Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  ‘Wrong direction?’

  ‘Yes.’ he replied, with his tired voice that had never left its pitch. ‘For the question to be answered correctly, he should have looked inside himself.’

  ‘Y…you are right.’ I stammered with the weight of his impressive words. ‘But what has it to do with my question?’

  ‘Everything’ he replied. ‘The reason why we know so much about this world and so little about ourselves is the fact that we have always looked for answers outside when where we should have looked was inside. Your question, sir, can be best answered by you, had you cared to look inside you. I am not an authority on you but you, yourself, are.’

  I blinked my eyes twice. His words were still echoing in my head as I tried to understand the depth of meaning behind every spoken word. ‘But how is one to look inside? How can it be done?’ I asked, desperate.

  ‘Meditation, observation and reflection.’

  His words were accompanied by total silence, broken only by the constant stream of hymns chanted somewhere in the background.

  ‘And’ he added quietly. ‘Religion.’

  ‘What you say is absolutely true’ said my friend, looking sharply into Parichay Mishra’s eyes ‘but what if we have deliberately been denied that ability to look inside?’

  This time I could see Parichay Mishra’s eyes widen ever so slightly before resuming their normal curvature.

  ‘What do you mean, sir?’ he asked and in his voice I could detect a dull hint of anticipation and interest.

  ‘What I meant was that what if we cannot look inside us? What if we have evolved as such as a defence mechanism? After all, evolution ensures that only the useful abilities are kept and the rest discarded.’

  ‘Defense mechanism? From what?’ I could see that Parichay Mishra was now clearly interested. He was now sitting almost straight in his chair. Much of that lethargy had vaporized.

  ‘From a certain madness, Punditji.’ my friend replied with an innocent smile.

  ‘Madness’ he repeated the words as if to himself. ‘And why do you think so, sir? Don’t you want humans to evolve? If you do, then there is no option but to look within and seek what we have been searching for outside.’

  ‘I don’t want to pull myself into a debate.’ said my friend, relaxing into the chair, but keeping his eyes trained on Parichay Mishra. ‘But I sincerely believe that we are on the right path to evolution. You need not worry about that.’

  ‘Really?’ said the Pundit, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘If you forgive my curiosity, I would like to know how.’

  ‘By being human, that’s all.’ said Bhrigu, smiling warmly.

  I could detect a faint rise of color in the cheeks of the Pundit. He still looked dull and bored with life in general but the discerning eyes could detect a change in frequency of his toneless voice, the slight dilation of his pupils and the constant effort to raise himself a little straighter in his seat.

  ‘I am afraid I did not understand.’ he said in a voice slightly sharper and louder.

  ‘What you just suggested Punditji was going against the very fabric of human nature’ my friend went on, easily. ‘Man can only search for answers about himself by letting his humanity play; by being who he was born to be. Whatever he does, whatever he achieves, whatever he gains, whatever he loses, whatever he accomplishes, whatever he feels goes a little towards understanding mankind. It is not one, complete, grandiose picture we are talking about but countless little pieces that goes into completing the picture. If you look down upon those pieces, you will never, ultimately see the big picture.’

  ‘And the big picture will reveal…’

  ‘Some of the difficult answers about creation. As there will always be new life to add to that picture, I think we won’t get all our questions answered, ever.’ replied my friend.

  ‘But…but what exactly are these small pieces that make up your big picture?’ asked the Pundit. He was now sitting as straight as an arrow; eyes tense and glowing and the corners of his mouth twitching with excitement or resentment, I couldn’t tell.’

  ‘It could be anything.’ said Bhrigu, smiling broadly. ‘A washerman washing his clothes at a river bank and wondering why the grease wouldn’t come off or a milkman considering selling his cow; a businessman traveling aboard for an important meeting or a housewife anxious about her husband’s weaning interest in her; a gardener trying a new bed of flowers in his garden or an astronaut reaching for the stars. It could be a zillion different activities, a zillion different strokes; small or sweeping, humble or grand, all going into the creation of the big picture.’

  ‘You mean to say’ said the Pundit with a slight hint of mockery coloring his roused voice. ‘That…that the man over there, the little one, standing at the last of the queue, secretly texting on his cell phone. Are you telling me that he too is answering some important questions about creation?’

  ‘He also contributes to the big picture, so, yes, undoubtedly.’

  ‘What utter nonsense!’ exclaimed Parichay Mishra, now clearly excited. ‘Excuse me, sir, but you say the most ridiculous things. You are mocking those learned men who have spent their entire lives away from civilization, seeking answers, reading, meditating, searching…Are you rebuking their efforts? Are you rebuking great men like Swami Vivekananda or Gautam Buddha?’

  ‘On the contrary.’ said my friend, still smiling. ‘I greatly respect their efforts. But I still maintain that the answers they sought could never be found in isolation. Their teachings were instructive to humanity but they were personal reflections, applicable only to them and hence contributing to the big picture. They weren’t a collective answer on behalf of humanity. It does not work that way.’

  ‘I give up, sir’ said the Pundit, now rising up. ‘I do not understand your strange theories that mock great men. I now have to participate in the havan. If you could just excuse me, I would now take your leave. It was a pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘Same here.’ we said, returning the greeting. I saw Parichay Mishra move slowly towards the platform, each heavy step dripping with dignity.

  The walk to the Bhakti Niwas was difficult but not quite as much as we had to suffer before. Chiranjeev was silent throughout the journey and it was an added relief. I think he was trying to process how exactly our meeting with his friend had gone. There had been some clash of ideas and he was not quite sure whether Bhrigu had liked his friend or not. Within twenty minutes, the old house loomed closer and who would we find marching anxiously near the great gate? Our host, Nataraj Bhakti and he did not look pleased at all.

  ‘What is all this?’ he cried, as soon we were at hearing distance. ‘Where did you take my friends and with whose permission?’

  ‘I took them to the Temple site’ returned Chiranjeev calmly, the man towards whom the heated question was directed. ‘And I think no one needs ask a permission to go to a holy place of worship.’ Then he added on the sly. ‘And why do I need your permission for anything, anyways?’

  Nataraj Bhakti fumed as I saw his face go as red as that of a beetroot. If we had cared to take out an E.C.G on him at that moment, I was sure his heart rate would have broken all past records.

  ‘I…they…what the…’ he stammered, unable to express himself with the force of anger rising inside him; suffocating him and making any speech very difficult. And then he exploded. ‘YOU BRAT! YOU SCOUNDREL! HOW DARE YOU!’

  ‘Bhaktiji’ Bhrigu said, placing a reassuring hand on our host’s shaking shoulders. ‘Chiranjeev is not to be blamed for anything. It was my request, that’s all. Please, calm down.’

  He still looked far above the base line that reads normal but his anger was clearly subsiding as he took a moment to himself; breathing slowly in an effort to compose his nerves. In a matter of minutes, his face returned to almost its normal pallor and he said, almost at the verge of tears- ‘This man will be the end
of me. I know he was born to finish me for good. But sir, I did not expect this of you. I was so worried for the past two hours. I did not know where you both had disappeared. You should have at least told me.’

  ‘I apologize for my conduct, Bhaktiji’ Bhrigu replied regretfully, ‘but I thought our absence for a couple of hours would go unnoticed. That was my mistake.’

  ‘It’s alright, sir.’ he replied, looking as tired and old as ever. ‘I apologize for my outburst too but this man…’ he said looking at his brother with his eyes spitting fire, ‘I know he has done this on purpose. Just to annoy me. And I know that he must be the one responsible for my…’

  ‘Bhaktiji’ said Bhrigu with a note of alarm in his voice. ‘Please, let the matter go.’ I knew he was afraid lest the man, in his anger, blurted out why we had come here and thus spoil our plan of learning about his relatives; the only route that was left for us to pursue if we wished to get to the bottom of this strange mystery.

  ‘Responsible for your what? Tell me?’ It was now Chiranjeev. He looked calm from the outside but the way he stared at his brother clearly told us that he was deeply stirred. ‘For making you bankrupt? For squandering your precious treasure? For…’

  ‘Chiranjeev ji’ said my friend, again. ‘Please don’t fight. The matter ends here.’

  The man did not say a word but looked at his brother with intense hatred and then stomped off like an angry pit bull.

  ‘Worthless creature.’ said Nataraj Bhakti, at his brother’s retreating form.

  ‘Bhaktiji’ I said, unable to contain myself anymore. ‘How can you live amid so much hatred? Isn’t it taxing? I mean from the moment we came here, I have observed that whenever you and your brother happen to come face to face, it always results in a very nasty fight.’

  ‘It is very taxing, sir, very’ he replied with a deep sigh. ‘But I do not get the chance to meet him often. I either confine myself to my room or go visit my friend Manjunath. That’s why my days are quite peaceful.’

  ‘But did you not just say that he constantly bothers you for money? That must be a perpetual source of annoyance to you.’

  The man took a deep breath and then exhaled noisily. ‘One has to live with what one’s got. When I think I can take it no more, I remind myself that he is my brother and that helps in controlling my anger.’

  ‘That’s wise of you.’ said my friend and gave our host such a queer look that again got me thinking what he had now discerned that was obviously not obvious to me.

  CHAPTER 21

  A Story of Loss

  ‘I think the ghost has called it quits.’ I said, on the third day from our visit to the temple site. ‘No sign of life, if you can pardon the paradox.’

  ‘Aren’t you too early to pronounce your judgment?’ My friend said, relaxing in his chair and reading a book on ‘Strange mental illnesses’ by a Czech Physician, researcher and author, who smiled good-naturedly at its back cover. He always carried a couple of his books on our every journey.

  I shook my head in the negative. ‘I get a feeling that the ghost has now renounced all worldly activities and retired to eternal peace as, mind you, it should have done from the start. The world is much populated as it is. We need no ghosts to complicate matters further.’

  ‘If it really is a ghost, that is.’

  ‘Point’ I conceded. ‘And you think who…’

  ‘Stop it right there, Sutte.’ he barked back. ‘I don’t like you treating me like a machine for predictions.’

  I tried to distract his mind from the annoyance he felt towards me. ‘What’s that book you are perusing? I saw it in your shelf sometime ago and thought some Psychiatrist client of yours must have presented it as a token of his gratitude. I never thought you would actually get down to reading it.’

  ‘Nothing of the sort, man.’ he replied with eyes still trained on a page in the book. ‘I have bought it with good money. It set me back seven hundred and ninety nine bucks but it is worth it.’

  ‘What? You purchased it? But why?’ I asked, amazed.

  ‘There are some peculiar case studies here that I wanted to read. That’s all.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like a Danish business tycoon who has a fetish for cartoons. He cannot function normally if he does not get a daily dose of his favorite animated characters. He is a perfect example of a fine gentleman in every other way but for this habit.’

  ‘Can I have a look at his picture?’

  ‘Sure’ he said, turning a page from the book towards me.

  It was the photograph of a man wearing a pin striped, business suit. He sat smartly on a swivel chair and his face beamed with the radiance of humor and intelligence and also that of pride of a self-made man.

  ‘He looks like a typical successful businessman.’ I observed. ‘I can see nothing in him that could reveal that he suffers from such a mental illness.’

  ‘The picture is not clear.’ said Bhrigu ‘If we could meet him in person, I’m sure we’ll be able to observe subtle symptoms of his condition.’

  ‘Does it affect his work?’

  ‘Only when he does not watch an hour of his favorite cartoons.’ my friend replied. ‘He becomes restless then and is not able to concentrate at all.’

  ‘Even on medication?’

  ‘He is not on medication but accepts his condition as it is. He says he does not want to depend on medicines for life. I fully support him there.’

  ‘Do you really think this habit of his needs treatment? What if it’s just a hobby that has become part of his routine now?’ I said, trying to form a diagnosis.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Can be, Sutte, I don’t know. But I think he needs some difficult part of his childhood resolved if he needs to get better. Medicines are not a permanent solution. They just keep the disease such as this at bay. They do not cure it.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ I said, slowly. ‘Do you think you can help him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ he replied. ‘But I think I understand his problem.’

  As he said this, his face sagged with the painful memory of a condition he himself was afflicted with not a little time ago; the torment in the form of his aunt, Nirja. I was happy that he could get over it but by the looks of him, I knew that he still had a long way to go before getting completely free of his painful past.

  ‘Bhrigu.’ I said gently. ‘Are you reading this book for yourself?’

  ‘Not really.’ he replied, dully. ‘But this man reminds me of…me.’

  ‘Do you really think you are mentally ill?’ I cried, alarmed. ‘That’s ridiculous! You don’t suffer from such strange habits. You are as fine a man as I have ever known. Stop entertaining such thoughts at once. I…’

  My heated speech was interrupted as Savita coughed at the threshold. I knew she had come bearing our lunch. I don’t know why but her presence at the door had made me uncomfortably excited and…alarmed. ‘Come in, S…Savita.’ I said and was embarrassed at the delicate way I had spoken her name. I could see my friend’s face light up at once as he took in my odd behavior. ‘S…Savita’ he repeated with a slow, impish smile.

  ‘Your lunch.’ she said, placing our tray gently on the table. ‘I hope you like cabbage.’

  ‘I love it.’ I said, involuntarily.

  She smiled and was about to leave the room when Bhrigu hailed her. ‘Savita ji, a moment.’

  She stopped and looked at my friend with a question in her eyes. ‘What is it, sir?’

  ‘I beg your pardon if I am intruding into your personal affairs but your brother, Nataraj Bhakti, is very worried about you.’

  Surprised, she stared at my friend and so did I. When did the man confide such a worry in my friend regarding her sister, I mean, cousin, was all that I could think of. He must have done so when I was not around as I did not remember him giving tongue to his alleged worries for Savita. />
  ‘Worried for me?’ she asked, surprised. ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘He…um…how to say…’ my friend stammered as if embarrassed to be put in such a situation.

  ‘Please tell me.’ she said, now clearly intrigued. ‘Why is he worried about me?’

  ‘He said that he cares for you deeply and from the moment your marriage, forgive me if I am being blunt, ended, he has always been concerned about you. He thinks that you should have a partner to spend your life with.’

  She did not say anything but kept staring at my friend, listening to his every word with rapt interest. ‘Really?’ she said.

  ‘Why, yes. Of course.’ my friend replied warmly. ‘Your brother loves you, don’t you know? He was hesitant to talk to you about the matter himself so he requested me to act as a mediator. Get to know your feelings on the matter. You see, Savita ji’ he said and cleared his throat. ‘He wants you to get married again.’

  ‘What?’ she cried. ‘Is that what he said to you? Please tell me.’

  ‘Yes. Those were his exact words. “I want to see her get married.” That’s all.’

  ‘This sudden interest in my welfare is quite curious.’ she said, with a hint of mockery in her voice. ‘And then too when I…’ She stopped herself abruptly and was I dreaming or did she bit her lip?

  ‘When you what, Savita ji?’

  ‘No…nothing.’ she said at once. ‘I was just saying that my husband died seven years ago. He never cared what happened to me after that. Why this sudden interest in my second marriage? And anyways, who will marry a widow with a twelve year old son?’

  ‘There can be many suitors.’ Bhrigu said, and almost involuntarily I supported him vocally before being glared down to silence.

  ‘Really? I don’t see any.’

  ‘You have not looked properly.’

  ‘And what do you mean by that, sir?’ she said, a trifle annoyed.

  ‘Only that you should give him a chance to try to see you settled once again.’

  ‘I am already settled.’ she snapped back. ‘Why do you people think that a woman can’t go about her life without a husband, huh? I married because I fell in love and not because I needed to. I will marry a second time only if I happen to fall in love again and not a day before that. As for my needs, I am an educated woman. If I can earn a decent living in this village alone, I can manage quite well for myself. Please tell him that he need not pretend to worry about me. Especially with his friends.’