Dattapaharam Call Of The Forest – V J James

When the fireflies lit the twilight lamps, many prayerful creatures started raising hymns from their own hideaways. I was above the forest now. All the forest paths that I had traversed were down below, dim like the past. With the impassivity of one who had conquered the peak, I sat staring at my past. It was like casting a glance at the sea from the top of the lighthouse.

‘There, look!’ I looked where Bhiksham Dehi pointed. At a long distance away, I could see dots of lights in the hundreds! ‘For Amma, it is the night of lamps. And blessed are the eyes that can watch that from here. You cannot catch this sight from anywhere else. This is Amma’s place of origin. Her eyes watch over this place.’ It looked as if it was a temple, clad in the ceremonial dress of lamps aflame at twilight.

I wondered why this man was glorifying a sight which could have been easily seen at close quarters. ‘There, you can see only the thronging crowds. Here, in peaceful nature, dwells Amma.’ Though Bhiksham Dehi spoke as if he read my mind, I liked that perspective of discovering Amma in nature.

Towards the right of the den, water droplets oozed out of a rock and trickled into an earthen pot; overflowing, it turned into a rivulet, then a stream, joined by many more watercourses, forming into a divine river. It was the stream that I had seen from the bus. On following it, one would reach the sea. That meant, when I touched the water drop, I was touching the sea!

I touched the water. Through it, the sea. Exquisitely cool water. As clear as crystal. Taking a handful of water, I splashed it on my face. Like dew drops, they stuck to me. Much above sea level, with temperatures lower than in the plains, it was getting cold. But it was a pleasant coolness.

‘How should I address you? Swami or Guru?’ I queried. That same smile as an answer. ‘Who is the guru, who is the disciple? My type is merely the dust on Amma’s feet. If necessary, call me Bhiksham Dehi. But you won’t need to, except while thinking of me. Think about it: is there a difference whether the name is Bhiksham Dehi, a dinosaur or a donkey?

I am a simple beggar. Are you embarrassed to spend time with such a person?’

Chorashastra: The Subtle Science of Thievery, translated by Morley J. Nair Anti-Clock, translated by Ministhy S. Nireeswaran, translated by Ministhy S. OceanofPDF.com To all my dear friends —V.J. James To my brother, Hari —Ministhy S. OceanofPDF.com ‘Life is not about the people who act true to your face. It’s about the people who remain true behind your back.’ OceanofPDF.com Author’s Note WHEN THE SELF IS APPROPRIATED On reading Dattapaharam, the response of one reader, who had been faithfully following the works of ‘V.J.

James the writer’, was ‘the book went over my head!’ Another reader wrote, ‘Dattapaharam is a book which I hold close to my heart.’ I prefer to accept both the reactions with equal love. Though I have published seven novels and nearly seventy short stories, if you were to ask me, I would reiterate that Dattapaharam offered me the greatest challenge as a writer.

The reason would be that the state of existence unfurled in the novel is rare in the panorama of human experiences. Comparatively, it is comfortable to write a philosophical book: you can state the facts in a straightforward manner. However, to effectively portray a unique vision of life via the intrigues of fiction is analogous to a dangerous trapeze act. If one is not exceptionally careful, it is easy to lose one’s footing.

And hence, extreme alertness was needed while writing Dattapaharam. Of course, it is for the readers to decide how successful I have been in that endeavour. Any human in this world understands hunger, thirst, pain and love because she/he has experienced it. Children can love but cannot lust; that state is beyond their comprehension. There are certain experiences unique to the President of America. For the Holy Pope, there are special experiences reserved exclusively for him.

Some matters are cognizable only to the experts of space science or microbiology. In the same way, there are certain aspects of the world that can be experienced only by Freddie Robert —the protagonist of the novel—or those whose internal frames of mind are similar to his—an ineffable state where the self gets appropriated. For some, it can ‘go over the head’.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: a202ab2235c6bfc0
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,569,107 bytes (2.45 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 154
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 217.19 minutes
• Total Words: 43,438
• Total Characters: 249,918
• Average Words per Page: 282.06
• Average Characters per Page: 1622.84

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