J. Kaval

Yakshi

Murder in Lal Bagh Garden 

Facing the wide and wild pond five meters below their feet the young couple sat on the big and broad boulder on the top of the hillock in the Lal Bagh garden. On the surface they appeared to be very calm and quiet souls enjoying the evening breeze and the panorama around. But their mind and heart were like a turbulent sea in a summer storm.   
Inadvertently they picked up small pebbles and threw them aimlessly into the murky pool. The stones neither stirred nor swelled the greenish water. The little lake, stagnant and sluggish, radiated a stony stillness. 
After a while Joe whispered, "Panchu I'm leaving the day after tomorrow for New Delhi. My itinerary is already scheduled. I'll stay with my father for a couple of days. Then I fly to New York. I love you, Panchu. I wish you could come with me." 
She only listened and stared intently at the millpond. 
"Look, even if I become a Brahmin, a change ritually and literally is impossible. I'm afraid that your parents will not consent to our marriage and the community in your Agrahara will not accept me. You know, Chatur Varnnyam is a religionised social system of watertight compartments. There is neither inner nor outer mobility in it. We will be choked to death in such a set up. What did your father say to me? Never show me your face again. You remember that. Don't you?"  
She did not open her mouth though she wished to comment upon his words. 
"If you become a Christian, your people will not let us live in this city. They will surely kill both of us. I'll meet with an accident and be gone for ever. And you'll end up in a lunatic asylum for life. Or you'll turn a Yakshi. You know, as Swami Vivekanand said of Kerala years ago, this country of yours is becoming a mad house, religiously intolerant, politically incoherent with factionalism and with too much of provincialism." 
As if frightened by his words Panchami suddenly turned and faced him. Her eyes were still and welled up. Warm tears streamed down over her chocolate cheeks. Her lovely and shapely bosom heaved recurrently. Her heart was breaking apart and bleeding. She couldn't utter a word. 
"My dear Panchu," he said firmly, looking squarely at her, "My parents will love you. Our people will accept you. Come with me. You have M.A in Yoga Application. I've an M.Phil in Upanishads. We have a lot more potential in my country than in any other one in the world. You have a passport. You’re a major. Let us elope. Within no time we will be in New York, at my home safe and secure… What do you think?" 
She knew she was trapped between the devil and the deep sea. She had many things in her mind that she wanted to ask him. She didn't know where and how to begin. She now needed not a counselor but a saviour to deliver her from her current predicament. She drew closer to him and leaned over his shoulders.  
Before he could hold her tightly and assure her that everything was going to be fine, Joe was hit from behind on the head with a wooden plank. He fell. His leonine body crumbled and rolled down. He lay unconscious at the feet of the boulder while she was stabbed several times from the back and sides. She died instantly and collapsed on the rock bed bleeding profusely. She turned into a crushed and bloody purple rose.  
The assailants, wearing white vests and khaki trousers, sneaked into the bush nearby like robots.  
Deep silence and solitude blanketed the area. The red sun went down weeping.  
Before dark fell Joe became conscious. He got up. He saw his beloved Panchu lying dead in a pool of blood streaming on all sides. Yell for help? Carry her to the hospital? Inform the police? Conflicting thoughts confronted him. 
'You can do nothing for your love-bird. She's gone. You will be trapped and interned for years within the labyrinths of the law. Get out…Take care of your self.'' 
Like  any other foreign student from the West,  he felt scared and paranoid. He panicked. He ran for his life…  

The deranged Vedic Tantri 

George Michael, the First Consul in the US consulate, was shocked to see Joe, his only son, physically exhausted and mentally wrecked. The boy confessed what had happened between him and Panchami. He was given emergency medical aid. He was then immediately flown back home. There he got admitted into the special ward of the Psychiatric Department in St. Luke's Medical College Hospital. He spent six months undergoing treatment for acute mental disorder. Then he became an out patient in the Psychology department for another two months. Medication and therapies coupled with prayers eased him out of his maiden trauma in his life. The doctors put his shattered psyche in order. They saw to it that he encased Panchami and buried her in the pit of his mind. They certified that Joe was mentally and physically fit for a new life; he could pursue higher studies. They strongly suggested to his parents that he should change his name and assume a new identity.   
Accordingly, Joe started a new identity as Tom.  
Tom George Michael joined New York State University as a research fellow on Vedic culture focusing on the correlation between rituals and human behavior. He made deep and extensive studies on the subject under the guidance of world renowned Indologist Dr.Raymond Panicker. He devoured volumes of books and periodicals related to Indian cultures. He visited Taxila in Pakistan, Somapura in Bangladesh, Sharadha Peeth in Kashmir, Varanasi in Utter Pradesah, Nalanda in Bihar, Puspagiri in Orissa, Kanjipuram in Tamil Nadu, and Kalady in Kerala, Shrengheri and Manyyakheta in Karnataka. He spent days in Uttaradi Math famous for Saint Jayathirtha and in Battarak Math famous for its idol of Yakshi. Within two years he submitted his thesis and defended it. He was accorded doctorate in Philosophy and was appointed Asst. Professor of Asian Studies in the same university. He married Jane, daughter of his guru Raymond Panicker. In the campus among his colleagues he was known as Vedic Tantri, an expert on Vedic mantras and tantras. 

Panchami the goddess 

There were uproars, rallies and meetings by the student community in the university campus following the brutal murder of Panchami, a quiet, cute and brilliant student from the Paraya Community, the fifth and the last caste. The media gave head lines for days arguing for her case and cause. The police found the knives used for murdering her.  They searched for clues everywhere - in hostels, canteen and the campus. They questioned students and teachers. They whipped local goondas and goons. They could not extract anything verifiable or meaningful from any one of them. They watched Panchami's family and her relations but in vain. They reached even New Delhi and stopped there dead. Who could have murdered her? And why? The police had no definite answer. She was a simple, serious and a hardworking student, liked by all. She was friendly with all. They could not ascertain the motive for the killing. The student agitation gradually dwindled, media headlines disappeared. The public began to forget the incident.   
The police shelved the file as they had no clue even after a hard and tedious search for months. The case died a natural death. 
The narrow and winding foot path leading to the boulder was named Pachu Veedhi on the demand of the Dalit Vidhyarthi Parishat. One of her friends sculpted and painted her picture on the boulder. It looked like a live goddess, a Yakshi.  
Pachu Veedhi, adorned with flower pots on both sides, and the rocky terrain around it, soon became a solitary haven for the lovers and couples within the garden. The people visited the site as if it were a shrine where a young dalit woman was slain for no fault of hers. They offered flowers in her honor. But no one dared to sit on the boulder tainted with innocent blood. The visitors left the area before dark. The workers in the garden did not disturb the area for fear of Panchami's ghost. They believed that she would be lurking around. She might even enter anyone's body for searching her slayers.     

Stormy evening 

"Tom, there's an opportunity for you for banging at the Oriental mad house called India and for injecting some sense of rationality into  the sensibilities of those academics suffering still from the age-old Hindu religious spell. I think you're the right person to speak on Indo-US acculturation, on the liberal West and the orthodox East. You must accept the invitation from the Bangalore University to deliver the Veeranna Sastri Memorial Lecture" Raymond Panicker suggested.    
"Thank you, sir. Let me think of it" 
"Do take up the offer, please. We have heard enough of the 'Clash of Civilizations'. Do you really believe in that idea?" Panicker turned to him quizzically. 
"No, but I do in acculturation, convergence of ever so many cultures fusing onto forming a new culture, a novel way of social life transcending the boundaries of caste, color and creed, not by confrontation but by concurrence. Vasu deva kudumbakam. Three hundred years from now I am afraid there will be black American or white American, black Indian or brown Indian, yellow man or snowman, Aryan blood or Dravidian; each and every one will be a mix of all, as a result of global cultural pooling. Peoples of the world then will be known by their nationality rather than by their religion. Faith of the peoples may externally be vibrant, exhibiting and even aggressive but really dead within their self. Pilgrim centers and convention halls, temples and churches will be filled with people, flooded with devotees. But the quality of personal spiritual life, the quantum of religiosity will be very low in the society. Look at the index for corruption and crime. Their rates are soaring in every country and in every walk of life.  As the new cultural way of life gradually emerges the national identity will occupy the chair and the religious beliefs will take back benches, becoming economized and commercialized in the meantime. For example, take the English language. It's no more the exclusive property of the British, but rather of the commonwealth. There is American English, African English, Indian English, and Australian English. Look at Santa Claus. It's no more a Christian symbol of benevolence but an image of a jet set global gift dispenser, his fascinating bonanza in tow, an agent of consumerism. Consider Yoga. It's no more a part of the Hindu way of life but a part of holistic health care; and so on." 
"Yeah, you’re right to a certain extent. But I feel the religious faith imprinted in the human psyche will never die out. Communism failed in the USSR but not religious faith. Kings and Maharajas disappeared but their temples and the shrines are still frequented by the masses. Consider Islam or Christianity or Judaism. Try and shake Mecca-Medina or St.Peters, or Jerusalem or Ayodhya, and the whole world will be shaken, and people's national identity will be blown to bits. Faith will unite the faithful. Religion will be the rallying point. Then think of age old myths and beliefs embedded in ancient cultures. Those hardly die out. Isn't that true even today?" 
"True. But, wherever and whenever religions, specially the so called revealed ones, hold sway over human minds literacy will be on the bottom line, scientific thinking will be non-existent and personal freedom on lowest note. In the long process of acculturation religious sentiments will be tested and tempered. The myths will be rationalized. I think perceptions such as Incarnation, Trinity, Thrimoorthy, Dasavathara, Rebirth, Karma, Hell, Heaven etc may change and assume new dimensions." 
"I hope so," Panicker gave up and said, "Son, I insist that you go."    
Tom nodded.
After a month Tom and Jane landed on Indian soil. 
The library hall in the university campus on Dr.Ambedkar Veedhi in Bangalore was fully packed with professors, lecturers and researchers from the university and from nearby colleges as well. 
Tom delivered his marathon lecture on Indo-US Acculturation focusing on Indian culture and Western philosophy, Oriental Orthodoxy and Occidental liberalism, religious fundamentalism and scientific freedom. He denounced the practices of the religious leaders, who sanctified merely human behaviors, responses to nature's demands, gave them a religious stamp and beautified them into sacred rites and rituals, divine precepts and wills. He demanded that the religious practices should be rational and meaningful and the academics have a role to play in baring the truth hidden in the myth and folklore. His lecture was well received by the audience as there was pin drop silence while he delivered his speech. The exchange of ideas, questions and answers following the speech were aplenty and lively. 
While Tom and Jane were leaving the hall and entering the foyer after the lecture, the caretaker Akkmma, a middle aged lady, greeted them.
"Namaskara, Saar, Chanakitera?"
"Audhu, audhu." the words slipped out of his mouth, "Naanu chhannagidhini.”
"Nemmage nananu guruthuedhiya?"
"Ella. Ellave ella." 
Akkamma shoved a small brown envelop addressed to Joe George Michael. Jane immediately fished it from her hand and pushed it into her handbag. 
"Aadhare  nemmanu nanage gothayithu…" Before she could finish, she was pushed back by the surging admirers. Everyone wanted to have a word with the guest of honor for the day and surrounded him.  
After the pleasant and personal interaction with academics and the media during the tea break, Tom and Jane were driven out of the campus towards Lal Bagh garden to view the grand annual flower show. He moved along with the crowd of flower lovers looking at the tapestry of flowers designed and decorated beautifully. The statue of the goddess of flowers erected in one corner of the exhibition house fascinated him. He gazed at it intently for a while and said as if stricken by Cupid, 
"Jane, look at this flower girl. Her hair, eyes, cheeks, breast … How lively and lovely! She looks like Panchu standing there. Doesn't she?"
"Oh Tom, you must know, these people have gods and goddesses representing each and every thing in the world. Of course that flower figurine is alluring, fascinating and marvelous as well." 
Tom's eyes were glued to it for a long time. Without a word he quietly moved out of the glass house. Jane was bewildered. She followed him. He looked around. His eyes searched for something. He turned towards the hillock. He walked on the Pachu Veedi towards the hillock. He saw the boulder from afar. He walked steadily climbing up. He saw a woman offering flowers at the foot of the rock. Standing behind her, he stared at the painting. As he viewed it he shivered, panted and sweated. He murmured, "Jane, I feel dizzy". He began to totter.  
Jane immediately held his hand. Hearing the commotion behind, Akkamma turned around. She saw them and helped them. They made him sit on the boulder. They felt mild tremors. They saw the flower pots and plants shaking. The skies swiftly turned cloudy. All of a sudden strong wind blew from below. It then thundered and rained. They all got drenched. They waited till the nature's fury calmed down. 

Nightmare      

Prof.Tom Michael George lay on the king size bed in the VIP suite of Leela Palace. His temperature was high. His body was warm and vibrant. He was medicated and sedated.  
Doctors from St.John's Hospital directed, "Let him rest for the day. We will see him tomorrow if required. Most probably he should rest for three days. The sudden change of climate has affected him badly but nothing serious. You should know, here the weather is like a beautiful but most unpredictable lady." 
"We feel he is physically dog-tired and mentally disturbed. We do not see any cause for alarm. He will be all right within a day or two", doctors from Nimhans confirmed. 
How fast their life had taken a turn! Jane was puzzled at the happenings. A confused and confounded Jane kept vigil over him. She scanned the day's events. She recollected the words of Akkamma and the response of Tom. Joe knew Kannada. How could Tom be speaking of Panchami? Is the tomb within him breaking up? Who or what did pull him up? She was not sure. She could not figure out anything. She too was bodily worn out for the day. With a puzzled mind she dozed off.  
In the middle of the night the jumbo jets roared in the skies quivering the towers around. Super fast Express trains zoomed past, shaking the Palace. Jane was woken up by human shrieks. She found Tom moving restlessly on the bed. She heard him talking: 
'Joe, I was yearning for your return. Thank you for coming back. Joe, I got you now. I'll not leave you until you find my killer and avenge my death. Deliver me from the curse of fate. Only then will I be at peace. Then I shall cross the seas and will accompany you.  
Don't leave me here alone to wander around for ever; don't let me rot within my bondage. Please…Joe…please' 
Jane was surprised and perturbed at hearing a female voice emanating from the mouth of Tom in sleep. 
'No, Panchu, no. I can't do that. Do you want me to become a murderer? I am no vigilante. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth? No…I'm not an executioner. See, you are now no more a cursed woman like Ahalya of Ramayana. You're absolutely a free spirit. That's why you could come to me…Right? I tell you. Forgive and forget. I know. Now no one can touch my Panchu. Oh dear, you’re really a Yakshi.' 
Jane listened to his murmuring in his own voice. She was frightened by his soliloquies. Is he going mad? Internally deranged? Mentally sick again? She prayed 'Our Father' fervently. She was afraid that the spirit of the slain girl had entered him. She held the rosary in her trembling hand and said a few Hail Marys. 
She did not know what was going on? She couldn't make out what was happening to them. She sat beside him. She held his hand. His body was limp and vivacious. His breathing was even. She stared at his stony face. She shook him. He did not respond. Was he possessed by the evil spirit? Or was he in a nightmare? She saw his lips moving. Words gushed from his mouth… 
'Joe, I can't go with you until you deliver me from the evil spell…'
'Panchu, please understand, you are in me, not under the spell of any evil…
'Joe… I can't stay with you for long. You are married. Aren't you?” I've no room there in you …So where do I go? I've no place to go.  I'll never leave you… Jane feared for Tom's sanity. She knew he was mentally disturbed, now he seemed to have been gripped by the spirit of the murdered girl. 
The Venetian window across the bed was suddenly opened with a wild screech and a warm wind gushed in. It whiffed past Jane's face, blowing her curls and hair all around. Becoming spirited, she gathered courage. She made the sign of the cross on his forehead and pronounced, "In the name of Jesus, I ask you. Who are you?" 
'Don't you know? I'm Panchami, Joe's girlfriend. You people sepulchered and hid me in the well of his mind. Now I have broken the seal and have been resurrected. I want him. I want him to search for my assassin'. 
Reflexively Jane pleaded, "Panchami, please leave him alone. Don't you see he's suffering because of you…You are a nice girl and an erudite soul. If you really love him …I pray…Go away" 
'I'll go. But I'll take him away with me. We have a job to do…We will look for the murderer. We will find him and finish him. Then I will be freed from the curse. I will then attain Mukthi'. 
At that time there was a knock at the main door and the door was opened widely. Jane screamed. The room boy showed up.  
"Yes, M'am, You called me?"
"Me? No. Not at all." She shouted at him, "Please, go away."
"Some one rang up for us from your room. Sorry." He closed the door behind him but it was slammed with a bang. Jane stood petrified for a while. 
Out of the blue Jane remembered the brown envelope. She fished it from the hand bag, opened it and read: 
"My dear Joe, I really do not know what to do. I cannot make up my mind. I'm afraid of my father. He is a harebrained fanatic. He is a shrewd Maantrik. He knows Mantravaadam. He wouldn't mind killing both of us through mischief and witch-craft. He could assume any form –human or animal. He can reach us. He was against my birth. He was against my growing up. He was against my studying. I went against all his wishes but for his wife Pattammal. You know I am not her daughter. My real mother was a Parakkalli, a pariah woman. One day she jumped into the well. People said she was pregnant again. I believe my father killed her through his sorcery. He will kill me also. He can never think of my marrying you, a foreigner. Let us get away from here" 
Jane held the letter against her face for a long time. Then came a moment of insight. She looked at Tom. He lay there motionless. He appeared to be under the grip of sound sleep. She felt for his forehead. It was cold and stiff. She covered him with a woollen blanket. She walked up to her desk, opened her laptop and forwarded the content of the letter to the Consulate in New Delhi and to her father in the US as well. 

Funeral 

The visitors to the city had the route map. They reached the dilapidated house at the Agrahara in Gunashekara village five kilometers away from the city. There they saw a few people standing in front of the ancient building and peeping into the house.
"Is this Swami Narendra's Madth?"
"Yes," some one replied.
"What's going on here?" 
"The Swami is dying of his madness. He has been in his closed room for a week without water, food and light. We often heard him crying, shouting, chanting, and cursing. We did not dare enter his house. Since yesterday there has been no sound from his room. This morning we broke open the door. The room was in a mess. We found him lying naked on the ground. He seemed to have lost control of his bodily functions – there was urine and excreta all around.. The astrologer said that he might depart at any moment from now. Don't you see an eagle over your head in the sky?"  
They looked up and saw a brown eagle with white collar circling over the building. 
"That's Yama, the god of death. Look at the pinnacle of that temple, a dark pigeon and a raven peeking into the house. Be mindful. It's Yakshi and her Gandarwan to snatch away the ailing man's life. Om! Nama: Sivaya! By the by are you tourists?" 
"Yes..." they said and immediately corrected themselves, "No. No. We are from the CHARITY. Can we talk to his wife?"
"To Pattammal? Oh! She is dead and gone. It's been two years now."
"Can we talk to any one of their children?"
"Only one issue, a daughter. She…, what to say, she is also dead"
"Died or killed?" asked pointedly the senior among the two.  
The people kept quiet but their puzzled face betrayed their mind. Their words and faces were sour and sweet to them. They found the right place and the right people at the right time. Before they could probe further they heard chanting of Vedic mantras for the dead Brahmin. 'Asato ma…. 
They snaked through the small crowd to the forefront. They made sure of themselves that the man inside was really dead. They slipped out. They did not wait there any longer.  

Departure 

Jane felt extremely strange that Tom slept non-stop for two days. He woke up only to relieve himself and to eat food. The following day he was quite normal. As the doctors had predicted, he became hearty and healthy within two days, fit to return home. 
A handful of well wishers from academic circles including officials turned up at the departure lounge to say good bye to Prof. Tom Michael George and his wife Jane. They apologized for the inconveniences and the troubles they underwent during their short stay in Bangalore. He raised his hand and thanked everyone. His eyes recognized Akkamma. He walked steadily and sternly towards her taking Jane with him. He smiled at her.
"Hi, Akkamma, how’re you?"
"I am fine. How you?"
"Just fine Madam”
"Panchami had asked meX to it to you edhhanu nemage kooddake hellidhalu." Akkamma offered him a small packet and said, "Saar,  aadhu oondhu chikka bhandde kalluna thundu " 
"Auddha" He pushed it into his trouser pocket and pulled out a bill of one hundred dollars from his coat pocket and gave it to her, "Onddhu chikka hudugare. Eeddhanu neenu hettukko." 
Jane squeezed his hand. Her eyes were tearful, and her face joyful.  
"Honey, look out there." Jane pointed to a dark brown pigeon perched on the sill of the column near the ceiling, "Beautiful. Isn't it?" 
"Yeah, as lovely as a maiden, Yakshi" 
They waved their hands at it and entered the checking area. 
Wailing aloud, the Yakshi flew out of the terminal building and towards the wilderness of Nandi Gram, searching for a permanent abode on one of the tall and huge palm trees there.                         

 

 

Glossary
(Kannada  =   English)

Audhu audhu naanu chhannagidhini = Yes Yes I am fine.  

Nemmage nananu guruthuedhiya = Do you recognize me?                           

Ella ellave ella = No not at all                                       

Aadhare  nemmanu nanage  gothayithu = But I know                                             

Audha medam =Yes, Madam                                                

Panchami edhhanu nemage kooddake hellidhalu = Panchami asked me to give this to you

Sar aadhu oondhu chikka bhandde kalluna thundu  = Sir it's a piece from the boulder           

Auddha?   = Really                                                  

Oonddhu ciikka hudugare = Just a small gift

Eeddhanu neenu hettukko= keep this with you