The obstinate attitude of Moolshankar had begun to irritate Karsanlal.
The boy was determined that he would not worship idols any more. In frustration the irate father began to rebuke his son for his rebellion which he thought was dangerously anti-religion.
The counter arguments of his son would infuriate him. Sometimes he would holler at him. At such times the mother would intervene to protect her son. She tried to make her son understand that he should worship idols for being a son of a prominent Brahmin who was supposed to be a die hard believer in the idol worship.
She pleaded that Moolshankar should compromise for the sake of the family peace or convenience.
But Moolshankar was not impressed.
He would not take recourse to falsehood to save his skin. He was determined to stick to his faith and would never again put his faith in idols. He was certain that the idol was just a piece of stone.
So, what was the truth? Moolshankar firmly believed in Lord Shiva. So, where was the real Shiva if he was not projected in Lingam idol? He needed answers to those questions desperately for the peace of his mind.
Moolshankar delved into the scriptures and religious books besides all the epics. But the answers he was seeking eluded him.
There was no clear explanation anywhere. Young Moolshankar became anxiety ridden as his mind was agitated having failed to know the reality of his deity.
Meanwhile, Karsanlal was in a fix about what to do with his son. He was causing a great embarrassment to him. Son’s future worried him.
A Brahmin who had no faith in idols would find it difficult to survive in a caste where everything revolved around idol worship.
The mother was worried to see her son pouring over scriptures all the time. She feared for his health. She would warn Moolshankar against too much of the studying.
Moolshankar would assure her, “Ma, reading does not harm the body. It is not like carrying loads. Don’t worry about my health. I am trying to find out the true form of the Lord. I have not discovered the answer to my curiosity. Until I find the correct answer I won’t be at peace with myself.”
Young Moolshankar’s mind was dying to know the truth about the real power, the actual forms of god forces. How did they actually look like? The answer was nowhere in the scriptures.
It was making him more frustrated.
One day, the worried mother said to her husband, “I find Moolshankar always bent over books. I fear for his sanity. It is no good for him. I want you to take him to some show or drama. He badly needs some entertainment or change of scene.”
The father agreed with her.
So, a few days later Karsanlal took his son to a music programme. Moolshankar was now in mid-teens when a boy gets enveloped by the romantic emotions and passions. And the music was supposed to be the language of the heart, the main player in romance. The mother had carefully planned the strategy.
She wanted her son’s romantic feelings aroused to wean him away from the brooding mood.
Moolshankar liked the music. He patiently sat through the music programme with his father without looking fidgety.
Or was he inwardly brooding?
There was no knowing. But the father was satisfied. For him the calm posture of his son was a positive sign and he could hope for the best.
One day the father and the son were again in musical session enjoying it. Suddenly, the domestic help of the Karsanlal family arrived at the scene.
He was frantically trying to catch the attention of his master. Some one whispered about it in the ears of Karsanlal. Meanwhile the servant too had spotted him and was making a move to reach him.
He was saying, “Panditji! It is a tragedy.”
“What?” Karsanlal asked in puzzled voice.
“Your daughter…sh…she has left us. She is no more in this world…”, the servant revealed in a sad and panting voice.
Karsanlal sat stunned.
How could this happen so suddenly? Karsanlal rose up on benumbed legs. She was his darling daughter.
He started for home. His walk suddenly picked up speed and he began to run crying uncotrolably.
Moolshankar followed his father.
At the home the scene was pathetic.
The mother of Moolshankar was wailing madly. She was beating her breasts in grief. Her wailing got shriller as she sighted her husband and the son arriving on the scene.
They looked like flickering humanoid mirages to her as seen through her tearful eyes.
Karsanlal stared at the dead figure of his daughter. He swayed and collapsed over the corpse. Then, he began to cry.
He was inconsolable.
Moolshankar just stood there without showing any emotion. He had flat expression on his face and watched the scene as a spectator. Was he failing to understand that his sister had died?
His equanimity shocked his mother. She caught hold of her son’s hand and screamed giving it a violent tug, “Moolay! Your sister has left us! She is dead…O my God! O my God!!”
She resumed her wailing as Moolshankar still stood unmoved. It shocked the people who had gathered there to console the bereaved family.
Was the boy too grief stricken to react?
A man remarked, “Son, don’t you understand that your sister is dead? She is no more alive.”
Moolshankar just cast cursory look at the man without uttering a word as if man’s words were too unimportant for any consideration.
A woman muttered, “What a stone hearted boy!”
A few others also made uncharitable remarks.
Moolshankar realised that the people were resentful of his behaviour. He decided to remove himself from the scene as his presence there appeared to be making the mourners very uncomfortable.
After his departure the village headman grumbled to Karsanlal, “I have never seen such a heartless person. What is wrong with him? Has he no feelings?”
Karsanlal admitted sadly, “Unfortunately my Moolshankar is very odd one. He is not normal. I don’t know how his mind works. Look, his sister is dead but he fails to realise the gravity of the situation. Or he does not care at all. What am I going to do with him? What will happen to my family after this…dreadful tragedy? Oh God!”
He shook his head and resumed sobbing for his dead daughter who lay there covered with a sheet.
Meanwhile Moolshankar had retired to his room. He had sprawled on his bed and fixed his gaze on the smudgy ceiling. He was pondering, ‘What is death?’ Why does it come? How a living person suddenly becomes a lifeless body? Where does one go after death? Is all that is written in the scriptures about life and death true? If it is true why are all these people wailing and crying? Don’t they understand that the sister has gone to heaven which is far far better place than this miserable world? Or don’t these people don’t believe in real what is written in the holy books?’
The paradoxes and the contradictions of the world and its inhabitants was greatly puzzling Moolshankar.
The dead girl was duly cremated.
Moolshankar’s mood did not change. He kept on his unconcerned attitude all through the funeral and posthumous rites. His face betrayed no emotion of sadness or grief.
The others ignored him taking him for a heartless person. Most of the people felt sorry for his parents who had to bear with such a son who had no feelings and did not care to hide it. No one could fathom what was going on in the mind of the stony faced boy.
The days went by.
Moolshankar became more taken up with his studies of the scriptures. So much so that he even forgot to take his meals. All the time he would mull over whatever he read.
His mother often had to cajole him to eat his food. Left to himself he could have starved to death without realising it. He kept brooding.
Then, the family suffered another tragedy. An epidemic broke out and claimed the life of the brother of Karsanlal. He was the dear uncle of Moolshankar.
Although Moolshankar was badly shaken from inside yet again he displayed no emotion of grief or sadness. He went through all the proceedings like a mechanical robot to the shock of the relatives.
But contrary to the exterior the mind of the young Moolshankar was in turmoil. It was so even when his sister had died.
One day, Moolshankar went to the priest of the village who was a 65 year old man. He was preparing things for the worship ritual.
He saw Moolshankar arrive and he froze. Moolshankar known all over the village for his heartlessness had dead pan face was in grim mood that day. A grave sadness was written all over his face. Infact the priest had not seen a sadder face.
He looked hard at Moolshankar.
The priest asked, “Why are you so sad, my son?”
Moolshankar touched the feet of the priest very reverently and revealed, “Baba, a grave problem is troubling me. It is a mystery for me. May be, you have the answer to my problem.”
The priest patronisingly patted the troubled boy and offered, “I will do my best, son. You must spell out your problem.”
The priest had a feeling that Moolshankar was not a heartless person as everyone thought. His dead pan face was a cover up for the internal turmoil he was going through.
Moolshankar said, “Baba, what is death? Why the people don’t believe in what is written in our holy scriptures although they claim to believe in every word of it? Why are the people mourning the deaths of their relatives when our scriptures say that it is merely a passage to the new phase of life? What is the truth?”
The priest pursed his lips before saying, “Son, what is written in the scriptures can not be false. But why do people behave as if they were not convinced by what is said by the scriptures is difficult to answer. May be, you will have to find the answer yourself.”
“How can I do it?” Moolshankar asked.
“Same way son, that our sages used to do to find the answers of the mysteries that troubled their minds. Meditation and penance. Yoga!” the priest revealed.
“Meditation and yoga!” Moolshankar muttered.
He returned home without asking any further questions. He had made up his mind upon something.
He told his father, “Father, I want to go to Kashi for higher education.”
“Kashi!” the father exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, I want to know the answers to some puzzles related to life and death.”
It worried the father. He thought that his son was going out of his mind. Without saying anything to his son Karsanlal went to the village headman. The elderman and Karsanlal discussed the issue.
They decided to send Moolshankar to a guru who ran a school in a nearby place. The guru was well known for having a reputation of having straightened out many a problem kid.
The two hoped that he will deal with Moolshankar too effectively.
So, Karsanlal handed over his son to the care of that guruji. Moolshankar was to stay with the guru at his ashram school.
One day Moolshankar asked, “Guruji what is life and death really? If what is written in our holy scriptures is the real truth then why don’t people accept it in their real lives?”
Guru stared at his pupil.
He had not expected such a kind of question from Moolshankar because the issue was very complex. No one could really explain it to anyone to total satisfaction.
The irritated guru spoke in sharp voice, “Son, you are yet to master the fundamentals. First complete your education then you can debate over it. Don’t waste your time in premature dabbling in such serious subjects.”
“But sir, this thing is very important for me. I want to know the true answers. My mind won’t be at peace to pay attention to the studies.”
“Moolshankar! I will only teach you for what your father has sent you here for. That is the lessons of the books taught here. My school is not a religious discourse centre.”
Moolshankar protested, “The education must help me find answers to the serious matters of the life. I can’t be forced to study or I will go away to find the answers to life and death mystery somewhere else. As a teacher I ask you to satisfy my curiosity about God, life and death. I beg you to,” The boy had tears in eyes.
The guru fell silent. Moolshankar was not trying to pester him deliberately.
He could read that in the tears of the boy. Moolshankar indeed had a troubled mind.
The guru had now realised that Moolshankar was a different cup of tea and he would not be able to carry on with his education there. And there was danger of Moolshankar running away from his school which could seriously dent the reputation of the teacher.
He decided to send Moolshankar back to his father.
Then, incidentally Karsanlal happened to pay a visit to the school to see the progress of his erratic son.
The teacher said to him, “Panditji, I won’t be able to teach your son. Better if you take him back along or he would run away.”
It shocked Karsanlal.
He asked, “Guruji, what is the matter? Why can’t you teach him? Is he making mischief or creating trouble for you? He used to be a serious boy although adamant.”
The teacher revealed, “Your son is not making any mischief. I wish he did that a bit. He is too serious and wants to know too much too soon. Topsy-turvy priorities of his mind has set for him which makes him unfit for normal education.”
Karsanlal stared at the teacher.
He asked his son why his teacher was so gravely disenchanted with him.
Moolshankar replied, “I had asked a question from guruji. Instead of providing the answer he advised me to go home.”
Karsanlal said, “I gather that you have been wasting time on subjects other than the subjects taught here. Why are you becoming a headache for all of us?”
Moolshankar said, “It is the duty of the gurus and the elders to satisfy the curiosity of the young people. I was not trying to become a headache. I was merely seeking answer to some questions that are greatly troubling me.”
Karsanlal blew his top.
He screamed, “You will always remain stupid. Stupid, stupid!!”
The guru intervened to calm down the raging father. He said, “Panditji! Losing temper is no solution. The mind of your son is wandering. As his father you must find some anchor to stabilize his mind. Don’t spurn him or rebuke. You might lose your son. Treat him as a friend and don’t lose temper.”
“I can’t understand what I can do?” The father moaned regretfully. He was scratching his head.
The guru whispered, “Get him married. That might bring stability to his mind.”
“He is too young for that,” the father shook his head.
“But he is not a child even. He talks like an old man. And then child marriages are common in our society. The wife might prove a magnet to attract him towards normal domestic life. Or he will become a sadhu. I have that feeling.”
More talks took between the guru and the father of the problem boy.
Karsanlal returned to Tankara with his son Moolshankar. He told his wife what had transpired between him and the guru.
The mother was elated at the idea of her Moolshankar walking in with his young bride chiming her anklets. That was the dream every Indian mother cherished.
The parent pair sat down to plan the son’s marriage in great excitement hopefully.
