Stopped In Our Tracks

That morning of October 30, 1995, U.G. was sitting in the hall downstairs in Poornakutee. The hall was packed with friends: there was no room even to walk through. U.G. was sitting on the sofa next to the T.V., as usual, holding his head in his hands. People kept coming in. The ones that were sitting were making room for the newcomers. The Major said, getting up to go, "I am going upstairs; one of you can sit here." U.G. looked up at him once, but didn't say anything.

Then another young man peeped into the hall from the doorway, "My name is Vinod. I phoned you earlier," he said to me aside. Then I suddenly remembered: he came from Hubli ten days ago and asked me the previous night at 10:30 on the phone if he could come to see U.G. Early next morning U.G. was leaving for Madras. Hearing this, the young man was disappointed. After he made sure that U.G. has arrived, he came today to Bangalore and phoned. "Come in, come in Vinod," I said. He didn't quite know how to come in from the door or make room for himself. After he tried some, he finally sat down in a small rattan chair near the door.

He picked up some unknown courage as soon as U.G. smiled at him. All his shyness disappeared from his face in the matter of a moment. He didn't notice anyone else in the room besides U.G. He looked into U.G.'s face, and got immersed in U.G.'s words forgetting where he was, and where he was sitting. He said he had read U.G.'s books in the Hubli public library. He had an M.A. or an M.Sc. degree.

"I had ambitions of doing many things in life: I wanted to become an important officer by passing the IAS [Indian Administrative Service]. After reading your books, all my enthusiasm has gone. All my ambitions have crumbled. Only despair and hopelessness have remained. Just eating, drinking and living. You are the reason why I have become like this," said the young man. Everyone laughed.

U.G. laughed, too, and said, "What did I do? I too hope that you would pass the IAS and become an important official. Don't read my books and don't come to me. You forget about everything and live happily." The young man said that was not possible any more.

He pulled out a copy of The Mystique of Enlightenment he had just bought and said, "I just bought this book today. Please autograph it."

"Why did you waste your money buying that book? The book is not even useful to boil water to make coffee," said U.G.

"I didn't spend one hundred and twenty five rupees to boil water. You must sign this book," the boy said, getting up."

"I don't know how to sign my name. I am an illiterate," said U.G. trying to avoid him. "I don't believe it. What's your problem? What will you lose by signing on this book?" Vinod insisted. Everyone was watching this amusement and laughing at their argument.

Finally, U.G. took the book and the pen and asked, "Tell me your name." As soon as he told his name, U.G. wrote it in big letters on the first page of the book.

Noticing that, Vinod started again, "Not my name, yours."

No matter how much U.G. tried to avoid signing the book, Vinod kept insisting. I tried to tell him that U.G. never puts his autograph in anyone's book, and begged him not to insist. We were all astonished at his aggressiveness. He held U.G.'s hand by sitting next to him and made him write 'U.G.' by leading his hand. Then he bent down to pick up the pen that slipped and fell. U.G. thought that perhaps he was going to touch his feet and folded his legs into the sofa, admonishing him, "Hey, don't do such things!"

Then Vinod realized. "By mentioning that, you gave me the idea. I must touch your feet," he said trying to reach U.G.'s feet. He asked U.G., "Why do I have so much self-forgetfulness when I see you?"

U.G. replied, "Forget all that. Just go and do your IAS examinations." Vinod thus spent an hour and half with U.G. and left very reluctantly. He left making U.G. promise that he would let him see him again next February.