Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  ‘That I most certainly will.’ replied my friend. ‘And I am happy to meet a woman as confident as yourself. I will relay your message to him but…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I am sorry but Chiranjeev ji can be quite talkative at times. From him I gleaned the fact that you are their cousin and quite an heiress at that. It is out of my own curiosity that I ask this. You are an educated woman, with a good college degree and money to back you in making a home for yourself and a career. Why do you waste your life here?’

  She sighed deeply. ‘I like it here.’ she said slowly. ‘There is peace and quite here. In the city these two things are very hard to come by.’

  ‘Peace and quiet?’ he said, surprised. ‘When you run the risk of confrontation with people like Chiranjeev and Premkala? If I was in your shoes, I would have wasted no time in relocating as far away from those two as possible.’

  ‘They don’t affect me anymore.’ she said again. I could hear her voice become heavy with such grief that I was overcome with the urge to hold her and keep her away from all that was evil around her. The happiness with which she had charged into the room was now gone and I could see the marks of great suffering on her face that where till now, hiding in plain sight, waiting to appear at the slightest notice. ‘And I think that even with them around, I can be more peaceful here than anywhere else.’

  ‘Savita ji, I think you are hiding many difficult pages of your life.’ my friend went on with a gentle smile and eyes bright with compassion; his S.O.P while interviewing his suspects. ‘If only you could express that which you have buried within you, you’ll feel light again.’

  She was quiet for a time, staring blankly at a void of space before her and visiting a period in her life that she had, with all her will, forced somewhere deep within her. ‘I was happy’ she said ‘So happy. Life was ripe with the expectancy of a bright future. I wanted to study…to achieve something and my parents, because they were my parents in every sense of the word, supported me but…but…one mistake…one mistake and the talk of the village was enough to change the way they felt about me. And what was my mistake, sir? Tell me? That I brought a male friend along when I came to the village in my fifth semester? I thought everyone would be happy to meet my best friend but, to my horror and humiliation, all hell broke loose. Tongues wagged and talked what not and suddenly I was an outcast in my own family.’ she sighed. ‘Is love so cowardly that it can vanish at the slightest challenge? My parents said to me that if I was a good daughter, I had to send him off. I asked them whether they trusted me or the villagers who had no business interfering in our matter…but…but they kept quiet. They said that if I loved them, I had to send him off. The problem, sir, was not that I had any trouble sending Ganesh back but the problem lay in the fact that my parents trusted the counsel of the villagers; outsiders, over the integrity of their own daughter. And that really hurt me, sir, more than I could tell you in words. I went back after the holidays and I did not swear at all that I would never come back, as rumor has it, but I was so shook up at the loss of faith my parents had showed in me; the parents whom I valued above my own life, that I could not muster the willingness or the courage to face them again. I had seen the lurking suspicion in their eyes with which they had sent me off at the railway station. I knew in my heart, that I would be greeted by the very same suspicion if I ever dared to go back again. Hence my feet faltered and I could not return…’

  She was quiet for sometime and I could hear the window panes straining with the force of wind hitting it violently. The clouds had foregathered in the skies and the growing darkness outside had now eclipsed our room and I could see the bright, beautiful eyes of Savita, glowing in the dark with the dull sparkle of grief. ‘After graduation, I joined a convent as a Hindi poetry teacher. There I met my husband, Prakash.’

  ‘He was a good man, Prakash.’ she continued, ignoring the noise of lightening and thunder outside. ‘He was caring and affectionate and a lover of poetry too. Although he was a chemistry teacher of + 2, he was studying to compete in the G.A.T.E exam. We used to lunch together in the cafeteria, discussing our favorite poets, going over those beautiful words…I married him after two wonderful years of courtship. We saved a little from our combined income to buy a small but beautiful house in the suburbs and settled quite comfortably in our new lives. The pain that I had to endure at the absence of my loved ones at the wedding was now also in the passing. Everything was so good that sometimes I feared if it would last forever. A further two years passed and our love for each other strengthened to the point that I stopped thinking of myself as one person. Prakash and I were a team in every sense of the word. We were so perfectly matched that I secretly congratulated myself on finding my soul mate. After all how many people are that lucky? We worked at the same school and then retired to a quite, happy and peaceful life. I often think about that part of my life. It pained me before to relive those beautiful memories, realizing that they were gone, but now I have become numb to my past…’

  ‘But what happened to destroy that happiness?’ I asked.

  She looked at me briefly and then sat silent for a few minutes. The sky outside had darkened and it looked as if it would rain the whole night. ‘One day, Prakash told me in the cafeteria where we were having lunch that his parents were about to pay us a visit. I had met them once at the wedding as before that they had gone for a lengthy pilgrimage and could not meet me. I was excited at the news and wanted to do my utmost to please them and stand to gain their love and admiration. I could see that Prakash was not quite happy to receive the news and could not reciprocate my excitement. Well, I thought little about it at that time and eagerly anticipated their arrival. When they came, they were very happy to see me and showered me with their blessings and all the religious knick-knacks they had collected from the pilgrimage. My mother-in-law was a very talkative woman and soon she was pouring out colorful stories from her trip. My father in law was of a retiring disposition and spent most of his time in the balcony reading Bhagvad Gita or the daily newspaper. He also used to water the plants I had bought but due to my busy schedule, frequently forgot to take care of them. Apart from the volume of talk of my mother in law, I had remotely nothing to find fault in them and it looked that they too had accepted me as their daughter in law.’

  ‘It looked?’ I asked, softly. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘I am coming to that.’ she replied. ‘When six months passed, I knew that my in laws had come to stay with us for good. Prakash was their only son so they had every right to put up with us as long as they wanted. My mother in law also hinted that she was in no particular hurry to return to their house in their native village. My father in law would go at times to meet his friends and look after a piece of land he had in the village but my mother in law resolutely denied that. She said she was comfortable living here with us. I had to adjust to this new arrangement but with effort I had made myself as comfortable with my surroundings as possible. Prakash was happy to see the way I had learned to adapt. Although I did not have as free a life as I had before and my mother in law had taken it upon herself to educate me in her way of doing things, I had my job and there I could relax a little with my husband to give me company. Soon, I was promoted to higher classes and with that, my work load increased. Prakash applied for a job at a reputed university after clearing G.A.T.E that year with very good marks and soon landed the position of an Associate lecturer in his department. This ended our co-working hours but I was happy for our progress. As Prakash and I got busier with our new responsibilities, my mother in law had to actively take part in the household chores, instead of being a passive observer and an occasional fault finder. I expressed my gratitude freely for her much needed help. She looked a trifle sad because I could not lend her more of my time and my father in law was either sitting in the balcony or taking a trip to the village. Prakash, I had observed, talked little to his mother. He told me it had always been like that
.’

  A bolt of lightening momentarily illuminated her face as I could see a pale face, drained of all color and life. ‘In the following months, Kamala, my mother in law, started losing the warmth that she had displayed towards me. She would no longer look or smile at me or approach me bearing her colorful tales. I sometimes tried to talk to her but she would not pay attention and bark at me without the slightest provocation. I thought it best to leave her alone. I also observed that ochre, the one vegetable I had a mild allergy too, and had made her aware of the fact, started to become the staple food for either lunch or dinner. At first, I thought she must have forgotten but when it started slipping from her mind way too often, I understood that memory had little to do with her conduct. Soon a time came when my mother in law and I had become strangers co existing together. We would go without talking to each other for months and as I adjusted to this new situation as well, Kamala struggled. It was her decision not to talk to me for reasons that I could not, for the life of me, fathom but and I could clearly see that she was looking gloomier and had lost a lot of weight too. She would sometimes pray in her room for hours, refusing even to come out for her meal. I talked to Prakash about her deteriorating condition and he said that with time her mother would be fine. She must be missing her home in the village and we decided that when my father in law took a trip there next, we would send her too.’

  ‘When she heard of our decision.’ Savita went on. ‘We thought she would liven up but it only helped to further spoil her mood. She started crying helplessly, calling the Lord to come to her aid. I did not know what was happening to her and for the first time in my life, I could see clear signs of worry on Prakash’s face. Before our very eyes, she fainted and we had to rush her to a nearby private hospital. The doctor said that she was suffering from low blood pressure and that there was nothing wrong with her that proper rest, medicines and nutrition could not cure. We came back with Prakash repeating to me again and again that we should now take better care of her.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened but after that incident, Kamala’s behavior changed towards me a second time. She was no longer cold or hostile and her affections for me were back with renewed energy. Prakash, on my insistence, would now take some time out for her mother and talk to her at length, listening patiently to all that she had to say. The only person who came out untouched here was my father in law, who continued to take his trips as if nothing had happened and his pact with the balcony grew even stronger.’

  ‘I could see that Prakash and his mother were bonding very well and she was now improving and regaining the kilos she had lost. Everything was going as well as before and when I discovered that I was expecting a child, the picture of our happiness was complete.’

  I could see that there was nothing in the story that could account for the loss of color and the pain in her voice but still I listened attentively. My friend was sitting back in his chair but I knew that he was following her story closely, rapidly fitting the personalities involved with their proper ‘effects’.

  ‘Everything was going well when the worst happened. Prakash met with an accident and his right leg was badly hurt. He was given a medical leave of three months from the university and he started recuperating at home. Kamala was happy because now she would get to spend quality time, alone with her son. I did not know then that my life was now taking a turn and that too, for the very worst.’

  CHAPTER 22

  A Slow Weekend

  ‘Prakash had gotten very close to his mother while he stayed at home recuperating. He told me himself that this was the first time his mother was actually talking to him because during his growing years, she was either immersed in daily activities or out gallivanting with her friends from the neighborhood. She fed him and clothed him and that was about the only active participation that she ever took in his rearing. He too, had found his society outside. Hence, he was happy that he was now finally connecting with her. She had a lot of tales; fabricated or real, I know not, to tell from his childhood which entertained him a lot. I was happy for my husband and felt glad to see him fill those empty spaces within him that he had carried from his days of boyhood. Within a month, he was walking slowly with the help of a crutch but due to a shortened ligament, the doctor finally pronounced that he would never be able to walk straight again. Although it crushed me to see him limp like that, I felt a modicum of relief to see that he was now forgetting the pain by immersing himself in his new work environment. As the days went by, I started noticing certain changes in him. After the accident, he had slowly become silent and reserved. He also suffered from frequent mood swings and a slight provocation was enough for him to lose his temper. He often shouted at me and his father would now retire for months to his village, trying to avoid the unpleasantness. Prakash, before the accident, had often talked to me about his father’s aloofness and a tendency to avoid troubles rather than face it. Well, I was putting up a brave front and whenever he lost his mind over trifle issues like his clothes not being properly pressed, or the lunch not delicious enough, I would keep quiet in a hope that the tempest would soon pass. What was the use of provoking him further? Sometimes, when he seemed out of control, his mother used to come to my rescue and mitigate his anger by appealing to his good nature. I could see that where I was failing, Kamala was passing and with flying colors. Soon, his behavior started to draw flak from the university too and the administration cautioned him that if he did not behave himself in the lecture room and with his colleagues, he would be expelled. One day, the inevitable happened. Prakash abused a student in his class who happened to be the son of a power wielding politician. In less than two days, he was ordered to hand in the resignation letter.’

  ‘He now used to stay at home while I went out to work.’ Savita went on with her face clouding further. ‘I thanked to God that I had this job because if I did not get out in the morning, the suffocating environment back home would have surely killed me. My father in law now practically stayed in the village which left Prakash ample time to spend with his mother, who was now the only person he listened or talked to freely.’

  ‘Days slowly flew into years and my son was now big enough to go to school. I got him admission in the one I taught. Chandan, my son, was my sole comfort and as his father seldom paid attention to him, I was now substituting for his father as well. The equation of relationships in my house was absurd at that time. One family, living under the same roof had divided into two similar groups; one constituting of Chandan and I, the other was made up by my husband and Kamala. I tried to reason with him; beg him, if I am truthful, to open his eyes and see how he was destroying himself to which, for the first time, he had asked me in a voice that had shook with hopelessness. ‘Why do you still want to live with me, Savi? You are still as pretty as a picture and can find the best of men again. Why do you insist on spending your life with a hideous creep?’ However I explained to him that I loved him, he failed to understand or believe me. Only one time he expressed what lay in his heart and then he resorted to his cold war; hell bent on making my life as difficult and painful as a life could be.’

  ‘One day, one of my male colleagues paid me a visit. He had come to invite us for the wedding of his eldest daughter. Oh! I shudder to think about that day. Prakash insulted me in front of him and called me a woman of bad reputation. He further added with a shameless mockery that my male colleagues had developed an amusing habit of visiting her often after his accident and how he was fairly convinced that my parents were right to suspect me. That…that Ganesh was my lover! I knew then and there that my marriage was over.’

  ‘Still, when my temper cooled down, I thought of giving it a second chance for the sake of my young son. But now…now he would dredge up the past and insult me beyond human endurance. He asked me to tell him how many lovers I had! I also observed that while Kamala used to come between the fights which we had in the beginning of this mess, she would now go about her work paying the sli
ghtest attention to what was happening. Never once, did she come out in support of me and I often saw her chirping happily like a bird after any such incident, leaving no doubt in my mind that she had somehow used the insecurities of his son to plant and nurture a doubt to cure insecurities of her own.’

  ‘One day’ she said slowly. ‘I realized that I would go mad if I did not do something fast and packing my bags and taking my son along, I left the house, swearing never to see their faces again.’

  ‘But’ I began. ‘Why did you tell everyone a lie? Why did you say that your husband had died?’

  ‘Because rumors were rife about you back home’ said my friend quietly. ‘And you knew that if you narrated this bad episode that had happened in your life, people were bound to hold you guilty as eventually they did.’

  ‘Yes, sir. That’s the only truth.’ she replied with a worn expression. ‘People readily believe in a rumor because there is where all the gossip lies. Cheap gossip gives pleasure to a lot of dregs of humanity.’

  ‘But Savita ji’ he said again. ‘Why did you come back to this village at all? You had both money and a good education. You could have moved to a better place.’

  ‘I…I was numbed with shock and grief.’ she said as her face sagged beyond recognition. ‘My mind had refused to work. I came here almost as a reflex and have stayed here since.’

  ‘One more question.’ I ventured. ‘Did you not consider the risk of lying? I mean what if your husband contacted you or anyone in your family?’