It was the autumn of 1843. Ramachandra used to celebrate the season as a time to pay tribute to the ancestors and perform prescribed religious rites.
It required him to go to the ancestral village of Selampur. That year Ramachandra invited his maternal uncle Khudiram to join the celebrations.
Khudiram happily accepted the invitation. But he was not keeping well. Old age niggles had ravaged his ancient body of 68 years.
The members of his family were not in favour of his going to Selampur to take part in the celebrations. But he decided to go anyway. The next year may not come for him, he suspected. The current year was offering him last chances of his life. How could he miss it?
And then, his nephew had been so helpful in his life. It was a kind of moral duty for him to take part in the celebrations of the nephew Ramachandra.
As soon as he reached Selampur, an old disease reared its head again. Ramachandra got him treated. After 3-4 days he seemed to recover a bit. But it aggravated on the day of Navami.
The nephew took good care of him and did whatever was possible. He took the services of the best of the doctors and vaids. But it was not working on Khudiram.
Dussehra day morning dawned.
On that day Khudiram’s body looked extremely weak and drained of life. He could not even speak. Ramachandra sensed that his uncle’s last hour was fast approaching.
It brought tears to his eyes.
He spoke in choked voice, “Mamaji, you used to chant Rama’s name. I want you to do that today for your good. It will help.”
The mention of Rama inspired life in his in- cacerated body. He spoke in flickering voice, “Where is my dear nephew? Let him help me sit up. Has he gone out to immerse the idol?”
Ramachandra and Ramkumar were standing by. They helped the sick body into the sitting position.
In that act their hands felt as if they were handling a lifeless body. The two stared at Khudiram’s face. It was still. The eyes were blank.
Were the last words spoken by Khudiram his life energy’s dying effort which signalled to his soul to fly away? And the soul had obeyed.
Khudiram had passed away.
Ramachandra and others were plunged in grief as soon as the truth became known. Chandra was at once informed of the death of her husband. The news gave her the biggest shock of her life.
Her child, seven year old Gadadhar had become an orphan. Three years after Chandra had given birth to a daughter also. The four year old baby girl had also become an orphan. Now who would take care of the kids was a big question mark.
The grief stricken Chandra was beyond any consolation. She had been left holding a seven year Gadadhar and a four year old Mangla. Now it was her duty to bring up the kids in whatever way.
Khudiram was cremated with due rites. The eldest son of Khudiram was now the provider of the family. Ram Kumar manfully shouldered the responsibility of the upkeep of his mother and kid brother and sister.
Although a kid Gadadhar’s mind had matured beyond his age yet there some imponderables. He understood the traumatic loss of his father and the pain of his mother. Deep inside he was shaken although he did not show it outwardly even to his mother. He did not want to add to the misery of his old mother.
Gadadhar had become solitude loving and self centred. He did not show his grief and inner pain to others. It made others think that he had got over the tragedy of the death of his father.
Gadadhar had grown the habit of going to lonely places or desolate spots to find peace in isolation. He would even wander into cremation ground or supposedly haunted places. The people thought that the boy might be on some pranking mission.
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