Short Story of a Priest – Karma Chakra
Photo credit: dhester from morguefile.com
The hut stood atop the small hillock from where the plain view of the small village lying below could be seen. The lowly thatched roof, small windows that could barely accommodate the morning sunrise, the stained muddy walls, and a small orchard behind, overgrown with weeds and grasses, in a word, nothing extraordinary from any other huts found in Liglige. But the atmosphere of excitement that surrounded this hut was not an everyday view.
The usual muffled sleep of the villagers was overshadowed by the presence of anxious eyes that filled the calm atmosphere of the night breeze. A small group of people were inside the only room of the hut, in the center of which there was Galchyen, and a woman who looked like in her late 40s, but the daily toil had taken its toll and she appeared much older. She was gagged and tied, and was laid in the cold floor, with a slow raspy breath, but she made no effort to escape, probably because of the exhaustion, or simply because she knew that there was no escape.
Galchyen, the priest of the small village, known as Liglige, located in the northeast Rolpa, was the most respected and revered figure of the village. He was their leader, their priest, their healer and the person who could talk to god for them. He had always guided the villagers, in their good times as well as hard times. He had a long history as the village priest, chosen at the religious ceremony of the ‘karma chakra’, after the death of the previous priest of Liglige. It was under his leadership that many temples were built and more sacrifices were offered to the god than ever before. He had been successful in driving the village to prosperity; bad spirits that often possessed the bodies of the people were driven out of the village and the rains that yielded good crops had never been scarce.
He sat solemnly, as a dim figure in that room lit with candlelight, murmuring the arcane words, and praying to see some sign of the god to guide him on the path beyond. The woman, who was lying on the floor, was believed to have possessed unholy in her, having fits from some days and her suspicious behavior made it certain among the villagers to believe she was the misfortune to the people of Liglige. Galchyen was summoned to cure the women. He sat patiently, meditating and praying for the god to send some sign. All the people that were gathered were watching their priest for some miracle.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, turned to the people that were watching and spoke, “God has sent me a message! She is evil; she indeed has harbored an evil spirit inside her!”
Silence fell through the crowds and they all held their breath still. It seemed even the howling breeze had stopped dead in its path.
Galchyen continued, “I see a trident in my vision, and my brothers! We all know what trident means! The weapon of lord Shiva, one that destroys evil, it surely is not mistaken. This evil spirit must be destroyed! The women must be out casted from this village! She may not harm our children and crops, when the blessings of the lord are upon us!”
With Galchyen having finished his word, a low murmur filled the room that had been silent so far. The woman who was lying still on the floor till now began writhing and fighting the chains and a deep hoarse cry escaped from her dry gagged throat.
“My lord! Is there no other way my wife can be saved?” A man sitting next to Galchyen pleaded with his trembling knees on the floor.
Galchyen turned towards the man, and spoke slowly, “it has to be done my friend, for all of our good.”
“The evil should be out casted, she should be chastened!” someone shouted. The current seemed to have floated in the crowd. They all cried in unison, for the fear of their lives and their beloved ones.
“It is God that decides”, Galchyen spoke, “what will happen to us. It is our fate that is predestined from our karma of our previous lives. This woman has done unbearable sin to be punished by the god in this cruel manner!” He halted, and then continued, “But this is the god’s will and cannot be altered. This woman shall leave this village and never return. A shrine shall be made, and every year on this day, sacrifices shall be made to the gods, so this spirit can never return!”
I.
Years passed, and the people of that village continued with their lives, feeling safe under the protection of their revered priest. Every day was safe and normal the way it was, there was good rain, livestock number greatly increased and the food was plentiful. There were but a few deaths in the village. The villagers soon forgot about the woman, and the abandoned house at the top of the small hillock became a part of bed-time stories to scare the little children.
One morning, when Galchyen was in his prayer room, offering his prayers to the god, a young boy came running to him, panting under his breath.
“Hurry Galchyen!” he cried, “my brother is very sick and my mother sent me to get you.” Galchyen noticed fear in the eyes of that young boy.
Galchyen hurried to the boy’s house. His parents were waiting for the arrival of the priest, with flowers and red akshata for the offering to the god. The boy had been suffering from flu for some days, was brought in presence of Galchyen. Galchyen looked at the boy, took a deep breath as if summoning his energy to call upon the gods and put his hands upon the forehead of that little boy.
He prayed, trying to appease the gods that he so faithfully believed. Days passed, but the condition of the boy didn’t improve. The boy laid before Galchyen, with each passing moment his life draining out of his shallow breath. Galchyen was desperate; his Gods were unable to help this poor soul who had just started enjoying the beauty of this world.
“We need to sacrifice”, he finally said, emerging out of his trance. A goat was brought; worshipped and then sacrificed to god.
But however hard Galchyen prayed, the health worsened with each passing day. Nothing seemed to please the gods nor did the messages god sent to Galchyen seem to work. Finally the boy breathed his last breath and lay still in the cold mud polished floor. There were cries and tears in the family, and all the efforts to please the gods were in vain.
II.
Galchyen sat still in his chair; listening to the low constant moans of his wife in the other room. An epidemic had struck the village and after the little boy died, many others followed. Each day people were dying. The village had become literally a grieved grave; the gods that had looked upon the people for so long had suddenly become non-existent, and never had there been such a death toll before. There was not a single house where people had not suffered and died.
There was not a single pair of eyes that had not shed tears in this grave situation. Galchyen himself had lost his son, and his wife was terminally sick, lying in the bed next room, where the unwashed smelly clothes were laid down in heaps unattended. Galchyen could not understand why this was happening; why had the god allowed all this? How could the master, whom he had fathomed with all his heart, whom he had served all these years faithfully, not look upon him when he was suffocating in pain and miseries.
He slowly stood up, walked to the next room where his wife laid. He looked into her eyes, and saw tears on them, and he knew it was the fear of death. It was then he remembered the women he had banished, and all those that had caused pain, because he was serving faithfully his non-existent master.
An intolerable pain followed his repulsive nostalgia. He felt his energy draining from his legs, and all that remained was the melancholy solicitude.
And then something strange happened. Galchyen felt an insuppressible urge to laugh, he felt happiness after what seemed a long time. He laughed, hysterically. He no longer cared about his dying wife or to the dying villagers. He forgot who he was.
Galchyen went insane.
Years passed, and the life was back to normal again in the Liglige. The epidemic had struck a terrible blow to the heart of villagers but they slowly restrained themselves from the pain and worked hard to bring the life again back to normal. Galchyen had gone missing since the days of epidemic and no one had ever seen him again. His wife and child had died during the epidemic, and so had many villagers. Some said he was taken by the evil spirits who caused the epidemic, and still some other said that he had gone after the spirits who had caused such damage to his family and the village. No one knew in certain.
One day, a ragged old man appeared in Liglige. It was Galchyen. He walked around his village, the place he knew so well. He knew the huts, the roads and its people, yet he felt the distance between them so wide. There were some new young faces he could not recognize. He walked around, in his ragged old clothes, in which he was unrecognizable. The village was almost the same as he had remembered in his good days, although many faces he knew were missing. The village had its new priest, to replace him, selected in the religious ceremony of karma chakra, as their gratitude towards the gods. Many more shrines were built; more sacrifices were given to keep the gods happy and to prevent another epidemic by the unholy spirits. He looked at his house, now dilapidated and deserted. His eyes followed another house that could be seen from the place he stood; atop the small hillock, deserted and in ruins too.
He turned and walked away; unable to face the truth; never to return.
__END__
