31) Connecting through several lifetimes: The Story of the “Panditji” (Priest) of the Hanuman Temple at Chandrasekhar Azad University, Kanpur:

The Background:

In 1997-98, I was posted as a Branch Manager at a State Bank Branch (in Lucknow Circle of the Bank) in Kanpur’s Leather Belt. In 1998, when the Branch was undergoing computerization, we had multiple problems at the Branch in its implementation.

Most of my boys were absolutely computer illiterate and there was a passive resistance/objection to shifting from manual operations to a computerised one. To compound the problems, getting to understand the computerised operations/ software was proving to be an onerous task for the Branch staff and, to top it all, we had several irate and demanding customers who wanted to be “served” promptly.

Despite working very late at the Branch, each one of my officers and staff seemed to have a hard time coming to terms with the new computerised system.

Matters looked so bleak, that, I dreaded going to the Branch every morning not knowing what new problems we were going to face that day.

I remember that we attended an Asha Bhosle & Babul Supriyo concert, tickets for which were much sought after and paid Rs.1000/- apiece for two tickets, a princely sum in those days (my wife Sumita very much wanted to see this programme). Throughout the programme, I could not remember which songs Asha Tai and Babul Supriyo sang, because while I was physically present at the concert venue, my mind was still contemplating the problems at the Branch.

The Morning walks at the Chandrasekhar Azad University (CSA) Campus:

Every morning we used to go for morning walks in the CSA University Campus for a good two km or so and back, but of late, while I “physically” went for the morning walk looking like a “zombie”, “mentally”, I was only thinking of the problems back at the Branch during the entire walk.

I seemed to have stopped appreciating the morning breeze, the Campus grass, trees or the flowers blooming in the gardens et al.

The strange meeting with the Hanuman Temple “Panditji” and his Counselling:

As we passed by the Hanuman temple in the University Campus, suddenly, a frail elderly “Panditji” (Priest) came running out of the temple and started blessing me with both his hands placed on my head. Like a soothsayer of yore or like a seasoned “Counsellor”, he was shouting out to me at the top of his voice: “Sab Theek ho Jaayega. Koi Chinta nahin karne ka hai. Yeh jo kuch bhi ho raha hai, yeh sab Maya hai. Samay ke saath ye sab peeche ho jaayega. Main kaun hun, Tum Kaun Ho? Hamara tumhara rishta kai janamon ka hai. Kisi janam mein tum hamare Baap the, Kisi Janam mein hum tumhare Baap rahe hoge. Yeh Bhagwan ki Leela chalti rahegi. Sab theek ho jaayega” (Meaning “Everything will be alright. Do not worry about anything. Whatever is happening is only a play of Nature, the Universal Forces. With the passage of time, all this will be behind you. Who am I? Who are you? You and I have been related over several life-times. In one birth you may have been my father, while in another, I may have been your father. This is all a play of nature which will continue for eternity. Everything will be alright”.

Then as quickly as he had come running out of the temple to accost me, he went running back shouting “Thehro! Thehro!” (Wait! Wait!). He came out with a juicy apple which had been offered to the God Hanuman by some devotee. He said “Isko khao. Sab theek ho jaayega”. (meaning “Eat this. Everything will be alright”).

I was totally flustered. How did this elderly Panditji know that I was having problems? Was he really related to me over several lifetimes? Could he see beyond what I as an ordinary mortal could not see – i.e. into the Past as well as the Future or was it just a “pep” talk.

Somewhat embarrassed, I realised that for the morning walk I had not brought my wallet but I managed to fish out a Five rupee coin from my walking shorts pocket and said “Panditji, Yeh Paanch Rupiye Bhagwan par charha deejiyega” (meaning “Panditji, please put this Five Rupee coin at the Altar of God”).

He immediately admonished me making me feel like a small child before a College Principal “Bhagwan ke Ghar mein sab kuch milta hai. Unko tumhari rishwat ki jaroorat nahin hai” (meaning “In God’s House, everything is given. You do not have to bribe him with this little token of yours”).

Feeling somewhat small I pocketed the Five rupee coin saying “Dhanyavaad, Panditji” (meaning “Thank you Panditji”).

Panditji would give me a fruit everytime I passed the temple – much to the chagrin of other devotees:

Then it became a routine. As we would pass by the Hanuman temple, on our morning walks  Panditji would look out from inside the temple and no matter how busy he was, whether he was in a middle of a “Pooja” (meaning “prayer”) or irrespective of the number of  devotees who would wait in line to give him their offerings to be placed before the God Hanuman, he would come running out with whatever fruit he could grab quickly, continuing to chant his “mantras”, hand it to me, bless me by putting both his hands on my head and get back inside the temple as quickly as he had come out.

His “special” treatment for me raised several queries from the devotees “Sir, which department are you working in, in the University?”, “Do you know Panditji personally?” and so on. I tried to give evasive answers, not revealing the “special bond of several lifetimes” that I had now come to believe in.

Holiday in Mumbai and Goa and contracting the Falsiparum Malaria sickness:

Just as Panditji had predicted, with the passage of time, matters got stabilised at the Branch and my “problems” got somewhat reduced.

I could now take a long awaited holiday and went to Goa and Mumbai for about a week. While at Goa, I got bitten by a mosquito and did not realize that the mosquito had injected me with the “Plasmodium falciparum” variety of malarial infection. (“Plasmodium falciparum” is a protozoan parasite that causes malaria in human, and it is transmitted by the female anopheles mosquito). I understand that this is one of the deadliest varieties of the malarial parasite and in several cases results in fatalities a, before the disease is even discovered.

The physicians back home in Kanpur had not encountered malarial cases and hence could not make out my problem. As my vital systems began to fail one after the other and I was becoming delirious, I was evacuated to Lucknow where I immediately passed into a coma while narrating my symptoms to a Physician in my sister’s Nursing Home.

Getting treatment at King George’s Medical College, Lucknow: 
I was immediately transferred to the King George’s Medical College, Lucknow, where I believe that I stayed in a comatose condition for almost ten days with three generations of doctors keeping watch over me – my father, his student who was now a Professor and Head of the Department in the Medical College and my sister who was his student.

Luckily the Professor had encountered two Falciparum patients who had come to Lucknow after visiting Kolkata and co-relating the symptoms, started the treatment without waiting for my blood test reports. I believe that my Falciparum infection was so severe that the report and samples have been kept in the Medical College as reference material for medical students.

 During the comatose condition I became delirious and had at least one out of body experience, but that is another story.

A strange encounter with the “Grim Reaper”:

During another experience, I saw a group of people who were collecting people after knocking on several houses. One of them looked at me and said “Take him along with us. He is ready”. Confused I spoke to the person who had come to “collect” me “Who are you people? I don’t know anyone of you. And I am certainly not ready to go with you”. Whereupon he replied “We are collecting people to go with us. If you don’t want to go with us, then you will have to give me two hundred rupees”.

I realised to my horror that it was a group of representatives of the “Grim Reaper”. Nevertheless, I put up a bold front and said “I don’t know any of you and I will certainly not give you any money. And how dare you ask me for a bribe.  If I do have to give two hundred rupees I will give it to the Hanuman temple Panditji when I get back to Kanpur. And I am most certainly not going with anyone of you”.

Upon my saying this, the whole group on hearing the name of the God “Hanuman” and “Panditji” ran away leaving me behind.

When I gained consciousness, I told Sumita to remember that we had to give Panditji blankets or similar stuff worth two hundred Rupees when we got back to Kanpur, lest I should forget to do this as I had become extremely weak after the recovery.

Seeing Panditji again on our return to Kanpur and narrating to him my experiences:

When we got back to Kanpur, as decided, we went to see Panditji with a set of blankets. He greeted me warmly and said “I was very worried about you. There was no communication from you and neither did you come for the morning walk.”

I told him that I was very sick and was hospitalised in Lucknow. He told me that he did not know this and was offering special prayers for me, and that particularly on one day he was very worried about my well-being and offered continuous prayers when he thought that I was reaching out to him looking for support. I marvelled at his narration. It was the day when I had encountered the representatives of the “Grim Reaper”.

I came back home wondering whether it was just a coincidence that he was offering a special prayer for me that day or the connection of several lifetimes as the “Panditji” had spoken about on our first meeting, which had given him an indication. I most certainly believed that it was his prayers for me which had saved my life.

Transfer to Mumbai & never meeting “Panditji” again in this lifetime:

A few months later, I broke the news to him that my transfer to Mumbai had materialised and that I would be leaving in a week’s time. He looked distraught and took our contact phone numbers. As he did not have a phone, I could not contact him.

Two years passed in Mumbai and when a friend’s daughter had come over from Pune to our Mumbai residence during a stopover to catch the next morning’s train to Kanpur, I gave her two hundred rupees, mentioning that she should request her father to visit the Hanuman temple and give this money to Panditji.

My Friend’s Narration of  the last meeting with “Panditji”:

Her father later narrated to me that when he went to see Panditji, he found that Panditji was very sick. The moment he took out the two hundred rupees to give to Panditji, the sick priest smiled and said “Yeh Mumbai wale ne bheja hai naa. Woh kaise hain?” (meaning “this has been sent by the Mumbai person, no. How is he””). He immediately took the money and placed it under his pillow. A kind of peace had descended upon his countenance and he continued to lie down on his rickety cot.

It was as if the connection with me had been re-established and he could relax now.

My friend offered to show him to a doctor and give him whatever other assistance that he asked for. But Panditji simply smiled and waved his hand in a gesture that he needed nothing further.

The same evening, Panditji passed away. It was as if he was waiting for me to reconnect with him. The two hundred rupees was the trigger that reassured him that despite the distance between us, there was still a connection.

Perhaps, in another life, at another time, we will meet again and have a jolly good laugh together.


(This short story has been written by Rajeev Prasad)



Links to some other short stories on this Blog by Rajeev Prasad: 

1) A short story: Friends at the Cross-Roads
2) A short story: Arvind Dada and the street-dogs 
3) An Otherworldly Encounter: A personal experience 
4) A short story: A tour of Pune's Blind School (or as I prefer to call it the "School for visually challenged students") 
5) Remembering Uncle Paul Haegar: The German Army Officer during World War II who became an exemplary Horticulturist and who gave the Aligarh Muslim University beautiful landscaped gardens as his legacy 
 6) Connecting through several life-times: The story of the "Panditji" (priest) of the Hanuman Temple at the CSA University, Kanpur
 

30) Remembering Uncle Paul Haegar: A German Army Officer in World War II who became an exemplary Horticulturist and transformed/landscaped the gardens of the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) into examples of beauty & excellence :

(The following account is from my memory of Uncle Haegar from when I was studying in Class VI in Aligarh):

My father, Dr. J.N. Prasad was one of the founder members/pioneer Professors of Jawaharlal Nehru Medical College (JNMC) at Aligarh, which was affiliated to the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU).

Uncle Paul Haegar was a regular visitor to our house and was almost like a family member.

His past life in Germany:

Uncle Haegar belonged to a very prosperous and reputed German Industrial family which owned several industries.

He was serving as a young Officer in the German infantry at the time that Hitler’s Nazi Party was gaining control of the country. Some members of the Nazi Party, who were jealous of his Family’s prosperity conspired against them and one day, an Army convoy of Nazi sympathisers surrounded their ancestral house, lined up each and every member of the house including his brothers, parents and young children and shot everyone dead after accusing them of being inimical to the Nazi cause.

Only one young boy, who had managed to scale the boundary wall into the neighbour’s house without being detected, escaped alive.  The neighbour’s family not only brought up this child as their own but kept his identity a secret from the Gestapo and the Nazis.

The Haegar family’s industries were confiscated by the “Fatherland” (“Deutschland”).

Uncle Haegar: An Allied Army Prisoner of War:

Devastated by this tragedy, and having lost his family and fortunes, he continued to serve in the German Army and rose to the rank of a Colonel. When World War II broke out and the Allied Armies were advancing upon the German heartland, he was taken prisoner and shipped to a Prisoner of War Camp for German/Axis soldiers at the British colony at Malaya. Here he was treated well by the British Army and given his passion for horticulture, he was allowed to go and help out a Malayan rubber plantation owner on  how to improve the yield of his plantation.

When World War II ended and the German Prisoner of War Camp was dismantled, he was given an option to be shipped back to Germany, but he declined on grounds that he had nothing to look forward to in war-torn and devastated Germany. He continued to stay on in Malaya, married a local Malayan lady and started his own rubber plantation there.

As time went by he became a prosperous plantation owner, but once again tragedy struck him. He lost his wife to a terminal illness and was completely heart-broken. He lost interest in his Rubber plantation and began to neglect it.

Around this time, he was offered a job at the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) as the Chief Horticulturist. Among his various jobs was setting up of the landscaped gardens of the AMU, cultivation of flowers, fruits, vegetables and ornamental plants, both within the AMU Campus as well as in an old Fort area called the “Qila” (meaning “Fort” in Urdu), where several horticultural experiments were under way, financed by the AMU and Foreign grants.

Uncle Haegar took up this job around 1960, which is when my Father joined JNMC as a pioneer doctor at the Medical College.

Uncle Haegar, the Chief Horticulturist at the Aligarh Muslim University – a great success:

Uncle Haegar took upon himself the onerous task of landscaping the AMU’s gardens and making them the finest gardens among all the Universities of India.

His horticulture and cropping experiments got him India-wide recognition and Horticulturists from several Universities and other establishments around India visited him and were constantly in touch with him to consult him regarding his landscaping techniques, his innovative experiments et al.

Uncle Haegar used to walk away with all the prizes at every flower show whether it was Inter or Intra University or any other flower show.

A Black and White photograph of Uncle Haegar proudly sitting next to one of the Trophies won by him, taken by my AGFA Click III camera.

Uncle Haegar talking to one of the visitors/participants to the Flower show.

 A photo of Uncle Haegar from the back, waiting for the Flower show results to be announced.

Riding on a bicycle and later a cycle rickshaw:

I remember that, at first he and his Assistant Wali Khan used to ride on bicycles, both of them wearing Khaki hats or Panama straw hats and khaki shorts & shirts in the manner of dressing up for going on a Jungle Safari, and they were an easily recognizable duo all over the University. They were a kind of Laurel and Hardy team – Uncle Haegar was rather portly, while Wali Khan was quite wiry.

Later, when Uncle Haegar  suffered his first heart attack around 1967, he got a rickshaw made for himself and would be driven around by a rickshaw puller who was employed on a monthly pay of Rs.100/-.

The Berha kids and the “Laal Muh ka Bandar”:

As the rickshaw would pass by a small village of poor people ( called the “Berha”) on the way to our home which fell on his way to the “Qila” where he would go often to supervise the horticulture experiments being conducted there, the children of the Berha would run along with his rickshaw teasing him by shouting “Laal Muh ka Bandar” (meaning “the monkey with the red face”) – Uncle Haegar being a German was rather white in complexion, and with the Indian summer sun beating down on him, his face would become flushed with the heat, hence the children addressed him thus). Uncle Haegar asked my father “Doc sahib what does a “Laal Muh ka Bandar” mean?” At first my father was evasive, but upon Uncle Haegar’s persistence, explained to him the meaning of this phrase.

 Uncle Haegar immediately took “remedial measures”. He got a large sized walking stick, and began wielding it when the naughty boys would come running towards his rickshaw. He never hit anyone, but the boys stopped calling him “Laal Muh ka Bandar”. Instead they started respectfully addressing him as “Good morning uncle” or “Good evening uncle”. I learnt from Uncle Haegar, that to get your own way, you only have to show that you are the person in the “driver’s seat”, without using that power and everyone will fall in line.

Uncle Haegar responded by giving each one some toffees and chocolates, and he became very popular with the “Berha” kids.

Horticulture:

Interestingly, Uncle Haegar and my father shared a common interest in Horticulture. So in the vast compound of our house, Uncle Haegar got the topsoil changed all over the gardening area and planted the most amazing varieties of flowering plants, including carpet grass, and roses which changed colour several times in a day and each one was a beauty in itself. My father would spend a couple of hours every day weeding out the lawn. Sometimes, Wali would be deputed to inspect that the garden was simply looking great and take remedial measures wherever necessary.

A view of our house in Aligarh. My mother, my sister, Raka and I also figure in this photograph. Possibly this is around 1962. 

I remember that one rose called the “Black Prince” got me a prize in a Flower Show, even though it was Uncle Haegar’s creation and I had nothing to do with it.

 Under Uncle Haegar’s supervision, we had a paddy field, a “singhara” pond, papaya trees, all growing upto the third floor of the house, a vegetable garden growing all kinds of salads, onions, beet root, potatoes and just about everything one could think of was growing in our residential compound. Whatever successful experiments were being undertaken on plants and crops at the Qila, found samples being brought and planted in our house.

A strict vegetarian with a love for food:

He was a strict vegetarian and was very fond of my mother’s dishes of  fried peas, “Aloo ki Tikiyas” (potato cutlets), “Samosas” and Onion “Pakoras” for snacks, apart from fried rice “Pulao” for lunch whenever he visited our house. He loved eating the “Kachauris”, “Pooris” and “Dosas” or “Idlis” which my mother would cook, among other items.

He also helped out with the hand-driven ice-cream maker and loved the ice-cream my mother made in various flavours. When he was leaving for his residence, he would invariably leave a request as to what he would like to eat the next time he came over visiting us.

Meeting his surviving nephew by a lucky stroke of chance:

Uncle Haegar made every effort to find out about his surviving nephew. Several German students who came to study at the AMU also helped him out in his search for locating the missing nephew.

Ultimately, Uncle Haegar got a series of Advertisements published in leading German newspapers. Finally, he received a call from the boy who came to India to visit him.

They spent a week together catching up with each other before he left for Berlin again. Uncle Haegar learnt that his nephew was serving in the German infantry, in his own footsteps and was now a Captain in the German Army. The wheel had turned a full circle. Another generation of the Haegar family was serving in the German Armed Forces now, though free from the Nazi yoke.

The last time I saw him:

I remember that I was being sent to the La Martiniere College, Lucknow hostel in 1970 after having got admission in Class VII. This was the first time that I was going to stay away from the family. As Uncle Haegar was like a family member, it was but natural that I would go along to say goodbye to him. I remember that he shook hands with me and wished me all the best in life.

I was admitted to the hostel on 12.01.1970 and my parents came to get me admitted to the College. This was also the day when Uncle Haegar suffered another heart attack and passed away.

Wali told us later that he kept asking for my father as he breathed his last. I was personally very distraught, and I know that my parents were too on hearing this news.

Somehow, even though 45 years have passed by, it has always stayed in my sub-conscious mind that had I not been admitted to the hostel in Lucknow on 12^th January, Uncle Haegar may have got better medical facilities, if my father was there at Aligarh, instead of being with me at Lucknow,  but, I suppose,  nature/providence had willed it that way.

Since that year, on the 12^th of January every year, I remember Uncle Haegar and offer a prayer to his memory.

His legacy:

Although he was unlucky in his personal family life and faced several tragedies throughout his life, he became very much a part of our family and gave to the AMU the most elegant landscaped gardens of beauty & excellence, which the University boasted of, as his legacy.

(The above account has been written by Rajeev Prasad).




Links to some other short stories on this Blog by Rajeev Prasad: 

1) A short story: Friends at the Cross-Roads
2) A short story: Arvind Dada and the street-dogs 
3) An Otherworldly Encounter: A personal experience 
4) A short story: A tour of Pune's Blind School (or as I prefer to call it the "School for visually challenged students") 
5) Remembering Uncle Paul Haegar: The German Army Officer during World War II who became an exemplary Horticulturist and who gave the Aligarh Muslim University beautiful landscaped gardens as his legacy 
 6) Connecting through several life-times: The story of the "Panditji" (priest) of the Hanuman Temple at the CSA University, Kanpur