Goyla stood silently on the banks of the Yamuna. The receding curls on his temple swayed slightly with the passing breeze. A cow made its way past him, bending to pick the half-drowned marigold garland, delicately chewing on it. Goyla’s gaze followed it absently even as he heard the faint echo of words uttered a lifetime ago…
“Ram, Tu Kao Karya? Tu oka jaai ka kahen kaheya? *”
His brother looked up,
“You don’t need anyone to help you. I can.”
“No! You only study, I will take care of everything.”
His brother smiled,
“Dada, I am. Helping you at night doesn’t mean I am shirking.”
Goyla looked at him exasperated,
“Ka e jawaab aa? ** “
Goyla and Ram had a fifteen-year age gap. Within a few years of Ram’s birth, Goyla had decided that he would not live like the rest of them. Ram was a bright and dedicated student, and this cemented Goyla’s determination to have him break the chain of destiny.
Dumar Tribe. The keepers of the flame. Caretakers of the cremation grounds.
Vultures that surround the dead.
Goyla hated it. Kismet was what you made of it not what it should always be.
He strictly forbade Ram from playing with the other Dom kids for fear of him doing the things they did or following them to the Ghats.
When Ram left school, his “SC” certificate had been arranged just in time for him to get into a good college and when he completed engineering, Goyla knew dawn break had arrived.
“Army?”
Goyla looked at Ram, perplexed.
Would the army give him a good life…? A new life?
Ram reached out and held his brother’s hands.
“Dada, it is an honor- the highest pride to work for our country.”
Goyla processed this…
Mostly no one saw them unless they had ashes to collect.
400 Rs per body.
Goyla nodded. Honor and pride sounded good.
When Ram left, Goyla was the happiest, his gutka-ridden mouth beaming brighter than the pyres on the ghats.
Ram’s stories and letters were the new flavor of the Ghats. Goyla would happily narrate it to anyone who would listen. The spring in his step and pride in his voice was unmistakable.
A knock on their door one night changed everything.
Goyla blinked, a single tear rolling down his eyes. His gnarly hands held the urn. The smell of bodies and camphor mingled in the air along with religious chants from different corners of the Ghat. Wisps of black smoke danced before his eyes. Stoically, Goyla bent and released Ram into Yamuna.
Yamuna. The Goddess who had proclaimed no one would attain heaven without a Dom present.
She accepted Ram gladly, pushing him one last time towards Goyla before She claimed all of him. Ram lightly kissed his brother’s feet, before withdrawing from mortality.
Goyla’s heart returned to being heavier than he remembered.
Ram hadn’t escaped his kismet after all even if he was on the other side of it. Would any of them?
Glossary:
Dada – Elder Brother
Tu Kao Karya? Tu oka jaai ka kahen kaheya? – (Awadhi) What did you do? Why did you tell him to go?
Ka e jawaab aa– (Awadhi)What kind of answer is this?
Dumar/Dom Tribe– Traditionally a caste that works on cremation grounds.
Yamuna– Major River in Northern India. Also, spiritually significant in Hinduism.
Ghat – Riverfront. Here, also a cremation ground.
Gutka– Betel Quid.
Borrowed Word:
Kismet – Destiny, Fate.
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