Kálii

Last Sunday I told you a few words about káliká. You must have understood that although the two words, káliká and kálii, are closely related, they are not exactly identical (hubahu)⁽¹⁾. The word kálii is formed by adding the suffix uṋgiic to the stem kála; we get the word káli by using the suffixes i and in. In most cases both the spellings, káli and kálii are correct. But the spelling with ii is not acceptable if the word forms the first part of a compound word. The rule applies to the adding of i or ii when a word ends with the phoneme la: ábalii-ábali, tálii-táli, karálii-karáli, kalii-kali, tamálii-tamáli, sthálii-stháli, shálmalii-shálmali, nálii- náli-ńálii-ńáli, etc. So while Káliidása is incorrect, Cańd́iidása is correct. The rule is applicable only to the end lra. Cańd́iidása, Deviidása do not have the end lra. You must have heard that the verbal root kala means to sound, to measure, to count, etc. That is the etymological meaning of kála. The feminine of the word is kálii. Although feminine, the meaning is the same. In common usage, by kálii/káli we understand the following:

1. Kálashakti: Although both káliká and kálii mean kálashakti, they do not have the same connotation. Káliká refers to the vibrational force by which kála is measured. But káli means the entity that measures kála. It was in this sense that the word káli was used in Buddhist Tantra, and the kálacakrayánii and Maháyánii schools used to worship Káli in the Bhaeravii Cakra. Later this kálacakrayána got lost in the wave of vajrayána [another Buddhist Tantra]. Even the last vestige of kálacakrayána disappeared under the pressure of vajrayána from the soil of Bengal some 1,100 years ago.

2. Another meaning of the word káli is the negative form of Cańd́ikáshakti. According to Puranic legend when Cańd́ii was asked to disclose her identity, even before she could answer, an ink-black entity emanated from her body and said, “I am not Cańd́ii”. Then Cańd́iká asked her, “Who are you?” She replied, “I am Káliká … I am Kaoveri.⁽²⁾ I am your negative self.”

   So, Káli means a special state of Cańd́ii.

3. Tárá (vajratárá, ugratárá, niilatárá, tathaevaca/tárá-tárińii-bhrámariitárá iti sá ucyate), originally a Buddhist goddess, was later incorporated into the Puranic religion, but the case of Káli is not exactly the same. Káli is certainly a Buddhist Naerátmadevii [nihilistic goddess]. But Káliká Tantra originated during the period when the ancient Shaeva school was predominant, as was the case during the rise of Jainism. For this reason, the Jains recognized Jaina-Shiva (Jyotirliuṋga) and accepted Párvatii as ádyáshakti or ambikáshakti or the collective form of sixty-four yoginiis; similarly, in Buddhism also Shiva has been accepted as Mahá Buddha. In the same way, Shiva’s earthly wife Kálii was considered an acoustic form of Naerátmadevii. As a result, Kálii not only acquired status in Buddhist religion, in Puranic Tantra also she was somewhat more firmly established than Tárá. Darjjeliḿ, the traditional Buddhist name of Darjeeling, became Durjaya Liuṋga in the Puranic language.

   For all the different meanings in which the word káli is used above, both i and ii are acceptable. But in the case where it is the first part of a compound word, ii is a must.

4. One meaning of the word káli is soot, that is, bhuśo [obtained from the smoke of wood, coal, oil, etc]. In this case the word káli must be spelt with i, without exception.

5. You must know that there is always soot (jhul) in the kitchens of housewives who pay scant attention to cleanliness. This soot is only a kind of bhuśo. Three things together make this jhul: water particles in the atmosphere, dust particles in the air and bhuśo. The bhuśo that hangs or keeps on hanging is called jhul [literally “something that is hanging”]. This kind of soot is also called káli. In this case also, the spelling will be káli [and not kálii].

6. Kájala (kajjvala): The word kajjvala is formed by adding the suffix jvala to kat, which etymologically means “something that shines in an ugly manner”. So one has to use va [with jj]. T of kat is converted into ja; so there must be two ja. And kad + jal = kajjal means swollen or expanded water, that is, cloud. In its spelling there will be two j-s but no va. So now you understand the difference between kajjvala and kajjala. However, this kajjvala or kájala is soot mixed with oil. This kájala is also called káli. It can be spelt only with li.

7. Well, can you tell me whether the people of India used to wear shoes in ancient times? Yes, it is true, human beings did not know how to wear shoes in pre-historic times when civilization was in its infancy, but they started using shoes when civilization had passed the first few stages. The Vipras [intellectuals] and the Vaishyas [business class] used wooden clogs with wooden balls attached. The Shúdras were not allowed to use shoes. The Kśatriyas wore leather sandals. In those days there was no arrangement for tanning. They used to rub the leather with the resin of gáb [kendu, mangosteen variety] and dry it in the sun. Then it was seasoned in lukewarm water for a lengthy period. When this process was repeated several times, the leather no longer remained a raw hide, and the stench was also removed to some extent. It is with this leather that nágrás [a kind of loose shoe or slipper] used by Kśatriyas were made. Formerly the Kayasthas of Bengal used to wear this nágrá at the time of marriage, perhaps in continuation of ancient tradition. However, the practice is no longer in vogue.

   The use of shoes brought in its wake the use of blackening [to polish.] the shoes. In spelling káli [black] used for polishing the shoes, both i and ii are acceptable. True, it is generally spelt with i, but it will not be wrong if you use ii. However, if the word is kalii, then the first part of a compound word must be written as káli with i.

8. Another meaning of the word káli is masii. The word masii is derived from the verbal root mas. The word káli is derived from the verbal root kála. As writing ink, that is, as masii, the word káli is widely used. Here also, although both i and ii are correct, the practice of writing it with i is more prevalent. But it will not be wrong to use ii. Perhaps in order to distinguish the goddess Kálii from all other uses of the word, they used i, although in most cases it would not have been wrong to use ii. In Sanskrit there is also limited use of the word kajjvala in the sense of writing ink – Asitagirisamaḿ syát kajjvalaḿ sindhupátre … . [If the Himalayas is considered an ink tablet and the ocean is the inkpot …]

9. Another meaning of the word káli is defective conduct or menial jobs. In this case also, both i and ii will go with la. But in Sanskrit, the custom of using i is very old – Eta pralobhaner madhye thekeo tár caritre káli lágeni [“Even in the midst of so many temptations, his character remained untarnished”.]

10. Of the seven flames of fire, one flame is called kálii. The real nature and the real form of a flame are determined by the speed of the wind and the percentage of unburnt carbon particles in the flame. Varied opinions notwithstanding, the seven flames of fire recognized during the Buddhist period of the scientist Nagarjuna are: i) kálii, ii) karálii, iii) lelihána, iv) lolojihvá, v) sarvalaktá, vi) kharpará, and vii) masiikrśńá.

11. One meaning of the word káli is night.

12. You know that the people of India have been familiar with coal for a long time. The Sanskrit word for coal is auṋgára, which in colloquial Bengali is áuṋgára or áuṋgrá. Charcoal was called káśt́háuṋgára, and the firewood (burning wood or dry wood) was called auṋgára-káśt́ha. In the Ráŕh region there are many villages with similar names, like Áuṋgáradihi, Áuṋgárahát́i, Áuṋgárasole, because the inhabitants of the Ráŕh region have been familiar with coal since ancient times. The people in those days did not know an effective method for digging up coal from a coal mine where deposits lay far below the earth’s surface. They used to dig up the earth, scoop out the coal and use it for burning, cooking and metallic crafts. At one time there were a number of open pits in Burdwan, Manbhum (Purulia and Dhanbad) and Hazaribag regions. In an open pit, the layers of coal sometimes rise and move towards the uppermost layer of the earth. So it was from open pits that coal used to be collected since very ancient times.

    The Bengali word kaylá has come from the word koilo (note the phonetic affinity of the Bengali kaylá or koilo with the English word “coal”) of Málavii Prákrta as well as ancient Gujarati languages. The introduction of the scientific method of lifting coal in Raniganj of Burdwan district ushered a new era in the coal industry. The contribution of “Kar-Thakur Company⁽³⁾” in this respect can never be forgotten.

    Although there was no scientific method to determine the quality [of coal], and although there was little acquaintance with the byproducts of coal tar and pitch, still people had some familiarity with coal tar and pitch. It means they had not yet invented saccharine or other coal-tar derivatives. No one inspired them in that direction. However, there was a sound infrastructure. They had a general idea regarding the location of available coal mines. They knew that there was a huge deposit of coal in the Damodar River bed. So they named the river Dámodara (dáma + udara). Dáma means “fire”. [and udara means “stomach”]. The river that has fire in its stomach is [literally] damodara. The Damodar basin had potentially the largest coal deposits. Today most of it is gone. Perhaps after some time there will be no coal in the upper layers of the coal mines. In order to collect coal, one will have to go deep down. Perhaps the venture may not be cost-effective then. Once a substitute for coal as fuel is invented, the mines will be abandoned. Instead we will have a huge lake stretching from Bhurkunda to Mejia. From the western side, the Damodar will flow into that lake, and then, leaving the lake, the river will run towards Durgapur. As the used mines are not properly filled with sand, the mines will collapse and these kinds of lakes will be created. The catastrophe that has befallen Jharia will befall the entire vast expanse of the Damodar basin.

13. The tar made from coal is called káli. In this case the spelling will always be with i.

14. Pitch or similar derivatives produced from coal are called kálii. In this case the spelling will always be with ii.

15. Sometimes you have seen clouds which are unusually dark. Such an excessively dark cloud, which frightens animals and children, is called káli.

16. I have said it earlier, and even then I say it again – the small bird which is known as shyámá in Bengal is also called káli or kálipakśii.

17. The melon having a very black skin is also called káli. You do not have to say káli-melon; just káli will suffice. At one time there was a huge production of the káli variety of melon in the Damodar basin from Amta to Tarakeshvar. I have no idea whether this melon is still available.

18. Like káliká or kálii one meaning of káli is coagulator.

19. Many of you must have eaten the scrapings of kaŕá-cáṋci [calcinated or condensed milk or milk products cooked in a cauldron, which tastes delicious] either by asking from your aunties in your childhood, or publicly, or in private as adults. This is also called káli.

Kályá

The word kályá refers to the female calf that has come of age and is in a position to give milk. When buying a cow, people generally select a cow with a calf or a cow that is ready to be milked. Normally people do not buy a female calf. You can freely use the word kályá in Bengali. Milk-yielding cows are generally divided into three categories – kályá, dhenu and sandhinii. One does not milk a cow in India for some time after it has given birth to a calf. A cow in that stage is called sandhinii. The reason behind this prohibition is to enable the newly born calf to have the entire milk for its development. So it was said, má pivet sandhinii dugdham [“One must not drink the milk of a cow that has just given birth to a calf.”]

Káshi/Káshii

The verbal root kásh means “to shine, to scintillate”, and the verbal root kás means “to make a nasty noise” (like kásá or bellmetal). In its etymological sense, káshii means “something that is shining”. In common usage Káshii [Varanasi] is a very old city situated on the bank of the Ganges. You can spell the word with both an i and ii [Káshi and Káshii], although generally it is spelt as Káshii. You must use sh in ákásha [sky], prakásha [manifestation], vikásha [development], etc. To write vikása would mean “one who is coughing badly”.

Káśt́ha/Káśt́há

I told you a little while ago that the verbal root kásh means to shine, to scintillate, and the verbal root kás means to make a nasty noise (to make different coughing sounds like khak-khak, khak-khak, khuk-khuk, khuk-khuk, khok-khok, khok-khok). By adding the suffix than (according to another opinion, kthan) we get the word káśt́ha, whose etymological meaning is “that which shines or scintillates”. Kásh + kth + na should become káshtha. But sha is a palatal consonant, while tha is dental; hence the two cannot be combined. Sha can be combined with the palatal cha. Now if for the sake of a combination [cluster] we write sa in place of sha, then the word will become kástha, which means an asthmatic patient. So you cannot use sa. It is safer to use the word káśa. But śa is retroflex and therefore cannot be combined with the dental tha. In this case, therefore, śa has been clustered with the second retroflex letter, t́ha. The spelling has thus become káśt́ha.

In common usage the word káśt́ha means “wood”. Káśt́ha > kát́t́ha > kát́h/kát́. According to the science of phonetics the spelling can be both kát́h and kát́. But since the usual practice in Bengali is to spell the word as káth, we should allow it remain as such. In feminine, however, the word káśt́há has several meanings in common usage:

1. We divide this earth of ours into the eastern hemisphere and western hemisphere on the basis of the temporal dimension of the sunrise and the sunset. Again owing to the angular changes [of the earth] during different seasons, sunlight does not fall equally on the northern and southern parts of the earth. Sometimes the sun is hotter in the Tropic of Cancer, and sometimes in the Tropic of Capricorn. So the northern and southern hemispheres of the earth are divided according to the predominance of heat or cold. In this manner we have four parts of the earth: i) the northern part of the eastern hemisphere, ii) the southern part of the eastern hemisphere, iii) the northern part of the western hemisphere, and iv) the southern part of the western hemisphere. Each of these four parts of the earth is called a káśt́há.

2. a. The verbal root kásh means something that shines or glitters or is luminous. So by adding the suffix u to the verbal root vas, we get the word vasu. The soul resides in the eight elements, using them as its base: five prapaiṋca or paiṋcabhuta [five fundamental factors], cittatatattva [ectoplasm], ahaḿtattva [the doer ́I’], and mahattattva [the pure ́I’]. So these eight elements are called aśt́avasu. Káśt́há also means aśt́avasu.

   b. Those who have the title Vasu should spell it as Vasu and not as Basu, Vinode Vasu and not Binod Basu, for example.

3. When drawing a line to separate one area from another, the line should be drawn conspicuously. One must do it by erecting a fence, building a wall, digging a hole, constructing an embankment or digging a ditch. In special cases, káśt́há also means a ditch (pagár). You must have used the expression, Se pagár pár haye geche. [He has crossed the ditch.] In a broad sense, káśt́há means borderline or frontier.

4. If the totality of an object comprises sixteen kalá or sixteen parts, then the thirteenth part of each of these [sixteen] parts will be called one káśt́há. For example, in ancient times people believed that on the first day of the moon they see only one kalá [1/16 of the whole moon]. On the second day they see two kalás [2/16] of the moon. On the thirteenth day they see thirteen kalás [13/16] of the moon, on the fourteenth day fourteen kalás [14/16] and on full moon day, fifteen kalas [15/16]. The sixteenth kalá [the sixteenth lunar digit] cannot be seen. The reason is because the slightly tilted position of the moon causes the sixteenth part to be covered by darkness. In ancient times people used to refer to that sixteenth kalá as amákalá [the black lunar digit] or Indu. In any case, 1/13 part of each kalá is called a káśt́há.

5. The time taken by a person to close the eyes is called palaka. Eighteen palakas make one káśt́há.

6. If we like something we call it “good” (bhadra > bhalla > bhallá > bháilá > bhálá > bhála). The beneficence for which reason we admire an entity is also called pará káśt́há.

   You know that in their imagination human beings create a general standard for everything. The more something rises above this standard, the more it elicits human admiration. In this process of rising to the pinnacle, the highest point (the zenith point) that we reach is called káśt́há. Similarly, when something of general standard begins to decline, the lower it sinks, the more it elicits human hatred. The lowest point is hated by most the people. This lowest point is the nadir point. Similarly, if we consider this quinquelemental world as the general standard, then as we go higher and higher through the levels of bhú, bhuvah, sva, maha, jana and tapah, we finally reach the zenith, the highest point of the Satyaloka. Similarly, if we descend deeper and deeper through tala-atala-talátala-pátála, we will reach the nadir point in rasátala. The highest point will be called káśt́há, and the lowest point will be called apa káśt́há.

7. You know everything moves in the form of waves. A wave is divided into two parts – the upper part and the lower part, ascent and descent. The combination of an ascending part with its immediately preceding, descending part is called a káśt́há.

8. You know that the peak of ascent is specially known as káśt́há. But to give it special importance we call it parákáśt́há. Similarly, the nadir of descent is called apakáśt́há. To say that “He has shown the parákáśt́há of sacrifice” means, “He has reached the pinnacle of sacrifice”. In the Puranas it is said, Kalá káśt́hádi rúpeńa…⁽⁴⁾

Kásara

Ka+ ásara = kásara. á + sr + aca + ásara which means “to move towards someone’s side”, “to go towards someone”. Ka means water. So kásara etymologically means “to move towards water” or “one who goes towards water”. In common usage, kásara means:

1. “A Buffalo”. Whether it is alone or in a herd, yoked to a bullock cart or yoked to the plough, a buffalo always runs towards water whenever it sees water. So kásara means a buffalo.

2. In common usage kásara means an otter. If you chase an otter, or if it feels endangered for some reason, it at once runs away and jumps into the water. That is why in Sanskrit one name of the otter is udbiŕál, which literally means water-cat, and in English sea-lion or water-lion. The face of an otter has some similarity to the face of a lion. Perhaps that is the reason why the word “lion” has been used in connection with the otter:

Báŕiir begun dobár mách
Tái kheye kheye bhoṋdaŕ nác.

[The otter dances happily after eating homegrown brinjal and pondfish.]

Kására

Ka + ására. Etymologically it means “the water that attracts others”. In common usage kására means a large water reservoir. In a large water reservoir there are no banks. The shore level slopes gently down to the water line. That is why a sea, lake, old wetland or fen – all can be called kására. It may be seen that when a very old pond keeps on breaking its banks and comes to a stage where it has virtually no bank, the adjacent ground also keeps on eroding to meet the water line. This kind of pond with broken banks or dams is also called kására.

Ku + d́ikhin = kikhi. The verbal root ku is used in many senses. One meaning is grinning and grimacing. So, the etymological meaning of the word kikhi is “one who grimaces”. One speciality about the suffixes d́ikhin and kvan is that the last phoneme of the verbal root can alternately be i. For example, if you add the suffix kvan/kvas to the verbal root kan, the resulting word will of course be kańva, but it can also be kińva. Similarly, if you add the suffix d́ikhin, it can be both kukhi and kikhi. But the kukhi form is not prevalent. In common usage, the word kikhi means:

1. “Monkey”. On the slightest occasion, either due to fear or excitement, a monkey grimaces with clenched fist. So it is called kikhi. This habit of the monkey is prehistoric. Although the ancestors of human beings and monkeys are the same, they were separated at least one million years ago. So a human being also, when frightened or excited, clenches the fist and grimaces. A small child keeps its fist clenched most of the time, and the habit of grimacing also remains predominant in childhood.

2. Another meaning of kikhi in common use is fox. A fox has glinting teeth and face. So one synonym of fox in Sanskrit is ulkámukhii [meteor-faced]

   While talking about kikhi, I am reminded of an incident after a long time.

   That day I had come to the coal depot quite early in the morning and, standing in the queue, I had been most indifferently counting the leaves of a banyan tree. (In the morning you cannot see the stars; if it were possible, I would have been counting the stars only.) All of a sudden I met Ujbuk Singh. Ujbuk Singh is the chief orderly of Akalmand Singh. He was familiar with many private and public matters of his boss. I learnt from Ujbuk Singh that about fifteen days previously his boss had become an additional minister (deputy minister). On seeing me, he gave a broad, beaming smile and said, “Sarkar sahib, since my boss has become the deputy minister, everyday he tells me about his desire to see you. Only this morning he told me, ́I must see Sarkar sahib today by any means. You go to his house and immediately make a ”pontmont“ (”appointment“) with him.’ But I could never imagine that I would run into you like this.”

   I asked, “But why deputy minister? At one time he was a full minister!”

   Ujbuk Singh said: “The time he was a full minister there were many complaints against him regarding nepotism, bribery, casteism, and so on. An enquiry commission was also instituted. But the commission was secretly asked not to give its report before the election. Although the report of the commission has not yet been published, there has certainly been some scandal about my boss. So it is slightly risky to include my boss in the cabinet of ministers. But if he is completely left out, then there may be a rift in the party. So as a compromise formula, he has been made a deputy minister”.

   I said, “Well, I get the point.”

   Ujbuk Singh then asked me: “Please tell me then when my boss should meet you.”

   I said, “Well, exactly at five. If he comes after that I cannot meet him. I am not going to listen to any of those lame excuses like – ‘got late while cutting the ribbon … three cheap toilets were to be inaugurated,’ etc. – understand, Mr Ujruk Singh?”

   He said, “Yes, sir, I understand.”

   The clock struck five. Keeping in mind the time of appointment, Akalmand Singh appeared just in time.

   I asked him: “What’s the matter? How are you?”

   He said, “Earlier I used to waste money on useless things. Now I spend it on having sweets.”

   I asked, “How is that?”

   Akalmand replied: “These days I have become non-violent.”

   I rejoined, “Please clarify a little.”

   He responded: “You know for certain that in western India people say, Jaenu cuńá má Vaiśńavanu duná má. It means that the Jains spend their money on lime, that is, in building big houses and big temples, while the Vaeśńavas spend their money on sweet packets.”

   “Please explain it a little more”, I requested.

   He said, “These days I have accepted non-violence as a creed; that is, I have taken it as a way of life.”

   “But if a minister is non-violent, how can it be?” I queried.

   He asked, “Why?”

   “Of which department are you the deputy minister?” I asked.

   “Of Transport,” he replied.

   I asked, “If some miscreants carelessly begin to set fire to your vehicles, what are you going to do?”

   He said, “I shall shoot arrows.”

   I asked, “Why arrows in this age of megaton bombs!”

   He explained, “Look, everything that is supposed to be progressive in modern science is actually bad for human beings. Whatever was there in bygone days was actually good. Raw sugar is better than sugar, khádi [hand-woven coarse cotton cloth] is better than Mill-made cloth, steam engine is better than a rocket, so an arrow is certainly better than a megaton bomb.”

   I retorted, “Good or bad, that [arrow] will also kill people. That is also an act of violence.”

   Akalmand said, “These days the education system has become so defective that by arrows (shars) you understand a metal arrow.That is not the sense in which I have used the word arrows, and that is not the actual meaning of the word ‘arrows’ either. That is neither the etymological meaning nor is that the meaning in common use. That is just a defect of the modern educational system. So we have decided to completely overhaul the educational system.”

   I asked, “Why do you evade the main issue? Just tell me what you understand by the word shar.”

   He explained, “Shar means the reed from which pens are made – the kind of thing we used for writing in our childhood – the thing that is called kháger kalam [pen made of reed] by people in the villages.”

   “Of what use is that arrow?” I queried.

   He answered, “I shall inscribe the word ‘non-violent’ on every arrow, and that will suffice.”

   I asked, “After becoming non-violent, are you planning to put a total prohibition on the use of arms?”

   He confirmed, “Yes. We want to stop the use of arms all over the world.”

   I enquired, “If you decide not to use any kind of weapon, how are you going to cut the vegetables?”

   He answered, “I don’t cut [the vegetable] into two or cut it into pieces. I burn or bake or boil it to eat.”

   I questioned, “The other day when a grandson was born to you, how did you cut its umbilical cord?”

   He answered, “I have completely prohibited the use of any weapon. So I asked the nurse to cut the umbilical cord with the help of a bamboo slip.”

   I pursued, “Last time when your grandfather died, how did you cut the bamboo for making the hearse?”

   He replied, “There was no need to cut the bamboo. We put fire at the places where it was to be cut and then twisted it several times, and it broke on its own.”

   I said, “Well I, understand. But did you not chop the logs into small pieces for burning?”

   He said, “The chopped logs were not necessary at all. We burnt it in the crematorium.”

   I then realized that Akalmand Singh was adamant.

   I resumed, “You are engaged in agriculture and farming. Then many insects must die at the tip of the plough or a power-tiller or tractor when you use these to till the soil. Is that not an act of violence? The sickle with which you reap the corn, is it not a weapon?”

   Akalmand retorted, “I no longer tread a path of sin like that. I no longer cultivate. That is a great sin… great sin…great sin. I have given up farming altogether.”

   I asked, “What are you doing then?”

   He said, “I have begun to build a cow herd, maintain cows and do dairy farming”.

   I asked, “Then how do you give fodder to the cows? How do you cut the bunch of straw to pieces?”

   He said, “I don’t cut the hay; I don’t cut the straw to pieces. I tear it by hand and put the pieces in the eating vessel.”

   Now I realized that Akalmand is indeed a very serious practitioner of non-violence.

   I said, “I have noticed that many gods and goddesses have weapons in their hands. Do you think they believe in violence?”

   Akalmand responded, “Look, in this respect I have a few words to say. First, you should never compare divinities with humans. What is prohibited to humans is allowed to divinities. And what is forbidden for divinities is allowed to humans. So when divinities have weapons in their hands, we must presume that those are not weapons; those are sacred objects like copper vessel and basil leaves. And in case they really have weapons, even that does not matter.”

   Devatár belay liilákhelá
   Páp likheche mánuśer belá.

   [What is playful pleasantry for divinities is considered sin for humans.]

   I asked, “And what is your second argument?”

   Akalmand replied, “What you see in the hands of divinities and take for weapons are not actually weapons. That is your misunderstanding – a learning error. That is the reason why I say that the educational system must be overhauled”.

   I said, “Many gods and goddesses have bows and arrows in their hands. How would you account for that?”

   He said, “Didn’t I tell you a little while ago that an arrow means shar, a pen made of reed?”

   I said, “Many gods and goddesses carry lotus in their hands. There are bees, wasps, bumblebees, etc. in the lotus, and these insects sting. Is it non-violence?”

   He replied, “You should remove the insects by violently shaking the lotus before you put it in the hand of a god or a goddess. Then it will be alright.”

   I said, “Many deities have conch shells in their hands. A conch is a marine creature. The fishermen catch them in their nets. Then they boil it in hot water and remove the flesh and other parts. Then they clean the shell and sell it in the market. Is it not violence?”

   He said, “Yes, what you have said is partly true but not wholly true.”

   “Why?” I asked.

   He said, “There are also many dead conches in the sea. If the fishermen collect only those, then there will be no violence.”

   I said, “But will the fishermen agree?”

   He said, “We will make an amendment of the Constitution to prohibit the collection of live conches.”

   I said, “Then are you going to prohibit fishing [live fish] as well?”

   “No problem,” he said. “Even otherwise, the Constitution is amended a dozen times every year. What does it matter if it is amended a few more times?”

   I said, “But what about the clubs and mallets that some gods and goddesses have in their hands? Would you call that non-violent also?”

   Akalmand retorted, “Look, again it raises the question of lack of education and bad education.”

   I said, “Do you mean to say that owing to our lack of education, what we take for clubs in the hands of gods and goddesses are not really clubs?”

   He said, “Exactly. You took the words right out of my mouth.”

   “How’s that?” I asked.

   He declared, “People who believe in violence have armed gods and goddesses with clubs for their own ideological satisfaction. Actually it is not a club at all; it is a gourd – a club-gourd, in fact. Haven’t you read Shabda Cayaniká? There lots of praise has been showered on the club-gourd. The gods with club-gourds in their hands want to say, ‘O humans! Without wasting any more time, start eating preparations of club-gourd. It will do you immense good!’”

   I asked, “Then what we take for a club in the hands of the divinities is actually a club-gourd?”

   He said, “Yes, of course yes; a hundred times yes.”

   I proffered, “Well, we have practically finished the discussion. But, still there is one point that is yet to be sorted out. What about the cakra [the wheel-shaped missile], the boomerang that we see in the hands of some divinities?”

   He averred, “Here also the issue is lack of education and bad education. This is the reason why in the cabinet we are discussing seven and a half times every day how to overhaul the entire educational system.”

   I retorted, “If you want to overhaul the educational system, do it. It’s your baby; you do whatever you like. You know better. Once a minister obstinately removed English from the syllabus and in the process ruined an entire generation of students. Those students are nowhere now; they are not getting any job. Some, after doing B.A., are bleating about, and some after doing M.A., are babbling about. Anyway, you are at the helm of affairs; you do whatever you like. But you just account for the cakra.”

   He said, “Your basic premise is wrong. The divinities never had any cakra, nor will they ever have any. This is either your misunderstanding or your optical illusion.”

   “What do you mean?” I queried.

   He answered, “That is actually a spinning wheel, that is, carká. The divinities are holding it in their hands.”

   “What are you trying to suggest?” I asked.

   Akalmand retorted, “What does your linguistics say, or philology or phonetics?”

   “The word carká has come from the word cakra, and not the other way round,” I answered.

   Akalmand said, “So, there you are!”

   “How so?” I asked.

   He explained, “The rules in the divine society are just the opposite of the rules of human society. I mean, according to the language of the divinities, the word cakra has come from the word carká. The divinities had spinning wheels in their hands, and the violent humans have made it into cakra.”

   I now understood that Akalmand Singh is an out and out non-violent person. I thought I would go one time to his house and see the changes that have taken place since he became a votary of non-violence.

   The next day, very early in the morning – even before the crows had started cawing – I started for the house of Akalmand Singh. As I knocked on the door, a servant said from inside, “The master is not at home.” The residents forthwith began whispering something amongst themselves. Then I overheard a lady telling the servant, “Tell him that he’s at home, but it will take some time to see him.”

   Then the servant said, “Sir, the master’s at home but you will have to wait for some time”.

   Whereupon I told the servant, “Tell him, that I am Mr. Sarkar; I will not wait even one second, I’m leaving.”

   I had hardly gone two steps when Akalmand Singh, busy putting a guernsey on rushed up to me exclaiming, “Where are you going! The servant told you all rubbish without knowing you.”

   “Did you instruct him like that?” I asked.

   He affirmed, “Yes, I only instructed him like that. You see, people visit me with all kinds of motives. In order to escape them, I’ve given this instruction.”

   Holding me [respectfully], Akalmand led me into his drawing room.

   I told him, “Now I won’t sit inside. Better let’s go to the rooftop; we’ll get some fresh air there.”

   As I was about to climb the stairs leading to the roof with his storeroom on our right, I noticed a recently killed, huge rat lying against the outer wall of the storeroom.

   I blurted out, “Shame, shame, shame, shame! What’s this! Fie, fie! What’s this? Such an act of violence in the house of a non-violent person! What an act of cruelty – an anathema! The sacred vow of non-violence thrown to the winds! This is virtually a slaughtering of nonviolence! Alas! Alas! How has it come to such a pass?”

   The dark face of Akalmand Singh turned violet (had his face been white, it would have turned crimson in shame) as he replied. “This is exactly what I was going to tell you. Just look at these corporation people; just see what they have done.”

   I rejoined, “How strange! The corporation people stormed into your storeroom and killed the rat, and then themselves disappeared without even caring to remove the dead rat as they saw me entering! Just see what an awkward situation they have actually put you in!”

   “When exactly did the corporation people come?” I asked.

   He said. “No one came from the corporation”.

   “Then why do you blame them?” I asked.

   He said, “Yesterday afternoon the corporation people were watering the streets with a hose. There was a monkey sitting on a tin roof by the wayside. A flippant young boy directed the mouth of the hose towards the monkey for fun. Annoyed and irritated as well as frightened by it, with gritting teeth and grimaces he jumped out of sight. Just nearby there was a huge grazing area … a grazing ground for buffaloes. A huge buffalo, you understand, a kásara”

   I said, “Oh yes, yes, of course I know, for sure I know.”

   He resumed, “Annoyed by the grimaces of the monkey, a huge Gujarati buffalo weighing some sixty maunds⁽⁵⁾ rushed at the monkey. There was a hurdle on the way: a wall made of earth. The wall collapsed as the buffalo dashed against it. On the other side of the wall an elephant was standing. As soon as the wall collapsed on its body, the flabbergasted elephant started running at a speed of two hundred miles per minute. In the course of running, this elephant violently collided against the roadside wall of my storeroom. There were a number of dishes kept against the wall, and the rat, sitting in the chinks between the plates, was happily chewing the bones of a fish.”

   I wondered, “Fish bones in the house of nonviolence! Strange…totally topsy-turvy! Alas, alas, see how nonviolence is ruthlessly butchered! It is like seeing a stone floating on water! Whatever fish it may be – be it shol [large tubular fish] or moháshol [a larger variety of shol] – eating fish is a serious act of violence, surely a serious act of violence indeed!”

   He said apologetically, “It is only the servants who eat fish, the residents don’t. Anyway, with the push of the elephant, the utensils fell down noisily, and look; it had to fall on the rat! How can such a small creature of God stand the weight of so many dishes! Consequently it died of suffocation. I have now planned to perform its funeral rites. Then I shall organize a kiirtana of nonviolence. All the big ministers, half-ministers, ministers without portfolio – all, all will come. I am planning to put up a multi-coloured canopy, and I am trying to see that this particular day is declared a holiday.”

   I said, “Holiday? Just for such a petty thing!”

   He said defensively, “These days – reason or no reason – holidays are very frequent. And when such a heart-rending accident has occurred in the house of someone who is no less than a deputy minister, how can there be no holiday? The day must be declared a holiday, must, must, must.”

   I again asked, “Who then has actually killed the rat?”

   He promptly replied, “Of course the corporation people. It is their fault that such a mishap took place.”

   I said, “Do you know, there is a word, ‘hypocrisy’ in English. Look it up in the dictionary and see how it is rendered in Bengali.”

   He apologized, “I don’t know much English.”

   I asked, “How are you doing the job of a minister then?”

   He said, “Oh, for running a ministry you don’t need to know English. I understand things because the secretaries explain it. Then I just put my signature on the place they point to with their forefinger.”

   I wondered, “So you can sign then!”

   He admitted, “Formerly I was not able to. Then somebody wrote my name. And then, by repeatedly tracing it with ink, I have attained quite some mastery in signing my name.”

   I asked, “Before this you used to manage with the fingerprint then?”

   He confessed, “Exactly.”

   “Do you remember which finger you used for the purpose?” I asked.

   He boasted, “There is no chance of making any mistake about that.”

   I asked, “Which finger, just tell me.”

   He replied, “Why, of course the right toe.”

   I said, “Then please ask somebody to find out for you the exact Bengali meaning of the word, ‘hypocrisy’.”

Footnotes

(1) Hubahu is a foreign word.

(2) In South India there is a river named Kaoveri. People mistakenly call it Káveri.

(3) “Thakur” has been anglicized as “Tagore”. –Trans.

(4) “Paramá Prakrti advances onwards in the form of crest and trough.”.–Trans.

(5) One maund = about 82 lbs. –Trans.