Germinatum - The Speaking Trees

Nagappa was digging a well. His field usually fed by rain water would not be able to support the new cash crops which were a rage in town. Many in his village had earned tidy sums by shifting to newer items for cultivation.

Bore wells in this part of the country were rare; the poverty all around did not permit such luxuries. He had to mortgage his family jewels, now for the sixth time in the last ten years, to garner enough funds to be able to dig a well.

He had gone around six feet into the ground when the clanking of the spade against something metallic halted him. Further probing revealed a steel trunk.  Nagappa was quivering with excitement now. What could the trunk hold?  Was it some kind of treasure?  Could it be a thousand gold coins?  Or would it be ornaments?  The hard soil around the trunk griped it in its vice like grip. A lot of prodding finally freed it from its moorings.  He lifted the trunk and put it on the ground above him. The trunk’s light weight disappointed him.  A large padlock hung from the bolt, and with a swing of a cow bar, Nagappa managed to free it open, yet the bolt was jammed with rust, and it again took a swing of his spade to creak the lid open. Sitting inside was a package, brown with age, for such a large trunk, the package seemed to be quite small.

With great excitement he picked up the package, it felt damp, smelt odd, and most of all, it did not seem to be any kind of treasure. It seems some kind of a book. Why would someone burry a book for safekeeping; wondered Nagappa, as he unwrapped the package.

In spite of the sorry state of the wrapping, the book that came out of the package, seemed well preserved. A bit faded, but the golden inscriptions on a maroon velvet setting, was attractive, strange signs and symbols in gold, adorned the cover. As he looked at it again he realised that the symbols were of leaves of various shapes depicted in a jigsaw.

Then his eyes were drawn to the title of the book... 'Germinatum'   announced the cover. He flipped the cover to look at the prologue.“One thousand year from now, when nature would be sitting on the brink of a catastrophe created by man, and when both humans and trees would be at a brink of mass destruction through strife and pollution, a one eyed man will discover this book, and he shall be revealed the secret language of Treekind and thereon we trees shall talk to mankind in a different language”.

Suddenly Nagappa realised that he was one eyed. He had lost eyesight in one eye in his childhood, a stone thrown at him playfully, found its target on his eye and ever since he had been blind in one eye.

Then it hit him. The fact that destiny had lined him up, centuries ago; to be here at this moment finding the trunk was over whelming. Often we search for the reasons for our existence, to realise that one is a special person picked by the creator, for even a menial task as it may, gave Nagappa a sense of pride.  Now he could hold back no more and started flipping the pages.  In the age of blue tooth and text recognitions, he had to just flip the pages, and as if by magic the contents of the book got inscribed in his mind. In matter of seconds he seemed to have read the book and learnt it by heart.

 A little whisper distracted him, a faint voice said “Nagappa, I am the little grass growing under your feet, if you care could you step aside, your weight is killing me”, gasped the little tuft of grass.

Nagappa stood there astounded hearing a tuft of grass speak.

“Why do humans trample lesser beings so mercilessly, O one eyed one”? Asked the blade of grass. 

“You have been kind enough to step aside upon my request, but I have seen others of you kind, who look down on creatures smaller in stature to them. Why O Nagappa?  asked the tuft of grass.

“Look at us, we cover most of earth, we spread greenery and cheer all around in spite of being under people’s feet, we are crushed mercilessly, the sun is harsh on us, the frost freezes us throughout the night, most times we are put to death by thirst, once the rains disappear, but we wait for just one drop of dew, so that we can grow again and regain our lost glory, why then do humans not follow in our footsteps Nagappa?   Asked the grass.

 “Sorry Grass, I can speak for myself, what I can say about mankind” retorted Nagappa. “By the way how is it that grasses can speak”? Asked Nagappa

“Don’t be baffled, we plants could always speak, by flipping through the book you have over there,  you have just been taught 'Germinatum' language of the trees, so now you can hear and speak to  all trees, shrubs, grass and creepers”,  said the grass.

“Pray Miss Grass, if I can call you that” said Nagappa, “can I ask you a question? Why have I been chosen to learn this language, and what is it that is expected of me”, asked Nagappa.

“Well” replied the grass, “I don’t know why, you,  have been chosen for this task, I am myself  just a two year old,  but a few meters from here there is my great grand uncle the Bamboo Shoot. He is a wise man, why don’t you go an ask him.

Thank you Miss Grass said Nagappa and went in searching for the Bamboo Shoot.

In the distance he could hear creaks and crackles; the sound grew more intense as he went further, and finally he stood under the tall cluster of bamboos . “‘Creak’, ‘Creak’” Mr. Nagappa said the bamboo in greetings, Creak to you too Mr. Bamboo said Nagappa now familiar with the bamboo’s form of address.

Mr. Bamboo, I look for reasons why I was taught 'Germinatum', can you enlighten me please.

“Nagappa, I am but just ten years old, I am not aware of the reasons why.  A mile from here lives my cousin Sugarcane.  He is one hell of a sweet guy, people confide in him, secrets that they cannot digest, perhaps he would have the answer to your query”.

 “Ok Mr. Bamboo, but having met you, I might as well clear some doubts of mine. Can you tell me why you keep creaking and swaying, are you in pain? I see the Oaks & the Teaks, they stay tall and firm, their body vast and majestic.  Look at you, knotted and full of joints, creaking and swaying, so what is your problem ? “Asked Nagappa

“Nagappa, you may call me fragmented, but that is my real strength”, replied the Bamboo. Each joint in my body marks the completion of one journey and the commencement of another, when I stand tall in adversity, not even the strongest of the typhoons can uproot me. 

My strength is greater than that of steel, I fear not the snow, nor the sun, either the rain or the wind, yet I bow down in honour of others virtue, when pushed. 

I grow faster than any other tree in the world, but yet my insides I keep hollow, so that I can learn from other and yet have space to assimilate more. 

The best part is my simplicity, I do not need any processing to be used by man, you use me as a weapon to protect life, you use me as a utensil to serve food, you use me as shelter to built you home, yet, I need no paint and varnish, no artificialness to complete me as a person. I am what I am and I stay that way till I am burn in a fire.

Show me the way O Bamboo, the way to your cousin’s place. Said Nagappa, satisfied with what the bamboo had to say.

Don’t worry Nagappa, you shall find my cousin very easily for he is a popular person. Said the Bamboo.

True to what the bamboo said, every shrub and tree showed Nagappa the way towards the sugarcane fields, except Miss Tomato, who seemed to be not too impressed with Mr. Sugarcane. 

Pfft...., she raised her nose in the air. Are you looking for the juicy sugarcane, be careful, he is too sweet a person, but he can never be as soft as me, so what if I turn out to be a bit sour sometimes, I am more colourful, plump, and soft than he can ever be, I wonder then why humans always seem to be always chasing the sweeter things in life, saying that she rushed inside her little farm.

When he finally reached the sugarcane field, Nagappa saw snakes and rats creep inside the sugarcare stems, yet the Sugarcane stood steady, greeted Nagappa with a smile and heard his story, and honestly replied, “yes Nagappa, the world knows how sweet I am, I live my life in peril, with snakes all around me. Dacoits rush into my fields, when escaping arrest; lovers push me apart to get inside my parlour to make unashamed love.

I hide many a secrets within my fields; have seen much treason being plotted inside my den, news gets to me fast since I talk sweet. But this sweetness gets me only so far in life, I am clue less as to why you have been chosen for this task”, replied sugarcane.  “Go a mile further up, you will come across Mr.Neem, he is pretty senior amongst us, perhaps he can tell you something”.

By now the cacophony of the trees and shrubs, the weeds and the grass in the jungle talking to each other was very distracting. To believe that only humans gossip is a fallacy, plants and trees with nothing to do all whole day seem to talk endlessly.

‘Hey’ whispered the rose bush,  “I am going to lose all my flowers tomorrow, you see its Valentines, and every year its so painful to lose all your flowers at one go”, it sobbed.

“Serves you right you vain rose” we are tired of your fashion statements, “your pride was unmanageable last year when the farmer grafted a violet rose stem on your body last year, look at you now, you will rightfully be shorn tomorrow of your vanity ”said the marigold with vengance.

“Thank god you are not a plantain tree, I give birth only once, and humans wait for me to fruit and then tear me apart, thankfully this year I have decided not to produce my fruit, I saw the worried look on my farmer’s face yesterday, he gave me a truly disgusting look” said the plantain tree laughing.

“Talking about humans, I still remember the look on that Newton guy’s face, when I let go one of my rotten apples on him, continued the apple tree, “Imagine that humans took so long to figure out that rotten apples can't float in the air, on top of that I understand that he became very famous indeed, because of me letting go of one apple on his head, is it not hilarious”

“Thank god I crawl on the river sides and don’t drop my fruits people’s head unlike you” added the water melon,

So the conversations went, as Nagappa marched onwards and reached the tall looking handsome Neem tree.

“Greetings O tall one”, hailed Nagappa.

“Greetings to you too, O one eyed one”, replied the Neem tree. You travel from far, why don’t you rest under my shade, and perhaps have some fruits from my tree.

What!  Exclaimed Nagappa, fruits from your trees are eaten by crows. Why should I be eating this bitterness?

“Ha, ha, ha laughed the Neem Tree. So typical of Humans to speak lowly of things which are bitter. Dear Nagappa, I carry so much bitterness in me, yet I remain happy, I flourish in spite of this bitterness. Everything in life cannot be sweet; there are bitter parts to life too. I blossom & fructify, my fruits are sweet and juicy too. None of my bitterness is carried by me in my approach towards life, I grow tall, my tree is a home to many a squirrels and birds. I am happy the way I am, yet I show no bitterness to people around me, unlike humans who turn bitter at the slightest of adversity”.

“Be that it may, I know what brings you here, and like my other cousins I too do not know why you were taught the ‘Germinatum ‘. The only person who could educate you is the head of our family the Banyan Tree. Go looking for him, he is seated near your village school, since the last four hundred years, he is the oldest among  us all. Seek and you shall have your answers Nagappa”.

That is how finally Nagappa found himself in the open field behind the school village in search of answers to this now tiring pursuit.

A sudden bout of giggling brought him back to the present.  Who could it be he wondered?  In the vast expanse around him he could see but a lone banyan tree, and the barren land ahead of him looking dead and dry like a camel’s back.

The giggling repeated and someone shouted, hey Squirrel, don’t you dare dig in there, your whiskers are tickling me,  go make your nest in the hollow in which your father lived for long,  don’t dig where it tickles. The giggling continued.

A perplexed Nagappa looked around for the source of the noise.

Who is giggling around here? Nagappa raised his voice.

“Hey Nagappa, don’t you recognise me, I have been living on your ancestral land for the last four hundred years, you used to swing on my creepers, make a hammock out of them and sleep the night through here, and I used to sing lullabies for you. Don’t you remember me, I am the banyan tree standing right in front of you” came the husky reply.

Well! Coming to the reason for your visit, replied the banyan, I don’t know why you have been chosen for this task, but the need to communicate with humans is the need of the hour. There was a time till a few centuries ago, when the vegetations in this earth lived in co existence with humans, but going by the way you are destroying this earth, we urgently need to put a stop to this destruction. Humans have not evolved to the extent they believe they have. 

We trees, plants, shrubs, weeds and all vegetation, are all part of ‘Treekind’ we all are from a distant Galaxy. Our brethren have captured most of the universe.  What you see as silent vegetation on this earth is not what we are. We travel space, we have reached multiple galaxies and all corners of the universe, we live and create life, we came here when the earth was just a piece of rock, we brought along most of the life forms that you see on this earth. While man has been scanning the air waves for signs of alien life, he does not realise that man is himself the biggest alien in this universe.

We the ‘Tree-Kind’ go back billions of years in existence, except for mobility we have mastered everything there is to know.  we have become so advanced that we have grown little creatures out of vegetation, these creatures named 'Pota-toes', because they were originally created out of potato like tubers, are our voice, hands and means of development, we provide them the knowledge, and they built planets for us to migrate and expand. They create special cocoons for us to drift in the universe, unaffected by the radiation and heat.  Today we rule the universe, we don’t use air-waves, and our language transcends space and travels faster than light.

Due to strange reasons 'Pota-toes' could not survive in the earthen atmosphere and hence we could not develop here. We built man to help us grow, but first we wanted him to develop himself. It has taken us just few million years to grow man, millions of years are like a blip in the infinity for us, and it has been worth the wait. Unfortunately the way man has been self destructing himself, our leaders have decided that it is time for us to take over the earth.

So we started our dialog with you, here on every person that you meet shall automatically be transmitted, ' Germinatum'  from you, it shall be only a matter of one month before the entire human kind is able to speak our language.

“Then why did you wait for a thousand years, as mentioned in the book,  ‘O Great Banyan’”, said Nagappa, with new found reverence.

Nagappa, how childish can you be!  The trunk and the book that you see as one thousand man years old, is in space terms not more than 24 hours old, the trunk arrived from our head quarters last night, the force of the impact took it six feet into the ground, and the thousand years that you see written here in man years is all but 24 hours in space terms.

So go meet with as many people as you can, your one spoken word in earthling language will suffice to transmit 'Germinatum' to the receptor who can then repeat the process onwards to the people he meets, we give it only a month from now on, for the entire humanity to learn 'Germinatum'.

 

 
Once you learn the language, you will see, that knowledge coming from us defeats most of the basic principles of science as you have defined it. When you start learning our ways, your science will come out to be primitive and helpless against the billion years of technology available with the ‘Tree Kind’.

When that happens, trees will rule the earth, just as they rule the universe. Not with aim to defeat the humans, but to begin a new era of mentoring humans.


What you sow, where you sow, when to reap, when to prune shall all be guided by the ‘Treekind’. 

The earth is no more for your people to misuse and destruct. Don't you worry!  The advancement that we shall make together will take you towards many more new worlds that you would never have seen on your own. Humankind takes a quantum leap here on.

“Lets  reiterate the basic moto of the Treekind  ’As we stay rooted to the ground, the more towards the sky  we shall grow’,  a fact that humans seldom follow” concluded the great Banyan.

These Words were beyond comprehension to the humble Nagappa, who picked up his implements and headed home with a quizzed expression on his face.  Not realising that the world will never be the same again ; of course for the good.

Dhanraj - The Art of Giving

@ Illustrations by Dr.Ribhu Rajpal, Max Healthcare Patparganj

Once upon a time there was a great king Dhanraj. He was famous for his just ways, able administration and great leadership. He nurtured his subject with kindness, helped them in times of calamities, even among the neighboring kingdoms he was highly respected and honoured.  During times of hardships, he used to send relief to other kings unmindful of national boundaries, without expecting anything in return.

Vices he had none. He believed himself to be the biggest philanthropist of all times. Fortunately, more he gave away, more prosperous his kingdom became.  His wealth grew by leaps and bounds, and he gave away all of it, yet his wealth did not erode. Slowly but surely his ego could not take the praises he received from his beneficiaries, and he started measuring himself in larger than life terms. Soon he proclaimed himself as ‘Dhanraj the benevolent God’. When the news of his growing ego reached heaven,  God decided to correct the situation by teaching him a lesson.

One day, God disguised as a saint paid Dhanraj a visit.  Dhanraj received the saint at his palace gates and escorted him to his court. There preening himself, Dhanraj exclaimed, "Oh Great Saint, I am known as the most benevolent God on earth, I give everyone, anything that they ask for. Pray tell me, what is it that I could gift you". 

The saint smiled but remained silent.

“Oh Saint’, you seemed to be tired, first let us partake of a meal, perhaps, then you shall recover your strength, you can in the meanwhile decide what to take away from my kingdom”.  So saying Dhanraj ordered his staff to serve ‘The Saint’ a lavish lunch.

The royal cook immediately set about preparing a lavish spread for the Saint. Customarily the king himself, personally served food to sages who came visiting. This time also without eception, Dhanraj served exquisite dishes on a plantain leaf for the saint. ‘The Saint’ however, reached into his tattered bag, and pulled out a handful of roasted grams, ate them, drank from a water bag that he carried and issued a loud burp which could be heard right up to the palace gates.

This profanity angered Dhanraj, but he chose not to question the saint.  “’Oh great Saint’, it seems that you do not wish to have food from my kitchen, I wonder why. However if you happen to change your mind, please let me know, and my kitchen staff shall be at your service. You must now be very tired from your journey, my personal bedroom is the right place for you to spend the night, let me show you the way" said Dhanraj with pride. 

The saint smiled and accompanied the king to his bedroom, where the king offered him the royal bed, in which to spend the night. The royal bed stood on a pedestal, soft with satin, pearls and precious stones laid intricately on its frame.

The room was lighted by chandeliers, fountains of perfume casting an intoxicating aroma. The palace was built such that, the easterlies got channelized into the room through a complex maze of deflectors. None could imagine a more luxurious setting.

While Dhanraj was waiting for the saint to take his place on the royal bed, the saint smiled and silently pulled out a tattered sheet out of his motheaten bag, laid it on the ground, and went off to sleep.

By now Dhanraj was plainly irritated. Furious and deeply disappointed the way his offerings had been rejected. 

The next day the Saint prepared to leave, and Dhanraj, not yet wise from the events of the night again set to please the Saint.  He ordered his treasurer to lay out all the finest pieces of jewels and ornaments as offering to the saint.

“Oh Saint” Dhanraj the benevolent God, prays that you accept the gifts of a humble king, and provide me your blessings.

As soon as Dhanraj uttered these words, ‘The Saint’ started laughing out loud. He laughed and laughed and laughed, the court room stood astonished at the saint’s audacity. But the saint laughed on, he rocked on his heels laughing ....hahahahahahah . “Foolish king” he bellowed, “you are neither benevolent, nor are you God, what you give in the name of charity and gift is nothing compared to what other great kings across the desert, to the north of your kingdom give. What you give out in a life time they give out every minute of the day. If you travel alone through the desert for hundred days and hundred nights, you shall meet them and realise how less you give away”.

So saying the saint vanished into thin air.

Dharaj was now an upset man. He had come to believe that he was the greatest of all kings.  Now to even think that there were others as great was a shock indeed. Without wasting much time, he handed over the affairs of his kingdom to his trusted minister, and set out on a journey of hundred days and hundred nights.

The summer was at its worst that year when Dhanraj set out. As directed by the saint, he traveled alone. As he crossed the borders of his kingdom, the lush greenery gave way to a harsher terrain and became hotter and hotter as he progressed towards the waste lands.

He had traveled now for ten days and ten nights, his feet became heavier, as they dug deeper into the slippery sand, the heat became torturous, he could not bear the weight of his armour anymore, each step became a struggle, and in that struggle, he decided to take off his heavy crown and his armour.  No sooner he did so, a voice rang out from the sky “‘O King’ the first barrier towards your redemption was your crown, now that you have given away your crown you have created a path towards greatness, keep up the journey of a hundred days and hundred nights and you shall meet the kings who are greater than you” said the voice from heaven.

On he went, for a few weeks more, now his shoes were worn out, the water in his water bag already empty, the last watering hole he had encountered was around a week back, the little water he carried from there, now empty. Lips parched and legs blistered, he kept on, now in delirium. Suddenly in the horizon he could make out a hunched figure limping towards him, a man older than any that he had seen so far, zillions of lines crisscrossing his face, which seemed to be a hundred years of age, but an unusual energy gave him a halo, a brightness to his face more powerful than the glare of the sun in that blazing desert.  As the old man drew closer he did not seem to notice Dhanraj, was about to walk past Dhanraj. The first human he had set his eye on in almost a month of travel, Dhanraj, called out to the old man, “Hey you”. Hearing the voice, the old man turned towards Dhanraj. “Sir, good that you called out to me, because I am blind and I would surely have missed you, pray what can I do for you”, exclaimed the Old man.

“’Old Man’, I am on a journey of hundred days and hundred nights, I have been walking for twenty five days and twenty five nights, I look for kings greater than me, but I have run out of water, I am power less in this vast desert, so I beg of you to give me the bag, in which you carry water, said the king.  .  No sooner had he uttered these words, a voice spoke from heaven, “O King, by begging for water from that old blind man, frailer and needier than thou, you have finally overcome your ego. Greatness, comes by not carrying one’s ego along.  ‘O King’, this is another major victory, but you have a long journey yet, so keep walking”.

The old man seemed to be oblivious to the voice from heaven, “Oh great king”, said the old man,  I may be helpless and blind, but the bag I carry provides unending supply of water to those lost in the desert, my job is to look for such people and save their souls, so ‘O king’, partake of as much water as you can,  but don’t ask for the bag, said the Old Man, so saying the Old Man, emptied the contents of his water bag, into Dhanraj’s  open palms.

Now quenched of his thirst, Dhanraj set out on his journey again. 

It had been fifty days since he set out, and the seasons had changed, the sun cast its long shadow and soon it became dark. Nights in the deserts are very cold. Fatigue and hunger gnawed at Dhanraj, now shorn of his clothes and ornaments was a shadow of his royal self. Shivering in the freezing cold, the night seemed to stretch like a snake crawling out to devour Dhanraj. The shivering continued unabated, his learning’s from the long years of training in warfare, seemed to be useless in this long journey.  He looked in every direction, wanted to dig in deep inside the sand dunes, but they too seem to be cast in ice, till suddenly he noticed a fire burning in the distance. As he neared, he noticed a middle aged lady frozen in the darkness staring at the fire. As he stumbled into her vision, she realised how cold Dhanraj was and quickly ran up to him and gave him her shawl to cover himself up, took his hand and escorted him towards the fire,  the fire burned in all its fury,  and the lady made Dhanraj comfortable in its warmth.

When the heat from the fire seeped into his flesh, and he the fury of blood gushing through his veins resumed, he noticed that all was not well with the lady who seemed lost in trance,  a closer look revealed  a trail of tears down her cheeks. Hey woman! Why do you cry? Asked Dhanraj, 

“Sir, replied the woman, the fire that you see, is a pyre, in which my lone teenaged son burns, he perished in the King’s war, I am happy that he laid down his life for our benevolent king.  We learn from our king that giving away is a way of life.  My son has made me proud, even in his death, his funeral pyre gives you the warmth and made you live to see another day”, said the women.

One has to be really unfortunate to borrow warmth from a funeral pyre, but fate decides who gets what in this roulette. With a deep sense of pain, the king stood up to continue his journey; this was the second time in his journey he has been shown the path to selfless sharing. Charity done with millions in the vaults, indeed is virtuous, but comes easily to people, but the intent to give away, when there is nothing in hand is touching upon greatness and needs courage and conviction unmatched.

The journey was only half done. Two episodes, and Dhanraj, now really wanted to understand the true meaning of giving. This motivated him to get up and walk again.

Day seventieth of his journey he met a young man. “Where are you going young man” exclaimed Dhanraj. 

“Sir, replied the young man, across the oceans I go, to learn the art of teaching”.

 “Pray why”!  Asked Dhanraj

“So that I can remove ignorance from this kingdom” replied the young man.

“How will that help”? Enquired Dhanraj.

“Oh sir, have you heard of our foolish king Dhanraj”?  Asked the young man.

“Foolish?  But I have heard that he is a benevolent king”!  Exclaimed Dhanraj.

“No Sir”, replied the young man, “there is no man more foolish than our king”, replied the young man. “He believes giving away wealth creates wealth. But I believe teaching how to create and sustain wealth, is the true answer to prosperity. Our King believes in doles that keep his subject happy, not realising that they have got used to this life of well being and care, the day the King runs into troubled times, his subjects shall suffer along with him. That fateful day even the friendly neighbours that he has nurtured shall turn upon him” he continued.

“I shall learn and the share knowledge with my fellow men. Knowledge, is true wealth, not gold coins and precious stones”, declared the young man. “I shall empower my countrymen, not enslave them to others charity”, he added.

What better learning could Dhanraj get than these words of free wisdom? Unknowingly the young man had hit the nail where it hurt most and unsolicited knowledge worth a billion gold coins in an instant.

On went Dhanraj, until on the eightieth day he met a man who was carrying a basket of fruits. Hunger and fatigue gnawing him, Dhanraj approached the man for a few of those.

“Of course dear sir, these fruits come from the hard work of many in my village. From the bees who pollinated the flowers, to the rain which nourished them, to the men who toiled in the orchards to the women who picked them up with care, the benefit of these fruits belong to each one of them,  who am I then, to claim ownership on these, these are for the world to savor, I am but a means through which nature gives await its bounty, unlike my King Dhanraj, I dont lay my claim to greatness, by giving away that which is not mine!  Exclaimed the man.

If Dhanraj though that his educational sojourn was over, he was mistaken, there was more to come for there were twenty more days to go. So in their search he set out again, in search of the elusive kings who gave away more than he did.

The last twenty days of the journey went by in a daze, he kept counting the days remaining, looking for those elusive kings. The final day arrived, and he was sure that his journey would not go waste, he was sanguine that soon in a city nearby he would come across the palace. He was charged up in anticipation that come morning he would have completed the journey, already wiser from the lessons from the lessons he had learnt so far. In that excitement, he was on a day dream, when he fell asleep.  The desert had now given way to thick forests. He was woken up by the wild screams of a tribe of cannibals, prodding him with their spears.  They had stumbled upon him during their hunt, and were only too eager to scalp him. It was a full moon day and it was customary to sacrifice a warrior to the moon god. They dragged Dhanraj brutally through the bushes, and reaching their hutment, they tied him up to a pole in preparation for the sacrifice.

A few feet away stood another familiar figure also tied up to a mast. Dhanraj strained his eyes, and recognised Budhan a lieutenant from his personal guards.  Seeing Dhanraj in that condition, Bhudan was shocked.  “My lord, we are tied up to this post to be sacrificed at mid night” whispered Budhan, they have to choose between the two of us, Let me die, I leave behind my seven sisters and my blind parents, yet there shall be a meaning to my death if I manage to save you, for if you were to be killed, there will be a thousand Bhudan and their families who will perish, exclaimed Bhudan.

“I have a plan”, he whispered. The Cannibals sacrifice only person without a blemish, Oh King, pardon me, for I plan to hurt you a little. So saying Bhudan tugged with all his might, at the pole to which he was tied. Dhanraj, was wondering what Bhudan was up to. Bhudan heaved again with all his might, he roared and grunted, and finally the pole started shaking on its foundation. Before Dhanraj could guess as to what was happening, the pole was swinging dangerously with the might with which Bhudan pulled at it.  That was the last thing Dhanraj remembered, as the ten foot stake fell on his head.

When he came to, it was too late. He had a searing headache, and he could sense dried up blood, making his forehead taut. The stake must have fallen on him, he realised and  he would have been out for hours, for the morning sun was shining brightly and the birds chirping. He lifted up his head to look around, and could see blood all around.  As he shifted his vision, he saw the gory scene of young men in their teen pulling at dismembered human foot; one youngster was sucking at a bleeding hand. Dhanraj suddenly realised that the arm belonged to Bhudan. That was when reality dawned on him. Bhudan had made the stake fall on the King, thereby injuring him, so that the tribal’s would not sacrifice an injured human being. Bhudan had made the ultimate sacrifice for his king. Selfless in his concerned for thousands across the country, Bhudan had chosen to be scarified, thereby saving his King.

A moan escaped Dhanraj’s lips. He was now living a life owed to Bhudan. That instant, he realised that living on charity is by no means a pleasant experience.  He did not have an option; neither did those millions who live out of charity. One accepts what is given for free, but free does not remain the soul which owes to someone. It would be true to say that at that moment Dhanraj’s  ego dissolved as he burst out sobbing, waves of grief hit him one after the other, as he recounted his journey from being a kind considerate king, to a one consumed by ego, vanity.

As he lay there sobbing, a voice rang out. “Raise O benevolent God” said the familiar voice. As he looked up, he found ‘The saint’, who had sent him on the journey. The saint seemed to have acquired radiance, and a halo around his head. ”Raise my son; I am none other than God.  I sent you on this journey of many miles. You have completed your hundred day journey, and have come out of it baptised by fire.  What you went through was journey to show you the true essence of life, the essence ‘giving’. Of being a true leader, and caretaker, a patron, a King in a true sense of the word. I think you have learnt your lessons and shall strive in future to earn your redemption”, said God.

God! There are many a lessons that I learnt these hundred days, but where are the many Kings that you promised, I shall meet across the journey? Asked Dhanraj, I still need to meet them, to understand as to be a better king and patron

God Smiled, did you not remember meeting many kings on your journey! Asked God.

“Don’t you remember the blind old man who gave you water to drink when you needed it the most?  He has been roaming the desert, offering water to lost souls, because his son died of thirst, while crossing the desert”.

“Don’t you remember the young mother, who provided you warmth on her son’s pyre? He was her only son, who perished protecting your kingdom. She did not know that you were her King, when she offered you the warmth from her son’s pyre”.

Don’t you remember the young teacher who wanted to give free knowledge to all? His intent was not to earn a living, but to enlighten others to help themselves instead of living in charity.

Don’t you remember the man, with the basket of fruits? Who taught you that the fruits of labour are sweeter than charity?

Don’t your remember Bhudan? He gave up his life, to save you from death, so that you could live and look after the millions whose hopes rest on you. So what if in the process, he has left behind a family which is now orphaned.

Yes those were the kings I set you up to meet. They know how to give, they give what they could without expecting anything in return, and they give because they felt it was their duty to give.  

The old man taught you to selflessly serve others even during times of extreme hardship and disability.

The Young mother taught you how to sacrifice everything one has, and yet smilingly acknowledge the universe and pay back to the best of one’s might.  Even if that means providing warmth by burning ones dearest possession.

And Bhudan taught you to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had a family to protect, but considering the nation as a family, he saved you so that his country men are not at loss.

With a brimming cup, it’s easy to give, all wealthy men give with great pride, yes indeed they are good souls, but great are those who give all that they have, give something out of the last bit they have, borrow to give to others more in need, or give to others when their own needs are more pressing. Those are the times when charity gets transformed into worship, and gods smile down on their children from heaven.

So king rise, go back to your kingdom, you were a kind man, you shall be again restored to your former glory, with the learning’s that you have got on this journey. So saying God was about to walk away, when Dhanraj called out O God, can I have one wish from you...... he had hardly completed the sentence, that God smiled.  “I know what you are going to ask of me. You want me to bring back Budan to life. 


“He is already back home, and the memory of this episode, has now been erased from his memory.

  

So saying God disappeared.







Special Thanks to
Illustration by Dr.Ribhu Rajpal Max Healthcare Patparganj.