Soup for Gopal

 

South Indian monks were a common feature of the temples and shrines of Kashmir. The monks looked after these properties and formed an integral part of the religious environment. People appreciated their services, often went to meet the monks and donated small gifts or some money.

 

Gopal, a monk from Madras, had been in Kashmir for nearly thirty years, but did not stay at one place for long. He had lived for years at the Vital Sahib Temple and conducted the morning and evening prayers. In 1964, he moved to Baramulla to stay at Gosain Teng, a magnet for pilgrims, near the top of the Moondh Hillock. On learning that Gopal had moved there, I went to see him. We reestablished our acquaintance from years before.

 

It was December 1964. The college had closed for the winter vacation. Rattan went to stay with her parents in Dehradun, and took the children along. My parents, who accompanied them, planned to visit Haridwar and the temples at Rishikesh. I stayed back at Baramulla with Shiv Ram, our housekeeper. Although a vegetarian, he did not hesitate to cook non-vegetarian dishes for me while remaining content with beans and potatoes for himself.

 

One day, news reached us that Gopal was very sick. Shiv Ram was concerned. “Medical aid is not available at Gosain Teng,” he said intensely.

 

He suggested that Gopal be immediately transferred from Gosain Teng to our home. With unexpected resolve, he added, “I must help the Babaji before it is too late.”

 

Hours later he assisted Gopal into our drawing room. Gopal was bundled-up in sweaters and mufflers, and looked weak and emaciated. He was suffering from an attack of influenza. He needed medical attention, but more importantly needed rest and good nutrition.

 

For Shiv Ram this was an opportunity to serve a monk. He made sure that everything was clean. The kitchen utensils were given an extra scrub, the bed linen and towels were changed and things arranged according to Gopal’s taste. Shiv Ram cared for Gopal devotedly. I felt he outdid himself in serving Gopal hot tea, every now and then, to ward off the chills. Shiv Ram often sat by Gopal’s side and recited prayers with him. Never had I seen him so responsive to my requests. Gopal too enjoyed the attention. He recovered within a week, but still complained of weakness.

 

One day Gopal told me in confidence that he wanted to drink mutton soup.

 

“Only mutton soup can restore me to good health,” he insisted.

 

I was taken aback by his assertion. Pausing to think of a way out, an idea struck me.

 

“No problem,” I replied.

 

“But how can you ask Shiv Ram to prepare mutton soup for me? He will be very disappointed with me if he finds out that I eat mutton,” Gopal parried uneasily.

 

“Don’t worry the solution is easy,” I assured him.

 

Later that day, I asked Shiv Ram to prepare chickpea soup for Gopal and mutton soup for me.

 

“Perfect. Chickpea soup is good for Gopal. It will nourish him. Let him drink it for three or four days,” Shiv Ram agreed wholeheartedly.

 

So, for the next few days Shiv Ram fastidiously prepared chickpea soup garnished with mild herbs. He served us at dinnertime. As Shiv Ram retreated to the kitchen, I swapped my bowl with Gopal’s. He supped it voraciously and hurriedly chewed the mutton pieces taking care to track Shiv Ram’s return to serve seconds.

 

Gopal gradually regained his strength, and soon seemed fit and fine. Shiv Ram was elated. He had helped restore a monk to good health.

 

During his stay with us, I came to know a bit more about Gopal. He had served in the Indian Army, was well versed in scriptures and often quoted from the Bhagvad Gita.

 

“The physical body is a vehicle which helps us to traverse this world. It should be kept in good condition at all costs. What to eat and what not to eat, who to eat with and who to keep away from, is not an issue with spirituality,” Gopal asserted.

 

I had no dispute with his argument, but had a few questions to ask.