The 19th Century India was a different place. The rural areas were mostly populated by deeply religious people of orthodox kind who were blatant followers of tradition. Evil customs and superstitions ruled the minds of the people who believed in whatever tilak wearing priests told them as the religious order and most of what they told them was irrational and mostly total farce.
The parents
Hindus had firm faith in god incarnation as illustrated by the mythology. Every Hindu woman prayed some god to take birth as incarnation from her womb. Such prayers were most earnest whenever a woman was pregnant.
The wife of a rich Brahmin named Karsanlal of Tankara village of the princely state of Morvi was pregnant in the year 1824. She was also a traditionally religious woman and prayed to gods to bless her womb. She saw wish-induced dreams and one morning revealed to her husband, “Dear Master! I saw a dream. You would not believe what I saw.” She nudged her sleeping husband.
“What…what dream?” Karsanlal asked in a sleepy voice.
“I saw Lord Shiva and mother Parvati coming to me astride their Nandi bull. Lord was saying to me that he was pleased with my devotion and worship to him. He said that as a reward he was planting a part of him in my womb. My son would bring glory to our family and our seven generations would be redeemed.”
Millions of women steeped in blind faiths had seen such dreams through their wish induced minds. It was no exception but every couple thought its dream to be special to enjoy the excitement of the wishful thinking.
“It that true?” the husband asked.
“Believe me,” the wife reiterated her claim fluttering her eyes.
“Your dream will come true. I have that feeling. Our son is going to be very special, the incarnation of God,” the husband hopefully nodded his head.
Finally, the day the couple were waiting for arrived.
The wife was in the inner room in the labour pains.
The husband, Karsanlal was pacing the floor in the outer room. The labouring wife was being helped on by a neighbourhood dai nurse. The groaning sounds emerging from the delivery room was making Karsanlal frown and bite his nails.
Suddenly the groaning became louder and more urgency ridden. Then, some gasping sounds and the silence descended.
Karsanlal’s heart sank. His heart beat faster and breathing became laboured. He felt giddy.
A few seconds later a baby cry pierced the air. All the tension drained off the face of Karsanlal and a broad smile lit up his face.
His watched the door expectantly. The door creaked open and a woman face peered out.
She announced, “It is a boy!”
The smile on Karsanlal’s face broadened further to touch the ears. The woman beaconed him inside. He went in and stood by the side of the bed his wife lay on. By her side was a just born bundle of new life, the little embodiment of their dreams.
It was a cute round faced male child.
Karsanlal picked it up and stared from the close quarter at his son. The paternal love swept through his body. He kissed the forehead of the baby and replaced it by the side of his mother.
The husband and wife looked into each others eyes and both smiled.
The news spread through the village and everyone congratulated the child’s father. As per custom Karsanlal feted the village and gave away customary alms to Brahmins.
The baby was christened Moolshankar.
The baby began to grow under the cool shadow of the love and the fondness of his parents. The family suffered little shortages. So, there was plenty for Moolshankar to eat and drink to help his body grow.
The time passed on. The days converted into weeks, months and years. The prankster years became history.
Soon, he was big enough to start learning letters. The father himself began to teach his son the primary level education.
The family was Shiva devotee. The kid Moolshankar was not a naughty boy of usual type or he took no extra interest in playing. He was more of a religious type who enjoyed discussions on the powers of Lord Shiva. Shiva devotees used to gather at Karsanlal’s house for the same purpose.
Moolshankar’s only other interest was exercising in local akhara gym. Even as a kid he had developed stout and muscular body.
He had started earnestly worshiping Shiva like his father. He would sit before Shivalingam and pray or chant mantras invoking the Lord. Moolshankar did it with all seriousness.
The son’s devotion to the Lord would please the father and he would whisper to his wife, “Our son is going to become something unusual. Look at his devotion!”
That year too “Mahashivaratri”, the day of Lord Shiva’s festival arrived. The legend is that on that day Lord Shankara had got married. Hindus celebrate it through the day and the night with a lot of rituals and customs.
The village Tankara had a long tradition of celebrating Mahashivaratri. Extensive preparations had been made for it. The village and the houses had been spruced up. The earthen lamps were lighting up the atmosphere. The village temple had arranged mass feast and all night prayers.
All the devotees of Shiva had kept fast.
On that year Moolshankar was 14 years old. When he woke up in the morning he found his mother busy in making preparations for the celebration. He knew that it was for Shivaratri still, he feined ignorance and asked “Ma! What for all these great preparations you are making for? Some festival today?” He blinked his eyes to look innocent.
“Son, today is Mahashivaratri, the day we celebrate Lord Shiva. It is very sacred festival,’’ the mother answered helping the son get up.
“I have heard that on this day people keep fast. Does it please Lord Shiva and make him fulfil wishes?” Moolshankar asked stretching up.
“That is right, son. A fast kept on this day with true devotion earns one the fulfillment of wishes. Lord Shiva, the master of Kailasha obliges.”
“Then I too shall keep fast. At the night I will go with father to Shiva temple to worship,” the 14 years old Moolshankar declared proudly.
“What is your wish, son?” the amused mother asked.
“I will ask for true knowledge and the vision to see him,” the boy said thoughtfully.
The overwhelmed mother patted her son.
The kid did not want money or riches. He only wished for knowledge. The mother felt proud of her son. He was not ordinary one, now she was sure.
Moolshankar ran to his father and told him about his resolve to keep Shivaratri fast.
The proud father blessed his son.
And the boy did not eat anything all day. He chanted the Lord’s name most of the time.
The evening fell. All the households lit up their homes with oil lamps in Shiva’s name. At night the boy prepared to go to the temple with his father for all night prayers session.
The mother advised, “Son, you are still a kid. Come home after the worship. Don’t stay back for all night session.”
“Don’t worry, ma. I can stay awake all night. I trust Lord Shiva to keep my eyes open,” Moolshankar expressed his faith. The mother looked worried.
But the father was confident that his son would do that. He knew the resolve of the kid.
At the temple, the huge Shivalingam was covered with flowers. The atmosphere was soaked with the fragrance of dhoop and agarbatties. The devotees were singing devotional song swaying in trance.
The atmosphere of the temple impressed Moolshankar. His heart was filled with devotional sentiments. He watched the Shivalingam fascinated. Meanwhile his father had moved on into the crowd of the devotees to join the prayer singing. Suddenly he realised that his son not with him. He looked back and spotted Moolshankar.
He went to his son and asked, “Son, why do you stand here like a statue?” He had put his hand over the shoulder of the boy reassuringly.
“I am looking at the Lord, father. It excites me. My body gets swathed with devotion,” the son said.
Father looked proudly at his son and then bowed his head to Shivalingam saying, “O Lord! My son is your own blessing. Please kindle his heart with your divinity.”
Moolshankar also bowed his head and the pair of the father and the son joined the crowd of praying devotees who sat on the floor.
The praying continued past mid night. As the night progressed towards the morning the devotees started feeling drowsy. Bout of ucontrolable yawns seized them. The eyelids were becoming heavier and refusing to open up. Some of the people gave up and fell asleep.
As the time progressed prayers died into murmurs. Snoring sounds became more prominent.
By three o’clock in the morning almost all the devotees were asleep except one.
Moolshankar had defied the drowsiness. He was even now wide awake. His gaze was fixed on the idol. He hoped that Lord Shiva would recognise his true devotion and appear to him in person to reward him. but yet there was no sign of Shiva.
It was four now. The temple hall was rumbling with snoring noises.
Moolshankar’s gaze was still on the idol. He was still hopeful of some miracle being sighted by him.
Then, he saw something that was just the antithesis of a miracle. A filthy looking rat was climbing the lingam and it foraged through the heap of flowers, may be to sanctify the idol with his droppings. He noticed the rat in that posture. Then, the rat jumped down into a big tray in which lay laddoos, the offerings of devotees to Lord Shiva.
The rat began to gobble laddoos in its filthy way creating a heap of laddoo mess in which it wallowed merrily and added its droppings.
Moolshankar stared in horror and disbelief. A tiny bundle of filth was desecrating the idol of Shiva and the Lord was doing nothing to drive it away. It stood there like powerless stone while a filthy rat rampaged around dirtying everything that was supposed to be sacred.
Is that Shiva idol no real Shiva? If it were real or had some power it could surely shoo away a rat.
But it did not which meant that the Lingam was merely a make-believe idol, a stone in reality. It was no more divine than a grinding stone.
The other sleeping devotee mob was unaware of what was happening in the real world. The cool pre-morning breeze had put them in deeper sleep.
A rebellious voice arose in Moolshankar’s mind, “I can bet that the idol is just a stone. No Shiva. It has no power. It can’t even drive away a fly or a mosquito. Why should I worship this piece of stone? There is no sense in it. Stop this stupidity.”
Moolshankar looked around. He had gone tip-toeing to the Shivalingam to investigate. He saw the rat droppings in laddoo thali. There was no doubt about it.
He saw his father fast asleep doubled up in the devotee crowd. The boy went to him and shook him. The body of his father just rolled around without waking him up.
He was only making ‘ummmm’ sounds.
“Wake up, father!” the boy shook his father violently.
Karsanlal unwillingly woke up still uncertain of where he was and what was going on around.
He asked, “What is it, son? What is happening?”
Moolshankar revealed the entire incident and announced that he no more believed in Shiva idol.
The father reasoned, “Son, that Shivalingam is only a symbol of Lord Shiva. We can’t expect it to work miracles.”
Moolshankar looked sad.
He asked, “Then why are we worshiping this stone symbol? Prove that Shiva is in that idol. I saw the contrary proof.”
Karsanlal scratched his head and argued, “Son, the real thing is faith. If you put your faith is that stone it becomes god otherwise it is stone. It is in one’s own mind and heart.”
Moolshankar would not take it.
He insisted, “Father, I kept Shivaratri fast honestly and with true devotion. There was not even a tiny bit of doubt in my mind. I was the only one here who really stayed awake while others slept. The Lord did not show himself up. Infact a filthy rat descerated the idol with impunity. I can’t put my faith in that stone thing. I will worship the real Lord Shiva who is all powerful. This stone means nothing to me.”
The father was speechless.
