A different
day at Puri, in my memoir Annyatha
Mullyaheena. ଅନ୍ୟଥା
ମୂଲ୍ୟହୀନ
Second day…
To recollect the
first part in 1986 on 15th and 16th of November I went to Puri with no money except bus fare, finished a
day without entering any temple, mostly observed the socioeconomic milieu of
the lepers, stayed the night with the youth of their colony, enjoyed coconut as
food, played cards, surprisingly met a local youth Sudarshan Behera who was my
own school student three years senior to me. He stayed in Jajpur Balashram
during his high school days. I had written the day`s event instant, preserved till date. I left their colony keeping my belongings ,a mat, a
blanket and a lota there. Sudarshan lent me his bicycle to move in the town. I
knew my brother Late Sri Ashok Kumar Senapati, an army man who was progressing
to Sanyasa had planned to visit Srimandir on that day but was not sure about
his exact program in those days of no mobile phones. Unlike the first part I
have no note about the second day`s event that here I write from memory. So
therefore I can never claim it does not suffer from some deletion and some
imaginary fill ups. I shall try to minimize the fallacy.
On the day of Kartik Purnima it was
rush at the grand trunk road of Puri where I reached by paddling the cycle very
early in the morning. On the Badadanda there were several shops not
opened yet, and there was enough arrangement to sit down and write. I was
delaying my entry to the temple with a remote sense of longing for my brother
who did not know my visit to Puri.
On a wide long bench I sat cross legged
and wrote down few lines, with the standing bicycle as my only friend.
Suddenly a strong claw I felt on my
shoulder from the back side. It was not a monkey but a man with demon like ferocious look who
demanded my note book. I felt discomfort as who shares his diary with a
stranger. I feared to refuse and it had no chance. He read all the contents
from the copy with a faint green cover.
The man was pleased and breathed as a
normal man that was not there a few moments earlier. He begged excuse for his
trespass to my privacy and put forward his valid reason which was a story
anyone can remember lifelong.
In my last short story in Odiya I have
used his version in a character as it suited there.
‘He was an antisocial in the town
befitting his physical stature. He was an accused in two different murder cases
which he on that day confessed. He was a terror. Once he was on a platform of a
railway station, unmindful in his own world of crime, a lean and thin teen was
writing something on a note which he saw but did not look into. The train he
was waiting was a little late as a goods train was about to pass, the siren of
which was in its positive crescendo as
it neared. He and other passengers were annoyed that a goods train is given
preference over a passenger train. The boy calmly left his seat and notebook
there, within a moment was at the edge of the platform and jumped to the
front of the train giving little chance to anybody including the terror to save
him. He was the first person to read the suicide note of the teen. The boy was
disgusted for his inability to give up his addiction and the resulting problems
thereof. The man could not believe his eyes, how he had a chance to read and
react to the situation in a favorable manner, he lost the chance. He could feel
how tender life can be, how important it was to take interest on others beyond
being selfish and self centered. He got the kick of the life, may be criminals
like him were responsible for the boy`s death as it was drug related. He could
discover the Valmiki in his Ratnakar`s body. He left crime; he confessed his
role in a murder case. He was not worried whether the judge punished him with
life imprisonment or ordered a death sentence. The man seemed to be the bravest
man I ever knew. He had no fear at all. He thought I was writing a similar note
so he interfered for a good reason.’
That day how I
reacted I cannot recreate here, he told truth and he was not under the
influence of any intoxicant. What an event to remember lifelong! I was sorry
that a changed man was not sure what happened to him in the coming days. I
always loved the Ratnakar Valmiki teaching thereafter as I experienced one in
real life. I loved the man whose name and address I should have asked for but
could not at the heat of the moment. I regret.
After an hour or so I was at the lion gate
and it was difficult to keep the cycle somewhere, I could manage. To my
surprise I found my brother at the entry who was more surprised to see me. We
both had a bigger surprise as Santosh Singha my best friend somehow guessed my
visit might be to Puri and so came searching who was standing with a smile. I was
a more rationalist at that time so I accepted it as a chance not a chamatkar.
We entered the temple leaded by my brother
and did our offerings whatever little I had forgotten. I was not very
interested at that time with the formal worship so also was Santosh but we
followed the way the army man guided us. On the Anada Bazar (market of happiness)
we had to take some Prasads . Both of them did not know how hungry I was
but the food items there appeared unhygienic, I did not know those were the
honey bees on the sweets there. I thought them to be common house flies those
do sit on human excreta. It was a struggle between my hunger, my aversion to
the food in sight, my brother`s strong religious sentiment and my fear to Lord
whatever there was in me. I was never disallowed to put forward my opinion in my
family at any point in my childhood and I ventilated it to my brother. He knew
how to manage the situation and without being angry he did it. He was developing
the attitude of a devotional man in a soldier in him by profession. I feel his
presence while writing this line although I know I participated in his funeral
at his ashram three years back.
Taking the plea that I had to return the
bicycle to a friend I left them and told that in this rush we may not meet again
so it would be better if we left Puri as per our own conveniences.
I
reached at the colony and lost all motivation to stay further or write further.
I had gone to Puri alone and returned back
alone with the experience of a life time
that a money less man always had his own share, own dignity and own privacy. A
criminal and a noble man is just at a line apart from each other, that world is too small
and we were not destined to be lost in crowd, we had our own space and own
identity and own people to reach and recreate with us. Life was pleasant even
to the so called discarded people and there was light not darkness. We were
more on the side of Amrit (nectar) and there was Lord Lokanath to tackle
all Halahalas (poison).
I did not share my experience to the fuller
length to Sarita or Santosh, I probably did not like to give the impression to
my she friend that the young man in me was aberrant nor I did share all with
Santosh with the fear that he was very angry on me as I went somewhere without
his knowledge.
The first part of my Puri visit and the
second part is dedicated to my brother Late Sri Ashok Kumar Senapati @
Charushilasharan. Kimadhikam….. 
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