Mother shook me gently. ‘Get up, Raju! It’s Ganesh Chaturthi today. We must go to the temple.’
‘Oh! So, you’re going to make modaks, aren’t you, Mom? I love them!’ Even at twelve, I still loved Ganesh Chaturthi.
Mom smiled. ‘Yes, yes. I’ll make plenty of them. You can eat as many as you want. Now get ready. It’s getting late.’
I was ready within fifteen minutes. The others were waiting for me. The temple was close by. We made it in time for the special prayer. We rang the bells on our way in as the priest began the rituals. The black stone idol of Lord Ganesha looked majestic. The priest washed the idol with water, milk, honey, and sandal paste. He reminded me of a loving mother bathing her beloved child. The crowd sat in silence with folded hands.
After that, the priest dressed the idol and decorated it with flower garlands and jewelry. When the curtains were drawn aside, the priest lit the camphor. A thrill coursed through my body. The priest then proceeded to distribute the prasad as the crowd dispersed.
I said to my mother, ‘I’ll stay on and help the priest.’
‘Alright,’ said my mother, ‘but be back home before one.’
♦♦♦
A little later, the priest said, ‘My dear, do you mind waiting here until I’m back? I need to pick up a couple of things from home. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ I nodded since I had little else to do at home, anyway. I sat on the stool. My mind soon began to wander.
Suddenly, I heard a sound. Someone was sobbing.
‘Who could be crying on this auspicious day?’ I wondered.
I looked around. There was no one. To my surprise, I found that the sound came from the stone steps leading up to the idol. I was frightened out of my wits. However, more was in store.
A deep voice emerged from the deity, ‘Brother, step-stone! Why are you crying? Is everything alright?’
I was too stunned to talk. I hid behind a pillar and listened.
The step-stone said, ‘Don’t you really know why I am crying? It’s because of you. I feel so envious. Why, I see people showering you with milk, honey, sandal paste, and flowers. They revere you, but they step on me and smash coconuts into my face to offer to you. You and I are both made of stone. Why should I, too, not get the same respect?’
The Ganesha idol smiled and said, ‘Oh! So, that’s what makes you sad, huh? I get it. Do you remember those days when we were merely stones?’
‘Of course, I do. We are both from the same mountain and lay next to each other. The more I think of it, the angrier I get.’
The idol asked the step-stone if he remembered the sculptor who picked him up to make the idol.
‘Yeah, don’t remind me of that. It still makes my blood boil. He wouldn’t stop hitting me with his chisel. It was unbearable.’
‘So, what did you do?’ the idol asked.
‘I taught the sculptor a lesson. I chipped off. He tried to hit another part. I chipped again. He was disgusted. He left me alone after that,’ said the step-stone.
The idol said, ‘I’ll tell you what happened after that. He discarded you and picked me up. He hit me with his chisel and hammer. It was painful, very painful. But I endured the pain. The sculptor was pleased and shaped me thus. I had to undergo millions of hammerings before I became the way I am now.’
The step-stone ceased sobbing at this point. ‘Is that so? Well, you really deserve all the love and respect. I won’t envy you hereafter.’
‘Thank you, my brother. But for you, I wouldn’t have had this opportunity. You turned down the offer and I accepted it with both hands. In fact, you deserve the credit for my greatness.’
The step-stone sighed, ‘Yes, you’re right. I thought I had dodged a bullet when I got the sculptor to discard me. Only now do I realize that one has to undergo suffering in order to achieve something in life. Had I been patient, I would have been in your place.’
‘There’s no point in regretting it now, friend,’ said the Ganesha idol.
The step-stone said, ‘Yes. I won’t complain from now on. Let my life be a lesson to everyone. If they’re unwilling to put up with hardships, they will let others step on them. However, if they work hard and are willing to face the music, they’ll succeed in life and get everyone’s respect.’
The idol smiled, but said nothing.
There was silence once again. Had I been daydreaming? I guess I had fallen asleep on the stool. Dream or not, it was a wonderful lesson nonetheless. The step-stone’s words still reverberated in my head long after I went back home.
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.