Three Gentlemen From London

By Eswar Tavva

Amidst the rumbling sounds of trains on platforms, hustling passengers, and busy vendors in Hospet railway station, three Gentlemen stood ready to board the train. An Indian cab driver was bidding farewell to them.

"Everything is connected," Thomas said gently.

"Everything is interconnected," Nolan emphasized.

" It's the beauty of nature. Some things can only be truly understood through the heart," James said.

As they boarded the train and it started moving, I found myself waving my hand continuously, tears streaming down my face. Never before had I experienced such a heart-moving feeling. These gentlemen had changed my way of thinking, offering me a deeper perspective on life.

"Thank you," James shouted at the peak of his voice.

"Happy Journey," I shouted, wiping my tears.

Slowly, the train disappeared into the midst of the dark fog. My mind was flooded with countless thoughts. Emotions and feelings were indeed sweet things. Sometimes, it was better not to control them.

But wait! This was the ending! What about the beginning?

Vijaya Vittala Temple, Hampi.

(Known for its extraordinary architecture and craftsmanship, the Vittala temple was built in the 15th century during the reign of king Devaraya II of the Vijayanagara Empire. The temple is dedicated to Lord Vittala, an avatar of Lord Vishnu)

I have been guiding many foreigners in this UNESCO-recognized world heritage site but never have I seen such peculiar foreigners. Their habits were truly unusual. They seemed to behave more like Indians than the Indians themselves, with forehead markings and traditional Indian attire adorning their bodies.

As they worshipped at the Vittala temple, I couldn't help but notice their distinct actions. Whenever they approached a monument, James would energetically raise both hands holding a Kalash and proclaim the name of the structure.

"This is a musical pillar," James exclaimed, while the other two companions closed their eyes, engaging in silent prayer or reflection.

"And here we have the famous stone chariot of Hampi," James announced once again, prompting the other two to gently close their eyes.

At each monument, they continued this peculiar routine.

Alright! This wasn't the start either. Let's back up even further.

Hospet railway station,12 km away from Hampi.

I am a cab driver and I like my job. The good thing about being a cab driver is you can live without a house. The better thing is you can fix your working hours and the best thing is you can go wherever you want.

Every day I meet new people, driving them to different destinations mostly to Hampi. Ever heard how those other taxi drivers shout at the top of their lungs like they're selling samosas? 

"Taxi! Taxi!" 

"Hampi! Hampi!" 

"Sir taxi! Sir Hampi!" 

"Hampi sir! Taxi sir!" 

They act like they're in a race or something when a train arrives on a platform. But not me. No way. I'm more of a lazy gentleman. I never stoop down to their level and become a samosa vendor myself. Yet somehow, I still manage to get my fair share of customers. You wonder how! Well, picture this: I used to station myself outside my car in the parking area with a placard in my hand. The sign read, "There are 1564 ditches and bumps on the road to Hampi. Lucky for you, my car knows them all like old friends. Promise you won't feel more than 100 ditches and bumps." Now that's what I call attracting customers in style.

One fine routine day, as usual, I found myself standing near my car when three foreign gentlemen emerged from the main entrance. They paused for a moment, their eyes scanning the area in search of someone smart, to assist them in reaching Hampi. Eventually, their gaze settled upon me, and they made their way toward where I stood. Yes, you guessed right they found their smart man.

Tall, medium and short are their heights if I had to describe them. Well-built, moderate, and skinny are their body shapes if I had to comment.

"Welcome to Hampi," I greeted them with a smile.

"Thank you, I am James," the tall and well-built guy introduced himself politely.

"Hello! Nice meeting you, I am Eswar," I replied.

"This is Nolan," he said, pointing to the medium and moderate guy. But Nolan remained silent, further emphasizing his reserved nature.

"And this is Thomas," he said, pointing to the short and skinny guy. Again, there was no response from Thomas also, highlighting his quiet demeanour.

"Hello," I said again, trying to engage them in conversation, but they continued their silence.

"Sorry, please don't mind," the talkative one explained. "They won't talk today. Only one of us speaks each day, and today is my turn. You can talk with Nolan tomorrow."

"That's...strange," I commented, only partially understanding the situation. But his explanation raised the third question in my mind.

"We want to go to Hampi. We will be staying for three days. How much will you charge if we hired you for three days?" James asked politely.

"It would be 3000 rupees per day, so a total of 9000 rupees for three days plus an additional 1000 rupees as guide charges, making it a total of 10000 rupees," I explained, quickly calculating on my fingers.

"Okay!" James agreed. 

They climbed into my car and we set off towards Hampi. The silence in the car was deafening. As a talkative person, I found it difficult to cope with such a lack of conversation. Frustration bubbled up within me, and I couldn't resist asking James a burning question that had been on my mind for days – a question I've been eager to ask foreigners from all around the world.

"Sir, why did you choose to visit our country? What is it about India that has captivated people from every corner of the globe?" I finally blurted out my first inquiry. A whole minute passed without any response. Glancing at him through the rearview mirror, I noticed a smile stretching across James' face. In that moment, I realized that my freedom of speech gets freedom only when he asks me a question, not vice versa.

Here, I wanted to share something fascinating with you. Every person who uses their brain has a subconscious mind that becomes their companion in moments of solitude. It's where everything we read and see is stored, shaping our thoughts and ideas. Paying attention to what we consume is crucial.

As for me, my subconscious mind is endlessly curious. It demands answers to every question it encounters.

I waited patiently for a few minutes, but the gentleman remained unresponsive. This lack of response ignited a fire within my subconscious mind, causing it to unleash a powerful electromagnetic signal from the depths of my mind. The signal rebounded off the front mirror and struck James directly in the head, penetrating his neural network like a lightning bolt and forcefully engaging his own subconscious thoughts with my pressing question"

"In 1911, Calcutta. When Lord Hardinge was the Governor General of India," James began speaking.

"A young British officer was profoundly moved by Charles Wilkins' book ‘The Bhagavad Gita.’ He took it upon himself to translate not only this timeless epic, but also other holy Indian scriptures such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata into English. When he left India, he carried all these translated versions with him and devoted his life to understanding their principles and essence. He passed on his knowledge and devotion to his children, who continued to study and preach about Indian mythology and Vedas. His great-grandson, our father Stanley, went even further by researching Indian temples and their spiritual significance. Through his studies, he discovered the cultural, intellectual, moral, and emotional greatness of India. He believed that there were valuable lessons for the rest of the world to learn from this country. With a moment of reflection, James concluded, "As for why other nationals visit India? Well, my dear friend, I believe they too have their reasons. Some secrets are meant to be discovered firsthand." 

When her children of India are forgetting about her own mother's rituals and traditions, here come these three gentlemen from London to explore something great that they have heard from their father Stanley.

We decided to call it a day after our visit to the magnificent Vittala temple and the famous stone chariot. 

The following day, we hiked to Matanga hill to witness the sunrise. Located at the heart of Hampi and standing at its highest point, Matanga hilltop offers the ideal vantage point for an aerial perspective of Hampi and its surroundings. In Hindu mythology, Matanga hill is a significant location mentioned in the epic Ramayana as the hermitage of sage Matanga. During their quest, Sugriva and his warrior general Hanuma found refuge at this very hill.

The view from the top is breathtaking, with acres of banana plantations, rolling hills, and the flowing Tungabhadra River creating a picturesque landscape. It's also known for offering stunning sunrises. However, one should be cautious of the many monkeys that call this hill their home.

"James sir, this is Matanga hill," I said, observing the landscape.

"I am Nolan," he declared assertively.

At that moment, I was still grappling with confusion over their names. But as the sun blossomed on the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the sky, we all stood in awe of the beautiful sunrise. Nolan reached into his bag and retrieved the Kalash, holding it upward with both hands as he proclaimed, "This is Matanga hill, and you are witnessing a magnificent sunrise." The others closed their eyes, offering silent prayers.

Once the sunrise had painted its masterpiece, we began our descent from the hill. Little did we know that an unexpected challenge awaited us. An agile monkey leapt towards Nolan, snatching the Kalash from his grasp before running away. Frustration and anger instantly surged within us, propelling us into action. We gave chase to the mischievous monkey who seemed to celebrate in our pursuit. But then something astonishing happened - the monkey tossed the stolen Kalash to another monkey mid-flight. Our hearts skipped a beat as we redirected our efforts towards the cunning monkey now clutching the precious artefact. This game of passing continued between them like an intricate dance.

It was at that moment when I couldn't help but marvel at how filmmakers draw inspiration from monkeys for such action-packed scenes in their films.

"What are you looking at? Help me!" Nolan's voice filled the air with urgency, seeking assistance amidst the chaos.

Nolan became my companion throughout this ordeal, while Thomas and James expressed their emotions through their physical reactions. Although they remained silent, their gestures spoke volumes.

I instantly took action, knowing the sneaky ways of monkeys. Our group of four was outnumbered by five monkeys. We tried to surround them, but one monkey was still able to hold onto Kalash, our most valuable possession. I remembered that monkeys are known for doing the opposite of what you signal them to do. So, I signalled to Nolan to approach the monkey with Kalash and called for Thomas to be on high alert. The monkey acted against my warning and threw Kalash towards the monkey behind me, not the one Thomas was watching. In a split second, Kalash was airborne and I quickly leapt over a nearby boulder to catch it before it could hit the ground. Relief washed over the faces of my three companions as we realized we had succeeded in retrieving the Kalash.

Looking at their desperation to secure Kalash, my subconscious mind raised a second question. After sending some electromagnetic signals to Nolan's mind, I asked, "What is so special about this Kalash?"

Nolan replied with his usual calm and knowledgeable tone, "I have an answer to your question. You are wondering what's so special about this Kalash."

He continued, his voice tinged with a deep sense of loss and determination, "One year back, in London, Stanley, my father retired from his nine-to-five job and announced his plans to visit India to seek salvation. We felt very happy about his decision. Everything was in place for him to go to India. But fate had thought of a different ending. He died suddenly due to cardiac arrest the day before he was about to leave for India. His sudden demise threw us into the deepest sorrows of our life."

"We cremated my father in Indian style, collected his ashes into a Kalash, and decided to travel to India to fulfil his last wish," Nolan explained. With a touch of sadness in his voice, he continued, "After going through his diary, we decided on the list of places in India that he wanted to visit. And now we are in India carrying the remains of our father in the Kalash to different places. We have been travelling to all the sacred places in India finally to release our father's remains in the river Ganga at Varanasi."

As Nolan finished explaining their journey, I had a moment of clarity. This revelation cleared my second question. 

The more I spend time with them, the more I am drawn towards them. Through their eyes, I have discovered a new India, as an Indian which I didn't know. Their simple living style, their unflinching commitment to fulfilling their father's last wish, their desire to seek salvation moreover their discipline over their emotions fascinated me.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by. In just three days, we've covered almost every monument and temple in Hampi. They truly enjoy being here, you can see it in the happiness on their faces.

As the evening approached on the third day, signalling the end of our trip and our journey back to the railway station, my subconscious mind suddenly reminded me about my third question which was raised on the very first day I met them. Today is Thomas's turn to speak.

They got into the car and we left for the railway station. James and Nolan decided to take a nap knowing that they could not talk to me today. I was eagerly looking into the eyes of Thomas from the front mirror. 

He kept his diary on his lap and lost himself in its pages. I caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes, as if he was carrying an entire ocean within him.

After a few kilometres of driving, Thomas too fell asleep and his diary slipped from his lap. I immediately pulled over to the side of the road and retrieved his fallen diary. A sense of curiosity took hold of me as I decided to uncover the reason behind those tears. Carefully, I opened his diary...

My soul left my body for a while, exploring the reason for his tears. The rivers of sorrow carried me away, transporting me to London, the day before these three gentlemen scheduled to leave for India. At their residence, James was occupied with preparations and eagerly anticipating the arrival of his brothers. Meanwhile, Nolan and Thomas were on their way back in a vehicle after completing some shopping. Ever in their wildest dreams also, this wouldn't have happened. They were hit by a fast-moving truck that lost control at a junction. Their car rolled twice over the road, smashing their heads into the interior parts of their car, killing them on the spot.

Just one month after the death of his father, James experienced yet another tragedy with the sudden loss of his two brothers in a car accident. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, he isolated himself in a room for an entire year. The reality of their deaths was too hard for him to accept. His mind was constantly filled with memories of his brothers and his father's dying wish for them to visit India together. He couldn't shake the images of them exploring the country and it consumed his thoughts. After a year, he finally travelled to India with three suitcases, but this time alone. Despite being physically by himself, he never felt truly alone as he imagined his brothers were right there with him, visiting sacred places and experiencing the journey together. This coping mechanism eventually led to a multi-personality disorder. My soul returned to my body, I closed his diary and put it back in his bag, and resumed driving. Seeing him in such a situation, my heart grieved for him. I wondered how he endured so much pain all these days.

After my soul returned to my body, I closed his diary and put it back in his bag. With a heavy heart, I resumed driving. 

Let's go back to the first day at Hospet railway station. A tall, well-built man approached me and introduced himself as 'James'. He had three bags of luggage - two in his hands and one on his back. He pointed to his left and right, introducing his brothers Nolan and Thomas. To my shock, there was no one standing beside him. He explained that his brothers wouldn't be speaking that day. Then born was my third question which I decided to find out later after knowing about him. Through my first question, I learned about his great-grandfather during the British times and his family's interest in Indian mythology, which they passed down as a tradition. When we reached the top of Matanga Hill and I called him James, he corrected me and said he was Nolan. He behaved as Nolan on the second day and as Thomas on the third day. Through my second question, I found out about their father's sudden passing and his last wish. Through my third question, I discovered the tragic deaths of his brothers and his struggle with multiple personalities.

As we arrived at the railway station, I helped him carry his luggage. With a heavy heart, I prepared to say goodbye to him.

"Everything is connected," he said gently behaving as Thomas.

"Everything is interconnected," he spoke softly mimicking as Nolan.

" It's the beauty of nature. Some things can only be truly understood through the heart," he said speaking as James.

As he boarded the train and it started moving, I found myself waving my hand continuously, tears streaming down my face. Never before had I experienced such a heart-moving feeling. These gentlemen had changed my way of thinking, offering me a deeper perspective on life.

"Thank you," James shouted at the peak of his voice.

"Happy Journey," I shouted, wiping my tears.

Slowly, the train disappeared into the midst of the dark fog. My mind was flooded with countless thoughts. Emotions and feelings were indeed sweet things. Sometimes, it was better not to control them.

By Eswar Tavva