You have not heard the name of the great scholar Gour Bhatta. I don’t blame you for that. He is long dead and did not travel much. Besides, of those who heard of him only a few are alive. I am the only person available who actually saw him. Moreover, he was a scholar of Sanskrit. Sanskrit, though very rich, is a dead language. So, even during his lifetime, he was known only to a select few. However, in the villages within twenty miles he was a very well known and respected person.
I first saw him about sixty years ago. I was then a little child. Still, I vividly remember the sight of that tall, muscular figure. His torso was covered with a piece of white cloth. He was wearing another piece of white cloth-dhoti

- that was only knee-length. He had a cleanly shaven head, except for a tuft of hair known as tiki

or sikha

. It was not very long, but long enough to give a single knot.
His footwear impressed me most. He wore a pair of wooden sandals.Only a piece of upright wood on each wooden platform provided a grip for the toes. One could hear his footsteps even from a distance.
Gour Bhatta used to teach a handful of students from the very morning. He taught them grammar, literature, astronomy, logic, philosophy and sundry other subjects written in Sanskrit. Such scholars are rare now-a-days. His earnings from these classes were not much. Yet, he was a wealthy man.
The secret behind his riches was the class he held in the evening. In these classes he taught chaurayvidya-the art and science of thieving. His students in these classes were all aspiring thieves.

These classes were held in darkness for thieves don’t have much use for light. Students of these classes did not have to pay any fees during their training period. They would have to pay their master throughout their life. Actually, they would pay a certain part of their earnings after each act of theft.
It is said that there exists a very ancient book named chauryavidya

and Gour Bhatta had a copy of this rare book. In ancient times there was no printing press or the papers we use to-day. Bhurja-patra

was often used for writing texts. The inner bark of the Himalayan birch tree was smoothened and many layers were gummed together to form a leaf. These leaves were called Bhurja-patra

. The bark was oiled and polished so that it got hard and smooth before it was ready for writing. A reed pen with a special ink was used to write on these leaves.
You can easily see that not many copies of a book could be made this way. So books were very scarce and valuable possessions of a scholar and teacher. Possessing a copy of a rare manuscript would give him an extra power. Partly because of his large collection of such books, Gour Bhatta was a much sought after master of the thieves.

*******************************************


Sadananda was a teenager when he first came in contact with Bhatta. Sadananda had lost his father before he was ten. After that he tried his hand at various odd jobs. He liked adventures and did not find satisfaction in the trades available to him. Moreover, his earnings were not much in these trades. He was very young, inexperienced and uneducated. If he could afford a proper education he would possibly go on to join the police forces, navy or the air-force.
It was a new-moon night and the entire cluster of villages was plunged in absolute darkness. Gour Bhatta’ s evening classes were over. He was arranging his manuscripts in the dim light of a candlestick. Sadananda stealthily came and sat on the veranda attached to Bhatta’s reading room.
‘Who is there?’-asked the master. Utterly surprised that his presence was detected, Sadananda stuttered - ‘it’s me… me ..sir, Sadananda is my name. You may call me Sada.’
The master looked out and saw two cat-like eyes. Cats can see even in the dark. He was quite impressed. He scrutinized the entire length and breadth of Sadananda just as a jeweler judges a precious stone. Sadananda’s was a slim muscular figure. His complexion was as dark as the night itself. ‘A diamond indeed,’- thought the master. He asked, ‘Why are you here?’The deep voice had cowed down many a brave soul but Sadananda was determined- ‘I want to be your student and a devoted disciple. Please accept me, sir.’

'What is it that you want to learn? Grammar, philosophy or literature? I take it that you know about my fees,’ asked the master.

‘I know about the fees, sir!’ Sada replied slowly, ‘But….actually…sir, I want to join the evening classes.’
‘At last I’ve found the jewel I was waiting for,’-the master thought and then said aloud, ‘When do you want to begin?’ ‘Now, from this very moment,’ pat came the reply.

‘Listen then, Sadananda!’ began the master, ‘A person is perfect only if he has learnt the 64 arts. It is said that the science of thieving is the crown of arts. Don’t think it is easy to be a master in this art. You have to learn so many things ...’ ‘Tell me, sir, and I shall work 24 hours a day. How am I to prepare myself? What qualities must I attain?’ –Sadananda was quick to express his resolve.
‘You must be a cat in climbing, a deer in running, a snake in twisting, a hawk in darting upon the prey’-the master explained , ‘also a lamp in the night, a mule in a defile, a horse by land, a boat by water, a snake in motion, and a rock in stability .’ ‘It seems to be a very tall order’-exclaimed Sadananda.
‘I am not finished yet, though’-the master continued, ‘In hovering about you must compete with the king of birds, and in an eye to the ground, keener than the hare. You must be like a wolf in seizing, and like a lion in strength.’ Sadananda could not but say, ‘It seems you are describing the virtues of a king.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ said the master, ‘and the kings also employ the master thieves. They go by the name of spy, investigating officer and so on.’
‘A dedicated thief is no less than a king. I would say he is more majestic than the majesty itself. The thief will not use force or hurt anybody, not even spread terror. Then again remember that the law is against him. He has no public sympathy and once caught in the act he is as good as dead. He has only his knowledge, cleverness and skills to fall back upon. There is no one to help him.’
‘I get it, sir.’- Sadananda said. ‘There is time yet, think twice before you commit. There are other easier, safer and respectable trades. You will succeed in any of them much more easily.’- Bhatta cautioned. ‘My interest in this science is now more than ever before. I’ll not return. I am determined to attain all the qualities sitting at your feet,’ said Sada.

Sadananda began his training in all earnest. His teacher taught him how to observe people and estimate their wealth. In those days there were no ATM and branches of the banks were few and far between. So villagers kept their money and gold ornaments in concealed places of their dwelling houses. Gour Bhatta taught him how to guess those locations. Sadananda had to sit for hours together at night outside the village homes. Then from the sounds of the breathing of the residents he would have to find the number of people, their age, state of health and whether they were deep asleep or not. Gour Bhatta himself would check the information and correct him, if necessary.

He learnt to mimic the sounds of different animals and birds, studied their behaviors, particularly those of the stray dogs and cats. Finally he was introduced to using the sid-kathi

– an iron made instrument for cutting holes in the walls.

‘These holes must be very beautiful to look at,’ instructed his master, ‘these must be perfect half-circles. The arch created will support the weight of the wall so that no damage is done. First thing that the people will notice in the morning are these arches and they will be forced to praise the artist.’
Day in and day out Sadananda worked hard to learn all the tricks of the trade. Finally the time came for his graduation. Gour Bhatta declared to his evening students, ‘this time the exam is going to be pretty tough, the reward for the first-rank holder will also be very high. I have decided to give him my own enchanted sid-kathi. I received it from my master who fortified it using his magic power. Besides, it has been designed and made by a master craftsman.’

After the general tests were over, time came for the final test-the competition to win the prize the master had declared.

Gour Bhatta usually took a nap after lunch; his sleep used to be deep and of short duration. ‘I shall keep a bowlful of milk on my chest during my mid-day siesta,’ he told the students, ‘the doors will be bolted from inside but the windows with iron grills will remain open. At the bottom of the bowl I shall keep certain things. Without spilling a drop of milk and without disturbing my sleep you have to find out what those hidden things are. Everyday one student will try, if somebody fails he goes. If somebody succeeds I shall design a tougher task till only one student remains.’ One aspiring thief tried everyday and failed. Sadananda’s turn was on the last day.

When his turn came, Sadananda appeared with a long rubber tube. He pushed the tube through the openings between the iron rods of the window till one end reached the bowl. Then he sucked all the milk and drank it. Not a drop spilt, the bowl also remained undisturbed. He found at the bottom of the bowl three coins made of gold, silver and copper.

Sadananda graduated with flying colors. With the enchanted sid-kathi

in hand, he became invincible. He stole only from the wealthy householders and in the morning after his adventure everybody would praise the beautiful holes he made in the walls.There was no evidence or witness against him. Still the villagers all around gradually came to know that Sadananda is the great artist they praised. After each theft Police would be routinely informed and complaint lodged against Sadananada. Each time he would go scot-free for want of evidence.

Sadananda was inebriated with the adventure and the chance of showcasing his art, which his trade provided. He regularly paid Gour Bhatta his due. He kept little for his own consumption and would distribute most of his earnings among the poor. He thus built up quite a following. Wealthy villagers gradually accepted Sadananda as an inevitable part of their fate and life went on. Then one day, to everybody’s surprise, Sadananda gave up thievery and ultimately left the village. Nobody heard of him since then.
Rumor-mills worked overtime to explain the reason of Sadananda’s change of mind. I give here the version which, I think, is nearest to the truth.

One fine morning Sadananda’s agent brought the news that a wealthy villager about ten miles away had amassed great riches and was in the process of shifting those to a far away town. Sadananda immediately started for the village in the guise of a beggar. He completed his recce of the house and adjoining area to gather all the information he needed. He decided to act on the very next night, which was a new moon.
The night was perfect for Sadananda’s purpose. It was dark all around and the dogs did not bark. Villagers were all asleep. Sadananda sat for some time outside the room , which he had identified as the one where the money, gold and other valuables were stored. Sound of someone’s breathing came from the room, but it was the slow deep breathing of someone having a sound sleep. He diagnosed that the man was not too old and was not suffering from any serious disease. So he ruled out the possibility that his almost silent procedures will awaken this man.
Sadananda used his enchanted sid kathi to remove the bricks one by one as if he was cutting a mound of butter with a hot knife. He slowly removed the debris and created the most perfect half circle. His master had taught him not to enter through the hole immediately after its creation. He pushed through the hole an earthen pot painted as a human head. If, by chance, somebody was there he would hit the earthen pot and Sada would leave the place. Then he first put his two legs through the hole and gradually he smuggled his entire body into the room. All the time his trained ears ascertained that the sleep of the man in the bed was not disturbed.
Everything worked fine. Sada took a half erect crouching posture and proceeded to the vault in the room. Suddenly his advance was halted by what appeared to be rope stretched across the room and tied with the wall. The rope must have been as black as the darkness itself so Sada was not aware before he struck it. Holding his breath, he halted but the bed got a jerking. Now Sada understood that one end of the black rope was fastened with one corner of the bed.
Rustling sounds came from the bed and someone lighted a lamp. Sada felt a bone-chilling terror as he looked at the bed.

Gour Bhatta himself was sitting upright on the bed.
‘Sadananada, give me back the sid-kathi I gave you’, Gour Bhatta ordered in a firm voice. It was like the University confiscating the degree of a student, who earned it through much hard work. A tremor went through the whole body of Sadananda.
‘But… what is my fault, sir?’ Sadananda almost wept.
‘You have been caught in the act. That is the greatest of all faults.’

Don’t ask me why Guru Gour Bhatta

was present in the room that night. Honestly, I don’t know. In fact, nobody knows.

Impressum

Texte: All rights reserved by the author Acknowledgement:'Select specimens of the theatre of the Hindus'- Horace Hayman Wilson
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 29.05.2010

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Widmung:
To the young readers