Swaroop's gaffe (755)

 

Swaroop had joined a new company in a senior position just a fortnight before the new year. As was the usual custom, all executives were requested to attend the New Year’s Eve party with spouses without fail. He asked his wife Kusum to accompany him for the party at  Hotel Ariya.She pleaded  her inability saying, “How can I come when I am also to attend a similar party at my new office? They were particular that no one should abstain.”

Swaroop felt it would look odd and not befitting his position if he were to go alone singly but she was adamant. When he reached the foyer of the hotel and stood hesitantly, he found a strikingly attractive woman looking at him intently. When he stared back at her without turning his head, she too kept her gaze fixed on him. A fleeting thought occurred whether she could be a fun-loving and daring type. When he smiled at her nodding his head imperceptibly, she came quickly by his side and said, “Have we met before here? I am Shyama.”

"I am not sure but you look quite familiar. I am Swaroop and I am here to attend a New Year Eve party supposedly with my spouse. I am in a quandary as she is not in a position to attend. Are you by any chance alone here?" he asked.

When she nodded her head, Swaroop continued,"  Lucky, we found each other. Just wondering if  you are free for the next three or four  hours? Please do not take me amiss,” he said.

“Hahaha! You want me to impersonate your wife, do you? Yes, I do not mind helping you  but would charge you by the hour, what say,” she said laughing somewhat boisterously.

“No price is too high for you, Shyama. Please accompany me and behave perfectly like my wife. Do not take me wrong and read much into this temporary deal, I warn you in advance,” he said with a  twinkle.

The party started by 9pm with drinks followed by dance and dinner. Swaroop let everyone assume Shyama  was his wife. She was so adept in dancing and engaging in conversation that she soon became the cynosure of all present. She in turn enjoyed  all the attention on her  while Swaroop turned into an  object of envy . By 11 pm everyone moved to the main hall standing in small groups. Many of the participants gravitated to where Shyama and Swaroop were standing.

He could not resist comparing Kusum with Shyama and felt though the latter was sprightly and good in dance, she cannot hold a candle to Kusum who was extremely intelligent, sophisticated and loving. He was feeling a sense of guilt at this crazy arrangement he got into  for the party. It was then  he heard behind him a gentle voice calling his name. He turned pale in great shock with panic on his face on seeing Kusum darting towards him.

“ I hope you are now happy that  I am here. Luckily I could wrench myself away from that boring crowd in my office to be with you,” she said in good cheer even as she snuggled close to him in great warmth. 

When others in confusion looked askance at her, Kusum threw a bombshell ,”Sorry for interrupting unannounced. I am Kusum, Swaroop’s wife. Sorry for being late as I was held up late in my office.”

Some wag blurted looking at Shyama, “Arrey, what is this tomfoolery? We were all along given the impression that this vivacious lady is Swaroop’s wife.”

Everyone turned their gaze towards Shyama to her great discomfiture. With her face red in anger and embarrassment, she exploded at Swaroop, “You liar, you told me that your wife would not come. I am done with you. Give me my fee of Rs.3000 as agreed upon and never ever contact me again.” Turning to Kusum, she said, “You are lucky. He was tiring me all through the party talking about you, your graceful demeanour, your intelligence and the deep love you have for him. Fie on him, I detest him.”

There were loud guffaws from colleagues at his gaffe and heartbroken sobbing from Kusum. Swaroop's indiscretion cost him not only the loss of face among colleagues but he had  also forfeited the trust among his bosses who were present and left a lingering doubt on his fidelity in the mind of Kusum despite the mollifying words from Shyama.

“Every short-cut has a price usually greater than the reward”

 

Not all the changes are welcome (1336))

 

Subban had no family and no job either. He never knew where his next meal would come from. He was  by nature a timid man, kind and helpful, straighforward and disliked fights.However,he had a weakness for toddy and would stand on the road inviting the hesitant passers-by to the thatched shed  partially hidden by trees where the toddy aka kallu was sold along with roasted nuts,pickles and steamed chana seasoned with some spices. The owner of the shop who knew his usefulness gave him daily  free  toddy and the left-over side dishes. Whenever there was a heavy crowd, the owner would take his help to hand over the toddy bottles on the basis of tokens in different colours. Over a period of time he had a free run of the place in the absence of the owner but he never misused it.

As he was standing on the road one hot  day with a bottle of the brew and munching roasted nuts, a bare-chested man with unkempt hair, beard and mustache came near him. He said he was thirsty and extremely hungry. Subban took pity on him and readily gave him  the bottle with toddy and roasted nuts.When he gulped the entire thing in one go, Subban gave him another bottle with some briyani.

With his hunger gone and the mood elated with the intoxicating drink inside him ,the mendicant asked Subban to sit by his side under the tree and said,” I am very pleased with you for your kindness and ready help. I wish to repay the debt of gratitude. I have no money but have some special powers that I can bestow on you. Would you be interested?”

“What would that be ?” Subban asked.

“You must have heard of the transmigration of souls into another body. You can choose the  person into whom you wish to enter. He in turn would enter your body. You can choose to be a rich and powerful man, a holy hermit, a famous sportsman, a renowned warrior or whomever you wish to. I am in a hurry. Tell me now immediately for me to make the change. I will come here exactly after a month if you need my help,” he said.

Subban’s only aim was to get out of his poverty. He could think of no other person than a rich and powerful politician from his area. He had a wife, palatial bungalow, cars and many servants. Without any loss of time, he named the man.The  bearded mystic uttered some mumbo jumbo and presto the change was effected with the mystic disappearing simultaneously

Subban waited for a few minutes for the transmigration to take place but found himself still under the tree. He was eagerly looking forward to the palatial bungalow, the scrumptious food, car and other comforts. Nothing was forthcoming. Instead when a passer-by asked him where the toddy shop was, Subban hit him in anger  and snapped  “How dare you ask me for a toddy shop, you scoundrel? Do you know who I am? ‘continuing with foul expletives.

The owner, who was watching from a distance, was taken aback at the strange behaviour and wondered whether he was overdrunk. He came near Subban and put his hand on him in a friendly manner when the latter pushed his hand away and  blurted in anger, “Take your dirty toddy smelling hand off me.Do you know who I am? I can have this shop closed within 24 hours, you cheapster, unless you pay me 50,000 rupees in hard cash by nightfall.”

Taken aback at his insolent behaviour and demand for money, the owner without losing his cool took his hand away and asked him gently, ”Subba,what has got over you? This is strange for I have never seen you in anger. Take some rest in the corner of the shed. You will be fine soon.”

This infuriated Subban further  and he shouted, “How dare you address me by name? You have the temerity to ask me to take rest on the bench in this foul smelling and mosquito infested  shanty. You will pay for it soon, I warn you.”

The owner became furious and  hit Subban hard, forbade him from entering the shop again and with the help of two regular customers threw him out on the road where he lay unconscious.

*****

At the politician’s house, a few businessmen who were waiting patiently for an audience with the leader were taken by surprise when the leader himself, an agnostic, wearing an ash mark and Kumkum prominently on his forehead, entered the waiting hall with folded hands. “What brings you people  here? Did I make you wait for long? Were you served with refreshments? You could have met me in my office. Tell me what I can do for you,” he said.

The surprised businessmen, noticing the  sea change in his usually boorish behaviour, sheepishly smiled and proffering a suitcase said, “Sir, here is the amount agreed upon. I hope you will kindly accept it and arrange for clearance of the file.”

“What file and what is to be cleared? What agreement and why the money to me? All  government  transactions should be made only at the treasury,” the leader expressed surprise.

Confused they looked at him when one of the businessmen summoned the courage to say, ”He he he, this is the usual speed money you demand for clearing our files and we always offer. We beg of you to accept it and help us.”

“I am not aware of such irregular things. Please go away before making  me lose my calm,” the leader said and went inside abruptly.

“What has befallen him? Has he lost his senses?” they murmured among themselves and left the scene in disbelief.

His wife came to him to ask him,” It  is nearing one  and the lunch is ready.”

On seeing the dining table with  a large spread of multi varied items of food ,delicacies and dessert, he asked. “Is there any party today and for what occasion? Where are the guests?”

“Nothing of the sort. It is the usual daily fare for the two of us. What is wrong with you asking funny questions? I have been noticing since last night that you are behaving oddly, ” she asked.

“Are you not aware of the lot of poor who do not get even one meal properly and yet you are wasting so much? I insist you prepare only the required quantity and avoid such criminal waste,” he admonished her gently. She jabbed her jaw to her shoulders in sheer contempt for her husband and thought to herself whether  he had really lost his mind since  yesterday.

Early next morning, when the leader was seen along with one assistant walking in the bustee of poor people checking for himself their living conditions and enquiring about the availability of water, the drainage facilities, removal of garbage and cleanliness, the people were wonderstruck in disbelief  at the change in him  especially when there was no election in the next few years. Word spread quickly  about the strange transformation in the leader who opted for a smaller car and simple living and his growing popularity.

*****

Exactly after a month the mystic was at the toddy shop as promised  when he saw Subban turned into a local bully threatening passers-by, picking fights for no reason and robbing people by force or stealth.

The mystic realized instantly the  mistake he had made in effecting the transmigration of souls  between two living individuals and in the process,  he had only transferred the problems of one and undesirable traits of the other from one person to another without increasing the wellbeing of the society. He decided not to interfere anymore with God’s plans and promptly restored the status quo ante (as existed previously).

Subban was now back happily occupied in the toddy shop helping his master as before and the wily political leader returned to his arrogant ways and collecting his illegal mamools.

The miracle of a discharged vow (1308)

 

Appa(Daddy), I have arranged for puja tomorrow evening at the local Ganesh temple. You must accompany me without fail,“ said Lalita.

“Any special occasion?” asked Mahalingam.

“Nothing special. You have been complaining for the past two months that you are unable to sleep well at night, I had prayed to Lord Ganesh that  I would do a special puja and  that He should  bless you with uninterrupted good sleep.” said Lalita.

“Silly girl, why do you disturb Ganesha for all your petty problems? Anyway, I will come with you,” he assured her smilingly.

The temple was not big in size but famed for the Lord‘s proclivity to grant boons  readily if prayed for with sincerity and devotion. The temple was situated in the main bazaar on the top of a  narrow staircase between two buildings and strangely did not lead to the two buildings or the  terrace. The idol was situated at the small  landing at the top of stairs. An old  priest came daily  in the mornings and evenings and did his job devoutly and sincerely to clean the space, decorate the idol with flowers, light the lamp, burn incense and do a small puja.

Except on the evenings and on important festival days, there would not be many devotees. However, there was a rope tied in the middle of the staircase from top to bottom separating the space for ascending and descending. Since it was narrow, only two persons on each side  could ascend and descend. People who visit the bazaar especially those who shop in the adjacent buildings generally climb the staircase to offer their prayers.

The next afternoon Lalita  steamed the soaked chana dhal and made a delicacy known as sundal. When it was nearing 5pm she asked her son, “Gopi, grandpa and myself are going to Ganesh temple at the bazaar. Since I will be  carrying sundal prasad on one hand and puja materials on the other, will you accompany us to hold grandpa’s hands? You know the staircase is often slippery and it has been drizzling since morning. He is also not stable while walking.”

“Amma. Sorry I cannot accompany you. I have urgent work elsewhere. Please manage yourself,” he replied  bluntly without any feeling and sped away on his cycle.

“Do not worry,Lalita.I will climb carefully holding the railing,”  said Mahalingam to assuage her fear.

The temple was near to their house. When they reached the space between the two buildings, Lalita said, ”Appa, hold this bag with you. It has a vessel containing sundal  prasad. I will buy coconut, flowers, plantain fruits and betel leaves and will be here within 10 minutes. Do not climb alone till I come. It may be slippery.”

“ Do not worry. The drizzle stopped long back. The staircase is dry and I do not see anyone climbing. I will carefully climb and remain seated at the sanctum,” Mahalingam assured her.

“Be very careful,appa,” Lalita warned again.

As he slowly climbed, midway the priest who was coming down hailed him, “Swami,namaskaram. Lalita was telling me about your lack of sleep. I am sure you will sleep better after the puja in the coming days? I will be here within five minutes. Please be seated there.”

As he climbed two more steps, he heard more than a dozen boys chatting and laughing loudly at the landing waiting for the priest to come. He could surmise the reason for their presence there in such a large number as the annual results were expected the next day.

Suddenly there was a slight tremor with buildings shaking and lasting hardly  for a few seconds. The boys started scurrying downwards in no order on both sides of the rope and in their urgent  rush pushed down the old man and ran over him in their anxiety to be out of the structure. The stampede lasted for no more than a brief moment.

Lalita who had just arrived shrieked “Appa” and started climbing followed by the coconut vendor and other passers-by. He was found lying upside down and when the coconut vendor lifted him, his face fell on the side. When the vendor put out his tongue to signify the old man was no more , Lalita’s loud shriek ‘Appa’ rent the air across the road.

It was then someone pointed out a framed picture of Ganesh on the side wall where Mahalingam lay and the sundal had fallen in a heap from the vessel below the Ganesha picture. The priest who had just then arrived at the spot sized up the situation and told, “Lalita, I can understand your shock. But look at the grace God has bestowed on him. He fell just at the bottom of Lord’s framed picture on the side wall and the prasad meant for the lord fell before Him signifying the fulfillment of your vow. Look at the irony. Your dad  was suffering from sleeplessness and now the Lord has bestowed on him eternal sleep at His feet. God’s ways are inscrutable. Do not grieve. What more blessing can one ask for?”

It was then a young man in the crowd, not satisfied with the hasty pronouncement, examined the old man again and felt his nostrils to announce the old man was still alive and needed to be rushed to hospital. Two fractures on right hand and many abrasions on  right leg were found but the old man, possibly due to a clot, was not able to recognize or do anything on his own. Immediate surgery to remove the clot  was ruled out by the hospital  due to other circumstances.

Muthu  was hired as a help to take care of him 24x7 to give him bath, fixing and removing diapers, feeding him and taking him for a small walk daily. Luckily, he was gentle and kind towards Mahalingam. Finance was no problem as he was drawing a fat pension and well off. Life was humdrum and Lalita was full of remorse that she had left him unattended at the temple on the fateful day  for a while. Her son Gopi too regretted that it was his refusal to accompany his grandpa that brought about this sad outcome.

 In a fit of penitence, he said one day,” I feel I am responsible. I will accompany grandpa this time. Let us do the undischarged promise of  puja again. I strongly feel it would be beneficial.” Lalita readily agreed and carried out the  promise the next day itself without taking her father hoping Lord Ganesh would listen to her prayers.

Nothing happened and there was a pall of gloom in the house seeing the  man in such a passive condition. It was a fortnight later, when there was none save Lalita and her dad, she fell asleep on the sofa watching the TV. It was then she felt someone touching her shoulder to wake her up and heard a soft voice, “Lalita, I am hungry, can you give me a cup of coffee?

Startled at the unexpected development, she jumped in joy and hugged her father saying , ”Appa,I am so happy that the Lord has listened to my prayers. Please sit down, I will get you coffee in a jiffy. Would you like  a few cookies too?”

As they sat before TV sipping coffee and munching biscuits, the bell rang. As Muthu entered and saw Mahalingam sipping coffee normally, he gave a surprising look at Lalita.

“Yes. A miracle has happened.Appa is normal and talked to me, I am so relieved now,  “she said.

“ Who is he? Why do you say appa is normal now as if I was crazy earlier? Strange, as I am always normal,” Mahalingam said to the amused laugh from both. Lalita decided to tell him later gradually what had happened in the intervening days.

 

 

Ramanna's ruse

Ramanna, though a frail and small built man  nearing  80, was physically  fit with his mental faculties reasonably sharp. Drawing a fat pension and living in his own  three bed-roomed  apartment, he had no financial constraints. His wife Savitri though younger by seven years could not walk with ease afflicted by arthritis and easily became exhausted. She had a full-time maid to assist her in the kitchen and the other chores. Nevertheless, she was a grumbling and self-pitying type but not without some justification. The couple had three sons and daughters with two sons and a daughter living separately  in the same city and the others were in Delhi and Mumbai

Ramanna since his younger days when he was working was a demanding type and used to ordering others even for small jobs. This habit continued  even now with him frequently calling, “Savitri, can you get me my glasses in the bathroom “ or “Where the heck is my mobile that I was just holding in my  hand? Or “Should I tell you daily to draw the blind down when the sun is up?” Savitri suspected that the  tendency to draw  her by his side away from the TV and the serials she would be watching, emanated more from his aversion to sit alone and desire to indulge in small talks with her.

Today, when he shouted from the hall, “Savitri, how many times should I ask for warm water? Can’t you hear I am coughing continuously?”, the old woman got angry and shouted back, “I am not your errand boy. Ask the maid Sumathi whatever you wish. Neither I wish to meet your petty demands nor I am willing to sit by your side for inane gossiping.” There was complete silence  for some time that made Savitri worried and  to ask Sumathi to check whether the old man was okay. When Sumathi went with warm water, she found him sleeping on the recliner.

It was seven in the morning the next Sunday and by this time he would have made much noise and walked to the kitchen  many times to see if the coffee was ready. Strangely there was no sign of his being awake and everything was silent. Worried, she dragged her feet and went to his room to find him seated on the recliner and staring vacantly at one corner of the room. He neither showed any  sign of his being aware of her presence in the room nor answered her question whether he was fine.

She went before him, turned his face at her  angrily and started shouting, “What is all this drama? If you are not well, tell me what the problem is? Have  you become dumb or what? I am not young anymore  to put up with your idiosyncrasies.”

He continued to gawk at her in a stupid manner giving her a scare. ”Sumathi,Sumathi,ring up my sons telling that uncle is behaving strangely as if he has gone crazy and ask them to rush here, Savitri instructed her maid and bewailed loudly,” What a cruel fate has befallen me after living  for years with this haughty man and now become  a madcap? How can I look after him? What more suffering is in store for me?”

The eldest son who had come just then asked him loudly, “Appa(dad),what is all this funny behaviour scaring mom early in the morning? If you do not answer and explain your quirky behaviour, what can we do? ”Ramanna continued to look at his son without any reaction and turned his face to look intently  at a corner of the roof.

“Have you become deaf or what?” he asked, throwing a steel tumbler in his hand on the ground. The old man turned his face  towards the tumbler but did not react.

The other son came near father and stroking his back gently asked him, ”Appa, are you having any problem? If you tell us what bothers you, we can go to doctor if necessary and do the needful to make you comfortable. Your cooperation is needed, appa. We are very concerned. Please tell me.”

When the old man continued to remain silent, Savitri started crying and telling, “How can I manage alone with this demented man? Where will I go without being a burden on others.?”
The two daughters in law turned their faces away from Savitri’s direction. The sons in embarrassment hung their heads.

Meanwhile the family doctor who had come checked Ramanna carefully and found nothing wrong physically. He prescribed a tranquilizer and suggested a visit to a psychiatrist  if things did not improve in two days.

Malini, one  of the daughters who was present, asked her brothers what they  intended to do as amma(mom) cannot manage appa alone.”

The eldest son said, “Malini, you are aware that I am in a two bed-roomed flat and have a college going son and a young school going daughter. Where is the space for appa and amma who are accustomed to comfort?’

The other son spoke angrily, ”Malini, your mischievous nature has not changed even a wee bit. You know my in-laws are permanently with me.Our  brother in Mumbai is living in a rat hole going under the name of a flat. Even for such delicate situations, if daughters are not forthcoming to help, what can I say?”

Malini kept silent for a while and when she saw her mom looking at her said meekly,” It is not in our hands. We must consult our husbands. In the meanwhile, let us watch the situation for a week and let our parents continue here.Sumathi is such a great help.”

The eldest son replied, “It is a sensible solution to wait for a fortnight. I do not know if appa has written a will when sound in mind,” and turning to his brother told him, “You know appa’s lawyer friend Manickavasagam. Ask him about it and  if  has not written any seek his advice.”

The old man  seemed to be listening to their conversation but did not  turn his gaze from the roof.

Raju, a grandson of Ramanna and  six years old, asked his mother Malini permission to stay for two days with grandparents which she could not refuse.

Two days later around noon  when grandma was sleeping in the adjacent room, Raju asked his grandpa, ”Thatha(grandpa),won’t you speak to me? I am staying here because I love you. You need not talk to others.”
He pulled the boy affectionately, gave him smooches and  brushing his face on the boy’s head asked, “What do you want me to speak to you, let me know.”

“Thatha, you are  speaking very well. My elder aunt was telling the other aunt that you have become mad and should be put in a mental hospital,”

Keeping his fingers on his mouth thatha said,” Shhhh,do not speak loudly. Now only I realise the real nature of the people around me. Do not tell others that I spoke to you.”

“Raju, I hear someone speaking to you. Who is that? “asked grandma

“No one, grandma. I was only talking to grandpa. He is not answering but keeps staring at the roof,” he replied with a naughty wink at his grandpa.

“My destiny,” he heard grandma lamenting and hitting her forehead with her hand.

It seemed to Raju that grandpa was enjoying his wink and reply with a wry smile.

.

 

 

A bitter realisation

 

It is not Morena or Bind or some such dacoit infested places of bygone days  but some small town in a nearby state that was known  for  regular gang wars and political killings and often plain dacoity going under the garb of  the other two crimes. 

The  town folks got scent somehow of an approaching trouble  by word of mouth that the ruthless thugs plan to loot the town very soon. The residents  living in all parts of the town  kept a close vigil to  see if any strangers on motor bikes  were seen loitering amidst their midst and trying to gather information.

Nandu, a farmer from a nearby village, had come to this town in search of his wayward elder brother who it was rumoured had fallen into bad company of dacoits. His old and sick mother has always been pleading with Nandu to trace his elder brother and bring him home. She hoped that her elder son would mend his ways once he saw his wife and children struggling in  poverty not realizing that it was actually the poverty at home that drove him initially into their fold.

Nandu knew it was difficult to get out of such violent gangs once you get in and become wise to their hideouts, their ways and the identity of the members. Even a faint attempt to escape brought an instant and   fatal reprisal.   Nevertheless, Nandu had no mind to ignore her request when  he came to know that  the gang may loot the town in a couple of days and had stationed himself in a friend’s place.

It was in the morning on the fateful day that four roaring motor bikes entered the town from  Western direction followed by two or three each from the other three directions and were seen  being driven here and there within the small town shooting aimlessly in the air  and at anyone who crossed their path spreading great fear and panic.

The residents locked their doors securely and those especially women and girls who chanced to be outside their homes scampered to hide safely in their  homes or wherever  they could. Farmers from fields  and workers from places of work hurriedly tried to reach their homes.

Nandu  who was outside in the local bazaar hid himself in an open garage  near him but could not close the doors fully in the hurry. There was a small gap. It  was  however  dark inside with an unpleasant  smell of stale grain in gunny bags, hay and cattle dung. Gun shots were heard intermittently from outside and the bikes  were roaring past.

It was then he heard a motorbike stop outside the garage and someone trying to kick start it repeatedly in vain. There was then total silence that was harrowing.  To add to the disquiet the timorous Nandu got the shock of his life when he heard someone breathing  from close quarters and stifling a sneeze. He was afraid to be alone in the dark garage possibly with a dacoit.

As he inched his way towards the door.  he heard someone  inhaling snuff softly. He was now sure about the presence of another man in the garage. Soon he heard  the  soft  clapping of one palm by the other usually made  by ghutka users. He remembered  that his elder brother was  addicted to ghutka  like himself and also snuff. The frequent soft clap from him after crushing the stuff  with his thumb assured Nandu it must be his brother.

Emboldened he softly queried, “ Is it Motu of Siyagarh?”

There was no reply but the soft clap of palms continued.

“ I am Nandu, your brother,”  and he added,” If it is Motu give me a sign of recognition.”

There was a loud laughter and Nandu taking it as a positive sign happily moved closer to the place from where the laughter came.

It was then the door was pushed open by someone and in came the bright sunlight.

Nandu froze in fright when he saw a glistening  metal from the masked man inside  pouring bullets at the figure at the entrance. Nandu was now not certain after witnessing the ruthless killing,  whether the masked man was really his brother as he had assumed.

Overcome by fear and to assuage the angry man, Nandu unconsciously proffered his ghutka tin towards him. There was then a  ‘Gabbar Singh‘ hilarious laughter followed by a confident step towards him.

“ Nandu, ma aur thum kaise ho? Dar gaye kya?” (Nandu, how are ma and you? Got afraid or what?”) he asked as he removed the cloth covering his face only to reveal a face with a deep scar on his jaw, twisted lips, yellow teeth and an evil smirk.

Nandu with mixed feelings of  gladness at having traced at last his elder brother and a strong  distaste at his wanton cruelty on an unknown man, bent low to touch his feet as was customary. There was a bitter pain at the realisation that Motu was beyond redemption.

 

 

 

How good are we in judging people?

 

Vimala visited Sri Parthasarathi swami temple at Triplicane regularly on Saturday evenings unless there was a pressing engagement elsewhere. When her husband Ananth teased her one evening with a mischievous smile,“I know why you visit the temple with such regularity though you haven’t confided in me.”

She blushed for a moment and said, “There is no specific reason for these visits as you imagine. Unlike you and your family, ours have always been devout and religious and this practice of mine that commenced from my father’s days continue even after his death. Maybe you have some hidden wish to be fulfilled through my prayers.”

In her early thirties with a post graduate from Delhi school of economics, she worked as an Assistant professor in a college very near the beach at Triplicane. Her husband Ananth held a senior position in a reputed finance company. They lived happily in their posh apartment in St Mary’s road though they were not blessed with a child for more than seven years.

One evening as Ananth was leaving for office, he said, “Vimala, tomorrow evening you are to accompany me for a memorial lecture on the ‘Current Indian economy and the required reform priorities’ by a well-known CEO followed by cocktails and dinner at Hotel Three Trees. The invitees have been requested to attend with spouses. This is an important event I cannot afford to miss. Be ready by 4pm. I will come and pick you.”

When Vimala and Ananth entered the glittering and classy auditorium, it was almost full and the event was just about to begin. Just as they took their seats, someone started the usual welcome speech and thanked the main speaker for her gracious presence and introduced her as Ms. Amby Ranger, CEO of the India and South East region of a well-known worldwide American bank. After a brief profile of her education in Chicago and later her doctorate in Harvard and her significant professional achievements, he requested her to give her valuable thoughts on the burning topic of the day.

When the lady came to the rostrum amidst a warm ovation, Vimala noticed that the lady was in a formal blue coat and pants and a light blue shirt, with her hair let down unbundled and her face had a light make up along with maroon lipstick and mascara. She looked very attractive with her glistening pearl necklace in white around her neck. The lady confidently looked around at the audience showing recognition of some of the faces on the front row with a slight nod or smile and commenced her speech. Endowed with a voice that was clear, her diction flawless with a faint drawl of her Harvard days and with arguments persuasive, she kept the audience riveted to her speech. She concluded her speech in 45 minutes with a surprising quote from Thirukkural. After the long applause, there were a few questions from the audience that were fielded by her with aplomb and apt answers.

Vimala was seated at a distance from the dais and could get only a hazy picture of the speaker. It was only at the cocktails when the chief guest moved around among the audience with a half-filled glass in her hand, Vimala could get a glimpse her conversing animatedly with many important people crowding around her. Her warm hugs with some of the ladies, ready handshakes with many men and the hoo-hah that accompanied looked affected for Vimala.

 As she deftly moved from them to others, Vimala felt she caught her eyes. After a few minutes with another crowd, she saw the lady making a dash towards her and exclaiming,” Hello, have we met before? There is something familiar in you. Are you working? Have you come with your hubby? Maybe I know him. Do introduce him to me,” she spoke with much enthusiasm.

“I am Vimala and teaching economics at Presidency college. My husband Ananth is working in a senior position in a well-known finance company,” she replied  and hailed Ananth who was standing nearby. After shaking hands with Ananth, she laughed heartily and said, “You are a pretty lucky guy to have such a charming wife. I have taken a great liking for her We must get to know better. Maybe one of these days, we shall catch up,” and hurried away towards another group of people waiting eagerly nearby.

As they were returning home, Vimala asked Ananth, “What do you make of that Amby something?”

“Why, she is a very pleasant and vivacious lady, highly knowledgeable and taking the bank to great heights. Don’t you agree?” he replied.

“No, a very artificial and pretentious woman, I have developed an instant dislike for her. You are one of the hundreds to have attended the meeting. What is there with us  to catch up and meet again? I think she must be nearing 60.” Vimala spewed her distaste. Ananth did not react but drove home silently.

During one of the subsequent temple visits, Vimala noticed a good-looking lady of about 55 standing by her side in the main sanctum and praying with eyes closed. She looked fetching in her blue silk sari with a large bindi on her forehead, sparkling diamond ear stud and a string of jasmine on the head over the neat bundle. She had a bowl with flowers, betel leaves, coconut and other things in her hand. As the priest came near them after the arthi with the plate carrying the burning camphor, the lady dropped a hundred rupee note. She gave the bowl in his hands and requested for an archanai(puja) in God’s name.

When Vimala turned to look at her as they were coming out of the sanctum, the lady gently smiled and asked, “Aren’t you Vimala teaching economics in a college?”

Vimala blinked at the somewhat familiar figure unable to place her, when that lady exclaimed, “My god, you have forgotten me so soon. We met only the other day at the function in Three trees hotel.”

‘I am so sorry. You were so different there. I never expected you in a temple in our traditional sari with bindi, flowers on the head and a bowl in hand. But your name there was also outlandish. Pray, do not take me amiss,” she said

“I understand your confusion. The setting there was so different. Call me Ambuja. When I was in Harvard, the classmates called me Amby and my boyfriend then and husband now was known as Ranger, shortened form for Rangarajan,” she laughed and continued, “I do not drink after I returned to India and  took a degree in Vaishnavism but hold the glass without sipping on formal meetings. You must visit my house at Neelankarai. Have this card and ring me before you visit as I work both from Mumbai and Chennai.”

“It is awesome that with all this crowded official life, you took time to delve into Vaishnavism. How come you visit this temple each week all the way from Neelankarai? Any special attraction to the Presiding deity?” Vimala asked with a giggle.

 “Good question. My maternal grandfather lived years back in the Car street and as a young girl used to visit the temple with my grandma. That could be one of the reasons I am drawn here besides the fact that I find great peace after I pray standing before the lord,” Ambuja said, reminiscing her younger days. I am to rush back. More to talk when we meet next time,” she replied as she hurried away.

When Vimala was standing wondering whether to visit lord Narasimha shrine, the priest who knew her well came out of the shrine asked,” Vimala, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing mama, Good you came out. Do you know the lady who was standing by my side? She impressed me with her devoutness and interest in Vaishnavism despite holding a very top position earning huge salary,” asked Vimala

“I don’t know much about her but she seems to be sincere and well-to-do as she is very  liberal,” he said.

That night when Vimala and her husband Ananth were watching the TV, she narrated about her meeting Ambuja  at the temple and how she was impressed with her deportment, elegance and gentle way of her talking. I feel terribly bad at my initial dislike for her that was hasty and misplaced. I wish to cultivate her and learn about Vaishnavism.”

 After some silence Vimala spoke again, “How faulty we are at judging people by mere looks. Appearance does not tell us the truth. A donkey with holy books tied around its neck is still a donkey. A learned and wise man in rags and squatting in dirt is still wise man. The external robes often mislead the true character of the person inside. The mere presence at the temple does not make one pious nor a dagger in hand a murderer. There is always more than what meets the eye.”

 

 

 

 

 

A lesson learnt

 

Sivaguru is a leading member of the bar and commanded huge practice. A much sought-after lawyer, his office at his sprawling home was always crowded with litigants. Known for his legal acumen, brilliance in exposition of cases and a track of successful outcomes even his colleagues in the bar hesitated to take up cases when he was representing the other side.

The success in his career and the wealth it brought did not affect him. He chose his cases on the basis of their merit and challenge they offered and not on the remuneration they brought. He was such a kind hearted and a compassionate person that quite often the members of the bar would wonder when he argued with fervour cases of litigants who seemed very poor. All these qualities of head and heart earned him the high esteem of the judges.

Natesan, his son in his early twenties worked as an apprentice in his office after finishing his graduation in law. There were several other juniors too under the senior lawyer. Saturdays were usually very busy with many clients coming after prior appointment. The senior generally avoided professional work on Sundays keeping the day for family. It was Natesan who checked the register of appointments and allowed the clients access to the lawyer generally in the order of appointments.

It was one Saturday there were half a dozen or more cars in the compound and the hall had already a few clients with registered appointments waiting for their turn. There was also an old person in late seventies with ash marks on his forehead and unshaved brittle hair on his face seated in a corner of the visitors’ lounge. He was in crumpled khadi dhoti that was worn in traditional manner passing through the legs, an unpressed half-sleeves khadi kurta with a yellow cloth bag in his hands. He looked a rustic from a village in appearance.

“Have you registered for an appointment already? What is your good name?” asked Natesaan.

“No, I am no client but know Sivaguru personally very well. I would not take more than a few minutes. Just inform him that Paramasivam is wanting to meet him for a short time,” he said.

Natesan was not impressed assuming the old man to be one of the many who came to seek alms or donations for some temple or charitable causes. He chose not to inform the senior lawyer about this man but sent one after the other the waiting clients. A bearer from inside the house brought a tray with cups of coffee for the visitors. Natesan saw the old man gently decline.

“Could you mention to Sivaguru about my waiting here to meet him? I have to return to my village for an urgent work,” asked the old man after waiting for long time.

“Don’t you see so many clients with important cases are waiting after fixing appointment? You have no appointment and will have to wait for your turn,” Natesan replied somewhat curtly.

It was then Sivaguru the senior lawyer chanced to come out to the hall along with important looking client to see him off. When he heard Natesan talking brusquely to someone, he turned to see what was happening. As soon as he saw Paramasivam, he left the client abruptly and came rushing to Paramasivam with the palms together on his chest  and his head and body bent in reverence.

“Ayya, (respectful form of addressing) how long have you been waiting? Should you not have walked inside directly? You could have at least sent word through Natesan."

“You are a busy man with many clients waiting for you. I did not want to intrude and was prepared to wait for my turn. I am very happy to see you having successful practice. I came to the town on some pressing work and thought of spending a few minutes before returning,” Paramasivam replied without mentioning about the long wait for nearly two hours.

Sivaguru held his hand to take him inside the house and turned to the waiting clients to tell, “I have a venerable family friend  visiting me after long years and wish to spend time with him. Kindly come back at 4pm and I will meet you all today itself. Please bear with me.”

When the two were seated in the large living room, Sivaguru along with his wife and children prostrated before him seeking his blessings. He requested the old man to have his lunch with him.  After lunch, they were closeted alone for two hours discussing about the village, the bygone days and about the urgency of the renovation of the lake and the local Shiva temple.

At 3.30pm when the old man took leave, the senior lawyer instructed his driver to drop him at his village about 50 miles away. Along with Natesan he walked up to the car to see him off. The old man before entering the car, pulled Natesan towards him, gently patted him with a smile and made a passing remark, “Learn to be like your father. You will be as successful as he is.”

During dinner with family that night, Sivaguru turned to Natesan in and remarked, "Do not be carried away by appearances or external appurtenances like apparel, jewels or car. Great people are humble and rarely flaunt. He owns three fourths of my village and lands in other places too. A god fearing and kind-hearted man as he is, I would have been struggling in life but for his compassion and munificence.” After a pause he wiped his eyes and continued,” My father, a small farmer with limited ancestral land living in the same street as his, died young suddenly. It was this gentleman who took care of our family tilling our lands, educating me till I equipped myself to be a lawyer and ensuring that we lived financially in comfort. He gifted me with a motorbike when I started attending college. I am today what I am solely because of my revered benefactor.”

With remorse for his rude behaviour, Natesan confessed to his father, “Sorry appa, I acted rather foolishly thinking he was a supplicant come to seek alms and made him wait unfairly and unduly for a long time. I even ignored his request to inform you about his desire to meet you for a few minutes. He could have protested or revealed who he was but chose to be silent.”

Sivaguru patted his back and said “Appearances are deceptive. The truly great are silent and do not react as we do. The respect you give to them should be the respect you would wish for if you were similarly placed. Fairness in dealings and compassion to all especially to the disadvantaged are the two virtues you must adhere to always in your life.”

A chastened Natesan fell flat before him and clutching his legs pleaded, "Forgive me, appa.I have leant a valuable lesson today and I promise to follow your advice,"

"Good, though I would be at peace only after a slight punishment for your rude behaviour today. I would ask one of the other apprentices to look after from Monday  the register of appointments and letting in the clients to my room,"Sivaguru said softly but firmly.

“Treat everyone with politeness and kindness, not because they are nice, but because you are.”

 

The world is not bereft of good people

Varadapuram is a nondescript railway station in a Southern state serving a few villages around it. It had no distinctive features except for a tiled room for the station master and a small waiting hall adjacent to the room with its three sides open. A few trees aligned along the fence provided shade to the platform during hot summer and a sanctuary to the unattended cattle, goats and stray mongrels that roamed on the platform unhindered. Saravanan who was in charge of the station performed different roles like issuing tickets to the passengers and collecting tickets from those who alight at the station besides receiving the trains with green and red flags in his hand. The station could boast of only one track abutting the platform. Only two passenger trains stopped at the station either way in a day. Arumugam, an aged man who walked with a limp, had his daily job of ringing the bell to announce the arrival of incoming train, keeping the premises reasonably clean and doing occasionally the duty of a porter when there was a need.

One train was scheduled to arrive at 11.45 am daily. It was 11.30 am already on a particular day. He saw a woman entering the station with a baby of two years on her hip, a big bag on her other shoulder and a box in hand along with a girl of five years and a boy of seven years holding the girl’s hand. The woman was shouting at the girl who squatted on the floor refusing to enter the platform. As the boy dragged her inside, the girl’s wail grew louder. Her petulant ways went on for more than ten minutes to the chagrin of the woman. To her distress, Arumugam started ringing the bell as the incoming train was sighted at the outer point. The train stops for just a minute or two at the station. The station master Saravanan had already come out to the platform with the flags tucked under his arms.

Arumugam warned the woman that she must hurry as the train would not wait for long. But the little girl now lay flat on the floor swaying her legs and arms rendering the boy ineffective. The woman looked at Arumugam with folded hands as if seeking his help. Realizing the sad plight of the woman and the risk of her missing the train, he in turn looked at the station master with pleading eyes. Noticing the slight nod of his head, Arumugam rushed towards her with the four wheeled trolley used normally to carry gunny bags of crop for loading in the trains.

He snatched the box from her hand and the bag from her shoulder to put them on the trolley even as he shouted at her, “Don’t you have any sense of time? Why do you come so late to the station? Lift the grouchy girl bodily and sit of the trolley holding her tight,” even as the boy jumped with joy on the trolley unasked. Arumugam dragged the trolley towards the coaches even as the train slowed down to stop at the station. After a slight scramble to find the right coach, he hustled the woman and her children with the baggage into one even as the train started moving with a whistle.

The unknown woman with grateful tears from her eyes bent her head low in deference at her benefactor even as she watched the receding figure of Arumugam wave his hand with satisfaction and a smile on his face.

In less than 15 minutes, a few men and women came rushing to the station shouting,” Where is the woman? A woman with a boy and two girls? Have they by any chance left by train?”

“What is the commotion about? Tell me slowly in detail,” asked Arumugam.

One villager came forward and replied, “That wicked woman has kidnapped two girls and a boy. Have you seen her boarding the train with the children?”

“Yes, the woman took the train. Whose children, are they? Where is the father?”

They pulled another man from the crowd and said, “He is the father,” and nudged him to speak. But the man who looked drowsy was silent for a while and when prodded again blabbered incomprehensibly.

An old woman from the fringe volunteered to say, “Ignore these men>That prattling man is the father and the woman is the hapless mother of the three children. Not a day passed without this wicked man beating her blue for no reason and unable to bear the agony anymore, she wisely took her children away to her parent’s place. These men are his heartless buddies at the arrack shop. I rushed with them to ensure that no harm came to that unfortunate but good woman from these drunks if they found her. Lucky that she boarded the train with the children.”

When the men with raised hands threatened the old woman with “You dirty hag, we will teach you a lesson fittingly when we reach the village. How dare you complain about us?  Soon your hut will burn and you will be rendered homeless. How dare you follow us?”

The station master Saravanan in his uniform who was listening to the conversation warned them in a stern voice,” I have heard every word you people said. Beware of the consequences if you cause any trouble to anyone and now quietly disperse from the government property at once. Do remember that I will not be quiet if some harm comes to the old woman”

Even as the men turned to trudge back silently, the brave old women bent with folded arms and said, “Luckily the world is not yet bereft of good people.”

 

Living gods are still around

 

Diwali was on the next day. There were festoons and sparkling serial lights everywhere in the bazaar. The sales were brisk with shops awash with goods in glittering colours and designs on the shelves and platforms and with an overflowing crowd of people eager to buy.

 I had nothing in particular to buy but came to the big departmental store to while away my time watching people buy things crazily, maybe on borrowed money. I saw a woman in her early forties, with a small boy and a girl slightly older in tow in the store watching the shelves from a distance. From her appearance and ordinary dress, I could surmise she was not in good circumstances. The young boy was tugging her at every shelf and pointing out some item or the other he desired. She  dragged him away gently but firmly. The girl was quieter and was seen comforting the boy.

I saw them moving towards the discount counter offering, long held but unsold, dresses at dirt cheap prices. She selected after a long time two dresses one each for her kids and moved towards the sweet stall. The boy wanted many delicacies but when his mom bought half a kg of the cheapest sweet, he started crying loudly. She took care to make a detour to the gate by avoiding the fireworks and crackers section.

As they were nearing the entrance, someone collided against the girl who was holding the sweets packet. The box opened and all the contents fell down on the floor. When the girl quickly bent to pick the sweets, the security dissuaded her saying it was a very dirty place with so many people walking in and out. The lady’s face was grim as tears trickled from the eyes of the girl. The boy started pleading that they go back to buy again. But the lady dragged them away outside.

I could not forget the faces of the crying boy, the silent girl with guilt writ large and the sad woman. I wondered why God kept some in perpetual want while some in needless plenty. It made my heart heavy and I lost the mood to linger anymore in the shopping centre. I had no money in my pocket then to give. But I collected her address saying that I would come soon with some sweets and crackers. A man next to the security, who was listening to the conversation, nodded his head at me with a smile.

An hour or so later, I went to the one room tiled tenement. I saw a white van of the store with its name on it on the road outside. The room was not bright with a dim light. There was a man in a driver's white uniform standing with two large baskets in his hand.

” These baskets are for you and your children. My boss, the owner of the shop, every year on Diwali eve gives gifts like these to some unknown people. He saw you and your children at the entrance of the departmental store.  Please have no worry as he is a very decent and good man,“ the driver said.

The boy jumped with joy and the girl smiled. The woman after some hesitation accepted the baskets to find new and good dresses for all, plenty of sweets of different varieties, fruits and crackers for the kids. There was a cover addressed “To my sister, Happy Diwali” with 1000 Rupees inside. 

The driver smiled at her and said “Yes, this is the way my boss celebrates Diwali each year bringing cheer and smile to some unknown needy family. He is my living god”

“Mine too,” I said as I handed over the two packets and added “Here is my small bonus gift for the girl who dropped the sweets and the boy who missed to see the crackers section.” 

The joy and the smile on their faces, I felt, would bring me greater cheer and happiness than what  the festivities could offer

(Do not wait for extraordinary circumstances to do good;;try to use ordinary situations)

The ‘crazy’ woman under the temple car

 

It was a town known for its Krishna temple going by another name of the lord. The much renowned temple and its large tank drew devotees all through the year. There were a number of small shops on the front side of the temple selling different things.

This story is not about the temple or the lord housed in its precincts but about a ‘crazy’ woman in her 60’s clad in a faded frock who lived under the temple car(chariot) for years. No one knew exactly how she came to live under the temple car or where she hailed from. She was short, olive-skinned with a flat nose and slanted eyes. Possibly she hailed from some Eastern country but people assumed it was Burma.

The young kids must have troubled her in the initial stages by making faces, throwing stones or crowding around her that must have made her cross and ill-tempered. This grouchy temperament must have fetched her the name ‘crazy’. She was otherwise harmless, good-natured and kept away from others. There were unfounded stories about her, that she bathed in the temple tank daily in the middle of the night and that she stood with folded arms at the temple gate looking towards the sanctum sanctorum after the bath. But it was a fact that one Venkatesan, a kindly shop-keeper whose shop was close to the temple car gave her the left-over food after his lunch.  A few of the many pilgrims who came to the temple threw fruits, biscuits, water bottles and coins before her.

Be that as it may, there was an aged resident in one of the houses adjacent to the temple and close to the tank. He was living alone and having his food daily from a hotel adjacent to his house. A quiet man, who wore his dhoti cross-legged in traditional manner and sported the namam prominently on his face, was known for his daily regimen of visiting the temple twice a day and for his religious pursuits. He must have been a man of means as he donated liberally to the temple causes like feeding the poor during festival days. He never mingled much with others.

It was one early morning that some passer-by found his door ajar with a blood-soaked towel lying near the front door. His shouts gathered a few people and a policeman who were standing at the front of the temple. The policeman warned the people from entering the house lest they disturb the evidence and gingerly went inside alone. The body of the old man was found in the front room adjacent to the main door. He had been hit several times by a wooden log from behind with no evidence of a fight, suggesting that the visitor was a known acquaintance.

Enquiries by the police started after a case was registered for homicide. There were no clues left behind except the blood-soaked wooden log. The police dog pursued the trail of the accused only up to the bottom step of the tank. Two months passed by without any progress in the case. It was one hot mid-day, when the policeman in mufti who kept a vigil on the house from temple side stepped into Venkatesan’s shop adjacent to the temple car to sit under a fan and have a glass of cool water. After the initial pleasantries, the conversation led to the murder case that was at a dead end.

The policeman expressed surprise that no one from the shops or the people who were present at the temple's large mandap(portico) had seen on that fateful day anyone entering the house that was clearly visible. He wondered how the case can be resolved unless someone gave a lead.

The conversation led to the crazy woman under the temple car. “Do you think the old woman can throw some light as I have heard that she remains awake and takes bath in the​​ middle of night in the tank,” asked the policeman.

“It is all hearsay about her remaining awake and praying to god at midnight after bath. No one ever talked to her to find out whether she is cogent and normal. I do not think anything useful will come out of her,” replied Venkatesan and added as an afterthought,” People call her crazy for years and I doubt whether her testimony would hold any good.” The policeman did not pursue the conversation thereafter.

Venkatesan surprised the woman by taking the food himself that afternoon instead of his assistant who usually did, He dissuaded her who tried to stand up and sat on a stone by her side. “I think you know our language as you have been here for many years. You must have known that the aged man who was living adjacent to the hotel had been killed. Do you remember him?”

“Are you referring to this old man?” she replied by putting her finger on her forehead and showing the namam shape.

“Yes, the very same man. Tell me what all you know,” he prompted her.

“Oh, oh, was he the one who was killed? I suspected when many policemen visited his house and he was not seen thereafter. Keep it to yourself and do not tell anyone lest some harm befalls you. I have seen one stout man, who was also tall with a steel bracelet on his right hand and a long mustache hanging on both ends, visited him frequently. He used to come sometimes in a small red car with someone else driving the car. I have seen him accosting the old man when he came out of the temple after his daily visit some days. I have not seen him for some months and do not remember to have seen him that day,” she spoke clearly indicating no craziness as her prefix suggested.

“Did you see anybody else on that fateful day at the house of ​the ​aged man?”

The ‘crazy’ woman looked at Venkatesan for long without saying anything which prompted Venkatesan to ask again, “You have not answered my question. Did you see anyone else?”

“I do not remember,” she replied. This time Venkatesan looked searchingly at her eyes for long before he got up and left.

The vigil by police was intense with constables stationed on all the streets around the temple. A week later they found a tall stout man with the bracelet and drooping mustache peeping at the house from a red Maruti wagon. The police nabbed him and took him to the police station. On enquiry, it was revealed that he was looking after the lands of the aged man in a nearby village for several years and met him whenever he came to the town. This was corroborated by the village authorities. Being an unlettered man, it appeared that he had asked the village authorities to file a complaint with the police about the murder.

Left with no other lead to investigate, the inspector decided to meet the woman under the temple car.

“Do not be afraid. I have come to seek your help. The tall man who came in the red car was in fact supervising the old man’s land at the village and visited him often in that connection. He is in the clear. Think carefully and tell me truthfully whether you saw any other man on that night the aged man was murdered. We cannot let an innocent man’s murder to go unresolved and the perpetrator to go free unpunished.”

The ‘crazy’ woman kept quiet for a long​ time​. Pressed repeatedly, she said, “I am sorry I cannot tell you. You find yourself.”

Further enquiries revealed from other shopkeepers revealed that Venkatesan wanted to expand his store and was persuading the aged man to sell his house or let out the front portion of his house for opening a brass and stainless-steel vessel store and that the aged man was unwilling. This led the police to contact the tall stout man who was supervising the lands and learn that the aged man had mentioned that he was being intimidated by the shopkeeper.

When the inspector again questioned the woman whether she knew about the meetings between the shopkeeper and the aged man, she refused to answer. Warned in a stentorian voice with authority and a threat that she would be taken to police station if she did not reply properly, she buckled under pressure and said, “How can I betray my benefactor who had fed me for years?”.

After some initial resistance, Venkatesan after the usual treatment in police custody confessed to the crime but pleaded in extenuation that he was in a drunken state when he was slapped by the old man.

Though I would not like to injure the felicity of the readers, I am compelled to disclose that there was a brutal attack on the old woman the same night by some unknown assailant but luckily it was not fatal.