Vehicle of time travel

SWAMIJI had come to wish me early recovery from my sciatica. "We are Hanumanji's tribe and have only His blessing to invoke" he said, "But haven't our gods stopped listening to us these days?" I asked immediately, adding, "do we have any king like Ram who had not the least attachment to power?" I do know how long I ruminated over this statement, and then sleep overcame me. Suddenly I found myself transported to Ayodhya, a town agog with festive activity. Everybody was running this way or that with zeal. Festoons were being put up, women in colourful costumes were dancing in groups, children were decorating their housefronts with flags, girls sketching Rangolis in their courtyards, while the elders groomed themselves to attend the big event - Ram's coronation.

But all of a sudden something went wrong. Smiles disappeared with worry, frowns and fear taking their place. At lightning speed an astounding report had spread, fuelled by the appearance of armed soldiers around the palaces, on road crossings and at the capital's entry points. Gasping in disbelief everyone was shaking his head and passing on the story to the man next to him - equally stunned.

"Ram has grabbed the throne" was the hot news, "and imprisoned his father as well as stepmothers". But why, when he was being crowned even otherwise? was the question all were asking. I felt I knew the whole story of Manthra duping Kaikeyee and the latter forcing Dashrath's hands. But what the blooming hell is this tale of Ram's perfidy? What's going to be the theme of poets like Valmiki, Tulsidas, Kamban and a host of others in the coming millennia?

It is only in Kaliyuga that with the accumulated skills of princes like Duryodhan, Kansa and Aurangzeb, will man perfect the art of fudging all ethics and portraying pure greed as noble service to man or God. Presenting a threat to one's selfish interest as a national emergency and making vast masses lap up the rubbish called for a finesse not easily available then.

But of all persons Ram had done it. The show of force was to overawe the populace; entry points were guarded to arrest Bharat even before he entered Ayodhya. A hush-hush atmosphere prevailed as people's love and confidence had been shattered by Ram proving no better than flattery-loving self seekers the world over.

The sense of abounding fear was enough to wake me up from my dream. Were such perverse thoughts an offshoot of the nagging memories of June 25 of a quarter century ago? Before my conscious self had any worthwhile opportunity to explain this, sleep took over again. And right away started another scene. There were again soldiers all over, the Dhobi colony had been cordoned off. Only the previous morning one garrulous member had been taken away under royal orders, nothing had been heard of him since then. What was known was that more than a loose tongue, the poor man had been treating his wife badly. He had scolded her for returning home late and had pushed her out saying he was no Ram to permit loose conduct.

Terror was writ large on every washerman's face as if the whole community was to be made to pay for one man's misconduct. My shaky sleep gave way again.

Aren't dreams a vehicle of time travel?

BHAI MAHAVIR

The writer is the Governor of Madhya Pradesh.

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