Share this      Print this    Write to us

The Indian tradition of literature, unique for its content as well as chronological development, ran in two lines : Mythological and Pragmatic.

Beginning with the Vedas at the dawn of civilisation the first line branched out into the Upanishads, gave way to the epics and the Mahapuranas, followed by Upapuranas and the rest.

The second line consisted of the Brihat Katha (the precursor of the Kathasaritsagara), the Jatakas and the Panchatantra, etc. They shed light on different aspects of life, on its worldly and other worldly complexities, sometimes didactic (as in the Jatakas) but more often simply expository of the various possibilities of life.

Between these two lines quietly ran a third, the treasure of tales told by the hermits, mendicants, ascetics and other mystics. Profound for psychological studies, sharp with mystic experiences, these tales of light, wit and delight remained a oral tradition for the most part.

 We propose to serialise some of them, “retold by a master story teller of our time – one of the best-loved writers of India” – as the India’s National Academy of Letters introduces the author, Manoj Das.

Of Action and Consciousness

Manoj Das
____________________________________________________________________________

Gogu's family was almost starving. He used to collect dry wood from the forest and sell it or barter it for rice. That is how he maintained his wife, their two children and himself. But that season the rains continued for three weeks and there was no question of his getting any dry wood. Whatever he had stored in his house had been sold out. 

He was a worried man. Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind. The idol in the village shrine was made of wood. Why not reduce the image into chips and sell them? 

The night was quite dark. Armed with an axe Gogu scaled the temple wall. The priest had not bothered to lock the doors of the shrine. He pushed them open. A lamp was still burning before the deity. 

To carry the image would be difficult. But he could cut it into two and make the task easy for himself. He raised his axe. 

“Wait, you fool!” was a voice heard by Gogu. 

Gogu lowered his weapon. 

“You want money. Well, have a dip in the river at sunrise, keeping your right fist clenched. Go home and open your palm. You will find what you want," the voice said. 

Gogu decided to give the voice the benefit of doubt. He returned home without destroying the image. 

In the morning he did as advised. Lo and behold! He found a chip of gold when he opened his fist! 

He repeated the ritual the next day. He was again rewarded with gold.

In a year's time the villagers saw Gogu's hut changing into a mansion. So many servants attended upon him. Villagers called him Goguji and Gogu Sahib instead of 'Poor Gogu'! 

His immediate neighbour was Sadasiv, a poor teacher. The small Sanskrit school at which he was teaching had been closed down. He was tired of looking for a job. 

His wife managed to find out from Gogu's wife the secret of their affluence. "Look here," she told Sadasiv, "Threaten the deity with an axe and that will put an end to our misery." 

"How can I do that?" Sadasiv almost shrieked out. But ultimately his wife's argument prevailed. 

It was drizzling. At midnight Sadasiv entered the shrine. Even though he managed to raise the axe, he was sweating profusely. His hands were not steady. 

He fainted and collapsed. 

"You misguided one!" Sadasiv's consciousness recorded a voice, "Did you really believe that you could have done this? Is the ignorant Gogu your model? Your swadharma would not have allowed you to do what he was ready to do. Go back and struggle, remembering God. That is your way - a way far superior to that to Gogu." 

Sadasiv regained his sense and returned home. 

Gogu’s sudden rise to affluence does not mean that he was luckier, spiritually speaking, than Sadasiv.  Gogu had no conscience; the boon he received did not mean anything for him other than a gain out of a bargain. There was no gap between his Consciousness and his action. So far as Sadasiv was concerned, the gulf between his consciousness and what he proposed to do, even though it was a mere threat, was wide. Consequence of his action - had he taken recourse to it -would have been terrible.

---

(Manoj Das is an internationally known creative writer. He is the recipient of India’s national recognition, the Sahitya Akademi Award and the nation’s most prestigious literacy award, the Saraswati Samman. As a social commentator, his columns in India’s national dailies like The Times of India, The Hindustan Times, The Hindu and The Statesman, revealing the deeper truth and the untraced aspects behind current issues, have been highly appreciated.)