It all started when I enrolled in math tuition. I had to walk along a narrow trail. The sides of the trail were dense with a few thorny bushes and the dreaded parthenium. Also known as broom weed or rag weed, the pollen from this plant can exacerbate bronchitis/asthma in people. This plant also helped students spew a variety of excuses to bunk classes, while my weak excuse of skin rashes didn’t draw any sympathy. I had to walk this trail for about 500 meters to reach the main road.
As I entered the main road, I saw two of my classmates walking ahead of me. I slowed down, staying a few paces behind them. My classmates were from distant villages and went there for their vacations. They returned with a lot of stories of incidents they encountered back there. I wished that my folks too had a home in the village.
I gathered from their conversation that there had been a robbery in one of their villages. As they talked, one of the girls turned and spotted me. They waited for me to catch up and we crossed into an adjoining lane together, leading to the teacher’s house. The classes were held in our teacher’s home on the weekends, and on evenings before an exam.
We were a little early that day. We sat down in the open verandah which was also our classroom. A mud pot filled with water was kept in a corner, a blackboard and chairs occupied one end of the verandah. We sat on the plastic chairs and heard animated voices from inside the house. A piece of jewelry and some cash had apparently gone missing that morning, and the teacher’s wife suspected the house help.
As the voices faded away, my friend began her story of a robbery in her village. Apparently, her grandmother had a huge house where she lived with her three sons and their families. She had taken care of all the finances and the management of the farm from the time her husband took ill. One day, she found the money in the cupboard missing. Among her three uncles in the house, the middle one usually got into trouble due to his wayward nature. He was prone to drinking or gambling and all fingers pointed towards him. The money in question had been set aside to construct a new wing in the backyard for guests when they came visiting.
When things like this happened, my friend explained, villagers didn’t go to the cops but used their own methods. Her grandmother had sent word to the village priest, who would be able to use his power of sorcery to find the culprit.
Soon, a short man with flowing beard and a large vermilion dot on his forehead entered. He had a wooden staff, the head of which had an engraved skull. He waved the staff about as he walked around the house. He stopped under the white gulmohar tree and looked up. Then he bent down, picked up a pod and stared at it. While the kids found his antics funny, the adults watched in reverence.
“He then bowed to my grandmother and asked her to lead him to the puja room,” said Parvati eyes gleaming with excitement. “In the center of one of the walls, there’s a bronze pedestal where the family deity is kept. Apparently, this rock was found by our ancestors when tilling their land about a hundred years ago. They believed that this divine rock was the mother who would help them flourish.”
“A decorated seat had been placed for the priest. He sat down and asked for various tools which were brought and placed before him. Finally, he asked for two large betel leaves and an empty coconut shell. He then lit the large lamp in the room. Taking some cotton, he dipped it in ghee and showed it to the flame. As it lit up, he placed it in the coconut shell and covered it with a silver plate.
Soon he began chanting something under his breath. As we waited, he took the plate off the coconut shell. It was covered with soot on one side. Taking a betel leaf, he painted it with the soot using his finger and chanted some more. Soon he opened his eyes and looked around. He called my grandmother and said he was ready to find the culprit. He then looked at the blackened betel leaf and said that he could see the culprit standing under a mango tree, waiting at a bus stop. The man was wearing a yellow shirt and a dhoti. My cousins and I didn’t believe a word he said, but my grandmother waited for the man, who was still staring at the betel leaf, to finish.
“There he is! he yelled. “Go right away and you can catch him.’’
“My grandmother immediately sent her farm hands, who returned with the culprit. He was fleeing to the next town with the money. The man was related to the middle uncle’s wife. He then apologized for taking the money and was let off with a few beatings.
Soon the teacher arrived and our class began. As we were getting ready to leave, after the class, a boy’s father came by to pick up his son. He had already heard the news of the missing jewel. He asked our teacher if he wanted help in finding the culprit. When the teacher said he was thinking of going to the cops, the man said he knew a person who would be far more efficient than the cops. He said he would send such a person, and left.
The next day, as we arrived at the teacher’s house, the house help was being fired. We found out she had returned the goods she had stolen the previous day.
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