My little miracle man; Ganpati Bappa Moraiya

My paternal grandfather passed away leaving behind the huge house and the pond to his two sons. As per his wishes, the house was divided amongst my father and my uncle, while the pond is co-owned by them. 

Hatipukur

Known as Hatipukur (the elephant pond), it is quite large in comparison to the other ponds in the area. Regarding its name there are various theories floating around. The lane around this pond is also known by the same name. Baba believes that Burdwan, with its rich legacy of kings and architecture has many historical places scattered around. He thinks that this pond might have belonged to the Raja of Burdwan and was used for his elephants. Hence, the name Hatipukur. This theory, in fact, corresponds with the other stories pertaining to the lakes and ponds in Burdwan. We have a ‘shuli pukur’ in Burdwan where the convicts were punished. The convicts were impaled on the ‘Trishul’ planted on the pond. Hence from the term ‘shuley chorano’ (impaling them on the shul) comes the name ‘shuli pukur’! 

This pond which is considered sacred by our family has over the years become the garbage disposal area for the locality. People from the adjoining neighborhoods dump their daily household waste on the bathing ghats. It’s strange that while ‘sraddho’ and immersions still take place, the same people dump human excreta in the pond. Many a time we have seen carcasses of animals floating in the pond despite the fact that the locals are aware how passionate my father is about the pond. Once I remember seeing ragged dolls floating in the water. Curious I picked them up. The dolls were burnt beyond recognition and had pins sticking out from all parts of their body. Mallika Mashi had shouted at me to drop the doll and rush to the Mandir to seek blessings of the Lord. Little did I know that someone was practicing Black Magic in the neighborhood. Well, no matter what kind of rubbish it was, my septuagenarian father made it a point to clear them, trying his best to preserve what his father had left to him. 

It was one such morning, when the pond was full with the remnants of idols immersed the night before. Baba and Buro, our helper from a nearby village, had been busy since morning fishing them out and setting them on fire. It had been raining since morning and the ghat was slippery. Baba noticed a black polythene packet lying on the edge of the ghat. Despite sticking notices on the ghat, forbidding  people from throwing poly packs, no one cared. They made it a point to dump waste after dark or in the wee hours of the morning when they knew we would be in our bed. The sight of this black poly pack annoyed Baba and he raged how polythene was ruining the pond and the fishes. Buro was immediately dispatched to remove the packet. But it lay on the slope that led to the water. With heavy rain since the last few days and with our ‘notorious’ neighbor blocking the drainage, the water in the pond had gone up to dangerous levels. It was not safe for Buro to get into the water. There were snakes too. And they could be venomous. If not venomous they can bite off flesh! After repeated attempts at pulling up the sack, Baba and Buro gave up. The packet remained there for many days. Baba would look at it, sigh and curse his helplessness. 

In the next few days monsoon was on her way out. The ‘notorious’ neighbor had been cautioned by the police not to block the drain. And the water had gone down. Baba was pleased that he could now get his fishing rod on the black poly bag. But the bag proved to be quite bulky for a fishing rod. Buro was sent for. He clambered down the steps of the bathing ghat and descended into the dense undergrowth which now hid the bag. But the muck and the water made it impossible for him to lift up the bag. Another boy was sent to help him. Finally with a whoop of delight, the bag was free. The packet was slit to reveal a huge idol of Ganesha in black stone. Never have we seen such artistry. Never have we seen such a fine carving. We were delighted. Ma was surprised and excited that the Ganesha had found its way to our house. But our Purohit advised us to keep it away from us. A Ganesha which has been immersed in the water should not be retrieved. It might bring us bad luck, is what he declared. After much deliberation, the beautiful idol went back into the pond. 

Our miracle man

But we never forgot him. Months went by. Years took their toll on the pond. I was married and had come home to consult a physician. After many years of marriage I was still childless. Thamma had left us after a prolonged and painful battle with cancer. My sister was also home. In a fit of rage she had quit her job. She spent all her hours sitting in front of the computer submitting her resume to various firms. Baba had gotten older and was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain the pond. Ma spent all her time cooking or worshiping. If she was not in the kitchen we knew she would be in the Mandir. There was a strange sense of disquiet in the family. We were all trapped in our own miseries silently crying out for help.  

It was a crisp, wintry morning. That morning was no different than the rest. Baba had just come back from his morning walk and was having his second round of tea. Ma was out in the garden plucking flowers for her pujo. I had just woken up feeling queasy. I decided that the rich mutton curry I had last night is the culprit! Sister was still sleeping having burnt the midnight oil checking mails. Somehow it seemed like the ‘calm before the storm’. I had a premonition. Something was going to happen which would change us forever. I dashed downstairs with a cry only to be met with a longer, shriller cry. That was Ma. She was there somewhere in the garden. The snakes, I mumbled to myself as I rushed out towards the bathing ghat. Baba had also heard her for he came out running from the living room. 

It was a strange sight. Ma stood in the garden motionless. Her ‘shaada-laal perey’ sari (white sari with a red border) billowed in the breeze. The flowers that she had plucked with care lay scattered around her. I remember shaking her and calling out to her. ‘Ma, Ma’! But my mother refused to react. I looked at Baba who stood equally bewildered. After a while Ma raised her trembling fingers, motioning me to look at something. I followed her gaze. 

The Ganesha was back. He sat under the mango tree. It looked as if someone with great care had hoisted him out of the water and placed him under the shelters of the tree. It was a sight indeed. The mango leaves and flowers plucked by Ma lay around him. Unknowingly Ma had offered her first Pujo to him.

This is a moment which is etched in my mind forever. There is no logic that can explain how this huge piece of stone had resurfaced. Nothing can explain how after so many years it had come to rest under the mango tree. Well, certain things are inexplicable! 

Ma and Baba carried the idol into the house. Keeping in mind the Purohit’s warnings the Ganesha did not find a place in the Mandir or the pujo room. He stood high on a wooden shelf in our living room. He stood at a vantage point so that whoever visited us would have his darshan first. It is mandatory that the first pick of the day has to go to him. 

In contrary to the Purohit’s prediction, no bad luck visited us that day. The next morning I came down with severe fatigue and nausea. Weakness, is what the compounder suggested. But I knew better than that. The pink blot proved my hunch. I would be a mother soon. The day passed in a haze as phone calls went around informing all about ‘the good news’. Ma had skipped the kitchen and her pujo and seemed in no hurry to end her telecom with Dadima. Baba had spent the day listening to music and smiling to himself. After many years the house was again throbbing with energy. I wished my little sister had her share of good news too. After an early lunch, we retired for our afternoon siesta, when the rude calling bell awakened us. It was a courier for my sister. Trembling in anticipation, we hovered around her waiting for her to open it. It was her appointment letter to a prestigious job. 

That evening we sat down thinking of how our life had changed in a day. Too many miracles in a span of twenty four hours! Too difficult to soak it in. 

Yes our Ganesha brought us luck and has been doing so since then! I am a proud mother today. My sister has scaled heights to become a Director of the organization which employed her. Ma spends more time designing saris. Baba has lesser troubles managing his assets and controlling the ‘notorious’ neighbor.

Ek Do Teen Char...Ganpati Ki Jai Jai Kaar..!!!
Chaar Paanch Che Saat..Ganpati aaya hamare Saath..!!!
Ganpati bappa Morya..!!!