THE ATHEIST

Somesh Nanda

July 2010

THE  ATHEIST

A dog tottered from a shade to another, panting while it did. The mid-summer afternoon Sun had left the country farms abandoned. The day had presented itself in a most austere manner driving sensible souls into their habitats to take refuge from the heat. The Village roads had been deserted of all lifeforms, save a strayed beast or two who hadn't yet found themselves a shade for their heads under the huts or the country dwellers, who for a  livings sake couldn't push themselves in. This beggar was one of them. Under the scorching heat  his bare feet, hardened by years of ambling pushed through the dusty road burning beneath them. For his age, he might have been called a young man, his steps being steady and his spine just beginning to need support. Even then, time had done its job. The periphery of his eyes showed wrinkles and his  nearly bald head reflected the shimmering sun, with gray, if not white hair on either side. The skin had been tanned to contrast the white cloths that hung down loosely from his body. Begging alms all day on a regular basis, this man had just began feeling loose for the day.

          Now, he customarily halted before a hut and sang out loud his typical song, his hands playing a stringed instrument to the tune of his voice. A little girl skipped out and handed over a loaf of bread. The music stopped and the beggar gently put the loaf in a cloth bag dangling from his shoulders.

“God bless you my child.”He put a smile across his charred face.

The Little girl hopped back in,closing the door behind her. Enough had been collected for today. He must now call it a day.

         An hour later, having walked a distance along the same road he now found himself kneeling beside a pond,his vessel gulping into its volume some of the vital fluid, fizzing out bubbles that ruptured at the surface .The road here,on either side ,was lined with an array of farms of paddy, wheat and pulses,glowing golden under the afternoon sun and stretching beyond the far horizon. A series of banyan trees aligned to either side of the road served for a demarcation of the road and the fields. The road connected the village to a neighboring city and occasionally provided ground for a few buses  that ran between these settlements. The vagrant found himself a shade under the road-side bus stand  and settled down on a tiled bench ,gently supporting his back on the wall. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer of gratification for his day's alms. With that, he gulped enough water, drew out some ripe fruits from his bag and  spread them out neatly on a piece of clean  white cloth beside him. For a second time , joining his  hands and summoning the divine with chanted words, he began munching a banana, his eyes still closed to allow his senses some rest.

“Why do you do that...”

Startled, the old man sat straight up. His eyes opened and  became aware of a young man sitting on the far  side of the bench. The words were marked  with sourness as were its speaker's expression. The lad, seemingly in his twenties wore a striped shirt neatly tucked into his black trousers, his full sleeves folded up his arms  and a button on the top left open to reveal a well built physic. His eyes gleamed through his thick framed spectacles from under his well combed hair. The  vagabond allowed himself a moment to study this young man's face closely and eventually  concluded with delight maintaining however,his distinctive calmness and tranquility .

Beggar:  Ah my boy. Are you not the Land Lord's son who went off to the city for his studies?

Boy: Yes, old uncle,I am. I remember you by our doors when I was still a kid,when I would run down with a fistful of grains to your monotonous song. You haven't changed a bit.

Beggar: But you have,my child. Those sires there seem to have braced you up well enough. Now you  are no longer one of us....are you?

Boy:I very much am. They say I have changed in the way I talk, the way I look and dress. But at the  end of  the  day I still am my father's son and in every way a part of this village.

Beggar: Your father is a wonderful man.

Boy: He indeed is. But that doesn't answer my question. Why do you do that.

Beggar: Do what, child?

Boy: I saw you close your eyes and mumble something before you ate.

Beggar: Ah that... young man,was a prayer. A prayer of gratitude to the lord for all his gifts.

Boy: And what good does that do to you

Beggar: The same as would your words of thankfulness to a one who would endow a fortune upon you.

Boy:Considering that, I would be discharging my due duty towards the person for his generosity,but it is a plea to the non-existent that doesn't make sense to me.

Beggar:  So you don't  believe that God exists?

Boy:        Frankly, No.

Beggar:  Now I see what they do to your minds in those big schools.

Boy:       In schools they don't teach us to be atheists. Its a realization I myself have arrived upon under my own accord.

Beggar: Tell me then son, what is It that makes the sun rise in the east and set in the west, what powers summon the seasons to cast their charms upon our lands in a perfect  and synchronized sequence?

Boy: The earth rotates and goes round sun. That gives way to days and nights , summers and winters.

Beggar: And whose law guides our giant orbs in harmony round their paths?

Boy:       Gravity

The vagrant wasn't in least bit irritated. Having finished upon his banana, he gently placed its peel on a worn out news paper that lay on the ground and picked up an apple from over the cloth he had so carefully arranged. Having taken a mouthful bite off the juicy fruit,he resumed.

Beggar:  Look around yourself child. Don't you see a creative hand when you look up at the night sky, the deep dark carpet adorned with densely scattered diamonds? Do you not you admire a tender herb sprouting out of the seeds, or a birdie breaking out of an egg? Do you not sense a serene presence on the innocent looks of a newborn?

Boy:  No. Among  all these wonders I see challenging questions with fascinating answers. Some, that we have proudly confirmed as facts and some others that yet remain to be explored.

Beggar: All we have ever done so far is get hold of a few grains of sand from among the vast shore  of laws that the supreme entity has devised. When we saw an object attracting another, we called it gravity. When we found a lightning strike down the land, we talked of charges. We took to pride in our findings rather than admiration and submission to the higher being   for these otherwise incredible phenomena . These “facts and laws” you are trying to “prove”,where do you think these came from?

Boy:     They were always just ....there. By the way, you do seem to know a lot for a man who knocks village doors to  keep his body and soul together.

Beggar: Well, I wasn't always a homeless tramp. Even this ragged man before you had his days of a    decent living. I had a family, a small but a handsome house, a routine job to enlighten young minds just the way they do at your schools. And one fine morning I wake up to witness a stir of events and find that its all..... gone.

The youth searched for a sign of regret in the scrounger's face. But there was none. His voice now weighed down with some  amount of bitterness. Meanwhile, the scrounger drew out a fist half full of grains and threw them out to  a few birds that had gathered around the stand. The idle birds on receiving this unexpected treat, engaged themselves in pecking on the grains.

Boy: So why did  this  God of yours not descend in your times of hardship! Why would he not restore to you your happiness?

Beggar:   But he did! Look at me...Do you not sense ecstasy in my being? I am in every way contended.

Boy: You are because you force yourself to be! Does it not sting you to behold the affluence of the doors you knock? Sorry to say but you posses nothing of the sort that could afford happiness or security. All day long the kinds of you have tanned their skin under this scorching sun   reciting exaggerated praises on his behalf. If he really existed...no matter however heartless he were...he would have landed a hundred rupee note to you by the end of this day!

Beggar: Only this morning I came across a penurious farmer. He just barely manages a wholesome  meal for his family after each day's enervating labor, and this very accomplishment bestows upon him a state of bliss. Every single day, he  enthusiastically marches down to his farm, labors till his muscles fatigue and in the evening when he strolls back home with enough food for his wife and his little son, the contentment shrouding his face could enchant  a spectator. And now here's you. Who owns everything one would desire but pinched from within for some reason or other.  And just seconds  ago you were stressing on how  possessions bring in  happiness.

Silence.

“Happiness my son is a very relative thing. It cannot be afforded. It is the creation of a serene mind. We keep looking within ourselves and focusing on troubling thoughts,failed relationships, unfulfilled ambitions and what not, deliberately  brushing aside the numerous elements that make our lives worth celebrating! No number of Gods can bestow it upon us until we are willing to receive it.”

Boy: On the contrary, I know of a deceitful and corrupt man in the urban. This rogue i'm talking of smugly fills his itching palms with bribes, double deals his associates and blatantly mocks over clean and straight living. But There! Even he, relishs a composed and deeply conceited life!

Beggar: And what brings  you to believe that this man's life is “Composed”? Any given time his mind is sure to be vexed with vicious thoughts or fears of revelations. A malevolent mind never relishes tranquility. Where then is happiness? Such characters are someday or the other brought to Divine justice.

For some reason, the youth's eyes showed  wetness , his voice turned grave and unable to take control of his emotions, he almost screamed out.

“They Killed my mother! They killed her! At the middle of the night when we all peacefully slept they broke in....robbed our house and killed her! My mother hadn't in her life hurt any more than an insect! Did she deserve this! Where here was divine justice!”

The birds flew away with still a few grains remaining to be munched. Seconds later they returned to finish upon them.

Beggar: oh yes..(sighs)..i've heard of the tragic incident. But come to think of it young fellow. Your mother had in her life experienced the highest levels of satisfaction. She had every comfort at her disposal, she watched her sons grow up into elegant gentlemen and then met her end in such a painless manner...right in her sleep. What better could she have desired?

Boy:     But what about us! We had knelt before those stagnant idols and had prayed our souls out till my mother breathed her last! Thereafter I saw no point in this absurdity. You say my father is a wonderful man. Why then would your God let all this happen to us! Why could he not just let things be as they simply were!

Beggar: Because life then, by all means looses its meaning. If we all wished for an inert life without convolutions and changes, then we would rather have been born as lifeless blocks and

would have stayed the same till eternity. Your mother's death was inevitable, but had you      held on to your faith in the supreme being,he could very well have helped you endure your        pain. Either way, you would have been spared of your agony.

Boy: Of what use is a God who  teaches  you to spin for yourself a web of illusion, to smile when you  should frown and laugh when you should moan.

Beggar: Illusion, o learned man, is what we have already spun for ourselves and have delved so

deep that even these words of straight and  untainted truth appear vague and misleading.

Thereafter, neither said another word. From a distance the sound of an approaching vehicle could be heard. Letting up a hot waft of dust into the air, a small bus pushed brakes before the stand. The young man got up, swiftly slid his bags over his shoulders and walked out of the stand. Giving the old beggar one final look he said “Wake up old uncle... This is a harsh world we live in....the “real” world.... You'll need stuff sterner than faith to stand its tides. “

“God bless you, my child”

With that, the juvenile mounted the bus and it sped off into the distance, leaving behind a floating fog of dark smoke and dust. The old man, marooned on the stand was the only sign of the superior life form here amid a large deserted patch of land. His eyes now rested over the old news paper with scattered remains of the fruits he had just consumed, while his mind reflected over something. Having let out a deep sigh, he helped himself up and carefully lifting the paper he walked to a strong and broad tree standing tall by the road side. He knelt down and buried the stubs beneath its great  roots. “There you go into life again”.

Just as he was about to turn, his sight fell on something that had fallen to the ground. Brushing aside the sand that concealed it,the old man pulled it out.

A Hundred Rupee Note.

The beggar's face showed more the signs of gratitude than of delight . “You did not need to prove it to me o Lord”....Pushing the money into the grains in his bag, the old man walked back to the stand. At least for today there shall be no more buses or passengers. Laying down on the tiled bench, he resumed his siesta.