The Master Thief by Madhab Kumar Bandyopadhyay (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

You have not heard the name of the great scholar Gour Bhatta. I don’t blame you for that. He is long dead and did not travel much. Besides, of those who heard of him only a few are alive. I am the only person available who actually saw him. Moreover, he was a scholar of Sanskrit. Sanskrit, though very rich, is a dead language. So, even during his lifetime, he was known only to a select few. However, in the villages within twenty miles he was a very well known and respected person.
I first saw him about sixty years ago. I was then a little child. Still, I vividly remember the sight of that tall, muscular figure. His torso was covered with a piece of white cloth. He was wearing another piece of white cloth-dhoti

- that was only knee-length. He had a cleanly shaven head, except for a tuft of hair known as tiki

or sikha

. It was not very long, but long enough to give a single knot.
His footwear impressed me most. He wore a pair of wooden sandals.Only a piece of upright wood on each wooden platform provided a grip for the toes. One could hear his footsteps even from a distance.
Gour Bhatta used to teach a handful of students from the very morning. He taught them grammar, literature, astronomy, logic, philosophy and sundry other subjects written in Sanskrit. Such scholars are rare now-a-days. His earnings from these classes were not much. Yet, he was a wealthy man.
The secret behind his riches was the class he held in the evening. In these classes he taught chaurayvidya-the art and science of thieving. His students in these classes were all aspiring thieves.

These classes were held in darkness for thieves don’t have much use for light. Students of these classes did not have to pay any fees during their training period. They would have to pay their master throughout their life. Actually, they would pay a certain part of their earnings after each act of theft.
It is said that there exists a very ancient book named chauryavidya

and Gour Bhatta had a copy of this rare book. In ancient times there was no printing press or the papers we use to-day. Bhurja-patra

was often used for writing texts. The inner bark of the Himalayan birch tree was smoothened and many layers were gummed together to form a leaf. These leaves were called Bhurja-patra

. The bark was oiled and polished so that it got hard and smooth before it was ready for writing. A reed pen with a special ink was used to write on these leaves.
You can easily see that not many copies of a book could be made this way. So books were very scarce and valuable possessions of a scholar and teacher. Possessing a copy of a rare manuscript would give him an extra power. Partly because of his large collection of such books, Gour Bhatta was a much sought after master of the thieves.

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Sadananda was a teenager when he first came in contact with Bhatta. Sadananda had lost his father before he was ten. After that he tried his hand at various odd jobs. He liked adventures and did not find satisfaction in the trades available to him. Moreover, his earnings were not much in these trades. He was very young, inexperienced and uneducated. If he could afford a proper education he would possibly go on to join the police forces, navy or the air-force.
It was a new-moon night and the entire cluster of villages was plunged in absolute darkness. Gour Bhatta’ s evening classes were over. He was arranging his manuscripts in the dim light of a candlestick. Sadananda stealthily came and sat on the veranda attached to Bhatta’s reading room.
‘Who is there?’-asked the master. Utterly surprised that his presence was detected, Sadananda stuttered - ‘it’s me… me ..sir, Sadananda is my name. You may call me Sada.’
The master looked out and saw two cat-like eyes. Cats can see even in the dark. He was quite impressed. He scrutinized the entire length and breadth of Sadananda just as a jeweler judges a precious stone. Sadananda’s was a slim muscular figure. His complexion was as dark as the night itself. ‘A diamond indeed,’- thought the master. He asked, ‘Why are you here?’The deep voice had cowed down many a brave soul but Sadananda was determined- ‘I want to be your student and a devoted disciple. Please accept me, sir.’

'What is it that you want to learn? Grammar, philosophy or literature? I take it that you know about my fees,’ asked the master.

‘I know about the fees, sir!’ Sada replied slowly, ‘But….actually…sir, I want to join the evening classes.’
‘At last I’ve found the jewel I was waiting for,’-the master thought and then said aloud, ‘When do you want to begin?’ ‘Now, from this very moment,’ pat came the reply.

‘Listen then, Sadananda!’ began the master, ‘A person is perfect only if he has learnt the 64 arts. It is said that the science of thieving is the crown of arts. Don’t think it is easy to be a master in this art. You have to learn so many things ...’ ‘Tell me, sir, and I shall work 24 hours a day. How am I to prepare myself? What qualities must I attain?’ –Sadananda was quick to express his resolve.
‘You must be a cat in climbing, a deer in running, a snake in twisting, a hawk in darting upon the prey’-the master explained , ‘also a lamp in the night, a mule in a defile, a horse by land, a boat by water, a snake in motion, and a rock in stability .’ ‘It seems to be a very tall order’-exclaimed Sadananda.
‘I am not finished yet, though’-the master continued, ‘In hovering about you must compete with the king of birds, and in an eye to the ground, keener than the hare. You must be like a wolf in seizing, and like a lion in strength.’ Sadananda could not but say, ‘It seems you are describing the virtues of a king.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ said the master, ‘and the kings also employ the master thieves. They go by the name of spy, investigating officer and so on.’
‘A dedicated thief is no less than a king. I would say he is more majestic than the majesty itself. The thief will not use force or hurt anybody, not even spread terror. Then