Among the Not So Great

The Legend Found — The Man with the Miraculous Hands

Birenda soon resurfaced — in the field of Physiotherapy — if I may dare use that name, risking a frown from the numerous conventional doctors. Here too Birenda’s methods provoked controversies, even condemnations. Here too his methods seemed crude, and oldfashioned and harsh. Yet some will swear by him and speak of the results with awe and admiration.

Birenda did not stumble on to physiotherapy all on a sudden. He had it already in his hands, mind and heart. I have seen him setting bones most casually, but surely, way back in the mid-forties.

One day Birenda and some of us were in the Dining Room ready for dinner (after the Mother’s Distribution in the Playground) — Jayantibhai was brought in, forearm held at a curious angle. We, still very young, were surprised. Birenda held the arm and showed us along with a commentary the why and how of the dislocation (for it was one). Sitting there, he just pulled, pushed and “click” — put it back in place. Off went Jayantibhai — no bandage, no fuss. Through the years I witnessed more such “resetting” of bones: my own knee, Arvind Sajjan’s shoulder (several times) were as easily reset by Birenda.

His massage, its varied applications, methods and results are numerous, out of the common and wonderful.

I had tonsils (enlarged) — so said my medical check-up. Birenda said “Oh! that can be cured by breathing exercises.” He showed me some, to be done every morning. I did them. I don’t know when I stopped, but the doctors did not see the tonsils any more.

I had also a deviation of the nasal septum. This also was found by our doctors. This Birenda cured by massage.

His massage was often a tough one. He kneaded and seemed to be breaking the stiff, resisting muscle. The patient might wince with pain — but came back for more. As was the case of a small child I saw. He would massage and the child lay writhing in pain. But when he stopped for resting (himself and the child), the child hugged and kissed him and played with him. One would expect a child to cringe from him and even run away. An onlooker, a German, surprised, asked him, “Why does the child come back and submit itself to so much pain?” Birenda laughed and just said, “You must love the child!”

One of our girls here was suffering from a stiff neck, painful and unresponding to conventional treatment. She went to Birenda. He passed his index finger, hardly touching, down her spine. Suddenly he stopped and pressed between two vertebrae — a small twitch from her, and she found herself much better, her neck released. How or what did he feel? When asked he merely said it was quite simple — he could feel some vibration!

The following incident occurred when Birenda was quite old, past 70. He sat hunched, chin sunk on his chest. He was very deaf too. His fingers were all crooked and bony. A middle-aged couple came. The husband was bent to one side (fixed in that position). He had suffered a stroke. Birenda asked the husband to recount his woes, and closed his eyes and sat looking small and helpless in his chair. The man was talking. Once or twice the wife whispered into her husband’s ear. Sukhen (Birenda’s student) who was sitting nearby, could not hear, far less understand, what she whispered. Suddenly Birenda sat up, eyes burning, and shouted at her: “Get out — you don’t want your husband cured — get out.” Sukhen was, to say the least, surprised. The woman was taken aback and frightened. She apologised and quietly retreated. The man continued. Then Birenda asked him to lie down and himself massaged and manipulated — and when he had finished with him, the man got up with the bend more than half straightened out!

On another occasion an old gentleman (a Bengali) came, accompanied by his doctor son. They came from Tripura. They said the old man had Parkinson’s Disease. He shook all over. They had tried the usual, conventional medication. (They came here as one of Birenda’s old acquaintances had met them on a train, and told them to try this Birenda whom he knew about.) Birenda hadn’t much esteem for doctors. He asked the son, “What is wrong with your father’s coccyx?” The doctor-son replied, “Nothing.” Then Birenda with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips asked Rajnish (a student of his) to give some vibration (by hand only — Birenda detested mechanical vibrations) to the old man’s coccyx. Rajnish did so — and wonder of wonders — the old man stopped shaking. The doctor watched wide-eyed and stunned. Birenda burst out laughing and asked “ki holo — lèje kichchu hoyni bolle?” (what — you said there was nothing wrong with the tail — coccyx?)

Rajnish, knowing Birenda, was not as stunned, but not unmoved or unintrigued. He naturally questioned Birenda later. Birenda just looked at him and said “Tumi Gita podoto — bujhte parbe” (You read the Gita — you will understand). That was all — for the moment. Days later Rajnish, not much enlightened, got Birenda alone and asked him again. Birenda in a softer and more expansive mood explained about “Chakras” and centres, about how the coccyx is the “mooladhar”, etc., etc. He further explained that suppressing some movements of the “vital” in man — without transforming them nor giving them an expression, i.e., venting them — often creates problems at certain centres; the idea is to release this suppressed energy etc., etc.

He used to say all good things, like happiness, tend to expand the person; even his face, eyes expand in laughter or merriment. But sadness, depression contract a person.

Similarly an injury or ailment contracts the muscle or organ. By massage he said we can dilate, thereby increase the circulation and reach oxygen to the ailing organ. Then there is every chance of cure. And, lastly and most importantly, remember the Mother while dealing with a person. Feel him, his vibrations, and then take him. On one or two occasions he forbade his student to massage certain individuals — he himself treated them. He felt the young student would fall ill if he (the student) massaged.

A couple brought in their small girl to Birenda. They had taken her to different hospitals, and when they went to Cluny the Sisters there told them to try a certain masseur in the Ashram (Birenda). They were not sure if the man treated non-ashramites, but maybe he would. They said he was reputed to bring about some remarkable cures. So the couple came. The child was in a pitiable state. She was all cramped up, arms and legs folded stiff, tongue hanging out, eyeballs rotated up, the whites showing. She could not utter a sound. Any movement had to be helped. Birenda was sure of a cure but he warned the parents it would be a long, hard climb. They seemed to agree — but Birenda said (afterwards — aside) that probably they would leave before long.

Birenda started the massage. The head, face and throat, arms, legs — all were rubbed, vibrated (manually)... This went on day after day. Slowly the tongue retreated into the mouth. The eyes rolled back into focus. The arms and legs could be stretched, but often cramped back as of old. She could even utter some sound. She seemed to be responding well. Then they stopped coming. Why? None knew at that time. This often happened. Some doctor or adviser watching from the sidelines would turn people away, convincing or giving them hopes of an easier way. It was even found that it was a doctor who had tried, failed and brought them over to Birenda and then was mean enough to entice them away. Birenda knew of this and even predicted it. He did his best and let it go at that. I later learned that the parents were told that someone in Kerala could cure quicker — so they left! The move was proved unwise. They came back, but too late. Birenda had had an accident and was not able to take the case up again. The child too, later had an accident, broke her thigh bone...what a pitiful and miserable tale!

These and many more “stories” that could be told and retold. We believe what we want to believe. A proof is difficult to get, and convincing someone is more difficult. Birenda himself did not do much to convince others. If a person came to him he tried his best to help. Birenda had faith in some methods and means — if anyone had the same faith he/she could come to him. The rest could and should stay away (what “faith” is it — that needs “proof”!) From where did Birenda learn, and get all his knowledge and his methods? Once, in the later days when he was in a “down” mood, he was in tears thinking aloud “E shob Mayer jinish — keu nite ashche na.” (These are all the Mother’s things — no one is coming to take them.) But I would think that all is not lost. He has left enough bits and pieces behind for another, who with some diligence, faith and love, can put together and carry on. He, I believe, gave to all his students as much as each could take (the more the vessel was empty the more he could fill!)

I have sung of the several faces of Birenda — as a tribute to the man who has given me much and asked for very little. There are others who have reaped as much as I from him. To me and to my sister Bhavatarini and brother Narayan he was more than just an instructor. He was a friend (family friend), a big-brother or fatherly figure. He instilled in us many higher and deeper values through sports and work. There was hardly any preaching. Rather he set an example or a challenge and teased, invited or dared us to pick it up. Only once in a rare while was it a useful drubbing. I once, in my childish ignorance, complained to him that someone (captain or referee) had been partial to another vis-à-vis me. He sharply reacted, saying: “Never say that and shed tears for yourself (self-pity)...strive till you get what you deserve — and you will get it.” (There is a French saying “L’amour propre et le plus sot des amours” — self love/pity is the most foolish of all loves.) Yet another day he said, “Never get angry in a game — you may lose it.” His goading us on then, to do more and better in the Body Building Gym and on the paddy-field, still goads us on. It is as if he keeps fuelling that small flame in those of us who worked alongside him. He steeled our bodies and minds.

I hope this use of first person is pardonable and justified. I had not much personal contact with his later massaging days. I have seen just a bit and heard much more from his students or shall I say “Chelas”. Maybe one of them will eulogise him and his achievements in that field too. I merely heard but believed what they told me.

I close with a final salute to this great person, with great hopes that some one — a “Chela” at least — will pick up what he has dropped — both in the field of Sport and Physiotherapy. That would be a greater tribute than these few pages of praise. That would gladden his old heart no end. That brave old heart beat for the last time in the wee hours of the 17th of March 1997. But the Legend once lost — found — must live on — in us, through us.