The mendicant said, ‘I’m just watching this bull. I have never seen such a handsome one.’
‘He is from this house.’
‘He is a living God.’ He then started kissing Jawahir’s hooves.
Ramtahal asked, ‘Where do you hail from? Do take some rest here. I will be obliged.’
‘No, my dear man, pardon me. I have to catch a train for some important work. I will be delayed if I wait the night.’
‘Will I meet you again?’
‘Yes, definitely, after three years of pilgrimage, I will be back this way. I will spend the night here then. You are a blessed soul—you have the opportunity to serve a Nandi like this. Don’t consider him an animal. He is some great soul born in this form. Do not ever hurt him. Do not ever hit him, even by mistake.’
The mendicant then touched Jawahir’s hoof again and went on his way.5
From that day on, Jawahir got even better treatment. From an animal he graduated to a God. Ramtahal first fed him from the kitchen and then had his own meal. First thing in the morning he visited him as one does a sacred shrine. He went so far as to desist from even yoking him to the cart. But when Ramtahal had to go somewhere and was forced to take out the cart, Jawahir became eager to be yoked to it; in excitement he would keep nodding his head, making it difficult for Ramtahal to do anything else. A few times, when he took the other pair to draw the cart, it upset Jawahir so much that he refused to eat anything the whole day. That is why Ramtahal refrained from going anywhere unless it was an emergency.
Seeing Ramtahal’s faith, the other villagers too started feeding grains to Jawahir. Many would visit him in the morning to make their offerings.
Three years went by in this manner. Now Jawahir was in his sixth year.
Ramtahal remembered what the astrologer had said. He was afraid that the prediction would come true. He got many books on veterinary science and started reading them. He met a vet and procured some medicines too. He got Jawahir vaccinated. Fearing that the servants might give him the wrong fodder, or water that was not clean, he took on the entire responsibility of looking after Jawahir. The shed was cemented so that harmful germs or insects were kept away. Every day he would wash the place thoroughly.
It was evening. Ramtahal was standing beside Jawahir, feeding him from a tumbler. Suddenly the mendicant who had visited him three years ago arrived. Ramtahal recognized him immediately. After greeting the mendicant, he inquired about his well-being and then went in to arrange a meal. All of a sudden Jawahir belched loudly and fell to the ground. Ramtahal was at his side in a moment. Jawahir’s eyes glazed over. He looked at Ramtahal with love and then became still.
Scared, Ramtahal went to get the medicines. He could not understand what had happened. When he reached with the medicines, he found that Jawahir was already dead.
Ramtahal hadn’t felt so much sorrow even when his younger brother had died. He would keep running to the bull’s side and hold him close, crying his heart out, even though people tried to stop him.
Ramtahal cried through the whole night. Jawahir’s memory kept surfacing in his mind. Sorrow weighed heavily on him, gripping him at intervals.
Early the next morning Jawahir’s body had to be disposed of but Ramtahal did not allow the tanners to come and take him away as per the custom in the village. He cremated the bull in accordance with the scriptures, lighting the pyre himself. He religiously performed all the rituals associated with death. He served meals to the Brahmins of the village on the thirteenth day. The mendicant who had come to him was still by his side—Ramtahal wouldn’t let him go. The mendicant’s words helped him calm down a little.6
One day he asked the mendicant, ‘Mahatmaji, I still don’t understand—what ailed Jawahir? The astrologer had predicted that his sixth year would not go well. But I have not seen any animal die like this. You are a yogi; can you solve this riddle?’
The mendicant said, ‘I can make some sense of it.’
‘Do tell me. My mind is not at peace.’
‘In his past life, he must have been an honest, helpful and deeply religious man. He had spent all his money on good deeds in the name of religion. Was there any relative of yours who had been like this?’
‘Yes, sir, there was one.’
‘He must have cheated you, betrayed your trust. You must have entrusted him with some work, and he used your money to serve followers of religion like sadhus and mendicants on the sly.’
‘He was such a simple-minded, honest fellow. The thought of cheating anyone wouldn’t even have crossed his mind.’
‘But he did betray your trust. Not out of self-interest but to serve others. It is still cheating.’
‘Circumstances probably swayed him from the path of duty.’
‘Yes, it is so. It must have been ascertained that he deserved a place in heaven, but he had to atone for betraying somebody’s trust. Whatever money he had cheated you out of had to be paid back, so he was born here as an animal in this birth. It was certain that in six years’ time he would be able to atone for the sin he’d committed. He stayed with you to fulfil that time period. Once the period was over, his soul left his body to embark on the eternal journey.’
The mendicant left the next day. A great change came over Ramtahal. His attitude to life changed completely. His heart was filled with kindness and sensitivity. He started thinking that if such a devout man like his brother had to undergo punishment for one mistake, then what
