It was long
long time ago in the city of Kathmandu when this story took place, a time of
magic when learned men could talk to animals and the naag kings controlled the rains, when mothers did not let little
children out at night because demons were lurking in the shadows, and when the wind
whispered secrets if you listened carefully.
Basundhara,
the queen mother of the heavens, wanted to make an offering of the parijat flower to Lord Shiva. The parijat is a night jasmine, white in
color and smelling oh so sweet and as delicate as a flower should be, and was a
favorite of Lord Shiva. The queen mother searched in the heavenly gardens, and
she searched in the streets of heaven, and she asked all her friends if they
grew it in their homes, but try as she might, it was nowhere to be found! (We
know that Lord Krishna took the flower to earth, but that is another story
altogether.)
Finally,
realizing that her flower was not to be had in heaven, she called out to her
son, “Indra, my boy, can you run down to earth and get me some parijat flowers? I need it for my puja
and I can’t seem to find it here.”
Indra, the
king of heaven and being the good dutiful son that he was, replied, “Sure
mother, anything you ask for. I’d heard you can find it in Kathmandu. It is
just a flower, and I’ll be back before you can say samay baji.”
So saying,
he whistled for his trusty mount, Aairavat the Elephant. Aairavat was a
magnificent white elephant and devoted to his master. They had been in many
adventures together and shared a special bond of friendship. Having been lazing in
heaven for too long, Aairavat too was happy to go down to Kathmandu and taste
some of the delicious yomaris he had
been hearing about.
It was a
short errand, and there was no need for unnecessarily elaborate preparations.
King Indra climbed atop Aairavat and using their special powers, reached the
beautiful city of Kathmandu in no time. Indra always enjoyed visiting
Kathmandu, a city of smiling faces and ruled by kings who were always making
offerings to the gods. They were a hard working bunch of people, the citizens
of Kathmandu, and they also knew how to make merry with many festivals around
the year. The food was delicious and the weather was always pleasant,
especially the warm sun of the winter months.
“This is
going to be a good break,” thought Indra. “Aairi, why don’t you go and find
yourself some of those yomaris you
have been dreaming about, and I’ll meet you back here with the flowers.”
“Sure boss,” replied Aairavat. “I just hope I
can find enough for me.” That was always the problem being an elephant, he
thought. Never enough…
So off went
King Indra along the streets of old Kathmandu, disguised as a simple farmer
since he did not want to attract any attention to himself. Moreover, he enjoyed
going out incognito like this, listening to simple tales of the simple folks.
It was a good change of pace from the boring yakkity-yak of some of his court
jesters.
“Let’s make
this interesting,” thought King Indra. “I’ll not use my divine powers to find
the flower. I’ll just wander around town and I know come across its fragrance
eventually.” It was just his way of making the trip last a little longer. The
important affairs as king of heaven could surely wait a while.
“Should I
try some of that jeri-swari from that
sweet maker?” he thought. The fried sweet looked pretty good, especially with
the bunch of young boys crowded around the shop holding out their leaf plates
for second helpings. He could imagine the look of horror the royal chef would
have if he ever found out that the lord and master of heaven had eaten in a
small sweet shop in the streets of Kathmandu. Chuckling to himself, Indra
wandered on.
“Hey you,
watch where you’re going!” a finely clothed young lad in a smart looking horse
yelled at him as he sped past in the narrow
streets. The horse almost knocked Indra down, and he almost got angry, but then
he remembered he was in disguise.
“I’m sorry,
sir,” he replied cheerfully.
Taken aback
at this unexpected reply, the young lad now seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry too,
it’s a new horse and I’m trying to break him in,” he replied sheepishly as he
trotted away.
“Ah, the
brashness of youth,” thought Indra. He had been like that when he himself was a
young prince, and the apology made him feel better. “Kathmandu really is a fine
place to be in. I should really visit more often,” he mused.
Upon
reaching Basantapur, the main square of the town, he decided to climb the steps
of the temple and take in the view. Some Tamang villagers from the hills had
come to sell their chicken and eggs in the marketplace, and he could see a
sorcerer gathering up a crowd to display his magic. A group of Tibetan ladies
had set up shop nearby selling bright blue jades, and jyapu farmers with a flower in their ears set down their kharpans to show off their yummy
cauliflowers. In the corner he could see an old man playing his flute and a
group of young girls giggling past with water jars clasped to the side of their
waists.
In the
distance, Indra could make out the faint smell of the jasmine in the evening
air. “Hmm,” he thought. “I think there is a parijat
bush near the water taps. I’d better go and collect some before it is too
late.” So saying, Indra, king of the heavens, still disguised as a simple
farmer, sauntered off to look for the taps.
Walking
down the temple steps, Indra absent mindedly began humming a tune. Kathmandu
was a divine experiment gone right. It was a fertile valley and food was
abundant. The kings and noblemen commissioned beautiful works of art from
highly skilled craftsmen, and the people lived in delightful harmony with
nature. Men and women spent their lives with the right balance of work, play
and the celebration of life. Lost in his musings, Indra didn’t even realize
when he came upon the Maru Hiti water taps.
Like many
of the other public water taps, Maru Hiti was a sunken pit with intricately
carved water spouts gushing cool, clean water fed by underground aqueducts. The
abundance of these water taps said a lot about how good a job the kings were
doing for their people. The townsfolk gathered around the hiti to fetch water for their kitchens, some to bathe, some to wash
their clothes, and some young men just to catch a glimpse of their lady loves.
As the dusk was settling in, there weren’t many people around. “Just as well,”
thought Indra. “I wouldn’t want anyone questioning me when I’m collecting my
flowers right now.”
Looking
around, Indra could see a large bush of the parijat
flowers on the other side of a nearby wall. “Should I climb the wall?” he
wondered. Then he remembered his little game of not using his powers, so he
thought it might be better to go around the wall. As he walked along the wall,
he realized it was a gated enclosure, probably belonging to a rich businessman.
“Oh well,” he supposed. “I’m sure he won’t mind me taking a few flowers.”
So saying,
Indra eased the latch of the small gate and walked inside the garden. It was a
beautiful garden too, guava trees dotted with bright yellow guavas and spiky
peach trees with bright red peaches and yellow and orange marigolds ready for
the plucking. The parijat bush was in
the far end of the garden, and Indra started walking towards it.
Unknown to
Indra, the gardener was watching his every move. This gardener took great pride
in his work, and he would not tolerate just anyone walking unannounced into his
garden and taking way his flowers. As Indra was plucking the first parijat, the gardener pounced on him
from behind and held him fast in a bear hug with his strong arms.
“Stop
thief!” he roared. “Who do you think you are, just walking into my garden and
plucking my flowers? How dare you!!”
Indra was
so surprised that he could not resist. Never had he been called a thief before,
and hidden in his surprise was also the shame of being caught in the act. “Huh?
I’m… I’m….,” he stuttered. “Hey, let go of me,” he retorted, finally coming to
his senses. “You wanted to know who I am? I am Indra, the king of the heavens.
Let me go immediately!”
The
gardener, who was trying to tie the thief’s hand behind his back with some nearby
vines, paused for a moment, and then broke out in a loud guffaw. “Ha ha ha! Ha
ha ha ha! Sorry my Lord, I did not recognize you in this peasant dress,” he
ridiculed his prisoner. “Ha ha ha ha! Indra, my foot! Have you been drinking
too much, man? The lord of heaven in my garden to steal a flower! Come on, you
could think of a better story.”
By this
time, Indra was securely bound hand and foot. “Stop it, you,” he ordered. “I
promised myself I would not use my powers in this visit, and that is the only reason
I’m not striking you down with a bolt of lightning right now. Release me
immediately!”
The
gardener, who had been in good humor till then, now lost his cool. “You
threaten me instead of apologizing for your behavior?” he admonished. “I’ll
teach you a lesson in manners, you lout.”
Dragging
the protesting Indra, he locked him up in the garden shed with all his tools
and some horse manure. “How about a night in my humble abode, my Lord?” he
mocked his captive.
“You’ve got a vivid imagination, why don’t you try to imagine you’re in your palace!” The gardener laughed as he dusted off his clothes. A night in the shed would be enough to teach this fellow a lesson, he thought.
Meanwhile,
Airawat had had his fill of yomaris, and was waiting for his master in their
pre-agreed spot. “It is not like him to be so late,” he worried. “Or maybe he’s
enjoying some bhajan madali’s music
in one of the bahals,” he tried to
reassure himself.
At the same
time, the queen mother was also getting annoyed. “It was just a short errand,”
she tsked impatiently. “I would have been done a long time ago, and here I am
waiting for the little lord to take his time back.” Of course, only the queen
mother could refer to Indra as ‘the little lord’. It was a mother’s right, and
mothers have a way of knowing when to use their rights at the right time!
After a
while, the queen mother started to worry for real. As Airawat said, it really
was not like Indra to be so careless, especially when he knew his mother was
waiting. And it is also in a mother’s nature to know when her child is in
trouble. Using her own special powers, she meditated on Indra, and saw Indra
tied up and locked in a small garden shed like a common criminal! Shocked at
seeing her son in such a state, she immediately flew down to Kathmandu to
secure his release.
Arriving in
the streets of Kathmandu, she could see Airawat panicked over his master’s
disappearance. He was running around the narrow alleys, first going this way
and then going that way, in a mad rush to find Indra. “Oh my lord,” he sobbed
as he searched aimlessly. “I should have never left you alone to have those yomaris. Please show yourself, I will
never leave your side ever again,” he wailed.
Queen
Mother Basundhara immediately made her way to the gardener’s shed. A crowd had
already formed outside, partly due to the hilarious claims from the prisoner
inside and partly due to fear from the news of a crazed white elephant in the
streets. “Could he really be speaking the truth, this farmer?” some in the
crowd wondered. The gardener was not ready to believe he had been fooled, but
the news of the elephant and the sincerity with which his prisoner kept up his
claim cast a shadow of doubt over his conviction.
With the
appearance of the queen mother, all the skeptics were immediately silenced. The
crowd bowed and clasped their hands together in a namaste, but none came forward to take responsibility. What if she
was angry?
“What is
the meaning of this?” she demanded in a rage. “Why have you locked the king of
heaven in a garden shed? Have the gods been so kind to you in Kathmandu that
you want to take their place in heaven now? Or have you now decided to ally
with the demons? You will pay dearly for this!!”
All the men
and women in the crowd trembled as one, but the gardener rose from his knees.
“Forgive me, mother,” he pleaded. “They have no fault in this affair. I was the
one who locked him up.”
“So you’re
the ringleader, eh?” she snarled. “I’ll have your head for this.” Though the
queen mother was never known for violence, she was breathing fury at the sight
of her bound son.
“Please let
me explain,” the gardener spoke clearly. He did not want the gods angry at his
friends and townsfolk on his behalf, and the righteousness of his actions gave him
courage. “We are thankful to the gods for all they have given us, especially
Lord Indra for the bountiful rains that give us our harvest. However, I did not
know who he was.” So starting, the gardener truthfully explained the events to
the queen mother as it happened. “As the gardener within these walls, it was my
duty to apprehend a thief who came in without permission. It is not right for
you to punish us unjustly,” he finished.
The
gardener’s story appealed to the queen mother’s sense of fairness. He was right
in what he said, that could not be denied. She looked over at poor Indra, still
bound hand and feet. “You got yourself in this mess yourself. Why didn’t you
just ask him for some flowers?” she chided. “I am sure the man would have given
you some gladly.”
The
gardener was vigorously nodding his head in agreement. Of course he would have
given Indra some flowers if he had only asked for them. Not only Indra, he
would even have given the flowers to the simple farmer if he had asked nicely.
“I am sorry
I called you a thief, my Lord,” the gardener apologized as he untied Indra from
his vines.
By now,
Indra was more chastised than angry. He thought of the young man and his horse
earlier in the day, and was shamed by the gardener’s unneeded apology. After
all, he had not done any wrong. “No, you were right in doing what you did. You
were doing your duty, and you should have done it even if you knew I was Indra.
It was my fault that I snuck in without permission, and I am sorry.”
The
gathered crowd was impressed by the humility displayed by the king of heaven.
If only some of their neighbors were like that!!
In the heat
of the moment, the gardener puffed up his chest and spoke. “My lord, it is not
often that we have the king of heaven come down to earth amongst us. If you
please, we would like to hold a feast with you as the guest of honor!” the
gardener invited confidently. After all, besides being known for their skilled
artisans, the newars of Kathmandu
were even more famous for their lavish feasts!
After all
that had transpired, there was no way Indra could refuse. Anyway, he had gotten
back his good mood. That was the thing about Kathmandu, you couldn’t stay angry
too long!
And so started
the festival of Indra Jatra, a time of goodwill and merry making going on for
eight days. Indra Jatra is celebrated every year, starting from the twelfth day of the bright fortnight to the fourth day of the dark fortnight of
Yanla, the eleventh month of the Nepal Era lunar calendar. The people of
Kathmandu display images of Indra bound with rope to remind everyone that even
the king of heaven cannot get away with wrong doing of any kind. Masked
performers put on elaborate dances in the city’s courtyards befitting royal
entertainment. The queen mother walks the streets at night in a reenactment of the search of her son
as the Daagi, and family members of those who have passed away the previous
year follow her around so she can lead the souls back to heaven when she
returns. The Pulu-Kisi is Airavat,
frantically searching for his master and providing laughs for the jolly crowd.
And thus
passes another week in Kathmandu, waiting for the next festival just around the
corner.
Bhanne
lai phul ko mala,
sunne
lai soon ko mala
Yo
katha baikuntha jala,
ani
pheri bhanne belama khuru khuru aai jala.
