ETERNAL COMPANIONS

Swar's Angel

Swar held his phone's battery upwards to see evidently.

It was an old man, with a woollen cap, a brown muffler, and a dhoti. The man approached both of them.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Yes," they both replied, still appalled.

"Come on, I'll take you."

"Who are you?" both asked in unison.

"I am Chandan Lal. I take the travellers to the bus stop from here, as they don't know where to head."

"Oh!" both exhaled.

"Follow me," Chandan Lal said.

"You were also spooked, right?" asked Rakesh, as if he was making fun of Swar.

"No, not at all, I was—"

"Understood. You will never admit. After all, it will sound so deplorable that a man with muscular features got scared," laughed Rakesh.

"Hee hee, very funny," Swar giggled, gritting his teeth. "Just follow him."

Rakesh wrinkled his nose at Swar's remark, and they both followed Chandan Lal.

"Kaka, how long have you been here available for the travellers?" Swar asked, walking along with Chandan Lal, trying to communicate. He always had been very open-minded and had never discriminated between the rich and poor like his family.

"It's been since my teenage years, son. You know, I was first doing a full-time duty here, but as I aged, I couldn't do it anymore. I am 60 now; I have two sons and three grandchildren..." Chandan Lal proceeded, telling his whole life story.

He almost characterized his entire life and the things he did in his journey throughout till his ageing. Swar and Rakesh kept on patiently listening to him, their fear completely vanished. They walked and walked and finally, Chandan Lal made them reach the bus stop. Swar hugged Chandan Lal, saying it was so good to talk to him. There are many people in our city who do work for their purpose and don't care to interact with others. It would have been so boring if I and Rakesh had just come walking all the way without this. I am so glad that people like you exist. Thank you, Kaka.

They both said bye to him as he walked back towards his actual destination. Swar gifted him a box of mithai (sweets), which he had packed along with him when Chandan Lal shared that his daughter-in-law delivered a baby girl two days ago.

Rakesh and Swar waited for the bus to arrive.

There was a small rock-type seat for the travellers to sit on while waiting. A large pillar held a flag labelled Bus Yatra {Bus Journey} and an arrow painted on a concrete rock indicating the direction to Purakhpur. The bus arrived at the spot, and they both began their further voyage.

"Purakhpur Nauka Vahan," replied Swar as the conductor asked him where they wanted to go. The conductor checked the ticket of rupees 20 and handed it to Swar.

"Hey bro, where are we gonna sit?" asked Rakesh when he saw the bus was already crowded.

"Why do you want to sit? We already sat in the train for long. Doesn’t your body ache by sitting continuously?" Swar answered, frowning.

"Whatever bro, I didn’t expect the bus to be this full. There’s no place to stand appropriately even, and this man who is standing in front of me is poking me with his luggage. I can’t." Rakesh got annoyed.

"Why can’t you stand still?" Swar asked.

"I can’t, bro. I am sweating. I want to take this jacket off me," he replied, displeased.

"What’s the problem? Come here, stand at my place. I’ll shift to yours," Swar gave a furious look to Rakesh.

"Look, Ladoo, we have not come here to fight. The peace, you know—just relax, only a little time until we reach Nauka Vahan," Swar calmed irritated Rakesh, patting his shoulder.

---

"Nauka Vahan," the conductor screamed.

"Come on, Ladoo, let's get down, we are at our place." Rakesh finally took a deep sigh when he heard Swar about getting down.

"Alas! It’s time to leave this crowded bus. Don’t know how people travel daily with this s**t," thought Rakesh.

They both, along with a few other passengers, got down.

"Carry your bags properly, Ladoo."

"First that creepy scary walk till here and now this shitty bus made my day ruin."

"Shut up, Ladoo. Have you adapted anytime with life? Always complaining about everything. Have you ever thought that, yeah, we have come to some new place, we will enjoy and all? No, you just wanna complain—about the bus. People travel daily, they do so for their living, to go to work; some do it for travelling purpose. It’s a fun thing and they have a habit of it. And you know what, I have understood that this is the real way of living," Swar illustrated.

"Oh my... look who’s talking. Really, Swar, I am really surprised about how much Dadaji’s words have affected you in being sensible," Rakesh teasingly said.

"Of course, but some things I realize on my own too, understand?"

"You have so much understanding?" Rakesh questioned.

"Do you have any doubt?"

"No bro, I have a full guarantee that these are not your words. In your whole life you can’t say this on your own. After all, we have grown together. I know you pretty well." Upon Rakesh’s comment, both of them shared a laugh.

They both walked a little further, until Rakesh spotted—

"Look there!"

"Wow," Swar was fascinated by what he saw.

The Nauka Vahan was nothing like he had imagined. The place surely was like one of the fantasy types, consisting of navy-blue water, making sounds when hit by the oars. The light of the twinkling stars from the sky was directly falling into the water, giving it a silvery tinge. Though it was a rural place, it was still no less than a palace’s frontier part. There was a fence surrounding the three sides of the water, upon which the golden lamps were lit. The boats were of silver colour with roofs above them.

"Come, Saheb (sir), I’ll take you," one of the helmsmen said.

"Just ask him, Swar, if this is really Nauka Vahan or not?" Rakesh was intrigued.

"Yes, it is. You have arrived correctly. Often people get relinquished into its beauty. Come, sit here, in this boat," the helmsman intervened.

Swar, along with Rakesh, sat in the long tail-shaped silvery boat with the silver-coloured roof while adoring the beauty of the place.

"This place was built by our ancestors. The place is called Nauka Vahan, but few know that the name of this lake is Mridul Nadi. The rainfall directly gets accumulated in this lake, increasing the density of the water. The speciality of this lake is, the water over here never evaporates, no matter how sunny the climate is, and also it never overflows even if there is too much rain. This lake is the entrance to Purakhpur village, the first one," the helmsman educated them.

Swar and Rakesh grimaced at the phenomenal beauty.

"It’s better than any foreign place, bro."

"Yup, Ladoo, it’s too beautiful," Swar replied pleasurably.

Swar took out his camera and clicked certain pictures of the Mridul Lake’s charisma.

Rakesh was still in a bit of a daze about the beauty.

"Can you explain more about this lake, Bhai (brother)?" Swar asked the helmsman.

"Yes. So, as I said, this place was built by our ancestors—built as in the fence around it, the section for keeping boats and stuff—overall making it the travelling place to Purakhpur. It is actually outside the Purakhpur village, but is considered the gate to enter."

"Bro, just the gate is so beautiful, then imagine the village will be so beautiful," Rakesh exclaimed in enjoyment.

"Don’t interrupt, Ladoo. Yeah, you continue," Swar pleaded.

"So, every once a year, the females—the only women—come here to worship the lake. They do pooja and all, and there’s Maha-havan (big pooja) carried out here. This festival is called Mridul-hom. The ladies do this ritual and pray to the Sun and Rain Gods respectively, in order that the gods protect the lake. It’s deemed as the sacred one. The fact I said ladies because there are many beliefs and stories that long back, many decades ago, a cruel woman from the village died in this lake. The lake was not like what it is today. It is believed that she was a brothel worker, even if she was married to a good man. Her husband got to know her secret and abandoned her. She immersed herself in this lake as she became mad because the whole village threw her out. Her husband was a nobleman and was a hero of the village—he helped the village to prosper—so the reason for the villagers throwing her out was obvious. Later on, it was found out that she was extremely innocent and her husband was the main culprit behind all this. He forced her to work in the brothel in order to earn more money. He was not a nobleman as believed by the villagers. The woman, being a true wife, heeded all the orders of her husband and got ready to work in the brothel. It was also found that she didn’t work as a prostitute there, but used to sit there for a while and come back. She was pure; she didn’t allow anybody to touch her. She used to work there as the beauty choicest for the prostitutes and earned money for her husband later on. Her husband used to beat her. Instead of her, he was the cruelest. A sage found out that all the noble identity her husband got was because of her. It was because she was pure. She loved him truly, but this is what he gave her in return. He provoked villagers against his wife when they came to ask him about her working in a brothel. On learning all this, the villagers felt guilty and finally decided to throw him out of the village by drenching him in the same lake where his wife died. And yes, they did. He pleaded, but they didn’t back off. It’s said that as soon as the woman died in the lake, the lake turned blue from its actual transparent form. That is why the girls do pooja here—for two reasons: first, to not get a husband like him and that his soul vanishes away so he could not torture her soul anymore; and second, the prayers to the Sun and Rain Gods for maintaining the lake’s dignity. You can see this lake is so beautiful because of the lady only; she made this pure. But this blue water can’t be used for consuming, so the ancestors made it a travelling place. The Mridul Nadi is named after her husband, whose name was Mridul. It’s also a belief that when a pure soul like the woman immerses herself into this lake with her own wish, then this lake will turn into its original form and her soul will be free from her husband," narrated the helmsman.

"What a story. But is it true? What do you think, Swar?" asked Rakesh.

"I don’t know, maybe or not, but the lake is a beauty," replied Swar. He lost himself in his thoughts when he heard about the girls from the helmsman; it reminded him of the girl he’s gonna marry.

"Hey Rakesh, these stories are marvellous anyway. I mean about Chandan Kaka’s life story, or let it be about the Mridul Lake’s story—they have a sense of ancientness in them. After all, they are experienced. I’m thinking about my girl anyway. I mean, I am so close to meeting her. My girl will be like this lake—innocent, alluring beauty, both by heart and presence," Swar started to sing a song describing how his future lover c*m soulmate will be. He stated her as an angel in his own foresight.