The day Ajita had to leave for the gurukula arrived sooner than it should have, or so Dhvani felt. She had tried hard not to let anyone guess the emotional turmoil she was going through, least of all her little son. She had managed to get some strength out of the fact that Ajita himself seemed to look forward to the gurukula with great excitement, and in his little joys she always found the greatest comfort. Ajita had woken up with the sun that morning. While he was looking forward to the new world that lay ahead of him, he also wanted to touch and feel his home, his parents and his friends.
He ran into the garden to greet one of his newest friends: a tiny mango plant. He had dug a hole in the ground with his friends Surjan and Ratna, and had planted a mango seed there not long ago. He was overjoyed when a small plant emerged out of the soil one morning. He had tended the plant with the utmost care and he knew he would miss it a lot. He had asked Ratna to look after it while he was away. He was still in the garden when he heard his Tath calling him. He had forgotten completely that it was time for his morning prayers. It was only two weeks ago that he had got his sacred thread and with the thread came the duty of praying thrice a day: in the morning, at mid-day and in the evening. Though, today he hoped his father would not keep him long at the prayers for he wanted to run down to the pond to meet his friends.
His friends were waiting for him near the pond when he finally made his way there. It was where they met every day, played and ran around, swam and swung from the trees to pluck the ripest fruits. Today there was no time to enjoy the pond and splash around. Ajita didn’t feel like it either: when he saw his friends the full realisation of his departure dawned on him. It was a teary farewell and Ajita realised that it took longer than it should when he heard his father’s voice calling out to him from a distance.
“We have to leave now, Ajita,” said Govinda, as he came closer.
As they walked home, Govinda said, “You will find that the ways of the Gurkula are very different, Ajita. Though I am sure you will get used to them very soon. You will not have friends like Ratna there. It was alright for you to have him as a friend when you were small. Now you have grown up and you will have to move forward. You will have new friends there.” Ajita did not say a word. He had always known that his Tath did not like him spending time with Ratna, though he had not tried to find out why.
When he finally set out with his parents on his long journey to the gurukula, Ajita turned to look in the direction of the pond as the cart passed it. The area was empty, his friends had left and Ajita again felt something tug at his heart.
It was planned that, on their way to the gurukula, they would go first to Dhvani’s maternal home, so that Ajita could meet and spend time with his grandfather and his uncle’s family. Owing to his indifferent health, his grandfather had not attended his thread ceremony and that was another reason to meet him. The journey was a long one: the fact that they went up the hill to his grandfather’s house on mules was the high point of the journey for Ajita.
Ajita only had a few faint memories of his grandfather’s home. So it was on this visit that he would get the chance to really know this home. His grandfather’s home was quite different from his parents’ home, though it had a charm of its own. It was when he ventured outside that Ajita felt the sheer power of nature overcome him: the huge rocks, the views of the mountains in the distance, the tall trees and, most of all, the silence of the woods.
He sat down under a large, shady peepal tree. “I wish I could live here forever,” he thought to himself. “I would have so many friends here – these trees, these creepers and I can’t even imagine what animals I will find in this place.” He thought of the mango plant in his garden and he wondered whether Ratna would take care of it. His thoughts then turned to Ratna and Surjan and he realised once again how much he was going to miss his two friends. This flow of thoughts was interrupted when he saw his grandfather sit down next to him.
“I am very happy you are going to the gurukula, Ajita,’ his grandfather said. ‘I hope you will study well and make a name for yourself.”
“Did you go to a gurukula, Aiyya?”
“No, I did not. My father moved to these hills when I was very young. I was not even a year old when I came to this place and I have lived here all my life. My father was a very learned vaid, did you know?”
“What is a vaid, Aiyya?”
“A vaid is a person who cures illnesses and makes medicines. We are a family of vaids and have practised medicine for several generations. My father was, however, more interested in studying medicinal plants that grow in these mountains. So, he decided to come here and spent his life studying leaves and plants. He knew so much – in one glance, he could distinguish the good medicinal plants from the poisonous ones. So many vaids from the plains used to come up here to consult with him and take his potions and preparations. He was a very generous man and shared his knowledge and his medicines freely, never demanding anything in return. Some people would offer him something of their own accord; he would then accept it graciously. Though I have seen quite a few vaids who only took from him, he never had a complaint on his lips. He was a great man.”
“I wish I could have met him. I could have made friends with so many trees and plants with him around.”
The old man smiled and said, “I am sure he would have also loved to share all that he knew with you. That is what my education was – walking through these forests with him and learning from him. Of course, he had much more to offer than my mind could deal with.”
“Why can’t I stay here with you and learn from you all that your father taught you? Why can’t I make this my gurukula?”
“No, Ajita. You are on your way towards greater things. You will learn a lot in the gurukula and you will learn very well, I am sure. Years later when people speak of you as a famous agnihotri and you are called upon to conduct the great fire rituals, I will feel great pride.”
“Aiyya, don’t you do any fire rituals?”
“Some small ones … well, no. Not really. Growing up here and living here in these mountains means you have other things to attend to and you cannot spend time performing rituals. We have to do everything here on our own. It is not like living in a village like yours where you can get help for everything. Last year, there was a great storm and a part of the roof of this old house got damaged. Your uncle had to spend a whole week working on it to get it restored.”
He paused and then continued, “My father was properly trained to perform rituals. However, after he had spent time here, he also did not do any of them regularly. He told me often that the forest was our altar and the trees were our fires and that we had no need to perform sacrificial rites. I grew up with that way of thinking.”
Excerpted with permission from Ajita: A Novel, K Sridhar, Westland.
