5.
Due to strong bouts of sleepiness, I declined the priest's offer for tea and, after the ladder was put back in place, I calmly lay down on my bed. Within moments, I fell asleep.
I must have slept soundly for two or three hours. Perhaps I would have slept even longer if a heart-wrenching cry from downstairs hadn't reached my ears. Startled, I quickly peered down and was shocked by what I saw.
Below, the priest was crying loudly, like a child, surrounded by two or three people trying to console him. Rubbing my eyes, I rushed down to him and was about to ask what had happened when he, still crying, handed me a newspaper.
As soon as I looked at the news under his pointing finger, I was taken aback. Tanmay’s photo was there, accompanied by a short news piece stating that a thief had been caught in a warehouse in the city the previous day.
The news had been relayed by a friend of Tanmay’s, who had heard it from the shops outside the temple, and the people had rushed to inform the priest. That same boy had hurried to fetch the priest from the temple. Now, everyone was trying to comfort the weeping priest.
My mind raced. I reread the news and, without saying a word to anyone, I left like an arrow.
I headed directly to the police station mentioned in the news, where the thief was reportedly being held, taking a rickshaw in that direction. But soon, I realized—what would I do once I got there? I didn’t know anyone in this city. Moreover, going there straight from sleep, still wearing my pajama-kurta and without even washing my face, could raise suspicions.
So, I immediately instructed the rickshaw driver to turn towards my brother’s house.
I quickly reached Mansarovar. I was greeted with curious looks from everyone at home, but my brother immediately asked, "Did you tell Bhabhi before coming here?"
The children seemed about to laugh, but Bhabhi quickly scolded them. Handing me a glass of water, she asked, "Brother, what brings you here like this? Is everything alright? Where are you coming from? Where is your luggage? Which train did you take, and why didn’t you inform us?"
Everyone became serious amidst the barrage of questions. My brother said, "Sit down first, then tell us what’s going on."
Bhabhi probably went to the kitchen to make tea for me. My nephew wrapped his arms around my neck and, swinging playfully, asked, "Uncle, what’s the matter?"
After hearing the whole story, everyone felt relieved. I explained to them that I had arrived here yesterday, but since one of the boys working in my shop got caught up in a theft accusation, I went to his house, and I’ve just come straight from there, leaving my luggage behind.
As soon as I finished, my brother quickly got up and took out the car from the garage. My nephew joined us too.
We found the priest sitting on the temple steps, surrounded by five or seven people. Upon seeing me get out of the car, a flicker of hope appeared in his eyes. Those people seemed at a loss for what to do, but our arrival brought some movement among them.
The priest’s empty eyes began to glow with hope.
He laughed out loud, but no one else found it funny. Then someone said, "Your joke fell flat, man!" He was left embarrassed. He had seen on TV that "stains are good," so, in that same spirit, he had blurted out, "Potholes are good!" When no one laughed, he stood there disappointed. Just then, the officer came from behind and gave him a firm pat on the back, sending a puff of dust flying off his clothes. This whole episode was unfolding in the police station. Constable Dinraj was pleased with his success; the officer's pat was his reward.
Dinraj had cracked the case. It turned out to be the priest from the Tonga Temple. The whole department had been troubled by this issue for a day and a half. Someone had called the station after seeing an abandoned tonga lying on the main road all day. Who knew if it was stolen, involved in a crime, or part of some black magic? It had to be investigated. When a girl returned home from college on her scooter, she complained to her mother that the empty tonga she had seen in the morning was still there in the evening. Her mother then called the police station to find out whose tonga it was. The girl had barely managed to squeeze her scooter past it, but if a truck or lorry had collided with it, it would have been a big problem. Who was the owner who had left it there? And it wasn't like the horse could tell anyone its owner's name.
It was fortunate that there was a large pothole on the roadside where the tonga's wheel had gotten stuck. Despite the horse's best efforts, the tonga didn't move forward. Otherwise, the hungry horse might have dragged the tonga who knows where in search of grass since morning. Without its owner, the poor, speechless animal could only try to feed itself somehow. Thankfully, there were enough roadside weeds for the horse to munch on so it didn't starve.
Dinraj remembered a friend in his neighborhood whose father used to drive a tonga in his younger days. It suddenly occurred to him to call that Piyor Khan over, as no one else could get the tonga to budge. Piyor Khan had told the police officers that animals have a lot of understanding. If they realize that the people trying to take them away are not their owners, they resist. Despite pushing the wheel out of the pothole, the horse kept shying away and refusing to go in the direction the officers wanted, as they tried to take it to the station.
The experienced Piyor Khan coaxed and calmed the horse. Once it started moving, the others quickly hopped on. Only one man was left on the bike, though all four had come on it. Piyor Khan explained that while animals don't have accelerators, gears, or reverse, they do have enough sense to know that if you can convince them there's no danger, they'll cooperate.
Piyor Khan led the horse and tonga to the station. As soon as the officer saw the tonga, he gave Piyor Khan a fifty-rupee note, and in return, Piyor Khan saluted with deep respect.
As Piyor Khan was leaving the station, a young man asked him, "Khan Sahib, what's the story behind your name? People are called 'Pyare,' but I've never heard 'Piyor' before." Having received his reward and being addressed as "Khan Sahib," Piyor Khan blushed like a teenager, feeling shy and embarrassed. He replied, "Oh brother, when I was a kid, boys used to tease me, asking, 'Pyare, are you Hindu or Muslim?' I used to say, 'Neither Hindu nor Muslim, I'm just a pure man!' So, the boys started calling me 'Piyor.' I figured, might as well be English! Hindus and Muslims only fight and bring the 'English' (British) anyway!"
My brother used his connections with the police to get Tanmay released immediately and had the matter settled. Tanmay returned home.
I knew that even though poor Tanmay was innocent and had done nothing wrong, his priest father would never truly forgive him and would keep criticizing him at every opportunity. Therefore, it was essential to clear up their misunderstanding. So, I went with Tanmay to his house and explained to the priest how, due to a misunderstanding at my shop, the poor boy got caught up in the mess for no reason.
As soon as he heard this, Tanmay touched his father’s feet, and the priest wiped his tear-filled eyes with a towel and went to the temple.
However, I was still in a dilemma. I couldn’t stay at my brother’s house anymore, and at the same time, I didn’t want to leave Tanmay alone in this situation. There were two reasons for this.
First, despite the priest knowing the truth, the news of Tanmay’s arrest had been published in the newspaper, leading to widespread defamation. He was hiding at home, avoiding his friends and acquaintances. So, it was my responsibility to take care of the innocent boy.
Second, I was also curious to know what had actually happened. How did Tanmay get caught? What happened to him? Was there an incident at my brother’s house, or was it something else entirely?
It was no longer possible for me to stay at Tanmay’s house, and I didn’t want to take him back to my brother’s house with me. So, I left on the pretext of going out to buy some things for the shop, planning to go elsewhere.
Convincing my brother and sister-in-law was difficult, but it was even harder to convince the priest to let Tanmay come with me. After a lot of persuasion and assuring him that Tanmay’s job with me was secure and that I would take full responsibility for him, the priest finally agreed to let Tanmay go with me.
With everyone still somewhat uncertain, Tanmay and I finally left. My brother’s car dropped us off at the bus stand, and even while buying the tickets, I didn’t know where we were going.
Tanmay seemed a bit downcast, but I was eager to learn what had happened to him.
My bag was with Tanmay, and we both boarded a bus to Ajmer.
Tanmay told me that he had gone to my brother’s bungalow that day to deliver flowers and had left the horse carriage outside before going inside.
He was placing three or four bouquets on the table when he learned from the maid that no one was home. My sister-in-law had taken the children to the market, and my brother had gone out with a visitor after having tea at his showroom.
Considering the task I had sent Tanmay for, there couldn’t have been a better opportunity. Tanmay started chatting with the young maid. She showed great interest in the conversation.
Eventually, as they discussed the art of making bouquets and flowers, Tanmay even held her hand once.
The maid didn’t resist.
But in the meantime, hearing the approach of an employee from my brother’s showroom, the maid hurriedly sent Tanmay into a washroom and locked the door.
Upon hearing this, a thought struck me, and the rest of the story flashed through my mind. I remembered that unfortunate day when I, too, had hidden in that washroom as a prank on my brother.
After having dinner at a roadside dhaba, Tanmay and I wandered for a long time on that deserted road leading out of Pushkar, which had become quite lonely due to the recent decrease in tourists. We had arrived here around noon and rented a room in one of the nearly empty cottages in the area. By evening, we had thoroughly explored the temples and markets of Pushkar.
I had visited Pushkar several times before during fairs and festivals when the place would be bustling with crowds, and the lake would be lively with devotees taking baths and performing rituals. The hotels, inns, and dhabas here would also be thriving with activity. This small town was a significant attraction for foreign tourists, and there used to be a considerable number of them wandering around in traditional Indian and Western attire. Some foreigners had even settled here permanently and could be seen frequently in the shops and streets. Many of them had fully adopted Indian customs and attire, forgetting their Western ways. The cultural diversity of Rajasthan had greatly appealed to outsiders.
Tanmay's gloom and sadness had significantly reduced, and he was gradually returning to normal. For a young man who had lived a carefree life under the protection of his father within the temple grounds, being in police custody had been a significant shock, and I had helped him recover from it. He had come to trust me completely and considered me his well-wisher. Although I had involved him in a rather unusual investigation to clear up my doubts regarding my brother's business, he was well aware that we were not fighting against some dangerous criminal. We were just trying to uncover some truths that we suspected were being hidden from us.
After spending so many days with me, Tanmay had also come to trust that I was not stingy with money. He was confident that he would easily find a decent job and earn good money with my help. He had seen my brother's wealth and prosperity with his own eyes. He had also noticed in the evening, albeit with some hesitation, when I bought him some clothes from the market. I had two shirts, pants, and a kurta-pajama in my bag, but he had practically joined me with just the clothes he was wearing. So, we had bought some clothes and undergarments for him from the market that evening. It wasn't even certain how many days we would stay here and when we would return.
I wanted to go back only after feeling completely normal again, after all the turmoil.
I was also contemplating whether, if everything turned out to be normal, I would arrange for Tanmay to get a job with my brother in his extensive business or take him with me to work at my shop. He was not worried about his father and could stay anywhere as long as he had employment.
When we finally returned to our room to sleep after our walk, I asked him, "Did you ever try to find that girl, 'Chimni,' whose father proposed marriage to you and even gave you a tonga as dowry?"
Tanmay fell silent at this question. Seeing him not respond, I tried to probe further. I was trying to help him forget his pain and return to his usual self.
After much insistence, Tanmay told me that the girl was much older than him, and the local boys suspected that she was already seeing someone else. Then, there was no further discussion. She left home the same evening her father handed over the tonga to the priest and proposed the marriage.
We talked for a long time before finally falling asleep.
After strolling around the market for quite a while in the afternoon, we were looking for a place where we could sit comfortably and have a meal.
Usually, when visiting a new place, a good indicator of a place's quality is that if many people are eating there, the food must be good. However, this isn't always the case; sometimes, a crowded place might offer cheap food, and some fine establishments might have fewer patrons because they are expensive. This is often the case at tourist spots.
While wandering, I spotted an extraordinarily grand hotel. It had an opulent building beyond a large lawn, and surprisingly, the tables were quite full. This place looked like a heritage hotel and had a significant number of foreign tourists.
Many people were eating there, including a fair number of Indians. I headed in that direction.
Seeing me approach, Tanmay seemed a bit hesitant, perhaps thinking that this place might be quite expensive. However, glancing at his new t-shirt and jeans he had bought the day before, his confidence seemed to get a boost, and he followed me.
We sat at an empty table in a corner. As I observed the people around, Tanmay also took a seat across from me.
I noticed something peculiar. Despite the hotel's luxurious crockery and cutlery, most people were eating with their hands in the traditional Indian way. It was particularly interesting to see foreigners eating this way.
What was even more amusing was that people waiting for bread, parathas, or naan were licking their fingers to savor the taste. The waiters were running around serving food.
When I noticed both women and men eating with their fingers, I immediately glanced up at a large board mounted at a height where the "Today's Special" was listed in vibrant colors. It read "Baingan ka Bharta" (eggplant mash).
I suddenly remembered that many people do not like eggplant, but for some, it is a favorite dish. It was surprising that this hotel had featured eggplant as today's special.
Eggplant is most commonly enjoyed in the form of bharta. There are also many sayings related to eggplant. People who give advice on things they themselves don't follow are sometimes said to be like "the guru eating eggplant while advising others not to." Eggplant is also considered to increase gas. Elderly people are often advised not to eat eggplant for two reasons: one is the gas it produces, and the other is the trouble its seeds can cause for those with weak or missing teeth. Some even believe that if eggplant seeds get stuck in the stomach, they might form stones if solid food accumulates.
Nevertheless, all these beliefs were being disregarded here, and both domestic and foreign guests were enjoying the dish and licking their fingers.
A slight smile appeared on my face for some reason. Tanmay was looking at me in surprise, perhaps trying to figure out why I was smiling.
To be honest, it reminded me of an incident from my student days when I was eating in a mess. There had been a small argument among the boys over eggplant curry. One of the boys had said, "Listen, O Sadhus, Kabir says... eat eggplant and gain weight!" It was just about the gas produced by eggplant, but how could literature students tolerate a slight against Kabir?
