Revenge of the Chandalas Read online

  “You took so long to get dressed Shatvari, as if you are going to learn music from a Gandharva and not from our Acharya ji.” teased Aditi.

  “You never know, we might come across a Gandharva on our way,” laughed Shatvari enjoying her own comment.

  The bullock cart made of wood and metal was designed like a carriage. The cart had two large wooden wheels and a back seat wide enough for three people. At the front was a seat for the coachman and two more seats behind that. All the seats had cotton cushions, covered with red-coloured cloth. A roof made of dry twigs covered with a brown cloth was there to save passengers from the sun. There were two white oxen, tied together and restrained with a rope that went through their nostrils that was in the left hand of the coachman. He had a wooden stick instead of a whip in his right hand.

  Shatvari motioned the coachman to move as soon as she took her seat beside Aditi.

  “To Pandit Achyut Acharya's house?” asked the coachman while moving on.

  “Yes, he teaches us music,” Shatvari replied while trying to hold her pink dupatta slipping off her slender shoulders. In her quest to look beautiful, she had even forgotten to cover her arms in choli.

  “You are really fortunate that you have got Acharya ji as your teacher. There is nobody as good as him when it comes to classical music in the entire state,” said the coachman whilst pulling the reins of bullocks.

  “Yes, it's a matter of pride for us that we are Acharya ji's disciples. He is a good friend of my father Pandit Aditya Shastri and that's why he accepted us as his students, otherwise, it's very difficult to gain his blessings,” covering her arms with the dupatta, Shatvari adjusted her silken blouse pulling it a little down.

  “Shastri ji himself has earned great respect from every villager. His mastery of Vedas and Shastras is matched by none.”

  Shatvari felt good to hear her father being praised. A tinge of brightness lit up her face because of pride.

  “Listen...” Shatvari called out but was interrupted by the coachman even before she could finish, “My name is Gunjan.”

  Gunjan was a dusky young boy of barely twenty years. His build was slight but muscular. A light beard on his long face looked very attractive. Shoulder-length hair were tied together behind his neck, making his high forehead look bright and lustrous. A white loincloth covered his waist and legs and one part of the cloth rested on his left shoulder. He wore a black thread with a silver coin threaded in it around his neck. His earlobes were pierced with small silver earrings that dangled as he talked.

  “Gunjan! Your name itself is so lyrical,” Shatvari said and smiled, “My name is Shatvari and she is Aditi, my friend.”

  “Do you know any music?” Shatvari asked after a short pause.

  “Our music falls into the tradition of holy Vedas. I am a Shudra from a lower caste. How will I learn music? Where from?” asked Gunjan. An element of sadness surfaced on his face.

  “Music doesn't follow any tradition, if at all it's bound to the breath of every living being. Knowing Vedas may help to understand music, but it is not a requirement for sure. Music is also in the calls of cuckoos and in the humming of the bees.”

  “You are right in a way. I might not know the correct notes and ragas, but I do enjoy singing folk songs with my friends. I have learnt some music that way over the years. Also, the priest of Sheetala Mandir in our locality plays beautiful flute and he has taught me too to play it,” Gunjan recounted his interest of music. A sweet smile had replaced the poignant look on his face.

  “Very nice, then let's hear your song and see how good you are at music. Moreover, the passage will go by swiftly,” said Aditi jumping into the conversation.

  Gunjan was taken aback by this abrupt request from Aditi and embarrassingly said, “You both are Acharya ji's students and must know the nuances of music very well. You will make fun of me.”

  “Don't say that, music should come from the heart and nobody should laugh at a true heart's song,” said Shatvari to encourage him.

  Gunjan felt at ease by Shatvari's comment. A smile passed upon his lips feeling lighter at the intimacy shown by Shatvari.

  'What's the harm in singing anyway, Shatvari might like it and get impressed,' thought Gunjan.

  Gunjan struck up a tune in high note and started a folk song appropriate for the wet season. Listening to the first few notes emanating from his throat, both Shatvari and Aditi realised his superb voice quality and mastery over the musical notes. Gunjan soon got lost in the tempo and music of the song like a bee sipping nectar from a lotus filament. Shatvari tapped her feet and the tiny tinkle bells from her silver anklets added to the beat. The intoxicating, moist, monsoon breeze and earthen fragrance spreading out from the freshly ploughed fields added to the melody of Gunjan's song; it mesmerized Shatvari and Aditi. By the time the song had concluded, they had arrived at Acharya ji's house.

  “Wow! Gunjan, you sing so melodiously, and you have a great voice. I am sure if you learn classical music, you will become a renowned singer,” Shatvari exclaimed as she seemed overjoyed, rather than surprised.

  “You are joking, aren't you? Who would teach classical music to a Shudra like me?”

  “Will you like to learn from me, if I were to teach you music?” asked Shatvari leaning forward and soon Gunjan was besotted by a scent of jasmine emanating from Shatvari's silken hair. Gunjan was engrossed in the sweet aroma when he was suddenly interrupted by the same voice of Shatvari. He turned around to see both Shatvari and Aditi walk towards Acharya ji's house. He couldn't help but notice Shatvari's seductive gait and found himself lost in thoughts. No girl as beautiful as Shatvari had come so close to him and talked to him the way she did. An unknown incense effused from Gunjan as if flowing forth from moist soil after the first showers of monsoon.

  “Is Shatvari Impressed by me? Does she like me?” thought Gunjan.

  Gunjan's heart fluttered with emotions. He did not want the waves rising inside him run amuck.

  “Is it proper for a Shudra like me to have amorous feelings for a Brahmin girl like Shatvari? My mother who was a Brahmin herself had to break ties with her relatives for loving my father who was Shudra. A relationship between a Brahmin girl and a Shudra boy will never be tolerated by this society. This is the time to clip the wings of this bemused dream. The right thing to do would be to politely decline Shatvari's proposal.”

  Chapter 4

  Neel's house stood not far from Narmada's furrow. It was fifty yards away from the western main entrance of the town. Supported by wooden pillars, the brick walls of the house met the roof made of wooden beams and bamboos. Dried twigs and reeds filled the rooftop to make it impregnable from the sun and rain. A wide wooden double- door made of Sal wood stood at the entrance of the house.

  The door had a triangular top. Both parts of the door had fantastic, fine engravings.

  The night was almost over, but it wasn't dawn yet. The moist breeze was cold and spread the tuberose fragrance around. The crescent moon was waxing towards the first quarter. With drowsy eyes, guards greeted Dhananjay with a bow. Dhananjay accepted the greeting with a courteous smile and a little bow. The guards were tall and broad-chested, holding big spears in their hands. Hanging from the leather belts tied over their dhotis were long iron swords, sheathed in carved wood. One guard immediately opened the left door of the gate to let Dhananjay in. The respect that Dhananjay got from the guards suggested that he enjoyed a high status and was quite close to Neel.

  Dhananjay went in and made his way towards a large room on the right. He tapped gently on the wooden door and waited a few moments. There was no reply from inside. He tapped again, this time a little more intensely. There was no response yet. He wondered if Neel was fast asleep, as he needed to wake him up for the worship of the Sun god. The whole town would gather for the occasion soon. He knocked again with intent. Neel opened the door rubbing his eyes.

  “What is it Dhananjay, that you had to wake me up so early?” asked Neel while still rubbing sl
eep off his eyes.

  “This is what I want to know, your Highness—what's troubling you so much?”

  “You are one strange man; you woke me up at the break of dawn and you ask me what's the problem?” Neel got a little irritated.

  “Your Highness, you obviously seem to be in some grief. Sleeping late at night and forgetting important state business. All this generally points to a man bitten by a love bug,” said Dhananjay with a mischievous smile.

  “Yeah, whatever you say, my friend,” Neel tried to avoid his mischief.

  “Really! I am sure these are sure shot symptoms of a cupid's touch,” Dhananjay still had the same impish smile on his face.

  “There are other serious emotions than love, such as, hatred, anger and malice.”

  “But hatred...that can really poison the breath of the beholder, can it not?”

  “Those who know how to handle poison can consume it like a potion,” said Neel in a measured tone, “Well, leave it and tell me what made you knock on my door at this hour?”

  “Oh, so I have to remind you that today's the day for Sun worship,” Dhananjay said as if he opened a secret on Neel.

  “Ah, right! I remember now. What a sin! Anyway, you get in and sit, meanwhile I will quickly get dressed.”

  Neel walked hurriedly to get dressed. Dhananjay went in and leaned back on his couch. He looked around the large royal chamber and noticed deerskin rugs and stag's horns put on one of the walls as a prized hunter's trophy. The sight carried him to the past when both of them enjoyed the stress-free days of game hunting in the Mekal's forests.

  Chapter 5

  Shatvari and Aditi entered Acharya ji's house and went straight to the study on the left. It was a three-room modest house made of earthen bricks. Acharya ji sat there in his usual poise. Both the girls bowed and greeted their teacher. He accepted the greetings and smiled in reply. He was a medium built man in his fifties. Fair complexion and a certain aura on his face marked his personality. Long wavy hair rested peacefully on his shoulders. He was wearing a white loincloth and white body corset.

  “Meet my son Damodar,” Acharya ji introduced his son, who was standing on his left. Damodar looked barely of twenty-two years and was a tall young man, “He has returned from Sripur only today after finishing his studies. He has been learning music since an early age and he is now no less than a master musician himself. He will assist you in learning as well.”

  Damodar joined his palms to greet both the girls. He looked at Shatvari's beautiful face and couldn't resist himself saying, “You are Shastri ji's daughter Shatvari, if I am not mistaken? One could tell that you would turn out to be a pretty lady when you were just a little girl.”

  Shatvari smirked at Damodar's comment. She wondered how a young man can start a conversation with a stranger girl in this manner. She replied, “Thank you. You really are an expert in judging young beauty. This art definitely comes from long practice.”

  Damodar almost blushed at Shatvari's retort.

  Acharya ji was visibly unhappy at the dialogues between Damodar and Shatvari. He took charge and said, “Today we will talk about rasas used in classical music and dance forms. Please take your places, all of you.”

  Acharya ji took his place on a small cushion over a cotton sheet spread on the ground. Shatvari, Aditi and Damodar waited until Acharya ji sat comfortably. After that they also sat down. Shatvari realised that Damodar sat rather closely beside her. She elbowed Aditi, who was sitting on the other side, to move further so that she could move away from Damodar.

  Acharya ji raised his face catching a hold of everyone's attention. He started by saying, “Rasa, in artistic context, means quintessence—the absolute fundamental essence of an entity. Like essence of flowers, the essence of life is also contained in some rasas.”

  “But what does that have anything to do with music?” asked Aditi.

  “Well, it has direct relation with life itself and music is an important part of life. Rasa and music have a deep bond. We can say that rasas define the finer emotions of human beings. Music too does that. Music preceded the creation of Vedas and ragas. Music was born as soon as God thought about the creation. The world itself came forth from naad, a sound. The whole creation reflects the presence of music everywhere; it's in the flowing streams of rivers; it's in the wildness of storms; in the drizzling of monsoon; and the roar of pregnant clouds. Different styles of music depict different aspects of life, as do different rasas, with which these emotions are attached. It's paramount for a musician to understand these rasas, to be able to portray these emotions in the music. If music is played without the inherent understanding of these rasa, it will be dull and lifeless. Just like a human being without emotions and sensitivity.”

  “Rasa can be classified in eight categories. The most vital and popularly known is the Shringara Rasa. It entails adornment, love and other softer emotions. Rati, the goddess of love, symbolises all that Shringara rasa means. In simpler words, Shringara can mean enjoyment of love between a couple of opposite sexes in a sensual environment. This might make it sound simply erotic and confined only to sensual pleasures. That is not so. Love encompasses a lot more beyond the sexual feelings. To understand this deeply, we must know that nature is the master creation of Brahma in the dichotomy of male and female, spirit and nature, Shiva and Shakti. The present universe as we know it is a result of the spiritual play, leela of these opposites immersing themselves in Shringara. Shiva is the supreme consciousness and Shakti is its driving force. When they come together, creation begins. When a man and a woman come close in love and they become one in unison, they create a cosmos within themselves akin to Shiva and Shakti. The lovemaking that brings the two together remains not simply an act of erotic nature but becomes an exercise of surrender to Brahma.”

  Meanwhile, Shatvari realised that Damodar had been looking at her throughout the whole lecture from Acharya ji. She could feel his eyes literally caressing her body. She adjusted her dupatta and moved slightly farther away from Damodar.

  “But the meaning of Shringara as we know is to embellish our appearance and beauty,” asked Aditi.

  “That's true. Beauty is adorable. Love and beauty have this amazing relation. Whatever that is beautiful becomes adorable. On the other hand, whatever that is dear becomes beautiful. For a mother, her son is the most beautiful creature alive. A father thinks his daughter is most pretty,” replied Acharya ji.

  Acharya ji suddenly realized that Damodar was paying more attention to Shatvari than the lecture. He thought it best to stop the day's session right there. Damodar must be made aware of his conduct before the next class. He announced, “So that's it for today. How rasas are employed in music, how they can enhance the reach and popularity of music—all this we'll discuss tomorrow.”

  Shatvari and Aditi got up and bowed to Acharya ji. They walked out of the house. Damodar quickly followed them to the front of the house and said, “I have brought a new horse cab from Sripur. If you don't mind, I can drop you home.”

  Shatvari looked at Aditi, who smiled back.

  “No, thank you, we have brought our own cart today. Maybe some other day,” Shatvari said with a sharpness steeped in her smile.

  Damodar was a tall and attractive young man. He had an irresistible charm enough to impress any young lady.

  Shatvari carefully judged Damodar's antics. She knew what he was up to. She preferred to sit on the fence to see what to make of him as time passed.

  Sitting at the back seat of Gunjan's bullock cart, Shatvari asked him, “So what have you decided, will you learn music from me?”

  “You are a Brahmin girl and I am a Shudra. Will it be proper for me to learn from you? Will the society like it?” replied Gunjan.

  “This is the same society where Shudras like Valmiki and Vedvyas became great saints. So, don't worry about all that.”

  “That was long ago. Now society has changed. The caste system is much deeper. I doubt people would like it.”

 
“Society is always changing. If it changed from that time to this, why can't we change it for the better again? Don't worry too much about all that, just tell me if you want to learn music or not?” replied Shatvari with the tone and authority that partly came from her own judgement but also from the broad-minded teachings of her father.

  “Okay, if I say I am willing, will your father be ready to let you do it?” asked Gunjan.

  “My father is not a hypocrite. He is a learned man with a true understanding of religious texts. Unlike other Brahmins, he does not interpret holy texts as per his convenience. I am sure of him.”

  'What's the harm in learning music? After all, Shatvari would be my teacher. A teacher should be respected and revered. I was unnecessarily getting carried away by emotions,' Gunjan thought and confirmed his willingness to Shatvari.

  “Then it's final. I am now your guru and you are my disciple. Remember you have to pay the guru's fee sooner or later,” said Shatvari.

  “Yeah, and that would include touching her feet every day,” teased Aditi and glanced at Shatvari and they both laughed together.

  “I heard that you are going to teach Gunjan?” asked Shastri ji.

  “Yes father, that's right. I hoped you have no issues with that. I believe you are not concerned that he is a male and a Shudra?” Shatvari replied, trying to assess what her father was thinking at that moment.

  “No, I am not concerned. I am happy that you are sharing your art. What I must tell you, though, is that one must judge whether the disciple is able enough to receive the gift of knowledge from an able teacher.”

  “Father I have heard him. His voice is melodious. He sings well. All he needs is some knowledge of classical music.”

  “Well, if you have judged his abilities, fine,” he paused for a second, as if looking for right words to continue.