Deliverance (Moksha) an Indian folk tale for "sankofa"

After the discourse everyone left, discussing among themselves the sage's words of wisdom. Only one man stayed back. He was Birju, a petty thief. He had wandered in on seeing the crowd and sat down hopeful of getting a chance to pick a pocket or two. In the beginning his attention kept wandering as he searched for prosperous-looking faces. Gradually he was drawn to what the Swamiji was saying. The Swamiji was speaking in a simple language which even an illiterate boor like him could understand. After everyone had left, Birju approached Swamiji with folded hands and a lot of hesitation. "Swamiji, I.. .1 am Birju, a petty thief." "Birju, you have come to the wrong person. I have nothing to offer you but my wisdom. teal that, " Swamiji said, smiling benevolently, as his followers laughed. "Swamiji, your words have made a great impact on me. Suddenly my entire life flashed before my eyes and I realized I have completely wasted it. I have decided to change. I want to lead an honest life. I want to repent." "That is very good. It is never too late to realize one's mistakes," Swamiji said, looking at his disciples who nodded in agreement.

"Swamiji, I want to become your disciple. I want to be with you wherever you go." "My dear Birju, I do not think you realize how tough an ascetic's life is. It may look easy but it requires a lot of dedication and determination." "Please, give me a chance. If you don't accept me, I think I will have no choice but to go back to my old ways or end my life." Swamiji closed is eyes in deep concentration and then said. "Okay, Birju, from today you are one of my disciples. But you have to be careful. Any sign of misbehaviour and I will throw you out." Birju nodded humbly, then bending down, prostrated before the sage. The next day onwards, Birju was a member of Swamiji's band of followers. He shaved his head, wore saffron clothes and lived the life of a wandering monk. Swamiji was very happy with Birju who was now called Birijanand. Wherever Swamiji gave a discourse he would give the example of Birju. "On listening to these words of wisdom even a criminal can become an ascetic." he would declare proudly.

One night, Swamiji and his followers reached the outskirts of a town and camped under an ancient tree. It was cold. "Can someone go and get some firewood so that we can keep ourselves warm?" Swamiji asked. Birju volunteered and set off quickly to fulfill is master's command. It was pitch dark. All windows and doors were shut. Birju went from door to door hoping to see a light or movement somewhere. It was all quiet; everyone seemed to be asleep. Then he heard a familiar sound. He looked around. It seemed to be coming from a small hovel in one dark corner of the village. He walked quickly towards the hut. It had a small window. Birju stood on his toes and peeped in. A lady was sitting in front of the fireplace. A frying pan was on the fire. Two small children, a girl and a boy were huddled in a corner. They were thin with their bones sticking out of their torn clothes.

Birju looked on moved by their plight. The lady sprinkled some water into the pan, it sizzled and sputtered and the lady would murmur something to the kids. She did it over and over. Birju could not help himself, he came to the door and called out. "Mai (mother) I am an ascetic come new to this town." The young woman was surprised to see a person in saffron clothes. She stood up and walking towards Birju touched his feet. "Maharaj, I am indeed fortunate to have your blessed feet enter my humble abode. However, I am unfortunate because I have nothing to give you." " I observed you for a few minutes. What are you doing?"

Bowing her head in shame she said. "There has not been a grain of rice in this house for the last two days. And the grocer won't pay me. I was just pretending to prepare food for my children. They were so hungry and crying for food I could not bear to see them. See now they have dozed off, hope has calmed their hearts."

Birju was so overwhelmed he could not speak. He walked away and began searching for the grocer's shop. He picked the lock and took out a bag of grain he could carry. Without a word he delivered it to the poor lady's house. The lady broke down seeing the grain and between great sobs of relief she said. "May the lord grant you high moksha. (deliverance)

When Birju came back the ascetics were waiting. "What happened? What took you so long? Where is the firewood?" Birju narrated the entire story. 'What? I cannot believe it!" Swamiji jumped up. His face turning red. "You committed a theft? My follower a thief! What will people say?" "B...but...Swamiji...the poor children..." "Go away you cheat! I do not want you near me." Birju quietly went and sat down at some distance from the camp.

At dawn the sky was ablaze with a divine messenger riding on a flying chariot. All the ascetics were amazed at the glory of the visitor. Swamiji approached him. "Welcome sir, you have indeed come with the blessing of moksha."
"You are correct guru." The visitor said bowing his head. "I am ready." replied Swamiji.
"Sir, it is not for you. I have come for Birju."

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