Thousand Full Moon:
Shri. Vasant Kelkar
Contributed By: Shilpa Kelkar
Translation: Rohini
Shri. Vasant Kelkar (83+), is a teacher by profession but is
also a writer and a farmer in his own right. He is a devotee of Gondawalekar
Maharaj and believes in simple living and high thinking. He has worked incessantly
to educate the masses through his writings and staging street plays. People say
that he is a living laboratory as he is always experimenting with some new
idea. He has lived in Aundh, Miraj and now lives with his wife in Sangali. He
says he is very happy and content and works to turn people towards the path of ‘nama
smaran’ He follows a disciplined life style and follows the same morning routine
as in Gondawale Ashram. He said since he cannot go to Gondawale he has brought
Gondawalekar Maharaj to his house.
I received this narration from Shri. Vasant Kelkar and it
sat in my in-box for a while as it was a bit too long to be addressed right
away. As I read it two nights ago I not
only went through the entire spectrum of emotions but was on an emotional
roller coaster! What incredible people!!
Here is the translation…
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Incredible People
This was
around 1965 – 1966 I was a teacher in a school in Aundh that time. I was the
class teacher of 9th A. I had a student called Sada Vhangar in my
class. Sada was well built and lived in the nearby Nhavi (barber) village.
Whenever a fair came to any nearby village Sada would be absent from school, on
questioning him once about this, he mentioned that he competes in the wrestling
matches in the fairs. Not only that but he also showed me the prizes he had
won. In the process I learned that Sada
was the son of Khashaba Vhangar an intimidating herder from the Nhavi village.
Coincidentally
that year we had decided to plant ‘Turmeric’ in our fields and needed some
sheep to graze the land for soil preparation (the waste products of the herds
serves as a fertilizer). I arranged for the sheep to be delivered to graze the field for five days
and went to the field bright and early the day the work was to begin. I saw the
sheep grazing from a distance and a man sitting on the divide milking a sheep.
He was tall, dark complexioned and was wearing a dhoti, a turban and the
typical sleeveless open front vest called ‘bandi’ a trademark of the
herders. As I approached him he called out to me, “Welcome Schoolmaster, please
come join me in my breakfast” and untied the bhakari (a thick roti made of barley or a similar grain) from its cloth and offered me a piece. It is
customary to not refuse food when offered and so I took a piece and as I dipped
it in the little milk in the cup before putting it in my mouth he said, “my child really sings your praises school
master” and upon asking who he was he replied, “ Am I not Khashaba from Nhavi
Village?” I was a little taken aback. He was very strong and was carrying an
axe as was customary for the herders. After giving some dry branches to the
sheep Khashaba was resting for a while and I took the opportunity to strike a
conversation. “Is everything OK this year? “ I asked. He rolled his eyes
towards the sky and said “we totally depend on Him, Schoolmaster, when I
married my daughter off last year; I sold some sheep and some of our grain. But
I did right by her”.
“You have
some land don’t you?”
“Yes, three
acres. One acre by the well and other two in jiraee (land that depends
on seasonal rain for irrigation), my brother cultivates it.”
Lunch
arrived from my home at about two in the afternoon. I offered some bhakari and
kalvan (Stew) to him. Initially Khashaba said,”why so much?” but then he
took it. After lunch he prepared to take a nap under a shady tree. He spread
his ‘Ghongadi’ an all purpose coarse blanket and took off his sleeveless
vest. At that point I could see deep scars from whipping and beating on his back. I could
not help but ask him what that was and he said, “This ugly gift is from the Gora
Sahib (the white man). Khashaba was on forefront in the freedom fight of
India. He was an active member of “patri-Sarakar” a group resisting the
British rule. (Patri Sarkar was a gorilla group fighting the British. They
would force the moneyed people to donate for their cause else they would hammer
metal (patraa) to the feet of the non-compliers as punishment). He did not
agree with the revolutionaries but conceded by saying that to gain something
you have to lose something.
“We were
fighting well and gaining ground on the British near Khatao, but due to some
traitors and the strong push by the British five of us were captured. That is
when they beat us like animals for three months. They wanted the names of those
who were behind this movement. But Schoolmaster, we remained mute. We bore the
beatings but did not give any names. We were sent to a jail in Karnataka for
five years. For food we literally would get cooked grass and bread and very
dirty water to drink. But we survived. After my release I roamed here and there
for about a month and then came back home and found that I had nothing left. My
home, family, livestock were all gone. Someone said that my son had gone to
Puse Gaon to work in a hotel. I enquired about him but could not find him”
“And your
wife?” I asked.
He wiped
his eyes and said, “Schoolmaster the white men and then the local thugs
harassed her a lot and then eventually tired of the harassment and sexual abuse
she hung herself by the Babhali-tree. I did not know about this but Tatya
Bhosale who cremated her after the Panchanama told me about it. I got angry, my
head was exploding from within so one evening I knocked on the door of the rich
money lender one late evening and I settled the score with him for exploiting
my wife. I finished him. I dodged the cops for four years but one day when I
had come to Aundh to visit the Devi temple for Darshan I got caught in
the dragnet. This time I was booked for murder in the princely state of Aundh.
There was a court case and I was sentenced to life imprisonment. Schoolmaster,
I was to die in jail not just once but little by little every day, either that
or be released after twenty years. A long time passed and then I finally
returned”
The
question about how he came out before his sentence was over started bothering
me but since Khashaba was going to be in my fields for five days, I suppressed
my curiosity temporarily. The next day morning as soon as I went to the fields
I looked for Khashaba but today it seemed as though he was in no mood to talk.
When lunch arrived from home he accepted his portion but did not eat any. Instead
he took it all home that evening.
Next day as
I arrived in the field I gave some extra breakfast to Khashaba and asked
whether everything was OK at home. “It is OK but kind of” “what do you mean
kind of?” I persisted. I will tell you in the evening he said and started
working in the fields. A lot of work was still remaining so I also got to work
but could not wait for the day to end. As he was leaving I pointed to the food
he was taking home and asked why?. He said they had no grain left at his house
this year and was taking the food for his wife and son. I knew how tough it
gets in the homes of farm workers when they run out of food. I could not fall
asleep that night till I had decided what I needed to do with Khashaba’s situation.
The next day I loaded my bullock cart with two gunny sacks of grain and
approached Khashaba. “Khashaba, will you run an errand for me? I asked. “Sure
he said, what needs to be done?” “These
sacks need to be delivered to the house of one Khashaba I know in the Nhavi
village”, I said. Khashaba was overcome with gratitude but he accepted my gift.
Fifth day
in the field was about to end and my question about Khashaba’s early release
was still bothering me. I could not hold it in any longer and asked him to fill
me in. He made me wait till the end of the day and started narrating.
“The
princely state of Aundh was run by Pant Maharaja. He was very fond of horses
and had quite a few in his stables. One
day one of his horses got sick and could not be cured by the Veterinarians, then
the others started getting sick and Pant was worried. The jailor happened to mention it to me and
that is when I told him that I know what causes the horses to get sick and what
the cure is. Pant summoned me the next day and I asked to be freed if I was
able to cure the horses if not I said, they could hang me. I told him it is a
kind of seasonal plant that when eaten by the horses will make them sick but
another plant can cure the ailment. Pant called me to the Goddess Temple the
next morning and I was made to take an oath of Bhairoba and Khandoba
promising that I will not run away and then Pant signaled the guard to remove
my hand cuffs.
I ran to
the hills to collect the medicinal plant, the guards were following me. I was
too swift for them but I did not run away. I had given my word and taken the
oath of Khandoba. I started treating the horses. I would have their
fodder weeded for the unwanted plant and would add the medicinal plant to their
diet. The horses started feeling better and were fully cured in fifteen days.
Pant summoned me again one day. I reminded him that he had agreed to my freedom
if I cured his horses. He again took me to the temple and rewarded me with
three acres of land the one I have now and asked me to make a living by raising
and herding sheep. He also asked me never to cross Aundh borders for good. I
also took an oath at his feet to do the same and gave him my word. The land came, sheep and goats came. I
remarried to setup the household and you know I have a son now.
We had
completed our five days as was agreed upon. I invited Khashaba home that
evening and honored him in a little ceremony as a freedom fighter and upon
making the payment for the work, he refused saying I had already given him
grain that he has to pay me for it. I forced the wages in to his son’s hand and
bid Khashaba goodbye. Saying that he was carrying the burden of my obligation Khashaba slipped on
his squeaking sandals and proceeded home.
Five years past in the hustle bustle of daily activity and since Sada,
Khashaba’s son had dropped out of school I got no news of Khashaba. I learned from some of my students that Sada
had taken up herding. Days were going by and one day a field had came running
with the news that our cow Lakshmi while in the process of delivering a calf
was in trouble as the calf was stuck. I got dressed and ran to the cow shed.
Lakshmi was on the ground and in pain. I could not bear the sight. I sent for the
local doctor. He came and administered some injection but nothing changed. I
sent for the bigger doctor from the nearby village, he also gave a couple of
injections to Lakshmi but there was no change in her condition. The doctor
finally came to me and said he can operate on Lakshmi but the things were not
looking good. I am not a superstitious person but I did everything that any one
suggested… from offering a chicken to the spirits to visiting the local temple
but nothing seemed to help. At that point someone asked whether Khashaba should
be called. I almost yelled at them for asking. “Go go and bring him here why
are you asking?” I was told that Khashaba was ill so I sent the cart with the
message, “come the way you are”. I was totally helpless at this point in time
and could not do anything for Lakshmi, neither could I see her pain. In a couple
of hours I saw the cart returning. The bulls were frothing at the mouth as they
ran all the way. Khashaba alighted from the cart with the help of two men. He
approached me and said, “Take it easy Schoolmaster, everything will be done”. He went on to examine Lakshmi. He felt her belly and asked that she be
turned on the other side. I thought this was it. She won’t be able to survive
this. But four men turned her on the other side and Khashaba examined her once
more by feeling her belly. Then he came
to me and said, “Schoolmaster I think I know what is happening here. The calf’s
skin, the size of a palm is stuck to the cow’s uterus and so the calf is unable
to maneuver its way out.” He sent his
son to collect some medicinal plants and asked him to make a paste. He applied
it to one side of the cow’s belly and took a metal rod and heated it in cow
dung patties to red hot and placed it on the belly of the cow on top of the
medicinal paste. The cow was in pain, there was a smell of burning flesh and
then Khashaba threw the metal rod to the ground. At that very moment I thought I heard
the musical notes coming from a flute and at that very instant felt Khashaba’s hand on my back. "Schoolmaster",
he said, “We have won the war!” You cannot imagine every one's relief. But why
did he say war? There was no Ram or Ravan from Ramayan; there were no Kaurav or
Pandav from Mahabharata... But this was a battle for life... life of Lakshmi and
the calf. It was as though Krishna had come in the form of Khashaba to rescue
the situation.
The calf was born in the next half hour. Lakshmi stood up and started
licking and cleaning him. There was a bald patch on the calf’s skin where it
was stuck to Lakshmi. Khashaba applied the same medicinal paste there and we
left the shed as the calf started drinking milk.
We invited a few people to our house in the evening and honored Khashaba
with new clothes and some money for saving Lakshmi and the calf. As Khashaba
was leaving with his son all he said was “I came just for you Schoolmaster,
these days I cannot manage to do such things no more.”
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Art work courtesy internet
