Mind,
at times, is like the oscillating pendulum of a clock; never decisively
remaining steady. Thoughts sometimes go on to and fro, from one extreme to the
other; unable to settle down firmly at any point.
I
think, rather I always try to think, practically. I don’t believe in any sort
of religious rituals. Even so, I did the last rites for my father when he died.
That was because my mother wanted me to do it. I didn’t want her to grieve on
that score. But when she later died, I didn’t do the last rites for her and
limited the event to just cremation of her body. I abstained from attending the
last rites of my relatives too, because, to me it was all unnecessary
follow-ups which have no consequential effect or purpose.
Traveling
has always been a pastime with me. I enjoyed seeing landscapes, rivers, lakes,
caves, ancient and new structures, palaces, monuments, museums, places of
worships etc. I visited many temples, not for offering prayers; but just to see
the beautiful carvings and marvelous sculptures.
* * * * *
The
pilgrimage trip to Haridwar and Hrishikesh started from Delhi by a private bus
hired by our travel agents. We, me and my wife, had gone to Delhi for an
official function. I decided to connect it to a visit to Haridwar and
Hrishikesh, the places where I had never been before. As soon as we boarded the
bus, there was a formal introduction among us who were to travel together. We
were then addressed by the guide. “I
welcome all the passengers on board. We are heading for the most sacred
destination where you will get rid of all the past sins in your life. Having a
dip in the sacred Ganges is a life ambition for many and you are going to have
the most blissful day in your life tomorrow. We will reach Haridwar by 3 AM
where you will first get accommodated ….” The tour guide in the bus was
quite vociferous. I keenly listened to him as he continued with his stories of
the sacred Ganges, the Himalayas and so on. I participated actively in the
ensued discussions and the guide was happy that every one showed interest in
what he spoke. Some of the tourists started singing devotional songs. As the
bus went on, night fell. We had started from Delhi in the evening. With darkness
outside, some have begun to close their eyes welcoming a sound sleep.
After
a two hour rest at the destination, where an arrangement for our ablutions was
provided, we were taken to the bathing ghat of Haridwar. We, me and my wife,
had no intention of bathing in the river and therefore did not carry any bath
towel or soap. It was a December day and too cold even to think of a bath in
the river. I just stood aside over a road bridge, watching the vast vista of
the river. The river was flowing freely and hastily. On the banks, there were
many people, apart from those who came in our bus. The stones in the riverbed seemed slippery as I found some people losing balance as they entered the
water. I preferred to watch people bathing, their anxiety, and their resolute
faith which prompted them to enter the risky river bravely and take dips. The
river water near the ghat was too dirty. Many plastic matters kept on flowing
in the river with bundles of flowers floating along with them. Near the banks,
the water was oily and dirty. Some people dipped thrice, some for more times
and some endlessly. I was searching for the guide, when suddenly he appeared
before me from nowhere.
“Are you not taking
bath?” He questioned astonishingly. I thought of making
an excuse and said that I had not carried the bath towel with me.
“That is no problem. We
can get a fresh one on hire. Come with me”, he
said.
It
was rather an order and not an advice. He started walking. I remained at where
I was and he returned his steps to me when he realized that I was not following.
I blurted out another excuse. I said that I had a little fever in the night and
that I didn’t want to take a dip in that cold water. He won’t let me free even
then.
“Just take a dip and see.
All your illness and all sins will wash off from your mind and body”,
he assured.
It was time then to tell him bluntly what I
really had in mind. I told him that I did not believe that any one’s sins would
get washed by taking a dip in any river. If that be so, anyone can do any sin
and get away with it. That did not make any sense to me, I earnestly told him.
“Then why did you come with us?” His
question was perturbing. It was as if taking a dip in the holy water was the
main purpose of our visit.
“Just to see the place”,
I answered.
More
embarrassing was his next question, “Are
you a Hindu or a Muslim?”
Without
answering, I looked back at the river. The guide walked off. One old man in our
lot was being helped by two of his relatives to take a dip. Once in the water,
he lost his balance and fell down. The guide also reached to help him out, but
the old man suffered some injury on his hand and was crying out loudly. The
guide got him dried and helped him change his dress. He was then rushed to a
nearby hospital. I hired a small boat
for a ride in the river. I took a handful of water from the Ganges and dropped
it back to the river. Lingering in my mind was the Mahabharata story. “The
mother of Bhishma”, I muttered to my wife as I looked at the vast expanse
of the river.
We
were soon back in the bus. The old man had a bandage on his hand. The guide was
no more much talkative and did not look at me at all. We were the only ones who
did not take a dip and it seemed that everyone had noted it. I had a feeling
that we were being looked down as strangers suddenly by others too.
“When you are in Rome, do
as the Romans do”, my wife ate my ears with
that old proverb.
“Sure. I will think about it when we go to
Rome”, I replied curtly.
“Our own proverb says
that when the whole country runs, run in the middle”, she
persisted.
“Yes. We are seated in
the middle of this bus and the bus keeps running. Where is the problem?” I
was not going to leave.
* * * * *
As
traveling was a pastime, so was reading too with me. Until I read the book
“Gumnani Baba- A case history” written by Sri Adheer Som, I had never before
heard of the Baba who came to India in the fifties, and lived a solitary life,
unknown to others even by a name. From where he came and why he remained
anonymous was a mystery to many. The book leaves it to the readers to decide
who he was. It was almost a research work supplementing and supporting
everything said in it with documents, manuscripts, extracts from confidential
files, excerpts from interviews and so on. I was just dumb found on reading it.
I made my own searches in google, news reports of yesteryears and whatever
articles I could lay my hands on. Thoroughly, I must say thoroughly, I was
convinced that Gumnani Baba was none other than Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. I
had studied at school that he died in a plane crash. Later I had also come to
know that there was a mystery connected to his disappearance. A commission
under a retired Judge of the Supreme Court of India, popularly called the
Mukherjee Commission, was set up in 1999 to inquire into the mystery of the
death of Netaji. After a 7 year spanning inquiry, Sri Mukharjee had concluded
in his findings that Bose did not die in any plane crash. Even though the
Parliament rejected his findings, Mukherjee succeeded in keeping alive the
flame of mystery surrounding the disappearance of Bose. Mukherjee had concluded
that no such plane crash happened in Tiapai during the said period and that the
plane crash theory appeared to be a cover up to facilitate his escape from the
British who had declared him a war criminal. The Commission had also found out
that the ashes of Bose said to have been kept in the Tokyo’s Renkoji temple, in
fact, was of a Taiwanese army man who died in August 1945.
That
alone was not the reason for my conviction. Gumnami Baba died in 1985, almost
an year after Smt indira Gandhi’s death. Going through the yesteryears’ report
I had found that the Times of India on 22-09-2017 had published a report that
most people believe Gumnami Baba was Netaji. The report went on to say that
Justice (retired) Vishnu Sahai who was appointed to inquire into the identity
of Gumnami Baba told the paper that “a
majority of witnesses who deposed before the commission said that Gumnami Baba
was Netaji”.
The
belongings of Gumnami Baba, found after his death, were extra ordinary to be
for an ordinary seer. Inland letters and telegrams written by and received from
Dr. Prabitra Mohan Roy (a senior official of Bose’s INA intelligence wing) were
said to be found among his belongings. Binoculars used by INA, a German typewriter and Japanese crockery were also found. A newspaper cutout of 1978 that
mentions Bose was still alive was also found among the belongings. A handmade
map of Bangladesh, a book titled ‘Himalayan
Blunder’ and communications that pointed to his active involvement in
world politics found among his belongings could not be of any interest to a
mere saint. Hung on the wall of his room was the photograph of Netaji’s
parents. Photograph of 22 family members of Subash Chandra Bose, apart from
those of the parents, found in the belongings were recognized by Lalitha Bose,
the daughter of Bose’s brother, who visited Faizabad on 04-02-1986. Rolex watch, empty bottles of perfumes, empty
packets of his brand (555) cigarettes (things which Netaji was fond of) were
also said to have been found in the seer’s belongings. Mukherjee’s report did
not conclusively say that Gumnami Baba was Netaji, but I saw the video of Times
Now in which Sri Mukherjee confirmed before Amala Ghosh, a documentary maker,
that he was 100% sure that the anonymous monk was Netaji. Sri Mukherjee seemed
unaware that his interview was being recorded. The monk’s belongings are now
under the safe custody of the sub-treasury at Faizabad, the place where the
saint died. Times of India on Sept 16, 2015 ( read online) made a report on how
they cremated Gumnami Baba quietly in Guptar Ghat. They said to have
interviewed one Sushila Devi, 57, who ran a tea shop near Saryu river in
Faizabad in which she confessed that the body of Gumnami Baba was brought by a
mini bus at the Guptar Ghat on Sept 18, 1985. The News paper reported that Baba
passed away on Sept 16, 1985; and the message of his death was sent to Netaji’s
family. Why was it that a saint’s dead body was kept in waiting for two days
before cremation? What was the necessity to inform the Netaji’s family about
his death? Some questions remain
unanswered. When no one turned up, the body was cremated near Guptar ghat, in
the cantonment area of Faizabad. So much and more were there for me to be
completely convinced that Gumnami Baba was none other than Netaji. I yearned to
see the cremation place of this man, who was put under the sword of Democles by
the British, for his sustained and continued effort to attain freedom for his
motherland. While all the national leaders are honoured on their death
anniversaries, here was a real hero whose death remain obscured in the debris
of history. I decided to visit Guptar
Ghat in Faizabad to pay my obeisance to this great man. Faizabad, I learned, was a town near Ayodhya.
* * * * *
Not
long after, I found that a package tour of Ayodhya and Varanasi was planned to
be conducted by a travel agency. I didn’t have to think twice for joining the
trip. My destination was Faizabad more than Ayodhya or Varansi. I met the
travel agent in person and requested whether they can include Faizabad also in
the itinerary since it is very close to Ayodhya. He had not even heard of
Faizabad and asked me whether I meant Faridabad. I said that I was talking
about Faizabad only which is very near to Ayodhya.
“What is its
importance?” he asked.
“That is
where Gumnami Baba was cremated.” I quipped.
“I have not
heard of him. But if you want to visit there you may skip one day temple tour at
Ayodhaya, hire a car and go all by yourselves. We can’t make any general change
in the itinerary.”, he said and I agreed.
* * * * *
We
were to get down at Lucknow station for our trip to Ayodhya. It was 01.30 PM. The
tour agent received us at the station. A coach was arranged by him to take us
from the station. After boarding, he gave vent to his astonishment that the
train did reach in time at Lucknow. It was the first time in his experience as
tour agent that he found this train coming well in time. Usually it reached
late in the evening or at night. He said that as it was after a long journey,
the day was free for us to rest and the tour would start only from the next day
morning.
“We would be
staying at Faizabad today, as there are no good lodges near Ayodhya”,
he announced.
“Where did
you say we are staying?” I could not control my
excitement and asked loudly.
“At
Faizabad”, he repeated.
That
is where I wanted to be. Without missing the temple tour, I would be able to
visit the place I really wanted to visit. I felt lucky that the train was in
time and also that the stay was at Faizabad.
Immediately
after a bath, we readied ourselves to proceed to Guptar Ghat. I hired an auto
rikshaw. The way was long muddy and rough. But finally we reached Guptar ghat.
The place of cremation was built up with stones to raise into a platform. A
banner raised behind portrayed the picture of Gumnami Baba. The banner had the
name of Subhash Chandra Bose Vichar Kendra, as its promoter. We paid our
obeisance in silence. An old man from behind me announced without any one’s
asking that it was the crematory of Sri Subhash Chandra Bose.
* * * * *
It
was after a long road journey that we arrived at Varanasi from Ayodhya. We
reached in the evening. The next two days were for us to visit Kashi Viswanath
temple and pray or do whatever offerings we wanted. The guide announced that
those who wanted to do the offering of ‘bali’ for the souls of our departed fore fathers
should get ready by 5 AM and also that they should make a payment of Rs.1500/-
each for the arrangements for their bath in Ganges and preparation of the
requirements to do the offerings. Those who did not want to do the offerings
need to be ready only by 9 AM and they may wait in their own room until others
return. People started giving their names and making payments. I decided to
have a comfortable sleep till late in the morning and retired to my room with
my wife.
I
was about to get into sleep when someone rang the bell. I got up and opened the
door. It was the guide.
“Every one
other than you two have paid up the money to do the ‘Bali’ offering in the
morning. Are you sure that you do not want to do it or is it that you missed up
the information. I just thought of confirming”, the
Guide said.
So,
that was the priority for everyone. I remembered the Haridwar incident. I
looked at my wife. Her expression was a sort of pleading to me to join the main
stream.
“I will come
to your room and let you know in a moment”, I
replied to the guide. He went off.
“It looks odd
that we alone stand away. Whether you believe or not, let us be one with them.”,
my wife appealed to my practical sense.
“I too feel
so”,
I said. “Or else we would feel like a
fish out of water. We have a few more
days to be together and travel around.”, I explained.
I
went to the guide’s room and paid up the amount.
* * * * *
Next
day morning, everyone was seated in rows on the ground near the Ganges river.
Earlier, we had taken our bath in the river. The water was cold and had a
soothing effect. Bathing in it made me remember my childhood days when we used
to spend hours together in the river. I took several dips before coming out. It
was a pleasant experience.
The
leaf in front of each person was filled with numerous items including flowers,
sesame seeds, different types of grains and so on. The main item on it was a
big ball of wheat flour dough. There was a pot of water kept near each leaf. A
chief priest was giving directions to all on how to go about.
“Make 30 small balls out
of the big ball before you”, he commanded.
Everyone did so.
“Keep them on the left
side of the leaf”, he continued. Everyone did so.
“All of those whose
father has expired, take one ball and think about your father in your mind”,
he stated. Everyone did so.
“Now keep it on the right
side of the leaf”, he went on.
“Put a little sesame seed and grains above it”,
he
continued.
“Now pour a little water
over it”, he said.
“Now put a few flowers too”, he guided.
“Now all those who had
lost their mother, take another ball and think about your mother”….
The
process was to be continued for mother, grandparents, father’s brothers and
sisters, mother’s brothers and sisters, father-in-law, mother-in-law and so on
for all those who were expired. Finally, a few more balls were left.
“Take all those balls
together and think about all the expired persons you value, irrespective of
whether they are related to you or not.” It was
Netaji’s face alone that came to my mind.
When
that also completed, we were told to roll the leaf with all the balls and all the
contents in it and submit them to the Ganges. That was also done.
* * * * *
“So you did all those
things which you stubbornly refused to do”, my
wife said on our way back.
“Not out of faith, but
just to be together in this group”., I replied.
“Whom did you think in
your mind when the priest said to think about your father?, She
queried.
“Who else will you think
when someone asks you to think about your father?”, my
answer was a question in return.
“And whom did you think
in your mind when the priest said to think about your mother?, She
queried.
“Whose face will come to
your mind when someone asks you to think of your mother?”, Again
it was a counter question from me.
“ Do you know who made
you to do all these?”, She was not to leave me.
“The priest”,
I answered.
“No.
It was them, the souls”, She laughed.
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