Aarti:  “Heh! Manju, how many courses in Sanskrit you had to take for your minor at JMU?” 

Manju: “The Sanskrit Department offered its own courses from traditional classic texts.  AISC developed in parallel a few of its own courses in Sanskrit with the help of some US scholars, like Professors Waltzell and Dronier.  As AISC students, we were required to take only two, SANS 110 and SANS 210 for our minor.   

Arundhati: We were fortunate to have had these from Professor Tharpar. She was such a sweet charming lady with full of humor for all occasions. 

Aarti:  “Have you learnt to converse in Sanskrit?” 

Manju: “ Oh! Not much.  Rundi can speak better. She was the valedictorian of our class.” 

Rundi: “Na, Sakhi, Samskruta sambhashanameva sulabham nasti|  (No, friend! Conversing in Sanskrit is not easy.)” 

Aarti: “ It sounds so nice to hear. Girl, you are a pundit.” 

Rundi:  “Nay, we just got by heart a few sentences like that, just to pass the courses.”    

Manju: “Arundhati panditaa ca caturaa asti | ( Arundhati is a pundit and clever.)” 

Rundi:  “Ha! Manju, your Sanskrit is not bad, you ranked second in our class.” 

Manju:   “Rundi, you were the star of the show for the SANS 210 class on the day when the UGC (University Grants Commission) team came to examine AISC programs.” 

Aarti:  “Looks very interesting. Tell me.” 

Manju:  “Ok Aarti baby, I am going to narrate a wonderful story.” 

“The two course sequence (SANS 110 and 210) of AISC covers part of India’s great epic Srimad Raamaayanam.   Aruna and I had been in those courses together.  In April 2002, an accreditation team (of the UGC) of distinguished educators/scholars chaired by Dr. Imran Harboob of Alimar Muslim University came to evaluate AISC programs.   Professor Shreeman L. Yadav, who earned his reputation as a scholar in Caste Politics Studies, but a big zilch in Sanskrit, was an obvious political appointee included in the team.  Chancellor Tharpar received the visiting team and after the routine formalities, the team began a long day of interviews with several batches of graduating senior class students of AISC.   Our class interview began that afternoon in Indira Gandhi Auditorium.”     

Manju continued as Aarti listened enthusiastically. 

“Dr. Harbib:  ‘Thank you, Chancellor Tharpar! Congratulations to you, bright young Sankritists and the graduating class of 2002 ! Let me start with this question to the class:  (He takes out an envelop from his coat pocket, opens it and poses the first question.) 

 ‘ Shivadhanum ko bhangitavaan?’ 

 Shreemaan Yadav:  ‘Professor Harbib Ji, Mujhe Samskrut nai maalum, krupaya Angraji/Hindi me boliye.’  

Dr. Harbib:  ‘Jarur, ProfessorYaadav ji, the question is:  Who broke the Shiva’s bow?’  Your answer can be first in Sanskrit and then in English.    

“The syllabi for SANS 110 & 210 consisted of excerpts from Sundara kaanda and Yuddha Kaanda of Raamaayanam.  We had never heard of Shiva Dhanush or its Bhangam episode, so none of us could come up with an answer. We all looked at each other hoping someone will come up with the right answer.  After a couple of minutes of desperation, we all looked at Arundhati, our brilliant class valedictorian (perfect GPA 4.0). All of us were staring at her, as the committee waited anxiously for an answer.  Arundhati was quite nervous, as Shreemaan Yadav had been looking all over her very coyly.  

“Picking up courage, Arundhati arose and said:  “Mama naama Arundhati Raye, Shivadhanur bhangam aham na kritavaan (My name is Arundhati Raye, I have not broken Shiva Dhanush).  Suddenly the class found something to cheer and applaud Arundhati for coming up with an answer to an intractable question.  The entire class, one after another, parroted: ‘Aham dhanurbhangam na kritavaan.’ 

“Ms. Raye then continued with gusto: “Asmakam kakshye dhanurbhangam ko’pi na kritavaan “(Also, none in this class had broken the bow.) 

“Professor Yadav, who was charmed first by the looks of young Arundhati, now was truly impressed with her forthright answers in Sanskrit and bravely defending the entire class.  He, however, had to show off his investigative talent: ‘Thum nai kia, ye kalaas me koyee nai kia. Theek  hai. Jabthab kaun kia Arundhati jee?’ (You had not done it; no one in the class had done it. Okay.  Then who did it, Arundhati jee?)   Again, there was total silence.   

“Chancellor Tharpar suddenly had felt the need to intervene. She said: ‘Arundhati comes from a very noble family of Syrian Christians and as such, she would never commit a crime or lie about it.  I have full faith and confidence in her answer.’  Looking pleadingly at the committee, she said: ‘I will put all our university resources to find the culprit that broke the dhanush and bring him to book.’  The committee members were hesitant at first. But then, they were quite aware that the Chancellor was a world famous authority; and so they had to accede to her wish. Shreemaan Yadav insisted on a dead line. ‘Okay, Madam Chancellor!  Find the culprit who broke it by tomorrow evening, as I have more important business to attend to in Patna.’ That closed out the student evaluation for the day. 

“The Chancellor charged the campus police immediately into action. The police report came back: ‘The police couldn’t find any broken dhanush, and without any evidence there was no way to nab the culprit(s).’  The same evening, the Chancellor called for an emergency meeting of the University Council of Deans and Directors of JMU at Chancellor’s Mansion. It was a very stormy session, as one after another, the deans expressed profound shock and anger at the breaking of dhanush. ‘It must be a terrorist activity by rogue elements; and lately Bajrung Dal had been making strong inroads into the student body’, thumped Dean B. J. Matthew of School of Humanities.  Dean Kaldip Nayyar of the School of Journalism soundly echoed his arguments. Dr. Psec Bidwai, Dean of Political Science, lashed at the covert support the Hindutva student fascists had been getting from the outside. The council members asked for a CBI enquiry into the crime; but then some cooler heads prevailed: ‘why fuss so much about an old bow broken or stolen by some vandals? It can be replaced with a brand new one for less than one thousand rupees.’  The visiting Professor Wendy Dronier, who happened to be present as chancellor’s special invitee, offered to get a new Shiva dhanush made by finest craftsmen in USA as a goodwill gift to JMU. That settled and relieved the Council from serious embarrassment, as Dr. Tharpar adjourned the meeting with a big sigh of relief. The visiting committee was now completely satisfied by the JMU Council decision, and approved the full accreditation for the AISC programs and left the city.”  

“Was that the end?”  Aarati asked while struggling to control her laughter.

“ No, there is more, let me finish”, said Rundi.  

“Unfortunately, that was not to be the end of the story. The word got around fast (Shreeman Yadav had trouble keeping his big mouth shut).  The English media made headlines the next day: ‘Bajrang Dal fascists on JMU campus broke The Shiva Dhanush. The culprits left no trace of the crime. The crime demanded a full scale CBI enquiry.’  Durdarshan and Star TV interviewed the famous deans of JMU.  Bajrang Dal swiftly followed with a strong denial and blamed the Marxist-Naxalites on campus for the dastardly crime and chastised the ‘P-sec media for false allegations and outright propaganda.’  JMU campus witnessed sporadic violent attacks between ‘fascists’ and ‘Naxalites’, as other campuses in the city joined the fray. As the city hospitals admitted scores of students with broken bones, the authorities had to apply round the clock curfew and shut down the campuses for a long week of holidays. 

“The next day’s Hindustan Times news reported: The question, ‘Who broke Shiva Dhanush’ somehow found its way to the Prime Minister’s desk.  The wise PM quipped, ‘had I broken it, would I still remain a bachelor?’ ”   

Thus ended Rundi’s narration as Aarti quietly listened while controlling her laughter from bursting out. Finally, Aarti said: “Vaah, what a story! Incredible!  Now I know why your Alma Mater and its Chancellor are world famous.” 

Rundi was thinking aloud: “If only we had taken SANS310 in JMU, we could have known the answer to Shiva dhanurbhangam.  Well, next semester I will look for an advanced course here in Michigan.” 

Few seconds later, Manju blurted:  “Even to this day I don’t understand what PM ji meant by his quip.  What do you think, Rundi?”  

            Rundi:  “Oh! I guess the old man, at seventy seven, is getting tired of being a bachelor.” 

Aarti:  “Vaarre, vaah, panditaah dwayam!  You had four splendid years under mahaa punditaa Tharpar!  You just need four more under Mahaa-mahaa panditaa Wendy to get your answers.  Good luck, good night and sleep well.” 

The End: The story is fictional and any resemblances to real names are purely accidental. Aarati Buchwala is a freelance writer and satirist. She can be reached at: aaratibuch@yahoo.com

Aarati Buchwala