Benevolent Appala Raju

Why would anyone even write about things which are normal unless they had to mundanely record events? Yet why do people start off, in their narratives, saying that theirs was a peculiar event? Strange are people’s ways. Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise us that they’re so, considering we’re children of strange Nature too!

A month ago I had to visit a nearby small town – Anantapur – to collect some data about the dwellers. This was a part of a voluntary activity I had taken up to do my bit for the society. This part was to check how much the technological advancement, which some people, in their quest to march ahead not bothering to pull people with them and thus staying snobbishly aloof, claim has happened, has actually helped the small town brethren.

The journey from Hyderabad to Anantapur on average could be completed in 8 hours. I thus, started at 11 am in the morning, which I was afraid, was a daft thing to do. The heat of Andhra Pradesh summer was a pushover by no means. And then this is the hottest part of Andhra Pradesh that I was to travel through. Yet the juices of youth that were running in my body made me, to this extent, presumptuous. I stopped for lunch at 1 pm and I must confess that it was early by my standards. The early break, I must also confess rather sheepishly, was the result of my arrogance shown to the Heat Demon. The early break ran into an extended session of rest during which I, while seemingly reading a local newspaper, was convincing myself that I was probably not really tired but was taking things easy and soaking every moment of the journey.

I started again at 3:30 pm when I thought I was fresh enough to do so and stop without another break, save for a drink once or twice. I had about 6 more hours to cover and fortunately I covered enough ground in the next 4 hours to keep me on the renewed schedule. At 7:30 pm I took another break of 10 min during which I had a drink of water and confirmed with the local villagers that I was indeed on the right track. The villagers adjured me to cover the rest of the distance as quickly as I could, for the road cutting through thick forests wasn’t a safe one at night. I promised them to do as they said. Did I have a choice to not promise anyway? It isn’t that I deliberately wanted to risk my life. It just happened that I got late.

The problem with most villagers is that they’re either exceedingly reticent or overly garrulous and eager to help. The two country men I met happened to be of the latter group. If I showed interest in their words, they’d perhaps have kept me there and awake for the whole night. I thought they had a landmark for every meter of the road that I was to continue on and they didn’t seem to mind at all to mention each one. In the middle of one’s long description of which meter I should do what, the other, not to be kept out, would contradict and take over the description, much to the disappointment of the former. Experience is supposed to make men wiser. I certainly had such agonizing experiences before where I couldn’t just be blunt and stop them. So I made sure I kept my engine running and kept throttling forward, just to let them know I was ready to go. I vaguely remembered them saying there was a left turn to take. Apart from that, I didn’t remember anything catchy.

Off I set, with the target of reaching Anantapur by 9:30pm. I wonder sometimes if it is just my luck that is rotten or such things happen to others too. As much as the sky looked clear throughout the day and the weather was dry and hot, it started to drizzle and within no time, the air was cool. The drizzle soon developed into a downpour. I didn’t carry my jacket under the assurance from the weather that it’d be very dry and hot for days to come. The indignation and bitterness felt after perfidy was burgeoning in me. Under shelter I’d have welcome this change in weather as I’d have my long parted friend but on my bike I was cursing it. The thick tree cover was sufficient to stop the drops only for a while. I still wince when I recollect the impact of each drop on me. The helmet is a great protective gear but not a very convenient thing on such occasions. Only someone who has ridden in heavy rains wearing a helmet would know the amount of guess work to.

The time of the day and the route that I was taking showed in the fact that I didn’t have much company. Occasionally I’d look into the rear view mirror to see if there were fellow desolates. I was only disappointed. Occasionally there would pass me from the opposite direction, a small truck or a minibus. There were no lights to give company to such lonely travelers. It was dark. The only light there was, was from my bike’s headlight and that didn’t alleviate the problem of poor visibility much too. Amazingly, so far I didn’t seem to be near any civilization at all because there was not a dot of light I could see for long distances on either side. I was wondering if I was on the right track at all. It was conspicuous that I hadn’t so much as noticed a vehicle for a long time too. I was so occupied with trying to descry a left turn or any sign of populace, that the horrifying thoughts that occur to idle minds didn’t occur to me. It was well past 9 pm now and I was worried if I was even near my destination. A growling stomach doesn’t do any good to one’s concentration too.

At about 10 pm I saw at some distance an irregularity in the road. There appeared to be a left turn. I slowed down and found that there indeed was a left turn. There wasn’t any signboard but I thought Anantapur wasn’t such a town that it’d be mentioned on a state highway. The road didn’t look a regular one. It wasn’t wide enough to perhaps fit 2 cars. In fact, it wasn’t even tarred, but I wasn’t very intellectually active at that moment to think why the road was that way. Expecting me to be rational that time would be cruel and callous. I turned left and was eagerly looking ahead for lights. I even remember the 2 villagers vaguely mentioning “half hour” after the left turn. I assured myself that I’d soon see some lights and I was already dreaming of a good lodging place where I could take a hot water bath before going to bed. It was surprisingly cold by then. I was filled with wonder at the fact that I didn’t lose control of my bike. Hands got numb; feet were paralyzed due to the cold temperature and soaking. Often I’d shiver rigorously, shaking my bike too. I still maintained good balance. I was proud of myself. The road was narrowing. I was worried about riding into some anti-social elements. The area was known for its problem with dacoits. That it was a forest region gave me another thing to fear about- wild animals. Imagine having an engine breakdown or a tyre burst and getting stranded in the middle of a dark forest area.

It was roughly 15 min since I turned left from the highway. The rain now settled down into a gentle drizzle. I saw a flashing torch. It oscillated from side to side. Within no time I was at a distance that my headlight could throw light on the source of the light. It was a man. I could see a bicycle parked behind him. In the state of mind that I was, a chill ran down my spine. What if he was a dacoit? Why was he there? Perhaps he was stranded and wanted to go to Anantapur too. But which local man would even get to a situation where he could get stranded for a whole night? If I weren’t going to Anantapur, there didn’t seem to be anyone else who could have helped him. I was getting suspicious. I didn’t want to stop. What it was I can’t say, but my leg pressed the brake lever and I slowly came to a halt as though train slows into a halt at a station. I was saying my prayers now. The man stepped forward. I could now see his face. He had a round face and was clean shaven. He had an umbrella which couldn’t much protect him from the lashing rain. He smiled and said, “Sir! You seem to have lost your way!”

He had a melodious voice which had a soothing effect. I thought he was a singer. I don’t know how my expression was, but I’m sure I’d have looked sour. I didn’t like meeting this stranger at such an odd place and time. I nodded. “Anantapur,” I managed to utter. “Oh! You’ve come beyond that place sir! This isn’t a safe place. Go back quickly. Don’t waste your time. Lot of animals, some dacoits and all… Go back to the main road. Turn right and go for about 10 km. You’ll see a board. How did you even miss it, in the first place,” he was instructing. “Ummm… Errr… I…” I must have stammered. He didn’t waste time waiting for me to complete or give a reasonable answer. He continued, “After the right you’d have to go another 15 km. Fairly good road. Only the rain to slow you down… It shouldn’t take you more than 45 min from here.” Suddenly, I was softened. “A God-send!”, I said to myself. “Oh! Do I drop you there? You seem to be stranded,” my conscience, guilty of suspecting an angel of a man, spoke out. “No sir! Don’t bother. I have my own mode of transport,” he said pointing to his bicycle. “I’m used to this place. Besides, I too won’t go beyond this point. You get going now. How long do you intend to stay there? Anyway you won’t be able to meet me,” he spoke, with a tinge of bitterness. “2 days. What do you mean,” I said, puzzled at his apparent soliloquy. He swayed his head to one side and with a gesture suggesting deprecation, urged, “Never mind sir! Carry on. Get going now.”

I was definitely dazed. I just turned around and started moving after thanking him profusely. I must’ve covered some distance, not more than would make him go beyond sight had I turned back. Yet he seemed to have moved away from there. I couldn’t see the light from his torch through my rear-view mirror. I, however, let it go. He must have gone ahead. What if instead, he had been a dacoit? I shuddered at that thought. Though it was good in the end, I was trying to ask myself why I stopped there. I was kicking myself for that. I continued as that man directed me and I was cross with myself when I indeed saw that I missed a signboard. And all the while I was thinking Anantapur was not a major town. I was perhaps too distracted by the heavy rain and thoughts about the pitch darkness on both sides and trying to look ahead that time, to notice a not very big signboard.

I reached Anantapur by 10:30 pm. I was glad to find some roadside dhaba open and ready to serve me a light dinner. Dinner calmed my nerves. More than just dinner, I believe, a sight of human population pacified my agitating soul. I asked for directions to the lodge that my friends back at Hyderabad mentioned to me. By 11 pm I was in my room. My watched showed 11:30 pm when I was on the bed after a hot water bath, arranged for by the keeper.

I must’ve fallen asleep immediately, and it shouldn’t stun anyone if it was the case indeed, because the next I saw on my watch was 8 am. Gentle sunshine filled up my room. I opened my room door and went down to the sitting room. I ordered for coffee and taking the local newspaper with me got back into the room. I skimmed the contents of the main page and was simultaneously lost in thinking about my plan of action for the day. I went to last page - sports, as I do always, after surfing the first page. I read it with great interest as it spoke about Indian Hockey team’s performance in the World Cup semi final. Then as I do always, I scanned through the paper from last page through to the first, to see if there was anything interesting.

I came to page 4, the top of which were classifieds. I hardly just glanced over it once. My eyes went down to a medium sized photograph. It was titled, “Our beloved Mr. Appala Raju”. “It is him. The man I met yesterday. My guardian angel…” I said to myself. “So he’s very popular eh? ‘Beloved’ says it all. And why wouldn’t he be if he helps people around like he did yesterday?” I mused. A line below the title mentioned that he lived for the welfare of people. What knocked me out completely was the bottommost line of that section. It read, “Left our world 2 days back. Will always remain in our hearts forever… May his soul rest in peace!”

[tags]fiction story[/tags]

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