Introduction

Our story begins with a man called Deepak Patel, who lived in Gujarat, India. After his initial triumph and achievements, he was faced with a tragedy as a result of which he had to leave India and migrate to the country of Uganda with some haste.

He had three children, J.D. being the youngest of three children. We trace his life and that of some members of his family in India, Uganda, and later on in London, England. Although J.D. followed in his father’s footsteps, he created his own story which by its own right is interesting in its tragedies and achievements, as we shall see as we follow through with the events in his life and that of his family. It forms the mainframe of our story. The cycle would appear to be complete when his two sons visit (or revisit) the chaotic country of Uganda only to face a similar tragedy.

G.N.Bhadresa

DISCLAIMER

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All the characters in the book are fictitious, and bear no resemblance to any person, living or dead. There is no intention of hurting any community, religion or nation. If there is a resemblance to any character or some events, it is unintentional and purely coincidental. However, some facts relating to history are true and undeniable, but have been modified by me as suits the story best.

G.N.Bhadresa

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FORWARD

An amazing amount of research is required in writing a book of this nature. It requires one to know numerous historical facts, as well as acquiring knowledge of different countries of the world, a number of which I have had personal experience. Internet is very valuable, particularly Wikepedia and Google. I also undertook a journey to Saurashtra in India and had the pleasure to visit Somnath as well as other cities, although in these travels I had to pay by being sick because of poor hygiene in the beloved country.

Mr. Shambuprasad Harprasad Deshai’s book (circa 1957) on the history of Saurashtra (Sorath) was invaluable.

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This book is dedicated to Melodie, Courtney, Hailey, Zaver, Eric, Julian, and little Sofie

G.N.B.

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Will the actions of men echo across time to all eternity?

Will strangers who hear of us, pause and ask?

‘Who were we?’

‘How fiercely we loved?’

‘How bravely we fought the world?’

And on hearing the tragic tale

Will they remember?

Will they shed a tear or two?

G. N. Bhadresa

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PREFACE

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If the mouth will speak from the bottom of the heart

Will it not sing if the bottom of the heart speaks?

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During one of my visits to the city of London, I went to see my dear friend J.D.Patel. He lived in a flat that was above one of the shops that he owned in Byron Street in The Borough of Walthamstow in East London. Although many years had passed since I first met him, it appeared as though we had parted only yesterday! I had first met him in a little town called Lugazi in Uganda. Our love and friendship was overflowing as we embraced each other. Our delight knew no bounds.

We reminisced about old times, especially about the time when I saw him in Uganda during one of my visits there. The thriving small town of Lugazi was a beehive of activity at the time. It was involved in the growth of sugarcane, and the export of sugar all over East Africa.

He asked his lovely wife Manjula, if she would be so kind as to bring some Indian tea along with some savories. She was of course more than happy to oblige.

After settling comfortably on a couch, we started to talk about the good old days, and the trials and tribulations each one of us had gone through as we journeyed on the ship they call life. We exchanged news about different members of the family; not without expressing surprise as to how fast they grow, the different carriers they choose, and following their own paths to their chosen destiny. We expressed amazement as to the different personalities they develop into despite having the same parents!

Although he was happy to see me, one could not escape from noticing his concern, his worries, in fact his agony that was clearly etched on his face. His unique unforgettable face, jet black hair with a distinctive well trimmed moustache, finely scarred right cheek; the polished sun burnt face that only Indians have, all gave him a handsome face that commanded one’s attention. It could even be the envy of a Bollywood star. However, on that day he seemed to stare in the distance, his frown was obvious. His mind appeared to be in a hurricane of torpor, the anguish written all over him. His face appeared lifeless and unaware of the present. It did not take much prompting on my part for him to pour out his heart to me. He told me to that day all that had happened in his travails and travel through his life’s journey.

In part, his verbal outpouring forms a basis of my story. I had continued to learn about him on my return to my native land. It forms a story that demonstrates his anguish, making it a tale that can pluck the strings of your heart. Nevertheless, it also forms an astonishing tale of human courage, devotion to family, interrelation and interconnectedness of each member of the family to another. Also, without realizing, contributing to the advancement of the countries where the members of the family resided.

As I put the whole jigsaw puzzle together, I was impelled to write the story as I had heard in parts as well as the fact that I was fortunate to see many partake in good measure, myself included, the story personally.

Many a times when I visited him, he sat with his good friend Narendra, who was indeed very helpful in filling in some details J.D.himself did not remember because of lapses in his memory. At times even the family members had failed in the recall of certain events and the continuation of the story might not have been complete without his help.

However, you must not go away thinking that there is nothing but unhappiness in the story. I would be remiss if I conveyed that impression only. There is definitely happiness and joy strung across the apparently bleak landscape.

G. N. Bhadresa . December 2008

FAMILY TREE

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Deepak, born in Gujarat, India. Married to Kamla.

Their Children:

1. Aarti. Married in India, and lived there.

2. Shashikant. Married to Radha.

3. J.D., married to Mumtaz (Manjula}.

J.D., with Mumtaz had three children. They were:

I. Sunil (the Tycoon)

II. Dilip, who was the Doctor. Married to Makaeta.

III. Sanjay.

1a. Dilip with Makaeta had three daughters:

Maya, Jyoti and Kavita.

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CHAPTER ONE

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J.D.’S ANGUISH

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Anguish of mind has driven thousands to suicide; anguish of body, none. This proves that health of mind is of far more consequence to our happiness, than the health of the body; although both deserving of much more attention than either of them receive.

C.C.COLTON

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lthough the large land mass in the northern hemisphere would seem to be frozen in antiquity, it, in fact went through unimaginable upheavals during different epochs. It appeared changeless when measured in terms of mere centuries.

The endless, and bleak landscape in fact went through its upheavals when at certain times there was a massive growth of forests- pines, oaks and beeches, while nearer the ground there were huge ferns, growing on the shores of large streams, rivers and stagnant ponds. Overgrowth of mosses etc led to the demise of many large trees, giving rise to peat bogs and submerged dead and alive plant and animal parts. At one time the whole area was covered by water which was part of a large ocean. The climate was temperate. In the years that followed, the same land mass went through an ice age, when the land was covered with ice which stayed frozen for many centuries. Continents were linked together, but as the ice receded there was a gradual change in the climate. The land got warmer, and the ice began to melt being replaced with water. Land masses appeared to be receding from each other as the oceans rose because of the melting ice. In many areas, the ice disappeared totally.

Although the land appeared to be desolate and lifeless at first glance, but on closer look it was far from the truth.

While the flora went through stages of luxuriant growth and decay, the equally exuberant growth of fauna did not lag behind. In the water one could see all kinds of life- fishes, frogs, beavers, muskrats, crocodiles etc while the forest saw giant mammoths, deer, vermin of all kind, squirrels, raccoons, foxes, wolves, mountain lions, the latter always on the prowl for a tasty meal. The mountain lions were preceded by ferocious saber tooth tigers. The sky saw many kinds of birds, filling the earth with a cacophony of sound as they darkened the sky in their flight.

More than a thousand years ago, in the Neolithic period, man started making appearance in the desolate land, trekking over land and sea in their makeshift crafts, fur clothing and a will to discover new lands and survive at all costs. The marshland was cleared as settlements cropped up here and there. Earlier species of men like the Neanderthals and the Cro-Magnons were much later replaced by Saxons of Germanic Angles, who later came to be known as ‘Britons’ in the area. Later Celts from Gaul in Europe invaded the settlements and displaced the rightful owners who moved to the Roman province of Cermonica in Northwestern France. The land where they moved to came to be known as ‘Brittany’ as these lands were occupied by the Britons.

The Celts occupied the land for many years. They used iron, gold and other metals to make coins, weapons needed in war, jewelry etc.

Needless to say that with the appearance of man, the face of this area of earth changed for ever.

As the years flowed like the waters of a river, imperceptibly but with force, the people of the settlements made remarkable progress. There was a large forest in the land which was called ‘Waltham Forest’. A good part of the area was cleared and residences and businesses appeared in an orderly fashion. Streets of a good width interconnected all the areas. The main ones were called Clay Street, Hoe Street, Forest Road, Marsh Street which later came to be called High Street, and many others. High Street became the main thoroughfare that ran from north east to southwest. Hand in hand with the growth of the village the city of London in England also grew, and naturally the village was absorbed by the larger monster. The town itself was called Walthamstow, and became a part of the London Borough of Waltham Forest.

The streets were cobbled, and reflected sound with an unbearable din. They were eventually felt to be rather narrow for the requirements of the day. In early morning the cacophony would start. Vendors, whether carrying milk in horse driven wagons, or carrying other things like meat, vegetables and fruit or other ware, many of which smelt of dirt, grease and grime. Along with the horses making a claptrap with their hooves, newspaper sellers announcing the news of the day, poverty, filth, barking stray dogs and the presence of stray cats and vermin of all kinds calling the place their home, made it an onslaught to the nose and ears as well to other senses. Only Charles Dickens can describe the atmosphere adequately. All of it made a din that was music to some ears, while many made a hasty retreat to a quieter neighborhood. The cobblestones were eventually removed, and the horses banned as vehicular transport. Vehicles driven by petrol made their appearance in the early nineteenth century.

The business district as well as the residences in Walthamstow improved markedly over the years. The streets were cleared and black top replaced the original cobbled streets. A magnificent town hall was built. Many buildings were redesigned or newly built. The town had its claim to history- the poet William Morris lived there, and the first petrol driven motor car in Britain was built in 1892 by Frederick Bremer, a local engineer living in the area.

In the recent years, it has once again become a throbbing and thriving centre, a result of the hardworking and imaginative immigrants from all over the world adding to the expertise of the local residents.

The main street in the town is High Street as mentioned before. It is a rather narrow street by modern standards, but noisy even today what with continuous traffic, pavement choc-a-bloc with pedestrians, many overflowing onto the narrow street etc.

Mr. Jaysukhlal Deepak Patel, also known as J.D. for short, the hero of this story, was one of the residents of Walthamstow in the in the late twentieth century, around 1970. He owned many shops in the area, each one specializing on different aspects of business, such as selling groceries and spices, while others sold clothing like saris and other ladies’ apparel, while another one sold jewelry. He had a luxurious and spacious apartment on the second floor of one of the shops, where he lived happily with his family.

Quite often he used to sit by the window and watch the sprawling street down below. The sounds of all the hustle and bustle was in fact sweet music to his ears.

Yet many a time J.D. was filled with bouts of depression tortured by a deep emotional turmoil, at the time when his mind wondered into a deep reverie and he would reminisce on his life as it was at that moment, and he compared to what it had been in the past. In a way it was the best of time for him in Walthamstow, but then he would think of the times in Uganda, a period when his life was like being in a paradise. Yet once again he had a reversal of his and his family’s fortunes, together with that of all the Asians of the country and the indescribable disaster he felt when the upheaval had changed his life along with that of many others, almost overnight. The nightmare had begun with the exodus of Asians en masse, and he thought of those times in fact were the worst times in his entire life. It was a time that was indelibly impressed in all Asian minds that resided in the country at one time. Yet the many years of prosperity in Uganda was a time not equaled by other years. It was at these times that he would be overcome with emotion and be tortured by these thoughts. At these times his anguish was obvious and he was inconsolable.

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CHAPTER TWO

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J.D.’S NIGHTMARE

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I felt as if I was walking with destiny and that all my past life had been but a preparation for this hour and this travel

Winston CHURCHILL (‘the gathering storm’)

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t was a dull and gloomy day in February 5^th of 1976. It was cold. That particular day, J.D. felt rather unwell and did not relish visiting all his places of business that he normally did and was accustomed to do as part of his routine. He felt unwell physically and emotionally he felt drained. He left his son Sanjay to continue and attend to the businesses of the day while he took leave and made his way up to his apartment. His walk was rather slow and labored for some reason. He greeted his wife Manjula perfunctorily. He did not enjoy his dinner although he partook in it. The sumptuous meal which she had prepared with her usual care, efficiency and love. He always felt that her food was like Ambrosia, food of the Gods. But he had no appetite on that particular day. He took to bed early. For some time he tossed and turned, reliving the ghosts from the past, but gradual peace pervaded his being maybe drained with sheer exhaustion and he was in a deep slumber in almost no time. Very soon, he entered into the realm of a dream world. In the dream, his soul was floating, flying through the ether, through the firmament. His mind was in the vortex of a hurricane, impossible for his mind to catch any thoughts as they flew rapidly and in various directions, making it impossible for him to understand it or even gather a gist of them. His very soul was now flitting, now flirting, now faster than the internet, now crawling like a lumbering turtle. At times soaring like an eagle in the clear blue skies. In the nightmare, his jumbled thoughts, his very soul, like the astral travel of Tibetan Monks in a trance, in turmoil, in torpor, restless and incomprehensible! He felt as though his body was being transported to the funeral pyre, while his soul was flying out into the free air, to follow a thousand angels to heaven. Flying over turbulent agitated waters, but only momentarily, and then swooping into it. Large volume. Is it a lake? Is it the sea? No, no, that is Lake Victoria. Like Icarus in a freefall, diving down rapidly with total loss of control, falling almost vertically, submerging, drowning, and suffocating in all that water! Only for a while though. Then flying out like the Phoenix, a joyous sensation of freedom once again. Wide vistas come into view as he flies- rolling hills and valleys- luscious, green, enticing, embracing. Mountains, rivers, waterfalls. Open meadows. Abundant wildlife almost everywhere. This land, my land at one time, as he thought, the one they call Uganda.

Beyond it, in the horizon- a dry parched land. Land of my father, land of my mother, as he thought as he flew over it in his dream world, the beloved land of my people, my own people, my favorite people. My India- land of my father’s birth. Land of my mother’s birth; like a mother- ever giving, always forgiving, and never complaining. Land that was full of history, my history, my ancestor’s history. He felt a lump in his throat choking him. His heart ached.

Now the rolling green hills once again come into view, in the not too far distance; snow capped mountains, lakes, fields of green, fields of exuberant growth, swimming in an azure blue sky, with wisps of clouds hanging like pearls on a necklace adorning the neck of a beautiful woman. Ruwenzori Mountains in their majestic beauty in the distance. He was obviously floating once again over the land they call Uganda. In the distance, a large, regal looking, dignified lake, named after a queen no less, Lake Victoria. There, coming into view, are the familiar towns in an aerial view- Kisumu, Tororo, Mbale, Kampala, Jinja, Entebbe, Soroti, and Kakamega. Beyond, a river, meandering like a snake. Undulating, dancing, sensuous. The humble beginnings of a mighty river- none other than the one that is the longest river in the world- River Nile. Waters moving in a loud roar as the river snakes its way out of Uganda. His heart beating faster at the sight of the town of Jinja; restless mind in turmoil, in torpor. A stone’s throw further, as the crow flies, the sugar cane plantations of Lugazi- acres and acres of it. Very tall what looked like grass, but trunks obviously not grass as they were five to six feet tall; sections of the land being clear cut, while in other areas a conglomerate of shoots, some fully mature in other sections. Some sections were afire. Hey THAT IS SUGAR CANE. Some in total devastation, burned, charred. Like a snake, a train meandering on the undulating rails, almost dancing as it ran among the tall plants, overloaded with the sugarcane plants. What do I see, is it slowing down because of a limp? Perhaps its leg is broken, and needs my help. I will go and push it.

There, the train that looks like a toy in motion is making its way towards the factory which is on a hill, busy in the process of carrying out its steamy journey in a circle that would seem to be never ending. The plant that was a place where men and women toiled, covered and bathed in sweat, brown and jet black skins shining in the sunlight; every one of them involved in one of the several stages in refining the juice of sugar cane with sugar as the eventual product. Ah sugar, the sweetness of it is a cure-all. Sweetness of life, friendship, family, people, of the beauteous land itself. Fly on. There, further up the road on top of the hill is the famed big white two storied building. Home. The house they called ‘Premnivas’- an abode of love. It was indeed an island of love, peace, tranquility, sanctuary, memories. Memories of laughter, joy, mouthwatering aroma of food emanating from the kitchen. Men gathered in the living room, engaged in lively conversation and hilarity, waiting for a call to go to the dining room and avail themselves of a sumptuous meal. Smoking, exchanging jokes, stories, experiences. Joyous sounds of laughter- loud, full of life; it was exhilarating, enchanting. Now the same house in the midst of an ocean of devastation, torture, calamity, starvation, inhumanity in a country that had gone mad. It was painfully empty and seemingly haunted by people that lived in the past.

J.D. woke up with a jolt that morning. Those last images that he had seen before waking haunted him as he lay there and took in his surroundings at the present time.

He opened his eyes and realized that it was a dream but nevertheless it was frightening. It was a cold and foggy day outside. It had been over five years of what it seemed like a forced exile.

His devoted wife, Manjula was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face full of concern for his wellbeing. The sheets on the bed were wet with all that profuse sweat that poured and gushed from every pore in his body. In his terror, even his bladder had emptied.

As he looked out of the window at the main street below, he heard the horrible ear splitting and unbearable din of traffic.

‘What a nightmare!’ he thought.

He got up and proceeded to the bathroom to relieve him and change his clothing. Standing in front of the mirror above the sink, he splashed some cold water on his face. The image in the mirror looked haggard and not did not appear to be his likeness but that of a stranger. The coolness of the water had an invigorating effect on him, giving him a feeling of being fresh and it made him wide awake once again. A change in clothing was also most welcome.

Manjula (nee Mumtaz), his dear wife, looked very concerned as she sat by his bedside all the time while he dreamt, but she was too scared to wake him. He had tossed and turned all night. In the early morning, when she saw him awake, she spurred into action. With her usual unswerving, determined and well planned action, she proceeded into the kitchen and made him an excellent breakfast. Parathas, some pickle, and strong Indian tea laced with masala in a metal vessel. He consumed it all with vigor as he was famished. However, the feeling of well being which had come in a burst on waking did not last long. He felt downhearted and depressed once again and wished to go back to bed. He felt miserable. It was morning, and his son, Sanjay, who was one of his three sons, had already gone down and started his day’s business activities. Out in the main street, the traffic was building up into a ruckus, unbearable for him on that particular day. The noise and the hubbub that was his delight at one time, but on that day he found it unbearable.

So he just went back to bed in the hope of gaining some respite.

CHAPTER THREE

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LUGAZI – UGANDA

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It is not the people that make the land; it is the land that makes the people

Mohawk proverb

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he mighty Lake Victoria pours its waters into a river that gets even mightier as it gathers more water from other creeks and rivers as it flows north. The waters of the river meander along some luscious valleys on its long journey into Sudan and far beyond. The long and arduous voyage has a humble beginning near the town of Jinja at Ripon Falls. It is called ‘The White Nile’ at its origin. Just above Jinja, it encounters a green land that is like no other.

It is now discovered by means of G.P.S. and other forms of geophysical mapping with the aid of satellites that are roaming in the skies, that the river has its humble beginnings in Rwanda from where hundreds of small streams that feed Lake Victoria. From this mighty lake the river begins its arduous journey that ends up in the Mediterranean Ocean.

The other branch that merges with the White Nile and forms the proper river Nile is called the Blue Nile, which begins its journey in Abyssinia (now known as Ethiopia). The Blue Nile is stupendous and a roaring torrent during the rainy season. The two as mentioned above join to form the River Nile proper (Al-Nîl in Arabic. The White Nile is called Bahr-al-Jabal). Being 4,145 miles long, it is the longest river in the world. It is even longer than the Amazon River in South America. It sustains life to all living things along its path as it proceeds north. Heavy rains in the Ethiopian mountains around the months of July and August make the waters overflow in Egypt and other lands that dare to be in the path of the torrent of water. The fertility of the land increases a thousand fold.

Locals in Egypt believe that the overflow is the ejaculate as a result of masturbation by their God Aum!

The town of Lugazi is located on the bank of the White Nile on its western side, not far from the town of Jinja as the crow flies. In the early years, there were only a few thatched huts made with strips of wood covered with grass. These huts were scattered here and there in the area, but some of these were built together as the years went by and the collection of these primitive huts as an aggregate formed the start of a village. The people of the village named it ‘Lugazi’, meaning ‘The Happy Place’. It was inhabited by people of the Bonyoro tribe (which is a one of the Bantu races). They were tall, healthy people, athletic looking, and good natured. Exhibiting a shiny dark olive skin, the beauty of which was enhanced by the perpetual sun, and of course their outstanding white pearly teeth, set in a mouth that was upturned at the angles permanently in a smile. The men and women were wrapped with a colorful cloth that extended from the chest to the feet and covered their lithe bodies almost totally. All of it gave a delight to behold them for anyone who even gave a cursory glance towards them. The area was lush and fertile and grew more than enough food for the people of the land. These inhabitants were mostly agricultural, but some of them also kept a few heads of cattle and goats.

The valley, particularly the village and the area around was tranquil for many years. It saw the arrival of foreigners in the early part of the twentieth century. They were people of brown skin, good looking, quite different in apparel, facies, and height. In fact they were totally different from the indigenous natives. Most of these immigrants were vegetarians, and were the followers of Hinduism. A small group followed Islam. There was a small mix of Christians. The people of the latter persuasion were white people. They invaded the country at one time and colonized the country and got fatter under the pretext of ‘White Man’s burden’. The religion of these people was Protestants, methodists or Catholics. The locals had their own kind of witchcraft, and a religion of their own which would appear to be rather primitive.

The Indian immigrants were dressed in white pants, long shirt that flowed over the pants, and Nehru style white caps. The pants flared at the bottom. In height they were shorter than average. All of it made them rather impressive in their looks. They were gentle souls, very devoted to their own families, and were keen to start a business as soon as possible. They even had a different lingo for the local coinage which was called ‘the shilling’ or ‘the pound’, but they called these as Rupees, Annas and Pesas, the currency that is in use even today in India.

One particular group of the Indians was led by a striking looking gentleman. Dressed in strange Indian clothing made from cotton and consisting of a white, almost transparent ‘dhoti, long black coat, and a white cap that peaked in the front and back. His shoes were peaked in the front. One could not avoid noticing his mesmerizing eyes; the eyes that appeared focused and almost in a trance. The name of the flamboyant and rather impressive person was Mr. Deepak Patel. He looked very imposing even though he appeared to be strangely attired to the natives. He was accompanied by his son Jaysukhlal, and Jaysukhlal’s (J.D.’s) wife (partner) called Mumtaz. (Along with embracing another country, Mumtaz had also changed her name to Manjula, which was in an effort to wipe out a scandal at home (cohorting with an infidel), a shame that could have meant disaster for her and her family and her even being put to death was also a distinct possibility). She even wanted to erase the memory of it, and was also hoping that many people of her country that had emigrated to the new country of Uganda would not recognize her as she became a resident of the foreign land, even though she knew that the country was mostly bereft of the people who were of her kind and background. It was assumed by all that J.D. and Mumtaz were husband and wife, but the true fact was that they were never married.

It was the beginning of a new and an exciting life for every member of the family. They also changed their apparel to a western style one soon after coming to the country as it was more practical. It consisted of long pants, mostly made of khaki material, long sleeved shirt, and wide brim hat to keep out the sun. Deepak received permission from the local village elders to possess and till a few acres of land adjacent to the village. He had no trouble recruiting workers from the local residents. These men were young, healthy, willing and very enthusiastic. They were also strong. Soon they were busy tilling the land and planting the area with sugar cane. Initially it was done crudely with primitive implements. The work was back breaking, sweaty and tiring. Added to that was the hot tropical sun was relentless and added to the back breaking labor. The work was truly exhausting and strenuous. Later he bought a few ploughs. The ploughs worked out great. In time the farm saw all kinds of gas driven machinery. One of these machines could do the work of more than twenty men. He had enough foresight and was adventurous enough to buy more land. Sugar cane growth needs bright sunlight, heavy rainfall, and a fertile soil, all of which were present in the area. The grass grew uncontrolled and yielded sugarcane exuding juice that had no equal in its sweetness and aroma anywhere in the world. The sweet syrup went through various processes to decolorize, purify, crystallize etc. The process of refining the sugarcane was started in a ramshackle building. Sugar of course was the end product. Sugar as an item for consumption had a ready market, both at home and overseas. As soon as the people discovered that the sugar produced in Deepak’s factory was of an excellent quality, orders started to pour in. In fact the supply could not keep up with the demand. Soon the area was extended by the purchase of more land. And of course more indigent people were recruited for the arduous but well paid job. Money as a result also started to pour in Mr. D.’s coffers. At about the same time he came across a man that was to become his friend and aid for years. He was one of the Ugandans - skin a shiny mahogany black. He was six feet tall, and about 240 lbs in weight, but he carried his frame well. He had a head full of curly black hair, with comparable dark penetrating eyes. The little hair that grew on his chin gave him the look of an artist, but he was far from being an artist. He was a very practical man and appeared to have a full grasp on the daily affairs of the village and of its people. Needless to say he was hired immediately. He wished to work alongside D. so that the two could help his people. Deepak had no hesitation in employing him there and then. They were to be good friends for a very long time. His name was Mtumisa. The two became inseparable as time went by and their friendship deepened. Mr. Patel soon came to be known as Mzee Moja (the first old man) and Mtumisa was Mzee Mpilli, or the second old man. ‘Mzee’ in Bantu means ‘an old man’. Soon Mtumisa was to take the responsibility of running various aspects of the factory and ensure that it run smoothly. His job also included the hiring and firing of people. The prosperity that the business of sugar brought went beyond the family’s wildest dreams. He purchased more land and even bought a narrow gauge railway from overseas, and had the rails installed in the farm. The farm along with its surroundings was so well managed that while sugar cane was harvested at one end, it was being planted at the other end. The crop was thus grown in rotation. It was the job of the railway to collect the sugarcane that was ready to be processed and take it to the factory. Workers at the factory crushed the sugarcane and obtained all the juice. The juice was then boiled and turned into molasses and ‘jaggery’ or treacle. It was boiled even further and bleached with a process called carbonization, whereby milk of lime and sulfur dioxide gas was passed through it to refine it further. It was then dried. The final product was sugar. It was very sweet to taste, and in appearance like white clear sand. It was heavenly. At its height, it produced one thousand sacks of sugar a day, and plans were afoot to double the production.

The scene in the countryside with a small railway chug chugging along was a sight once seen never forgotten. The train went almost in a circle and with every trip collecting all the sugarcane plants which the workers had got ready for transportation. It was done with their muscle and sweat, mowing the tall plants down (leaving a stalk for regrowth) with their sickles and sharp scythes and loading them on the train. Backwards and forwards the train went, to the factory loaded with long green juicy plants of sugarcane, later coming out of the factory loaded with limp and lifeless plants, (called bagasse), all empty and shoddy, ready for disposal, with all the juice squeezed out of them by the mighty machines. The canes that remained after all the juice was squeezed out were dried in the sun and then were used up to stoke the furnaces that were ever hungry to devour them rather voraciously. The engine driver, when he felt like it, blew the whistle, awakening all sleepy heads, and making all aware that the small but energetic baby was at work.

(As a demonstration of the power that sugar has, it was boycotted in Britain at one time in the antislavery campaign.)

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CHAPTER FOUR

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SUGAR

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Achanikaye kwenye mpini, haji na njaa

He who struggles with the hoe, does not die of hunger

Swahili proverb

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he train unloaded its cargo of harvested canes inside the factory. The trunks were then stripped of its leaves, and the stems were crushed and pressed to extract all the juice. The remnants called bagasse provided the fuel necessary to boil the water that was needed in the process. The juice was boiled, while lime was added at the same time. It reacts with the juice to form unwanted precipitates which are removed with a sieve. It was once again heated in a partial vacuum, while Sulfur Dioxide gas was passed through it to bleach the solution. The syrup was then centrifuged. Brownish fluid exuded from small holes in the centrifuge. The exuded sweet thick juice is called molasses, and was used in the manufacture of a variety of substances, such as alcohol, rum, table syrup, flavoring, processing of tobacco, soaps, resins, cattle feed etc. The clear thick syrup is evaporated further forming the granular crystals of sugar which was then ready for the market.

At its height, the factory was putting out a thousand sacks of sugar a day, and there were plans to double the output, because of increasing demand, and it was obvious that the land could easily provide the necessary raw material. Manpower was also plentiful and readily available.

However, it was not to be, as disaster struck just when further increase in the prosperity of the people appeared to be just around the corner. Because of a disaster that was man made, and was of a heart rending quality, the factory closed down, and fell into disrepair soon afterwards. Only grim skeletons remained of the factory as well those of the thatched huts and also that of the one time magnificent house on top of the hill. They were only the remaining ghosts as evidence of a vibrant industry and the generous and beautiful people that inhabited and toiled in the area. The dilapidation of the massive structures and the loss of work to a large number of local residents was truly heartbreaking.

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CHAPTER FIVE

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WAS DEEPAK’S DESTINY IN UGANDA?

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he name of Deepak Patel became famous throughout East Africa. In fact he was called the ‘Sugar King’ of East Africa. As time went on, his renown spread far beyond the shores of Africa. He also became a generous donor to many charities that abound in Uganda and the whole of Africa. Many of these were in need of urgent attention. In fact he challenged one and all that he would equal any donation that they would make to a charity of their choice in East Africa. He remained true to his word. He became a legend in his own time. In later years he was recognized by the British Government and was awarded an Order of The British Empire, in recognition of his entrepreneurship, generosity, and his ethics. In the community he had become a well-known figure liked by one and all.

Every member of the family settled well to their newly adopted country. They applied themselves with renewed vigor, and the family prospered beyond their wildest dreams. J.D. and his wife were in no small measure contributors to the unbelievable and fantastic success that the family had achieved.

J.D., Deepak’s son, with his wife was blessed with three children in the ensuing years. They were called Sunil, Dilip and Sanjay. The former two were born in Uganda, while Sanjay was born in England. We will go more into their stories as the tale unfolds.

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CHAPTER SIX

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IDI AMIN DADA

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In a mad world, only the mad are sane

Akira Kurosawa

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I propose getting rid of conventional weapons and replace them with reasonably priced Hydrogen Bombs that would be distributed equally throughout the world

Idi Amin

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Idi Amin Dada, AKA ‘Big Daddy’, AKA ‘Butcher of Africa’, AKA ‘Conqueror of the British Empire’, AKA ‘Lord of all the beasts of the earth and Fishes of the seas’.

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here was a woman called Uganda. She was a mother who had the misfortune of giving birth to two monsters in the later half of the 20^th Century. The first one was called Apollo Milton Obote, and the other one was named Idi Amin.

The two monsters, like Lucifer, performed their dance, and as a result brought anarchy to the land. God ordered the Goddess Gaia to turn her head and look away from the very land. The sun bent his head in shame and disappeared below the horizon, seemingly forever. Nix, the Goddess of darkness cast a pal over the land. The rivers were choked with the tears seemingly produced by the rocks, the trees and the mountains. The devil saw a perfect opportunity to envelop the whole country in torture, poverty, extreme misery and often release from it by death. The giant Gila monster opened its mouth and spread its poison throughout the land. The devilry lasted many years. Roman Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, Witchdoctors, as well as many others, all took part in the tragic sectarian devastation. The tragedy was that it was preceded by and superadded on by diseases like malaria, AIDS, Ebola, Syphilis, malnutrition, tropical diseases of various kinds. All of which was already present and causing havoc in the country, and has in fact continued to do so even today. Members of all the four tribes, the Bunyoro, Buganda, Acholi and Toro all suffered and have even continue to do so even today in the man made violence and brutality superadded to nature’s devastating forces.

In 1972, Idi AMIN, the killer par excellence, announced that he received a message from God (!) to make Uganda black men’s country, and as a consequence of his premonition he ordered the expulsion of all Indians and Pakistanis from the country. They numbered about 120 thousand people. These people were mostly businessmen and had formed the backbone of all commerce in the country. Amin the tyrant thought they were sabotaging the country and he wanted them to leave Uganda. He wanted Britain to look after them, as Uganda was a British Protectorate, which by this very fact made them all British subjects. They were ordered to leave the country within a period of 90 days. They were to take only the belongings that they could carry. The land and other property which of course they could not take with them, and had to leave behind was to be confiscated, and they had to relinquish their claim to their rights of possession to any of these forever.

The black flower of doom had now truly broken through the gate of Uganda. The country has cried ever since. It is heartrending. The Dark Continent had a pall envelope it and the country got darker. Though men, women and children suffered in silence, the very silence was louder than any of the earth’s laments. The tears that flowed from all were a condemnation of inhumanity, terrorism, wars and bestiality of the worst kind possible.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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BIOGRAPHY OF IDI AMIN DADA (1923 TO 2001).

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di Amin was born in the town of Kaboko, north western Uganda. His father who was a Moslem was of the Kakwa tribe while his mother was of the Lugabara tribe. She practiced sorcery. She had eight children. He was the third of the eight siblings.

In 1946 he joined the British King’s African Rifles. He had enlisted as a cook. In 1948 he was a corporal, and later platoons commander. From 1956 to 1961 he was the heavyweight boxing champion of Uganda. In 1952 he helped quench the Mau Mau rebellion in Kenya. In 1959 while he was in the Ugandan army he was called ‘effendi’, meaning ‘a noncommissioned officer with leadership potential’. In 1961 he rose to being a lieutenant in the British Army.

He was implicated in the ‘Turkana Massacre’ in Kenya.

On October of 1961 Uganda became independent with Milton Obote named as the prime minister, and Sir Edward Mutesa II (the Kabaka of Buganda) nominated as the President by the British. In 1963 Idi Amin was promoted to ‘Major’ in the Ugandan Army by Prime Minister Milton Obote. He took paratrooper training course in Israel. In 1966 he was involved in a huge scandal. For promoting the rebels in the Congo, Uganda was paid in gold. Amin deposited all of it into his own personal account. Obote, instead of punishing him, promoted him further, and fired about half of his ministers. He even wished to alter the constitution so he can himself become president for life. In 1969 an attempt was made on Obote’s life. General Okoyo and his wife were shot to death, the former being the whistle blower to Amin’s misdeeds. One of the two monsters were the harbinger of his and his family’s death. The Kabaka escaped by taking the first flight that was available that flew him to Britain. In 1971 Amin learnt that he was about to be arrested for his misdeeds, and as a counter measure he organized a coup against Obote while the latter was out of the country. He was successful in the coup, and Obote made his escape into Tanzania in a hurry.

Great faith was placed in him by the people who were sucked dry by the previous regime, but he turned out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He took revenge as soon as he came into power by ordering the massacres of the Langi and Acholi tribes. It was in retaliation as these tribes had supported Obote in the past. It is said that about 300,000 people were brutally murdered in the massacre.

He requested financial assistance from Britain and Israel at the same time for the support and upkeep of his army, but was turned down by these nations. As a consequence he turned to Libya and the USSR, the two countries that were more than happy to oblige.

During his regime, an Israeli plane was highjacked by Palestinian and German gunmen. The highjackers (terrorists) were granted asylum by Amin and the plane was allowed to land at Entebbe airport in Uganda. The rescue of all the passengers (but one) by the Israelis is a classical tale of nothing less than a heroic and a daring rescue.

The biggest mistake Idi Amin ever made in his life was to invade Tanzania. Tanzania counterattacked and invaded Uganda. Amin’s army was defeated and Milton Obote was once again reinstated. Amin obtained an asylum in Libya, but his staff argued with the Libyan hosts, and he had to leave the country with his whole entourage post haste. Later he was granted an asylum by the Saudis in Saudi Arabia, where his life eventually ended and he went for his punishment from the almighty in another world.

At one time, he had made some futile attempts to return to Uganda, without success. The country denied him a visa to enter the country.

In 1985 there was another coup, led by Owori Museveni. His army was called the NRA (National Resistance Army). Obote was deposed and he made a hasty departure into the adjoining country of Tanzania. He lived there for some years and in fact lived out his life there. Under the leadership of Museveni, Uganda is thriving, but the heinous atrocities in the north by Lord’s Resistance Army have continued unabated, and are doing so even today.

Amin’s dream of getting rid of all Asians is recounted elsewhere.

The splatter of blood stains on this monster’s dagger increased with every heinous step he took in his inhumanity.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

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J.D.’S NIGHTMARE - CONTINUED

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Yonder skies that have wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds.

Chief Seattle

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.D.’s mind was still confused and in a daze when he woke up. He did not see any point in getting out of the comfortable bed, so he remained in bed. He left the curtains closed, as he wished to keep the room dark leaving out the glaring the daylight that would jolt him out of his thoughts. Soon he was back in his dream world, which seemed to him very much like him being in a movie theatre watching an Indian movie, with all the actors and actresses acting out their respective roles. He began to see many faces; most of them appeared to be very familiar. They were all in his beloved country of Uganda. The country he had thought as a mother who had fed her children with milk and honey at one time, but now she had turned away, turning her back and did not appear to care for her children anymore. Many faces were glaring at him, and all faces appeared to be in extreme agony. The crowds that he perceived were all of a variety of color and creed. Hardworking. Thin and lean bodies baked in the sun. Many had callused hands from extreme hard manual work, whether it was from carpentry, tilling the land or one of many different occupations involved in their workplace. As he flew on in the dream once again, the white house that was on a hill came into view. The house with twenty rooms. It was called ‘Premnivas’ – an abode of love. There were pervading sounds of laughter, music, merrymaking, delicious aroma of cooked food emanating from the kitchen.

His emotions were rising to a peak.

However, the exhilarating feeling did not last long. In the dream world, a silence descended like an ominous cloud- a cloud of menace, foreboding. He remembered he was looking for his beautiful, dear and beloved mother. An angel. His angel. He flew into the bedroom, then the kitchen, and then through other rooms, but she was nowhere to be seen. Then he remembered the little room that was her temple. It was early in the morning so she was bound to be there. It was a room of tranquility, beauty, peace, joy. It had the statue of Lord Krishna- beauteous, joyous, and blue all over as the blue ocean, playing his flute that enchanted, hypnotized, and embraced all men, beasts, in fact all firmament. Dancing his dance of love with the Gopis and his beloved Radha. On the dais there were the other idols of different Gods and Goddesses- Vishnu, Shanker, Brahma, Parvati, Sarasvati, Laxmi, Ram, Laxman, Hanuman etc. All adorned with flowers, lit candles, forlorn bells eager to be rung. These did not distract him as he was searching for his mother. The center of his world, his universe. Without her it was all darkness for him, and he did not think his life would be worth living if she had stopped to exist. His concern was rising as he had already searched the kitchen and the bedrooms before he floated into the present chamber.

His mind was in a tumultuous torpor as he cried out ‘Mother, mom, where are you? There is no sunshine without you’. In his mind he pictured her unsurpassed beauty, her gentleness, her smile, her love not only for the family but for all mankind. A dead cat, still bleeding, was nailed on the door outside. Rivulets of blood streaked the door. The door was only partly closed. He entered the holy shrine, the temple, with some trepidation. Horror of horrors, her body was lying crumpled on the floor. Her beautiful sari was in disarray, a large blood splotch in the center of her chest. The beautiful bindi on her forehead was smudged. A dagger was plunged into her back, being still now, having done its murderous task. Blood flowing on the floor, as her life force was being gradually sapped away from her. Despite it all, her face appeared to be at peace, as though forgiving her cruel assailants.

It was like Aceldama, the Biblical field of blood.

His distraught mind was a burning volcano of jumbled thoughts that were on fire. Immediate revenge, anger, forgiveness, pity and other emotions went through his mind. The famous verse of Jesus came to his mind-‘Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.’

He felt that all was lost, and he fainted even in his dream world.

He woke momentarily with an overt foreboding of an indescribable disaster. He did not linger for long in this state of trance, as he was unconscious once again and the dream railroaded his drowsiness once again into a nightmare, and it appeared to be uninterrupted. Although many years had passed since he left Uganda, the dream was as vivid as though the events had happened only yesterday. He remembered being very thirsty. He saw a large pool of water by the wayside. The water was brackish, dirty reddish brown in color. He approached it in the hope that he can quench his thirst with the water in the pool. As he got nearer, he could see objects floating in the murky water. On getting closer, he saw that they were human heads, all showing the horror of the mental torpor and physical abuse that they had gone through on their faces. There was blood oozing from the eye sockets, nostrils, ears etc. In some, the lips, cheeks, jaws, eyelids etc. seemed to be torn in places, and the wounds left to fester. He ignored them and tried to move them away with a stick so he could get closer to the water. To his horror, it was no ordinary water. The whole pool was tinged a deep red color, the color of blood. He turned away in disgust, ignoring his parched lips and his thirst. He would rather do without that water and stay thirsty.

He climbed the little hill to return to the main road when he saw a bus approaching from a distance. He raised his hand and signaled for the driver to stop the bus. The rattling old bus stopped with a screech. The driver was in khaki uniform and had a smart beret on his head. He was black, and had blood on his face, particularly around his mouth. He had a deathly grin on his face. The grin was dreadful and even suggestive of a harbinger of a disaster or even lurking death. One could read murder written on his face. He looked like a heartless barbarian. On close observation the facial resemblance was very much like that of the well known tyrant Idi Amin Dada. As the bus stopped, J.D. on closer view could see that he had a dagger in his hand. He was busy honing and sharpening the dreaded and chilling agent of death that he was caressing so lovingly as he awaited his passengers. He held it with love and admiration.

On boarding the bus, he could not help but notice the passengers. They were all brown people, obviously of Asian background. Men, women and children were loaded on the bus like sheep. The vehicle seemed heavy, from the overload and probably also from an almost nonexistent springs on its chassis! There was a hush in the vehicle. The people looked grim and dejected, almost ghostly. Some men just stared into space, while others were looking down on the floor. All of them were depressed and lost in thought, as though some unbearable disaster was afoot. There were many grim faced women accompanied by children of all ages, including babies. It all seemed rather bizarre, unreal and somewhat eerie. The scene was nothing short of macabre, almost like a scene from one of the Alfred Hitchcock’s movie. Some children were crying, maybe from hunger or because of other discomforts. However, their cries were ignored by their parents. It seemed rather incongruous. Some men and women were shedding rivers of tears and appeared inconsolable. Yet again, there was no one to console them because of their own heartbreak and extreme misery. Everyone was in agony. He realized that they were the Indian and Pakistani people that were being expelled from their beloved land of Uganda en masse.

Once again J.D. woke up with a start- heart pounding, mental upheaval, sweat pouring from every pore in his body. Eyes wide open now. He thanked the Lord for the beautiful day and for the joyous feeling that the new and generous country where he was now had given him and many others a welcome with open arms. Manjula, his dear wife was sitting in a chair in front of him showing extreme concern on her enchanting and beautiful face. He smiled at her, and with overflowing love he embraced her, an outburst of emotion which was rare for him!

(Was his nightmare his guilty conscience, his fears or a dread and a foreboding for an impending disaster in the future?)

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O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space-were it not I have had bad dreams.

William SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)

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CHAPTER NINE

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People without a past is people without a soul

Sir Seretse KHAMA

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GUJARAT, INDIA

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SOMNATH (Prabhas Patan)

‘The Somnath Temple signifies that the power of reconstruction is always stronger than the power of destruction’

President Rajendra Prasad of India, at the opening ceremonies of the temple which was rebuilt the seventh time

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he ‘Somnath’ temple is located on the western aspect of the town of Somnathth. The city is in the state of Gujarat, India. The temple is dedicated to Lord Shiva, one of the deities in the Hindu religion. It had one of the twelve ‘Jyotirlingas’ that were scattered in the various temples in India. Jyotirlinga is one of the formless shapes of the deity. Initial construction had its beginnings in about 400 A.D. and had taken several years in its construction. In later years it was destroyed and the adjacent site was used to restore it to its original glory. At the height of its magnificence it had two thousand priests that called all the devotees to prayer by the ringing of a massive bell very early in the morning when the sun’s rays make their debut over the horizon. A large golden bell hanged in the main hall from the ceiling with a massive chain. The chain was also made of gold. The massive and beautiful temple with its golden dome seemingly touching the sky stood as an indomitable spirit of the Hindu religion and the way of life of the people. It also had wonderful statues of Lord Shiva in his many forms, such as the dancing Natraj, Shiva in meditation on the tiger skin etc., as well as of statues of Nandini the bull that was his constant companion.

Śiva (or Shiva), a God in Hindu religion, takes one of the three forms of the manifestation of God, the others being Brahma and Vishnu, Vishnu is the creator, Brahma is the one who maintains (samsara) life in its various aspects, while Śiva is the destroyer. He has 108 names. He is married to Uma. He is usually depicted as being bare, with ‘vibhooti’ (ash) on his face, a serpent around his neck, and in his various hands, a trident, a water container and a drum. He lives in the mountain called ‘Mount Kailash’ which is part of the mountain range of the Himalayas.

Statues of other incarnations of Lord Vishnu also graced the temple.

On the massive pillars of the temple were etched out the names of the sculptors, as well as of the many other master craftsmen that were instrumental in building and depicting the various deities on the facades of the magnificent temple. It also included the names of the benefactors. Unfortunately the temple along with the pillars was destroyed by the cruel invading armies of Mahmood Gizni. It was said that the pillars and even the doors were made of solid gold.

It is not known exactly the year when it was built originally. After the initial destruction of the original building, it was rebuilt by the Vallabh kings in 480-760 A.D. The original temple was destroyed and the new one was built at the adjacent site. It stands proudly to this day as a monument to mankind’s indomitable and overconfident spirit of revival in the face of all odds. On the west side it faces the ocean, with an enchanting park and walkways adorning it on that side.

In the following years, pilgrims like the Beatles, Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru, Valabhbhai Patel, Maulana Azad and other Presidents of India, Boris Yeltsin from Russia and many others came to pay homage in this wondrous and awe inspiring temple.

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CHAPTER TEN

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MAHMOOD GIZNI

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There is no calamity greater than lavish desires

There is no greater guilt than discontentment

And there is no greater disaster than greed

Lao-tzu 600 B.C.

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he year was A.D. 1025. The ruler at the time in Afghanistan was called Ameer (=king) Sabtgin Gulham. He had married a woman called Zabuli. The couple had two sons; the older son was named Ishmael while the younger son was called Mahmood. Ishmael inherited the throne after the death of his father. However, soon afterwards there was a war between the armies of the two brothers. It was because of greed and malice they bore against each other. The older, for fear of losing the throne to his younger brother, while the younger man who could not suppress his overwhelming greed and jealousy and hoping to get rid of his brother and become a ruler of the land. Mahmood defeated his older brother in the conflict and ascended the throne. Ishmael died soon after the defeat; the cause of death was unknown and remains a mystery. It probably was a result of some disastrous plot hatched by Mahmood, who made sure that his brother was not a threat anymore.

Mahmood was a mixture of greed and cruelty. He had collected incredible wealth from India over the years, having invaded, looted and desecrated the great and peaceful land repeatedly for about fifteen times. His secret agents had told him that on the shores of the sea in Gujarat was a great town called Somnath. They reported that it was a place that was as holy to the Hindus as Mecca was to the Muslims. It had beautiful Idols. They said that the town had more wealth then that existed in the treasury of any great king. They had asserted that all the wealth that he possessed was nothing unless he conquered Somnath and obtained the wealth that was added to his treasury.

Mahmood’s mouth watered with greed at the news. He collected an army composed of one hundred and fifty thousand men, and in October of 1025 proceeded to invade Saurashtra yet once again. (Saurashtra is a collection of states in India whose people are sun worshippers). After defeating several towns, he approached Prabhas Patan (the other name for Somnath). The town was ruled by Bhimdev Solanki. Bhimdev had been at war with the neighboring states and as a result of the previous skirmish his army had become weak. Bhimdev considered the odds and thought it wise to abscond from the country including his own army which he actually did. Thus he was a deserter and a coward. Even then, without a leader, his army of twenty thousand men waged a war against the invading army of Mahmood Gizni. Despite the fact the defending army no leader in the crucial time of their need and that had to face a disciplined army, making it overwhelming odds that weighed against them, they fought bravely but they lost and the army had to suffer a humiliating defeat.

Mahmood with his army reached Delwada, where he and his men tore down the temples and carried out their nefarious activities of rape and pillage. On January 06, 1026 he reached the city of Somnath. It was a Thursday, and the next day was Friday, a holy day in Islam, so he made the decision to attack on the very same day. However, his army could not make much headway on that day or the next day, by which time the army of Rah Navghan from another town also came into battle. Mahmood slaughtered the army of Rah Navghan as well. The guardians of the temple were trampled to death. Over many dead bodies, Mahmood, along with his son who was the prince and with his army entered the temple. He desecrated the temple along with all the idols. He gave permission to the men of his army to loot the town and do whatever they desired. The temple doors and pillars that were made of solid gold were broken and looted by the men. After 18 days he departed, as he was afraid of further insurgence by the enemy, with another war erupting as a consequence. Bhimsen’s (Bhimdev) army had regrouped, and attacked once again, but they were defeated for the second time. Their leader, the coward Bhimsen, had absconded once again.

Mahmood returned to Gizni with only two thousand men along with some slaves. The slaves were forced to renounce their religion and were made to embrace Islam.

Mahmood lost a lot of men, and in later years became more and more depressed as a result of the loss of his loyal and faithful men that had died in battle. He became a recluse. He missed his brave men and started having nightmares, and even began to relive the extreme tortures his men had performed. Nightmares were his constant companions. He became broken hearted and depressed as time went on. In his depression he felt that he had lost what mattered to him the most. His abysmal depression deepened. On top of that, he caught an intestinal infection and died on April 30 1030 as a result of the disease.

In the wake of the destruction that occurred in the hands of this heartless tormentor and his men, the towns of Sonapur, Junagadh, Dwarka, Girnar, and Palitana suffered the same fate as Somnath. However, these towns were reconstructed to their previous glory in the years that followed, as a result of sheer hard work and imagination of the people of India.

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CHAPTER ELEVAN

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INDIA – 1857, THE SEPOY (SIPAHI) REBELLION

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An eye for an eye makes everyone blind

M. M. K. Gandhi

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‘The lands of any Indian ruler dying without a male heir would be forfeit to The East India Company’

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t was in the year of April 07, 1857, when a fire metaphorically was lit in the subcontinent of India. It became an inferno soon after. In its wake it brought a disaster in the way of torture, murder, starvation of the masses.

The British East India Company had established control of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Burma (Myanmar), and Sri Lanka. In fact it controlled a fifth of mankind, or 14.3 million square miles of land on this earth for a hundred years before trouble erupted!

The company announced that it had all the rights to growing poppy in India, and no one was allowed to grow it except under the auspices and express permission of the British. It was grown under the very suspicious eyes of the masters. Anyone guilty of the infringement was hanged as punishment and as a lesson to all, also as a warning that any person who even thought about infringing the law as laid down by the company would receive the same dire punishment.

Opium was extracted and refined from the poppy, after which the addictive product that was the extract was exported to China. The British exported 1400 tons of opium every year to China! The Emperor of China at one time put a stop of this form of trade and told the British that China would not buy the extremely addictive poison. In fact all the opium was thrown into the sea at Guangzhan (Canton) in 1839. The British could not take the insult, and attacked China, with whose help but the Indian army! The French were also collaborators in the battle. The Chinese lost the island of Hong Kong as a result of the skirmish. The Chinese lost the war and the Treaty of Nanjing gave the British access to the markets in China, although with some restrictions to the missionary zeal by the British. Because of all this, the British burned down the Imperial Summer Palace (Yuan Ming yuan), thus extracting their revenge.

The British bartered tea and silk in exchange for the opium.

Britain at the time was considered to be a nation of swindlers. Business and trade was developed into a fine art by the occupying nation. Their action proved it more than adequately the reputation and in fact underscored as to what they were at the time.

The everyday insult, the humiliation,the depredation, degradation, the creation of heart rending poverty by an unknown master were too much to bear for the Indians.

Exploitation of the people with their cheap labor, the growth and export of Opium to China and taking all the profits, the interference of the British in Hindu traditions like the Sati, where the widowed woman is drugged and made to join her husband on the funeral pyre, a practice to which the British objected to rather vehemently and the unrelenting demand for subservient acquiescence, and the masses of India decided that the interference by the British was a little too much and that enough was enough. The fire that was seething in Indian minds erupted with a force that made it the greatest imperial war that ever was. The spark that ignited the fire started in Meerut, spread to the cities of Cawnpur, Lucknow, and then the inferno spread throughout the nation. It was rightly termed ‘The Evil Wind’.

The year of the uprising in India is permanently etched in the history of man as the darkest day in India. It was a rebellion like no other in the history of mankind

It began on April the 7^th 1857. .

It was 100 years since the war of Plessey when Robert Clive had his resounding victory, and it was in the 20^th year of the reign of the English queen, Queen Victoria.

One example of the British cruelties was as follows:

It happened at the reception of Lord Canning, the Governor General of India in December of 1856. The British bragged over the big empire they had built by the grace of God, stretching from the north, the Khyber Pass to Cape Comorin at the southern tip of India. They had given law and order, and had accepted ‘white man’s burden’ willingly.

One of the servants happened to spill some wine on a beautiful dress of a white lady at the party. Captain Hewson, who was present at the party, took an objection to it. He called the man a black dog, and he felt that an immediate punishment for insubordination was necessary, and to demonstrate to all as to who was the master. He dragged the man outside, and beat him till the man fell on the ground. He kicked him so much that the ‘black dog’ as he was referred to had three broken ribs, and two broken legs. Had it not been for timely interference by Mangal Pandey, one of the Sepoys in the British army, the man was facing certain death because of the extreme brutality.

The British army at the time consisted of 35 thousand Englishmen, and the 257 thousand ‘Sepoys’(Indian name for soldiers) that the British had created. These soldiers and their enemies were involved in a whirlwind of siege, atrocities, forced marches, and extreme brutality that was often called ‘heroism’. These abominations involved not only men, but also women and children. The British garrisons were of Bombay, Bengal and Madras. These garrisons in the main were controlled by the Sepoys, with a sprinkling of the English.

In the years before the gunpowder containers were invented, it came in different containers- one containing Sulphur and the other one Saltpeter while the third one contained Charcoal dust. The proportions were to be mixed properly, and the granules that formed had to be just right. Some fluid had to be added to it, very likely some urine, or alcohol. The granules were then ramrod into the barrel of the musket with a long metal rod. If the granules were packed in not tightly, then they just burnt without affecting the discharge, which was made of lead pellets or other objects. If they were too tightly packed together, it exploded with an unfortunate effect on the owner from the instrument of death. In their spare time, the barrel was oiled to make the passage of the projectiles rather smooth.

In 1853 the Sepoys of the company were introduced to the new Pattern-Enfield rifles. The gunpowder for its projectile containing the powder was covered by paper that was greased with fat. It was rumored amongst the Indians that the fat was from cows or pigs. The end of the greasy paper had to be bitten off with the teeth before inserting the gunpowder into the muzzle of the gun. The gunpowder was then squeezed in with an iron rod, after inserting lead into the barrel. As it is, the Hindus revere the cow, and to a Muslim, a pig is the dirtiest creature on earth. They refused to use this form of weaponry. It gave the British an excuse to try them for insubordination. Those who refused the new rifles were put into Barrackpore Prison. They were humiliated as they were brought forth from the prison, in chains and with their clothes in a dirty state and torn to bits. Some of the mutineers were summarily tried and tied to the mouth of cannon and blown to bits by the British, showing that there was no mercy in British hearts and minds. A man called Mangal Pandey was infuriated, and took justice in his own hands and shot and killed one of the officers. Mangal Pandey was court marshaled and was sentenced to be hanged. The hanging was done on orders from General Malcolm Caterall, a short stubby guy who was obviously an alcoholic. All Indians were infuriated and Mangal on his death became a hero and a martyr to the people of India. The fire was now TRULY ignited, and fanned by the people’s anger, it soon became an inferno impossible to put out.

Mangal Pandey, the man who became a martyr not of his own choosing was originally in the employ of the British. He was a Brahmin, a member of the higher cast in India. He was a Sepoy(militiamen) in the 5th company, 34^th Native Infantry division of the British army. He refused to use the new cartridges that were rumored to be tainted with animal fat. For his disrespect, he was held at Barrackmore Prison, and was later court-marshaled for his refusing to use the cartridges. The British decided to make an example of him by hanging him in broad daylight and in public. Instead of quelling the fire that was burning in Indian minds, it became a volcano of anger. He became a hero and a martyr because he chose to bear the cruel punishment. The Indian masses vented their anger in historic proportions, so much so that it has become permanently etched in Indian history as the blackest day in India.

The last of the Moghul Emperors ruling India was called Muhammad Bahadur Shah. He was a puppet of the British. He was also known to be a ditherer. He co-operated with the Indians for a while, for which he was tried by the British. Even though he was old, about 80 years of age, he was put on trial and found guilty by the British and the sentence was that he was to be deported for life to Rangoon in Burma, where he spent his life in exile and eventually died in ignominy. He had three sons. They were called Mirza Moghul, Khizr Sultan and Abu Bakr. A man called William Hodson, who was the son of a clergyman, captured them and murdered them in cold blood. In a letter to his brother in England, he bragged about the heinous deed that he had carried out without a shred of remorse. His brother in also followed the noble profession of being a minister of the church and had the honor of wearing a white collar, a fact which made it all the more disgusting.

The riots were quelled, and the British eventually regained control by defeating the so called insurgents. The British East India Company was taken over by the queen and became the British Raj. The damage to the country was of course enormous and incalculable. Many thousands on both sides lost their lives. The ‘jewel of the British Empire’ as Sir Winston Churchill called India at one time started to shine bright once again for the British, while the people themselves starved, that also not for the first time in their history.

The people of the land remained in extreme poverty for nearly two centuries as the British had the knack of taking away raw materials, send it to their mother country, Britain, only to manufacture and return it to India and of course sell the fabricated goods at exorbitant prices. The income generated never went to the masses.

As a direct consequence of the human fierce fervidity, the destiny of all men, women and children was abject poverty, and its consequences of starvation, disease, misery and early deaths. The gloom seemed to be never-ending.

Mangal Pandey was the martyr, the hero that had given his life which in turn was the spark that was to light the fire that within a very short time became a raging inferno. The inferno amplified and engulfed the whole of Hindustan. The simmering hate in the Indian hearts was fanned so much so that a volcano erupted, so to speak.

The towns of Somnath, Sonapur as well as many other towns in Gujarat along with many towns all over India suffered the same fate- that of filth, poverty, deprivation, degradation, which went on for many years.

It is interesting that Mangal Pandey gave his life to a dream which was eventually realized, when 90 years later, under the relentless leaders like Gandhi, Nehru and others, India got rid of the British and the country won her freedom on 15^th August 1947.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

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JHĂNSI KI RANI (THE QUEEN OF JHĂNSI)

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Lakshmibai of Jhặnsi

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Had any Christian bishop visited that scene of butchery when I saw it, I verily believe that he would have buckled on his sword

British Field Marshal Sir Garnet J. Wolseley, 1857

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he fiery queen is often referred to as the ‘Joan of Arc’ of India. Her husband was the Maharajah of Utter Pradesh, one of the provinces of India. The British had made it a law that any man that departed this world without a male heir would have his land forfeited to the East India Company. The queen was angered, as on the death of her husband, and not having a male heir, she was going to lose the kingdom. The kingdom boasted of its holy cities like Ayodhya, Mathura, Varanasi, the kingdom where the holy river Ganges, Yamuna, and Narbda flowed through: it was the land that had the famous Babri Mosque that was built by the emperor Babur. It was famous. It is a place also where the ‘Stupas’ of Buddhism were located, and so also where even Hindu and Jain shrines were located. The threat of the loss of the kingdom was unacceptable to her. She entered the foray. Being skilled in the martial arts, she led an army against the British. Unfortunately in 1858 she died in the skirmish. She died a heroine and stands out as a famous and dazzling star in India, and is remembered and even memorialized as such.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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SONAPUR – ‘CITY OF GOLD’

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he town of Sonapur was located north of the city of Porbander. It was also not far from the town of Somnath. It was of a strategic location for defense as it was situated on a low hill making it possible to have an unhindered view of the wide vista all around. The town had a formidable wall surrounding it, except for one side- the side where a river was located. Invasion from any barbaric hoards overland could be seen in the distance, and so the invading army could be repelled.

The river called River Bhadreswr flowed on its south side as it meandered to the sea. The town also had an advanced system of irrigation and drainage. The life giving waters of the river was the blessing that encouraged the growth of the town. Thus its location, fertile soil, and the revitalizing waters provided not only for its growth but also its prosperity. Arts, culture, knowledge of warfare etc mushroomed apace. A dynasty of Maharajahs followed and lasted for over decades.

Temples, houses, schools, a hospital, and palatial homes cropped up rapidly but in an orderly fashion.

One of the leaders in its later days was called Jaswant Singh. He had an excellent army along with unsurpassed weaponry- bows, arrows, long sturdy spears, shields, armor etc.

However, there was a fly in the ointment.

Babur, a descendant of Genghis Khan or Temuljin (his other name), was a strong warrior with a large well trained, cruel and barbaric army. He invaded from the north i.e. the country of Afghanistan. Atrocious cruelties were carried out by his men. The town could not stand the onslaught of his cruel and fierce army and had no option but to surrender.

In later years, Mahmood Gizni also invaded the town with his enormous army from the north. The city of Sonapur fell to his marauding and overpowering army, even though the army and the people of the city fought valiantly

The town fell into a long period of slumber after each invasion and the prosperity it had enjoyed was forgotten and had become a thing of the past. The town that had a culture and magnificence was now dust. For many years all that remained was the crumbling walls that had surrounded the city at one time. Practically destroyed, discarded and neglected buildings and other signs of devastation and abandonment was present everywhere. Soil erosion, dry periods followed by devastating flash floods caused by monsoon rains, made it impossible to grow any crops. Growing sustainable plant life for food was impossible. Residents of the town suffered from abject and sordid poverty as well as starvation. Many people left in droves to look for a better life elsewhere. One large area that now showed the remnants of palaces and other buildings that belonged to a glorious and wonderful past was now overgrown with thickets, gorse and thistle, and all kinds of shrubbery, all of it making the area and even the city very uninviting.

The depression that affected the people in the city was not to last forever. Once again, as we shall see, lady luck smiled at her and she was propelled into fame once again.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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DEEPAK PATEL IN INDIA

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Man does not weave the web of life- he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself

Chief SEATTLE. 1854

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t one time it was thought that there was the palace of a Maharajah located in the southeast corner of the town of Sonapur. It was also rumored that a great king, along with all of his aides lived there and that in fact lived with his brother, close relatives and his retinue lived out their lives there after many years. It was also rumored that he was also very sad as he had lost his queen before taking residence in the place.

The wall that surrounded the old town, as well as the many scattered buildings in one particular area was now crumbling from the ravages of time and neglect. However, they were obviously steeped in antiquity. The magnificent and beautiful façade that was at one time a palace that had existed some eons past was self evident by the fact that it occupied a large area; the rooms themselves appeared to be palatial and grand, as was obvious when one saw the foyer, the meeting rooms, dining halls, bedrooms, the main hall where the courts were held etc. Sanitation appeared to be in an advanced state for the time. Archaeological digs in the years that followed its discovery showed that there was an advanced system of irrigation, indubitably quite ahead of its time. The structures were not of ordinary wood or cement, but almost totally of marble. The beautiful statues that were made of marble, as well as the magnificent façades which were made of the same marble, although all of which was showing a considerable degree of deterioration, seemed to have withstood the ravages of time that went over probably for over some two thousand years. Although many of the statues were broken, or had deteriorated, the delicate craftsmanship was self evident. It was obviously a city of power, wealth and culture at one time. The area was now overgrown with brambles, thistle, gorse and many other weeds. Broken blocks of stones from the structure were everywhere, some half buried in the mud, which had discolored the blocks themselves. From afar, it seemed like an uninviting place, but Deepak was convinced that it was a very different place, worthy of attention and study.

Our man, Deepak, as mentioned above, was a resident of Sonapur. His full name was Mr. Deepak Jashbhai Patel, or D.J. for short. He was a bright man, with sharp eyes, well versed not only in the history of Gujarat, but that of the whole of India. He was dressed in a long white shirt coming up to his knees, and matching white pants, flared at the bottom. He always rode his bicycle and was very proud of his little vehicle. He was a personality once seen never forgotten. He was a rent collector for a landlord that let houses that were scattered all over the town. It was his job to go to all the houses and collect the rental payments that were due as well as ensuring that the property under his care was looked after and that also in a proper manner as was expected of him by the landlord, who was a rather fussy man. He would visit various households, and being very inquisitive by nature inundated people with a thousand questions, so it seemed. Many of the questions were not related to his work, but were related to a history of the place that was at the edge of town, the area that held his fascination. He had often visited the ruins of the palace as well as the remains of a mosque that was also adjacent to it.

The ruins that he often meandered through held an unsurpassed fascination for him. There were some buildings that could have been even three stories high at one time, with elaborate gilded high ceilings, beautiful friezes, clay and stone conduits for draining water and sewage, staircases and columns of marble, with arrangements made for natural light to flood in and illuminate the interior of the palace

Like every Hindu, apart from hearing many stories that were steeped in mythology, including the tale of ShreeRamchandra which he knew by heart. Like many others, he felt in his heart that it was a true story. ShreeRamchandra was said to be an Avtar (incarnation) of Lord Vishnu and was commonly referred to as Ram. His reign had ended some three thousand years ago when he gave his kingdom to his two sons- Luv and Kush.

The story of Ram is a little long. Suffice it to say that he had to spend 14 years in the forest along with his brother Laxman, and his wife Sita. He had lost his wife to mother earth when he was much older. He reigned over the land while he resided in the city of Ayodhya. The sad occasion of losing his wife occurred when they were residing in this city, being the capital at the time. It was nearer the end of their lives. She was swallowed up by the earth just as she was born of the land. On leaving Ayodhya to his two sons, Ram took up residence in Sonapur, so the story went. It was rumored that he had passed the last days of his life along with his brother Laxman and his entire entourage in the town, where he eventually left his mortal coil to ascend to heaven.

While Deepak often visited the ruins when doing his rounds and collect the rents that were due, he kept a sharp eye out at the devastation for artifacts that might signify a meaning as he sauntered the area; he was looking for objects that might be of significance and worthy of attention although he did not have the foggiest what it was that he was looking for. It was almost as though he was looking for a treasure like the Holy Grail with the Chalice containing the blood of Jesus Christ the Lord. For him hid mind was very tantalized and he would often be filled with an unaccountable thrill.

He was not averse to turn over even a large stone, or even pick up a spade in his hands and dig in the area that held his attention for some reason or other. As one would expect, he was often quite alone as he meandered along in his intense activities. However, he did have company of a sort. His company often was troupes of macaque monkeys who seemed to take a share in his curiosity. These monkeys at times screeched with alarm as they made a sudden burst and ran away for unknown reasons. At that time, even he was full of a fearful foreboding, amounting to an unknown terror, as the forest of Gir, which was close by, housed the ferocious lions. It was the only place in the whole of Asia where lions were to be found.

At the edge of one of the area was of particular interest to him. There was a more exuberant growth of weeds like white chinqfoil, goldenrod, fireweed and a multitude of ferns in the area. Further on were some neem trees, the one they called limbdo in Gujarati. About a hundred yard away the semi desert started. The dry parched land was many square miles; the land was called the ‘Gir Forest’. It was a world Heritage site. The forest grew dry bushes along with many acacia trees. Among them were many well fed deer, and many other creatures, like rabbits, rats, black bears and of course a plethora of bird life. The Asian lion that lived in the forest was never seen as it was well satiated, but an occasional roar could be heard, which could freeze anyone’s blood, be it man or beast.

In fact it was the only place in Asia where the lion was to be found.

At times he was filled with an unknown terror for no reason. It was then that he would look over his shoulder with concern and a foreboding of an unknown danger, but of course, nothing ever happened.

As he wondered through the area with his delightful company of chatty monkeys, he remembered the fable of the monkey as his mother used to tell him. It always brought a smile on his face. The story was as follows:

At one time the monkeys in the jungle gathered under a tree for a meeting they considered of some importance. They expressed their frustration and concern that none of them would be known and become famous on their passing. They thought that they, or any one of them, should do something remarkable once in their lifetime. One of the monkeys thought that it would be remarkable and unforgettable if one of them went and slapped a lion. All of them agreed. So one day, one of the monkeys saw a lion that was asleep. He went there and slapped him. The lion woke up with a roar, and was mad with the insult. He gave a chase to the monkey. The monkey ran, and as he ran, he saw a newspaper on the ground. He took it up immediately, and behaved as though he was reading it, and sunk his face behind the paper. The lion approached and saw someone reading a paper. He moved the paper and asked the reader if he had seen a monkey running away. To this the monkey replied, ‘Do you mean the monkey that slapped a lion’. The lion was awed, and wondered if the news was already in the newspaper. He slunk away in shame with his tail hidden between his legs!

On one particular day, as he wondered through the deserted area he beheld a finely carved beautiful piece of marble protruding from the earth. It was the part of an elaborately carved part of a throne that probably graced a powerful king and very likely a long time ago, as he imagined. It was in a poor and dilapidated state. As he dug, he beheld an interesting object underneath it. It was a wooden sandal, worn by the Indians in that area some thousands years ago as he could judge by its architecture and form. It seemed to be well preserved and escaped the ravages of time. It was only slightly broken, and at the edges it was somewhat frayed. Some small segments were also missing. It had a faint smell of sandalwood, and was about eleven thumb’s length, and seven in its widest part. Probably a slightly taller person than average, he mused. It was well preserved as mentioned, although the bottom part of it was worn from wear. The upright pillar was also somewhat damaged and deteriorated, and had a ragged edge to it on the outer side. A small piece from the outside had gone, making it ragged. From its configuration it obviously belonged to the right foot.

He handled it with extreme reverence. He wrapped it gently with the cloth that was in his pocket and took it home immediately. The next day he showed it to some of his learned friends. They were of the opinion that it probably was of a great significance. Some thought that in all probability it adorned the foot of a deity, very likely, Ram. The news spread like wildfire. Excitement in the town began to rise, and reached a crescendo in no time. A delegation of scholars, made up of members from the cities of Ayodhya and Delhi paid him a visit.

(As one reads the history of the period in many books, it is written that Ram had returned to the city of Ayodhya after doing his penance, which was to scour the countryside like a vagabond for fourteen years. Many years later the Hindus had built a temple at the very site where he had ascended the throne of the once mighty city after returning from his banishment. In the ensuing years the temple was torn down by the moguls- the Muslim rulers and a mosque built at the very site. Many years later, a conflict arose as each religious clan was claiming to be an authority on the place. Riots had ensued, and often they became quite violent with the loss of many lives as a consequence. The fate of the area even to this day is still in limbo).

The return of Ram to Ayodhya is still celebrated by the Hindus in India and even all over the world as Diwali or the ‘festival of lights’ by the followers of the same religion.

The learned men of the delegation had a long conversation with him. They also examined the sandal. They asked Deepak to lead them and show the location where he had obtained the said article. The men could not hide their excitement. Even they formed the opinion that it probably belonged to a great king in the past. A trusteeship for the care of the footwear was formed, and of course, control over it was slowly slipping away from his hands. From then on, the members that formed the delegation took care of the object.

A sliver of wood from the sandal was sent to Britain for analysis. It was sent to the famous and highly regarded laboratories of Sir Henry Sims. It was also possible to scrape off some cells that were adherent to the base of the piece. These were also sent in a separate specimen jar, after treating it with appropriate preservatives.

The laboratory specialized in analysis of historical archeological finds throughout the world. Radioactive 14 Carbon dating of the piece showed that it was some three thousand years old. Sir Henry himself had appeared on television to clarify and illustrate the findings. Many eyes throughout the world were focused on what he had to say with regards to the specimens that were sent to his famous laboratory. He was careful in his choice of words as he talked to the interviewer. He said that the chromosomes in the cells were unique in that in length they were all longer than that of any human chromosome. However, the number was 46, confirming that it was from a human. The sex chromosomes confirmed that it was from a human male. Sequential and T-Wave vibration analysis of the DNA, the real messenger of the Genes which were located in the chromosomes was also rather interesting, as it was rather unique, and did not resemble any of the human genome structure that was mapped out lately. The different modes of analysis only helped to confirm its unique structure, and it was not known to be similar to that of any human being, alive or now extinct. The deductions being that as the chromosomes were longer, the number of Genes was increased to twice the number as compared to the chromosome of any human as demonstrated by Gene Sequencing. He was rather esoteric in trying to explain what DNA and RNA etc were, and that recent discovery showed that RNA was indeed like a Gene, rather than it being just a messenger, as was once thought. Thoron Emission Analysis, as well examination with the T.E.Scanner of the small sliver of wood showed it to be about three thousand years old, give or take a hundred years.

He expressed the opinion that because of these findings, the cells belonged to a far superior and a very intelligent living being. He thought that they could be the cells of a deity, and the possibility that they were from none other then of the revered Ram himself could not be excluded, and the possibility was that it indicated that the cells, and the sliver of wood that was presented to him signified that they belonged to Ram..

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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TEMPLE

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Buddirbalam Yasho Dhiryam Nirbhayatvam Arrogata

Ajaadyam Vaakpatutvamchiva Hanumatsmaranaadbhhaveet

(Hanuman’s prayer to Lord Rama)

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he joyful news spread like wildfire. It was akin to finding ‘The Ark of the Covenant’, carrying the word of God and the Ten Commandments given to mankind by Moses. The delegation that had seen Deepak earlier had of course also heard of the great news. The very site where the sandal was found was chosen for building a temple that was to have no rival in India or elsewhere. Arrangements were made for a celebration to commemorate the event. All the leaders of the different states in India were invited. Included were the luminaries of India- the President, the Prime Minister and many members of the Loak Sabha. A downpour of money also started to flow into the town’s coffers from all over India for a specific purpose that of building a temple like no other. The Government matched all the funds that were raised. Deepak became a hero, albeit only for a short time as we shall see.

Deepak, accompanied by the President of India, Mr. Maulana Kalam Azad, had the honor to lay down the foundation stone in a location where the entrance to the temple was to be. A magnificent temple that seemed to touch the sky was built at the site. The sandal was brought into town with great honor, and the priests recited their mantras day and night for seven days. A beautiful golden throne was constructed, and the sandal was placed on it. Along with it, many statues of marble adorned the background. The statues were of Ram, Sita, Laxman, Bharat, Shatrughna, Hanuman and Sugriv. Wild celebrations went on for about two weeks.

Numerous guests, both local and from overseas, were invited at the opening ceremonies of the wonderful shrine. Festivities included music and dance that went on for days, following on long speeches by the very important people. They all praised the generous and wonderful people of the town. Deepak Patel was singled out as a man of courage, tenacity and intelligence. He was regarded as the most important man who had added a feather in his cap with the significant achievement.

People from all over India and abroad visited the shrine. In fact it became a place of pilgrimage for all devout Hindus for many years. The town of Sonapur became famous as a place for pilgrimage to all Hindus, very much like Mecca is to the Muslims. Large crowds visited the sacrosanct place in the initial years, but as time went on interest in the temple or in the great town itself started to fade. Only the stalwart and the true devotees came to pay homage to the holy place for years. Although Deepak was a part of the committee that was involved in the day to day running of the temple, he gradually became disheartened and could not stand the petty bickering that went on at all the board meetings. He was also disgusted as he noted the petty pilfering and corruption was going on. In the name of religion, many a devotees had turned them into business that made money. He eventually stopped attending the board meetings that ran the affairs of the Temple, lost all interest in its daily activities and as time went on, even his presence was not missed at the meetings.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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DEEPAK’S DEPRESSION

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The message remains, the messenger is soon forgotten

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Everything on earth has a purpose, every disease an herb to cure it, and every person a mission

Mourning Dove

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s time went on, Deepak withdrew from all social activities, including being a member of the board that ran the temple. He continued his other activities though they appeared to be rather mundane, uninteresting and aimless to him. He often wondered amongst the ruins that abound the area, as he went around on his uninteresting job of collecting rent. He felt that he was a man without a mission, a flame that burnt bright at one time, grew dimmer and a sudden waft of wind blew on it and extinguished it, seemingly forever. Financially, his situation did not improve very much. Not only that, he felt that in his life he seemed to be facing disasters of one kind or another continuously.

He pulled back into his own little cocoon, and felt that the only significant thing in his life from that point on was his family, the people that were near and dear to him, that is, his wife, Kamla, whom he adored, and the three children they had together. The eldest was a daughter, while the younger ones were two sons. The daughter was called Aarti, and the sons were Shashikant, and the youngest, last but not least, the hero of our story, Jaysukhlal. The members of his family, and his routine job, that of going round and collecting rent became his only interest.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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AARTI (LIGHT OF DEVOTION)

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Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,

The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly

Shakespeare

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rom the very day of her birth, Aarti was the apple of the eyes of her parents, Deepak and Kamla. They just adored her, and to them, all else faded in her presence. The sun shone on her tiny little face. She was born with a lock of hair that was jet black. Her big brown eyes, appealing nose, tiny cupid like mouth that seemed to smile constantly. Anyone who saw her could not but be impressed by the beautiful baby, or even resist the temptation to play with her.

As time went on, she was joined by two brothers, who, the parents felt, were also sent as a gift from heaven. Every day Deepak and Kamla thanked the Gods for their blessings.

However, happiness does not last forever, and despite wishing the best for their children, their (the children’s) destiny was not under their control, and indeed may have been the opposite of what they, like every parent, wished.

It was a day like any other. Aarti was about twelve. She had gone by the riverside to play with her friends, as there were no schools in the town in those days. Not only that, but it was not considered important for anyone to go elsewhere to attend school as the appropriate classes were not available locally. It applied especially to girls as it was thought to be a useless vocation for them!

On her return she felt a little feverish and had a sore throat. She complained of a slight headache and a backache. She took to bed without having dinner. Her being unwell continued for a couple of days, and then she lost all appetite for food. Soon after, a rash was noticed on her hands, her face as well as her body. Soon it turned into pustules, discrete elevated spots that appeared to be full of pus. In a few days, the pustules formed scabs that dropped off, leaving depigmented scars. From the beginning the parents were concerned, and as the disease showed up its ugly head, they were devastated but kept up a brave face. Aarti had become the center of their full attention. They looked after her day and night, taking turns to sponging her with cool refreshing water. Ayurvedic medicine was supplemented to her daily diet. By their insistence, she continued to take sips of fluid, and a little solid food. For a few days she was delirious, and it seemed like her life was in the balance. As the case became more serious, it was touch and go that she may expire. It was obvious that she had small pox, and gradually almost everyone stopped visiting the family. As luck would have it, she started to improve. Her activities slowly increased and the parents breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, every pustule that was on her face turned into a scar. Her face remained scarred forever and obviously marred her beauty.

Some pustules had also developed around the right eye, and as they healed, the eye was scarred and she became blind in that eye. Her appearances were also not great to look at.

In Deepak’s time in India it was regarded by many that a daughter was chattel. She was a property with a great deal of liability, hence to be married off as soon as possible. The dowry system was strong, and the bridegroom’s parents could command almost a treasury depending on the assets that the boy possessed. Aarti was hardly fifteen when the parents started to worry. It was reinforced by neighbors, friends, and the clan. As Aarti was not beautiful anymore, a great deal would have to be paid if someone was to be found that would take her hand in marriage. In the nearby town of Charoter, a man was found who would be of suitable age(?) and background. He was a Patel, which is very important for the clan. He was about forty years old. However, he was also stricken by a limp, as he had polio in childhood. The priest in that town thought that he would make a good husband. They also read and interpreted the constellation of planets and confirmed the opinion that they would make an ideal couple. Talks were initiated, and a discussion about a dowry was undertaken as a matter of course. A sum of thirty thousand Rupees was mentioned for the auspicious occasion to take place. Mother and father were crestfallen, and worried continuously as they could not meet the obligation. The town’s moneylender was approached. His name was Kapoor Shah. A shyster if there was one. He said he was willing to lend the money, but would take Deepak’s house, as well as the few acres he possessed as collateral. On top of that, he said the interest would be reasonable, but anyone who knew him knew that it would be nothing of the kind. However, Deepak’s hands were tied as the saying goes, and he could do nothing about the obvious gouging. Further debts also mounted as he also had to pay for the wedding.

The wedding took place when Aarti was sixteen. It was a joyous occasion, and no holds were barred in the ceremonies. The bridegroom arrived on a horse. He, along with the horse, as well as the party was expansively and exquisitely decorated with all the colors of the rainbow. The marriage ceremonies lasted three days. All the ‘Patels’ in the town were invited. They dined exotic and gourmet food for three days. Eventually the bride said goodbye to the parents. There were heavy hearts as the couple parted for Charoter along with the entourage. The cost of all the ceremonies, which was on top of the dowry, as well as a payment to the priest, was born by the bride’s family, or to tell the truth, one member of the family- Deepak.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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SHASHIKANT

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For young hot colts, being reined, do rage the more

Shakespeare

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hashikant from early childhood was different as compared to his siblings. Born with a large mop of jet black hair, a glint in his eyes, he did not utter even the slightest sound that suggested a cry when he was a baby. He was adored by everyone. As he grew up, he became quite mischievous. Even when he could crawl, he would go to some kitchens and look for the pots that held water, and topple them over. He would break things or even hit out. In later life, he was popular with the gangs that terrorized the small town. He was a natural born leader, and logically became the leader of one of these gangs. He would go along to the waters edge where the water maidens came to collect water and fill the pots with the water. These pots that were made of clay were then balanced on their heads or held on the side of their lithe bodies. Some of them washed their clothes by bashing them against a large stone, when it appeared that they were torturing these clothes rather then washing them. These maidens often left their clothes on the shore while they took a dip in the water, and of course, they could not find the clothes they had left behind on the rocks when they came back! The culprit was obvious! He would also bring out his naughtiness by throwing stones at the clay pots these maiden’s were carrying. He, along with the gang, would hide behind the trees as they threw the missiles, usually stones. Almost all the water would be spilt, to the dismay of the girls. It left the beautiful hardworking maidens without water and very annoyed and angry. The day’s hard work had amounted to naught, and they would have to buy new water container, which annoyed their guardians. Complaints with regards to his objectionable behavior reached his parent’s ears almost every day.

He was a strong and healthy fourteen year old boy when the worried parents thought and were also advised by some of the well wishers that he would settle down if he got married and thus stop his annoying habits. The priests who are always aware of these things and keep their eyes open and ‘match making’ had noticed a suitable girl in the nearby town of Charoter. A quiet word was whispered into the ears of Deepak Patel. He discussed with his wife and they both agreed that the idea seemed very appropriate. Messages went backward and forwards, as the engagement was being finalized. The question of dowry came up. The boy did not have great assets, and would not fetch more than ten thousand Rupees. The parents of the girl were fairly well off, and agreed to the price. The girl’s name was Radha. After the priests studied the stars, and the getting together of the planets, and the studying of Astrological charts as per ancient Hindu custom, the date for the wedding was finalized, and the appropriate wedding ceremony took place on the auspicious day. The knot was tied between Shashi and Radha. The money gave Deepak somewhat of a breather. However, his debt was huge because of the previous marriage of his daughter, and his depression and feeling of hopelessness continued unabated.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

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JAYSUKHLAL

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Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke

Lynn Barry

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Love is not blind- it sees more. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less

Rabi Julius Gordon

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ur hero was named Jaysukhlal (pronounced Jay Sookh Lal). His character was true to his name- Jay- glory be, such- contentment, peace, and lal- beloved son. However, his life was like a puppet in a game where he did not seem to have any control, the strings being pulled by an unknown source and force. Although he may want to steer the vessel of his life in a particular direction, in reality, it appears that he did not have any real control over it as it pitched and tossed in the stormy ocean that we call life. The vessel that harbors the soul has its own direction and the sailor is lost. It is like the rudder of a ship that has its own intelligence. Despite all that, he brought truth, beauty and joy in the lives of everyone he came across in his extreme and caring efforts.

From the cradle, he was a bright baby and soon to become the apple of his parent’s eyes. Easy to please, always obedient, he asked a lot of questions that pertained to Hindu Mythology. His mother would not let him out of her sight, even when he was much older. She took him along everywhere she went.

It was said that great omens were seen when J.D. was born, and it was interpreted that a great soul had taken birth in the town of Sonapur. For no apparent reason the newly constructed temple had a glow for the whole night, holding all the residents of the town in owe. The sky had gone dark, and there was thunder and lightening in Gujarat as never seen before, yet Gujarat was no stranger to natures wrath in thunder, lightening, earthquakes, floods, famines etc. The glow followed soon after his birth and disappeared afterwards. At the same time, the local priests observed that a snake, a cobra no less, was seen climbing up a green tree-always thought to be a good omen. On the next morning, the priest observed that all the food and the milk that was offered to the Gods in the temple was consumed. It was a mystery, as the doors were locked overnight. The milk was in front of the statue of Lord Ganesha. In the morning, one of the priests offered the milk to the Lord for an unknown reason, and to his amazement, all the milk was sucked up. It was even more amazing that all the statues of the said Lord, in India and elsewhere, showed the same remarkable phenomenon. It lasted exactly a month, and ended abruptly.

However, many did not see the connection between out hero’s birth and these celestial events.

One day a sadhu, or a holy man came to the town, as he had heard so much about the town. He had heard of Deepak, and his devoted wife Kamla. He took steps to the house that belonged to the couple, after enquiring from friends and neighbors as to where the house was. Kamla welcomed him, and gave him water to drink. She insisted that he has a meal before he leaves. In India, it is an insult to refuse a meal. However, the holy man said she was kind, but he had come to see her son. At the same time, Shashi was seen coming to the house, in his usual playful manner. She greeted the Sadhu, but the Sadhu was not pleased. He told Kamla that that was an ordinary boy. He asked if Kamla had another son to which she shook her head in the affirmative. J.D. walked in soon afterwards. He was introduced to the holy man, to whom he greeted with his usual humble manner, and said, ‘Jai, Shree Krishna’. He was impressed and in fact felt overwhelmed. He asked the mother if there were portends at his birth. She said that she believed that certain events had taken placed at his birth, but these were of a nature not unseen in these parts, but they were concentrated on that day. The Sadhu just stared at our hero, and then he closed his eyes to obtain an inner vision. Tears flowed from both his eyes onto his cheeks and beyond. He opened his eyes, and told Kamla that his day was made, and that he must go. Kamla begged him to stay, and meet her husband, and insisted that he partake of a meal. He refused, and got ready to leave. He walked to the door and vanished into thin air. It was said that a deity had visited the household, and that great events would occur in the child’s life that would affect all mankind.

Years passed and he, like everyone human being was pushed into the troublesome teenage years by unknown forces. As one can imagine, his mother could not follow him everywhere, as he had a habit of wondering alone in the countryside at different and odd hours. As he was playing alone in the country, he came across a maiden the likes of whom he had never seen. She was dressed in Islamic attire- a headscarf, dressed in a full length grey dress, which was straight, with no accentuation of any curves of the body. She had beautiful appealing eyes, a face that can even make the moon disappear in its beauty in comparison, so he thought. She seemed to be floating in the enchanting colors of all the wild flowers. At first glance he realized that the angel he saw would be his lifelong partner, if he could help it. On the first encounter, the only greetings were with their eyes. J.D.’s nights were now in havoc, as he tossed and turned every night in torpor in memory of her. He was bewitched beyond his wildest dreams. He resolved to see her the next day, and hoped that she would be at the same place where he had seen her the day before. It was not to his amazement, as he half expected her to be there and she was indeed there. Smiles and a hello were exchanged. J.D.’s happiness knew no bounds, as his heart, his mind and he was filled with ecstatic music.

It was as though Dante had met his Beatrice, Romeo had met his Juliet, Laila had met her Majnu, Shiri had met her Farhad. He thought his Divine Comedy was written by an unknown hand. He did not realize that it would also be a tragedy mixed with joy in their future years.

From then on, they would meet at the same spot every day. He learnt that she was the daughter of a local businessman called Mia Jamat Bismillah. Apart from her parents, she had two older brothers. All the members of the family members were staunch supporters of the faith of Islam.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

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MUMTAZ

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‘Next her hair, forehead fair,

Smooth and high, neat doth lie,

Without wrinkle,

Her fair brows; under those,

Star-like eyes win love’s prize,

When they twinkle.

In her cheeks who seeks

Shall find there beauty’s banner;

O admiring desiring

Breeds, as I look still upon her’

Shakespeare

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.D. was in cloud 9. The joie de vivre that this beautiful young lady possessed was evident to him even in her eyes as he beheld her. Every fiber in his body danced with an indescribable inner joy. Daydreaming, to him music danced in the arch of the rainbow that form on a rainy day. He imagined the petals of flowers of all kind shower her from the rainbow as the angel floated by, in her beauteous flowing dress, which even covered her head, but the gleaming eyes themselves told of her enchanting beauty behind the mask. As time went by, and their visits became more frequent, he could see that she had great ambitions, and that she could see beyond the narrow bounds of her people and religion, either that of hers or of any other. Every day was a new day to her- a day of challenge, a day to savor; a day in which to love life, to love all living things that called the earth home.

Although she was covered from head to toe in her Hijab, as her Islamic tradition required, he could see her beauty in her eyes. They were gentle greenish blue, like the ocean on a calm and beautiful day. His enchantment, his joy, knew no bounds, and each day he longed to see her, behold her and to hold her. His attraction was eternal, so he felt, and that his search for a partner who would share his life was complete. He felt that she was his raison d’être for living from now on. He had found his soul partner.

She also saw something in J.D.’s eyes, in his demeanor, his stance, his outlook, his manliness and his ambition for a bright future, and she was immediately drawn towards him. Love had obviously surpassed all bounds of race, religion, color etc. Their meetings gradually became more frequent. She looked forwards to their meetings as much as he did.

J.D. and Mumtaz met daily and in the same place. They made some excuse or other at home to get away, and proceeded to meet at their enchanted spot. However, as time went by, some of the family members started to get suspicious. One day Mumtaz’s brother followed her without her being aware that she was being followed. He was like a tiger-stealthy, crouching, a stance suggesting that he was about to pounce on a helpless victim. He saw their meeting together, and he could see clear as daylight that romance was obviously the fragrance in the air. He only had to go and report what he had seen to his family. It provided a spark that would light an enormous destructive fire. The family was steeped in anger. They were strict Muslims, and the transgression, in their personal views and according to the Shari’a or Hudud Law did not at her too look kindly at her. The punishment was severe and unimaginable. The older son felt that the honor of the family must be protected, and he was even prepared to spill blood if needed. (Some members in some of the families that follow the faith are even known to throw acid in a girl’s eye to protect the family’s honor! Or even murder her if she was stubborn and would not listen to reason!). The boy did not care even if some disaster befell his young and beautiful sister and as a consequence of which she was even to die. Her beauty was of no consequence to him. It is hard to believe that he had these thoughts even though she was his own flesh and blood and that they had grown together as a loving brother and sister.

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CHAPTER TWENTYONE

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ISLAM

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Ulama, the person who absolutises the Shari’ah punishment according to Hudud Laws.

Quaran 24.2 ‘The adulteress and the adulterer you shall whip each of them a hundred lashes. Do not be swayed by pity from carrying out God’s Laws, if you truly believe in God and the Last Day. And a group of them witness their penalty’.

N.B. the above has degenerated into death by stoning of the woman.

Afghanistan has adopted the harsh Islamic Law, in that thieves will have their hands amputated, drinkers of alcohol will be whipped, murderers will be decapitated by a sword, and anyone who commits adultery will be publicly stoned to death.

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ccording to the Shari’ah law, adultery is punishable by death. The distraught woman is stripped naked, and then a rope is tied around her from the neck down extending to her toes. A large hole is dug in the ground, and the woman is inserted in it but kept vertical in the ground. The hole is filled with dirt, with the woman’s head being above ground, hence visible to all. A passerby, or any one who is present may have the privilege to cast the first stone and hit her head. After that, it is free for all, and this cruelty, this barbarity is carried out till the woman dies. The family can look on and many of them even feel that justice was being done. When it is all over, the family takes the body for burial, feeling vilified in that all shame for the outrageous behavior of a member of the family received appropriate and a justifiable punishment and the family honor once again restored.

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CHAPTER TWENTYTWO

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MIA JAMAT BISMILLAH’S QUANDARY

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Are the beauteous petals of a flower being shed?

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No punishment of the unrighteous has ever been too severe in the eye of the righteous

Author unknown

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ia Jamal Bismillah was in a quandary. He had just heard about his favorite daughter’s clandestine activities from his son. His daughter, the joy of his family, and even of his own life, had let him down badly. He was depressed. He felt that his honor and that in fact the reputation of the whole family was at stake. He, like many of his faith, felt rather strongly that honor was paramount and even beyond the love he had for his family. He confronted her. She demurred but did not deny any of the accusations. She remained adamant and said that she loved the boy and would not abandon him at any cost. His father pleaded with her, asked her, requested that she banish him from her thoughts, and even threatened her, all to no avail. He felt that the girl had to be punished for her insolence, even though he had a heavy heart. He slapped her on the cheek. The rest was easy, as he hit her over the eye, and over the body, cracking a couple of her ribs. The girl remained defiant. He dragged her to her room and flung her onto her bed. He found a pair of scissors and cut off a large lock of her hair. He left the room with the scissors by her side, hinting to her that she had to finish the job of cutting off the rest of her hair herself. In her agony she obliged, and cut off her hair piece by piece, with her hands, although her mind that was totally numb. He was till unhappy and decided to ground her. She was not to step outside the house without his permission. He was also aware of their strict Islamic laws and even he dreaded the future for her and the family if word got out about her transgressions.

She was imprisoned in the house for days, with strict orders that she was not to communicate with anyone in the outside world. For a few days he had kept her under lock and key.

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‘Solitary confinement is a punishment in every human culture’

Louis M. Bujold

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CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE

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PANCHAYAT- A PENAL OF FIVE JUDGES

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anchayat is essentially a tribunal of five village elders that are chosen by the villagers to sit in judgment of the accused. They are evident in various small towns and villages in India. The five comprise a panel under a leader who is chosen by them, and they sit in judgment over the accused and have the authority to find the accused guilty or innocent and hand out punishment accordingly.

An emergency meeting of the Panchayat was held in Sonapur. It was held under a huge oak tree under the shade of which a podium was built. On the podium the judges would sit when the ‘court’ was in session. Arvind Shastri was the presiding judge in the village. It was convened as an emergency to hear the grievances with regard to Deepak Patel and his family. All the judges made themselves comfortable on the platform. A large crowd had gathered for the most part out of curiosity, boredom and even secretly hoping for an entertaining show. The complaints were twofold- one was that Deepak was always lagging behind in his repayments of the loan that he had obtained for his daughter’s marriage. The loan was from a man called Kapoor Shah. The other one was with regards to his son, Shashikant, who was always creating trouble by starting fights, or breaking the pots that were carried by the water maidens, generally on their heads, or rarely, on the waist.

After considerable discussion, he was found guilty on all charges. He had to repay the full amount within three months. His son was also put on probation, and it was a unanimous decision by the judges that if there were any further complaints about him within a period of one year, then he would be banished from the town.

Deepak was at a loss. The people of the town that had at one time respected and even loved him were now his enemy. He felt that his children had also let him down. He remained depressed for days as he could not see a way out of his dilemma. The depth of his despair increased as time went by. He had also heard about his son Jaysukhlal’s covert and furtive meetings with Mumtaz.

He felt that he must pay a visit and even plead with the man who had leant him the money as he in his deep dejection felt that there was no way he could repay the loan in the allotted period.

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CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

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KAPOOR SHAH- THE LOAN SHARK

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A poor man with money is not necessarily a rich man. He can still be a poor man

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‘Lack of money is the root of all evil’

G.B.Shaw

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apoor SHAH, a longtime resident of the town, was a man to go to for money. A cunning man, despised by all, he was so physically deformed that it was rumored that the midwife at his birth slapped the mother! His right hand had a congenital defect by the fact that it had an extra but useless finger, just in front of the thumb. It hung there like an ugly useless appendage. He had lost one eye from a childhood illness. His beaked nose gave him the looks of a hawk, and gave an impression of him being permanently suspicious. He had a nasal voice that added a high pitched quality to his utterances. However, it was well known that he had a lot of money, and anyone who wanted a loan should go to him. It was thus that Deepak had fallen into the net of the shark that literally started to bleed him with his high interest rates and seemingly unending charges.

He was a bachelor and lived alone just outside of town. He lived in a small hut, and did his own chores of cleaning, cooking and maintaining his house the best way he could. On one particular day he saw Deepak coming up the path. His mouth watered and his eyes lit up as he expected to see some money. However, he was disappointed in that. He indicated to Mr. Patel that he should sit down, which the latter did rather humbly. He was rather subdued and requested in a humble manner if he could get an extension on his loan. That was denied, not only that, but it angered Mr. Shah, who demanded that the terms of the agreement be followed to the letter. He told the visitor to leave immediately. Arguments escalated, and he threatened violence with a long sturdy stick. Mr Patel made out to defend with his own armament which was a weapon of a similar design. Blows were exchanged. With a heavy swoosh, Patel hit the disgusting fellow on the head. Mr. Shah lost his footing. The ground was muddy, and there was no support nearby. He fell backwards. Deepak, in his anger continued his beating. He hit him rather hard, once on his head, and once on the chest even though the man was on the floor and crying heavily and begging for mercy. He even prayed that an angel of mercy or his favorite Durga would save him. He rolled on the floor in agony, and slowly but surely, breathed his last after writhing and jerking a few times. No matter how hard Deepak tried to revive him, it failed. The man’s invocations were of no use to him, as his saviors had turned away their heads in disgust. He stood over the body, not feeling an ounce of remorse. However, he was in a quandary as to what to do with a dead body. He dragged the body which was rather heavy and limp, into the hut and laid it in a corner. He covered it with some material that was available.

It was only then that he started to think, and was gripped by fear. He was sure someone would notice the money lender’s absence in the village within a few days, and enquiries were of course bound to lead to the eventual exposure of the perpetrator of the crime. It would only be the matter of a few days at the most.

Deepak rushed home. He was in turmoil, and told the members of his family what had happened. He felt that the family must leave town as soon as possible. He told all of them without mincing words, as to what had happened, and his chances of being apprehended and punished. Arrangements were made for an almost immediate departure. He told his wife, Kamla to go to her parents and stay there until the situation had quietened down. He would eventually send for her in the future from wherever he was. He had no idea as to where he along with others would land would go to and start a new life.

Shashikant and his wife were energized and thought that it was an opportunity to go elsewhere and start life anew. Jaysukhlal presented a problem in that he would not leave without his beloved Mumtaz.

It was days since Mumtaz was meted out her punishment by her father. He had relaxed some of the rules that had her bound to the house. She was allowed to go and fetch water from the nearby river.

On the particular day, she had quietly gone to the river for the water, hoping not to be seen by prying eyes. She did not want anyone to see the black eye she had, or other bruise marks on the face. The other bruises which were on her body were well hidden, thanks to her Islamic attire that covered her but leaving her face exposed. As she bent forwards to fill her earthen pot with the cool water, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. She turned round, only to see her beloved Jaysukhlal standing there. He told her of the situation, and the urgency of leaving town. He begged her to join his family in the venture.

She did not even have to think. She agreed immediately, as her father’s anger knew no bounds, and even now when she had seen him that day, he appeared to be seething under that calm exterior of his. Her brother was also in no mood to smooth things over. The whole family had felt that the reputation of the family was at stake, and any punishment dished out to her would be well deserved by her. She also knew that she could not go home, or even inform the family about her imminent departure, thus being denied the opportunity to bid her final adieu to all that were near and dear to her. She realized all of this with a heavy heart. Her love for J.D. was paramount, and without a moment’s hesitation, she agreed to go there and then. It is as though a wounded bird had suddenly found its wings.

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CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE

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SET SAIL FOR AFRICA

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‘Exile, the hopeless word of ‘never to return’, breathe I against thee, upon pain of life’

Shakespeare, King Richard II

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he party made up of Deepak, Shashikant with his wife Radha, Jaysukhlal, and Mumtaz got ready to leave town immediately. It was an agonizing decision but all of them felt that they had no choice. Kamla was sent to her parent’s house in the nearby town. The group collected their belongings which consisted of meager clothes and some food. He also collected the paltry savings he had in the house. They trekked immediately to the nearby town of Porbander, from where they hoped to depart in a dhow to unknown destination post haste.

On the quayside they found a small sailing ship that was ready to depart any moment, as soon as they collected enough passengers. It carried about twelve passengers and a crew of five. Deepak negotiated with the owner of the boat and paid a sum that the owner was prepared to accept, and the group, such as it was, boarded the miserable dinky of a ship that was a shame to all the other ships. The members of his party were vegetarians, and had no interest in the food that the crew indulged into- quite often that of the fish that was the catch of the day along with some rice. They had brought their own prepared food with them, and were willing to starve if need be, but would not indulge in a non-vegetarian diet.

On the next day, the captain declared that the trade winds were in their favor. He gave orders to his men in his own language, which was incomprehensible to our group. The sails were unfurled as the ship set sail for the east coast of Africa. The colorful sunset with an orange glow of the sun seen out in the west was nothing but an inviting enchantment. All the eyes were staring at the horizon, full of wonder, somewhat mixed with anxiety at the challenges, trials and tribulations that the world presented at the start of a new life in an unknown land- the land they called the ‘Dark Continent’.

Food that was Kamla’s cooking with the mouthwatering dishes that the group had taken with them, was consumed with gusto although sparingly. It had various condiments and spices that were a pleasure to behold and tantalizing to the taste buds. At the same time the comfort of home, leaving relatives behind, language, the replete culture of Gujarat, the land and its people etc were all temporarily forgotten, as each one gazed and mentally wondered about their own future as it laid virgin in the far beyond horizon and cogitated as to what awaited them beyond the inviting sun.

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CHAPTER TWENTYSIX

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THE STORM

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‘When anyone asks me how I can best describe my experience in nearly forty years at sea, I merely say, uneventful. Of course there have been winter gales, and storm and fog and the like. But in all my experience, I have never been in an accident….. Or any sort worth speaking about. I have seen but one vessel in distress in all my years at sea. I never saw a wreck and never been wrecked nor was I in any predicament that threatened to end in disaster of any sort’.

E. J. Smith, 1907, Captain, RMS Titanic

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he sailing was smooth.for a few of days The winds were gentle and the ship made good headway. The flat mirror like surface of the ocean with an occasional fish jumping out of the water and disturbing and infuriating the tranquility of nature seemed idyllic. Food was getting to be in short supply as time went by.

However, the calm did not last very long.

All hell broke lose on the sixth day. The sky darkened. The waves started to increase in their intensity. As the wind picked up, the waves increased in size, and started to show whitecaps. It became ferocious soon afterwards. The roughness of the sea increased, and in no time it was a full blown storm. The skies threw a dark blanket over the world. Lightening and thunder started a fearful war dance. The wind started to howl, and like a monster, gradually increased to a frightful intensity. Rain at first slow, increased in intensity, it started to pelt down, and soon became a downpour, so much so that it was impossible to find a shelter on the ship anywhere. A funnel atop a giant twister was seen in some distance. It came in a straight path of devastation towards the ship like a thundering runaway train that had lost its brakes. The captain told everyone to lie down and take a hold of something that would give them support. He also told them to pray. The sails were taken down, and the rudder was tied down. Everyone held their breath, awaiting the full onslaught of nature with dread. Each one said a silent prayer. It seemed like Poseidon was angry, and was about to release his full wrath on the ship. Soon after it was as though a mini atom bomb was released and within a short time, the thundering runaway train engulfed the ship, and started to toss it around as though a giant was playing with his toy. Huge waves formed, and with great violence it turned the ship over in a single pitch and toss. It was crushed as though by a giant vice that the sea had formed around it. Like a turtle, it than did a total flip and turned upside down. The ocean started to extricate lives like a hungry wolf. Deepak and his family of course were no exception. It would appear that most of the people perished as the Gods took their revenge for no reason. It was as though Poseidon himself wanted his revenge. In no time, the ship of no name disappeared into oblivion. It seemed like Odysseus had better odds. Some of the lucky ones held onto the pieces of flotsam that had formed and were floating around. Deepak was on a plank, so was Shashikant. Shashikant was a good swimmer, and held onto the piece that was giving him support. He looked around and saw his wife in a frantic state, struggling and drowning, as she did not know how to swim. He prepared to help her, but at the same time, he also saw his brother Jay also in dire straits. He had little time to decide. Both the members of his dear family were splashing and clawing the water in an effort to survive the enemy- water. His thoughts were that he can obtain another wife, but not another brother. With great effort, like a juggernaut he swam straight for his brother, and in no time he dragged the limp body to his lifesaving plank, which was of an adequate size for two people. On looking around, he could not see his soul mate, his beloved Radha anymore. He was depressed and for a fleeting second he wondered if he had done the right thing. They floated aimlessly for a long time. The sun, in a few hours, started to shine, as though nature was claiming that it was innocent, and the specter of devastation that had occurred had nothing to do with it. All was tranquil once again. The survivors could do naught but float and let nature take its course. They floated without food or water for some days, although it seemed like an eternity, but the strong currents eventually took them near the coast of Mombasa in Kenya. They were semiconscious from exhaustion and starvation when they were beached on the coast of a town called Malindi. The local fisherman, called Bhadalas saw the malnourished, starving, dehydrated bodies on the beach. They looked as though the mighty ocean and perhaps Poseidon himself had wrenched its revenge out of them, and after torturing them in the extreme, they were of no further use and discarded them on the beach. The fishermen brought them under the cool shade of some palm trees, and gave them water to drink. It did the trick, and they were all revived, and regained their strength over the next few days. Deepak’s family, along with a member of the crew, and one of the passengers had survived the ordeal. Deepak looked around with concern. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw most of the members of his family. The smiling face of Radha, a dear member of the family, was not there. It was obvious that the ocean had taken her, seemingly as a sacrifice. However, he was glad to see that Shashikant, along with Jay and his girlfriend, Mumtaz had survived. He prayed and thanked the almighty for giving them a new life. Loss of the one life, that of his daughter-in-law was felt acutely.

After they regained their strength, they were taken to a homeless shelter run by some benevolent Asians. Many of the resident souls were in the same predicament as the new arrivals. They were given simple accommodations, food and some clothing.

Deepak felt that it was time to take stock, and move along as soon as possible. They were afraid that someone would recognize them, and report them to the authorities. Shashikant was getting more depressed as he had lost his life’s companion, his beloved Radha. He read in the local paper that the post of a stationmaster was available in the town of Voi, some hundred miles from Mombasa. He applied for the job, and was accepted.

K.U.R. & H. or ‘Kenya Uganda Railways and Harbors’ had recently completed building a railway line that went all the way to Uganda border, where it hooked up with the line in Uganda. The railway line went to Kampala and beyond. Deepak made up his mind to go to Uganda along with the members of the family that were still with him. He was able to borrow some money from the same outfit, and bought third class tickets for the family to travel to Kampala. The family knew that they had said their goodbye to the land of their birth and it was obvious that they could never go back. They had lost one member of the family to the sea, and another member, Shashikant, had become depressed and noncommunicative. He had chosen a job for working in the outback in Kenya, devoid of his family. The place his son had chosen had no real way of communication.

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CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN

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UGANDA – THE PEARL OF AFRICA

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‘We have always held to the hope, the conviction that there is a better life. A better world, beyond the horizon’

Franklin D. Roosevelt

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‘Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds’

Chief SEATTLE

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he train that took them to Uganda was full of people of all races and colors. They were mostly immigrants to the strange land, looking for a better life. A land that was green, luscious, inviting, but also full of diseases waiting to attack the unwary. Diseases like Malaria, Black water fever, Bilharzia (Schistosomiasis), Toxoplasmosis, Toxocariasis, Tape worms, Filariasis, Leishmaniasis, hookworm and round worms, Trypanosomiasis, Tuberculosis, and many many others. One attack by one of these malevolent diseases and one may as well say goodbye to the world after a lot of pain and suffering. The specter of AIDS was to follow some years later. Ebola was eyeing the country with avarice.

The group that disembarked from the train at the town of Kampala was a sight to see. Deepak, with his long coat, white pants, Nehru cap and an impressive moustache seemed like a person who had come to survey the land for investment purposes. He was handsome, and appeared to be self-confident. His attire, mannerisms had changed so much that one would not even think that it was the same person who had left triumph and tragedy back in India. He was accompanied by his son Jaysukhlal, or J.D. (for short), and Mumtaz, J.D.’s girlfriend. Mumtaz had begun a new life with a new name, Manjula. Some years later, he was to send for his wife Kamla to join them. All of them were eager to work, and start any form of activity that would be profitable and that also as soon as possible. Nobody in fact knew that J.D. and Manjula had never married, although they were to have children in later life.

No sooner had the dust and the fragrance of the beautiful country and the enchanting but simple people had settled in his heart that Deepak fell head over heals in love with the country they called Uganda and its people.

Deepak was able to get permission to work on about an acre of land from the local chief. He got the local people to farm the land for a promise of a better time to come. He realized that the terrain was very fertile, with good rains and adequate drainage. He had decided to grow sugarcane, which appeared to grow on its own without much attention. He imported a small hand driven squeezer for the sugarcane. It seemed like pure nectar was pouring out from the spout when one worked the simple machine. It was not difficult to turn the syrup into sugar, jaggery, molasses etc. The demand by the public for the high quality sugar they were producing was already there, and he had no trouble selling it for a few shillings a Pound. The money was the Ugandan currency at the time. It was called shillings, and a hundred cents made a shilling. Twenty shillings made a pound.

The ten, five, and one cent coins had a hole in them so that the locals could wear them as a ‘necklace’ by putting a continuous string through them.

It is interesting that the British termed the countries of Kenya and Uganda as ‘the White Man’s Burden’, similar to the term used by the French regarding their ‘burden’ by of their Colonies as- ‘Mission civilisatrice’.

CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT

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DEEPAK REBORN

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‘Mokokit-ki-ackamimat (Be wise and persevere’)

Blackfoot proverb

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eepak was miserable and depressed when he came into the country of Uganda. He thought he was no criminal yet he had deserted from a country and crime that he was personally responsible for, and this very fact would gnaw at his soul forever, like a rat to some carrion. Yet he was born upright, and grew up in a country that instills religion and righteousness into one from the moment of one’s birth. He had grown up in a proud land of Jalaram, Meerabai, Moraribapu, Narshi Mehta, Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Krishna, Rama, and many other heroes that shone in his personal galaxy. In his heart he knew that another chance, a new challenge had come his way, and once again he had to labor and use his freedom in a just and righteous manner.

No sooner he was in the country of his choice, he was transformed. He liked the vast and beautiful country immediately, and like a son to a giving mother, they bonded immediately. Not since the time of his discovery of the revered sandal in a distant land, had he felt so invigorated. It seemed like a jolt of electricity had passed through his body. He felt like and was indeed a changed man.

He obtained a piece of land as well as some laborers from the same area. He exchanged his impressive clothing for something practical, a short sleeved shirt and some jeans, and a pair of boots. He applied himself personally along with his men to the backbreaking work of tilling the land. Sugarcane was planted. It grew like wild flowers, and the juice poured out of it was like nectar. It was but a short step by manipulating the rich solution from it to change it into sugar. The demand for the by product was high, both locally and overseas. Export of sugar increased by leaps and bounds. As time went on, his coffers also increased incredibly. Pretty soon his richness knew no bounds. He had become a very wealthy man that reached beyond his wildest dreams. He had become famous and people referred to him as the Sugar king of Uganda. His generosity also increased proportionately. He saw to it that all his men were looked after well and were paid well. At its height, the production of sugar had increased to one thousand sacks of sugar a day. There were plans to double the production when disaster struck.

A few months after settling down in Uganda, he sent for his beloved Kamla to come and join him. He felt that his family was complete, but not quite. He missed his son Shashikant. He felt even more down as he remembered the sad loss of Shashikant’s wife, Radha, who was swallowed by the ocean in the howling storm, when Poseidon had claimed her. He felt helpless but also realized that there was nothing he could do about it.

A two storey house was built atop a hill. It was the most beautiful house that he or the people that lived in the area had ever seen. It was his pride and joy. The view all around was beyond compare. It presented a wide vista of the country unspoilt by modern man. The house was white. Kamla had taken and converted one of the rooms into a temple. She imported beautiful statues of her beloved Gods from India, and thanked them daily for the prosperity He had bestowed on the family. The room itself was beautifully decorated. She would wake up at 4 every morning and thank all the Gods and Goddesses as she sang out her prayers, while the offerings of flowers and food were made. It was preceded by burning of incense sticks and lighting a candle. It was actually not a candle, but a delicate metal container, usually brass or steel, on which a small wad of cotton wool soaked with ‘ghee’, is placed. (The food would be distributed to the poor after the prayers).

At the start of every prayer, in front of the statue of Ganesha, she recited the Gayatri Mantra, which went as follows:

‘AUM BHUR BHAVAHA SWAHA, TAT SAVITAR VARANYAM, BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI, DEEHYO YO NAH PARCHODAYAT’

Which translated is:

‘O GOD, THOU ART THE GIVER OF LIFE, THE REMOVER OF PAIN AND SORROW, THE BESTOWER OF HAPPINESS. O CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE, MAY WE RECEIVE THY SUPREME SIN DESTROYING LIGHT, MAY THOU GUIDE OUR INTELLECT IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION’.

The ringing of a gentle bell went along with the prayer.

The kitchen along with the adjacent dining room in the house was a large area, and exotic dishes were prepared in the kitchen every day. The dining room lacked no guests. As his fame and the news of his extreme genial hospitality spread, the guests also increased proportionately. He always felt that service to Man was like service to God. He dubbed the villa ‘Premnivas’, which meant ‘an abode of love’.

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CHAPTER TWENTYNINE

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SHASHIKANT’S ABYSMAL DEPRESSION

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‘Behind a veil of dreams, I see her face- gentle, loving and kind’

C. Hollin

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‘To recognize one day her love and troth,
and at her feet see the whole world and me.
Yet, despite all my love and all her charms,
After a thousand vows backed by my tears,
Now that at last her beauty can be crowned,
Now that I love her more than e’er I did,
That marriage ties, linking our destinies
Can in one day reward many years’ desires,
I shall… O God, I cannot speak the word’.

Racine, Jean Baptiste

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s noted elsewhere, Shashikant, Deepak’s eldest son obtained a job with the railways in Kenya. He was stationed in Voi, a major railway junction from where trains were shuttled to various parts of the country. He was posted there as a stationmaster, and a very responsible job it turned out to be. He applied himself to the work with diligence. His messages were delivered and received via the telegraph and was transmitted in Morse code. He would write down the messages and follow instructions as to which train was coming in next, and onto which rails it was to be shuttled to. Not only that, but when a train arrived, whether it was day or night, he had to go and give the driver of the engine appropriate instructions, apart from working the lever that would shuttle the oncoming train..

He would give instructions to the engine driver by waving a lantern the colors of which could be altered to red or green, after climbing the caboose- a risky maneuver. In the daytime, the lanterns were replaced by two flags, a red one and a green one, and used as was required. The engine driver would then move the train or stop it as per the instructions as he received from the lantern, or from the flags in the daytime, the so called semaphore communications. He would then jump off the moving train as it gathered speed. It was hazardous at times and demanded his undivided attention, which, even then was quite an accomplishment.

Needless to say that he did not have an assistant to share in all the work that went along with an enormous responsibility.

On top of all the stress, the loss of his beloved Radha was felt acutely by him. He could see her in the front of his mind’s eyes, pleading to help him as she drowned. At the same time he cringed at her accusatory stare as it appeared vividly in his imagination. It happened every waking day. Sleep at night was quite hard to come by. He could not get over his depression, with the constant daily thought that he had failed her. The depressive thoughts that overwhelmed his being and gnawed at his heart gradually destroying it.

He was given a small shack by the authorities where he lived and it was there that he passed his days. It was situated on the south side of the railway track. He did his best to make it look presentable. He grew a small garden on one side. It had a multitude of flowers including pink roses. Behind the hut was a bougainvillea tree of an enormous size. He did his cooking and other household chores himself. He had also employed a local girl to do some washing of the clothes and keeping the place tidy.

He performed his duties related to his work diligently but without a heart. The drudgery went on for many years.

It disaster happened one day. He went for a walk to shake off his depression which was gradually increasing and even becoming overwhelming at times. A message had come that the next train that was approaching his town in about an hour was to be shuttled so that it would avoid an oncoming passenger train. He never saw the message as he was out for a quick walk at the time. The disaster that followed was indescribable. The two trains collided, with many passengers died or were maimed as a result. The mangled wreckage of what were apparently two trains stood out as a monument of the disaster that had occurred.

Shashikant came from his walk, and saw the message. He was certain that a disaster would follow, and it was too late for him to do anything about it. He was overcome with guilt and grieved for all the people that would soon pay the price for his folly with their lives. He was overcome with grief and could not overcome his guilt. He decided that he could not live anymore and that he would also depart this world and pay for his sins and also meet his beloved Radha, whom he missed so very much. A day did not go by that he thought of her welcoming face. He also missed his family so much, yet had no shoulder where he could unload some of his grief. He thought that by his simple act of self sacrifice, he would somehow ameliorate and atone for his guilt in a small manner.

The next day they found his body hanging from a beam in the little house where he lived.

Shashikant had given excellent service to the country that he had adopted for many years. He was a hardworking man that kept his troubles to himself. Despite him keeping his agony to himself, and despite his anguish, some folk of the town knew the reason for his moroseness and sadness. They knew why he kept to himself and did not communicate with others. He was known to be a conscientious and a man of diligence. His mistake was forgiven by the townspeople. There was a large crowd at his cremation the next day as many came to say goodbye to the man they admired very much. Despite all that, no one even made an attempt to trace his family and relay the sad news to them.

It was some years before the news of his death reached his father in Uganda. The family was at a loss for a time and mourning went on for days. However, they knew that life had to go on, and eventually resumed their daily activities and time once again provided the balm for healing. It was as though a pebble had disturbed the tranquil water, but only temporarily.

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CHAPTER THIRTY

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LIFE IN UGANDA

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ime went by like the waters of a mighty river, dragging away all life with its rapid and unrelenting flow. History was chiseled out in large solid rocks and cliffs that are piled up on the side as it flows. Deepak got older but his happiness knew no bounds. Kamla, his dear wife was always by his side, and by her constant encouragement he was able to extend his business empire to a great extent. It was also not known that Manjula who was his daughter-in-law was in fact called Mumtaz in India. Not only that, but the family had run away in a hurry, and that the couple had never married.

However, over the years in Uganda, Manjula presented her partner J.D. with two adorable sons. The third son was born in Britain in later years. The eldest was called Sunil, the second one was Dilip, and the last one was Sanjay. All of them were bright, and obviously an apple of the parent’s eyes. However, Sanjay was a little slow, and not very ambitious, as it became evident as he grew up. There was no doubt in the parent’s minds that one day they would take over the running of the day to day activities of the business.

As the business prospered in Uganda, Deepak’s coffers were overflowing. With his life’s companion, Deepak decided to build a house on top of the hill. The house was big, with twenty rooms. It was both impressive outside as well as inside, in its design, simple lines and décor. To ward off all evil spirit, invocations to the Gods were said over some days by the priests that he had called especially from India. It was all white, and as impressive as the white house in Washington. He and his wife called it ‘Premnivas’, meaning an abode of love. The name was well justified as the number of visitors, and guests that were welcome with open arms over the many years. Ministers, Governors, and later Presidents of various countries were known to have visited the house.

He received the sad news of the loss of his son Shashikant some years later. He was heart broken. It affected him deeply, but he knew that he had to overcome the sadness that was gnawing at his heart. He also knew the sacrifice that his son J.D. had given to the saving of his brother Shashikant’s life. It was unfortunate that he could not save the life of his brother’s beloved companion. He said his goodbyes to his loving son according to Hindu custom. He donated to charities, he had priests come to his house and carry out the necessary observances for the peace of his son’s soul. It lasted for over a month. He gave generously to various charities and even started different foundations for the poor and disadvantaged.

He was recognized by the British Government in later years and was awarded an Order of the British Empire for his services. He had to attend His Majesty the King when the honor was bestowed on him personally.

Sunil, J.D.’s eldest was clever but somewhat aloof. From early childhood, he had the habit of asking many questions, some of them could not be answered by anyone.

Dilip, the younger was a different story. Always smiling, he was liked immediately by anyone who met him.

Mtumisa was a man who had met Deepak when he came to the country. He was a leader of his tribe. Well built and friendly. His people looked up to him. The two had taken a liking to each other immediately, and the friendship lasted a lifetime. Deepak made his friend the general manager of his firm, and in return, Mtumisa paid by utter loyalty and diligence to his old master. The star shone once again and Deepak saw an opportunity to do good service to the people of Uganda.

Mtumisa also built a small bungalow, and lived happily there with his wife and daughter. The daughter’s name was Sara. Her real name was Makaeta in her native language, but it would seem that that name was put in the back burner, and soon people forgot that name, and opted for the simple name of Sara. Ever playful, with mischief written in her eyes. She was a bright girl, and entered straight into the heart of anyone that she was to come across. It was not long before she came across Dilip, Jaysukh’s second son. She was only six while he was about seven. Soon they formed an alliance that was to last many years. The two would go out to the river and walk together aimlessly, hand in hand, happy in each other’s company. Occasionally they would go to the sugarcane farm or to the factory and generally make a nuisance of themselves. However, nobody would mind. Not only that, but many even started looking forward to their visits. He saw the goodness of the whole world reflected in her, in her behavior, even the ground she walked on. He thought she looked so elegant when she was dressed in her Ugandan dress. Many yards of printed material circled her writhe body. She had a matching head scarf over the scalp, with one end jutting out to one side. However, even though their childhood frolics lasted some years, it came to a tragic end when the tyrant Idi Amin declared that all Asians were persona-non-grata in the country and had to quit within ninety days. It was a sad and an inhuman act.

In the early years when Deepak appeared on the scene, life was peaceful and even prosperous for some time. Uganda was in its shining glory. No longer could Britain call it the ‘White Man’s Burden’. Britain granted freedom to the country, and Milton Obote became the new President. As soon as he came to power, he systematically eliminated the people of the tribe that he did not care for. The genocide went on for some years, and the situation eventually became intolerable. So there was another coup, and Idi Amin took over and banished President Obote. There were great jubilations as the people held no bars to celebrating the joyful and triumphant event. The streets of Kampala thronged with people. Streets were decorated. The motorcade took to the streets as the Idi Amin waved and smiled his broad smile at the people. Man and women were thrilled and pinned their hopes on the new President to be. However, it was not to be as we shall see. The smile was only a façade to the devilry that awaited the unwary people.

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CHAPTER THIRTYONE

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DISASTER

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When you go home

Tell them of us and say,

For your tomorrow

We gave our today

Anonymous

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hey say that when it rains, it pours. It was in the month of February in 1972, when Idi Amin, soon after his ascension to power, ordered all Asians and Pakistanis to leave the country within ninety days. They could take only their personal possessions that could be carried by hand. The rest of their belongings- cars, land, houses etc was to be confiscated, and distributed to the local indigenous people as the Government saw fit. These possessions belonged to the black people of Uganda, and that all the Asians i.e. the immigrants had no claim on them.

Disheartened, depressed, dejected- words such as they were cannot even begin to describe what all the Asians felt. Panic set in, and in no time there was pandemonium. People started to worry as to how to dispose of their properties which had taken them years to accumulate, with their own sweat and blood. Airline bookings were to be made by all to fly out of the country, that also as soon as possible. Mr. Hume, the British Home Secretary at the time, announced that all the Asians leaving the country were British, and Britain would give asylum to them all. It was a magnanimous gesture. All the people apart from a few, who preferred to go India, took advantage of it and went to England. There were huge lineups at Entebbe airport. As the people boarded the planes, they even left their cars at the airport, for Idi Amin’s henchmen who availed themselves of these cars for their murderous past time, a past time that was sanctioned by the President!

Terror of a calamitous proportion had descended the households of all the Asians, and that of Deepak Patel was no exception. He had no idea as to how he would dispose of the vast empire that he had built. However, he trusted his good friend Mtumisa, and begged him to carry on the business as it had always been. However, it was not to be, and eventually the whole farm including the factory had gone to seed.

Deepak was in the office talking to Mtumisa when the phone call came. He was told by one of the servants at home to proceed to his house immediately. He was not given the reason. He said his goodbye to his friend, and drove straight home, with a foreboding of a disaster in the making.

The house was all quiet when he entered. In the living room, he saw his son J.D. sitting on the sofa. He looked sad and was avocal. The servant told him to go and see the room that was the temple. He ran to the room, to find that a dead cat was hanging inverted on the door. It was bleeding and obviously the corpse was fresh. He opened the door with trepidation, only to see an unbearable disaster in front of his eyes. His dear wife Kamla was on the floor. She had a knife plunged into her back. Blood was trickling from the wound, as the life force was draining from her. She was lying in a pool of blood. Deepak was speechless as he saw the heinous crime. He also felt helpless. He just stared as realization gradually sank home. Blood drained from his face, his legs felt week and lost control as he fainted and fell on the floor, next to his wife, his beloved Kamla, his very life. The family found him on the floor. They carried him and put him on the sofa in the living room.

It seemed like a dark ominous cloud descended on the country, as God himself turned his face on the downtrodden people. All the Asians were quiet and in their own depths of depression. The realization of their sorrow now infected the helpers in their households as well as their offices. The countryside, the houses, the roads, the rivers, all seemed to be affected by the silent but omnipotent cloud, the cloud of sadness and despair.

Kamla’s funeral arrangements were made rather hurriedly. There was no priest to be had. She was cremated on the property itself. Deepak as well others of the family stayed in their own silence. When all the men returned after the cremation, Deepak excused himself and took to bed. In the morning they found him in bed, or rather his body, as his soul had departed the mortal coil, to wonder and to curse the monster of Africa. The loss of two members of the family in the span of two days was hard to bear for everyone.

However, there was no time to reminisce. The estate had to be wound down. Arrangements for departure, that also forever, had to be made as soon as possible. Many countries offered aid to Britain by donating the services of their airlines that would take the families to Britain without charge. J.D., Mumtaz with their two children were on a B.O.A.C. flight to the United Kingdom the week after the calamity. Loss of their family members as well as that of their property and friends was acutely felt. The silence, the anguish that was felt by them showed in their eyes, as they proceeded on their way to the airport and go beyond to an unknown destination. It was dismal beyond words.

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CHAPTER THIIRTYTWO

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ENTEBBE AIRPORT

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Thus the holy hour and the sweet season

Of commemoration did much to arm my fear

Of that bright murderous beast with their good omen

Dante- ‘The Divine Comedy’

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he scene at Entebbe Airport was akin to Dante’s Inferno. It was nothing short of chaos. Disheartened and lost souls appeared to be everywhere. Their sobs, as well as the wailing of women and the loud cries of children filled the air. All of them appeared to be lost. They had abandoned their vehicles just outside the airport, after saying goodbye to their houses, and locking the doors for the last time. There were a few stragglers also present. These were the Ugandans who had come to bid the families goodbye, having enjoyed the company of these gentle souls for many years. They had developed deep relationships with these families. Unmitigated tears had overflowed over onto their faces. They gave their final hugs to the families that looked after them for many years. Deepak had expired in his agony, but the rest of the family was there and Mtumisa was also at the airport, crestfallen to the point of tears as he hugged each member of the family – Jaysukhlal, Manjula and the children. His daughter was there, to say goodbye to the family but especially her friend, Dilip. She kept all the weeping and remorse inside her as she put up a brave face and said goodbye and a prayer for her beloved.

Airplanes were lined up to take everyone to Britain. The authorities were generous, and did not look at their passports in any detail. J.D. and his family boarded the plane when their turn came. After a quiet, somber and a disheartening flight, the passengers disembarked at Heathrow airport in England, which was also chaotic.

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CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE

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LONDON

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ll the people that disembarked from the B.O.A.C. plane at Heathrow airport in London on that dreary and cold day in February appeared to be disheartened and dismayed. They were all stooped with drawn facies. Everyone appeared to be afraid to think what future awaited them, while the loss of a luxurious lifestyle was acutely felt by all of them. Many did not even know where they would even sleep at night which was rapidly approaching. Besides all the problems that others were facing, J.D. had just bid goodbye to his parents who had departed this world. They were dearer than life to him.

However, after all is said and done, one could not but be grateful to a nation that dared to stand up and welcome them with open arms, making one and all feel at home in their newly adopted country.

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CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR

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WALTHAMSTOW, LONDON

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.D. and his family took a breather after clearing the customs and undergoing the hustle and bustle at the airport in London. He had the phone number of a remote cousin who lived in the Walthamstow district in London. His cousin was extremely courteous, and like many Indian families, put him immediately at ease. He told J.D. that he was more than welcome to have him and his family stay at his house, while suitable alternate accommodations could be found. He gave Jaysukh directions to reaching his house. J.D. and his family took the underground and were at his friend’s house in no time. True to his word, his cousin hugged him, and welcomed him like a long lost friend and a family member. J.D. had also met a member of the British Council that was designated to look after all the new immigrants to the country, specially the people from Uganda who were being displaced. He was also told that a one time stipend of a thousand pounds would be given to him. (the same was applied to all the other families that came from Uganda). He could not get over the generosity of the British people.

J.D., true to his nature, did not waste a single second. He took a long walk, and explored the areas called Leyton and Leytonstone, where he learned that it was the birthplace of a famous person called Alfred Hitchcock. Leyton literally meant ‘the town on River Ley’. Close to where they had temporary accommodation, he noted that a corner store was for sale. The business was located near High Street, at the corner of Byron Street and High Street. After considerable thought, he made an offer to buy the business, and to his surprise, it was accepted. It was a small store that sold some grocery, newspapers etc. It also sold ice cream, which made the business lucrative, as the last one made it possible to open on Sundays, a day when the other stores were closed, and were not allowed to open as it was Sabbath. Only ice cream would be allowed to be sold on that day, but under its guise, one was free to sell anything. On the second floor was a flat that he thought was adequate for his family. He bought the flat. They took up residence there and never moved from the place.

The family was happy there, as the business also prospered. In the years that followed, Manjula gave birth to another child. He was called Sanjay.

He missed the life they had in Uganda, the country that had brought them the greatest joy, and later, the greatest sorrow. The loss of his mom and dad was felt acutely by him and the family. Not only that, but even the thought of their loss become more acute as the days went by. The addition of another child brought welcome relief, as the joy in their lives once again helped to erase some of the gloominess of the past.

Business also prospered. As the years went by, he bought the shop next door and started a grocery store. In one corner of the same store, they sold Digital Video Discs, as well as CDs, of Indian movies and songs. The constant burning of incense in the shop was an aphrodisiac to the Indians, and they came in hoards. Once again, he invested next door where it had come on the market. The business was of selling clothing, mainly for Indian ladies. Further purchases of nearby businesses of different kinds made him rich and famous beyond his wildest dreams. In fact the street surreptitiously changed the name by the Indians of the area as ‘Patel Street’. It had come to be known by that name and eventually no one even knew of its original name.

As mentioned earlier, J.D. was blessed with three children, all of them boys. Two of them, Sunil and Dilip were born in Uganda, while the third one, Sanjay, was born in England. The three children gave pleasure to their parents, and were a constant source of infinite pride. As the saying goes among Indians, that like the fingers of a hand are not all alike, so also the children of any parents are not alike; each one is different, in personality, physical appearances and many other characteristics. The axiom is certainly true as we delve into their stories.

CHAPTER THIRTYFIVE

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SUNIL

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rom a very young age, Sunil was different in his behavior, outlook, not confirming to society etc. In later years, he became a legend in his own time.

He grew up in the town of Lugazi. He was a loner, and not keen on attending school. The school itself was almost nonexistent, and it was not very important that one attended the institution. Classes were held in a ramshackle building, and the teachers were nothing to scream about. However, it not does not take us away from the fact that he had ‘strong’ genes of his parents and grandparents. He was keen to learn about his grandfather’s business in Uganda, starting at a very young age when other children would still be playing outside. When he was about ten, disaster struck, and for some bewildering and inexplicable reason to his very young mind, the family had to not only abandon the farm, the beautiful white house, but also the country. They had to leave their beloved land in ninety days. He had seen panic, not only in his parent’s eyes, but in the many that were all around him. The name of Idi Amin seemed to have struck in his mind forever as it seemed to have been repeated so often. He had started to hate the country of his childhood and wished to never see it again.

It was panic and mayhem at the airport. However, they were lucky to board the B.O.A.C. plane to England. They did not even have to pay for the ticket, as it was compliments of the British Government which was also inclusive of all the people who were being expelled. However, as mentioned earlier, it did not take them long to settle in England, where his father, J.D. established a thriving business.

Sunil showed no desire to attend school in the new country. Instead he preferred to go to his dad’s shop, and see all the different kinds of business conducted in the establishment. He went there every day. He was very punctual and keen to learn the various aspects of it. He took a keen interest in all the customers. Im later years, he heard that in the north of Scotland they had discovered oil, and well paying jobs were going begging. He applied for work up north, and was accepted. He was in the employ of a large company called Energy Exploration. He became a truck driver for the company. It was hard work with differing hours of work, but he managed fine. He worked for about a year and was successful in collecting a lump sum of money that he put in the bank. With the money he had collected and after negotiating from a bank, he bought a truck that would help in the haulage that was required at the site. Soon he was able to pay off for the truck and was able to buy another one. Within some months, he had a fleet of trucks. He recruited drivers for the trucks at reasonable wages. He himself drove one. One of the well heads had fire that soon turned into a raging inferno. He was helpful and in fact instrumental in putting out the fire. Thus his company of Patel Trucking had a partner in short time. It was called Fireout. In time he became the President of this company too. The company became popular and was very much in demand. He returned to London, where he established his company headquarters of Fireout as well as Patel Trucking. From his headquarters he was able to direct all the operations of the trucking company as well as the requirements to extinguish fires wherever they erupted, not only in Scotland, but anywhere in the world where there was a fire related to the exploration of oil. It also included in the ocean as well as land.

One day the area that was being mined had discovered a large pocket where there was gas. A spark from the drill started a fire that soon became uncontrollable. The manger at Fireout could not bring the fire under control. Sunil’s personal attention was required. He flew out at the site, only to note the fire that was raging, and of course needed very close attention. One of the large machines that were brought to the site was a little too close. The heat in the area was intolerable, but despite that, Sunil ran out, started the engine and drove out the machine, putting it out of harms way. That single act saved a truck that was worth over a million dollars. However, he did not go unscathed. It burnt the right side of his face, and he had blisters on his hand. He was able to control the fire by means of explosions strategically placed at the base of the fire, thus depriving it of Oxygen. The burn on the right side of his face was a third degree burn, needing close attention by a plastic surgeon. He had to have skin grafts on this side, and as one can imagine, the right side of his face was permanently disfigured.

He amassed a great deal of wealth, and eventually bought the company entirely, a company for which he had done so much work. The name ‘Fireout’ was to acquire fame throughout the world. Wherever there was a gas or oil related disaster, his company was called. Sunil and his staff would fly out daily at the site and do the necessary work, returning home every day.

He received an urgent call from Mumbai in India at one time. High seas had affected the massive oil rig that was located just outside the city. Many lives were lost, and as happens in these cases, the platform as well as the gushing oil had caught fire.
Sunil, with his crew flew out, and attended to it in his usual efficient manner. Soon the fire was controlled.

He became very much in demand in the East and Far East. He decided to relocate his head offices in Mumbai. However, in the years he became somewhat of a recluse as he was conscious of his appearances.

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CHAPTER THIRTYSIX

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J.D.

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‘God is dead’ Nietzsche

(‘Nietzsche is dead’ God)

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.D. did wonder sometime if the axiom as mentioned above was true; although his religious upbringing which was as a Hindu, as well as in his true conscience he could not accept it. He often reminisced about his past, and particularly about his father, Deepak.. He often thought about his days in India and the thought that his father did not receive his rewards to his great achievements, that of discovering the Sandal of the Lord himself, or the grand success he had at becoming the ‘Sugar King’ of Uganda, while he overlooked the fact that his father had not received the punishment for a murder that he had committed, and, like a coward, had absconded from it. Even the murder may have been a blessing in disguise, as many a poor farmer of the land must have breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer liable to pay back the loans which had an exorbitant interest rate from a much-hated loan shark.

The star of their good fortune seemed to have sparkled once again when they immigrated to Uganda and began life anew. The loss of Shashikant, his brother (and his wife) was acutely felt. The sparkle was permanently dimmed with the inhuman and despicable murder of his dear mother and the loss of his dear father soon afterwards. As he mused, he thought of an angry God, declaring a Fatwa on him, almost like putting a curse on him, and foretelling his death. His leaving Uganda, with all the memories of the prosperity, the friendships was heart breaking. (‘and who can depart from his pain and aloneness (and his memories) without regret’, Gibran). But he knew that the river of life, flowed, and like the ocean, it had its ebbs and flows in the ever present tides. It was naught but for a mere human to give in to the flow of the waters of the tide and that it was futile to swim against it. He was ever so grateful to the almighty that in the time of need, each and every member of his family gave his full support when they came to the newly adopted country of Britain. The whole family, like many others families adopted by Britain; a country that welcomed you with ever welcoming arms. It was almost like a welcoming mother, extending her loving arms to a long lost son. A tear would wet his cheek then as he was overwhelmed with gratitude.

His business empire had once again prospered. In no small measure, it was with help of his son Sanjay, his wife Manjula, as well as others. In the years, his other sons had chosen different paths.

He aged well as the years passed. His son was taking over slowly, and quite efficiently. He was often prone to mild headaches. Later on he developed some visual blurring, and occasional halos around lights. He wondered if his guardian angel was visiting him and getting him ready to meet his maker. When he went for an eye examination, he learnt that he had an eye disease called glaucoma, and it was advanced. His side vision with either eye had gone. He was put on drops to the eyes, only to find that he had hands that trembled, and it was almost impossible to put the drops properly in his eyes. He was to learn that the tiny bottles of the drops only lasted a short time, and were expensive. Lasers, and later surgery followed, but he had lost the vision of one of his eyes by then. He had gradually given all care of the shops to his son, and his wife, who looked after him so well, was also ignored by him.

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CHAPTER THIRTYSEVEN

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‘Mid pleasures and Palaces though we may roam

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home’

John H. PAYNE

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DILIP

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ow there was a man who had the world by the tail, as the saying goes. Pleasantness, personality and friendliness glinted from his handsome face. Average height, brown skin, wavy black hair that only an Indian can have, dressed conservatively but it left a mark on anyone’s mind that came across him. Overall, a very handsome man, however, one would find it impossible to read his mind. He had total devotion to his school work and to the family. Punctual at school, he made many friends, but showed no interest in girls. We who know the story know that the girl that was uppermost in his mind was his best friend that he had left behind in Uganda.

He breezed through school. With the top marks that he had achieved, he could choose any university, or take on any line of pursuit that interested him. He chose Liverpool University, as he had heard so much about the city. As one can imagine, he chose medicine, as he had heard so much about Aesculapeus, Galen, Hippocrates, Osler and many others. He had chosen a University that he took extreme pride in and realized its truth over the many years he was there. Even a thought of it brought a lump in his throat, and he found it difficult to douse a tear that welled up in his eyes.

Whenever he reminisced, the names like Cohen, Chamberlain, Jeffcoate, Harrison floated like a galaxy of giants in medicine in front of his eyes and he was overcome by a sense of pride as his chest filled with an indescribable and an overwhelming emotion of pride and tears of gratefulness welled up in his eyes.

He had no problems in passing his exams as he became an MD soon afterwards. Not content with qualifications with honors, he enrolled on a course of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene at the same University. Soon he was made aware of all the diseases in Uganda, their diagnosis and treatments. Once again he did well, and a year of interning at the Royal Infirmary gave him the right to practice his skills anywhere in Britain. However, we who know the story know what his ultimate aim would be, that of returning to his beloved country of Uganda, and be on the side of his beloved if she would have him i.e. if she was still present there and was not betrothed to any other person.

The day of sadness and joy was knocking at J.D.’s front door. Dilip told him of his desire to enlist in the services of Uganda as a Medical Doctor. Of course J.D. knew the real reason why his progeny wanted to leave Britain. With some reluctance, and a lump in his throat and a tear in his eyes, he gave his blessings, soon to lose his son to the old country.

Soon the bird flew from its nest. The country of Uganda had started to welcome the people that were deported by Amin and his cruel regime. There was now a new President, his name was President Museveni. Even President Museveni was not without his problems, as a dark cloud that opposed him had arisen, and it was called the Lord’s Resistance army, led by a man who was a witch doctor, a self proclaimed mystic, who refused to any form of negotiations that would bring peace and stability to the region. The man was called Joseph Koni.

Before we go further in Dilip’s life and his new beginning, it is imperative that we explore some of the politics in Uganda.

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CHAPTER THIRTYEIGHT

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J.D.’S REMINISCENCES

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am compelled to digress here. My friend, J.D.’s story was so enthralling that at the risk of interrupting a chapter, I must tell the readers of what he told me about his readings in childhood, particularly about the fables that abound in Gujarati literature. It enlightened me as to his character, and how his upbringing and knowledge of the stories had shaped the man that he was, a man of deep culture and learning that he undoubtedly exuded in his mannerisms, personality, and the welcome he sincerely gave to one and all.

It was a gloomy day in London when I saw him once in his flat. It was anything but gloomy inside the house. His reception was warm as usual, and after a satisfying dinner, the man unfold so to speak and told me the stories he had read in his childhood.

The first one was that of a boy called Shravan. He lived in a small village in India. His parents were blind. The parents at one time expressed a desire for a pilgrimage to Benares (Varanasi). Shravan constructed a carrier, the central bar of which rested on his shoulders. In the two seats of the contraption he carried his father at one end, and his beloved mother on the other end. They settled for a night near a lake. As his parents were thirsty, he went to get water for them from the lake. At the same time, a great king, called King Dashratha, was hunting. In the fog, he heard the sounds, rather like a deer gurgling and drinking water. He took an arrow out from the quiver, and shot. Unfortunately, the agonizing sound was that of a boy. The boy told him to take the drink to his parents. The parents realized that it was not the son who had brought the water. They were made aware of what happened, and the parents cursed him, and said that he, the great king will one day die in the same way that they were dying without their son. History records show that that was what happened exactly. It forms part of the epic that is the Ramayana.

The other story was rather amusing, but brought home what life is, and how family is so intricately tied to it. The story was told to me at another time, and if I remember it correctly, it went somewhat as follows:

In a small village in India there lived an old woman and her son. They were very poor. He had no job, so one day he sought permission from his mother to leave the town and go in search of a job. The mother said that he could go with her blessings. Next day he left home, with some food. He walked some miles in a hot desert. On the side of the road he saw a factory that made beer. He sought work there and was accepted. He worked there for some time, and later he expressed a desire to go and see his mom. He was let go by his boss. He was also given a container of beer, with instructions that he can drink the beer when he got thirsty. So he took off the next day. Is he goes on, he thinks that it would be wonderful to drink the beer, but he thought that it would be great if he had someone giving him company and partake of the beer. As he mused, he saw a man approaching from the opposite direction. He invited the man for a drink, to which the man acquiesced. However, he asked the man as to whom he was before they had the drink. The man said, “I am God”. The boy was chagrined, and said that he would not have a drink with him, as he was so unfair to all mankind. There were rich and poor, there were sick and healthy, and the list went on and on. So the man said goodbye to him. Well, he saw another man, and another man, and he found defects in them all. The last person that turned up said that he was ‘Jam’. Jam sees to it that everyone dies at one time or another. He was happy to have the drink with Jam. Jam was so pleased that he told the boy that the container would never run out of beer, not only that, but anyone who had a drink from it would get better. There was one proviso- only he could see him (Jam), and if he saw Jam sitting at the head of the bed of the sick person, then the person would get better. On the other hand, if he was seen at the foot of the bed, then the patient would not get well, and he was not to give a drink to the patient. Well, the boy became famous as time went by, as he could cure many who had given up hope after consulting many physicians. At one time, a beautiful princess became sick. The king tried all kinds of remedies to no avail, until he heard of the boy. He had announced that anyone who would cure his daughter would get half his kingdom, and also marry her. He summoned the boy, who agreed to see his daughter. Unfortunately, Jam was sitting at the foot of the bed. In other words, the case was hopeless. So the boy was in a quandary. He took some time to think, and he saw that Jam was quite drowsy, and tended to fall asleep. He quietly pointed out to the servants to turn her bed around quickly. Now it appeared that Jam was now at the head of the bed. He quickly gave her a drink, and she got better. Jam was angry. He told the boy that now his time had come to die. The boy said that his final wish was that he would say his prayers, and then gladly accompany him. Jam agreed to that, which was a mistake, because, as the days passed, the boy refused to say his prayer. Jam overnight wrote the prayer on a wall facing the boy. Well, the boy got up in the morning, and without realizing it, inadvertently, read the whole poem. Well, Jam came to him, and the rest is history.

Some of his ideas were profound and deep. He had his own theory with regard to unhappiness. What was the cause of it, and how to overcome it and turn it into waves of happiness? He compared life to an ocean, an ocean of unhappiness, while the occasional waves that form are those of happiness. With this thought in mind, he had applied it to religious faith, marriage, parenthood, food, work, attachment, aging, sex, disease, love and a host of other subjects. In fact he was kind enough to give me a copy of the booklet he had published on the subject. It is indeed profound, and remains etched in my memory to this day.

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CHAPTER THIRTYNINE

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LORD’S RESISTANCE ARMY

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The madman is not the man who has lost reason. He has lost everything except his reason

G.K.Chesterton

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You were stranger to sorrow, therefore fate has cursed you.

Euripedes

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he devastation in northern Uganda has gone on for over nineteen years. It is the longest humanitarian disaster that has been ignored, according to the United Nations. It is estimated that about a thousand people die every week, and 20,000 children have been kidnapped to act as sex slaves or as soldiers in the Lord’s Resistance Army. Some are used as mine detectors at the peril of their lives. Noncompliant individuals are disfigured with sharp instruments or their body parts including the genitals are excised. At times, to give them a lasting impression, one of the siblings is tortured in front of the brother or sister, or even one of the siblings has to take a part in meting out the torture, for fear of death if he refused it. While the girls who are also kidnapped are sold off as slaves, or they are used as sex slaves. Some are kept as wives, specially the good looking ones. It is led by a monster called Joseph Koni, who also considers himself to be a spirit medium. He dreamt that the Acholi tribe of Uganda that lived in the northern districts of Gulu and Kitgum was to blame for all the problems, so the ethnic cleansing started with this tribe on his orders. The countries of Sudan, Congo, Tanzania and even Rwanda are involved in this ongoing conflict and some even co-operating with the cruel Lord’s Resistance Army.

The whole trail of murder and mayhem is rather interesting, as it seems to invoke spirits who order the so called mediums to perform heinous tasks. Giving the perpetrators an excuse and a clear conscience

The story begins with a woman called Alice Auma. Alice grew up in a small village in Northern Uganda called Kazi Kaza. Northern Uganda is called Acholiland, occupied by the Achollies, or the Luos as they are called sometimes. The population is about eight hundred thousand people. They are a unique kind of people. The lower front teeth in the whole race are missing. The teeth are apparently removed with a stone by the people! It had become a tradition, and it was thought that Tetanus, a horrendous disease that was so common, and the teeth were removed so that the affected person can be force fed. The disease of Tetanus goes on for days, and mortality is high.

They also smoke their cigarettes backwards, with the burning part put in the mouth. Every few minutes, the cigarette is taken out to release the smoke and to relieve the cigarette of its ashes.

When Alice was about sixteen, she was married off to a fairly well to do family. She fetched a good dowry, as she was good looking, and the daughter of a well known family. The dowry was twenty goats and about ten cows. However, after some years she was divorced as she was sterile and could not produce an heir. She was married again, but once again she produced no progeny. She came back home. It was about that time that she was possessed, and it is said that she went insane. She lost her speech and hearing. Eleven witchdoctors were consulted at different times. It was to no avail. She went to the Para National Park on her own accord. She wondered in the park for forty days, after which time she came back into town, having recovered from her afflictions. She accepted Catholicism. She continued to claim that she was still possessed by the spirit of an Italian who had died sometime ago. His name was Lakwana. He was an Italian Doctor who later turned into a general in the army as he felt that it was no use curing anyone. He was eventually were murdered. According to her, the Italian had gone to the animals, and water, to ask as to whose fault it was that there was so much suffering. The animals and the lakes said that it was the fault of the Acholi people. He then went to the mountains, and asked the same questions. Once again he had the same answer.

She began the ‘Holy Saint Spirit Movement of Alice Auma Lakwana’ (HSSPMA). Her party gained strength as she started having more recruits, all hating the Acholi tribe. (It is interesting to note here that she herself was an Acholi). Torture, murder, rape unmentionable punishment was carried out by the party. She assured the soldiers that if they applied oil on their bodies, then not even bullets can affect them. She also wanted to revive the ‘Bible Millenaries’ movement. There are many such cults, e.g. Heavens Gate, Jonestown, Branch Davidians, led by David Kuresh, with the heart rending fiasco at Waco, South America etc. It is believed by many cults that every thousand years, a cleansing of all mankind is carried out. It being necessary as the amount of sin in this world has accumulated to a horrendous amount. They kidnapped children and turned them into soldiers. At one time, five brothers were kidnapped. Two were beaten to death with sticks, while the other three were watching. It was done in an effort to make them better soldiers!

Bigombe was a minister assigned to Northern Uganda. For defense, she recruited men, and had them fight with bows and arrows. Alice’s people had no trouble capturing them. Their hands, ears and noses were cut off. Holes were pierced in their lips, and padlocks applied. All the while, the Bible was quoted, that if it offends, cut it out.

Meanwhile, Yuwori Museveni (the present President) had formed the National Resistance Army, and had overthrown Milton Obote’s Government.

Alice’s army marched towards Kampala, and fought NRA to no avail. The battle was lost, and her men retreated. She now lives in a refugee camp, and says that the spirits have left her.

However, the torch of despair has been taken up by a man called Joseph Koni, who also claims that he is possessed by a spirit medium. To emphasize the fact that it is a religious party, he calls it the ‘Lords Army’, and has continued the usual torture, etc handed over by the previous demon, with resultant poverty, starvation and disease. The party formed in 1987. Basic idea of the party was the revival of the Ten Commandments as enunciated in the Bible, and also the revival of the so called Biblical millenarianism. As mentioned above, it is thought the world is renewed every thousand years when it is cleared of corruption and evil behavior of the people.

The loss to Uganda has been tremendous, amounting to about 1.3 Billion Dollars. The World Bank has withdrawn its support. The International Criminal Court has charged him and four others of genocide. His support has also been from Sudan, as well as Rwanda. The fact that Sudan was harboring Osama Bin Laden, and wanted a good outlet for their oil, they withdrew their support of the Lord’s Army. The Lord’s Army is still existent, but it is reduced. Even then, as we shall see later, it did provide an enough united force to topple the government of President Suvagabe (the latter succeeded the previous President on his retirement). It led to chaos all over the country once again. The Bigombe talks that were arranged between the warring parties to obtain some sort of peace broke down and once again the short lived peace did not last long. The embers of the fire are still simmering.

Dilip obtained a glimmer of the facts and some of the unpalatable facts he would have to face when he went to Uganda. However, there was not a shadow of a doubt that he would travel to the country of his birth as soon as possible.

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CHAPTER FORTY

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DILIP - CONTINUED

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In Africa they saw the stars and they were filled with awe

In the east they saw the soul of Man and marveled

In the west they saw only the body of man

And they fed it and polished it

Till it was fat and ugly

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eaving Britain was as heartbreaking for the son of our hero as to the son himself. The family was distraught, especially his father, who seemed to be very depressed and out of his mind. However, the heartless pull by destiny is cruel, as it lays the proverbial carrot in front of his victim.

Dilip was anxious to start his new job. He was to fill the position of a lecturer at Makerere College, not far of from Kampala. His duties were also to attend cases in some of the outlying districts. He made a thorough study with regard to the land, and the conflicts that involved the people as he knew that in some way or another, he would become involved. It was like setting a foot in a viper’s nest or a lion’s cage. The embers were still smoldering, as a reminder of a past that cannot be easily forgotten. The fire was still alight in Northern Uganda. Dilip haunted libraries and internet to get an in depth assessment of what he could be facing in Uganda. His quest led to discoveries that defied imagination. He learned about the Tse Tse flies and how they cause the dreaded sleeping sickness, and he learnt of other diseases like Bilaharzia or Schistosomiasis, the other name of the disease - the organism entering the skin when one is in water, the worm maturing in the vein leaving the liver, but producing the progeny that travels all over the body, leaving destruction, including blindness in its wake; the various kinds of tapeworms, hookworms etc. He learnt about cases where the persons caught by the parasites from even taking a bath! Malaria, Ebola, and other devastating diseases that the modern world has never even heard of! Add to that the recent scourge of HIV AIDS, and because of it, even tuberculosis adding on to the torture of people already suffering the epidemic of AIDS. He updated his knowledge about these diseases by attending courses at the London School of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene.

One day he boarded a flight to Uganda. Within days after he landed, he started his job at the University. He was busy doing clinical work, as well as training some students in clinical medicine and diseases of the tropics.

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CHAPTER FORTYONE

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DILIP’S TRAVELS

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Ask me where I have been, and I’ll tell you

‘Things keep on happening’. I must talk of the rubble that darken the stones, of the river’s duration destroying itself; I know only of things that birds have abandoned, or the ocean behind me, or my sorrowing sister. Why the distinctions of place? Why should day follow day? Why should the blackness of nighttime collect in our mouths? Why the dead?

‘There is no forgetting’, a sonata by Pablo Neruda

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e bought the ticket to fly by Ugandan Airways from London as stated above. His parting at London was emotional but the calling he had in his mind and his heart spurred him on without looking back. He did not take any notice of the palpable anguish that was in his father’s beseeching eyes. Soon he was on the way to a country that was beckoning him. The plane that he was a passenger of landed at Entebbe Airport. It reminded him of the Heathrow Airport in London that he had left only a few hours ago. There was chaos everywhere only worse. Many new immigrants were disembarking, and were welcome with open arms by one and all at the exit. It was exhilarating to see so many faces; some of these people were returning to their homeland that they had to leave some years ago. He had even heard of some of the famous names, like Nanji Meghhi, Indrajeet Gill, Muljibhai Madhvani, Nanji Kalidas and many others who had returned to Uganda along with their families. These pioneers obviously had faith in the country, despite Idi Amin’s misgivings. They also thanked God that the tyrant was deported and very likely would not be getting back.

He was met by a representative of Mulago Hospital in Kampala. On the way he was informed as to where he was going, and what his duties were. He was to teach at Makerere University, as well as continue his clinical work at the Nyerere Hospital attached to it. He looked forward to it eagerly and with an unbound enthusiasm. He was also given a car, which he could drive to the University or go anywhere that he wished to go to.

He had some time to kill before starting his new calling. His heart was itching to go to Lugazi and learn first hand the fate of the town, as well that of his family’s belongings. His heart was even more longing to meet with and find out about the one and only, his long lost love, Makaeta and her family, and especially Mtumisa. His heart missed a beat as he thought of her.

Your sweet glances enthrall my heart. Our hands clasp into eachother. We speak of love. Our hearts join and we become one.

As he drove over the hill, the town of Lugazi came into view. It was a moment of extreme emotion that was he understood and yet found it unfathomable.

The town of Lugazi seemed to have changed not at all as he rounded the curve on the road and the town came suddenly in view. The streets looked familiar. The central tower was still standing there like a sentinel still on its watch. Even the old house of his memory, Premnivas was there, although it appeared neglected. It seemed to be beckoning and crying out for a new era. The whole area appeared a little dusty. Even the small house where Mtumisa lived with his family was there. Although years like the water in a waterfall had flown rapidly, yet it seemed that it was only yesterday that he left this enchanted place, which to him, was the Cuzco, the navel, the centre of his universe. His heart missed a beat as he thought about his dearest love.

Soon he was in front of her house. He knocked on the door. It seemed to take ages before it opened, as it seemed to have multiple locks on the other side. It seemed to take an eternity! There in all her beauty stood the girl he always loved. Not for a moment had she left his mind, taunting, alluring, beckoning him. Although there was no light in the little house, as electricity was a thing of the past in the little town, even the fading of the evening sun that provided some light showed her outstanding features. It took her a few seconds before she recognized the apparition in front of her. She collapsed in his arms, as the agony of separation, of the devastation of the land, the loss of her father came to her in a storm and it overwhelmed her. If a broken heart was a window, then it would be apparent for all to see how his beloved Sara had spent the years in agony. It was obvious that she had lost weight, that she had dark circles around the eyes making it obvious that she had many a sleepless night. Despite her being in rags, Dilip could see the beauty that he imagined vividly in front of his mind’s eye every day, every waking and sleeping moment in thoughts of her. And in reality, she looked more beautiful than she had appeared in his fantasies. Her legs buckled under her and she fell into his open arms. As she came out from her momentary lapse, she found it hard to believe that he was present in person. She was dying to tell him all that her family and her country had gone through. How her and his beloved country had succumbed to the axes of so called leaders that followed one after another, each one following another in their heinous activity.

She recovered her composure soon afterwards. Dilip asked her to go for a ride with him. Together they went up the hill in the car. There they got off and walked along the path hand in hand. She recounted the story of their lives as words just poured out of their hearts.

Of course the devastation that Idi Amin who had caused it and who was the root cause of it all was paramount in their talk. The loss of all the enterprising Asians was acutely felt, even to this day. Mtumisa, after some years, had died of a broken heart. He had gone into a depression from which he never recovered. It had fallen on her to run the household. In the nearby village was an outbreak of Ebola Virus, a hemorrhagic disease from which the fatality that ensued was one hundred percent. The doctors and nurses looking after the sufferers also caught the disease and they also died. The village was quarantined, and no one ever went near it.

There was also the problem of Lord’s Resistance Army. People lived in constant fear and dread, as a young girl or boy of a family would disappear in the night, and everyone knew the fate they had to face.

(And let us speak again of love; Give me the hand that I may secretly clasp it, and if it is observed by others, I will not mind; Give me one of your sweet glances; come to my heart that I again may have you.

Give me one of your sweet glances. Give me your hand that I may clasp it. Come to my heart that I again may have you. Let us again speak of love Author unknown.

Neither of them had noticed the passing of time until they noticed a bright orange glow of the sun as it rose in the east. It brought with it warmth, light and a feeling that a new day had begun, the glow that was just around the corner, bringing hope.

He said goodbye to his beloved, but only for a short while. He saw her almost every day after completing his clinical work and other duties associated with a very busy teaching hospital. As time went by, the two were inseparable. He proposed to her, and of course was accepted with delight. The wedding in the church took place soon afterwards. It was attended by a small crowd. He had managed to find a Hindu priest, who took pleasure in performing the appropriate marriage ceremony.

As the years passed, the bond between the two got stronger. The two were blessed with three girls. Each one more pretty than the other. Dilip adored them.

J.D. was in constant touch with his sons, and he was aware of Dilip’s progess and the addition to his family. He was rather proud of it, and in a small way he felt that his old and dear friend, Mtumisa was resurrected.

It was some years after Dilip had immigrated to Uganda that the human volcano erupted once again. The President of Uganda, Mr. Suvagabe had become sick. It was not yet diagnosed but many had the suspicion that the disease of AIDS had struck him. He was a character beloved by some, while hated by others. The news had somehow leaked out. The news was sweet music to Joseph Koni, who even claimed that he had cast a spell on the President. Be that as it may, another upheaval was set in the saga of the beautiful but doomed country.

Joseph’s army was only a few thousand men, but the men were ferocious, and the armaments sold by culprit nations were enough for him to gather enough courage and attack. Kampala saw an attack as never before. Houses were set afire. Many men and children were murdered, while many women were raped before torture or immediate murder. Kampala fell along with the whole country. There was chaos and anarchy in the country.

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CHAPTER FORTYTWO

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MM - CLOAK AND DAGGER

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Blow, blow thou winter wind; thou art not so unkind as Man’s ingratitude

Shakespeare

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Ev’n though who mourn’st the Daisy’s fate, that fate is thine- no distant date

Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drive elate, full on thy bloom

Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight

Shall be they doom!

Robert BURNS

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Was Manjula still Mumtaz at heart or not is a difficult question to answer as we follow her daily machinations in her life in London. Was the cloak of Manjula being gradually shed like a chameleon changing its colors, and she was once again the Mumtaz, as we had come to know her? It being somewhat similar to the time in India when she was a little girl, free, loved and devoid of any encumbrances in life. Was the dainty bird caged, but now had found the door of the cage open, to flee and sing a song of freedom once again.

As time went on, the children had grown up and were involved in their own activities. Her husband J.D. was also involved in his daily health problems, and the youngest son, Sanjay was taking over the responsibilities in taking over the ever expanding business. She herself had become more prone to self analysis, as she often thought of her life in India as well as elsewhere. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was a Muslim, and felt that she was a betrayer of her religion, which would include her own people, the Muslims that are scattered all over the world. She learnt of the laws that govern Islam, that of its five pillars- Publicly confess Shahadah, that of there being only one God with Mohammed its prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, prayers five times a day, pay Zakat, fast from sunup to sundown in the month of Ramadan, and the pilgrimage or hajj to Mecca to be undertaken at least once in a lifetime for every Muslim. She also learnt that the Kabba was from Abraham, and was in the shrine in Mecca; Medina was where the main mosque was located, and Jerusalem was where Mohammed, peace and blessing be unto him, had ascended to heaven. She obtained the copy of Qu’aran, said to be the final word of God, and the core of Islam, and its complement, the hadith. She learnt about the Sunni and Shiite divisions of Islam. She was enchanted by the poems of Rumi.

She became withdrawn and morose as time went by. There was a gradual change in her dress also. She covered her hair with a head scarf. The Sari was replaced with a dress, and eventually she was in a full hijab, covering herself from head to toe. The material used for the dress including the Burka was an uninviting black. The family did not object to all this change at all.

She wished to meet members of her new found faith. She had heard of and joined the Global Islamic Movement, whose leader was Athar Mahamoud. The local chapter was run by Mohamed Ali Samadi. Without her knowledge, her beliefs and her background were checked out thoroughly, especially as she was married in a different faith. It was felt that she was a strong believer in her possibly new found faith. Members of the movement eventually contacted her, and she was invited to a meeting. She was surprised that the meet was in a cemetery, not far from where they lived, the Behescht-e-Zahara cemetery. She started to go there daily, and eventually she joined the higher order, where the members were dressed in a white shroud. Rousing speeches were heard by her daily. Death to enemies of Islam, the infidels; death to the occupiers of Palestine etc. Jehad and release of the holy land were heard by her daily. She was considered an ideal candidate for suicide attacks on the enemy, with her reward being a special place in heaven, and that she would be recognized as a Shaheed, or martyr.

Her daily disappearance on late hours of the evening had not gone unnoticed by the family. Her replies to J.D. were always rather vague. It gave rise to some concern by J.D. Eventually he could not stand it any longer, and he had a small radio transmitter stitched into the lining of her handbag. It lay there inconspicuously. He was able to follow her movements, and knew exactly where she went. He noted that her attendance to a particular mosque was a daily occurrence.

It happened one evening. Two youths approached her, and before she could notice anything, they splashed her face with acid. After extreme agony, she called out for help. Despite many operations at correcting the defect, she was left with a permanent disability. She lost the use of one eye, and was thankful that the burkha hid her ugly face. It was remarkable that the family was stoic about it, and J.D.’s, love remained for her, steadfast and ever-endearing.

It was infuriating for the gang of Ali Samadi that the English kept troops in Saudi Arabia. Added to that insult was the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq by the Americans and their allies. He also felt that the British played a part in their unforgivable heinous deeds. He made up his mind that a lesson ought to be taught to the English in the heart of the empire, London. Mumtaz was already trained for the heinous deed.

A meeting was called one afternoon, and it was made clear to her that the day for the deed had arrived. She consented, and the private ceremony was carried out. A sheep was dragged to the room where the ceremony was being held. Its throat was sliced with a sharp knife and an offering was made to the almighty. Then around her waist was tied the instrument of terror, It had a button in the front for detonation. She expressed a desire to say her prayers with the faithful before venturing onto the dangerous mission.

She proceeded to the main prayer hall, where all the faithful had gathered for the evening prayers.

Soon, there was mayhem. The loud explosion that followed tore through the unmarked mosque in the heart of Walthamstow, the suburb of London. The devil’s wish was fulfilled a thousand fold. The fiery monster that was released killed about thirty lives, and maimed probably another forty. The mosque was almost totally destroyed. To this day no one knows if Mumtaz had accidentally triggered the bomb that was tied around her waist, or if it was a deliberate attack on the people of her faith. Although her body was torn to pieces, J.D. was able to confirm that she was at the site of the blast by means of the locater that was in her person. He closed his eyes and said goodbye to her in a silent prayer and a tear for the flower that was always and would ever be in his heart.

Like Chimera in Greek mythology, a fire breathing dragon who had the head of a lion, the body of a she goat, and the tail of a dragon, she was a puzzle (when one analyzes her character), and like Bellerophon, who slew Chimera, she died in the disaster of her own making.

Factors of time, place and sex took its own type of toll. The prayers were in the minor hall where the women had gathered at the time for the devotionals. The destruction was that of women- mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers. The devil itself was the monster that held all the innocents in its clutches, and with a bloody mouth it laughed at mankind and their feeble efforts to crush the devil. Thus the gloom that followed was in numerous households. The cheer was gone in them. The very soul of many family units evaporated in an instant, as men, women and children walked in a daze, trying to comprehend what was incomprehensible. In the years it destroyed many lives in the form of suicides, broken homes, divorces etc

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CHAPTER FORTYTHREE

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J.D.’S AGONY

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These high wild hills and rough uneven ways

Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome

Shakespeare

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Such fate to suffering worth giv’n, who long with wants and woes has striven

By human pride or cunning driv’n, to misery’s brink

Till wretched of eve’ry stay but Heaven

He ruined, sink!

Robert Burns (1786)

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The whirlpool that was J.D.’s depressed mind was dragging him further and deeper into a morass from which there appeared to be no relief for him.

The loss of his beloved Mumtaz was an unbearable shock to him. He was prone to reminiscing in his fits of depression, which now appeared to be his constant companion. He thought of the many years of good time they had together. Over some years how they were blessed with three children, and a business empire that was bursting at the seams. But the mountain was reached, and now there was no further to go but down. He had lost one eye to the dreaded disease of Glaucoma. Even his other eye was also affected, and there was always the dread that it would follow the fate that befell the other one. He missed his sons who seemed to be flung across the globe. Sunil was in India, while there was no news of Dilip, who had made his home in Uganda.

It happened one morning when he woke up. For some strange reason, he could not speak. His mind was clear, yet forming words to form coherent sound or a sentence seemed impossible. It was when he tried to get out of bed that he realized that moving the right side of his arm or leg was impossible. It was confirmed by the medical establishment after extensive testing that he had a stroke, and it was possible that he may recover to a certain extent. He was prescribed medications for the problem. In some months he became wheel chair bound. It all added to his abysmal depression. Sanjay found it very hard to have the burden loaded on his back, but he presented an understanding face. He could understand the agony that his dear father was undergoing. After some recovery, he was able to understand that his father wanted to see the family before he undertook the journey to the beyond. Sunil, who was in India, called home everyday, and he also understood and appreciated his father’s agony. He flew to London to be at his father’s bedside. After seeing the agony that was written on his face, he decided that the rest of the family be there urgently.

Dilip was summoned to come urgently to England to be near his dear father’s bedside.

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CHAPTER FORTYFOUR

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DILIP - CONTINUED

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ilip’s happiness and joy knew no bounds. He had once again started to live in his mother country, and help the people he loved. On top of that, he had once again caught up with his long lost friend and lover. Their passion knew no bounds.

Their simple marriage ceremony took place in the local church as mentioned above. The couple bought a small house, as they both got down to their routines. He was busy at work, with his overwhelming quota of work, teaching, and travel between the Mulago Hospital at Makerere and attending the sick in Kampala.

Sara (Makaeta) had nothing but pleasure seeing her heart throb once again. His reappearance was nothing but a joyful breath of fresh air, not only to her, but the country as well. She was overjoyed to learn that he had returned as a Doctor. Tall and handsome, he was even better looking than she had ever imagined. She always thought that he was a kind man, and it was no surprise to her that he had returned to their beloved country as a Doctor, and to help with all the needy of Uganda.

In the years ahead, they had three charming daughters, complementing their loving relationship. He named them Maya, Jyoti, and Kavita, as each name had a special significance to him.

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CHAPTER FORTYFIVE

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MAYA’S BRUSH WITH DEATH

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aya, Dilip’s oldest child left school one day, sauntering along and happy as she ran in a trot.

She was in a good mood as she left the place. Her mother had given her a few cents to spend. It was a beautiful day, as she went towards the market, taking steps that were almost bouncing in nature. She bought some bananas with her money as she sauntered in the market. She was eating one on the way home, when she realized that she was getting late. The skies had suddenly become overcast. She started to run, when she tripped on the root of a tree that was on the ground. She fell. Unfortunately, there was a piece of glass on the ground. She extended her arm to cushion her fall, and the glass sliced deep into her palm. It cut the flesh near the thumb rather deeply, and even sliced an artery. She started to bleed. People started to gather around, and no matter how they tried to dress her wound, the blood just started to pour out. She was rushed to the hospital, where her father was present. He realized the seriousness of her wound. Despite injecting a local anesthetic, and trying to clamp the bleeding vessel, it was impossible. A tourniquet was applied to her arm, which provided a breather to all for a short while. She was immediately wheeled into the operating room. It was obvious that she needed an immediate transfusion of blood. She was of the rare blood type, being B. Negative. The only person who can donate the same type of blood was her father, Dilip himself. Immediate arrangements were made to remove two pints of blood from him. This then was used for Maya while she was under anesthesia. Dilip then had to get down to doing the surgery on his little darling daughter. He himself felt rather weak, but with supreme effort he was able to accomplish the undaunting task.

It was a remarkable and memorable day for both father and daughter with a satisfactory result for all.

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CHAPTER FORTYSIX

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DILIP’S THIRD CHILD

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The song bird that sings a song of freedom sings a Kavita

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bove thoughts were reverberating in Dilip’s mind when he found out that his beloved was pregnant again. He was sure that he will have a daughter and talked to her about the name of their third child. The child was born of a rainbow of love, and filled their hearts and minds with nothing but love, and, as he predicted, it was a girl. They were overjoyed and of course called her Kavita.

He was proud of his family, and was hoping that one day they will have the pleasure of seeing his father again, and more than that would see the glow in his eyes as he would behold them.

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CHAPTER FORTYSEVEN

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JOSEPH KONI

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ganda was afire as yet once again.

The President of the country, Mr. Suvagabe was out of the country. (He took on the powers on the retirement of the previous President.). He was in the country of Burkina Faso at the meeting of the organization called All African Unity, which was held in the town of Wagadugu. It was touted as the conference of African nations and that it would solve all of Africa’s problems. At the same time the commander-in-chief of the National Resistance Army, Colonel Muwambe had taken a few days off to visit his family up north. Joseph Koni had his men as spies in the enemy camp. They kept him informed of all the day to day activities. He was well aware of the goings on as reported by these men. He was also aware of a bright Doctor who lived near Lugazi, who traveled a lot and visited the various clinics that existed in the area. He thought it was the right time to attack Kampala and an opportunity not to be missed. He led with his undisciplined army of about two thousand men, and surrounded the city of Kampala. The cruel and reckless army marched from the north, and engulfed the city. What followed was mayhem, as a result of which there were dead bodies everywhere in the streets of Kampala. Violence, torture, murder, rape was the order of the day. The National Resistance Army of the President did not even have a leader, and their barracks which were near Jinja were also surrounded, and overwhelmed.

Joseph Koni declared himself the new President and took over the powers of the Government. He of course had no idea how to run the Government or the country. He installed himself in the residence at the Luo Palace, where the previous president used to live. His first priority was to capture the Doctor they called Dr. Dilip Patel for his personal services. Very few in fact knew that he also had AIDS and did not have long to live.

The capture of Dr. Patel was a small matter for his army. The house in Lugazi where they lived was surrounded by his men. The good Doctor was told that his family would be kept as hostages, and would be well looked after as long as he cooperated. He had no choice and acquiesced. He was driven out to the Luo palace where he was to serve as a personal physician to Joseph Koni. He had started the patient with treatment with retroviral drugs immediately.

Dilip’s wife and his three daughters, even though they had the freedom of some movement, had their residence under guard by four sentries that were permanently placed outside the house.

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CHAPTER FORTYEIGHT

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LUO PALACE

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he palace was situated on one of the hills in Kampala, as if it was standing as a rival to the outstanding palace that was built in Rome from which the name was derived. It was a demonstration of the profligate and profane extravagance of its owners, considering the fact that it was a poor country.

The entrance was guarded by a massive gate of solid iron, on either side of which were two African Lions, upright and seeming to be roaring, telling unwanted intruders to stay out. The path led to a circular driveway, which went under a massive porch. The two massive columns flanked the porch in the front.

It had a magnificent façade, almost rivaling the Palace at Versailles in France. The front was built with limestone that was brought from a nearby quarry. There were about five smaller columns on either side. The massive front doors were Babinga wood imported from Burkina Faso. It had three stories.

Inside was an ornate structure with about a hundred rooms. It was originally built in 1930 to house the Governor General of Uganda. The walls were rather thick and had beautiful gardens surrounding it. The interior was lavishly built with Italian marble. The curtains were thick velvet decorated with golden threads. The entrance was a grand foyer with adjacent meeting rooms. On the left was an entrance to a grand Ballroom, which also doubled as a concert hall, with adjacent grand dining hall. There was a separate entrance where the offices for the day to day running of the country were located. The residences were on the eastern side. Originally, it housed the Governor General and his family as mentioned above. There was staff quarters adjacent to it.

The building was surrounded by beautiful and well manicured gardens.

It also had a basement, which was not known by the public. The area was generally unoccupied in the beginning and the place was rather uninviting. However, over the years, it had become a dungeon, housing not only criminals, but people who did not agree with the authorities or made speeches, although they may have been true, but was made the authorities uncomfortable by exposing an unpalatable truth..

The exterior and interior structures were altered according to the whims of the subsequent newly acquired masters.

The palace was taken over by Joseph Koni and his thugs. The occupying forces did not give rise to any resistance, but even then they were all shot and the bodies disposed of by feeding them to the crocodiles. Joseph Koni took over the main residence, along with his personal physician, none other than Dilip Patel. His prize catch was the young prince, the Akamba of Acholiland, Sir Edward Kagera the third.

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CHAPTER FORTYNINE

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PREPARATION

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athari was about ten miles north of the city of Nairobi in Kenya. It was a dry piece of land, where one of the largest slums in the country was located. It also had a large mental Hospital, and like the Gulag in Russia, it housed many patients that had no hope of ever getting out. Scattered among the patients were many that were not mentally affected at all, but were political prisoners. They had somehow or other offended the political elite or even challenged their authority, and was now paying the price with their lives with torture, brutality and inhumane treatment. At the northern edge was a tall metal fence, with sharp razor wire on top making it impossible for anyone to get over it. Nobody knew what secret activities were carried out in the area that was enclosed. It had a helipad, and the choppers were seen flying in and out on their clandestine missions. It was an odd location for the army, if it was true.

The Chinuk 147 Whirlwind Helicopter took off from the Mathari secret base, at 6 p.m. local time. It was a twin rotor with blades that were eighteen feet long, yet capable of rotating at incredible speeds. The pilot had to control its speed and the pitch by altering the angle of each blade to obtain a lift as well as forward speed, with the engine providing a power of over 300 HP. It was capable of carrying about eighteen men, and could keep going for long distances. Being a helicopter, it could land anywhere. It was a warm day with clear skies. The sun was setting down in the horizon casting a pale glow against the sky as darkness was gradually moving in.

The pilot was Josiah Mwangi Kariuki, who came from a small village called Nyeri, about a hundred miles north of the big city. He came from the sturdy tribe of Kikuyus, made hardy by the cold climate of the area, as the elevations was high, being easily over nine thousand feet above sea level. A burly man who knew the whole of East Africa like the back of his hand, having been involved in tourist trades He had also flown all over East Africa on different missions. These could be when he was taking tourists from various countries to show them the thrill that the land provided in its wildlife that had no equal in the world. There was also a heavy demand for ‘marungi’, the stems and shoots of a bush that had the same name. It was habit forming, and was used heavily by the addicts. He had also carried out military sorties over the land, and was continuously in touch with USA (Uganda Surveillance Agency). He was often referred to as Josh for short. The agency knew the exact whereabouts of the Doctor, and his family.

Recent messages from USA were that the conditions were static in the Luo palace. Dilip was under house arrest in the building. His family was also under house arrest near Lugazi, in their own residence. Information was also received that in the same palace in the dungeons was a very important personality held captive. The captive was none other than the Akamba of Acholiland, Sir Edward Kagera the third’s young prince.

All of them were all in camouflage uniforms, and were eleven in number, including Sunil, who, of course, was in complete charge of all the operations, and of course was financially responsible for the whole venture. Each soldier was armed with the modern day Laser Gun, which could be put into sustained stun action, or put into its infrared mode causing instantaneous death to any person or any living creature that was shot at. The old fashioned wires, nitrogen cylinders as the force providing with the propellant energy, and water etc providing the conductivity as in a Laser Gun were all replaced with the ultraviolet, infra-red or other forms of Laser. The red laser that was a Helium-Neodymium pointing device had a deadly accuracy, and an ability to lock on a moving target. These LASER GUNS were more deadly than any other form of handguns that existed.

Each man was also provided with a gas mask, a Bowie knife, the blade of which was 9 inches long, and could cut through anything and still retain its sharpness. Radio communication devices were available to the leaders. It was amazing as the range of these devices up to 500 yards, but theoretically infinity. The shoes were light and enabled the wearer for swiftness in motion. Needless to say each one was wearing camouflage uniform.

About a mile out of the town Sanga a couple of sturdy Jeeps were placed. Sanga was ideally located, as it was about a mile south of the highway that connected Lugazi to Kampala. It was about halfway between the two places. They were well camouflaged and were covered with grass, tree branches and some mud making them invisible to prying eyes. At one time they were bustling towns, but the people of Sanga and the adjacent towns were attacked by a mysterious disease that wiped out all but a few residents, and the ones that stayed alive and left the village post haste, never to return.

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CHAPTER FIFTY

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‘You can’t say civilization don’t advance, however, for in every war they kill you in a new way’

Will ROGERS

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THE LASER GUN

LASER-LIGHT AMPLIFICATION BY STIMULATION EMISSION OF RADIATION

×¶Ø

lthough the mythical ‘Ray Gun’ does not exist, nevertheless, if it did, it would excite our imagination. If it did exist, its limitations would soon be realized and it would stay in the bottom drawer in the bedroom collecting dust. The Laser Gun which was in existence was a far superior weapon. It was so designed that one can use it in its ‘stun’ effect, but for a wider impact, it could be used in its ‘sector stun’ effect, but in the face of a paramount danger, one can easily change the button to its ‘kill’ effect, or it can even be used as a ‘sector kill!’.

These then were the weapons that Sunil had provided to his men. These men were tried in fire and they had an unquestioned loyalty to him.

Although there is a large amount of scientific jargon associated with the gun, but in its basic essentials it was as follows:

In the corner at the back was a Plutonium-239 radioactive disc about 6 mms in diameter. It supplied all the necessary energy, i.e. the rotation of a light emitting diode, and the extremely high voltage electric energy to excite atoms as they reverberated in a small tube that has a mirror at either end. The disc was enclosed in a lead shield. Only a pinpoint opening was available at the time of firing. When it fired, the light rays, or better still, the waveforms of particular wavelengths that ranged not only in the range of light, giving rise to lasers of all colors, such as the ruby, argon, etc but it also extended the range to include the very short rays, such as the masers that gave rise to an instant heat effect, hence of use in Microwaves ovens, or longer waves, i.e. ones beyond the ultraviolet, as the ones produced by the NdYAG (Neodymium, doped with Yttrium, Aluminum and Garnet), giving rise to an exact wavelength of 1064 nanometers, which has an immediate cutting effect, and literally cut a human into two halves precisely, (matching and surpassing any old fashioned swords such as the Hatori Honzu, the one that was made in Japan), and many other kind of Lasers that can be produced today that could easily produced by the gun.. The YAG was not unlike thunder and lightening, as it gave rise to a loud bang as well as a thunderbolt effect. However, unlike any gun, the sound and the lightening occurred where the target was.

It is needless to say that these waves extended to well beyond the range that is visible to the human eye. However, the rotating Diode has replaced the need for all kinds of material, yet giving rise to any desired wavelength. The light ray enters a chamber, where the atoms are excited to form photons, and their reverberation caused by is a mirror located at either end, gives rise to multiple photons. The resultant photon is called a laser, and is unidirectional, all of one wave length, and they are coherent, in other words all in step with one another. The photons are discharged through a narrow opening in one mirror, and taking a curved path by utilizing a fiber optic cable, it emerges at one end in one of the most lethal forms known to man (apart from the atom, hydrogen, Cobalt, Neon and other kinds of destructive weapons, the horrors of which are even unthinkable). Not only that it was remarkable for the distance it could travel, but that it also had an unbelievable sustainability, and theoretically could continue to work for over a thousand years and would work over a very long distance! It was a tenth lighter than any lethal weapon known to man}. As one can believe, the lethal weapon was very expensive to buy, and Sunil made sure that each one was returned to him after its use, and that he would destroy them in an appropriate manner, thus ensuring that they would not fall into the hands that would terrorize the world.

CHAPTER FIFTYONE

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LUO PALACE OCCUPIED BY J.K.

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here was yet another revolution.

Joseph Koni’s ragtag army was getting restless. It consisted of only about four thousand men, many of whom were boys that had not even reached puberty. He called the commanders of his army for a meeting. The consensus was that the present president that was ruling the country was weak. He had also gone out of the country, and it was thought that the opportunity for an attack was not to be missed.

Early in the morning of January 2008, the army of Joseph Koni surrounded the city. The city was lost without a fight. Joseph Koni established his offices in the Luo Palace which was just outside the city. He was also in his glory as his men had also captured a young prince as mentioned above, the son of the most powerful adversary in the country. He was held in the dungeons of the palace. It is needless to say that indescribable inhumane treatment was meted out to him.

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CHAPTER FIFTYTWO

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SUNIL’S TRIUMPH

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he two jeeps were all and ready at the designated spot. Sunil divided his men so that half of them were with him while the other half went with Josiah. Both the jeeps sped of in different directions, one going towards Lugazi while the other one sped towards Luo Palace in Kampala.

Sunil’s attack on the palace was short and swift. The palace was not even guarded properly. The gate was opened swiftly with the Laser Gun, as it cut through the locks in one continuous action. The front door was open, and whatever resistance that his men met with, was easily overpowered with the stun effect of the gun. It would give them about a couple of hours of respite. Searching the other rooms systematically but discreetly, they found the medic in one of the rooms saying his prayers. He joined the group willingly once he was informed of the reason for the attack and the rescue of his family in Lugazi even as they spoke.

Josiah’s disciplined men sped towards Lugazi, and had no trouble locating the house where the hostages were located. The two sentries on either side of the entrance were easily overpowered with the same guns. It appeared that there were no other soldiers guarding the place. Once again it did not take long to explain the situation to Makaeta, who, along with the three precious girls were bundled onto the vehicle as they sped away onto the road.

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CHAPTER FIFTYTHREE

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THE KRAKEN RELEASED

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Behold now behemoth, which I made with them, he eateth grass as an ox

He moves his tail like cedar, the sinews of his stones are wrapped together

Book of Job

The Jeep that had Josiah and his party had its load of passengers as it zigzagged through the tortuous and dusty road leading to the village the party was headed to. In the front row were Josiah Mwangi, the driver, and Joseph Kitanga. The back seat was crammed with her three children. The rest of the soldiers were also cramped into the vehicle. There was silence except the noises that form a symphony in the wild, blending in the sounds of cicadas, occasional roar of a lion, and the laughter of Hyenas. Joseph and Josiah were basking in the glory that it was amazing how easy the whole thing had been. Many of the anticipated dangers had failed to materialize. Joseph relaxed, put his feet on the dash, and started to search for a cigar in his pocket. He felt that he had to reward his achievement. He extracted the cigar from his pocket, where he had put for exactly such an occasion. He got the lighter from another pocket and lit the cigar rather languidly. He had just started to enjoy the smoke, when disaster happened. The car was just rounding a bend in the road. The beams of the headlights were not too strong, but even then the monstrous apparition could not be ignored, or ever forgotten. The party was in awe. The monster was huge. It was obviously a large bull elephant, and in a rage. It towered well above the jeep. His eyes were like burning amber, as it surveyed the approaching challenge. He obviously wondered how anyone dare encroach his empire as it raised its trunk, rubbed its legs on the dust and charged. In no time the elephant pushed back the jeep, and overturned it. That there would be immediate casualties was without a doubt. Joseph was immediately crushed underneath the car, as he breathed his last goodbye to the earth. Maya, the little girl was flung out. Her head hit the trees and the life of this angel who was a joy of the family and friends was plucked from her in an instant.

That very instant Josiah came to his senses. He removed the Laser Gun from his belt and fired at the behemoth. The elephant was only temporarily stunned, as it prepared to charge once more. Jasiah realized that the gun was only on stun, and it would not have much of an effect on the animal as it was protected by an inch thick skin. He pressed the button on the gun to ‘KILL’, and fired. It had an immediate effect on the beast. The Laser effect was so powerful that it almost severed the beast’s body from its torso. It staggered on its legs, and crashed on the ground with a loud thump. After having caused such devastation, it was itself consumed by the same form of savagery that cause own destruction.

They recovered almost immediately from the disaster that and stunned them and made everyone’s mind numb, and immediately took stock of the situation. and the two little girls were unharmed. With great heaviness of the heart, the dead bodies were buried in a shallow pit.

A quick call was made to Sunil’s walky-talky using the secret coded messages agreed upon beforehand. He was informed with regards to the disaster and the location of the same. Sunil’s jeep sped to the scene of the disaster, and with a heavy heart, they loaded the remainder of the family onto the vehicle. Unfortunately the loss of his friend, and his beloved daughter was hard to bear, but he knew that he would have to get over it, not only that, but he gave a silent prayer to his deities for saving the rest of his family.

The vehicle had to take two trips to collect everyone. The helicopter was waiting where they had left it, and like and eager beast, was ready to oblige his master to his whim.

It sped off into the eastern skies. Sunil adjusted his controls to the homing device that sped him to Mathari that was near Nairobi, and to freedom.

CHAPTER FIFTYFOUR

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J.D.’S DREAM

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.D. closed his eyes, seemingly for ever.

However, once again he was in his dream world. He was walking along in an enchanted world. The grass was luxuriant and green. So were the trees on whose branches were the birds in their ever present chatter. The sky was blue, and there was magic in the air. He was elated.

As he walked up the hill, he saw a rather heavy set gate, with a stone wall on either side. It was the kind he was familiar with and had seen all over England. He undid the latch and the gate opened with a screech. As he walked, he saw people having a picnic, on a picnic table. There was a fire that was exuding its warmth. He was amazed as he got closer and looked at the people. They were none other than his own family. There was his father, Deepak at the head of the table. Next to him was his beloved mother, Kamla, full of smiles as usual. Aarti, his one and only sister was there, the scars of small pox all gone! Her husband was sitting next to her. He was even more amazed as he saw his brother, Shashikant, the brother who had given his life for him. But, was it possible that Radha was saved, as she was sitting right next to him? There was a beautiful little girl of a different color playing by the fire. No matter how hard he tried hard, he could not recognize her. Even then, as he looked at her, he felt a ‘zing’ in his heart, as though an unknown force had pulled a string and created a melody.

On a chair nearby, but seemingly aloof, was sitting no other person but the one and only, the one who was dearer than life to him; she was none other than his beloved and loving Mumtaz. A memory of the days in India came flooding to him. He was ready to ask her a thousand questions, as he wanted to tell her all that had gone on since she left rather suddenly. He wanted to tell her how he missed her. He was sure in her beseeching eyes were also more than a thousand questions.

She had a beautiful garland in her hands, as she put it around J.D.’s neck.

His peace and joy was complete as it was obvious from a smile on his face.

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CHAPTER FIFTYFIVE

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Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land

When you can no more hold me by the hand

Christina ROSSETTI (1830-1894).

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VISION

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.D. Opened his eyes. For some strange reason he found it hard to utter any words, and his limbs refused to listen to his silent commands, no matter how hard he tried.

In front of him were his favorite people. Sunil gave him a hug, but he could not fail to see a sad face. Sanjay was on one side, looking sad and crestfallen for some strange reason, next was the son that he missed ever so much, Dilip. By his side he saw a lady that bore a stamp of Uganda. She was elegant. Her color was a brilliant mahogany brown, and the beauty and looks were reminiscent of his dear friend Mtumisa. Next to her and rather shy were two little angels, wide eyed and staring at the old man. For some reason he saw a resemblance to Dilip on their faces.

His joy was complete.

He closed his eye, never to open them again. One could see a smile flicker on his face as it rested in peace.

J.D. ashes were scattered in the holy river Ganges at Haridwar, for his soul to rest in peace forever.

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CHAPTER FIFTYSIX

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J.D. THE MAN

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How far that little candle throws his beams!

So shines a good deed in a weary world

W. Shakespeare

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Walk tall as the trees

Live strong as the mountains

Be gentle as the spring winds

Keep the warmth of the summer sun in your heart

And Great Spirit will always be with you

American Indian Proverb

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his great man, although his path was strewn with thorns that can wound deeply, was able to turn them into beautiful and dainty flowers. Although you could see a desert into infinity, he saw a mirage, with an oasis, a small lake with palm trees dancing in the breeze, and he, in his ever present positive vision, saw it as a sanctuary, a heaven, a respite to many a soul, and bathed in its holy water, baptized himself to an ever ascending plain of freedom, beauty, nature, love for all things, living and nonliving, and embracing them with an overflowing heart. It was like a fruit tree laden with nectar in an orchard. Like autumn leaves that fall after a show of brilliant colors in technicolor, to an emptiness, he was a well spring of happy memories that is bound to stay with all that knew him and loved him even though, like the leaf that fell and became lifeless, he also fell and devoid the world of a hero. He set a unique example of courage and optimism which will carry forever in the memory of one and all that knew him and could not help but love him. Like Poseidon who damned Odysseus to roam the oceans in an effort to find home and for his dear Penelope, and like Cain the wondering Jew, JD wandered even a larger ocean we call life, and undoubtedly he was like a strand in a rope that pulls all living creatures to their regulated destiny, and he, the hero of our story, of course was no exception. Like a tree that has lost its branch yet keeps growing skyward despite its loss, in the same manner, JD was an oak tree in the family and continued to grow despite his losses. If anyone looks in the waters of the meandering river by Lugazi, one is bound to see the ghosts of Deepak Patel and his family- JD, Mumtaz, Sunil, Dilip and others, permanently etched in the waters of an ever flowing and restless river.

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Antony, Since the torch is out, Lie down and stray no further

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Now all labor Mars what it does; Yea, very force entangles itself with strength

Shakespeare

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Zendagi Migzara (Life goes on) - Afghanistan

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Thus have the Gods spun the thread for wretched mortals; they live in grief while they themselves are without care

Homer (800-700BC). The Iliad

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The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways- I to die and you to live. Which is better, God only knows.

Socrates 399 B.C., when he was sentenced to death

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No evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death.

Socrates

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Govind

Anguish of mind has driven thousands to suicide; anguish of body, none. This proves that health of mind is of far more consequence to our happiness, than the health of the body; although both deserving of much more attention than either of them receive.