Mr. Manoraiṋjan Ghosh-dasdidar was a gentleman who lived in Calcutta. One day he decided to visit his home village, Gabha, in Bakharganj district of Bangladesh. He wrote to his house steward, Gopal Das, asking him to make the necessary preparations for his visit and to meet him at the steamer jetty.

During Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar’s absence from the village many events had taken place in his family about which he was still unaware. After disembarking from the steamer he asked Gopaldas, “Gopal, how’s my family?”

“Everyone’s very well, sir,” he replied, pausing. “Everyone, that is, except the Alsatian.⁽¹⁾ The poor dog passed away.”

Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar was deeply grieved by this sad news. “What was the cause of death?” he said, recovering from the initial shock.

“It’s very unfortunate, sir, very unfortunate indeed.” replied Gopal. “The sight of a tiger’s footprints, the spotting of a snake, birth, marriage and death – they all occur due to divine will. There’s nothing we humans can do to prevent their occurrence. The poor Alsatian died after eating roasted meat.”

“Roasted meat!” exclaimed Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar. “What type of roasted meat, for God’s sake!”

Gopal was a master in the use of tact. “The day your house burned down,” he continued, “your horse was scorched alive in her stable. The Alsatian died after attempting to eat roasted horse meat.”

“What, my spirited Arabic horse is no more!” exclaimed Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar in utter disbelief.

“I told you, sir, that birth, marriage and death are decided by fate. We have no say in the matter whatsoever,” said Gopal.

“When did this terrible mishap occur?” asked Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar.

“Just two days after your grandmother died of cholera,” said Gopaldas.

“What! Grandma is also dead. This is too much to believe,” lamented Mr. Dasdidar.

As tactfully as he could Gopal said, “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but it’s true – your grandmother has breathed her last.”

“When did this happen?” asked Manoraiṋjan. “I didn’t hear anything at all.”

“I don’t recall the exact date, sir,” replied Mr. Das, “but it must have been within a week of the death of your son.”

“My god! My dear son – dead!” said Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar, his voice choking with grief. “A short while ago you said everyone’s well.”

“I was being tactful, sir. I thought it best to break the news slowly.”

Mr. Ghosh-dasdidar burst into tears. “What happened to my little child?” he sobbed.

“Sir, it was very difficult for the child to survive without his mother. When your wife passed away there was no one to take care of him, so it was very difficult to save his life.”

“Oh my dear wife,” he wailed. “Can there be any worse tragedy? She, too, is no more. All my dearest ones have passed away. No one is left to visit. What is the point of going any further?” And he returned to the steamer jetty.

Footnotes

(1) Strictly speaking the Alsatian is more closely related to the wolf group than the dog group. Even then, there are four major differences between wolves and Alsatians. Alsatians have a stronger sense of smell. Wolves are much more aggressive than Alsatians and may kill an animal even when they are not hungry. Wolves eat a lot more than Alsatians – it is said a wolf can eat two and a half times its own body weight in one sitting. After such a feast it normally remains as inert as a corpse for several days. Finally, an Alsatian is more easily tamed than a wolf and is very faithful to its master.
Dogs evolved as a result of cross breeding between wolves and jackals. The evolutionary history of the Alsatian has yet to be determined. Wolves are mentioned in all the ancient languages of the world, and in some languages even have a few synonyms, but there is no mention of Alsatians. The Saḿskrta term for wolf is vrkavyághra. In the Vedic age wolves were killed for their flesh and wolf lungs were quite a delicacy. In both Saḿskrta and Bengali literature references are made to the voracity of wolves. Bhima, the second Pandava brother, was also called Vikodara because he was always as hungry as a wolf. There are a number of amusing stories about Bhima’s insatiable appetite.
You might have read in the Mahábhárata that when the five pandava brothers were in exile they handed over the alms they collected to Kunti, their mother. Kunti divided the food into two: half for Bhima and herself and half for the other four brothers. One day Bhima announced he wanted to fast like his mother and brothers. “If my brothers can fast for a day, so can I,” Bhima told his mother. Kunti advised him, “Don’t try to fast. You’ll find it rather troublesome.” “But mother,” he said, “life is lived to overcome troubles. I, the second Pandava, never hesitate to accept a challenge. Please allow me to fast, mother.” “Well, you can try,” she said, “but I’ll keep your breakfast ready for you just in case.”
Early in the morning of the fasting day Bhima checked the time. “Mother, it’s already six o’clock and I haven’t asked for breakfast.” Fifteen minutes later he said, “It’s 6:15 mother, and I’m still not hungry.” “Well, I’ve prepared your breakfast anyway,” she informed him. “I’ll boil your milk now.” At 6:30 Bhima said, “I feel a little hungry, mother, but I won’t eat anything. I promise I won’t change my mind.” “Shall I serve breakfast?” his mother asked. “No thank you. Let me wait a little more.” Finally, at 6:45 Bhima looked at his wrist watch and said, “I can’t wait any longer, mother. I’m as hungry as a wolf.” “Just wait a few minutes while I bring your milk to the boil,” said his mother. Thereafter, it is said, Bhima ate 300 kilos of puffed rice soaked in warm milk. What a fasting day he had!
That particular day when Bhima made a noble attempt to fast is still remembered as Bhaemii ekádashii (Bhima’s fasting day) to this day.