Venkataramana Sastry hailed from a pious, orthodox Brahmin family. However, right from his childhood he was keen on learning to play the mridang. Fired by such keen interest, without heeding the advice of his elder brother, he went to the southern parts of the country and serving the gurus devoutly, he picked up considerable expertise. But as he was a little headstrong, there used to be frequent tiffs between him and the vocalists. That was why, except on rare occasions, no established vocalist would invite him to be an accompanist in his program. And when he was indeed invited, the vocalist would be tensed up till the end of the concert. 

But it did not mean that Sastry was basically bad. Even now, when he takes his sacred bath and applies sandal paste to his face and kumkum on his forehead, there would shine forth the glow of a Brahmin. I picked up acquaintance with him during his sixth decade. At that time, he used to work as an Mridangam Instructor at a Music College run by government. I used to work as a teacher at a school nearby. Actually, I had not been working in that school from the beginning. I was recently transferred to that school from another school. 

One day Sastry came along to my room, asking for my newspaper. When I passed it on to him, he went through it at leisure and left. Since that day, he used to come for the newspaper and our acquaintance slowly grew into friendship. 

Sastry had a little exposure to spiritual lore. At that time, as I was denied the promotion due to me, I too was turning a little spiritual-minded. As a result, besides matters in the newspaper, we used to talk about philosophical matters too. Whenever we turned towards this topic, Sastry would take a pinch of snuff and pass on a pinch to me as well. 

Though he did not particularly study philosophy, owing to his family heritage and experiences in life he appeared to have reached a commendable stage of expertise. Though I did read a good number of books, I lacked both experience and application. Our discussion, therefore, was mutually beneficial to us and that was the chief reason for our friendship turning into being fairly close and strong. 

One day, as usual, he came along I passed on the newspaper. While browsing through the newspaper, he sighed, saying, “Poor Fellow!” 

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Mohammed Ali passed away. Didn’t you read it?” said Sastry. 

It is true that I read that news. But I did not attach any importance to it. And I could not understand why Sastry was giving importance to it. I asked him for his reasons.

“I served in his court for some time, playing the mridang. A nice gentleman!” he said.

It was the first time for me to hear anybody call Ali a gentleman. Both he and his father enjoyed no good reputation among the people. I have also known about the atrocities committed by them and their large, infamous harems. And Sastry was calling such people nice people! Sastry, to be sure, was no person to form opinions about people easily. I was keen to get at the whole story. 

“How did you manage to secure a position in his court?” I enquired. 

Slowly, he narrated the story. 

During those days, after acquiring talent in playing mridang, he was roaming around without a job. On account of the arrogance of his elder brother and his own vagrant disposition, entire property of theirs vanished. By then he already had four children. Added to it, his wife was a little shrewish. Consequently, staying at home turned out to be veritable hell for him. Though he had a good number of friends and acquaintances in the coastal districts, none came to help him. 

It was customary for those who could not secure employment in the coastal districts to move over to Hyderabad. Sastry toed the same path. There he happened to run into one of his old relatives, who had moved over there and after securing employment was having a comfortable time. The relative was acquainted with a manager working in the court of Ali. The relative took Sastry to the manager. 

At that time, Hyderabad state had not been taken over by the Indian government; the Nizam was still the ruler. The position of jagirdars was really fabulous. Ali’s father used to live in a bungalow in Banjara Hills. Ali used to live in a spacious building in Saifabad. Ali used to go in the morning once a week to his father’s bungalow and have lunch with him. There was no further relationship between them beyond that. Each to his own style of living! But each month the father used to send his son certain amount as monthly allowance. Ali used to spend that amount and his income from his own properties and even borrow heavily and spend it away. In addition to his miscellaneous expenses, there used to be over a hundred women in his harem. There used to be a couple of hundred horses and elephants. Day and night, drinking alcohol and performance of music and dance would go on, ceaselessly. His house looked almost like the palace of Indra, the Lord of heaven! 

All these facts were known to almost every body in Hyderabad. And Sastry too learnt about them soon after he arrived in Hyderabad. In normal circumstances, he would not have agreed to serve in the court of Ali. But as he had no alternative to accepting some employment, he agreed. 

On an auspicious day, the old relative of Sastry took him to the manager, who in his turn took him to Ali saheb. Exaggerating the talent of Sastry at playing the mridang, he extolled Sastry’s skill. Ali asked Sastry to join duty from the next day. His duty was to report at six in the evening and leave at nine. 

Sastry joined duty the next day. But practically he had no work. When he was in the mood for it, Ali would ask Sastry to play the mridang for a short while. Ali was fond of khairva tunes. He used to ask Sastry to play that tune and Sastry would play. Sastry did not fail to notice that while he was playing a young lady was listening to the tune eagerly from behind the door. Her name was Manohari. She was one of the women in Ali’s harem and was reputed to have been his favorite. 

A few days passed on that way. Sastry’s friendship with Ali grew quite close over the days. For that Sastry’s acquaintance with philosophy was considerably helpful. Ali sahib was keenly interested in Hindu philosophy and he used to put a number of questions. He would make Sastry recite poems from the Bhagavtham and enjoy. He was bearing the expenses on the performance of religious rites in the temple of Rama opposite his house. 

On occasions, Ali would talk about his personal matters, too. There were in the recent times some differences between his father and himself. Anticipating that jagirs might not continue to exist for long, the father was trying to collect considerable amounts of money. He cut down heavily on expenditure. He got most of the servants married off and sent them away. He wanted the son too to do likewise. But Ali did not agree. The father threatened that he would cut off the monthly allowance. Ali used to talk about such matters. 

“There is no blood of jagirdars in my father’s blood. A miserable komati! One day my grand father took my father when he was a child to a festival. During the procession, the hand kerchief of my father fell off. My father bent down, took it up and kept it in his pocket. My grand father was mighty furious. Deciding that my father was not fit to rule the jagir, my grand father got a building constructed out of the limits of the capital of the jagir and placed him in it,” Ali would narrate. 

“But how did your father manage to become the ruler, huzur?” asked Sastry.

“With the help of the minister,” Ali said and continued, “Besides the many wives of my grand father, there were two chief wives. My father was the son of the elder wife. And the younger wife had two sons. Both of them were noble and dignified. And the elder son was really most suited to succeed my grand father, who wished so. But after my grand father passed away, accepting a hefty bribe from my father, the minister hid away the will and made my father jagirdar against the wishes of my grand father.”

”What are those sons of the younger wife doing now?” 

“They are roaming around in the streets. I told you that my father was a miser. He saw to it that no money reached them. Now and then, I used to manage to give them a little money. If my father learnt about, he would stop my allowance too. So I kept the matter a secret. After all, aren’t those sons equal to my father? Is it not unfair to treat them that way, Sastryji? Will God keep quiet?” 

Not being quite sure how he should respond, Sastry said, “The ways of God are indeed mysterious, huzur!” 

Ali kept quiet for a while and then resumed, “Certainly, there was no drop of jagirdar blood in my father. He was a real komati! I am not saying that just like that. It was said that my great grand mother did not have any children of her own. Fearing that the jagir would pass on to her step children, without the knowledge of any body, including my grand father, she brought a child of komatis and passed him off as her own. When I look at the behavior of my father, it appears to be true!”  

Sastry had heard several tales about the miserly conduct of Ali’s father. As a matter of fact, there was nobody in Hyderabad, who had not heard these tales. He used to smoke only Charminar cigarettes available at ten for a beda. And he would order them cheap at wholesale price from the factory. When his shirts showed up a tear, he would get them stitched up and put them on. Fearing that if he sent them to the tailor, he would lose sight of them and the tailor might not do a good job, he would order the tailor to his place and get the repair done under his direct supervision. What was more, he appeared to have issued orders that all his subordinates should smoke Charminar cigarettes only, they should not put on expensive clothes and that they should not spend money lavishly by undertaking pleasure trips outside the jagir. Sastry had heard many stories like this. But it was only then that he heard from Ali sahib himself that the father was the son of a komati. It was indeed shocking. 

“Is it possible, huzur?” Sastry asked. Actually, he was not supposed to put such questions to the Huzur. But somehow gathering all his courage he raised that doubt. 

“Which one?” 

“The story of your father’s birth!”   

“You don’t about the harem, Sastryji. There is a lot of difference between your customs and ours. Right now, I have a hundred women in my harem. All of them are in the prime of youth. Do you think I can know what they are doing or what is happening in the harem now? To know this I have to depend on some one. Where is the guarantee that he will tell the truth? To settle his personal score against some body, he may fabricate lies about some people and feed me with them. He can as easily hide away a truth as he can pass off a lie as truth. Don’t you think so, Sastryji?”

What could Sastry say? “It is true, up to a point,” he said. 

“About our begum sahibas! We do not live together as the couples among you do. We just cannot. You may ask, what are the hindrances? Maybe, insolence resulting from money. Whatever may be the reason, that we don’t live together is a fact. We live in one bungalow and our ladies in another. If we have to go to them, first we must send word to them. If for any reason they decline permission, we have to keep quiet. In such a situation how can we know what is happening inside the harem? Our ladies have their own retinue of attendants. And we have to depend on some one among them. Where is the guarantee that he or she would tell the truth?” 

“They say, ‘Begum sahiba missed her periods.’ We organize a grand celebration. We believe it is true - at least we pretend as if it is true.” 

“Then they say, ‘Begum sahiba delivered a child.’ There will a celebration a thousand  times grander. We accept it as a fact. At least, we pretend that it is a fact.” 

“Supposing we want to send a doctor to ascertain the truth, still where is the guarantee that he will tell the truth? For that we must hire another spy over him. And where is the guarantee that he would tell the truth? We must appoint yet another person to watch the other spy. The chain will extend endlessly like this. As the chain gets longer, truth remains farther. And after setting up such a chain, where do we stand? We remain where we were. Still, we have to trust some one or the other. Why all this fruitless exertion? Is it not better to trust begum sahiba herself?” 

“You said it right, huzur!” Sastry said, not knowing what else to say. 

“That was why my grand father might have trusted the word of begum sahiba.” 

“Perhaps, pretended to have trusted,” thought Sastry within himself. Not having the courage to express his thought openly, he kept quiet. 

Misinterpreting the silence of Sastry, Ali went on, “You imagine a lot of things about the families of jagirdars. What is there except poisoned atmosphere? All our skill is managing to live our own lives in that poisonous environment.” 

In this manner Ali used to talk about several matters. 

* * * * *

On account of his fairly advanced age and his pious caste, Sastry soon earned the confidence of Ali. At least, Sastry thought so. For that there were good many reasons. Normally, no male was allowed into the harem, but Ali issued an order permitting Sastry to enter and leave the harem at any time of his choice. No one could question him. Usually, the subordinates of Ali could not meet Ali directly; they must first approach the manager and obtain permission. But these regulations were not applicable to Sastry. He could see Ali any time. There were no hindrances.

While it lasted, the job at the court was quite enjoyable for Sastry. Until six in the evening, he used to attend to his personal affairs and go to Ali’s court. He would leave at nine. On the first of each month a packet of one hundred rupees would reach his house. Additionally, whenever he wanted to go out somewhere, he would inform Ali, who would ask Sastry to report back at a certain time in the court and arrange for payment for the expenses through the manager. And for festivals and special occasions, groceries used to be sent to his house. As he had gone through a rough patch till then, Sastry wished that the good time would continue. But fear used to haunt him that Ali’s father might get angry with his son any time and cut off the allowance or the jagirs might be abolished. If either of these should come to pass, Sastry knew, Ali would have to cut down on his staff. 

“Is huzur in?” Sastry asked of the security guard at the gate. 

After greeting Sastry, the security guard replied, “No, Sastryji. Under the orders from his father, huzur went to see his father.” 

Sastry went into his room and sat in his place. Not knowing what he could do, he took out the mridang and started tuning it. 

When he heard the sweet call, “Sastryji!” he looked shocked.

Manohari! A real beauty and what was more, she was attractively dressed. She was dazzling seductively. 

“I have come today to listen to your mridang at leisure,” she said. 

“Mridang does not seem to be in proper shape,” Sastry said hesitantly. 

“Your fingers are in good shape. That is enough,” she said and corrected herself, “They are enough!” 

There was no escape for Sastry. “What shall I play?” he asked.  

“Khairva.” 

Sastry was a little hesitant. He knew the effect of that tune. It had been his experience that that tune would have a more passionate effect on women than on men. He did not forget that when he was playing that tune only she was listening intently from behind the door. 

“Why do you hesitate, Sastryji?” 

Sastry started. Hesitation only till he started. But afterwards, he forgot himself. Knowing full well that the khairva tune would arouse not merely the listeners but the players of the tune as well, he lost control of himself. He went on playing gathi after gathi. Manohari was floating on the waves of bliss. 

A little drizzle outside. There was a mirthful laughter from within the harem. There was a tantalizing fragrance from Manohari’s body. Her slim waist started twisting rhythmically, bending easily on either side. Not a shred of cloth on her waist. The navel revealed its enticing depths and roused waves of passion. 

Sastry reached the climax. He played on totally forgetting himself. The mridang in his hands was like the dhamaruka in Lord Shiva’s hands. She danced as though she was in a trance. Her body spread out its hoods like the arrow shot out by Lord Rama’s bow. Finally, she landed in Sastry’s hands. Sastry did not regain his senses till that moment. Realizing the lapse committed by him, he asked, “What is this Manohari?” 

“What is there? I want to watch you playing mridang with your shirt off,” she said. 

Putting on the upper dhothi on his shoulder, Sastry walked out. There was a cackle of laughter from inside the harem. Manohari was calling out, “Sastryji!” 

He did not have a wink of sleep that night. What could he do? Ali was most attracted to Manohari. He was more infatuated with her than with any other lady in the janana. It was known to every body. Spurned as she was, Manohari might make all kinds of allegations against him. All knew that when Ali got angry, he could be very harsh. What lay in store for him? 

If he applied for leave for ten days, his misconduct would be confirmed. Picking up some courage, he made bold to go to Ali’s court. Every thing appeared normal for a week. Ali was discussing philosophical matters with Sastry. He was also detailing matters of his family, too. 

“Do you know, Sastryji, why father called for me?” 

“Please enlighten me, huzur!” murmured Sastry. 

“Same old song! He wants me to cut down expenditure.” 

“What did you say, huzur?” 

“Again, I played the same tune. Said it wasn’t possible.  I told him that I would reduce my personal expenditure but that I could not cut down on staff and that it won’t be good to our family if we drove out the people depending on us all these days and made them starve in the streets. I never talked back to him, Sastryji, but on that day I couldn’t help it,” Ali said, shrugging his shoulders, pleased with himself. 

“What did father say, huzur?” 

“After listening to all that I said, he said that we had no choice but to reduce the expenses. Do you know, Sastryji, what I told him?” 

“What did you say, huzur?” 

“This is what people of komati families should do, not the noble descendants of Mohammed Ali! With that, Sastryji, believe me, he was totally shocked. I came away leaving him in that condition.” 

Sastry was already afraid, not knowing how any of his responses would be taken. He said simply, “Yes, huzur.” 

Rising excitedly, Ali said, “Today I am immensely happy, Sastryji. Please play the khairva tune.” 

Sastry started playing the mridang, as usual. And Manohari came and sat behind the door, as usual. Feeling sure that she had not told Ali any thing about what had transpired, Sastry offered, in his mind, a thousand thanks. 

But the next day, when he arrived at the court, manager showed him a complaint filed against him. That was the complaint made by Nilakantha Sarma, who had been fairly close to Ali prior to the arrival of Sastry. Realizing that his prominence had been affected by the arrival of Sastry, Sarma bore a grudge against Sastry. Somehow, he came to know what happened between Sastry and Manohari. He exaggerated the incident, adding a few salacious fabrications and sent his complaint. Quoting the exact time and date, he reported that Manohari and Sastry indulged in sexual acts after feeding themselves on meat and drinking alcohol. 

After going through the complaint, Sastry trembled with fright. “No, huzur. It is all false. I swear on my gayatri,” he said. 

The manager said, “False. I also know that. If Manohari wanted some one, couldn’t she get one better than a frail brahmin like you? But how to prove that to Huzur?  If he thinks that it is false, it is false. And if he thinks it is true, it is true. What is more, Manohari is his special favorite! Don’t know what is in store for you! Maybe, for introducing you into the court, the blame will be on me! Come what may, today I have to submit the complaint to huzur. Go and meet him sometime.” 

Sastry was shell shocked. He was sure that it was the end of his job with Ali. If it extended to punishment, it could be whip lashes. In such circumstances, how could he explain himself to Ali and will he pay heed to it? Completely at a loss, he went to the court at eight. He was sure that the complaint must have reached Ali by then. 

On seeing him, Ali invited Sastry, saying, “Come on in, Sastryji.” 

“Among all the incarnations of Hindu Gods I like Krishna the most, Sastryji.” Ali said. 

“Yes, huzur. He is indeed God Almighty!” 

“You are mistaken, Sastryji. Just as in all the other incarnations the speck of divinity is a little more in Him. He discovered the spiritual in the sensual. Neither by shunning the sensual nor through the sensual but to win over passion for the sensual, the life of Lord Krishna demonstrates that it is really through indulgence in the sensual. What do you say, Sastryji?” 

What could Sastry say? He was unable to make out why Ali was mentioning this and stood with folded hands. Is it not a reference to him? Is he taunting him, indirectly? 

When he put a question, if the other person did not reply immediately, Ali would be furious. So he ventured, “If it is not the way you said, we cannot understand how Lord Krishna lived with sixteen thousand cowherd women.” 

“Sehabash, Sastryji. You said it right. What I said comes from my own experience. That I do not have any attachment to any lady today is because of the janana. I do not now have any special attachment to not only any lady but also to any pomp and glory. Infatuation will be with the objects unattainable, with objects hidden away. The best way to end that infatuation is to possess them,” declared Ali saheb. 

“You are right, huzur,” Sastry murmured. 

Suddenly, Ali became engrossed in some thoughts. He was used to doze off while talking. Sastry noted that Ali had no opportunity to mention the important fact. But his worry was whirling inside him. He was unable to bear the worry any longer. He wanted to broach the topic himself and learn what was in Ali’s mind. He knew that over time many evidences and rumors would reach Ali’s ears and he was afraid. 

He said most humbly, “Huzur, I heard, a complaint against me reached you.” 

“Yes, Sastryji. What you did was not proper. And what is more, Manohari is my special favorite. It is not what my trusted people should do.” 

“I have not committed any sin, huzur,” Sastry said, breaking into tears. 

“Only your word is evidence for this; isn’t it?” 

”What other evidence can there be in these matters, huzur?

“You are the culprit and you alone are the witness. Wonderful! It is proof of saying every thing is the manifestation of Parabrahma.” Said Ali and immediately sent for Sarma. 

“Sarmaji, are you the one who filed the complaint?” 

“Yes, huzur.” 

“Are the allegations contained in it true?” 

“Every word, huzur.”

“You mean that on that day Manohari and Sastryji ate meet, drank alcohol and indulged in sexual acts. This is what you say?” 

“Not only that, huzur. They used the perfumes specially used by huzur. And decorated themselves with the garlands specially used by Circar!”

“Alright!” said Ali and put no questions to Sastry. Sastry was preparing himself to be struck by thunderbolt. 

Ali called for the head attendant of the harem. 

“Where is Manohari?” Ali asked. 

“Madam is in her room, huzur,” the attendant replied. 

“Take the meat I eat and the alcohol I drink into her room. There must be plentiful of both.” 

“Yes, huzur,” said the attendant and when he was about to turn back, Ali called him again and said, “Take the perfumes I use and the garlands I wear to the room and place them there.” 

“Yes, huzur,” the attendant replied and left. 

“Sastryji!” Alio almost shouted, “You go to Manohari’s room. There will be the meat I eat, the alcohol I drink, the perfumes I use and the garlands I wear. Everything that will be there when I visit Manohari will be available. She will be decorating herself as though she was receiving me. You enter the room and help yourself to them all, apply the perfumes, wear the garlands and conduct yourself with her the way I would. Please go.” 

Sastry was totally shocked and remained speechless for a while. He tried to submit a request saying, “Huzur.” 

“This is my order, Sastryji,” Ali shouted again. 

Trembling all over, Sastry proceeded to Manohari’s room, with head bent.   

After Sastry left, turning towards Sarma, Ali said, “What do you say now, Sarmaji?”

What could Sarma say?

                                               * * * * * *

Telling me in detail about his friendship with Ali, Sastry declared, “Ali had a number of good qualities. He had a great liking for bitter gourd fry and cucumber chutney. Whenever he was in a mood for them, he would ask for them and I would get them made by my wife and take them to him.” Sastry was almost in tears. 

After listening to the whole narration, I realized that there was meaning in his shedding tears for Ali’s death. But I was curious to know one truth. 

“Finally, Sastry, did you conduct yourself with Manohari the way Ali saheb would have?” I asked.

“How could it be helped? If I did not obey the orders of huzur, would my job continue and could I earn a living?” replied Sastry and taking a little snuff with his fingers, handed a pinch of it to me and asked me to sniff it. He took a strong sniff of it and shook off his fingers. 

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GLOSSARY