I had a friend when I was a boy --- his name was Laalu. Half a century ago in fact, so long ago that you cannot quite grasp the length of time that has passed by --- we used to study together in the same class in a small Bengali school. We were then ten to eleven years old. There was no limit to the number of strategies that could come up in Laalu's head to frighten or harass others. Once, to frighten his mother, he had used a rubber snake to such effect that she twisted her ankle and had to limp around for a good seven days. Thoroughly annoyed, she said that a private tutor needed to be appointed for him. He will come in the evenings to make him sit to study, and Laalu would then not have the time to get up to his tricks.

But, Laalu's father said 'no' when he heard of this. He himself had never had any private tutors, had borne huge hardships in order to acquire a good education, and was now a successful lawyer. He desired that his own son be educated in a similar fashion. However, he stipulated that if Laalu failed to top in his class at any time, a private tutor would be engaged for teaching him at home. Laalu managed to escape the big danger this time round, but he secretly nourished a grudge against his mother for it was she who was keen to saddle him with a tutor. In his opinion, to bring a private tutor into the home was just the same as bringing in the police.

Laalu's father was a wealthy householder. It had been a few years since the old homestead had been pulled down, and a new three-storeyed house had been built in its place It had been the ardent wish of Laalu's mother ever since to invite her gurudev (Spiritual Preceptor) to the new house, pay her obeisance to him and also seek his blessings. Unfortunately, he was old. and generally reluctant to come so far out, all the way from Faridpur. But finally, she was granted the opportunity of serving her gurudev. Smritiratna had travelled to Kashi for ritually observing a solar eclipse, and he wrote to Nandarani that on his way back, he would bestow his blessings on her. Laalu's mother could scarcely control her joy-and instantly became completely absorbed in all the arrangements that had to be made for the visit. Her wish was about to come true-the

dust from her gurudev's feet would purify her home. All the furniture from the big room on the ground floor was removed: a new cot, made of light wood, arrived, new bedding arrived gurudev needed a place to sleep. In a corner of the mom, arrangements were made for his long hours of devotional rituals, as it would be difficult for him to go up and down the stairs to the thakurghar on the third floor. After a few days, gurudev arrived in person. But what a tragedy! The weather turned foul; the entire sky was covered in dense black clouds and there was no let-up either in the constant downpour from the skies or in the storm..

Meanwhile, as all this was happening, Laalu's mother had no breath to spare: she was busy making sweets, arranging flowers and fruits, and in the middle of it all she also managed to make the bed, spread the sheets and tuck in the mosquito net with her own hands.

Conversations and the night rolled on, and it became quite late. The travel-weary gurudev had dinner, and finally sought his bed. The servants were dismissed. The soft and clean bed pleased gurudev no end, and in his heart, he showered blessings on Nandarani.

But suddenly, deep into the night, he awoke. Water, seeping through the ceiling, and through the mosquito net, was dropping onto his belly-Ooohhh! Wasn't it cold! He hurriedly got out of bed, wiped his stomach, and said, 'Nandarani, you may have constructed a new house, but I see that the strong westerly sun has already caused the ceiling to crack. As the cot was of light wood, it was easy enough to drag it with its mosquito net to another side of the room, and compose himself again for sleep. But not even half a minute had elapsed, he had barely closed his eyes, when again droplets of icy water fell on precisely the same spot on his stomach. Smritiratna got up again, again dragged the bed to another part of the room, and observed, 'Eek! The ceiling seems to have cracked from end to end.' Again he lay down. and again water dripped onto his stomach. Again he dragged the bed to another side, but the moment he lay down, there was the same dripping water. Once again he dragged the bed to another side, but the end result remained the same. Now he saw that even the bed had become wet; it was impossible to lie down on it Smritiratna felt beleaguered. He was old --- he felt nervous of stepping out of doors in a strange place, but it was clearly dangerous to remain inside. What if the ceiling suddenly collapsed on him! He opened the door and in great trepidation, stepped out into the verandah; there was a lantern burning there, not a soul in sight and it was pitch dark.

It was raining hard, and the storm was still raging. It was difficult even to stand in it. He had no idea where the servants were or where they slept. He shouted loudly, but received no answer. There was a bench in one corner, and the poor clients who came to see Laalu's father normally sat there. Gurudev willy-nilly seated himself. He felt in his heart his sense of self-respect take quite a beating, but there was no way out of it. The northerly gusts of wind brought sharp sprays of rain the chill was enough to raise goosebumps on exposed skin. He wrapped the end of his dhoti around himself, raised his feet as high as possible, and made himself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. His body was numb with all the various types of weariness he had experienced through the day, his thoughts were bitter, his eyelids were weighted with sleep, his stomach was troubled by the unaccustomed heavy meal the causes for irritation seemed endless! Suddenly, in such a situation there came yet another unforeseen new threat. The big mosquitoes of these western regions began to whine next to his ears. His tired eyelids in the beginning refused to respond to this new danger, but his heart instantly became fraught with anxiety-who knew how many they were? Just a couple of minutes, and then gurudev's apprehensions turned to cold certainty gurudev understood they were infinite. In the entire world there existed no hero who was brave enough to disregard such an army. Their stings carried equal doses of burning as well as itchy sensations. Smritiratna hurriedly left the spot, but they accompanied him. Inside the room, the danger came from dripping water, and outside, it came from the mosquitoes. Their attacks continued relentlessly, notwithstanding the fact that he was constantly flourishing the end of his dhoti and waving his hands and feet to ward them off. Smritiratna rushed from one side of the verandah to the other. Even in the cold, he broke out into a sweat. He felt like giving vent to his feelings by bursting into tears, but he managed to restrain himself from indulging in such infantile behaviour. In his imagination he saw Nandarani peacefully and blissfully asleep in a soft bed with a mosquito net hanging around it, all the members of the household, wherever they were, cozily asleep wrapped in supreme peace only there was no rest for him or to his mad dashes to and fro across the verandah. From somewhere in the distance, a clock struck four in the morning, and he said wearily, 'Go on, you horrors, do your worst I give up. So saying, he curled up in a corner, covering his back as much as he could by leaning against the wall and gave himself up to bitter reflections. It was now crystal clear to him as to why his mind had always suffered from those misgivings whenever he had contemplated a journey to these parts. He told himself, 'If I am alive until morning, I shall not spend an extra minute in this rotten place. I will board whichever train comes in first, and escape to my own place.' Slowly, sleep-that panacea for all sorrows-engulfed him, wiping out the misfortunes he had endured all through the night; Smritiratna, nearly unconscious, finally fell asleep.

Now, Nandarani was up before it was fully dawn-she had to attend to her gurudev's comfortable sojourn at her home. Last evening, gurudev had only partaken of snacks --- admittedly quite heavy --- and her heart was low with the certainty that gurude had not dined well. Through the day, therefore, she would spare no pains to make up for the previous evening's paucity.

She came downstairs, and saw that the door stood open She felt a little embarrassed to see that gurudev had woken up before her. She peeped into the room to find that he was not there, but something had surely happened. The cot that had occupied the southern corner of the room was now in the northern corner, his canvas bag had left the window sill and was now sitting on the middle of the floor, all the little vessels needed for his devotional practices were scattered across the room-the reason for such utter confusion completely past her comprehension. She emerged from the room and hailed the servants for none of them were yet astir. But then, where could gurudev have gone? Suddenly, her eyes fell on-'What was that? In the half darkness, wasn't that something like a human being sitting against the corner wall?' She summoned all her courage to her aid, walked ahead and bending a little forward, identified her gurudev. In a sudden nameless dread, she cried out, Thakurmoshai! Thakurmoshai!"

Smritiratna, called forth from his slumbers, opened his eyes, and slowly straightened his body to an upright position. Nandarani, deeply worried, ashamed and fearful, burst into tears as the asked, "Thakurmoshai, what are you doing here?" Smritirama stood up and said, There was no end to my

sorrows last night, max.

"Why, baba?

'Maa, you have constructed a new house, but the ceiling is completely cracked. It has not rained outside last night, but all over my body throughout the night. Wherever I dragged my bed, water dripped over it. Fearing that the ceiling would fall on me, I came outside, but even that was no protection-the whole night hordes of locust-like mosquitoes have sucked me dry-I have been running from this side to the other and back again. Maa, half my blood has been drained from my body.'

Nandarani's eyes filled with tears as she contemplated the sorry plight of her aged gurudev, whose long-anticipated presence in her home, after repeated pleas and requests, had been a source of such intense joy to her. She said, 'But baba, the house is three-storeyed, there are two more rooms above yours-how could the rain water seep down through three levels?' Even as she spoke, it occurred to her that it could be some devilish stratagem of that wicked boy, Laalu. She ran to the bed and her groping hands found the sheets soaked in the middle, while there were drops of water still running down the mosquito net. She quickly took down the net and found a still-melting piece of ice wrapped in a bit of cloth. She rushed out like a mad woman, and to the first servant who came into view, she loudly rapped out the command --- 'Where is that hellhound Laalu?' Forget about your duties-go grab him from wherever he is and bring him here and mind you, give him a drubbing on the way! Laalu's father was coming down the stairs at that moment, and he was amazed at his wife's conduct, 'What has happened? What are you doing?"

Nandarani burst into tears and said, 'Either you chase your Laalu from this house for ever, or I shall drown myself in the Ganges and atone for this great sin!"

'But what has he done?'

'Come and see with your own eyes what he has done to gurudev for no fault of his.' Everyone entered the room Nandarani narrated all, showed all. Then she asked her husband, 'How am I to hold a household with such a wicked boy

you tell me?' Gurudev had by now understood the whole matter. He

burst out laughing at his own stupidity. Laalu's father stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed in the opposite direction.

One of the servants came and reported, 'Laalu-babu is not at home. Another came and reported that he was sitting in his aunt's house and eating. His aunt had not permitted him to leave.

'Aunt' meant Nanda's younger sister. Her husband was also a lawyer; they stayed in a different neighbourhood. For the next fifteen days, Laalu did not set a foot on even the boundaries of their house.

His pet name was Laalu. He must have had some proper name, but it has slipped out of my memory. You perhaps know that in Hindi, the term 'lal' means 'favourite'. I have no idea as to who had given him this nickname, but seldom has there been such a congruence between a person and his name. He was indeed a great favourite with everybody.

After school, all of us joined college, but Laalu said he would pursue some independent business. He asked his mother for ten rupees and became a 'contractor' on the strength of that. We said, 'Well Laalu, your capital is ten rupees. He laughed and retorted, 'How much more does one want? This is more than sufficient.

Everybody was fond of him, he manage.d to get jobs. On our way to college, we would frequently spot Laalu, with an umbrella over his head, and a few labourers with him, engaged in small road repairs. He would grin seeing us, and tease, 'Run, run! You will score a duck in the attendance register.

When we were younger, in a Bengali-medium school, he used to be the handyman for all of us. In his school rucksack there were always waiting in readiness a head of a pestle, a norum, a broken knife, an old head of a harpoon for making holes, a horseshoe-no one knew from where he had acquired these, and there was nothing he could not accomplish with these odds and ends. He would mend umbrellas for the whole school, fix the frames of slates, instantly mend clothes that had gotten accidentally torn while playing countless such tasks. He would never say 'no' to any job. And he used to handle these tasks with great deftness. Once, during Chhar, he bought a few paise worth of coloured paper and shola, made attractive toys with them, and taking a position on the banks of the Ganges, he managed to make two rupees and fifty paise by selling them. He then treated us to a big treat of nicely fried peanuts.

As the years went by, we all grew up. There was no one to equal Laalu in the gymnasium. He did not just have tremendous physical strength, but also an equivalent share of courage. I think he really was not acquainted with the sensation of fear. He was ever-ready to respond to any call for help; he would be the first to reach a person in trouble. However, he had a terrible weakness-he just could not control the desire to frighten anybody if he saw an opportunity to do so. Before this compulsive desire, everyone-old as well as young-was completely equal. None of us could imagine how, in an instant, such amazing ideas to terrorize people would unfailingly occur to lum! Let me narrate one or two stories. In the locality Manohar Chatterjee was performing Kali puja in his residence. Late at night, the local blacksmith was absent, yet the auspicious moment for sacrificing before the Goddess was fleeing fast. People rushed to his residence to fetch him, only to discover that he was senseless with colic pain. When they relayed the news to the others upon returning, the rest sat holding their heads in despair-where was the solution? From where could another executioner be found at that hour? The Goddess's worship was going to be ruined! Suddenly someone said, 'Laalu can behead goats. He has done it so many times. People rushed

to his place; Laalu awoke, sat up in bed, and said, 'No'. What no! If the Goddess's worship is interrupted, a terrible

catastrophe will befall us!" Laalu said, 'Let it happen, then. I have done such things when I was a boy, but I no longer do so

The persons who had come to call him banged their heads against the wall in despair: only ten or fifteen minutes to go, and then, all would be over, all destroyed. The wrath of the Goddess would kill everybody. Laalu's father ordered him to go. He said, "These gentle folk have no other alternative and so have come to you. It will be wrong if you do not go. You must go' It was impossible for Laalu to disobey such a command.

Chattujje Mohashoyey felt reassured the instant he clapped eyes on Laalu. There was hardly any time. Swiftly a goat was dedicated to the Goddess; and it was quickly garlanded with red hibiscus, sindoor smeared on its forehead, and then put into the sacrificial stock. The helpless, gentle being's last appealing bleats rose, were completely drowned by the entire household collectively roaring out 'Maal Maa!" Laalu's hand holding the khaanra and an instant later, slashed downwards; from the severed neck a fountain of blood spouted and reddened the dark earth in a wet gush. Laalu closed his eyes for a moment. Gradually, the terrific clanging of knasar, the beating of drums, fell silent. The other goat, which had been trembling a little distance away, now in its turn, had its forehead daubed with sindoor, a red garland swung round its neck: again the sacrificial stock again the terrified last appeal, again the collective roaring of many voices-Maa! Maa!' Once again, Laalu's hand holding the blood-stained khaanra rose and, in the blink of an eye fell: the beast's headless body beat a few times on the earth in a final plaint to Somebody and then it stilled; blood from its severed neck further reddened the already-red earth.

The drummers went mad on the drums, the many shouts from the completely packed courtyard rent the air. On the adjoining verandah facing the courtyard, Manohar Chattuje sat on a carpet, absorbed in meditating on the name of his Ishtadevata. Suddenly, Laalu let loose a tremendous yell. Abruptly all noises ceased everyone was struck dumb with amazement "What was happening!' Laalu's pupils were distended, his eyes were bulging and revolving fast in their sockets-he shouted 'Where are the other goats?'

Somebody from the household, stuttering with fear, managed to say, 'There are no more goats. We always sacrifice just two Laalu swung around the blood-stained khaanra in his hand above his head a couple of times and yelled in a terribly harsh

voice, 'No more goats? No way! I am mad with bloodlust either give me a goat now, or else I shall sacrifice before the Goddess whoever I can lay my hands on! Maa, Maal Victory to Kali!' On the very utterance, with a gigantic leap. he was over the sacrificial stock, his khaanra whirling madly in his hand. What happened after that cannot be described in mundane words. In one accord, everyone raced for the main exit, terrified in case Laalu would catch hold of any of them. In that desperate race, there was such an enormous pushing. elbowing and jostling that it felt as if a Daksha yagna" was being held once again. Some had fallen down and were still trying to roll away, some were crawling away and had managed to get their heads stuck between people's legs, some had their necks held in vice-like armpits and were gasping for breath, somebody had been trying to escape over another person, and had fallen flat on his face in the thick of the crowd-but all these frantic efforts lasted for the space of a second. The next, the place was totally deserted.

Laalu shouted loudly, "Where is Manohar Chattujje? Where is the priest?"

The thin priest, under cover of the frightful din, was already safely hidden behind the idol of the Goddess. The family guru, seated on a grass-mat and engaged in reading religious tracts on Chandi, had hurriedly risen in the face of the fracas and taken refuge behind a stout pillar. However, Manohar, inconvenienced by his huge girth, had found it difficult to run around for a safe hiding place. Laalu went forward, and gripping one of Manohar's hands with his left hand, said, 'Come and put your neck in the stocks!

On the one hand, Laalu's iron fist, on top of which in his right hand was the khaanra: Manohar Chattujje almost died in fright. He began to plead tearfully, 'Laalu! Baba! Please calm yourself and look at me-I am not a goat but a human being. I am like your uncle through kinship, baba. Your father is like my younger brother."

'I don't want to know! I am now ruled by bloodlust come, I will sacrifice you. It is Maa's command Chattujje burst into a loud wail, 'No, baba, it is not Maa's command, it can never be her command-Maa is the Mother

of the Universe!

Laalu said, 'Mother of the Universe! What do you know

of that? Will you sacrifice more goats after this? Will you call

me to sever goats' heads again? Speak!"

Weeping, Chattujje declared, 'Never again, baba, never again! I am swearing thrice in front of Maa-from today there will be no sacrifices ever again in my house." 'Is that true?'

'Indeed it is true, baba, indeed it is true. Never again. Please let go of my hand, baba, I need to go to the toilet. Laalu loosened his hold, and said, 'All right, I am letting you go. But where did the priest run to? Where is the family guru? Where is he?' So saying, he again leaped across the courtyard and approached the thakurdalan (sacred yard). There arose two wails of fear in two different keys-one from behind the idol of the Goddess and another from behind the pillar. The mingled sounds of a reedy voice with a thick one were at once so peculiar and so comic that Laalu could contain himself no longer. 'Ha-ha-ha!'-he laughed and flinging the khaanra down on the ground with a bang, he ran out of the house.

It was then absolutely clear to everyone that all the talk of being under the influence of bloodlust had been a pack of lies, his idea of a joke. Laalu had been wickedly teasing everybody and frightening them all out of their wits. Within five minutes, everyone who had run away had returned and reassembled in the courtyard. There were still much that had been left incomplete in the worship of the Goddess because of the interruption. Amid the general hubbub, Manohar Chattujje began to swear repeatedly before everybody, 'If I do not make his father take a shoe to that rogue and make him smart under fifty blows by tomorrow morning, my name is not Manohar Chattujje.

But Laalu did not smart under any blows from a shoe. He fled before daybreak to a secret place no one knew about, and not a whiff of his whereabouts for a good seven to eight days came through. After about a week, he stole into Manohar Chattujje's house after dark, and begged his pardon after making obeisance, and managed to escape from his father's wrath. Still, be that as it may, because Chattujje had taken an oath before the Goddess, goat-sacrifice during Kali-worship did come to an end in Manohar Chattujje's house from that time onwards.