Color Me Red, Please!
Goodnight Stories with Hanuman
Children Book
Prologue
Mithoo was a seven years old kid. His parents called him with his nicknames and real name, Aparjit, patted his cheeks, flowed fingers through his hairs, and even warned him that if he didn’t wake up, the bus might leave without him. It was the daily morning ritual. At last, they dragged him out of the bed, washed his face and made him sit in front of the tiny wooden temple. In the temple, there were tiny figurines of Lord Hanuman. His parents bowed in front of God and Mithoo copied his parents. His mother picked up the aarti plate, which was placed between temple and them. The plate had banana and laddoo.
Mithoo found this entire process boring but he had to sit along with his parents.
“What do you mean by Sankat-Haran?” Mithoo asked her parents, when they sang Hanuman Chalisa during their morning prayers. Every day, Mithoo sat with their parents. He had this question for a long time, though he didn’t know how to ask this question till today. She picked a laddoo and handed it over to Mithoo. He ate, while waiting for an answer.
“It means problem-solver,” his mother replied.
“And who is that?”
“Lord Hanuman,” his father answered.
“Really? How does he solved the problems? I can’t even see him.”
“He is immortal and he is everywhere,” his father said.
Baffled by his father’s response, Mithoo turned to his mother.
“He sees a problem and he solves it,” his mother interjected.
“It can’t be that simple,” he asked, doubly confused.
“For Lord Hanuman, it is simple, dear Mithoo. Do you have a problem?” His father asked.
“Yes, I can’t sleep at night sometime,” he told them.
“You can knock on our door, we’ll come to you,” his father answered.
“And what’ll you do?”
“We’ll tell you the story, so that you sleep peacefully,” his mother responded, by touching his cheeks affectionately.
“I’m scared to come to your room,” he said, stopped for a moment to think and then asked, “Can’t I call Lord Hanuman to solve my problem? Can’t he tell me a story?” He looked at his parents for approval. His parents exchanged the gaze. His father replied, “You might as well call him.”
“How do I call him?”
“It’s simple,” his father said and picked up a banana from the plate. His father further asked, ” You know what is the favorite fruit of Lord Hanuman?”
He turned to his mother and when she shook her head, he replied, “I don’t know.”
In truth, Mithoo didn’t like to eat the fruits, so his parents wanted him to eat some fruits. And for that reason, his father made up this question and answer.
“This.” His father handed over the banana to him.
“Really?”
“Yes.” His mother nodded.
“How do I call Him?” Mithoo asked.
“I’m not. Just say ‘Lord Hanuman, I have your banana. Come and take it.'” His father replied.
“Oh! What if he tells me to eat banana?”
“He might ask you that. So, what would you do then?” His mother asked.
“I’ll say that I had my banana.”
“But you can’t lie to him. You know why?” His mother questioned him.
“Yeah, I know. Because He knows everything.”
“What will you do then?” His father asked.
“It means I’ll have to eat banana in order to call Him for help.”
“Good boy,” his father said.
He took the banana from his father, peeled off its skin and started eating it, bite by bite. He picked up another one from the aarti plate. And then, another one. When his parents looked at him, he asked, “These are for Lord Hanuman. What if He is really hungry at night?”
His parents smiled.
Mithoo went inside his room and kept bananas on the table by his bed, where a tiny figurine of Lord Hanuman was placed by his parents.
***
Later that night, Mithoo invoked Lord Hanuman, “Lord Hanuman, I can’t sleep at night. Come and tell me a story.”
Nothing happened. Then, he realized that he didn’t invoke Him properly. He remembered his father’s advice, he called out to the money deity, “Lord Hanuman, I’ve your banana. Come and take it.”
Still, nothing happened.
He continued, “I’m scared. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to wake my mommy and papa, right now. You can you come and tell me a story?”
Just then, the clouds thundered, the wind slapped the windows, and suddenly smoke entered his room from the underneath of the door. He was scared. He clutched to the blanket in his hands and almost called out, “Mommy.”
“Calm down child.” A voice boomed.
“Who’s there?” Mithoo asked.
The smoke swirled inside the doors, moved up to his table, and rounded up the figurine of Lord Hanuman.
“It’s me child, Hanuman. You called. I came.” He heard these words before a red monkey emerged from the smoke from the figurine. He stood on the carpet and He was taller than his father. Standing in front of Mithoo, He had His mace on his left shoulder and smile in His eyes.
“Oh! Thanks. Aren’t you cold, it’s chilly outside?”
“It is but my skin is my armor. I don’t feel cold.”
“I want to have an armor like you.”
“Why need an armor when you can have warm clothes?”
Sensing that end of reasoning on his part, he asked, “Are you really Lord Hanuman?”
“Why do you doubt?”
He got up from his bed, pulled up the chair for him and asked him, “Please sit.”
Hanuman pulled up the chair and sat on it. He placed his mace on the carpet next to the chair.
“Thank you, Mithoo. I asked why do you doubt that I’m not Hanuman.”
“Because I’ve not imagined you look like this. “
“You thought I’ll tinier. Just like these figurines.” Lord Hanuman said and laughed out loud.
“No.
“What you have imagined, then?”
“You should be like a monkey.”
“I’m a monkey. What do you mean?”
“Why are you red? Is it your natural color? If it is, then you will be the first red monkey I’ve seen.”
“Oh! Red. No. This isn’t my natural color.”
“What’s the story?”
“That’s a long story. I kind of humiliated myself.”
“I don’t mind, as long as it’s story.”
“Is this banana for me? I’m hungry.”
“Sure that’s for you. I knew you would be hungry. And I’ve already eaten mine.”
“That’s great. I love the kids who eat bananas.”
Hanuman picked up the banana, peeled off and ate it bite by bite. Once He was done, He said, “Why don’t I pull the blanket over yourself? It’s chilly out.” He got up, pulled the blanket over Mithoo, snuggled him and then, sat He on His chair.
“Now. Listen to the story. Why am I red today? I’m not always like this.”
“It all started with a question that I asked my mother, Sita.”
“Oh! Sita is your mother.”
“She isn’t my real mother. She’s the wife of my Lord Rama. I call her mother.”
“Okay. What was the question?”
“I asked her, why you wore the red color vermillion in your parted hairs? And she replied, ‘It’s because I love Rama.’ Now that became a question. How to love my Lord Rama? I pondered over and over. What should I do to love my god? Not that I had to eclipse the love of my mother has for my lord but how can I show my love for my lord.”
“Do you really need to show your love?”
“No. I don’t know. I just felt that I’ve to show my love to my Lord.”
“And what you did?”
“After thinking for a long time, day in and day out, I started applying the vermillion all over my body. Then, it occurred to me that if I apply vermillion alone it will dust off, when I fly to see my Lord. So, I bought til oil, mixed the vermillion to make a paste. Then, I applied the red paste all over my body. I was certain that it won’t go away anywhere, even if someone spills water over me. It stuck to my body, like a second skin. I walked here and there, smeared with red color for the love for my Lord. And as it happened, Lord called me, I flew to Him. He was sitting with my mother, Sita. I bowed my head to Him and mother. Seeing me, He got up from His seat and came near to me and asked, “What happened to you?” He touched my arm, picked up the red colored paste from my arm and checked it by rubbing it in His fingers. ‘What is it?’ I remained silent. He asked again, ‘What has happened to you, Kapis?'”
“Who is Kapis?” Mithoo asked.
“It’s my other name.”
“Oh! Like my other name, Aparjit.”
“Yeah. That’s a great name. Do you know the meaning of your name?”
“Yeah. My parents told me it means who never loses.”
“Great.”
“Then, what Lord Rama said to you?”
“He said, ‘ It’s paste. Red paste.’ But He couldn’t figure out what and why I had applied over my skin. Concerned, mother Sita also walked over to me and asked, ‘Why have you pasted this red paste all over your body?’
I couldn’t speak. How can I proclaim my love for my Lord? That too in front of my mother, Sita. Lord Rama asked, ‘Are you suffering from skin ailment?’ and before I could say anything, Lord’s concern continued, ‘Should I call my personal vaidh?'”
“What is a vaidh?” Mithoo interjected.
“It’s a doctor.”
“Oh! Please continue.”
“Seeing things taking an altogether different direction, I spoke, ‘Everything is fine, my Lord.’ Mother Sita looked at me from top to bottom. When I saw mother watching over me and I wasn’t meeting my gaze with her, she got suspicious, I smiled at her. Then, she asked me, without speaking, with her big eyes that what happened. I looked down. She came closer and touched Lord’s red fingers where red paste was still glued to them. She analyzed with touch and smell. And she smiled, ‘Is that what I think it is?’
Lord Rama, who was concerned about my health and well-being, asked my mother, ‘What is it, Sita?”
‘If I’m not wrong…’ She abruptly ended her sentence, came closer to me and asked, ‘Tell me. What it is Hanuman?’
With my head hung in the shame, I placed my finger at my forehead and pointed my finger at her forehead. She burst out laughing. Lord Rama stood there bewildered.
‘What is it, Sita? Why aren’t you telling me?’ Lord asked. In shame, I felt like digging a hole in the ground to hide myself. I wanted to fly away. But I couldn’t even do it, without His permission. ‘Hanuman, aren’t you going to tell me what’s happening?’
‘My lord, come here.’ Mother Sita said to Him. She continued to giggle as the Lord approached her. Then, giggling she whispered something in Lord’s ears, and I stood there, rained in humiliation and shame. He heard what mother had said to Him. He watched me from top to bottom.
‘So, tell me,’ Lord asked me. I saw a smile on his lips, ‘Why have you colored yourself red?’
Fidgeting in my posture, and without looking into His eyes, I answered, ‘Lord, nothing escapes your eyes. You who knows everything, what I can tell you.’
‘Go on. Yet there is always something I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?’
‘I can’t even speak now, my Lord. Now that I know that mother had told you everything, I’m feeling ashamed.’
‘Ashamed! You are an integral part of my family. Why do you feel ashamed? Tell me.”
‘It’s because mother told me that the red is the color of love and because of which she put the vermilion in her parted hairs. And how to say this, O’ Lord, but I am going to say it. I love you, my Lord.’
‘I love you, dear Hanuman. But a dot of vermilion would have sufficed, why did you smeared yourself red?’
‘It’s because it’s me.’ Words kept coming out of me, reluctantly.
‘Me, what?’
‘Me a monkey.’
‘And? What’s the matter with you Hanuman? Why are you mumbling like that?’
‘Hanuman, tell the truth.’ Mother Sita, who had been smiling till now, turned to me and said.
‘My lord, truth is that. If mother, your wife, your partner, and a human need a dot of vermilion to express her love for you. Then, me a mere servant and a monkey, would need a lot of vermilion to express my love to you.’
Lord Rama smiled. Tears filled mother’s eyes. Lord looked down and when he raised his head, his eyes were red and full of tears. He hugged me, spoiling his white robe red. Just when I realized that what had happened to his clothes, I hesitated the hug, ‘Lord, your clothes are spoiled.’
‘Don’t worry about the clothes. It’s all about love. How can you love me alone? I love you, too. Now, we both are red and we both love each other.’
Lord smiled, you know. Seeing his smile, I smiled.”
“And?”
“That’s it. That’s the end of story.”
“Okay. I’ve never been told this story, even though I have seen you in this red colored avatar somewhere in a temple.”
“Yes. You must have seen this. This is one of the popular image of mine.”
Just then, his cell phone rang. “Gotta go?”
“Do you have a cellphone?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have your number?”
“You might find my phone busy. You just call me with banana. I’ll be there. “
“How do you know, it’s me?”
“Because there is no one that calls me with banana.”
“Oh!”
“Goodnight, Mithoo.”
“Okay, goodnight Lord Hanuman. But please come back tomorrow.”
“Sure kiddo.”
Then, Lord Hanuman turned into smoke and disappeared into the tiny figurine from which He had emerged.
***
Epilogue
Next morning, Mithoo woke up ahead of his parents and went to the room with temple. There, he bowed to Lord Hanuman and started chanting Hanuman- Chalisa. His parents were surprised to hear the chants of their son, Mithoo. They were happy; at least they didn’t have to wake him up for the school. He used to sleep late.
