Milk Miracle!

I am sure this story has been told to most of us by our elders, when we were kids. For the last few days, I have been trying to remember some of the fond memories of my childhood days, but all that comes to mind is this story. Write about me! write about me, the fable seems to chant! My Grandfather would tell us this story often – it was an all-time favourite of his (and ours). After the lights were turned off, we would retire to the terrace, where mattresses would be laid out for us to sleep, with only the dim street lights or the moonlight to guide us to our beds. Some of us kids would feel scared of the dark, but not on the nights when Nana or Nani would tell us a bedtime story (which would be almost every night, so good riddance of the evil spirits, he-he!). “Tell us Gopal’s story, Ajoba!” we would demand. He would start his story in a mild tone and then become all animated when describing certain exciting parts of the story. All this is only sketched in my memory, no camcorders and other high-tech equipment for the common man then! Here goes the story….

Gopal was a very very poor child, who lived with his mother in a small village. His father had died when Gopal was a baby and his mother wanted to make sure that Gopal got a good education. So she had Gopal join a school which was a few miles away. Being penniless, Gopal had to walk to school everyday. Occasionally, a farmer in his bullock-cart would give him a ride for part of the way. He would have to cross a forest on the way and returning from school through the forest, would be an ordeal sometimes. He would hear creepy sounds in the forest, the hissing of a snake or the roar of a wild animal. At such times, he would start feeling scared and stop walking and look around.

One such day, when it was late after returning from school and it had already started turning dark, he had been walking through the jungle when he heard a rustling sound from nearby. Stopping all of sudden, he looked around and realized he was quivering, shaking with fear. All of a sudden, he heard a voice boom out from the depths of the jungle, “Do not be afraid of this forest, my friend! I am with you!” On his left, he saw a boy of his own age, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. The boy had a radiant smile on his face and he took Gopal’s hand. “The next time you cross this forest and feel afraid, do not hesitate to call my name. Call for Madhav and I will be there, with you and all your fears will be alleviated!” Gopal thanked his new friend and henceforth, crossing the forest was no longer a problem for him.

Gopal soon became the laughing-stock of his class. His clothes would often be pieces of rags, lovingly sewn together by his mother. A gaping hole in the tattered shirt or half-pants too loose for him. He had no chappals either, but would walk all the way to school and back, barefoot. Very few of his classmates were happy to be friends with him. He would face all the ridicule and derision with bravery and calmness.

One day in class, one of the boys announced, “Tomorrow is my birthday and I want all of you to come!” Gopal was happy and very excited that he too had been invited to the friend’s house. After reaching home, he told his mother the good news and said that this friend whose birthday he had been invited to, was the son of a rich Zamindar. “What gift shall I take with me, Maa?” he asked his mother anxiously, knowing that they did not have any money, not even pennies, to buy a gift. His mother replied to her son, “Son, we do not have any money to get your friend a gift nor any new clothes for you to wear tomorrow, but do not worry. I will think about something. You go and have a good night’s sleep, my dear!” Late into the night, his mother stayed awake, altering an old set of his father’s clothes for Gopal to wear.

The next morning when Gopal awoke, his mother gave him the altered clothes, had him take a bath and combed his hair. She said, “Son, unfortunately we do not have any gift to give to your friend!”

“Ok mother”, said Gopal without any complaints and left the house after touching his mother’s feet, as was his daily custom.

On his way to school, he was feeling very unhappy. He knew that after seeing him come to the birthday empty-handed, the other classmates would laugh and make fun of him. In his own thoughts, he did not realize that he was now walking through the forest. Suddenly, he remembered his friend Madhav and called out for him. His friend soon appeared next to him and after looking at Gopal’s dejected face, asked him what the matter was. Gopal explained the situation. Madhav listened patiently and then said, “Hmm….don’t worry, Gopal! Here – just take this glass of milk to your rich friend and ask him to empty the milk into a vessel of their own, and take the glass back to your mother.” After bidding Madhav goodbye, Gopal continued on his way to school with the glass of milk in his hand, feeling lighthearted after speaking to his forest-friend.

At the birthday, everyone had showed up dressed in finery and carrying large, showy gifts. When Gopal presented his gift – the glass of milk, everyone started laughing. Unaffected, Gopal asked them to instruct their servant to empty the milk into one of their own containers and return the glass to him. The Zamindar summoned his servant and ordered him to do so. Two minutes passed by and the servant still did not return. “What’s taking the wretched man so long!” the Zamindar muttered angrily. He sent another servant to check on him. The other servant returned with an amazed look on his face. “Saheb, you have to come to the kitchen to see this!” he said.

The Zamindar and others went to the kitchen and saw the servant emptying out the glass of milk into a gallon-sized container. Next to that container were several other containers of assorted sizes, full of milk! (Here my GrandDad would get all animated and make actions of pouring out the milk from an imaginary glass…”bddd..…bd…..bdd…bdd” and we kids would share his excitement).

“Sa’ab, the glass is not getting empty!” the servant exclaimed in wonder and frustration. The Zamindar could not believe his eyes and thought it was a trick of his eyes. Finally, all the vessels in the rich Zamindar’s house were full to the brim, with milk and still the glass was full. “Who gave you this glass of milk, quick!” the man asked Gopal. “It is my friend, Madhav. He can perform miracles and I totally believe in him!” Gopal said calmly. “Impossible! This is a trick. I do not believe this! Take me to your friend and let us see if his miracles are for real!” the greedy Zamindar said.

Gopal and the Zamindar went to the forest where Gopal called out for Madhav to appear. After several beckonings, Madhav still did not appear. “See! Your friend is imaginary…I knew there are no such miracles. It is all a hoax!” said the Zamindar. Gopal refused to believe the Zamindar but there was nothing more to be done. Tearfully, he started returning to the village with the Zamindar, when all of a sudden a voice boomed in the jungle, “I am Madhav, Gopal’s friend! I make myself appear only before those who believe in me! I am invisible to the rest of the world.” Gopal was happy on hearing the voice and went to hug his friend Madhav, while the Zamindar was left alone, to his non-beliefs. That day onwards, Gopal and his mother never lacked for food and with Madhav’s constant companionship, Gopal became a successful man of integrity and virtue.

Ok, what aspects of this story make it so special for me? Like Gopal, Ajoba had also been very, very poor as a child. For him too, education was important and he walked several miles to school everyday. This is a story of believing in miracles, in a superpower….and because of this story (well partly, perhaps!) I grew to love milk! Hearing this story would make me hungry and the morning following the story, I would rush downstairs into the kitchen to drink milk in my favourite glass – yes a steel glass!

~ by goldendog on August 15, 2007.