Thirteen Hours of Fame

by Jatin Pathak

Sitting on a chair, spinal cord straight as a cricket pitch, the eyes of Panditji were scrolling fast on the kundli of nine-year old Manav Sharma. With the right hand he adjusted his spectacles, giving the impression that he has found something of great importance. Manav’s mother pulled her chair closer to Panditji.

Her face was dull and her eyes were full of worry. And why not, she had a genuine reason to worry. Her son had fallen from the second floor of the building last night. But miraculously he did not get even a scratch. The whole family had spent the night in the civil hospital. Doctors did a complete check up and found no injury. Everyone was amazed. She kept the boy close to her the entire night, holding him tightly as if someone would take him away. She summoned the family priest next morning.

‘Long, very long’, said Panditji and started calculating something on the finger tips. ‘At least seventy-two’, he added ‘the boy will live at least till seventy-two years. You should not worry at all Mrs. Sharma.’

This changed the expression on Mrs. Sharma’s face. She felt relaxed and leaned backward on the chair like she had just finished a horror movie with a happy ending.

‘Shanta, bring some milk and biscuits for Panditji’, She screamed at the maid.

‘One more thing’, said Panditji, holding the kundli in his left hand with straight arm and giving it an eagle eye view. This created suspense again. ‘The boy will do great things, he is born to change the fortune of this family. He is the Kuber of your dynasty.’ He said as Shanta-bai served milk and biscuits.

‘PanditJi, then what is the reason for yesterday’s accident? ’

‘Unfavorable planetary conditions. You should offer red cloth with cow’s milk to a temple today. Also the vastu of your kitchen is not good. You have to change it to make sure the food remains pure and safe from evil spirits.’

Suddenly a voice from neighborhood intercepted them.

‘Sharmaji, Sharmaji, Sharmaji’ And a tall lean man, their neighbor, entered the house in a white kurta-pajama.

‘Mrs. Sharma, Where is SharmaJi?’

“He is sleeping” She replied.

‘Sleeping? Haven’t you read the newspaper this morning?’ He said waving the local newspaper Kapurthala Times.

‘No, we do not subscribe to it ’

’Manav’s photo is on the front page’, neighbor said and started reading the story.

‘Miraculous escape for a nine-year old boy. Doctors have said that the boy possesses a lot of mental strength and is genetically capable of enduring more pain than normal human being. They have requested the district deputy collector to provide funds to the hospital so that they can buy apparatus to study boy’s gene-structure. They have also suggested that the boy should choose sports as a career and bring fame and glory to the town and the nation. They have called our Manav the Gem of Kapurthala.’ The neighbour finished with a big smile and handed over the newspaper to Mrs. Sharma. She was proud of her son.

‘I have already said the boy is special. He will bring change to the nation’, Panditji jumped into the conversation, taking away all the credit.

‘His kundli is similar to Lal Bahadur Shastri’s’, Panditji said while picking up his bag and turning towards the door to leave. He was certainly not aware that the former Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri died in his sixties, fifteen years short of his calculation.

Friends and relatives kept coming, asking for Manav. Shanta-bai got busy serving the guests. Manav received lots of toys as gifts from the guests. He became famous in his school and talk of the town. His arch rival in school, Diksha also came. In the afternoon Mrs. Sharma received a call from the local TV channel that they wanted to interview the boy for an episode of “My town, My Pride”. They would send a reporter in the evening for the recording. This electrified the atmosphere. The proud mother told everyone about it. Mr. Sharma, the father of the boy, was giving tips to Manav for the interview. He coached him to tell the reporter that he wanted to choose cricket as his career and win the world cup for the country.

At around 5 P.M the reporter came with the cameraman. They started setting up their apparatus. Tarikha Singh, a former wrestler from the town, also came at the same time and started talking to the reporter. He said that he came to convince Manav’s parents to let the boy to choose wresting as a career. He believed that one day Manav can bring the Olympic glory to the town. Tarikha Singh was happy to come in the news after a long long time. The mother asked Manav to go and take a bath before facing the camera. While Manav was going to take the bath, his old grandmother came to put a dot of kajal on his face. ‘Kisi ki nazar na lag Jaye’, she said. But the little boy was in a hurry and was very excited about facing the camera. So he avoided her and went straight to the bathroom.

When Manav did not come out of the bath for a while, his father went to fetch him. He banged on the door, ‘Manav, come out soon beta. TV Channel people are waiting. Manav!’ There was no response. Getting a little annoyed, he forced open the door only to find Manav sprawled on the bathroom floor. The boy had slipped in the bathroom and had died a quick death. In an instant, the atmosphere changed completely. The mother was inconsolable. She was cursing herself for not offering the milk and cloth in the temple. The whole town talked philosophically about the power of destiny. The doctor and Punditji did not attend the cremation ceremony.

Next day, Kapurthala Times carried a small column on this incident quoting Tarikha Singh that the boy’s death was a big blow to the wrestling’s future. The local channel telecasted the story of how the child lived his thirteen hours of fame before dying. Perhaps he survived earlier only to live these thirteen hours.

Author can be contacted at pathak.jatin@gmail.com

Image Attribution: http://www.flickr.com/photos/clexow/3254678299/