Three Thousand Stitches Read online

  That was good news indeed. I needed all the protection I could get for my upcoming examinations.

  ‘You are lucky to get it at such a young age,’ Avva said, as she incorrectly interpreted the reason for my smile.

  ‘What does the Kashi thread look like?’

  ‘Well, it is a simple knotted black thread. Kashi is protected by Bhairavnath, who is a great and loyal servant of Lord Shiva. If you go to Kashi and don’t see the Kaal Bhairav temple, your yatra or journey is considered incomplete. You will get a Kashi thread from there, which you have to wear for Bhairavnath to protect you. Since the Kashi trip is difficult, he will accompany you in his invisible form until you reach home safely. Then he runs back to assist the next devotee,’ finished my grandmother.

  ‘Hmm,’ I thought. ‘What if he has to help more than one person home?’

  Before I could ask, Avva answered, ‘I know what you are going to ask me now. Bhairavnath can multiply himself as many times as he wants to.’

  So instead, I asked, ‘What is the use of the water from the Ganga?’

  ‘Silly girl, how can I ever describe the use of the holy water?’ She patted my head affectionately. ‘The Ganga is the life of our country. Everybody wants to drink the holy water, but it isn’t possible for people like us who live in south India. So we keep a few spoons of Gangajal, the holy water from the Ganga, for whoever is in the last days of their life so that they can go to heaven.’

  ‘Avva,’ I asked, ‘if Kashi is so important and you believe in it so much, then Kaka and you must go there. I will also come with you.’

  Avva turned thoughtful. ‘I have never ventured out of Karnataka,’ she said. ‘You know that Kaka and I avoid eating anything when we travel. It takes at least ten days to go to Kashi. And it’s better to travel in a group because we don’t know the local language. It is difficult to form such a group here, and we are also getting old. We don’t want to fall sick on the way and burden the group. So going to Kashi will most likely remain a dream for me. But I am happy that Indira has gone there with her cousins. At least I can visit her and listen to her stories.’

  At the time, I didn’t understand why my grandmother had such devotion for this holy land.

  Soon, we reached Indira Ajji’s house. The whole atmosphere was festive. Stumps of banana trees and mango leaves were tied to the sides of the gate. There were plenty of flower decorations all over the place. An intricate rangoli design was drawn on the floor at the entrance. I immediately spotted my classmates running here and there with glee. My teacher was offering home-made drinks to all the children. On one side lay fifty pots containing Gangajal. All the pots had black threads tied around the neck. They were piled up on a table decorated with flowers. A single banana leaf was laid out nearby with all the dishes, though there was no one sitting there. My mind raced to count the number of desserts on the leaf.

  Avva and I entered the main room. Since my grandmother was the oldest person there and quite popular too, people seemed to be happy to see her. Avva turned to Indira, ‘You are so lucky to have visited Kashi, bathed in the river Ganga and seen Lord Vishwanath in all his glory.’

  Indira Ajji smiled gently and invited both of us to sit down. People were gathered around her to hear more about her trip.

  Somebody asked, ‘What did you think of the famous Annapoorna temple?’

  ‘It was beautiful,’ she replied. ‘It is located before Lord Vishwanath’s temple and is the only temple where Shiva is believed to ask for alms and food from his wife with his begging bowl. He is said to appear in the temple only on a few special days.’

  As people started asking more questions, I became bored.

  Slowly, I nudged my grandmother. When she turned to look at me, I pointed to the banana leaf and asked, ‘Avva, why is nobody sitting for lunch there? I am hungry. Can I go eat the food?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it! That food is for Bhairavnath. He has much work to do and has to make the trip back soon. But you can pray to him if you want.’

  I didn’t see anyone sitting there but remembered that he was supposed to be invisible. So I joined my hands together and prayed facing the leaf.

  A short while later, we all had a delicious lunch.

  On our way back, my grandmother remarked, ‘Isn’t it wonderful to hear that Indira took three handfuls of water from the river Ganga and saluted the rising sun? It must be such a beautiful sight. Sometimes, I also wish to do the same. I have convinced myself that the rivulet in our garden is also another form of the Ganga and if I worship her, it is as good as worshipping the river in Kashi.’

  It was evening by the time we reached home and from a distance, I could see my grandfather sitting in the verandah. Kaka was my good friend and I ran to tell him about the day.

  Just as I approached him, he smiled and asked, ‘Did your grandmother tell you about what you must leave behind in Kashi?’

  ‘What are you talking about, Kaka?’

  ‘In the olden days, the journey to Kashi took months and not days. Today, we have trains and roads but then people had to walk and cross forests and face dangers on their way. Many did not make it back to their homes. Emperor Akbar abolished the jizya tax for entry into Varanasi whereas Aurangzeb reintroduced it. Hence the journey to Kashi was expensive. If someone made it to Kashi successfully, they would make an unusual vow—to give up whatever they loved the most after taking three handfuls of water, keeping Lord Sun as a witness. A word given to the Ganga in such a way is considered unbreakable and one is obliged to fulfil it.’

  I was fascinated and waited as Kaka took a deep breath.

  ‘There are certain rules that you must follow.’

  ‘What rules?’

  ‘One cannot give up eating rice, wheat flour, milk, lentils, ghee or jaggery. One can give up eating one vegetable and one fruit that freely grows around their hometown or area and a dessert that they love. So if you love jalebis, you can vow to abstain from it, but you can’t give up something that you don’t like, such as bitter gourd. Whenever you see what you have given up, it will remind you of Kashi.’

  ‘That is quite tough, Kaka!’

  My grandfather continued as if he hadn’t heard me, ‘If a husband and wife go together, they can choose to give up the same things. That is easy as it means that they won’t have to cook separately. But if a husband and wife visit individually and choose to abstain from different things, then both of them must leave whatever the other has, too.’

  Avva, meanwhile, reached the verandah.

  ‘That sounds too complicated!’ I thought. Out loud, I asked, ‘Is it very hard to leave what you like, Kaka?’

  ‘It depends on the individual. If you decide to fulfil your vow with your heart and soul, then the desire for the object goes away with time and that way of life simply becomes a habit.’

  ‘What will you leave if you go to Kashi?’ I asked mischievously.

  ‘I love your Avva and that’s why I will never go to Kashi!’ he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

  Though Avva was old, she suddenly became shy and quickly walked in.

  In a more serious tone, he added, ‘It is not up to us to go there. It is Lord Vishwanath’s wish. He will call us when it’s our time.’

  Years flew by and seasons went past. Avva died without ever going to Kashi. She passed away on the day she always wanted to—the day of Bhishmastami or the day Bhishma died. It is believed that the gates of heaven are open on this day. I was in Pune then and by the time I reached Hubli, I could only see her ashes and her picture on the wall. My memory of Avva remained that of an active, cheerful, helpful and affectionate woman.

  Based on Avva’s last instructions, my aunt gave me the kumkum box and I preserved it like a treasure in an old chest, but did not use it as often as she did because by then, sticker bindis had invaded the Indian market.

  As time went by, I started reading extensively and became completely fascinated with Buddhism. Buddha’s compassionate heart moved me in w