Aliterary event at Etawah was hardly an occasion to be remembered for long, but for `Khatkhata' Baba whose name is on everybody's lips in the town. And thereby hangs a tale.Many years ago one Mr Sapru came to Etawah as its deputy collector. One evening, he was reclining on his bed and Manohar the barber was massaging his feet. Suddenly Sapru asked Manohar to tell a story. Manohar began rather hesitatingly. "There was a king in Arabia. It was a summer night and the maid had spread a soft-silken bed for the king on the terrace. Perfume had been sprinkled all round with beautiful flowers and cushy cushions befitting a royal fantasy. So enchanting was the setting that the maid was overwhelmed by a mad temptation: How does it feel to lie on this luxurious bed?"The charm was too strong for her and she lay down on the bed. Exhausted after the day's work as she was, the soft breeze and fluffy cushions did the rest and in a couple of minutes she was fast asleep. When the king saw her, he was furious. He sent for the queen and asked her to decide the punishment. She said since the maid lay on the bed for 60 minutes, she would be given 60 lashes. The king shuddered at the severity of the penalty, but there was consolation that the queen would deliver the punishment herself."The king started counting the lashes and the maid kept wailing. After the figure of 30 was reached, she started laughing. When the painful ordeal was over, the king asked her for the cause of her laughter. She said: `I first cried because of the pain but then I wondered if an hour's sleep on this bed begets 60 lashes, how many will be awarded to Your Majesty - and the Begum Sahiba too! I laughed at the thought that my judges had no idea of what was in store for them. You are angry at my sleeping at this bed, but what if God similarly chastises you?' These words transformed the king, who was a kind soul. He discarded his crown and robes, donned the apparel of a `faqir' and left his palace in the dead of night itself!""Wow!" shouted Sapru, "What a beautiful story. But. now I also should relinquish this bed." And, spreading a blanket on the floor, he lay down. Next day, the report spread like wild fire that Sapru, deputy collector and magistrate first class, had resigned his job of Rs 550, become a sadhu and was sitting on an old blanket under a tree near his bungalow.The English collector along with the SP and three other deputy collectors tried to dissuade Sapru from his resolve, telling him he had been selected for promotion, and pleading with him to heed the tears of his beautiful young wife and little child. "Bring up the boy and then become a faqir," they urged him. But Sapru would not budge: "I have to suffer for all the luxury enjoyed at the cost of poor, suffering public."The Yamuna flows a mile to the south of Etawah. On a "pucca ghat" there Sapru could be seen sitting on a blanket with a thick wooden club with which he kept knocking at the ground and calling "Khatke Ka Khatka Khatpat Karta Reh" so much so that he got the name Khatkhata Baba. Every morning at 10, it was his practice to go with a satchel to town for alms, to sink the loaves of bread received in the river and then to hang the satchel from a branch of the tree till afternoon.Then he would eat some of it and feed the rest to the monkeys above. Such was the life of penance he lived for 12 years loved and respected by every local family, such that he was eagerly awaited for alms.Kings and collectors have been replaced by characters known differently and aplenty too. But how many Saprus do we have whose lives take such a dramatic turn by the mere knock of a tale? The Khatkhata Baba's knock has obviously gone silent. Tales there are, but listeners rare.
