239. The Search... for a Book

To begin with, this post is both about 'that one novel' and yet, it isn't. It's not about that novel because this post doesn't aim to introduce the book. Yet, it is about that novel because... well.... 

In truth, this piece is less about that novel and more about myself. As usual 😉

*****

This story dates back to around 1993-94. It's so old, and the details are so hazy that I might even be remembering the year incorrectly. The point is, it's a very old story.

A friend of mine was working in Allahabad at the time. The atmosphere around her was such that people insisted on calling it 'Prayagraj' instead of 'Allahabad.' She was working full-time for an organization. I had worked full-time with the same organization for six and a half years and had left a couple of years earlier. However, there was no animosity between my former colleagues and me, or if there was, I wasn't perceptive enough to notice it.

This friend, let's call her Meena (I've changed her name since we're not in touch anymore), was eagerly inviting me to visit Prayagraj. I was drifting through life at the time. Having a clear direction and I never really got along, so whenever something new caught my eye, I'd take a peek. (Not that things are any different today!)

So, I went to Prayagraj. Meena was busy with her work, surrounded by a group of activists, all of them enthusiastic and young. Some of them I had met earlier during my time with the organization, and some knew of me from stories they'd heard. So, whenever Meena wasn't free, one of them would keep me company, take me around, chat with me, make me eat local dishes, and gift me things.

But one day, no one was available to keep me company. They were busy planning an important event and would be in a meeting for half a day. I found a book on Meena's desk and said, "You all go ahead with your meeting. I'll read this book in the meantime." They felt reassured and got back to their work.

I had (probably?) never read a Hindi book before, so I hesitated a bit at first, but that novel captivated me. The flowing language, the unique subject matter, the blend of worldly life and spirituality... it was delightful. I enjoyed it. The three or three and a half hours flew by unnoticed. It felt like I had been transported to another world. I made sure to write down the name of the book and the author on a piece of paper and carefully tucked it into my bag. I decided that whenever I have a home of my own, this book must be in my collection. This thought made me smile since it was somewhat contrary to the message of the novel.

The next few days were busy. Eventually, I returned to Mumbai (I was living in Mumbai at the time). Later, I moved out of Mumbai and settled in another city. I worked as a volunteer for a year in the earthquake-affected areas of Latur. Then, I worked full-time for another organization for four years. My work took me to various parts of Maharashtra. Amidst all this, the memory of that novel would surface occasionally. But the piece of paper with the book and author's name, carefully tucked away in my bag, had vanished. I remembered some characters, dialogues, and events from the novel, but I couldn't recall the name of the book or the author, no matter how hard I tried.

When I met Meena, I asked her about the book, but she had no recollection of such a book being on her desk. So, there was no point in asking further.

Ten years after this visit to Allahabad, I began to visit the city regularly again. By then, I had stopped working as a full-time volunteer and had started working for a social organization as a salaried employee. During each visit to Allahabad, the memory of that novel would inevitably resurface. I thought of asking my new colleagues about the novel, but the details I could provide were so vague that even a well-read person might not recognize it. Moreover, there weren't many book lovers around me, and the few who were didn't read Hindi. As a result, I found myself reading more and more English books.

As life settled down, the urge to recall the name of that novel grew stronger. Meanwhile, I had become quite familiar with the internet, but I couldn't figure out what keywords to use for the search. I couldn't remember the author's name. I remembered a few specific words from the book, like "Rishikumar," "Princess," "Bullock Cart," "Life," and "Brahma." I was struggling to type in Devanagari. Whenever I found some free time, I tried searching for the book using these words, but I couldn't find anything. I just couldn't remember the right keywords.

Then, I searched for a list of famous Hindi authors, but none of the names seemed familiar in the context of that novel. Thus began another restless search in the dark—a growing frustration at not remembering the name of a book I loved, the annoyance at not having anyone (who reads Hindi) in my circle who could provide the right information, the self-reproach for losing the piece of paper with the book and author's name twenty years ago, and the repeated attempts to convince myself that "If I can't remember it, maybe it wasn't that important a book for me." But these efforts would only lead to a sense of helplessness. There were countless things happening outside, I didn't have time for them... yet, within me, the struggle to recall the name of that book continued relentlessly.

Meanwhile, in 2010, I moved to Delhi. During that time, I focused on reading Hindi books. I bought a lot of Hindi books, which took me years to read, but that's another story. I read classics like "Kathasaritsagara," "Sant Kavi Ke Pramukh Dohe," Premchand's "Mansarovar," "Shrikant," Ismat Chughtai's "Tedhi Lakeer," Shrilal Shukla's "Raag Darbari"... one after another, But I did not find  the novel I was searching for. 

Eventually, I left Delhi. While living in another country (other countries), the only support I had was my 'Kindle'. Along with that, I tried to learn the basics of foreign languages (other than English). I made clumsy attempts to read in those languages.

*****

While searching for Hindi authors, I ordered some Hindi books from 'Rajkamal Paperbacks' in 2021. One of them was Hazari Prasad Dwivedi's 'Punarva'. During my search for Hazari Prasad's books, I came across the name 'Anamdas Ka Potha', and it felt somewhat familiar. When I looked it up online, I found its cover, and...

...And this felt like the very novel I had been trying to remember for the past thirty years.

But Rajkamal didn’t have the book available; perhaps the edition was out of print.

In December 2023, I went to the Rajkamal stall at the Pune book fair. I had decided to buy 'Kashi Ka Assi' by Kashinath Singh, and suddenly, I spotted 'Anamdas Ka Potha'. Needless to say, I immediately bought it.

So, after thirty years, I found this book back again! 

That whole idea of "Kayanaat" (the universe conspiring to help you achieve something you truly desire) ... it’s not that, you have to make efforts yourself—that’s another truth I realized during this journey.

It felt as if I had met my past self once again. Will the novel resonate with me today as it did back then? Will I understand it now as I thought I did then? Or will I discover something new—about the novel, and about myself as well?

After getting this book, I felt an immense sense of calm. The restlessness that came from the feeling that something precious had slipped away from my hands (and memory) was gone. I experience a state of peace. I felt having a strength to completely shut out the external noise. The feeling that there’s nothing left to search for anymore... a sense of having reached the destination, with nothing more to do.

These feelings don’t seem to align with the message of the novel, I realize now. Perhaps I’ll gain more clarity when I read it again.

For some reasons, it took me six months to finally open the book.

Currently, I’m reading it, which is why all of this came back to me.

*****

Hazari Prasad Dwiwedi (1907 to 1979) was a renowned Hindi author. He taught at Shantiniketan for many years, and the influence of that experience is evident in his writing.

This novel includes the story of the sage Raikva, mentioned in the Chandogya Upanishad.

Raikva, who lost his parents at a young age, is deeply immersed in meditation and asceticism, and has come to the conclusion that Prana (life force) is indeed Brahman. During a stormy rain, he encounters Jabala, the daughter of King Janashruti. She is the first woman Raikva has ever seen. What follows is a love story, as well as a tale of the search for truth.

The characters in the novel are all remarkable. Much more could be written about them. But as mentioned at the beginning, the purpose here is not to provide a book review.

More about the novel can be found here.

179. Strangers in the Night

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

I was being followed.

Constantly; continuously; without break; always.

I could sense IT.

Now that was bit funny.

I could not see who was following me, could not hear, could not touch, could not smell… still I could sense IT. The nameless, formless entity – It was difficult to elaborate IT to anybody. So, I chose never to talk to anybody about IT.

Who was IT? 

A Ghost? A God? One of my Ancestors?  My Conscience? My Instinct? And was it natural fear- born out of that instinct?

I did not know.

A stranger, I guess.

I named our pair, our co-existence as ‘Strangers in the Night’ only because I could never see who IT was. IT always remained a stranger to me. But the description of our relationship was not right. IT knew everything about me and I did not know anything about IT. Would IT name me as Stranger? No, I think not.

When did this start? I mean when did IT start following me? As far as I could remember, IT had always been there. I could never feel the absence of IT! IT had become inseparable part of me.

However, I was not frightened, – I mean not after certain time; in fact never except for the initial days. I got used to ITs’ presence. I accepted IT as part of my existence. Whatever I was doing – good, bad or ugly – IT never commented, never advised, never got angry, never irritated, never had a word with me.  When I did something good, I felt IT to be nearer and when I did behave badly, IT moved away from me a little further. This went on for years. I did not know what was achieved in the process - whether the stranger came nearer to me or moved away from me – I could not tell. IT was always at a handful distance and still away from my shadow. I could hardly affect it, leave controlling IT.I could never catch IT, could never understand IT.! I just kept on feeling IT. And sometimes I told myself that IT was just a hallucination – that was all.

When I was on the deathbed, I remembered the lines from MuNDaka Upanishad.

द्वा सुपर्णा सयुजा सखाया समानं वृक्षं परिषस्वजाते

तयोरन्य: पिप्पलं स्वाद्वत्त्यनश्वनन्यो अभिचाकशीति 

(तृतीय मुंडके प्रथम खंड – १)

(Two birds, united always and known by the same name, closely cling to the same tree. One of them eats the sweet fruit; the other looks on without eating.)

Then everything became clear to me.

We were strangers only because I was ignorant. We were inseparable because we were never two, we were always ONE.

When the realization dawns upon, there is no ignorance, there is no night and there are no strangers.

Everything is ONE.

Strange indeed, that I spent my whole life without understanding this simple truth.

Wish that for you there are no more Nights.

And no more Strangers in the Nights.

(Note: After reading the first four comments, I thought it better to add these two links. Those who want to know more are requested to go through those;
1. Upanishads
2. MunDaka Upanishad)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

78. Time Travel

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  Prologue:Time Travel seems to be a modern concept, a fantasy according to some. Creative minds have been imaginative enough to evade logic and create a new logic. But what if I say that thousands of years ago, a young guy, an Indian, actually did Time Travel? Sounds impossible? Well, the effects of his Time Travel are well documented, the full story is revealed here, for the first time of course!

(1)

Nachiketas was a highly intelligent and bright for his young and tender age. He was mature, silent, humble and disciplined. What others did not know about Nachiketas was his inquisitive nature. He had lot of questions. As he grew, he realized that there was wisdom in not asking those questions aloud. But nevertheless, he kept on asking those to himself.

Right from childhood Nachiketas was fascinated by the movement around. Some things like the trees, the hills, the farm, the houses, the sky did not at all move. Animals, birds, human beings seemed to have controlled movement, they moved according to their desire and necessity. But few other things like the wind, the Sun, the Moon, the river, the stars seemed to be moving regularly. Where were they going? From where did they re-appear again?

Nachiketas was surprised by the movement of life. Babies were born, grew and old people died. Where did the babies come from? And where did the old people go? Like the Sun and the Moon, does everything reappear? When? How? What is the secret?

Nachiketas was thinking of Time and Space constantly for the last twelve years. He had worked on some mechanism to reach the depth of the Truth. He was not old fashioned in the sense he did not believe that everything could be achieved through Mind Power. If few things could be reached through Matter, Nachiketas had no objection. He was in the process of pilot testing that mechanism which could reveal the Truth to him. He felt he was nearing a breakthrough. He imagined how the elders would react to his breakthrough. In the era of Mind Power, using Material Power was going to shake people. He smiled in anticipation. Nachiketas then felt irritated. Was it necessary for him to waste time in this function?

(2)

Nachiketas was disturbed by the noise around. His father had told him something about this a few months ago. Though Nachiketas was an obedient son, he did not pay much attention to his father then. Nachiketas was engrossed in his own thought and anyway his father, being Head of the State was always organizing such functions. But when it actually started happening, it disturbed Nachiketas.

Vajasravasa, the King and father of Nachiketas too was disturbed. The boy seemed to have lost interest in Princely duties. The father could clearly see that the boy was present just physically but his mind was wandering somewhere else. This was an important time for Vajasravasa. He only knew the burden a King had to carry. Apparently, the rule passed from Father to Son, but practically it was not so easy. The Prince had to pass many informal and formal tests, especially had to satisfy the Court (consisting of too many wise people a young man can face), then only the lineage continued. The Sacrifice was just an outward ritual; his son passing the test was what was important to him.

Vajasravasa expected Nachiketas to be at his best. As it is, Nachiketas had no faults. He was intelligent, had acquired all the skills, was well trained in Vedic tradition, and was well behaved. People not only liked Nachiketas but loved him. The boy had shown glimpses of his spiritual powers, was an added advantage. That would keep the Brahmins away for few years, thought Vajasravasa. But something was missing. The boy was not enjoying the attention. He seemed irritated, frustrated. Vajasravasa feared that some kind of disaster was waiting to happen. Unfortunately he could not confide his fears to anyone else. He decided to keep a close watch on Nachiketas.

(3)

Giving away wealth was part of the Sacrifice. The poor, the knowledgeable came in hundreds, nay thousands. Vajasravasa never liked this idea of throwing well earned wealth to those lazy idiots. But he could not say so. He had to carry on the societal and regal norms.

Vajasravasa saw his wealth disappearing. The land, the gold, the ornaments, the cows, the horses, the elephants….. Everything was fast disappearing. Still a large crowd was there in the Sacrifice Pendal. The servants brought another cowherd. These cows were weak, old, almost on the deathbed. The cows had drunk their last water, eaten their last grass, yielded their last milk and worn out their organs. Vajasravasa knew these cows were not worth presenting, but he had no alternative. He had already spent more than he could afford. But in the process of securing future of Nachiketas, this expenditure was essential. Once Nachiketas was enthroned as the next king, the wealth would find its way back; Vajasravasa knew.

At this moment Nachiketas woke up from his trance. He thought his father won’t earn any merit by giving such cows in a sacrifice. He was worried for his father. He did not want to be party to hypocrisy. Sudden realization dawned upon him that he too would have to carry such useless rituals in future. He shuddered at the thought. He wanted to run away, he wanted to rebel.

To Vajasravasa’s horror, Nachiketas stood and objected the gift of such old cows. Sarcastically the boy asked his father, “To whom, will you give me?” He asked once, Vajasravasa kept quiet. Nachiketas asked twice, “To whom will you give me?” the father kept his cool hoping that the Senior Priest would intervene and everything would be alright. But Vajasravasa could see the whole assembly stunned and shocked. People turned to Vajasravasa in utter disgust. When a Son like Nachiketas was accusing his Father, what more proof one needed to know that Vajasravas had committed some kind of unknown but hideous crime?

“To whom will you give me?” the boy asked third time and Vajasravasa lost his patience. It was his life, his kingdom, his name and fame at stake. Unfortunately, his own son had chosen to be his enemy. The boy’s habit of asking wrong questions at the wrong time had surfaced again. But when in battleground, whoever attacks you is your enemy. If he now allowed the assembly to be impressed by the stupidity of his boy, he will have to give up the kingdom forever. Vajasravasa overcame the panic. In calm but a firm voice, he said, “Oh Nachiketas, my son, to Death will I give you.”

A wave of shock passed through the assembly. Then someone applauded. What a great father Vajasravasa was! To sacrifice one’s own son was a heroic and spiritual act. The assembly hailed Vajasravasa and the assembly hailed Nachiketas. For all of them it was one of the greatest moments. They were observing creation of history.

(4)

For one moment, Nachiketas was clueless. He knew he could not die at his own will. Unless his father chose to kill him, he would not die. He knew for sure that father won’t kill him. Then how to obey father? Obey he must. Otherwise, he would be insulting his father in front of his subjects. What good son he would be then?

Accidentally Nachiketas touched a small stone in his golden ring. He smiled. His face illuminated. It was time to test his hypothesis. It was time to test his ideas regarding Power of Matter. In a splash he took a decision and he acted fast. In the presence of thousands of people, the knowledgeable priests and helpless Vajasravasa, Nachiketas disappeared. The crowds erupted – some with joy, some with fear, and some with horror. Some saw it as a proof of spiritual power of Vajasravasa. Some saw it as the merit of Nachiketas.

(5)

Nachiketas had loads of ideas about how the mechanism he had installed on his golden ring would work. But when he started using it, he was not sure. He realized that he had to use his mental power. The combination of mind and matter would work much more effectively than just allowing matter power to work. He was excited with the sudden transition. He had no time to worry about what must have been the effect on the assembly. There lay an infinite future in front of him and he wanted to explore it. He realized that combination of Mind and Matter is essential for life.

(6)

Rest, as they say, is a history . It is well documented (in Kathopanishad) that Nachiketas went and met the Lord of Death, Yama. It is known that Nachiketas waited for Yama at his house for three nights without food and therefore Yama offered Nachiketas three boons.

Let us not go into details of those three boons now. Those who are interested can read Kathopanishad to know more about it.

What is important to note is that Nachiketas was the first to travel in future and first to safely come back. He came back unscratched; his father could recongnize him and did welcome him. His contemporaries were not aware of the Time Travel mechanism used by Nachiketas, so they termed it as spiritual power, God’s grace, power of merit etc.

Why an intelligent and courageous person like Nachiketas never explained Time Travel is a mystery. May be we lost that ‘Time Travel Manual’ he wrote. Who knows?

Epilogue:

Of course, there is a fresh and hot debate about who did Time Travel first.

Some recent research shows that it was a woman after all who first successfully completed ‘Time Travel’. The specialty of her travel was: she did help a man (naturally her husband, who else?) through this fantastic journey. The altruism adds flavor to the fun of Time Travel.

Your guess is right. Some researchers claim that it was not Nachiketas but Savitri who completed the first ‘Time Travel’ in the history of human beings. A multidisciplinary team is undertaking the research. Volunteers are encouraged. Supporting Grants and Donations are accepted here.

NOTE: I love Kathopanishad and it always inspires me. I do not intend to offend any ideology, history, religion, sentiments. I am just utilizing an artist’s freedom of interpretation. Sorry, if it hurts you.