not trying to kill you now, so please don't force me to kill you now!
All i want you to do is answer my questions and i'll let you go" the weird cackling laugh now screaming loud in my left ear. If you're wondering what happened to the quiet and sparsely but populated street, we were there but then the time zone seemed like we'd traveled sometime back in time, a few millennia would be quite an accurate number.
"Who're you mister, and what do you want? You're not just another local, and you're something far from human. Are you some kind of a poltergeist or a spirit? Or some celestial being?..." The questions just kept coming in a flurry "The wallet's in the bag, you can have my soul if you want to, what'll you give me in return for my soul, are you the one they call Beelzebub...?"
"Shut up Prakash Verma, and listen to me for a change. Just fucking listen to me! Just keep walking, and talk when i ask you to, do i make myself clear?" curtly he shut up my whining. The place we were walking through was the same banyan grove lane, just that it didn't have any signs of civilization and it was nightfall and it looked every bit like a forest, something it was until just a few decades ago!
We walked for a good distance in silence, the weird travelers walking through a forest which obviously had wildlife everywhere and were audibly vocal after sunset. "Can i know who're you kind sir, and why do you enjoy piggybacking on my back?" this time i was more calm and composed.
"Good evening Prakash, my name's Kanhaiyalal or must i say that was my name until i died. Humans are one miserable race. The moment i died, or just left my human body, they called me spirit. Fate has it that i roam the earth until God knows when.
Overpopulation's not a problem only on earth, even the celestial abodes are having tremendous queues, and i didn't quite know any famous saint or politician to gain a VIP entry, so..." And from here began a journey i would later term as my path to evolution...
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