Hanu's Giggle (948 words)

The temple in the small town was modest, with little to boast of. It had no towering gopuram, temple tank or cluster of shrines housing numerous deities. There was just one shrine, dedicated to Rama and his consort, Sita. Even Hanuman, Rama’s celebrated devotee, had no separate shrine of His own, as was customary in most Rama temples.

Situated in the heart of the town on an open, unenclosed plot, the temple grounds were overgrown with weeds and bushes. Stray cattle wandered about, leaving the place untidy. Nevertheless, the temple attracted devotees from near and far on important religious occasions.

Raghu, a ten-year-old boy, accompanied his father, Sarangapani, to the temple every morning. His visits, however, had little to do with devotion. He was fascinated by a small monkey that lived under a tree behind the temple. While his father watched the decorations and the priest perform the daily puja, Raghu would spend his time with the monkey, chatting and playing like an old friend. What particularly intrigued him was a distinct black line on its forehead, resembling a namam.

One morning, Raghu confided in the monkey about his poor marks in Arithmetic. Despite doing well in every other subject, he repeatedly lost marks through careless mistakes. He simply could not understand how to overcome this problem.

He addressed the monkey affectionately as Hanu.

To Raghu’s surprise, Hanu took his right palm in its own and rubbed the two together for a couple of minutes. It then gave a little jig and scampered up the tree. Raghu was puzzled by the strange gesture but thought little more of it.

The following week, the semester examination results were announced. To his utter astonishment, Raghu had topped the class in Arithmetic! His parents were delighted, but could not help smiling when he attributed his unexpected success to Hanu’s divine powers.

Their friendship grew stronger. Raghu began bringing Hanu plantains almost every day.

Another incident strengthened his belief in his little friend’s extraordinary powers. His mother had fallen seriously ill with a severe viral fever. Despite a week’s treatment by the family doctor, there was little improvement. Worried, Raghu turned to Hanu for help.

The monkey handed him a handful of basil leaves and gestured that a few should be eaten.

The family followed the suggestion, albeit with some scepticism. Basil was, after all, a familiar household remedy with known medicinal properties. To their astonishment, his mother’s fever soon subsided.

Word of the incident spread through the town, and visitors to the temple increased considerably.

Around this time, Swamikannu, the frail but wealthy landlord who was also the temple trustee, approached Raghu’s father, Sarangapani, the local postmaster, for help. He wished to renovate the dilapidated temple. The plans included a new shrine with an antechamber and a spacious hall. A separate shrine for Hanuman, facing the presiding deity, would also be built, in keeping with tradition. A compound wall around the temple premises was part of the proposal.

Swamikannu explained that, besides his family’s contribution, he had secured promises of financial support from several well-wishers. His failing health, however, prevented him from supervising the work. He therefore appealed to Sarangapani to oversee the project, particularly on weekends, with the assistance of local volunteers.

After consulting his wife, Sarangapani readily agreed.

He formed a committee, which, after careful deliberation, selected a competent contractor. The renovation was scheduled for completion within three months. Swamikannu ensured that funds were made available whenever required.

Meanwhile, Raghu insisted that the tree behind the temple be spared, as it was Hanu’s home. His father assured him that it would remain untouched.

Throughout the renovation, Raghu continued visiting the tree, bringing Hanu its regular share of plantains and pieces of coconut. He was relieved to see that his little friend had not been disturbed by the activity around it.

At last, the renovated temple was ready. The consecration ceremony was performed on an auspicious day with great pomp and splendour. The residents of the town and neighbouring villages turned out in large numbers. Their joy knew no bounds.

Three days after the consecration, when the crowds had considerably thinned, Raghu returned to the temple as usual. He headed straight for the tree, but Hanu was nowhere to be seen.

He searched around the tree, calling out his friend’s name repeatedly. There was no response. Distressed, he rushed to his father and told him that Hanu had disappeared.

Sarangapani smiled and said, “Why are you looking for the little Hanu outside when you now have a much bigger Hanu inside the temple?”

Raghu immediately understood. He ran towards the newly constructed Hanuman shrine, with his father, the priest, the contractor and a sculptor who happened to be present following him.

Peering into the shrine, Raghu called out tearfully, “Where are you, Hanu? My friend! You are not under the tree!”

Suddenly, they heard an unfamiliar giggling sound. The temple bell began tolling on its own, leaving everyone bewildered. The assembled devotees instinctively patted their cheeks in reverence, though some did so out of apprehension. The lamps seemed to glow brighter, illuminating the idol.

Raghu cried out excitedly, “This is my Hanu! Look at the unmistakable black mark on his forehead!”

The sculptor immediately protested. “What black mark? There was no such mark when we sculpted the idol!”

The priest brought an oil lamp closer to the idol. Lo and behold! A distinct black line appeared on Hanuman’s forehead.

Overwhelmed, Raghu called out, “Are you my Hanu? The very same friend who played with me every day?”

The temple bell tolled vigorously once again, as though answering his question.

And somewhere in the sanctum, a familiar giggle seemed to echo.