Rolled Monk

Archive for July, 2010|Monthly archive page

Rachel and Srila Sri Nithyabodhaananda

In Paati sonna stories!, Peeterru!, Singaara Chennai! on July 17, 2010 at 11:16 pm

Hello random reader,

The year was 2000 AD. Vasu had just returned from the states. No! That wouldn’t be correct…Vasu had returned from the states with Rachel. Something’s missing still…Vasu, my elder brother had just returned from the states with Rachel. Doesn’t seem right yet…Vasu, my elder brother had just returned from the states with Rachel, his new wife. There…that kind of sums up why my mother fainted in the airport once Vasu told her who that vellakaari was.

Now your average 11-year-old TamBhram kid might have seen what he thinks is a super-hot American girl on the newspapers. Another kid hailing from a bit more liberal background might have seen such a female in a chick-flick. Hell, if he was like me, he might have even seen one on some website (evil grin). But take it from me, a man who once thought he had seen it all and learnt otherwise : Nothing can prepare you for the experience.

Rachel was ugly. Tall, fair…white, extremely thin and blonde, Rachel looked more like an under-nourished  plague victim from Uganda, except for the color of course.

I was crushed. I began having serious doubts about what I had seen in those websites. Eight years, basic boredom arising due to joblessness, induction into the English-speaking world, rock, metal, booze, drugs and a lot of research later, I would discover that those exotic women were from Europe and the more tanned ones were those belonging to Americas. But they spoke different languages there, Mexican for example. That was when I put to rest my American dream, planned my Euro-trip (in all senses of the word), decided I would marry only an Indian if it ever comes to that  and also understood what was so funny about that fateful day.

My family had a Guru back then. He is no more today. His name was Srila Sri Nityabodhaanandha. He was a saint among mankind, the nation’s nonpareil man of God. I worshiped this man back then which makes me stomach sick now. I wish he were alive today so that I can be the instrument of his death, rather than Rachel.

After my mother got over the initial shock of having to be the mother-in-law of a vellakaari, she gracefully accepted her into the family. Now getting accepted into my family is no ordinary deal, especially by my mother, and once she bestows that honor upon somebody, she would expect that person to repay her back with unquestioned servitude. Especially if that person is her daughter-in-law.

Now Rachel tried to be a rebel would be an understatement, while at the same time, my mother tried to make life hell for her would be an understatement too. She bore it all with a smile and my respect for her grew so much that I even dared to attempt telling my mother to cut her some slack.

That was the day I cried me a river and committed suicide by jumping into it. Why go into all that now? It is a lot of unnecessary information

So, one fine day, we (my mother) decide to officially seal the induction of Rachel into our family by taking her to Srila Sri Nithyabodhaananda and asked her to seek his blessings. She did what was asked of her without any hints of disapproval but I noticed something akin to amusement in her eyes.

Another thing about Srila Sri Nithyabodhaananda is that he had a lot of visitors everyday and we weren’t the most important of his devotees. He had never granted us an audience for longer than 5 minutes though on that day, we were with him for more than half-an-hour. To know that my mother knew that Rachel was the reason we were given VIP treatment but couldn’t display her anger makes me snicker to this day.

As we turned to leave, Srila Sri Nithyabodhaananda, rose with us and followed us. All of my family members except me had their backs to him and he didn’t observe me observing him. He was staring at Rachel. Rachel’s behind would be more accurate but I didn’t know back then.

As we were getting down the stairs that led to the special and private back-entrance (VIPs remember?), he was still following us and was still staring at Rachel.

To be completely honest, even after he tripped, rolled down the stairs, broke his neck and died, I thought he was in a holy trance. The fact that Nithyabodhaanandha was an ugly pun on nithya (daily), bodhai (high) and anandha (pleasure), embodying his everyday existence captured my attention only later when someone found out the skeletons in his closet.

We were all heart-broken, all except Rachel and Vasu and not bearing to see them not sad, I told Rachel how he died because he was staring at her and how I thought she must be someone special to have intrigued such a great soul. This didn’t go well with Vasu though Rachel said something to him which made him laugh and forget his anger. They never let me in on the joke that day!

About a year later, when all facts about Srila Sri… was in the light, I again asked Rachel, who by then had returned to America with Vasu, leaving my mother wailing about how she had stolen her son from her, what was so funny that day.

This time she told me that she knew he was high the first time she set eyes on him and also knew that he was a pervert from the way he looked at her. She was telling all this to Vasu when he died and that is why they knew he was fake and his dying didn’t bother them

Still not grasping what was funny in this I pestered for more. This is what she said:

“Persistent aren’t you? Alright! You remember how you said he was staring at me as if I was taking him closer to God before rolling down the staircase? It kind of made me feel that I was his “Stareway to heaven”! And this so typically, is a case of Sex, drugs, rock and ROLL!

Took me quite a while to get that. Tell me when you do!

Author’s note : This is a work of complete fiction. I am in no way related to any of the characters mentioned here and neither are you. But if you are, it’s what we call a bloody damn coincidence! Also I chanced upon this a few days back and wanted to try my hand at it. I would really like to know that I haven’t driven anybody to suicide by this attempt. So comment. And vellakaari is a derogative way of referring to a female member of  Caucasian roots.

So till I write again…ciao ciao!
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