Mountain Man

Mountain Man

• Rating 4.3

Drama

• by Author

A series of large boulders were placed in the centre of the village ground. The entire village, comprising fifty families, had gathered around to witness the spectacle. Ten men, each dressed only in a white loincloth and holding a large sledgehammer, stood facing a boulder.

The village head got up from the ground and addressed the gathering. "These are the strongest and best men in our village. One of these brave young men will attempt the impossible task of breaking down Khooni Dungar (Blood Mountain), this demonic mountain surrounding our village on the east. But, before that, there is a test and a reward. They have to crush the boulder in front of them. The one who accomplishes the task first will be the winner. The winner gets to marry my daughter Sundari, and his family will be provided food supplies for the next three months. Summer is due in three months, and with the blessings of God, by then we will have access to water from the other side of the mountain.

Centuries ago, there was a small village in the hinterlands of India. Its original name was lost and replaced by the adjective "Sukha" (dry in English); the village is now called Sukhapur. The only source of water was rain, but the rains were never adequate, and the multiplying families meant water was more precious than gold. The only other source of water was the river on the other side of the vast mountain. The climb was treacherous, and it took three days to complete the back-and-forth trip. Over the years, the village had sacrificed quite a few lives to the mountain. The village seniors concluded it was high time, and they needed a more permanent solution. After much deliberation, it was decided that the only solution was to break through the mountain and carve out a path for water to flow through to the village.

A few more discussions and deliberations later, it was agreed that one man would be given this task, while the other young men worked on the other village duties and brought water from across the mountain. But who was the right man for this task? And this leads us to this gathering of ten men and ten boulders.

The village air was abuzz with excitement. Women, men, and children of all ages were present. Sundari sat with her other friends, and her heart thumped with a mix of anxiousness and excitement. She looked at her father, who was asking everyone to calm down. "It is time," his father said, signalling a young boy who followed his cue and whistled loudly.

The moment the sound of the whistle pierced the air, the strong arms of the young men lifted their sledgehammers high up in the air, forming an arc, and brought them down with tremendous force on the boulders. Multiple clanking sounds penetrated the surroundings. While a few hands wielding the sledgehammer went up in the air again, there was wild applause and cheering from the crowd. "Bheema, Bheema, Bheema," the crowd was in raptures. Bheema had crushed the boulder in one single strike. No other contender came even close.

Bheema cut an imposing figure at six feet, five inches tall, with broad shoulders, a sturdy back, strong arms, and thick legs that resembled a tree trunk. He was a man-mountain. His dark brown skin shone brightly under the sun, and his shoulder-length hair fluttered in the breeze as he raised his sledgehammer in the air, claiming his victory. Unlike the rest of his body, his face had a raw innocence bordering on the verge of stupidity

Sundari's friends nudged her playfully and said, "Now, you belong to this gentle giant." Sundari blushed and chuckled softly. Later that evening, Sundari and Bheema were married and given their own personal hut and a month's ration to start their married life. Summer was due in three months, and there was no time to waste. Bheema had to get to the task tomorrow morning at sunrise, with a two-hour lunch break at noon, and then continue till sunset.

The next few days, the village people applauded every strike by Bheema on the monstrous mountain, but as days passed by, less and less people came, and in a fortnight or so, he was the only one standing in front of the mountain. Sundari came daily with lunch at noon, and both had lunch together. He rested under the large peepal tree while Sundari sang a local folk song. He was the happiest person, and the only thing he wanted was to break the mountain and bring water to his village.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and soon two months had gone by. Sundari was preparing dinner when she heard the harsh sound of the metal scraping the ground in the distance. In these two months, Sundari had learned every detail of Bheema's mannerisms. Bheema was on his way home, and he was probably dejected. On the days when Bheema had a productive day, the sound made by his hammer was rhythmic and pleasant. "Than Than Thak Thak." He would lift the hammer and put it down, matching his stride. Today, he was dragging the hammer across the ground. He walked into the home with a dejected look and went straight for his bath. Later, Sundari served him dinner and told him "tomorrow morning, father is going to come." Bheema simply nodded, ate his dinner and went to sleep.

Early next morning, the village head and a saintly figure arrived at Bheema's home. Both Sundari and Bheema sought blessings from Guruji. While Sundari talked to her father, Bheema sat down with Guruji.

"I don't think I can do it," Bheema said despairingly.

Guruji looked at him compassionately and said, "I have full faith in you, Bheema. If anyone in this world can do this, it is you. Don't listen to what others say. Don't listen to yourself. Simply focus on action, and the result will follow." Guruji's reassurance and blessings filled Bheema with renewed vigor. He got up, retrieved his sledgehammer, and stormed out of there. Guruji too left but promised to come back soon, this time in the company of water from across the mountain.

That day, the strikes by Bheema on the mountain shook the whole village. For the next month, Bheema continued the relentless onslaught on the mountain, but still there was no sight of water. Summer had knocked at the village with vengeance. It had only been fifteen days into the summer, and the heat was already biting. In the evening, the village people again gathered, and this time there was a lot of murmuring and protesting. "Bheema cannot do this. He was supposed to finish it before summer."

"I can do it; I can feel it," Bheema said, getting up from the ground.

The majority of the village elders shook their heads. "Maybe Bheema is tired, and we need a fresh pair of hands." The village head inquired, "But, who?"

"Kaalia." The village elders shouted. Kaalia was the favourite to win the competition, but Bheema had prevailed. Kaalia stood up and said, "Give me a chance, and I will break down this mountain, but I have a demand."

"What is it?" the village head asked.

"I want the biggest hut in this village, free ration for one year, and any girl I choose to marry."

The village head protested, but the majority seemed in favour, and his demands were accepted. It was decided. Kaalia will replace Bheema tomorrow.

Kaalia set out the next morning and began where Bheema had left off. It was the twentieth day, and a huge roar erupted in the village. Kaalia had done the unthinkable. He had broken through the mountain, and the water was now visible and accessible. The village people carried him over their shoulders and hailed him as their hero. Along with the water came Guruji with a smile. People were jubilant. He blessed Kaalia and a few others and made his way to Bheema, who was sitting on the sidelines with Sundari.

Guruji sat next to Bheema and smiled. "Why are you both sitting here with sullen faces?" Bheema's eyes were moist, and his voice quivered: "I gave my everything, Guruji. I slogged day and night, but I couldn't do it."

Guruji nodded. "But, my son, it is you who have done this. Had you continued, you'd have taken only five days instead of twenty. I was visiting the village on the other side of the mountain, and I could see it crumbling. I was coming to share the good news but was stopped midway by a couple of other villages."

Bheema looked at him with his big brown eyes and said, "But you said, focus on action, and the results will follow. And, yet, it is Kaalia who is enjoying the success. People are even saying, I was useless and wasted so much time."

Guruji placed his fragile, wrinkly hand on Bheema's and said, "The village has got water. Wasn't this the result you and everyone wanted?"

"But, what about my personal reward?"

Guruji pointed to Sundari. "She is your reward. The hut and the ration that you received are your rewards. Did you have to do much for this?"

Bheema calmed down a bit and shook his head in negative.

"This peepal tree giving you shade is your reward. Did you plant this tree? Someone else did. But you are enjoying the shade. Some blessings that we receive are for doing nothing, and for some actions, we do not receive any. These blessings are enjoyed by others. Ways of life are not always linear or correlated."

Bheema smiled weakly. "You're right, Guruji; our village receiving water is the biggest reward." He stood up and held Sundari's hand, and they both walked towards the other celebrating villagers.

****************** THE END ******************

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